Solace & Taproots

1.5 - Revised

Rebecca woke reaching for Jaime, confused why it was so bright and breezy inside of a locked car, inside of an abandoned loading dock. Maybe he'd slipped out to start sorting gear, or exploring?

"Rise and shine, sleepyhead." A deep but gentle woman's voice murmured at her as she blinked and tried to clear her vision.

Fuck.

Bex abruptly lifted her head from the back of the couch and put her face in her hands with a groan. "How long?"

"Only about half an hour," Ronnie replied, without judgment in her voice.

"Ugh... I shouldn't have. You shouldn't have let me!" Her confusion was rapidly replaced by self-consciousness.

Ronnie's well-trained eyebrow arch probably used to make newly enlisted privates and corporals question their life choices in a heartbeat. "You haven't looked that peaceful in weeks, girl. If someone had tried to interrupt that I'd have just shot them myself. You can sleep through light machine gun fire, right? Wipe that drool off your cheek."

Bex couldn't decide whether to pout or glare, so she tried for both.

"Don't you give me that look." Again with the channeling Mama Ellis.

Bex gave up, staggered to her feet and paced to get circulation back in her legs. Dying of deep vein thrombosis contracted by falling asleep on duty, after surviving the early stages of the apocalypse, was pretty much the most embarrassing fate she could think of at the moment. At least she wasn't in clown shoes.

She returned after completing a half dozen laps, turning her back to the table and leaning on it. Mindful of the medallion against her sternum, she tugged the chain and held it to her lips for several seconds. Her eyes were still closed and her voice was just above a whisper when she spoke. "I... I was dreaming about when Jaime and I first made a run for it. I know it wasn't real, but seeing him again, feeling his hand on mine again... oh God..." She furrowed her brow and choked back a sob.

Rhonda sighed at her. "Honey. when the dead visit you, they always leave a chill. You're never going to heal cuttin' on your heart like this. Where do you start and all the scars end?"

"I'm sorry. I'm such a mess. I know you lost so many people in the Sandbox."

"So many. Too many. But that starts at just one. Once someone's gone, they ain't around to forgive you or tell you it's not your fault that you're here and they aren't anymore. Those of us who are left have to do that. For them and for us." Ronnie's voice turned from affectionately stern to sympathetic. "It's a part of how we have to carry on for them."

Bex opened her eyes and saw Ronnie jabbing her trigger finger into her left palm with every point for emphasis, and tried to process the advice. Her friend-and-mentor smiled when Bex's expression hardened. "Okay... okay." The medallion was still at her lips, but they were tight with determination.

Ronnie seemed to sense an opportunity to nudge her past a tipping point. "So. What're you going to do about Lassart and his bullshit?"

Bex met her gaze, tucked the amulet away, and set her clenched fists against the table at her sides. "You tell me, you're supposed to be the expert in this part — when you stick your boot up someone's ass, you're s'posed to turn it sideways first, right Gunny?"

"Hah!" Ronnie slapped the couch twice, and then held up an authoritative finger. "You gotta make sure you get a mil-spec parade polish on it and shine it up real good too, if you really want to do it right."

The spark was back in Bex's eyes. She hoped she could make Ronnie and Dwayne Johnson proud.

**

That afternoon, she meandered through the common areas, patiently watching for Lassart to appear.