"Y'know, this part of your little date night isn't all that bad." Sam reaches up and traces an invisible constellation in your blanket-sky. "I don't mind it in here at all."

You smile. At least one thing has ended up decent today. But the longer you lay snuggled in your sleeping bag with Sam, the more you start thinking about your realization earlier in the day. It's been following you around since then.

You don't want to ask this question.

You do, though. "Sam?" You're well aware that you'll likely ruin the rest of the night with this. "Are you scared of me?"

She pushes herself away from you, as much as she can while confined in the sleeping bag. You take that as a bad sign. When you look at her face though, she just looks lost. "What?" She squints and shakes her head slightly, in confusion, it seems. "I don't- Where and when did you get that idea? Seriously, why would you think that?"

"It's just," You shrink into yourself slightly. "I… I got really angry about something today."

"What? Lara, what happened?"

"And yesterday, I was yelling at you, and… I just. Twice in the same amount of days. That I've noticed, at least. I don't know if I've been… I just noticed it today, and I don't know if I've been like this all along. If it's why you're so afraid of saying something wrong."

She's looks like she can't believe what you've just said. Which might be good, you're not sure at this point. "Do you scare me? Sweetie, you almost died saving me. After all that, you're going to what? Hurt me?"

That non-answer doesn't sit right with you. "You didn't answer my question."

She sighs and shuffles back towards you, putting the two of you nose to nose. It makes it almost impossible to look away from her. "Are you scary? Yeah, maybe. Men twice your size ran from you, in fear. Am I scared of you? No. Of course I'm not. You can get a little intense when you get upset, sure, but what am I supposed to be afraid of? Should I be worried you're going to go into some blind rage or something? Because I'm not. Am I doing something wrong by trusting you?"

You can barely manage a whisper. "But that one time, I-"

"Overreacted when I surprised you? And then immediately broke down into a shivering wreck when you caught yourself seconds later?" You try your best to avoid her eyes as much as possible. "It was an accident. You had barely been home, you couldn't have just switched off your instincts immediately. I know that. I thought you did, too. You still haven't, entirely. And that's fine." You're not convinced. "Lara, you barely touched me before you stopped yourself. You can control yourself. You aren't- I'm going to repeat myself, here- you aren't running around all stabby-stabby psycho style."

"But you were wary of me after. After that happened. Um, when I got frustrated about not being able to concentrate? And that disaster of a talk… I lost it. Then when we went shopping. Outside that first store. Inside the last one. I've been getting angry. And then this morning." You're apparently incapable of full sentences. "Probably more."

"Okay, so evidently something other than your Martha Stewart survival hour happened today that we need to talk about. But first, you do remember that I got at least as… irate as you did when we talked? Actually, I was slightly annoyed with you right from the beginning, and I'm not going to get into it now, but I am sorry for that. Second, I was cautious because I didn't want to accidentally surprise you again. I'm pretty sure that you were actually more upset about it than I was. I didn't want to see you break down like that again. Alright?" After you make a noncommittal noise, she shuffles around, resting her chin on the top of your head, and she's almost reversed your regular roles. You're fine with that, and you press your face into her shoulder. It is comforting, which isn't really breaking news, but you understand why she defaults to doing the same.

"I just- I tried to go outside and it didn't go well. That's not what I'm concerned about right now, though." It feels like she's being evasive, but you're also so focused on your question that you might just be paranoid about it. "But how do you know I can control myself? At the shops… what if you hadn't been there? I don't know what I might have done."

She takes her time before replying, and when she eventually does speak, her voice is about as gentle as you've ever heard it. "Lara, what you just said; I want to point out that you just said that you didn't know what you might have done if I wasn't there with you. Which sounds an awful lot like you're telling me that my presence was something that helped you stay in control. Does that sound about right?"

"…It does."

