Newly settled into Jackson city and forced to go on patrols with the miserable Joel Miller sets off a chain of events and encounters that have you questioning everything, including your own heart.

Notes:

Hi y'all. Decided to start a new story while I try to get back into the groove of the STFF series.
This takes place after season 1 when Joel and Ellie are back in Jackson City with Tommy and Maria.
This world is not always pretty, there's blood and gore and tears in this world along with the quiet strum of a guitar in front of the fire or the taste of freshly made cookies.
This Joel is dark. He's not the sweet soft Joel I've grown to love writing. No, this one is full of sharp edges and darkness. But there's light there too, I promise, it just needs to be uncovered.
As always your reviews nourish me y'all. They make it so my fingers keep being tippy tappy.

Chapter Text

Patrols were never your thing. You'd thought them more for the super athletic, the expert marksmen, the naturally ruthless.

You were a decent shot. Nothing to write home about. You'd shot animals when you were starving and on the run.

But patrolling the walls of Jackson City was always someone else's gig. Something for people not as "soft".

So when Maria told you that your name was on the roster for that month you'd been surprised.

"But I'm always on kitchen duty."

"We have new folks coming into Jackson," Maria explained, her tone brusque and her eyes weary. "None of them have weaponry experience. You do."

"Barely.

"Barely's better than nothing."

Then she'd moved from you, obviously busy with a myriad of planning and scheduling. You watched her leave, her hand resting over her swollen belly.

You were relatively new to Jackson City, barely six months living behind its sheltered walls. You didn't feel you had earned the right to disagree with Maria or to challenge her ideas.

You've stayed close to home since you're arrival, still not quite used to the life that bustled around you in the market or the dances (real dances!) in the church hall. You don't have friends here yet despite your natural propensity to others. You smile and you greet when faces pass you in the street, but your home is where it's safe.

You suppose this is why you enjoy kitchen duty. Moving around large groups of people, overhearing snatches of conversation of laughter of warmth, but always on the perimeter. Always watching, never engaging on the edges.

Maybe you are more naturally suited for patrols than you originally thought.

But not with weaponry. Shooting your old decommissioned gun is one thing. Using the heavy weapons you see being touted on the broad backs of those heading off on patrol is quite another.

When you see Tommy, one of the nicest people you know (and Maria's husband), walking by your place later that week you hasten to catch up with him.

"It's been years since I shot anything," you explain with a concerned saddle of your brows as you explain Maria's plan for you. "And back then it was only rabbits and deer. Can you just come over and give me some pointers?"

"Can't. Got lots to do to prep for the baby."

Of course, the baby, due any day. The reason for Maria's desperate need to schedule the coming months, and the weary pull of Tommy's eyes as he looks at you.

"But I'll find someone and send em over," Tommy adds when he sees the terror cross your features.

"Really?"

"Yeah, I'll have your patrol partner come and give you some help tomorrow afternoon. We usually team up the newbies with the more experienced marksman anyway. I'll check with Maria and see who you're paired up with."

Relief blooms in your chest at this. This is the kind of news that you have been hoping for.

The thought that the safety and survival of others would depend solely on you or come down on your shoulders had been making you sick.

"Great."

You made cookies.

For whatever reason that had felt like the appropriate response to having someone come over and teach you how to properly shoot a gun.

This person, your patrol partner, will be the first to enter your home since you moved in. Maria and Tommy had been there, explaining the expectations of you in the community and showing you the simple one bedroom home that would be yours. All you'd been able to think over and over as they spoke was: a bed of my own. I don't have to share.

Your place is humble but clean. You've tossed around the idea of painting the walls themselves but you don't. That feels too permanent and you've not known the security of stability in decades. It sits uneasily on your shoulders like a too-heavy jacket.

There's a knock at your door and you open it to reveal a tall man with broad shoulders and remarkably expressive eyes. His mouth is set uneasily, as if he's trying to remember what it is to talk.

"You the one that needed gun lessons?"

He's wearing a dark green jacket and on his back is a collection of shotguns that you find intimidating just looking at.

"That's me," you chirp, moving back so he can enter into your home. You introduce yourself, a bit surprised at how the broad man stays hanging by the door.

"Joel," he mutters when you prompt him for his name. "Let's do this outside."

"Sure," you say going to grab your jacket from its hook by the door. "Oh, but did you want a cookie first? I made some."

Joel stares at you for a moment, trying to gauge if you're serious. When he sees you are, he blinks and then starts to walk around to the stretch of greenery near your place.

You follow after him, pulling on your jacket and jogging to keep up.

"Hey Miller," someone calls out from the street and you look over at him in surprise. Joel gives them a small wave and keeps walking.

Miller. Like Tommy and Maria Miller?

"Are you Tommy's brother?"

"Guilty."

Joel walks quickly, his legs scissoring rapidly across the fallen leaves of the cool winter day and easily outpacing you.

Cute, you think, watching his body lope away from you. Intense but cute.

Around the five minute mark you realize that no, Joel isn't intense or cute.

He's just a fucking asshole.

He's impatient and grouchy and even though you're trying your hardest to follow instructions you're failing miserably because he is so intimidating.

"You need to familiarize yourself with your weapon," he tells you, brandishing the shotgun and handing it to you. It's heavy in your palms, surprising you.

You grip it loosely, twisting it in your hand to aim at the ground. As you do this, the barrel of the gun swings in his direction.

"Are you insane?" Joel barks, slapping the nozzle away from his direction. "Have you never held a fucking shotgun before?"

He'd been so quiet before that the loud boom of his voice startles you. You take a step back without thinking, sure to keep your barrel pointed at the ground.

You don't bother telling him that no, you've never held a shotgun. You have a feeling that would just piss him off more.

It doesn't get better after that.

"How did they put you on patrols with aim like that?"

You scowl, bringing the gun up to your shoulders to brace. You begin to count as you aim at the tin cans Joel set up. You've hit one out of the six. You attribute much of this to the tall man pacing back and forth behind you as you try to focus. But he terrifies you, and you feel compelled to keep him in the corner your sights until he pauses and you can focus again.

You stare at the dented soup cans resting on the fence post away from you. You can almost hear Dev's soft voice in your ear. The calming sooth of his tone.

"Count if it helps...shoot on three."

"One... two..." you mutter under your breath.

"You're not gonna have time to count when a clicker's coming for your throat," Joel instructs you. "You have to be instinctual. Gotta move fast."

He kicks at your ankles, broadening your stance. You flinch at the pain of his boot against your ankle bone.

"You should be wearin' boots," Joel instructs when he sees you wince in pain. "Sneakers are no good."

"Obviously I would wear boots on patrol," you seethe. "I just figured for practice-"

"You should be wearing what you'll be patrolling in. Don't wear that scarf either."

You pause, looking down to see just your dark blue jacket. "What scarf?"

Joel pauses. "That red one I saw hangin' in your house. It's bright. You'll stand out."

You frown before raising the gun to brace snugly against your shoulder.

For the next hour Joel's voice reaches out, punctuating the air with bits of aggressive sounding advice as you fumble.

"Non-firing hand on the hand stock."

"Finger on the stock behind the trigger guard with the rest of your fingers."

"Cheek tight to the stock."

It's after the third time Joel mutters about your firing position being shit and hits his boots against your ankle that you lose it.

"Enough," you say, placing the gun barrel gently to the ground. "This isn't going to work."

Joel has his arms crossed over his chest and he's watching you from behind a cool gaze.

"We're a bad match" you explain, your cheeks hot from irritation mingled with embarrassment at having to admit that to him. "You need to be able to trust your partner on patrols and I don't see that happening. We shouldn't be paired up."

"Fine by me."

There's relief in his voice. He doesn't want to be paired up with you any more than you do with him. Good, this will be an easy parting.

"You can get Tommy to switch us," you say with a frown at the gun laying by your feet in the grass. "He's your brother after all."

"You wanna be moved, you go to Tommy."

"You're saying you don't wanna be moved?"

You're staring at him confused with eyes that widen as Joel approaches you, his gaze tight on yours.

The toe of his thick boots bump against the tip your sneakers and he tilts his head down, wanting to match your eye level.

"I'm sayin' you don't tell me what to do," Joel rasps "I'm the one who gives orders. Not you."

Whoa.

He wasn't saying it to sound alluring, you know that because you can see the genuine irritation in his dark eyes as they bore into yours. And yet, Joel Miller's husky voice informing you that he gives the orders?

It gives you the tingles.

You swallow thickly and when you don't reply right away Joel makes a scoffing noise in his throat. You watch as he gathers the weapons onto his back and marches out of the clearing, desperate to be away from you.

"Sounds like it didn't go great with Joel," Tommy says the next morning as he passes you heading for breakfast.

So much for Joel not talking to Tommy. You slow, matching Tommy's pace as he walks alongside you.

"Not a good match," you reply lightly. Tommy is Joel's brother and you don't want to offend anyone. "I'm sorry to be a bother and make you have to reschedule."

"S'okay," Tommy says with a shrug. "I'll switch with him for tomorrow night's patrol. I can give you pointers then."

Relief goes through you, making the smile that cracks your features genuine.

"Are you sure?"

"Positive," Tommy insists his face in a smile before it becomes drawn. "I know Joel can be a little hard to handle."

Calling Joel hard to handle suggests he's like one of the wild horses in the pens you sometimes walk by, when in reality Joel Miller is just unpleasant.

"Yeah, well," you shrug unsure of what to say so you trail off.

Tommy seems compelled to fill that silence, to explain away his brothers poor social skills.

"He lost a lot during the outbreak."

You nod, trying to look sympathetic but all you can think is, Didn't we all?

Chapter 2: The Doe

Summary:

Your first patrol doesn't exactly go smoothly.

Notes:

Ya'll writing a meaner Joel is real fun but hard! I love this story even though writing outbreak stuff isn't really my talent. I hope you enjoy! Wanna know what you think in the comments!
TW: Animal Death

Chapter Text

The greenhouse is one of your favorite places to be. It's warm in cold weather like today. It smells of sweet, fresh soil and it's so colorful with fruits and vegetables. It's a huge space, a bit off the beaten path of the community and it's like your oasis.

When you'd been on kitchen duty and ordered to retrieve fruits and vegetables for communal meals you'd been shown here. Given the code for the lock and then introduced to this special part of the community.

You used to come in here all the time for collecting when you worked in the kitchen, offering to do so even in the bleakest of weather. You still remember the combination to the lock that now sits half ajar outside the door.

Today is different though. There's no work order, just the sublime peace of walking in quiet, of breathing in earth.

But the wind is howling outside, a harbinger of what to expect on your patrols today. You hope that Tommy will find you both somewhere warm to survey.

It rattles the window you're trying to secure. You'd only come in here to relax, to calm your nerves and walk amongst the color but the window had chattered like teeth and you'd felt compelled to fix it with some of the tools left behind by other workers.

All at once you hear footsteps, several in fact, coming up to the entrance of the greenhouse.

"-oo young," a young girls’ voice insists as she pushes the door open. A quick glance up tells you it's a teenage girl speaking over her shoulder at someone. "After all we've been through you're telling me you don't trust me to handle a fucking gun?"

"That's exactly what I'm saying," a low voice replies outside the door, the words caught in the chill of the wind and frozen.

Irritation floods you. You're nervous about patrols. You'd just wanted some fucking peace after a stressful week and that horrible man-

"Joel-"

Please no.

It's Joel Miller coming in here. And he's arguing with what looks to be a teenage girl.

You have the option of showing yourself, of announcing your presence but you technically shouldn't be here. You're no longer on kitchen duty; you have no reason to be here. They won't believe you just wanted a walk, they'll assume the worst. That you'd been planning to hoard, to take from the wider community.

Tommy and Maria and a handful of others make the rules in Jackson city and considering his relation to Tommy as well as his irritation for you, you feel that Joel wouldn't hesitate to turn you in.

So instead you duck down, hiding behind a large stack of soil bags and gardening tools in the far corner. From where you sit, if you crane your neck you can sort of see them standing across from one another near the front of the greenhouse.

The young girl has her arms crossed looking petulant. Joel has his hands shoved deeply into the pockets of his jacket.

"Plenty to do around here," Joel insists. "No reason for you to spend time putting yourself in danger."

"Joel-"

"I don't need the headache of worryin' about you out there. Just go to school. Keep your head down."

"Oh for fucks sake," the girl says throwing her arms up in the air. "More rules here than in the fucking QZ."

She moves out of your field of vision and so you're stuck staring at Joel. Serious looking Joel with his hawkish profile and dark eyes. A man you'd once found attractive until you'd gotten to know him.

What you'd thought of as handsome before now just seems to be a collection of features that don't fit. Too full mouth, eyes too big, even his neck seems too long to you now.

"Ellie," Joel warns, a tic in his cheek beginning.

"I'm sick of school," Ellie groans. "I wanna patrol!"

Take my place, you muse darkly.

"I wanna be with you and Tommy," Ellie insists and there's something in the pain of her young voice that causes you to frown.

"Please, Joel."

She calls him Joel but underneath there is the thread of dad, of father. It matches the look in his softening eyes that says daughter.

You begin to reevaluate your assessment of him. The irritation, the chilly attitude, the rigid disposition; all of it seems to be contrary to the warm-eyed man you're staring at now.

"Besides," Ellie sighs from across the room. "You said the lady they stuck you with on patrol is useless."

Your spine is rigid at this piece of shared information and both anger and shame turn your face and ugly red.

Useless?

No, you can't shoot a gun very well but there's more to patrol than that, things that you're good at, like making detailed notes, listening to direction. These are things you accomplish with ease and yet after one hour spent with you, Joel has made up his mind about your entire character and finds it useless.

Thank Christ you don't actually have to patrol with him. You can't imagine one more moment spent in lackluster company. You're distracted, not listening to what he has to say.

Fucking asshole.

You're so wrapped up in your own anger towards Joel that you don't even notice that Ellie has started to walk through the maze of plants and shrubs until she stumbles upon you.

Her sneakers land inches from your ankle and you both jerk at the sight of one another, Ellie giving a small yelp and stepping back.

"You okay?"

Joel's voice is all concern, far away near the front of the greenhouse where they entered. He's moving though, you hear his boots heavy on the ground

No no no no.

Ellie's eyes jolt open at the sight of you huddled in the corner, a grown woman looking as scared and guilty as a child caught stealing from the cookie jar.

You give a desperate shake of your head, your forefinger tapping tightly against the seal of your lips and you hope that your eyes can convey what you cannot say aloud.

Please. Please don't tell.

It takes Ellie a moment to recover, to understand what she's seeing. When she does, she gives a small smirk at you. She's amused, entertained by this secret, by this distraction from ordinary.

"Nothing," she calls back to him and his footsteps still. "Just thought I saw those cucumbers Maria was wanting."

You give a desperate point of your finger to a nearby basket full of recently pulled veggies, hoping she understands. She does, she fixes her attention in the other direction, stumbling over to retrieve several large ones from the basket.

"Got 'em," she announces with arms full heading towards Joel and away from you. "Let's go, I'm sweating like a pig in here."

"It's a greenhouse, Ellie," comes Joel's tired but still indulgent tone.

"Yeah but does it have’ta be so fucking hot?"

You've been nauseated all morning and now the time has arrived. Your first afternoon on patrol.

Despite the fact that Tommy will be taking you out, you're anxious you're going to be a shit partner. There's the fear of letting him down. What if he treats you the same as Joel? What if he finds you just as *useless?

You're dressed warmly, gloves and your warmest socks under the boots you received from the commissary. Your dark jeans are thick and your striped sweater is the bulkiest you own.

As you prepare to leave you eye the red scarf hanging by your door, remembering what Joel said about it drawing attention. Whose attention? The blind clickers?

In an act of what you later feel was defiance you wrap it around your neck before tucking the tails into your jacket.

You make your way to the large front gates of Jackson City, shivering not from cold but nervous anticipation.

You sense snow in the air, the crisp sharpness at your nostrils. You tilt your head back, your eyes closed and let it flow over you. You can almost feel the phantom flakes on your cheeks. It's going to snow soon.

The sound of approaching footsteps jerk you to attention, your eyes flying open just in time to see Joel fucking Miller approaching, twin guns on his back. As he nears, he stares you down. You don't hold back your glare.

"What are you doing here?"

"Maria's in labor," Joel replies tightly stopping in front of you. "Tommy's with her. Sent me in his place."

His eyes swim over the scarf at your neck and if possible, his eyes get darker.

You stare at him, unsure of how to act next. You don't want to go with him; you don't want to be anywhere near him. But you can’t refuse. This is your word order. Going against it means going against the community.

Useless.

That word from this morning echoes in your mind. Your fingers curl inside your gloves.

"Let's go," Joel rasps, thrusting one of the shotguns at you, the barrel poking you in the chest harshly. "You remember how to carry one at least?'

You sneer at him before taking the weapon and hoisting it over your shoulder. This open hostility from Joel is unnecessary. You follow him to the edge of the city, to the gates that need two people to open them.

Patrols are the only times the gates of Jackson city open. John and Dan are there, making sure you can step out. Joel is carrying a backpack over two shoulders and a gun over one. It must be a lot to heft, heavy but he doesn't seem to notice.

He moves swiftly, his large boots moving over the dead leaves silently and you're about to follow him when the sound of the gates closing behind you sounds out.

You're outside.

You're no longer safe.

You're terrified.

You hadn't been expecting to feel panic this acute. Suddenly there is a world outside the secured walls, a world you convinced yourself you'd never have to see again.

Clicker's.

Bloaters.

Christ, they could be anywhere and all you have is some greying asshole to your right and a shotgun you can't even shoot properly. A tremble has started in your stomach and has stretched its fingers through the rest of your limbs.

"I can't-"

Joel doesn't hear how your tongue gets fat and heavy in your mouth. He's already forged ahead into the cool afternoon. You feel stuck to the ground, unable to move.

"I-"

The words are whispered, caught in the air and frozen in front of you. You can't do this. You can't. They never should have done this, asked this of you. You whirl around, moving back to the closed doors, hitting them with your gloved hands, making soft slapping noises against the metal and wood.

"Please," you whisper urgently, not wanting Joel to hear you. "Open up! let me back i-"

You'll never know if the men on the other side of the wall heard you. Joel's large gloved hand has gripped you by the shoulder of your jacket and begun to pull.

"Get movin'"

"I can't-" you say with a crack in your voice. Your hands flail behind you, twisting out of his grip.

Your eyes are wide and darting in every direction. You can't stop looking at everything. It's like every color, every sound, even the wind, is magnified and over stimulating.

But then there's Joel looking thunderous and somehow his angular face anchors you.

"Hey. Let's go," Joel growls, gripping you by the elbow. He tugs firmly, urging you in front of him.

You manage not to fall, despite the weight of the gun on your back and unsteady way you walk, now trailing after Joel who strides ahead of you quickly and swiftly through the underbrush.

"I can't do-"

"You will," Joel throws over his shoulder before glancing to ensure that you're walking behind him.

At this point he scares you more than a clicker. You cower after him trembling, your eyes wide and scanning the tree line. You don't bother pulling out your gun. You're a shit shot anyway and there’s a good chance you’d shoot yourself or your patrol partner. You have to rely on Joel.

"We do perimeter checks first," Joel tells you. "Need to make sure there's no-"

"Infected," you supply for him, hoping that if you're helpful maybe he'll warm up to you.

"Bandits," Joel finishes with an irritated brow raise. "Raiders. People who wanna steal from us. People who unless they're colorblind are gonna spot you a mile away "

His eyes drop down, landing on the scarf.

You look down at it and wince. He hadn't just been saying it to be a prick. You take the zipper of your jacket, pulling as high as it will go to shield the scarf from view.

You shouldn't be here. You are actively hindering Joel. But this is your luck. Of course you'd be stuck traversing in the encroaching world behind Joel's broad-shouldered saunter.

You shove back the sweaty hair clinging to your left temple, blowing slowly out your mouth. With the walking and your heavy clothes you're surprisingly warm.

"Tommy said that the senior partner kind of trains the new recruit," you tell Joel's back, hoping to distract yourself from your own anxiety. "Tells them about what to do on patrols and stuff."

Joel grunts by way of reply.

Joel is frustrating, yes, but worse than that he's intimidating.

He's tall and broad and you know he can shoot a gun. He's quiet until he needs to be loud. He's serious and even at rest his face is a scowl. Even the back of him is terrifying.

So talking with him isn't easy. It's not easy to form the words and even when you do they get caught in your throat.

You're so terrified of him telling you that you're useless to your face. If he did that you know you'd crumble. You've never been tough, always been soft. Joel is all hardness, spiky, rough edges. You assume that Joel and softness are all incompatible as the two of you are.

His jacket makes him look broader, the gun menacing and glinting in the dwindling sun. You try again to ask about patrols and again you fall quiet when he offers no reply.

At an hour and a half in, full of constant walking and no reprieve, Joel breaks the silence.

"Eight hour shifts once a week," he tells you without looking at you. "We're patrol C. That means we take the far off spot called Teton village. S'where we're headed now."

You want to ask about Teton village, ask how long until you get there? What makes it a village? Has he ever seen anything there? But you just know that would piss him off. You know that any extra information, any extra words would be seen as a burden.

And soon enough you've arrived.

Trees dot the village, a place like so many since the outbreak. Punctuated with old dilapidated houses, roads that go nowhere.

"Whoa," you offer when you pass an old car, twisted from age and a previous car accident. You wonder if it's from the outbreak or a last soul that made it this far.

You follow after Joel, boots biting into the gravel ground below you. With a gruff voice and a casual pointed finger he tells you where you'll both patrol.

Your lead to a large home, boarded up on all sides. The only way inside is a large wooden door with a combination lock on it. You're at Joel's elbow, watching him as he tells you the code. You hope you're not being quizzed on this, you don't think you'll remember.

"This is the safe outpost in this village," he explains quietly. "If this lock is busted you turn around and you go get someone from Jackson."

"Okay."

When the door is unlatched you both move forward over the creaking floorboards into what looks like a former Library built inside a house. You observe as much.

"They took all the books that weren't damaged when they first got here," Joel explains. He knows a lot you realize because of Tommy and Maria.

You walk into the expansive room with its large bookshelves and desks with chairs. These ones warped from water and rot.

Mildew and water damage litter the remaining books on the shelf beside you and you pull your curious hand back before it comes into contact with the soggy pages.

Joel is watching you silently, eyes unreadable. You give a sheepish look when you catch him, a non verbal apology for not following him.

You walk into the next room with him. The old storage room you assume. Peeling wallpaper and the scent of wet carpet greets you. Joel takes you through the space, his eyes peeled for anything out of place.

Finally you come to a table, reinforced with new lumber. A project you assume for whomever was patrolling here first. On it sits a small notebook and two pencils, one of which looks like it's been chewed at the end.

You remember that habit from when you were a child in school. The soft give of the wood between your back teeth. It stirs something within your chest, a good memory you realize. So few are good.

"These are the logs," Joel tells you in a voice devoid of energy as he opens the notepad and writes the date and his name. "We just put the date and our names. Nothing else unless it's important."

"Okay."

Joel hands you the pencil, (non-chewed) and you quickly write your name next to his. You put the pencil down, observing how even you’re writing styles don't add up. His is slanted, all uppercase while yours is tiny pinched cursive written so close to his, as if even on the page you're desperate to keep near to him, to be kept shielded.

He sits at the table, nodding to the chair beside him. You collapse gratefully into it watching him open his large backpack. He produces two sandwiches and two Thermoses of still hot coffee. Its fucking bliss when it hits your tongue and your body relaxes into the chair. Your feet are throbbing and you make a note to start walking more in these boots at home, for practice. The blisters today are going to be hell tomorrow.

After you both eat and drink (in total silence of course) it's time to keep moving. Joel doesn't like to wait around, it makes him twitchy. You see it in the way he rubs his thumb and first two fingers together, the way he doesn't really keep still for too long.

He shows you how to patrol the rest of Teton village, observing that it'll take you a few times before you're confident.

It seems that Joel is a bit kinder when he's tired. As if all the fight has been drained from him. While he's not overly familiar or even friendly, he's definitely not as cold and prickly as when you started hours ago.

You wonder if he's like this, if it's possible that you could do patrols again with him. Because when he's not being acerbic he's actually very helpful.

You like learning about the logs, you like learning about the different safety techniques employed to ensure that you're not followed. You've always been a lover of learning, an endless student.

When you've patrolled and done all that's needed for today Joel informs you that it's time to head back. You nod, still close behind him. You're even considering asking Joel if he'd try again with shooting lessons. You think there's a lot he could teach you if he just kept his unkind comments in check.

There's a sudden clatter and your hand gropes for Joel beside you. Panic, sheer unrelenting terror takes a strip out of you.

Joel takes you by the upper arm, dragging you behind him. His eyes are snapped in the direction of the sound as you cower behind him. He drops your arm and moves swiftly to the left, shotgun raised. Without thought you follow him, your shoes nipping the heels of his.

The clattering has stopped but there is the unmistakable sound of moving gravel underfoot.

He darts down behind the car you first passed when you got here.

"Joel-"

"Quiet," Joel hisses, gripping a wide hand around your wrist and pulling you down beside him. You collapse bl against him, heart hammering and clumsily reaching for your gun but Joel stills you with a silent shake of his head. You'll make too much noise

You both go quiet. The back of your head presses against the dented door of the car and you close your eyes tightly. But then there's the sound of shuffling gravel and you let out a sharp whimper.

Almost immediately Joel's hand is over your mouth, sealing in any noise that tries to escape. It's so broad it covers the entire bottom half of your face. All that's visible is your eyes, wide.

With his free hand he raises a forefinger to his lips, urging you to be quiet. You give a jerky nod, eyes shuttering before they stick to his face unblinking.

He's so close your noses almost touch. You can see the sweat gathered at his hairline, the tensing of his jaw. His eyes though, they're so sharp, so focused. And it's those eyes that calm you, that strong gaze that tells you he's got this.

You nod again, this time with a clearer head and quieter heart. He seems to believe that you'll be alright because he gives a subtle nod and removes his hand.

You go to take a breath in when there's a sudden streak of neutral color rushing by you. You both see it, but it's Joel who leaps to his feet, gun raised in its direction. But you've seen what it is, and it's not a danger.

It's a doe, skittish and unsure as it traverses the terrain. It weaves through the debris of twisted cars and old rotten wood, bounding over a deflated tire. But Joel is still pursuing it, his gun still raised and propped against his shoulder.

"No! Joel its just a-"

There's the crack of his gun, a spray of red and then the heavy thud of the fallen doe onto the ground.

You want to cry out but Joel is shooting a dark look at you, almost daring you to vex him. When he sees you won't be trouble he cocks his head and pauses. He's waiting to hear if the gunshot has brought bandit or clicker your way. It's a long shot considering this area is patrolled weekly. But not surprisingly Joel doesn't take chances.

When ten minutes pass with un-moving silence Joel stalks towards the carcass. You've been silent, eyes stuck on the fallen doe, but as Joel moves you stumble after him.

He's reaching in his back pocket, likely looking for a knife to drain the lifeless creature at your feet.

All you can think is that there's so little that separates you from the animal dead on ground. Both of you scared, trying to move safely in an unfamiliar world.

Only it’s this doe with a gunshot through its skull that's found peace, peace through carnage.

"Why did you shoot it?" You get out in a voice ripped from your chest. Tears are forming at the corner of your eyes, staying there in the cold, frozen.

You haven't cried in so long that the idea that you would cry now over a dead deer seems bizarre.

"Food is survival," Joel mutters.

"We have plenty back at-"

"Either help or shut up," Joel cuts you off savagely, his knife brandished.

And you're overtaken by rage at his careless dismissal. A red hot fire burning in your belly.

"You're a fucking asshole."

You're overtaken by hatred, this overwhelming fury that can find no good in another person.

"I'm also the only way you're gettin' back" Joel throws out over his shoulder.

You turn, unable to watch what is about to happen. You take a few steps away from him, knowing that you can't go far. You're not entirely sure that he wouldn't leave you.

Instead you duck behind the car again. Shielded by its dented frame. You heard wet noises, sucking sounds as he dresses the deer. And when he calls your name later, You stand on shaky legs and return to him.

"Grab the bottom half," Joel grunts, hefting the front of the animal over his shoulders.

"I'm not doing that."

"We don't have time for your shit right now," Joel bites out the words. "This is what happens on patrols. We see somethin' that would benefit the community, we take it. "

You don't reply. You just stand there, looking at the blood smeared all over Joel's shirt and hands. There's even a Fleck of it on his cheeks. It makes you sick.

You close your eyes. You don't want you be here. You can't be here.

Your eyes jerk open with Joel's fingers grip either side of your chin and his hot coffee breath wafting over your face.

"Hey. Focus. We don't have all day."

He drops his hand from your chin harshly, causing your head to jerk and moves to your jacket, tugging your collar down until you fall to your knees to pick up the back half of the animal.

There's no way you're getting out of this. And so you acquiesce with your face frozen in a mask of complacency.

As you help Joel carry the deer you feel the blood wet and starting to dry on your face where he held you in his grip. Your jacket, smeared with thick warm red as you trudge after him.

You're covered in blood. A feeling so reminiscent of a life before this one that it makes you sick. It makes you drop your half of the carcass and double over, vomiting onto the we canopy of the forest ground.

Joel watches this coolly, you can feel his dead eyes appraising from where he stands.

He makes no further comments, no judgments or recriminations. He simply waits for you to empty your stomach before wiping your mouth with the back of your hands.

Then he patiently waits for you to lift your end of the carcass before the two of you march forward, headed for home.

Chapter 3: You make the rules, remember?

Notes:

Y'all this Joel is not pleasant but wowee he sure gets my motor goin'. I hope you enjoy this instalment and as always I would love a review!

Chapter Text

"It's a healthy baby boy!"

There's a large round of applause in the cafeteria the next morning. Tommy is standing at the end of the long tables. Your book is spine -up next to your coffee cup.

"Douglas Joel Miller," Tommy announces. "Just over eight pounds."

You clap along with the rest of them, happy for Tommy and Maria. You love babies, so what's not to be happy about?

Maria is at home resting with their son and some friends Tommy says beaming, eyes wet as he's congratulated on all sides.

You're still sick about yesterday. You'd had to throw away all those clothes. No amount of scrubbing had taken the dried blood out of it. You're convinced you can still smell it, the cloying, metallic scent lodged in your nostrils. It lingers even now, ruining the bites of egg that you push around your plate. The only thing saved was the red scarf, buried in the confines of your jacket. It hangs how it always has, on the hook by your front door.

You watch Tommy accept the congratulations from everyone, looking strangely detached as they continue.

You try to focus on the book in front of you, but the words slide over your eyes and your mind just back to yesterday. To the fear you felt at being exposed and vulnerable. How are you expected to do this week after week?

You glance over to see Tommy smiling weakly and chatting with a group from the kitchen and you wonder if you can approach him about patrols.

"Can I sit here?"

You glance up from your book to see the teenage girl from yesterday, Ellie, smirking down at you, holding a tray of food. A quick glance tells you there are a lot of empty seats left so she's chosen this one on purpose. You almost shake your head no, not desiring the company or the attention right now.

But she kept your secret didn't she? She didn't tell Joel or anyone else about the greenhouse as far as you know.

After a moment's pause you nod, shifting your tray towards you and going back to your book.

She sits abruptly, her tray clattering across from you. She doesn't have the usual breakfast food that others do. She has grilled cheese, a cup of milk and what looks like pudding. Strange girl.

You'd assumed that your lack of engagement, your eyes on your book, your head tilted away from her that Ellie would get the message. She could sit with you for breakfast but that was it. But from the moment she sits, she talks.

"I love grilled cheese."

"Mmm."

"Never had it til I got here. Now I eat it whenever I can." Ellie takes a bite, chewing thoughtfully.

"Mhmm."

"Before we got here it was Chef Boy-ar-dee ravioli every fucking night. You ever had it?"

"Can't say I have." You turn the page in your book.

"Joel introduced me to it," Ellie says, taking another bite and not noticing when you tense up at his name. "You know Joel?"

"Nope," you lie.

The last thing you want is to talk about Joel Miller when you don't have to. You don't push for more information so the two of you continue to eat in silence. You know that Ellie is watching your face, silently studying you.

"So do you always hide out in the greenhouse?"

"No."

"Were you supposed to be in there?"

You sigh. "Nope."

"Then why were you?"

You sigh again heavily, closing your book with a soft thwap. There will obviously be no more reading this morning. Not with your new guest sitting across from you with curious eyes.

"I just wanted some quiet," you explain patiently. "I have. . . There's a lot going on for me and I feel safe when I'm in there."

There's something about Ellie's eyes that coaxes that truth out of you, the part about feeling safe.

"S' how I feel in the garage."

"The garage?"

"Joel's garage. Well, I guess it's like my place. No cars or anything here obviously. I've ridden in one though." She tells you this with pride. You hide a grin, amused. "I have it decorated exactly how I want and the bed is really comfy. Joel says I can do whatever I want in there except smoke."

"S'a bad habit," you acknowledge.

"Yeah, but that's where I feel safest. When I'm in there but I know Joel's just on the other side of the door if I need him."

You don't know what to say in reply to that. You can't imagine a world in which Joel Miller's presence would make you feel calm.

Ellie chews thoughtfully a moment longer and you see the questions there in her dark eyes.

"What was your favorite thing about before?"

"Before what?"

Ellie makes a motion around the room and you understand. She means before the outbreak. Before things changed. You ponder this a moment before smiling at the first thing that pops into your mind.

"Pop Tarts."

"What the fuck is that?" Ellie asks wrinkling her nose. "Candy?"

"Breakfast pastry," you say with a fond look at the memory. "Strawberry filling. Delicious. Had one every day while I walked to school."

Ellie is fascinated by this and you realize she'll never know a world that's not ravaged by plague. She'll never understand the freedom of your lost youth.

"Have you had one since?"

"Nah," you shake your head. "But I like the memory of them. If I close my eyes and focus I can almost taste it."

You do so now, remembering the way your mom pulled them from the toaster warm and crispy. The way-

You stop, snapping your eyes open. You'd forgotten the inherent danger that came along with the lure of nostalgic memory.

"Anyway..."

Ellie sees something in your face and excuses herself, claiming she needs more milk. You just nod, about to open your book again when another shadow is cast.

Christ, when did you get so popular?

A woman, (Jennifer you think her name is?) is looking sweetly at you. She's just come over from a table of giggling young women. She's very beautiful. You often see her at the Tipsy Bison with whatever bachelor strikes her fancy.

"Hey, are you on C Patrol?"

"I am," you nod.

"The one with Joel Miller?" Jennifer says with a poorly concealed smirk. You give her a strained look, confused at the reaction.

"Uh yeah."

"What's he like?" Jennifer is blushing prettily, trying not to giggle.

"Serious."

Jennifer smiles again. A big, broad smile that makes her lovely face even lovelier. You hold in an eye roll. Oh, now you see where this is going.

"I tried to get put on patrols with him," she confides, her voice dropping. "I'm on Patrol B."

What?

Here you are fighting tooth and nail to get away from Joel Miller and there's someone who actually wants to be on patrols with him? This is your answer to prayer, you're sure of it.

"Why don't we switch then?" You ask, eyes bright. Jennifer looks beside herself with delight, her light eyes rounding.

"Are you serious?"

"You can ask Tommy right now," you enthuse pointing at him on the opposite side of the room. "I'm totally fine with the swap."

"Really?" She looks delighted.

"Really," you nod, trying not to look over eager. You’re worried she’ll grow suspicious of your exuberance but she just smiles and walks off quickly towards Tommy who looks deep in conversation with one of the women on perishables duty.

You go back to your book just in time for Ellie to come back. You immediately notice her contraband; an additional glass of milk.

"Gonna get in trouble."

"Only if you say something," Ellie drawls. "But if you do I might just have to say something about a certain greenhouse..."

You shoot her an amused look before going back at your book. She seems to sense that you need quiet, glancing around the bustling canteen as you fall back into the pages of your book.

You find yourself irritated when Jennifer saunters back to your table, interrupting the comfortable silence.

"He says that we have to stick with our original patrol partners," Jennifer says with a frown. "Says that they match partners up by skill."

Joel is well known as the most skilled aside from Tommy. You can only assume this means you are the worst. You try not to look as devastated as you feel as you force a shrug.

"Oh well, you tried."

You expect her to leave but Jennifer lingers looking torn.

"Maybe if you ask Joel directly?" She hedges, trying not to sound desperate and feeling miserably. "Maybe then he could talk to Tommy himself?"

From the corner of your gaze you catch Ellie giving you a wary look, the walls behind her eyes being rebuilt with every word Jennifer says.

"You're welcome to talk to Joel," you reply smoothly. "You can tell him I'm fine with the swap. Eager for it, actually."

You don't miss the hard look that's come into Ellie's eyes now. You regret lying to her before.

Jennifer looks thoughtful before nodding. "Okay, maybe I will. Thanks."

She gives a wave before sauntering off towards a group of her giggling friends. You hold in an eye roll and open your book.

Ellie is still staring at you. "I thought you said you didn't know Joel."

"Didn't want to hurt your feelings," you admit, not looking up from the page. "He and I don't exactly see eye to eye."

"Not a lotta people do with Joel," Ellie relents, tilting back in her seat to stare at you. "He's tough to get through to."

And yet she did. This tiny teenage girl who talks too much and asks so many questions.

How?

You consider asking before you realize you really don't care to know Joel Miller. So far you've seen nothing about him that seems worth getting to know.

"Yeah, well he seems to have a very specific distaste for me," you say poking at your eggs.

"Don't take it personally," Ellie tells you as if she is full of sage wisdom. "Joel's all bark no bite."

You don't believe that for a second. You think of the dead doe. You think of the blood soaking through your clothes. You think of how he said not one word to you the entire way home.

"Just a personality conflict," you end on. You want to go back to your book but feel Ellie's eyes still on you.

"You wanna know how to make Joel like you?"

Not particularly.

"Sure."

"Don't lie to him. Or me," Ellie says. "We can't stand liars."

You don't know me, you think curious that this girl has chosen to open up to you at all. What makes you think you can trust me at all?

A girl with a long, glossy black braid stops by the table ending your conversation. Her dark eyes immediately alight to Ellie's second milk helping.

"Is that your second one?" The girl asks, her face cloudy. "You know you're not supposed to take extra."

"Fuck off, Dina," Ellie snaps, her eyes flashing.

"I should tell Tommy," Dina says with a narrowing of her dark eyes.

"Go on then," Ellie dares her.

"She got it for me," you break in, plucking the milk from Ellie's tray. "I didn't get one yet."

Dina's eyes sail to you but her scowl remains. She gives your tray a once-over before rolling her eyes.

"She's so annoying," Ellie says rolling her eyes and digging back into her breakfast.

Yet her eyes linger on the girl as she strides past your table to join another group of teens at the far end of the cafeteria. There's a pink to Ellie's cheeks that doesn't go unnoticed by you. But just as she kept your secret, you will keep hers.

She sits with you a few minutes longer watching you read before she gives a quick goodbye and marches out into the day. You're relieved to be away from her scrutiny.

Tommy passes several groups before he notices you hunched over your breakfast. You look up in time to see him slide into the seat Ellie was just occupying. With a sharp sigh you slip your paperback into your coat pocket. Fuck reading today apparently.

"Hey there, how was your first patrol?"

Your initial reaction is to tell him everything in detail. How horrible Joel is, how you never want to do patrols again. That you need to get switched to another job because patrols aren't for you. Instead you give a timid shrug.

"I'm not very good at it."

Tommy is amused, the curve his cheek crinkling as he chuckles. "I'm sure that's not true."

"Go ahead and ask your brother," you mutter, frowning.

"I did. He didn't say anything about you being bad at it."

This is surprising. When you and Joel had arrived back at Jackson with the doe he hadn't said two words to you. Just grunted at you when you dropped your end of the carcass and told him you were leaving.

You squint at Tommy for a moment trying to decipher what game Joel is playing at. You decide that perhaps he didn't want to worry his brother. That he wanted Tommy to think that patrols went well because Tommy had enough to worry about with his son being born.

"So are you still gonna switch patrols with him then?" You ask lightly, trying not to sound eager. "Now that the baby's here safe?"

Tommy's normally playful eyes are soulful. You read concern there. You read fear. They drop to the knotted wood of the table.

"Not for a bit," Tommy says honestly. His voice drops to a quiet whisper, not wanting to be overheard. "Didn't want to tell everyone but Maria's not doing so good."

Concern gnaws at your lower belly. "She sick?"

Tommy's long fingers begin picking away at a chip in the table that doesn't exist. You wait for him to continue, holding the silence there.

"In a way, kinda. She uh, she doesn't really wanna see the baby. S'why her friends are over there now with him."

You recognize this, the sign of a whispered malady that has followed women of all races across centuries. You cannot imagine the impact of giving birth to a child who will live in captivity amongst an undead world. You cannot imagine the mental toll it would take.

You're not demonstrative by nature, especially with people you don't know well. But you see the welling of Tommy's dark eyes and something behind your ribs cracks.

You reach across the table and place your hand over his. "Tommy I get it. You don't have to say anything else. My aunt ... She uh, she had a hard time too after my cousin was born."

"Yeah?"

You nod, taking your hand back when you feel eyes on you from other tables. Tommy's expression has changed, the tears blinked back as he straightens.

"Yeah well. Hope its okay if Joel keeps bein' your partner for a little bit longer."

"Sure," you nod. You have no desire to concern him further with it. "Yeah, that's fine, Tommy. No problem."

Tommy hears his name being called and you wave him off. You watch his long legs scissor across the canteen as you feel your stomach drop.

A week goes by so quickly. A week of reading, of brisk morning walks, of tea with some of the girls that rise early like you.

But before long its back to patrol day and you wake with that same sickly sensation in your stomach. Breakfast is swallowed down with force.

You trudge towards the main gates of Jackson City with a new jacket pulled tight around you. This one is heavier and welcome as the chill increases daily. Snow is on its way to Wyoming.

You wave at the men who patrol the main gate today, Peter and Hank. The three of you chat politely even though your stomach is churning.

You turn when you hear the sound of hooves. Joel is approaching with two horses in tow, much to your confusion.

"Horses?" You ask when he nears. "We didn't-"

"First patrol is always on foot," Joel explains gruffly handing you the reigns if the light brown horse. "Helps you understand the land better."

You look over the animal at your shoulder, eyes fixed on the deep brown of its iris. You muse that it looks as nervous as you feel.

"Names Chestnut," Hank tells you. "He's one of the sweet ones."

"Hi there beautiful boy," you murmur gently, your hand going to the soft of the animals nose. "We'll take care of each other out there today, huh?"

You smile when he snuffles your palm before he tries to lick your fingers.

You glance over when you feel Joel's dark eyes fixed on you and the horse. He looks away promptly and you watch him mount his own horse, a mighty looking black creature with a serious countenance.

"What's that one’s name?"

"Get on."

Great, he's irritated with you already. It's going to be a long day. You sigh before pulling yourself up onto the already saddled horse with ease. Chestnut gives a small whinny before settling.

Joel looks momentarily surprised, brows raising a fraction and you know it's because he assumed you'd be useless at this too. But you're an experienced horseback rider, have been since you were a kid.

It secretly pleases you to surprise Joel. To show him there’s a lot you're good at.

"Black ones name is Midnight," Hank tells you with a friendly wink as he comes to unlatch the gate. "Asshole riding him is called Joel."

You hold in a bubble of laughter as Joel sidles alongside you, handing you a gun that you sling over your back. You don't shrink under the weight of it this time, in fact you straighten.

Atop the mighty Chestnut you feel braver. Safer. If something comes for you, you'll see it. This high up you feel so much better. You follow Joel out the gates on his horse, clicking your tongue and tugging gently at the reins.

Chestnut gives you extra confidence today. You follow Joel to do the perimeter check first, eyes scanning around you. You hear Joel gently click his tongue and then you're both off towards the village.

You ride in silence, buoyed by the knowledge that Joel can't critique about how you ride. Instead, you take your time to observe your surroundings. You take in the crisp air and the bent trees you pass.

"Good boy," you murmur every now and then to Chestnut, giving him soft pats as you ride.

You take in Joel's broad shoulders moving ahead of you on Midnight, looking like a modern cowboy in his brown leather jacket. He doesn't spare any kind words for his horse. You wonder how Ellie can stand him.

When you arrive at Teton village an few hours later you're almost in a good mood. It's been nice riding today. The thought that this will be a weekly thing for you no longer intimidates you. Yeah Joel will be there, but if interactions are kept to a minimum then there's no reason that you can't get through this.

You dismount outside the large house, the outpost, like last time. Joel scans the house, dark hand over dark eyes to shield from the sun. He murmurs something to himself.

He moves to tie the horses up, showing you how to tie off their reigns to the tree outside. You watch even though you already know how, nodding and then follow him to the door of the large old building.

"Remember the code?"

You'd written it down the second you got home last week, forcing yourself to commit it to memory. You nod again, quickly turning the numbers to the pattern Joel showed you last time. You hide your relieved grin when it unlocks on the first turn.

You glance at Joel from under your lashes, half expecting praise or even a smile. Of course you receive neither. He simply tugs the door open and enters.

In your haste to follow you trip over a fallen board at the threshold, crashing into his solid back. Joel shrugs you off irritably and you stumble back.

"Sorry was-"

"Shut up," Joel hisses, raising a finger to his lips. His voice drops to a whisper. "I hear somethin'."

All your previous bravado vanishes, left back outside with the horses.

You swallow a whimper, sticking close to him as he pulls the gun from its holster. You do the same, knowing it's more for show then anything.

You follow directly behind Joel as he wanders through the rooms, occasionally stepping on the back of his shoes when he stops abruptly. When you do that he elbows you harshly in the ribs to get you behind him at a good distance. You wince, your fear keeping you close by. Knowing that he's worse than a clicker but he's your only hope.

Finally you reach what he's been searching for. A broken window in the library, glass shattered inside along with what looks like a tree branch. The recent windstorm must have caused the branch to smash through the window. It makes a hollow whistling sound, likely what tipped Joel off.

Relief floods you when Joel re-holsters his gun, his fears allayed for the time being. He strides past you to the old storage room.

You follow after him, nodding when he points at the log book and pencil.

"You remember what to do."

You scrawl your name into the log as Joel watches on. You two take a seat as Joel brings out the sandwiches and Thermos of coffee to share. As you did last time you eat in silence, your eyes everywhere but his direction.

It makes you think of lunch with Ellie and your interaction with Jennifer. You think about bringing both up with Joel but decide against it.

Instead you dart a look at him from under your hair, hoping he doesn't notice. You watch him sip his black coffee, the lid dwarfed by his large hand. You watch the flex of his jaw when he chews. You wonder what kind of work he did before the outbreak. Judging by his frame and calloused fingers you imagine a mechanic or electrician.

He gives you a curious look when he catches you looking at him and you quickly clear your throat.

"I like riding the horses here better than walking." When Joel doesn't reply you feel compelled to keep talking. "Chestnut is especially nice. Do we always ride the same horses or-"

"Do you ever stop talkin'?"

You want to point out that you've barely talked to him at all this entire trip but you have no desire to start a fight. Instead you clamp your lips together, cheeks burning and anger and embarrassment.

After lunch you both stand and as you wipe the crumbs of your sandwich off on your jeans, you watch as Joel scrolls his name into the log. He hands you the solitary pencil.

"Make a note in the log about the cracked window in the southeast corner. S'what we do. Then we report back so the next week they give us supplies to repair it or send others out to do it."

"Okay."

You bend over the log book, clutching the pencil tightly between your fingers. You try to write neatly, attempting to make your normally pinched handwriting legible.

You're not expecting Joel to be so close to you when you finish and back up. It takes you by surprise. He's come over to check that you filled in the log correctly and when you back into his solid form you let out a yelp before the pencil is dropped, disappearing between the cracks of the old floorboard.

"For fucks sake-"

Joel rolls his eyes as you drop to the ground. You know that something like this will make him hate you more. And for some unknown reason this creates a wash of anxiety to cascade over you.

"Shit shit shit."

You're desperate to retrieve the pencil; you even think you could grab it if the floorboards were a bit more spaced apart. You pull at them, chipping one of your nails in process. You hiss pulling back sharply and swearing under your breath.

After several minutes of trying to retrieve it you give up, your face red from excursion and humiliation. You’re swallowing angry tears. It's not the end of the world. There are other pencils that exist but your actions just erased all the goodwill you thought you were building.

But maybe there was none to be built upon because Joel is staring down at you darkly, his hands stemmed at his waist.

"You've been a fucking thorn in my side every fucking moment of today," Joel grimaces.

He's so unfair. He's overlooking every good thing you've done today. Every silent test you've passed. Anger flares within you, a small flame that quickly builds to a towering inferno. You bring yourself to a stand, eyes flashing.

"Maybe if you weren't such a miserable assh-"

The word isn't even halfway out of your mouth when his hand is at the collar of your jacket, just as it had been that first patrol. But now he's using it to push instead of pull. Shoving you into the wall beside the table with its chipped paint and exposed brick. It bites into your back despite your thick jacket. Your toes scrape the floor and your hands go to his fist trying to pull it from your collar, but his grip is vice-like.

He lowers his face close to yours, his hot peanut butter and coffee-laced breath huffing over your cheeks.

"You watch how you speak to me."

"Those my orders for today then?" You scoff sarcastically, feet trying to find purchase on the floorboards below.

He pushes you harder against the wall, your spine flush with its crumbling interior and you wince.

"Fucking smart mouth," Joel rasps. "Should teach you a lesson."

He'd said it to be intimidating. To scare you into submission so he could continue patrols without having to worry about you doing something stupid.

But then the words hung between you both and your reaction wasn't to cower. In fact, even in the dim light of the flashlight he could see the way your pupils overtook your eyes, like tiny blackened moons.

"Are you going to?"

"Going to what?"

"Teach me a lesson?"

Joel is very still. So still you wonder if he's still breathing. His dark eyes scan your face, trying to read your intentions.

"You want me to?"

Joel's hand hasn't released you, hasn't softened at all. But he's curious, that much is clear.

"You give the orders, Joel, not me," you whisper with more confidence than you actually feel. "Remember?"

Joel stares at you for what feels like hours. As if time has lost all meaning, lengthening or shortening at his whim.

You wait for him to yell, to bark out something sinister or cruel. You wait for him to turn away, ignoring you. You receive neither. You instead watch as Joel tilts his frame back from you, gazing down at you through heavy lids.

His hand lowers from your collar and you slump slightly forward from the wall. Your feet gain purchase and you straighten. He's testing you, you think. Seeing if now that he's released you from his grip if you'll run.

But you don't. You continue to stand there, making it perfectly clear that you have no desire to flee. And this registers with him. He sways slightly, sucking his teeth quietly as his eyes drift down your body.

"Take me out of my pants," he rasps, looking at your mouth with no intention of kissing it.

You take a moment to look for any guile in his expression. When you see none, you drop your eyes to his middle and fumble at his belt, your hands trembling. He watches your face as you pop open the button of his jeans and lower his zipper. You swallow as your trembling hand slides between the band of his boxers and his taut abdomen.

He's so warm.

You feel his belly jerk at the sensation of your lowering hand and you bite back a gasp when you feel him already rock hard beneath your palm. You wish it wasn't so dark in this room because you'd like to see the gold of the skin there. To see if it matches the color of his hands or face.

You tug him free of his boxers, letting his heavy cock and balls hang over the band. Just the thought of it makes your mouth water.

He watches you carefully from under his dark lashes.

"Make me come."

Simple instructions. You like that.

You lick your lips nervously, shocked when Joel grips your wrist tightly, drawing your hand to his face and tilting it. There's a moment of true confusion on your part before Joel spits into it your hand. You watch with wide eyes as Joel begins rubbing his saliva into your palm with his wide thumb.

You're disgusted.

You're aroused.

You use the spit in your palm along Joel's shaft, watching his eyes shutter momentarily. Both of his hands are now palm flat against the wall next to your head, boxing you in on either side.

His hips thrust into your slick palm and you give a soft shuddering exhale as you begin to work over him, taking control.

"More around the head," Joel tells you grunting. Just like on patrols he leads and you follow.

You do as he says, slipping your palm along the head to feel sticky precum already beading there.

You use it as an aid, a natural lubricant, twisting your hand slightly as you go. You watch his face, trying to see what he likes. Right now his face is relaxed with his eyes shut lightly. Your left hand goes to his side, holding his jacket pocket as your other hand slides along his twitching member

"Like this?"

He makes a little humming noise to indicate you're doing it correctly. You smile to yourself tilting forward slightly to catch the noise. He's coming closer, his cock sliding quickly between your fingers.

"Your hand's soft."

You think Joel must have said this by accident, because it’s murmured so softly and his eyes crack open as soon as the words hit the air. You realize that it's the first positive thing Joel's ever said to you since you met him.

You smile up at him, rewarded with a gentle smirk at the right corner of his mouth from him before he catches himself and it vanishes.

"Don't," he tells you with a frown.

"What?"

"Don't look at me."

You're taken aback when one wide hand comes to cover your eyes. Its sudden blackness startles you into dropping his cock.

“What’re you-“

"I told you to make me come," Joel growls from behind gritted teeth. "So fucking do it."

Joel's free hand grips yours, thrusting his hard cock back into your palm. You take it, your eyes still in darkness. Without sight you're stuck with only your remaining senses. He smells like wood and sweat and leather from his jacket.

You focus on Joel's breathing now, noting it increase as your hand continues working on him, your fingers moving deftly around his shaft. He breathes through his nose, occasionally swallowing.

"Quick learner," Joel observes with a murmur as you swivel your wrist.

You nod, your face rasping against his palm. Your eyes are shut tightly, he doesn't need to cover them but you think that this must make him feel better. Must make him feel more in control.

"Much better at this than shooting," Joel says condescendingly in the darkness. You think you can almost feel the words being huffed against your mouth. "Turns out your hands were just made for handling cocks, not guns."

You scowl.

"Or maybe it's because you're not getting mad a-"

The rest of your sentence is cut off as two of Joel's large fingers come to either side of your mouth, pinching it shut. Your hand falls from his cock and you imagine it hangs there between his legs heavy and twitching.

His other hand is still covering your eyes so the result is no vision and no breathing through your mouth. It's rather disorienting.

"None a' that," Joel rasps from above you. "No smart mouth unless you want it fucked dumb."

You're body jerks at this quiet proclamation.

I do.

No. I don't.

I do,

No, I can't. I don't.

Stripes of light peek through parted fingers as his hand drops from your slowly opening eyes.

"You do," Joel concludes your internal debate as his eyes swim over your face. His voice, always low and graveled sounds measured, unsure.

"You want me to fuck that smart mouth?"

You don't say anything. You can't. He releases your lips. His heavy hand reaches for yours, twisting it back around the shaft in the way he likes. He holds your hand there, fucking himself into it.

"You want me to stuff your mouth full 'a my cock?" Joel grinds out as he thrusts forward into your waiting hand. His wider one surrounds yours, fingers practically lacing.

You can't help but let out a whimper. Joel's hands go back to the wall above your shoulders and his hips cant forward jerkily.

Your hand begins moving faster and faster over the length of his throbbing cock, your own erratic panting matching that of Joel's. He's looking down into your face now, something in it unlocked.

"Fuckin' that pretty mouth," Joel grunts, his cock pistining in your grip as he stares at your parted lips. "Coming down your throat."

You whimper. Why is this so arousing to you? Why do the things that Joel is saying turn you on so much? Because you dislike him so much that this feels taboo? Because for once Joel isn't critical of something you're doing?

Before you can question it further you feel him swell and pulse in your grip. He spills himself over your knuckles in warm spurts as he lets out a shuddering groan, the warmth of it buffering over your forehead.

You're so still as you stand there watching Joel. You watch him breathing heavily through his nose, the grim set of his mouth as he stares at his softening cock in your hand.

Reality sets in. What you've done and who with.

Without thinking you're moving, twisting and scrambling to get away from him. Needing to leave this crumbling room and Joel's haunted gaze.

Your feet make thudding noises over the warped floorboards, matching in tempo to your rapid heartbeat.

You burst out the front door into the cool afternoon and feel it chill your fevered cheeks. You take several deep breaths, trying to stop the gallop of your heartbeat.

What did you just do?

And with Joel?

You drag your hand through the snow, wiping the proof of your altercation from your skin. You move to Chestnut, resting your forehead against his side. You let the steady breathing of the animal soothe your frazzled nerves.

Joel comes out moments later, completely composed and dressed. He gives you a sharp look.

"Time to head back."

Chapter 4: Early Riser

Chapter Text

It's earlier than usual when you wake up, disturbed by the events of yesterday. You try to fall back asleep but it proves impossible. No matter how many times you shift, rearrange your blankets or fluff up your pillows, you simply cannot go back to sleep. Your mind is already awake with vivid memories of yesterday's patrol assaulting you every time you blink.

Make me come.

Blink.

You want me to fuck that smart mouth?

Blink.

No smart mouth unless you want it fucked dumb.

Blink.

With a groan, you finally pull yourself from bed, letting your feet dangle on the edge of the mattress before finally shoving off and hitting the chilled floor. You shower and dress quickly deciding that the dining hall will be emptier, that perhaps you'll have a bit of quiet to read and eat this morning if you feel like it.

You slip your current paperback into your jacket pocket before heading out the door. Your feet crunching over the solidifying earth as you walk along the path that leads into town. It’s chilly this morning and drizzling with the droplets stinging the high of your cheekbones. There aren’t many people milling about as you near the center of town, but you know the dining hall opens at 5 am.

When you reach the dining hall you're surprised to see about fifty people inside, some chatting over their meal, others quietly chewing, some gathered around the long table with the food options. You'd assumed it would be even emptier given the hour, but it seemed you're not the only early riser in Jackson today.

You step in, shaking off the droplets that cling to your jacket. Already the dining hall is much warmer and inviting than the outside.

You hear your name being called from the far side of the room and you tilt your head to see Jennifer waving at you, backlit by the morning sun streaming in the window behind her. She looks almost angelic. You pause like a caged animal, unsure of whether or not to reply. You don’t really know Jennifer.

A few heads turn when she calls to you again, curious. You're not well known here yet, you still feel that same anxious panic at being perceived by so many eyes.

You give a half-hearted wave to Jennifer before going over to the large wood table and pull out a metal tray. With efficiency you pull one of the pre-packaged breakfasts consisting of eggs, jerky and a pancake with syrup.

You grab one of the chipped mugs beside the makeshift carafe and pour yourself a cup of the tea before placing everything on a tray.

Jennifer calls your name again, motioning for you to join her as others nearby look on. Surprised at the attention you do, feeling much like you did in high school when the popular girls deigned to speak to you, that same flutter in your stomach, the same constriction of your throat.

"Hi Jennifer," you croak as you approach.

"Hi," she says your name brightly, taking a sip of her tea before sitting across from her. "I don't think I've ever seen you here in the mornings."

"Not this early usually," you mumble. "I usually sleep in."

"Bad sleep?"

"Kinda," you say shrugging. You take a slow sip of the hot tea, hoping this will slow down her questioning. But Jennifer is just shooting that vague Mona Lisa smile at you.

"How was patrol?"

You try not to look stricken at the question. Instead you turn your attention to your eggs, stabbing at them until the yellow yolk runs over the plate.

"Was okay. Kinda boring."

Jennifer nods, and you can see that she's really just fishing. She's trying to be polite in asking you questions, but you know that how you feel about things isn't what interests her at all

"Does Joel talk much during them?"

"You want me to fuck that pretty mouth dumb?"

"No," you say with warming cheeks. "Barely at all."

You glance up to see that Jennifer has a faraway look at her eyes. Likely imagining the romantic scenario of the tall, dark and brooding Joel Miller. You want to break her illusion, inform her that there's nothing nice about a man who treats you like garbage.

But for girls like Jennifer, she'll never understand that. She won't understand that men can be cruel just as easily as they can be kind because beauty like hers is favored, even cherished.

You muse that perhaps if she was paired up with Joel and patrols that there might be the chance for a romance. That he might be taken in by her beauty and her quick smile. That he would be soft for her, perhaps even gentle. You imagine that he wouldn't cover her eyes and whisper husky vulgarities in her ear before spilling himself over her knuckles.

No, with Jennifer he'd be slow and syrupy. He'd teach her to shoot with infinite patience, his hand caressing her hip as he showed her the proper stance.

Joel isn't ugly, but he isn't the most handsome man at Jackson, nor the youngest. Jennifer could have her pick of men you think, with her angelic features and youth. It puzzles you that she'd want to pursue such a man here when in the before time she likely never would have spared him a glance.

"Can I ask what interests you about Joel so much?"

Jennifer is surprised by this question, her focus drawing back to you.

"Sure," Jennifer says with a shy smile. "I guess ever since I got here I've heard stories about Joel Miller. Joel Miller the smuggler, the expert marksman, the fighter. Then I see how sweet he is with Ellie and I think 'how can two such opposites fit into one man?' One remarkably sexy man."

You stare at Jennifer, not having expected such a thought-out explanation. She shoots you a toothy smile.

"I've seen him with the horses too. He's always so focused, so stern but gentle. Can you imagine what someone like that would be like in the bedroom?" At this she gives a small titter before covering her mouth with her hand.

You try not to look repulsed. You have a feeling you know exactly how Joel Miller would be in the bedroom. You've already had somewhat of a preview and you can't say you're impressed.

"Plus let's be honest," Jennifer adds in a voice sharper than before, less sweet around the edges. "There's not much else to do around here unless you have a hobby or you like manual labor. Studying Joel is fun."

The way she talks about him makes him sound like a science experiment. A thesis topic she wants to fuck. You think of all the men that you've seen with her in the Tipsy Bison. Has she ever really cared for any of them? Or have they all been stories, theories, puzzles to solve?

She's welcome to Joel though. Maybe if she cracks him she can share some insights.

You turn back to your breakfast, thoughts on your week ahead. You think you need to find a new hobby. Maybe you can volunteer in the nursery? Your mind drifts to Chestnut and his sweet disposition. The only good thing to come out of patrols is getting to spend time riding again. You'd forgotten how much you missed that. Maybe you could volunteer taking care of the horses?

Jennifer sighs thoughtfully to herself, drawing your attention back over to her. You realize you know so little about Jennifer aside from the fact that she does patrols and wants to fuck Joel. She’s making such an effort with you that you feel poorly for not doing the same.

"What did you do before patrols?"

"I used to be in textiles," she chews thoughtfully. "Whenever folks in town needed stuff repaired or they need tents or curtains. Kinda whatever was necessary. I still do it sometimes if they need help."

You nod, chewing your breakfast. “Why did they move you to patrols?"

"I'm pretty good with a shot. Had riding experience."

"You know how to shoot?"

Jennifer nods, smiling proudly. "Yep. Grew up with three brothers in Louisiana. They used to take me hunting. We didn't have any money so if we didn't catch anything we didn't eat, so I learned pretty quick. It's why I know how to sew too; had to make all my own clothes."

You look at Jennifer's beautiful face and delicate bone structure and are struck by how much you assumed about her. You saw her as gorgeous and charismatic and just assumed that she was a spoiled princess.

"Maybe you could teach me to shoot?" You say before catching yourself. You don't know her well enough to ask that. You barely know her at all.

"Sure," she says with a nod. She doesn't seem put off at all. In fact she's even smiling. "How about tomorrow?"

"Sure!"

All of a sudden you see Jennifer's light eyes go to the door of the dining hall. Her lashes flutter and a flush starts at her collar.

"He's here."

"Who?"

"Joel."

"He is?" You wince, immediately ducking. As if ducking your head slightly will hide you in the fairly sparse dining hall.

What the fuck is Joel doing here? He's never at the dining hall. In all your time here you've seen him maybe half a dozen times eating with everyone else and it's usually because Tommy is talking his ear off.

"Are you sure it's him?"

"Yeah." She watches the space over your left shoulder, her light eyes following his frame as he grabs something to eat. You feel your stomach flip uncomfortably. "Hey maybe you could bring up the whole patrol swap thing with him?"

"I don't really wanna bug him while he's eating," you say taking a bite of your eggs. "Plus I don't know if Joel has any control over it anyway."

If you had your choice you'd never have to interact with Joel again. You'd never go on another patrol, never have to be in his presence.

There's a certain respect people have for Joel Miller in Jackson. Not just because he's Tommy's brother, but because his reputation precedes him. Joel is known as ruthless, a killer. Never specifics, just this air of danger in whispers. And he looks the part at times. All muscles and sharp jaw. How he keeps to himself, how he always seems ready to snap into action mode.

You suppose it's Ellie that humanizes him. When people catch sight of them walking through the main part of town and Ellie is laughing and the side of Joel's mouth curls just so, it makes people remember he's a man just like them. That they've all had to do terrible things to survive.

It makes the women look longer, eyes drifting over his ruggedly handsome face, his strangely expressive eyes, his broad shoulders. It makes women like Jennifer think oh he's so strong but so loving. It fits the narrative they carry in their heads of this wounded bear who just needs the love of a good woman.

You want to laugh at every single one of them. You want to jeer at just how mislead they are because you know the real Joel Miller. Ruthless was the right word from the start.

Ellie is an outlier, a strange bit of data that doesn't make sense. It doesn't fit with how you see Joel. You don't see what he gets out of it. Ellie gets a father figure, a protector. But what does Joel get?

Nothing seems untoward between them, you feel like you would have picked up on it. So then why does he have this adopted daughter? Joel doesn't like things that make his life more difficult, you've seen that first hand. And Ellie can be difficult - loud and abrasive. You heard her frustrated with him that day in the greenhouse. And yet his eyes hold affection, even love.

You never really noticed Joel before your patrols, your thoughts were always somewhere else. You were always "away with the fairies" as you gran used to say. Daydreaming or thinking about your day and what you needed to accomplish.

Life is comfortable here in Jackson and because of that, you find it a bit terrifying. Because the years previous have not been relaxing. The years previous have been a minefield of terror.

Terror you don't let yourself think about too much. A life where death had been preferable. Death you once almost willingly walked into.

But now? You have a warm bed and a home and you wake up not plagued by nightmares as much. You can breathe and you can live and now that you have something sacred for yourself the thought of death terrifies you. There's so much to lose.

Jennifer smooths her hair, her eyes darting from her plate to Joel and back again.

"He keeps looking over here," she says in an excited whisper with a pretty pink rising to her cheeks. "Something tells me he'll be okay with the change."

You could roll your eyes at that. Of course Joel was looking over here at Jennifer. You're not surprised that he would be so easily swayed by a pair of beautiful blue eyes.

You think about denying her but then you remember how easily she agreed to help teach you to shoot. This is such a small ask on her part.

"Okay. Sure. Just a sec."

You take a studying breath before pushing yourself up from your chair. You follow her eye line behind your shoulder to see that Joel is sitting by himself on the far left of the tables. He’s wearing a dark flannel and his hair is tousled, likely from a fitful sleep like yours though you can’t imagine why he’d be upset. At least he got to come.

No one bothers him while he sits there; no one tries to chat with him as he shovels his meal into his downturned mouth. He gives off an energy that says leave me alone and all abide. Some give a passing “morning” that he nods in reply to.

On stiff legs you make your way over to him stopping just short of his elbow at the table. You shove your trembling hands into the pockets of your jeans and force a pleasant smile on your face.

"Hi Joel."

Joel lifts his eyes from his plate as if just registering your presence. You doubt that's the case though. You think that Joel pays attention to everything in his surroundings and probably saw you the second you started shuffling over.

"Mornin'."

How can he look at you so casually? As if yesterday never happened? How can his cheeks not flush with embarrassment after the lewd things he whispered in your ear?

"You got a sec?"

"Considering you've cornered me while I'm eating I think you know I do."

Asshole.

He's so fucking prickly. Even now as you try to smile politely and attempt to talk to him kindly. It makes your forced smile wobble.

Enough chit chat, down to business.

"Uh, you see that girl, Jennifer?" you subtly motion behind you. "The pretty one? She uh, she wants to be matched up with you on patrols. She told me. She's from B watch."

Joel doesn't glance where you've motioned over at Jennifer. Instead he stares icily up at you, as if the suggestion offends him. It makes you shrink back, feeling wrong -footed and desperate to fill the silence.

"I just figured cuz, well, you and I don't exactly get along..." You trail off, voice cracking as your thumb digs into the ring finger of your left hand. "Thought you might want to... well, ya know ... Switch."

Joel chews thoughtfully, his eyes fixed on your face. You shift from foot to foot feeling as if all eyes are on you. You glance around to see that no one is giving you much mind. Most are interested in their own conversations.

The only one watching you is Jennifer who pretends to drink her tea. You look back to see that Joel is still staring at you.

"She has hunting experience and she's good on a horse and... She's really pretty," you offer weakly.

He raises a brow minutely at this but still doesn't turn his gaze from your face. You feel your cheeks getting warm. You don't know why you supplied that information for him. Anyone with two eyes can see that Jennifer is pretty.

He says nothing to you. Doesn't even acknowledge what you've said before he goes back to his meal, eyes dropping to his eggs. He chews quietly, one hand resting on the table, the other gripping his fork tightly.

You stand for several seconds at his table like a chastised child, as if your penance for bothering him with this is public humiliation. Finally Joel drags his eyes slowly up your body to your face.

"Why are you still standin' there?"

Your cheeks prickle with shame as you turn away from him. You move rapidly and bypass Jennifer's table entirely, your legs carrying you out into the chill of the day and away from Joel's searing gaze.

You won’t get shooting lessons from Jennifer now. You can’t face her, can’t tell her how he talked to you. It would be too humiliating. And she’s probably furious at you for rushing away without helping her on her quest to conquer Miller mountain.

Your heart is beating rapidly in both anger and shame. You maneuver your way through the growing crowd of people in town, the late risers. You feel a hand suddenly clutch at your wrist.

"Hey!"

You glance to your left to see Ellie looking at you, eyes dancing. She loosens her grip on your wrist.

"Hey," she says saying your name again but louder. "I was hoping I'd see ya."

"Oh yeah?"

You speak tightly, trying not to snap because right now all you want to do is go home. Joel makes you feel so annoying, he makes you feel small. But Ellie does none of those things. Ellie is sweet and open and earnest.

"I wanted to know what those pop tarts were made of?"

You're touched that she remembered your conversation and you soften a bit, smiling a fraction. You wish that you did remember if only to make her happy.

"No I'm sorry," you tell her looking chagrined. "Just ate 'em, never made 'em."

"Damn."

"I'm assuming its flour and sugar and stuff you need more most pastries," you shrug. "And then icing. I'm sorry I'm not more helpful."

"S'okay,' Ellie shrugs.

She looks thoughtful and then bids you a quiet goodbye, shuffling towards the dining hall.

You observe that Maria hasn't been at meals since the baby was born. Not totally a shock considering it's only been two weeks. But Tommy's words cluster in your mind, compelling you to his house.

You think of your Aunt Sunny. Your favorite person from before. The aunt that sang Disney songs at the top of her lungs in the car with you. The aunt that took you for ice cream on hot days. The aunt that felt more like a sister.

The same aunt that years later tried to kill herself after her daughter was born. The aunt who was on so much medication she just stared out the hospital window when you went to visit her.

It was almost a year before she came back to herself. A year before aunt Sunny was smiling and happy again. So you knew the signs.

