In the end, you feel that the lesser of the multiple evils is the whole housebound situation. After all, you partially figured that one out on your own, when that Netflix robot emailed you. Sam's been patiently waiting for you to choose. She knows that this is tough for you. You manage to squeak out your answer but then you fall silent again.

Sam blinks at you a few times, and waits another minute for you to say something. When you don't, she starts instead. "Alright, so we've established that you don't seem to know that the front door exists anymore," A faint smile ghosts your lips, and you're grateful that she's trying to keep things light when she can. "And you genuinely seemed surprised when I pointed that out."

"Uh, Netflix, they emailed me yesterday." You feel your brain slap itself for making your mouth say such a ridiculous sentence. All you wanted was to explain that you at least had realized that you haven't been doing much with your time, but that was probably the least helpful thing you could possibly say.

Sam gives you this intense glare of incredulity and then her face meets her palm again. "Jesus Christ, Lara. Look, if we talk about this and deal with it I won't fucking cancel our account." She looks back up from her hand, and rolls her eyes at you. "I might lock you out from anything other than the kid's section though." She continues to stare at you, waiting for you to say something that's actually relevant.

It was relevant to you, and you feel like it's something you can actually explain for once. You jump at the opportunity to be able to do so. "No, see, when I read the email, it made me wonder what I've been doing with my time." Sam's head quirks, and she's listening closer to you now. "I mean, I watched that entire documentary series in the time since I've been home. I kind of started thinking about why I was wasting so much time."

Sam waits a moment before speaking, probably to make sure you don't have anything to add. Then she gently asks you a question, prodding for a little more information. "And did you come to any conclusions?"

Not exactly the most conclusive conclusion, but you had given yourself an answer that was good enough at the time. "I'm meant to be recovering right now, aren't I?"

That look is on Sam's face once again, even though you are fully aware that you're kinda messed up by this point. "Yeeaaah…" She drags out the word, and that makes you a little worried about what she's going to say next. "So the thing is, you can kind of do more than just stare at a screen all day while you finish up with that recovery business. I mean, you haven't even really attempted to do anything else."

You interject quickly, "I tried to! You didn't let me." The day after you had gotten out of the hospital, you wanted to go for a morning jog. You thought it might energize you after spending a bunch of time stuck in that single room at the hospital. You attributed your sluggish exhaustion to the lack of exercise over your stay.

After running her hand through her hair, Sam locks her hands behind her neck and fidgets a bit on the couch. She stretches and pokes you with her feet a couple times. Presumably to cover up the fact that the fidgeting was probably because she was, at least momentarily, slightly out of patience with you. You look at the clock. It didn't take long for her to get frustrated. You think that's probably not a good thing.

"Yeah, I didn't. Which may have been because you had literally been home for less than twenty-four hours. Figured I'd try out that thing where we actually listen to professional medical advice. After all, wouldn't it be unfortunate if you had gone for a run and ended up, oh, I don't know, tearing your stitches?" She kind of has a point. Scratch the kind of, she does have a point. As you start to tell her that, something that almost looks like shame flashes ever so briefly on her face and she cuts you off. "Shit. That was a kinda overboard. Shit. Shit. I'm sorry. I'll try to-" She pauses as the hands behind her head start rubbing at her neck. When she starts again her voice is much quieter. "I just don't want you to hurt yourself any more than you already have." You're unaware that your fingers are twitching at your side once again. "And the doctor did honestly say to limit your physical activity…" She's not meeting your eyes now and while it feels like she's apologizing for telling the truth, it also seems like she's suddenly anxious about something.

You bend forward in an attempt to catch her gaze. "Hey. It's fine. You don't have to sugarcoat everything." Her eyes flick up to yours. "I mean, that would be great if you could," You give her your best attempt at a smile, and it comes out lopsided. "But I don't think that's gonna work in this situation. We might have to get a little brutally honest with each other at times."

