'Mom, I'm scared.' Those three words were like a programmed command to light up every maternal nerve Laura had as she swept around the bed to Rebecca's side.

She'd taken Rebecca to the ER a few times as a kid, sure, but Laura never imagined she'd be standing next to her in a hospital bed, at least until any imagined grandchildren were on their way. Now, here she was in a freaking basement, lit by battery power, with her daughter hooked up to medical equipment, telling her she was scared.

That train of thought gave Laura goosebumps — and not the good kind — as she finally triumphed over the release lever and shoved the stupid handrail out of her way. She slid her hip onto the bed so she could get closer to Rebecca and reached out to her. "I'm here, sweetheart."

Rebecca balled her free fist up around the material of Laura's shirt. "What if I start forgetting things, Mom? What if I can't remember you, or Sam, or—" She made a sound somewhere between a gulp and a sob into Laura's shoulder. "Mom, what if I start forgetting Jaime?"

Laura moved her hand in a wide, slow circle on Rebecca's back, just like she used to after a nightmare. "Shhh, honey. This is just temporary. You still remember everything before you passed out, right?"

A ragged breath swelled Rebecca's shoulders and then ebbed again. "I don't know, it's not like anyone's quizzed me! You could tell me anything at this point and I wouldn't know if it was made up or not."

"Rebecca, breathe." She caressed Rebecca's forehead with the thumb of her other hand. "I know you're frightened. There's no indication it'll be anything beyond today, that you won't be fine with some rest.

Her daughter lifted her face, and those tear-filled hazel eyes tightened something in Laura's chest. "There's no indication I'm not bleeding inside my own head either, Mom. And even if we knew, what could we do? Find a cordless drill?"

"Rebecca. Stop." Laura decided this unfamiliar panic was a warranted use of Mom Voice. What the hell had this world done to her daughter over the last year and a half? Not that these weren't valid concerns, Laura was nearly worried senseless herself — and, to be honest, Rebecca isn't helping.

Once Rebecca quieted, Laura patted her shoulder. "If Sandra sees you like this she'll probably dope you up or something, and that just means you'll have that IV in longer."

Maybe that was a little manipulative — Rebecca had never been a fan of needles. But it seemed to slow her racing mind. Laura tried to reward that with an encouraging smile. "It sounds like you were getting better ever since... what happened at that farm. You were fine the whole time at Walt's. You were braking hard when we crashed, and if it wasn't for the earlier injury I bet you would have been fine. So, hopefully this is just a setback, and we can keep you away from any more. If it seems like you're getting worse, then I'm sure Sam will team up with Ronnie and launch a full-scale invasion of the hospital."

Rebecca sighed. "I guess the three of you are going to have me wrapped up in pillows and duct tape for a month."

"Mmm." Laura nodded off to the side thoughtfully. "It's not impossible, but the odds go up the more you work yourself into a tizzy." They were both quiet for a while, until Rebecca sighed again.

"Mom, do you know what book terrified me in high school?" Rebecca only paused briefly, not long enough for Laura to respond. "Flowers for Algernon. The way he was aware of his decline, saw was happening, knew he'd lost things but couldn't remember what they were... and it was going to keep happening..."

Laura waited until Rebecca's voice trailed off. "I hear you. I know you're frightened. But you're surrounded by people who love you — me, Ronnie, the rest of the 'Scooby Gang', as I heard Christine refer to you. Whatever happens, we're with you and will do everything we can. Hell, if you get a little more forgetful, you still won't be as bad as me some days, right? I guarantee there are still Christmas presents from when you were ten hidden away 'somewhere safe' in the old house. I doubt even the most determined looter could find them. Don't assume the worse just yet, please."

She watched Rebecca close her eyes, and studied her still-troubled brow until the furrows shallowed and Rebecca looked at her again. "Okay, Mom." She went quiet again, and Laura glanced at the heart rate monitor behind her and watched it steadily settle until Rebecca looked up with a tiny wry smirk. "I guess we don't have to worry about you feeling like I don't need you anymore, huh?"

Laura chuckled. "Clearly not. On that note, how many socks are under your bed at home, kicked off in the middle of the night? Does Sam know about that little habit? Oh, no... you don't make her pick them up, do you?"

Rebecca let out the slightest of amused huffs. "No, mother. I got better about that when Jaime started staying over for days at a time, because I wasn't wearing socks to bed anymore. Or much else."

She's going there, is she?  Laura grinned like someone had just reached across the table and handed her a third ace in a game of poker. "Oh, you should really stop trying to scandalize me, sweetheart. The other night was hardly the first time you were careless. Do you remember how that President's Day weekend a couple of years ago, when it was going to be my only break for a while? How I drove out Saturday, straight to the hotel so I didn't interfere with any Valentine's plans with Jaime?" A smug grin crept onto Laura's face as she saw the apprehensive wheels start to turn in Rebecca's head, and she was even more satisfied that her daughter clearly hadn't figured out the punchline yet. "Did he get you that lacy red something in the basket of laundry you took downstairs Sunday morning, or did you pick that one out?"

Even in the dim lighting, Laura could see Rebecca blush. Or, maybe she was just familiar with the way her daughter's cheeks always tightened just so, enough that her imagination filled in the visible flush. She couldn't help gloating a little. "See, even after all the time apart, I'm still your mother. I know how to embarrass you better than anyone, it's a job requirement. Sometimes I have to do it so much you stop thinking about whatever was on your mind before — you should be thanking me."