You arrive on Tommy's doorstep early the next morning, a handful of paper flowers ready when he opens the door. He looks surprised to see you and it's no wonder because you barely know he and Maria.

But your mind has been fixed on what's going on with Maria and you'd felt compelled to come over, your feet leading you here even though your mind tossed around whether or not it was a good idea.

"Hi there," Tommy says with a quirked smile as he opens the door to you.

"I came to see how you were all uh, holding up," you say suddenly self conscious about your presence here. "I brought these. Too cold to bring real flowers so I had to improvise."

You thrust the bouquet of various shades of pink and white into Tommy's grip. He takes them curiously, his eyes drifting to the colorful collection.

"Holy shit," he says with amusement as he takes a closer look at the bundle. "These made ‘a paper?"

"Yeah, I used to make them all the time when I was a kid," you say grinning. "Thought Maria would like them."

Tommy grins back before hollering over his shoulder. “Baby, we got a visitor."

Tommy looks back at you, inviting you inside with genuine warmth and you accept. He heads off into the bedroom and you hear a mumbled conversation behind the door.

“It’s okay if you don’t feel up for a visit,” you call out before wincing. You don’t want to force Maria to come out if she’s not feeling up to it.

“No I’m comin’!” Marie calls back through the door and you relax a fraction.

You wander into the main area of the home, marveling at how cheery and welcoming it is. Paintings of horses and landscapes are on the walls, the fireplace is roaring and you take a chair nearby, grateful for the warmth.

Moments later Maria comes padding into the room looking cheerful despite the hollow under her eyes. She's wearing a large dressing gown and her hair is freshly washed. She moves slowly, shuffling in her thick wool socks.

"Hi."

Tommy comes following with his son in his arms. Maria kisses Tommy's cheek before she comes to sit in the chair opposite you.

"Thanks for visiting," she says in a tired voice. "And for those beautiful flowers. They must have taken you forever."

"It's great to see you," you tell Maria, trying not to sound patronizing. "And the flowers are fun to make."

You'd spent hours at your kitchen table with colorful paper spread across the wood surface, making intricate little origami flowers of all varietals. You’d learned one year at summer camp, found more often in the arts and crafts tent while everyone else went off swimming and to archery.

"So this is the bundle of joy," you say as Tommy approaches, gently rocking his son in his broad arms.

"Bundle of somethin'" he laughs, looking at Maria with warmth. "Doesn't like to sleep much, does he honey?"

"Not much," Maria agrees with a soft sigh. "S'my fault. I'm not patient enough with him."

"You're plenty patient," Tommy soothes. In this light he reminds you a bit of Joel and you think it must be the curls in the hair. You try not to hold the resemblance against him.

You notice Maria doesn't look at the baby and you feel your heart hurt for her.

"I didn't wanna bug you or anything," you say, feeling strangely tongue tied. "It's just... I thought maybe you'd want someone to chat with."

Maria eyes you warily from under half lidded eyes. "Why's that?"

Panic seizes you as Tommy quirks a nervous brow. He’d told you everything in confidence an his anxiety is so palpable you feel like he’s communicating with you through his eyes; he doesn’t want to stress Maria out. He doesn’t want his already fragile wife thinking that he’s airing all their dirty laundry with a stranger.

"I just mean when Tommy's busy," you offer awkwardly, trying not to let Maria cotton onto the fact that Tommy shared anything. "I figured you might want some company then. But maybe that's just wishful thinking because I don't really know many people here yet. So really it's just me inviting myself over so I'm not lonely and I'm using the baby as an excuse."

Maria stares at you for a lingering moment before letting out a snorting laugh. Tommy smiles at this, his eyes on his wife who is chuckling at you. She leans back in her chair, her hands lacing over her still slightly swollen belly.

"You're an odd one, aren't you?"

"I guess, yeah," you say back to her with a toothy grin. You’re relieved the tension has seemed to pass. The baby makes a grunting noise in Tommy's arms, squirming to get comfortable. Maria notices you looking at the baby and a warmth passes over her features.

"You wanna hold him? I just fed him."

You haven't held a baby in decades. Not since you were a kid yourself looking at your neighbors new baby.

"Oh I... That's okay, I don't wanna drop him," you say anxiously.

"You won't drop him," Tommy assures with a gentle chuckle. You scoot back in your chair, nervously taking the baby into your stiff arms as Maria watches on. The weight of him is barely anything, so slight that you’re concerned he might just fly away out of your grip. Tommy goes to sit near Maria, smiling at the image of you and his son.

He's so small, milk-drunk and sleeping soundly wrapped up in a soft green blanket. He makes little grunts in his sleep and the sound makes you smile. He smells like baby powder and you can help but bring him to your face and inhale.

Life does find a way.

Through the ugly planet inhabited by all forms of depravity and monsters there is this new life, pure and hopeful. A new beginning. You can't help but feel teary-eyed as you look into his sleeping face, your finger brushing the delicate caramel skin, the full lips pouting in slumber.

"He's beautiful." You marvel at how perfect his tiny hands are, holding a miniscule finger pinched gently between your digits. You glance to Tommy across from you. "What was his name again?"

"Douglas Joel Miller," Tommy says proudly. "Douglas for Maria's dad and Joel for, well, you know."

Yeah. You know.

Your lack of a response must draw his attention because Tommy tilts his head slightly as he regards you.

"You and Joel getting along any better?"

Uh, well I made him come and he talked about fucking my mouth does that count?

You shrug, eyes still fixed on the sleeping baby. Anything that comes out of your mouth now will be a lie and you have no desire to lie to this family.

"He can be tough," Tommy says with a shake of his head. "Didn't always used to be like that."

You don't ask any follow up questions because you don't care to know more about Joel. You'd rather he not occupy your thoughts when you're not with him. And yet Ellie's face swims into your head. The sweet girl with rough edges. The outlier in your Joel Miller data.

"So is Ellie his daughter or what?"

"Kinda adopted," Tommy nods. "They've been through a lot together. Seen a lot."

That doesn't answer much but it answers enough. You nod, prepared to drop the subject.

"His daughter was killed by a soldier," Maria says out of nowhere. "I think he-"

"Maria," Tommy says harshly. "That's not your information to share."

Maria's face immediately crumples and fat tears begin to roll down her face. You've never seen Maria cry, the strong stoic woman and it takes you momentarily by surprise. Her dark eyes drift to the floor and her hands go from lacing over her tummy to fisting her eyes as she sobs.

"I'm sorry Tommy."

"No, I'm sorry," Tommy says immediately hating himself and kneeling next to her chair, taking her hand in his. "I shouldn't have snapped."

Maria is crying softly and you feel like you have to assuage their fears.

"I won't say anything," you assure them both. "That information stays here. I promise. I'll never mention it; I'll pretend you never told me."

Tommy’s pinched face shoots you a nod while Maria gives you a tight, watery smile.

"Thank you."

You and Tommy watch as she pushes herself up from the couch. She gives Tommy a kiss before turning to you, still wiping away the bits of remaining tears that have tracked down her dark cheeks.

"It was really nice seeing you. I'm a bit tired though so I'm gonna head back to bed."

"Sounds good," you nod. "Have a good rest. Maybe I'll stop by again if that’s okay?"

"Yeah I think I'd like that," Maria says over her shoulder.

You and Tommy watch her shuffle back to the bedroom and you feel that your visit should end but Tommy seems eager for the company. He offers you a tea, settling back into his chair as you continue to hold the baby only after you politely decline.

"Joel says you're good on a horse," Tommy says with a smile as Douglas gives a stretch in your arms. You watch the baby, distracted until Tommy’s words finally register with you. Joel said something about you to Tommy?

"He did?"

"Yeah, said you were a natural on Chestnut."

It's hard to imagine Joel talking about you willingly, much less praising something you've done.

"Oh, yeah." You look down at the baby, tracing his cheek with a forefinger. "I had lessons as a kid. Did a bit more riding to get here."

Tommy nods, eyeing you thoughtfully. "You still want me to see if I can find someone else to switch with you?"

Yes. Yes. Please yes.

You want to shout it from the rooftops. You don't want another minute of patrols with Joel. You can't imagine how your next patrol won't be awkward.

But then you see the lines at the corner of Tommy's eyes. You think of Maria curled in her bed with tears running down her cheeks. You think of the stress and pain they're already going through and you can't add to their burdens.

"Nah its okay," you offer quietly.

"You sure?"

"Yeah. S'fine."

Your eyes scan Douglas's placid face. Before you can help yourself you've pressed a kiss to the infant's forehead.

"I should head out," you say smiling wanly.

"Thanks for stoppin' by," Tommy says taking Douglas from your arms. And you can see in his face that he's being sincere. You can only imagine how alone he feels right now trying to navigate this.

"Any time," you tell him honestly. "I mean it."

You'd never really noticed Joel that often before your patrols but now it's like you see him everywhere this week.

You see him walking into town nearby so you ducked into the nearest shop under the pretense of needing tampons. At breakfast (which you've never seen him at before this week) but now have caught sight of him at least 3 times. Trying to be social and going in to get a drink at the Tipsy Bison only to see Joel's familiar head of salt and pepper curls and immediately fleeing back outside.

He haunts your dreams too. Sharp teeth and fingers like claws. You don't know what the dreams are but you wake up with sweat-drenched sheets and a pounding heart.

The morning of your patrol you wake up to an especially upsetting dream. This one doesn't involve Joel but it does involve the time before Jackson.

It has you lurching out of bed and pulling on clothes under the light of the breaking sunrise streaming in your windows.

Your breath puffs in front of you as you head out into the chill of the morning, eyes puffy from lack of sleep, hair tangled from tossing all night.

But the thought of something brings you an idea of peace. Since your last patrol your thoughts have been stuck on Chestnut. You'd never considered hanging around the stables before because it always seemed to be for those with a connection to the animals. Those who brush their coats and feed them and muck out the stalls.

You yourself had taken horse riding lessons as a kid until your parents separated and suddenly there wasn't money for lessons or dance class. Your mom seeing your disappointed face each afternoon tried to cheer you up by teaching you to bake.

But Chestnut and his sweet disposition draw your feet into your boots, tugging your jacket on, twisting your red scarf around your neck as you leave early one morning.

His head is sticking out of the pen as you arrive, as if he's been waiting for you all morning. His auburn mane dances lightly in the breeze from outside. The colors catch the light, gold and burgundy twisting and shimmering in the light. Your mouth breaks into a wide grin as you approach, hand extended.

"Hello handsome," you say softly as you draw nearer. You press your forehead to his soft nose, smiling. It's all you can reach from where you stand outside the pen.

Chestnut gives a small whinny, his breath puffing in the chill of the morning.

"It's getting cold, huh?" You say, rubbing at his cheek. "Hope you're not too chilly in here."

Chestnuts baleful eyes stare out at you like glossy dark brown marbles. You see your face there, warped slightly. You look tired and worried.

He gives a small whinny, stretching his face down towards you. The pen hits him at his chest, making it possible only to touch his soft nose and head. You smile at the velvet of his muzzle, the warmth of the air huffing over your knuckles.

"I hope it snows soon," you confess, hand sliding down the white stripe between his eyes. "Makes everything feel clean."

Chestnut dips his head towards you, mouth attaching to your hand, searching for something to eat. You giggle softly at the tickling sensation of his lips grazing over your flattened palm.

"You ready for today? Hmmm? Maybe I'll sneak you a carrot if you're go-"

All of a sudden a head pops up beside the horse from inside the pen attached to a familiar broad-shouldered figure.

You're not expecting that anyone would be in here. Definitely not Joel fucking Miller. He stands next to Chestnut looking at you like you've broken into his home with an axe.

"Jesus!" You cry out, startled by his sudden appearance. "You're like a pop up book from hell!"

Joel's mouth twitches into almost a smile before pressing back into that familiar scowl.

"What are you doing in there?" You ask accusingly as if he meant to terrify you.

"Re-shoeing him for this afternoon."

"Oh."

You stand there awkwardly, feeling wrong footed for no reason, because it's Joel that should feel out of place. He was the one that took his sweet time letting you know he was there.

You glance from Chestnut back over to see Joel giving you an unreadable look, as if he's trying to figure you out. It makes you uncomfortable and you pull the jacket tighter around you.

You haven't made mention of the last patrol. Haven't felt that it was necessary. Or maybe it's that mentioning it feels humiliating. Joel must feel the same way because he's made no mention of it either. He busies himself with brushing at chestnuts withers, his eyes fixed on the large horse in front of him.

"Can't seem to shake you.”

"Didn't know you were in here," you mutter in reply, irritated that your good mood is spoiled.

You go to leave because you sure as hell don't want to spend more time with him than necessary. You already have to spend your afternoon and early evening with him. You don't want more Joel Miller in your life if it can be avoided.

"Ellie's been talkin' about you a lot," Joel says out of nowhere.

This surprises you into stopping and waiting. "Really?"

"She won't stop going on about fucking pop tarts." Joel's face is hard as he says the words. He lowers the brush in his hand and fixes you with a dark look. "You can't go talking about that stuff with her."

"About pastries?"

"The world before," Joel snaps at your flippant reply. "Ellie is impressionable. She's curious. But givin' her all that information serves no purpose."

"It makes her educated," you reason. "It's history."

"It makes her want what doesn't exist anymore," Joel fires back. "And then I have to disappoint her when I tell her that she can't experience those things."

And it hurts him.

He doesn't finish the thought but he doesn't need to. It's there in the tic of his jaw, the curling sneer of his lips. He doesn't want you telling Ellie about a life he can't provide for her. He doesn't want his adopted daughter to be heartbroken with no way for him to repair the broken pieces.

It's so human of Joel, so kind and thoughtful that your heart squeezes in your chest as you realize it. Maria's voice echoes around your mind like a whispered story. He lost a daughter.

This isn't your place to reason with Joel or try to change his mind. He's by all accounts her father and as her parents what he says goes.

"Okay."

Joel looks relieved and nods at you. You think about asking him what exactly it is that you can talk to Ellie about but you decide not to push it. You have to be on patrols with him later today and you don't want it to start on a bad note. You watch him brush Chestnut a moment longer.

"Have you ridden horses long?"

You surprise yourself with that question. It pops out of your mouth before you realize that you don't enjoy Joel's company.

You notice the way he's glancing at you in such an insouciant fashion as he fiddles with Chestnut's reins. It reminds you of Teton village and how he looked at you as you stroked him before he covered your eyes. That same casual indifference.

"Long enough."

That's better than fuck off, you decide. But you don't want to push your luck. You just nod and turn away from him, heading back into the cold morning.

"You still want that mouth fucked dumb?"

He says it in a husky murmur so quietly that it takes a moment for you to register that he was talking to you and not muttering something to the horse. When you do realize what he said it stokes something in your lower belly, fiercely hot and honeyed.

Your entire body has gone rigid at his suggestion, your shoulders drawn up to your ears. The visuals of such a request that assault you are enough to have you taking a physical step forward as you imagine it. Your eyes are blown so wide in your skull but you can't turn around and face Joel even as you answer him.

"Yes."

Before he can say anything more you rush off away from him with your cheeks flaming and heart pounding. You walk at a brisk pace feeling his eyes burning a hole in your back the entire way.

Chapter 5: You still want this?

Notes:

So strangely outta all my stories on the go, this one is the fic that plays in my head the most. I've written an outline, the final is already written out despite us havin' a bit of a ways to go to get these two seein' clearly. Reviews help me work, I don't get paid for this stuff, so if you wouldn't mind reviewing I'd really appreciate it!

Chapter Text

Jennifer sees you walk into the dining hall a short while later and calls you over with an exaggerated wave. The group she’s sitting with wave at you also. All of them are like Jennifer; young and pretty and smiley.

They set you a bit on edge with their intrigued gazes when you approach with your tray, taking a seat next to a tall man with an easy smile.Jennifer introduces you to everyone before doing the same for you.

“This is Peter, his wife Margaret,” a brunette couple at the end of the table give waves before going back to their chatting. “On your left is Lee and the guy to your right is Luke.”

The tall man – Luke – gives you a small nod and shy smile. “Nice to meet'cha.”

“He’s new like you,” Jennifer explains. “Just moved here last month. He used to be in construction.”

“Oh wow,” you say trying to feign interest and failing. Luke chews his food and gives an awkward nod at you before he starts to speak across the table to Peter.

You want to be engaged with the faces around the table, but your mind is still with Joel in the stable. You still can’t believe you told him you wanted him to fuck your mouth. That you verbally agreed to it. He gave you an out and you still said yes! What the fuck is wrong with you?

The rest of the group chats around you and you don’t mind the chatter. It fills the space normally punctuated with silence that you’re used to and it momentarily distracts you from your dilemma. You find you much prefer conversations with Ellie though – she has more interesting things to say on the whole.

Jennifer is obviously the leader of this group, weaving tales and telling jokes that has the rest of the table (including you) chuckling. When the rest of her friends finish their breakfasts and bid the two of you a good day, she waits until you are both alone before fixing you with a smile.

“Isn’t Luke nice?”

“Mhmm.”

Jennifer loves to talk and doesn't seem to mind that you don't. She likes regaling you with stories about folks living in the town. She's been settled in Jackson almost as long as Maria and Tommy and subsequently she has seen quite a bit.

"The Butcher used to date the lady that sorted the incoming items," she tells you over her tea. "But then she fell in love with the guy who works in weaponry. It was really messy for a bit."

You listen with fascination at the social milieu of the community you now inhabit. Being in Jennifer's orbit also means that others are starting to take notice of you. More people wave and give you passing greetings. You can only shyly nod and give mumbled hello’s in return.

This morning a tall man with patchy eyebrows gives you and Jennifer a nod, tilting his cowboy hat in your direction as he saunters past your table.

"That's Greg," Jennifer says with a voice low in secrecy. "We dated for a few months a year or so ago. Super nice guy but very clingy."

You suppress a smirk at this, amused at Jennifer's disgusted expression. Dating seems like something from a lifetime ago, almost juvenile in concept.

"You date a lot?" Jennifer asks as she sips her tea. "Before the outbreak, I mean."

"Nah," you shake your head. "Dating scared the shit outta me. I was always a really shy kid."

"I could see that," Jennifer muses. "You don't really talk much."

You shrug, feeling strangely embarrassed, as if this quiet observation is somehow a scathing criticism of character.

"What about around here?" Jennifer asks with playful lilt to her voice. It's asked in such a way that reminds you of slumber parties with giggling and strawberry lip-gloss. "Anyone catch your eye?"

"Not really."

You know that you answer too quickly but you also know that Jennifer won't follow up on it if you change the subject to her favorite topic: herself.

"What about you?" You take a bite of toast before casting your eyes over the crowd. "Got a lot to folks to choose from."

Jennifer glances around the bustling dining hall before wrinkling her nose up, obviously unimpressed with her choices presented.

"I'm gonna stick with Joel Miller," she nods to herself. "All the other guys here kinda pale in comparison."

Joel Miller.

"Might have you work cut out for you," you murmur. "Seems like a lot of work just to get him to be civil."

"I like a challenge," Jennifer winks at you. "And since you two are partner’s maybe you can introduce me sometime?"

Oh yeah, that'll go over well. You wish she’d drop this whole Joel thing. But then again because of it she’s being kind to you, she’s taken an interest. She’s introducing you to people, she’s helping to chase away the loneliness. You’re both getting something out of this, so why not continue?

Then again, its Joel.

"I think you should pick someone easier," you offer. "Plus if you go with him you'll be a stepmom to Ellie."

"I don't think she needs a stepmom," Jennifer laughs.

Your brows furrow and you go to reply when the girl of the hour walks into the dining hall. She sees you and waves before she walks over grab a tray of food. Her ponytail bobs behind her as she collects her breakfast items.

"She's so sweet," Jennifer tuts with what sounds like adoration when she witnesses this. You hold in a frown, not liking the condescending way Jennifer says it. It’s very likely she doesn’t mean it that way, but something about it irks you.

You watch Ellie saunter up to the end of your table, casting a look in your direction. You try to ignore her, remembering what Joel said you to earlier. He doesn’t want you interacting with Ellie, answering her questions.

He all but said you weren’t an influence he wants on his daughter. But it feels wrong to ignore her, wrong to pretend she isn’t standing beside you looking at you with beseeching eyes.

"Hi Ellie," Jennifer chirps as the girl stands awkwardly at the end of the table, looking at you. "Join us?"

Ellie shoots you a look that you can't quite read. You raise your eyes to hers and see the insecurity there and it breaks your heart. There’s no way you can turn her away. You motion to the table with your head that the invitation is indeed valid and she gives you a tight, relieved smile.

Ellie takes a seat next to you, tray clattering. You don’t miss the two milks on her tray and you hold in a smirk. Ellie begins to dig into her eggs and Jennifer is all warm smiles and sweet words for the sleepy teen.

"I heard that you're working on your baking," Jennifer offers abruptly, surprising both of you. You turn to look at Ellie, brow raised.

“You are?”

"Who told you that?" Ellie snaps, irritation laced in every letter. Her dark eyes are narrowed in obvious distaste for the blonde seated across from you.

"Oh uh, Rita in the kitchen mentioned it," Jennifer says with an uneasy laugh, eyes darting to you and then back to Ellie.

You think about Joel not wanting you to interfere, but this is something you know about. Baking is something you can actually bond with her about without making her long for the past.

"I didn't know you liked baking," you tell her. "If you want I can ask some of the-"

"Can we just drop it, please?" Ellie asks, cheeks burning. It's clearly something she didn't want other people knowing and you wince. You know the feeling of wanting something private for yourself.

"Of course," you nod.

The table lapses into a tense silence with Jennifer trying to smile at Ellie and the girl trying to look everywhere but at Jennifer. Ellie stabs a bit of sausage with her fork, the action almost violent. She’s tired and her hair is knotted in her ponytail. You wish you had a brush you could run through her thick tresses. Once a big sister, always a big sister you suppose.

"How's Joel?" Jennifer asks lightly, as if the answer isn't really a big deal. You want to roll your eyes at her lack of subtlety but Ellie beats you to it.

"S'fine."

Jennifer looks at you, silently begging for help, but you leave your eyes on your plate. If Jennifer wants to pursue this whole Joel thing she’ll do so without your help. While you’ll let her rope you into talking to Joel, there’s no way you’re going to bug Ellie about this.

"Doesn't he usually have meals with you?"

"Not breakfast usually," Ellie offers with a bored look on her face. "Only sometimes."

She remains tight-lipped for the rest of breakfast, sitting sullenly next to you as she eats. This cloudy disposition exits only when Jennifer announces she has plans with her friends and bids you both a farewell.

"She's such a phony," Ellie cites as the woman leaves the dining hall. "She doesn't give a shit about me. She just wants to know about Joel it’s so fucking obvious."

"I'm sure that's not true," you say without feeling. You feel a twist of guilt in your gut. Jennifer is nice to you and yeah, she’s a bit of an annoyance, but you don’t think she’s particularly harmful.

However as soon as the words leave your mouth Ellie stands abruptly, bristling. You give her a confused look.

"I told you I don't like liars."

She leaves her tray next to you, looking disgusted as she marches out of the hall, sure to go in the opposite direction of Jennifer.

The ride to Teton village that afternoon is a tense one punctuated by the occasional whinny from Midnight and Chestnut. You and Joel haven't spoken since your patrol shift started, not even a hello when you both mounted your horses.

Now you ride behind him a few paces, body bobbing along with Chestnut who seems to be reinvigorated after his re-shoeing.

The sky is a bright grey today, the chill of the weather deep in your bones. You're thankful for the warm clothes you've put on, including the red scarf hidden deep in the depths of your jacket. You know how much Joel hates it.

Your eyes drift to your patrol partner and his broad shoulders holding a backpack and gun.

You still want that mouth fucked dumb?

Your admission to Joel earlier makes your heart continue to thrum well after you've been riding for hours. Every turn of his head that showcases his severe profile sets your stomach jumping.

You wonder if he's going to say something about it. If he's going to jeer at you or worse, guide you both off to the side of the road and insist you suck him right there.

But he doesn't make any move to do so. He just continues on ahead of you atop of Midnight like some modern cowboy in a winter jacket.

How did Ellie get through to him?

This sticks out in your mind. Ellie is abrasive and loud and seems to be everything Joel would despise in another person. And yet, the brief times you’ve seen a look of tenderness he shares with her is something so loving it makes your heart crack. He’s her father in everything but blood. His daughter is gone. Is that why? Was there a daughter-sized hole in Joel desperate to be filled and Ellie fit the bill? The thought humanizes him in your eyes.

By the time you reach the village you almost pity Joel. A man who lost a daughter, desperate to take care of another living being. You wonder if there is a wife-shaped hole missing in him too. Would Jennifer fit that bill? Would he be happy if that empty spot was taken up by a beautiful blonde woman? If so a part of you wants to help.

You tie up your horses and Joel watches you unlock the door. He doesn't comment when your fingers tremble clumsily to punch in the code. He doesn't jeer when you stumble in over the floorboards. You watch him saunter ahead of you with the Thermos and your lunches and you observe him not as Joel Miller, asshole. You work to seperate his body from his person. He's a man, a strangely beautiful one in his ferocity and broad frame.

His body is graceful despite its bulk and your eyes rove the planes of his form as he makes his way ahead of you, bag and gun still draped over his shoulders. Is he attractive? Maybe. He isn’t hideous to you. But attractive is a hard thing to measure when you don’t really enjoy the person.

Joel disappears with his bag upstairs muttering that he'll be back and you go to the small back room to sign your names in the log. You feel confident doing it now, your fingers not trembling when you hold the pencil. You glance around the small room, looking at the boxes at the side. You pull them out, curious. Inside one are a few blankets. Inside the other are two pairs of boots. Another box yields a gun and a box of bullets.

Back up items you think, in case something happens.

Joel is still working away upstairs and so you take the opportunity to explore a bit of the old building, walking aimlessly from room to room. You walk into the room with the old couch covered in one of the blankets you recognize from Jackson City. It faces an ancient looking fireplace that holds dried wood and shavings to start a fire. This surprises you considering they don’t want attention drawn to the building.

You wander into the ancient bathroom that hasn't had running water for months, glancing at the shower free of mildew and the toilet that you don’t dare lift the lid off of. You make your way through the variety of other empty rooms, looking at portraits hung on the walls before you hear Joel's heavy boots coming back down the steps to your level.

You watch him return and wordlessly follow him to that small room in the back so he can glance over your log notes with an unreadable expression before pulling out the Thermos and bag of food from his backpack.

Lunch is consumed with you sitting across from one another at the warped table, noting that a quiet Joel is just as intimidating as a speaking one.

Your mind drifts to the window upstairs. The one that was broken last time. It's quiet which means that is what Joel must have been working on it earlier.

"Did you fix the window?"

"Patched it. When the right supplies come in we'll repair it properly." Joel bites into his sandwich, swallowing quickly. You wonder if he's always eaten this quickly or he's trying to speed things up.

"I don't know much about repair-"

"You won't be doing anything," Joel cuts in without looking at you. "I'll come out on a different day with a few others."

"Oh. Okay."

You lapse into silence again. Joel is a loud chewer you notice; another thing to add to the growing tally of ways he annoys you when he's not intimidating the hell out of you. You shrug off your jacket, finding it strangely warm in the small room.

You finish your lunch quickly, anxious about whether this is going to happen. Will Joel fuck your mouth? Will he make you ask for it? You don’t think you could even if you wanted. The thought is too intimidating.

As if reading your mind Joel wipes his crumby fingers along his jeans before clearing his throat. He sits facing you and you watch as his legs slowly widen.

That's when you realize it's going to follow the same pattern. In the same room and at his leisure. And despite the fact that you can't stand Joel and despite the fact that this is patrols, you feel your core tighten. He moves his tongue to his cheek, staring at you for so long you visibly falter, eyes dropping to your hands.

"You still want this?"

He says it so quietly you're not sure he said anything at all and it takes you a moment to understand what he's referencing. But then you know your answer, you know from the telltale pull below your navel and the way your nipples tighten under your sweater.

You lose your voice and find you can only nod shallowly. When you glance up after a beat to see Joel frown at your lack of a verbal response you sit up a little straighter in your chair.

"Yes."

Joel nods slowly, sucking at his teeth as he stares at you. Your thumb digs into the cuticle of your ring finger nervously.

No, not nervously; anticipatory.

You feel arousal begin to pool in your lower belly and you are made absurdly aware that you want this, that you want him. Not outside these stolen moments when he feels like the most frustrating person you know. Just when he promises a release from the loud world and its horrors.

"Gonna listen?”

His voice is firm, but hushed. You glance up the length of his body slowly, taking in the tapered waist and the long neck before and your eyes lock briefly before his. He holds his eyes on you before they flit to your shoulder. You finally nod, voice cracked.

"Yes."

He nods before surprising you by standing. He tilts his head, a silent follow me signal and you do as he walks out the door and into the room with the couch and fireplace. He leads you to the old sofa, the one that's been stripped of its fabric and left with what looks like a poorly tufted blanket over top. Likely an addition by one of the patrols but you can't understand why.

Joel eases onto it and it creaks as he settles himself. The air is gone from the room, leaving you breathless as you watch Joel unbuckle and then unbutton his jeans. You hold your breath as the zipper is pulled down and you see the flash of Joel's dark boxers underneath.

He beckons you closer with nothing more than his middle and pointer finger curling into his palm and you shuffle closer, approaching him slowly and warily as if he were a wounded animal.

And then it's like last time, only instead of angry, Joel just looks passive. As if this is something he did with all his former patrol partners.

Who knows, maybe he did.

You’re still wearing your red scarf and he takes it in his left fist before he tugs it gently, pulling you towards him. You stumble into the vee of his parted legs, looking down at him and swallowing. Despite the fact that you’re standing, you feel completely at his mercy.

He tilts his head, regarding you silently before he drops his hand from your scarf.

"On your knees," he says sibilant.

You sink to the floor between his legs without question. You don't hesitate. You hit your knees quickly, not caring that the floor is cold through the denim of your jeans. You don’t care if your eagerness is obvious.

Your hands tremble in equal measure anticipation and fear as they reach for Joel's boxers. As you did last time you pull him through the slit at the front, keeping the base of his cock still partially hidden. He seems to prefer that, letting you only see glimpses of him. You think you prefer that too. Still you feel your eyes widen a fraction at actually seeing his hard cock up close in your home. You'd only felt it that night on patrols.

“Stroke.”

You move your hand forward cautiously, waiting for your fingers to curl around his hard shaft. It twitches when you touch it. He raises an eyebrow slowly, his head tilting as his eyes move down to where you stroke him. He watches your hand move there, his tongue coming to drag over his lower lip. It glistens.

You swallow nervously, eyes on his cock as you tilt forward. You let yourself observe the bead of pre-come at the tip, the stiffness of his length. Without thinking you dip your face forward and run your lips from the base of his cock, grazing them to the tip. You’re rewarded with a quiet hiss from Joel.

“Lick.”

You do. Soft little kitten licks along the head tasting the salt of his pre-come. Joel breathes sharply through his nose at the sensation and when your eyes flick up they find his intensely staring down at you. A shiver goes through your body at the heavy desire reflected back to you. It emboldens you.

You don’t even wait for him to tell you to suck. Your parted mouth simply dips forward and circles the rosy head immediately. It stretches your lips, straining to take him. He's heavy on your tongue, thick in your mouth. You'd expected him to be rough, to thrust himself to the hilt but he's still. He's so still you're not sure he's okay with it.

With your mouth still full of him your eyes travel up his body to his face, brows raised in question. His face gives nothing away and you still, preparing to pull off of him when one large hand comes to the top of your head stopping you. He seems momentarily thrown, mouth curving into a frown. His hand goes to your neck and you wince in surprise when he unravels the red scarf from your neck.

"Close your eyes."

You do, letting them flutter shut. You don't say anything when he folds the scarf in half lengthwise before tying it around your eyes, securing it snugly at the back of your head. Your mouth is still stuffed with his cock, stretching your mouth almost painfully as you wait for him to knotting it at the back of your head.

If you opened your eyes you would see nothing but a murky red. As it is you see only the inside of your eyelids. You can smell the scent of sweat and soap and coffee. You feel disorientated kneeling there on the cold wood floor and you want to grip his thighs for purchase but don’t dare.

His heavy hand is still resting on the crown of your head and now you feel it slowly urging your mouth to take more of him. You hear Joel’s steady breathing.

"Keep goin’," Joel whispers and judging by the direction of his voice you think he must be looking down at you.

He pulls out slowly, his breath ragged.

"You want more?"

His cock is dragging along your bottom lip and you can imagine it glossy and reddened. He urges it onto your waiting tongue before slipping out again, teasing you. He doesn’t wait for you to answer before responding on your behalf.

“Yeah, you want more,” he says sliding his cock back, the head hitting the back of your throat.

You begin to suck him with vigor, bobbing your head along his length with gusto. You're rewarded with the low murmuring groan from him. You begin humming gently around him, .

It feels good, it feels so fucking good to have this again. To feel a cock in your mouth, to hear a man groaning above you as you take him deeper into your throat. He begins to thrust now, trusting that you can take him. His movements are quick, his hips jerking.

Your saliva coats him, his pelvis quickly inching towards you and then away, back and forth as he saws his cock between your lips.

It could be anyone, you tell yourself. You've just missed this so much. This connection, this lust, this palpable heat that makes Joel snap his hips and makes you respond in kind, tilting back and taking him until your nose brushes the wiry hairs at the base of his cock. He smells amazing, musky and masculine.

"Christ," he murmurs, eyes closing. "S'good."

You feel saliva begin to drool out the corners of your mouth as he thrusts more rapidly into you, hand still on the crown of your head.

"Yeah that's right," he says in a husky drawl. "That's fucking right."

You wonder how you look right now. Not in a performative way, but you wonder if you look in command of yourself. Like you're not secretly terrified. Or do you look scared? Maybe Joel likes that. You hope not.

You moan as he slides deeper into your throat. At the sound Joel withdraws, letting himself rest heavily on your tongue. His hips shift and he bobs his cock along your tongue, like an engine being primed.

"You like that," Joel says, slipping in and out between your lips. "Like me fucking your pretty mouth."

Never a question, always a statement. He's talking to hear himself talk, not because he actually wants to know if you like it. You continue to bob your head along his cock, your mind going blissfully blank.

"Gonna come," he suddenly announces from above you.

You moan approvingly, his length aching in your mouth as you slide the tip of your tongue to flick at the head of his cock, your mouth stretched full. You know this part, you anticipate this part. The rapid unravelling, you only wish your eyes weren’t covered. Watching Joel unravel on your tongue would be interesting.

"Gonna come," he grunts at you again, harsher this time.

When you continue sucking, his wide palm comes to press against your forehead, pushing you back harshly.

You pop off of him, falling back onto your elbows. You give a yelp before pushing up your blindfold and looking up at him in confusion. You've never had a man pull out, always tasted them salty and sharp over your tongue.

But Joel's eyes are closed and his wide hands are gripping his thickness, curving around the head, stroking furiously and it's only seconds before he lurches forward and comes with a ragged gasp in great warm ropes that spill over his knuckles and onto the wood floor.

You watch the steady dripping, the silent admission that Joel would rather his spend go there, onto the wood floor, because it's more deserving than your mouth.

Useless.

“I….” Joel croaks before licking his dried lips. His cheeks and neck are flushed with red. "I didn't know if you'd want it.”

“Oh.”

“Thought you were doing it ‘cuz you thought you had to."

"Oh."

You wish you could offer more than that. But you’re still in shock, still laying there on your back, propped up by your elbows in some strange tableau of relaxation.

His breathing starts to regulate before he stands abruptly. You look away, saying nothing as he moves to the washroom with the water canteen from his bag. You imagine he’s washing his hands the best he can.

You take a moment to stand, legs shaky and jaw sore. It’s been a while since you did that. And your surprised at how much you enjoyed it, considering the person the cock was attached to. When he exits moments later he’s tucked away and he tells you quietly that it’s time to head back.

Wordlessly you both gather your belongings and Joel locks up the place behind you both. You feel strangely unsettled, not because of what happened but because of how it ended. You feel somehow cheated.

You reach your tethered horses at the same time. You work on untying Chestnut, feeling Joel’s eyes on you as he does the same for Midnight.

"You like sucking cock?"

His voice is so nonchalant you could be talking about taxes or the weather.

"Sometimes," you say as you shrug. Your cheeks burn, despite the cool air.

The two of you mount your horses and head back. It’s not until a half hour has passed that you finally find the words you’d wanted to say earlier.

“I like it,” you say, face burning as you stroke Chestnut’s mane absently while you trot behind Joel and Midnight. “Uh, finishing in my mouth. I like that.”

Joel turns his head slightly until you can see his strong profile silhouetted in the setting sun. He gives you a half nod.

“Alright then.”

You say nothing more the rest of the ride back to Jackson City. Your horses take you back home, the path trod so many times before. Joel and you make no attempt at speaking more about your time, it seems pertinent it remain unspoken.

The secret stays in Teton village.

Chapter 6: Trapped Inside

Chapter Text

It happens again the following week.

And the week after that.

Joel’s never mean when he fucks your mouth. He's not gentle by any stretch of the imagination, but there's no cruelty in it. When you gag or when your breathing gets shallow he pulls back, hips circling, the tip of his cock resting on your lower lip as he pants.

"You good?"

And when you give him a breathless nod you think he must do the same before his thumb hooks around your lower lip, opening your jaw wider you before he's sliding deeply once more.

"Yeah, you're good."

Today he has you kneeling between he and the wall of the logbook room. He groans a sinfully low sound as he slides himself to the hilt over and over, your wet mouth rasping against the curls at the base of his cock. You hear him slap the wall above you, hips jumping.

"Such a sweet fuckin' mouth," Joel grunts as he continues to thrust and you know that he's just speaking to himself.

You could be anyone.

Just as when you close your eyes and feel his thick member stretching your mouth wide, you're just focused on the feel of a cock in your mouth. Heavy and salty and strangely comforting. It makes your brain shut off; it makes the world and its terror abate.

He's picking up speed, and you can tell by the angle that he's tilting back to watch his cock disappear into your mouth over and over. You never know for sure, he insists on the scarf wrapped around your eyes each and every time.

"More of your tongue," he grunts above you. "Flick it ‘round the head."

You do it, feeling warm when Joel gives another muffled groan. His hips jump when you hit a particularly good spot.

"Uh huh," Joel groans above you. "That's right. Someone's listenin' real good today."

Your cunt throbs at this remark. Praise . How you long for it. The comfort of being told you're doing well. Joel tells you exactly what he likes, he's blunt, there's no guesswork. The faint groans that escape his broad chest scratches that itch you didn't even know you had.

Without thought your hands go to his thighs, fingers about to curl around his shaft before he bats them away.

"No touchin'," Joel instructs, voice ragged. "Just your mouth."

You wish you could see him if only to know what an un-tethered Joel Miller looks like. But with your eyes covered it brings you back into the moment, chasing your own pleasure. The hypnotizing calm of bobbing your head up and down along his stiff cock until you feel the twitch of it.

And he knows now not to pull back but to instead continue keeping the meat of his cock in your mouth, hands on the wall above you as he empties himself down your throat.

You swallow, humming in satisfaction.

A moment passes, one where you sit patiently, cheeks flushed and breathing sharp. The moment before the world comes back loud and oppressive.

Joel puts himself away and zips up his jeans before removes the scarf blindfold just as he did before. He hands it to you wordlessly before he leaves the room, his footsteps heavy and quick.

You’re positively throbbing between your legs. So much so that you don’t see how you can make it back on your horse to town without being uncomfortable.

You bring yourself to a shaky stand and go to the old washroom, closing the creaking door behind you. You go to the wash basin and look at yourself in the cracked, aged mirror. Your cheeks are pink, your eyes bright and your mouth swollen and damp.

You spin away, pressing your spine to the wall opposite the mirror and slide your palm under the front of your jeans and panties. You’re soaked and you can still taste Joel’s spend on your tongue. You bring yourself off quietly with one hand between your legs, other hand covering your mouth as you cry out into the meat of your palm.

You come down, wiping your damp hand on your jeans before you exit, chest flushed. You start when you see Joel standing, waiting for you at the door. He eyes you curiously as you swallow a humiliated wince.

Did he hear anything? Doesn’t look like it.

"Ready to go?"

You nod.

It's not a coincidence that the ride back is always more pleasant. You think Joel must be sated, his irritation lessened by having his release. And you feel that drunken loose limb sensation of being used for pleasure.

You scour the perimeter with Joel, feeling your confidence grow. He's not critical anymore if you make a small mistake. He may make a scoffing noise or sigh heavily, but there's no more barbs tossed cruelly your way.

The ride back today is in silence but now it's a comfortable one. One that allows you to breathe deeply the crisp air and relish your time on Chestnut. One that reminds you of the beautiful world that clickers don't occupy.

One that feels remarkably like calm.

“You made it!”

Jennifer welcomes you into her home later that week with a wide smile and a squeal as she pulls you into a hug. You flinch at the contact, still not used to this kind of intimacy. You hang awkwardly back, looking around at her décor.

She takes your jacket and scarf, hanging it on the hook by the door before encouraging you to toe off your boots and come inside. When you finally enter you're greeted with pastel walls and warm, textured surfaces. Rugs, pillows, all of which she's made herself with scraps she had when she was working in textiles.

“I made my own dress for the school dance,” she tells you with a soft little smile. “Didn’t even get to wear it.”

She still sews most of her own clothes, blankets, curtains. But she likes being on patrols better, she tells you. It’s more exciting. Everything about her home feels warm and welcoming. A start contrast to your sterile home with its still packed boxes.

"Let's have a tea before we start."

Over the fairly bland beverage she talks animatedly about her life before Jackson city, about her brothers, about her family. You sit back and listen, occasionally nodding or sipping your tea. She doesn't ask you anything about yourself. If you were someone else perhaps it would offend you. As it is you like that you don't have to suffer through a stilted history of your own.

And there's something serene about Jennifer. Not just her warm home, but the way she talks so animatedly. You enjoy that when she smiles broadly you can see the tiny gap between her two front teeth. You like that she still finds life worth living. You like that she’s silly and un-serious.

You don't mind that she's only nice to you because she wants to get closer to Joel. You don't mind that her popularity means that more eyes are on you. You don't mind any of it because for once in what feels like a very long time you feel like you belong.

"Alright," Jennifer says when she sees the hour. "Let's get shootin'."

You follow her out to the far edge of the property, the isolated area of the town where others practice. There are cans on benches and targets on trees. It’s a quiet day, no one is around.

Jennifer has two long range weapons, ones she brought with herself on her trek to Jackson City. It’s heavier than the one they give you on patrols, but you think this is more useful anyway. She helps you to steady and brace it against your shoulder.

"Alright, plant your feet."

For the rest of the morning Jennifer teaches you the basics of shooting. How to hold the weapon correctly, how to brace yourself, how to position your feet, how to exhale before the shot. And while you do everything she says; your aim is always just slightly off. Jennifer seems perplexed by this.

"You’re not terrible," she concedes after an hour or so after you knock one of the distance cans to the ground. “You made it seem like you were so bad at this.”

You don't tell her that shooting with her is much less stressful. That her teaching is gentle and focused instead of tense and that it makes you feel confident. That you weren't always the shit shot that Joel thought you were. You're not great, but you're a far cry from useless. You give a shy shrug and focus on the far target, about to squeeze the trigger when you hear her beside you.

"Wait," Jennifer says with a frown.

You lower the gun, looking at her with raised brows. She’s peering into your face, her light eyes focused.

“Make a triangle with your fingers and hold your arms out straight in front of you,” she says, doing the same with her own. The tip of your thumbs and finger fingers press together gently. “You see that green tin can out there? Near the tree?”

“Yep.”

“Okay, with both eyes get it centered in that triangle.”

“Done.”

“Now close your left eye.”

“Okay.”

“Can you still see the can?”

“Not really.”

“S’what I thought,” Jennifer says thoughtfully. “Okay, now close your right and what happens?”

“I can still see the can.” You lower your hands, looking over your shoulder at a nodding Jenifer. “What does that mean?”

“It’s my fault, I just assumed since you were right handed that you were right eye dominant,” she explains, peering into your face again. “But you’re left eye dominant.”

You know very little about weaponry aside from what you’ve been taught, and that’s not a lot. Just enough for large game if it got close enough.

“You need your dominant eye over the bore,” she explains shifting the weapon and showing you how to peer into it now. “And it needs to be aligned with the target. It’s no wonder your aim is always slightly off. You’re a good shot, you just haven’t been trained properly.”

If experienced shooter Joel Miller had taken two minutes to teach you properly he would have noticed this. You wouldn't have struggled. It makes you secretly furious with him that he didn’t even attempt to help you.

“It’ll take practice,” Jennifer assures you as you ready yourself again. “But now that we know that, your aim is gonna be heaps better.”

For the rest of the morning you use this knowledge and proceed to knock off more of the tin cans, you hit the actual targets instead of the tree surrounding them and all the while Jennifer speaks softly and encouraging.

She herself is an amazing shot, easily shooting the targets in the center each time. You watch in quiet amazement at this pretty young woman who looks like a beauty queen but shoots like a military leader.

"You ever shoot an infected?” you can’t help but ask.

"Oh yeah, I've shot heaps," Jennifer tells you calmly like she's discussing the weather. She reloads her rifle, continuing to talk and that same dulcet tone. "I never had a hard time doin' it but my brother did. He said he was worried that they were still in there somewhere."

This makes you pause. "What do you mean?"

"The people who got bit," Jennifer explains before taking aim at the row of cans and closing her left eye. “My brother said that he heard from someone else that the people that got bit were still inside somewhere. Not in control of their bodies, watching it happen but stuck inside still aware of it all. When he told me that, I told him that shootin’ them is a kindness if anything.”

She pulls the trigger, but just as she does a nearby grackle soars between her gun and the target. You watch the bird fall to the ground, a bloom of red on its pale chest as it tumbles downward.

"Fuck." Jennifer frowns, moving towards the fallen animal.

You watch her quick stride and feel a stripe of cold go up your legs, curling in your stomach. Before you can stop yourself you've fallen to your knees, vomiting into the mud below. Jennifer notices, throwing the strap of her gun over her shoulder and rushing to your side.

"Jesus!" Jennifer cries out, going to hold your hair back as you feel another wave of nausea go through you. A mix of eggs and oatmeal litters the earth below you as she pulls your hair back from your face.

When the moment passes she hands you her water skin. “Here. Rinse. Are your okay?"

"Yeah," your say swirling the water in your mouth and spitting. "Think I ate too much at breakfast."

"Okay," Jennifer rubs a soothing circle on your back. "Just take it easy the rest of the afternoon, yeah?"

"I will, thanks."

She tells you that the two of you should meet again next week for more shooting practice. But you’re completely exhausted, your eyes wet and your mouth sour with sick so you can only offer a guttural nod and muted thank you.

When you get home you shower long and scrub at yourself in the warm water. You don’t feel like yourself. Too many thoughts are racing through your mind, making your extremities tremble and your heart race. You realize you’re almost out of soap and you frown, irritated.

You pull on warm clothes and pad to the table. You re-arrange the paper flowers you made for yourself. The colorful collection cheery in your boring home. You spend a few hours making more, a bigger bouquet to take to Maria. You hope it will bring her the same cheer it does for you.

That night as you go over the day you realize Jennifer didn’t mention Joel once.

The sun peeks over the mountains as you walk outside of town towards the soap makers the next morning.

It's a bit of a walk from your place but you don't mind. The air is crisp and your new boots are warm. You feel good as you stride over to the outer farms. There are very few of them, all reserved for community members that provide a certain skill.

The couple who make soap for the community are an older couple named Hannah and Herb. They have several goats on their property, and that's the milk that goes into the soap you all use.

You don't know the entire process or how they get it to smell like peppermint or tea tree or whatever scents they offer, but you're thankful for it all the same. It's creamy and feels divine on your skin each time you use it.

"Hi Hannah," you say giving a friendly wave. "I was just wondering-"

"I've got an almond and a lavender batch just made yesterday," she interrupts excitedly. Her aged cheeks are pink from the cold and when she takes your hand tugging you gently inside you feel the biting cold of her calloused fingers.

You've only met Hannah once before to replenish your soap. That day she was very busy with lots of Jackson folk’s orders and she'd barely looked up from her ledger as she took your house number and handed you a bag filled with thick, rectangular soaps.

Today she seems more calm, the farm empty likely due to the early hour. You’re thankful that she’s an early riser. She urges you into her home, motioning for you to follow her to the table.

"Tea, darlin’?"

"No thanks," you say feeling awkward with no one else around to buffer your shy nature. "Just came for the soaps."

"Ah, well, have a cuppa anyway," she says with a wink. "Herb's gone to the stables early and we usually start our day with one together."

You don't know how to refuse her again without being insulting so you nod and take a seat at her wooden table painted a shade of pale green. You sit rubbing your anxiously sweaty hands on your jeans. It's so warm inside here, the oven on and bubbling in the next room, the scent of lavender clinging to every surface.

You watch Hannah wander back into the room with a smile. She pushes her kinked grey hair out of her face with a bandana. You take off your knitted cap, finding the fire keeps this place nice and toasty.

"Here we are," she says kindly before placing the teacup before you. She puts her own before her chair before groaning lightly as her aged bones settle into the seat. She has to be at least seventy five, the oldest of the people here at Jackson.

You take a moment to glance around the cozy farmstead with its knotty pine walls and framed watercolor paintings. The curtains are handmade of gingham fabric and if you didn't know what happened to the world in the last few decades you could almost convince yourself that Outbreak Day never happen.

"You're still fairly new here,” Hannah comments after a long sip. "Kitchens is it?"

"I was, yeah,” you nod. "Patrols now."

Hannah hums in reply. "You like it?"

"Not really," your say shrugging with a crooked smile. Hannah laughs behind her hands girlishly.

"Blunt. I like that."

You take another sip of the tea, looking at the woman's chapped hands.

"Do you like making soap?"

"I did it all my life back on my farm in Idaho," Hannah offers by way of reply. She crosses her legs and leans back in her creaking chair. "Sold them at markets, never thought I'd be doing it at this age."

You look at the woman directly in the face now, struck by the fatigue you see in her eyes not related to age. A pang of sympathy goes through you at the thought of her working so hard her entire life.

"Do you need help?"

"Aren't you sweet, no I'm fine darlin'," Hannah says with a wave of her hand. "Besides I've got Herb and we're a good team."

"Good."

There's a knock at the door and you glance up from your tea as Hannah hobbles over to greet the figure at the door. You flinch as a familiar voice sounds out from behind you.

"Joel, right on schedule. Come in for a tea."

"Got coffee?"

"I do, Herb wanted one before he left," Hannah says with a nod. "Come join us."

You don't turn around when you hear the footsteps sound out along the wood floor behind you. You just stare at your tea, seeing your own concerned reflection in its sepia depths. You hold still as if that will stop Joel Miller from seeing you.

"'Lo," Joel offers in a murmur as he comes to take the empty seat between you and Hannah's steaming cup. You don't raise your head but you do offer a weak wave.

"Hi."

Hannah comes out of the kitchen with a new mug she hands to a grateful Joel.

"Sorry it's not the good stuff," she says with a laugh because there is no good stuff. Just the stuff people find, like the instant crystals unearthed last year from a bomb shelter.

"I'd do anything for a cup of real coffee," Joel says with a sigh as he takes the black coffee from Hannah's gnarled hand.

"Well you'll drink this and be happy about it."

"Yes ma'am."

You peek up just in time to see Joel flash Hannah a warm smile and it shocks you to the point that your mouth hangs open. He gives his smile out so freely to so many, but never to you.

Hannah looks between the two of you, brows cocked.

"Do you two know one another?" She asks motioning between you and Joel. You slam your mouth shut before he sees you staring.

"We're on patrols together," you murmur.

"Ah, I see." She turns to Joel with a thin smile as she sits.

An awkward silence extends over the table, both you and Joel unable to meet each other's eyes. You start to drink your tea in a hurry, despite it scalding your tongue.

Finally Hannah turns her wizened gaze on the equally quiet Joel.

"How'd Ellie like the last batch?"

"She liked it a lot," Joel nods politely before taking a sip from his mug. You don't miss the slight blink as the acrid flavor coats his tongue. "She wanted to know if you had any more almond?"

"I do," Hannah nods. "I'll make sure to pack you extra."

"Thanks kindly."

You bring your cup to your lips and start drinking quickly. You want to escape this impossibly warm room and Joel. Hannah must not notice the tension because she smiles between the two of you like you're old friends.

"How's your brother?"

"You see him more than I do these days," Joel muses. "He can't stop talking about what a difference your soap made for Douglas'' skin."

"Goats milk is perfect for eczema," Hannah acknowledges. "I used it on my kids when they were young."

Joel hums a reply, taking another sip of his coffee. Judging by the way he winces it’s pretty acrid.

"Tommy was here the other day," Hannah says thoughtfully to Joel. "Says someone brought paper flowers to Maria the other week. So beautiful and ornate and it must've taken them hours to do. Isn't that sweet? Apparently they barely even know the woman."

Your body tightens at this and for some unexplained reason your eyes dart to Joel's face. He's looking at Hannah perplexed.

"Why would she do that?"

"To be kind," Hannah replies. "To welcome your nephew to the community."

"You don't know who it was?"

"I should leave," you interject awkwardly.

At your loud blurt and abrupt jump up from your chair the two figures at the table glance over, looking at you in confusion. Joel is of course an unreadable enigma, but Hannah peers into your face.

"But-"

"Thank you very much for the tea," you bluster, tugging your cap back on and practically running from the room.

You burst out the front door, heart hammering in your chest. You don't know why but you didn't want to be there if Joel put two and two together. You didn't want to avoid his questioning glare.

You don't know why but you're certain he would have had something to say about it and it wouldn't have been kind. And it would have made you feel worse than ever.

You take your hat and scarf off, hanging them up before going to the kitchen. As you clean the crumbs from your counters and wash the few dishes in the sink you think about the patrols you’ll have with Joel in a few days.

Will things always be like this? Awkward and strained every time you run into him outside of patrols? Will there ever be an instance where the two of you might interact as friends? Is that even a possibility? Does Joel Miller have friends?

It’s hard to hate him when you know about his daughter. Harder still when you see how he is with Ellie. But at the same time, he doesn’t really endear himself to you. The two of you treat each other like transactions to get off. What sort of friendship could be borne of that?

There’s a knock at your door and you wonder if it’s Jennifer. You wouldn’t mind having her over sometime. You have playing cards, perhaps-

The idea leaves you as the door swings open to reveal Joel Miller standing on your porch, peering at you. His graying curls rustle slightly in the wind, his cheeks pink from the cold of his walk from the farm. In his hands he holds several bags of soap from Hannah and Herb.

"Hannah said you forgot these," Joel tells you handing you one of the bags full of new soaps. In your hurry to rush out the door you completely forgot your reasoning for being there. You feel embarrassment sweep over you.

"Oh. Thanks."

You take it hurriedly, feeling his glove against your finger as you tug it from his grip.

Manners would say you should invite him inside for a drink. But this isn’t really a social call and even if it was, what would the two of you talk about? It’s like pulling teeth for him to share anything about himself.

Joel's eyes dart from your face over your shoulder and it's too late before you realize that Joel has seen the colorful paper flowers sitting there on your table. Judging by the narrowing of his dark eyes it’s clear that he's drawn the inevitable conclusion.

"Thought so," Joel murmurs to himself before glancing back at you.

You flush as you wonder if he's thinking you're strange for bringing gifts to people you barely know. You wonder if he’s thinking that he’s an idiot for wasting his time with someone that makes paper flowers.

"Why'd you take ‘em to Maria?"

His voice isn’t cruel or rough, merely interested. Your eyes stay on the floor, unable to meet his face. There’s something about Joel’s eyes that are incredibly disarming at times. You think of how to answer this without exposing too much.

"I just wanted to do something nice for her."

"Why?"

Why did you do it? It wasn't that you felt you had to. More that you wanted to. That you had seen that acute sadness before and wanted to remedy it. Your eyes finally raise to his, seeing that he’s not frowning or angry-looking, he’s more just curious.

"I like making people happy, I guess?"

Joel stares at you a moment too long resulting in your pink face tilting to the floor once more. You feel heat creeping up your neck and you wonder how to excuse yourself without coming off too rude.

Joel steps forward slightly, more just shifting in place, but you find the motion makes every part of your body stand on end. He drops his voice to a husky rasp, hushed.

"You like what we do on patrols?"

It's a quiet ask, one so low and husky that it feels he's siphoning it through his thick boots. It's a loaded question, though. One that makes your stomach flip pleasantly. But you’re momentarily taken aback, the silence stretching on a few moments before you reply gently.

"Yeah."

"You doin' it for me or for you?"

This causes your mind to still. You'd never considered it would be for anyone but yourself. You take a moment to search your feelings and confirm that yes; this is for your pleasure. You consider that Joel could be anyone with a decent cock that propositioned you.

"For me."

That seems to answer something in him. He nods before sticking his gloved hands in the pockets of his dark brown leather jacket. He stares at you, unblinking before taking a step backwards.

"Alright then."

He turns away from you with no goodbye, no glance behind him. Just a casual nod and then his broad frame is lumbering away from you, leaving you to stare after him, wondering what on earth brought that about.

Chapter 7: Spoiled

Notes:

Alright y'all I got some amazing comments from a hilarious person from one of my other stories on here and it put me in such a good mood that I'm releasing this chapter ASAP. The comments really do make me write faster. . . hint hint... Thank you to everyone who takes time to comment, you don't know how good that makes me feel! Without further ado, here's the chapter and we find out a bit more about our MC's past and she and Joel finally talk about what's going on between them. . . sorta.

Chapter Text

You thought that the fear on patrols had abated. Not only were you on horseback, but you were paired with Joel, arguably one of the best shots in Jackson City.

So when he leads you to a path you aren’t familiar with, the first icy tendrils of fear slipping through you. When he orders you to stop your horse alongside his at the mouth of a forest you feel the overwhelming urge to vomit.

“Where are we?”

You speak so softly he doesn’t hear you, he stops just outside the dense forest, sliding off Midnight and tying him off to a nearby tree. He glances over his shoulder to see you still sitting atop Chestnut, your gun on your back and your eyes scanning the perimeter.

“What’re you waitin’ for?”

“What are we doing here?”

"We need to check the forest for traps," Joel explains to you. "The other patrol group sets ‘em up for large game. We check ‘em every couple of weeks."

"Why can't we take the horses?"

"Too dangerous for ‘em inside," Joel explains. "We take ‘em in just enough to hide them but the roots and terrain are too much for ‘em. Too easy to twist their ankles."

"Why can't the other patrols check?"

"They do," Joel says gruffly. "We take turns every week. This is our week. Now stop complainin' and let's go."

You slide off of Chestnut at his order, but you make no move to go towards the forest. Too much is happening, too many noises and sounds and fears.

"J-Joel, I can stay with the horses." You don’t even hide the panic that’s crept into your voice.

"I said let's go," Joel huffs, gripping you by the upper arm and dragging you into the forest with him. He keeps his grip on you the entire way to the traps, almost knowing that the second he releases you, you’ll go rushing from the horrible dense of the forest.

Your feet drag but his grip is so strong that it doesn’t matter. Eventually you fall in line, marching alongside him. He doesn’t see that your eyes are closed, that he’s guiding you blindly through the forest. You simply lean into his grip, letting him lead as you follow.

When you reach the traps a short while later he finally releases your upper arm. You find you immediately miss the safety of that grip and you are sure to stand close to him as he looks over the metallic traps.

“Why do you put them here?”

“S’where we find most of the game,” he explains distractedly as he surveys them. “Bait hasn’t been touched though, so nothin’s come by recently.”

He makes a circle around the perimeter and you can’t help but follow like a lost puppy. All of a sudden Joel stills. You can see the way his back goes rigid, his body coming to a full stop so abruptly you almost walk into him.

You hear it, the gentle popping noise and you feel your body go numb with shock.

Clickers.

This is it. You're done for. You can’t even reach for your weapon, can’t even move a fraction. You’ve gone rigid, your eyes blown wide.

Joel raises his gun and you wait for the creature to come charging out of the woods. You're confused when it goes off and a large bird falls to the ground away from you, thudding to the ground.

You’re still frozen in spot, watching as Joel walks over to it, nudging it with his foot. Satisfied he takes it by the beak, carrying it back to where you still stand looking terrified. His brows quirk.

“S’wrong with you?”

"I thought it w-was one of them,” you whisper. “A clicker."

"Clickers sound different," Joel tells your blanched face. "More of a wet sound. But these birds sorta sound like em. S'why I kill em when I can."

Joel looks to see your gun still strapped to your back, not even produced and you see irritation cross his face.

"What would you do if you saw a clicker heading your way?" Joel asks you as the two of you walk through the forest back to the horses. "If you had no weapon and I wasn't here?"

Joel isn't one for casual conversation so you're immediately on guard. This is a test. But one you don't know how to pass. You glance around at your surroundings, noting the rocks and fallen branches from the trees.

"Fire maybe?"

"You're gonna hunker down and build a fire while an infected is racin' towards you?" Joel scoffs.

"Oh right," you mumble, feeling shame paint your cheeks. Your eyes scan around you again. "Get a sharp stick? Stab it?"

"You get close enough to stab one you're already dead."

"A rock-"

Joel's deadened stare thrown over his shoulder at you stops you from guessing further and humiliating yourself. The two of you continue walking in silence before he finally breaks it.

"If you see something coming towards you and you don't have a weapon, you gotta think smart," Joel explains. "You climb a tree, a good sturdy, tall one with thick branches. Infected can't climb trees."

"I've seen ‘em climb ladders," you argue. "And cars."

"Barely," Joel says patting the large tree trunk to his right. "And they'll only try to climb if they hear you up there. Once you're in the trees you stay still and quiet. Same goes for Raiders. You hide yourself in the tree and don't move. It's your only hope."

"Okay."

"Repeat it."

"If I am unarmed and in danger I need to climb up a tree," you reply flatly. "I need to remain quiet and out of sight."

“Good.”

You shakily make it back to the horses and continue on with your usual patrols. When you get inside the old building and finish your log notes you pause to look at your dual signatures. How his wide printing almost looks like its shielding your tiny script.

He’s not as sullen as usual and you know it’s because of what’s going to happen. You share your lunch in an easy silence before you’re on your knees between he and the wall, your eyes covered by the red scarf, your hands bracing your thighs. His cock fills your mouth deliciously and you feel warmth blooming behind your ribs.

“Swirl your tongue,” he orders breathlessly and you acquiesce. You love that he tells you exactly what he wants. You love how good it feels to do this right, to have the rest of the world fade away, where all you can hear and smell and taste is Joel. To feel his heavy hand on the crown of your head, holding you gently in place.

He barely talks, just let's you bob your mouth along until you feel that familiar stutter of his hips that tells you he's close. He comes quickly today, his voice gruff.

"Swallow it down."

When you pull off him minutes later he doesn't unwind the scarf right away. You hear him breathing above you as he tucks himself away. Moments pass and you sit patiently, head cocked in curiosity. You feel as if he's staring at you, and you can't understand why.

Finally he comes to unwind the scarf from around your eyes. You expect him to wordlessly walk from you, but instead he’s panting softly, his cheeks stained with red. He looks at your mouth, his tongue trailing over his lower lip.

"Show me your tongue," he demands in a low voice.

Even though this request seems unlike him you tilt your head back, opening your mouth widely and sticking out your tongue to show your clean tongue.

You feel strangely vulnerable pierced by the quiet gaze of Joel Miller. You've done much filthier things than stick out your tongue but you're never been looking at him while you do it, able to see the haunted eyes that stare back at you.

"Good girl," he rasps.

You watch him zipping and buttoning his jeans before he casts one last look at you. He blinks slowly and then strides from the room, his face back in its customary scowl.

You listen for the front door downstairs to open and shut. You can’t even make it to the bathroom before your hands are sliding under your jeans and you’re whimpering as you bring yourself off to the rumbling chorus of good girl that echoes in your mind.

Later that week you artfully arrange the paper flowers in an amber wine bottle you got from the Tipsy Bison. You rest it on your kitchen table smiling at the colorful arrangement. After making Maria's second bouquet you found yourself eager to make one of your own to brighten the space. You like looking at it, enjoy seeing the bright colors in your unadorned home.

You take the secondary bouquet of colorful flowers and wrap them in a strip of old cloth. The weather is drizzling and you don't want them to be ruined. You hide them in a small linen bag you use for groceries and then pull on your coat.

The walk towards the dining hall is pleasant despite the drizzle and you're surprised at how many of the children laugh and run through the falling droplets. When you were a child there were always video games and television shows to occupy your space indoors on gloomy days. These children have none of those luxuries but you can’t help but observe that they look more joyful than you ever did.

No wasting life.

Breakfast with Jennifer is a quick affair. She’s with that group of friends you met a while ago. The only one who stands out to you is tall Luke with the easy smile and soft countenance. He makes you feel at ease when you’re around him.

“Have you been practicing your shooting?” Jennifer asks, looking effortlessly beautiful in her oversized sweater. Luke glances up from his breakfast, intrigued at the conversation. You pretend not to notice.

“Uh, not really. I don’t have a working gun of my own.”

Jennifer is wide-eyed. “How could you not tell me? I have one that I don’t even use anymore! Come by tomorrow and I’ll show you how to use it.”

“Really?”

“Really,” Jennifer insists with a smile that makes you feel warm from the inside out.

You’re incredibly grateful for the kindness Jennifer has shown you, and despite how popular and well liked she is, she’s taken you under her wing. She has nothing to gain from it – except perhaps intel on Joel which you never seem to have. But you’ve noticed she asks about him less, she’s more interested in you.

It’s like she might be your friend. The first real friend you’ve had in a long time.

The walk over to Maria’s place is a quick one. The raindrops have stopped thankfully, but you worry that the swollen grey clouds above you might open up at any second.

The door opens on your first rap as if Tommy was waiting for you to arrive. He gives you a warm greeting, opening the door further and the aroma of fresh coffee floats out to greet you.

"Hi. Is Maria around?"

"Yeah she is, we actually have some folks over now-"

"That's fantastic," you say to him quickly before producing the flowers from inside the makeshift wrapping. "I tried some new designs out. Thought Maria would like 'em. Have a good morning."

He takes the bundle from you before you prepare to take off. You're so happy to hear that Maria is doing better; it makes your heart feel full.

"Wait, I wasn't sayin' that so you'd go," Tommy chuckles, long fingers touching your shoulder to stop you from leaving. "Come inside. We're havin' coffee. Maria’d love to see you."

You pause before you think of what awaits you at home: nothing really. An empty house, no family, no books you haven't already read over and over. What could it hurt especially when it seems like his desire to have you come in might be sincere?

"Okay."

You’re about to toe off your shoes when you notice the scuffed boots and mud splattered sneakers sat next to the door and you feel your stomach flip. You recognize those boots.

Tommy doesn’t notice your sudden reluctance, he simply ushers you into the living room where everyone sits chatting quietly before the fire. Maria and Ellie are deep in conversation next to each other on the couch. Joel sits in one of the armchairs, his ankles folded. He looks so at ease, his eyes on Ellie and a paternal look of love in his eyes.

The second you enter the room however and his dark eyes move to take you in, you see the gentle curl of his mouth disappear.

Good girl.

You feel a flutter of nerves go through you and you force your attention to the back of Maria’s head.

“Look who dropped by with more flowers,” Tommy announces before looking at you. “You want a coffee or somethin’?”

“No, I’m fine thanks.”

Maria looks up from where she sits next to Ellie on the couch and smiles at you. Joel gives you a lazy once over before turning his attention to the gently roaring fire. You don’t miss the tic in his jaw and for a moment you actually feel guilty that you’ve broken up this peaceful morning for him.

“I’m so glad you came back,” Maria enthuses, her dark eyes shining with delight. “Please come take a seat.”

You settle into the empty chair by the fireplace opposite Joel as Tommy hands the flowers to Maria. You haven't seen Ellie much since she got irritated with you about the whole Jennifer thing. You give her a tentative smile from across the room, grateful when she returns it.

"That's so cool," Ellie marvels, touching the paper petals gently.

"I wish I knew how to make these," Maria sighs happily as she gazes at them. "Seeing the other ones every day makes the place feel so cheerful. I'm gonna put these ones in the baby's room."

"I could teach you how to make them if you wanted," you offer gently. "It's not too complicated."

You hope you don’t sound pathetic and needy. There’s something about Maria’s vulnerability that calls to you. It makes you want to protect her in some way. You realize belatedly that it’s not just your Aunt she reminds you of, but your sister.

"I don't think I'd have the patience," Maria says with a gentle wave of her hand. "I just like looking at them."

"I wanna learn," Ellie pipes up, making you suppress a pleased grin. "I like flowers."

"Since when?" Joel murmurs with a smirk. You sneak a glance at him before looking back to Ellie who frowns at her father-figure.

"I've always liked flowers."

"Thought you were dead set on learnin' to bake," Tommy muses over his coffee mug. “I

"Maybe I wanna learn both," Ellie snarks back at him. "Is that a fuckin' crime?"

"Language," Joel mutters in her direction.

"I'm happy to teach you both," you say with a little laugh to yourself. "Thought I can't say I'm an expert on either."

"Really?"

"Yeah, of course," you say before your eyes sail over to the unmoving authority figure by the fireplace. "If that's okay with you?"

"Only if she's done with her chores," Joel finally supplies with a sigh, gripping his coffee mug a little tighter. "And if you don't break the damn oven."

Of course his assumption would be that you'd break something. You try to hold in the grimace that threatens to spill over your features.

Ellie makes a little hiss of victory before giggling at you. You feel the frost from your Jennifer misstep is behind you now. The sound of Douglas’ cries break into the room and both Maria and Tommy quickly move into the bedroom to console him. You look back at Ellie.

"How's school?"

"Boring," she answers honestly. "Can't wait until I'm done with it."

"I miss it," you tell her honestly as you shift in your chair. "I really loved being in class, sharing ideas, learning."

"You're weird."

"Ellie," Joel warns.

"S'fine," you say with a soft chuckle. "I am weird."

Before Joel can reply Maria and Tommy have re-entered the room with Tommy holding a drowsy Douglas in his arms with Maria trailing after the two of them.

"He heard your voice and wanted to say thank you for the flowers," she says kindly.

You smile as Douglas is placed gently into your arms by Tommy while the glossy eyed Maria looks on. You smile down at the sweet angelic face, your voice a soft murmur.

"Well, you're very welcome, Douglas."

The baby blinks, grunting a moment and wiggling. He's warm in your arms, but not heavy. You slowly rock him in your embrace inhaling the sweet scent of milk and that intoxicating baby smell.

"Hello," you coo softly at him as he stretches. Maria joins Tommy on the couch next to Ellie, curling her legs under her.

The rest of the group has begun talking about the movie playing this weekend. Trying to decide between a western and some Disney thing someone found on patrols. You're distracted by Douglas' long eyelashes over caramel skin. The pout of his pink mouth and the way he gurgles a toothless smile up in your direction.

"Adorable," you murmur, grazing his cheek with the pad of your thumb. "Aren't you just the sweetest thing, little Miller?"

You grin widely down at him, wanting to press a kiss to his downy forehead but holding back. He's not your family after all. Instead you take his tiny hand in yours, marveling at the perfection of his small fingers dwarfed by your own.