She sits up and clears her throat. "Yeah. Sometimes though, I get scared that. You. I-" You can't tell what she's trying to say to you, but the way that her words are fracturing worries you. You want to cut in, help her calm down about whatever it is that she can't seem to say. Before you get the chance, she gives up on it to give you a different answer. "I just feel bad when I get annoyed with you sometimes. You don't always, hrm. You're not really at your best right now, is what I mean, and you don't always deserve it."

You probably do, quite often. You don't say that though. Instead you say something that you think will reassure her. "I can handle it. And the same goes for me too, okay? If I get angry?" That look is on her face again, except she's somehow directed it at herself. She's definitely been keeping things from you. You're going to have to tease them out of her later. Right now though, you know you do deserve the stitch ripping comment. You scratch your chin with your shoulder and while you're doing that, you notice your hand at your side again. You've got to get that out and over with and since stitches have just been brought up, you take the opening before Sam can start talking again. "Since we're kind of on the topic right now, when I ripped my stitches the other day-"

She quickly sits up straight and talks over you. "Lara, I told you already, it's okay. It happens. You just should have called me."

You don't know why she leapt up and cut you off so brusquely, but you need to say it. "I know, it's just," You freeze for a moment. Maybe you don't need to say it. "What happened was," No, you'll just get it over with, quick, like ripping off a bandaid. Or pulling out a stitch. "It was my fault. I didn't notice at the time but I r-" You stop. You just can't say it, so you stuff the words "ripped them out myself" back down your throat and force some others out instead. "-eally should be more careful when I, um, stretch after I've been sitting on the couch for awhile."

"Okay…" Her voice is a little off and it looks like she expected you to say something else. What it was that she had expected, you don't know. She clears her throat, and her voice is back to normal. "Anyway, yeah, you did try to go out that morning. I practically had to hold you back. But you haven't tried at all since then, and I'm just kinda wondering why."

Your brow creases. She's been hovering all over you. "But wouldn't you have stopped me again?"

"So those doctor's orders, then," Her hands have fallen from her neck, and her fingers tap the sofa. "You remember them? Or, uh, did you maybe want me to refresh you?" You feel you've done something wrong. You shrug at her and she continues. "Now the thing is, it's that you needed to rest up pretty good for a few days. And then after that, you could, y'know, do some light exercise. And jogging isn't really too strenuous, so I was a little surprised when you didn't try again. At all. It isn't just the jogging, either. You haven't, well, you haven't really tried at anything at all. You really haven't done much. Much of anything."

It is strange that you gave up so easily after only one attempt, you think. But you're so tired. You don't feel you have the energy right now. "I've just been so exhausted, Sam. I decided I should take the down time like you suggested, to get some recovery."

"Uh-huh." She reaches up and starts rubbing at the back of her neck again and looks away once more. You assume she's trying to figure out her wording. When she looks back, she's frowning slightly. "Yeah, okay. About that. Remember like, five minutes ago? When we were talking about you trying to get me to let you go for your jog?" She exhales loudly. "Wow, I'm feeling pretty patronizing right now. Fuck. It's just that… Lara, you do remember the reason you wanted to go running, right?"

Your brain connects the dots, and it's your turn to frown as you think about the contradiction you just made. Why did you give up after only one day? You're pretty damn stubborn, so why didn't you keep trying until Sam let you? "Now I do. That is strange, isn't it?" There had to be some other reason, hadn't there? Why did you stop?

Sam watches the confusion on your face for a moment, then speaks up. "Right? Strange. Okay, yeah, so since we've agreed on that, I've got a few other things that sorta go with that. Just a few. If you're still good?"

You'd still like to run from the conversation, but at the same time, you're confused by yourself and you convince yourself that you actually do want to hear what else Sam has to say. "Yeah. We can keep going a bit longer." You're afraid to ask, but you do it anyway. "So what else is there?" Probably a metric shit-ton, but whatever it is that Sam's noticed is probably the most prominent.

