She only left the room once. Knowing she had access, she found the records regarding the Watchers and everything surrounding the case. The text was swift and brutal. She bit her lip as she scrolled through the terminal, focused on every bright green word.

The Brotherhood had poured as many resources as they were able into the investigation. Every interrogation was written out and each Watcher provided testimony. Ultimately, there would never be a clean ending to what happened to Shiloh. As things were in the wasteland.

Dr. Wikhard and Knight Ripson were dead. Executed by firing squad for the charges of terrorism for Wikhard, and treason for Ripson. Shiloh remembered the brief conversation they shared since she discovered his betrayal. All for money. He betrayed the Brotherhood for money. What a waste.

The Children of Atom distanced themselves. Mother Isolde provided little word except that she recognized the might of the Brotherhood and would keep her remaining soldiers at bay as long as the Brotherhood was in the Commonwealth. Nora took over all remaining dealings with the Children. The Watchers were considered pardoned so long as they worked with the scribes under close supervision. They and their families took residence in the Citadel and surrounding Brotherhood footholds.

The Watchers who specifically froze Shiloh and her companions were never found, likely scattered or dead after the sacking of the Institute. Scribe Anderson was somewhere in the Capital Wasteland with her son and husband, apparently mentally broken from being frozen. Shiloh yearned to see her again, to share the pain with someone, but advice from Brotherhood doctors heavily discouraged stressing the woman any further.

A scribe touched Shiloh's hand, making her jump. She turned to look at the woman's concerned eyes, "You're shaking, Sentinel."

Shiloh blinked at her, taking a deep breath, "I should get some air."

She left the inner circle, walking up the stairs to the courtyard. She watched, not speaking as hopefuls and Knights trained under the blue sky. It was rare to see the Capital Wasteland looking so bright. It was a good day for traveling, not that she would be doing so. As much as the outside called to her, she wouldn't leave without speaking to Maxson. Not this time.

She let the warm air calm her before she headed back inside to find something to eat. The food provided by the Brotherhood wasn't an improvement from what she hunted out on her own, but it was more plentiful than the bare slips of meat that a wild dog could provide.

She tucked a lock of hair behind her head, noting that she should cut it soon so it didn't get in the way. Finishing her lunch, she toured around the inner circles. She found the Lion's Den and approached slowly, feeling solemn in the area Sarah and her closest companions used to live. Nobody was around, so she approached Sarah's room slowly. The room was cold and dusty, unused and untouched. Maxson probably couldn't bring himself to enter this place. Shiloh sat on the bed, breathing heavily.

She opened her mouth to speak, but closed it. She felt stupid. Sarah was dead. Speaking out loud to a ghost wouldn't do anything but upset her. She peered at the bookshelf by Sarah's bed, taking a copy of poems, written hundreds of years ago by a Robert Frost. Sarah liked books, though she didn't have time to read often. She wasn't particularly fond of poetry, too fluffy for her, but books were so rare in this world that she kept the ones she could wrangle away from the scribes close.

Now...the book stood unread in the quiet room. Gently, Shiloh removed it from the shelf and left. Another time she would come here and mourn. For today, she needed to relax. She didn't have the energy to reminisce after reading about what happened with Ripson and the Watchers.

Not even bothering to blush, she headed straight for Maxson's room. He was still swamped in meetings and would be for some time, so she would have to occupy her time. The guards didn't even raise an eyebrow when she returned to the room she'd left unlocked. Back inside, she pulled off the cover blanket from the bed and wrapped herself in it. She sat at the desk with the book and let the light filter in from the partially opened curtains.

Instead of diving into the book immediately, she grabbed some spare paper and a pencil and began writing down her to-do list. She still had a few errands to run for Moira, was long overdue with a visit to Rivet City, needed to find a way to turn her home in Megaton into a temporary housing for freed slaves, and she needed to get started on the other slaver locations she was given. If she was to begin avoiding super mutant hives, she would have to find easier ways around until the Brotherhood eradicated them.

She listed out her plans in scratchy handwriting, making little maps and notes here and there. She wasn't a fan of her own handwriting and didn't write much, but it was nice to have a bit of an outlet. She left the paper on the desk as she picked up the book and opened it. She curled up more under the blanket, even though it wasn't cold in the room. It smelled like Maxson and the thought comforted her.