"He's so perfect," you mutter more to yourself than anyone else.

"Gets his good looks from his mama," Tommy says throwing his arm over Maria's shoulders. He presses a kiss to her cheek as she grins.

"Ain't that the truth," Joel murmurs, drawing a good natured chuckle from Tommy.

"You want kids?" Ellie asks you bluntly, forcing the attention of the room your way. You take a moment to consider the question.

"I dunno," you finally answer honestly. "Never really thought about it."

"I sure don't," she replies easily. "They're noisy, they stink, and they’re just too much work."

"Same could be said for teenagers," Joel murmurs behind his coffee cup, drawing chuckles from everyone but Ellie who gives him a playful shove.

You suppress a smirk before your finger traces down the soft cheek of Douglas''. He blinks up at you, gurgling again.

"Motherhood looks natural on you," Maria says in a voice laced with sorrow. You know what she's thinking. Tommy is glancing at her with concern in his features.

"Not as natural as on you, Maria," you assure her kindly. "I promise."

Maria nods but it's clear she doesn't believe you. You don't know that you believe you either. But she needs to hear it, needs to know that she possesses it even if it doesn't feel like it right now.

Tommy shoots you a grateful smile that you return. You can only imagine how hard it is to love someone so much and not be able to fix them. To have so few options to help now in this new world.

"So you’re interested in the kitchen still, Ellie?" Tommy teases her. "Gonna whip us up somethin’ good? Be a real Martha Stewart?"

Ellie wrinkles her nose. "A who?"

Ellie starts talking about the kitchen but you're distracted by the bundle in your arms. Douglas has fallen asleep again and his tiny snores makes your mouth curl into a bemused smirk.

You feel eyes on you and when you glance up you're surprised to see Joel's steady gaze on you holding the baby. When he catches you looking his way, his eyes snap over to his brother who is explaining all about Martha Stewart.

"We've got stuff to do," Joel says pushing himself up from the chair. "C'mon Ellie."

"I wanna stay."

"You've got chores," Joel tells her firmly. "And you've put ‘em off all week. Let's go."

His tone is stern but his face is pure patience as Ellie sighs dramatically. She comes to a stand sighing again and about to leave when she seems to remember something and steps towards you, her face suddenly animated.

"How about Sunday for baking? You can come to ours."

Go to Joel’s house? The thought has you in a panic, your eyes darting from her to Joel. "Uh, if it's okay with-."

"Joel is that okay?" Ellie claps her hands in front of her dramatically and she turns to face him. "Pleeeeeease?"

Joel moves his tongue to the corner of his cheek, looking thoughtfully at Ellie’s desperate face before sighing wearily.

"Just tell me what I need to get," Joel says to the space beside your head. "Eggs ‘n stuff like that."

"Sure. I'll give you a list on Thursday."

Joel nods, still not making eye contact with you but that's okay. You don't really want him to. Just the mention of Thursday has you slick between your legs. You may not like Joel Miller but the thought of what the two of you get up to on patrols makes it easy to get through uncomfortable interactions with him.

The door creaks shut behind them as they leave and you take a few moments to rock the baby in your arms until Maria gives a soft yawn and you worry you’ve overstayed your welcome.

"I should probably go too.”

"Don't go," Maria insists almost desperately, her eyes wide. "He looks so happy with you holding him."

You see the tears gathering in her eyes and you adjust the baby in your arms before sliding off your chair. Tommy seems to sense that you need privacy because he gathers the empty mugs and walks into the kitchen to wash them.

You stand, coming to sit next to Maria on the warm couch. She looks at Douglas warily, as if he's a stranger's child.

"Hold him, Maria."

"I can't."

"You can," you insist softly. "He's your son."

"I know he is," Maria says, tears gathering at the corner of her eyes. "I look at him and I'm so confused. I carried him; I fed him with my own body. Why don't I feel that connection like other mom's do?"

"You're not the only one," you tell her, hand on her shoulder. "My aunt went through the same thing. Gave birth to my cousin and felt nothing. She wasn't herself for months. You’re not alone, Maria. You’re not a bad mom; you’re not a bad person. This isn’t something you’re doing on purpose. It’s your brain.”

Maria shakes her head, as if the words don’t mean anything. You know she hears them, but she can’t accept them.

“You have a husband and friends to support you. I promise you that you'll get to the other side. I promise."

You know that it's a heavy gamble. But she needs to know that there's hope. She needs to know that this illness has plagued women across centuries. She looks at Douglas’ sleeping frame and after a moment of hesitation she allows you to place him in her arms. You watch as her eyes get soft, her breathing slowly decreasing.

"Some days I really feel like he's mine," Maria murmurs as she drags a gentle finger down the slope of his tiny nose. "Some days my heart feels like its overflowing. And sometimes that's worse than not caring."

You're silent, just listening to her speak.

"Love makes you weak and afraid. I've never been afraid of anything," Maria tells you, rocking Douglas gently in her arms. "But now that's all I am. Like one exposed nerve.”

Fat tears are sliding down her cheeks. You can’t help but run a soothing hand down her spine, rubbing up and down gently. She accepts your touch, even melts back into it.

"We shouldn't have done it," Maria hiccups a sob. "We were fucking idiots to have a baby in this world."

“You aren’t an idiot,” you insist. “You and Tommy loved each other so much you wanted to create life together. How is that stupid? That’s the most beautiful thing in the world.”

Maria sniffles, tears dropping onto the blanket holding Douglas.

“All I can think about is what I'd do if Raiders broke in. Or what if Douglas got bit? Or what would happen if Tommy and I got killed on patrols? I'm terrified to leave him alone. Terrified that something is gonna happen to him if me or Tommy aren't around."

You can hear the clattering of mugs being washed in the kitchen. You wonder if Tommy is listening and you hope that he is, because you worry he might be having the same fears.

“Douglas is going to grow up, just like all the other kids in Jackson City. Happy and safe and loved. He’s going to grow up to be a good person just like his parents. He’s going to be smart and kind and who knows, maybe he’ll be part of finding a cure.”

Maria blinks over at you as if just realizing this possibility.

"Maria I never had kids," you tell her, hand rubbing over her own. "But I had a younger sister and she felt like my kid sometimes. Especially when my parents got separated when we were fleeing the city.

Maria stares at you, rubbing the tears from her eyes.

"When the pandemic started my mom was visiting her Aunt in Wyoming," you explain. "My sister and my dad and I, we escaped to the nearest QZ."

“I never saw my Mom again,” you explain and you’re shocked at how deadened your voice sounds. It’s no longer a hurtful memory, more just a patchwork on the quilt of your trauma. Its life, you’ve accepted it. “The first day I got here I was sure I’d find her here. Sure that she survived somehow.”

“But she wasn’t here,” Maria finishes for you. “I would have recognized the last name.”

You shake your head slowly. “She wasn’t here.”

You think Maria might want to ask more about your history but you hear Tommy's voice filter in from the kitchen.

"Joel, what're you still doin' here?"

Your head snaps to look over your shoulder. Joel is here? Had he heard anything? The thought curdles your insides. It was hard enough sharing this much with Maria. Knowing that Joel might have overheard is much worse.

"Saw Jason out by the gates and he said that the lumber’s coming in Saturday,” Joel mutters. You can't see him in the next room but you hear the scrape of his boots on the wood flooring. "Thought you’d wanna know so you could get a group together.”

The two men mumble back and forth to each other and you hear the telltale sound of the door opening and closing behind Joel. You feel your heart hammering in your chest, suddenly anxious at the thought that Joel knows about your life.

Tommy enters back into the room, his eyes on Maria. He sees her holding Douglas and you can see the sun break into his previously cloudy eyes.

"I should get going." You stand, looking down at Maria’s tear-stained face. "Sorry for showing up unannounced."

"You're welcome anytime," Tommy assures you warmly before coming to sit next to his wife. He slings his arm around her shoulders, looking down at his son in her arms.

"Yeah," Maria agrees with a watery smile. "Please stop by again soon. I mean it."

“Okay, I will.”

Joel seems strange on patrols today.

It started with handing him the list of supplies you’d need for baking. Instead of a smart remark he just nodded, taking it from you and shoving it into the back of his jeans pocket. The ride to Teton Village had been in its usual silence, you noticed that the snow from last week had turned into a slushy mess which meant the horses moved a little slower.

By the time you reached the old building with its log book you were more than a little eager. You’d woken up that morning particularly slick between the legs, a Pavlovian response to patrol days.

Joel is still near silent, not even looking at you when he brings out his bag for lunch. He pushes your sandwich and thermos to you, watching you carefully as you eat. Normally Joel stares anywhere but your face during patrols, unless he’s getting angry with you. Today however he seems a bit tense, his gaze a bit heavier than usual.

It makes you uncomfortable. It makes you wonder what he’s thinking.

“I feel like Chestnut was walking a little weird the last mile or so,” you observe to break the silence. “Do you think you could take a look at his horseshoe before we go?”

“Sure.”

“Thanks.”

The quiet stretches on,

“So what was the lumber for?”

“Huh?”

“You mentioned lumber back at Tommy’s,” you say, feeling like the peanut butter is sticking to the roof of your mouth. “I was wondering what it was for.”

“S’for repairs on the window upstairs,” he tells you gruffly, taking a large bite of his sandwich.

“Oh right.”

You decide not to press things; he doesn’t seem to be in the chatting mood. Lunch passes slowly, despite your anticipation for what comes next. Your heart is actually thrumming when Joel wipes his hands on his jeans and tilts his head for you to follow him.

You go into the room with the fireplace and couch and watch him shift into a comfortable seated position. The old frame creaks under his bulk and he stares at you standing, waiting and watching him. He undoes his belt buckle, the clinking noise causing your thighs to press together tightly.

You walk towards him, eyes on his large hands.

"On your knees."

You acquiesce without thought, your jeans biting into the cold floorboards below. Joel watches you from under hooded eyes. The sight of him seated there disheveled, belt unbuckled and legs spread does something to you.

When he doesn't make a move for your scarf or anything else you feel a prickle of insecurity go through you. You blink up at him, swallowing only to have him frown down at you.

"Do you actually like this?"

You don't like the way he says it, like there's something wrong with you if you do. You stand shakily, your eyes on the floor as you give him your murmured response.

"I do, yeah."

Joel is a statue with eyes that burn like coal. You feel them even if you don't see them until you peer at him still seated insouciantly there on the couch.

"You like me orderin' you around?" His voice is grated around the edges, his eyes holding nothing but disbelief. "Tellin' you what to do?"

"I like you being in charge," you correct.

"Why the fuck would you want somethin' like that?” Joel insists, cheeks pinking. “Someone orderin' you around?"

"I think you need it the same way I do. Only you need to be giving the orders. Am I right?"

Joel swallows and you see his large eyes widen a fraction as he takes in your words. You feel strangely emboldened by his lack of response, by the fact that you’ve taken him by surprise. And perhaps since you’ve been doing this for over a month you feel that you can voice this.

"Am I right?"

He still doesn't reply, instead he crosses his thick arms over his chest and just stares you down. It doesn't intimidate you like it once did, but it does prompt you to answer him.

"Because when you make the rules and do the ordering my mind goes quiet," you explain softly. "I'm not afraid, I'm not angry, I'm just... Free. I'm not in control but I'm choosing not to be."

And you know just by the way his shoulders relax that Joel understands. He understands because it's what happens when he has you under his palm, mouth sliding on his cock, when he wraps the scarf around your eyes and tells you not to touch.

The choosing. The control.

You’d known from the very first time he'd given you the order. You'd seen in there in the dark of his eyes that he liked the dynamic.

But you sense the hesitancy in him, a guilt that he shouldn't be enjoying it so much. His eyes take on a large, wounded appearance and it’s so clear that he’s wondering if he’s done something wrong.

"You've never given me anything I didn't want, Joel.”

That seems to get through to him, because he blinks away that little lost boy gaze.

You lower yourself to a kneeling position at his feet again. But you make no move to touch him. You simply bow your head, your hands clasped demurely on your thighs. You hear him shift unconsciously in his seat.

"What're you doin'?"

"Tell me what to do, Joel."

You stare at his boots, never venturing to his face but you can feel him watching you, his large hand twitching at his side on the cushion. He looks down at you with uncertainty as you eventually tilt your face up to him.

"Tell me what to do," you urge him again in a voice barely above a whisper. "Please."

You feel a rush of relief go through you when he nods and you can see the hard length of him through his jeans. You gingerly pull the scarf from around your neck, letting it hang in your grip loosely. You wait for him to retrieve it, eyes on the floor.

"No scarf," he rasps. "I know you'll listen. Close your eyes."

You do, feeling that tingle go through your body at his order. His large hand comes to the crown of your head, fingers snaking through the strands and tugging your face up. You keep your eyes firmly shut, not even considering peering through your lashes to see his face. You have your orders.

"Take me out and suck."

And you do, just as you have every other patrol for the last month. Only now it feels so much better because there’s no confusion. He gives you take, you give he takes. Your submission driving him forward, his domination calming your overworked nervous system.

"You do like takin' orders," he observes with a groan. "Like bein' told that you're a good girl."

Your breathing elevates when you hear that term and you just know the corner of his mouth twitches.

"Yeah. S'what I thought."

His hand is still wrapped in your hair, tugging you gently. Your lips feel rubbery and wet as you take him deeper. Your hands remain clasped on your lap. When you feel Joel twitch on your tongue you give a soft sigh through your nose, a feeling of blissful satisfaction.

"Look at me," Joel murmurs.

You take a moment to consider if you heard him right, but then he repeats himself and you slowly gaze up the length of him. He's tilted over you with heavy eyes, mouth parted. A greying curl is stuck to his sweaty forehead.

"Christ," he grits through his teeth. "Look ‘atcha there, mouth stuffed with my cock."

Desire blooms in you, snaking behind your ribs, down your veins, into your very bloodstream.

"What happened to that soft thing makin' cookies?"

You happened, Joel.

When Joel's quiet rasp reaches you again you physically shiver.

"You like bein' on your knees for me?" Joel grunts as his hips jerk forward.

You nod, your cheeks hollowing as you take him deeper into your throat. He lets out a strangled noise, tossing his head back.

"Fuck!" Joel glances down to see you still staring up at him, lips swollen around his shaft. "Look away now."

It doesn't sound like a cruel order, more a plea. You close your eyes, giving a small noise of protest when Joel brings himself out of your mouth.

"Wanna come on your tits," he instructs with a rasping growl and you hear him stroking himself furiously. "Take em out for me."

Despite this being uncharted territory for you both you don't hesitate. Your hands fumble with your sweater and you pull it over your head, tossing it to the floor. Joel watches as you unclasp your bra, letting it join the sweater. Your nipples tighten in the cool air of the room.

You're still not looking up at his face as instructed; so you don't know what he thinks. All you know is that the stroking is increasing.

"Head back, eyes closed," he pants, his voice tight.

You tilt your head back, eyes firmly closed. You feel vulnerable in this position, an animal who has bared their neck to a predator. Despite this you cup your breasts, offering them to him.

"Good girl," Joel says with a grunt. "Fuckin' good… So good for me."

And the praise hits you so strongly that you whimper aloud. This is what sends Joel over the edge and he comes with a strangled groan, painting your tits with stripes of his warm spend.

Your dual panting fills the room and you wish you could see yourself covered in Joel Miller's come. You wonder what he sees when he looks down at you covered in his essence. Proud? Embarrassed? Guilty?

"Open your eyes."

You blink them open immediately, your gaze flying to your chest covered in him before glancing up at him. Joel is breathing heavily through his nose, looking at you as if he’s still not convinced you’re real.

He reaches towards you and you don’t flinch when you watch his thumb come to gently trace over your right nipple, the spend there clinging to his digit. You feel a shiver run through with the contact of his hand on you.

You watch mesmerized as his palm cups your cheek, his fingers curling gently against your jaw. His thumb hovers scant inches from your swollen lips. Your eyes can't help but dart to his face again and the sight of his eyes blown black makes you quiver.

"Open," he says barely above a whisper.

Your mouth parts, eyes still on his face. He slowly lowers his thumb into your mouth. It rests there on your tongue, heavy and damp.

"Suck."

Your lips wrap around his thumb, licking the digit clean before sucking it suddenly, nestling him into the concave of your upper palate like he belongs there. He watches this all with quiet fascination, eyes strangely sorrowful through it all, like it pains him to do it. You suck, your smooth tongue cradling his wide thumb.

His hand is still cupping your cheek, even when his thumb is removed and drags down your lower lip, his gaze watching its descent. His brows saddle when you sigh gently, eyes locked with his.

And then he yanks his hand from you so quickly that you flinch. You’re completely thrown by the behavior, covering your chest instinctively. He looks at you kneeling between his legs and he shakes his head as if to clear it.

You shuffle backwards as he stands abruptly. You sit there at his feet, covered in his cooling spend, shooting him a confused look.

"We ain't doin this anymore," he tells you brusquely as he quickly zips up his jeans before buttoning it with trembling fingers.

"Why not?"

"Cuz I said so," he mutters before he shoots an ugly sneer your way. "You said you like takin' orders so this must be your lucky day."

You can only shake your head in disappointment as he leaves the room. You don't know what happened but Joel is back to his old, asshole self. The door below slams behind him and you go to the bathroom to clean yourself up. Today there is no sliding your hands underneath your jeans and getting yourself off.

Everything has been spoiled by Joel's selfishness.

Chapter 8: Shoulder to Shoulder

Notes:

I got some amazing comments here on A03 where one user breaks down each chapter and highlights what they liked with hilarious commentary (which makes me as an author feel loved) and I'll be honest its what has me tip tapping away so quick! Please be sure to spread the love and leave a comment! And also maybe lets say thank you to @Wednesdaybb because without her stellar commentary this week I don't know that I would have written so much so fast!
LoveIvy- poor Jennifer! No one trusts her!
Katalimar - Thank you hon. sometimes I feel like no one reads my stuff unless I get comments!
pastelpinkflowers - there's lots more to uncover with our MC I promise ya!
Krystalblue - you are not the only one with Jennifer/MC hopes - but I'm sorry to tell you its all platonic! Jennifer reminds MC of her sister!
bbjean666 - We will comes to see more of why Joel is the way he is, and *thank you* the BDSM community is really treated like shit thanks to a certain series. I try to use it as nuanced and respectfully as possible.
SmellsLikeExistentialEnnui - I'm gonna try to get "sweet little country fried brain of his" into one of my fics before the end of April. heh heh.
And to every single one of you who commented encouraging, thoughtful words please know I read em all at least four times!

Chapter Text

You're halfway through your latest acquisition, The DaVinci Code, a book Jennifer lent you last week. You're so engrossed in a world so unlike your own that you're startled when Ellie slaps herself across from you at the table, barking out your name.

"When are we baking?"

"I gave Joel the list the last time I saw him," you tell her honestly. "As soon as he has the ingredients we can do it."

Ellie sighs, slumping in irritation.

"Who knows when that'll be," she groans. "He takes forever to do stuff."

You watch as her posture suddenly stiffens, her eyes peering over your shoulder.

"What's wrong?"

"Dina." Ellie sneers. "She's so annoying."

Your glance over your shoulder to see Dina laughing with a group of teens. Your eyes dart back to Ellie's face to see her cheeks are flushed and she's still staring over your shoulder.

"Ellie, have you ever heard the saying that there's a fine line between love and hate?"

"No."

"When I was your age it was the people that I pretended not to like that I actually did," you tell her sagely. Ellie wrinkles her nose.

"What does that mean?"

"It means I wonder if you might have feelings for Dina," you say softly. "Romantic feelings."

You don't want to scare her, but you also can sense that there's something there.

"She's a girl," Ellie laughs, but her smile is flat.

"So?"

"So I'm a girl," Ellie tells you as if you're dim.

"Girls can like girls."

Judging by the way Ellie stares at you, this concept is either foreign to her or she doesn't want to share this part of herself with you just yet.

You see the way Ellie squirms in her seat, her cheeks pinking and you decide to drop the subject. You go back to your book, chewing your oatmeal slowly. You feel Ellie's eyes on you.

"Could you come over this week anyway?" She asks, eyes wide. "We could make those paper flowers like you made for Maria?"

The thought of being in Joel's home so close to your last interaction with him makes you work hard to hold back your grimace.

"Why don't you come to mine?" You ask, trying to sound neutral. "I have all the supplies there."

"Okay, I'll tell Joel," Ellie is smiling brightly. "And maybe-"

Before she can finish you hear your name being called. Ellie's scowl is back as she watches Jennifer round on the table, her tray filled with eggs, oatmeal and tea. Behind her is Luke is giving you both a shy smile.

"Morning guys," Jennifer says brightly. "Mind if we join you?"

"I'll let you know when Joel gets the stuff," Ellie mutters to you, preparing to stand. "See you later."

"You don't have to leave," Jennifer insists in a saccharine tone you just know Ellie despises.

Ellie mutters about needing to get to school, sliding off the bench seat and moving past Jennifer who tries to throw a smile her way.

"Bye Ellie."

Jennifer slides her tray across from you, slumping into her seat, obviously disappointed. Luke takes the empty bench seat next to her, his eyes on his food.

"She hates me," Jennifer says with a frown.

"Nah she's just shy," you lie, not wanting Jennifer's feelings to be hurt. She gives you a knowing smile before looking at the novel in your hands.

"You enjoying the book?"

"Yeah, thanks for lending it to me," you say with a smile.

"I liked his first one Angels and Demons,” Luke offers gently when he sees what you’re reading, his voice a husky murmur. You like how he doesn't quite meet anyone's eyes when he talks. It's endearing.

"I’ve never read his stuff before,” you offer. “Not particularly good writing, but it’s nice to read about somewhere that isn’t all raiders and clickers.”

Jennifer watches the two of you as she sips her tea, her light eyes volleying between the two of you as you talk about the book.

"I thought Luke could shoot with us today," Jennifer says with a queer little smile. "He was saying he wanted to get better for when he and I are on patrols. Is that okay?"

Luke gives you a nervous little smile. "I understand if you just want it to be you two."

You find the thought of more time spent with Luke to be a very appealing idea.

"Of course you can join."

"Great."

You watch Jennifer and Luke who chat quietly to one another, feeling strangely left out. You preferred it when it was just Jennifer with her soft way of talking to you.

Luke excuses himself to get some more eggs and the second he's out of earshot Jennifer is leaning forward conspiratorially.

"He's cute, huh?"

"I guess, yeah."

"Pretty sure he likes you," Jennifer giggles. "I mentioned we were doing shooting lessons and he was suddenly all keen."

You feel your cheeks heat up at the suggestion. Romance has never really been something you thought about. Survival had always been your focus, even here in Jackson where you have a warm bed and a roof over your head the back of your mind is always fixed on what could come next.

"He's nice," is all you offer.

It's a honest reply because, you really do think he's nice. He's gentle and he doesn't make you feel anxious like some of the leering men of Jackson. He’s soft and quiet and maybe that’s what makes your pulse jump a bit when he rejoins you seconds later.

///

"You close one eye completely, you lose peripheral vision and depth perception, and you need these to acquire the target and determine lead."

Jennifer speaks like she's reading from a book that everyone has already read and memorized. But none of it makes sense to you and you feel your frustration building.

You and Luke have been practicing with her all afternoon, your forehead dotted with sweat. And while yes, your shot is much better now that you’re aiming with the right eye, you feel like you’re still not good enough.

“You’re doing so well,” she encourages nonetheless, smiling at you.

“You really are,” Luke insists from behind you. Luke is a fast learner, already a decent shot. He’s been doing it a lot longer than you have, and using the correct eye.

“Not good enough,” you mutter sourly to yourself. “Missed that last can.”

Jennifer looks over to the can placed at a fair distance in one of the trees. You’ve hit most of the other ones, but that one keeps evading you.

“Honey that’s a far shot,” Jennifer says covering her eyes with her hand to block the winter sun. “Even I don’t get it most of the time.”

“I didn’t get it once.”

For some reason you can’t stop hearing Joel’s voice in the back of your head: useless. It feels like with every miss you’re just proving his point further.

“Okay sourpuss,” Jennifer says with a roll of her eyes. “We’re taking a break and getting a drink down at the Bison.”

The two of you agree, falling in line behind her. You watch her light hair dance in the breeze as she chats animatedly to the two of you. You wonder why she isn’t inviting her other friends to join you when it belatedly hits you.

She’s trying to get you and Luke together. You think of her winks and nudges and suddenly you know exactly what she’s doing. You want to be embarrassed or even irritated, but instead you find your heartbeat jumping.

The three of you leave your weapons at Jennifer’s before heading down into town. Your mood is lightened a bit by their company and the bright day. Snow has come to Jackson, just a small sprinkling but a definite harbinger of greater snowfall ahead.

The three of you push into the rowdy pub, filled with familiar faces. Some play cards, others are telling stories over pints. A woman named (Reba or Rebecca you think?) stands behind the pub, waving you in and telling you to shut the door because of the draft.

A few folks wave and call out hello’s to Jennifer who returns them with a beaming smile.

The three of you find an empty booth and pull off your jackets and scarves. You take a seat in the booth against the wall, a habit from before; you like to know what’s going on. From here you can see most everything and everyone who enters the space. Jennifer sits opposite you, Luke following close behind. From here you can see his face, taking in the friendly way his eyes crinkle when he smiles, and the slight gap in his front teeth.

The Tipsy Bison is self serve and you offer to grab the first round, thanking Reba at the bar and bringing the three gold-colored pints over to the table. Luke and Jennifer are deep in conversation about home repair. They look up and thank you when you slide their drinks to them across the lacquered table.

“I still can’t believe they have a jukebox,” Luke breathes, his eyes lighting up when he gazes at the glowing machine. It plays a pulsing beat that you aren’t familiar with, something to keep the space feeling inviting.

“Go put on a tune,” Jennifer insists, nudging him with her elbow. “Something good.”

Luke gives a toothy grin before nodding. The two of you watch his lanky frame make his way over to the jukebox, heard only faintly over the din of the patrons. You watch him go, your eyes sliding over to Jennifer when she giggles.

“You like him.”

“No I don’t,” you answer reflexively. Your cheeks burn and Jennifer knows not to push it further right now. It’s like she can tell you’re a turtle who will retreat inside her shell if threatened. You think of how to distract her, to turn her to another topic, her favorite one.

“Seen Joel lately?”

You hate how his name sounds in your ears. You hate the syllables, hate how it feels in your mouth like a bitter candy. But you don’t tell her that.

You don’t tell Jennifer that since he came on your tits and announced your carnal times had come to an end that you’d actively avoided him. That you hadn’t come out of your house until this afternoon to practice shooting. That you were going so far as to eat tinned soup just so you wouldn’t run into Ellie at meals.

"I swear I give up," Jennifer sighs, dropping her voice to a whisper only the two of you can hear. "Joel Miller is a lost cause. I've given him every hint."

"Maybe he's just shy," you offer with a shrug. For all you know he might be.

"Or maybe he doesn't like me," Jennifer sighs. "Maybe I'll just be single forever."

You smirk at Jennifer's amusing propensity for the dramatic. As if someone that looked and acted like her could be single forever. Beautiful? Check. Good with weapons? Check. Confident? Check. You muse that if you were attracted to women you’d want her for yourself.

"Or maybe he likes someone else," Jennifer offers with a shrug but your attention is back on Luke who is approaching the table. The gentle strains of some old song play in the background. You think you recognize it from car rides with your family. Luke takes his seat next to Jennifer, his eyes scanning between the two of you.

“What did I miss?”

“Just Joel Miller talk,” Jennifer sighs, plopping her chin in her hands. “The man is an enigma.”

"That's the nicest way of saying asshole that I've ever heard,” you mutter.

Jennifer sputters a laugh at your mumbled remark, almost dribbling out some of her beer.

"Shit, you're funny."

You smile into your mug, trying not to feel too pleased with yourself and failing miserably. You can't remember the last time someone told you that you were funny. Your sister most likely. It feels good.

Before long the three of you have been talking for almost an hour. Your pints are drained and its Luke who stands, cracking his back until you hear the pops.

"I'm going to get another drink. You ladies want anything?"

"I’m okay but she’ll have another," Jennifer says cheerfully pointing at you. When Luke is out of earshot up at the bar she leans across the table in your direction again.

"I don’t care what you say, you like him and he likes you. I'm sure of it. Just look how attentive he’s being."

You feel your face flush, pleased. You don't know how she came to this conclusion but you like the sound of it. The door to the Bison props open and you hear Reba sigh as she pours another whiskey for a sleepy looking woman at the bar.

“Tommy close that dang door unless you wanna rustle us up a space heater!”

You feel your eyes drawn over to the door with a small smile starting. It immediately falls from your face when you see that Tommy isn’t alone. His older, taller, sulk of an asshole brother is with him too.

"It’s him," Jennifer whispers, glancing over her shoulder

Fuck.

Joel Miller walks into every space like he owns it and is disappointed by it. His heavy lidded eyes sail around the room, taking in the patrons, offering polite nods and tight-lipped smiles at the ones he recognizes.

Luke is retrieving the two pints of beer when the Miller brothers take a seat on the empty stools at the bar while Reba busies herself with another customer. You watch over Jennifer’s shoulder as Luke says something you can't hear to Joel. Joel is wearing a glower so menacing it almost makes you gulp. Tommy gives his brother a strange look before answering Luke.

You turn back to Jennifer, trying to hide the smirk at her dreamy look. You almost laugh when she unbuttons her cardigan until the swell of her cleavage is showing.

“Just go over to him.”

“I can’t,” she says breathless as she looks back to you. “I don’t wanna be too obvious.”

“Never stopped you before,” you joke before freezing when Jennifer’s eyes go wide.

Was that joke too far? Have you fucked this all up? You feel your throat go dry before Jennifer gives a tinkling laugh, slapping your hand affectionately.

“Oh shuddap.”

Relief floods you, distracting you from Luke’s approach until you feel his hand trail over your shoulder lightly.

"Here you go."

You feel your stomach clench as you take the drink from Luke, eyes skittering shyly from his face to his hand where it lingers on your shoulder a moment longer.

“Thanks.”

"Do you think he's waiting for us to invite him over?" Jennifer mutters more to herself than anything.

"I don't think so," Luke says with a forced laugh as he takes his seat beside her. You feel his knee brush against yours under the table and you swallow.

"I'm gonna do it," Jennifer promises, taking a moment to build her nerve. She takes a sip of your pint, breathing out.

As she does this you chance a glance in the direction of the stool Joel was occupying, expecting to find it vacated. Instead he sits there, eyes trained in the direction of your table, no doubt gazing at the back of Jennifer’s head.

"Joel! Tommy!" Jennifer suddenly calls over with a cheerful lilt. "Come join us!"

No. Please no. No no no.

You try to hide your grimace. You don't mind Tommy, but thoughts of avoiding Joel's eyes make you cringe. Especially since you haven’t spoken since he kicked you out of his house last week. You turn your full attention to your pint, hoping that they’ll deny the request.

You hear shuffling and your shoulders rise to your ears. You try to think of a reason that you can leave, but anything you say would be too obvious. Plus, you really like Tommy and Maria, why should you be chased off by Joel every time you have the opportunity to hang out with one of them?

Your pint shows only your haunted reflection before another face swims into view. Joel Miller looking down at you. Even in the swimming reflection his dark eyes pierce you. You jerk your head up, trying to avoid him. You shoot a wobbly smile in his brother’s direction instead.

“Hey Tommy. How’s Maria?”

“Good,” Tommy replies and you can see the relief there in the warm brown of his eyes. He doesn’t look as tired. “She’s with Douglas and some friends right now.”

You nod, not wanting to say anything more that would draw unnecessary attention. But Jennifer seems to have observed her absence.

“I haven’t seen much of Maria lately,” she says, her face curling into a cute pout. “Not since the baby was born.”

“She doesn’t really like the cold,” Tommy says with a falter.

“Since when?” Jennifer laughs. “Last winter she-“

“I heard in some cultures it’s normal for the mother to stay in bed for at least twenty one days,” you offer quietly. “And they do a celebration a hundred days after the baby is born with, like a big dinner.

All eyes at the table are now on you and you feel a smidgen of relief at having drawn the attention away from the Maria topic. Joel is staring at you with an unreadable look and Jennifer is looking at you with a queer little smile.

“How do you know that?”

“I had a friend who was Japanese.”

“Oh.”

“Anyway,” Tommy breaks in, relief clear in his features, “the reason I came in was because I’m lookin’ for some volunteers for Patrol C’s slot on Friday.”

At this you hasten a glance to your Friday patrol partner who is looking to his brother patiently. Joel holds a half-full pint glass in his hand, the other shoved awkwardly into his coat pocket. He seems to be ignoring you as much as you’re ignoring him.

“There’s that repair in the old library outpost that we gotta fix quick before more snow gets here. We got that lumber in, plus some nails the other day and we need some extra hands to cart it there and build. So I’m tryin’ to scout a few folks who wouldn’t mind helping. Obviously Joel’ll be doin’ most of it.”

"I'm really good with repair," Jennifer chirps eagerly, smiling up at both the Miller brothers. "Especially windows. And Luke used to work in construction."

Luke gives a small, shy wave. You see Joel frown at that before his attention is back on his brother.

"You two sure?" Tommy looks surprised. "Was gonna offer the volunteers extra portions this week as a thanks. You okay with that?"

"Would have done it for free," Jennifer assures him. You hold in a knowing smirk. Yeah, she sure would. She'd do anything to secure more time with Joel.

“How about you, Luke?”

“I’m game.”

"Great," Tommy says with a grateful smile. "Saves me having to find a few volunteers. You two show up on Friday and we'll put you to work. Lemme know if ya’ll change your mind."

You figure you’d best speak up because you don’t want to disappoint Tommy but you also know that your skills with home repair are limited. You’d rather be switched that week so someone else can go in your place. You also don’t want to chance that Joel will verbally lambaste you in front of Luke and Jennifer during patrols.

“I’m not much good with repairs,” you offer quietly.

“Oh, I know,” Tommy says with a playful wink shot your way. “I remember the stables last summer.”

You feel Jennifer and Luke’s eyes on you and you even think you can feel Joel’s brows rising in surprise and intrigue.

During your first month in Jackson City you’d attempted to be a part of things by volunteering for the stable rebuild that now houses Chestnut, Glimmer and a host of other horses and livestock. You’d worked so hard in that blazing sun, but no matter what your nails always seemed to bent the wrong way or the wood was crooked. By the middle of the day Tommy was urging you to leave and get some water and that you’d worked enough for one day and should go home to relax.

But you hadn’t missed the way he started taking apart your work before you were even down the street. Hadn’t missed the soft chuckles from some of the others who were working on the project. Half the town had been there that day, maybe even Jennifer, but all you remember the humiliation of seeing your own inadequacy highlighted.

You’d assumed Tommy wouldn’t bring it up. But perhaps he’s a bit more like Joel than you give him credit for.

“Does that mean you want me to do Patrol A or something that week?” you offer, trying to swallow your shame.

"No no, it's your regular patrol day and you've got good eyes," Tommy tells you, all guile gone from his features. "Repairing the window might draw attention. Wanna make sure someone is watching out while the group works."

You can't deny a feeling of pride that goes through you at the thought that you're important enough to be brought along for the journey. You’d assumed you’d be left behind. You wait for Joel to scoff or roll his eyes but to your delight he does neither.

"Okay."

Tommy nods and looks like he’s going to set off for home when Jennifer shoots he and Joel a charismatic smile.

“Join us,” Jennifer all but purrs. “We’re just having another round.”

You don’t remind her that her glass is empty. Your eyes go back to your drink, trying to think of a way to extricate yourself from this awkward interaction.

“I gotta get back to Maria,” Tommy says with a tired smile. “I just needed to get some volunteers and thanks to y’all I have.”

You hear Jennifer’s breathing hitch a moment. “Joel? How about you?”

No. Say no. No.

There’s a pause, a shuffling of boots and then you feel a warm and sturdy body slide into the booth next to you. The booth is tight and the nigh is busy so there’s not much room to spread out. You feel his thigh press into yours and hold in a groan of displeasure.

Why couldn’t Luke have sat next to you at the start? Now you’re stuck being shoulder to shoulder with a man you can barely stand. The four of you sit across from one another like two couples on an increasingly awkward double date.

You all wave Tommy off before the moment grows quiet with only the other patrons as a soundtrack to the evening. You glance out the corner of your eyes to see Joel’s large hand around the pint glass, raising it to his pouty mouth before drinking deeply.

“So you have construction experience, Joel?” Jennifer offers and you don’t miss how she presses her arms together, highlighting her cleavage. You hide an amused smirk behind your glass, thankful that at least you’ll have Jennifer’s antics to amuse you.

“Carpentry.”

“Me too,” Luke offers and you can see him swallow nervously before looking at the elder Miller in the face. “Specifically cabinetry.”

Joel grunts a reply before taking another sip of his beer. As the men sit across from one another you can't help but observe that Luke has long, tapered fingers, like an artist. Joel's fingers are also long but more blunt, more masculine looking. You don't know why you draw the comparison but you do.

“I used to do framing with-“ Jennifer starts, but Joel has turned his attention to you.

“What was Tommy talkin’ about with you and the stables?”

Why is he talking to you? It’s not like you’re friends. Is he trying to intimidate you? Humiliate you? You don’t meet his gaze.

“Nothing,” you mutter, taking another sip of your pint. “Was nothing.”

“Didn’t sound like nothin’.”

You hold in a grimace. Your eyes shoot across the table and you can see Jennifer eyeing you and Joel a moment before smirking. “I’m kinda curious too.”

Luke gives you an encouraging grin as well and you swallow, licking your lips anxiously because they suddenly feel bone dry. You wish that you were anywhere else but sitting here in a crowded room feeling trapped.

You don’t want to share that humiliation with anyone else, especially Joel who already thinks you’re useless. You want the attention turning to anyone, to anything else. But all eyes at the table are on you and you feel a flush creeping up your neck.

“I have to go.”

Before anyone can interject you’ve stood up, dragging your coat over your shoulders. You’re about to leave when you feel Joel’s hand on your wrist holding you in place. You turn to face him, scowling as you rip your wrist from his embrace.

“Forgot this,” Joel rumbles.

You glance down to see him holding your red scarf in his fingers. He’s holding it in much the same way he always did before winding it around your eyes and at the sight of it in his grip you feel your throat run dry.

Your eyes flick to his, not immune to the way they darken when you swallow. You snatch it from him, offering a quiet thanks and disappearing out the door.

///

It’s Thursday before you come out of your house again.

You’ve been sequestered in your house all week eating tinned tuna and re-reading old books in your collection. You even toyed with the idea of doing something with your boring walls before deciding it was too much work.

Your humiliation at the Bison hasn’t left you. Neither has the way Jennifer threw you under the bus in front of Joel. Why did she go along with him questioning you? She must have seen how embarrassed you were!

She’s been by several times, knocking and calling your name but you never answer. You’re too embarrassed. You think you’re a little angry with her as well. But you don’t know if it’s justified or if you’re just too sensitive.

She tried leaving cookies a few days ago but they were inedible. Seems Jennifer isn’t good at everything. But you decide the next time you see her that you’ll let all of this go.

So when the door knocks that Thursday morning you slowly open the door, expecting to see Jennifer’s face. To your shock it’s Ellie who stands there in a thick blue parka giving you an incredulous look.

“I thought you were dead.”

“Huh?”

“I haven’t seen you at the dining hall,” she says, sniffling.

“Oh just been feeling a little under the weather,” you lie, fingernail absently scraping the wood frame beside your door. You notice that the end of Ellie’s nose is red from the cold. “You wanna come in for a warm drink?”

“Nah, you said we could make flowers.”

“Oh right,” you answer awkwardly glancing from your feet to hers. “Sorry Ellie. We can do it today if you want.”

“You’re not busy?”

“Nope,” you say, moving to give her space to pass. “Come in and-“

“Nah let’s do it at mine,” Ellie insists, taking you by the hand and tugging. “I got a bunch of that colored paper and wire stuff from Maria plus I wanna show you my room. Joel let me convert the whole garage.”

Everything in you screams no, but Ellie’s earnest face has you immediately caving. Plus you promised her. You sigh, pulling on your jacket and allowing her to lead you to Rancher Street.

///

“Then you wrap the wire around the base like that,” you instruct, reminding her about the extra loop. “Yeah, perfect.”

The two of you have been seated at her kitchen table for over an hour. Colorful swatches of ripped paper and wires decorate the wood. Turns out Ellie is a very quick learner when it comes to the arts. It’s not long before she’s folding tulips and peonies even better than you ever could.

Joel is mercifully nowhere to be found. Ellie mentioned he was out with Tommy doing some errand that would take him several hours. Once she’d made that announcement you’d been able to relax some.

It still feels weird to be in Joel’s house. In your head it was a dark dungeon with dishes piled high and guns on every wall. So far you’ve seem just a bit of the house which is decorated in whites and blues and the deep brown of carved wood. A normal, boring, ordinary house. A few too many framed photos of horses on the wall but he is a man from Texas after all.

The fireplace is cozy today with the chill of the approaching winter, the kind of cold that settles into the bones. But with the fireplace and mugs of hot chocolate that Ellie insisted on making you both, you find you don’t notice it much. As with meals she likes to pepper you with questions.

"What was the last book you were reading back before everything happened?"

"Mmm that's a good question," you tell her, squinting as you try to recall. "I think it was the latest Harry Potter."

"Who's Harry Porter?" Ellie asks, her tongue sticking to the side as she focuses on smoothing a particularly stubborn piece of paper.

"Potter," you gently correct her. "It's about a boy wizard."

"Like Gandalf? I already read about him. Joel has those books."

This takes you aback for a moment. In your mind Joel doesn't read. You kind of just assumed that when he's not on patrol or with the horses he's sleeping or cleaning his guns. The thought of him enjoying something the same as you makes him feel more human.

"No, a young boy goes to wizarding school," you supply. It's a bit of an undersell of the book but Ellie is already rolling her eyes.

"A wizard going to school? That's fucking stupid."

"Couldn't agree more," you say scanning the books she's brought with her. "But they were all the rage."

When the first paper bouquet is finished Ellie announces that she wants to show you her room. She doesn’t give you much option but you smile at the earnestness anyway. You follow her to the door that opens up to the garage. You expect it to be chilly but obviously it’s been insulated well because it’s warmer than the house.

It’s also massive. A large, unmade bed rests by a window on the far side. The walls are lined with mismatched desks and a rolling chair. A couch with a yellow gingham blanket is on the other side, a coffee table made out of crates holds several magazines.

An easel rests nearby, an apron hung upon it. Ellie is quite the artist you’ve come to learn. On the wall you spot a poster of an astronaut and you smile faintly to yourself. You remember your own childhood ambitions of space travel.

Aside from the unmade bed the space is rather meticulous for a teenage girl. You wonder if it’s her upbringing back in her youth or because Joel is a strict caregiver. You still don’t know how long he’s been in her life. Ellie watches you survey her space with a grin. You think she must feel how you did when you first moved into your space; safe and proud.

You see the sketchbooks piled on one of the desks as you wander over to it.

“You draw?”

“Sometimes,” she says, opening the book and placing it on the table. She flips through a few pages before stopping on a graphite drawing of what appears to be a strange-looking horse.

“I tried drawing Glimmer but I keep fucking up her eyes,” she explains with a pout.

“I think it looks good,” you answer honestly. Ellie glances up at you, shy from the praise before giving a crooked grin. She calls you over to her bookshelf and asks you to look through the titles.

“You read any of these before?”

You crouch down to see all of the titles near the bottom; many are familiar pulpy novels you’d find in an airport. One catches your attention and you tug it from its confines, standing and holding it.

“I remember reading this to my sister,” you murmur, eyes misty. Ellie brushes the hair from her face as she invites you to takes a seat next to her on the couch. The two of you look at the book together, both cross legged, knees touching.

“The Giver,” Ellie reads.

“It’s a good one,” you tell her. “It’s about a boy with a job he doesn’t want but was born for. He kinda discovers what good and evil is and if you can have one without the other. I’m doing a shitty job of summarizing it, but it’s a really good book from what I remember.”

“Sounds good,” Ellie murmurs. She tilts her head to read the first page and at this distance you notice the kinks and knots at the back of her ponytail.

"When's the last time you brushed your hair?" You chide gently. Ellie ducks her head and shrugs.

“Dunno.”

You swivel in spot on the couch, facing the other end and pat the blanket in front of you in invitation.

"Grab a brush. You read, I'll de-tangle," you offer. She pauses, thinking about your offer before she rushes to the bathroom, returning moments later with a harried looking comb. You raise a brow at this and she laughs.

“S’all I’ve got.”

She clamors up, facing away from you with the book in her lap. She begins reading, tripping over the odd word.

"Instantly, obediently, Jonas had dropped his bike on its side on the path behind his family’s dwelling. He had run indoors and stayed there, alone."

Her voice is steady and she plays with the edge of the pages as she reads.

"Lily looked up, her eyes wide. “The Ceremony of Twelve,” she whispered in an awed voice. Even the smallest children Lily’s age and younger -knew that it lay in the future for each of them."

You find the sensation of being read to and brushing the girls knotted hair to be strangely soothing.

"Your hair is such a beautiful color" you say before she begins on the next chapter, seeing the way the colors shine in the sunlight.

Ellie doesn't answer and you wonder if she's embarrassed by the compliment. Teenagers are never known for loving extra unwanted attention.

Brushing the dark strands of Ellie's you’re struck by how tense the girl is, like a trapped animal. Her shoulders are practically up to her ears. As if she isn't familiar with the sensation of a kindly touch.

"Did your mom never do this for you?"

Even though she's facing away you can see the way Ellie's head tips forward, her eyes downcast.

"Never had a mom."

Your eyes shut momentarily as you chastise your own thoughtless stupidity. You don’t attempt to further this topic. For now you're content just to brush the girl's hair, smiling as Ellie relaxes with every stroke.

“I wonder if Sarah ever read this,” she mutters to herself as she begins the next chapter. You smooth a section of her hair, taking in the name.

"Who's Sarah?"

"Joel’s daughter," Ellie confides, her eyes on the paper in front of her. "She died on outbreak day."

You surmise that Ellie's so invested in the book that she doesn't even realize what she's saying or to whom.

You remember Maria telling you something of that during your visit with her. It makes your heart clench, thinking of the loss. Before you can stop yourself you’re probing for more information.

“How old was she?”

“Not old. Younger than me I think.”

A child.

You can’t imagine the pain that would create in someone. In all your experiences with Joel it was easy to forget that he had a past. Something that twisted him into the person that he is today. Even after Maria told you he’d lost a daughter you’d overlooked it, content on hating him for his changeable moods as if he had no motivation.

But you’ve lost as well, a voice reminds you. And you haven’t resorted to cruelty.

“Maria mentioned a soldier,” you pause, trying to work the comb through a particularly tricky knot. Ellie is quiet for a few moments as she reads the page she’s on, speaking only when she flips it over.

"Yeah, Joel was carrying Sarah. I think she broke her ankle or something. He was escaping a clicker. Soldier shot it, so Joel thought they were safe but they thought Sarah and him were infected because there were covered in blood."

Your stomach drops as you imagine a younger Joel carrying his daughter tightly in his arms, both terrified with her clinging to him. You’re quiet, not wanting to ask anymore. Already it feels like you’ve overstepped, learned too much about him.

"Joel told the soldier they were okay, not infected. But the soldier shot anyway. Clipped Joel, got Sarah bad."

You feel a wave of nausea hitting you. The thought of losing a child that way makes you physically ill. Your loss hurts so acutely even now, you can't imagine that kind of pain compounded by losing a piece you brought into existence.

“Joel told you all of this?”

“Nah, Maria did,” Ellie replies. “Joel talks with me a little bit about Sarah. Stuff she liked, TV shows and books and stuff. But not about how she died.”

It’s wrong of you to have pushed for more information. Especially since you and Joel are the furthest thing from friends.

"He blames himself for it," Ellie continues, fingers sliding between the pages of the book to turn to the next chapter. "Even though it was a soldier who shot at them. How can Joel blame himself for that?"

She approaches this topic almost naive. You've stopped brushing altogether; you can only stare down at the back of Ellie’s head blinking slowly.

"He seems like the kind of guy who's built to protect people," you offer gently.

"But he was unarmed. How's any of what happened his fault?"

"I don't know," you offer quietly. "Maybe he-"

"What the fuck are you two talkin' about?"

Neither of you heard Joel come in the garage, but he obviously heard enough of your conversation because he looks completely furious. He's a tall man with broad shoulders and the sight of him wild-eyed and fists curled makes you physically startle.

"Joel-" Ellie starts her face blanching.

"I said what are you two talkin' about?" His voice is icy, and takes you both by surprise

"Uh…We..." The open ire on his face makes you stumble over your words. You feel embarrassed at having been caught talking about him, you feel terrified at the vitriol in his eyes.

Your stunned reaction is all the confirmation he needs.

"Get out," Joel mumbles, his dark eyes sailing from you to Ellie. "And you? We need to talk."

Ellie is never afraid of Joel, not that you've seen. But when you look to her now you see her wince at the knowledge that she's overstepped.

Something in you forgets your own fear and you raise a hand in his direction, as if he's a wild animal you're attempting to tame.

"Joel, it's-" you try to interject, to hold back the fury that's crackling through the room. But instead he turns his cold gaze to you, his sharp jaw ticking.

"Get the fuck out now."

And you know that you have to leave. This isn't your place. Ellie isn't your daughter, Joel isn't your husband. This is basically a stranger's home.

"I'm sorry."

You shoot Ellie a sympathetic look but she's just staring at with rounded eyes. You can't help but stop at her side, your voice a soft murmur. "He won't hurt you will he?"

Ellie's eyes snap to yours with a mixture of shock and horror.

"Joel would never hurt me," Ellie explains before Joel has time to react to your question. "He's about the only one who never has."

The emphatic nature of her reply surprises you into taking a step backwards. A quick look over your shoulder at Joel tells you that his anger is dwindling at her words. You nod once more in Ellie's direction and then you slip by Joel to exit.

You’re just turning off Rancher Street when the tears begin to slip down your cheeks. They drip onto the collar of your jacket and they don’t stop until you close the door to your home behind you.

Chapter 9: Repairs

Notes:

Y’ALL really came through with the comments! It made me stay up far too late typin’ away to the point where I almost fell asleep at my desk. But I’m glad to deliver this to my sweet audience and I hope you continue to bless me with your thoughts (both serious and funny). ALL of the comments you leave mean the world to me and they are the reason I continue to post. But I gotta highlight one comment this week that brought me to tears!
btsluvr13 did a whole damn character analysis on the Joel I've written here and I am so fuckin' touched you have no idea. I keep re-reading it over and over. My little English-major heart is burstin something fierce. Thank you, hon.
IMPORTANT NOTE: two people should NEVER ride a horse when one’s in a saddle. It’s horrible for the horse! But this is fiction so y’all gotta forgive me for it, all right?
Lastly - Chapter 10 is.... gonna be memorable. That's all I'm sayin'.
p.s. Also lemme know if you have money and wanna give me some because your girl is BROKE y'all. BROKE.

Chapter Text

You toss in bed a short while later, your mind going a mile a minute. You can't get the memory of Joel's furious face out of your mind. You can’t get Ellie’s sad eyes and her tensed shoulders to leave you. You can’t stop imagining what happened the second you left their home.

Part of you wanted to run right back to that house on Rancher Street and to beg Joel’s forgiveness for intruding. It was never your information to gather, not your place to pry. It was information never given willingly and for that you understand his fury. You understand it better than most.

But the other part of you, perhaps the part that had brought you to tears as you left had been the sight of Ellie's horror at your question. Of would Joel hurt her? Because in Ellie’s eyes you saw her own lingering question reflected.

Who hurt you?

It's too complicated to get into, too personal and that's why you think you feel this overwhelming sense of guilt. Because if you'd come home to the space you shared with someone else and heard them divulging your biggest secrets, your deepest wounds, you can't say you would have acted any different.

In fact, you might have been worse.

You turn your head, noting that it's only now starting to grow dark. You hadn't even bothered with dinner. Just pulled on your sleeping clothes and robe and thrown yourself into bed. You wanted to forget the hours before, wanted sleep to claim you and help you erase the day.

But you can’t. You just lay there twisted in your sheets, feeling like a stranger in your own body. You consider trying a warm shower when you hear a sudden thudding on your front door. This isn't Ellie or Jennifer. This is someone else and you have a pretty good idea who.

You think that you should just stay in bed, try to ignore the insistent pounding. But you need to pay for your mistake. This is your penance. You move down the stairs and to the front door opening it slowly.

Joel is standing on your porch, his broad frame looming over your door. His hands are on either side of the frame, braced as if he has to physically hold himself back.

When you pull the door open he juts his chin forward aggressively. He hasn't even bothered putting a jacket on, despite the weather. He's wearing just his green flannel and a scowl that makes you take a physical step back.

"Joel-"

"You think I'd hurt Ellie?" Joel says, teeth clenched. "Hurt my own fuckin' kid?"

You glance quickly over his shoulder noting that the street is deserted. Your street is one of the newer ones, less populated. It makes you nervous to see him looking so furious with no witnesses. But you answer him anyway.

"I don't know you at all," you tell him with a wince. "For all I knew you could have and I felt responsible."

His jaw is clenched tightly, ticking as he glares at you. You can see the fury building there in his frame and it makes you tremble. But you swallow, raising your spine and fixing him with what you hope is confidence.

"You yanked me around on patrols before," you remind him, swallowing your fear the best you can. "You're known for being ruthless with raiders. Most everyone is terrified of you. Is it really that much of a stretch?"

For the first time this evening you think that what you're saying registers with Joel because he blinks and some of that inky black in his gaze grows a soft brown.

"I've never hit you. Never come close." His voice is soft, almost admonished.

"No," you concede, "but you haven't exactly been gentle either."

Joel takes in the way you're cowering, the way you flinch when he shifts. He sobers, lowering his hands from your doorframe, pushing himself back from you.

"I'd never hurt a kid," he murmurs. “I’d never hurt anyone who didn’t deserve it.”

He takes a moment to look at you, really look at you. You wonder if he sees the blotchy pink of your tear-stained face or the dark circles under your eyes from barely sleeping this week.

Joel's eyes narrow and without stepping closer to you it feels like he gets nearer when he speaks low and even.

"Your dad hurt you or somethin'?"

You're momentarily thrown by this question from Joel. He's never really asked you anything this personal before. You toy with the idea of closing the door on his face because he doesn’t deserve to know you this way. But you think of how vulnerable he must feel with you having all this information about his past, about his Sarah, and you answer.

"No," you tell him honestly. “My dad was amazing.”

"Your mom then?"

"No."

You cross your arms over your chest, indicating that the conversation is now at an end. You've shared as much as you are willing to at this point in time.

Joel looks equally stoic despite the nature of his questioning. His eyes drift over your body for the first time since he arrived at your doorstep, fixing on your sleep clothes and open robe before shooting back to your gaze. You pull your robe around your body, shivering at the cold draft coming in from the outside. Joel clears his throat.

"Ellie never should have told you all that about me," he says. "Wasn't her information to share."

"It was my fault. I never should have pressed her for details," you admit, talking to his shoulder. "It wasn't my place."

Joel exhales through his nose by way of reply. The two of you stand in quiet thought before you feel compelled to ask.

"Did Ellie get in a lot of trouble?"

When he doesn't answer you finally move your eyes from his shoulder to his face, surprised to see he's staring at you. He's not going to answer you, you realize. You barely know him and it's between him and his daughter.

You worry that you've messed everything up with Ellie. You feel like it's your fault that the fight happened at all. You think of how pleasant the afternoon had been with flower making and hair brushing. You hate to think of that going away. You swallow, gathering your nerves.

"Am I still allowed to teach her to bake?"

After a moment Joel sucks his teeth and nods shallowly.

You shift where you stand, one hand still on the doorknob. It's warm under your palm. If Joel was anyone else you'd invite him in for a hot drink given the weather. But as it's him you simply stand awkwardly across from him.

Joel peers into your face, gaze darting from each of your eyes to the next and back again. There's something about his stare that feels warm and heavy, something endless.

"Get some sleep."

He says it softly, a husky command with none of its usual bite. Then he's gone, giving you one last look before he's taking off down the stairs of your porch. You watch his tall frame head down your street, scissoring through the night air until he's nothing but mist.

And strangely the second you close the door you feel your feet taking you to your bed. You hear his voice quietly rumbling in your mind as you crawl under the covers.

Get some sleep.

Permission. A command. A hushed order that gives you the freedom to just sink into the warmth of your bed, to close your eyes and feel your breath even out.

And in seconds you're fast asleep.

Jennifer greets you when you open your door to leave for patrols the next day, crowding your doorframe.

"I thought we could walk to patrols together."

"Okay." You pull your jacket around you, bracing yourself.

You've known popular girls like Jennifer. The kind that roll their eyes and call you sensitive if you don't like how they treat you. You assume that this is what awaits you now.

"I'm so sorry for how I acted at the Bison."

You can’t say you were expecting that.

"I was trying to impress Joel," she continues. “Make it seem like we were all in on the joke together.”

When you see her standing there with her gloved hands clasped, looking apologetic you feel your animosity dropping from you like an unnecessary jacket.

"And I just... I never should have put you on the spot,” she continues. “I was just trying to go along with things, but that's not how friends act. My mama raised me better than that."

You know that what she's saying is important, but all you can focus on is that she just confirmed you two are friends. You have a real friend.

"S'okay," you offer quietly.

"Really?"

"Yeah."

"Did you get my cookies?"

"Yep, they were good."

You don't make it a habit to lie to friends but she looks so proud of herself that you can't help it. She beams, clearly proud of herself. She doesn’t need to know that they’re at the bottom of your waste bin.

"I'm so glad you liked them."

You want to say something kind to Jennifer, something that lets her know that you’ve forgiven her. Maybe its guilt from the fact that the cookies were barely touched. Whatever it is you scan her body, landing on her beautifully tailored jacket.

“I like your jacket,” you tell her, observing the dark green and black of the pattern and hood. “It’s really pretty.”

“Thanks, I made it myself,” she tells you proudly. “Barely any time at all.”

“Tell me you didn’t just make it just for this patrol,” you say fixing her with a look. Jennifer goes pink and starts giggling. “Jennifer!”

"Oh hush,” she says elbowing your side gently.

You can’t help but laugh at your friend as the two of you head off to patrols, chatting pleasantly as you make your way down the path to town. Jennifer is animated as always, her voice lilting and cheerful.

“Luke was really disappointed when you took off," she mentions with a sly smile and side eye. "I just know he's excited about today."

You flush, eyes on the ground, not saying anything. The truth is you're very excited to see Luke today. You want to learn more about him, see his likes and dislikes.

"Joel left soon after you did," Jennifer tells you with a frown after a few moments. "But I mean he came and had a drink with us so that has to count for something."

"Totally."

You've reached the fence and see three of the horses lined up, tied and waiting. Luke is patting Glimmer but he waves to you both as you approach. Your stomach flips pleasantly at the sight of his light hair falling into his eyes.

Chestnut whinnies gently as you approach, his long neck arching towards you. You smile as he ambles over to greet you the best he can.

"Hi boy," you whisper, gently patting down his long muzzle. "You having a good day? Huh?"

"Hiya Glimmer," Jennifer coos. You think that this must be her usual ride on her patrols.

"Morning Luke," you offer, trying to appear nonchalant.

"Mornin'." Luke’s smile is shy but earnest. "We missed ya this week."

"Yeah?"

He nods and you feel your face grow hot because you are sure Jennifer is staring at you both with a smirk. "Yeah, missed shootin’ with ya."

You busy yourself with running your hand over chestnuts flank, all the while trying not to read into things. Maybe Luke just likes having a fellow peer there?

Or maybe he likes me.

You have to admit to yourself that you have a crush even if crushes feel so adolescent in your mind after everything that happened to the world. But there’s something that makes you want to laugh at the way some things never change. Humans will continue to lust, even after the earth is swallowed by disease.

"Looks like a simple enough job," Jennifer observes looking at the few pieces of lumber strapped to the horses. Enough that it's good for building but not too heavy for them to carry. You go to reply when you hear a booming voice sounding out behind you.

"S'a fucking joke. Gettin' them all the way over here just to be one short."

Joel is arguing with Hank, one of the crew. Hank is an older with an under bite and bushy eyebrows. He fixes Joel with a formidable stare. He’s one of the few in Jackson City not intimidated by the elder Miller.

"I don't know what to tell ya Joel," Hank shrugs. "It's all we got."

"What's going on?" Jennifer asks, swanning over to the men. She stands close to Joel, her shoulder brushing against his. You notice as his dark eyes sweep over her face as he notices her.

"Only three horses available today," Hank explains to her. "Others were taken out."

"Why?"

"Heard about an intercepted shipment of medicine nearby. Sent a bunch of folks after it. Anyway, one of you'll have to double up."

Joel makes a huffing noise before shouldering past Hank and hauling himself up onto Midnight. He's made it very clear he won't be riding with anyone. That leaves you, Jennifer and Luke. In habit you go to grab Chestnut’s bridle. Jennifer is determined not to go down without a fight.

"I'm small," Jennifer says in a breathy voice you don't really recognize as hers. "I'll double."

She looks directly at Joel who is going to great lengths to look anywhere else. If it weren’t so awkward you might have laughed, but instead you try to hide your smile behind your glove.

Oblivious to the dynamic, Luke pats the side of his horse.

"You can ride on the back of mine if you want Jenny," Luke offers with a friendly tip of his head.

Your smile immediately dies. Why didn’t you volunteer? Jennifer pauses, waiting for Joel to inject.

Get the fucking hint, Joel.

He doesn’t. He just shifts the two guns he’s carrying on his back, clearing his throat.

You see how crestfallen Jennifer looks, but it’s for only a moment before she shines a bright smile Luke's way as she hauls herself up behind him, lacing her hands around his middle.

"Thanks, Luke."

With that settled you yourself mount Chestnut, stroking his mane gently. Hank comes over to hand you a backpack. It’s heavy and you make a soft huffing noise when you hoist it onto your shoulders.

“Nails and hammers,” Hank explains. “You got it?”

“Yep,” you nod, trying to look in command of yourself with Luke’s eyes on you. “No problem.”

You feel the coarse hair of Chestnut under your gloved fingertips and squeeze your thighs to prompt him forward. You follow after Joel in habit with Glimmer carrying Luke and Jennifer close behind. The ride to Teton is quiet, but not in a tense way, more distracted.

The backpack as it stands is a problem though because you’re wincing with every jostling step Chestnut takes. The bag is impossibly heavy and it digs into your shoulders like a too-tight bra.

You hear Luke and Jennifer quietly talking with one another on Glimmer. There are quiet giggles and you hear Luke chuckle softly. You feel irritated at Joel not taking Jennifer on his horse with him. Of course he wouldn't - Joel gets his way every time. So you've lost your chance to bond with Luke.

You could be on the back of Glimmer with him. Your arms could be around Luke's waist right now, your thighs bracketing his. You could be feeling the warmth of his body seeping into your front.

But you're not.

You're stuck in the middle listening to Luke's gentle chuckle behind you and watching Joel's broad frame in front of you. As you stare at Joel with the guns on his back your mind drifts to last night.

Have you and Joel moved past your mutual disdain for one another? You’re not quite sure. Right now you’re irritated with him, but there’s less bite to it today. You think maybe you’re both at a polite acceptance of one another. Joel looks back every now and again, his eyes sailing to you and the group behind you. You roll your shoulders, gritting your teeth when the bag digs into the flesh there.

“’Bout halfway there,” he tells the group even though you’re well aware.

Joel is a natural leader checking in on his troops. You wouldn’t be surprised if he was in the forces before all of this. You know that he worked in construction and that he must have been around horses considering he’s such a capable rider. But that’s it.

Perhaps he and Sarah rode horses together. This thought comes to you despite knowing nothing about the girl. Nevertheless you wonder what she looked like. Was she dour and broad like Joel? You imagine her as bubbly and quick with his dark hair.

You watch as Joel slows Midnight and Chestnut quickly overtakes him, their hooves trotting along the earth until the two of you ride side by side. You’re confused and you feel Joel’s eyes on your profile and after a moment you turn to see him staring at the bag and then back to your face.

“Gimme the bag,” he orders gently.

“I’m fine,” you lie. You wonder if he can see the strain in your neck as you say this. He rolls his eyes, huffing out his nostrils.

“You need to be carrying a weapon,” Joel informs you. “Won’t do much damage to a Raider with a heavy backpack.”

He’s right. He’s not doing it to be nice; he’s doing it to be efficient. How Joel of him.

You want to fight him on it but the thought of having the heavy thing off your shoulders is too appealing. You relent as the horses come to stop beside one another. You tug off your bag, handing it to Joel who straps one of the guns to the side of it and slings it over his muscled shoulders. The bag doesn’t even look oversized on him and he carries it with no strain whatsoever.

He hands you off the large shotgun and you throw it over your shoulder, thankful for the padding in the leather sling. Without another word Joel makes a clicking noise with his tongue against his teeth and he and Midnight quickly head up the group once more.

When you get to Teton Village and the four of you do the usual perimeter check you’re feeling bolder and a little bit restless. You feel like you want to impress Luke but can’t think of any meaningful way to do so. He’ll be upstairs hammering and nailing while you stand watch at the window like a senior citizen waiting for the postman. It’s almost embarrassing that you were brought along at all.

When you approach the outpost though you have an idea on how to appear more capable. You urge Chestnut on ahead of Joel and tie the sweet creature quickly to the tree before jogging up the large old library steps.

“I’ve got the lock,” you call over your shoulder casually. Joel is already off his horse and striding towards you with several pieces of lumber slung over his shoulder; Luke is helping Jennifer off of Glimmer. You turn back, fiddling with the code confidently.

It doesn’t work.

“Fuck.”

You try it again, the same one you were taught and then you tug. It’s still not working.

“C’mon,” you whisper angrily to yourself, “c’mon you piece of shit.”

Again the silver tabs are moved to the correct code and again you jerk it only to find it sticking fast. Is it the encroaching cool weather? Your confidence is hanging by a thread when a large ungloved hand comes out of nowhere, coming to gently bat your fingers away.

“Code changed last week,” Joel says lowly behind you.

You feel the warmth of his taller body behind you, his words stirring the hair at the back of your head. You say nothing as you watch his fingers fiddle with the new numbers, sliding them into place. You want to memorize them for next time. His arm rests beside your shoulder as he works his thick thumbs slide the silver tabs. Finally it unlocks and Joel removes the lock, placing it in his pocket.

“Sorry you couldn’t impress your little boyfriend.”

You feel your cheeks burn with humiliation despite the fact that only he and you could hear the murmured remark. He moves past you, Luke and Jennifer carry the remaining lumber. The four of you make your way into the house and wordlessly Joel heads upstairs to begin.

“That was so sweet of Joel to take the bag,” Jennifer whispers to you with hearts in her eyes. “Chivalrous.”

You don’t reply. Why shatter her illusion of who she thinks Joel is? Maybe with her affection and softness he could become that. Maybe with the right woman Joel Miller is chivalrous and romantic.

Maybe it’s just with you that he’s an antagonistic asshole.

The three of them pad up the stairs with the supplies as you stand by the door. You know you're not much use upstairs so you busy yourself writing in the log notes about the repairs. You hear the banging and the conversations upstairs as you move from the small room towards the window of the fireplace room; your eyes surveying the grey of old snow.

You yawn after a short while, bored. There’s nothing out there. There never is in town. That’s why you like Teton village so much. It’s quiet and sleepy and there’s no real danger. Perhaps it’s the large buildings or the lack of footprints. Whatever it is, you find yourself relaxing.

Joel and Jennifer jog down the stairs with Joel not passing you a glance. Jennifer gives you a thumbs up and mouths “getting more wood”. You hear the sound of Luke hammering upstairs and take a moment to consider your next moves.

This may be your only chance.

You scurry up the steps towards the far room, following the sound of Luke’s hammering. You stop when you see him, mid hammer. His back muscles ripple under his t-shirt, a line of sweat down the middle. It’s warm in this room, and judging by the repairs done they have been working quickly and efficiently.

“Hey,” you offer as you approach him, heartened when he turns and flashes you a friendly smile, wiping the sweat from his brow with the bottom of his t-shirt. You turn away at the sliver of taut abdomen that shows itself when he does. Your whole body is going tingly.

“Hey, you come to help us?”

“Oh I would just slow you down,” you say with a shy laugh, your eyes landing anywhere but his handsome face. “Every time I try to hammer the nail goes crooked.”

“You just haven’t been taught correctly then,” Luke ventures, “come here and I’ll give you a lesson.”

You try to keep yourself from jogging over, attempting to appear casual. He holds his hammer out to you as you approach.

"Here.”

You take it from him, facing the sill of the window that he’s been working on. You nearly jolt when you feel his hands land on your shoulders. He notices your flinch, his hands flying off of you at the first contact.

“You okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, sorry just distracted,” you insist, feeling your cheeks heat. “Keep going. I’m fine.”

Luke’s hands go to your wrists now, placing the nail in your left fingers and positioning it on the sill.

“You just need to start with it straight. Lotta people angle it without thinking and…”

You know that Luke’s talking more but you’re having trouble focusing because you feel him pressing up behind you, his hand sliding over yours and helping you to hold the nail in place.

“A lot of people make the mistake of hitting the nail shallowly a bunch of times instead of once or twice with harsh blows,” he explains. You feel a warmth go through your body as Luke's curls over yours. He’s so tall, so gentle, so earnest. You feel his voice rumbling through his chest into your back.

He places the hammer in your right hand before he covers your hand with his effectively holding each of your hands like you're a puppet. He positions the nail in the wood once more, bringing your hand and the hammer back. You’re completely boneless, letting yourself melt into his arms.

"So if you hold it-"

Whatever thought Luke had dies at the sound of Joel's rasping voice behind you.

"What're you doin'?"

You and Luke glance over your shoulders to see Joel scowling. He's got a stack of the remaining lumber over his shoulder. Jennifer is beside him, looking between Luke and Joel in confusion, a box of nails in her grip.

Luke still has his arms around yours, guiding you. Both sets of arms are raised midway. It looks like you’re in some strange dance routine involving hammers and nails. Joel drops the lumber to the floor with a thud, his gaze icily on Luke.

"I was just teaching her how to put up the frame," Luke explains with a soft tone. You recognize that he's a gentle man, not one for confrontation. Joel intimidates him; he likely has since he met him. For whatever reason Joel is especially cold to Luke.

"This ain't a teachin' moment," Joel all but growls, his larger frame barrelling towards the two of you. "We're here to do a job and get it done fast so we don’t draw attention."

You feel Luke shrinking back, arms lowering, but his frame still rests behind you as if he's worried about leaving you entirely.

"I wanted to learn how to do the repairs," you explain trying to be diplomatic.

"S'not why you were brought," Joel bites back.

He shocks you when he reaches out to take your wrist, tugging you away from Luke. You stagger towards Joel, eyes wide almost toppling into his chest. He holds you tightly, looking down into your face.

"You're here to keep watch while we do this. That’s your job."

His voice is harsh but his eyes are gentle. It's a confusing dichotomy that has you careening from one emotion to the next. You settle on anger when you feel Jennifer and Luke watching you. Your cheeks burn with humiliation at being talked to like this in front of them and you shoot a glare at Joel before you wrench your wrist his grip.