"Good!" She smiles at you, then sobers immediately. "Uh, well. I mean, not good that we have this stuff to talk about. But the fact that we are talking. That you still wanna keep talking, y'know? That's good. Talking is good. You need to talk."

She's slightly tripping over words now, more so than before. You aren't sure why that is, but you feel it best to reassure her again. "I get it Sam, it's fine." The thing is, you already know that you're going to have to convince her that talking is good when it comes around to her turn later.

She relaxes, the slightest amount, and stretches her legs out into your lap. "Okay. That's also good. Look at all the good happening. Good everywhere."

That whole outburst was more than a little weird. She's gone quiet for the moment and one of her feet starts tapping in the air. She's acting almost nervously now. You grab the foot that's tapping and start massaging it, after you gesture for her to continue.

She looks down her body to where her foot is trapped in your hands. "Oh. Thanks." You shrug at her again, to imply that it isn't a big deal. "I don't really want to bring up that… unique documentary show you've been watching but I kind of have a few things about it."

You chuckle at her description, and shake your head. She's even trying to be delicate about your choice of television viewing. "You can call it rubbish, Sam. It's atrociously done, laughably inaccurate." You wonder if she's going to tell you that she's working on getting rid of episode forty-six, and you want to tell her that it's okay that it somehow exists, but that might lead back to the conversation you still don't know if she remembers having.

She still looks more than a little nervous about whatever it is she's going to say, and her hands are back to tugging at the back of her neck. "Well, see, that's kind of the thing. Like, I have no idea what a lot of them are even supposed to be about, but I've caught bits and pieces and… it's kinda a terrible show."

You have absolutely no idea where this is going. She admits to watching crap shows all the time, so why is it weird that you've been watching one? Plus, you literally just told her that it is a terrible show. "I don't think I'm following." When you say that, she looks like she'd rather not explain to you.

"Yes. Okay." Her foot bounces in your hands, and you have to get a tighter grip on it to keep rubbing it. "When have you ever watched anything that terrible before? Don't get me wrong here, you've always liked your documentaries." She pauses, and despite her nervous behaviour, the next sentence comes out theatrically dramatic. "For whatever reason that may be." She immediately returns to painfully clipped sentences. "But before the, uh, the whole Yamatai thing, whenever I couldn't get the remote away from you, you would point out every tiny inaccuracy that was presented."

You're still confused. "So?"

"Well, it's just, your taste has changed drastically? Or that, uh, maybe you're just being really apathetic about just how bad these shows have been?" You think that her questions are meant to be statements.

You honestly don't understand why she seems to be so nervous about this. "I suppose they're just a bit of fun, Sam. I get to laugh at them, and it's some mindless entertainment."

"Mindless. Yes." Her hands are now linked together behind her neck. "You never really were into much of the mindless stuff before. You were always telling me that there's so much to learn. About…things. A lot of things? Things that weren't, like, Donald Trump yelling at people." You're quite sure about what you're going to respond with, but she doesn't give you the chance to say anything. "A little more on the mindless thing. Just a tad." You nod, you're lost and oddly, you want to see where she's going with this. "Alright. Thanks. So, all the Netflix lately. Like, all the Netflix. All, like, a huge portion of your time."

You already told her that you realized you were spending a lot of time in front of the TV. "I think I mentioned that earlier, right?"

"Yuh-huh. Exactly." You watch as she tries her best to construct full sentences again. "So, we agree that yeah, you spend a lot of time with the TV. Good. That's… good." You're not sure why she seems relieved about that. "I've noticed that you've been spending less time, obviously, with your other stuff. Like your books. And your maps. And your languages that I can't read. Basically all your nerd stuff."

She does have a point, but every time you think about looking at any of your things you remember how distracted you are when you try to sit down with them. "I've been having a bit of trouble concentrating. I think it's because I've been so tired."

She bites the inside of her cheek. "Yeah, there was that day I came home and you kind of, I don't know if you remember, but you kind of had a little rant about it at me?"

