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Therapy was a bitch and a half, but Doctor Vitch had reiterated ten times on the way to it that it was necessary. She'd lost a lot of herself, literally, and had to relearn a lot of things. Walking, eating, sitting, balancing- It was a chore, sure, but at least it was nothing new. She'd had to do it before, at least a bit, back when she'd gotten her hands replaced the first time. But this time it was almost a whole day spent on walking with the doctors watching, eating soup and then a burrito, drinking, sitting, and balancing on a little board on a ball to make sure she could keep her balance on her own without help.

By the time she was done she wanted to use her head as a ram to beat down a wall and escape…

But when she came in the next day, Doctor Vitch just handed her a stack of forms and said, "You passed your exams, so once these are filled, the terms of the contract you hold will have been met."

"Just like that…?"

"Just like that." Doctor Vitch nodded, "You should know that it is still valid for another year, if you can afford the monthly premiums."

"Yeah." Rebecca snorted, "That's a big 'if' there, Doc."

"So I imagined it would be, but protocol-"

"Means you have to mention it." She nodded, "Gotta fish for them extra E's, right? I get it."

"I suppose you would." Vitch laughed, ever so quietly, "A mercenary mindset is not too terribly out of place in my line of work."

"Yeah…" And that brought up a whole new host of questions. Questions that she hesitated to ask the doctor, flicking her a look before she could stop herself. It was a tiny thing, but she could tell from how the other woman's hands slowed on her tablet that she'd caught it. And she just knew that if she didn't say anything, Doctor Vitch would add it as a 'psychological cue' or some shit. So, sighing, she asked, "My new, uh, bits aren't rated for combat. Like, at all. Right?"

"Nothing is rated for going against Adam Smasher…"

"Not what I meant, Doctor Bitch." Rebecca snapped before she could catch herself, could reconsider the words. Shaking her head, she said, "I meant, like… I'm an Edgerunner. It's all I know, except my, uh, other job. But I can't go back to that."

"Can't, or won't?" Rebecca couldn't answer that and, after a few quiet moments, the doctor sighed and said. "I know what you used to do… Your tattoos are clearly Mox. But I can see you do not want to return to that so, if you're asking if your new components can handle Edgerunner work? They aren't designed for it, but they aren't worthless."

"So 'be careful'...?"

"My official advice is 'go back to your old job, or find a new one'." Doctor Vitch answered quietly, "Barring that? Yes. Be very careful."

"I…" She sighed, "I can do that…"

"It's not my job to tell you what you can or can't do." Doctor Vitch shook her head, turning back to filling out forms on her tablet. After another few minutes of silence, the woman spoke again, "I will have your exit forms prepared for your signing by tomorrow morning. By afternoon, you will be cleared to leave. What is left of your property will be returned then, and you will be provided with the last three weeks of medications you need to fully adapt your implants. After that…"

"Try not to get into a fight with Adam Smasher?"

"More or less." She sighed, turning to leave, "Hit the button if you need anything."

"Right…"

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Her 'property' ended up being a pair of heavy magazines for her now very much gone light machine gun, and what was left of her coat. It'd lost one of the sleeves entirely, and part of the corner at the front on the side of her that had been crushed. But other than that, it was fine. And clean, too - thanks to the staff, apparently. A 'courtesy' included in her package, apparently, in case any clothing or valuables caught in the 'mess' were salvageable and had sentimental value. Her bikini-set, though, hadn't been saved, so the staff let her buy a set of grey scrubs off her package plan to wear under it, and a set of simple grey medical flats.

Neither did much of anything for the rain she stepped out into, but…

Well, her coat was big enough to keep her more or less alright on the walk home.

Dripping wet, she stepped out of the lift and turned to head up a familiar hallway, head ducked low to avoid the curious stares from neighbours coming and going. Until one she recognized turned and called after her, "Becky, is that you…?"

She hesitated for a second, trying to decide what to do before she finally sighed and turned around, smiling sheepishly, "Y-Yeah… Hey, how ya doing?"

"Oh my god, you're alive?!" Samantha, her neighbor from a few doors down since before her parents had left her the old apartment cheered as she rushed towards her. She was tall and lanky, with dark skin and eyes like Rebecca saw whenever she visited Santo, and dressed in a kiosk uniform that was colored vomit-green for whatever reason with a little blue hat over her dark hair.

