Life is about pace. Sometimes, the pace is insanely fast and you don't really have a lot of time to look around and see what's going on. Sometimes the pace is slower and you have time to appreciate and admire the special little things that feel like they make life worth living. Sort of like counting your blessings and all that. I'd done plenty of the former since thawing out and now, for a few days, I was enjoying the latter.

After returning with (yet another) suit of Power Armor, Preston and I had a couple of drinks, told war stories and then I came clean about my past. Well, the whole Vault part anyway. I skipped the part about how I'd killed a man to save myself and all that. The folks here were just beginning to see me as a nice guy. No need to destroy the illusion.

We began to make a few plans about what was going to happen next. We'd both been through some shit, especially recently, and now was the time to slow down and take stock of the situation. Sanctuary Hills was growing. Word had gotten out about the fact that we had food, water and security and people wanted in. We had over a dozen with more showing up almost every day. Soon, population would be a problem. In a bombed-out subdivision…soon we would have too many people. Go figure.

"What do you think?" he asked over a bottle of beer. I'd found some that wasn't rancid, no way to know how it had kept for all this time, and we treated everyone to one bottle. "We can stack folks six to a house but they won't be happy. A dry roof and food are great but after a while people need privacy once in a while."

"We change our last idea about training people from other settlements," I suggested. "We bring people in but we let them know that, at some point, we might be asking them to go to another settlement to spread what they know. We won't break up families or separate spouses or anything like that but anyone can see that the river limits our space here."

"How about a barracks?" Preston suggested after we mulled it over for a few minutes. "You guys had that back in the day, right? A place just for the new recruits to train them and let them get settled in?"

"Yeah, we had a quarantine barracks for the new recruits to make sure they weren't bringing in anything contagious," I replied, thinking back to how my service had begun. "Then basic training for three months, lots of marching, running, shouting and learning to fire a weapon. Then we were sent to the field, most of us anyway. The smart ones went back to school to learn the more advanced shit like tech repair and maintenance or Officer's school."

"So…why not have a version of that here?" he leaned forward, a gleam in his eye. "We build a barracks, sort of a dormitory split between men and women. We screen them for illness and injury, fix up the ones that need it, feed them and let them rest up. No sense asking them to work if they're stumbling in wounded and starving."

"After they're healthy, we find out what they're good at," I continued, my thought processes tied to his. "Put everyone through three days or so of weapons training, just for safety if nothing else, and the ones that are good get guard duty. If they can swing a hammer, they go to Sturgis and his repair team. Cooks go to Mama Murphy and the kitchen. Anyone without a clear talent can go in the general work pool."

"Yes!" he was excited that we were on the same page for once. "Once we get them trained up a bit, we make sure that some of the security and building people are sent to other settlements to train their people. Keeps us from having to hike all over doing it ourselves. We can check up on them as needed but we won't have to waste time on the knucklehead stuff."

"Why Preston, I thought you liked hob-knobbing with the people?" I asked archly. "Now it sounds like you want to delegate all of them away. What gives?"

"I joined the Minutemen when I was like 16," he replied, a bit deflated by my remark. I felt bad but he was a dreamer and dreamers need to stay tied to reality once in a while. "It was great, at first, because I felt like we were really doing some good. Helping people. Then came the Quincy Massacre I told you about. A lot of good people died and it all started to fall apart. I still believe in the idea of the Minutemen but our biggest flaw was that we relied on our leaders too much. When General Hollis died, we fell to in-fighting and there was no way back. I think if we rebuilt the Minutemen with a stronger leadership, from top to bottom, it would be better. Knowing that there is always someone you can rely on to take up the slack in a bad situation is comforting to people."

"Everyone feels more like a winner when the men around him know their shit," I agreed. "So…we work on this barracks idea. Maybe a more formalized training routine. Get everyone off on the right foot. Then what?"

"I think the Minutemen need a new face," Preston said, leaning a little closer and lowering his voice. There were still others around, laughing and enjoying themselves, and he obviously wanted to keep things on the down-low for now.

"Why don't we go check the perimeter?" I said as I noted his attitude. He nodded and soon we were pretending to inspect defenses while we talked.

"What did you mean…a new face?" I asked.

"People still remember Quincy," he said sadly. "They're still not confident that the Minutemen are even still around, let alone able to help anyone."

"The folks at Ten Pines and Abernathy's place seemed surprised when I said that I was with the Minutemen," I agreed. "You think we need a PR person?"

"I think we need a leader," he said firmly. "Someone who is willing, and able, to lead by example. Get things done. Prove that the Minutemen are still a good idea that we can make work."

"Great idea…when do you start?"

"Not me, Smith…you," he said as he stopped and turned to face me. "I want you to be the face of the new Minutemen."