You do. You felt bad afterwards, it wasn't her fault that you were distracted. "Right. I'm sor-"

"No! Stop. Stop with the sorries. I know that isn't what we're talking about right now, but please, stop apologizing." She caught you off-guard with her loud interruption again, and you momentarily drop her foot, which is bouncing more rapidly now. You still don't really understand why she seems so nervous. You should be the one who's nervous, shouldn't you? And even though you still would rather not deal with whatever issue it is that she's trying to lead up to, this talk isn't really as bad as you though it might be. You pick her other foot up as she starts speaking again.

"Alright, where was I? Oh. Um. Okay, so it's been like, maybe a week since that happened?" Probably. You nod. "And, well, maybe I've just not been around to see, but have you tried again at all? Like, even once, maybe?"

You're still absentmindedly massaging her foot as you think. You don't think you have. "Not really. I haven't felt up to it, I guess." You idly wonder why that is.

Sam falls quiet for awhile, and looks like she's trying to mentally talk herself into saying whatever it is she has to say. You wait. She rubs at the back of her neck again, until she speak up. "So. Would you maybe… is there a chance that maybe you've possibly lost interest in, uh," Her eyes have been darting around the room, and it looks like she's making a big effort to focus them on yours. "Would you say that you've lost some interest in, well, your stuff? I mean, not like you don't care at all anymore, just that… you don't…" She draws in a deep breath and her next sentence is long and spoken quickly. "I mean, you haven't really touched your books at all and it's kinda weird that you aren't all over me trying to convince me to let you exercise or whatever and you don't even really watch the same kind of TV you used to and I mean yeah they're documentaries but…" She doesn't finish her thought, and just lets it trail off.

And now you abruptly see where she's been going with this and why she's been acting so nervous for the last half of this conversation. You don't respond. You don't really like where it is that she's going.

By the expression on her face, she doesn't seem to like where she's going either. "You've told me how tired you are, and I guess that's a reason to not exercise, but you had the opposite reason to try and convince me for one day. And you haven't brought it up since. You've actually been using the tired thing as an excuse? It's kinda like, you don't even seem to care about it? Like, you might be kind of apathetic? Apathetic about a few things? Not interested in others. Things that you used to be interested in, and kind of enthusiastic about?" You would like for her to stop talking now. "'Cause I've been reading a bit, not much really, but I noticed that all of those things kind of go together sometimes?" Everything's a question, she's trying to tread lightly. It's not really working. "So what I read is that when a lot of those things go together it sometimes means that maybe-" Something suddenly occurs to you, and you think you can stop her before she says it, if you can just get the words out fast enough.

"You haven't touched your camera since we've been home." She's stopped mid-sentence. You were right. "I don't know if I've even seen you look at any of the footage that I got on Yamatai, let alone try to record anything."

She's staring at you, but you're not sure if she's seeing you at the moment. "I've been busy," is her simple reply.

Not good enough for you, not right now. "Sam, you used to stay up until who knows how late editing footage and messing with your camera. You never had a problem fitting it in before." She's pulled her feet back and her legs are crossed in front of her now. "I haven't had a camera up in my face other than when I first gave it back to you." Her face is blank. "If I'm wrong, you can tell me." As you finish, you wish you could rewind and erase the smugness from your voice. You wish you could take back everything you just said.

Slowly, she turns to read the clock. "Y'know, we've been talking for quite awhile now." Does she seriously think that you're going to buy that? "Maybe we should take a break, come back, maybe talk about one of the other topics. You know, cover as much ground as possible? Yup, feels like break time." Before you can stop her, she's off the couch and is heading towards your bedroom.

You don't want to force her to talk, after all, she waited for you. But that cat is out of the bag now. "Sam, wait." She doesn't. You shouldn't have attacked her like that. But you did. You really are an idiot. You try shouting after her one more time. "Sam, please!" She, of course, doesn't respond and you mumble to yourself as your head drops to your hands. "Shit. Shit, shit, shit!"

