Laura raised her reading glasses to the top of her head after the final stages of dinner prep. Rebecca was out at their vehicles again doing the radio checkin, and Sam had offered to help while the others cleaned up after their day's adventures. Laura leaned against the island and waited for her to finish washing her hands.

Laura was still getting used to the idea of Rebecca having a girlfriend. Just... surprised, is all. Sam was certainly funny and caring, usually both at the same time. She had a certain kind of... rambunctious cuteness to her too. Not at all pink princess material, but more the flip-over-the-table and join the swashbuckling with a playful wink. Laura couldn't help that image after seeing the selection of books she'd been reading when they came back inside and Rebecca joined her on the couch for half an hour.

She'd tried very hard not to go too crazy grilling Sam as afternoon dimmed to evening, and they'd both agreed to Rebecca's exacted promise to not swap embarrassing stories in her absence. Sam's response about how Rebecca should probably prefer they do it while she wasn't around and spare her the live humiliation amused Laura greatly.

She'd stuck to safe small talk questions like... coffee or tea, what she studied, idle inquiries about the settlement they'd been living at. Living at, for months that I'm still trying to catch up on. Here we are, me a little jealous of her, her potentially jealous of Rebecca because of me... what fun. Who knows, she might make a cute in-law-ish figure. Not that I should even vaguely hint at seeming like I'm trying to rush or pressure them, or replace her poor mother.

Laura smiled when Sam turned around, drying her hands. "Sam, I want to thank you for your help today. Not with dinner — well, not just with dinner, but... showing me how to support Rebecca." Laura almost said "my daughter" there, and was glad she caught herself before flicking salt at that wound.

Sam returned her smile. "Of course. We both want her to be happy."

"True enough." Laura glanced towards the thumping porch stairs. "Oh, here she comes. Should we look guilty, like she interrupted us gossiping?"

Sam didn't have to act, she was still trying to stifle a laugh when Rebecca opened the door and shot them both accusing looks. Laura watched Sam walk over to her, pause with her hands up halfway towards an embrace, and then rest one on Rebecca's shoulder.

Damn, Sam reads her well. I didn't see Rebecca give a sign of approval, but there obviously was one.

Sam started playing with Rebecca's hair using her free hand. "I swear, sugar. Minor joke at your expense but no stories. I swear by Rufus' big sad puppy eyes and poor Sue's name." That must have mollified Rebecca somewhat, because she leaned into the kiss Sam planted on her cheek.

Laura shook her head. "Maybe it's a good thing the nation has dissolved into lawlessness, because you two might be illegally cute."

Sam grinned as she remained partially draped on Rebecca and toyed with the hair right behind her ear. Laura didn't miss how it made her daughter squirm — maybe even shiver, only reinforcing her assessment. After another kiss on the side of Rebecca's face, Sam crooned gently in her ear, but loud enough for Laura to hear. "So, did you talk to Ronnie?"

Rebecca shook her head, maybe as much to get it away from Sam's probing tickle as express a negative reply. "No, I would've come to get you, silly. Bouncing it through two different radios didn't work out, and even with the big antenna we can't get through directly. She sends her regards, though." She looked up at Laura. "How long on dinner, Mom? It smells good."

"Oh, I'm glad you think so. I'm pretty goddamned tired of wild turkey by now, I tell you. Though I do admit interest in the jerky your uncle is attempting now that he has so much firewood to feed the smoker. But anyway, probably half an hour."

"Okay. I might go shower when the others are done."

"Ah, about that," Laura said hesitantly. "What do you think of waiting until after dinner? There's something I'd like to try to see if it helps with your nerves, and we might as well start with you as relaxed as possible."

"Uh..." Rebecca glanced at Sam briefly like she might know something, then looked back at Laura. "I guess?"

"Assuming you're both up for it. Poking around in your head probably has some risk of being upsetting and I don't claim to know what I'm doing, but I'm following a pretty strong hunch or two."

Rebecca looked at Sam again, for longer this time, and Laura saw them take and squeeze each other's hands before her daughter replied. "We're in, Mom. I don't want this to mess us up long-term. I trust you."

"That's a good place to start."

**

Sam had pointed out to Rebecca that she could reap the benefit she enjoyed the night before, of running the shower until it cooled off below her tolerance rather than rationing the hot water for others. But, she was having a hard time finding it as relaxing an experience as Laura apparently expected her to.

How was she supposed to, with questions swirling around in her head about what her mother had planned? Short of some kind of amateur hypnosis attempt, if things got weird, Rebecca supposed she could always "punch out", to borrow a term for ejecting from an aircraft that she'd picked up from somewhere amongst their military allies. Call it off and tell her mom she needed a break.

So, okay. That helps with not knowing what's going to happen. But it doesn't help at all with worrying about what might not happen — whatever she has planned working. Now I'm on a fucking spiral about if it doesn't work, if anything doesn't work, if I'm stuck like this. Ugh. THANKS MOM!