And, in spite of knowing exactly what kind of job Rebecca had, she didn't hesitate to bundle her up in a hug.

Pulling away, she gave her a look-over and frowned, eyeing the side of her face, "Oh God… What happened?"

"You saw the news, yeah…?"

"About that merc that went cyber-psycho and tried to blow Arasaka away?" Rebecca winced, ducking her head to fight a burn of tears that tried to conjure themselves out of thin air, and Sam gasped. "Oh, God… It was David, wasn't it?"

"He… Wasn't psycho, at the end." Rebecca murmured, "He was fine."

"But the news… Whatever. Who believes the news anyway? A source from the thing is always better. Spesh when Corps are involved." Sam waved it off, grabbing her new hand and tugging her back the way Sam had come from, "C'mon! You've been in the hospital all this time, yeah?"

"Yeah…?"

"Then you are in dire need of some fresh fried rice!" Sam laughed, tugging her into her apartment and calling out, "Mama! Becky is here for dinner!"

"Rebecca?!" Like her daughter, Sam's mom was lanky and tall. Unlike her, though, the fifty year old kept her hair dyed a bright blue that stood out against her lines of smile-worn wrinkles - why, she'd never told either of them - and she wore a simple black dress. She rushed over to take Rebecca's face in her hands, holding her and smiling brightly as she pressed a kissed to her forehead, "Ah! We prayed for you, sweetheart… Hours and hours- I am so happy to see you in one piece!"

"Well…" Rebecca sighed, backing up to escape the contact and turning just enough that the woman could see her extensive rebuilding under her coat. "Not quite one."

"Oh, Dios mio, Rebecca…"

"Yeah, shit, I didn't see it was that bad…" Rebecca nodded, head ducking, and Sam wrapped an arm around her, smiling and offering quietly, "Hey, don't worry. I still would."

"S-Sam!"

"Samantha!"

"What?" The woman laughed, bouncing past her mother and into the tiny kitchenette to start digging through plastic containers for food. "She's hot and cute as a button at the same time. Not my fault."

"Children these days…" Sam's mom sighed, "No tact."

"I'm twenty five?!"

"And yet," she snarked, "a child."

Rebecca just smiled and let the old woman herd her onto the little circular couch all these apartments came with, more or less built into the floor in the corner. Even so, the older Mendez had made it more homey, hanging a little metal circlet around the lights that a thin veil ran around, tucked into the corner for now. A thick red table-cloth covered the ratty built-in one, and little plates with candles filled its middle. Baskets of yarn and plastic pieces for stitching lined the side of the couch against the wall, while knitted blankets and crocheted squares and circles were stacked around the other or hanging from the walls. Thicker cloth roles were set up under the window beside the bed, where a half-finished sewn blanket was waiting for Miss Mendez to come back to it.

It was warm, and comfortable, and a far cry from the hospital she'd spent weeks in by that point…

It was almost too much.

"Here." Sam chirped, dropping into the spot next to her and setting a bowl of reheated fried rice, potatoes and minced tomato-chunks between them, and two smaller ones beside it for them. She scooped them each out a portion and leaned back, hers in her lap and one arm looped around Rebecca loosely. Calling over her shoulder, she said, "Mama! Steve is gonna cover my shift- I'm doing a double tomorrow."

"As long as you get your hours, I suppose…"

"You don't have to do this…" Rebecca murmured, poking at the food and giving her old friend a look. "When was the last time I even gave you the time out in the hall?"

"Back 'fore you went to work for the Mox."

"That was three years ago, Sam…" She said, "I-I don't deserve-"

"Life happens, Becky." She smiled and shrugged, taking a bite of potato and rice and going on a second later. "What kinda person would I be if I held it against you now? You almost died… Anything that happened, or didn't- It's over. You need someone right now, so… I'm here."

And Rebecca could see she meant it, too. Rebecca had blown her off when she went to work for the Mox. She remembered ignoring her texts. And she'd kept blowing her off when she left the Mox to work with her brother and Maine, too. But Sam didn't care. She just wanted to be there for her now, in spite of everything. And she let the 'everything' go, too, without even a hair of a care.