There were many things you could say about Shiloh. That she was impulsive was a true one of them. She didn't plan on blurting out her feelings, but as soon as the words were out, it was like a weight was lifted. Even if he didn't feel the same, or if he didn't want a relationship with her, she could handle it. It was easier to face her feelings at this point. Time was too precious. She learned that the hard way. She was so apprehensive at first, but once it was out, it felt so good she couldn't help but smile even when Maxson look shocked.

As she flipped through the poems, she did wonder how Maxson would react. He didn't seem repulsed by the news, though he was at a loss for words. She got a bit of a kick out of shocking him. The clock in the room said it was getting later in the afternoon, though it was still bright and clear outside.

She closely observed the poetry, not fully able to comprehend some of the things mentioned. Robert Frost wrote of sleds and horses and lush, green forests covered in snow. He wrote of winter often. Seasons didn't exist after the apocalypse. It just got slightly warmer and slightly colder. She'd never seen snow. Shiloh wondered if Robert Frost's world was as beautiful as he wrote or if it had ugly sides as well. She wondered if he would write beautiful poetry about the wastes if he lived in them.

She almost jumped from her seat when there was a quick knock at the door. She lost track of time as she read and dove deep into her own thoughts on a world that hadn't existed for hundreds of years. Looking up, she watched as Maxson entered the room, looking exhausted. He shrugged off his jacket and rolled his shoulders before sitting on the bed and quietly looking at her. She hadn't moved from her position on the chair as he watched her.

His face lit up in curiosity when he saw the book in her hands. She obliged him, "It's a book of Robert Frost poems. It was Sarah's." If he wondered how she got it, he didn't ask.

"Do you like it?"

Shiloh stood from her chair, dragging the blanket with her to sit beside him on the bed. Tentatively, she wrapped the extra fabric around his shoulders so they were sharing. She then opened the book to where she left off, "It's strange. He couldn't have known, but when writing about it, he said he would prefer the world end in fire over ice. In a way, the world did end in fire."

He wrapped an arm around her shoulders, though he wasn't looking at her, "The world didn't end. We are proof of that."

Shiloh smiled, looking at him then the book again, "I turned to speak to God, About the world's despair, But to make bad matters worse, I found God wasn't there."

"Cheerful."

She laughed, sitting closer to him, "Even he had his dark moments. How were the meetings?"

He frowned deeply, "Repetitive. I don't need to be there but the codex requires me to attend all meetings in the Great Hall."

She turned, running a hand over his back, "You need a vacation."

He rubbed his eyes with his free hand, "Yeah I don't think that word is in the western elders' vocabulary."

"We'll just run away, then. I'll protect you," she was grinning now, trying to get him to smile.

He didn't smile, but he did gently tug her until she was placed comfortably in his lap. Almost instinctively, she nuzzled into his neck. He ran his hands down her arms lightly as she giggled, "Hey, hey…" he prompted until she calmed down and pulled back to look at him. He was giving her a serious look and she almost shied away, "Shiloh, I think we should talk."

She didn't want to be too apprehensive, but she squirmed uncomfortably, "Yeah, we should."

He took a deep breath, tense with discomfort and she could tell how hard this was for him. But this was something he needed to do. She couldn't run away or speak over him now. She couldn't do this for him. She listened closely, but placed her hands on his jaw to try to encourage him. He paused for a long moment before beginning, "You...understand what is expected of someone in my position. I know that you're different. This isn't perfectly ideal for either of us. However, I find that I would rather have you than something ideal. I would rather have you than something easy or comfortable. You're complicated, but you're part of me. Whether you want that or not is your choice. I can only offer what I am, with all those expectations."

Instead of replying immediately, she smiled and looked into his eyes, so gentle and blue despite his harsh exterior, "I want that. You're my home, Arthur."

He sighed when she pulled him into a kiss, "Do you understand, though? Do you understand what it is you're agreeing to?"

"Yes, God, yes. I love you, I love you, I love you," she continued her mantra as she kissed him. His grip grew tighter on her as they became more feverish and desperate to undress each other.

"You're mine," he breathed into her neck as he tugged at her shirt until she pulled it off.

