The creaking of the Prydwen’s hull and the dull throbbing of its engines as it maintained anchor over the Capital Wasteland were only interspersed by the sound of Laura’s pencils flying across the off-white pages of her sketchbook. Bold lines, drawn with confidence, carved out the countenance of Knight-Captain Reddon while soft shading and gentle touches of the graphite filled in the blanks. Her eyes, wellsprings of crystalline blue, flitted between the drawing and Reddon’s own face and she frowned, pressing the bottom of her pencil against her pursed lips. 

He was seated opposite her in the unused nook of the Prydwen that she used as her studio. The Scribes that dwelled and worked in this part of the airship had initially grumbled at her intrusion but quickly changed their tune and tolerated her presence after she’d drawn them each a flattering portrait. Reddon’s face was cast in a stark contrast of light and shadow by the light fixture that hung from the low, rivet-studded ceiling. His makeshift seat was an empty crate that Laura had confiscated when no one was looking, and his empty suit of power armor stood by the entrance into the cranny, as if standing sentry for nosy intruders. 

There was something intimate about drawing someone’s portrait, Laura thought, and she hated being disturbed while she was working. As such, she was quietly grateful for the notion that the sight of the Knight-Captain’s suit would scare off the Squires that roamed the lower decks of the Prydwen and did their best to be a pain in everyone’s ass… as adorable as they were. 

“Is there something wrong?” Reddon asked, having noticed the frown on Laura’s face. He glanced away from her face when she met his gaze and went back to looking straight ahead like she’d ordered -- it was much easier to draw someone if they weren’t moving, after all. 

She smiled and motioned reassuringly with her free hand. “No, everything is alright, you’re doing great. I was just thinking about which technique to apply, that’s all.” 

“Oh,” Reddon said. He cleared his throat and shifted on his crate a little. “That’s good.” 

The truth was that Laura wasn’t giving Reddon’s portrait her undivided attention. She took a deep breath and straightened up, putting her thoughts about the mission out of her mind. It wasn’t fair to the Knight-Captain. They’d set the date for his sitting weeks ago, after all. That this happened to be the last day before her departure to lands unknown was a coincidence and a consummate professional wouldn’t let that affect their work. 

But it was so very hard [i]not[/i] to think about the mission… 

After an hour had passed, Laura cleared her throat and got up from her own seat -- a real chair, of course -- and gently tore the page from the sketchbook. Paper was hard to come by so as much as Laura would have liked an easel with a large canvas to work with, she had to make due with a supply of sketchbooks that the Brotherhood had liberated from an old factory a few years ago. Her heartbeat quickened as she handed the portrait to the Knight-Captain. That first moment of judgement always made her nervous, no matter how many times she’d gone through it by now, and no matter how sure she was that her work was good. Reddon’s face embodied several of the noble qualities that Laura admired in the Brotherhood of Steel and she’d had to suppress her awe while she worked on immortalizing the Knight-Captain’s strong jaw and heavy brow. She’d been with the Brotherhood for a few years now but that feeling never changed. They were still nothing short of heroes to her.  

Fortunately, his face lit up immediately when he looked upon Laura’s rendition of himself. “Wow, I don’t know what to say,” Reddon said and glanced up at her with sincere gratitude in his eyes. “Thank you, Initiate.”

Her tense shoulders sagged with relief and she reciprocated his smile with a wide one of her own. She hadn’t known the man before he approached her with the familiar commission for a portrait; evidence that her fame was spreading throughout more than her own circle within the Brotherhood. “You’re very welcome, Knight-Captain,” she replied and inclined her head, still beaming. 

“So what do I owe you?” the man said as he got to his feet as well and reached into his pockets. 

“Standard rate is thirty caps,” Laura answered. She hadn’t known Reddon before he’d approached her, but she had made sure to do her research on the man in the weeks between their first meeting and this appointment, and discovered that he was something of a rising star in the Brotherhood’s ranks. “But you were so well-behaved -- as a model, I mean, sir -- that twenty-five caps is all I’d be comfortable accepting. Most of the men… well, you know what they’re like,” she continued, rolled her eyes and laughed. “Nothing short of a miracle if they sit still for more than two minutes.” 

Reddon laughed and nodded as he counted out the caps. “That’s very kind of you, Initiate,” and she saw the glint of budding affection in his eyes, much to her satisfaction. One could never have too many friends in the Brotherhood, especially someone with a little ambition.  

After Reddon re-entered his suit and stomped away, Laura gathered up her drawing instruments in her arms and made her way back to the Initiates’ quarters, which was little more than a few rows of beds and footlockers over the power armor bay -- loud, crowded and filthy. Laura longed for the day of her Knighthood and the much more private quarters that such a rank would afford. 

She ignored the other Initiates that were there, who were stood in a circle and yelling at something with great and unintelligible enthusiasm. It could be anything, from an impromptu wrestling match to an intense round of dice or cards, but she had greater things on her mind. Much to her chagrin Laura discovered that one half of the finest pair of boots that she owned was missing and she was forced to exchange her leisure shoes for her second-best pair of boots, muttering an aimless insult at the imaginary Squire she pictured in her mind as having made off with her boot while smoothing over some severe creases in the leather by the toes of her left foot. Instead of going back into their usual place in the locker, Laura stuffed her pencils and her sketchbook into the rucksack she’d already prepared for the mission. 

