Sam woke first the following morning — probably because of the cold, if she was being honest with herself. The sun was well on the way to rising, and she could hear the rustling of at least a few other people stirring. She wasn't quite ready for that, and was content to curl tighter inside of her sleeping bag while she looked at Rebecca sleeping in the adjacent cot.

Getting to kiss her for several minutes in the back corner of the barn, like two kids absconding for illicit privacy at summer camp — not that she had ever done that with her first couple of crushes — had been a nigh-miraculous end to the day. They were devastatingly exhausted and didn't last long before falling soundly asleep, but scooting their pillows together so they could nuzzle each other's foreheads and hold hands over the dividing cot frames was a lovely taste of the tenderness she was accustomed to between them.

That probably made it sting more when Sam opened her eyes once while drifting in and out of the early stages of sleep and saw Rebecca rolled to face the opposite direction, curled against the far edge of the cot. Maybe it was simple tossing and turning, but she couldn't help contemplating the possibility it was some sort of subconscious aversion, some instinct of shying away from danger manifesting when Rebecca wasn't awake to override it intellectually.

At least now Rebecca was half-facing her again, on her back with her head tilted in Sam's direction. Sam spent a while eyeing the wounds on her face, trying to decide if the exposed minor scrapes had healed significantly since the last time she took a close look. She allowed herself a few minutes of dwelling before trying to move her train of thought along by studying the rest of her face. There was her girl — brown-blonde hair getting a bit flat and dull, but still a blend of colors Sam thought looked cool in the right light; a little red blemish from a clogged pore that couldn't stop Sam from admiring the curve of her cheek and the hints of smile lines that she wondered about the future shape of.

It was comforting to think Rebecca looked peaceful right now, with her mouth slightly open, her brow and cheeks relaxed. Undoubtedly there'd been a lot of tension carried there in the last twelve hours.

Meh, there her thoughts went drifting back in the wrong direction again. She tried to steer them back towards a positive trend — this time contemplating the early days, when she and "Bex" had only just met.

**

"Hey, I hear we got someone new today." A male voice rumbled below Sam — Erik, stabilizing the ladder she was precariously monkeying about on. Storing large amounts of ammunition and such really made you contemplate fire safety in a new light; she was helping him connect a series of interconnected smoke detectors, the kind that would all set to skull-piercing shrieking if just one of them tripped.

Sam let out a little grunt as she twisted the ratcheting screwdriver over her head. Hardly an ideal position for leverage. Why did they always send the little people up to do jobs like this? Sure, nimble and all, but what about someone tall and slender, like one of the comms guys or the National Guard kid that hung out at Trent's in the afternoons?

Once she'd gotten that screw in all the way, she paused to give her arms a break before dealing with its next cousin. "Yeah? What've you heard?"

"Gal around your age, coming from a group we only learned about when they showed up on our doorstep. She and a couple of other guys walked over, sounds like, after hearing about us from the Fishbachs. The patrol led by Davis is coming back to have a talk with 'em."

Finally getting ahold of the next screw in her pocket after several seconds of fishing, Sam slipped it onto the magnetic tip of her screwdriver and started cranking away again. "Fishbachs — they the ones who traded us a can of gas for a working car battery? I remember testing it."

"Yeah, the same. Sounds like she needs some new scenery, they told her we had space n' might take her in."

"Huh. Wonder what that's all about. Like, did she get voted off the island? They wouldn't go through the trouble of walking her here if they were kicking her out though. Gimme the smoke detector?" Sam slid the screwdriver in her hip pocket to free up her hands, and took the detector Erik passed upwards.

"Yeah, Making contact is good and all, but it sounds like they went out of their way to help her."

"That says something I guess. Who's doing the interviews?"

"Well, big Mister L, of course. Sandra in medical while she checks her over, Barry when he gets off guard duty, but since he let 'em all in already, that's probably no big deal."

Sam finished connecting the latest sensor and snapped it into the mounting ring, then started down the ladder. "Well, that's cool. Sandy has a good head on her shoulders... but is surprisingly good at getting people to accidentally mention things they were trying to hide."

She didn't think about the new potential resident much more the rest of the day — she was hoping to fix a radio fried by a power surge, then figure out getting lights to another sub-basement they were expanding into, and do some laundry, and eat dinner. Not busy or anything, or trying to do things two at a time, not at all.

The next morning though, she was picking up a container of food to go from Trent's and glanced up to see Sandy, their RN, walking an unfamiliar young woman around. Sam hadn't heard about anyone else showing up — and Trent heard everything — so she figured this must be who Erik was talking about.