"I'm yours," she whispered as she did the same to his shirt. With time finally on their side, she took the time to appreciate his chest. Wanting to taste his skin, she ran her lips along his collarbone and ran her fingers through his chest hair. The Brotherhood training was good to him and she couldn't even think about his chest and abs without her mouth watering. Wrapping her arms around his neck, she allowed it as he stood with her in his arms and he set her down further up on the bed. He laid beside her as he helped her out of her pants. She kissed him again as her fingers fumbled with the zipper of his pants. He kicked them off as she pulled him flush against her. It felt good to be skin to skin with him. It felt good to be so open and honest with him. She combed her fingers through his beard, "Arthur?"

"Mmm, yes?" he spoke as he kissed her neck and made shivers run down her spine.

"I want you to fuck me," she whispered. When he gave her a similar look to when she'd said she loved him for the first time, she continued, "I want you to be inside me."

"Sentinel, I-"

"Arthur," she said with a firm tone, "I want you. And all the baggage and expectations and stress that comes with you."

He nodded wordlessly, looking determined. Still, he was nervous and she could tell. She took pity on him and kissed him sweetly. He looked more relaxed, but was still tense. Sitting up, she unhooked her bra and he gently touched her breasts as she slipped her underwear down her legs. Getting comfortable, she pushed him back against the bed and climbed on top of him. He raised an eyebrow in question at her, but she ran a hand down his chest as she straddled him.

She could see him swallow thickly as she pulled him free from his underwear and pumped him. He bit his lip at her ministrations, a sight that aroused her more. After getting his underwear off, she took the time to admire his fully naked form. She leaned down and kissed him as she continued touching him. He cupped her face in his hands, looking grateful that she was taking initiative.

"I'm never letting you leave my sight again."

She smiled, "You'll have to, but I'll always come back to you." She positioned above him as he ran his hands down her back and across her waist. He kissed her deeply as she sat down, pushing him into her. His grip on her tightened and she placed her hands on his shoulders, "Relax, love."

She leaned back, moaning when he was fully sheathed in her. She tightened her fists on his abs, letting her body get used to the feeling of being full. He fisted the covers with one hand and threw the other arm across his eyes when she began testing the movement. One thrust had her limbs shaking and her breath shortening.

A sense of protectiveness must have overcome him, because he suddenly sat up and held her close, flipping their positions without slipping out of her. She gasped in surprise, clinging to him. He pressed her into the mattress, gently kissing her breasts and neck. He reached up and laced their fingers together, gripping her leg with the other hand to give him better leverage. He then spoke the words that made her heart sing, "I love you."

Before she could respond to that, he pulled out and thrust into her. She could feel every muscle in his body and all the strength he had and the pleasure was indescribable. She tightened immediately when he thrust again and she couldn't be bothered to hide her moans. He moved experimentally, watching her reaction to each kind of thrust. She squirmed for more friction and he gripped her legs and thrust harder into her. The slapping noise their bodies made was almost lewd, but she didn't care.

Her body was flushed with heat and desire and he began to sweat with the effort. She cried out, coming hard and quick from not being used to the sensations. But he didn't stop. She wondered if he was a talker in bed, but he seemed to be more focused on lasting rather than teasing her. She nodded as he pressed his body closer to hers and her nails dug into his back when he thrusted faster until he was pounding her with all his strength. She couldn't bite back her moans and she was practically shrieking his name as she came again.

Her back arched and she tightened so much on him that it ached her muscles and she could feel him begin to stutter in his rhythm. He moved his hands to grip the covers, slowing down but keeping the roughness. She could feel the muscles in his legs tighten. "Come inside me," she whispered in his ear and he had no time to argue as her legs tightened around his waist just as he came.

He groaned into her neck, their bodies slick with sweat. She moaned as well, despite herself. It was a foreign feeling, him coming inside her, but it was absurdly intimate. He was panting into her neck and she was trying to catch her breath when she asked, "Do you?"

"Hmm?"

"You said you loved me. Do you?"

He didn't lift his head from her neck, but she could feel him nod, "For so long."

It took a moment, but he gained the strength to roll over onto his back. She pulled the comforter up and over them. He let the blanket drift across his waist as the sweat on his chest dried. He stared at the ceiling as she looked at him with her head propped on her hand. She leaned over and kissed his cheek. He didn't look away from the ceiling, but he reached to grab her hand in his and she smiled.

She pressed her face to his shoulder, content to just lay with him and enjoy the rest of the evening. It was like he said. It wouldn't be easy, it wouldn't be perfect. They both knew she wasn't the ideal woman for his position. But she was ideal for Arthur. And he was ideal for her. And that's all that mattered.