Rebecca leaned her face into the shower and rubbed her cheeks, eyes, and forehead. The water had an almost salty smell — she was never sure if it was from the pipes, or just the rural water supply. She didn't really mind, but it brought back memories, and of course those did find ways to bother her.

The shower had seemed a lot bigger when she'd first visited a decade-and-change ago! Her first trip up was when she was... seven, maybe? The bow her farther had knelt beside her and guided her hands along was properly scaled to her size then, now long gone, passed on to some neighbor — the term fitting loosely up here scattered in the hills. But she remembered its ridiculous yellow color — at least it wasn't pink. The callouses on his hands moving over hers, half the size, also lodged firmly in the blurry memories.

She kept her eyes closed under the water, but realized she'd started wringing her hands together, exploring the textures of them in mental comparison. Some were probably similar, from the manual labor her life had come to include. That roughness on the pad of her right index finger though, she was pretty sure he never developed that.

Well, maybe from the triggers on cordless drills?

Without particularly thinking to, she brushed that fingertip over her lips, maybe because they were more sensitive to texture. Unsurprisingly, that tugged her thoughts back towards Sam.

The tactile sensation reminded her of the tiny little scar that was barely visible on Sam's upper lip, and only slightly more perceptible by touch. Really, only once you knew it was there. It didn't register during that first kiss, but then again Rebecca's adrenal system hadn't been doing her higher brain functions any good at the time.

Maybe that was a good pleasant thought to cling to for a bit, buy herself enough time to wrap up in here and go jump into the deep end of whatever Mom had planned. She got out, dried off and got dressed, poking Sue's paws that were wiggling around under the door with her big toe when she retrieved her borrowed robe from the back of the door again. She'd been playing that game with him for enough years that she hadn't lost her reflex speed, and easily escaped his countering swipes.

After two successful rounds and a quiet giggle, she unlatched the door and let him wander in and squawk at her while she brushed her teeth. She pretended to glare at him when she was done. "Fine, but don't tell Mom."

Rebecca left the faucet on at a slow trickle for him as she finished toweling her hair and brushing it out enough to probably avoid unpleasant snarls. For someone so obsessed with running tap water, he still took surprising offense when she shook the brush at him to shoo him out when she was done. Turning the faucet off first hadn't done the trick, he'd just looked at her like she was being rude.

Sue thumped onto the floor and exited with an emphatic tail swish, probably trotting off to go tell Sam how terrible she'd been to him. Rebecca couldn't help a quiet chuckle as she put her things away in the bedroom, then went out to find Laura and Sam. She'd been hearing quiet guitar strumming while she finished up, and was surprised to see it was Chrissie playing one of Walt's.

She settled into the conspicuously vacant spot next to Laura and below where Sam perched on the back of the couch, leaning against Sam's knee and reaching out a hand towards her mother's. Walt was fiddling with another guitar, occasionally strumming along in experimental harmony before reaching for the tuning knobs again, while Patrick and Epstein were sitting at the dining table with a deck of cards. Rebecca did a double-take when she realized Epstein was holding his cards with his left hand, tossing discards or picking up draws with his right — the sight was a pleasant reassurance.

She hadn't known Christine played the guitar, and Sam had certainly never mentioned it. Still, Rebecca didn't put it entirely past Sam and Laura to have arranged the pleasant background music intentionally. Well, whether it is a total coincidence or a complex scam, might as well enjoy it. 

She rolled her head against Sam's leg to smile over at her mom and let her eyelids droop for a few minutes. Eventually, she  realized that Chrissie had somehow fluidly transitioned from Somewhere Over the Rainbow to What a Wonderful World like they were all one tune.

That stirred her fuzzy brain back up enough that she re-opened her eyes fully and looked at Laura again. "So, Mom. What's the plan?"

"Well." Laura glanced at Sam, then Walt. "I asked Walt if we could borrow his room for a little privacy. If you're ready, why don't you grab something to drink and we can head up?"

Rebecca lifted one eyebrow a fraction of an inch. "Like... drink drink? I'm not entirely sure what I'm supposed to be ready for or not, either."

Laura laughed. "Just some quiet talking upstairs, that's all. Maybe I can deal with sharing a bottle of wine with you someday, but I'm certainly not ready to be tossing back Jaeger Bombs or Flaming Doctor Peppers or whatever it is you kids drink these days."

Briefly glancing up at Sam's quiet gagging noise, Rebecca grinned. "God, Mom. Just no."

"I just declared myself uncool, didn't I?"

Rebecca shook her head as even Walt and Chrissie chuckled quietly in the background. "I'm... just gonna go get a bottle of water and then hope whatever else you have planned is more appealing." She held both of her hands out in front of her as if she was gently pushing a table away as she rose to head to the kitchen.

"Don't worry, Mrs C.," she heard Sam say. "We still like you. Cool is overrated."

"Indeed. I hear you're particularly averse to low temperatures."

Rebecca stifled a laugh at the sink and resisted the urge to turn around so she could see Sam's face. Point scored for Mom! That was probably a good sign they were getting along, right?