“Let’s break for lunch,” Jennifer suggests, noting the tension.

“Good idea,” Luke says with a smile.

Everyone waits for Joel’s eventual nod before the four of you head downstairs to the log room.

There are thankfully enough chairs because you can’t imagine the awkwardness of standing around eating after everything that happened. Right now you want to sink into your chair and disappear for a few hours.

What the fuck is Joel’s problem?

Jennifer thankfully starts chatting to fill the silence and pulls out the meals from her bag. Two sandwiches each, a thermos of coffee and what appears to be fresh brownies along with the usual water and apples.

Joel goes off for a moment, muttering about feeding the horses. The three of you take a seat around the table, focused on the sweet-smelling brownies.

“Those look so good,” Luke says when Jennifer pulls them out. “I love baked goods.”

“You should try her stuff,” Jennifer says motioning to you with a wink. “Everyone in town says how good her baking is.”

You could kiss Jennifer for the way she’s trying to make you look good in front of Luke. You make a mental note to do the same for her and Joel. Jennifer has many good redeeming qualities and Joel just simply doesn’t see them.

“S’not that good,” you say with a shy little giggle as you bite into your sandwich.

“It is so!” Jennifer insists, unwrapping her own.

“Guess I’ll have to see for myself,” Luke says grinning and taking a sip of his coffee. You don’t say anything but you shift slightly when Joel comes to take the empty seat next to you. He reaches across you to grab one of the sandwiches, peeling back the waxy cloth that holds it.

The room goes quiet again, a side effect of Joel-Miller-itis because whenever he enters a room it goes deadly quiet. You wonder if he was like this before – was he always so gruff? So grumpy? How could Tommy be so opposite to him?

You wish it was Tommy with the rest of you today. Tommy with his easy laugh and warm countenance. You expect the rest of lunch to go in silence when all of a sudden it’s Joel who breaks it.

"You're good at window repair, Jenny. You must’ve done a lot.”

Jennifer flushes prettily and thanks him in a voice that feels a lot more breathy than necessary.

For some reason this innocuous comment from Joel has your fingers curling into the wood table. Your leg starts to twitch as you rock your leg up and down restlessly on the ball of your foot.

You spent weeks trying to earn Joel’s praise as a patrol partner. You were dutiful and listened and tried your best and he gave you nothing back unless his cock was in your mouth. Jennifer has been working for thirty minutes and he gives her his praise so freely?

If he wasn't sitting beside you, you would be fixing him with your most glowering stare. You wish you weren’t so shy, so quiet. You’d give him a piece of your mind next week on patrols if you had the guts.

“I grew up doing repairs on our house with my brothers,” Jennifer answers and you know she’s beside herself with all this attention from Joel. He’s got his eyes fixed on her and his normally scowling face is brighter, his mouth in a polite smile.

“You had good teachers.”

“I taught them, actually,” she smiles brightly.

“Impressive.”

You continue to bop your leg, the feeling distracting you from your frustration. You hasten a glance at Luke who hasn’t so much as glanced up from his lunch since the meal started. He’s shy like you, quiet and introspective especially when Joel is around. You think that’s why you enjoy his company so much. You feel like you want him to feel included.

“You did construction too, right Luke?”

“Yep,” he nods, swallowing before taking one of the brownies and breaking it apart in his hands. “Cabinetry especially.

“Cool,” you offer awkwardly. You wish you knew more about the topic but your interest and acumen in that field is limited. Your knee continues to bop anxiously as you try to think of ways to get the conversation to continue.

“I was just learning flooring and trim carpentry when the outbreak started,” he continues as you nod along as if it’s the most fascinating thing in the world.

“Oh, wow.”

Jennifer keeps sneaking looks across the table at Joel and if your hunch is correct he’s probably doing the same to her. Despite your previous annoyance with him the thought warms you, that perhaps there is a mutual attraction for your friend and Joel. You wonder if you should warn her about Joel’s temper but decide that Joel may not show that side of himself to her if he can help it.

After what you’ve learned about Joel and Sarah, there is a softness inside you that maybe thinks Jennifer could be good for Joel. You resolve to do whatever you can to make it work for them. Joel isn’t your friend, but Jennifer is. And if she wants Joel you’ll do all you can to make it happen.

You almost yelp when Joel's hand grips your knee, holding your restless leg in place. He leans towards you, voice dropping a register and sliding into a soft rasp.

"Stop shakin' your damn leg. You’re knockin’ over the coffees."

You’re doing no such thing, but part of you thinks he misses ordering you around. He must like the sense of control it gives him. He misses being a big shot and you’re the closest thing he has to a professional underling. All your kind sentiments about him go flying out the window. You were naive to think there could be a possible friendship there. Hell, not even a friendship – just a respectful mutual tolerance.

You feel an embarrassed flush cross your features, pulling back from Joel’s touch. His fingers slowly unlatch from your knee and his palm lingers a moment before being removed entirely.

“You do a lot of repairs before all this?” Jennifer asks Joel. You surprise yourself by listening, intrigued for more information on pre-outbreak Joel.

“Yep.”

He takes a long swig of his coffee before wiping at his mouth and speaking before Jennifer has the chance to ask more follow up personal questions.

“Alright, let’s finish it up. I’ll see you two up there.”

He doesn’t spare anyone a glance before he’s on his feet, heading up the stairs. Luke joins him moments later, leaving you and Jennifer sitting across from one another.

When she’s certain the men are upstairs she looks beside herself with delight and leans forward conspiratorially.

“Do you think Joel was flirting?” she whispers, her light eyes dancing. “I mean, Luke is way better at repairs but he didn’t say anything nice to him.”

“Definitely,” you reason, looking thoughtful. “He doesn’t really talk much normally, so I think that’s a good sign.”

“I’m gonna ride back with him,” Jennifer says hiding a giggle behind her hand.

“Go for it,” you say, unable to stop from smiling. You can’t help but enjoy her excitement.

“I wonder what he kisses like,” she muses, her eyes dreamy. You shrug your shoulders and she fixes you with that same sisterly look. “When’s the last time you had a really good make out?”

“Uh…” you trail off, your cheeks heating. “We can talk about it later. He’ll be pissed off if you don’t get up there soon. Don’t wanna blow your chances now.”

Jennifer gives you a grateful squeeze on the shoulder as she passes, calling up to Joel and Luke that she’s just grabbing some extra nails. You don’t hear their reply because you’ve dragged yourself to the window, your eyes scanning.

You hear them nailing upstairs, the muffled sound of their talking. As always you're on the edge, forever on the outside. You chew at the inside of your cheek in irritation, your eyes scanning the outside.

It's not long after that the three come back downstairs dressed for travel. Jennifer is pulling on her gloves and chatting with Luke about the rumors of heavy snow and Joel is carrying his bag with the tools over one shoulder. He fixes you with an expectant stare, brows raised.

"See anythin’?"

"Nope. Would've said something if I did."

Joel stares at you, unblinking and you're confused when you see a small curl of his lip in amusement.

"S'go."

The four of you trudge towards the waiting horses. Chestnut looks excited to see you and you grin as you approach. You press your forehead to his cheek, stroking down his flank as the rest of the group begins to pick a horse.

"I can ride with someone again," Jennifer offers and you watch with a touch of amusement as she subtly steps towards Joel who has just climbed atop Midnight.

"Nah, let's switch it up," Joel says gruffly. "That way s’fair for everyone."

Luke looks your way and you hold in a nervous grin. He’s going to make the same offer to you that he did to Jennifer because he’s a gentleman that way.

The thought has your stomach fluttering excitedly. You think of how your arms will wrap around his middle, how you’ll find an excuse to press your cheek to his shoulder blade. How your thighs will-

"Get on."

Your brows knit together in confusion as you gaze up to your right to see Joel on his horse, holding out a gloved hand in front of your face. His curls fall into his forehead as he tilts towards you, mouth in a firm line.

What the fuck is he doing? Why is he trying to fuck this up for you?

“S’go,” Joel tells you, shaking an impatient outstretched hand from atop of his horse. He looks like he’s irritated out of his mind as you make your decision.

"Oh, uh," you glance at the disappointment in Luke's face before turning back to Joel, trying to hide your irritation.

It makes sense after all; Luke already had to ride with Jennifer. But a part of you had been hoping to spend a bit of time with him on the horse. It's been a long while since a man intrigued you like Luke.

"We don't have all day," Joel snipes at your hesitation. "Let's go."

Jennifer strides forward, taking Chestnut’s bridle from you. You hand it over before looking back up at Joel who waits with one hand on his saddle horn, the other still at your eye level.

You clench your jaw and take his hand, hooking your foot into the footing of Midnight’s saddle and feeling the muscle of Joel’s arm as you grip his bicep and he pulls you astride the horses' back behind him.

He shifts, giving you room to slide behind the saddle. You do so, holding in a sigh as you position yourself atop the strong animal. You feel Midnight's ribs under your legs, wider than Chestnut's. He's a pitch black stallion with a coat that currently glistens. He's always been a rather imposing horse, hesitant around new people. Riding him is like being in a room alone with Joel – intimidating.

"Hold on," Joel instructs before clicking his tongue, encouraging Midnight to start walking. The horse jerks to a start, causing you to dig your legs into Midnight’s side. You’re lucky the horse doesn’t kick you off for it.

You look over your shoulder to see Jennifer on Chestnut a few paces back. You give her a look that shows how displeased you are to be with Joel, replete with an eye roll. She returns it with a weak smile before her focus is back on the trail. Luke is looking off into the surrounding area, his eyes scanning for threats as he sits straight-backed on Glimmer.

You turn back to face ahead of you, displeased.

At first you barely touch Joel, hands resting on your thighs as the four of you bob along the trail. No one is talking now. The air is filled with an unexpected tension that you can’t for the life of you understand.

Your front is pressed against Joel's back, squeezing gently to make sure you don't slide off. Midnight makes a jostling step off the path before righting himself. It sends you slipping back, your thighs digging into the horse’s side and your hands going to grab Joel lightly by his jacket.

"Unless you wanna fall off I suggest you hold tighter n'that." Joel bites off.

You know he’s correct. Sitting this awkwardly is only a burden on Midnight. Your arms snake around Joel’s waist and hold there below his sternum. His chest is broad, his arms muscled, his thighs strong. Everything about him is masculine and tough. All but the soft look of his dark brown curls threaded with grey which curl under his ears just slightly.

Despite everything you've experienced with Joel, actually physically touching him is surreal. You know the feel of his cock in your palm and on your tongue, the taste of his come. But now you can explore the rest of his body first with your eyes and then your hands.

Up this close to Joel you see the freckles on his golden skin and the way he holds himself stiffly straight in front of you. He’s so broad, his entire disposition that of protector. You can understand why Ellie feels safe with him.

You marvel at the smooth sensation of his jacket under your fingertips, the warmth of his body. This close to Joel you inhale the scent of leather and homemade lavender soap from Hannah's. You could almost laugh that you both use the same scent mostly because Joel Miller smelling like flowers is an amusing thought.

You pass through a different path on your way back as you always do and are irritated with the sight of the overturned trees. The roots are ugly, twisted things that poke out from the light dusting of snow.

“Shit,” Joel mutters to himself.

Midnight rears back sharply and in a panic your arms wrap more tightly around Joel’s waist, suddenly anxious. You're surprised when Joel's left hand goes to cover your grip knotted against his middle, holding you in place.

Joel grunts out a grumbled whoa boy before tugging Midnight’s reigns with his right hand to get him to obey. His hand is big, warming you despite the gloves you both wear.

"Careful," Joel calls over his shoulder to Jennifer and Luke. "Some big roots here."

The two of them call out that they've heard him. You twist to look over your shoulder and watch them navigate Chestnut and Glimmer over the uprooted tree. Luckily it doesn’t take long before the four of you are back on the path heading home with no more obstacles in the foreseeable future.

You glance behind you to see Jennifer looking miserable on Glimmer. She looks so disappointed and you want to slap Joel upside the head for missing how obviously into him she is. You think of earlier, when Joel observed her skills and an idea comes to you.

“Hey Jennifer?”

“Yeah?”

“I really like your jacket,” you fumble for a way to make this sound natural.

Jennifer shoots you a confused look, curious as to where you’re going with this. “Uh, thanks.”

“Did you get it from town?”

“I made it,” she tells you, the silent you already know that, reflected in her gaze.

“Wow, you’re so gifted. You made those amazing curtains in your place too, right?”

“I did.”

“You’re so good at making stuff,” you gush. “Especially clothes. You make men's clothes too, right Jennifer? Like jackets?"

"Uh yeah," she says slowly before her confusion fades, realizing what you're getting at. She smiles cheekily at you. "Yeah, I can make jackets, jeans, t-shirts, all that stuff."

“You’re so talented at it,” you gush. Luke is looking over your way and you feel the need to really drive it home. “I mean, with the holidays coming up I might just want to get a dress from you.”

You have never worn a dress in your life. Not unless your mother forced you into them as a child. But you need to sell this idea that Jennifer is a domestic goddess. You’ll leave out the part about her baking.

“I could make us matching ones,” she says with a wink. You hold in a giggle at the thought.

“I’d like to see that,” Luke offers shyly from behind Jennifer who shoots a delighted look in your direction complete with dramatically mouthed ‘he likes you!’. You flush at the attention, your lips pursing into a pleased grin.

You feel Joel's trunk stiffen in your arms and his hand drops from over yours. He replaces it on the reigns.

"Keep it down," Joel hisses over his shoulder at you and the others. "Unless you were hopin’ to guide Raiders our way?"

The two of them go quiet and you cringe internally. You don't know why but you suppose it's because Joel is your patrol partner. A reflection on you in some ways and he's coming off like a major asshole right now. Your arms loosen around his middle finding that the horse is now on smoother terrain.

You glance over at Jennifer about to give her a sympathetic look but she shoots you an exaggerated eyebrow waggle and mouths the words "still sexy" with a head tilt at Joel. You barely suppress a surprised giggle, irritating Joel further.

"What's so fuckin’ funny?"

"Nothing."

Chapter 10: Rancher Street

Notes:

I told y'all this chapter's a doozy. Well it is, but maybe not for the reasons you think. . . To me its one of the most important chapters of this whole story. Imma be honest with y'all this was a tough one to write. So you might be warned that this chapter deals with heavy traumatic themes.
Your reviews were so detailed, so loving, so encouraging that I had to tippy tappy away. Please don't forget to review. The more detailed the better! Tell me what you liked best! What stuck out to you! Tell me!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

You visit Maria the following week with a plate of cookies in hand. She’s the one to answer the door and you are relieved when you see that she is showered and dressed. Things must be improving. She brings you into a tentative hug when you arrive, urging you inside out of the fresh dusting of snow.

“Tommy has Douglas out for a little walk. I’ll make you a coffee.”

“I’m fine,” you insist. “Just came to drop off some baking. I’m heading to Ellie’s later this week and needed to get some practice in. I haven’t done much baking lately and wanted to make sure I wasn’t rusty.”

You join her on the couch, watching as she wraps her hands tightly around her coffee mug. She takes tentative sips between munches of cookie. At the first bite she literally moans.

“This is so good.”

“Thanks. They were Charlotte’s favorite.”

Maria licks the crumbs from her lips before leaning back on the sofa. She’s always been slender and she looks almost as she did back before she gave birth, except for the small pouch at her lower belly. You think she looks better with it.

“Was Charlotte your daughter?”

“Oh no. I never had kids.”

“We’re you ever married?”

“Me?” you almost laugh. “No.”

“Oh,” Maria blinks and her mouth tugs to the side. “I thought you might be. You have a nurturing quality about you.”

“I think you give me too much credit.”

Maria grins, taking another bite of cookie. The two of you chat amiably a bit about the changing weather, of the way the inhabitants of Jackson City get along so well. Of how she feels the pressure of being Jacksons’ ‘First Lady’. Of how the bandits that fuck with the dam that supports the city stresses her daily.

“It’s a fucking nightmare some days,” she cites with a grumble. “Thank goodness for Tommy.”

“He’s a good man,” you tell her.

“He is,” she smiles indulgently before shooting you a lingering look. “What do you think about Joel?”

“How do you mean?”

“You do patrols with him, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Can’t say I was always his biggest fan,” she says, taking another sip from her mug. “But he’s grown on me.”

You hold in the scoff that’s already begun in your throat.

“My friend Jennifer seems to think he’s pretty wonderful,” you offer instead. “She was delighted to help him repair the window last week.”

“She the blonde one? Used to do textiles?” Maria knows everyone thanks to her position.

“Yeah.”

“Not his type,” Maria insists with a shy grin. “She’d eat him alive.”

Jennifer doesn’t seem like she would eat anyone alive.

“Joel is all harsh edges,” she explains when she sees your confusion. “He needs someone soft to balance him out. That Jennifer girl is hard.”

You don’t think that you would consider Jennifer hard and you don’t fight Maria on it because the conversation quickly turns to Jackson’s continued increase of population, the place swelling with new life.

“Plenty of single men,” Maria says with a quirked brow in your direction. You give a soft laugh.

“Not really interested.”

“Single women too.”

“No no,” you laugh again, cheeks pinking. “I like men, I just . . . I don’t think I’m the partnering type.”

You think of Luke and his sweet features and his muscled forearms. For him you could perhaps be the partnering type. Perhaps. The thought of romance appeals to you; it just doesn’t seem realistic at times. A crush feels fun and safe.

“You must have had your share of dates,” Maria insists. You can see her relaxing and you think she must be enjoying what she views as girl time. You think she must not have had much of it lately.

“Normal crushes and stuff,” you shrug. “But I was a late bloomer and then the outbreak started when I was a teenager so I didn’t have a chance for a lot of firsts back then.”

“Sex,” Maria nods.

“Uh yeah… that…” you say, trying to appear nonchalant. “And uh, kissing, dating, all that stuff.”

“But you did eventually,” Maria cites smiling.

“Sex? Oh yes,” you nod. You weren’t a monk or anything in your time before Jackson City.

“What was your first time like?” Maria settles back against a cushion, nibbling at her cookie looking at you eagerly. “I remember mine was all fumbling in the backseat of his truck before curfew.”

You laugh and think Maria must be starved for company to be intrigued by your limited romantic experience.

“Uh… fast,” you say with a laugh before allowing yourself to be transported back to that time. “He worked at one of the bakeries that I assisted in. I remember he had the longest eyelashes I’d ever seen on a man. They were so blond you could only see them if he turned at a certain angle. He made me laugh. One night he invited me back to his apartment and… that was that.”

“How old were you?”

“Uh, twenty two, twenty three?”

“And you didn’t date after?”

“Nah, my family left that QZ kinda in a hurry.”

You aren’t expecting your voice to hitch on that last sentence, but it does. Maria grows somber, her dark eyes expressive.

“Can I ask why you left?”

You blink back the sheen of tears starting and gaze around the room, trying to land on something that will steel you. You find it in the small carving of a horse on the bookshelf nearby. You tell your story to that delicately made creature instead.

“We moved east through the QZ’s for about ten or eleven years. Stayed in a few of them before we’d pick up and keep moving to the next one. Hard to make connections and date with all that. I didn’t trust that I’d have the time.”

Maria looks like she wants to ask more when the door is opened and Tommy’s cheerful voice rings out announcing he and Douglas are home and ready for lunch.

“We have company!” Maria says cheerfully.

Tommy turns the corner to see you and he greets you. He wears Douglas strapped to him with fabric, snuggled under his large jacket. Douglas is sleeping soundly and barely notices when Tommy unwraps and hands him off to his mother.

Douglas squirms, his tiny head burrowing into Maria’s neck. She smiles and for the first time you’ve known her it looks sincere. There is a lightness in the house you realize, something that had been missing before.

“He enjoyed being out in the fresh air,” Tommy announces. “Everyone who saw him wanted to kiss him.”

“Tommy!” Maria looks horrified.

“But I didn’t let ‘em,” Tommy finishes, pressing a gentle kiss to his wife’s worried brow. “I’m gonna make some soup. You two want a bowl?”

“I’m alright,” you say. “I just brought by dessert. I’m actually heading over to Ellie’s to do some baking.”

“Joel’s letting you use his place to bake?”

You still, brows raised. “Uh… yeah. Is that… should I not be?”

“No, I’m just surprised,” Tommy admits after a pause. “I don’t think he’s ever let anyone in that house aside from me and Maria. Think the only reason he and Ellie don’t kill each other is ‘cuz she’s in the garage.”

“Oh.”

You don’t know what else to offer besides that.

Tommy nods and for a moment you see something in his expression, a pinched look when Maria looks away from him. You realize that Tommy looks harried, running a hand through his glossy curls.

“What’s up?”

“Nothin’,” Tommy replies too quickly.

You see the panic in his eyes as his gaze darts from his wife back to you. You understand immediately. Maria is doing well, if there’s something stressful in Jackson City he doesn’t want to bother her with it.

“Thanks for the tea Maria, but I better head out,” you inform them both.

Maria wraps you into a side hug, one arm around your shoulders, the other holding her son. You run your knuckles down his spine gently.

“Come back soon,” she whispers.

“I promise.”

“I’ll walk you out,” Tommy says, feigning manners. The two of you walk to the front door around the corner. As you toe on your boots you look up at him expectantly.

“Well?”

Tommy looks over his shoulder anxiously before dropping his voice to a conspiratorial whisper only you can hear.

“Rumor is Raiders were spotted by A Patrol this week,” Tommy says with a sigh. “Up by the traps.”

“Fuck,” you breathe. “Really?”

“Not positive. A Patrol isn’t always the most reliable. They spook easy and are overly cautious. But I’d rather that than the alternative.”

“Of course.”

“Just make sure you and Joel are extra cautious,” Tommy says. “I know you’re both responsible but, you know…. Just be extra responsible.”

You nod, feeling your heart thrumming in your chest as you make your way to Rancher Street.

///

You didn't really want to go to Joel's house today. But Ellie had found you last night heading home from The Tipsy Bison and had guilted you into it when she told you that Joel had brought back all the supplies needed.

You'd tried to sway her into baking at your place but only the burners on your oven work. You'd never really considered getting the main oven fixed, since you take most of your meals in the dining hall.

But in moments like this, you heavily regret that choice.

You feel like even your footsteps sound timid as they make their way up the wood steps.

Ellie is at the door, pulling it open before you can even knock. She must have been looking for you at the window, counting down the seconds until your arrival. The thought warms you. She gives you a broad smile that lights up her face.

"I got everything set up!"

She takes off down into the kitchen and you venture into the Miller home tentatively, still anxious about what happened last time.

A sound to your right draws your attention and you take in the tall form of Joel coming into the room. He's dressed in jeans and a sweater, obviously feeling the chill despite the cheery fire that roars behind him.

"Mornin'," he greets.

"Morning." You lick your lips nervously. "Thanks for letting me bake with Ellie."

"'Course. She's been looking forward to it for weeks. Can't stop talkin' about it.'

Joel gives you a whisper of a smile but the thing that really throws you about this interaction is that he looks almost nervous. You've never seen Joel look nervous.

He'd been so stiff after last patrol, not even saying goodbye to the group after you'd all disembarked off the horses.

It had been embarrassing. Him storming off like you'd all done something wrong. Only Jennifer seemed to still be under Joel's spell citing that watching him hammer the window would fuel her fantasies for months to come.

You're still really irritated with him but it's lessened slightly because his greeting isn’t hostile. You could almost relax if it weren’t for the intense way he’s staring at you.

You hear your name being called by Ellie in the next room so you toe off your shoes and head into the kitchen. She's got an apron on, borrowed from the kitchen or Joel because it's far too big for her small frame.

"Alright," you give her a warm smile as you enter. "You got everything?"

"Yep."

You place the bag you brought on the counter. You remove your own apron, baby blue with ruffles on the end. A recent gift from Jennifer who told you “since you’re a real chef you need your own apron”. You tie it as you speak to Ellie.

"So what I like to do is set up all my supplies on the counter just to double check I have everything. Nothing worse than being halfway through a recipe and finding out you you’re missing ingredients."

The sentence isn't even out of your mouth before Ellie’s opened up her cupboards and ice box and begun to take everything out. Flour, eggs, bowls, milk and more, all the items you gave Joel on the list. She places them on the counter before looking at you like a proud student.

"You'll need measuring spoons."

The two of you turn at the same time to see Joel standing by the entrance to the kitchen, lingering. His hands are in his jean pockets, standing like a chastised student outside the classroom.

"I brought some," you inform him, trying to hold in your irritation. You pull them from your bag, putting them next to the eggs.

You feel Joel's eyes on your back and you're sure he's silently judging you, eager to point out what you're doing wrong. You stiffen under the perceived scrutiny. Ellie must sense the change in the room because she whips around to shoot him a jeering look.

"Joel you don't need to supervise," Ellie says rolling her eyes. "We won't break the damn stove."

Joel looks at his feet mumbling something about needing to do stuff upstairs anyway before he's making his way out of the kitchen.

You go back to your lesson with Ellie who turns out to be a very focused student.

She asks smart questions, measures everything perfectly and takes her time. It's only when you put her in charge of cracking three eggs into the bowl that she gets frustrated.

"Fuck, it cracked wrong. Shell got in."

Her fingers pinch into the egg bowl, trying to grasp the fallen eggshell. Of course the viscous nature of the raw egg makes it impossible and it’s not long before she pushes at the bowl angrily, her face is set into a deep frown.

“S’fucking bullshit.”

"Happens all the time," you tell her kindly. "Don't stress about it. I’ll show you a secret my mom taught me and my sister to get ‘em out."

Ellie watches as you take the empty shell half still in her hand. Her brows knit in confusion as you lower it into the bowl, using it as a scoop. Unlike with her fingers, the egg shell piece floats easily into the makeshift scoop. You pull the shell from the bowl, tossing the mess into the garbage.

“Holy shit that actually worked.” Ellie smiles at this and it transforms her pale pinched features into that of a warm, approachable teenager.

You smile, feeling strangely proud. You’ve never baked with anyone else before, aside from the kitchen. But that was following the same boring recipes given by the head chef. You were usually boiling rice, cutting onions or apples. Baking is a different beast, a calmer, more relaxing one.

After that hiccup Ellie is more patient with herself. She's keen to learn about baking but she's very eager to talk to you about you. When you pop the formed pastries into the oven and set the timer she decides that now is the time to chat.

"What kind of music did you used to listen to before?"

Memories of Joel’s warning float in your mind. The reminder not to tell her too much. To make her long for a life that he can’t give her.

"Enough about me,” you deflect. “I want to know about you."

At this Ellie balks slightly, the smile wavering just a fraction before the mask is replaced and she nods. Her mixing increases but now her eyes are on the batter.

"Whadda you wanna know?"

"What was your life like before Jackson?"

"I was in the QZ back in Boston,” she says slowly, as if she's trying to make sure she doesn't give too much away. "Hated it."

"Parents?"

"Never met 'em."

"What brought you to Jackson City?"

"Joel."

She doesn't offer you more or less than that. You understand it, you don't push it.

"How'd you end up here?" She asks, mixing the dry ingredients.

You realize the stupidity of you asking her those questions. How easily you opened them to be doubled back on yourself.

"You asked me what kind of music I listened to before?" You smile, hoping that this will distract her. "I remember I saw Chicago about a billion times," you laugh. "I was obsessed. I listened to the soundtrack over and over."

"Chicago," Ellie says slowly as if trying to recall before a light seems to go on. "Oh, I've heard of Chicago. Joel likes ‘em."

Them?

It takes you a minute to understand what she's talking about. You finally answer giggling.

"Chicago the musical, not the band. The musical had great songs. And dancing."

"Do you dance?"

"Not very well."

Your dual laughter combines and you can't help but enjoy the sound. Ellie really does make you laugh. She reminds you of how life was before. When everything seemed new.

You can tell Ellie wants to know everything about your life before the outbreak. And you want to indulge her but Joel's words rub their imprint on your the inside of your skull.

"Hey I promised your D- Joel that I wouldn't keep talking about this stuff with you," you explain quietly. "He's worried it makes you want stuff you can't have."

"Jesus," Ellie says rolling her eyes. “Overprotective much?”

"No he's right," you insist truthfully. "I mean, I get where he's coming from. He doesn't wanna keep disappointing you."

"Joel could never disappoint me."

The timer goes off and you peer into the oven. The pastries are a golden brown. You smile before taking them out with the oven mitt. Ellie closes her eyes, inhaling.

"They smell so good."

"Just wait until you put icing on them," you encourage with a grin. "Delicious."

The two of you get to work making the icing while the pastries cool.

"It's gonna snow," Ellie comments out of nowhere as she peers out the window, mixing idly.

"Hate to break it to you, El, it's already snowing."

Ellie gives you a smirk along with her side eye. You don't know if it's from your sarcastic comment or the fact that you called her El.

"I mean I think it’s gonna snow a lot." She explains. "I heard some of the other kids talking about it at school."

"Huh," you offer noncommittal as you look at the consistency of the icing. "Wonder how they can tell."

"They said they could smell it," Ellie says with a grin, pushing up the sleeve of her shirt so that it doesn't drip into the icing bowl. "They said tha-"

You can't hear anything she's saying after that. All you can focus on is her now bared arm and the ugly bite mark. Blood rushes in your ears and you cry out before giving a blood curdling shriek.

“No!”

Ellie jumps, startled at your sudden screams. She throws herself back against the wall, eyes wide and glancing around as if she expects hordes of infected to come streaming in.

"What? What is it?"

You know she's never seen you be loud, never seen you scream and the sight must terrify her.

But all you can focus on is the clear outline of bite marks on her forearm visible after she rolled up her sleeves. The clear sign of an infected’s mark. She’s going to turn into a clicker before your eyes. She’s going to become soulless and inhuman and you need to go. You need to get somewhere safe.

Joel. He’ll be so devastated.

You can hear the heavy footsteps of Joel approaching the kitchen but all you can think of is escaping and getting yourself safe. You have to warn the town. You run towards the front door, your socks slipping over the smooth floor.

You're still screaming incoherently, your voice cracking as you lunge for the doorknob, tears in your eyes. Your hand closes around the brass knob just as two muscled arms go around your waist, pulling you back harshly. A hand covers your mouth and a deep voice is at your ear.

"Quit," he repeats, shaking you slightly in his arms. "Stop screamin'."

There's an increasingly paranoid thought that believes this was all a trap. A way for Joel to get his daughter fed. You feel it, Joel's arms wrapped around your entire body, pinning your arms to your sides. His body is warm and solid behind you, terrifying in its strength. It takes you to a time you've tried to forget.

"Get the fuck off of me!" You shriek against his palm, trying to wriggle out of his grip but he holds firm. You're screaming expletives, trying to kick out. You shake his hand off your mouth. "She's bit, Joel! I saw it!"

Ellie hasn't moved from where she stands cowering in the corner of the kitchen. But you can only imagine how soon it will be before she turns. You can't be here for that. You can’t watch that sweet girl turn into one of them.

"I know," Joel rumbles against your temple, hands still gripping you tightly.

"You know," you repeat and now a dread begins in your feet and floods the rest of you.

Joel knows she is bit. Joel welcomed you into his home knowing she was bit.

You are going to die.

"Let me go!"

High on fearful adrenaline you give a frantic kick backwards, elbowing into Joel's abdomen at the same time you thrust the ball of your foot onto his socked toes. Joel gives a strangled grunt and his arms loosen in pain momentarily allowing you a chance to break free from him.

You tug open the door and speed out without your boots. You feel the snow on the porch under your feet, freezing your toes immediately. You throw yourself down the porch stairs, feet slapping the wood as you hold back sobs. The street is deserted; the houses all empty as they usually are on bright Saturday afternoons. You go to cry out for someone, anyone, when Joel's arm bands around your waist.

You give a devastated howl of defeat before Joel is dragging your struggling frame back into the house, telling you to calm down.

Ellie is by the sink, her eyes on the ground.

But you still struggle, trying to get away from this house. Joel gives a frustrated growl before he pushes you up against the wall, pinning you there with his hips. His hands hold your wrists on either side of your head, pressing them into the wall.

"Stop fuckin' strugglin'," Joel seethes when you jerk against him, his chest pressing you so tightly to the wall you can't breathe.

"Please let me go," you beg brokenly as you continue to struggle in his arms. "Please I just-“

"She's immune," he rasps in your ear. "She's fucking immune! Stop!"

Immune. Immune.

"What?" You stop your screaming just long enough to twist your head to face him. "Immune? That's not possible."

But you’ve stopped struggling as hard.

You take a closer look at Ellie’s arm from where you stand, noticing that it doesn’t look particularly fresh. In fact it looks scarred. And yet something in you is still terrified. So terrified that you yelp when you feel Joel's wide hands go to either side of your face, forcing your face up and eyes to his.

"Everything is okay," Joel tells you in a husky rasp. "You're safe, I promise. I've got you. You're safe."

His eyes are locked with yours as he says this and you don't know how those words work their way into your body, but they do. The same way they wind around you as you allow yourself to get lost on patrols with your mouth on him. That sense that someone else is in charge, someone else is protecting you.

You're safe.

Your entire frame goes boneless in his arms and when he finally releases your face your head drops to your chest. He continues to press you gently against the wall with one heavy hand holding you there.

"What if it's slow acting or -" you whisper quietly, "or what if you can still pass it on with saliva or-"

"The dogs don't detect it," Joel tells you, his hold on you not lessening. "Ellie and I've shared drinks plenty a' times. She's immune."

You stare at the girl at the table, her entire countenance shifted. You can see the devastation, the fear and anger floods out of you immediately, like a deep sigh. You sag in Joel's arms, feeling as he slowly loosens you.

"She's had it for months," Joel tells you, no longer pinning you to the wall.

"Months?"

You're still stunned by the developments but it doesn't stop your eyes from traveling over to Ellie. You see now that tears are slipping off the end of her nose as she silently cries. She’s pulled her sleeve back down, covering the scar.

Your heart immediately breaks because it's you who did this to her. This girl who trusts so few. You treated her like she was a monster.

"Ellie I'm sorry, I just..." You trail off, your heart still beating wildly.

But Ellie has tears in her eyes, her neck blotchy. She's raced to the garage, slamming the door after her. You flinch at the sound of it.

Then it’s just you and Joel in the quiet kitchen.

"How long have you known?"

"Since I met her," Joel explains quietly. "Was bringing her to the fireflies with a friend in exchange for a battery. Rumor was there was a cure."

"Guess not if you're both here," you say absently, missing the pain in his dark eyes when you say it.

"Not a lot of people know about it. We'd like to keep it that way."

You nod, your mind whirring. You realize you've never seen Ellie in anything but long sleeves. Never seen her wearing bracelets or anything that would draw her attention to her arms. She’s been hiding in plain sight. You think of the friendships she hasn’t made, the way she keeps to herself, the hostile way she is with most and it all clicks into place.

"We were thinking of gettin' her a tattoo to cover it up,” Joel continues. “Haven't found anyone to do it yet."

You nod again, eyes falling on the pastries now lying squashed on the floor, the warm berries oozing out onto the wood.

“I’ll take care of this stuff,” Joel mutters, dropping to his knees and starting to pick up the supplies you brought. You think of how excited Ellie had been to recreate the pop tarts, how devastated she’ll be when she realizes they’re all ruined.

"I- I think I should go talk to Ellie."

"She doesn't wanna talk. Trust me."

"Just lemme try."

Joel looks as if he's about to protest but you're already walking quickly until you've reached the door to the garage. You knock gently.

"Ellie? It's me. Please don't be upset ... I was just startled."

There's a pause, then a sniffle that makes your heart lurch.

"Can we talk? Please, Ellie?"

You hear shuffling and then finally the door to the garage is opened a crack and you see Ellie peering through. Her eyes are swollen and red, the end of her nose pink. She glares at you through the small slit in the door.

"Fuck off."

"I just want to explain. Just let me explain and then I promise I'll leave."

She doesn't move, doesn't attempt to close or open the door. She just stands there like some sentry.

“Five minutes. That’s all I need.”

"You think I'm a freak."

"I don't," you insist, palm on the door as if you could transfer your emotions by osmosis to her. "Ellie I was having fun right before all this. I really was. Can we talk? Please? I want to explain properly."

Ellie’s glossy eyes scan your body and with a labored sigh she steps back, opening the door and allowing you entrance.

"Come in."

You follow her into the warm space, watching as she drops onto her made bed. Ellie hugs her knees to her chest, wrapping her arms around them as you look at her. Ellie's eyes drag from the floor up to your face and you see her chin trembling as she holds in tears.

“Can I sit?” you ask motioning to beside her on the bed. She nods, shuffling to give you room to perch there.

“I know you’re not gonna come back after this,” Ellie says, eyes wide with a quiet pleading as you look over at her.

“Of course I am.”

“No you’re not,” Ellie says shaking her head and rubbing angrily at her eyes. “You’ve seen my arm. You think I’m a fucking freak.”

"Ellie I swear I don't think you're a freak," you emphasize as you shuffle on the edge of her bed. "I was just... That bite took me back to a really scary time."

"Yeah," Ellie says with her chin balanced on her kneecap. "No one wants to think about... All that stuff."

You see the desolation there in her eyes. She's hurt and even though you didn't mean to do it you did. You feel responsible for her sadness. Your eyes go to her closed door, wanting to make sure you have privacy before you turn back to her.

"Ellie, can I share some stuff with you?"

"Yeah.”

"It's not happy stuff," you tell her.

"Figured." Ellie shrugs again like it doesn't matter. Like she's seen it all. Maybe she has, but you doubt it. She doesn’t make eye contact with you.

“It’s just. . . I’ve never told anyone this stuff before. Ever.”

Ellie’s eyes go to your face now. She can see how serious you are and she straightens slightly. She goes from being hunched and holding her legs to sitting cross legged across from you on the bed.

"Okay..." You take a sharp inhale. “So, I was about your age when Outbreak Day happened. I was with my Dad and my sister. My mom was visiting my Aunt in Wyoming-“

“How come?”

“Ellie you gotta let me get this all out quick okay?” you say gently. “No interruptions.”

“Okay.”

“Okay,” you breathe deeply again. “She was visiting my aunt because my aunt was getting a divorce and my mom wanted to support her. Anyway, about ten years ago my dad and my little sister and I were travelling between QZ’s. We were looking for my Mom because my Dad was convinced she was still alive and she’d be out in this direction.”

You swallow; hating talking about this but knowing that Ellie deserves this truth. So far she looks intrigued, her eyes wide.

“So one night we were exhausted. We’d been travelling for days and we were low on food and water. We see this old cabin and it looks like it’s abandoned. We figure it’s a good spot to hunker down and get some energy before we keep going.” You exhale a shuddering breath.

“Except it wasn’t abandoned. It was a trap set up by this group of Raiders. I called them The Group. They killed my dad and they were gonna kill me and my sister when one of the guys had the bright idea that they could use us as bait.”

"Bait?"

Ellie seems to remember she’s not supposed to say anything because she ducks her head slightly.

"Yeah. they made us go into new places first," you explain detached, as if you’re talking about another woman in another life. "So if there was anything dangerous it would get us in enough time to give The Group a chance to escape.”

Ellie is staring at you wide-eyed, all her teenage ambivalence lost as you detail the most terrifying years of your life. You omit lots of the more gruesome details and you definitely don’t tell her about Rock River.

"Once they hung me from a tree," you tell her, trying not to sound emotional. It's not hard. Years of hiding how that part of your life affects you makes you good at it. "They tied me to a rope and hung me on a branch to attract clickers."

"Jesus."

"Yeah," you nod. "It worked really well. There was a big group and they piled underneath me, trying to grab at me, their mouths all black and their teeth gnashing and...” you stop yourself when you see Ellie’s eyes widening. “Anyway, The Group got ‘em all and managed to get some good supplies in the town because of it. I just... It just left me kind of..."

You wince when you realize you’ve trailed off, your focus blurred.

"The point is that when I saw your arm it just all came flooding back and I reacted out of instinct. Not because I think you're a freak. I could never think that about you.”

Ellie is quiet, digesting all that you've told her. You think you hear a creaking outside her door, but you're not sure. Your attention is drawn back to the girl who’s eyes hold such a myriad of emotions; pain, empathy, fear, anger.

"How did you end up here?"

You think about not telling her. But it feels so good to be getting some of this information out, like you’re coughing up a thick black piece of flesh that’s been festering in your lungs for years, making it so you can now finally breathe.

"One guy, Chiyo, he joined up with our group a few years after I was taken. He owned a shooting range before everything.... You know…. Well, he'd broken his ankle in a recent raid and couldn’t really move much. If we hadn't come upon him when we did he probably would have been killed by another group of raiders. But as it was he had this giant stash of weapons and The Groups ranks were thinning so..."

You trail off, thinking of how you'd come upon him first when you and The Group got to town. How the leader you thought of as Red due to his hair (you never learned their real names), shoved you brutally by the shoulder.

Always the bait.

But after what had happened only the week before you didn’t care anymore. Red pushed you and you entered willingly, your feet not even dragging as you walked. It was either be shot by one of The Group attempting to escape, or see what resided inside the shop with the boarded up windows.

Chiyo’s gun was trained on you the second you walked in. The way you held your hands at your eye level when he told you he was going to shoot.

“I’m gonna blow your head clean off if you take another step.”

And suddenly you’d decided that you were done. You were so tired. And at least this way it would be quick and it would be away from The Group. And so you’d taken another step towards Chiyo, hands still raised.

You can still recall the furrowing of his thick brows and the lowering of his weapon as he stared at you.

"You want to die?"

You hadn't answered him but that had been answer enough for Chiyo. He'd hobbled over to you, dragging his lame leg, dark eyes fixed on your face.

"I'm not gonna hurt you."

And when he'd said it, you'd believed him.

You remember the way you'd convinced the rest of The Group they needed someone like him. A crack shot, you told them. You'd had no idea of knowing if it was true. But there had been warmth in Chiyo's eyes that was missing from the rest of The Groups. Something that you clinged to in the coming months.

"Thankfully he was a really good shot,” you explain. “He joined up and we stripped his shop of his guns and eventually his ankle healed thanks to the medic in The Group and he was suddenly part of the team.”

“Was he nice to you?”

“Yeah. He was really kind. Whenever they used me as bait he insisted on going with. He said it was so we could save me for really bad missions, but I knew it was to protect me. They let him get away with it because he was such a good shot, I think. Everyone liked him. When the rest of The Group was asleep we'd talk by the fire. Chiyo was afraid of horses," you tell Ellie with a small smile. “Was about the only thing he was afraid of.”

You don't tell her everything. You don't tell of the tender way he fucked you in the wee hours of the morning before The Group rose most mornings. How he whispered that he missed his dead wife and would never dishonor her memory by kissing you. But you hadn’t minded, you understood and you’d both been gentle with each other.

You’d enjoyed getting lost in the sensation of him. Of his cock in your mouth, of your cunt stuffed full of him. The rhythmic sensation of sex that took you out of your body and away from your every day horrors.

You remember how he would hold you, tears sliding onto your collar as he spilled himself onto your belly whimpering his dead wife’s name. How he would thank you over and over with your hand at the base of his skull, mouth against his shoulder while you quietly sobbed your own gratitude.

"After a few months he told me he was escaping. He'd heard about Jackson City and that's where he was headed. He wanted to bring me to see if we could find my Mom."

"Holy shit,” Ellie breathes. “Where is he now?"

"He didn't make it," you tell her tightly.

And now the shield is back in your voice and eyes and she must sense it. Ellie doesn’t press this, seems to understand that there is more there. With a teenagers’ sensibilities and a teenager’s romanticism she asks you her next question.

"Were you in love with him?"

Chiyo is a faint memory, a watercolor blur if you think about him in too much detail. When you try to recall things like the scar over his left eyebrow or the dragon tattoo on his inner thigh. But these are just pieces of him. They aren't him.

When you think of Chiyo there is a warmth. But it's the warmth that comes from having a benevolent savior. One who never told you that you were in his debt. Yes, you cared for him. Of course you did. He was gentle and he was kind and his heart was soft.

"No," you say firmly. "He was nice though and I cared about him. Probably as close to love as I'll ever get."

You and Ellie are quiet for a long time.

“I tried saving a bit boy once,” she finally offers. “His name was Sam. Tried rubbing my blood on him. Thought it would save him. It didn’t. He turned and his brother had to kill him before he killed himself.”

You don’t allow yourself to cry. You know that isn’t what Ellie needs right now.

“I’m the reason so many people are dead,” Ellie explains when you say nothing in return. “My Mom died having me. Riley… Tess… Sam…Henry... Ellie’s voice is doing that same detached thing yours does. “Sometimes I honestly think it would be better if I was never born.”

You can’t help the way your arms leap out in front of you to gather the girl into your arms. She tries to fight you on it, flinching from the contact before your unrelenting arms pull her into a tight squeeze, tugging her into your lap. Angry tears slip down her red cheeks, her cries breaking free as you wrestle her into a bear hug.

“I’m so glad you exist, Ellie.”

And then all the fight is gone from her body and she’s sobbing quietly into your shoulder, her tiny frame shaking. You hold her against you, wanting your adoration and affection to move through your body into hers so she knows how much she’s wanted.

“The world would be so much worse without you in it,” you assure her honestly. “You’re special, Ellie. And not because you’re immune. Because you’re smart and brave and funny and you make people like me feel like we’re worth something.”

Her arms wrap around your neck, face in your shoulder and she allows you to continue holding her, rocking her gently in your lap as if she were your own teenage daughter.

“And yes you’re stubborn and you can be annoying,” you add, trying to lighten the mood. “But there’s no one I like talking to as much as I like talking to you. You made me look forward to breakfasts in the dining hall because it meant I got to speak to you.”

“You’re just saying that,” she sniffles, arms loosely circling your neck.

“You don’t like liars, right?” You remind her. “Well I’m not lying. Plus, I know Joel loves you and he doesn’t seem like the kind of guy that loves many people so you must be pretty great.”

Ellie gives a shallow huff of amusement in your shoulder.

“And I know Maria and Tommy adore you just as much if not more than I do. And if you opened up a little more with the kids around here I know they’d love you just as much as we do because you’re a wonderful person. The world would be so much worse without your light, Ellie. You bring light to the darkness.”

You continue rocking her for several moments, waiting until her sobs turn into hiccups and then gentle swallows. Finally she pulls back from you, almost embarrassed at the emotional display. She shuffles back onto the bed, picking at the loose string hanging from her pillow.

“I think I’m cursed.”

“Hey now that’s not true,” you insist. “I’m here aren’t I? How is that a curse? If anything it’s a blessing.”

She gives you a weak smile that you return.

“C’mon, let’s go and finish the pop tarts.”

“We’ll have to start all over again,” Ellie almost whines.

“Then I guess I’ll be staying here a little longer.”

Ellie wipes at her blotchy face, running her hands down her cheeks before nodding and standing abruptly. You two make it back into the kitchen, surprised to see Joel standing there. His broad shoulders ripple as he works on something in front of him, his back to you.

Ellie sails over to him, her eyes wide when she sees what he’s done. “Wait are those the pop tarts?”

“Yep.”

“I thought they were ruined.”

“Yours were,” Joel shrugs, spreading icing onto one of the homemade pop tarts. “Mine went okay.”

You feel as if you’ve been physically pushed.

Joel baked?

Ellie snags one of the still warm pastries from the plate as Joel starts running the cloth over the counter and wiping the crumbs into the sink. You look at the joy on Ellie’s face as she takes a bite.

“Holy shit, Joel, these are so fucking good.”

“Language,” Joel admonishes over his shoulder, though there’s nothing harsh in it. He turns around, hip resting against the counter.

“I’m gonna have you do all my baking,” Ellie continues as if she hasn’t heard him. “I’ll just be your taste tester.”

You want to grin at this but all you can do is stare at Joel and the soft way he’s smiling down at Ellie. This open look of adoration you so rarely see. Like there’s this secret Joel inside the mean Joel shell that the privileged few witness.

Joel could never disappoint me.

Joel seems to feel your eyes on him because he blinks over at you, dark eyes darting around your face. His expression is unreadable, but there’s nothing cruel or cold in it. He’s just looking at you, almost as if he’s trying to figure you out as well.

“Well looks like we’re all set here so I should go,” you start awkwardly, suddenly feeling strangely light headed. Joel steps towards you, brows rising.

“You could stay for a dr-“ Joel begins, but you’ve already made your way to the front door, pulling on your boots and jacket.

Your hands are trembling for some reason and you think it must be all this emotional turmoil you’ve shared with Ellie. It has you feeling vulnerable and exposed and you want to escape home to the safety of your bed, away from soulful brown eyes and soft smiles.

“Ellie you wanna grab breakfast before patrols?” you ask, studiously ignoring Joel who stands next to her looking at you. You don’t want her to think you’re rushing off and forgetting about her.

“Sure,” Ellie says brightly before motioning to the plate of pastries. “You want any of these to go?”

“Nah, you enjoy them,” you insist with a flash of a smile. “You worked hard.”

You don’t look backwards as you rush out the door of their home and down the sidewalk of Rancher Street, convinced you can feel Joel’s dark gaze on you the entire way.

Notes:

The other parts I wanted to include in this chapter were gonna bloat this installment into over 10k and I wasn't even finished so I had to break it up! For those of you waiting for smut. . . let me just say you won't have to wait much longer. . .
Please don't forget to review. The more detailed the better! Tell me what you liked best! What stuck out to you! Tell me!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Chapter 11: Snow

Notes:

I LOVE Y'ALL for loving this fic! I see your comments and they warm my heart. I get inspired, I start writing the next chapter. I just fuckin love y'all for being as invested in this as I am. Right now this is my favorite story to write so please keep up the support here! The more comments, the quicker my fingers get to tippy tapping!

Chapter Text

It's one of those nights where the weather feels biting and the snow heavy. The kind of weather that urges you to stay indoors and keep warm.

Luke invited you and Jennifer to the Bison for karaoke earlier but you declined, citing you had other plans.

Plans which involve the cup of tea at your elbow, the paperback in your hands and the fire going in the hearth. You feel cozy and warm and are almost drifting off when a knock at the door sounds.

You slip out from under the blanket over your legs, padding over to the door and opening it a crack to see a familiar face.

"Oh, hey Tommy."

The younger Miller comes in, shaking off the flakes from his shoulder. He lets the cold in, taking his time entering your home before closing the door behind him.

"Hey sorry to be callin' so late."

"Oh it's fine," you insist, suppressing a yawn. "You wanna drink?"

"Nah this'll be quick." Tommy sniffles, the end of his nose red from the cold. "S'about patrols."

"Uh huh?"

Tommy looks curiously uncomfortable, like a child who's been forced to apologize for something he feels he's not responsible for.

"I was thinkin' and you don't have'ta do ‘em anymore. I'll find someone to take over your spot if you need."

Tommy's face holds a myriad of expression, concern being the most predominant. Yours however holds nothing but confusion.

"Who?"

"Uh, was thinkin' of that Jennifer girl," Tommy says, hands deep in his coat pocket. He shifts from foot to foot slowly. "She seemed pretty up for it before. Was gonna head over to her place after this and ask her to take over til we find someone new to train."

This feels like a punch in the gut.

Useless.

The word Joel used when you first began. The word you thought you'd outgrown comes back like a sharp slap across the cheek. Your fingernails dig into the wood frame around the door, clinging to it.

The fire crackles dimly in the background, a soundtrack to your humiliation. Tommy can't look you in the eyes now and you have a feeling you know why. It makes you feel small and pathetic.

"Do you..." The words don't come easily, you have to force them. "Do you think I'm not good enough to be on patrols?"

"No," Tommy answers quickly, eyes wide and head shaking vehemently. "No. Not at all. This is just... I know back when you started you said you didn't really wanna do it. Preferred kitchen duty."

"Yeah."

"And we got some new blood in town lately, so I figured, you know..."

They think I'm useless.

Why else would Tommy be offering this? Stories must have gotten around. Maybe Luke said something in passing about you being stuck with window patrol while they did repairs. Maybe Jennifer was worried that you were being treated poorly.

Maybe Joel doesn't want you as his partner anymore.

That seems the most likely and somehow stings the most. A thought skitters across your brain like an unwelcome insect that makes your face grow cloudy.

"Did Joel tell you I'm bad on patrols or something? Is that the real reason you're here?"

"No. Joel never said you were bad on patrols."

If Tommy's lying he's doing a damn good job of it. Still, it feels like he's editing himself, holding something back.

You swallow, feeling a lump forming there. Part of you thinks it would be so easy to give in and agree to stopping. So easy to never have to put up with Joel's snide remarks or the panic you feel outside the gates.

But there is something in the loss of that challenge that frightens you more. Something that feels worse than useless, it feels like cowardice. Something that feels like The Group wins even if they hold no power over you anymore. You suppose that's what motivates you to address Tommy with what you hope sounds like confidence.

"I'd like to continue with them," you say to the ground at his feet. "If that's okay with you."

"You sure?"

You nod, watching an uneasy smile spread across his handsome features. Like he shouldn't be glad about your response but is.

"All right, then. I'll skip my next stop."

He leaves with a wave and you watch him trudging through the snow out the window, your arms coming to wrap around yourself, but not because of the cold.

///

"Focus and aim."

You grit your teeth before narrowing your eyes and focusing all your attention on the empty tin can sitting on the fence. It's cold today, biting, and the scarf you wear wraps around the lower half of your face.

You hold the weapon as you've been training, aiming with not your right eye but your left.

You inhale, your ears pricked at every sound. All the birds chattering in the trees, the wind that blows the faraway sound of the townspeople. Even Jennifer's light breathing behind you. You make it all go quiet.

"Fuck I can't. It's too loud out here."

"Loud?" Jennifer glances around the two of you, completely alone in the field.

"Yeah. Birds, wind, echoes...."

You shift restlessly before bringing the shotgun back up to your eye level. You want to get this right.

"Think of something calming," Jennifer urges, her eyes falling over your face as you focus. "Something that makes everything go quiet."

Something that makes everything go quiet.

Something calm.

Something that quells the frenetic beating of you heart.

Something that gives you that sweet blissful escape.

You try to think of that first sip of tea after a long day. How it mixes with the honey on your tongue, how you savor it. But it's not enough.

You think of the way running water sounds.

The sensation of sunlight on your bare shoulders.

The soft muzzle of Chesnut.

Joel.

His dark eyes meeting yours when you knelt at his feet that last time. When his hand went to your cheek.

That's when everything felt safe and quiet.

Jennifer seems to notice the steadying of your breathing because she nods approvingly as you let out a slow exhale.

"Now shoot."

You don’t want to think of Joel. He can’t be your safe thought. You force your mind to think of something else.

Making pastries with Ellie.

The sound Chestnut makes when he eats carrots.

Your sisters smile.

You pull the trigger, feeling as the weapon kicks back against your braced shoulder. The sound of the blast makes you wince.

The can doesn't even move a fraction.

"So close!" Jennifer insists, shielding her eyes from the glare of the grey sky on the snow. "It definitely grazed it."

"Won't do much good grazing a clicker," you frown, lowering the weapon. Wind whips stray strands of your hair against your ruddy cheek.

Oh c'mon now," Jennifer says trying to rouse your spirits. "We've been practising for weeks and you're getting so much better."

When Tommy came to offering you the repeat of patrols, you should have taken him up on it. And yet something churned within your guts. Insisted that you continue on with Jennifer's coaching trying to perfect your shooting skills.

Because there is no Chiyo. No protector. No benevolent figure to save you. It's just you now. You and you alone. And months ago the thought would have terrified you into never leaving your home. It would have burst into grateful tears at the thought of being let off the hook.

But something's been changing these last few months, something that gets stronger with every lesson Jennifer gives you, with every gallop atop of Chestnut. Something that whispers: not useless.

You kick at a stray patch of dirty snow, angry at yourself. You want to be better but it's taking so long. You want to feel more confident on patrols but your aim isn't progressing fast enough for you. You want to prove yourself not useless.

"Alright Smiley," Jennifer says slinging a companionable arm around your shoulder. "Let's go have breakfast."

///

Breakfast on cold days is always something warm like eggs or oatmeal with honey. Often there's hot chocolate which you take gratefully between your hands today. You make a note to pack one for patrols in the Thermos you keep at home.

You sit across from Jennifer who is back lit by the morning sun and looks like a goddess. How is Joel not more obvious in his intention for her? He's handsome but he's also at least fifty. He shouldn't be so picky with his personality the way it is.

But then again from what you've seen there's a certain air around Joel wherever he goes. One that has women of all ages smiling shyly and stammering when he's in the vicinity. Once you saw one woman drop an entire bag of yarn when he walked by in town. She didn't notice for a full three minutes.

"So how did baking go with Ellie?"

You're surprised by this question. You'd assumed that the whole baking with Ellie thing was private. You certainly haven't talked about it with anyone.

"Uh, how did-"

"She's going around telling everyone at school that she was baking with you," Jennifer laughs. "My friend Rebecca teaches her."

You recall meeting Rebecca a few weeks ago at one of Jennifer's big friendly breakfasts. One where you sat quietly listening to the chatting figures around you, being drawn into the odd conversation but mostly keeping quiet. You never feel quite comfortable around big crowds.

"It was nice," you offer, wrapping your fingers around the warm mug a little tighter.

You have no intention of telling her what actually occurred. You don't want to tell her about the trauma you endured before Jackson City or the pain that Ellie saw reflected in your eyes. Jennifer’s lips curl into a sensuous smile.

"Was Joel there?"

"Yeah, he was around for a bit."

You don't meet her eyes as you say this. And for some reason you don't mention to her that Joel made that second batch of pastries or that he wasn’t rough with how he spoke to you. The whole experience feels too private, too sacred. No matter what, you won't be sharing that information.

"Speaking of which..." Jennifer trails off, nodding her head towards the door of the dining hall. You don't even bother looking over your shoulder; you know that she's referencing Joel.

You try not to look stiff but you are. You're still unsure of how to act around him after everything that happened.

The two of you eat quietly as your mind goes back to that day on Rancher Street. You still don't know how you feel about Joel; you're still perplexed by his actions. One day he hates you the next day he can tolerate you. It's all very confusing and not a little irritating.

"He's staring over here," Jennifer says a short while later, trying not to move her lips when she speaks. "Keeps sneaking looks every few minutes."

You feel a grin spreading over your features as your friend smiles prettily, pretending she doesn't notice her crush. Maybe Joel isn't as thick as you thought and there is hope for the two of them.

Jennifer dabs a bit at the egg on her plate with her toast, her sleeves rolled up to showcase her delicate wrists.

"So, you gonna ask him out?"

"Nah," Jennifer shakes her head before taking a long pull from her coffee mug. "Joel's an old fashioned guy. I can't see him being into that."

It strikes you as humorous that things like old-fashioned men are still a thing. After the world has gone to rot, you're still shocked that certain socially expected norms exist.

"Maybe that's what he needs though," you offer diplomatically. "A kick in the pants from a pretty lady."

"There's plenty else I'd like to do with his pants."

You make a face and the two of you collapse into hushed laughter, tilting over your breakfasts. Jennifer claps a hand over your shoulder in amusement; her laughed ebbing when you flinch at the contact. Her eyes study you a moment before a voice behind you breaks in.

"Mind if I join you two?"

Luke stands looking down at the both of you with a charming smile. His hair is mussed, obviously just woke it up. You're struck with how handsome he is in the early light of the day.

"Course not," you say smiling up at him.

He takes a seat next to Jennifer, his thick-lashed eyes on you.

"Sorry I couldn't make it to practice this morning. Was tired from last night."

"Karaoke at the Bison, right?" Jennifer laughs. "Wish I could have been there to see that. I had to help the ladies with a textile emergency."

"Where were you?" Luke asks, chewing his toast as he stares at you.

"Reading," you admit with a shy glance at your fork. "I like reading in front of the fire in cold weather."

You always have. It's a safety for you in many ways. Curled under a blanket with the fire hissing and your latest paperback in your hands. Something nostalgic and beautiful about the written word surviving everything.

"Hopefully the window we repaired held up in all this snow," Luke offers, glancing over his shoulder out the window. Flakes are falling gently.

"I'm sure it did, you guys are all good at that stuff," you offer kindly. Jennifer watches you and Luke with a look of satisfaction, like Cupid after a successful mission.

"You excited about patrols?" he grins over at you.

"How could I not be? I get to go with Mr. Congeniality," you drop your eyes to your plate when you hear Luke and Jennifer giggle.

You feel buoyed by their laughter, it takes you back to a time in life when you enjoyed making people laugh. Funny cartoons about teachers sketched on lined paper. Giggling behind hands as they were passed between desks.

"With my luck though he'll tell me I'm riding my horse wrong," you joke, encouraged on by their twittering laughter.

"Or hell, maybe I'm breathing wrong," you drop your voice several octaves, adopting Joel's twang. "Too much inhalin' enough exhalin'."

When you don't hear laughter at this you look up from your eggs to see that both Luke and Jennifer have started to grimace, looking over your shoulder.

"Just got the word that we gotta head out early today."

Fuck.

Your shoulders go to your ears in embarrassment as you feel Joel's tall body standing behind you.

"Looks like there's gonna be heavy snow this afternoon," Joel's rumbling baritone informs you the back of your head.

"Okay," you tell him, shooting only a brief look at him over your shoulder before dropping your eyes back to your eggs because you're too humiliated to completely turn around. "I'll join you when we're done breakfast."

You need a few minutes to collect yourself. You know Joel just heard everything. You need to regroup, maybe get advice from Jennifer on how to handle this.

"No time to wait," Joel insists, his tone flat. "S'go."

You feel Luke and Jennifer staring at you during this exchange and you clench your jaw tightly in irritation.

"I'll bus your tray," Jennifer offers quietly across from you. "You go on."

You shoot her a grateful look, nodding as you stand. Joel is waiting there at your back, heavy eyes staring at you as you pull your jacket on. He's already got the backpack on, a gun strapped to him.

You follow him wordlessly out the dining hall and towards the front gates where Midnight and Chestnut wait for you. Joel gives you the second gun, waiting for you to throw it over your shoulder before watching you hoist yourself up on Chestnut.

"You ok there?"

"Why wouldn't I be?" You shoot back.

Fuck, he's already starting in on you. Probably pissed off since he caught you mocking him. He says nothing in response as he pulls himself up on Midnight, throwing a long leg over the horse's black coat.

You give a wave to Hank before the gates are opened and you and Joel ride out. As always you follow his lead, eyes on the horizon as Tommy's words full your head.

Raiders. Be more careful.

It would be just your luck to run into them. Or clickers. The thought makes you feel nauseated. You're still not a good enough shot. Grazing isn't killing.

"Did Tommy tell you about-"

"The Raiders? Yeah."

He doesn't offer more than that.

Joel is quiet today, maybe even thoughtful. He doesn't speak to you on the way out to Teton Village but it's not with that same hostility that usually surrounds him. It's just regular quiet. He's not rude, but he's not friendly either. If the two of you were even acquaintances you'd think he was miffed with you. As it is the two of you travel on in silence until Teton.

It’s your week to check the traps and despite your fears, you feel more confident with a bit of firearms training from Jennifer. Despite this you find yourself sticking closer to Joel during this walk into the forest.

You circle the tall trees, jacket catching on a thick gnarled tree trunk before you tug it off. Joel doesn't angrily chastise you when you trip over a wet patch because of it and bump into his back. He just goes rigid, waiting for you to right yourself before continuing on.

“Watch your step.”

Your shotgun is out, aimed at whatever you hear in the underbrush which just turns out to be birds. Snow begins, dusting your shoulders as the two of you head back to the tied horses. The traps were empty, a good and bad sign all in one.

You’re paranoid as you travel to the outpost, your eyes scanning the horizon and the passing landmarks looking for anything that could be a danger. Clicker. Person. Your talks with Ellie of The Group have you suffering from nightmares lately and that bleeds into your day, making you convinced you can see a shock of red hair or a hyena-like female laugh.

But that’s impossible.

You travel in tense silence all the way to Teton Village. The snow crunches under the hooves of the horses and you're thankful that the snow has taken a reprieve, leaving it just grey and blustery.

Soon enough you are at the village, about to do your normal rounds of the perimeter. You're confused when Joel leads you towards outpost building instead. You tie up the horses across the street and down a few houses, much to your increasing confusion.

The wood creaks under your boots as the two of you make your way up to the outpost. You stop in front of the door, hand going to the lock. His voice is at your back, quiet. You feel him standing close behind you, likely waiting for you to make a mistake.

"You remember the new code?"

"Mhm."

You're pleased with yourself when you do and it unlocks without issue. You make your way inside, smiling to yourself as you kick off the excess snow from your boots and head towards the storage room.

Joel is close behind you and memories of the lingering moments you shared inside this very room make themselves known when you feel yourself slick between your legs. You hate yourself for it just a bit, the way your body betrays you.

"Gonna check that the window's holdin' up. You handle the log book."

You nod, going to the waiting page and scribbling your names inside along with the time. Joel makes his way up the creaking steps, and you watch as his long legs carry him. After a moment you hear some hammering and assume that there are a few things in need of minor repair or additional reinforcement.

You take this moment to scan some of the past entries, the most recent from the last group who was in here a few days ago.

Repairs look great. Thanks.

You take a minute to flip back, curious to see old passages from former patrols. You never really took the time to do so. Varieties of handwriting and printing fill some of the pages.

Donated Blankets (x4), jerky rations replaced (x4), water bottles (x4), matches (x1 box). HTH’s do not work here. Too much static. Nails and hammers needed for repair to library flooring.

Cramped writing, sprawling letters, so distinct and so personal. You keep flipping until you come upon last December 25th’s entry.

All I want for Christmas is to not be living in the apocalypse.

You smirk and turn the page back, finding the same handwriting a few months prior.

Who wants to go skiing?

Your smirk turns into a small giggle before you turn back to almost two years ago, eyes alighting on a longer entry that wipes the amusement from your face.

Infectected spotted near Weston’s Pharmacy during AM patrol. One woman; Bloater, one child; Stalker. Both shot and killed. No injuries to patrol members.

You wince as you read this just as Joel trudges down the steps. He must be finished with repairs. You watch as he grabs some of the feed for the horses from his bag and leaves without saying a word. He reappears moments later, shaking the snow irritated from his broad shoulders.

"S'really comin' down,” he murmurs as the two of you take your places at the table. He pushes your sandwich and thermos towards you across the table, sitting in the opposite chair and sighing.

"I like the snow," you murmur as you chew thoughtfully, eyes turned skyward out the window.

"Won't like it when we have to ride back in it," Joel huffs between bites. He chews aggressively as if the universe conjured up the snow just to personally upset him.

He's right though, riding back in it doesn't seem very fun. Lunch is a quick thing, both of you quiet before Joel tosses back a swig of his coffee and tells you he's going to fix up some loose boards upstairs.

You don't offer to help because you know there's not a chance he'll want it. Besides, your job is to be on lookout when he does repairs in case the sound draws attention. You finish your lunch, draining your thermos of its hot chocolate. You’re feeling the chill extra strong today.

Joel reappears not too long after hoisting his gun over his back. You look at him in curiosity because Joel looks like he's getting himself ready to leave.

"You stay here, understand? Have your gun out, go stand watch."

Everything in you goes rigid. Years of carefully anticipating the changing moods of your captors gives you a sixth sense, like rumbling thunder announcing a storm.

Danger.

"Why?"

"I'm gonna go check out the other buildings on foot," he explains in a quiet rasp. "See if the Raiders rumor was true."

"Okay, I'll come with-"

"No."

His voice is low and sharp, broaching no argument. You stare at him, gaze traveling between his endless eyes, blinking rapidly a moment.

"I need you here coverin' me from that window"

He points to the southern window you were posted at last time. You nod at first before something stops you. You're not good with a gun, not yet. Especially at far distances. And Joel knows it.

You don't mention this fact. Joel knows better than anyone that your shooting skills leave much to be desired. This is busy work.

"But what if something happens to you?"

Joel's eyes sweep your face.

"You're gonna hide." Joel starts for the bottom of the stairs, hand on the dusty railing. "Come with me."

You follow him quietly, both sets of boots pounding the old wood steps as he leads you to one of the smaller rooms you don't often visit.

It's cramped with peeling wallpaper and extra lumber and nails. It must be the storage room for such things. You notice the cord hanging from the center of the ceiling.

Joel reaches up and grabs hold of it, tugging until it opens the hatch that lets down a wooden ladder. It's like the attic from your house when you were a kid.

"Reinforced it after the window last week so I know it's sturdy," Joel informs you, dragging a thumb along the ladders edge. "You hear anything that sounds like yelling or guns n' you climb up this ladder and use the rope to pull it up after you."

You tell yourself to be calm. That this won't happen. That Joel is an excellent shot. But you've seen too much in this world to live in that fantasy.

"What if they find it?"

"You keep quiet and blow their fucking head off when they climb up. It's your best option.... Your only option."

"Why wouldn't I go to the horses? Escape that way?"

"If I'm dead, trust me you won't be able to outrun ‘em. Your best bet is to lay low until a search party comes the next day."

"Okay."

"I'm gonna leave this pulled down.”

Then he's going downstairs again, making sure you know exactly where to stand at the window so that you're covered by the majority of the shutters' frame. You nod, listening intently as you gaze at him. The thick chord of his neck, the way his shoulders make him look formidable.

Is this the last time you'll ever see Joel Miller alive?

You don't like that sensation that accompanies such a concept. Ellie would be without a father. The girl has already been through enough.

"But nothing will happen, right?"

Joel pauses, dark eyes scanning your face. He must see something in it because his voice holds no malice.

"Nothing bad will happen."

You don't believe him. You don't like the way his eyes dart over your face, like he's trying to look for something.

"Do you understand everything I've told you?"

You nod.

"If you hear a gunshot you climb up into that attic."

"But-"

"Say it," Joel commands, the patience is slowly ebbing from his voice.

"Okay."

"You'll do what I say?"

"Yes. If I hear a gunshot or a scream I'll go up to the attic. I'll be quiet and if I have to I'll shoot them when they come up the ladder. Otherwise I wait for the search party."

"Good girl."

He says it brusquely as he brushes past you and down the stairs. You don't have time to ask him anything else because he's already at the front door.

He casts one look at you over his shoulder, confusing you with his stare before the door shuts behind him.

And now you’re alone in this crumbling building. A sitting duck if Joel is captured or worse, killed.

You wanted to stay on patrols. You wanted this you fucking fool.

You ready yourself at the window, watching as the tall figure of Joel makes his way through the snow. His curls float around his head in the wind and you feel a pang of anxiety at the thought of them splattered with his blood.

You watch the surrounding area for any movement and for once you think this is what you need to be doing. This is what you're good at. This is what you trained for in all those years entering abandoned buildings and scouring old barns for The Group.

You can keep Joel safe.

There is no movement aside from his tall frame, and yet you still keep your gun raised, cocked and ready should you need it to be used. The snow makes it difficult though. Flakes are getting heavy and puffy, making it hard, but not impossible, to track Joel.

You watch his long muscled legs work their way across the terrain, gun raised, body poised for attack. You marvel at how even from where you watch him high above he still gives a feeling of protector, of big. Of safe.

Soon enough Joel's frame moves behind the pharmacy, out of your eye line and you exhale slowly.

He didn't say where he was going or for how long. An easy oversight, but in moments like this it feels unforgivable.

Ten minutes go by.

