Desperate exhaustion pressed down on the diminished pocket of Rebecca's flickeringly coherent awareness.

She hated this.

She was through the initial torrent of alarm, helped along by the stability of Rufus — no, Sue's reassuring presence and Mom's sensory countdown centering thing. Now she floated in the lingering wreckage of everything sucked through in its churning wake.

The fear something else would spook her, that she'd backslide from her tenuous grip on the pit walls she was clawing at the crumbling edges of. The queasy, agitated energy tying a knot in her torso. The just barely tangible dizziness, the echo in her hearing, the way her eyes hurt and the aversion to light.

She hated it all.

As more rational thought opened up, the more complex fear came right along with it; a gaslighting abuser hand-in-hand, letting her think she was regaining control until it whispered menacingly in her ear. Even if she escaped this loop now, this instant, she would just fall into a bigger one right around the corner. She'd end up continually worried about being anxious about being afraid. Fearing she would spend her days dreading the inevitable next wave of irrational terror. A self-creating prophecy three layers deep braiding itself up with her tangled in the middle.

What good are you going to be to anyone these days if you get scared witless the first time someone, maybe even you, let off a few gunshots? If fear of the sound makes you hesitate at a crucial moment? Who might get hurt? Ronnie? You? Sam? Your mom that you just found again?

She needed a pause button, if she could just tap the brakes — more like stomp on them, swerve into the guardrail — maybe she could get off the spiral she was creating, putting herself on just by conceptualizing  its potential existence.

Did you try turning it off and on again? If only her brain actually had a button for that. Reboot, wake up, brand new day.

Then came Sam, making her acknowledge an alternate possibility, a potential future where she was out of the maelstrom. Rebecca clung to that lifeline. There is a way out. I won't always be here. There is a way out. Mom mentioning a pond, the outside. Stop trying to fight the current. It has to drain somewhere, let it wash you out to the still pond outside the blinding, trapping darkness.

What if she could... take apart the pile of weight pressing on her? Remove one block that would let her remove the next. If she lacked the strength to get rid a piece... maybe stop herself from sensing it?

That damnable just-perceptible squeal in her ears felt connected to the dizziness, linked to her over-sensitive vision. Would pulling one thread start the crushing mass crumbling just like it did to her?

She asked for music. She could pipe that in, drown out the sickly, sickening ringing. Of course Sam rushed off to get it — what else would she do?

Rebecca hated this.

It was wasting time that could have been spent reconnecting with her mother. No, they had time for that. She should be supporting Sam, helping her grieve, trying to alleviate the ache of being right there while Rebecca saw, heard, felt her mother again.

It wasn't fair to Sam. It wasn't fair to Rebecca either, making her be unfair to Sam, being the unwilling center of attention.

When Sam returned and held the phone out, Rebecca couldn't put words to her gratitude. She strained to reach out and brush their fingers together, even though it felt like she was pushing through drying cement to do it. Sam would catch the gesture, know the feeling it meant.

Her hands were trembling faintly as she clutched the phone. Thank god for the sturdy, grippy case. She didn't trust herself to hold it with one hand, to have the fine motor control to put the headphones on, so she tilted her ear towards Sam, praying she'd be as perceptive as usual and see the unspoken request.

Crawling nerves fought with the comfort of Sam's gentle touch, doing what Rebecca needed her to. Without thinking about caution, she leaned her face gratefully into Sam's hand, breathing relief in on one breath and discomfort on the next. She held out a second longer than it took Sam to place the second earbud, then slumped back against the hard, smooth, unwelcoming, unperturbing wood next to her. A wall of supportive indifference.

Rebecca thumbed the play button, not caring what came up on shuffle first — just noise, anything. Sam must have anticipated her haste, because it took a moment to realize the volume was bottomed out. She must have lowered it before handing it over to prevent another unanticipated scare. Rebecca did her best to smile as she clicked the volume up repeatedly and heard the opening chords of something orchestral — a track from some video game score.

She closed her eyes and tried to follow the different instruments through their weaving patterns. Alas, it became too rousing and epic, so on to the next track — a poppy number about margaritas, blue lights, and a mariachi at midnight. The beat was good, but thinking of vacation spots she'd likely never see again wasn't. A soulful rock ballad about someone's inner demons was too on point. Next, a song with a line she loved — when the silence isn't quiet — but it was too slow for her racing thoughts. She started to skip tracks faster — nothing was working, she was getting more agitated... but then, after a few more jumps, she landed on another orchestral piece she recognized, one Sam said she studied to in high school frequently.

