His observation elicited a single, dry chuckle from Sam. Pissed at it for falling down? That actually sounded about right. Because when things fell down, she always inevitably ended up back in that night, it seemed.

And then it happened. She started laughing. She started laughing hysterically, digging her fingers into the pressure points of her face, doubling over to rest her forehead against her knees. The world had ended. And somehow she, the least deserving, had survived. Unfair didn’t even do justice to the notion.

“Sam?”

Sharply, she looked up, turning to crane her neck over her shoulder. Silhouetted against the blaze of distant fires, she thought she saw an angel. One that had taken the likeness of Tina. But angels were cold and distant. And suddenly, Sam felt warm arms around her and warm tears that flowed freely as Tina held her. As they held each other, Sam laughing, Tina crying. Once upon a time, she thought that seeing Tom killed would be the worst thing the two of them had to live through.

Well. At least she still had inappropriate laughter. Nothing could that take from her. It wasn't exactly the kind of consolation prize that actually offered any consolation, but Sam had to take her victories where she could get them.

She looked across the line of her shoulder at him, eyebrows disappearing beneath the fringe of her wig at the invitation. Seemed like just the other day, she'd been the one talking to someone who didn't want to talk. Well. Up was down. Down was up. Left was right. Kittens were having puppies. Blah, blah, blah...

"You think they even bothered to make anything?"