And that?

That was too much, and she broke down, eye burning as the tears finally came.

"Oh, Becky…" Sam sighed, "Mama! Get the tissues!"

It was a couple more hours before she finally stepped into her apartment. It was technically two, at the end of the hall, from when a fire had burnt out a few rooms and they'd sold them cheaply, but her family had built them into one. And it was a dusty one, now, too. With a notice demanding she 'use the premises or appear to offer it for use' in accordance with some NC regulation she didn't know or care about pinned on the door. Sam saw it and scoffed, ripping it down as she followed her in and coughed on all the dust that had built up in the old place.

"Well, this is going to be all night…"

"I can handle it."

"Yeah, yeah, I get it. You're the badass merc, back from the edge- Of course cleaning isn't a problem." Sam laughed, pressing a bucket into her hand and waltzing by to the table in front of the couch to start on it. "I'm helping, shut up."

"Yeah, yeah." She smiled, "I know."

The cleaning, as expected, took hours, even with Sam's help. But, eventually, they'd done the main room and even gotten through her brother's old room. She'd been halfway through converting it to an armory, when everything had happened, so it was much of a mess that Sam could help with there. And, after the third time Sam started to touch something that might explode, Rebecca was happy to call it done for the night.

Plopping onto the long couch she'd moved against the wall, and planning to redecorate more later, Rebecca pulled her coat off and relaxed. Same slipped by, offering her a beer - one of the three things that had survived in her fridge - before plopping onto the other end of the couch and sighing.

A second passed, and she asked, "Can you have beer right now…?"

"Should be fine." She shrugged, "Doc's papers said I could get laid, so what's abeer to that?"

"Well that escalated…" Rebecca just rolled her eyes, staring at the beer in her hand for a long while. Until, finally, Sam asked, "So… What are you going to do now? For money, I mean."

"I'm only good for two things, Sam." She sighed, shaking her head, taking a drink, and settling back to stare up at the ceiling. "Fighting is the only one I'm willing to keep doing, but… I always had a team, ya know? Unless I was running distraction, I needed backup. Still will."

"And the other thing is… Mox stuff, right?"

"Fucking, yeah." Rebecca sighed, snorting when Sam choked on her drink. Smirking, Rebecca asked, "What? You knew what I did, Sam."

"Yeah, it was just…" She shrugged, "How you said it."

Shaking her head, Rebecca sighed and went on, "I guess I'll hit up some Fixers, see if there's some light work that needs doing. Pay will be shit, but… What else can I do 'cept beg the Mox to pretty please let me come back to play the little girl in some BDs?"

"That what they had you doing…?"

"Why?" She smirked, "Curious?"

"I'm never gonna live down calling you hot, am I…?"

"Eh, it's more that you said you'd hit." She chuckled, shaking her head and, after a second, adding, "Thanks for that, by the way… I- It helped, kinda. Like, some sleazebag on the streets wouldn't have made me feel better- Half of 'em would have hit before I got fixed up. But… I dunno, I'm having trouble wording it right."

"I get the drift." Sam shrugged, "Glad it, uh, helped."

"Just sorta blurted it out, didn't ya?"

"Maybe…" Sam rolled her eyes, "But about your issue- I, uh, might know a guy."

"How would you know a merc?"

"He's a big teddy-bear that comes by for kebabs and bought some of Mama's blankets a year back, for kids out in Santo." Sam explained quietly, "Big guy, but soft, ya know? But he wears enough bullets and carried a shotgun 'round, and that screams 'merc' to me."

"Sounds like one, yeah…"

"So…" She shrugged, "I can put you in touch? I have his number."

"Why…?"

"He wanted a few ks worth of blankets from Mama to give to a church to hand out." She shrugged, "had to, you know, coordinate. That much takes a while ya know?"

"Fair, I guess…" She sighed and thought about it for a while before she shrugged and closed her eyes, already ready to sleep. "Sure, fine, pass 'im a message and see what he says for me. Just, uh, tell 'im not to expect too much, okay? And don't… Don't mention Smasher."

"I won't." Sam nodded, hopping up and smiling, "Get some rest, Becky. I'm gonna head on home."

"Yeah." She waved, "Later."

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