Rebecca started her story-slash-debriefing with their arrival at Sam's childhood home. Ronnie's expression darkened during the description of Joel's bullshit.

"Everyone processes grief differently, but sounds to me like he's a fuckhead with a responsibility allergy."

"And maybe an alcoholic, but I didn't want to stir things up asking her about it with everything else we had going on. Sixty-two 12-gauge shells left, counting the forty Chrissie took home with her."

Ronnie sighed as she tapped numbers into the tablet. "Poor kid." She looked up with what Rebecca had long since dubbed 'I mean this part face'. "Just like I've been happy you got together with her, I'm glad she has you to support her."

For some reason, Rebecca felt a passing hint of sadness. Maybe for Sam's sake, or maybe because of her own carefully padded memories. Some of it reached her face and voice. "Thanks, Ronnie. I try."

"You do all right, kid."

"That means a lot coming from you." She was going to use the compliment as a jumping-off point to tell Ronnie she would be proud of Sam's combat prowess, but remembered the unrevealed secret she was coming up on and bit the comment back as she counted through another ammo can. "One-hundred-six rounds of .45 left. Jesus, that's only three reloads and change." Ronnie shook her head silently with a quirked eyebrow and typed while Rebecca continued. "I dunno. Maybe we should find her something with a slower rate of fire, but... she's usually pretty good with the short, controlled bursts. I guess she used a lot of it after the crash. Epstein blew through two or three mags in seconds the first night though."

That was a natural segue into the roadside ambush — The first one, that is. Ugh. — and their subsequent storming of the farm. She knew Ronnie had heard general reports from their checkins, but saw fresh anger and dismay on her face as she described the way Mags and her band treated the workers. By the time she got through all of the questions Ronnie had, and marked the approximate locations on the tablet's maps, they'd finished the ammo count. Rebecca sat on the couch cross-legged, and Ronnie settled on the beanbag with another mug of tea.

Now that she'd set the scene, there was no more delaying of the unpleasant details. "We crossed some lines, Ronnie. When we were taking the farm, I... I blew up the lantern one of the guys was carrying and let him burn before finishing him. Intentionally. I'm not proud of it." She could swear Ronnie's lips tightened briefly, but could have imagined it.

"And..." Do I tell her that Sam executed someone? Even if he deserved it? "We also stone-cold shot the guy who had tied a kid to one of the crucifixes, even though he was subdued already. I know what you told me that day, back when I was working Seb over, but Mags had just killed one of their prisoners. I know two wrongs don't make a right, but... she didn't shoot anyone else." Rebecca felt a knot growing in her chest at the idea of Ronnie's disapproval, after so many months of just wanting to measure up to her expectations, and felt like a fumbling idiot making excuses.

Bless Ronnie for not making things harder. "What's done is done, cookie. It sounds like a shit situation, and while I may not like what I hear, I trust the two of you and think you're decent people. If you crossed a line, my guess is, when all's said and done, you're probably on the right side of it." Rebecca couldn't find words that felt right, but Ronnie nodded at her grateful smile before continuing. "What happened when you stormed the house? That's when the four of you got hurt, right?"

Shit, here we go. Telling her this feels an awful lot like going in that door. "Yeah, during the breach and clear on the second floor." She described the gambit to get rid of the ground floor guards, and her regrets that they came back later, then her push alongside and eventually past Epstein. Her knowledge of Sam and Landry's advance was incomplete so she filled in what she could, but bogged down when she got to the final moments.

She paused and sighed, feeling guilty under Ronnie's patient, slightly quizzical gaze. "You probably know about the civilian kid in the hot zone and how that fucked everything up, but... there's one part I left out of the reports coming back."

Ronnie was just taking a sip from the mug as Rebecca said that, and arched an inquisitive eyebrow as she swallowed and lowered the mug. "Go on..." Her tone wasn't outraged, but it was... reserved. Like she was holding back judgment until she'd heard how bad of a sin was being confessed. It made Rebecca feel like a child in trouble with a parent, in a way she'd never been growing up.

"Don't be mad at Chrissie or any of the others, please. I begged them to let me tell you myself when we got back. It didn't affect the outcome or upcoming choices, it was just a... a fucked up plot twist I was still getting my head around. But the thing where I got hurt trying to keep the stupid kid safe, it was an accident. Sam couldn't see and—" The words tumbled out, and Rebecca tried to keep them coherent, but knew she was just babbling.

She paused taking a breath and trying to focus like Ronnie had taught her to do when aiming under stress. "It wasn't her fault, but she thought I was a threat and attacked me. She'd just been in a nasty hand-to-hand fight and didn't know the stupid kid and I weren't threats. I was trying to prevent her from hurting the kid, and fell into her."

Ronnie sighed and stared into the mug. "And she blames herself."

"She did, yeah. Still does, I guess, but I think she's gotten a little better. But I was hoping you could help her."

"Of course, but we'll get there in a minute." Ronnie shook her head and swirled the tea, a few unreadable emotions mixing on her face. "I'm pissed you didn't tell me, but realistically, you couldn't have done it privately over the radio, and I'm self aware enough to admit it would have clouded my judgment. So, I get a few different reasons. But... what's that done to you and the relationship? You two seemed okay, but I could tell a lot has changed. I didn't know how much of that was just your mom being involved now, or the things you saw, but now hearing this..."