"Good." She sighs. It doesn't sound like it's out of annoyance, but it doesn't sound sad either. "So, then, if that's true, why should I be afraid of you? If I was the one who kept you from… whatever it was that you thought you were going to do, why in the world should I be afraid of you?"

"I…" You remember your earlier analogy, and what she's saying clicks. "You're my blanket."

"Uh. Sure." Perhaps you should have clarified that. "Lara, the only time I feel completely safe is when I'm with you. That's what scares me. That you could go away. And y'know, the more and more time we spend together… trying to fix ourselves, the more I realize how irrational that might be. But my brain still constantly warns me to watch what I say around you, and I don't know how to rewire that. I still have that fear lingering that I might scare you away, but it's gotten less severe, at least. I mean," She chuckles. "I can speak in proper sentences more often, and I can say those sentences without feeling like I'm about to have a stroke. So, no, Lara." She flops a leg over yours and momentarily leans back to place a quick kiss on your forehead. "You don't scare me. You're my safe place."

She sounds sincere, but silence lingers over the two of you, as you aren't quite sure what to say. She's the same to you, and you want to explain the blanket thing, but you don't know how to do that without sounding stupid. You end up with more time to think about it though, when Sam picks up where she left off.

"I always thought that sounded so fucking weird, y'know?" She stops to laugh. "When people would say that other people were places to them? Stuff like 'you're my home', right? I always thought it was so weird. Didn't make sense to me." There's a fairly long silence again before she laughs once more. "But then you happened."

Suddenly, you don't care if you sound stupid or not. "Security blanket, Sam. I realized that today, that you're my security blanket. Well, security human." Her chin taps your head when she nods. "Sounds a little sillier than a place, even. But I'm safer when you're with me."

"Well, shit. Sounds like we're stuck with each other, huh?"

You don't respond, but you're still pressed against her, and you hope she can feel your smile.

For quite some time, you lay together under your fake night sky, before you tell her, "I wanted to go out and buy some food. For lunch. It was more that we have nothing in the fridge, but still, I thought I could go out."

"Mhm."

You don't know if she's aware just how much it means to you that, when you do decide to tell her something, she listens to you without any judgement. She just listens and when you're done, she helps you put back any pieces of you that were broken. "I barely made it past the doorframe. Once I did, I ended up sitting on the step. My brain started, and wouldn't stop. It was- I was barely able to push myself to sit on that step, and there I was, sitting and watching the rest of the world exist. Easily, and comfortably exist. Superficially, at least."

Sam sighs again. It's sad, this time. "Right?"

"It feels so unfair, Sam. There was this woman, just jogging down the street. Like it was simply a daily routine. A routine, like I had. Before. And it felt so unfair that she was allowed that, and I'm not, not anymore. I was angry at her. I was angry at her, and I don't know a thing about her. And that's what's actually unfair, isn't it? What right do I have to judge her like that?"

"You're allowed to be angry, Lara. I don't think it was actually her that you were angry with, though." A thumb brushes against your cheek. "You understand me?"

You do. You said it to her yesterday; it's the whole situation that angers you. Seems you're just taking it out on other people. "I suppose. So, I was already angry about that, although I was trying to ignore it. While I was doing that, though, somebody's dog barked. I… overreacted?"

"Yeah? How so?" She doesn't say it like a condemning question. She says it because she knows you need the gentle push to keep talking.

"It startled me, I guess. Got defensive." That damn planter caused two crises today. "The, uh, the flowers that we had on the step? You, know, the ones in the planter? I was basically ready to bash somebody's head in with the planter. I obviously couldn't find my bow or guns, and it was the closest thing to me. …I may have also killed the flowers."

"Might you also have set fire to them?"

Trust her to actually notice that. "It might have perhaps paved the way to firestarting, yes. But when I realized what I was doing, I freaked out. There were a few things going on in my head, but mostly I was angry… and I overreacted again. And then I basically sat on the ground, being mad about things. Got up when I decided I didn't want you to come home to that." Now, though, you almost wish you had stayed there. "Although, an angry Lara on the floor might have been better than an overenthusiastic fire starting Lara."

