Sam rolled her window down partway — glancing apologetically at Rebecca when she had to crack hers too to stop the wind buffeting, but feeling better after the smile she got back — and enjoyed the steady breeze across her face. It emphasized the sense of motion for her, of leaving that crappy valley behind. Funny to think that once everyone left, others might come along and mistake it for an idyllic little pocket, not realizing the blood that soaked the ground.

Then again, there was a century n' a half of that happening around those parts, with all the Civil War battlegrounds and slave plantations everyone had blissfully paved over.

But... if she turned things around, looked at it the right way, that could actually be comforting. People would build over this terrible time, some day all of the first-hand loss would be forgotten. Within a few generations — assuming humanity made it in general — the worst of the lingering pain would be gone, replaced by people who knew hardship, but not debilitating tragedy.

She supposed she could take some comfort in the numerous ways she'd contributed to the early, uphill, sometimes futile seeming reconstruction efforts. Who knew that all those classes, the little DIY projects, the constant battery tweaking, the time she noticed rivals were intermittently jamming her team's control frequency so it looked like interference...

Who knew all that would mean she could give people lights at midnight, a working medical ventilator, comms, music, spreadsheets... shit, even TV episodes for their children. The symbolism about keeping them all out of the dark ages had the subtlety of a coyote-bound anvil. That was probably appropriate, knowing her.

Her, the short "quiet" kid from Post Oak Middle School and Spotsylvania High, who got suspended once at each for sucker-punching bullies when she'd had enough. It had worked though — the second incident was a new kid who hadn't heard the news to leave her alone by December. That in itself was always a little surprising, since she was pretty sure screaming about how she was going to shove Jimmy's "own shit-dripping entrails down his throat the next time she saw him" terrified some of the kids. It certainly seemed to earn her an extra day at home with no electronics. She'd grown wiser by the second time around, and simply punched the girl in the face and silently marched herself off to the principle's office before the cafeteria monitors could do it. Good times.

The scared college student who walked thirty miles over three days until a handful of strangers saw her wobbling on her feet — and finally convinced her they just wanted to give her food and shelter while society was clearly falling apart, not rob her or worse. A hard sell, after she'd left Mike's pocketknife sticking out of the leg of some asshole who'd wanted more the previous morning.

And her, who'd just pulled a knife on her own father a few days ago, after finding out her mom had died and being accused of culpability. Yay. Way to contribute to stereotypes about redheads and their tempers.

The darker turn of thoughts made her think of some of the grimmer things she'd built. Motion detectors. Infrared trip "wires". Contact switches. Relays those would activate, which in turn would send a jolt of power to an explosive charge, an antipersonnel mine. Or an igniter.

Igniter. Heh. That memory brought a happier light back to Sam's face as she stole another glance at the cutie in the driver's seat next to her.

**

"Mmm. Daf gud shif."

Sam giggled and nearly choked on her own Pop Tart. As she recovered and got that bite down so she could talk, she shook her head at Bex. "Didn't anyone tell you not to talk with your mouth full? Shameful."

Bex opened her bliss-shut eyes again and let out a small chuckle after she'd swallowed. "Sorry. I figured, y'know, apocalypse, who cares about manners. You're not going to kick me out over it, are you?"

"Hmmmm." Sam tucked the longer side of her hair back behind her ear and tapped her lips, pretending to contemplate the question, then gestured in the air with her hand as she answered. "I mean, without you, I don't know if I can get more of these out of Ronnie, so I guess I'm just going to have to put up with you. Give you another chance and all that."

"Heh. Well, thank you. I guess the excitement of getting a high fructose corn syrup fix was too much for me."

Sam did her best impression of a Machiavellian grin as she leaned in towards Bex and spoke in a conspiratorial tone. "I may also be planning to exploit you for labor — and your height — today. So it wouldn't be in my best interests. Muahahah."

