6.7
It only took the briefest glance to know that Rebecca was still grumpy as fuck about being pushed around in a wheelchair. Sam didn't concur it was absurd, but she would grant 'conservative'. Still. No chances. She was already on the verge of asking Laura about the aforementioned Xanax — maybe the only thing stopping her was a determination to be unimpeded if Rebecca needed her.
Erik helped Sam haul a table over to a sunny area, and Rebecca adamantly relocated to a plastic patio chair. Waving her mother into the adjacent seat, she held up her pistol, empty and locked back, and walked her through the core rules — always loaded, never aim at something you don't want to shoot, finger off trigger at all times unless you're firing, always know what's beyond what you're aiming at. Sam had heard these dozens of times from Ronnie.
Even if Erik had already started down the list, Rebecca seemed determined to do it herself before handing over her personal weapon. Sam could respect that. She was all for a good safety briefing, given she was dabbling with things by sophomore year that could kill her four different ways.
Rebecca eventually sighed and handed the pistol grip-first towards her mother, along with two empty magazines. When she nodded to Erik where he waited deferentially, he picked up the green rectangular ammo can from the table and led Laura the thirty or so yards to the very range Rebecca and Sam had first tried out their new toys on months before.
Sam stepped around the table face Rebecca and set a few of those very toys on it, along with the bag containing one of their maintenance kits and their helmets. The two of them loosely pulled those on and closed the earmuffs to protect their hearing, and use the radios in their pockets to talk. Rebecca seemed to start taking her Tavor apart mostly by feel, eyes transfixed on her mother.
Sam eventually nudged her. "She'll be fine, sugar. Ease up with the role reversal mother-henning."
Rebecca tore her eyes away from the tutorial at the range bench and smiled. "Busted, huh?" The microphone picked up the metallic clinking of her work, which had been blocked by the earmuffs. Using radio comms in this kind of proximity gave Sam a weird sensation — maybe her brain was picking up on the slight delay and tripping out.
She poked and plucked at retaining pins and arranged various pieces tidily as she freed them. She was still impressed and a little jealous of how easy the Israeli-made Tavor was. All Rebecca had to do was flip down the rubber buttstock at the back, slide out one rod-and-spring assembly, and she had clear access all the way through to the front. None of splitting the gun in half that most other guns required.
I suppose if you live in a desert, you're going to make your stuff easy to clean. Sand would have been the death of most of my bots.
As they finished reassembling. Erik's voice came through on the radio. At his warning to all about the imminent practice gunfire, Sam gave into the same curiosity as Rebecca and turned to look over her shoulder. Apparently he was waiting for word to get around or something because he was still demonstrating a comfortable pistol stance to Laura.
She watched for another moment, memories coming to her, and looked back at Rebecca. "Not gonna lie, I appreciate him refilling our mags for us. Saves us a bunch of drudgery."
"And saves our hands for more important things, like digging knots out of your back?"
"Mmm. If you've got more in 'em, consider me interested." Sam let the small talk taper off and waited for Rebecca to meet her eyes again. "Remy... do you remember the talk we had by the range that day?"
"Yeah. The one about having to take lives, and how to deal with it?
"Yup." Sam sighed. "One of the things you said... about the BT asshole you shot just to shut him up."
"And Rogelio." Rebecca's expression soured at the mere mention of his name.
"See, your face is why I wasn't gonna mention it. Hard to forget something like that though, I guess."
"Yeah. It's okay though, really."
Sam nodded, taking her at her word. "The last week... I pulled a knife on my own dad... shot a bound prisoner. Killed a bunch more guys, some by hand. Hurt you. Killed a bunch more people. In a fucking week." She felt her eyes starting to water, and did her best to wipe them with her forearm. "Sorta appropriate that we're back here again, where that conversation happened."
"Rosie..." Rebecca's tone was soft, caring. The warmth as she said Sam's sobriquet made her feel valuable. "Remember, we're also back here where we started too, huh?" She nodded towards the 'apocalypse spa' showers in the distance. "If Sandy had cleared me for a higher pulse rate, I'd drag you down there while Mom is distracted. We could pretend to be all new and bashful again."
Sam couldn't help a little smile, even though she her chest felt tight. "You're cute. Stop trying to bait me in hopes of weakening my alliance with the nurse."
Rebecca clearly knew her ploy to cheer Sam had worked to some degree, but her return smile was caring, not triumphant. But, it receded as she spoke again. "I've killed a bunch of people in the last several days too. I'm not arguing with you, just... you're not alone."
Sam bit her lip so she wouldn't start crying in earnest, and was grateful the sounds of gunfire would keep people away. Oh, right. Gunfire. She realized that Laura had already squeezed off a few rounds with Rebecca's pistol, but the familiar pops hadn't registered while she was caught up in her thoughts. "What's done this to us, Rebecca?"
