Sam gasped louder than she had in a long, long time when Rebecca held out the picture frame from her house. Like, got a kitten on Christmas levels of loud.

"What the— when did you— I... "

Eventually she gave up and put her arms around Rebecca. At least she remembered to be excruciatingly gentle at the last moment — maybe not enough though, as after Rebecca patted her on the back and they released each other Sam realized she seemed a little out of breath. "Sorry, I didn't mean to squeeze the air out of you. I tried to be careful, but just... thank you."

Rebecca smiled at her as she leaned on the bumper and caught her breath. "You're welcome. I thought, y'know. Something from when you were all happy would be important."

Sam's eyes were watering as she glanced up at Rebecca and beamed gratitude at her, then she looked back to the picture frame, running her fingers over the faces of her family smiling up at her from happier days. "Jesus, Remy. I had been thinking of trying to get some pictures, but with everything... I didn't even remember until now." She wiped one of the tears that had overflowed her lashes away with a flick. "God, thank you."

Rebecca just looked at her with a tender expression for a bit, until Sam started telling her stories about her brother's graduation, and they swapped a few as of yet unshared stories from their senior years. Eventually Rebecca asked to head back, saying she was getting thirsty. They paused by the barn's entrance on the way up the hill.

Sam pointed out where she'd been sleeping through the door. "There's my luxurious suite."

"Ah, I recognize the sleeping bag. Maybe I can get moved down here, drag a cot over next to yours, now that people aren't rousting me every couple hours to shine a flashlight in my eyes."

"That'd be nice." Sam gave her a hopeful smile as they started walking again. When they got back to the house, she picked up Rebecca's water bottle and day pack for her so she wouldn't have to bend over and deal with any shifts in blood pressure. She kept Rebecca company while the latter knit a little, but as usual the repetitious activity made her zone out and get drowsy. Maybe she would have lasted longer if she hadn't have been hit in the head with a table and thrown on the floor.

Sam sighed as she draped a blanket over Rebecca again and made her way outside. She still held the picture frame, and gazed at it contemplatively while leaning on yet another fence rail. She was pretty sure her mom would've liked Rebecca. But damn, Sam really wished Mom was around for all kinds of reasons, currently getting advice about their relationship being front-of-mind.

Remy was right, it did feel really good to talk about the grief she was facing, and saving the photograph for her was so thoughtful. But there were so many little things that were off. Rebecca didn't tell Sam that she missed her too, and they'd been waking up next to each other for months. All her smiles felt hesitant somehow. All their passing touches seemed to cut off, not linger like they always used to. She didn't hold Sam's hand for support going down the hill, she depended on the splinter-ridden fence. Most unusually, Sam couldn't help feeling like there were things Rebecca wasn't saying to her. The sunk cost thing couldn't possibly be a metaphor for their relationship too, could it? The very thought of that was heartbreaking.

She was starting to think those pesky bricks Rebecca was talking about could be stealthy little bastards too, sneaky ninja motherfuckers slipping in the back door when she wasn't looking, weighing her down. The only thing she could really be sure of right then was that there weren't any in the field in front of her.

**

Rebecca realized hours must have passed by the time she woke, judging by the yellowing light outside. At the rate she was going she'd never finish the blanket in time for Allie's baby. She turned her head to look for the unfinished project and saw it neatly tucked into the top of her pack beside the couch. That was sweet of someone, presumably Sam.

Oh, what the nine circles of hell was going on in her head about Sam. One crappy day (even by apocalypse standards) and one terrible accident had definitely done damage to them both. Sam, no surprise, with the grief and remorse, and Rebecca figured it was natural to have some kind of lingering aftereffects herself. But... what she was experiencing didn't make a lot of sense.

Rebecca didn't resent Sam in the least. She knew full well the violence wasn't meant for her. That Sam would never act with intent to hurt her. And yet... the way she was hyper-aware of Sam's movements behind her on the porch. How she'd started to feel dizzy and out of breath, her pulse accelerating — and not in a good way — when Sam understandably, predictably hugged her when Rebecca gave her the picture.

Part of her was acting like she was afraid of Sam. Deep down below rational thought and even emotions like longing and desire, part of her must actually be afraid. Maybe if she'd actually gotten to finish her degree, she'd know what to do about it.

Something in Rebecca's own head was poisoning the vital well of tactile comfort that was so key to their dynamic as a couple and she hated it; she worried what it could do to them long-term. Maybe it would fade over a few days? They were already talking more, joking around like they used to as they both moved away from the shadow of that shitty day.