She saw Rebecca struggle and fail to suppress a chuckle. "Yeah, okay. And to not answer your question, I'm never telling."

Seeing a flicker of Rebecca's wit again was reassuring. "Sorry, dear. It was for your own good." She grinned at Rebecca gain for another moment, and then shifted to a more tender tone. "We'll get through this, but you need to relax and rest. Let me do all the worrying for you for now, huh? That's another classic mom thing too, after all."

Rebecca nodded and leaned back against the pillows. Laura just sat with her for a while, until a knock at the door heralded Christine and Patrick entering. Laura glanced briefly at Rebecca to make sure the tears formerly brimming her lashes had receded, then beckoned them towards the bed. She slid off and stood at the end so they could visit — apparently Sam had told them Rebecca was awake, and sent them while she was chasing Trent down.

It might have been an act, but probably not entirely, when Rebecca's spirits seemed brightened by the company. Laura smiled supportively when she glanced her way mid-chat, catching up on a bunch of people she hadn't met yet. This 'Lassart' person in particular sounded like a real prick that she might need to have A Conversation with later, but Sam's thinly veiled implications that the local power grid would decay without her occasional TLC seemed to be keeping him at bay.

She lost the thread of the conversation soon after, as they continued through a litany of people who sent their regards. Free to wander, Laura's mind returned to a series  of other thoughts she'd shelved over the preceding hours. The unfamiliar names drove home the point that she was surrounded by strangers again. Just these two kids — who clearly adored Rebecca, and the apparent potential daughter-in-law that she'd only known for a few days.

Definitely not a predicament I saw coming a week ago. Beats the first day of high school though, not that I remember much about it. Talk about things you try to forget!

She pondered how some things, it was a mercy to not remember — and mulled Rebecca's comment about Jaime. Laura knew that particular lingering anguish well. Maybe some people hoped to forget the ones they'd lost to ease the pain — especially these days, when mental survival was a big deal too. But she understood the need to keep the memories alive — it was like fearing losing someone again, or what you had left of them.

A sigh was easy enough to conceal by retrieving a cup of water for Rebecca to sip from. That was good, because contemplating topics one might wish to forget was just a reminder of the incident on the road. She'd been disoriented herself, and in her foggy rush to check on Rebecca and Sam, had opened her door when she probably should have had the good sense to stay inside.

At least she could credit herself with realizing she should keep her ass inside as soon as the bullets started flying. It happened blazingly fast, but her memories played out in action movie slow-mo as Sam transformed into some kind of modern day Boadicea, slaughtering two men with bats and axes running towards the car. The way she fired and reloaded with a ruthless efficiency as she tore into more attackers from the treeline was a shock of its own, belied by her generally cheerful nature.

Tragic mishap at the farm aside, Laura definitely didn't think she needed to worry Sam's ability to protect Rebecca. Except, apparently, when Rebecca's own blundering mother was there to get herself taken hostage while Sam was hard pressed from two directions. That damned bitch with the ponytail swept up from behind and snagged the one thing that was guaranteed to make Sam and Rebecca stop cold.

Smacking her in the face with her own gun felt damned good, and Laura could probably have gone for a couple kicks to the gut or something. But good Lord. Laura lifted her eyes from the cup to her daughter's, still only seeing the complex swirl of worry and softness. She saw no trace of a doppelgänger that would gently stop Laura from killing a callous threat to them all, only to do it herself less than a minute later.

And the way she had — the rhythm of those final gunshots that made Laura nearly piss herself. Something about them had been precise, professional. The timing was like a four-step dance step, with the third a silent move to look right in the target's face before you shot them the final time.

She shivered as she put the cup down on a side table. Maybe that was something else inherited from the mysterious "Ronnie" she'd be meeting so soon, who'd hardened Rebecca enough to survive, and yet earned such a fierce amount of her loyalty in return. Had she just been grooming Rebecca in her own image, or known those were lessons Rebecca was going to learn one way or another in order to survive, and made sure she hadn't lost herself doing it?

There was that proverb Rebecca told her from an old Japanese movie once. Something about 'the best swords staying in their sheath'. Maybe it took a professional warrior to teach that properly, in which case Laura owed Sergeant Ellis even more thanks than she'd already piled up reasons for.

Sam also returned soon, looking nothing like the warrior of Laura's memory as she bore backpacks and a sleeping bag, plus two plastic food containers with condensation clouding their lids. She smiled a sweet greeting to everyone as she set things down and kissed Rebecca's forehead.

"Hey, sugar. So, forgive me, but Sandy said I had to grill you. Do you know what year and season it is?"

Rebecca gave Sam an impatient look that Laura had seen hundreds of times in the prior decades. "2017, Spring. We're in Virginia, in the so-called infirmary of a half-assed settlement called Broadway. I suck at doing the alphabet backwards or counting down by weird numbers, and I recognize a mental status examination when I am subjected to one. Normally you might ask me who's president, but since that's nobody as far as we know, please don't ask me who's in charge here if you don't want to make my head hurt more. Also, I have no idea what time it is because nobody's shown me fucking clock.

"Okay then." Sam smiled while everyone else chuckled. "I guess you're still pretty lucid."