You stay on the sofa for a few more minutes. Eventually you will yourself to get up and go find a way to apologize to her without using the word "sorry". When you walk into the room, her back is facing you and she's tapping keys on her laptop. Even though it's your bedroom just as much as it is hers, you knock on the doorframe before entering. "Sam, listen. I shouldn't have said what I said. At least not the way I did. It's fine if you don't want to go back over everything right away, but we probably shouldn't just drop it all completely. We were- you were getting somewhere." You don't know if she's ignoring you, or just flat out not listening. "Hey. Sam. It's something that I don't want to think about. Clearly. I get it if you don't want to either, but you were literally a sentence away from the root of that whole conversation, and I ruined it all. I'm not going to say that I'm, uh, feeling the way that you, well, you rather firmly told me not to express? But I honestly feel bad about what I did. What I said." Still nothing, though her hands have dropped from the computer to hang limply at her sides. You walk closer, so you're standing directly behind her. "Hey." You put a hand on her shoulder. She's slumped slightly in the chair, and now that you're close enough, you can see that her eyes are closed. The hand on her shoulder is trembling, but you aren't the one who's shaking. "We're gonna figure everything out." You decide to repeat her words to her, although they're actually kind of your own. "Together. Remember?" Her head falls and is cradled by her hands as she props her elbows on the desk, and you try to remember how she phrased it earlier. "It was supposed to be a 50/50 conversation, right? I preemptively jumped at your 50, and aggressively. I didn't mean to, but I panicked, and I did. But Sam, just because I was an ass about it, that doesn't mean I wasn't right. It also doesn't mean that you weren't right either." She finally responds, if only in the form of a deep sigh. It's not really the ideal response, but it's something, so you'll take it. You're pretty sure she's done for the day.

You decide to try and make the atmosphere a little less awkward, try and make everything feel lighter, more normal again. Doing your best to ignore everything that just happened, you remove your hand from her shoulder and replace it with your chin, so you can see what was doing. "So, what were you up to?" On her screen, only one browser window is open, and it's showing a list of orders you've placed through Amazon.

She lifts her head, straightens in her seat and taps her finger on the screen, pointing to the newest order. "I just cancelled the couch you ordered." The waver in her voice didn't even last the entirety of the sentence, and you can't tell the tone that it twisted into.

She's stress-shopping and has decided to spend some time browsing for another, you assume. If you settle down and virtually window-shop with her, maybe the tension in the room will ease. So you pull a chair under you and sit down, turning your head to fit into her shoulder better. She pulls her shoulder away, you fall forward a bit, and she turns to look at you. Her eyes are shimmering with the tears that she's been holding back, yet her voice maintains what you now recognize as a smug, almost self-righteous tone as she informs you, "We're going out furniture shopping tomorrow."

i've been watching all your colours fade, to blue

So first of all, I was planning to do a "The Conversation Redux" and smush together the conversation parts from this chapter and previous one, but from Sam's POV instead. But I'm not sure if that would be too filler-ish or if it would be of any interest. If it is of interest, and not too filler-ish, I can most certainly write it, and if preferable, I could throw it up as a one-shot instead of being a chapter of this story. I just think it would be interesting to get inside Sam's head for a bit, and this seems like a good place to do so.

You'll notice that Lara's going to have more of an outside voice from now on, rather than staying in her head. For a few reasons, but if I start typing I won't stop, so you can interpret it however you want.

Anyway, I know that this is going pretty slow, and that's partially because I get carried away sometimes. But also partially because (in my experience) some mental illnesses make time go slower. You're reading the story from Lara's head, and she's got shit to think about, and too much time to do so. So yeah, three days over five chapters (although I did do the flashback). Sorry if the story feels too slow to you, but it wouldn't feel right to me if I was flying through things. Gotta suffer with the characters, right? And I guess I can't have these dorks have revelations if I don't give them the back and forth dialogue for them to realize things from.

Next up: The Zebra Abyss