Landry and Dylan managed to impress again with breakfast. Homemade tortillas wrapped breakfast burritos full of potatoes, eggs, and even some fresh salsa. Sam did dearly miss the cheese though, even coffee couldn't make up for that. She was still nursing her second cup when Laura asked Rebecca if she'd had a rough night.

"Better than some, worse than others," Rebecca replied. "But I settled eventually."

Sam caught a knowingly appreciative look her way from Laura and tipped her mug slightly in acknowledgement. Both Laura and Dylan seemed surprised they were still going to inspect the power hub at the military camp across the road, but Sam knew that in the long run it was important for the wellbeing of everyone in the region. Plus, she was still pissed, and didn't want anyone to even have a chance to think they'd scared her and Rebecca off. That would be letting the assholes win, while she'd rather look for another chance to punch them in the face.

Based on her tone at the breakfast conversation, Rebecca seemed genuinely on the same page. After taking Rufus for a mosey around the backyard and returning to their guest quarters, her body language further reinforced the impression.

Sam still fretted as she watched Rebecca shrug on her armor. "How's your back, are your bandages okay?"

"Yeah." Rebecca glanced up as she cinched the first few straps. "The gel stuff is nice and cool, and doesn't rub much. My stomach only hurts just enough to help me stay mad."

"If it hurts at all, it works for me too."

Rebecca smiled and leaned in for a single but lingering kiss. "Ever my knight in matte black armor."

"Only an idiot would wear shiny armor into a fight, unless lasers were involved. Boys are so stupid." She eyed Rebecca after they'd separated, a little sad the moment hadn't been longer. The woman in front of her looked fierce, such a change from when Sam had first met her; it made one contemplate multiple definitions of the word 'admirable'. "Just remember, you're supposed to be ranged DPS, Miss Sniper Overwatch Lady. Not a melee brawler tank."

Neither of them pointed out that Sam was the one sleeping with a knife under her pillow. She really figured herself as more of a rogue anyway.

After they promised Laura they'd be careful and said their see-you-laters, the girls made their way to a cluster of carts parked at the subdivision's main crossroads. Sam caught sight of the main gate a few blocks away and couldn't help wondering if Amira was going to put some heads on a pike after all. She'd happily lend a hand sharpening a few poles for the effort — the whole incident certainly underscored Amira's point about essential civilian oversight. Military leadership like Tierman, they might have the best of intentions, but they were working with whatever (whoever) was left. And gods help everyone if something happened to Tierman, Fairbanks, or heaven forbid Ronnie, and their successors were like the shitbags from the day before.

Sam pushed those thoughts aside and made sure to get to the carts just ahead of Rebecca, claiming the driver's seat of one as she tossed her gear bag into the back.

**

Rebecca wasn't going to protest when Sam blatantly veered to the left side of the nearest cart - a four-seater with a windshield and roof, both less trivial amenities than they initially might seem. She hadn't lied when telling Sam she was okay to be up and moving around, but wasn't eager to try tugging on a steering wheel before she had to.

She absentmindedly nodded to the (new) guards at the front gate as Sam explained where they were going. They didn't show any signs of recognition, which she decided was one of those small favors that she'd take as many of as she could get. The cart had reached the main road when Sam let it coast after accelerating out of the turn and spoke over the quieted motor.

"You holding up okay, sugar?"

It had only been, what, twenty minutes tops since Sam had last checked? "I'm alright."

"As in really alright, or not-ready-to-talk-about-it alright?"

Rebecca couldn't help smirking a little, which was probably one of Sam's objectives. "Since it's me we're talking about, probably the second one with some denial on top."

Sam chuckled in a distinctively affectionate, knowing tone. "Well, let's get this done and you back home, then."

"Mm." Rebecca watched the field go by on the other side of the road as Sam accelerated again. It felt different now... it had to be her imagination that it looked drier than the day before, right? Even though it'd been so warm. She supposed it was natural to feel less optimistic after the shitty side of human nature had reared its head again, bringing a poor end to an otherwise nice afternoon in the pool.

She braced a hand against the frame supporting the cart's roof for the turn, wondering if the fledgling military base's guards gave her a second glance. If she saw someone armored up and clutching an intimidating assault rifle like they were wound tight enough to pour out of a Humvee's rear door and sling lead — you know, like she was — she certainly would have paid closer attention to their body language and movements. But after Sam spoke briefly to the private that approached them at the gate and showed him showed their pre-apocalypse driving licenses, no one else challenged them as they rolled on.

The encampment's solar panels were located atop one row of repurposed light aircraft hangars, beige metal walls with white roll-up doors that spoke of being in that Venn diagram pocket between 'cheap' and 'inoffensive'. Unlike its neighbors, this one had been left empty of vehicles and collected supplies. Rebecca managed a fleeting thought that it was probably for fire safety with all of the electrical wiring looping around. But, that was quickly replaced by mentally comparing the big array to that first tiny grid she, Jaime, Leonard, and Allie had built up from an illuminated construction sign's parts and a half dozen scavenged car batteries.