Rebecca reached for Sam's hand, and gestured up and around them with her other. "This world has. The fucker who made the virus did. Mags. Every asshole following her who didn't sneak off freeing some of those slaves. Whoever the hell those assholes on the road were. That fucking walking ghoul that killed Jaime. Black Tusk. Every single piece of human trash who has decided to make this world a worse place instead of a better one."
Sam clung to Rebecca's warm hand, feeling the familiar valleys between her knuckles, the callouses from a new life of swinging a hammer and carrying a gun. "I hate them for taking our innocence away, as much as everything else. Is that selfish?"
Rebecca looked at her with an odd mix of tenderness and determination — probably learned from Ronnie. "No, it's all a part of the same harm they've done. You hate them just as much for doing it to anyone else, right? I saw how much you care about lil' Jack. Despising them for hurting you is only selfish if you don't care what they've done to everyone else too."
Sam sighed. "Jesus. You sound like the version of me running around here a few months ago, trying to get some cutie to think better of herself."
Rebecca glanced past her, distracted for a split second, then the first crack of a rifle shot explained why. She quickly refocused on Sam though. "I guess she thought you were hot enough to listen to. Except for your toes, those were a bit chilly." The non sequitur jab made Sam sputter and derailed her mope-train a bit while Rebecca continued. "We're still us, like you said. We're reacting to some shitty stuff, but we're still us, despite all the horrible, tragic nonsense."
Sam nodded, and Rebecca's choice of words tickled a memory. "You know... Ronnie made me think about our relationship that way, like a month back when Amira first showed up. I had this chat with her while you were asleep, a temporary little freakout about if we're only together because of all the crap that's happened. She flipped that on its head, though."
The corner of Rebecca's mouth lifted. "Trust me, she's good at that. I've sparred with her."
Sam covered her mouth as she giggled and shook her head. "Oh, jeez." She sighed, but it was tinted with relief. "She told me to look at us as good together despite all the shit, not because of it. There was this great line about the right two things encountering each other and bonding, no matter what else was happening."
Rebecca's expression grew into a proper smile. "Ronnie's awesome."
"She's the fucking dictionary entry for it."
"Ain't that the truth. Or the Marine training manual section." Rebecca paused for a moment. "We'll be home soon, Sam. I bet she can help us the rest of the way through everything we're dealing with."
Sam quietly pondered that. Ronnie and home. Rufus. Mattress. Leonard and Allie. Oh, that was so good to feel the nearness of. She savored it for a time, then looked at Rebecca for another question. "Hey... can I ask something that might get a little personal? It's just curiosity, and can totally wait if you're not up for it."
Rebecca squeezed her hand and glanced around, maybe to make sure she had enough privacy for whatever was coming. "Yeah, babe. Go for it."
"You know... after I told you I wanted my own nicknames for you. I eventually noticed you didn't introduce yourself as Bex anymore. Was that... just because of what I said, or a kind of closure for you, or..." Sam waved her hand to show the question was open-ended.
Rebecca pondered the question for a moment. "I... think it was like a self-identity shift. Yes, Jaime was the one who first called me that, but Bex is what everyone I met after the outbreak knew me as. It's what I told everyone to call me when I got here, while I was wrapped up in all the pain and hurt. Ronnie helped build me back up, to prepare me to face the worst of this world, which had already come knocking. Put me on a footing to punch back at things." She raised her hand to where her pendant hung behind layers of fabric. "I had so much locked up, hidden away. I think connecting with you encouraged — and required — me to open up."
Sam looked at her earnestly. "I'm glad you can with me." She soaked up Rebecca's smile of affirmation, then thought of a followup question. "I still hear Chrissie refer to you as that, and a bunch of other people here probably still think of you with it. Does it bother you?"
Rebecca shook her head. "Not really. I think I've healed some pain associated with it, and let go of some too. It's just part of me."
"How on earth do you not backslide when things get terrible, like the shit week we've had?"
Rebecca answered with such a quick certainty that it surprised Sam. "Balance. I've been down a dark road before, when I come to another one, I hopefully know the way back."
"Huh. Like Ronnie's story about the guy in the hole, and the dude who jumps in with him because he's been there before and knows the way out, while everyone else is like 'thoughts and prayers'."
"Sorta, yeah." They were both quiet for a while, listening to the sporadic pops of Laura 'taking a level in badass', until Rebecca squeezed Sam's hand again. "Hey. I love you. I know you're carrying a lot right now, but are you gonna be okay? For certain values thereof?"
Sam mulled the question, caressing Rebecca's knuckles with her thumb. After a few moments pondering, she set her jaw. "Yes. This world's given me enough shit. I'm not going to let it drag me down farther when I have good things to be at my best for."
Rebecca smiled, understanding Sam's implication that she was on that list. "That's my girl."
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