The first thing she noticed about her wasn't her eyes — so cliche, and how are you supposed to do that from thirty feet away in dim light anyway? No, it was how she was holding herself. Literally. She had her arms folded in front of her as she walked, and her shoulders were hunched like she was defending against a cold gust of wind — Sam could be fully sympathetic with that, but this gal was wearing a jacket and Trent's stove kept the nearby tunnels pretty warm. No, the new girl had her hands clutching her opposite upper arms, like she was trying to hold tight to something that wasn't there, and all she found when she reached for it was herself.

It struck Sam as really sad, forlorn. Just about everyone had been down a rough road but it looked like she was still walking hers, poor thing. That's why Sam felt a little better when she was checking solar panels that afternoon and saw her talking with Ronnie. "Sarge" was good people, and could sense others who were — maybe it was from her background? Either way, if the new kid needed looking after, there were few better to do it.

When they looked over in Sam's direction, she lifted three fingers from the pliers she was holding and waggled them in a little wave, trying to make her feel welcome. Even if everyone thought she came off as outgoing, Sam knew firsthand how hard it was to make new friends even before so much tragedy struck — and was happy when the newbie at least attempted to smile in reply.

Sam saw her around a few more times in passing over the next several days, and yeah, Ronnie was definitely taking her under her wing. She saw them on the shooting range a few times, Ronnie watching over her shoulder appraisingly. Then tinkering with disassembled guns on a folding table, Ronnie watching over her shoulder appraisingly. Later, throwing punches at a weighted bag — Ronnie, no surprise, holding the bag and arching an eyebrow around it appraisingly. Sam never heard her getting chewed out, so she must have doing okay — and while Ronnie didn't ask much to treat someone with respect, it definitely took a lot to impress her.

One evening, Rhonda approached Sam in the mess area.

"Hey Red. How're things?"

Sam smiled at her. "Hey, Sarge. You know, same ol'. The world's still total heck and I'd still do just about anything for a cup of coffee."

"I hear that. Something better than MRE instant stuff would really make my month." Ronnie leaned her elbows on the counter and watched Trent do his thing.

"How's your new protege?"

"Seems like a good kid that's had it rough — just like everyone else — but she's a quick study. Gave away half her food twice in the last four days though, and that's just that I saw. Been meaning to ask Trent if she's doing it more."

"Really? It's not like we get a lot around here. Do you think she's okay?"

"No, but none of us really are, right? She's been always giving it to families, or people Sandra's got laid up in the infirmary. Seems she's got a good heart, you'd probably like her."

"Sounds like." Sam smiled at Trent in thanks as he passed her another covered container, dinner destined for the workshop again while she watched the charge/discharge rates on some new hardware, then a book or twelve until she passed out. Not that she didn't have half of them memorized or anything.

"That's good, because I was hoping you could babysit tomorrow."

Sam laughed. "Babysit, really?"

"And show her around some more, maybe walk her through some of what you do. She's looking to be a good addition to the perimeter team, how about those surprises you're working on?"

"I mean, if you say she can follow directions, you know how competitive it is around here trying to get an extra pair of hands. I could totally use a helper for some stuff."

"Cool. Yeah, she's a smart enough cookie, might do okay around here if she can put down some roots."

Sam set her container of food down on the counter and leaned on it, head propped up on her hand at an angle. "This wouldn't have anything to do with the fact that I'm around her age and you think she needs to get to know some people, would it?"

Rhonda made an overly blatant show of feigning innocence. "I have no idea what you're talking about, Sammie. I just need to deal with some things in the field and don't want to throw her quite that far into the deep end just yet."

"Uh-huh. Alright, I'll do it, but I get a favorable trade the next time you get a Pop Tart from an MRE or in the wild."

"Great. I'll bring her here tomorrow, 0800?"

"I'm doing you a solid and you're not even going to let me sleep in? How is that fair? You're merciless."

"Thank you Sam, I'll see you tomorrow!" Ronnie pushed off the counter, smirked at her, and walked off down the tunnel.

Trent looked up from scraping a big pan he was cleaning. "You should have asked for two Pop Tarts if she's making you get up early."

Sam gave him a sardonic glare. "Thanks for the economic advice, Chef. Guess I'll see you tomorrow at 8."

**

Sam's sole consolation the next morning was that her new apprentice-for-the-day look as tired as she felt as Rhonda led her over.

Ronnie held out a foil-wrapped packet — which Sam snatched with only the mildest of glares — then introduced them. "Sam, this is Bex, our new resident. Bex, this is Samantha, our resident electrical wiz and improviser extraordinaire. She's the one I asked to keep you company today while I'm checking out that new location with some of the Logs people."