[i]The mission…[/i] 

The pace of her heart quickened again. She glanced at the time on her pocket watch and hastened to tie her shoelaces. Thaddeus would already be waiting for her in the mess hall. 

Unbeknownst to her, she missed Paladin Moss by a hair’s breadth and stepped into the mess hall to the usual raucous noise of Knights recalling their glory and the excited, animated conversations of Scribes discussing new discoveries. The loud voice of the Knight-Sergeant that she knew as McDowell carried over the din but she wasn’t listening to him, for her brother Thaddues beckoned for her to join him by one of the tables. A bottle of lager already awaited her. She met his grin with a grateful smile and the two siblings clinked their bottles together as soon as she sat down. 

“Ad victoriam,” they said together. 

“Spill it,” Thaddeus said immediately, wasting no time. His hair was the same shade of black and his eyes were the same hue of sapphirine, but they were evidently not twins; Thaddeus had their father’s gaunt cheeks and deep-set gaze as opposed to Laura’s full and open face. A scar across his mouth had once split his lips in twain and he spoke with a slight lisp. He must have only just finished his shift, Laura realized, for his overalls were still stained with oil and grease. 

“I’m leaving tomorrow morning,” Laura responded in kind. Her eyes were brimming with equal parts excitement and nervousness. “Really early. Mission details were sparse. [i]Very[/i] sparse. Something’s up, Thad, but I don’t know what. Apparently this came straight from the Elder. You know what that means.” 

He took a few seconds to digest what she’d said and leaned back in his chair, eyes wide. “From Maxson himself? Damn, Lau.” Thaddeus whistled appreciatively. She could see the conflicting emotions in his eyes: sadness that she would be leaving, concern that it would likely be something dangerous, but also a generous understanding for what it could mean for Laura’s career. “Where are you going?” 

She threw up her hands. “See, that’s the thing,” she whispered and bit her lip. “I don’t know, the briefing didn’t say. I think I’m not even supposed to talk about this with you. If it hadn’t stressed secrecy so much I’d have asked around with some of the officers that I’m friendly with. But it said to pack plenty of rations and ammunition, so… probably not downtown D.C.” 

“Probably not,” Thaddeus agreed and took a large swig of his beer while his mind worked. “You know,” he continued, thinking aloud, “one of the vertibirds never came back. I overheard Kells complaining about that the other day. Been wondering who they’re gonna send to get it back ever since.” 

Laura frowned. “What are you suggesting? That this is a rescue mission? When does that ever happen?” 

He shrugged. “Never, but isn’t that exactly why they’d be all hush-hush about it?” He rapped the table with his knuckles. “Who’s leading the mission?” 

Feeling foolish but rather being safe than sorry, Laura looked around the room to see if the man in question was there, watching her, waiting for her to slip up. He wasn’t. She saw Senior Scribe Owen, who the briefing had mentioned, but he was embroiled in his own conversation. “Paladin Moss,” she answered at length. 

Thaddeus raised an eyebrow at that. “Doesn’t that basically confirm that this isn’t an ordinary operation? Moss has Maxson’s favor, I hear.” 

“You hear a lot of things,” Laura muttered sardonically. 

Her brother sniggered at that. “People forget about the Lancer in the driving seat all the time, Lau. They say all sorts of shit they shouldn’t around us. Don’t underestimate what I might know.” 

“Fine, you braggart, let’s say that that’s true,” she replied, humoring him with a half-smile. “What do they want with an Initiate like me, then, if this is so important? You know that I’m not about to turn down an opportunity to prove myself, but--” 

“But why isn’t this a team of veterans, right, I know,” Thaddeus interrupted, finishing her sentence for her. “Have you forgotten how we came here? The briefing suggested extended field ops, right? Who better than the girl that trekked from fucking [i]Montana[/i] all the way to the Capital Wasteland? You’re not [i]just[/i] an Initiate, Lau. You’re good at this and you know it. We both are.” 

Laura sighed. “So why aren’t we both on this mission?” 

Thaddeus laughed. “Because, for all of our experience and grit, there is still a very real chance I might crash the vertibird against the very first building we encounter.” Before Laura could tease him about it, he held up a silencing finger. “That shit is harder than it looks, alright?” 

She chuckled. A moment of silence fell as both Grimshaws nursed their drink. 

“Hey,” Thaddeus said softly, and Laura was roused from her reverie to see the sincerity of feeling in her brother’s eyes. “Don’t do anything stupid, okay?” 

Laura took his hand into her own and brushed her thumb against his skin. He’d developed so many callouses since they got here. There was precious little left of the younger brother Laura remembered from their days in the Vault. As she so often did, she saw their father in him. [i]Don’t do anything stupid.[/i] It had been Deckard’s motto. 

“I won’t,” she promised and tucked a loose strand of black hair behind her ear. “I’ll be back before you know it.”