Then twenty.

Then thirty.

As you watch out the window with your gun poised you can't help but marvel at how quickly snow is blanketing the ground. Joel's tracks in the snow have long been covered up.

When lightning steals across the sky and thunder booms loudly you feel it in your bones.

Thundersnow.

You’d heard some of the Wyoming long timers around town mention it at the Bison a few weeks back, but you’ve never actually witnessed it yourself. It’s surreal to see the snow drifting heavily as lightning cracks again.

The wind is picked up as well, whipping around the nearby trees. And yet you stand there like a statue, your gun aimed. It's only when you hear the distant whinny of one of the horses that you feel your heart leap to your throat.

Chestnut. Midnight.

In this weather they'll be suffering. Maybe even killed. You'd been so distracted by keeping vigilant over Joel that you hadn't even cast a second thought to them. Your body instinctively steps back from the window, eyes scanning over your shoulder.

He told you not to move.

But he didn't know it was going to be a blizzard like this.

You wrap the scarf around your neck and lower half of your face, stumbling out the door with your gun in front of you. You’ll be fast. You’ll bring the horses in and be back to the window before Joel ever realizes.

You sink into the snow easily; it comes just above your mid-calf over your boots. And it doesn't show signs of stopping any soon. It's so high that it immediately begins to seep into your boots, wetting your socks.

You feel as if you're waiting through quicksand. But it doesn't stop you and your dogged pursuit to reach the two animals huddled together under the tree. They shake aggressively, trying to avoid the falling flakes.

Snow blankets the two along their back and their manes. You watch Midnight give a particularly aggressive jerk of his head only to have more flakes accumulate from the swollen sky above. They morph into icy rain pelting down the back of your neck, your cheeks and your shoulders.

The horses are pulling at their reins and rearing up on their back legs as you approach.

"It's okay," you try to soothe, likely unheard over the storm. You reach your hand towards Chestnut’s bridle but he rears back at the clap of lightning that hits the sky at the same time.

“Chestnut it’s me! Calm down boy!”

You nearly scream when you feel a hand on your shoulder. You spin, aiming your gun shakily in front of you.

"S'me," the figure informs you. He pulls down his dark scarf and Joel's irritated expression is revealed.

"You scared me."

He doesn't answer this, simply grabs Midnight by his bridle and gives a sharp click of his tongue. Midnight struggles at first, but ultimately relents, trailing after Joel like an obedient child.

You quickly untie the slippery reigns from around the tree, attempting to tug at a very frightened Chestnut along. He comes down from his hind legs but his eyes are spooked. You slip in the wet snow, falling to your knees and hissing in pain. You grit your teeth, standing and attempting to pull Chestnut again.

"S'okay," you soothe, pulling him gently. He fights you, head twisting and the lightning cracks the sky. "Chestnut - C'mon-"

A sharp clap of thunder has him trying to pull from your grasp. You cry out as the reign rasps brutally around your knuckles.

"Chestnut! Stop!" You shout, panicking as the horse continues to jerk away from you.

Joel is back, his boots kicking against the deep snow. You feel him brush against your shoulder, large hand covering yours.

"Give 'em here," he grunts, taking the reins from you and tugging forcefully. "C'mon, C'mon, get goin'."

Chestnut whinnies terrified and you back up as his hooves shoot out anxiously. Joel grunts again before his fist jerks the reign brutally.

"Enough!"

Chestnut responds to this, eyes going to Joel and cowering. You watch in amazement as Chestnut bows his head, following after Joel with no more hesitation or defiance.

The three of you head into the outpost building, dripping with wet snow as you enter. Midnight is in the main room staggering at the side. Joel shifts his hand and urges Chestnut to follow, closing the door behind you as you enter.

"Sometimes you gotta be rough to get ‘em to listen," Joel explains, handing the reins off to you. "S'the only way to keep ‘em safe."

You don't know that you agree with that assessment. You unhook the reigns from Chestnut before pressing a soft kiss to his twitching muzzle. You whisper soothing words, waiting for your dear horse to stop his shaking.

"We'll leave ‘em in here for tonight," Joel says to them before looking over at you. You’re shivering, eyes wide. You must look a fright as you cast a wide-eyed look around the room.

“The door is locked right?”

“’Course.”

You both breathe heavily a moment, your eyes on his red cheeks.

"Did you see anything?"

"Nothin'," Joel informs you, shaking the flakes off his shoulder angrily. "Even if there was someone there's no fucking way to see 'em in this mess."

You're still shivering as you nod at him, following him up the windy creaking steps to the large former Library. Joel disappears into the logbook room and appears with a plastic box matches. You stand shivering and watching him kneeling in front of the hearth, using his pocket knife to make kindling and before long a fire begins.

"S'only good thing about this weather," Joel mutters to the hearth. "No one'll see the smoke."

His broad back ripples as he shoulders of his soaked jacket. It lands onto the wood floor with a plop. You watch as he kneels there, urging the flames to lick up into the kindling, blowing gently to get it to catch. You’re hypnotized at his acumen for this, as if he were meant to live out on the land. He loads the dry lumber over the now crackling flame before letting out a tired sigh.

"I told you not to leave."

You swallow, needing him to know that it wasn't insolence or even defiance that made you leave.

"I know, but the horses-"

Joel isn't listening to you; he's loading more wood into the hearth shaking his head in poorly concealed frustration.

"You don't fuckin' listen to me."

"I do so," you insist to the back of his head. "I just didn't today because there was something more important."

He stands, knees cracking and fixes you with a stern look. Just like that it's back to the old dynamic. Him like a dark black blanket over your body. Weighting you down with his effortless dominance

"I had it handled."

"How could I know that? I didn't see you."

"Patrol partners need to trust one another. That's why this ain't workin'."

At his words something clicks in your brain and the answer to your earlier question is so fucking obvious you’re embarrassed you didn’t put two and two together earlier.

"It was you who told Tommy to take me off patrols, wasn't it?"

Joel is silent, jaw set, left thumb and forefinger pressing together so tightly the tips go white.

"You had no fucking right to do that." You sniffle angrily, wrapping your damp jacket around your shoulders. "You go on about trust and you're the one going behind my back trying to get me kicked off."

"You shouldn't be out here," Joel insists. He sucks at his teeth.

"You don't get to say what I do."

"You're here ain't you? Doesn't matter what I say."

"You're such a-"

Joel's eyes flash and his hand is held between you, almost like you're a wild animal he's trying to hold at bay. But you think it’s the opposite.

"Don't," Joel warns voice barely above a whisper. "Don't start that."

Something in his voice terrifies you as much as it enrages you. So when hot tears prick the back of your eyes you're not sure which is the cause.

"Do you just hate me that much, Joel?"

You despise how small your voice sounds. Joel huffs a sigh, eyes closing briefly.

"S'not about that."

"What is it then?"

He just shakes his head and strides away from you towards the log room. You follow at his heels like a needy puppy. You push your soaked hair from your eyes, feeling your wet clothing weighting you down as you pursue him.

"Joel."

He ignores you, long legs carrying him quicker, boots scraping the floor.

"Why don't you want me on patrols?"

He begins to pull down one of the boxes from the shelving ignoring you.

"Answer me, please.”

It's not until you reach out a hand and grab his shoulder that he spins abruptly as if you've burnt him. He doesn't touch you; he just shakes off your hand and fixes you with a level stare that has you stepping back. Your feet slip in your boots and you realize you must look a sight, soaked to the skin, eyes red and chin wobbling.

Joel tilts his neck down, making sure to hold your gaze with his own.

"After all that shit you went through with those people? Why the fuck woul-"

He stops himself, the next word bit back, his eyes on the ground. The silence expands as understanding blooms in your face. You feel your jaw crack, eyes narrowing.

"You spied on me when I was talking to Ellie."

"S'a house, not a fucking football field," Joel sneers. "Sound carries."

Before you can say anything more you shiver. Despite the warmth of the fire in the next room you feel the chill of the damp creeping into your bones. Joel observes this and with a head tilt encourages you to follow him into the storage room.

You find yourself too exhausted to badger him further about patrols. Nothing will change in the next twenty four hours. So you follow in close pursuit, watching as he goes to one of the shelves and pulls out a duffel bag. Inside are two blankets, a few bottles of water and some rations.

"Strip and put this on," Joel says pulling out and then shoving a blanket at you. You take it into your arms gratefully before belatedly hearing what he told you.

Strip?

"Unless you feel like catching a cold. Be my guest," Joel adds when you hesitate. He takes the duffel and heads into another room, slamming the door behind him.

You go into the bathroom, the door creaking shut.

You're completely soaked from head to toe. It feels like you've had a freezing bath. And yet you hesitate a full minute before you realize that if you keep these clothes on there's a very good chance you're going to get seriously ill. And while Jackson City had a lot of amenities. antibiotics are always in short supply.

You strip hurriedly, your fingers shaking with cold. Your hair is squeezed and excess water circles the old sink. The clothing is squeezed as well as you try to wring out as much of the damp as possible.

You think about keeping your panties on because the thought of being completely bare under the blanket around Joel is far too daunting. But then the option of freezing in soaking under things doesn't seem like a better option.

The blanket is warm and when wrapped around you shoulders it hits you mid-calf. If you tuck it between your legs is almost like wearing a toga. You do, wrapping it so that only your arms and bottom of your legs poke out. You have the passing wonder if this is one of the blankets Jennifer made during her times in textiles.

You bring your clothes out with you, padding over barefoot to the large fireplace Joel has already begun stoking. He wears the blanket similar to you, tucked tightly around his broad frame. But one arm is out, the muscles glinting in the warmth of the fire’s glow.

"We don't normally do this," Joel explains, always in teacher mode. "Don't wanna attract attention. But desperate times n' all that."

You hang your clothes over a chair from the supply room and drag it towards the fireplace as Joel's dark eyes dart to see what you're up to.

"I was gonna put ‘em by the fire to dry," you explain. "You want me to wring yours out too?"

"Nah, I'll do mine," Joel replies. There's no snark left, his attention is fixed on the fire that's building there. You’re both just too tired to be prickly with one another.

A quick glance out the window confirms that the snow is still falling. So you're stuck for at least a couple more hours.

Great.

"Fuck that feels good," you say dropping to your knees and holding your palms to the fire. Joel's eyes swim over you before he fixes them on the roaring flames. His eyes are so dark they showcase the bright embers when you glance at them.

Everything is cold and damp. Your feet are numb from the snow and you hiss when the circulation begins in them again. Joel goes to wring out his clothes, bringing them back with another chair and propping it beside yours.

Joel drags the couch close to the fireplace, setting it down with a groan as his knees creak before collapsing onto it with a grunt. It looks more comfortable than kneeling on the floor and so you join him.

You knee brushes his as you take your seat, the fabric of the quilts rasping against one another. You try not to be offended when Joel jerks his knee away from you.

You get it. He doesn't like you. Can't stand to be around you if there's not another person as a buffer. But does he have to be so immature about it? You have a moment of concern when you think of your last buffer, Ellie.

"Will Ellie be okay tonight?"

"Yeah, Tommy'll make sure she is until I get back."

"How does he know when you'll be back?"

"He doesn't." Joel stokes the fire absently with a nearby stick. "When we don't come back at our usual time they'll usually give it a few hours and then come looking for us."

"Usually?"

"With a storm like this? They won't make it far. They'll figure we hit the same and're hunkered down somewhere. If we aren't back by tomorrow afternoon and the snow is clear then they'll send a group out. S'protocol."

"Oh."

The two of you lapse into quiet contemplation as the crackling fire sounds.

The house feels so big and with the sun going down it feels almost frightening. You’ve never been in this place in the dark. You don’t like how open the room is, how many shadows and walls exist. You miss your little home with its plain walls and minimal walls. You fantasize about how a bath would feel so luxurious at this moment.

You sniffle again, burying your face into the blanket a moment to warm it. The fire is definitely helping, but you wish it was bigger and the room less drafty.

Joel isn’t saying anything but he’s not scowling like he usually is when you glance over at him.

"Is Ellie doing any more baking?"

"Nope. Think she's more partial to just eatin'."

“Sounds like her,” you smile before pausing and adding: “Your pastries were good.”

Joel hums a response and emboldened by his openness you continue.

“I didn’t know you baked.”

“I don’t. Just followed the recipe you had on the counter.”

“Oh.”

Joel doesn't try to extend the conversation so you fall silent again as you go back to the floor and move closer to the fire. The flames warm your cheeks and your front. A cool drop of water runs down your spine under the blanket and you shudder.

You kneel a bit closer to the fire and gingerly move your hair over one shoulder, trying to dry it the best you can. As you do you feel the blanket slip down over your back, exposing your neck down to your shoulder blade. You hurriedly pull your quilt back up over your shoulder, heart pounding.

"M'gonna check the horses."

Joel lurches up from the couch, not waiting for your reply. You don't watch him go, finding you don't care to see his sullen expression. You're not sure which is worse, the ‘rude but communicative when needed’ Joel or this strange withdrawn creature that's replaced him.

Joel is gone for a little while. Much longer than it takes to check on the horses, but you don't mind. You like having a bit of quiet to fall under the spell of the flickering flames.

You wonder what Jennifer would think of this, being stuck in an isolated space with Joel overnight.

She'd be in heaven.

You smirk at this, knowing she'd take full advantage of the situation. Probably flutter her lashes and let the blanket slip open ever so slightly, giving Joel a flash of breast before faking modesty. It would work, you're certain of it. Joel strikes you as someone who likes the soft curves of a woman, perhaps because of what Maria said.

You can't wait to return home tomorrow. To have coffee in Jennifer's cheery house and update her on any and all Joel lore you uncover. It won't be much judging by his conversational skills so far. But you will be able to report that Joel Miller has very nice calves. You saw a flash of them when he got up.

Jennifer will have a field day with that information; she probably won't leave her bed for a week.

Joel returns eventually, his eyes refusing to meet yours. He comes back with the remaining two blankets from the duffel, throwing one over your legs. He sits on the far end of the couch, warming himself with the second blanket over himself. You tuck yourself on the other end, the two of you quiet as you watch the fire.

You think about ancient times when all creatures had was fire and an open sky to pass the time. When the air was free of chemicals and the landscape open instead of crowded with infrastructure. You wonder what they would make of your world now. Would they secretly cheer that nature has slowly begun to reclaim its earth?

Time passes and soon enough the sky through the window grows dark and the air grows colder. You start to shiver slightly and Joel adds more lumber to the fire. You think back to last week when you’d all had those brownies to share. You think back to this morning with your hot chocolate.

"Wish I didn't drink all my hot chocolate," you sniff with a sigh as you burrow back on the creaking sofa. You're not saying it for pity, more just to fill the quiet.

"We have some coffee left," Joel offers.

You’re surprised when he moves to grab the Thermos from his bag next to him beside the couch. You can't help but notice how muscular his bare arms are when he does. You take it from him, eyes on his large hand.

"Thanks," you reply, taking a small sip.

Even though you don’t drink coffee often you don't want to waste it. It warms you and the jerky he hands you along with it moments later makes the encroaching hunger fade. Joel takes the Thermos back from you, also taking a ginger sip before twisting on the cap and sighing.

"I miss real coffee."

Joel never talks about the past, not really. Never about his life before this. You've had to stitch his back-story together with patches of information gathered over your time and interactions with Ellie.

So this little glimmer, this tiny piece of him sticks out to you. It rattles in your bones and burrows deep in your brain.

I miss real coffee.

"The stuff they make in the dining hall doesn't do it for you?" You prompt, wanting him to share more, finding that you're desperate for a little more Joel.

"That's not real coffee," Joel scoffs. "That's instant shit. It all is."

You've never had real coffee either so you don't know if the derision is warranted. You’d always been a tea drinker yourself. You watch him slurp back the contents of his thermos while your mind is a million miles away.

Coffee. Joel likes coffee. Real Coffee. Joel drinking coffee. Real Coffee.

Did Joel go to cafes? Did he go to Starbucks and sit reading? Did he drink coffee with silly names and lots of whipped cream? Did women blush and stammer when a young Joel slid by them to grab cream or sugar?

You imagine a world before this one. One where you could have met in a cafe. Bumped into each other as you both reached for a cup. Classic meet cute. Then you remember this is Joel Miller. He would have scowled at you and told you to get your own coffee. The thought amuses you.

Soon enough the combination of the warm drink and the stress of the day gets to you. Your eyes begin to drift shut, your head slowly falling forward before you catch yourself. Joel must notice this because he clears his throat.

“We’ll take turns on watch,” Joel informs you. “You sleep first, I’ll get next. We’ll do four hour switches.”

“Okay.”

You don’t ask why you need to be on watch during a storm. You trust that Joel is right about it. Joel may be an asshole, but he’s an educated one. And so far during everything he has not let you down. He has been rough, he has been unpleasant but he has been there through it all. Joel Miller will protect you. You don’t know why tonight is when you decide this is true, but you do.

You burrow into your blankets, thankful for them. It’s not exactly warm, but it does the job. You still feel a little strange cuddled there completely bare underneath. It makes it hard to get comfortable and fall asleep but you eventually do.

You wake up what feels like no time at all later. Your hair is partially dried and the fire is still going steadily. You blink down your body to see you’ve stretched out on the couch, your feel practically against Joel’s thigh.

He’s staring into the fire, a flask in one hand and the other over your ankle buried under the blanket. You don’t think he even realizes that your foot is there. When you start to shift his hand moves to his thigh, his dark eyes blinking over at you.

“Not been four hours.”

“Tell that to my body,” you say wryly. “Any more coffee left?”

“Nah.”

Between the blankets and the fire you shouldn’t feel this cold, should you? You glance over when you see Joel handing the silver flask out towards you.

“What’s that?”

“Whiskey. It’ll make you feel warm.”

“Where’d you find that?”

“My bag.”

You smile gently before you shift back into a seated position on the couch, wincing at the muscle pull in your neck from sleeping at such an awkward angle. You take the flask with a polite nod of your head.

“Thank you.”

You take the flask from him before bringing it gingerly to your lips. You take a deep pull from it, wincing when the astringent alcohol hits your tongue.

"Strong," you mumble.

But you’re delighted when you feel it scorch a warm trail from your throat all the way to your belly. You take another sip before screwing the top back on. Joel watches this, his features relaxed. You wonder if he isn’t a little drunk.

"How'd he get you outta there?"

His voice is a husky rasp, his mouth barely moving as he murmurs this at you. You take a moment to try and process what he’s asking you.

"Huh? Who?"

"Chi guy,” Joel says taking the flask back from you and taking a long pull. “You were in a group ‘a Raiders. Something tells me they wouldn't just let their best shot and their trusty bait walk off into the sunset together."

He hands the flask back to you and you take another sip. Minutes tick by and you’re not answering his first question, so you suppose Joel decides on another angle.

"The two of you fuck?"

You turn your head to face Joel, surprised. He’s got a strange expression on his face, his lids heavy, waiting for you response.

"Yeah.”

Joel takes the flask from you, holding it there in his palms, not drinking, just staring into the flames. "You like it?"

You shoot daggers at him. "Yes."

You're not lying. You did enjoy your times with Chiyo. While there wasn't a romantic aspect, you definitely felt taken care of during those times together.

Joel nods, lower lip protruding as he takes another pull of the flask. You’re thankful to him for bringing it

“How much did you hear of what I told Ellie?”

“Enough.” Joel swallows thickly.

The alcohol warms your veins and your belly and you start to relax.

"Did that Group.... Try things with you?"

It takes you a minute to parse what he's not saying out loud.

"No," you shake your head. "The women in the group were territorial that way. Besides they didn't see me like a person. More like a dog. They never spoke to me unless it was to order me around or feed me whatever leftovers they had. Kept me chained up at night so I couldn't escape."

Joel’s eye tics just a fraction as he listens to you. And for some reason whether it be the intimacy of sitting there with him before a fire or the whiskey working through your veins, you decide to share with Joel.

You think because he’s one of the few people who won’t pity you for it.

“So The Group… that’s what I called them. I never really learned their names. There were three men, two women. They had me with then for a few years. I was obedient for the most part because by the end I didn’t care if I lived or died. I did what they said and they weren’t kind to me, but they didn’t make me suffer as much as they could’ve. They took me to the bathroom, let me shower when there was time. But they never spoke to me directly unless it was to order me around.”

Joel is completely still, and the only movement comes from the shadow of the flames reflected in his dark eyes. You find you can’t look into them, instead finding the space between your bodies on the couch to do the job just fine. You tell the little patch of green your story.

"Wherever we stayed we always slept together in the same room. They said it was for safety but I know they just did it to keep an eye on everyone. The only one who was chained up at night was me. I was the bait after all. Chiyo was chained up for the first few months but he was a likeable guy. He earned their trust through action. He was a good shot and they liked having him around.”

You swallow.

“Well, in the last place the toilets didn’t work so there was an outhouse out back so Chiyo told me that he had a plan. He suggested they celebrate the hunting of the day with a little booze they had stashed in the supply bags. They were all for it. They chained me up and I just sat there watching them get drunker and drunker. After a few hours most of ‘em were passed out.”

You shift under the blankets, finding that you’re not really feeling the cold at all.

“So I did what Chi had told me. I told them I had to go to the bathroom. Chi was pretending to be drunk and he said that he would take me to the outhouse to make sure I didn’t get up to anything. They were so drunk I don’t even know if they heard us leave after he unchained me.”

Joel is still silent, still attentively listening. You wonder if this is all boring to him. If he’s seen much worse.

“So we go to the outhouse. Chi grabs the gun, I follow him back but he makes me stay outside the bedroom. He tells me that I shouldn’t see what’s going to happen. I wanted to help, but he insisted and I was in no position to fight him on it.”

You close your eyes, replaying the moment.

“So I stood there outside the door and I listened to him shoot each one in the head. Some of them were already passed out. One tried to fight back but like I said, Chi was a great shot. They didn’t stand a chance. Then we packed up and we left.”

You can still see it. The flash of blood and brain on the walls as Chi exited. The slumped over bodies as he tugged your wrist, urging you to follow him.

When your eyes open again Joel is offering you the flask. You take it gratefully, taking a ginger sip before handing it back. You don’t know what else to say, even as Joel rests his heavy gaze on you.

"You think less of him for it?"

"For killing the people that wouldn't even flinch if they had to kill me?" You scoff. "Not at all. I wish he'd hung them by their feet over a pit of ravenous clickers. Had them piss themselves in fear. I wish they could have seen their loved ones bit. I wish they could have watched as everything was taken from them and then I wish he’d slit their throats so they’d take longer to die."

You know that Joel is staring at you and it's likely because he's never seen this side to you. This ugly, twisted, hateful side that you try to keep hidden. This side that you soften under baked goods and paper flowers.

"Chi was right though about not letting me help him kill them," you confess quietly. “I’m not built for it.”

Joel is quiet, his body so still you think he’s gone rigid.

"He got bit not long before I got to the next QZ,” you explain. “And I couldn’t let him turn into one of those things.”

If Joel is surprised by your admission about Chiyo's death he makes no mention of it, his features remain stoic, his dark eyes moving back to the fire. You wish you could make sense of his expression, but you can’t, you don’t know him well enough.

“I still have nightmares about killing him and I don’t think those’ll ever go away,” you murmur to the flames. “You know, I remember thinking the doe we killed on that first patrol had eyes just like him. That same glossy dark color. Looked the same when he was dead, just staring up at me."

You don't speak much after that.

Not until a short while later when Joel’s flask is re-opened and the two of you take long pulls. The alcohol loosens you both up, you can tell in the lazy way you both lean into the couch.

The blankets and the couch and the fire lend you a feeling of comfort, of warmth and you think that perhaps this isn’t as bad as the situation could have been. That this Joel sitting by you feels different.

“If I'd known all that stuff, I never would've.... Joel trails off, still looking into the fire. "I'd have done things different when we started patrols."

"It shouldn't take someone's traumatic history for you to treat them decently," you say, feeling emboldened by the drink. You wait for his biting reply.

"You're right."

You're surprised by his easy agreement but you don't let it show. You find it hard to let a lot of how you feel show with Joel. Something in you always holds you back.

"I think you were just so... skittery," Joel offers to the flames. "Made me nervous."

"Oh."

As you look at him from the corner of your eyes in shock you think that when he's not scowling he's quite handsome. Strong masculine features, full lips. You can understand why Jennifer is attracted to him.

At that errant thought your mind goes to your friend. Jennifer. This is the perfect opportunity to talk her up like she's done with you to Luke.

"You know Jennifer was sa-"

"What’s with you and bringin’ up that Jennifer girl?" Joel cuts in, shooting you a glare. His old irritated expression is back, along with his tensed shoulders.

"I...uh..." You weren't expecting such vitriol. He crosses his arms in front of his chest like a petulant schoolchild.

"I've talked with her a handful of times," Joel says with a huff. "And I don't like how she stares at me."

"Except I've seen how you stare at her," you shoot back with a frown, defensive of your friend. "And flirt."

"Flirt?" Joel looks beside himself. "When s'at?"

"Agreeing to drinks at the Bison after patrols last time, calling her Jenny," you list these things off with ease. "Or how about staring at her during breakfast just this morning? She caught you doing it, you know."

Joel opens his mouth to say something but then slams it shut. He goes quiet and you know he must be remembering when he did all those things. You don't fault him, Jennifer is a beautiful woman.

"It's fine if you like her Joel, she likes you and-"

"I don't like her. I barely fuckin’ know her." He takes a swig from his flask. "I wish you'd stop bringin' her up."

"Okay. Sorry, I will."

“Good.”

Joel must be shy when it comes to crushes and you don't want to embarrass him further.

To you Joel is a forever enigma, someone who shares so little of himself. You feel almost owed information on his romantic past, as if because he heard your story you deserve his. You don’t know if that’s a fair assessment.

“I’ve never heard you talk about a woman. Was there anyone before Jackson City?”

“Yep.”

He doesn’t expand on this and you sigh heavily through your nose. You’re irritated that you’ve shared so much with someone who obviously doesn’t care to do the same with you. Perhaps you misjudged hi-

"There was a woman back in the Boston QZ," Joel's says in a voice that goes soft. "Tess. We smuggled together."

"What was she like?"

He shifts in his seat, the blanket tightening. He looks both irritated and impossibly wounded. He doesn’t look at you directly, more the wall over your shoulder when he addresses you.

"She was always in charge," he tells you in a voice that sounds detached from him. "I was the muscle."

This surprises you. Joel seems such a natural leader, such a confident force. They can't imagine him cowing to anyone, especially a woman.

"Did you like that?"

"I liked hurtin' people at times, yeah."

You don't have to ask him why he liked hurting people because the answer is clear. It was better to cause pain in others when it helped distract from the gaping wound within Joel Miller in the shape of his lost daughter.

"No, I meant did you like Tess being in charge?"

"Sometimes," Joel relents. "Was nice not to have to plan and organize and everythin'. Could just exist for a bit."

You imagine Joel back in the QZ with a beautiful woman who warmed his bed and you feel a strange twisting in your stomach. She was tough. The opposite of you, you think. You're soft. Too soft for this world at times.

"Did you guys..." You trail off, feeling strangely insecure. You shouldn't after everything he asked about you, and yet it still feels like a boundary crossed.

He sneers at you.

"I'm a man ain’t I?"

You don't say anything in response to that.

Your assessment had been correct – Joel liked strong, tough women. Women like Jennifer who could be feminine but hard when they needed to be. Women like this Tess who you just know was beautiful.

The fire crackles in front of you, leaving you drowsy and almost hypnotized. It makes you momentarily forget that you and Joel aren't people who usually talk to one another.

“Were you in love with her?”

You want to know about the woman who caught his attention, who he talks of with such reverence.

"I tried," Joel finally answers, but you can see the weight of it behind his eyes. "Couldn't give it to her in the way she wanted though."

You wish you knew what Tess looked like, what she sounded like when she laughed and if she was a good shot. You wonder if they teased each other affectionately or if it was all seriousness and hard fucking. You wonder if he fucked her mouth like did yours. You wonder if they slept together, limbs entwined, breathing even.

You feel a stab of jealousy that he had that. At least twice if the sporadic history you’ve learned of him is correct. Two women who held him, two women who loved him. A man as recalcitrant as him found two separate women to care for him. And you? What do you have?

"I don't need love," you confess to him him with a labored sigh, eyes drifting half shut sleepily. "Wouldn't know what to do with it if I had it. I just wanna be someone's only."

"Someone’s only?"

"Like the only one they see," you explain with a yawn. "The only one they take to bed and kiss and all that stuff."

Joel makes a soft humming sound as he digests what you're saying.

You snuggle further into the blankets, watching the fire in the hearth and wondering what it must have been like to be in this big library back when it held hundreds of books. You wonder what sort of people sat in the very room you and Joel reside in. Did they study, their eyes going blurry the longer they stared at the pages? Did they sneak off to kiss in the stacks, nervous fumbling fearful of being caught?

Libraries have their own sort of life within them after all, it’s easy to imagine the dusty floorboards and the peeling wallpaper restored to its former glory. Can almost hear the soft ‘shhhh’ of an eagle-eared librarian. The world before seems romantic and nostalgic in moments like this.

If only you’d enjoyed it to the fullest.

Your mind drifts to the embers, red hot and pulsing. It reminds you of blood pooling in a gaping mouth.

"Joel, do you think the infected are still conscious?"

He looks at you from the corner of his eye.

"Huh?"

"I mean, like, do you think that they're trapped in their bodies still knowing what's happening but unable to stop it?" You wince at the thought. "Not able to control their bodies but still self aware?"

"I sure fucking hope not," Joel says quietly.

"Me too. Jennifer said that th-“

You stop yourself with a sharp wince, but Joel has heard you and he rolls his eyes.

“Why're you always bringing up that Jennifer girl?"

You shrug, embarrassed. "I guess because she's like, my only friend."

"Ellie'll be devastated to hear that."

Warmth floods you at that. Ellie, your sweet little pal. The girl with the bite that puts her trust in you of all people.

"Yeah I guess she is too," you say with a rueful grin. "She must be pretty desperate to have a grown woman as a friend."

"She's discerning," Joel mutters. "She doesn't waste her time on idiots."

You think that this is as close to a compliment that Joel's ever given you outside of sexual interactions. It gives you pause.

"I like how honest Ellie is," you offer. "It can be brutal at times, but I like that I know where I stand with her."

Joel smiles at that, a tight-lipped thing he's never offered you before. It makes you give one in return before your attention goes back to your hands in your lap.

“She sure thinks the world of you,” you offer.

“Yeah well,” Joel shrugs, embarrassed. “We’ve been through a lot.”

“Did she know Tess?”

Joel goes quiet, staring back at the fire. You worry that you’ve said the wrong thing because he’s got a hurt look in his eyes. The kind that makes the dark brown of it glossy and hard.

“Yeah. She knew Tess.”

And something in the finality of his hushed tone makes you cease in that line of questioning. His eyes sweep to you as if belatedly realizing he's shared a vulnerable part of himself and like a feral cat that hisses when they realize they've let their guard down, Joel straightens.

"I've had too much of this," he says handing you the flask. You're surprised when you can feel it's still half full. "You should go back to sleep. I’ll wake you when your shift starts.”

"Okay."

You put the flask on the floor, looking into the fire before shifting onto your side, curling within the blankets. You gaze down over your hip to see Joel staring into the space in front of him and you realize that this is perhaps one of the only times you’ll be able to really talk to Joel.

And there’s a big, big question that’s been lingering in your subconscious for weeks now. One that you could never have brought up if not for this sense of camaraderie.

“Joel, why did you stop wanting to do stuff on patrols?”

You don’t know why but you need to ask him this. You’ve gone through the scenarios countless times trying to understand. The thought that you did something wrong, the thought that perhaps Joel got bored of you is what you’ve landed on, but you want to hear it.

He shifts again on the couch, his back cracking. He licks at his lower lip, hands bracing against his thighs. It’s clear he’s uncomfortable with the topic, but you can’t find it in yourself to let it go.

“Did I do something wrong that day?”

“No,” Joel says quickly. “Just thought it was a distraction.”

“Oh.”

You don’t really believe that. But you suppose it could be true. You are here to do a job after all, not suck him off. You exhale slowly through your nose as you think back to that final day, his thumb in your mouth and his eyes on your face. You think of how it felt to have your mouth full of him and that blissful sensation of quiet that came along with it.

“I miss doing it.”

It comes from you in a breathy sigh, a quiet thing said to the air in front of you. But its loud in the silent room and it makes your eyes pop open.

Did Joel hear that?

You close your eyes then, your cheeks heating because there's a hesitation, a silence. You cringe, feeling as though you've fucked this up this gentle alliance. Joel was so forthcoming with you and now he’s gone radio silent because you just said the stupidest thing possible.

You shake your head internally, bracing yourself for Joel’s mockery or derision.

There’s the feeling of the couch dipping and when you crack open your eyes Joel's muscular frame is moving towards you. The blanket has fallen to his hips, leaving his torso visible.

You sit up, suddenly intimidated by his broad frame and muscular stature. His eyes scan over your body hidden in the blankets. He takes in your braced pose, the way you’re almost wary of him as he moves over to you.

"Lay back.”

You look at his eyes reflecting the flames licking up the hearth. It's almost as hypnotic as his husky voice.

“What’re you-“

“I said lay back.”

His voice is stern but without its usual malice. He’s giving you an order and he’s expecting you to follow it. You remember the first day you met him.

I'm the one who gives orders. Not you.

You feel your pulse start to tick as the two of you lock eyes and its like everything in the world falls away. The whistle of the wind, the crackle of the fire, the thrum of your heart. Nothing is left save for your shallow breathing.

You tilt backwards, your arms securing your blanket tightly around your torso. You wonder if he’s going to fuck your mouth in this position. Or perhaps he’s just going to touch himself over you. Both thoughts have you pressing your thighs together tightly. You’re head is perched on the edge of the sofa arm, watching him.

Joel’s eyes dip to your waist and he confuses you when his long fingers slide to the blanket laying overtop you. He says nothing, just pushes the blanket up your waist, exposing you to him in the firelight. Goose bumps ripple over your flesh but not from the cold.

“Joel-“

His eyes never leave your face, but you feel his fingers brush over your bare thigh. The blanket toga you fashioned has come undone and you flinch as he moves his calloused hand over your skin, thumb grazing the crease between your thigh and hip. The air feels strangely heavy as Joel’s knuckles graze your slick entrance.

It feels so good.

Your hips jolt before you force them to still, your body supine before him. Joel tilts his head slightly, gazing at your exposed cunt with what almost looks like affection.

“She always this wet?"

The way he speaks is so vulgar but his tone is so soothing that it creates a strange dichotomy within your brain. It leaves you dumbstruck, able only to give a brief shake of your head in response.

Joel sweeps the tip of his tongue over his plush lower lip, wetting it.

"S'for me?"

You still can't answer; your throat feels sealed shut as he keeps his gaze fixed between your legs. But your silence and pink cheeks are their own kind of damning confession.

Joel says nothing more but there's a touch of amusement in his look that's not lost on you. It makes you tilt your face to the side, not wanting to show more of your hand.

Joel shifts, removing his hand from your body. You immediately miss the warmth, eyes snapping down the length of you to watch in quiet fascination as Joel shrugs off the blanket over his shoulders.

You swallow again, your own blanket raised to just below your eyes. You can't help but exhale softly at the sight of him.

Joel's body is a beautiful gold color. There are a few scars that curve along his flesh, a particularly jagged one along the right side under his ribs. He's broad and muscular and so masculine with his strong features and stronger body.

One of the blankets remains slung loosely around his middle, allowing you a brief vision of dark hair below his navel leading under the quilt before he curves forward. His wide hands come to slide up over your knees, gliding to your thighs and then back down again. He does this several times, his eyes watching the ascent of his touch as you pant softly.

His hands come to glide up your thighs again, thumbs coming to trace the soft inner skin there. You feel as his strong grip begins to urge your legs to part and in a panic your thighs slap together. You see the flash of his glittering eyes snap to your face.

"Open.”

When you don't immediately acquiesce you feel his thumbs tracing small circles on the inner skin of your thigh, not moving an inch from where he kneels half curled over you. His touch is setting of strange vibrations through your body, ones that make it hard to catch your breath.

“Open.”

He repeats it and the timbre of his voice is sweet and sticky like syrup. A coaxing thing that silently promises it’ll be worth it if you do. He waits, not moving an inch as you decide.

Finally after a moment’s deliberation you give a shuddering breath before your legs fall open on either side of him, exposing you in a completely new way as you hear him inhale slowly.

You feel like your entire body is on fire not only from embarrassment but from this overwhelming sizzling ache in your core. This strange desire that makes it impossible to think clearly. To remind you that you don’t really like Joel as a person. To remind you that Joel doesn’t enjoy your company.

But it doesn’t matter because Joel is moving to rest prone on the couch between your legs with a grunt. He props himself up on his elbows and goes to push the blanket over your hips higher but you tense. He must register this because his hands slide back, his mouth set in a firm line of patience.

One wide palm slips between your legs, gentle fingers grazing over your mound. The sensation is soothing, almost bordering on ticklish. You feel your body eventually relaxing, eyes drifting shut. Joel makes a quiet sound of what you think is approval.

You don't know how long this lasts for, but you soon find yourself boneless, lulled by Joel's shockingly delicate touch. Your arms which had been glued over your chest now relax, rising over your head over the arm of the couch.

You feel yourself drifting off, unsure of when Joel went from someone who terrified you to a man whose fingers are slowly dancing up the seam of your pussy. He feels so soft and gentle right now and you let him maneuver you however he wants. He must feel you relax in his grip because the soft drag of his fingers now slides between the seam of your sex.

Two thick fingers slowly spread the glossy lips of your pussy, brushing your straining clit in the process. Joel’s gaze is fixed there, almost as if he’s marveling at how wet you are. You shudder gently at his intense scrutiny, noting that Joel's eyes flick to yours when you do. You breathe shallowly, eyes wide and mouth parted.

Joel lowers his mouth to where his fingers still hold you open. With his dark eyes fixed on you, he gives a slow, languid lick of his flattened tongue over your clit. The sight and sensation causes you to immediately jolt, pleasure tearing through your middle.

Joel Miller’s mouth is between your legs.

You still can’t quite comprehend that this is happening to you. Goose bumps rise up all over your body, every sense quivering with arousal. Joel isn’t smirking, but it almost feels like he could be when you swallow thickly.

"He ever do this?” he rumbles. “Your friend?"

He says friend like others would say asshole.

"N-no," you say with a fluttering of your pulse. "Never had time."

"But there was time to suck his cock," Joel says with derision clear in his voice. “Time to ride him?”

You want to defend your old friend and point out the irony considering the past you and Joel share, but then his mouth is back there between your legs and all words leave you.

With his soulful eyes closing, Joel repeats the previous action with his tongue once, twice and then a third lingering time that has you grunting in the back of your throat, hips rolling against his mouth.

He pulls his mouth off you slightly and in the low firefight you see the web of saliva and slick that join his tongue to your cunt. It's lascivious and obscene and you feel as fresh arousal gathers there just at the sight.

You feel exposed, suddenly vulnerable with his mouth between your thighs. You go to close them but Joel's eyes snap open to scorch a blazing path up at you.

Obey.

Despite him saying nothing out loud, you swallow, nodding. He seems satisfied because he gives your clit a soft lave that makes you swallow a groan. You have a moment of confusion, wondering why he’s doing this all of a sudden.

"Joel I -"

"I like doin' this," he tells you almost frustrated at your sudden discomfort. "So just let me."

You watch as he slides his hands beneath the back of your legs, urging them to rise. You go limp, curious when he maneuvers your legs over his broad shoulders, hinging at the knee.

His mouth is level with your pussy now, more easily accessible and this seems to please him before Joel's lips begin to kiss slowly over pussy, making out with it in a way your mouth has never felt.

You have no desire for the pleasure to stop.

You feel his lips sponging along your mound before the fingers holding you open spread you further, allowing him to probe deeply with the thick muscle of his tongue, making the most deliciously vulgar wet sound as he does. His nose grazes your clit as he does this, fucking you with his tongue and teasing your clit.

You nearly capitulate off the sofa at that sensation. The deep thrust of his tongue twisting within your sopping core as you huff out little whines while the plush pout of his lips working against the dripping between your legs.

He breathes heavily through his nose, not wanting to break the connection of his mouth on your cunt as he gazes at you. He sees the way your head tilts back, the way your thighs slightly turn inward. He holds your hips down, thumbs absently stroking over the skin there before coming to cradle the lips of your pussy, allowing him better access to your aching clit.

He groans at one point, a low, sinful thing accompanied by a wet kissing sound that has your nipples tightening almost painfully under the blanket. Your hips roll lazily under the sensation, whimpering slightly when his tongue comes to flick over your swollen clit time and time again.

When his eyes drift closed you feel your body tightening. You lift your hips instinctively and you almost believe that you can feel Joel smirk against your cunt. For some reason that’s what has a white hot pleasure shooting up your middle as you rush towards your release.

“Oh f-f-fuck-“

You suddenly tilt backwards, as Joel's hands grip your hips tightly, fingertips dimpling your flesh as his mouth continues it steady dance against your pussy.

“There it is,” Joel murmurs against your cunt as you begin to keen loudly.

Everything in your body tightens and your back arches. Your toes curl into the soft of the couch as Joel works his mouth continuously through your shuddering cry of pleasure. He allows your thighs to squeeze the side of his head as your hands grip uselessly at your sides.

Joel laps at the pooling essence between your thighs, groaning as he does it. Your heartbeat flutters at the sight, his eyes rolled back and his mouth working hurriedly over your sex, making obscene sucking noises. You can only whimper down at him, hips rolling lazily against his searching mouth.

And then all at once Joel’s hands slide beneath your bottom, grasping large handfuls of your ass, holding you firmly in place so that his tongue can probe deeper.

"Another," Joel commands, licking flat swipes along your cunt, the tip of his tongue flicking your clit. Your thighs tremble and you give frantic little huffing cries at the sensation that seems to be building again.

"I-I cant-"

"You will," Joel tells you sharply, lips coming to circle your clit once more before sucking it into his mouth and you see fireworks behind your eyes. His words swim through your veins, much like they always do. Another. Another. Another.

He orders you obey.

He leads you follow.

You give his name out with a lusty cry and for the first time this evening you touch him. Your hands go to his thick curls and you clutch there desperately, needing to ground yourself, needing him as deep as possible, needing him.

He doesn’t shake you off and doesn’t demand you not touch him. If anything he seems to suck harder and you think you see his hips beginning to thrust against the couch. His arms banded over your waist hold you in place, his head shaking back and forth.

"Joel! I'm gonna... Gonna..."

"C'mon then," Joel urges between sloppy kisses to your cunt. "Fuckin’ do it."

Your hips pitch off the creaking sofa, rutting into Joel's mouth with abandon. You hear him groaning with approval and that sends your head tilting back as the pleasure rocks through you.

Joel gives a shudder, his lips trembling around your clit as you feel yourself coming down. He continues to suck gently, eyes closed. With trembling fingers you touch his cheek lightly, your body overwhelmed.

"S'enough," you tell him through gasps. "Can't... Can't do any more."

He nods and leans back slowly onto his knees, one hand on the back of the couch.

You go to tell him that you'll do the same for him. Your hand even reaches out towards him but it stops halfway when you see the wide damp spot at the front of his blanket.

He came.

When you tear your eyes to go to his face Joel is daring you to say something. His dark eyes are glittering in his face as he stares you down. His mouth is wet with your arousal.

But you can't ask: Joel did you just come while you were going down on me?

Even though you want to because the thought turns you on more than you can explain. That just your pleasure was enough for him to climax.

“Thank you,” you whisper, unsure of what to say in such a moment. The corner of Joel’s mouth twitches in amusement.

“You’re welcome.”

Your eyes are on his abdomen, the scar there in the firelight twisted and obvious. It’s fresher than the other ones that litter his body. You want to ask him how it happened, you want to ask him why he did this tonight, you want to ask him so many more questions but you feel sobered up and too intimidated to ask him.

When you don't say anything more Joel leans forward again, eyes stuck on you. Your legs are still there on his shoulders and you go to move them off.

"I can’t do anything more." You feel your eyelids growing heavy, like each one has a tiny weight at the corner pulling down. "I'm tired."

"Go to sleep then," he tells you, rich baritone against your legs. You feel his lips grazing along your inner thighs, slow, gentle things, taking their time. “Don’t need to do anything but lay there.”

"What about you?"

"Not tired yet. ‘Sides it’s my watch."

You feel his mouth drifting over the seam of your thigh, breathing in your skin. His lips are petal soft and he’s doing that same light grazing that makes your eyes close before you slip into the warm and welcoming darkness of sleep.

///

You don't even remember falling asleep but judging by the quieting of the storm it's been a while. The fire is dim, but not out.

But that's not what has woken you.

It's the steadily building orgasm being coaxed out of you by the man still there between your thighs. You can't see him, but you feel his heavy mouth there. Has he just been there licking and sucking as you slept?

You make a croaking hum deep in your throat as your hips slowly begin to roll against his mouth. You can't see Joel's face in the semi darkness, but you just know he's looking at you.

You feel your climax building, pushing you to let out little whines. Joel's mouth takes you there, licking just hard enough to have your legs trembling. A husky order from somewhere in the darkened night.

"Go on then.”

You feel everything in you release at those three words. The delicious tension unwinding itself from your body as you come against his tongue.

"Good girl."

Only then does Joel remove your thighs from over his shoulders. He closes them gently like the pages of a cherished book before pulling your blanket back down over your body.

"Thank you," you croak out to him. It doesn't seem like enough but it must be because Joel gives a grunt. You feel his body lift from off the sofa. You want to see what he does next but you feel so relaxed and you're so tired.

Just so fucking tired.

///

You wake up too early the next morning, when the sky is still bleeding pink into the start of the day. You blink sleepily up at the window, confused that you’re so warm and cozy despite the fire being dead.

Belatedly you realize you’re sandwiched between the back of the couch and something warm and hard. The disorientation of sleep slowly seeps from you and you realize that you're snuggled up against Joel's back with your arm slung over his waist.

Memories of last night make your cheeks burn. Joel's mouth on you, the way he took his time. The way he came. Something about that fact makes your throat run dry.

His torso is bare and up so close to him you can see the small array of freckles along his tanned shoulders like a golden galaxy. He’s so broad, his body nearly falling off the edge of the couch as he sleeps on.

He's very still, his breathing slow and even. You peer up and see the threads of grey in his dark hair shining in the almost dead fire. You want to touch it, to see if it's as soft as it looks but you don’t dare.

His spine is under his taut flesh just inches from your mouth. You don't press your mouth to his skin but you can't help but inhale, shocked at how comforting the scent of leather and homemade soap is.

And while you should start the day and get as far away from Joel Miller as possible, there’s something about this moment that feels better than you can explain. It makes it so that your forehead presses against his spine and your front goes flush with his back. It makes you sigh softly as your eyes grow heavy and sleep pulls you back under.

Chapter 12: Town Meeting

Notes:

I know y'all have waited a long time for this so I hope its to your liking. It's over 12,000 words and I swear I could write more but then I'd never publish anything. You know your comments make me continue on with my tippy tappy fingers, so please don't forget to do it for me!

Chapter Text

"Wake up."

You jolt awake, eyes blowing wide. You instinctively go for the clock at your beside at home but it's not there. Nothing is where it usually is. As your sleepy mind clears you see two brown eyes staring down at you.

"Time to go. Get dressed."

You clothes are dried and laying beside you on the couch and the dead fire. The already dressed Joel leaves the room likely to give you privacy. You get dressed in a hurry, pulling your clothes and boots on before stumbling after Joel.

"Did you sleep much?"

"Yep. Plenty."

You don’t believe him. There are large circles under his eyes and he yawns so wide that his jaw cracks. You think maybe he got an hour tops.

You follow him down to see the horses huddled up together in the center of the room. Joel obviously used two of the blankets from upstairs because they’re thrown over each of the horses’ backs. They give a soft whinny as the two of you approach.

“Sure am missing breakfast,” you muse with a sleepy smile. “Even that oatmeal that sticks to the roof of my mouth.”

Joel’s mouth curls a bit at one side in amusement. You busy yourself with kissing Chestnut’s muzzle once more before you feel Joel tap you.

“Here.”

You glance over to see Joel holding a piece of jerky out to you. You take it gratefully before pausing.

“Wait, isn’t this your portion?”

“Ate mine already.”

He’s lying.

He gave you all the jerky. Let you drink the rest of his coffee. Even shared his precious whiskey.

“You sure?”

Joel hefts the saddles onto each of the horses, making sure that they’re secured as you gaze at him in question. He feels you staring at him and instead of his usual snark he just glances over gives you a nod.

“Ready to go?”

“Mhm.”

You and Chestnut follow he and Midnight out the house, helping the horses to slowly maneuver down the icy steps into the snow. Even after the storm it comes to above your ankles. Joel frowns, looking down at it.

“We’re gonna have to walk ‘em back. Don’t trust that they won’t hurt themselves in all this.”

“Of course.”

You trail after him, eyes stuck on the ground in front of you.

Joel leads, you follow.

And instead of angering you or making you feel small and useless, it makes you bloom. Like a flower warmed by the sun, its petals unfurling. You feel yourself smiling to yourself a big, toothy grin that you’re glad Joel can’t see. He’d ask you why and you’re not sure that you could answer him sufficiently. You don’t quite understand it yourself.

The walk back is long, especially with the horses moving unsteadily over the snow. Thankfully Chestnut is easily led, unlike last night. The worst of the storm is behind you, leaving only the crunch of icy snow and trees heavy with white.

Your cheeks and end of your nose are pink from the cold, the scarf tight around your throat. Your fingers are warm in your gloves and you're relieved that everything dried sufficiently in front of the fire last night. You glance at Joel’s broad back, suddenly fixated on an errant thought.

“Joel can I ask you something?”

He visibly cringes. “What?”

“How did you get so good at shooting and fighting?”

His shoulders relax. “Practice.”

“You didn’t fight or shoot before Outbreak Day?”

“Only when I had to get Tommy out of scrapes,” Joel says quietly and you notice he’s slowed his walking until you’ve matched paces and you’re both walking side by side. “I did some boxing when I was younger. Didn’t have much time when Sar- when I got older. The shooting came after. A necessary skill when you’re smugglin’.”

You nod, knowing that he was about to bring up his daughter. Despite the closeness you feel, you have no desire to delve into that very heavy topic. You’re curious about his smuggling as well, but you don’t want to bring that up either as it seems strangely personal.

“You learn pretty quick that anything can be a weapon,” Joel continues on as if you’re a particularly engaged student. “A book, a candlestick, even an unloaded gun can hit a pretty bad blow to the base of someone’s skull. You might not kill ‘em but you’ll hurt ‘em enough to get away.”

To you a book is a book, a candlestick a candlestick. You don’t see things as potential weapons, only for their intended uses

“I never really thought of that,” you admit. “Although I wish I was more of a natural at shooting.”

"Needed to keep up with your lessons," Joel murmurs and you think you hear a softening of his tone. "I could try teachin' you again."

"I've already got someone teaching me," you tell him, back straight and standing tall. You tell Joel this in the pathetic hopes that it will impress him, that he will see how you’re really trying. But instead he scowls at the air in front of him.

“If it’s that Luke boy you’re better off goin’ in blind,” Joel says, eyes fixed in front of him. “He couldn’t even hit a nail straight. Some fuckin’ cabinetmaker.”

Luke is most assuredly not a boy; he’s at least thirty five. Joel calling him a boy makes you smirk despite being irritated at the insult to your friend.

“You don’t even know Luke.”

Joel looks sullen and you're confused that he's angry again. You really can't anticipate his moods.

The two of you continue on in silence and you think that Joel seems a bit irritated for some reason you can’ unearth. Likely just exhausted like you are after a stressful day and uneven sleep.

"Thought you wanted to be a good shot?” Joel says suddenly, glancing at you over his shoulder. “You need a competent teacher."

"I have a competent teacher and it isn't Luke anyway," you bite off, a line of irritation slicing between your brows.

"Who? Aaron? Greg?" Joel's voice is hard edged. His pace increases with every name said. "Kevin?"

“If you must know its Jennifer,” you sigh, irritable from your poor sleep and Joel’s sudden sullenness.

"Jennifer?" Joel's brows untie his features relaxing.

“I know how much you hate me bringing her up,” you sneer. “But I can’t really avoid it now can I?”

Joel gives a grunt by way of reply all the while your mind drifts to your friend. The girl who likes Joel and has for a long while. Jennifer the girl who has always been up front and honest with you.

What will you tell her?

He's quiet with you on the walk back and you wonder if he's distracted like you. He's likely tired like you are, muscles aching from the lumpy couch. Now you know how those muscles feel against your cheek and the memory makes you feel tingly.

In your distracted state and the slick of the snow you tumble, landing on your hands and hissing. Angry tears well in your eyes and you wince at the way your wrist smarts.

"Fuck."

Your knees and are wet from snow and you miserably wait for the chastising or rolled eyes shot your way by Joel. Instead you hear the crunch of snow and he's there half-crouched in front of you, one hand on Midnight's reins, the other held out to you.

You stare at it a moment, the glove wide and cracked with age. Then finally you take it, lifting your eyes to his. You're surprised to find concern.

"You alright?"

"Yeah."

"You good to keep goin'?"

"Uh huh."

He nods and then he turns, dropping your hand and striding back with the horse towards the trail.

You watch the back of Joel's head as he saunters ahead of you, listening to his quiet murmurs to Midnight and fixating on the loose curl of his hair at the nape of his neck. You're captivated by the interwoven strands of dark brown and grey that glint like tinsel in the light of the morning.

You're concerned that the thought of Joel makes your belly grow warm and tighten. The man who previously drove you insane with irritation now lingers in your thoughts almost pleasantly.

He shared things with you. Things you have a feeling he doesn't share with many others. He told you about Tess and he wanted to know about you. So what does that mean? Does he see you as more than just a pleasurable release?

Do you want him to?

You don't know how to feel about Joel right now. And you don’t know what you’re going to tell Jennifer if she asks.

When you cross into Jackson City cold and exhausted a few hours later you're surprised to hear loud commotion behind the wall and electrified fence.

"It's them!"

"Open the fucking gate!"

You and Joel exchange a brief look before the entrance is opened to you and you stalk forward. You see the large group gathered at the wall on the other side, thankful that the snow has been shovelled.

The entrance to the gate is full of the other patrol members looking like they're about to head out. You glance behind you to see the snow storm kicking back up just as the gate is closed and locked securely behind you. You glance back at the

Tommy is giving a relieved huff of air as he sees you both slowly make your way inside the walls, the horses trailing after you.

Jennifer is atop Glimmer; talking animatedly to a new patrol person you don't know. She looks beside herself, her eyes red-rimmed. When she turns back and sees you she lets out a choked sob and scrambles off Glimmer before she runs in your direction, nearly tackling you into a tight embrace.

"I was so worried," she says, voice shaky. "Luke and I were up all night just waiting for word. I was gonna go with the search party and-and-"

"I'm here in okay," you say with a slight laugh, your arms banding around her as she hiccups a cry into your shoulder. "I swear I'm okay."

You notice the timid form of Ellie over Jennifer's shoulder. She sees you first and casts a brief smile at you before her eyes search the crowd for Joel. When she hears him snapping at Tommy to give him breathing room you see the tears she blinks back. You watch as Ellie slips through the crowd chasing after his voice.

When she gets to him there's no hesitation on his part. He brings her into his arms and murmurs something into her ear. Ellie's face crumples but she buries it in the front of Joel's jacket, her tiny hands gripping the front of it.

She loves him so much.

You catch his eye over Ellie's head, not missing the gentle nod he casts your way. It warms you deeply. Things feel different between the two of you.

'I'm so glad you're okay," Jennifer says wiping the tears from her cheeks and drawing your attention back to her. "I just ... I was so scared."

"Me too," you nod, surprised to find yourself choked up. You haven’t had friendship like this before – the kind of tenderness that comes with true companionship. You wonder if this is how every friendship is supposed to feel and if so, you mourn that it took you this long to stumble upon it.

The tall, lanky form of Luke steps forward from the murmuring crowd his face breaking into a relieved expression. He jogs over in your direction and takes you aback by gathering you into his arms and rocking you tightly against him.

“Thank fuck!”

You giggle in his neck, inhaling the soft, warm scent of coffee and wool from his scarf. He holds you like this for several moments, tenderly and with affection.

"I know you wanted an adventure but honestly," he says with mock irritation into your hairline.

Laughter bubbles from the three of you, relieved and silly. You hug him back tightly, thankful for the relationships you've built, thankful for the levity he's bringing to the moment. Grateful that you found he and Jennifer at the end of the world.

You hear a throat clear behind you and you turn in Luke's grip.

Joel stares back at you, mouth in a thin line. He's got Ellie tucked under one arm, Tommy at his side and several of the others attempting to talk to him. But he’s still, the only movement his dark eyes taking you in.

You break away from Luke and move towards Joel, feeling overcome with emotion. Last night could have been so terrifying if not for the broad man standing in front of you. A sensation of deep gratitude curls around your ribs, lessening the anxiety you would normally feel in his presence.

"Thank you for everything, Joel."

You give him a warm smile, even going so far as to touch your hand to his forearm. Ellie watches this, a faint smile settling over her lips as your glove makes contact with his jacket.

You wait for that same quiet kindness from Joel that accompanied you home this morning and are confused when he pulls back from your hand stiffly, his voice melting into that familiar husky baritone.

"Mind movin' outta the way sometime this year?"

And just like that in the blink of an eye the old Joel is back. That same haughty glare, the same squaring of his jaw. You deflate, shoulders slumping before you move backwards.

Nothing has changed.

He strides by your group, the feel of his leather jacket dragging across the back of your glove.

"Must be exhausted after last night," Jennifer surmises, watching after him a moment. "You must be too."

You watch after Joel and Ellie, seeing the rigid way he walks beside her now. You think of Joel’s changeable moods and you exhale softly.

"Yeah," you nod. "I am."

///

Jennifer insists on walking you home and makes sure you are taken care of. She draws you a bath and leaves to bring you back a warm lunch from the dining hall. She makes sure your bed is changed with fresh sheets, warming them with a water bottle from her place. She even offers to sleep on your couch in case you need anything that first evening back.

“You don’t have to do that,” you insist that evening before the fire, your robe tightly around you and socks toasty from being propped up by the flames. It reminds you of how cold you were with Joel only a day ago.

You’re close to falling asleep but you like having Jennifer in the house, nearby. You like the sound of clattering dishes and her chirping away about something in town before she’s tucked up on one side of the couch, her hands around a warm mug of tea.

“I can’t thank you enough for all of this,” you tell her, feeling moved.

“It’s nothing.”

“It’s something to me.”

Jennifer smiles and you watch how the fire warms her face in an entirely different way than Joel. Instead of looking intimidating, it’s like she softens in the warm light. She looks sad though in a way you don’t recall from before.

“I don’t know what I’d do without you here,” she finally says with a cracked chuckle, her long neck bobbing as she swallows.

“Yeah right. You have so many friends,” you say. “I’ve barely ever seen you alone. You always have company.”

“Company, but not real friends,” she tells you. “Not ones who don’t judge me.”

You recall your initial judgments of the beautiful, blonde Jennifer. That she was giggly and frivolous and that she lived to gather men. You’d had no idea of her tough upbringing, of all she sacrificed, of her talents, of her unending support. You wonder how many others you judged in your life and missed out on the pleasure of knowing.

“I judged you,” you tell her honestly. “When I first met you I thought you were a vapid, pretty flirt.”

Jennifer is immediately laughing across from you, wiping the tension from your face.

“Yeah but everyone makes judgments like that with strangers! I made judgments about you before I got to know you too.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, I thought you were an antisocial bitch,” Jennifer says with a crooked grin and you can’t help but bark out a laugh in reply.

“What?”

“You never spoke to anyone, never smiled. You were always reading or walking off by yourself.” Jennifer smirks. “You intimidated the shit out of me.”

“No,” you say in awe. “I intimidated you?”

“Of course!” Jennifer giggles. “So serious and always reading. Plus you just carried yourself in a way that felt. . . it felt like you had walls up, you know?”

You realize that Jennifer is very astute amongst her other gifts.

“Then I saw Ellie with you that morning,” she adds. “And I figured, maybe like Joel there was more to you than met the eye. Then I heard you were on patrols with Joel and the rest is history.”

Yeah, the rest is history.

You can’t help but curl your lip in amusement. Who knew a chance patrol pairing could lead you into a friendship you’d never thought possible? Jennifer shuffles back on the couch, looking cozy in her latest fashion piece (a cable knit looking sweater with felted strawberry accents).

Jennifer is quiet, staring into the fire. She seems strangely stoic today and you feel like it’s not just from your disappearance. You give her a sidelong glance, lips pressed tightly together. She looks off into middle distance, her normally mirth-filled eyes suddenly hollow.

"You okay, Jen?"

She doesn’t reply, only turns her head to glance in your direction when you prompt her with a gentle tap to her wrist, settling back into the couch before turning to look at you head on.

“Just a tough time of year,” Jennifer acknowledges as she tosses a twig in the fire. She looks different tonight, like a ghostly version of herself.

You surmise that perhaps with the approaching holidays she’s feeling down in the mouth. It's like that with lots of folks. You shift your body to face her, showing her that you're listening and you wait for her to talk, holding the silence for her.

She looks to be fighting an internal debate.

"I shot a kid."

She says it with a choke, as if the words are fighting to come loose from her throat. These weren't the words you'd been expecting from the beautiful, flirty Jennifer. These words are ugly, twisted and cold.

“I’ve only told a few people,” she adds, chin wobbling.

You stare at her, eyes unwavering, waiting. Words aren't your strong suit. All you can offer her is a steady silence. She absently scratches at the side of the warm mug she holds.

"This was years ago around this time," she continues, her eyes downcast. "I was with my brothers and we were going through to one of the safety zones. We'd found this old market, had some tinned goods. My brothers go to check out the back and I go down an empty aisle thinking I might find something useful."

Jennifer swallows harshly, her teacup held so tightly her knuckles look parchment white.

"All of a sudden this kid comes out of nowhere. Couldn't have been more than ten. He's skin and bones, wild eyes saying these words over and over, a bunch that I don't understand. He had a knife in his hand and I thought he was trying to come for me. I didn't even think, I just raised the gun and I shot him between the eyes."

You can almost hear the echo of that gunshot in the silent room now.

Jennifer is staring over your shoulder, like she can see the ghostly apparition of the fallen child behind you. It makes goosebumps rise along your body, and you continue to keep your even silence. You know that she doesn't want you embrace or your pity, just your presence.

"My brother's told me I did what was smart,” Jennifer whispers. “Told me to move on. But his face when he was dead, his shrieking, it just kept playing over and over in my head. When I went to bed, when I woke up. It felt wrong."

Tears slide down her cheeks now, as quick as she brushes them away with the edge of her sweater, new ones appear, soaking into the wool.

"I came to Jackson a few months after that. My brothers wanted to keep goin', they heard about some place in Canada that they thought would be a better fit for us. But... I needed a fresh start where no one knew me, where I could be someone totally new. They were upset to leave me, but I pretty much insisted on it."

You shift in your seat, listening intently. Jennifer has this sickening look on her face and you know behind her eyes is a memory of this terrible experience. It makes you want to hold her hand but she’s folded into herself and you don’t want to force her into anything.

"So I was living here in Jackson a few months and I’m at the dining hall one night and I hear this woman speaking another language. At first I barely notice, but then I realize this word keeps popping up. Pomoz. Pomoz. Same as that kid."

At this point Jennifer places her empty teacup on the aged wood coffee table. She stretches her long legs before pulling them to her chest. She sniffs again, unable to meet your gaze.

"Turns out he was speaking Polish. So I tell the lady the sentence that has been haunting me for months and months and I ask her for the translation." Jennifer swipes along the bottom of her runny nose with the back of her sweater.

"You know what he was saying?"

You don't move. Not even to shake your head.

"He was saying help me. I'm lost." Jennifer's lower lip trembles. "Pomóż mi, zgubiłem się. He was just a kid begging for my help and I shot him dead without thinking."

Now the sobs come, wracking her slim body as she curls into herself.

"That little b-boy died on a dirty supermarket floor alone and scared because of me."

You can't help it if it isn't in your nature; your hands go to Jennifer's and hold tightly. And when her warm teardrops land on the back of them you move forward to wrap her in your arms. You haven’t held someone to comfort them in so long that it feels foreign to you, but you grip her tightly, letting her tears soak the front of your nightdress.

You don’t offer her saccharine words of comfort, you don’t give her pity, you just hold her until the tears stop flowing and her breathing returns to normal. Even after all of that you continue to hold her until she squeezes back, letting you sit there in the quiet night.

"Thank you," Jennifer finally says in a croaked voice before pulling back. You tilt your head at her.

"For what?"

"For letting me talk about this stuff and not judging me." She pushes her hair from her glassy eyes.

"You did what anyone else would have done," you assure her honestly. “I know you don’t believe it, but you did. How could I judge that?”

"I think you're the first person who I ever told this to who didn't look at me like I was a piece of shit," she says with a forced laugh. You shake your head.

"I could never look at you like that.”

She gives you a wry smile. "Oh yeah? Why's that? Cuz I taught you to shoot?"

You give her a weak smile in return.

"Because... You reminded me about the good parts of life. Of having friends and singing and drinking tea. You made me leave my cave and come blinking out into the sunshine again."

Jennifer looks moved by your words, her large eyes growing glossier.

"I think that's why I wanted to get to know you," Jennifer observes with a sniffle. "It felt like you were outrunning something too. Trying to forget."

You look at your hands in your lap before giving a resolute nod.

"Yeah."

"Sometimes I think that's why I like to distract myself with crushes or teaching people to shoot or makin' dresses," she muses. "Being alone with my thoughts too much is..."

She doesn't finish that thought but she doesn't need to.

You couldn't understand more.

And then its like she’s trying to push back this burdensome memory and she forces a smile to her face. You can see her adopting this persona, this safety person that she hides behind. Happy, bright, Jennifer who flirts and shoots and rides horses and drinks beer at the Bison. And you let her slip into this character because you are no one to judge how a person chooses to survive.

“So tell me, what was it like being there with Joel at night?” she asks with a sidelong smirk in your direction. “I know he’s not your favorite person.”

Before when Jennifer asked you about Joel it used to irritate you. You thought she was using you for your information. But when she asks you now there’s nothing but amusement, like two grade-school girls discussing their crush from third period biology.

“I thought about you actually,” you grin toothily. “Thought about how you’d give anything to swap spots with me.”

Jennifer does a fake swoon, falling dramatically backward; the back of her hand on her forehead and you can’t help but bust out giggling. Jennifer giggles right back, sitting back up and bouncing in her seat.

“Tell me everything!”

You can’t tell her everything.

You give her the bullet points; the thundersnow, the horses, Joel’s calves. You leave out that you were both naked under the blankets sharing whiskey, you leave out that he went down on you for hours and you definitely leave out the part about waking up against him and falling back asleep.

“He took really good care of me,” you finish up honestly. “I thought he was gonna be a jerk but he was great.”

“Really?” Jennifer almost beaming, like she’s proud she was right about him all along.

“Yeah, I was really scared and he was really patient that night.”

“See? I told you there was something to him.”

“I guess,” you shrug. “I think it was a storm thing though. He’s gone back to being an asshole so I wouldn’t hold my hopes up.”

“Did he mention me by any chance?”

You think of how to frame this. Yeah, Joel did mention Jennifer but none of his comments were particularly flattering. But when you recall how he looked at her coming back you think it might have been to cover up his feelings. He doesn’t seem like someone who can come out and express how he feels properly.

“Yeah, actually. You came up a few times.”

Jennifer giggles to herself and you know she wants to ask more about this but you’re tired and yawning and not long after she insists you go to sleep.

Your bed has never felt more comfortable but sleep takes its time coming to you. It keeps replaying the night before; the way Joel’s dark eyes reflected the fire, the strength of his hands on your body, his tongue between your legs.

You wish your mind didn’t keep going back to last night because all you can focus on is that Joel made you come, asked for nothing in return and then in the morning made it seem like nothing happened. Then as soon as you entered inside Jackson City he made it seem like he was furious with you.

The way he acted makes you wonder if you'd imagined all his kindness and his soft touches. But no, you can still feel the sensation of his tongue between your folds, his calloused hands on your thighs, the husky groan ordering you to come. You can't stop thinking about it, actually.

It’s there lulling you to sleep, a warmth simmering in your belly.

///

You sleep in the next day, well past the breakfast hour. You don’t mind though, Jennifer had you stuffed with food up until she left at midnight telling you she could stay if you needed her to. You’re still not used to this kind of friendship, still wary that it seems too good to be true.

A glance out the window shows that some snow has fallen since yesterday, but nothing too much. Outside your street is barely touched, the sun shining gently on the earth’s creation.

You get dressed quickly, padding yourself with extra warm clothes, your red scarf and your jacket. You pull on your boots dried by the previous day’s fire and you step into the chilly mid-morning.

You like to go to the quiet parts of Jackson for your walks, enjoying the solitude. It’s in the outer part of Jackson without being in the forest, a place you never venture to. It’s an abandoned neighborhood with old houses, fencing and more.

A sharp bark is at your back and you turn to see the familiar panting dog clumsily making his way over to you through the snow.

“Hey Buckley,” you coo when he gets close enough.

Buckley is a famous figure that roams Jackson City, a dog that belongs to everyone in a way. You think you heard someone say he was a border collie mixed with something else. He’s not always in town, often he’s found by the hydroelectric dam when he’s not snoozing at Gustavo’s feet listening to the banjo.

“You being a good boy?” you muse, scratching the back of his ear when he cocks his head.

He’s a friendly dog, rarely without his prized tennis ball. He doesn’t have it with him now, and you assume he’s lost it in the snow. You shake your head at him with a soft huffing laugh.

“You wanna join me on my walk?”

Sometimes it strange to walk through the underdeveloped parts of Jackson City. The ones with power lines that poke out like jagged tombstones. The asphalt that’s cracks when you walk on it during the hot months. But you come to stand before one of your favorite buildings, the ranch, smiling as the gentle breeze turns your cheeks pink. Buckley follows at your heels, the two of you slowed down by the snow.

You avoid the forest for obvious reasons, but you enjoy walking by the old ranch because it reminds you of the kind of place you read about in books. You think that it would be nice to live in it one day. You found it once during one of your morning walks when you first arrived at Jackson City, and it’s been a sort of touchstone for you ever since.

You walk up its creaking porch steps, your fingers touching the porch swing. You can imagine it spruced up, drinking lemonade while you watch the sunset. It’s a nice fantasy, but it will remain just that. You have no building skills, you are a single occupant and you imagine when Jackson City gets big enough they’ll reserve this place for a big family or turn it into something vital.

You walk inside, immediately at ease with the gold sun of the morning that filters in through the grimy windows. The entire place is built with that warm, honey-colored wood. Threadbare carpets litter the spaces, old furniture still standing. Buckley remains outside, keeping watch as is his prerogative. You don’t think you’ve ever seen him inside anywhere.

