It's been a while. I haven't given up, I've just been having a hard time writing because I'm convinced my work is trash. But it makes me happy, so I'm going to post small updates here and there.

xXxX

The days passed and life continued on as if nothing had happened.

Johanna welcomed the announcement of the next field mission. She gave her squad leader a small smile as Murdoch briefed her about their mission goals over lunch. They would be leaving for Spectacle Island in the morning- another of Nora's settlements. It was only a supply pick up, with no real danger involved, but Jo instantly felt better for having something to look forward to.

Since Danse's death, she had been spending increasing amounts of time with her squad leader, even during her allotted free time. She found Murdoch to be a satisfactory companion, mostly because he was great at changing the subject quickly whenever someone brought up Danse.

Unfortunately, Danse was all anyone wanted to talk about.

Elder Maxson had made the announcement to the entirety of the Brotherhood that Danse had been a spy for an enemy organization and had been executed for his treachery.

Everytime she heard 'Danse' or 'traitor' her stomach soured and she felt as if she would be sick. She kept her lips pressed toghtly together on these occasions, mostly to stop herself from saying too much.

It seemed that Murdoch had taken pity on her. He never brought up that night he had comforted her as she cried, and neither did she. Still, something changed between them and Jo was glad for it. It felt almost like... having a friend.

"Are you listening to me, Princess?"

Of course, he still picked on her. Johanna didn't think that would ever change.

"I'll ask you once more- stop calling me that."

"It suits you too well," he argued with a smirk. "Now get your head out of the clouds and listen to me, I'm not going to repeat myself."

"Actually, I believe you were just about to repeat yourself."

He stared at her for a long moment, unamused. A small smile pulled at the corner of her lips.

"Calm down, scribe. You almost had an expression."

She smiled fully now, her cheeks stinging from lack of use.

His eyes were on her lips when she looked at him again and her smile became fixed.

This wasn't the first time she had caught him looking at her inappropriately during the past few days. He watched her the same way Arthur had when they were alone, like a predator staring down prey.

She ignored his gaze, but her cheeks burned with embarrassment from his attention. She pursed her lips nervously, relieved when this small gesture was enough to break his concentration. He met her eyes readily, with no hint of shame, though Johanna took note of the lines of tension on his forehead and around his eyes.

He wouldn't say anything. He never did, though it was obvious that she had noticed where his attention had been.

Murdoch cleared his throat.

"I'm heading down to the airport for some target practice. You game?"

"Actually, I have some work to do for Proctor Quinlan," Jo replied, putting her hand on the folder of documents in front of her. She was happy to have a real excuse to use to decline. She figured putting a little space between her and Murdoch wouldn't hurt, though it was true that she could have used the practice.

"You could use the practice," he gave her a small smile that didn't quite reach his eyes.

"I know. But these technical documents won't summarize themselves." She gave him a hesitant smile in return and was pleased that he didn't look too disappointed.

"I'll never understand why you chose to be a scribe," he admitted, eyeing the thick folder on the table. "It sounds dead boring."

"It's not for everyone," she admitted, "but I enjoy myself most of the time. Reading about long lost technologies of the past is truly fascinating. Can you imagine what the world would be like if we hadn't destroyed everything with nuclear bombs?"

"Keep dreaming, Princess," he laughed warmly, looking amused. "How do you get anything done when you daydream all the time?"

"Maybe you need a little imagination to be a good scribe. I may not be the best out there, but I'm far from being the worst," she shot back, blushing at her small outburst.

"I never said you weren't a good scribe."

"Oh. You really think so?"

"Yeah. I mean, you're smart. Like genius smart, right?"

Johanna blushed deeply. In the vault, those numbers hadn't meant much, not with her classmates averaging around the same. But out in the Wasteland, she was the outlier.

"Not really," she mumbled, wishing she hadn't asked his opinion.

"I don't believe you," he shook his head, a smile on his lips. "Everyone knows you're some super intelligent science project- I mean that in the best way," he hastily added as she raised an eyebrow.

"I don't think anyone has ever referred to me as such," she mused, fighting the urge to frown. Was that really how everyone saw her? As a science experiment?

Maybe the idea had more truth behind it than she cared to admit.

"No offense," Murdoch said, looking sheepish. It was an endearing look for him.

"None taken," she said, offering him a small smile.