"'Today.' So what you're saying is I'm in for the 'Good night Bex, good work. Sleep well, I'll most likely evict you in the morning' treatment until I earn my keep?"

That made Sam giggle again. "'Have you ever considered piracy? You'd make a wonderful Dread Pirate Roberts.'"

That made Bex genuinely laugh for the first time Sam had seen — well, heard. "Okay, but we could do this all day long, and you'd never get anything done. And then I'll be out on the street."

Sam found her mood buoyed by the break in the gloom hanging over poor Bex. "Mmm, and we definitely don't want that, you only just got here. We'd better get to work then." Before they stood up, she patted Bex's forearm. "And, hey, don't worry — I too worship at the altar of the carb and sugar gods. Caffeine is my true goddess, if you can find me a good hook up."

Bex picked up one large crumb that had escaped her, then brushed the smaller ones not worth her while off the table as she stood. "Find coffee, score points with Sam, get her endorsement to stay. Got it."

Sam grinned. "Sarge did say you were a fast learner. Come on, I'll show you were my workshop is. Meanwhile... tell me something about yourself that doesn't hurt to think about."

"Huh. Okay... uhm... " Bex fell quiet for a few moments as they walked, and Sam looked back at her, starting to worry that was too much to ask. To her relief, Bex started speaking again. "My favorite candy bar is Twixes, except — no, damn. That does make me a little sad because they're finite now. Let me try again. You already know I like The Princess Bride."

Sam interrupted her briefly. "Inconceivable."

Bex chuckled again. Good, maybe Sam could keep up that momentum. "Exactly. My mom also made me watch Spaceballs just for the cultural references. I love the sound of rain on a roof."

"Mmm, good taste. And the smell afterwards too, I hope?"

"Naturally. I voted for the other guy in the last election but kinda lean centrist. Spent the years leading up to the first time I got to vote complaining about how there was no rational middle ground, how the two-party system was inherently flawed. Filled out the only ballot I may ever get to, and we all see how that turned out. Uhm... INFP, even though now I know Meyers Briggs is kinda horse-shit. Psych major, by the way, hence the commentary. Doubled with kinesiology, somewhere along the way I got it in my head the two could be connected and wanted to delve into it."

Sam groaned. "I believe you about the horse shit. Every time I took one of those tests the results would be all over the goddamned place. Like, I typically lean J, mildly T... I think the other two, I literally took eight different online tests one night and got an equal split, 50/50. Like, obviously, I'm being an extrovert now, right? But damn if I don't want to crawl into a hole with a book a lot too."

"I guess there's something to be said for versatility? The T & J make sense for your—" Rebecca waved her hand vaguely. "...engineering stuff."

"Yeah, I guess. But if you can't trust your instincts how the hell are you ever supposed to go beyond what other people have already figured out, right?" Sam led Bex around a corner and then slowed. "So this is my corner of our little dungeon maze." She gestured towards a door. "Mad scientist lair. But, I have so much crap... or, there's so many things I do with crap associated with them, that these cabinets are my domain too. Do me a favor and put that closed storage tub on the hand cart, then fill an empty one with all of the black wire that looks like two small wires side-by-side out of the top left shelf, will ya? I'll grab a few things and be right out."

Rebecca lifted the first of the bins with a quiet grunt. "Is this literally all I have to do to impress you? Fill and carry boxes?"

Sam paused with her hand on the door. "I mean, it beats whatever Ronnie has you doing, right? I'm not making you run laps or do pushups or whatever."

"Or put guns back together after she takes them entirely apart, or clean hers 'for the practice', or wear a bulletproof vest or a weighted backpack the entire day so I get used to it."

Sam bit the corner of her lip and grinned at Bex. "Vest or backpack? Sounds like she's going easy on you. See you in a sec."

She ducked into the workshop and closed the door, feeling a little conscious about the state of her lab. Too many things in various states of disassembly, food containers that needed to be washed, some clothes that did too. Certainly more than she wanted someone to see as a first impression.