"You can't hold your beer," I said with a smirk until I saw that he was serious. "Me? What in the living Hell makes you think I can lead these people? I'm not even from around here! What makes you think they'll follow me?"

"Because they already have," he said simply. "Last week when you attacked the treatment plant? I told the people here what was going on and asked for volunteers. Almost every hand went up, including Mama Murphy's. I only took the ones that had combat experience but everyone wanted to help you. You…a stranger none of them had met even a week before. They were ready to go into a firefight, with Super Mutants no less, for you."

"I'm not a leader, Garvey…I'm a field man," I said firmly. "If you knew how many times I've thought about cutting loose and running from here since I woke up, we wouldn't be having this conversation."

"If you actually had run, you wouldn't be here to have this conversation," he replied flatly. "You've proven yourself more capable than ten other people. You've gone into battle against the steepest odds anyone here has ever heard of. Of course you've thought about bailing out. Everyone thinks that way. Hell, I've thought that way. But we stayed. You stayed."

"I stayed because I had something to gain," I said sharply. "When we first met, my first thought was to kill you all or, at best, leave you to the raiders. Then it occurred to me that having people around to guard my shit while I was gone was a good thing. Then you started asking me to help those other settlements and I only did it for the food…for a full belly…and someone to keep me warm once in a while. I can't tell you for sure that I won't head over the hill the first time a better opportunity comes along. Is that the kind of person you want leading you?"

"Leading me? No…but what about leading them?" he said as he took in the community with a sweep of his arm. "I understand you better than you think. You went to sleep in the real world and woke up in a nightmare. You're just trying to survive. You're an opportunist and you seem to think I'm going to think less of you for that. Have you hurt anyone here? Have you stolen from us? Handed us to the raiders for caps or left anyone behind to save your own skin? No…you haven't, even though you've had plenty of chances. Okay…so you don't want to be leader. Are you willing to at least act like one in front of others?"

"You want me to play puppet? That doesn't sound like your style either, Garvey."

"My style is anything I need to do to keep people alive," he said. "You're not the only one that uses people. I've done it since we met. 'Hey, Smith…can you help out this settlement while I guard the home front? How about that settlement over there? Oh, and that one too?' I asked you to hike your ass all over the Commonwealth helping others while I stayed back because I wasn't sure I could trust you with these people. When you took on the Mutants at the treatment plant though, that was way above and beyond the call of duty. You're a better fighter than anyone I know. A better fighter than me. You've got skills I can't hope to learn any time soon. So, I used you as a strike force. I watched you in Concord…you're a wrecking crew. A God-damned weapon of mass destruction. You killed the enemy and saved lives doing it. You took risks for people without owing them anything and now they look up to you more than they ever will me. The question is, will you let me use that?"

"So, I play the part of leader but you call the shots?" I asked incredulously.

"More or less," he replied. "You make the military decisions, tactical calls and lead in the field. I help with coordination of the settlements and guard the people here. If you need me in the field then fine, I'm with you, but otherwise you're the tip of the spear."

"Each to their own skill set eh?"

"Sounds about right," he replied. "I need a symbol that the people can rally around and you're it. You might not feel like a hero, you might not even be a hero, but you sure as Hell look like a hero to these people. I'll never have the respect that you've earned. People will follow me but not look up to me. I'll always be just the guy who survived Quincy. But you…you're the star of the show. If that means I can use you as a walking, talking recruiting poster for the Minutemen than that's what I'll do. You used us to keep you alive, now let me do the same thing to you."

"Join the Minutemen…see the Commonwealth," I said flatly, then sighed. "Well…shit. Fair's fair, Garvey." I said and shook his hand. "I'll be your poster boy, and your spear, as long as you keep me happy. Hell…find me a nice set of twins and I'll be President if you want me to."

"What about the redhead?'

"She's a good kid but it's time she moved on and found some nice guy to settle down with," I replied. She'd started talking about 'our future together' and that was not a conversation I wanted to have with anyone just yet. "Oh…if I'm going to become your chief recruiter, I'm going to want some better quarters, maybe some booze too. A man has to have his creature comforts."

"Fair enough…General," he said with a smile.

"General? Quite a promotion you just gave me there, Garvey."

"The leader of the Minutemen has always held the rank of General. One of the few advantages of being the last one is that there's nobody around to dispute the claim. It's tradition and I think that some traditions are good things. Besides, we can't just go around calling our chief hero 'Smith' now can we?"

"Booze," I said firmly as I turned to walk away before I said something I'd regret or agreed to some other crazy scheme. 'And better quarters…and women…and smokes! Don't forget the smokes!"

"No problem…General!" he shot at my back as I stalked away. "By the way…I heard tell of a settlement that need your help!"

"Lots of booze!" I shouted back over my shoulder. "And pretty women!"

The price you pay for being the local hero…I swear.