Rebecca glanced over and smiled — even though Sam didn't see — when she heard her sigh happily. Reminiscing again, apparently. At least she was thinking of good times; there was plenty of unpleasantness from the last few days to process, but Rebecca saw no reason to dive into it headlong if they could stay afloat and do it in bite-sized chunks.

Sam seemed to refocus on the present day as they were just approaching the bridge. Rebecca glanced at the two nearby buildings just like she had all the others they passed, and they were thankfully just as silent. She heard the passenger seat creak and saw Sam leaning forward out of the corner of her eye, probably checking out the bridge and riverbed as they drew near.

"How's it going, Rosie?"

"Alright. Glad things look just as quiet up close as they did from the hill."

"Right?" Rebecca made a show of reaching for the wood trim in the dash and knocking on it, which made Sam chuckle. When she put her hand back on the steering wheel, she noticed Sam was still watching it and extended her fingers and checked the back of them for anything... well, weird looking. "What?"

Sam's voice was contemplative when she answered. "I'm glad you stopped biting your nails so much."

"Uh... okay? I mean, you did everything short of whacking my knuckles with a wooden spoon to get me to stop. I was rationally on board early, with, y'know, end of the world hygiene, gun oil, lead ammunition, all that, but... it was a hard habit to change."

"Did you know I noticed that first day? Along with all the other little signs of how much you were hurting."

Rebecca blinked for a second, wondering where this was going. "Pop Tarts and our first explosion?"

Sam's toned lightened briefly after she laughed. "Yeah, I guess we started with a bang, huh?" But, then her levity faded. "I was thinking about how you earned my first nickname for you. We've come a long way."

"Should I be worried or something?" Rebecca slowed for the turn, signaling so Chrissie would be ready to follow, and glanced at Sam once she was pulling away from it again.

"No, not like that. It was fun to think back to the good times. But... thinking about your nails, it reminded me of my mom hounding me about the same thing, years earlier. I mean, I remembered a few times over the last several months too, but it's different now that..."

"Yeah. You don't have to say it if you don't want to."

"You sound like me on our first date, that we didn't know was a date at the time." Rebecca chuckled at the description before Sam continued. "Like you and Ronnie say, it doesn't change anything." She fell quiet again for several seconds. "I'm glad you're with me, Rebecca. I know we're dealing with some fallout, but I can trust we'll work through it. This... this is going to hurt for a long time though. You of all people know that, but... I just... thanks."

"Always, Sam."

"Oh, don't make me cry more, you bitch. Also, I love you."

"I love you too. And you're right, we need you to be able to see for navigation, 'cause there goes the first pond."

Sam scoffed at her incredulously. "I can see just fine, thank you, that's the second. We passed the the first one already."

"Would you believe I was testing you?"

"No."

"Yeah, me neither." Rebecca chuckled, then sighed. "Do you wanna talk about it? About her?"

Sam touched the front of the picture frame again and was silent for a few seconds. "Nah, not yet."

"Okay."

Quiet lingered as they cruised through open farmland. After a minute or two, Sam spoke again. "Remy, give me something to laugh about please."

It only took Rebecca a second or two to think of something given recent topics. "You know, I guess I should've known how much you'd boss me around based on our first day together. Carry this here, lift that, plug this in while I hold the flashlight. Even just now you're still doing it."

"Hah. I said please, then and now!" Sam punched her lightly in the shoulder, but immediately swore. "Oh shit, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have done that."

Rebecca reached for Sam's hand and guided it to rest atop her thigh while she drove. "It's okay. It didn't set me off."

"It coulda. I should have thought of it."

"Could have, but didn't. I'm feeling like we've reversed roles all of the sudden — did we swap brains or something? Or are you just that much of a switch?"

"I don't feel bad about punching you anymore."

"Eeeyyy, it worked! See? Mad isn't sad."

Sam groaned. "Jesus, is that what they taught you in psychology? That sounds like something from kindergarten."

"Child psych is a valid course topic, and an important field! Third pond."

"Yup." Sam held up her hands with the index and thumb fingers extended, wiggling her left. "Now remember little Remy, the one that makes an L is your left, and that's the way we want to turn today."

"Hrmph." Rebecca reached for Sam's hand and put it back on her leg, holding it there until she needed both hands for the turn. Sam grew quiet again staring at the window, but Rebecca could feel through her jeans as Sam slowly moved her thumb back and forth. Maybe that would help her stay connected.

**

Ponds. Sam had fuzzy memories of her mother taking her ice skating for the first time while Joel was away on another business trip — D.C.? Baltimore? Not that it mattered. Another high commission deal to provide for them, to pump into Mike's and her college funds. But at what price to the family? She got that damned scholarship anyway, and would probably have traded a pile of student loans for a happier adolescence.

Well, especially since she apparently wouldn't have to pay them back anymore.