Anyway. That tool bag was just as packed as it had been when she set it down the day before, so she grabbed it and a visored cap since they were going outside. As she picked up the hat, she laid eyes on the novel it was sitting on. Hmm.

Bex would probably appreciate some reading material — Sam would have to ask about her interests later. Wavelet Analysis and Transient Signal Processing Applications for Power Systems was probably not her thing. Maybe she could sell her on some sci-fi though?

Okay, enough of that, got work to do, stop worrying about ways to make the pretty girl feel welc—

Shit.

Sam put the cap down and glared at one of the comparatively innocent walls. Had she really just thought that? And the fretting about first impressions, and tripping over herself to loan her a book... and damn if she wasn't a hair's breadth away from flirting with her all morning.

Yeah, okay. Bex was cute, and funny even when she was clearly depressed. But, that was depression that Sam wasn't going to tromp through prematurely and cause problems for both of them. There's no way it would end well. Not to mention it'd be damned irresponsible of her to cause more turmoil for the poor woman just because she was lonely. She didn't even have any indication yet if Bex would... y'know. See her as an option. Or even be into her if she did.

Problems to dwell on later. She's gonna wonder what's taking so long, and either wait out their awkwardly or poke her nose in and those'll just be bad either-which-way. Get a move on, dummy!

Sam snatched up the cap again and barged out the door, closing it behind her quickly with a thump. 

"Reeses!"

Bex had already stacked both bins on the cart and was perusing the other hardware in the cabinet in idle curiosity. She turned at Sam's voice. "What?"

"Reeses Pieces. That's my favorite candy."

Bex smirked. "C'mon! I thought for a split second you might be offering me some. Don't tease me like that!"

"Aww, sorry. If I find some, maybe I'll share them — if you consider letting me steal a Twix once in a while." Oh Jesus. Why don't you just tell her to break you off a piece of that Kit Kat bar right now? Get it together, girl.

Before Bex could respond and give her an opportunity to dig herself a bigger hole, Sam grabbed the hand truck and pulled it into a tilt. "C'mon, let's get going!

**

The song ending drew Sam's thoughts back to the present day, and she looked over at Rebecca again.

"Pull over on the shoulder after a switchback in about two miles. It's got a good view of the road that I think'll get us around Culpeper on the east side."

"Sounds good." Rebecca glanced over briefly and realized Sam was still looking at her. "What? Everything okay, Rosie?"

"Oh yeah, fine. I was just thinking, not the dangerous kind. When did you catch on? At what point did you realize that I might be into you?"

Rebecca laughed. "Oh no, that doesn't sound dangerous at all. Gimme the radio, I need to call Chrissie for reinforcements."

"Heh... no, I swear. It's not a trick question. I'm just curious, I promise."

Rebecca gave her another glance — skeptical this time — on the next straightaway. "Mm-hmm. Let's see." She sighed slowly, with a thoughtful expression on her face. "Uhm... I think it honestly wasn't until right before I kissed you, when you said you might like us to be something one day."

Sam laughed. "Oh jeez, sugar. Really?"

"Yeah, I'm serious. Why, how long was I clueless for?"

"I'll get to that in a minute. You're saying if I'd declared interest months before, one of us could have made a move sooner?"

"I mean, maybe? I was still pretty much a mess even when we did, though. You saw how I had to ease into the idea."

"Yeah, that's true. Me too somewhat. You made your play and I was like 'Oh, okay!' — but I didn't want to rush you. I guess the timing worked out for the best, really."

Rebecca took advantage of another slow straight section of road for a quick smile at her. "Yeah. I guess it did. I'm glad."

"Me too, Sparky."

Rebecca laughed — a sound Sam had enjoyed since the first time she heard it. "Heh. Okay, so? When exactly did I catch your eye?"

"Oh, honey. You had me at vague promises of finding me coffee."