Rebecca nodded, and reached out to Rufus for comfort. He rose from her feet into a sitting position and rested his chin on her knee. "Oh god, Rufus. You're such a good boy." She scritched him for a moment and gathered her thoughts. "There's definitely lurking trauma. I'm not going to say I've fully got a handle on it, but its severity has faded. I was pretty scared, like, subconsciously, of her. Loud noises spooked me repeatedly, sent me into panic attacks."

"But you didn't freeze up in that fight on the way home."

"Thank God, I don't know what would have happened. I also don't know if I'll be solid the next time around, either. So I need to work on it, and you know I'd love your help. That said, I got far enough in my classes to cover domestic abuse victims and survivors. I think I recognize some of the similarities and can adapt a few concepts — I think my reluctance to blame Sam is actually valid in this case. So I have half a clue how to get better. But, I'm so worried about her."

"No shit, on top of the news of her mom and her dad's fuckheadedness."

"Yeah. My drama, hopefully that'll be squared away before long, but she's got a big pile of hurt to work through." Rebecca caught herself toying with her necklace. "I was hoping you might— I mean, you never told me any stories about friendly fire incidents, but I thought..."

"I might have some advice on how to deal with it?"

"Yeah, especially for the people on her side of the tragedy."

"I'll... see what I can think of. But the two of you..."

Rebecca shook her head emphatically. "I'm never giving up on us, Ronnie. The world knocked us around a little, but we love each other and we're determined to get through it. And, you know how stubborn she is!" It felt good to talk about Sam that way again, to get out of the more painful subjects, and she felt a smile returning to her face.

Ronnie seemed to pick up on it. "Okay. I believe in both of you, and you're good for each other. You've got a lot of support around here and I expect you to use it. And yes, that's a goddamned order. Tell me what I can do, or what you need me to find someone to do. Let your other friends help you. As for your mom... well, she'll both help and complicate matters. You're probably already trying to be mindful of Sam's grief and possible jealousy. But even if it wasn't involved, are you and Sam going to be okay with her right next door?"

"Yeah, I think so. Having a unit between us will mean she won't get mad if we stay up play our terrible kid music too late, and given how our luck goes, I feel better with her close by if bad shit happens." She grinned wryly at Ronnie's sour expression over their historical fortune. "I think any issues will depend more on time spent together than physical distance. A couple doors down or across the building probably won't matter."

"Okay, makes sense. Let's make sure she gets introduced to people, help her find something to do so you're not in each other's hair all the time."

"For sure. She ran a grocery store 'Before', by he way. Might be handy if the whole Apocalypse Costco thing takes off."

Ronnie groaned, maybe enjoying the freedom to show some frustration in private with a friend. Rebecca carefully hid her excitement at seeing Ronnie open up. "Oh, it's a'coming. It's just a matter of how much of a pain in the ass it is along the way. But it's coming. My last several days may not compare to yours, but there's been plenty of reasons I should be wearing a helmet so I don't bang my head into a desk or wall."

"Yeah, let's not have concussions be contagious, huh?"

Ronnie scoffed. "No shit. Sorry, by the way. Didn't think of that until I was saying it."

Rebecca waved her hand dismissively. "Seriously, Ronnie. Don't worry about it. Better to laugh about our woes, right?"

"Indeed. Speaking of woes... aren't you worried about the two of them being together unsupervised right now? Sharing stories, asking each other all kinds of questions about you, all that."

Rebecca sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. "Believe me, I've thought about it. But the gossip cat's well out of the bag. Speaking of, Mom's big kitty is in the bedroom, if you want to meet him."

Grinning, Ronnie nodded at Rufus. "Eh, no rush. I'm good with our boy right here for now, he's probably feeling enough competition."

Rebecca chuckled, and was relieved moving on to the less worrisome details of the subsequent conflicts when she resumed her narration. Ronnie shook her head and called Stephanie a little shit, and approved of the cold sass Rebecca unleashed on her jackass dad, saying she'd pass word to keep an eye out for the both of them during the relocation efforts. Landry's 'relationship building with the locals' seemed to both amuse and dismay her, yet again like the parent of a rascally child.

When Rebecca was just about to describe the trip from the farm to Walt's, and the days they'd spent there, Ronnie raised a hand and stopped her. "I know you and Sam both have a lot of baggage from how things went down there. I'm sorry I wasn't there to help."

"Ronnie, it's okay, I know—"

"Hold on. I know you know and all that, let me finish. As messed up as everything was, imagine how much worse Sam would feel if she shot that kid. Even if she did turn out to be a little bitch, you wouldn't have found out and it wouldn't have made it okay anyway. As bad as it went, you saved Sam from having to live with that for the rest of her days."

Rebecca blinked, and her voice was quiet. "I hadn't... thought of it that way, and I doubt she did either. I guess we hadn't had time yet. Thank you, Ronnie."

Rhonda leaned forward to pat Rebecca's unoccupied knee, tickling Rufus between his eyebrows while her hand was nearby. "Of course, kiddo. And however you feel about your methods, how things went down in the thick of the moment, you liberated dozens of people from a miserable fate. No matter how imperfect things felt, all of you have done a good thing."

"I know," Rebecca told her. "But it feels really good to hear, when you say it."