She didn't know it well enough to predict the patterns, but she focused on the swirling, flowing layers of string instruments accented by sweet piano notes. She was finally able to keep her thoughts attached for the full two minutes — probably helped by the fact the melody was literally called "Rose's Theme". Through her jumbled thoughts, she felt a little glimmer of affectionate amusement — of course Sam was such a nerd she would lift the track practically named for her from Dr. Who. She tilted the phone so Sam could see the screen and was rewarded with an affectionate little smirk.

Rebecca wanted to keep the vibe going, so she swiped through the app for Sam's "Chill Study" playlist. It was sorted by date added, the most recent track being "Farmhouse". The title brought up mixed feelings  — the cabin she was in now, versus the pitched battle they'd fought days ago — but she let it run. It was surprisingly indeed chill, despite its origin in an Avengers soundtrack.

The mournful-yet-hopeful opening bar resonated with her feelings, turning introspective. Even better, she was able to catch and predict the recurring guitar throughout the first half, following along in her head. She made a game of trying to count how many twanging notes were in each repetition, and was fairly confident there were twelve by the time it morphed into a longer, more complex theme. The mellower accompanying strings that coalesced at the halfway point took over, carrying the rest of the track and she was able to just... ride the notes through to the serene end.

That left her closer enough to peace that she could pick the next song, and she immediately started tapping in the title of one of their mutual favorites. It was twangy, folksy at the opening, not her usual fare, but it was soothing — Cold is the night without you here — especially the soft opening of the male vocalist. Hard is the heart that feels no fear...

When the female vocalist joined — Long is the road that leads me home — the two harmonized beautifully — And longer still when I walk alone — especially for the chorus:

Take this burden away from me, and bury it before it buries me

When the woman's voice took the lead — Many are the days I've wanted to cease — it was higher pitched than Rebecca would have preferred. Lay myself down and find some relief. Sam actually had some cover videos saved — heavy is the head that gets no sleep — and Rebecca was able to think back to when they'd watched them together, snuggled in front of Sam's laptop in the dark workshop below Broadway. Sure, some of it was the association, but Rebecca actually liked some of those better, at least for the middle part. Especially the ones with a solo female singer who could cover the whole range, or that male music teacher from some Michigan high school.

She always felt the song really came back into its own when the male singer stepped to the fore again in the third act; Steady is the hand that's come to terms — and then the soft harmony was restored. With the lessons it has had to learn...

She looked up from the phone — I've seen the things that I must do — and realized that Sam must've heard the music leaking from the earbuds — but Lord, this road is meant for two — because she mouthed the words in perfect time.

So I am waiting here for you.

Rebecca let out a long unsteady sigh and mumbled along with the closing at barely even a whisper:

So take my hand and set me free
Take my burdens and bury them deep. Take this burden away from me
And bury it before, bury it before
Bury it before it buries me

She took in Sam's smile and then closed her eyes for the humming outro, pausing the music after the final guitar strum. She didn't want another song to come on and ruin the moment she'd stumbled to.

Her own breathing was amplified by the silent headphones blocking her ears, and she focused on the sound for three cycles before reopening her eyes. Sam's were waiting for hers, slightly teared up, and Rebecca pulled the earbuds free. Her voice was only a mere touch quieter than normal. "Hi."

Sue stirred at the sound, headbutted her hand, and apparently considered his responsibilities fulfilled because he wove under the dining table and chairs to park in front of the stove. Sam watched him go with a quiet scoff, then looked back at Rebecca. "Hey you. How're you doing?"

Rebecca groaned wordlessly.

"Yeah. Want some water, or to move to the bed, get comfortable?"

"A minute to lie down would be nice."

Laura and Sam both stood, offering Rebecca hands to help her up. She reached out to each of them and clambered to her feet, feeling like an ungainly foal. While she thanked them, she saw Laura glance at Sam for direction, and Sam's reply of a subtle restraining hand gesture, hinting to not get closer yet.

"How about I get something for you to drink," Laura asked, "and bring it to you in the bedroom?"