"Mm." She rolls away from you, and pulls your hand up. You ball it into a fist. "Any of that have to do with this?" She taps the bandaid on your knuckle.

You chew on your bottom lip, and don't even bother responding. Your guilty look is enough.

"Wasn't going to say anything, but since you're telling me about it now…" You cringe when she peels the bandaid off. "Yeah, this is too fresh. And about the size of the little smudge of blood on the door." Unintentionally, you clench your fist tighter. "Your aim was high. Eye level."

She doesn't sound upset in the slightest. Still, you're embarrassed and you tuck your head down slightly.

"Woah, hey. Lara. It's okay. One little slip. Little." You still feel guilty about it. "You didn't hurt anybody." A moment passes before she kisses the scrape and gives you your hand back. "Anything else?"

You don't know if she's talking about your knuckle, or just in general. You can't tell from her tone, and since you're not looking at her, it's all you have to go on. Even if she has noticed, you're not going to tell her that you were picking at it. You feel oddly ashamed about it, you can't quite figure out why, though. "Not really. Started building the fire when I got up."

"Alright." She knows. And she knows about your side. That you've been picking at it a lot, at the very least. It's the correlation between the two that shames you. That's what it is. Why that is though, you don't know. "Don't beat yourself up over this, Lara. Please. None of this, not the fire, not the anger, not your hand. Shit happens. The reason we're like this right now is because shit happened."

"Okay."

She inhales deeply and rolls back onto her side to face you again, although you've still got your head tucked down. "That wasn't the most convincing agreement, but I'll take it, I guess. So, uh," She looks up at the blanket sky, then at the sleeping bag, and the back to you. "It is nice in here, but we don't have to actually sleep out here, do we? The floor's kinda uncomfortable, long term."

You came to that same conclusion, earlier. When you straighten back out and finally look up at her, she's just watching you, a lazy smile on her face. You don't understand why you deserve this. You scootch closer to her, and quickly kiss the tip of her nose, then push yourself as far away as you can from her while still confined in the sleeping bag. "Yeah, and this thing just doesn't have enough space, does it? I can't stand all the cuddling."

"It is quite horrible. I might catch your cooties."

You may as well have taken the sleeping bag to bed with you, as Sam is snuggled into your side while you lay on your back, watching the ceiling again. Although you were joking, you are actually slightly uncomfortable now, as the way the Sam's draped her arm over you has left her hand resting on your stitches. You don't mind when she occasionally runs her fingers over a scar or two, but this? This makes you feel like you're lying to her, even though you haven't said a word. You look away from the ceiling and gaze at her hand instead. "I…" You keep staring at her hand. "My…" Why can't you just tell her? You told her, step by step, how you murdered a man, but you can't tell her that you pulled out your own stitches? By accident. Plus there's the fact that she's already aware that you've been tugging at them. "I- I…" You don't even really know what you're trying to say. Right now, all you want is to start saying it. "It's…"

Sam's hand moves out of your sight, and shortly after you feel it nudging your chin, prompting you to look at her. You do, and she looks concerned. "Lara. What is it?" The fact that you tried to start this discussion. But you've stammered too much to brush it off. "What's wrong?"

"I…" You can't. Not yet, at least. You just can't. You let the syllable hang in the air while you try to think of any alternative. "You never judge me." It's the first thing you think of, because she probably wouldn't, if you could get it together long enough to tell her. "Never."

She does her confused head shake again, and sits up. "Do you want me to?" There's a pause before her face and voice go faux-stern. "You're asking me some weird questions today, Lara. Why? What's up with that? How dare you even think about asking these questions." She brushes some hair from your face, drops her act and smiles. "How's that? Good enough?"