You move over the creaking floors, taking in the dusty floors before you touch the sails of the decorate boat resting on the mantle above the hearth, a little tradition of yours. Moth-eaten curtains hang like sad bits of hair over the windows, and you gasp a little when a rat skitters by in the dining room, going to hide in one of the old cabinets. With all the cold weather they are urged indoors and you have no desire to hurt them; that’s Buckley’s job.

You’re about to head upstairs when something in the next room stops you. The kitchen area creaks with the unmistakable sound of slow, heavy footsteps. Immediately you straighten, hands going for a gun that you’re not carrying.

Fuck.

What are you gonna do? Panic threatens to seize you until a voice; low and husky is there at your ear, quelling your heartbeat.

You learn pretty quick that anything can be a weapon. A book, a candlestick, even an unloaded gun can hit a pretty bad blow to the base of someone’s skull. You might not kill ‘em but you’ll hurt ‘em enough to get away.

Your eyes go wide, taking in the mantle behind you once more. The candlesticks aren’t that heavy, the sailboat decorative. There are some books in the next room but you’ll be seen. Then your eyes drift down to the hearth and you feel relief when you see the fire implements there. You grab the poker, sure not to upset the other brass items into clanging.

The footsteps are continuing getting closer and you force yourself to remember what Jennifer has been teaching you: slow your breathing, focus, think of something that takes you to that quiet place.

Homemade pies.

Lavender soap.

Sunlight on a summer morning.

Joel’s eyes.

Before you can consider this train of thought a figure suddenly makes their way around the corner of the room, looking curiously at their surroundings. You raise the poker above your head, charging at them with a furious shriek.

The man jumps back from you, watery pale eyes bulging out of his ruddy skull. He falls backwards onto the ground, holding a hand up to shield his face as you prepare to bring the poker down on his head.

“Please! Please! I live here! Please don’t hurt me!”

Something in the frantic way he yelps stills your motions, your breathing ragged as adrenaline courses through you. You lower the poker to your side, still not releasing it entirely.

He’s short and portly and he doesn’t look particularly frightening lying there quivering on the ground.

“You don’t live here,” you tell him sharply. “This place is empty.”

“I meant I live here in the community,” the man squeaks. He can’t be younger than sixty. “Well, in a sense. I-I mean, we just got here y-yesterday. I was just looking for the soap maker; I was told she’s nearby?”

You don’t sense any real danger from this man and now you step forward, holding a hand out to him. He winces at first, thinking you mean to hit him. Then he realizes you’re not threatening him and he takes your hand gingerly.

“I’m sorry,” the man says with his voice wobbling as you pull him to a stand. “I didn’t mean to startle.”

“It’s fine. I’ve just never run into anyone here. Raiders have been seen nearby and it’s a bit high tension around lately,” you explain.

“Oh I see,” the man nods. “That explains the welcome.”

You can’t help but laugh softly at that.

“I'm Arthur," the man says shaking your hand as you introduce yourself.

Normally you would keep to yourself, but today feels different. You feel different. It prompts you to keep your face pointed to the pale man.

"You said you were new to Jackson?"

"Wife and I just arrived last night," Arthur says with a shy smile, pushing his glasses up his narrow nose. "I'm still getting my bearings. She was so excited to have running water so I was looking for soap. Someone in town told me there’s a soap maker in this direction."

“I’ll show you the way,” you say, placing the fire poker back with the other instruments beside the hearth.

“Really?”

“Sure. Follow me.”

The two of you walk into the chill of the day, Buckley standing to attention when the two of you exit. You introduce Arthur to the dog and the two of you start on your journey. Arthur is a slow walker, especially in the snow, so it takes a bit longer than you normally would.

But strangely you don’t mind. You think you might be feeling powerful from earlier; you knew what to do in a time of panic. It makes you smile, your entire disposition cheerful as Arthur talks on next to you.

“I’d like to find some work as soon as possible.”

"Of course," you nod. "You have any experience in anything?"

"Not unless someone wants their portrait done," Arthur says with a smile that shows his crowded incisors. "Back in the QZ I did some teaching. Art classes and the like."

"They could always use someone like that here," you reason.

"You think?"

"I'm sure of it. Maybe at the school? What does your wife do?"

"Penny was in the business sector before the outbreak. In the QZ she did more manual positions, disposal that sort of thing. Do you think you could find her work in something similar here?"

"Oh, I'm not in charge if that sort of stuff," you smile. "But I know who is. I'll see her this week and tell her you're eager to help out. Can I get your address?"

They live at 64 Pine and while Arthur is more of the creative type, he and his wife both have experience with cooking as well. You make a note of this for when you see Maria later this week.

Normally Maria would be on top of this sort of thing. Before Douglas' she always gave the tour's to newcomers, always had them sorted with a job before the end of their first week. But now she's distracted and subsequently Tommy is too.

People like to give, she told you that first week. Makes them feel like they’re part of something.

You and Arthur chat companionably with Buckley trailing at your ankles through the snow. Arthur and his wife have been together for thirty five years, and they’ve made it from the Virginia QZ.

“Things were just too hairy over there,” Arthur says with a shake of his head. “Me and Penny figured we couldn’t keep living like that. We heard about Jackson City through an old CB a friend had. Seemed too good to be true.”

“I get that,” you nod. “The first month I was here I barely left my house. I was convinced my place would be given away the second I walked out the door.”

“The beds!” Arthur says with a dramatic emphasis on the words. “And those clean sheets? Everything is just so. . .Fresh.”

You’re at the soap maker’s home now and while it’s still early, you can hear Hannah rustling about inside. You know if you stay she’ll insist on having you in for coffee and you feel as if your social battery is already at its limit.

“This is where I’ll leave you,” you say indicating to the home ahead. “Inside is Hannah and Herb, they’ll set you up with some soap for you and your wife.”

“Thanks so much,” Arthur says pumping your hand in his.

“Can you make it back okay on your own?”

“I’m sure.”

You smile, about to turn and head back home when something stops you. You twist around, calling after Arthur who raises his brows.

“Do you ever draw portraits?”

“Of course,” Arthur nods.

“I mean, of people you don’t know,” you say, squinting as you try to recall the term. “Kinda like sketch artists did for the police back before?”

“I can’t say it’s a specialty, but I love a challenge,” Arthur says with a little skip to his step. “And considering you were kind enough to show me here I’d love to do it for you.”

“Thanks,” you say, feeling shy. “I might just take you up on it.”

///

You’re surprised to see Maria knocking on your door later that afternoon. She’s got a sleeping Douglas strapped to her chest with a sling and she’s carrying a pie in one hand.

“I would have been here the second you got back but I only heard from Tommy what was going on late last night,” she says when you invite her in.

“No problem,” you insist warmly. “I think he was doing it to save you some stress.”

“Yeah well he got an earful,” she says with a frown. “How could he not tell me my friend was missing during a storm?”

Friend. Another friend. An embarrassment of riches. You try to tamp down the pleased smile that bleeds across your face and instead give a gentle rub to Douglas’ head, giggling as he grunts and scrunches his nose.

You tell Maria about Arthur and Penny and she nods as she feeds Douglas.

"Yep, 64 Pine. I just sent them over a welcome basket and Tommy's gone there to give 'em jobs."

"Great," you smile. Your eyes go to the gently babbling Douglas in Maria's arms. “How does he get cuter every day?”

“Must be a Miller thing,” she says laughing. “I saw a picture of Sarah once and she was so adorable.”

This intrigues you to the point of distraction.

“You saw a picture of Sarah?”

Very few people had photos or memorabilia from their homes that survived Outbreak Day. You don’t know anyone personally who has photos of their family.

“Yeah, Tommy went back to Texas a while back. Got some stuff from his old place and he found a photo of Sarah to bring back.”

“Joel must have been so happy.”

“He didn’t take it,” Maria shrugs. “Think it was too hard for him.”

You fall silent for a moment, your irritation with Joel waning. It’s hard to be angry at him after everything that happened. You sometimes forget that he had a life before, that he had a daughter he’ll never see again. Despite your animosity for how he treated you earlier, you’re not devoid of compassion.

You just wish you could understand him.

You’re still pondering this hours after Maria has left when there’s a knock at your door. It creaks open when you call out to come in and a familiar set of light eyes greet you. Luke grins at you expectantly.

“You still up for shooting?”

“Oh shit, I forgot,” you place your teacup in the sink and hurriedly pull on your scarf and jacket.

“We don’t have to,” Luke starts. “Jenny can’t make it, but I thought it’d be good for us to get the practice.”

You flush happily at the thought of being alone with Luke. You enjoy being with him, it’s easy and uncomplicated.

You follow him down the street heading to the outskirts of the city, both of you armed with guns borrowed from Jennifer.

"So Jennifer isn’t going to shoot today?" You ask curiously.

"Nah she said something about running behind in textiles. Dunno what exactly,” Luke shrugs, before smiling back at you. “You going to the town meeting Wednesday?”

Town meetings have been going on since Jackson City was founded. A place to bring up impactful town business, updates, celebrations and more. You've only been to one, finding it pretty dull for the most part. But as you become more a part of the community you find you want to know more of what goes on around you.

"Yeah I think I will."

The two of you fall into a comfortable rhythm that afternoon and you’re surprised at how easily the conversation flows even without Jenny there. Luke is funny and sweet and when you shoot your first can he’s right there to lift you into his arms and spin you around.

“That was amazing!”

“I can’t believe it!” you say, pink-cheeked and delighted.

You’re still on a high when you head back into town an hour or so later, chatting animatedly about how your shooting is actually improving thanks to Jennifer. You wish she had been there to see it today.

“Not just one can, but four,” Luke whistles in amazement as you both make your way to the center of town. “And I could only got one.”

“But it was really far away so it counts as two,” you insist with a giggle. Luke grins down at you, pulling you into a companionable side hug.

“You’re too kind.”

Your entire body lights up with the contact of Luke's arm around you. You’re about to say something more when a gruff voice sounds out from behind you.

“You sign those guns out?”

You and Luke spin to face the speaker.

Joel.

He’s standing there, leather coat done up looking intimidating. His dark eyes are going to where Luke holds you around the shoulder.

Instinctively you take a half step away from Luke, feeling strangely wrong-footed at having his arm around you, as if you’ve been caught doing something you shouldn’t.

Luke is busy looking at Joel in confusion. “Huh?”

“The guns you’re carryin’,” Joel says sharply, tongue lodged in the corner of his mouth as he appraises the both of you, taking a step closer. “They gotta be signed out if you’re practicin’. Need to keep track of ‘em for safety.”

Everyone who comes to Jackson City knows this, it’s taught during your welcome. Public weapons used for patrols need to be signed out from the armory, the ammo is doled out in specific numerations to keep the city stocked and prepared.

“They’re Jenny’s,” Luke explains patiently. “From her own collection. She lends them to us for practice.”

“Ammo too?”

“Yep.”

Joel makes a grunting noise in Luke’s direction, but his eyes don’t leave your face. You feel your cheeks prickling with embarrassment at being talked down to. And for what reason? Why is Joel being such an asshole this week?

“Is that all, Joel?” you challenge, feeling your hackles rising.

Joel frowns at you, jaw ticking and then without a word he strides past you and Luke, ducking into one of the shops that line the main street. You watch him leave, stiff-shouldered and long-legged and you shake your head.

“Man that guy is such an asshole,” Luke murmurs to you as the two of you continue your walk towards the other shops. “What’s his problem?”

“Honestly, I have no idea.”

///

Midweek one early morning you decide to pay a visit to Chestnut with a contraband carrot. You’ve been worrying about him since you returned from that overnight patrol shift, but your visit shows he’s no worse for wear. He clops over to you and cheerfully takes the carrot as you pet him.

There's something comforting about the scent of hay in the paddock, of Chestnut's glossy eyes and the strength of his ribs under your palm. Something that grounds you when you're here alone, listening to the strangely relaxing sound of him munching on his carrot. You've broken it in half, concerned that you might upset his diet.

He deserves it after all he went through last week.

You feel eyes on you and you glance over your shoulder to see Midnight circling around his paddock. Chestnut continues to snack away on his carrot piece, not even acknowledging when you drift over to Midnight.

"Hi, boy."

You take the other half of the carrot and move closer to where Midnight stares balefully out at you from the corner of his paddock. He watches you with widened eyes, making a huffing noise as you near, hand outstretched with the carrot half resting in the center of your palm.

Midnight's known you for months, but he still treats you like a stranger to be wary of. For a moment you wonder what his story is.

"Here you go," you coo, balancing on the fencing separating the two horses. "You deserve a treat too."

The glossy black head swings slowly, the scent catching him and it's not long before he begins inching towards you.

With a soft smile on your lips you hold your palm flat and feel the velvet brush of his mouth as he takes the carrot piece. You feel victorious by this minute surrender and smile toothily at the creature. You think about stroking his mane but decide you'd best not push your luck.

You turn when you hear your name being called and you're delighted to see its Ellie. She comes jogging towards you, looking as if she's getting ready to go to school.

"Hey, I haven't seen you in the dining hall lately," you greet as she comes your way.

"Nah, wanted to hang out with Joel this week," she explains and you hold in the urge to make a sympathetic face. You know his disappearance must have rattled her.

She looks at Midnight relaxing in his paddock and stretches out her fingers in his direction. You watch in quiet amazement as the creature ambles over to her, allowing her to start petting his twitching side. Ellie sure has a knack for taming the untamable.

"You like horses?" you ask Ellie, watching as the girl pets Chestnut’s ears.

“Yeah, I can ride too.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, sorta. Winston this soldier back in the zone gave me lessons.” She glances up at you. “How do you know how to ride?”

“When I was really little my parents got me riding lessons. I loved it, kept going with it. Did some competitions. I was still riding up until Outbreak Day.”

“Wow. That’s awesome.” Ellie gnaws at her chapped lower lip, scratching absently at her covered arm. She looks like she’s trying to summon up the courage for something and then you both speak at once.

“Are you okay?-“

“-You wanna come over on Thursday night?”

You pause, her words hitting you belatedly.

“Where? To your place?”

“Yeah,” Ellie nods. She smiles at Chestnut, her eyes disappearing when she does. “For a special dinner.”

You and Joel Miller together in the same house again? After he’s been such a colossal asshole to you for no reason this week?

Not a chance.

“We could do dinner at my place,” you suggest airily. “I could make us something special.”

“Nah, I wanna do it at mine. On Thursday. I’ll make us all something really special.” She looks nervously at you. “Could you bring dessert?”

The request makes you huff a laugh. “Like what?”

“A cake?”

You grin as you watch her pet Chesnut, but you don’t reply. Thoughts of being in Joel’s home don’t really fill you with ease or cheer. She pauses when she sees your hesitation.

“Joel wanted me to ask you to come.”

This gives you pause and your brows rise to your hairline.

“Joel invited me to have dinner with you both?”

“Yeah,” Ellie nods resolutely. “You know Joel. He’s a grumpy asshole and he’s shit at communicating. But he told me to invite you, so can you make it?”

Is it possible that this is Joel extending an olive branch? Maybe he feels bad knowing how bizarrely he’s treated you this week. Maybe he’ll even explain why he’s suddenly been so frosty.

You consider this, eyes stuck on Chestnut’s mane as your fingers twirl in it. You can feel Ellie’s hopeful expression facing you and so you sigh quietly before flashing her a tentative smile.

“Chocolate cake okay?”

///

Town meetings take place inside the old church at the edge of town. The chapel itself is filled with creaking pews and tall stained glass windows.

People use it on Sundays, those that still believe in something in this empty world. You don't attend; you stopped believing a long time ago. During town meetings though the religious iconography is removed and placed off to the side.

Down the steps is the large recreation space used for dances and parties and the like. You've never gone to any, finding the idea too intimating since you didn't know anyone. The space is mostly filled, as all town meetings are. It's recommended that one person from each family attend to keep appraised of what's happening in the community.

This evening you and Jennifer slip into the end of a pew near the back, the back of your knees braced against the chilled wood.

"Oh there's Luke," Jennifer whispers, hitting your shoulder with hers gently. "Must've come with the guys."

You follow her eye line to see Luke sitting with some of the guys you recognize from breakfasts with Jennifer. He's laughing with them, chatting casually. He looks handsome tonight, his hair brushed back and his muscled arms crossed over his chest. You can't help but notice the way his mouth curves, looking so inviting.

You surprise yourself with how attracted you are to him this evening. You can't explain it, but you wish his hands were on you. Wish he was taking you to bed.

You worry that Joel's actions the other night have opened something in you, something that craves a man between your legs, a tongue tracing the buds of your nipples, fingers tracing shapes into your flesh.

You squirm slightly in your seat before focusing your attention elsewhere when a flash of red hair catches your eyes and you stand, making your way across the aisle.

“Hi Arthur," you greet with a smile. He's sitting with a tall woman with very red hair and is covered in tattoos. Delicate black lined things that wrap around her one arm and across her neck. She's like walking artwork that you can't stop staring at.

"Oh it’s you!” Arthur beams up at you from where he sits. “This is my wife Penny I was telling you about."

The woman turns her bulging eyes at you, yellowed at the corners. She smiles and gives you a crooked smile.

"Pleased to meet you," she says with a sharp drawl. "My husband says you’re to thank for the soap?”

“No no,” you laugh. “I just showed him where to find it.”

“And she didn’t bludgeon me even when she had the chance,” Arthur adds. The three of you chuckle together and you can’t help but watch the images on Penny’s lean neck jump when she laughs.

"Those tattoos are beautiful," you tell her, momentarily hypnotized.

"Arthur did them for me back in the QZ," Penny says with a shy grin. "Stick and poke if you can believe it. Self taught."

"Really? That's really impressive, Arthur."

Arthur ducks his head, looking momentarily shy. He pushes his glasses up his long nose bashfully.

"He makes everything he touches pretty," Penny says proudly. "S'the thing I love most about him."

"That's such a beautiful idea," you say without thinking. You bid them farewell before taking your seat next to Jennifer who’s deep in conversation with one of the women you’ve seen in the dining hall.

You scan the chapel and see that Maria sits in the front row, her baby strapped to her front. People talk to her but she looks strangely overwhelmed. Maria has never been like that, always been strong and confident. You try to catch her eye, to give her a reassuring smile but she doesn't turn in your direction.

Tommy pushes into the chapel by eight and ambles to the front of the room. He gives Maria a gentle kiss to the crown of her head before stepping behind the podium and waving at the gathered collective. When they see him the voices dim and he shoots a grateful look at the crowd.

"Hi y'all, thanks for comin' out on this cold night when I know you’d rather be at the Bison." He pauses as light chuckles fill the room. "We got a few things happenin' this month and I wanted y'all to be aware."

There's a shuffling behind you, a scrape of boot against wood grain. The pew creaks gently as a figure is seated down, his very presence setting your pulse skyrocketing.

Joel.

You'd know it just by the cadence of his walk; that light drag at the end of each step. The scent of leather from his jacket and almond from the soap he uses. The way the air seems to warm and grow heavy where he sits.

A part of you wants to turn your head, to confirm it's who you think. But the other wants nothing more than for Joel to stay away until the dinner with Ellie. After the way he's been treating you this week you don't want to be anywhere near him and his volatility without her as a buffer.

You feel the ends of your hair catch against the pew and you shift, running your hand absently through your crown to loosen it as you turn your focus back to Tommy at the front of the chapel.

"Well to start us off, we got some new blood here tonight and I wanna introduce 'em," Tommy says giving a small smile to the left side of the room. "This is Arthur and Penny. They come from Virginia. They're gonna be helping out in the school and with sanitation. Welcome to Jackson city."

Arthur and Penny stand up in their pew. The two of them give shy waves as the group claps, some calling out well wishes of welcome as Arthur goes pink in the cheeks.

"They're the sweetest couple," you comment.

"I love her tattoos," Jennifer replies as she claps. "So beautiful."

The couple sits and the clapping ebbs. Tommy looks down at his piece of paper of notes hurriedly scrawled.

"Now I'm gonna turn things over to Jacob Linden," he says before stepping down from the podium and taking his place next to Maria. You watch as his arm goes around her, holding her to him.

Jacob Linden is a sweet man of about sixty with narrow grey eyes and pale blonde hair. He always wears blue jeans and a sweater, even in the heat of the summer.

His partner passed years before he got to Jackson City and he wears a small locket with his photograph in it to remember him. He touches it now, a little nervously as he steps up to the podium.

"One of the ideas I've been kicking around is having a bi-weekly music night," the man says almost shyly as he looks around at all the faces. "A time for the town to come gather and listen to people play. Maybe in the dining hall after meals?"

There's murmurs of interest around the room. You and Jennifer exchange smiles at the idea, knowing very well that you'll attend. Jennifer is always going on about how there's nothing to do in the evenings in town except drink.

"I'm wondering if there are any musicians who'd like to join in?" Jacob asks tentatively. "We'll take turns deciding what tunes to play and you'll have all the coffee and tea you can drink."

You're surprised when amongst a few others, Luke shoots his hand up. Jennifer must be taken aback as well because she leans over to you, her voice warm in your ear.

"I didn't know he played."

"Me neither."

"Shhhh."

You both flinch at the volume of Joel's shushing. Several nearby people glance over their shoulders in your direction and you feel your cheeks pink. Jennifer shoots you an admonished look and you hold in your eye roll to the best of your abilities before turning your attention back to Tommy at the front of the church.

"Now, next up, I'm sure you've heard the rumors of Raiders up on the patrol routes."

Gentle whispers move around the room like hissing campfires being extinguished.

"So I need y'all to be even more vigilant than usual," Tommy explains. "That means you see anything and I mean anything strange, you come and tell me or Maria, Hank or Joel. And you can spread that around."

You hear him shift on the bench behind you. It's like your ears are so attuned to him that even as Tommy goes over the safety procedures all you can focus on is the shift of Joel's weight in the pew, the scrape of his boots on the ground, the rough way he clears his throat.

You don't know why but you're pissed off. Maybe you're anxious about the raiders, nervous about patrols tomorrow, whatever it is, you feel like a bow pulled extremely taut and Joel’s presence plucks irritatingly at the string.

"Do you think Luke wants to grab a drink after this?" Jennifer breaks into your thoughts, head tilted towards your shoulder. “I wanna ask him about his playing.”

“Me too, I was-”

Before you can say anything more you hear Joel give that same annoying noise and it feels like it's aimed directly into the back of your head.

"Shhhh."

For some reason this is your limit. The grating sound has you twisting around in your seat and fixing him with a glare. He sits with his face arranged in a look of casual indifference; you only know that he's paying attention to you by the steady gaze of his dark eyes.

"If you can't hear, sit closer next time," you hiss. "Not our fault you're half deaf."

You don't miss the sharp intake of breath from Jennifer or the narrowing of Joel’s gaze on your face.

Before he can say anything back to you, you slide from the pew towards the back of the church. You need a minute to calm down because irritation is boiling your blood. You know you’re going to say something rude if you stick around.

You give polite smiles at the few people you pass on your way out, your feet taking you to where it's quiet in the alcove. You think this is where they must have prepared communion or something similar, but now it just houses extra chairs and tables. The window is barely seen over the dented wood tables with their rusty metal legs.

You close the door after you, trying to quell the furious beating of your heart.

What the fuck is his problem? Is he so regretful of what happened that night that he’s doubling down on being a prick? And why the fuck is he having you over for dinner if he obviously despises everything you do?

There's a scrape of feet behind you and the air attains that same heavy, warm feeling. You turn, not surprised to see a furious looking Joel closing the door behind him. His lips are twisted into a thin curve of displeasure.

Fuck this.

You go to walk by him when he jerks out an arm, slapping his palm against the wall in front of you and effectively cutting you off from your exit. He stares you down as he cranes his neck towards you, forcing you to keep his gaze.

"Where do you get off talkin' to me like that?" Joel says between gritted teeth. He looms over you, everything about him saying submit. And normally this would work, normally you would cower but tonight you're at your limit.

"I'll talk to you any damn way I want," you say, cheeks a blotchy red.

“You sure fuckin’ won’t.”

“I sure fucking will,” you snap back, keeping your voice low enough not to carry into the chapel.

Joel gets up in your face, his nose practically touching yours.

"If you wanna run your goddam mouth, I'm gonna fill it."

It flies out of Joel’s mouth before he's had time to realize what he's said. He regrets it the minute it hits the air. It's there in the telltale opening of his lids just a fraction too wide, is in the pink crawling up his neck.

But you’re completely over it, over Joel, over the entire situation. He makes you cum how many times? Let’s you open up to him? And now he’s acting as if you’ve done him a cruelty?

Fuck him.

"With what, Joel? Your cock?”

Joel’s eyes fly open wide.

“I don't want anything to do with you or your cock ever again," you bite off. "You're selfish and arrogant-"

"Enough."

Joel’s jaw is ticking something worrisome, his hands in loose fists at his sides. But he doesn’t intimidate you anymore. He’s just a man like all the rest of them.

"What?” You sneer broadly. “Worried you can only keep it up if the woman’s on her knees doing all the work or half asleep, Joel?”

"Shut the fuck up."

You've never spoken to anyone like this in your entire life, but letting Joel have it right here in this moment feels good.

No, it feels better than good, it feels amazing.

Years of repressed anger and frustration are bubbling to surface and you feel heady, almost powerful from it. It feels better than sex or lust or forgiveness. It flows freely from you like a song, brutally cutting notes that slice into Joel and he winces.

"It's the truth," you laugh cruelly. "I mean when's the last time you fucked properly without having t-"

You break off as Joel's hands slap on either side of the striped wallpaper beside your arms, coming to box you in against the wall. His face is so thunderous that any laughter in your expression withers away like fruit on a vine.

There’s the sound of muffled laughter outside of the room in the chapel. Tommy is charming the audience, but all you can focus on is the man in front of you. Of his broad shoulders and muscled arms. Of his steely gaze and wide palms as one slides off the wall and comes to grip your hip.

And before you can properly think, Joel is crowding you against the wall, his pelvis pressing harshly into yours. You stare up at him, body trembling but you’re concerned because it’s not in fear.

Your nipples tighten, your pupils blow wide and all you can focus on is the heavy bulge that he presses between your thighs.

“You think I can’t make you come like a little slut for me right here and now?”

Joel is breathing heavily through his nose, his gaze on your mouth before flicking to meet your eyes. He continues to pin you there, mouth slightly ajar as he begins to unbutton your jeans, his dark eyes never leaving yours.

His fingers rest on the zipper, pausing only to watch your expression. When moments pass you realize he's waiting for you to tell him to stop, trying to call your bluff. But instead you tilt your head back in silent challenge.

You'd expected fury in the face of your combative non-verbal reply but are met with something altogether different from Joel.

Lust.

You see only a flicker of it in Joel's gaze, the darkening of his eyes before his face lowers to yours. His fingers lower the zipper of your jeans and now your bravado leaves you as you tilt away from him, your eyes fluttering. You feel his warm breath on the side of your face, slow and heavy. He waits there, fingers stilled on the zipper’s tongue.

You don’t move, your cheeks flaming as you realize what’s about to happen. You don’t know how to act or what to do.

“Why you actin' all shy now?" Joel mocks against your earlobe. "You think I didn't hear you in the bathroom playin' with yourself all those times on patrol? Think I don’t know how bad you wanna come right now?"

Your face feels so hot you feel it would sizzle if a droplet of water landed on it. Joel has known all this time? Every time you thought you were had privacy he's known? Has likely heard the whimpering cries you give out when you climax. For all you knew he could have been standing outside the door listening. Why does that thought make your stomach swoop?

"I don't-" you start but the words are sticky on your tongue.

But now the zipper is lowered and his fingers move swiftly down the front of your panties, hitting the slick of your cunt almost immediately and curling. You give a huff of surprise, finding your thighs widening without thought to take more of him. He slides his fingers to the knuckle, groaning when he sees it’s making your eyelids flutter.

"Maybe I don't have to try that hard after all," Joel croons. "Looks like you've been waiting for me."

“Have not,” you deny weakly, jaw clenched and glare fixed on your face.

“Then I should stop,” Joel mocks as his fingers slowly begin to pump in and out of your squelching cunt. “Right?”

You say nothing, finding it near impossible not to touch him. All you can do is cling to his shoulders, fingertips leaving half-moon crescents in his skin through the fabric. Your face is buried in his neck, trying to stifle your moans.

You feel Joel’s smug smile against your temple as his thick finger curl within your velvet slot, his thumb rubbing your clit in time with his pumps. He groans softly when you arch back, hand at his collar for purchase.

“Fuck, yeah, like that,” Joel chants, his warm breath buffeting your face.

He tilts his head, tongue going to the side of his mouth in thought. You wonder what he sees when he stares down at you, pink cheeks and glassy eyes? The sheer desperation in your glazed expression? You feel your release being coaxed forth, sweet and syrupy but something holds you back.

You feel that ripple of pleasure begin but you nervously tense everywhere and Joel’s face flies towards yours.

"I know what you feel like when you're close," Joel rasps, his full lips crushed against your ear, breath hot. "Don't fight it."

You feel your pulse ticking wildly in your neck and you wonder if Joel can sense it. But you need something from him, something that you didn’t realize. You turn your gaze to his, imploring.

"Tell me to come," you whisper, hips rutting against his hand. "Please Joel, tell m-me-"

You break off with a sharp gasp and his wide hand immediately goes to cover your mouth, muffling the sounds from escaping into the chapel while the other works between your legs in that same steady way.

"You're gonna come for me," Joel rasps against your ear. "Right here, with the whole town on the other side of this wall."

Your eyes roll back in your head at the command, pleasure flooding you everywhere. Joel's fingers are sliding in and out of you, curling to hit that sweet hidden spot your own fingers just can't reach, thumb rubbing your clit.

"You're gonna come on my fingers right here," he continues, breath hot in your ear when he sees your reaction. "Cuz I said so."

You can't speak since his hand is still sealed over your mouth but you can nod shallowly, hips rolling as you begin to climb that pleasured peak that has your body tensing. He feels it, his dark eyes moving from your face to where his fingers enter you over and over, curling and coaxing.

Your hands fist in his flannel when you feel that white stripe of pleasure overtake you. And despite how inappropriate this is you feel yourself falling off the edge.

"Go on then," Joel groans huskily. "Be a good girl and do it."

At those words all that tension that's been building in your lower belly suddenly releases, sending you jerking against Joel, gasping against his palm.

"Mhm," Joel murmurs approvingly. His praise sets you off, your next orgasm overtaking the first, bleeding into one another and your legs tremble. He holds you in place with his hips, his fingers moving slickly between your thighs.

Joel's broad hand moves from your mouth to cradle the back of your head, forcing your mouth press against the skin of his neck, muffling your cries. You continue to twitch, your whimpers seeping into his skin like ink on paper.

"Uh huh, just like that," Joel murmurs, his fingers keeping their steady pace as your pelvis ruts against his hand faster and faster. "Just like that.”

Just like that. Just like that.

Nothing else exists except for his voice and your pleasure. Not the townspeople, not the warning of Raiders that set you off, not the fear of the unknown. Just Joel's warm, steady voice telling you to come.

“I know you can gimme another one.”

Just like that night of the snow in, he consumes you leaving you whimpering his name into his neck, fingers gripping his flannel for dear life as he coaxes your next orgasm from you.

"Give it to me," he demands, groaning as you arch into him. "S’mine."

Your entire body tenses at that husky order and your release comes over you in waves. Your eyes roll back, and you cry out, your mouth sealed against Joel’s taut neck. You can hear him far away, murmuring that’s right and good fuckin’ girl.

You feel your pussy pulse around his fingers, milking them. Arousal drips down his wrist, his fingers not ceasing their steady continuous rhythm until you give one final shake, exhaling heavily against his palm.

Finally you go limp and his fingers slow and finally slide from between your legs. You realize that you're still fisting his flannel, your mouth still open against his warm neck. You raise your head, eyes heavy and glazed. You do it just in time to see Joel slide the fingers coated in your glossy arousal between his lips and suck, his eyes fluttering closed.

Your knees buckle.

He catches you, a flash of amusement in his honeyed voice.

"Steady," he mutters against your cheek. "Steady."

You stare up at him, your breathing still deep and uneven as he holds you against him. You tilt your head back slightly so you can better view him. Joel looks completely fucked out, cheeks flushed, his dark curls falling into his eyes that sweep your face, lingering on your parted lips. Like magnets you feel as he drifts towards you, his mouth so close to yours you can feel the warmth of his breath on your tongue.

Suddenly the sound of creaking pews, chatter and footsteps sound out.

The meeting is over.

Joel's hands immediately fly from your body at the sound and he steps back, straightening to his full height. The darkness is back in his eyes and that displeased countenance he wears like a mask firmly settles over his features.

“Don’t wanna keep you from gettin’ drinks with your boyfriend,” he rumbles darkly.

He strides away from you quickly, his boots scuffing along the floorboards until he's outside the room, the door closing behind him with a snick. You assume he’s rejoined the rest of the group as they exit to avoid suspicion, but you can’t do the same because your legs feel like rubber.

You stay leaning against the wall, face flushed and pulse ticking. Your breathing is shaky as you look around the room, the same and yet changed.

What the fuck just happened?

Chapter 13: Family Dinner

Notes:

This was one of those scenes I wrote and re-wrote, and I loved it. I love these three. I love this story. I love y'all for reading and reviewing.

Chapter Text

"Are you even listening to me?"

You glance over your shoulder to where Jennifer leans against your counter. She's wearing a purple sweater dress today, her own creation. She's holding a coffee and giving you a small smirk.

"Sorry, what?"

"You're distracted today," Jennifer muses.

The two of you are in your kitchen this morning, the early morning sun shining through your windows. It melted a lot of the snow, allowing bits of green to poke through.

Jennifer saw you returning from the market with all the baking supplies you'd need. She'd commented that she wished she could bake as well as you and so of course you'd offered to teach her.

She is so willing to spend her time teaching you to shoot, to take care of you, of course you wanted to pay her back in some small way. But ever since she crossed the threshold this morning with two coffees in hand chattering away about the town meeting you've felt this deep pit in your stomach.

Why did he do that? Why did you let him? Why did you want him to do more? You certainly hadn’t shied from his touch; you’d begged him to make you come right there. Your cheeks flame at the memory, thinking back to that evening.

You’d given Jennifer some bullshit excuse about a headache after she found you moments after you staggered out of the closet. Then you’d jogged home, your heart racing as quickly as your mind.

"Just haven't made a cake in a long time," you lie, turning away from her as you mix the batter. "Guess I'm just super focused on it."

The truth is you're completely distracted today. You have been ever since the town meeting with Joel's hand down your pants and his voice in your ear commanding you to come. You're ashamed to admit that since that night you've been bringing yourself off to the memory.

Are you actually attracted to asshole? Or is it just that he makes the world feel safe? That he can make your brain turn off and make it all go quiet?

There's also a humiliation there. "You think I didn't hear you on patrols?"

You force the thought from your mind. You don't need to think about that right now. You turn your attention back to your friend who is mixing her own chocolate batter.

"I was asking why you're making a cake of all things?" Jennifer says, frowning at the lumpy contents of her bowl. "You making it for Luke?"

She says it in a singsong voice, grinning toothily at you.

"No," you say with a smirk. "Just making it for practice."

Luke is another fly in the ointment as it were. While Joel's personality is abrasive at best, Luke is tender and sweet and patient. When he talks to you he really seems like he cares to know your opinion. Unlike a certain Mister Miller.

"Maybe I'll give this one to Joel," Jennifer muses, as if reading your thoughts. "They say the way to a man's heart is through his stomach after all."

You give her a weak smile.

While you're ashamed that Joel's treatment of you is turning you on more than you want to admit, you're more ashamed that the woman in front of you is supposed to be your friend, your best friend, and you're keeping this all from her.

It wouldn't matter as much if she didn't like Joel. You could excuse your lack of sharing on being a private person. But you know that Jennifer likes Joel and keeping this from her is dishonest. But you're also a coward because you can't find the words to tell her.

"How was shooting practice with Luke?"

"Good," you tell her honestly, feeling a blush overtake your cheeks. "I shot four cans from a pretty fair distance."

"That's amazing!" Jennifer wraps you in a hug from behind. "See I knew you just needed a little practice!"

You grin shyly, feeling pleased and pretty damn proud of yourself.

"So did you like being with Luke alone?" Jennifer says casually as you set the temperature on the stove. There's something about the way she says it that gives you pause.

When you look up she's grinning into her bowl, a sneaky little grin just for herself. The answer is there before you even ask the question.

"You planned that?"

You stare at her open-mouthed. Jennifer shrugs at you, as if she is not the most devious person in the room.

"I mean I did need to help with textiles but I didn't need to miss practice." She winks at you. "And I may just get called away at the last minute next week too."

"Jennifer!"

The two of you dissolve into laughter, the rest of the morning bathed in shades of pink. Jennifer has that uncanny ability to bring color into every room.

A short while later you remove the dual cakes from the oven, praising Jennifer on hers. With your coaching her cake is going to be edible (which is more than you can say for her past baking ventures).

"Okay these need to cool before we ice them."

"Good, its lunch let's go get something."

You follow her out your front door, both of you pulling on your jackets as Jennifer chats on about how the textile group has needed her for the occasional shift.

"I don't mind though," she says tossing her blonde locks over her shoulder. "I love seeing all the fabric."

You wish that you could listen to Jennifer, to give all of your attention to her. But it's just not possible at this point, your mind is elsewhere.

It's back in that room with Joel.

Tommy and Maria are eating when you and Jennifer arrive to the dining hall. They wave you over with a smile and the two of you bring your trays to their table, joining them.

Maria is wearing Douglas across her chest and he is milk drunk, passed out and grunting slightly in his sleep.

"Hi you two."

Maria looks exhausted with dark hollows under her eyes. But she smiles anyway, kissing Douglas's forehead and turning to you.

"How have you been?"

"Good how about you?"

"Tired," she smiles weakly. "Oh, I meant to ask if there was any chance you'd be willing to make some more flowers for us? I don't mean to be selfish but I'd just love Douglas to have some bright yellow ones in his room."

"Of course!" You're delighted that you can do something to help your friend. "I'd love to, I'll work on it this weekend."

Maria gives your upper arm a gentle squeeze of thanks, whispering to Douglas that the nice lady was going to make his room beautiful.

"Seems we're all gonna be working hard this weekend," Tommy muses over his coffee. "Gotta start getting some of the holiday stuff out of storage at our place."

You wrinkle your nose in surprise.

"Christmas isn't for over a month."

"Yeah but it takes a lot to put on a holiday party for the town," Tommy says through a bite of salad as if you should know this already.

"Tommy this'll be her first one," Maria reminds him.

"Oh shit that's right," Tommy nods just as Jennifer retakes her place across from you. Tommy motions to her with his fork.

"Jenny knows all about it."

"What do I know all about?"

"The yearly holiday party."

Jennifer immediately grins enthusiastically.

"My favorite event of the year. The whole town comes out, everyone brings food, there's a band, dancing, booze, presents... It's always so much fun and goes until the next morning usually."

"We decorate the big barn by the stables," Tommy continues and you see the genuine joy in his eyes, like thirty years have been stripped away and he's just a sweet, boy on Christmas morning. "It's a big job, but with enough volunteers it goes pretty smooth."

"We'll help you," Jennifer says out of nowhere before looking at you. "Right?"

The thing you love most about Jennifer is also the thing that drives you the most insane. She's always wanting to help people, and that would be fine if she didn't try to rope you in with her.

Even if you didn't want to volunteer there's no possible way that you can say no now. Tommy is glancing over at you with an expectant raise of his eyebrows, Maria matching him.

"Yeah of course. What do you need done?"

"Well we got music, set up and tear down taken care of, that's usually the hard stuff," Tommy says, rubbing his beard absently as he looks off in the middle distance. Then he snaps, remembering. "How about decorations?"

"Sure," Jennifer nods. "I love decorating, plus I worked in textiles so I have access to fabric and stuff."

"Great," Tommy says looking overjoyed. "Joel'll be happy to have the help."

"Joel?""

Both you and Jennifer blurt the name out at the same time, though for very different reasons.

"Yeah Joel is in charge of cutting down and decorating the tree this year. Guy who normally does it broke his leg last week."

"Decorating a tree doesn't really sound like a three person job," you reason, pushing your carrot stick around your plate.

"You haven't seen how big the tree is," Tommy grins. "Joel's gonna get a big one, at least twelve feet. Plus there's hanging the lights around the barn and all that stuff."

"Leave it to us, Tommy."

Jennifer is fucking beaming as she goes back to her lunch, Maria and Tommy are exchanging smiles, but all you can do is hold in the nerves that begin in your stomach.

Tommy and Maria depart shortly thereafter with the latter giving you a squeeze to your shoulder before she leaves.

"I can't believe it, more chances to be alone with Joel," Jennifer giggles.

"I'll be sure to give you two a lot of alone time," you snark. "Take a page from your book."

The last thing you want is to be witness to more of them flirting, especially when thoughts of Joel have you feeling so churned up.

Jennifer laughs, about to reply to you when you both hear her name being called. An older woman with spiky grey hair is standing by the entrance to the hall and signalling for Jennifer to come over. Jennifer groans, muttering under her breath so only you can hear.

"I know that look. She needs help with something at the shop,” Jennifer rolls her eyes as she stands. "Any chance you could ice my cake? I'll pick it up later if that's okay?"

"Uh, I might be out for a walk," you say hurriedly. "How about I just bring it over to you later?"

"You don't mind?"

"Not at all."

"You're a peach!" Jennifer gives your hand a squeeze before excusing herself to join the woman standing expectantly at the dining room doors.

You watch after your friend, musing that it’s so like Jennifer to want to help everyone. But now that you know why she keeps her days so busy your heart aches for her. How can you think of being attracted to Joel when you know your friend likes him? A friend that's done so much for you.

Joel Miller isn't worth this anxiety or stress. It's not like he even enjoys your company. You're fairly certain he just gets off on ordering you around. You need to push him from your mind.

You'll go to dinner tonight, you'll do patrols with him, but you'll keep it professional. You are going to help Jennifer get with Joel. The decision is made. It's the least you can do for a woman who has been through so much.

Your name is called, breaking you from your thoughts. You glance over your shoulder to see Arthur and Penny headed in your direction with trays.

"I thought that was you," Arthur says with a grin. "Mind if we join you?"

"Please do."

The two of them sit shoulder to shoulder across from you. They fold their hands, muttering a quiet prayer for grace and then start digging in. You watch them, amused at how mis-matched a pair they are.

"So whaddya you do around here sweet pea?" Penny asks through a bite of toast. Up this close you notice her front left tooth is cracked.

"I do patrols," you say. She curls her lip at you, perplexed.

"Whassat?"

"It's when groups of us that take turns going outside the walls to make sure infected and Raiders don't get in or do damage to the dam." You pause hoping you've explained it decently. "

Penny gives a low whistle. "Dayum, that seems like an awful job. I'd rather clean up garbage any day."

“It's pretty much just been carrying a gun and riding a horse so far for me."

And mutual pleasure from my nemesis.

"I don't envy ya," Penny says shaking her head and dropping back to her lunch.

You don't know what to say to that. You watch them eat for a moment, intending on leaving them to it when Arthur starts talking.

"I wanted to ask you, when did you want to get together for the portrait? I'd love to get back into it and I know I promised you, so I've set up my table by the window and Maria's given me some paper and pencils."

"She did? That's great."

You haven't been by to see Maria since the meeting and her anxious looking face keeps floating back into your mind. You know that she must be feeling overwhelmed with everything on top of Douglas.

"She's a sweet lady," Penny observes. "Gotta bad case a' baby blues though."

You stiffen.

"Why do you say that?"

"Could see it the second I met her," Penny says absently drinking her tea. Her large eyes scan the room, obviously still nervous at the crowds. "Mothers know these things."

"You have children?"

You don't miss the look of anguish that touches both their features. Before she speaks you know what she'll say.

"Used to."

Arthur is somber when Penny goes quiet, as if behind his pale eyes, his mind is concocting images of the face of the nameless child. Feeling guilty and uncomfortable you want to change the topic, your brain clinging the first thing that comes to your mind. Which happens to be the previous topic.

"Arthur, I know I asked you about portraits, but I'm actually wondering if I could trade in that favor for a different one."

Arthur shoots you a watery grin.

"Lay it on me."

///

You take a look at yourself in the mirror over your dresser that evening. It's faded, warped from age and damp. But it does the job and it reflects your tired eyes and your simple clothing.

You blink at yourself before pulling on a new crimson-colored sweater, one of several that Jennifer gave you a few weeks ago claiming they would go wonderfully with your skin tone.

You don't know why you're so nervous as you head to Rancher Street with the cake in your hands. You've been invited for dinner, it's sure to be a pleasant night. The cake wobbles in your nervous grip, the frosting gleaming in the fading sunlight.

When the house comes into view you see Joel sail by in the window, going from one end to the other, reading something. His gaze is fixed, his head tilted to the page. From here you see his strong profile, the curve of his nose, and the pout of his lips.

Fuck. Don't think about his lips.

You swallow nervously as you make your way up the creaking porch steps. You take a full moment to stare at the door, looking at the chipped paint and the swept porch deck.

It's just a dinner. Ellie will be there. I'll be fine.

You knock gingerly with your free hand, shifting from one foot to the next as you hear footsteps approach.

Joel opens the door sharply, brows furrowed before he realizes it's you. His dark eyes widen slightly, scanning you and the cake. Immediately your heart begins to pound in your chest, your cheeks heating the longer his eyes linger on your face.

He's dressed as he always is, flannel and jeans. His hair is tousled, as if he's been running his fingers through it. You look at Joel's wool socks, strangely fascinated. They're a deep grey, worn and thick, they're so human. He stares at you, looking confused and a little surprised.

"Can I help you?"

His voice comes rumbling from his chest, deep and measured. You can't stop looking at his neck, noticing the sharp of his jaw, the fullness of his mouth. It has you feeling strangely distracted.

You lick your lips nervously, inhaling quietly when his gaze drops to your mouth and then back again.

"Uh... I'm here for dinner," you say breathlessly. "I brought the cake."

He peers at you, confusion clear in his expression.

"Dinner?"

"Uh, yeah..." Your neck is starting to heat because Joel is crossing his arms over his chest, tilting slightly against the door frame and he doesn't look like he has any idea of what you're talking about.

"Didn't you invite me to dinner tonight?"

He shakes his head slowly.

"But Ellie sa-" you start before slamming your lips together as realization belatedly dawns in your features.

Ellie wanted you for dinner. Ellie realized that you'd never stay if you thought Joel didn't expressly invite you.

Ellie played you.

"I'm sorry, I think there's been a misunderstanding," you say, feeling humiliated as Joel continues to stand there staring at you.

You thrust the cake towards him, your eyes on the ground.

"I made this for Ellie," you tell his socks. "Could you just give it to her?"

Joel takes the cake from you, his fingertips trailing over yours as he does. You swallow again, feeling the little bolts of lightning that start at his touch. You watch as Joel quietly prepares to close the door, his eyes now on the ground.

You hear the twist of the knob and can only make a little scoffing noise in the back of your throat. What had you been thinking? Had you really been so stupid as to think Joel Miller invited you over for dinner when he can barely stand you?

"Hey," he begins, but you're already starting to move down the porch, humiliation coming off of you in waves.

You both hear your name and your head jerks up to see Ellie coming up the walkway to the house, her arms laden down with bags. She sees you at the door and smiles broadly before she sees you heading away from the porch.

"Where are you going?"

"Ellie, I don't really know why I'm here."

Ellie's immediately deflates, her good spirits dimmed.

"I wanted you to have dinner with us."

It's impossibly sweet of Ellie to want to spend time with you, but is Joel a necessary part of the equation?

"Why did you tell me Joel invited me to join you both for dinner?"

"Because I knew if I didn't you wouldn't come."

Ellie's gaze sails away from you and over to Joel who stands with his shoulder against the doorway, arms crossed and brow raised. He looks unimpressed with the pair of you. Ellie gives a grunt, heading towards him with a frown.

"I invited her for dinner."

"Without askin' me first."

"Last time I checked it's my house too." Ellie shifts the bags in her hands. "I brought dinner and she brought dessert."

"Fine by me. I'll give you two some space."

Joel goes to retrieve his jacket from the hook by the door but Ellie makes a disapproving noise.

"No, you have to stay too."

Joel gives an exasperated roll of his eyes.

"Ellie what is this?"

Ellie looks like she's halfway between a cry and a shout. She doesn't answer until he reaches for his jacket again.

"It's my fucking birthday, okay?"

Joel goes still, his large eyes looking at her with confusion. A quiet moment passes between the two of them.

"Your birthday?"

"Yes."

There's a lot of confusion now on your end. The way they act you'd assumed they must have known each other for most of Ellie's life. But that can't be the case if her birthday is such a shock to him.

"I didn't know."

"Obviously. Now will you stop being a grumpy asshole so my friend can have dinner with us?"

Joel looks appropriately admonished, a hand sliding to the back of his pinking neck. He's about to speak but you cut in.

"Ellie this is a family thing," you try to appeal. "Here, take the cake and you two enjoy."

You go to hand her the cake but she shakes her head resolutely as she moves around Joel.

"Both of you."

With that she disappears inside leaving you and Joel on the porch in tense silence. He sighs quietly before shifting his eyes to your face.

"C'mon in then, I guess."

You follow the two of them into the kitchen, citing that you need to put the cake in the fridge just in case. It's been a long time since you made butter cream icing and you don't want it melting.

You set it amongst the array of vegetables and water bottles inside the ice box. Ellie grabs some plates and utensils while Joel stands watching you both.

"Grab the lemonade man," Ellie calls over her shoulder at him. You follow her into the other room, watching as she sets the table and indicates for you to take the nearest chair.

“Joel look what they're serving tonight!" Ellie laughs, holding up the huge plate full of ravioli from the dining hall. Joel gives a droll chuckle.

"My favorite."

Joel and Ellie exchange a secret smile, but not one that feels exclusionary. More just sweet to witness. Ellie scoops the pasta onto the plates and Joel fills up the glasses and the three of you take your seats and start eating.

You focus all your attention on the ravioli on your plate, taking small nibbles as your stomach is roiling.

You feel eyes on the side of your face and glance over to see Joel's eyes skimming back to his plate. He looks so sullen, his jaw clenching with every bite. Your eyes drift to the other side of the table to see Ellie. She's eating her pasta with gusto but you can see the defeated look in her face.

Some birthday dinner this turned out to be.

Joel sits on one end of the table looking uncomfortable, Ellie sits on the other end totally oblivious and you're in the middle of both with your eyes stuck on your dinner. You need to break this silence.

"So how old are you turning?"

"Fifteen," Ellie replies through a mouthful of ravioli.

"Same age I was when everything happened," you muse.

"Really?"

"Yeah," you nod. "Maybe that's why we get along so well. I haven't matured past fifteen."

You think you hear a small huff of amusement from Joel's direction but that might just be wishful thinking. The three of you eat your pasta in comfortable silence before Ellie turns her attention on you.

"Were you shooting yesterday? I thought I saw you and that tall guy."

Joel's attention drifts to you; you can feel it boring into the side of your face.

"Yeah," you answer quietly. "Our friend Je-“ you catch yourself, "our other friend had to work. Normally it’s the three of us.”

“Are you any good?”

“I’m better than when I started,” you smile, motioning to Joel with your fork. “But you can ask Joel, that’s not saying much.”

You dart a glance to see Joel smirking into his dinner. Ellie laughs through a mouthful of ravioli, before she shines her attention over your way.

“Did you hear about that party next month? Tommy was talking about it today.”

Who could forget the holiday party? The continued forced proximity with a man you just can’t quite figure out.

“My friend volunteered us for decorating,” you say, ignoring the way Joel’s motions still out the corner of your eye. “So I guess we better show up. Plus I’ve never been to one before so I’m curious.”

“We never had shit back like this in the QZ,” Ellie tilts back in her chair. “Closest we got is a pair of socks wrapped up with a bow. Fucking pathetic.”

“Language.”

Ellie rolls her eyes at Joel before looking back at you. “I hope this one is better than that.”

“You might need a dress if you go.”

The two of you glance over at Joel gulping back some of his lemonade. When he sees your dual questioning looks he raises his eyebrows, silently asking what?

Ellie stares at Joel as if she's been struck across the face. "The fuck would I wear a dress for?"

"In the south women dressed up for everything," Joel tells Ellie as he passes her the salad. "Just how things were done. My grammie wore a dress and pearls to go shoppin' in."

You can't help but discreetly glance down at your worn jeans and oversized sweater, suddenly seeing the snags and uneven loops in material. Not exactly dressed up. But you don't own nice, pretty clothes me up of soft feminine fabric. You have denim and leather and wool. Hard, fierce materials for the elements.

"I hate dresses," Ellie frowns. "And things have changed since your day old man."

"You little shit."

You smile into your pasta. The silence is back over the table and you feel the need to fill it, despite it being a comfortable one. Emboldened by the relaxed mood in all people at the table you shift your question to Joel.

"Are you going?" You ask casually, your attention on your meal. You hate how the flutter has begun in your chest.

"I better. I volunteered to help with it."

"I figured you might have just been doing it for Tommy," you shrug. "Can't say I picture you at some big event with dinner and dancing."

"Joel dancing?" Ellie sputters a laugh into her glass of water.

Joel arches a dark brow at Ellie.

"Just can't picture it," she says giggling.

"You know I wasn't born an old man," Joel says amused, turning his attention back to his dinner. "Did plenty of dancin’ in my day."

"Really?"

"S'half the reason Sarah was born," he says with a small smirk before he realizes what he's said.

The table grows quiet as his smile vanishes. Ellie notes the tension, shovelling pasta into her mouth. You feel a lurch in your stomach at Joel's queasy expression. As if you'd dug a blade down his sternum and exposed his still beating heart to the world.

It makes you speak without thinking, desperate to show him he's safe to share that side to him. Desperate to let him know he's not alone.

"My sister loved to dance," you offer up, feeling the dual gazes of the people at the table.

"My sister was in ballet but she'd uh, she'd do this stupid dance called the Macarena." You laugh a bit to yourself as you recall it. "It was really popular, was on the radio all the time and my dad hated it. I think that's why she kept doing it. He'd act all irritated but he'd always end up laughing." You smile at the memory. "She could always make people laugh."

Ellie is smiling broadly, fascinated by your stories of this time before and there’s something so comforting, so normal in talking about your sister like this. Like the world isn’t ended and ugly, like she could come walking through the front door right now.

"One time my dad waited until we were in the backyard and then he turned the hose on her when she started singing and doing it,” you say, laughing bubbling forth from you. Ellie joins in, amusement painted in her expression.

Joel is listening with a gentle curl of his mouth. Ellie turns her attention over to him.

"You ever do the Macaroni dance, Joel?"

"Macarena," Joel corrects. "And fuck no, I didn't."

His horrified expression and just hearing the term Macarena in his husky drawl has you laughing loudly, a bright, noisy thing that bursts from you. It brings Ellie along with it, giggling and snorting as Joel rolls his eyes, his mouth twitching as if he's unable to keep the smirk from spreading over his features.

The laughter ebbs comfortably and you shoot Joel a grateful look.

"It's nice to remember the good times."

The smile he gives you in return is soft and sweet.

"Yeah. It is."

His gentleness makes your chest ache in a way you don't quite understand. It makes you feel compelled to change the topic. You shift your attention over to Ellie who is watching you both with a small curve of the corner of her mouth.

"Uh, so, I didn't know it was your birthday but I guess I actually got you a gift,” you tell her. “If you want it and Joel's okay with it."

Joel looks on edge, brow raised in confusion. Ellie wears a twin expression, but more relaxed.

"Really?"

She looks around you for a box or wrapped item.

"I, uh, found someone to do your tattoo to cover up your scar."

Immediately the room is silent and Ellie’s hand unconsciously places itself on her forearm, hidden under her striped sleeve. Your eyes ping pong between the two of them, concerned you’ve done something wrong. Joel is quiet, his dark eyes surveying your face as if he doesn't know what to make of you.

"If you wanted it," you amend.

"Are you serious?" Ellie is wide-eyed.

"Yeah it's this new guy, Arthur. He just came to town with his wife. He does stick and poke tattoos and he owes me one so..." You trail off before forcing yourself to finish. "If you wanna see his work I'll introduce you to his wife. She's covered in them and they're gorgeous."

Joel is still quiet and you're not sure what to make of the silence. You frown over at him, grimacing slightly.

"Is that okay, Joel?"

Joel tilts back, one forearm lying casually on the table, the other resting on the back of his chair.

"I'll wanna meet this guy. Make sure he's trustworthy."

"Of course."

"If he is... Well, it's not my body not my choice. But if you want my opinion Ellie, I'd say it's a damn fine idea."

Relief blooms in your face as Ellie gives a squeak of delight. Joel is still looking at you though, face relaxed.

Ellie is still staring at you a beat before whipping her gaze to Joel. The two of them share a private grin before Ellie turns round to look back at you.

"Can we go tonight?"

You laugh. "No, but I can see if there's room in his schedule later this week. If you come to lunch in the dining hall tomorrow his wife might be there."

"Awesome!"

You smile back at her, feeling a familiar tug under your ribs every time you're happy. A measure of guilt mixed with joy. It makes your eyes wet and you push back from the table needing a moment to breathe.

"I'll go grab your cake," you mutter, striding from the room. You hear the two of them chatting quietly behind you as you pull the cake from the fridge.

You search the drawers for three plates and a knife, sniffling slightly. All you can think of is this bubbling joy and how she's not here to see it, to feel it, to live it too.

You take a moment to stare at the pale pink cake. The icing on it is lumpier than you would have liked, but you'd been rushed for time. You look at the sliced strawberries and delicate whirls and you frown.

This cake couldn't be less Ellie. Ellie is dark berries and bittersweet chocolate. She's not strawberries and pale pink icing. You idly wonder why you made this specific one for her today.

You know why.

You cut into the cake to shut up the voice, noting how dense it ended up being with each pass of the blade. You cut it into several pieces, wiping at your eyes with the back of your sleeve with each slice.

You feel a presence behind you; footsteps slow as they make their way next to you. Joel deposits the empty dinner dishes into the sink with a light clatter. You inhale his clean laundry and wood shavings scent, feeling dizzy. You wait for him to leave, but he’s standing there beside you, his frame sturdy. You drag your eyes up his chest to his face.

"That was kind of you, doin' that for Ellie."

"Oh, I'm not doing anything," you say with a shy lift of one shoulder. "Just the organizer."

Joel nods, tongue lodged in the side of his cheek as he stares at you thoughtfully. You let your hair fall in front of your face, worried he'll see the sheen to your eyes. It effectively blocks him out as you plate one of the cake pieces.

"She's a good kid," you offer, knife gliding over the dish. "She deserves good things."

"She does."

"Arthur is really nice," you tell him, hoping that if you continue to distract yourself by talking that your tears won't spill down your cheeks. "And I know he'd be discreet."

"S'good."

"So if you want to-"

You break off when you feel Joel's fingers sliding through your hair, moving it over your left shoulder so he can peer into your face. His fingers slip down your shoulder blade before leaving your body. You track each movement, body tingling.

"You okay?

You blink quickly, pulse jumping. His eyes hold nothing but concern in their depths, confusing you.

"Yep. I'm fine."

He cocks his head slightly, one hand braced against the counter.

"And the truth?"

You swallow, plating the remaining slices of cake.

"Do you ever feel guilty that you're alive and others aren't? Like... Every time I feel a little bit happy it's like its wrong."

Joel nods but he doesn't offer more than that. You're thankful because you're not sure any words could have brought a modicum of comfort anyway.

You scrub at your eyes with the back of your sleeve before taking a page from Jennifer’s book; forcing a wobbly smile onto your face and motioning to the cake.

“So are we singing Happy Birthday?”

“Not a fuckin’ chance.”

You grin at him, handing him his slice of cake and following him back into the dining room. Ellie there, looking excitedly to you as you slide her cake in front of her. She plucks the strawberry off the top, popping it into her mouth.

You take your lemonade glass and raise it.

"To Ellie on her birthday," you say with a grin. "May your coming year be full of adventure."

Ellie smiles with a shy tilt of her face into her shoulder. You're surprised when you see Joel raise his own glass.

"And less joke books."

Ellie sputters a laugh at this, head back her shoulders shaking. Joel chuckles at her and once again you feel like you're witnessing something sweet without being left out. Like they're letting you peek into their secret selves.

“So was this an okay birthday dinner?” you ask.

“My first real one,” Ellie shrugs. “So it’s a good one for me. Plus I don’t actually know my birthday. I just decided I liked November so…”

She shrugs trailing off, her eyes stuck on the cake like she’s ashamed. You dart a look at Joel to see him similarly surprised at this admission. How could he not know? You glance back at Ellie who looks somber.

“I love that idea,” you enthuse. “I never liked my birthday. I think I’ll move mine to the summer so it’s always sunny when I celebrate. I guess you’ll have to make me a cake for mine, Ellie, so you better start practicing.”

Ellie grins over at you as you stick a fork into your piece of cake, the tension broken. The three of you are quiet as you savor the burst of flavor on your tongues.

“This is so good,” Ellie enthuses. “Way better than anything in the dining hall.”

You smile into your cake, flushing at the praise.

“So aside from a tattoo what would you want for your birthday?” Joel asks Ellie, his soulful eyes sincere. In moments like this you can see so clearly that he is a father, and a dedicated one at that. If Ellie asked for the moon you have no doubt he’d manage it.

“I wanna see a dinosaur,” Ellie replies seriously. “Or see space like in those books you got me.”

"Time travel," Joel nods, grinning. “I’ll see what I can do.”

The three of you chat casually about things in town, about Ellie and school until your plates are empty and Ellie is announcing she’s full after her third piece.

Before you can start helping with the dishes she has your wrist in your grasp and is announcing to Joel that you and her are going to do girl stuff so he needs to leave you both alone. Joel hides the amusement in his features, nodding as you’re dragged away.

She pulls you into her bedroom, closing the door and motioning for you to follow her. You smile at her, feeling a bit of that sisterly affection flow through you as you watch her pace around her room, looking for something. She moves things on her shelves as she talks to you over her shoulder.

"Are you going to the party with that guy you're always with?"

"Luke?"

"Yeah that sounds right. Is he your boyfriend?"

Your eyes fly wide before you give an awkward chuckle.

"No. Not my boyfriend."

"But you want him to be?"

"I don't really know," you answer honestly, fingers trailing along the edge of her desk. “Jennifer keeps trying to get us alone together.”

Ellie makes a face at this, halfway between exasperation and disgust as she throws back the pillows she moved. It makes you giggle but then feel guilty because Jennifer is truly one of the best people you know.

"Why do you dislike her so much?"

"I dunno," Ellie shrugs her left shoulder. "Just think she's phony is all. Just like Diana."

"I used to think that too," you tell her honestly. "Jennifer suprised me though. I think you'd like her if you gave her a chance, Diana too."

Ellie just shrugs again, hands in the pocket of her jeans in a way that is all Joel. So much of her is, from her scowl to the way she sticks her lower lip out in thought. She looks over at her dresser, eyes brightening.

“That’s where I left it.”

You watch as she pulls out a dark blue ribbon holding it in front of her.

"I never pictured you as a ribbons in your hair kind of person," you tell her honestly.

"I'm not." She hands the ribbon to you. “It’s for you. It’ll look nice in your hair.”

You’re touched by this, taking the ribbon, fingers dancing along the frayed edges. It’s a midnight blue, the deep of an ocean. You smile at her gratefully before pocketing it.

“Thanks Ellie, but it’s your birthday you’re the one that should be getting presents.”

“I got enough tonight,” Ellie says, looking away from you shyly. She strides over to the bookshelf, bringing out a book you didn't see during your last visit here. She holds it up to you as you approach.

"Did you ever read this one? Joel says it's a good one."

Charlotte's Web.

You feel your stomach churning the longer you look at the title. The pale watercolor girl and pig.

"Yeah," you say in a quiet voice. "It's a good one."

Ellie nods, looking back at it before tossing it onto her bed, obviously her evening reading. She's quiet for a few moments, contemplating something before gazing over at you.

"Don't tell Joel I'm thinking of going to the party. He'll just make a big deal about it."

You smile, touched by her trust in you.

"Our secret."

///

When the moon hangs low in the sky and the world feels quiet you find yourself under the big window in your bedroom sitting under a knitted blanket, eyes wide. Your pupils look like little moons themselves, eclipsed when the reflection is shifted as you tilt your head.

You've always loved looking at the moon. Unlike the sun that can be harsh and unforgiving, the moon is calm solemnity. It's quiet and forgiving. It bathes you in a soft glow and your neighborhood in a quiet still.

You realize that being with Joel is like being exposed in the sun. Often harsh, unforgiving rays that burn your skin, but when it's warm and gentle attention is on you it's so enticing you want to bask in it. It's not as if you actually enjoy his company. He's fucking insufferable. It's because he withholds so much that when he finally relents and allows a bit of softness to trickle through it's like a stream you want to drown in.

You were always been the one who wanted to befriend the feral cat, to earn their affection, to let them know you could be trusted. You suppose that must translate into this life now, a desire to tame the wild.

And now you sit in the night, gazing at darkness, lost in thought. Tonight is one of those nights, the kind where your mind won’t quiet and the world seems more confusing than normal.

Sometimes on these nights under the moon you watch people wander up and down the streets. The night owls that aren't bidden by a clock like the rest of the town. But it’s almost three in the morning and the streets are empty.

It leaves you with nothing but your increasingly frenzied thoughts because if you focus you can still feel the sensation of Joel’s wide fingers buried in your cunt, the rasp of his warm breath on your neck, the husky urging of his rumbling voice telling you to come for him.

I know what you feel like when you're close. Don’t fight it.

Be a good girl and do it.

Give it to me. S’mine

You could write it off as nothing but lust but then dinner with Ellie? It had been a softening, a sweetness you peeked through the cracks of his hard planes. You’d seen love in his eyes for her, compassion for you. And above all you’d felt safety there in his home, a brief flash of it before your past memories caught up with you, nipping at your heels. Then the sensation of his hands moving your hair over your shoulder, the touch all tender and asking nothing in return but your honesty.

Joel Miller confuses you.

And then like some phantom you see him.

He’s there amongst the dreary wet snow, walking – well, stumbling slowly towards your home. He must have been at the Bison – he has the look of a man who’s had one too many, something you’ve never truly witnessed in him before.

You tense up, watching him in your window, knowing he can’t see you in the darkness but still paranoid he’ll sense you. With the moon high in the sky you can see him perfectly, the blue-black shape of his broad body and soft curls. You see when he comes to stand in the center of the street and you inhale softly when his eyes fix on your bedroom window.

He stands there for several minutes just staring, sort of wobbling from foot to foot. For some reason his presence compels you into pulling on a robe and rushing downstairs. Your blood is roaring in your ears and you know your pulse is doing its own little tap dance but it doesn’t stop you from jerking open the door.

"Joel?"

Joel is standing on your porch now with his dark eyes squinting against the light from your home shining out behind you.

"Joel, it's three am."

Joel just stares at you, a long lingering thing. Something about the intensity of it makes any further remarks die on your tongue. Why did you come down here? Why did you open the door? Why did you invite this awkward moment into your life?

Joel stands there with glassy eyes fixed on your face. His hands are shoved deep in his pockets and for a moment you worry something might actually be wrong. You pull your robe tighter around you before you take a step towards him.

"Joel are you-"

You go silent when he holds up a hand in front of him, palm facing you, silently asking you to stop talking.

"Just ..." he trails off, voice thick with sleep and alcohol.

He makes no move to come closer, no attempt to touch you. He just stares at you a few more minutes and then with a satisfied little nod to himself he walks off your porch and into the night. You watch him trail down your steps and then his long legs carry him in the direction of Rancher Street.

Chapter 14: Coffee Flavored Kisses

Notes:

Hey y'all - 13.5k words (yeah) a LOT happens in this chapter so I suggest you take your time reading. And if you liked it, comments are really the thing that touch me most. They make me write. When I see a lack of engagement it makes me wonder if I should bother goin' on. I think most authors feel like that you know? So consider commenting to keep your creative artists bein' creative!
(I'm going on vacation in a few days so that's why I'm posting now since internet will be spotty! Enjoy!)

Chapter Text

Jennifer knocks on your door early the next morning, looking expectantly at you as you greet her. She doesn’t return your smile; instead she pulls her coat tighter around her, not quite meeting your eyes.

"Can I grab my cake? I told some of the ladies I'd have them over for coffee this afternoon."

She seems strangely closed-off, her mouth thinned and you suddenly realize why.

“Oh shit, I forgot to bring it by,” you say feeling embarrassed at the oversight. “Come in, I’ll grab it for you.”

Jennifer still looks upset when you return, attempting to hand over the cake on a plate to her. She makes no attempt to take it, instead she lingers at your door, looking unsettled. Something is wrong and clearly it has nothing to do with the delivery of her cake.

"Is everything okay, Jen?" You place the cake on the stand by the door, your hand braced on the door. Jennifer takes a deep sniff, her eyes blazing.

"When were you going to tell me?"

"Huh?"

"Margaret said she saw you going to Joel's the other night with the cake you made." Her cheeks are blotchy. "The one you said you were making just for practice."

A stone settles in your stomach, making the rest of your body run cold. You swallow, blinking. Jennifer twists her mouth to the side.

"Anything you want to tell me?"

Fuck.

Tell her it wasn’t you. That Margaret was mistaken.

Tell her that it’s not her business.

Tell her the truth.

"It was for Ellie."

Jennifer hadn't been expecting that. Her brows knit and all that tightness in her upper body leaves her.

"What?"

"Ellie invited me over for dinner that night. I made the cake because she asked me to."

You watch as the fury leaves Jennifer's body, like a balloon deflating before your very eyes.

"But... But why didn't you just tell me?"

"You know how Ellie is, she's private," you say, hoping the half truth is enough. "I never know how much to share with other people."

Jennifer's face blanches and she covers her cheeks with both hands. You see the regret and humiliation overtake her, washing her body until all that remains is a lingering pink at her previously pale face.

"I'm so embarrassed. I'm so stupid."

"You're not stupid," you comfort her, guiding her to your table. You slide her cake in front of her, iced beautifully.

"I added some strawberries on top for you."

"Of course you did, because you're an amazingly thoughtful friend and I'm a total bitch."

Jennifer looks so disappointed in herself. It makes you want to hug her, but instead you take the chair opposite her.

"Its fine, it happens."

"I just hate the thought of being lied to,” she says, glancing at the cake admiring the details.

This is your chance.

Tell her. Tell her everything.

But what is there to tell? Nothing! Joel plays hot and cold. He's not interested in a relationship so what's there to tell? That he uses you for sexual release sometimes? The thought of admitting that out loud feels humiliating and it solves absolutely nothing.

“I understand.”

"Please forgive me," Jennifer begs, looking at you with limpid eyes and a pang goes across your chest.

"There's nothing to forgive."

///

Patrols with Joel that day start out nondescript. He’s neither unkind or demonstrative as you both ride towards Teton. You both simply do your job; you paying attention to your surroundings as you go whereas Joel is unusually quiet; his dark eyes scanning the horizon.

Your gun feels heavy on your back today and you surmise it must be because you spent the entire previous evening tossing and turning after he left stumbling towards Rancher Street. He made no mention of it today and part of you wonders if he even remembers. He looked pretty out of it and you don’t feel like reminding him. What good would it do?

Joel glances back at you, catching your eyes on him and gives you a hint of a smile before turning back. Your stomach flips uncomfortably.