Rebecca nodded, and followed Sam as she walked ahead, sideways and backwards to keep an eye on her and be ready to reach out if she stumbled. Sam stacked a couple of pillows and smoothed out the bedspread for her, and then sat at the end while she settled.

Rebecca passed the phone back. "Thanks."

"Of course. Done for now?" Sam turned off the phone, coiling the headphones and setting both aside. "I stopped them as fast as I could."

"I know. Don't feel bad, it could've gotten worse." Rebecca shifted her foot and reached towards Sam, encouraging her to rest her hand on it. She rubbed the tops of her sock-covered toes against the underside of Sam's forearm and they sat quietly until Laura knocked on the doorframe and entered with two bottles.

"The blue one is the rest of the tea from breakfast, and the silver is water from the tap. That way you can choose."

Rebecca rested both against her leg. "Thanks, Mom. Sorry I scared you." She held out her hand to her mother, who eagerly clasped it, but loosened her grip enough that Rebecca could pull away if she needed to.

Laura shrugged, trying to play it off. "Eh. What's another few grey hairs? I might as well embrace them at this rate. I'll be good and wait on all my questions until later, when you're a hundred percent."

"Maybe we can that walk in a bit."

"Sounds great, if you're up for it. Should I go channel my maternal fretting into packing a lunch?" Laura smirked a little and rolled her eyes at herself. "A picnic. God, Mom. How domestic."

"Heh, sure."

"Okay. Take whatever time you need to rest and get ready."

Rebecca squeezed Laura's hand before she slipped out and closed the door behind her, then smiled at Sam before closing her eyes with a sigh.

She only meant to settle her thoughts, try to do some controlled breathing, but she must have dozed off. When she opened her eyes Sam was sitting by one of the inner corners of the bed, leaning against the wall with Sue halfway in her lap.

"Hey, how long was I out?"

Sam smiled. "Maybe twenty minutes. Don't worry, your mom could probably hear you snoring when she went into the bathroom a bit ago." Sam's gentle teasing felt good, right.

Rebecca sighed. "I'm sorry, Sam."

Sam looked at her pensively for a moment — Rebecca could anticipate at least some of the potential replies she was considering, including a lecture, a brush-off. Probably another lecture. Instead, she stretched out her foot (to Sue's grumpy-faced irritation) and poked it against Rebecca's, sighing too. "It's okay. I love you."

That was probably the best thing she could have said — Rebecca wasn't trying to blame herself for anything, just... show that she knew Sam'd been worried, still dealing with her own load of feelings, and that she wanted things to go a better direction. A simple acknowledgment and reassurance let her consider that said, to move on. "Thanks, Rosie."

"Want to go for that walk? A little activity will probably do you some good. Reinforce that normal breathing, spread some endorphins around."

"Yeah. Can you pass me my Merrells?

Sam nudged Sue towards Rebecca and hopped over the footboard  to get the shoes for her. "You're lucky Ronnie isn't here, she'd probably hike us all over the mountain to clear your head. Then I'd resent you, we'd get all hangry and snippy, one of us would end up sleeping on the couch with Sue..."

Rebecca laughed, the first time in a while. "Oh, be careful Sam. You don't know what you're in for with my mom and her ideas of a 'little walk'. There's a reason she's probably packing an entire wagon train right now."

Sam's smile flattened. "Well, great. At least she'll feed us."

----------

Original:

https://youtu.be/EDdV_x513dc

One of the better covers w/ instrumental accompaniment:

https://youtu.be/xjOKIHsYup8

Knockout a capella cover:

https://youtu.be/S_vyjintPy0

Full lyrics:

Cold is the night without you here
Just your absence ringing in my ears
Hard is the heart that feels no fear
Without the bad, the good disappears
Long is the road that leads me home
And longer still when I walk alone
Bitter is the thought of all that time
Spent searching for something I'll never find
Take this burden away from me
And bury it before it buries me
Many are the days I've wanted to cease
Lay myself down and find some relief
Heavy is the head that gets no sleep
We carry our lives around in our memories
Take away this apathy
And bury it before it buries me
Steady is the hand that's come to terms
With the lessons it has had to learn
I've seen the things that I must do
But Lord, this road is meant for two
So I am waiting here for youTake my hand and set me free
Take my burdens and bury them deep
Take this burden away from me
And bury it before
Bury it before
Bury it before it buries me