"No, no, it's not that I want- I mean, maybe I deserve it, but… you don't. Judge me." You push yourself up, so you're sitting with her. "And that wasn't really a question, by the way." She rolls her eyes. "I was alone with my head all day, Sam. With my brain, the one that I'm trying to start using properly again. When I think of something, it sticks with me, until I randomly blurt it out at you, apparently." Not that you actually thought of this until Sam was home with you, and not that you meant to bring it up at all.

"Fair enough." She crosses her legs and props her head up with her palm, tilting to look at you. "So… do you judge me, then?"

"For what?"

She shrugs. "Dunno. Anything."

"Hm." You slide down the headboard until you're laying down again. "That corduroy sofa."

"I thought it was my job to make the shitty jokes?" She leans sideways to bump you, which doesn't quite work properly, and she ends up flopping back down beside you. Her brow creases when she asks you, "But really, why are you so worried tonight? Did I do something? I didn't… did I do something?"

"No! God, no." Great job you've done here, making her doubt herself now. "The furthest from that, Sam. I swear. I'm just… I'm thinking too much."

"Mm," is her neutral response.

"I promise you, you didn't do anything wrong. Or say anything wrong. I did."

"Uh, when? I think it might be my call on that, not yours. Because I don't recall you making any sort of mistake."

You can't hold back your scoff. "Yeah, sure. Other than this entire day."

She raises her eyebrows, and looks legitimately displeased with you. "Thought we knew that accidents aren't always the same as mistakes."

"Yeah, okay." You turn your face away for a moment to think. If you can't actually get the words out about what you did, maybe you can at least tell her that you were trying to say something different. When you look back at her, you sigh. "C'mere." She scoots over and uses your chest as a pillow. "That wasn't actually what I was going to tell you."

"Huh?"

You curl a protective arm around her. "You heard me. I tried to start, what? Four statements? I was going to… I want to tell you, but I can't."

She starts tracing a pattern on your stomach. You don't know if it's on purpose, or not. "You just told me that I don't judge you, though."

"I judge me. The thing about it, though, is that it's so insignificant compared to… well, most of what I've already told you about. I try… but I can't get the words out. I'm sorry."

"Oh." It feels like her finger is burning that pattern into your skin. She traces, over and over, and then over again, before she quietly asks, "So, is it like when you r-r-r-r-r-really should have been more careful? With stretching, or whatever?" She says it so casually.

You freeze. Completely. You even forget to breathe, for a moment.

Her hand stops tracing, and she splays it flat across your abdomen. "Yeah." You can't tell, you cannot for the life of you tell how much she knows. "Is it anything urgent?"

It's a good question, actually. It probably isn't. You haven't caused any other damage, and your hand was just a coincidence. "I don't think so."

"Then take your time. From what I understand, this isn't a race."

"Right." You can't argue, you're the one who told her that. "I'm sorry."

"Hey." She flips over, so she's facing you instead of your feet. "Lara, enough. I don't even know what you're apologizing for. You didn't tell me." You don't intend to say anything, but she silences you with a finger over your lips, again. "So no more, tonight. Okay?" You nod, and she withdraws. "So, 'tell me about your day' doesn't exactly work in our situation, but can we stick with that concept? Just… whatever-talk for the rest of the night."

"Sure, whatever."

She rolls her eyes at your, and flips back over. "Funny."

Since she isn't looking at you anymore, you rest your head back and look up. "I know I said we could redecorate. I mean, I wasn't quite all here when I brought it up, but we still can. If you want. But we can't change the ceiling tiles, yeah?"

"Uh, okay. I don't know why we'd go that excessive, but yeah, they can stay."

"I just- I really like them."