Her drifting thoughts centered on Jaime for a minute, and she tried to quiet her sigh so Sam didn't hear. Instead she settled on stretching her neck specifically to feel the pendant shift where it nestled low between her breasts. Obviously the memories still bit and her heart still ached, but she soothed herself with the notion he'd be glad she was growing more comfortable with her lingering grief.

"Babe?" Sam's voice made her blink back to their surroundings.

To Rebecca's relief, Sam's eyes flicked between her neck and face and she hastily rolled with that line of thought. "I'm okay, just a little stiff." It was a factual statement, even if she was using one discomfort to conceal another.

Sam smiled, tenderly but with a glimmer of completely characteristic mischief. "Well. Maybe a nice shoulder rub and a — no, in a warm bath will do the trick when we get home tonight."

"I definitely wouldn't complain." She returned Sam's affectionate expression for the moments until they reached the steps climbing a steel pipe construction scaffolding to the roof. Sam's obvious caring was its own nice sensation to soak in, but Rebecca soon remembered why all the concern was there. She felt herself harden again, a shell of grim emotions forming much like the liberated armor around her torso.

A tickle of familiarity came with that. It was a similar stony purpose to when she'd been on sentry duty with Ronnie, heart and very soul rent but clinging to a necessary protectiveness of her new 'home' as a reason to... well, anything.

She faced the stairway as Sam peeked up at panels or down into junction boxes on the surface of the roof, falling into the old routine of shoving her emotions down and focusing on her senses. The view quickly became familiar and she let her visual cortex monitor for changes or movement. The sounds of the base developed a predictable thrum of voices, footsteps punctuated by clanging doors, and the occasional vehicle. When she realized there was a ladder at the far end of the building, she turned so she was facing the equidistant angle between the two roof entry points.

Sam would inevitably pick up on her behavior, but would probably understand the hypervigilance after yesterday. Even 'friendly' territory was questionable now, that was the lesson they'd taken from what was supposed to be a leisurely aquatic frolic. Some resentment simmered up, tightening her formerly easy grip on her gun and clenching her jaw. She was pretty creative, it was easy enough to build mental threads of blame from the asshats yesterday to leadership that probably wouldn't hold them accountable to men being shit in general — Jaime and Leonard aside — and then on to that one specific fuckwit who'd kicked the feet out from under civilization in the first place.

Asshole.

The best positions to guard Sam's back from weren't always under the rows of shading panels, and the heat-sinking gel lining of the armor couldn't compensate for the absorbent black color forever. An extended period of (comparatively) gentle living had made her soft, maybe it was good to reconnect with that willfully time-ignorant stoicism. Still, the discomfort didn't help her mood any.

When she rolled her sleeves up to make the most of the faint breeze, her fingertips brushed across the scar on her left shoulder and she winced self-consciously. But... it wasn't like the two them could really blend in anyway, so worrying about being recognized was moot. If she was going to be burdened with notoriety, perhaps she might as well weaponize it and make sure people knew not to fuck with them. Sam had the brightly colored plumage, maybe some old battle damage would help make her more primally dangerous-looking.

She was glad to go back downstairs and into the building, where a series of interior plywood walls had been knocked out to connect several of the larger drive-in storage units. The space reached the opposite side of the building where the doors were also open, allowing faint airflow through the shaded tunnel-like space.

Of course, that just meant she had the same problem as before — basically having to face the opposite wall from wherever Sam was working, counting on her peripheral vision to keep as much situational awareness as she could while periodically alternating which entrance she focused on. At least that meant she wasn't caught off guard when two men entered the near end of the corridor, to her left. She turned her head, but not her body, to face them.

They were close enough she was able to recognize them quickly. She was grateful for that, but also concerned if the familiar Lieutenant Fairbanks brought ill tidings looming after yesterday's incident, flanked by Davis, the dulcetly baritone private who'd helped lead the breach of her old apartment building. Both were in decently trim uniforms, Fairbanks was unarmed, but she immediately noticed the pistol and holster on Davis' thigh — it was unusual that enlisted carried sidearms, usually they just had their standard issue rifles.

At least the strap over the back of the pistol was in place, rigged for secure carry at the cost of a slower draw. That eased her threat assessment, but in the wake of the prior day's events, she still worried about the longer term implications of an authority figure with an armed escort approaching. She shifted her foot tap Sam's, pulling her attention from the open circuit breaker panel.

Fairbanks stopped at a respectful distance — or was it a safe distance, in case she was still feeling feisty? Davis went into a classic parade rest position behind him, hands folded behind his back. Rebecca decided that if consequences were coming down the pipe, it might be worth trying to set a friendly tone, and eased her clenched right hand's grip.

"Good morning, gents."

The end of the lieutenant's mouth twitched ambiguously. "But do you really think so?"

"That depends how this conversation goes, I guess I'm trying to be optimistic."