You’re getting confused about Joel.

Sometimes you can’t stand him. You find him utterly horrible at times, but then there are these moments, these pockets of sweetness that make you think the former is an act. A front that he puts up to keep himself safe.

You can relate to that.

Even though your front is more passive, more quiet and withdrawn compared to Joel’s hardened exterior. You learned to zig while he learned to zag. He is loud and strong and scares people off, like a dog who barks and bares its teeth at those who encroach. You’re the cat outdoors for the first time, curious and frightened, taken to hiding behind bigger animals for protection. It was always that way, hiding behind your mother’s legs at daycare because you were frightened. It’s why Charlotte meant so much to you, because you were the one she stood behind, you were her protector.

You wonder what turned Joel into this person. Yes, he lost his daughter in a terrible way, but there’s something else there in Joel. Like a match waiting to be struck. Like he almost wants the pain. Was it there before Sarah? Or does it have something to do with Ellie?

Before Jackson City your softness had never been seen as a hindrance. It was your father who sat with you and your sister, helping you practice how to make those folded paper flowers you'd seen in a donated book. Your father who encouraged your soft side, who didn't want you hardened by life more then you needed to be. Part of you is thankful to him for caring; the other part hates him for not preparing you better.

You wonder what he would think of you now.

At lunch you feel Joel’s eyes lingering on your downturned face and you raise your gaze to meet his. Instead of looking away he simply continues to stare. You swallow your sandwich before raising your brows in question.

“That was real nice of you to make that cake for Ellie.”

“I love baking,” you shrug, feeling shy but pleased.

“You always baked?”

“Since I was younger. My mom taught me.”

Joel tilts back in his chair, rubbing at the back of his neck and rolling his shoulders. He’s sore.

“You said your Mama was visiting her sister out near here during the outbreak?”

“Yeah.”

“You radioed the QZ’s around here?”

“All of ‘em,” you admit. It’s what you’d done your first months here, trying to see if there was even a hint that your mother was still alive and thriving in one of the nearby communities. Nothing had been turned up.

Joel is quiet, thoughtful as you continue eating. Your mind is stuck on something though, something that’s been skipping around in your brain like a CD with a scratch.

“I thought you and Ellie knew each other for a while considering how close you are. But you seemed just as surprised as me about her birthday.”

You’ve known Joel for not that long, but you can see it in the way he holds his mouth and shutters his lids that what he’s saying next isn’t the whole truth. He doesn’t look in your direction, fixated instead with something on the floor.

“We went through a lot,” he admits. “I was, uh, well I was supposed to take her to a group. A medical group because, you know, she’s immune. And they couldn’t help, uh, so I brought her here.”

He’s lying. It’s there in the way he searches for words, groping for them like a person blinded in the dark.

“And the truth?”

You mimic his words from Ellie’s birthday. If he catches it, he doesn’t say anything. But he does belatedly flick his gaze over to you. His eyes grow cloudy and it’s like you see the physical wall that he puts up. Joel frowns, going to hoist his gun over his shoulder.

“We better get goin’.”

You ride back to town in near silence, stopping at a familiar part of the forest with the horses. It’s the time of the month to check the traps; your least favorite part of the job. You swallow as you hitch Chestnut to the nearest trunk before following Joel into the dense underbrush. Limbs of trees loom above you like interlacing fingers, casting the woods in a semi darkness.

“Go on ahead,” Joel says gruffly.

You don’t know why he suggests it, but you feel safe with him behind you. Not as safe as when he leads, though. But you surprise yourself with knowing exactly what trail to follow. Your fingers absently plays with the hem of your jacket, your eyes darting from place to place nervously, landing on rocks and stumps and finally the traps.

“Empty,” Joel announces in a voice that holds no reflection of how he feels about it.

You’re delighted; an empty trap means no clickers or raiders nearby. It’s a good thing.

“Wait,” Joel says from behind you. “I heard something.”

And before you can think rationally, that icy hand of fear is sliding up your middle to curl its fingers around your throat. You freeze, your eyes blowing wide and your body starting to tremble. All your lessons with Jennifer, all the advice Joel gave you; everything is gone in that instant. Your hearing dims and your feet stay planted even as Joel urges you to move forward with his elbow.

But you can’t. The thought of something jumping out at you has you completely paralyzed. Your body can’t even tremble, it’s so stiff. Every limb is too heavy, like they’re stuck in cement. Everything in your brain screams that you need to move, but rational thought is gone. The ability to move your body is gone. All you can do is stand there, terrified with your bladder threatening to release itself.

“Move.”

There, the sound of his rumbling timbre is in your ear and for a moment your limbs seem unstuck. Like his voice is that magic key to unlock the chains you’ve self inflicted yourself with. You lurch forward like Frankenstein’s monster, your body stiff and shaky.

“What the hell is goin’ on with you?”

Joel has come around to your front, facing you with a knit of his dark brows. You can only stare at him, like you have locked-in syndrome. His voice is firm and vivid, but the rest of him is wobbly, like he’s a mirage.

“J-Joel-“ you manage to grit out, “the raiders-“

“There’s no fuckin’ raiders,” he snaps, irritation flooding his features.

“What?”

“There’s nothin’ out here,” he repeats, shifting his gun back over his shoulder. “You said you’d been havin’ lessons, I wanted to see how you’d gotten on. Not very well, you didn’t even get your fuckin’ gun out.”

A mixture of deep relief and deep anger slithers through your body, drowning you in a shaky mixture of adrenaline that has you placing your palms to his chest and pushing harshly. He stumbles back, surprised.

“What was that for?”

You shake your head, hating the tears that come to the forefront. Not because you’re sad, but because you’re so fucking relieved nothing was actually out there and so fucking angry that he would pull that.

“Why the fuck would you do that?”

You hate how shaky your voice is as you ask him. You expect him to come back with his customary ire, but instead he keeps his voice even, taking a step back to you.

“You said you wanna stick with patrols, so you need to toughen up.”

“You’re just doing it for some power trip.”

“No, I’m not.”

You want to slap him. But instead you turn away from him, heading back to the horses. You’re barely two steps away when you feel his gloved hand grip your elbow, tugging you back to him. You skid along the snow, wrenching out of his grip and facing him.

“You do this because you like being in control.”

"No, I’m doin’ this because if you don't prep yourself you'll let the fear get to you when it really counts," Joel snaps back. "You can't let the fear run your life."

Now he slides past you, finished with the conversation. You hate it when he does that. You follow him with a sullen scowl, furious and humiliated. You hate that he pulled that shit on you but you hate it worse that you failed such an easy lesson.

"Lots of people are afraid, Joel."

You tell this to his broad back, not expecting him to answer. But he stops, turning to look at you full in the face.

"And it's good when it's useful. But yours ain't," Joel looks frustrated. "When you freeze up there's no way of escaping. No way of thinkin’ clearly. You gotta push through it or you’ll get killed."

"Easy for you to say."

"No. It's not." Joel's eyes spear you in place.

For a moment you falter, unsure of what he’s getting at. When has Joel ever panicked? When have you seen fear overtake him? That night of the snowstorm he headed out by himself with only a gun and his wits. Joel would never understand what it feels like to be afraid.

"Joel you're tough. You're strong and good with a gun and-"

"And my daughter is dead because I got scared.”

You stop whatever you were about to say next with a sharp glance his way. For a moment the two of you just stand staring at one another as your stomach hollows. You’re not positive you heard him right, but you just know that you did. You say nothing, waiting to see if he’ll continue.

"I know what debilitating fear is." Joel swallows. "And I know that fear is why my daughter isn't here now."

Suddenly it all clicks for you as he says that. The frustration he holds for weakness, for fear, for anything that can't protect. Everything hits you and the realization nearly takes your breath away.

Joel shifts from foot to foot, blinking rapidly. It’s the first time you’ve seen him near tears and the sight of it cracks something in you. You step closer to him, your voice and expression soft and imploring.

"Joel, you don't actually think that's true, do you?"

"I know it is," Joel tells you flatly. "If I'd just acted instead of standing there, terrified outta my fuckin’ mind then Sarah would still be here."

"I don't believe that."

It flies out of your mouth without thought. Joel eyes you.

"You weren't there."

"I didn't need to be," you insist, voice firm. "Everything I've seen in you and heard about you from everyone who knows you lets me know that you did everything you could for your daughter."

"You weren't there," he repeats.

“Tell me what happened.”

You’ve never been this commanding, this forward with him about Sarah. It’s been one of those topics you danced around, avoided. But right now it feels imperative he open up about her. You’re relieved when instead of scowling at you he just slumps his shoulders, his lower spine against the tree.

“We were runnin’ and this soldier came up and he shone this light on us and I said the wrong fuckin’ thing, I said my daughter’s hurt, her ankle. I didn’t say she just twisted her ankle. They thought she was bit and. . . I . . . I just stood there, terrified. I just said okay. I said we’re not sick. I didn’t fight. He raised the gun and-“

Joel breaks off, twisting away from you. He’s not crying, but he’s also not far off. You can only see his profile, blinking, starting at the trees. From this angle you can see the scar near his temple, the one that his curls normally cover. He must have received it during the same terrible moment he lost his daughter. A forever reminder.

You know that he’s not even your friend, just a colleague at best and yet. . . more than that. He’s a human, he’s a human who has lost someone he loved more than life itself and you can relate to him on that. It’s what makes the words spill from your mouth.

"Joel, I know that if you loved something you'd protect it with everything you had."

Joel’s profile shifts and he stares at you a long moment punctuated only by the occasional blink.

"You don't know me."

You don't reply to that. He's right, you don't know him. He's wrong because you feel like you might.

You're confused because the pain in his expression almost hurts you to see. Like it stabs your stomach from the inside.

"Could you have done anything different? Really?" You watch him shift his weight from foot to foot. "If you could go back in time to that moment, could you have honestly done anything that would have saved her?"

As he stares off into middle distance again you know that he's replaying that horrible moment in his mind, trying to see how he could have escaped, protected Sarah, done something different. When he doesn't say anything for several moments you prompt him.

"Did you have a weapon?"

His sigh is heavy. "No."

"Did the soldier?"

"Of course."

"It was a shit situation where you had no weapon, your daughter was injured and you were outgunned. Tell me how any of that is your fault."

Joel says nothing, but you can see the curl of his fists. And suddenly you don't want him to talk anymore. You don't want that haunted look in his eyes to move into the rest of him. You want to repair him, to sew his inner wounds and bandage his heartache because no one deserves to lose their child; no one deserves to live with the kind of guilt he does.

Joel stalks off, coming to stand by a nearby tree. His palm rests on its trunk and you watch as his head tips between his shoulder blades. Everything in you warns that Joel is in immense pain and that he doesn’t want to be bothered. Like a bear with a splinter in its paw, if you go up to him right now you’re going to get hurt by his snapping.

But your feet are guiding you to him, your eyes wet and when Joel hears you approaching he turns around, looking confused. He raises his arms up, making a small noise in his throat when you throw your arms around his middle.

He goes stiff in your arms and it feels like you’re embracing a marble statue.

"What're y-" Joel starts but stills as your arms continue holding him in place, your cheek resting on his sternum gently.

"Please just ..."

Your words fade out as you squeeze him softly, pressing your face into his chest. You try your hardest to pour all the care and the compassion that you hold for him in that moment and pray he feels it through his clothes. Tears are slipping down your cheeks as you imagine the pain he’s going through.

You're surprised when he responds, his muscled arms going to wrap around your shoulders, holding you against him. You can hear his heart under your ear, picking up in tempo, likely terrified of this showing of this emotion to you.

“I understand, Joel,” you whisper, your voice trembling. Because you do. You know the guilt of failing in your role as protector. You know the guilt of carrying on while others don’t. And so you hold him without judgment, without reservation.

You close your eyes, touched when you feel his chin rest on the crown of your head. The two of you stand in the dense forest, embracing tightly to one another. You think it might look strange to anyone who might come upon you, but in this moment it feels right.

“You did everything you could," you murmur against the buttons of his jacket, the two of you held in this position a moment longer.

"Wasn’t enough," Joel says in a voice thick with emotions. It rumbles through his chest into your body, and your hold him a little tighter.

"It was enough, Joel,” you sniff. “You’re enough, I promise."

///

"Wait, there are how many other flavors?"

"Tons. I remember we had this peanut butter crunch thing," you tell her with a dreamy look in your eyes. "And cheesecake and mint and-"

"Cake in ice cream?" Ellie interrupts.

"Yeah," you nod before shrugging. "And they had stupid names like Wavy Gravy and Chubby Hubby."

"That's fucking stupid."

You nod in agreement. You've been talking at length with Ellie about ice cream as you drink your milk and pick at your muffin the morning after patrols. You’re waiting to see if you can find Penny and Arthur this morning at breakfast. You want to introduce them to Ellie.

“Why did they call them those names?”

“Marketing.”

“Huh?”

“Tricking people into buying things, basically.”

“Oh.”

Ellie seems satisfied with this explanation so you don’t keep going. Sometimes she exhausts you with all her questions about your life before. She asks you things you realize she’s never experienced and part of it saddens you. Sometimes you don’t like to think of all you had before, with your house and family and horse riding lessons. You’d been blessed in many ways.

After your experience with Joel yesterday the two of you had been strangely quiet on the ride home, the sound of the horses hooves and the nature around you the only noise. You still followed dutifully as Joel scanned the surroundings, but the two of you felt tense. Like Joel had shown you his underbelly and was anxious about it.

You slept horribly again last night, only to be awoken this morning by an excited pounding and Ellie reminding you that you were going to take her to the dining hall to see ‘the tattoo guy’.

So now you sit drinking coffee, thinking about Joel and Ellie and confused because you think there’s something about Joel that calls to you. A secret pain that you recognize and accept in each other.

“Is that her?”

You break from your thoughts, eyes focusing on Ellie who’s nodding her head at the door to the dining hall. You glance over your shoulder to see Penny walk in; her shock of red hair on her head and her tattoos peeking out from under her sweater, creeping onto her hands and up her neck.

“That’s her.”

You stand up, walking over to Penny and explaining that you brought Ellie. Penny is altogether delighted to bring her meal over, sitting across from Ellie and fixing her with a cracked smile like the two are old friends.

“So you’re the one my husband’s gonna stab, huh?”

Ellie nods and smirks a bit at that, as do you when you take a seat next to her.

“And where’s it gonna be?”

Ellie’s hand goes to tug the sleeve of her sweatshirt. In a panic you almost go to stop her, but when Ellie pulls up her sleeve you can see the skin where her bite used to be is now mottled and an ugly red.

“What happened there?” Penny asks, eyeing the scarring.

“S’a chemical burn,” Ellie explains coolly. “Got it a few weeks ago when I was doing custodial.”

Penny casts her eyes to Ellie, narrowing them. The girl holds her gaze, almost defiantly. Then you see Penny relent, she nods in understanding while you feel yourself deflate. How long ago did Ellie do this to herself? Was it because of your reaction to the bite? It’s been a month or so since then. Ellie won’t meet your eyes.

“Might have to wait a few months for it to heal proper,” Penny replies, non-judgmentally. “Give Arthur plenty of time to draw you something real special.”

“We were hoping he might be with you this morning,” you say.

“Arthur’s at work,” Penny tells you both, taking a long sip of her coffee. “But I’m his best client so maybe I can answer some questions you got.”

“Can I see some of them?” Ellie asks, motioning to the woman’s hand where several ferns overlap one another, touched to a star cluster. Penny nods, stretching out her arm across the table and tugging up her sweater. Ellie’s eyes widen in amazement, seeing the variety of outlined images etched into the woman’s skin.

Ellie stares at Penny thoughtfully, her eyes following the lines of the vines, the unfurling petals, the intricate pieces of nature forever etched on Penny's skin. You see the longing there to cover up her sordid history and your heart aches.

"It's gonna look beautiful," you assure her. "I can't wait for you to get it."

Penny gives you a small smile. You never noticed that many of her tattoos are nature based; fern outlines, flowers, some detailed, some sketchy. A beautiful tapestry that when combined make a garden of memories, you assume.

“Arthur did all of these?”

“Yep.”

Penny looks proudly at her arm before turning her neck, pulling back her hair over her shoulder so that Ellie can observe the delicate vines that go from her shoulder and curl around her ear. You let your eyes linger on her ring finger where a small letter A resides in spidery script.

"How did you two meet?"

"Back in the Virginia QZ. I was in disposal, he was teachin'. Went to the bar one afternoon and I saw him there sketchin' these wildflowers that grew in the park. I offered to buy him a drink if he sketched me one. I dunno why, I guess I thought it would be a nice momento to look back on. Durin' it we got to talkin' and I guess we never stopped. That was...hmmm, I guess eight years ago?"

"Do you still have the picture?"

"Better yet, that was my first tattoo." She pulls up her pant leg to reveal the tattooed outline of delicate petals and stamen. "So I'd always have ‘em."

“Woah that’s cool,” Ellie breathes, looking at it.

Penny gives her a lopsided grin, pleased.

"S'my happy place," she says, eyes falling shut as she tilts against her chair. "I could just lay there for hours while he works away on me."

"Doesn't it hurt?" Ellie’s voice is tight, her eyes large. She’s nervous.

"Maybe a little at first. But I like the hurt, you know? It feels good coming from him. Maybe cuz I know he'd stop it the second I asked or maybe because it makes me forget I'm living in the fuckin' apocalypse." She gives a crooked smile at that. "I just know that every time I'm finished I feel like a little bit of the ugly is gone from the world. Like the beauty of his art washes it away."

You're surprised to find a lump in your throat at that statement.

"That might be the most beautiful thing I've ever heard," you offer quietly.

"Nah I'm not the words person. That's all Arthur. Poems, art. I'm just the muscle." At this she flexes her skinny arms, making you and Ellie giggle.

“I want it to have a moth, one that looks like this,” Ellie explains, opening her sketchbook and pointing to the image she’s drawn. You look over her shoulder, amazed at the detail and the delicate beauty on the page.

“That’s gorgeous.”

“It’s on the guitar Joel gave me,” she explains patiently.

“He gave you a guitar?”

You blurt this out, surprised. For some reason Joel gifting anyone anything feels momentous.

“Yeah, told me it was for my birthday. Said it was a placeholder until he could travel through time with me.”

The two of you share a secret smile before Ellie is turning her attention back to Penny. She shifts her book closer to the older woman.

“Do you think your husband could do something with that?”

“Arthur can do anythin’ with anythin’,” Penny promises with pride in her words. She’s proud of her man, supportive of his skills. You can see the love there reflected in her words and actions.

Penny leaves you both to grab another apple and when she’s out of earshot Ellie is beaming so broadly her eyes disappear.

“I can’t believe I’m finally gonna get one!”

You smile back at her, delight flooding you as you look to the normally withdrawn teen and see her looking so overjoyed. You want to wrap her in an embrace, but you falter when you glance down at her reddened arm.

“What the fuck?”

A voice draws your attention and Dina is there at the end of the table, looking at Ellie’s arm with horror. She holds a tray in her hands and it dips as she stares in shock.

“What happened?” Dina asks, indicating to the arm Ellie now covers by tugging down her sleeve.

“None of your fucking business,” Ellie growls.

“Fine.” Dina wrinkles her nose in irritation. “Was just trying to be nice.”

“Why start now?”

Dina gives a scoff before flipping her braid over her shoulder.

“You know Ellie, you can be a real asshole.”

Ellie says nothing as the girl stalks off to join the other table and you can see she’s still scowling, but now her cheeks are pink as her hand rests over her covered forearm. You glance down at her hand, your voice tender.

“Ellie when… what happened there?”

Ellie turns her attention back to her untouched muffin, her spirits dimmed a bit.

“Just. . . Felt like I needed to do it.”

“Was it because of how I reacted?”

“Fuck no,” Ellie frowns. “It was just, Joel has always gone on and on about my scar being unsafe. Then there was talk about those raiders and it started to make me paranoid if they found me. So I just. . . you know, made sure it was camouflaged. I didn’t want to put me or Joel in danger.”

Sympathy guides your tone. “Does Joel know?”

“No.” She frowns, looking away from you. “He doesn’t need to know.”

You nod, unwilling to push further. You aren’t her mother, this isn’t your place. You feel guilty for stealing this moment of joy from her, and your attention drifts to Penny’s coffee cup, forgotten.

"Wish it wasn't carrot today," Ellie mutters, poking her muffin with a fork. "I fucking hate carrot."

"Me too."

Your eyes are still on the empty coffee cup.

Real coffee. Real coffee.

"I just know they have better stuff in the back that they're not giving us," Ellie grumbles, distracting you from this internal monologue.

"Yeah, the-" something flickers across your brain, and errant thought suddenly moving to the front of your consciousness.

You think of when you were on kitchen duty, of the items not plentiful enough to be shared with the wider community. The ones stored until more came in or given away to those most in need. Your eyes snap wide as you recall the small container brought in the week you left. The one too small for sharing with the group.

But you'd been taken with the tin. You loved the shiny red outside and blue top. And you knew that the contents inside were of no interest to you, but you wanted that tin. It made you feel bright and happy and hopeful when you looked at it.

But there were rules in Jackson City. You weren't allowed to just take things for yourself. But you had known that if you asked it wouldn't have been given to you, not as a single woman. Items given from the kitchen were divided fairly and those with bigger families got bigger items.

And so when eyes were tilted elsewhere you'd hidden it in your apron, rushing to the far storage room. With a beating heart you'd shoved it under the empty sacks used for hauling berries. They wouldn't be utilized again until the spring.

You'd planned on finding a way to get it out, to smuggle it back to your place. But then that had been the week Maria told you that you were switched to patrols and all thoughts of the red tin were lost.

Real coffee. Real coffee.

"Hey, you wanna join me on an adventure?" you tell Ellie in a quiet voice despite the fact that you two are fairly isolated from the rest of the groups.

“Yes.”

“It’s gonna involve breaking the rules.”

Ellie grins, the good mood returning to her features. She lowers her voice conspiratorially.

“Good.”

“I need to break into the kitchen at the back."

"Okay."

You hold in a smile at the lack of hesitation in the girls reply. She looks excited about it if anything.

"Don't you wanna know what for?"

"Nah," Ellie shakes her head. "When are we doin' this?"

///

You still wonder if you should tell Jennifer what happened with Joel, but you reconsider. What good would it do? It’s not like you and Joel like each other, not like your moment of kindness somehow bonds you to each other.

But there’s something under your skin when he’s around. A feeling of being tilted off your axis that you can’t ignore, no matter how hard you try.

So you don’t mention it to her when days later she invites you and Luke to go to the movies, citing that they got a new film in she’s dying to see. She tells you about it, but you’re distracted as the three of you take turns shooting.

Movie nights are big for the people of Jackson City. It allows them a way to travel through time, to the ‘used to be’ of their world. Where they see McDonalds bags and shopping centers and beautiful, smiling faces. Where they see sun soaked beaches and can go around the world just sitting there eating popcorn in the dark surrounded by other patrons. You go every so often, but something about the dark and the crowds makes you uneasy at times. You always sit near the back, ready to escape when necessary.

When the three of you go to grab seats Jennifer doesn’t even question why you pick the back row, she just nods and tells you she’s going to get popcorn. Luke goes with her, asking if you want anything else. He does this while looking between your eyes and your mouth, making you feel fluttery inside.

The two of them walk off and as you scan the room you notice Ellie is seated near the front. She waves at you when she notices you standing beside the empty chairs. You return it weakly, and she turns her head back around, you watch as her ponytail bobs behind her, looking knotted. You make a mental note to help her brush it again.

“Pardon me,” a voice says and a young woman moves past you, another man shoulders you, excusing himself as the crowd of people begins to swell. You start feeling a bit breathless amongst the gathering crowd. It’s like there’s too many people right now and unlike the church, this space is cramped and the lighting dim. Your heart hammers and your nails dig into the flesh of your palm.

“S’cuse me,” comes a voice from behind you.

Joel.

Before you can respond his hand is on your lower back, gently guiding you to the left so he can pass you, his fingertips strong through the fabric of your clothing. You hold your breath as he presses, almost scared of exhaling.

Your body catches on fire where he touches you, making your heart race as you glance over your shoulder up at his face. He stares down at you with a soft expression.

What is he thinking?

You swallow, taking the seat you were saving, staring up at him. Your eyes stay on one another’s a moment longer and then he’s gone, waving at a very exuberant Ellie who shouts over the growing crowd that she saved him a good seat.

Seconds later Jennifer reappears with a bag of popcorn and Luke in tow. The two of them take a seat beside you, Jennifer pressing against you.

“I’m almost done my dress for the holiday party,” Jennifer gushes from beside you, popping some popcorn into her mouth and crunching quietly.

“Your dress?” You pause, brows furrowed. “Is it a big dress up event?”

“Everyone tries to look their best,” Jennifer says between bites of popcorn. “I just love any excuse to wear a dress.”

“Shit,” Luke mutters from the other side of her. “Can jeans and a sweater count as my best?”

“Of course,” she assures him before shooting you a rolling eyed look that clearly reads: men and fashion.

Luke starts to talk about his musical practice and how you and Jennifer should come out for their first ‘casual concert’ as he calls it. He and Jennifer begin to chat about the song list and you try to focus but all you can think of is Jennifer making a dress and that dinner with Joel and Ellie; In the south women dressed up for everything, just how things were done. You look down again at your shabby jeans and sweater under your jacket. You look so plain.

There’s the textile shop in town, a place to get clothing but it isn’t like going to the mall. Most of it is essentials like underclothes, jackets, jeans. Some people get clothing made there via bartering. But you don’t have anything worthwhile for trading.

“I heard this movie is good,” Jennifer says pointing at the large hung blanket that acts as a screen.

“Well we can’t exactly get refunds,” you muse.

The two of you exchange a smile before the lights dim and the movie begins. Jennifer suddenly stands, glancing down at you as the darkness grows.

“Hey, can we swap seats?” She asks you, looking from you to the screen. “I like sitting on the end because I have to pee all the time.”

You nod, swapping seats. Luke looks over at you with a warm smile before offering you some popcorn from his bag. The three of you are squashed up together with you in the middle. You share popcorn and you feel Luke’s arm warm against yours, understanding flooding you.

Nice play, Jennifer.

You try to concentrate on the movie but your eyes begin drifting over to the left side of the quieting room, soon landing on the broad shoulders of Joel, listening to something Ellie is saying to him as she eats her popcorn.

You still can’t believe you hugged Joel. That you willingly wrapped your arms around him and held him against you, inhaling the masculine scent of forest and wind and almond soap. Hearing his heartbeat thundering under your cheek and aware of how he gripped you to him.

“Do you like movies?” Luke leans over and whispers, breaking you from your conflicting thoughts.

“I like books better,” you confess. “But there’s something nice about entering another world.”

Luke nods in agreement and the two of you turn your attention back to the film. You feel Jennifer squeeze your wrist, smirking at you with encouragement in the dark and you feel your stomach sink.

Your best friend is sitting on your right, watching a movie unaware of how you’re lusting after a man whose crush she uses as a coping mechanism. How could you be so unkind as to lust after him too? You don’t need Joel like Jennifer does. She needs the distraction.

And yes, Joel says he doesn’t like Jennifer but he’s like most people – he doesn’t really know the real Jennifer like you do.

You made a promise to yourself months ago. That you would help Jennifer get Joel and you fully intend on keeping that promise. You just have to find the right opportunity. Satisfied with that you settle back in your chair, sighing softly. It’s an old movie, a space film you don’t recognize.

You focus on the movie, your eyes drifting to the left every so often, seeing Joel tilt to whisper to Ellie or just sitting, watching the film. You can see Joel’s tousled locks and a pang of longing goes through you at the desire to card your hands through it.

Where the fuck did that thought come from?

Sure, he’s handsome, but he’s also abrasive and rude and.. . . Memories are flooding you, how soft he is with Ellie, how he shared his food with you, how talented his fingers are, how you held one another.

Luke’s pinky brushes yours at one point during the middle of the movie and you freeze, your cheeks flushing. His hand is on his kneecap, his pinky rubbing back and forth against your outer thigh. You peek at him through your hair to see his eyes on the screen, a faint smile there.

You can’t remember the last time you felt this strange, happy jumpy feeling one has when they’re near their crush. That silly, breathless feeling that has you trying not to smirk through the scenes reflecting off the large white tarp.

When Luke’s hand navigates its way from his kneecap to yours you’re convinced you’re going to pass out. He leaves it there, heavy and warm through your jeans. Will Luke ask you to dance at the party?

Images of you and he dancing together are playing in your mind. A thought that has your entire body thrumming. It’s so normal to want something like that. You didn’t realize how much you craved normal.

All too soon the movie is over and the patrons begin to dwindle out of the makeshift theatre. You stare at Luke’s hand, sitting there on your knee when Jennifer’s soft voice speaks out beside you.

“Hi Joel.”

Your head jerks up so quickly something pops in your neck and you wince. Joel is stopped at the end of the aisle, looking at the three of you with an unimpressed expression. Ellie must have gone on ahead of him, because she’s nowhere to be seen.

“Hi Jenny,” he says smoothly, his eyes flicking to your knee and then back to her face. “Enjoy the movie?”

“Yeah, how about you?”

“S’okay,” Joel says. Standing there while the three of you sit he looks even taller, even more imposing and you throat runs dry.

“I figure we three should be headin’ out to find a tree soon,” Joel says.

His eyes flick between you and Jennifer, ignoring Luke altogether. Luke, you noticed, has removed his hand from your leg entirely. You feel a bit deflated and yet at the same time relieved. It’s a strange dichotomy that settles like a stone in your abdomen.

“Isn’t it a bit early?” you hedge.

“Party’s only a month away,” Joel shrugs. “And we won’t cut it right now; we’ll just leave a marker on it so others know not to touch it.”

You sneak a glance at Jennifer who is beaming up at Joel, trying her best not to look too eager.

“I’m pretty busy the next few days, but Jennifer has time, right?” you nudge her with your shoulder and she blinks rapidly a moment before understanding. She grins up at Joel with a demure look.

“I sure am. When do you want to go looking, Joel?”

“Last time I checked this was a group effort,” Joel says sourly. “That means we go as a group. The two of you find a time that works for you and get back to me.”

“But-“

He strides off, unwilling to listen to you trying to reason with him. You look back at Jennifer who appears fairly deflated.

“He’s a real stickler,” she shrugs.

“Don’t worry,” you tell her resolutely. “I’ll figure something out.”

///

You haven’t figured anything out by the following evening when you wait for Ellie outside the greenhouse.

You don’t know how to convince Joel to go off with Jennifer alone aside from flat out lying. But there’s a part of you that’s paranoid if you did that Joel might let things slip. What if he confessed to Jennifer about your trysts? How could she ever forgive you?

You’re still debating your options when you hear footsteps crunching over the hardened snow, smiling when Ellie comes into view. She’s wearing black clothes and a dark burgundy beanie pulled down low. Only her pale face shows, grinning at you.

“Glad you didn’t chicken out.”

“Joel didn’t wake up?”

“He’s only got one good ear,” she explains. “He doesn’t hear much if he sleeps on his right.”

You can’t help but think back to the chapel when you’d whirled around and sneered at him.

Not our fault you’re half-deaf.

You shake off the shame that starts at the edges of your body, focusing on the task at hand. You motion for Ellie to follow you, quickly twisting the lock.

You still have the code for the greenhouse, which means you still know where they keep the spare key for the dining hall. It’s always kept under the planter near the right. Ellie watches all of this in amazement, likely shocked to see this more devious side of you. Then again this is where she first saw you, so it’s likely that she knew all along.

“I don’t even know if it’s still there,” you confess in a whisper as the two of you make your way to the dining hall. It’s almost three in the morning and the space is empty. The Bison always closes at one, and even the stragglers are home by two.

“I don’t care,” Ellie admits. “This is fun.”

You pull her into a casual side hug as you both suppress giggles. The two of you approach the padlock and Ellie watches as you twist the key, pocketing it as the door creaks open. The two of you disappear inside, pulling it shut after you.

Inside is eerily dark and quiet; the tables all cleaned and lined up for the breakfast rush in a few hours. Your dual footsteps echo in the space normally full of light and laughter.

Now that you’re actually here inside you feel your heartbeat begin to pick up a little as you think about what you’re doing. If you’re caught there are serious consequences – even possible exile. It happened only once before according to the folks here, but who’s to say it couldn’t happen again?

“You shouldn’t be here,” you say guiltily to Ellie. “I shouldn’t have-“

“I’ll keep watch,” Ellie finishes, her eyes narrowed. You know that she doesn’t want to hear anything else you have to say.

“If we’re caught-“

“If I hear anything or see anyone dangerous I’ll hit the wall twice. You can go out the window they have by the freezer. I saw it my first day when they gave me and Joel a tour.”

“Ellie-“

“No one is gonna catch me,” she states flatly. “I’m really fast, faster than the other kids here.”

Ellie runs around the tables, weaving as she laughs.

“Shhh!” You call out, unable to keep the smirk from your face. “You want us caught?”

Ellie immediately sobers, running over to you as you approach the double doors that lead to the back room.

“Ellie-“

“Plus, if anyone does catch me I’ll just say I was sleep walking,” Ellie says with a lopsided grin, pretending to be a sleepwalker, her eyes closed and her arms held out in front of her. She begins to softly snore, shaking herself awake, pretending to be half asleep. “Huh? Where am I? How did I get here?”

You try to suppress a laugh even though you still feel guilty to have her as your accomplice. But Ellie looks so delighted to be doing this, so excited to have this bit of adventure that it pushes away the bad thoughts.

“You want anything from the back?”

Ellie pauses, looking thoughtful. “Something with chocolate.”

You nod, disappearing into the back room leaving Ellie to stand guard just outside them, her eyes scanning the empty space.

It’s weird, she hasn’t been alone in so long. Someone is always there – Joel or you, schoolmates or Tommy or Maria. Even Buckley hangs around if she wanders off from the main town. It’s like she’s never alone anymore and . . . she likes it.

She didn’t expect to like it. And yeah, she has plenty of time to be by herself in her room but she likes knowing Joel is on the other side of the wall. She might roll her eyes at him or get frustrated when he insists on telling her he’s going out even though she knows he is. She may get annoyed when he insists on reminding her to brush her teeth and eat breakfast. But she likes it. She likes having someone who cares.

And you became one of those people so quickly. There’s something about your presence that isn’t hard like the rest of the people in town. A softness and a humor that Ellie finds herself drawn to. There are times when she wonders if her mother was anything like you. When you brushed her hair and she closed her eyes she could almost imagine that you were her.

Ellie wanders back and forth along the line of tables, listening to hear you puttering around in the back. You’re quiet for the most part. Ellie hums to herself, thinking about school and her tattoo. She absently rubs her arm, thinking of how it will look decorated in Arthur’s ink.

A creak to her right draws her attention and she sees that the door has cracked open, letting a cool breeze inside. Ellie goes over to it, closing and locking it. It’s just as she’s turning back that she sees a flash of movement. Her heart jumps and she reaches for the knife in her back pocket.

But her hand stops its reaching when she sees the figure hunched under one of the tables, her braid unmistakable.

“Dina?”

Caught, the girl scrambles from under the table, heading for the far side of the dining hall. There are large windows there, big enough for her to climb out of to alert the rest of the town. Ellie doesn’t have enough time to warn you, she just takes off after Dina.

"Don't you fucking dare!' Ellie growls to herself, chasing after Dina between the tables.

Dina is like a rabbit skirting around the tables and chairs with ease. But Ellie has always been nimble and easily overtakes the other girl.

Dina grunts when Ellie tackles her to the floor, he two of them are quiet, the only sound of Dina’s body as she slaps onto the wood floor, so harsh her teeth clatter. Ellie sits on her stomach, pinning Dina down and shoving a hand over her protesting mouth.

Dina's cries are muffled under her harshly pressing palm. Ellie straddles Dina's stomach as the girl squirms.

"Shut the fuck up," Ellie growls, her face inches from Dina's. The two girls stare at each other, panting heavily. As the seconds tick by Ellie feels a strange swirling in her abdomen and she loosens her grip.

"You promise you won't scream?"

Dina nods and her large eyes strangely soft. Ellie removes her hand slowly, confused as to why it's suddenly trembling.

“Why are you here?”

“I… I was up early. Couldn’t sleep. I saw you from my window.”

She followed the two of you here.

Ellie is frustrated at being caught and strangely feels like she’s let you down. She pins Dina’s arms to the ground again, narrowing her gaze on the girl’s flushed face.

"You can't say anything about us being here, got it?"

Dina nods again, panting lightly. Ellie's face is still close and she can see the freckles scatter like constellations over Dina's cheeks. Ellie feels another swoop in her stomach that she attributes to the fear of being caught.

"Why are you always on my case?" Ellie rasps, her eyes searching the other girls. "Why'd you follow me here?"

"Let me go," Dina breathes and now she’s squirming under Ellie.

"No," Ellie insists. "Tell me. Why? Why are you always around giving me shit?"

"Ellie-"

"Why do you act like you're so much better than me?"

"Ellie just ..." Dina takes a sharp breath in, her eyes fixed on Ellie's mouth.

Ellie is confused by this until Dina jerks her face up, pressing her lips to Ellie's. Ellie feels her entire world tilt at the feeling of the girl’s mouth on hers. Soft and sweet and...

What the fuck? Ellie scrambles back off of Dina, her fingers on her lips. She stares at Dina in confusion.

"W-what did... Why-," Ellie stammers as Dina sits up, her face heating.

"Just … Don't say anything," Dina grumbles, pushing herself to a stand. "And I won't tell about whatever you two are doing here."

Before Ellie can attempt a reply Dina is on her feet and rushing out of the cafeteria. Ellie turns only when she hears you stumbling out of the storage room minutes later holding your prize; the red coffee can and a chocolate bar in the other that you toss in her direction.

"Got it. Let's go."

///

The next patrol seems to come so quickly, it’s already the afternoon and you’re heading towards Teton. You haven’t seen Joel all week and you’ve been pretty thankful for it. You still don’t know where the two of you stand. But you’re also sort of excited to see him. To give him his gift.

“Don’t have to check the traps this week,” he tells you over his shoulder.

“Right.”

You both continue on in the strained silence, doing your perimeter check. Your more alert today, your hand ready for your gun. You want to be ready in case Joel pulls another surprise test like last time.

You feel like getting to Teton drags on and on. The normally pleasant ride is cold and feels longer than usual. You take the time trying to remember books you’ve read or songs you used to enjoy, but you keep getting distracted by Joel ahead of you.

You keep remembering the feeling of his embrace. How he smelled, how warm he was, how gentle. Joel is so rarely gentle and you think this may be leaking into your subconscious.

This morning as you boiled the water you’d been daydreaming, thinking of the dance you want Luke to take you to. Only in this daydream its Joel you dance with, Joel who spins you around in his arms, holding you like he did in the forest. Joel who whispers in your ear that you look beautiful. Because in this daydream you wear a gown, not your jeans and sweater.

Eventually you make it to the safe house, tying the horses up and heading inside. Joel unlocks it this time, the same code as the last visit. But he allows you in first, stepping back and sweeping a hand indicating you should enter.

You thank him, walking up to the log book where you sign in, writing your names hurriedly so you can get to lunch.

Joel walks into the room, his boots scraping as he comes to stand behind you. You think he’s looking to make sure you filled the log book correctly but another part of you believes he’s just doing it so he can stand close to you. The only difference is today you don’t mind.

You stand with your back to him, feeling the warmth of his body as he stands there, peering over your shoulder. You feel his mouth draw near the side of your face and you hold your breath, waiting to see what he’ll do.

“Miller’s only got two L’s,” he rumbles against your ear. “Not three.”

“There’s only-“ you stop as you peer closer at your writing. “Fuck.”

In your exuberance to fill in the logbook you did in fact write his last name incorrectly. You scribble one of the extra L’s out as Joel chuckles softly behind you. You feel like an idiot, all fluttery and strange. Why are you acting like this?

When the time comes for lunch you’re actually nervous, thinking your plan might have been a stupid one. Why did you think of this? What if he thinks you’re pathetic for it?

Joel often eats his lunch the same way, starting with the peeling of his orange. Then he pops one piece of orange into his mouth, followed by the large meat sandwich, a few carrots, the rest of the orange and then finish with his coffee and whatever pastry has been included in the lunch bag. You watch him eat, trying to look away when his eyes dart to you. You nibble on your sandwich, taking your time.

You watch as he finishes the orange, wrapping the peel in the wax cover. He saves the peels to feed to the horses on the way back, keeping them upbeat. You started doing the same, finding Chestnut had an extra zip to his step when you did.

When he reaches for his bag you swallow your carrot, reaching into your bag and producing your thermos from home.

"Here, I brought you a drink," you say awkwardly shoving your Thermos at him across the table.

"I already got the one they packed," he says indicating to the Thermos in his bag. You falter, feeling shy.

"Yeah but … this one is... Different."

"Poisoned?"

"Not to my knowledge."

Joel smirks before nodding. You take a bite of your sandwich, chewing as you watch him unscrew the lid. He peers into the Thermos and you see him raise a confused brow.

It's not until he lifts it to his nose and inhales that he realizes.

"Where the fuck did you get this?"

You shrug like it doesn't matter and he doesn't press it. When Joel tilts it to marvel at it in the Thermos you're struck that the brew inside matches the color of his dark brown eyes.

You're confused that he's not drinking it. Just staring at it like he's never seen coffee before.

"I thought you liked real coffee," you say, head tilting to the Thermos. "I never drank it. Is Folghers not real coffee?"

"Folgers," Joel corrects your pronunciation gently. "And uh, yeah, it's real. S'what I used to make every morning before work."

You nod, still a little confused as to why he's not drinking it.

"Did you ever go to Starbucks?"

Joel gives one of those not-quite-a-smile quirks of his lips. "Yeah."

"What did you get there?"

"Black coffee."

"You went to Starbucks and you just got a black coffee?"

"Sure."

This surprises an amused smile out of you, one that stays on your face until you see Joel is staring at you. His eyes rest there a beat before dragging back to the Thermos. You watch as he brings it to his mouth and takes the first sip.

You don't realize you're holding your breath until it all rushes out.

"Damn," he says after swallowing. "S'pretty weak but still got that same flavor. Where did you get this? Really?"

"I used to work in the kitchen," you mumble, suddenly concerned that you'll be reported. "I uh... I hid it before so I could keep it… Just remembered it when we were talking about coffee last time."

"Why'd you hide it?"

"S'my favorite color," you say wincing at how childish it sounds. "The tin it came in is red. Anyway, I have a whole container of this coffee at my house if you want it. I just wanted to keep the tin."

Joel is staring at the coffee, mouth still pursing as he tastes the lingering flavor on his tongue. You’re confused when he shakes his head a little.

"You know I can count on my hand the amount of people that have done something for me," Joel says still looking at the thermos. "Side from my kids."

"It's what you do for friends," you reason.

"Are we friends?"

"I'd like us to be."

Joel nods slowly, eyes sliding to your face before going back to the coffee. He takes another sip, sighing gently. He closes his eyes and for a minute you see the lines in his face smooth, a state of relaxation overtaking him. You realize he's lost in a moment, a memory, a nostalgic moment.

"When she got old enough, Sarah used to make me coffee in the morning before she went off to school." Joels eyes are still closed. "She used to nag me about bein' more healthy. She had this look she pulled, scrunched but.. she could never look angry. Didn't have it in her. She was always like a sunbeam, happy and golden."

You've never met Sarah, never seen the photo Joel avoids at Tommy's house. Yet through the stories you've heard you can almost sense her, bubbly and warm, conscientious and sweet. You imagine wide eyes that disappear when she smiles and knobby knees as she sprouted over the years.

"She sounds wonderful."

Joel just nods with his eyes on his coffee.

“Thank you," he says softly and you don't know if it's because of the coffee or the memory it brought up. Whatever it is, it makes you beam at him, delighted.

"No problem."

The two of you continue eating your lunch, Joel ending on coffee and you on your hot chocolate. The silence is easy and you feel sated in more ways than one. You’re friends, its official. The thought warms you.

You both rise, about to head out into the main section of the house to check that everything is stocked up and there are no leaks. You're about to leave out the door when you feel Joel's hand on your shoulder. You turn, brows raised expectantly.

"What?"

Joel stares at you much like he was staring at you earlier. That inscrutable look in his dark eyes as they drop to your mouth.

You twitch in surprise when his fingers come to gently grip your chin. You're confused because this isn't how this works. He's usually more forceful, more demanding. Instead his hand slides from your chin to your jaw, resting there. With infinite deliberation he moves his face towards you and tilts his mouth gingerly against yours.

His lips are warmed from the coffee, slightly damp from where he licked his lips moments before. But as they graze yours you feel everything on you crackle with electricity that makes you start.

You inhale sharply, a soft little thing you'd assumed would be absorbed into the room. But Joel hears it, his strong nose brushing yours as he pulls back to look at you.

"What?"

"Nothing," you say quickly. Too quickly.

The lines between his brows deepen the concern evident. He wants answers and you know you'll have to give them if there's any chance of feeling his mouth again. You surprise yourself from wanting to feel them again.

"I've just never kissed anyone before. Not really."

His eyes widen only a fraction, the white leaking around the iris.

"You dated."

"I had..." You struggle for the word. "Encounters."

Fingers, cocks, hard fucking, slaps of flesh. Needling digits in flesh, around hair, between your legs. Never their lips against yours, never the gentle dab of their tongues in your mouth. Never softness.

Joel stares at you; the deep chestnut of his eyes is momentarily hypnotizing.

"And you never-"

"No."

Some tried, mouths on your neck, drifting upwards. But it always reminded you of them. Of the infected, the tendrils of green spilling from their mouths. It made you think of the neighbor that charged after you and your sister as you fled home.

So when those same needy mouths went to your face it made you wince and turn your head, made you tell them to just fuck you. They never turned that down. Kissing was just a means to an end for them anyway.

The only man you would have kissed willingly wouldn't tarnish the memory of his dead wife. And now the only man you'd kiss is staring at you. You feel shame at the scrutiny, as if he's seeing clear confirmation of your shortcomings.

You could move away, shoulder past him, pretend none of this happened. But you don't. You stand with your gaze steady, curious that Joel's mouth seems to be drifting closer.

When his dark eyes dart to your mouth you know you're not imagining it. And with the softest touch imaginable, Joel's warm lips press against yours. His lips seek yours not in the commanding way he is usually known for in life, but almost timid, as if he's terrified of fucking up.

His eyes are still open when yours drift shut, neck tilting so that the kiss can deepen. His lips part, you feel them and then the damp dab of his tongue along your lower lip, wetting it. You hear him inhale through his nose as he tastes you.

You make a cooing noise in the back of your throat, surprised at the sensation. Joel immediately ceases, his face pulling back again. Your lips tingle from his touch, your mouth almost chasing his before you remember yourself.

"S'okay?"

"Mhm."

"You wanna keep goin’?"

"Yes," you breathe, not even bothering to stop and consider what you're agreeing to.

Joel nods and to your surprise he sits on the chair he just vacated, tugging you towards him. You're about to go to your knees, assuming that this is what he's expecting but he shakes his head softly.

"Sit here," he murmurs, rubbing a hand over his thigh before both hands come to your hips to guide you.

He urges your legs to bracket his, to sit facing him on his lap. The chair creaks under your combined weight but Joel pays it no mind, his steady gaze is on your face. You don’t move, finding that your shock lends itself to keeping you there like a doll on his lap.

"Put your arms around my neck," he tells you in a husky murmur.

When you pause, shocked by the request, he takes you by the wrists, urging your arms around his neck. His arms slide around your waist, holding you there.

The warmth of his lips is still felt on your own and when he presses his mouth to yours you kiss him back, feeling inexperienced but taken care of. He pulls back a moment and when you chase his mouth this time he readily allows them to be captured.

You inhale at the sensation of his lips warming yours, feeling as his hands cup your cheeks, kissing you sweetly, taking his time, letting you explore his lips, his tongue, everything you want. You kiss him back, desperate for more of him.

You're trembling everywhere but you can't stop, you want more of this, to kiss him for hours. For him to trace his tongue over every inch of your mouth, your lips, fuck, just everything.

Joel’s never like this. You've never touched, never felt his hands on you like this. It makes you feel disorientated. Your eyes are heavy lidded as you stare into his, feeling the bulge between his legs that’s been there since you sat on his lap, pulsing and aching beneath you.

He nudges his nose against yours, urging your head to the side. You submit, feeling as his mouth works its way along your neck, wet and needy. Tingles shoot everywhere in response to his beard rasping against your skin and his soft lips trailing down.

You let out a shuddering sigh at the sensation, eyes closed as he continues. You feel his teeth scrape your carotid artery and you swallow anxiously.

What are you doing? Why is Joel doing this?

This thought distracts you until his broad hands slide up your sides, coming to cup your breasts. You hold in a gasp of pleasured delight when his thumbs find your hardened nipples and he grazes over them and you feel them pucker further. You watch as he squeezes your breasts, groaning when you do.

"Mhm," he murmurs when you whimper. "You like that, don't ya?"

You can only nod, your hands gripping his shoulders tighter as your body tilts further back, nipples tightening almost painfully. Joel tugs you back, hands leaving your breasts to splay against your spine, forcing your chest to his. Your head instinctively tilts when his lips find your jaw.

"I wanna give you more," Joel rumbles against your neck. “You want that?”

"Yes, I want more," you breathe, arms crooked around his neck. "Please, I-“

Joel doesn't let you finish before his mouth crashes against yours, his hands going to untuck the shirt you wear under your sweater from your jeans. You allow it, holding your arms up so he can divest you of the bulky sweater, leaving the t-shirt on for now. He lets his eyes travel along your breasts, the nipples peeking through the thin fabric of your bra and shirt.

You gasp when his head dips forward and he circles one through the cloth, sucking it into his mouth, wetting the shirt. You arch back, his hands on your upper back, pulling you into him. He groans, hips rolling against yours as you whimper for him, hands carding through his hair. It feels so good to let go.

“You’re gonna ride my thigh ‘til you come."

His words have the intended effect because you're hips begin to roll automatically, the second his palms urge you to do so. The seam of your jeans hits exactly the right spot, creating a pleasurable friction that has you starting to moan.

Fuck. It feels so good. How does he make it feel so good?

You don't understand how his hands urging you to press roughly against his denim-clad thigh has you arching, your body alight with an inner fire as you ride him there in the quiet room. This is Joel the man who just became your friend. Joel who - - - you can’t think rationally, can’t even finish this thought. You just surrender to how he moves your increasingly pliant body, the gentle touches, the needy groans making you come undone.

"Just like that," Joel says thickly, his eyes sliding all over your body from where you ride him, to the gentle bounce of your breasts, all the way up to your face with your saddled brows and parted mouth.

You need more; you crave his fingers, his warm skin. Your mouth finds his neck, pressing there for the first time. His skin is so warm, the color and temperature of gold sand warmed by the sun.

You feel that Joel is still so hard underneath you and your fingers slide between your two bodies, coming to cup him through the denim of his jeans. He gently disentangles you, tugging your hand from him and replacing it on his shoulder.

"Keep ‘em there," he instructs gently.

Your eyes fly open, concerned you've done something wrong but he doesn't look upset. You are about to say something when you feel his fingers coming to pop the button of your jeans open.

"You don't have to do anything," Joel tells you, his mouth grazing yours as he lowers the zipper of your jeans. "Just need you to feel good."

"You don't want... You know?"

Joel shakes his head, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. You feel as his fingers trace over the damp spot in your panties and you shiver.

"Lemme give it to you," he says huskily.

You feel his fingers continue their trailing between your thighs, tugging your panties to the side, his fingers splaying around your clit. At the contact combined with his lingering eye contact you buck against his hand.

He watches your face with intense scrutiny, making you feel shy. You drop your head forward as your thighs tighten.

"C'mon," Joel says softly, his own arms banding around your waist and holding you to him. "C'mon, lemme hear it."

Joel is never tender and sweet and wanting you to make noise. He's always telling you to shut up, always insisting that you talk too much. Never letting you touch him aside from your mouth on his cock. What changed?

“You can take it,” he murmurs huskily. “S’all for you today.”

His free hand grips your hips, urging you to grind against him harder. He's never been this free with praise. Never been so tender. It makes you feel dizzy.

His hips are still rolling against yours, urging you to keep chasing that pleasure that seems just out of reach. For some reason its hard today, your confusion over what’s happening clouding the desire that bleeds into focus.

"So wet," he remarks, his fingers entering you, curling, coaxing you to come forward off that precipice. You feel as his thick finger enters your honeyed entrance, the thumb still rubbing your swollen clit.

You whimper, burying your face in his lean neck while keeping your arms on his shoulders and continuing to roll your hips against him. When he adds a second finger and increases the tempo of his thumb’s rub you start to quake. He puts his damp lips to your ear.

"I know," he rasps. "Keep goin', baby, I'll take ya there."

Baby.

It slips out. You know he didn’t mean to call you baby. Joel has never come close to giving you a nickname, neutral or otherwise. You desperately want more of him. To feel him deep within you, but something stops you. Something tells you that this has to be enough.

"That's it," he encourages with what could almost be a smile in his voice. "That's it. Doing so good."

"C'mon," Joel urges his hand on your chin so you can't look away. "C'mon and let me give it to you."

"Joel," you whisper for no other reason than wanting to say it. His praise is making you feel crazy.

Baby.

You force your head against his shoulder, groaning with abandon. You feel his large palm there, resting on the back of your skull.

"Go on, yeah, just like that," Joel encourages as he cradles the back of your head. "Doin' so good for me."

You ride his fingers with abandon, a stuttering moan escaping you when he adds a third finger and begins to fuck you that way, the tempo of his thumb on your clit never changing speed.

"I know," he croons sympathetically when your whimpers turn to needful whines as your pleasure ebbs and flows. Like a tide that recedes the more you chase after it.

"I know, you’re so close, just keep goin’."

You want it so badly it hurts. But you’re mind is so full, crowding you and making you feel suffocated.

"I can't," you grind out with frustrated tears in your eyes. Joel’s mouth is at your ear immediately.

"Look at me," he commands gently.

You lift your head, lips swollen, hair mussed and eyes glassy. Joel is similarly affected, his expression entirely painted with desire, hair mussed and falling into his dark eyes.

"You like doin' what I tell you," he says as he presses his mouth to the hollow of your throat. It's not a question. You feel his teeth scrape your carotid artery and you swallow. Yes, you love doing what Joel asks you when he's soft like this.

"Yes," you sigh.

"Then you're gonna listen to me right now," Joel says, his mouth at your jaw now as his hands continue to rock you against his leg. "And you’re gonna come.”

You're still desperately rutting against his hand, his bulge straining through his jeans. And there it is; that sweet wipe of your brain clean. When Joel’s words are all that you can hear and the loud, annoying thoughts that normally rule you are quieted.

Joel has told you to come and you’re going to.

“Gonna do that?” Joel teases as his tongue comes to trace behind your jaw. “Gonna be a good girl for me and come?”

Yes yes yes.

His words have you whimpering, pressing harshly into his fingers as you ride his thigh. Joel is gazing at you, his words melting into the background as everything else grows silent. C’mon, you’re so close, I can feel it. Go on and take it, s’all for you.

He holds you with one hand, the other still working between your thighs, urging you to keep going, fucking you with only his fingers and his words and yet it’s so potent you feel it in every nerve of your body. You feel Joel everywhere, you hear him everywhere.

You wanna be good for him and when the next pleasured wave overtakes you, you surrender completely. It bursts behind your eyes as everything releases within you and you cry out loudly, body thrusting intensely against Joel’s hand as he watches you, praising you as you fuck yourself on his fingers.

"Atta girl," Joel says and his voice sounds almost proud. “You take what you want. Go on.”

And you do, you ride him until you’re completely spent, shuddering in his lap as you feel your entire body light up, pleasure dripping through your veins as Joel kisses your neck, murmuring that’s right, just like that. Did so good for me as his arms circle your waist again.

You collapse against his chest, feeling boneless. You’re too tired to even hold him around the neck, your arms just drape to the sides and your cheek rests on his shoulder. You breath heavily, your heart pounding.

"Just sit there," he murmurs as he holds you, a hand running itself through your hair gently. "Take a minute."

"Okay."

You can’t believe what just happened. This was nothing like what happened before with you on your knees, nothing like the chapel back room. This was something different entirely. An experience that you can’t just push off as an encounter. You kissed him, you kissed him and wanted more.

Moments later your breathing slows and you don’t know what possesses you but you tilt forward before pressing a chaste kiss to Joel’s temple, right over the scar there. Joel’s eyes close as you do, his voice low and rumbling.

"Feelin’ okay?"

You nod as you crack your eyes open, a breathless smile on your face.

“More than okay.”

Joel is nodding at you, his cheeks pink and his eyes black with desire.

Without hesitation you dip your face and he eagerly accepts your mouth on his. His lips are damp and full and they feel perfect. A hand comes to hold the back of your neck, keeping you from pulling back too soon as his tongue begins licking into your mouth.

He kisses you languidly, as if you have all the time in the world. The thudding between your legs isn't gone, if anything is compounded when he groans when your mouth opens further, your tongue coming to dab against his.

You desperately reach for Joel's shirt, intent on popping open the buttons. His hands begin to travel under your shirt, sliding under the bare flesh there when his thumb comes to drag just under your sternum, catching on the end of the jagged scar there.

You feel Joel hesitate when that happens and you pull back, your eyes flying to his face to see him looking at you with worry.

Before you can say anything the loud neighs of both the horses breaks the two of you from this interlude. You hastily crawl off him as Joel rushes to the window, glancing down to where you hitched the horses. You pull on your sweater, feeling vulnerable.

"What's wrong?" You ask going up beside him and peering through the frosted glass to see the two horses nipping at one another. Chesnut gives another little whinny as Midnight nips him again.

"Nothin'," Joel exhales, relieved. "They were just playin'."

So were we.

Joel glances your way, and unlike your last patrols there's no darkness in his expression when he next speaks.

"Let's head back."

Chapter 15: Going Quiet

Notes:

This chapter has tags that will spoil plot points and lots of folks hate that, so I am making a spoiler list in the END NOTES of this page so y'all can scroll there if you want tags for this chapter. That way everyone is happy!
Also this is real important: I read each and every single one of your comments on A03 more than once. Sometimes when I'm blocked or depressed about my writing I go through them and they make my heart sing. They are the true reason these chapters keep flyin' out of my my tippy tappy fingers. Seeing your hilarious comments, your meaningful analysis's, your desires for my characters and more you are all so dang supportive and I love y'all so much.
As always PLEASE COMMENT. Comments are your way of 'paying' the authors on here since we don't make a cent!

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

"Just be honest with her," you murmur to yourself as you boots crunch over the old snow. “She’ll understand.”

You're on your way to Jennifer's place with a plate of freshly baked muffins in your shaking hands. The chill of the day is biting your cheeks and your fingers are numb on the ends because you were so distracted you left without grabbing gloves.

You’ve been up since six, running over every scenario, getting dressed with trembling hands because while you know that Jennifer is your friend you’re also worried she’ll be upset about what happened with Joel. You hate thinking of your one true friend here as being upset with you.

There’s a small part of you that’s furious with Jennifer endearing herself to you in the first place. Why did she have to worm her way into your affections like that? It was so much easier when you kept to yourself, so much easier when you didn’t have to take other people’s feelings into account.

Something happened during patrols with Joel Miller and even if it means nothing to him you have to tell Jennifer because it's something to you. You can't stop thinking of how gentle he was. How soft his mouth was, how he called you baby.

And if you stay feeling this way about him you’ll be unable to keep away from him. And you’re terrified this means Jennifer finding out about your affection for him from someone else, like Margaret who saw you on your way to Joel's that one evening for Ellie’s dinner.

You're also uneasy because you haven't talked about anything with Joel. You don't know if it was a one-off or the start of something. You want things cleared up.

You're intercepted by a smiling Tommy that has rope over his shoulder. He's heading to the stables but he waves at you as he approaches. You internally grimace, frustrated with being derailed temporarily from your plans.

"Afternoon, where you headed?"

"Over to Jennifer’s," you say holding up the plate. "Bringing my classic chocolate chip muffins."

In your overzealous desire to set the record straight with Jennifer and because you were up at an ungodly hour you made far too many muffins. A whole batch of coconut lemon is at home, sealed and ready for consumption.

Tommy looks at you strangely, shifting the rope onto his other shoulder.

"It's her patrol shift today," he says with a bemused look. "Ain't you two friends?"

In all your rush to tell Jennifer everything you've totally lost track of the day. You sigh, eyes closing in frustration.

"You're right, shit." You look down at the muffins and sigh. "You want 'em?"

"I gotta check on the horses. How about you take 'em over to Maria?” Tommy suggests. "She could always use the company."

You actually have a gift for Maria so it wouldn't be out of the question. And at least this way the second batch you made at home won't go to waste.

"Okay, I will."

You send a wave his way before heading back to your place where you grab the paper flowers you prepared earlier in the week, bright yellow daffodils. They were harder to fold, took a lot longer, but they were worth it. You just know Maria is going to love them.

You noticed how overwhelmed she looked at the town meeting the other day and you want to check in on her. There’s something about the harried way she appears lately that makes you a bit anxious.

Hank welcomes you in when you arrive, the door already ajar. Faint music plays in the background and he greets you warmly, his jacket and boots still on, having clearly just entered into the home.

"Maria’s in the living room, I came by to grab Tommy but seems like he’s already gone."

“I saw him on his way to the horses.”

“Ah shit, okay, I’ll see ya.”

You swap places and he strides down the porch steps while you slip off your jacket and head towards the living room. The place smells like apple cinnamon and you see a pie cooling on the counter. This gives you hope that Maria is continuing to be in good spirits. You place your muffins on the table and head towards where you hear the radio playing faintly.

You clutch the paper flowers in your fist and move towards the music. When you round the corner you abruptly still, eyes widening Maria sits with a drowsy Douglas in her arms, smiling at Joel who sits on the edge of his chair.

That's not what shocks you; it's the fact that Joel is strumming a guitar for the baby.

His thick forearm rests on the body of the guitar, long fingers plucking at the strings playing a soothing melody.

Seeing Joel after everything that happened feels strange and slightly surreal. It makes you gape at him as he continues to play, strong hands moving deftly over the strings. It takes you back to his fingers between your legs, his mouth on your ear.

Keep goin', baby, I'll take ya there.

His expression is playful as he looks at his nephew, the half-slumbering child that seems calmed at the sound of Joel's playing. And then it's like Joel feels new eyes on him and he turns his gaze on you just as his fingers hit a sour note.

Your knee gives out a moment as you step closer into the room, causing you to half stumble.

Then there's silence in the room, confusion on Maria's face and your heartbeat hammering in your ears. Maria turns to where Joel’s eye line goes and she smiles with a tired joy when you enter into the room.

"I was wondering when I'd see you!"

"Just keeping my promise," you say with a shy smile. “I brought muffins too but they’re in the kitchen.”

You can't help your eyes from drawing back over to Joel who has leaned back in his chair. He places the guitar next to his chair on the floor.

"I didn't know you played."

Joel nods non-committal, looking almost irritated at being caught out.

"Douglas loves when Uncle Joel plays," Maria coos at the not quite sleeping baby. You hold in a smile at the term Uncle Joel.

"I just wanted to come by and drop off my latest arrangement," you smile handing her the flowers and dropping down onto the couch next to her. "What do you think of ‘em Douglas?"

You hold one of the stems in the baby’s direction, giggling to yourself when his tiny hand attempts to bat at it.

"He loves them," Maria laughs, glancing at her son and then over to the quiet man by the fireplace. "Doesn't he Joel?"

"Sure seems like it."

You dart your eyes to see Joel gazing between you and the baby. He's leaned back, one hand on his thigh.

"These are so gorgeous," Maria says with a beam. She takes them from you before shifting a sleeping Douglas up in the crook of her arm. "Here, take him. I'm gonna add them to the other vase."

Before you can reply to her she's placing the warm Douglas into your arms. You gather him against your chest, looking into his sweet face.

"Hi little boy."

You tickle him under the chin, smiling broadly when Douglas gives a gurgling laugh in reply.

"He's so lucky he has so many people that love him," Maria says as she gazes down at him. "I hope you'll always come over to see him."

"Of course," you promise as you stare at the baby's chubby cheeks. "Someone has to teach him the fine art of flower folding after all."

You feel a hand on your shoulder as Maria smiles down at you, a faraway softness in her dark eyes. Then she's gone, striding from the room and leaving you and Joel seated across from one another.

You're curled at the edge of the couch with the baby in your arms. You're unable to stop yourself from nuzzling the end of your nose to his. He's warm and smells like sweet milk and when you're this close you feel like the world is a little more bearable. You keep your attention on the baby, too nervous to look at Joel

The fire crackles in the quiet of the room, the sound of children playing outdoors, the smell of the apple cinnamon pie; it all contributes to a strangely warm and cozy atmosphere. It makes you feel more at ease, able to eventually shift your attention over to Joel. You're curious to see him staring at you before his attention moves to Douglas in your arms.

"Pie sure smells good," you finally offer.

"S'Tommy's favorite."

You hum a reply, your eyes trained on Douglas's face. His eyelids are starting to flutter but he keeps catching himself, forcing himself to stay awake.

"He looks like he's trying not to fall asleep," you smile indulgently before lifting your gaze to Joel. "Maybe you should play a little more for him."

You don't know what possesses you to make the request other than a secret desire to hear Joel play again. To squirrel away this secret part of him for later dissection as you lie awake that night. The desperate desire to know more of him.

Joel's mouth curves slightly, almost like he's amused but not quite. You think he's going to ignore you or brush you off. Your brows rise when he reaches down to lift the guitar back into his denim-clad thigh.

"Any requests?"

You feel a smile creeping over your face. You're about to shake your head, thankful for whatever he'll play when an idea hits you.

"Your favorite song."

He drags a hand through his short beard in thought, eyes rising to the roof as he contemplates.

"That's tough. Hard to pick just one."

"Play 'em all then."

Joel grins now, a real one that shows his dimple and has your heart fluttering. What is it about making him smile that makes you feel so accomplished?

"Dunno if we have time for all that. But let's start with this one, s'the first one I ever learned to play the whole way through."

You rock Douglas gently in your arms, settling back in the worn sofa like an expectant audience. Joel darts his eyes to you before he looks at his fingertips suddenly nervous. You watch him transform in front of you in that moment. Gone is the overbearing, perfectionist. In his stead is a man who clumsily plucks at the strings in a tune you think you recognize.

"I keep a close watch on this heart of mine."

Your mouth drops open as his raspy voice reaches your ears.

"I keep my eyes wide open all the time."

Joel is singing.

"I keep the ends out for the tie that binds."

You can't take your eyes from his face. There's something about his singing that's almost hypnotizing. His raspy voice hugging the notes, sending them on their way with a stern push between his plush lips. Lips you know for certain now feel as soft as they look. And when his dark eyes travel from the other side of the room to the baby and finally end on your face, you feel your body start to catch fire from the inside.

"Because you're mine, I walk the line."

You can't explain it, you don't know if it's the eye contact or the lyrics or his husky voice, but in this moment you've never wanted anyone so badly. It makes your body ache all over, your throat running dry as the second and third verses keep coming. Only now his eyes have gone back to the guitar, worried about his fingering.

"As sure as night is dark and day is light

I keep you on my mind both day and night

And happiness I've known proves that it's right.

Because you're mine, I walk the line."

Douglas is asleep now, curled in your arms. But he might as well not even exist because everything in you is attuned to the broad man across from you, sitting there strumming beautifully and sharing something with you that you don't think he shares with many.

"You've got a way to keep me on your side," Joel rasps and you feel something bloom in your chest when his eyes flick back up to yours. "You give me cause for lo-"

Joel breaks off sharply when you both hear a thump coming from a nearby room.

"What was that?"

You rise with a now squirming Douglas in your arms. Joel drops the guitar onto the seat he just vacated before both of you move into the hallway, following the light spilling from the room down the hall.

Joel is first, his boots slapping against the floorboards. You follow close behind and when he peers in and you see his shoulders jump you pause. He holds an arm out, pushing you back behind him.

Something is wrong.

Then there's that familiar metallic scent of blood. One that you know all too well. One that has you stumbling back with Douglas. It has you whimpering anxiously to yourself, putting Douglas in his crib, brushing his hair back and whispering words of comfort.

You lean over the railing of the crib, catching your breath. The baby’s eyes shutter, not understanding what’s going on, but too tired to care. You can hear Joel murmuring and Maria sobbing softly and your stomach is cramping up in fear.

Not blood. Please no more blood.

You feel darkness starting at the corner of your eyes, black tendrils that threaten to take you from consciousness entirely but you fight it. You go onto your hands and knees beside the crib, inhaling deeply and waiting for the darkness to ebb.

When it does you raise shakily, moving back to the room at the end of the hall. Its door is cracked halfway open and you can see Joel’s feet. You watch him moving back and forth in his knelt position. You focus only on those boots, forcing your feet to him.

When you finally push open the door with a creak and see Maria you have to swallow your sob.

Her back is against the wall, slumped there with her chin resting on her chest. Her legs splay out on the tile floor as if she's a marionette who's had its strings snapped. There’s so much blood, pooling around her, seeping into the knees of Joel’s jeans. Her one arm is in Joel’s grip, wrapped tightly with a towel.

You spot the razor blade next to the tub, covered in blood and you know exactly what's happened.

Oh Maria.

Joel is wrapping more towels around her left wrist as Maria moans "I'm sorry I'm sorry," over and over. You don’t know if she’s sorry she did it or sorry she didn’t have the chance to slice the right wrist as well.

The blood is seeping through the thin towel and you rush into the hallway, scrambling to find a linen closet or something close to it. When you don't find one you go back to Douglas's room and in a panic and grab several of his blankets in the corner, rushing back with your heart in your stomach.

"Here."

You step partially into the bathroom, thrusting the towels into Joel's outstretched hands before you press against the wall, in the room but as close to being out as possible. You look away as Joel attempts to make a tourniquet with the latest blanket, ripping and wrapping overtop the towels at her wrist.

"Not Dougie’s blankets," Maria groans, trying to wrench from Joel's grasp.

"Quit," Joel snaps and she obeys, growing still.

You step more fully into the bathroom and Joel darts his attention over to you. His eyes are wild and his neck bobs anxiously. You know that Joel feels fear just as much as anyone; he’s just so much better at keeping it in check.

"I'm goin' to get the doctor. You stay here with her."

You can’t find words so you just nod. Joel stands, gripping your chin.

“You hear me?”

“Yes. I’ll stay here.”

Joel nods and he's taken off as you swap places with him beside Maria on your knees, praying that Joel gets to Tommy and the doctor in time. You who presses the extra towel to her wrist, keeping her from moving.

Maria's dark skin has a grayish tinge to it, her face crumpled. She's too weak to fight you as you hold the towel to her oozing wrist. It's clear she cut straight up the middle. She wanted this to be fatal.

"Hey, just stay still."

The blood and her whimpers are making you feel cold all over. A sense of disassociation overtaking you. Your mind is traveling through time, stretching over consciousness, trying to guide you away from this moment because all you can hear is screaming and all you can taste is blood and all you can see is your sister’s face-

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," Maria whispers again, tears running down her cheeks and bringing you back to the present. Your eyes stutter over the peeling linoleum before falling on your friends face.