She tilts her head to look up at them. They're plain, nothing special. "Yeah, I guess they're alright." Nothing special to most people, at least. "But you're right, we do need a new couch, at the very least. Should we internet it, or do you wanna…"

It's obvious what she's asking. You don't really want to, but you should. "Yeah, I- I want to try, I guess. I have to, don't I? But can we… can we go out really early? It doesn't have to be super early, just early enough to get out before all the normal people. Or really late? I know there won't really be anything good late, but there'll be less people, and if there are less people then I might-"

"Shush. We can go early. Or we can go late. We'll go to a hundred different Larry'ses, if you want. We can even go buy that corduroy monstrosity, if that ends up being what's best." You can't see it, but you can hear her smirk. "Really, Lara, I understand why you might have a slight obsession about it, but I couldn't give less of a shit about what ends up in the living room. As long as it doesn't have blood on it." You glance down at your side while she starts her rearrangement routine and as usual, ends up half on top of you, predictably resting her head on your shoulder. "What I do give a shit about is you. What we end up sitting on? It's nothing. It means absolutely nothing to me. But you? You mean everything."

You believe her. God, you do believe her, and you feel the same way, the same and more. You're completely blank on what to say, though. You seem to be at a loss for words for a lot of things today.

"And y'know, that couch was awesome. It was great, but I can't say that I was in love with it. You're the one that I save those words for." She rolls so that she's completely on top of you, her forehead against yours. "You are aware of that, right?"

Opting out of allowing words to fail you again, you tilt your chin up to kiss her, in a way that you hope says 'Yeah. Yeah, I am'. When you're satisfied that you've got your message across, you end up smiling against her lips. "Actually, I really quite liked that sofa, Sam." Her head pulls back and she blankly blinks at you as your grin grows wider. "Buuut… I really really quite like you a lot more."

She beams back down at you. The thing with Sam, is that the words aren't the most important to her. You'd love to be more eloquent, to not be at a loss for what to say. But in the end? All she does care about is what the words end up meaning. Her smile turns into a chuckle. "Fucking dork." She, of course, has her own vernacular that you've learned to translate. You give her one last quick peck on the lips and she shuffles around again, just enough to comfortably rest her head below your chin. "So, that wasn't very whatevery. Nice job changing the subject." You shake your head, make an annoyed grumble at her. It's probably what makes her laugh as she says, "Now, let's talk colours."

You do, and it makes you wonder what exactly happened to simple ol' ROY G BIV.

Sam's been up and moving around for long enough that she's probably nearly ready to head out for the day. You, on the other hand, are just finishing breakfast. Which probably means it's too late for her to agree to this. "Hey Sam?"

She appears in front of you, much quicker than you expected, and you jump when she blurts at you, "Yes, I will bring more food products home today."

"Thanks?" You were a little whiney earlier, when you were attempting to breakfast up something other than hot dogs and reject-potato hash browns. "But I was actually going to ask you: Do you have some sort of, I don't know, bring-your-Lara-to-work day?"

She slumps a little, and for a moment you're concerned you've grown a second head, the way she's looking at you. "Uh, I'm sorry, but what?"

A nervous laugh escapes you. "Yeah." She's still staring at you, as 'yeah' is not in any way an explanation. "I, well, I thought that I should maybe try to start being productive again. A little bit." She's still staring. "Eh… yesterday made it somewhat obvious that I need to fill my time somehow." Staring. You awkwardly click your tongue and hope for her to do something else. She doesn't. "I could help you? With… stuff? I don't know exactly what I could do, but…"

Finally, she stops staring. Instead, she covers her face with a hand and sighs as she slowly drags it down, bringing you back into your sight. "You're? Now? You're asking me this right now? As I'm in the process of heading out the door?" A hand runs through her hair. "Lara Croft, you are infuriating."

You shrink down in your chair slightly. "Uh, right, you may have mentioned that before." You may have perhaps made a mistake in asking this question.

"Yup." She sighs again and shakes her head. "You're fucking lucky that you're infuriating and cute. But sweetie, really, don't you think trying to get back at your studies would be more helpful. When all is said and done? You could try that."