Sam reached for the other woman's hand and shook it — not a limp grasp, just firm enough to be confident and genuine. Sam got her first good look at the lass up close, light brown hair, a little bit of a tan — anyone had more of one than Sam did — and some very pretty hazel eyes. Sam smiled at her. "Hey, seen you around a few times and Sarge says good things. Nice to meet you."

"Thanks, you too. Rebecca, technically, but I've been going by Bex for a while." She returned Sam's smile, a little stronger than when Sam first waved at her, though it still didn't entirely touch her eyes. Sam noted they only seemed to half-focus on the world around her, like she was seeing things on autopilot, for collision avoidance, but wasn't really processing them. Dark circles shadowed them too, but it wasn't like anyone really got enough rest anymore.

"Hey, silly question, but has anyone here hugged you yet?"

Bex blinked, and her cordial smile took on the barest hint of a grin. "No, not yet."

"Ugh, rude. May I?" Sam held her hands up towards her.

"Uh, sure, I guess." Bex's grin got a little bigger.

Sam smiled as Bex lifted her arm slightly, and she slid both of hers around Bex's waist and squeezed gently. "Hi there. Welcome to our little slice of the world."

She felt Bex return the embrace — she seemed... rusty at it, but appreciative. "Hi, thanks. Seems pretty good so far."

"It's alright." Sam stepped back and looked at Ronnie, who nodded.

"Well, now that that's taken care of, I'm off. You're in good hands here, Bex. I'll see you this afternoon."

Bex glanced up at the clock and then to Ronnie. "Okay. Be safe with whatever you're doing out there."

"Yeah, it shouldn't be too bad, but thanks. See ya ladies!"

They both quietly watched Rhonda leave, and once she turned out of sight, Bex lifted an eyebrow slightly and looked at Sam. "Did I just get bartered off for a Pop Tart?"

Sam chuckled. "Yeah, kinda. But I'll share it with you as breakfast?"

Bex scoffed good-naturedly. "Okay, I can work with that."

Sam walked her to the counter and waved Trent over. "Hey buddy, can you warm this up for us? If I see you skimming any nibbles off, we're gonna have words."

Trent took the packet from her and glanced at it. "Cinnamon brown sugar, that's the good stuff. Gimme a few, I can get it nice and golden brown."

"Thanks, T." Sam turned and looked around at the available seats, then to Bex. "Wanna sit for a minute?"

"Sure."

They headed for an unoccupied corner, and a reflection caught Sam's eye as Bex sat across a small table from her. "Hey, nice necklace."

Bex looked like Sam had caught her off guard and raised her hand to it. "Oh. Uh, thanks. Saint Christopher, patron saint of travelers, apparently. I guess it got me here okay."

Sam didn't miss that Bex immediately tucked it away inside of her shirt, like she didn't want anyone else to see it. "Sorry... something personal, huh?"

Bex hesitated. "Yeah..."

"You don't have to say anything more, I won't pry."

That got another small but genuine smile. "Thanks, I appreciate that."

Sam couldn't help but wonder what emotional equivalent of a barefoot path over shattered glass she just told Bex she didn't have to go down, but that could come in good time, if she wanted to share. The wounds were obviously still fresh. "All good. Will it hit any hot buttons if I ask if you're from around here?"

Bex's answer came more freely this time. "Not really. I mean, it won't really bother me. I was going to school here in town, I grew up in West Virginia. You?"

"College up in Massachusetts, grew up west of here too, but not nearly that far. Take me home country roads and all that, huh?" Sam contemplated briefly that nobody really said "my folks are in" or "my folks were in" anymore. She in particular hated the complex swirl of anguish around not knowing which verb tense to use for that.

"Heh. Something like that, maybe one day. Listen, I'm really bad with names, especially lately, so it may take me a few times to get yours down. Please don't be offended?"

Sam thought that last part sounded pleading, almost desperate. "Sure, hon. That's fine. I mean, it's not like mine is right out of a 'See Spot Run' book or anything. Just think of how I'm the 'same' gal you're about to share a precious toaster pastry with, and my name's not far off from that. You don't even have to remember any extra letters, just take one off."

Bex chuckled. "Yeah, okay. That'll probably help, thanks."

"Hey, I saw that. You laughed. My job here is done."

Sam could swear there was a hint of an impudent smirk on Bex's face. "So I'm free to wander for the day?"

"Oh no, nice try, I need to hold up my end of the contract if I want to get more Pop Tarts outta Ronnie. I guess my work's just beginning."