Fucking Joel Conroy and Mags-whatever-her-name-was. All of her self-doubts not withstanding, none of this would have happened without them. Sam losing her mom, yeah, that was an expected possibility. But why did her dad have to be such a shit? He could have been a huge partial win for Sam, re-entering her life. No matter how much he missed and mourned his wife, shouldn't getting his daughter back have been a good thing?

And Mags. Rebecca found herself glaring at the ceiling angrily, like she could bore holes through it. Good on Epstein for taking care of business, but damn if Rebecca wouldn't have liked a piece of her. Even before she caused all this shit between her and Sam! Sam was unquestionably the most positive thing to happen to Rebecca in a long time, and that bitch and her barbaric empire building...

Rebecca filled her lungs let out a long, drawn out sigh. The barbaric empire building that she and her friends found so appalling they rushed to challenge it head-on. Maybe Chrissie's initial hesitations had been right, maybe they should have left and then come back with a fuckton of firepower and a pack of fire-spitting veterans at their back. How much of their agreement to go into harms way had been her influence on them?

And they hadn't even managed to get all of them. Saving so very close to everyone was inarguably worth it, but who knows what havoc the handful that got away would wreak. If the price had to be so high, it would have been nice to get a clean sweep.

Maybe they should have just fucking stayed home.

**

Chris was worried. Only their close circle of companions knew about the nature of Rebecca's injuries, and she could tell they went beyond the physical — not just for her, either.

Sam's vigil at her side was understandable, Chris respected it and didn't try to pry her away, but then she watched her isolate herself and brood for hours while Rebecca was recuperating. Next there'd been those few seconds when Sam mistook her for Rebecca when she woke her and was so disappointed. Not that Sam was even getting much sleep either; Chris had heard her tossing and turning, even leaving the barn in the wee hours. The grief about her mom and whatever argument with her father before she stalked out of the house had to be eating her up inside, plus the stress of the fight, and then the guilt about hurting Rebecca piled on. Her voice on the radio when she called for help had been gut wrenching...

Rebecca's head injury seemed to be turning out okay, but she was restless and distant too. Both of them were in rough shape to begin with, and repercussions were clearly echoing through their relationship. Chris swore she'd seen them sitting across from each other when they were talking that morning — maybe it was just chance, but wouldn't they usually be at each other's side? Maybe even propping each other up. They'd been one of the happiest couples Chris knew back at Broadway, even more so after they made their new home together.

They should have been each other's primary source of comfort, not this. Chris couldn't help but think the environment where they were was making things worse — staying too close to where so much went down. She was increasingly convinced they had to pull up stakes soon — either get their asses home, or back on the road for Rebecca's mother. Maybe their luck would improve and that would turn out to be positive — or if not, maybe the two of them would be on an even footing, both able to share the same grief and grow closer again.

She was just supposed to be along for the ride, dammit. But she and Pat had known Sam for a while and were permanently grateful to Rebecca for their rescue a few months back, so if she could figure out some lever to pull to get the two of them headed in the right direction — i.e. back towards each other again — she was all about it.

She had half a mind to drive back up the hill and call Ronnie.

**

Epstein's arm fucking hurt. He couldn't believe that asshole with the 1911 got the drop on him, and reprimanded himself repeatedly for not going easier on the trigger with that fast-firing SMG he borrowed from Miss Conroy for the stealth entry.

Those poor ladies. He hadn't seen it go down, he was still trying to pick his ass up off the floor as Clinton mowed through the guys in the next room. He figured some folks might mock him and Landry for getting knocked out of the fight so early and leaving the girls to kick everyone's ass  instead, but... as far as he was concerned, he and Landry had done their jobs, going in first, taking out the immediate targets before they could engage and drawing fire away from their backup.

But after he'd dropped the ringleader woman, he'd heard Conroy frantically explaining to the others what happened, how she thought someone was blindsiding her and tried to defend herself in the middle of a gnarly fight... and then realized too late it was the Clinton gal.

He really felt for them, the two of 'em and the Gunny had pretty much saved his bacon that night back when... then Clinton pretty much did it again two nights ago in the firefight. But, he wasn't trained for this. He could replace a fucked up wheel hub on a M1115 faster than anybody in his old unit, but fixing what was basically a blue-on-blue situation involving two people in a close relationship? That was way out of his league.