You glance away. She's right. But you don't know where your concentration is at right now, and you've come to the conclusion that the fact that your big discovery was an absolute disaster is something that is not helping your desire to get back to your books. It's time to channel that doggie in the window, and you turn back to Sam with your best sad puppy eyes. "I guess I could try…"

Sam throws her arms up, limply. "You little fucking shit. Now I wish you weren't so cute." You throw in a smile. "Oh, fuck off with that, you've won. I'll see if I can get in contact with one of those old scholarly farts that I mentioned. Again, no offence." She leans in to get right up in your face. "The rules; you stay here until I actually have something for you. If you tag along with me all willy-nilly, I don't know what kind of attention you might attract, one of the lingering tabloid assholes might catch a glimpse of you and god knows what would happen then. You understand, right?" You nod, and a gentle smile appears on her face before she lightly flicks your nose. "And while you're here, you do not set anything on fire."

"That's fair. I'm, uh," You look up and away while you apologize. "I'm sorry. That I asked out of nowhere. I'm just-" You pause, try to think of a better way to phrase it. You come up with nothing. "Sam, I have no idea what I'm doing. I don't know."

"No, no." The Look flashes across her face, and is gone in a blink. "It's okay. I get it. But Lara, you do know that I probably won't be able to be with you the entire time you're out?"

You hadn't really thought about that, actually, and you briefly reconsider. But you need to do things without her. Even though every time you've already tried to do things without her ended badly. You feel like a child as you mutter, "Um, you'll… sometimes. Be around? I won't be completely alone?"

She sighs once more, sadly. "I will. I just won't be able to sit with you and old fart, probably." There's a pause, and she hesitates before saying, "Lara, do you think that maybe we should actually think about…" Another pause. "Never mind. Just- forget that." You should be able to do so, as you don't know what 'that' was. "I'll phone you, okay? When I figure something out." She swiftly leans in to kiss your forehead before turning to leave. She stops herself after a few steps, though, and turns to look at you one more time. The Look is fully on her face. "Maybe look at a map. Or two. Read an article. Give something a try?" She shrugs, and looks apologetic. "Hey," Her smile is back when she finishes. "Love you."

"Love you, too. Double." You nod at the door. "I'll talk to you later, then?"

"I'll find you a fart, don't you worry." She smirks. "Later."

And then she's gone.

You get up, head over to The Sofa, and drop down. Sam doesn't need to look at you like that. You know you're fucked up. You know that- you just told her that you don't know what you're doing. Sometimes, times like right now, you feel like the only thing that you do know, other than how broken you are, is that you love her. You told her that as well.

She, for all intents and purposes, now knows exactly what you know. And suddenly, what you know feels completely insubstantial. One piece of that information is important, sure.

But there's so much to relearn.

i don't know what's going on, i am so in deep with you

I edited this into last chapter, quite late, so here it is again:

*I've just very belatedly realized that I've been referencing things from The Conversation Redux that are not at all obvious from the version that's in this (because we can't see what Sam is thinking, obv), so idk if you want to go read it. I'll copypaste a line for an example for you (one regarding/explaining Sam's 'snuggling defence mechanism', although there's more context earlier than that quote), I guess, and then you can decide if you want to go read it, if you haven't already: You take the opportunity to bury your face into her neck. It's comforting, and it's continued proof that she is indeed still here, in all capacities it seems.

And I do hope that other references to earlier chapters that I'm making are being caught? Hopefully? [there's one really glaring one please tell me it's obvious] There's also one thing from The Conversation Redux that I could clarify here but I don't know if I want to yet...

can u tell somebody was having moodswings while they wrote this

That's also why this is so short, comparatively. Could have been more, but this felt like an okay place to split it.

The meaning of words are more important to Sam than the actual words. Wonder why she's so worried she might say the wrong thing.

...I'm really fucking tired.

What's coming up? more fictional characters being sad in an unnamed chapter

*we also got endgame coming up. couple more chapters, i think. i've finally figured out how the fuck to get back to my original planned ending, after accidentally veering away from it. also, i feel like i should finish this up before rottr because... just because.