She knew, even back then, that her parents strove to do the best they knew how, but they had problems seeking help when they were out of their depths. Both just pushed through with what they knew, even if it led to a lot of square peg, round hole situations — like a certain settlement cofounder. Sam supposed her occasional ferocity was just one aspect of the familial willpower she inherited. She'd like to think she was better than her parents at setting her stubbornness and temper against each other to control both, but hell, who knows what fifteen years and a couple of kids would have done to her too?

Speaking of siblings, she recalled appreciating Mike insisting she try on his BMX elbow pads as improvised knee protectors before the outing. Of course, there was the requisite teasing about how they only fit because of how skinny her legs were, but she knew behind the hassling pretense he was looking out for her. She was particularly grateful the third time she landed on them, after the contrasting sensation of landing on her unprotected elbow. It had hurt so much she specifically put it back on the ice afterwards for a minute because the cold felt better than the dizzying pain of whacking that nerve.

Get up, keep moving forward, her mother had told her. You already fell down, what good does sitting there do you? Same words that had come back to her repeatedly on the long walk north from Richmond a year and a half ago.

If you find your rhythm you won't be so unsteady, just like on a bike. She hadn't said it harshly, just bluntly. Well, Mom. Bikes had training wheels.

Yeah, Sam had a mouth on her early.

It wasn't until two older kids came over and asked if she wanted to hold their hands that she actually started enjoying herself. She couldn't remember exactly how old she was then, but knew they seemed to be a few years older. She didn't think they were related, they looked too different — though who knows, half-siblings? The boy had a kindly smile, topped by blue eyes halfway between the color of the ice and that day's sky, plus a tangly mop of blonde hair — not unlike lil' Jack. His companion made quite an impression on young Sam, and she couldn't help wondering in retrospect if that was the first time she'd felt a hint of interest in a girl, or if she'd simply idolized her.

She just remembered being in awe of the waves of luxurious near-black hair flowing down from under the older girl's fuzzy hat as she leaned over her, and forgetting the lingering pain in her elbow and the ache of embarrassment in her chest as she glanced back and forth between the her brown eyes and the boy's icy blues. She barely even remembered to look at her mother for permission before reaching up to both of them and tentatively shuffling her skates back under her.

Her new shepherds were naturals and must have skated together often; in no time at all they were gliding in sync on either side of her such that she moved in near perfect time with them after she relaxed and let them steer. To Sam, it was like they had so much grace to spare she couldn't help getting some of it on her like glittering pixie dust, and she was giggling happily by the third lap of the pond and squealing when they separated and started slinging her back and forth between them.

Damn, she wished she could remember their names. Even before everything was ruined — well, almost everything, Remy there counted for a lot — her ice angel saviors were her ultimate example of those people you meet once and think of years later, wishing you had some way to find them again. Some way to retroactively stay in contact over the passing of time. That made her think of the list they'd started — maybe others out there were doing something similar, small nodes that could be collected and assembled into hope for separated families and friends.

Leave it to her brain to take brooding thoughts and turn them to a contemplative puzzle, trying to come up with an ideal common format to convert everyone's lists to, what to use as unique identifiers, how to convert from disparate lists to unified database records. At least her lack of an off switch could turn to her advantage sometimes.

She must have let out a perturbed sigh or something, because Rebecca put her hand on Sam's again and brought her back from her reverie. "Hey. You alright?"

"Eh, as you say, for certain values of alright. Maybe I've hit the point I should stop reminiscing as we drive and it's starting to turn sour, I don't know." Sam sighed and went back to looking out the window. "Just... struggling with the fact that time's an inevitable bitch."

Rebecca squeezed her hand sympathetically. "Sorry, they only fed us enough philosophy electives to deter using our powers of mind control for evil, not to solve existential crises. I haven't figured out how to cope with that one myself either — maybe I needed to go to grad school to do that."

Sam gave her a mockingly derisive smirk. "Well, jeez. What good are you then, other than keeping my toes warm while I stare into the abyss?"

"I mean, I could keep your feet warm in my lap, rubbing your sore calves while you're eating something I baked, maybe wearing that dress you really like... give you something nicer than the abyss to look at."

Sam had to admit to herself, those all did sound pretty nice. Add in a comfy blanket and something warm to drink... "If you're trying to distract me by appealing to all of my baser natures at once, I find your terms acceptable."

"See, that part they taught us in psych."

Sam laughed, and felt relief not quite wash, but at least splash, over her. "Good enough for me," she said as she patted Rebecca's leg. "It's been a while since I've flat out said that I appreciate you, but hopefully you've figured it out."

"I have." Rebecca glanced at Sam for a brief smile before returning her eyes to the road and the sparse farm buildings along the sides.

"Good, took long enough for me and Ronnie to get that through your head last year. Now slow down, I think one of these farm silos is going to be our best bet at a peek ahead."