"Just breathe Maria," you soothe, brushing her hair from her tacky forehead. "Just breathe."

But Maria doesn't hear you; she's lost in her own torment. She cries out, her back arching in acute pain that you can't see but know she feels deep in her soul. The kind of black pit that consumes and doesn't stop.

“NO MORE!”

You bite back tears as she shrieks. She slaps her right palm to her side of the floor in anger, soaking it in blood. Then she lets out a mournful cry that you would have covered your ears for if they weren’t holding her injured wrist still.

Without warning she grips at your collar with her free hand, her sticky palm trailing against your mouth as she does. You taste copper.

"I can't do it anymore."

You can see the hollow look in her eyes, can smell the acrid scent of her anxious sweat. You tug her hand away, wrapping it tighter in the blanket and holding both wrists so tightly she cries out. You look at her with sympathy pooling there in your gaze.

"What can't you do, Maria?"

"Live."

The word is ripped from her lungs. Four letters that feel sharp from all angles. Like little needles line her throat, tearing them to shreds causing her to bleed them inwardly.

And perhaps to combat that sharpness you cup Maria's cheek in your hand, all round curves and softness, holding her tenderly in your grip like a mother would a child. She leaves her wrapped wrist on her lap, gazing up at you lost and terrified.

"I know that feeling, I'm so sorry you're experiencing it," you murmur gently. "We're gonna get you help. I promise, Maria."

Footsteps have entered the home, moving quickly over the wood floors.

“You can’t help me.” Maria starts to cry now, big tears falling down her cheeks. “No one can.”

The door bursts open and you start as Tommy stands there. When he sees you holding the bloodied Maria on the floor he goes white in the face. He staggers towards you both and slides down heavily against the bathroom door when his legs fail him.

"Honey…honey, no."

He crawls to her, streams of tears running down his cheeks as he pulls her against him. She's tired, too tired to offer apologies or explanations. She just sits there slumped until he drags her into his grip, sobbing into the crown of her head.

You watch when the normally smiley, affable Tommy's face crumbles as he holds his wife, hiding his howl of anguish in her shoulder as he rocks her in his arms. The sound prickles tears and raises goose bumps.

You let yourself out of the room to give them privacy and needing to get a breath of fresh air. Air not tainted with the coppery scent of blood. It’s so thick you can taste it, like pennies rolled sideways over your taste buds.

A tall woman with short salt and pepper hair comes into the hallway with a bag. The doctor. She looks at you curiously until you shoot a thumb over your shoulder, indicating to the bathroom door.

"She's in there."

She rushes by you and you walk out of her way, not stopping until you're nearing the kitchen.

You feel shaky, like you’ve forgotten to eat for days. You recognize that feeling. You collapse in a chair at the table, forehead in your arms. But its happening, that tightness in your chest that doesn’t stop even when you try to blink away the image of all that blood.

And then hands are on you, wide, warm hands that rest on your upper arms. Joel drapes himself over you, arms bracketing your body, his arms crossing over your front to hold you against his chest.

“Hey,” he rasps. “Calm down.”

But you can’t.

You can still smell the blood; you can still see it when you blink. You can still hear Maria’s moans as the doctor works on her and the low sobs of Tommy as he watches on. Your body shakes, unable to shut all this noise out until suddenly Joel’s soft mouth is at your ear.

“Breathe with me. Right now.”

He holds you against his chest and you feel him take a deep inhale before slowly forcing it out through his mouth in a gentle stream. He murmurs instructions in your ears, never releasing you. In and out…. In and out… In through the nose, out through the mouth… C’mon, be good for me In and out.

And like magic that tightness in your body begins to lessen. The noise that has been so loud is dimmed. All that exists for you is the sensation of Joel’s body leaning against you heavily, the strong arms that hold you, the deep rumble of his voice telling you to breathe.

After a few moments the spell has passed, your body feels in control again. Joel must sense this because he loosens his arms from where they were wrapped around you. You miss the contact as he pulls back, straightening.

“You need a minute?”

You glance up at him, shaking your head. Your part in this is done. You can't really offer anything but paper flowers and baby snuggles.

“No I think… I think I should go home.”

Joel hangs by the front door looking ashen as you rise on shaky legs. When he sees you approach he takes down your jacket from the hook, holding it open for you.

"I'll walk you home."

You go to tell him it's not necessary, but you don't because fatigue is suddenly taking you over. You just allow him to slip your jacket on over your shoulders before following him out of the house. You don’t even notice when his hand finds the small of your back, guiding you to your home as you trudge after him in a daze.

The two of you walk in heavy silence down the mercifully empty street. You still can't quite believe what you just witnessed. Joel tilts his gaze in your direction.

"You okay?"

You shrug. "Scary."

"Yeah." A beat. "You handled yourself well back there."

“Until I almost passed out.”

“That was after,” Joel reasons. “A good time to fall apart is after everything is said n’ done.”

"I'm better at taking care of other people in a crisis, not so much myself I guess."

He hums in response, and the two of you walk in silence the rest of the way to your home.

Walking with Joel now feels different then with patrols. It's easier, less tense. But it's still carries a modicum of weirdness after everything. You watch your footsteps match in tempo despite Joel's longer legs, the crunch of snow, the slick of ice.

At the door to your home you fish your key from your pocket, confused that Joel still stands there in the golden sun of afternoon like some flannel-clad statue. He slides his tongue over his back teeth, un-sticking his next words.

"You’re not planning on tellin' your friends what happened, right? Jennifer n' Luke?"

This question surprises you into frowning.

"Of course not."

"Figured as much. Just thought I'd check," Joel nods, head tilting up and down a moment as if his brain already knew before he asked.

You recognize the look he shoots you now, he has to be the protective big brother at all times. He needs to make sure Tommy and Maria are protected. He doesn't need to worry with you though, you'd never share.

"I don't share private information, Joel," you say rather clipped. "About anything or anyone."

Joel's eyes widen on your face before blinking down to the ground. The meaning of your words feels heavy between you both, though it's not what you meant. You meant it about Ellie and Maria.

But yeah, for you and Joel too.

“That’s good,” he mutters before he nods again, a slow thoughtful thing. “It’s just. . . Me and Tommy . . .we’re private people. So’s Maria.”

You nod. You understand one another.

You’ve understood each other longer than maybe you realized.

You know he's surprised at your actions today. He’s always had you pegged as a useless idiot who can't shoot and panics at the slightest hint of danger. His confusion isn't unfounded, but it irritates you a fraction regardless.

Useless.

Does he still think that? What exactly does he think about you?

You want to ask him about patrols but before you can his hand is pulled from his pocket and he licks the end of his thumb. You watch the pink muscle peek out between his pouty lips, so distracted by the sight that when his hand closes the distance between your bodies you flinch.

But it's just his empty palm and fingers meeting at your mouth. His damp thumb lands on your lower lip at the same time as his warm gaze. You hold your breath as he begins pressing lightly there before you realize he's brushing at something.

"Blood," he informs your questioning eyes.

You say nothing, but you don't miss that his eyes haven't left your mouth. Or that his thumb now rests there on your full bottom lip, waiting for something you can't anticipate. Then his hand is snatched back, like he just remembered that he doesn't touch you like that. Sweetly and gingerly.

He stares at you in that impossibly Joel fashion. The shiny, fathomless way that reminds you of an oil slick at night. Then he blinks it away and it's replaced with that familiar unreadable look.

"I'll see ya later."

You watch him leave, the words about patrols dead on your tongue.

///

You think of Joel's words the entire afternoon as you wait for Jennifer to finish her patrol shift.

You’re not planning on tellin' your friends what happened, right?

He meant about Maria, but you'd parsed the double meaning before he’d all but spelled it out for you. He's a private man; much like Ellie he doesn't like the world to know his business. You have to respect that. But you have to respect Jennifer as well.

How to do both?

Funnily enough it’s Ellie who solves your issue and she doesn't even mean to. She's on your porch knocking and looking anxiously up at you when you answer later that afternoon.

She glances over her shoulder at the empty street as if she's expecting a horde of people with pitchforks headed her way.

"I need to talk to you.”

"Okay, sure," you say, concerned. You step back, allowing her to slip into your house.

Minutes later she sits at your table with an untouched muffin and cup of tea. Her fingernails are bit to the quick, her hands pink and chapped from the cold. The end of her nose is pink too and she sniffles as you take a seat across from her.

“So what-“

"I... I like someone."

She blurts it out as if she was pinched. Relief takes you over and you tilt back, smiling toothily.

"That's great."

"No it's not," Ellie sighs. "It's complicated."

"What's complicated about liking someone?"

"It's Dina."

"I figured.”

Ellie flushes, caught. You try not to sound judgmental, but you’re curious as to how this worked out.

"So what changed between you and her?"

"I dunno... One second I hated her and the next second..."

She trails off and blushes deeply. She's waiting for you to continue with your questions but when you don't she seems to relax.

"I don't even know if she actually likes me. She just kissed me a couple days ago.”

“Congrats,” you tell her enthusiastically, dialing it back when you see her about to roll her eyes. “It’s exciting Ellie.”

“No, it’s stressful.”

Despite everything you’ve seen today you laugh. “Well, relationships can be.”

“I always thought she kinda hated me."

Your eyes widen in surprise. Later you'll reflect on this moment and laugh to yourself that both you and Ellie got kissed by someone you assumed hated you the same week.

“What did she say when you asked her?”

“I didn’t. I’ve been avoiding her. I told Joel I have a stomach bug.”

You hold in a laugh as she picks at the muffin in front of her, her short nails attempting to scrape off some of the coconut.

"I just wish I could pick a different person to like," she sighs. "A boy."

"Why?"

"Because everyone already thinks I'm a freak around here. Once they find out I like girls it’s gonna be so much worse."

Sympathy propels your hand to cover hers. She twitches but leaves it there on the table.

"You're not a freak for liking girls, Ellie," you tell her honestly. "Do you know how hard it is to find a connection with someone in this world? Do you know how lucky you are?"

Ellie doesn't feel lucky. She feels exposed. She already has so much different about her. Why this on top of everything?

"What if people say stuff?"

"There are other gay couples here, Ellie. And yeah some people are assholes about it but since when did you give a shit about what other people say?"

Ellie cracks a smile at this, a tiny shimmer of amusement before she sobers again. She sits there quietly and you can see her absorbing the word.

Gay.

Ellie always thought what she had with Riley was special, a one-off since so few people were nice to her back in the QZ. But kissing Dina has made it very clear to Ellie that she is only into girls.

"Does Joel know?"

Your voice is soft; you don't want to push her too much. She looks at the table, shaking her head.

"Not yet."

Ah, there it is. The real reason she's hesitating. The thought that this man who has clearly been through so much with her would turn his back on her.

"Ellie, I know for a fact that Joel loves you more than anything. And I know he won't give a shit if you like boys or girls as long as you're happy."

Her eyes are glossy when she gazes back up at you.

"And if you're not sure if Dina likes you just ask her."

Ellie grimaces.

"I can't."

"Why not?"

"What if I'm wrong? What if she kissed me as a joke? Or she changed her mind?"

"I don't think people kiss other people as jokes," you offer. "And if it turns out she changed her mind then, well, wouldn't it be good to find that out now?"

"I guess."

You lean back, your own thoughts converging around a certain man with deep eyes and a full mouth. A man who you need to talk things out with as well. You and Ellie finish your muffins and you walk her to the door, noting she seems less deflated than when she arrived.

"Thank you for sharing this with me Ellie," you tell her kindly. "I promise it's our secret until you don’t want it to be. And you can always come to me if you need to talk."

Ellie surprises you by wrapping her slender arms around your waist, squeezing you tightly before she leaves out the door. You watch her frame grow tiny in the distance, her words lingering.

I wish I could just like someone else.

And then suddenly it all becomes clear; the solution to your dilemma.

You need to get Jennifer interested in someone else.

Transferring her affection to a new guy shouldn't be a problem considering she hasn't actually dated Joel or formed true feelings. She said herself she just wanted a distraction, a challenge, something fun. And if something comes of you and Joel. . . well, you’ll confess it later. You’ll tell her it began well after her crush dissipated.

After a few days of casual eavesdropping and nosing around town you find out that Oliver Chase, the butchers assistant is single having recently broken up with his girlfriend. He's tall with light hair and a strong jaw.

He's always been shy but now without his girlfriend by his side you notice he seems to sink into himself further. Someone like Jennifer would be perfect for him, someone to bring him out of his shell.

You find out what time he eats breakfast in the dining hall and you drag Jennifer with you there one morning, positioning her so that she's in his eye line.

“Why are we here this early?”

“I wanna take advantage of the weather before the bad winter storms come in.”

It’s a pathetic excuse, but Jennifer seems to buy it. She digs into her pancakes with gusto, yawning as you covertly spy the table by the window where Oliver sits eating his breakfast and reading.

Several women perch on either side of him at the table. Younger single men like Oliver are a rarity in Jackson city and the young women have come out in droves. Some laugh, tossing their hair, others bring him coffee with shy smiles.

"He's handsome," you say, nudging Jennifer with your spoon. She yawns again, raising a tired brow.

"Huh? Who?"

"Oliver," you say subtly motioning over your shoulder. "Butcher’s son."

Jennifer gives him a cursory look before smirking over at you.

"Aren't you interested in Luke?"

Shit.

"No. I meant for you."

"For me?"

Jennifer looks back at the man and you can see her deciding if he's worth her time.

"Joel is too prickly for you," you trying to assure her, subtly motioning to the fair-haired man behind you. "You should go for him. He’s smart, he’s kind, and he’s handsome . . . What’s the downside?"

Jennifer glances at Oliver again, seeming to take your information in before shaking her head slightly.

"Yeah but Joel being a challenge is half the fun," Jennifer says. She tilts over in her chair, voice soft. "The thrill of the chase you know?"

"I think he's with someone."

You blurt it out, the panic overtaking you. You're still keeping Joel's secret, mostly. But at least this way you're letting Jennifer down easy.

Jennifer's brows reach her hairline. "Really?"

"Yeah but ... Don't say anything. It’s just something Ellie mentioned the other day. I thought you should know."

Jennifer deflates slightly and you feel guilty. But at the same time Joel is only a distraction for her, a challenge.

"Darn," Jennifer says and you watch as she picks at her cereal, looking somber.

"Oliver is younger and cuter," you say quickly, trying to rouse her spirits. "Definitely a challenge since I can see half the women in here drooling over him since he's single now."

It's true; Oliver has already garnered a lot of attention. He's smiling shyly at the women chatting to him. You see her wavering, tapping her fork absently on the spongy top of her eggs.

“I also heard he was telling his friends he thought you were beautiful.”

Okay, this is a flat out lie.

But that’s only because you don’t think Oliver knows Jennifer yet. When he does, he’ll agree with this assessment. Besides its not like Jennifer is gonna go up to him and ask for clarification.

“Really?”

Jennifer's light eyes drift over to him and she takes him in as if for the first time. When his eyes dart over to the table and meet hers you can almost see the minute she decides.

She looks away from him demurely, her cheeks flushed and you know she has him in her sights. You try not to look too pleased, but you are. This will solve everything, you're sure of it. Your friend will be happy and you can continue on guilt-free.

“I should find out if he’s going to the party,” Jennifer says thoughtfully.

“Everyone is,” you assure her. “But I’ll keep an ear out.”

Satisfied you tilt back in your chair, trying not to grin too widely. Breakfast tastes sweeter today; even the syrup for the pancakes which normally sticks to your teeth seems perfect. This is all going to work out now, you’re sure of it.

It’s funny to think that you’ll be going to this huge event. You rarely go to the events planned by the community, you skip out on the movie nights in favor of reading at home, your meals are eaten with your book as company (and lately Ellie or Jennifer) and then you're gone back home.

You're still unsure around people, especially big groups. It makes you anxious when too many eyes are on you. But you think you're getting better. You feel bolder. You want to go to the dinner and dance. You want to enjoy yourself. You want to become a part of this community. You want to experience life instead of just existing.

"Speaking of which I wanted to give you your Christmas present early," Jennifer says changing the subject with a twinkle in her eyes. “Do you have time after this to hang out?”

"Huh?" You're confused. “Christmas present?”

“Yeah.”

"But, I don't have anything for you."

"I don't need a gift," Jennifer rolls her eyes. “I wanted to do something nice for you.”

“You already do so much for me,” you say almost pleading. “I can’t take anything else-“

Jennifer holds up a hand to your protests.

"It's too late; I already started on it. So eat quick so we can get to the shop before it opens since you wanted to get an alarmingly early start to the day."

You watch her eat from under your hair; you look at her beautifully sewn burgundy sweater with its woven rosettes along the neckline. You think of how kind she is and how much she’s gone through and it’s almost there on the tip of your tongue – a confession of everything. But then she swallows and stands before shooting you an excited giggle.

“Let’s go!"

“Where’re we going?”

Jennifer doesn’t answer, simply hooks her arm in yours and takes you both careening into the center of town. You keep up, breathlessly as the store fronts pass you by before you stop in front of a familiar spot - the textile shop.

You rarely go inside here because your clothes are in good durable shape. The walls are all butter yellow with the mismatched chairs around several baby pink rectangular tables. There are old Singer sewing machines resting on several.

The space is empty due to the hour and you take a moment to marvel at how organized it is. You look at the refurbished sewing machines, the scissors, the reams of fabric hung on the walls.

“I have this gorgeous dark blue fabric that just came in and would look perfect with your complexion.”

When Jennifer opens the far closet you're shocked at how much fabric is labeled and organized. She moves quickly, her eyes sharp as she spots the velvety fabric she was referencing.

“Jennifer, I don’t understand.”

“I’m making a dress for you,” she says almost skipping around the room eagerly. “For the party. You can’t go to the party in jeans and a sweater, despite what Luke thinks. Every girl needs a fancy dress and you don’t have any.”

She brings the fabric over to you and you wipe your hands on your jeans, feeling like they’re not clean enough to be touching such a luxurious looking piece of cloth. It’s soft under your fingertips, the color a deep midnight blue that reminds you of the nights under the moon. It takes your breath away.

“But that’ll take you so long.”

“No way, I’m so fast,” she says, ignoring the guilt in your eyes. “And I love making clothes so will you just shut up and let me make you something?”

You hiccup a laugh.

“Okay. But I’m making you so many pastries you’ll have to be carried out of your house.”

Jennifer laughs before she locks the front door to the shop, pulling down the blinds on the windows, confusing you.

"Here, come stand on the podium in your socks," she says grabbing the rest of her supplies. You do as she says, tossing off your boots at her instruction.

The podium is an overturned crate in front of a tall, skinny mirror. Hardly a boutique but from where you’re standing it feels like luxury. Sometimes you remember the days of scouring the mall with your sisters, trying on clothes and standing in front of big, beautiful mirrors from all angles. You were pretty then, insecure as all teenagers are, but you liked looking.

"Just go down to your bra and panties."

You hesitate at her request before you realize why she’s asking you to do this. She needs to measure you. Your cheeks flame as you do what she says, stepping out of your jeans, tugging off your sweater and leaving both in a pile beside the podium.

You don't look at yourself in the mirror; you actively turn to face away from it. You don't want to see how time has taken your looks and body. Don't want to focus on all that you don't have when you're in the same room as Jennifer. Your arms cover your chest in its flimsy bra and mismatched panties.

If Jennifer notices your insecurity she says nothing. She just comes over with measuring tape over her shoulder, holding it up to various parts of your body and making notes on a pad of paper.

“Any specific style you like?”

“I don’t know any styles,” you confess. “There was this one dress though in a magazine. The one I wanted for my sweet sixteen.”

Jennifer raises a brow at this. “Oh yeah?”

“Yeah. I mean, it’s probably stupid but I had it cut out for like three months. I was really excited about it. I saw it in this magazine and I asked my mom to get it made but . . . that was before… “

You don’t have to say it. Before everything went to shit. Jennifer nods, asking you to describe it. You close your eyes, trying your best to call forth the image of the dress. The one you thought would make you look sophisticated and beautiful. You describe it clumbsily, trying to motion with your hands where it had draped and where the shoulders fell and how it looked like little stars with rhinestones in the fabric.

For the next hour you stand facing away from the mirror as Jennifer drapes the fabric, pins it, furrows her brow and mutters. She does this often, muttering to herself and repositioning the clothing and asking you to twist this way and that.

Finally she nods with satisfaction.

"Turn around and tell me what you think."

You take a deep breath and spin, creaking open your eyes. You see your wincing expression as you turn to face the mirror and watch as it slowly morphs into surprise as you take in everything.

"Obviously it'll be smoother, no pins and..." Jennifer's voice fades into the background as you look at yourself.

The dress is a midnight sky blue fitted with small gold beads to look like stars. Jennifer has designed it to pinch at the waist and flow out to your ankles. The neckline is a sweetheart and the tight sleeves go just below your elbows. Perfect for the cold weather but also for dancing. You look like something out of a story, a princess or duchess.

You imagine yourself swishing around the dance floor and you could cry at all Jennifer is offering you because it’s more than a dress, it’s a feeling. It’s a reprieve from the darkness of this world.

You feel beautiful.

It's been so long since you've actually thought about your looks. So long since you've looked at clothing to accentuate your body instead of hiding it. So long since you actually felt beautiful. Tears burn the back of your eyes.

"You don’t like it?” Jennifer's reflection asks yours concerned. You blink back the tears before clearing your throat.

"It's... It's the most beautiful thing I've ever worn."

Jennifer squeals excitedly, hugging you around the shoulders when you step down from the podium. You laugh overjoyed as you embrace her back and realize not only do you have a dress, but somehow along the way you've made a best friend.

///

By the end of the week you're feeling better about things. You've gone to visit Maria a few times bringing more baking and flowers. She's pretty exhausted, in bed sleeping most of the time. But you still arrive and chat with her, rocking Douglas as you sit at the edge of her bed.

She's thankful for your company and you're happy to be there to support her. You never let your eyes linger on the bandages around her wrist. When she tries to apologize to you for what happened, you wave it away as you smooth the sheets over her.

"I don't need you to apologize for something you can't control."

Tommy is always nearby, hovering outside the bedroom. He doesn't like leaving Maria alone and you know that must compound his workload. The second time you arrive you do so with several meals ready to be cooked and eaten for he and Maria. You don’t miss the sheen to his dark eyes.

"She really looks forward to your visits," Tommy enthuses to you quietly as he takes them from you. "You're the only one she lets come see her."

The only thing is every time you see Maria your nightmares are bad, getting worse with every subsequent visit. But you can't stop seeing her, not after what Tommy said.

You haven't run into Joel since that afternoon, but you've been busy trying to be everything for everyone so it doesn’t shock you. Tomorrow you have patrols and you decide that once and for all when the two of you get a moment you’re going to ask him what it all meant. If the two of you are friends or if he regrets doing it. You need to know where he stands.

As for tonight, you're exhausted. You collapse into bed after a nice, steamy shower, bundling up with your quilts and hugging a pillow to your chest. You fall asleep fairly quickly, body curled on its side.

It’s nighttime and your dream self has gone to check the traps you normally check up on during patrols. Chestnut whinnies nearby as you leave him, your feet crunching over the snow until you see the empty traps. There is blood along the serrated edges of some, but nothing is there. You turn to head back but suddenly you’re all alone. You call to Chestnut, but there is nothing but the howl of wind.

This is when the dream changes.

You’re running through the snow, calling for Chestnut over and over. Tears are burning your face and your legs ache because no matter how fast and far you keep coming back to that same collection of trees.

You stop when your air is gone, leaving you panting and kneeling on the ground. Your head jerks up when your name is called and the form of your sister comes from around the tree. She stands looking at you in the snow, her eyes nothing but white.

“Where were you?”

You jerk up in bed soaking wet with your face tear-stained. You were crying in your sleep again. You throw yourself from your bedroom and rush to the toilet, emptying the day’s contents into the bowl.

You get into the shower after, scrubbing the nightmare and the sweat and vomit from you. You brush your teeth and change into fresh pyjamas. You strip the bed and put on new sheets and you tell yourself that now you’ll be able to go back to sleep as you see the time is nearly two am. Only your brain is full of people and places and things, memories of the last week that assault you.

Charlotte.

Blood.

Maria.

Death.

You toss and turn for an hour, feeling the panic starting to creep up your spine. The inability to go back to sleep is really stressing you out now. You have to get a good night sleep before patrols. Patrols are the one day a week when you need to be laser focused. Being exhausted means overlooking noises or movements, it means potentially being sluggish in reacting.

You hit your pillow in frustration when another half hour passes and you're no less tired. A cup of tea doesn't help and you've worked yourself up into a fit of tears.

Charlotte.

Blood.

Razors.

Maria.

Death.

Lying.

Jennifer

Luke

Lying

Oliver

Butcher

Blood

Kissing

Joel

Chestnut

Joel

Joel. Joel. Joel.

His name is on loop, still there when you pull on your heavy jacket and gloves, wrapping your scarf around your neck and tug on your boots.

Joel. Joel. Joel.

Still there when you make your way through the dark night towards Rancher Street in desperate search of deep brown eyes.

Joel. Joel. Joel.

The sound of his name in your head dims slightly when you knock gently on the door, praying someone hears you. But when nothing moves inside you give up, feeling pathetic for having come here in the first place. What were you thinking?

You’re at the first step when the door creaks open and your voice is whispered in a familiar husky baritone. You turn, seeing Joel in pajama pants and a tight white t-shirt that strains around his biceps. Despite everything you can’t stop the pulse that starts at the sight of it.

"You okay?"

You step towards him, keeping your voice at a whisper like his. Joel rubs his hands together, chasing away the cold from his fingertips. He blinks sleepily, carding his fingers through his tousled waves as you nod.

"Yeah."

"It's late."

"I know. I'm just... I just-" you can't find the words. You can't explain why it has you here at Joel's door at three in the morning. Joel steps forward, his eyes flicking around the darkened houses of the neighborhood before landing back on your face.

"Tell me."

"I had a nightmare," you whisper. "A bad one."

The "so what?" is there in the slow blink he offers you. He shifts wearily, placing his shoulder against the door frame and staring at you through sleepily lowered lids.

“Okay?”

"I need you to make it go quiet."

Joel raises a brow at your hushed confession; confusion clouding his features before realization belatedly crystallizes there. You’re sure he’s going to turn you down but instead he steps back, head tilting to indicate you should enter.

"Come in. Just be quiet, Ellie's sleepin'."

You nod, moving across the threshold without hesitation and allowing him to lead you to the stairs by his silhouette. His hand reaches for you in the darkness, helping you up the stairs in the shadows. His palm slides down your forearm until his fingers lace with yours.

You take it gratefully, navigating after him until you reach the threshold of his room. He pushes the door open with the tips of his fingers and it creaks gently. You follow him wordlessly, feeling a slight shiver go through you as he closes the door behind you both.

Seeing Joel's room is surreal. In all the times on patrol you'd painted him as this otherworldly monster. A man more at home in a cave then a house. And yet here is this room that even in the darkness you can tell is peaceful and simple. Pale blue walls meet white wainscoting, a comfortable looking king bed lays unmade near the window. There is a pale grey rug on the floor, simple dresser and a guitar hung over by his closet. You think you see a record player and some LP’s, but that’s not your focus right now.

Joel removes his fingers from yours so that he can look at you head on, his arms across his chest like they always are when he’s confused. You stare down to see him wearing white cotton socks tonight. Something about it makes your heart jump. He’s so human in this house with its light walls and soft looking pillows on the bed.

“Why’re you really here?”

You stare at him, feeling your face go hot.

“I need you to tell me what to do.”

"Need or want?" Joel asks quietly, his dark eyes scanning yours. "Which is it?"

"Both."

"Why me?"

"Huh?"

"You got that boyfriend of yours," Joel murmurs, tongue trailing over his front teeth lazily. "Why not go to him?"

"Wh-I don't have a boyfriend," you say confused, your mind reaching for how Joel got to that conclusion.

As you do you notice now that Joel is slowly circling you, shark-like, looking for blood in the water; a weakness. One foot in front of the other, each step slow and measured. His arm brushes yours as his meaning belatedly hits you and your eyes squint over your shoulder at him.

"Wait, do you mean Luke?"

Joel's tanned face is muted and he stops his pacing directly in front of you.

"Mhm... Luke."

He spits the name out like it tastes sour on his tongue. You wince at the man being brought up, it feels like a strange third party has intruded this moment between you and Joel and you don't like it.

"He's not - we're not. No, that's not-" you shake your head sputtering, feeling flustered. "That's not us."

Joel cocks his head, his eyes narrowed.

"He turn you down?"

"No," you defend feeling both offended and exposed, head jerking back. "We've... It's not like that with him. He's just my friend."

"You never go to him for this?" Joel purrs, his eyes slanted to you. "He never make it go quiet for you?"

"No."

"He’s no good at it?"

"No. I've just never asked him to do it."

You're not surprised to feel your cheeks prickling with more heat at the readiness of that reply.

"Only me," Joel amends in a rasped hush.

You sigh up at him. "Only you."

Joel stands there a moment longer and then his hand moves to your wrist, fingertips touching your fluttering pulse and tugging. You watch your hand as if it's disembodied, taking in as Joel lowers it, and how he curves your fingers around the vee of his pajama pants.

His cock is already hard and warm and comes alive in your tentative grip. Joel grunts softly when you give an experimental squeeze.

"This what you came for?" He asks in a rough whisper.

You nod.

He keeps your hand there slowly caressing his cock, his free hand moving down between your legs. He has to crouch slightly to do it, his legs longer than yours. He slides his fingers between the seam of your slit through your sleep shorts. You know he can tell they're already sopping.

"And this?"

"Y-yes," you exhale.

There's hesitation in him, a flash of it behind his eyes that trail over your face. He slides his fingers from between your legs and removes your hand from him. You're trembling in the semi darkness with him, eyes stuck on his face.

He lowers his head, coming level with yours.

You don't flinch when his wide hand comes to rest at the back of your neck. Fingers slowly dig into the flesh and muscles there, urging your face towards his. You observe that his eyes are stuck on your quivering lips.

"And this?"

His voice is so quiet, so husky. Your mouth is barely a graze away from his and you pray he can't hear the way you breathe so shakily. You lick your lips nervously, trying to find your voice to answer. He tilts his mouth as you part yours.

"Y-"

The word dies on your tongue the second Joel's mouth crashes into yours. It's all frantic and needy and clashing teeth and the strong feeling that Joel is trying to consume you, to steal your soul from your body. His arms wrap around your body, like he's never going to let you go before he pulls himself back.

You're confused when Joel starts to peel the clothing from his body. He's never done this before. Never let you see all of him bare, even if it is in the silvery moonlight seeping in through his windowpane.

You see the scar on his belly, the one you saw glimpses of that night of the snowstorm. Your fingers itch to touch it, to trace them down the jagged line but you worry he'd be upset and you don’t want that, especially not tonight.

Joel sits himself on the edge of the bed, muscled thighs spread wide so you can see his jutting length. He sits with confidence, his broad chest a beautiful gold color even in the semi darkness of his bedroom. You long to touch him, but you stay standing there at his knees.

"We're gonna do it my way, yeah?"

"Yeah."

Joel nods before glancing over to the bedside table. You watch as his beautifully nude form tilts back, biceps curling as he holds himself back, looking at you.

"You're gonna take off all your clothes," Joel finally tells you as his cock twitches. "And you're gonna come stand right here in front of me."

Immediately you feel an intense relief at his words. Joel is taking charge. Joel is going to make it go quiet.

Joel Joel Joel.

You wonder what it'll be tonight. Will he kiss you more? Will he spend the night making you come with his tongue and lips like the snowstorm? Will he urge your mouth along his bobbing length?

You don't care, anything he wants he can have, anything he offers you’ll happily take.

You pull off your clothes without hesitation, letting them fall to the ground in a quiet pile. Joel watches the clothing fall and when you’re fully nude his wide hands come to pull you between his parted legs. You continue to stand, looking down at him, his mouth mere inches from your heaving chest.

Silhouetted by the moon Joel takes his time travelling from your feet up to your face. Joel’s eyes devour you; that’s the only way to describe it. You see his eyes linger on the scar under your sternum and you quickly go to shield your chest and sex feeling shy. Joel’s eyes flick to your face and you wait for him to chastise you, but he doesn’t.

You watch as instead he shuffles back into the center of his bed, his muscled back resting against the wood headboard. When he’s settled he looks at you, a large hand patting the empty blanket next to him.

“Come ‘ere.”

You pause only out of surprise at the request. Joel seems to take this as refusal and you watch as his jaw tightens, but he says nothing. He just sits there, his heavy cock twitching.

You feel strange crawling into his bed, atop his soft blue sheets. But you do it anyway, crawling over to him with a hopeful look on your face. The bed is still warm from when he was sleeping. You kneel between his legs, expecting that he’ll want oral.

"Get on my lap.”

You swallow nervously as you look at him, eyes lingering on the scar at his side before going back to his face. Timidly you reach your forearms forward, place them on his warm shoulders. Joel nods, approvingly. It compels you to shuffle forward, his cock bobbing against your abdomen.

Delight sparks in your belly, like a flame being struck. What he’s offering is something you are shocked to find you desperately want. You lift a leg over his, delicately bracketing him before you pause. To sit on his lap means to take him all at once from this angle and you're not sure that you can.

He watches silently as your forearms rest on his shoulders, the heat of your naked bodies warming one another. Your eyes flick to his cock and you swallow before darting them back to his impassive face.

"Will you help me?"

Joel's expression appears to soften at your quiet request.

“We don’t have t-“

“I want to.” Your voice holds no tremor of indecision. “Please, Joel.”

A large hand finds itself pressing against your lower back and you stagger not to fall forward in your semi-crouched position.

"You really want this?”

You nod.

“Be good for me.”

You have no intention of being bad for Joel. Not tonight, not when just being here with him is chasing all the tendrils of your nightmares away.

With a slow inhale you allow him to guide the mushroom head of his cock between your folds, while the other hand holds you in place. At the first brush of him against your clit you're shocked at how wet you are.

Joel exhales in what feels like approval.

You can't help but chance a look down between your legs to watch it happening. Joel's eyes follow yours; darkening as his cock nudges your clit once more. You jolt pleasurably, your nipples tightening. Joel pauses before sliding back, coating himself in the start of your honeyed release.

Your hips roll without thought and when the tip of him nudges into your core you can't help but let out a small coo. Joel pauses, eyes fixed on your pulsing cunt before he slots himself there at your entrance. You both hold him there, your hands on his shoulders, your thighs burning from holding yourself in position on either side of him.

His wide hands slide up your bare thighs slowly, leaving little bolts of pleasure in their wake. You watch as his hands and eyes soak in everything that yours do, the gold of his lower belly, the thick of his cock, the way both of you are breathing loudly. Finally his broad hands land on your hips, his thumb on the crease of your trembling thigh.

"Sink on it."

His voice is rough and low and he doesn't tear his eyes away from where you are about to connect. You don't know how long it's been for Joel, but it's been a while for you. So when your hips widen further and you finally sink onto the head of his cock you give out a stuttering whimper.

Joel's grip on your hips tightens, fingertips dimpling into the flesh to stop your further descent.

His dark eyes move from where you connect to flick back up to your face, a brow raised, you okay?

You nod, breathing shakily. He waits a few moments before his grip lessens, hands still curved around your hips but no longer stopping you.

Your eyes stay fixed on his cock, intimidated at the size, exhilarated at being so close to him, caught up in your own head as to what all of this means. The side of his forefinger's knuckle taps the bottom of your chin, startling you into looking back at his face.

"Eyes on me."

You nod again, eyes fixed to his steady gaze and you feel exposed. Like he can read everything in your eyes. His knuckles hook under your chin, guiding your lips to his and you eagerly crane forward, eyes falling shut.

His mouth moves to yours, pressing firmly. You sigh gently into his mouth, melting against him. Your arms curl around his neck, holding him as you continue to sink onto his length. The pleasure begins to chase away the sting of his intrusion; you feel your body start to move.

"Just like that," he purrs, his forehead pressing to yours. You know he’s watching again, utterly entranced with the sight of his cock disappearing into you.

Despite his size you're managing to accommodate him, even though you're thighs burn and your pussy is stretched further than it's ever been. You do as he says, skin prickling with delight as his hands grip the plush of your hips as you take him to the hilt, your cunt flush against the full hair at the base of his cock.

He stretches you soundly, bumping up against your walls, filling you full of him until your ass meets his thighs. You both let out a groan in unison; his is a husky lower register and yours high and broken.

Joel is inside of you.

The two of you sit like this in the silence of mutual realization. That you're more connected than ever before - not fingers or tongues, but him filling you to the brim and you accepting it. Joel groans lowly when you shift, his calloused hands resting against the outer top of your thighs.

For a moment the two of you just sit there looking at one another. You take this opportunity to look at the lines between his brows, the full of his pouty lips, the grey poking through his beard. He stares back at you, his eyes dancing around your features. You wonder what he sees.

Fuck," he says out of nowhere. "Fuck, one sec."

You're confused when he lifts you from his lap, urging you to kneel above the vee of his legs.

You watch as Joel reaches into the bedside table to retrieve a little silver foil. His body stretches when he does that, allowing you to admire the strength of his arms, the ripple of his muscled back.

He sits back and takes the condom from its sheath. And the moment isn't ruined; it isn't taken away by this preparation like you thought it might be. Instead you're thankful because you realize you want him to finish when he's inside of you.

And when he finishes rolling the condom down his length you don't wait for him to tell you to come back. You crawl into his lap eagerly, elbows crooked around his neck before you sink onto him with a muffled sigh against his cheek.

Joel's arms are around your waist immediately, grunting when he feels you urge him to go deeper. You pull back, wanting to see his expression as he slides into you. And when your ass hits the top of his thighs and he sits fully sheathed within you once again, you're gratified to see his eyes blown dark before rolling back into his head.

“Fuck.”

You stare into his face as you begin to shift, experimentally starting to slide along him the best you can. He holds you tightly against his body. The two of you rise and fall together, the creak of the bed and your mingled groans the symphony for your actions.

Joel’s head is tilted back, little huffs of air escaping with each twist of your hips. Joel moves his large hands on your hips, guiding your movements back and forth slowly, causing your clit to brush up against his pubic bone at a delicious angle.

"Doin' so good for me," he murmurs, his eyes shuttering. The praise warms you from the inside out, sending tiny bolts of lightning skittering up the top of your thighs.

You can only hear his voice and the sounds you both make in this room. Your head is so blissfully full of Joel and empty of all fears that you don't realize you're smiling until Joel quirks his brow at you.

"Somethin' funny?"

You can only shake your head in a slow daze, like you're coated in molasses. Joel's eyes scan your face, drinking in your expression and you think he understands because his grip tightens. You know he can see your glassy, hooded expression and the way your mouth hangs open scant inches from his. You know that he knows nothing is funny to you right now; everything is just so blissfully perfect and quiet.

He kisses you fiercely, his hands gripping you tightly as he bounces you faster along his length, chasing his own high. The clapping of flesh, the sporadic grunts, the ripples of increasing pleasure

"S'okay," he murmurs there, his voice rumbling against your throat. "I'm gonna take care a' you tonight."

There's a tenderness in his tone tonight, a husky promise that you'll be stripped free of your anxieties. The tenderness makes you melt against him, your body pliant; a willing vessel for everything he'll give.

He brings you so flush against him you're convinced he can feel your heartbeat. You moan softly while he bounces you gently in his lap, the sensation of pleasure building with each pass of his cock gliding against your clit and hitting you deep within your core.

"Uh huh, that's right," Joel says approvingly, nodding as he stares back at you with a slow nod. "Feels good doesn't it?"

You nod dumbly, feeling as his cock saws between your legs at a steady pace. Words fail you, only your body can answer him with the way it responds to him. Your arms are loose on his shoulders and your mouth is open in a silent scream when he tilts you back, hitting your walls in such a way that you contract deliciously all over.

“Mhm,” Joel groans, watching your brows saddle. “Atta girl.”

He lifts you gently as he thrusts up into you, burrowing between your legs with a measured calm that belies the lust-blown gaze he keeps on your face. The look that has your lower belly jumping and your cunt tightening.

And suddenly the eye contact is too much. It's too much and your eyes are rolling back as your orgasm comes crashing down out of nowhere. Quiet, quiet and then.... A thundering tidal wave of sensation.

One that has you pitching your head against Joel's shoulder, your moan coming from somewhere deep within your body. Like a newborn's cry, lusty and unused, waiting to touch the air for the first time.

“Just like that," Joel pants, hips jumping. "Just like that. You take it. Lemme make it go quiet for you.”

The bed creaks gently and you feel the tacky sweat on Joel's shoulders. You can't help yourself but lick at the skin there, salty and damp.

You cry out something intelligible into the curve of his broad shoulder, your elbows crooked around his neck as you cling to him. Joel's one arm is banded around your middle, the other hand cradling the back of your head. You twitch against him, clinging to him as if you're scared to let him go.

"Again," he orders softly, stroking a hand down your spine as he says it.

You’re momentarily disorientated when you feel his body twisting, his cock slipping from between your legs. He’s holding you tightly in his grip as he lays you down in his bed, your spine kissing the blanket over the mattress.

He kisses you the entire time, groaning softly as he maneuvers your legs to fall open, the glossy head of cock at your entrance.

“Want more?”

“Yes,” you gasp, your eyes going to his cock, watching as he feeds it into you from this angle. The sensation is even better than before. It makes your grip onto his waist as he fills you, making your pussy sting from the width of him.

Your thighs spread wide for him, cradling him there as he thrusts slowly and measured. He watches your face intently the entire time, almost to the point where you wonder if something is the matter with it, if he's seeing your faults. Under such perceived scrutiny you turn your head to the side, your thighs still cradling his hips as he thrusts into you.

Immediately his hands are on either side of your face, urging you to look back to him. He pushes the hair from your eyes before his thumbs begin trailing over your lower lip in unison.

"Don't hide from me."

He holds himself there above you, hands holding you as you attempt a shallow nod.

"Okay."

Joel smiles gently, an uptick at the corner of his mouth. You watch as his eyes fall to your mouth and your pulse pounds.

Joel's head tilts to capture your mouth in a gentle kiss. One that he doesn't break even as he flexes slowly into you. You kiss him back immediately, sighing at the sensation of his tongue dabbing yours.

He takes his time teasing your lips with his, exploring your mouth with his tongue as your jaw opens, silently begging him to taste every inch of you.

His arms are under your shoulder blades, holding you in an embrace while your fingers lace around this neck. You both rest your foreheads against one another, you bodies moving in sync, like the flow of the tide in and out.

As the pleasure increases between your legs you have the realization that sex never felt like this with Chiyo, or any of the nameless men back in the QZ's. You never felt held or desired like this. The way Joel is gazing at you and embracing you has you quivering under him.

His body dips, heavily resting on you as he saws between your legs. Your ankles go to link behind him and you feel him drive deeper into you.

His hand loosens your wrists before flying to land on the mattress at either side of you. He tilts back slightly, watching his glazed cock fuck into you. You're glossy and wet at the top of your inner thighs, your mouth swollen from his stubbled kisses.

"Joel," you whimper, lips pressed to his ear. You feel him shiver, a groan pulled from low in his belly at the sound of his name.

"Say my name again," Joel murmurs against the corner of your mouth.

"Joel," you breathe, eyes locked on his. You're completely swept up in the moment, body flexing against his. "Joel, I'm gonna-"

"I know," he groans, his hips slowly curving as you ride him. "Let go for me."

And it's not a command or an order. It's a sweet urge of open desire written in his features. The shadow of a breathless grin as he watches you crest. You feel the blissful freedom of no fear, only pleasure by the one man you never would have imagined could make you feel this perfect.

"That’s it," he manages when tilt your head back into the pillow. "Fuckin' made for my cock weren't you?"

He's babbling, so close to his own climax that you know he's just saying words. But you want to cry back yes, I was! Because it feels like you were. Like his body was meant to be yours, you were meant to nestle him inside you like this, his arms meant to wrap around you.

His lips find yours as his hips pick up speed. He licks into your mouth, groaning as he pistons himself between your legs, your arms wrapped around one another tightly. It feels safe and it feels comforting. It makes the world go quiet but in a different way, one that confuses you as you begin to crest, your mouths pulling apart as he murmurs your name.

He takes your wrists in his left hand, pinning them above your head. You gasp in surprise at this which soon fades into a sigh as his mouth finds your nipples. You arch into him as he kisses and licks and sucks them into straining points, his hips never stopping their gyrating.

"Fuckin’ perfect," he huffs against your throat. "Every inch 'a you."

You roll your hips, preening when you hear him groan again, only this time it's low and rich and makes your skin prickle deliciously.

"Wish I wasn't wearin a condom," he grunts, his body undulating against yours. "Wanna fuck you full 'a me."

For whatever reason this comment from him sends your pitching over the edge of arousal, your cunt tightening as you cry out. You twitch against him, clinging to him as if you're scared to let him go. His deep voice is breathless, his full mouth resting against your earlobe as he begins to fuck into you without abandon.

“Come for me.”

And then it happens, almost on top of the last one. Like he made it happen just by demanding it. This one has you crying out his name sharply before letting it dissolve on his tongue when his mouth reaches yours. You feel his hips stutter, his moans turning into gibberish like that’s it, you needed my cock didn’t you? Just my fuckin cock like a-

And then just as Joel comes, so do you. A third, unexpected time.

Only it's nothing like you've ever felt before. Everything inside of your body lights up and then lets go at once. Your entire body twitches and the sensation of your orgasm is making your ears go momentarily dim, your vision blurry before whiting out completely.

It terrifies you.

"Hey, hey, you okay?"

You’re groping in the darkness, terrified until your vision seems to come back to you. You blink rapidly to find yourself in Joel’s lap. He’s sitting with you in the bed, holding you against him. His eyes look concerned and as you come back to yourself you feel his hands embracing you.

“Hey, say somethin’.”

Joel's voice sounds far away, like he's underwater. You know he's holding you, you know you're awake but you feel... Weak. Wrung out.

“Joel…”

It’s all you can manage before unexpected tears slip down the end of your nose and land on Joel's chest no one is more surprised than you when he pulls you flush against him.

“You’re okay,” he tells you as you sniffle.

He begins to rock you there in his lap and while his chest is hard the muscled arms that hold you do so with tenderness that cause more tears to flow. You can’t explain what’s happening, you don’t understand it yourself.

"I got you, I got you," he croons.

And you believe him.

You cling to him, crying gently into his chest, marveling at the warmth of him, the strength of him and the safety you feel with him. It makes you drowsy, all the emotions of the evening coming to hit you all at once.

You don’t know how it happens, but you fall asleep in his arms, startling yourself awake minutes later to find you’re tucked into his bed, your pajamas back on your body. You can hear him in the bathroom and you realize that this is when you should leave. When you should thank him for how he helped you and go.

But his bed is so soft and comfortable and he's making no indication that you need to leave. In fact you feel him settle in behind you as he returns from the bathroom in just his sleep pants and your heart leaps when you feel him shuffle towards you.

"I should go," you start, no conviction in your tone.

"No rush," he murmurs back.

Joel's curling around you, a massive arm thrown over your waist. You feel a tingle when he pulls you back against him, your bottom against his hips.

His hand comes to cup your stomach under your sleep shirt, fingers splaying over your midsection as he settles, his fingertips trailing over the scar. You hold your breath waiting for him to ask. But instead he simply presses a kiss to your shoulder before murmuring huskily.

“Did it work? Is it quiet?”

“Yes,” you whisper gratefully. “It is.”

Notes:

SPOILER WARNINGS - TRIGGER WARNINGS BELOW.
YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED.
sad tags: self harm, descriptions of self harm, blood, PTSD.
happy tags: mutual pining, idiots in love, p in v (FINALLY), dirty talk, emotional sex, soft!Joel is here and I love him.

Chapter 16: Will you tell me?

Notes:

You know, when this story first began not a lot of people were reading it or commenting on it. I guess because it was darker than my normal stuff. But somehow it found the right audience, the sweetest people and it makes my heart smile. Thanks for loving this darker tale, thank you for commenting and making my fingers tippy tap. I hope you enjoy this chapter which has been one of my favorites to write (hopefully you see why).

Chapter Text

You start awake a few short hours later, your body warm and your eyes burning with fatigue.

It takes you a moment to register that you're not in your own bed with its familiar blankets. You're in bed with Joel Miller, a barely dressed Joel Miller. His large body is radiating heat against your spine behind you, his breathing slow and deep. He's still asleep, a strong arm slung over your waist. Because you came here hours previous begging for him to fuck you. You flush, feeling embarrassment creeping up your chest.

Judging by the barely pink sky outside its early morning, just nearing breakfast. And yet you don't feel compelled to move. You're in that strange limbo between awake and asleep, warm and drowsy but slightly alert.

Should you get up? Make a hasty exit?

You blink quickly, clearing the blur of sleep from your eyes. You're able to take in more details of the room, the wood horse bookends on the shelf by the window, the deep blue of the blanket over top you both, the cracked watch that rests on his bedside table.

You also see a pair of reading glasses and you feel a smirk cross your features. Joel Miller needs reading glasses? Something about that makes you feel warm inside.

You focus back on the bookshelf across the room, hidden in the darkness from you the night before. As you lie there you scan the titles, curious as to what a man like Joel reads.

The Phantom of the Opera

Canterbury Tales

You weren't expecting those titles to greet you. You'd thought truck magazines, if you were being honest with yourself. You want to look at more but Joel shuffles, arm flexing around your waist.

You hear his breathing lighten behind you, slowly coming into consciousness. His arm around you tenses. You keep your breathing slow and measured like you're still asleep. Your eyes remain lightly closed.

You wait for the disgusted shove or the grumbled irritation when he realizes you’ve spent the night. You receive neither. Instead you feel his arm tighten against you and delicately pull.

He's tugging you closer to him.

Your heart is in your throat and you fight to stay calm. It's hard when Joel's arm is around you and he's tucking your head under his chin. What's even stranger is that you don't fight him on it. You let yourself be pressed against his broad chest. You almost sigh at how good it feels to be snuggled up together like this. He’s so warm, his body curling around you like a shell. It makes you feel gooey and soft for him. It makes you think about how good last night felt.

And you know why. It’s been apparent for a while now. You have feelings for Joel that are not of the neutral variety. You don’t know when they morphed from irritation into something that has you vulnerable in his arms. The unfortunate thing is Joel is definitely not thinking of you past having you in his bed.

Or is he?

Just then you feel his nose at the back of your head, trailing and inhaling gently. You hear as Joel's breathing deepens and you don't miss the swell of his cock starting against your lower back. Immediately you’re aroused but also terrified.

What does this mean?

You want to turn over and ask him, but even more you want to escape home before the day shines a spotlight on your walk home. You brought only your sleep clothes and an overcoat. Nosy people in town will easily put two and two together. The thought of it makes your body tighten with anxiety.

Joel must feel you tensing as you begin waking up in his bed because he holds a little firmer.

"S'still early," Joel murmurs into your hair. "Go back to sleep."

You're stunned by his casual response. You'd assumed he'd be more anxious about you still being in his bed here in his home.

"Joel, what about Ellie-"

"That kid never wakes up before ten unless I bang pots and pans," Joel promises, rolling closer to you. He’s warmed from slumber, his body curling around you protectively. He’s still hard, but he makes no move to do anything about it.

Your eyes fall shut and it would be so easy to just give into this warmth that seeps out of everything in his home. From the simple, beautiful decorations to the scent of wood shavings and laundry. It’s all so Joel, it’s all so. . . You don’t have words. You allow yourself a moment to surrender, nestling back against him as he sighs sleepily.

A hand comes to cup your stomach, fingers splaying over your midsection before climbing higher, fingertips trailing over the scar. He whispers roughly against your ear.

"I wanna know what this is from."

Something about the tenderness of his voice makes you have to blink back the tears starting at your waterline. Your voice is still cracked from sleep.

“My sister-”

A crow outside caws, a warning, startling you. You pull away from Joel sharply as if just remembering yourself.

"I should get back."

"S' fine."

But it's not fine. It's six in the morning which means several people from town will be awake. What if Jennifer decides on an early morning walk? Or her friend sees you walking with Joel back to your house like she saw you before? How will you explain that?

Joel gives a yawn, sensing your unease.

"Gimme five minutes and I'll walk you home."

"You don't have to do that," you insist.

Despite wanting to remain there in his bed all day wrapped in his arms you slowly extricate yourself from his grip, rolling off the edge of the bed. His fingertips trail along your hip as he begins to wake fully.

"You stay here where it's warm," you insist as you tug on your clothing. "I'll be fine."

Joel watches you get dressed silently, one eye cracked to take in your heated cheeks and the way you can't meet his gaze as you cover your nudity. He shifts onto his back lying in bed, one arm propped beneath his neck. He stares at you through drowsy eyes.

"We should probably pick out the tree soon," Joel says in a voice scratchy with sleep as you get dressed. When you don't answer he adds: “You still up for it?”

You're distracted, your fingers shaking as you attempt to button up your coat.

"Uh yeah, sure," you mutter. "I'll ask Jennifer."

You tug on your boots before standing awkwardly beside the bed.

You feel so awkward right now. You can't communicate exactly why, Joel isn't making it weird - you are. You're acting like a headless chicken, all jerky motions and eyes that fall everywhere in the room but his face.

"I'll, uh, see you at patrols."

Joel nods at you, his jaw tight. You don't know what he's thinking and right now you can't take time to figure it out. You're only focus is getting home before the rest of the town sees you.

You run home, your boots slapping against the half melted snow. You know you look insane in your sleep clothes and winter jacket with oversized boots. You're at the end of your street when a figure trailing between houses nearly takes your breath away.

Luke.

He's got his attention on a piece of paper in his hand, the free fingers playing notes in the air. It's sheet music.

You slide behind a nearby tree, praying that Luke didn't see you. He looks distracted enough, humming to himself as he looks at the notes on the page.

You don't know how you'd explain saying him in your current state. Your fucked-out hair with the scent of Joel clinging to you. Fuck you want to be back in his bed so much right now. You want his mouth on yours and his body pressed tightly to you.

Why did you leave? Was it just fear of being caught? Or was it something deeper? A fear of liking that it was Joel holding you? A fear that liking someone like Joel is like going into a minefield with a life preserver? He’s moody and unpleasant and you can’t get a read on him half the time. And yet there’s sincerity and vulnerability in him, the kind that makes him soft and sweet and-

Stop it. Focus on what you’re doing.

You glance over your shoulder to see Luke has moved to the next street over and you heave a sigh of relief. You have no desire to talk to Luke right now, not when you smell strongly of Joel’s soap and sex.

"What are you doing?"

You give a squeak at the voice, whipping around to see Jennifer smirking at you. She looks fresh as a daisy, out for a morning walk. She takes a look at your outfit and wild hair and she giggles.

"What are you doing outside wearing that?"

"Oh I was- I thought- I think I dropped something out here last night. I was just looking for it."

"What?"

"Huh?"

Jennifer gives you a patient smile. "What do you think you dropped, hun?"

You scramble to think of something.

"Oh this uh, necklace from a friend. Sometimes I like to take it out and look at it. I was wearing it the other day and maybe I lost it?"

"Oh shit." Jennifer is immediately concerned, her eyes falling to the fresh snow. "Let me help you look."

"No, wait, its okay," you say rubbing a hand anxiously through your hair. "It's actually; I'm an idiot because it's actually in my bedroom. I just remembered."

Jennifer is looking at you strangely, cocking her head slightly to the side.

"You're weird today."

"I'm actually weird every day, you just don't notice it because you're used to it."

Jennifer laughs loudly, and relief floods your body, making you feel lightheaded.

"Okay weirdo, I wanted to talk to you. Big news. I'll meet you for breakfast in, what, fifteen minutes?"

"Sure."

You watch her head towards the dining hall and you exhale shakily.

That was too fucking close.

On your way to breakfast a short while later, freshly showered, you pass the notice board in the center of town, your eyes drawn to the carefully cut out paper snowflakes which are pinned to the cork.

Townhall meeting Monday

Beside it is a white poster page adorned with penguin cut outs. It rests next to the potluck sign up for the event.

Winter Celebration

When: 5-10pm

Where: Church

Your stomach swoops as you think about the upcoming dinner and dance. Not because of the people but because of a certain someone you desperately want to see there.

You want him to see you in the dress Jennifer is making for you. You want him to think you're beautiful. You want him to spin you around and hold you in his arms. You want tender moments like last night but out in the open without the fear of Jennifer hating you for it.

Stop jumping ahead. He fucked you as a favor. Stop planning the wedding.

You force your eyes to the yellow lost and found poster, try track to push all romantic notions from your mind.

Lost my kid's sled around Main Street. Blue with green dots. Please return to Hannah at 21 Blossom Ave.

Then your eyes find the ripped paper near the corner where a simple sketch of a woman's jacket rests next to text.

For trade: Sketched Portraits will trade for women's jacket (small). I come with lots of experience. Talk to Arthur 64 Pine.

You forgot that Arthur did portraits. Something clicks in your mind and you store it away, jogging the rest of the way to the dining hall where Jennifer waits for you, beaming when she catches your eye.

"So I saw Oliver out walking yesterday afternoon," Jennifer grins when you grab a tray and join her, "and I thought about what you said. So I went up and introduced myself and we started talking and... I invited him back to my place."

Your eyes blow wide.

"No no, not for that," Jennifer says with tinkling laughter. "For coffee! We got to chatting and we actually have a ton in common."

Relief hits you so acutely that you actually feel your blood restarting its heavy pump in your veins making you feel momentarily sluggish.

"That's amazing, Jen."

"We made plans for this weekend, gonna play cards at my house and then going for a drink at the Bison. I'm actually really excited."

"I'm so happy for you," you insist honestly. "I can't wait to hear all about it!"

“Of course,” she says. “I tell you everything!”

A slap across the face would have stung less.

You need to tell her the truth. Joel might be pissed off that you shared but you need to confess that you have feelings for him to Jennifer. How angry could she be?

Jennifer, I have feelings for Joel.

There, simple and straight forward. You don’t have to give her all the gory details. Just simple, adroit and to the point.

You open your mouth to speak, but as you do it’s as if all the memories you’ve made with Jennifer in these past few months filter through your brain. If Jennifer takes this poorly there will be no best friend to giggle with. No dress made. No one to learn how to shoot targets made. Your life will have a gaping Jennifer-sized hole and the thought terrifies you.

And despite knowing how wrong it is and despite knowing that you are an absolute coward for it, you change the topic entirely.

"Are you able to make me a woman's jacket in small? I have a few books I could trade you."

“You need a jacket?” she says glancing at you up and down, obviously knowing your measurements and knowing you’re not a size small.

“No, it’s for someone else.”

Jennifer nods, poking at her eggs.

“Anything you wanna tell me?” Jennifer says after a few moments pause. You gaze at her with a concerned look.

“Huh?”

“You weren’t out looking for a necklace this morning,” Jennifer says with a roll of her eyes. “I know a walk of shame when I see it.”

Your face goes scarlet at the implication and Jennifer practically crows victoriously when you don’t reply.

“I fucking knew it! Was it Luke? Tell me everything.”

Tell her the truth. Tell her.

But that familiar fear that greets you outside the wall of Jackson City has its grips on you now. The fear that makes your throat tighten and your legs go cold. The fear of the unknown. Of what awaits the minute your confession is spoken aloud. The idea that if you tell her, the friendship that you’ve cultivated, the thing that at times has kept you going may dissipate.

Jennifer seems to sense your unease.

“Oh fine, keep your secrets,” she says laughing cheerfully. “Sure, I can whip a jacket up for you in a day or two. But would you make me some of those paper flowers in purple? I really want ‘em for my kitchen."

Your cheeks hurt from how wide you grin.

"Yes, of course. I'll even throw in another baking lesson too."

Jennifer beams. "You've got a deal."

"Who's got a deal?"

A familiar voice curls over your shoulder like a hand. Luke is there, smiling down at you both, holding a tray before he takes a seat next to Jennifer, his eyes on you.

"Jennifer and I are doing a trade, is all."

Luke nods, starting to cut into his pancakes. He doesn’t try to dig for further information, it’s not his style. And you’re grateful for it –you don’t think you want to get into why you’re asking for it in the first place.

"You two coming to my first live performance?" Luke asks, sliding a square of butter over his breakfast stack. “I’ve been practicing and could use the support.”

You think of him not that long ago going over his sheet music looking anxious. Like you, he was probably up early with anxiety. Unlike you however, he didn’t have the stress relief that you did. Joel’s husky croon is there in your ear, a seductive phantom.

I'm gonna take care a' you tonight.

Made for my cock weren't you?

Fuckin’ perfect, every inch 'a you.

It makes you cross your legs under the table, squeezing your thighs for relief. Jennifer glances from across the room to look back over at Luke.

"When is it?"

"Tomorrow night." Luke takes a bite of his pancake. "Should be pretty shitty but what else do you have to do around here at night?"

The two of you laugh at this, admitting that Jackson city isn't exactly bustling when it comes to nighttime recreation. You agree to go together to support your friend and Luke looks relieved. You watch as Jennifer winces, her laughter dying.

"Oop, your favorite person just walked in."

Jennifer glances over your head and you feel your stomach clench. Joel. Everything in you is attuned to him, everything in you wants to run over there and take his hand in yours.

"Oh great," you mutter, trying not to look suspicious.

"He's headed over," she smiles. "Brace yourself."

You fold your hands on the table, suddenly anxious. You tug at the end of your forefinger, an anxious habit. Luke notes the chapped color of your hands just as Joel steps beside you at the table.

“Are you cold?”

“Nah, I’m fine,” you reply to Luke just as you notice Joel at your shoulder. He’s dressed for the cold and he smells amazing. His large hands hang casually at his side and you find you can’t look away from them.

“Mornin’all,” he offers to the table.

“Morning Joel,” Jennifer replies breathily while Luke just offers a brief wave of greeting.

Despite moving onto Oliver you don’t miss how Jennifer bats her eyes up at Joel across the table from you. For the first time since your friendship and her admitted crush on Joel you feel a flare of irritation, one that forms a single thought in your mind: back off.

“’Fore I forget, we really should find a day to get the tree marked," Joel says to the table, shifting onto one hip as he stands. His fingers are dangerously close to you. "They're cutting down a bunch for houses and firewood. We'll get stuck with somethin’ shitty if we don’t."

“Totally,” Jennifer replies, her expression dreamy. Is she thinking about Joel or Oliver? And if she is thinking about Joel what does it matter? You fucked him, why do you think you have some agency over his love-life?

Because you want him for yourself.

The territorial realization makes you choke on your eggs, causing all eyes at the table to look at you as you go red in the face and sputter. You slap your sternum, thankful that the eggs finally go down and leave only your eyes damp as you blink.

“Wrong tube,” you croak in explanation. Jennifer and Luke smirk at you, but you still can’t look up at Joel.

“Didn’t mean to bother y’alls breakfast. I also wanted to know if you’re good to do an earlier patrol shift?” Joel asks, and you think he must be staring at you because he says your name. “It’s getting’ dark earlier these days.”

You stare at his hands.

“Of course,” you stammer, pointing at your breakfast. “Just gimme two minutes.”

“Alright,” Joel replies softly. “I’ll grab a coffee. Hopefully it’s a good batch today.”

And now you raise your eyes to him to see him smiling gently down at you at the inside joke. It’s subtle; barely a curl of one corner of his mouth but your heart does a somersault in your chest at the sight of it.

You’re about to reply when all of a sudden Luke places a hand over yours, rubbing gently.

"Your hands are freezing."

You can practically feel Joel stiffen beside you.

"They'll warm up in a sec," you say with a forced smile, trying to inch them out of Luke's grip. “Just gotta put on my gloves.”

You don’t like him touching you in front of Joel. Maybe you just don’t like him touching you at all anymore. Not now that you’ve realized how you feel about Joel because now it feels something like cheating, which is stupid the more you think about it. How can you cheat on someone who isn’t even yours?

Your guilty eyes dart from Luke’s warm gaze up to Joel’s face which has now grown overcast. Any smile or mirth in his features has all been erased.

“Five minutes,” Joel all but barks. “If you’re not there, I’ll head out on my own.”

Joel strides from the table, his jaw tensed and his body stiff.

“Man, that guy just doesn’t let up, does he?” Luke says rolling his eyes.

“I think he’s just like that with most people,” Jennifer shrugs, her voice tight. “He can’t help it.”

Luke rolls his eyes.

“He could try.”

///

The two of them walk you out to the gates minutes later where an agitated Joel stands beside Midnight, gently stroking the horse’s muzzle. He’s so soft with the animals, so gentle and nurting and you think that this is the true Joel he hides under frowns and barked commands.

He must hear you approaching because he glances over. When he sees you between your two friends you swear he scowls at Luke who hasn’t stopped talking about the concert tomorrow.

“I’ll be there around six, but it starts at seven. So come around ten to.”

“Okay,” Jennifer nods, looking distractedly at him. “Sounds good.”

She mumbles something about needing to start on the jacket, leaving Luke walking you the rest of the way to the gates, your thumb digging into your third finger nervously as you approach the enigma of a man.

Joel watches you both, his arms crossed over his chest in a clear indication of his displeasure. So why does it turn you on so much to see it?

Because in contrast to the intense aggression of his stance you know how tender he held you last night? Because it turns you on that he could kill someone if he needed to and yet the way he kissed you and touched you was as if you were made of spun glass?

Maybe. Or maybe it’s something deeper than that.

“You don’t have to walk with me the rest of the way,” you offer politely to Luke, hoping he gets the message.

“Oh, I don’t mind,” Luke says obliviously. “I drank so much coffee this morning it’s actually good to get moving around so I can burn it off.”

You just nod, unable to say anything, unable to tear your eyes from Joel as you and Luke get closer. Joel looks at you from beside the horse and you think his gaze softens when it moves from Luke over to you.

You stare back at him, wanting to communicate that this isn’t what it looks like. He’s just a friend.

But his eyes turn hard when you approach the horses and Luke is still there behind you. You glance over your shoulder, confused. You want him to go away; you’re aching to talk to Joel in privacy. But Luke doesn’t get it.

You spin fully around, giving Luke a quirked smile of confusion.

“Thanks for walking me.”

“No problem,” Luke says.

Your eyes fly open wide when Luke ducks forward and embraces you. He’s so quick you don’t have a chance to step back. His gangly arms encircle you, and last week this would have delighted you. Right now however, with Joel’s eyes burning a hole in your back it feels mortifying. Your arms stay at your sides, stiff as a plank before Luke pulls back.

"Be safe," Luke says.

You nod, about to reply when Joel’s hand circles your wrist.

“We goin’ or not?”

He’s strong behind you, tugging your arm towards Chestnut and ultimately towards him. You stumble back, bracing yourself on his forearm. Luke watches all of this silently because as much shit as he talks about Joel behind his back, you know he’d never say it to the older man’s face.

“Bye,” you mumble at Luke before you mount Chestnut.

Joel does the same on Midnight, clicking his tongue as Hank opens the gate for you. Luke gives you one last wave before he’s striding back towards the main street.

Joel doesn’t say another word for the entire ride to Teton village.

You try several times to engage him in conversation, but to no avail. Silence greets you, an invisible wall. The beauty of only hours ago is washed away, leaving you confused and hurt.

You were right in assuming he only wanted one thing. He just wanted to fuck you and now that he has it’s right back to the old dynamic.

The lock is unlatched and when the two of you step inside the outpost you find yourself watching his body move through the crumbling façade of the home. You long to reach out, to travel back in time and wake up in his bed again.

"Joel can we talk?"

"No."

You flinch back, stung. This is what you feared wasn’t it? Misreading the signals? Letting yourself get carried away? Letting that fifteen year old girl that didn’t have prom dream of a night in a beautiful dress. You shake your head, embarrassed.

When you both go to break for lunch Joel mutters something about not being hungry and stays in the opposite room. When you finish yours you find him standing at the window, staring out into the cold grey sky. You approach him tentatively, your heart in your throat. Maybe he’s cooled off? Maybe now he’ll lower his proverbial weapons. You stand next to him at the windowsill, looking into the dreary day.

"Are you okay looking for a tree this weekend?"

Joel gives a brief nod in reply.

"Does the morning work for you? Or would you prefer afternoon?" you say, desperate to fill up the silence. “I figure morning might be best, but if you and Ellie have plans we could do afternoon.”

Joel doesn’t even look at you. He just sighs wearily and walks away from you, leaving you open-mouthed in shock at his rudeness.

The irritation which started as a small bubble this morning during patrols has begun incrementally expanding in your chest, overtaking your senses and making you see red.

You slam your hand against the wall so hard it sends pieces of plaster crumbling to the ground.

“I’m talking to you, Miller!”

The force of your voice startles the pair of you. Joel stops in his tracks then whips around to see you looking at him with shock. The brows that lift now sink and furrow, his lips thinning in irritation. He stomps over to you, that familiar fire in his eyes.

“The fuck you just say to me?”

“I said I’m talking,” you add, a little less forcefully now. “We’re talking.”

Joel scoffs loudly.

“Like hell we are.”

“You said we were friends, Joel. Friends talk. Tell me why you’re so angry.”

“I’m not angry,” Joel snaps.

“What do you call this, then?” you motion to his crossed arms.

Joel sighs heavily through his nose. You see how his expression doesn’t move from its chilly fix on you.

“I’m tired,” he finally rasps. “I spent a good chunk ‘a my night makin’ it go quiet for you if you remember.”

He says it like it was a pain for him to do, like it was a favor he unwillingly did for you. Fuck, was it? Were you reading into it too much? Are you putting more into this than what’s there? Your lack of romantic experience coupled with Joel’s stern expression have you swallowing nervously.

“And I appreciate it,” you answer awkwardly.

Joel looks disgusted by your response.

“Yeah, I’ll bet. Guess you'll just call me when your need a good, hard fuck. I'll get you nice n' wet and then you'll go finish off with him, s’that it?"

You can only stare at him, blinking rapidly.

"I have no idea what you're talking about.”

"Yeah,” he scoffs. “I'm sure.”

He’s giving you that disgusted look again, the one that makes you feel like a piece of useless garbage. It makes you suck at your teeth and level a glare his way.

"What is your fucking problem, Joel?”

Joel shrugs, not saying anything. He won’t answer you and something in you snaps.

He tries to shoulder past you into the next room and without thought you shove him with all your might. It doesn’t do much of anything except irritate him. He yanks back from you, glaring.

“What’re you-“

“You’re driving me insane! You blow so hot and cold with me,” you snap. You go to shove him again angrily and he grunts before grabbing both of your own elbows in his large hands.

“I blow hot and cold?” Joel says incredulously. “Me?”

“One second you’re good to fuck me, the next second you hate me,” you say, trying to wriggle out of his grip. “Sometimes I think we’re friends and then you pull this shit. So why are-"

Joel still has you by the elbows and he backs you into the wall you previously slammed your hand against. It’s forceful, but not harsh. You feel the base of your spine kissing the plaster as you gaze up at him, your words dying. His cheeks are rouged and his eyes are wild, his teeth bared.

"I don't want him touchin’ you," Joel growls.

“Who?”

“Luke.”

And then all at once it hits you. All the weeks of treating you like shit when Luke is nearby. The way he tugged you back away from him today.

Joel is jealous.

He's jealous of what he thinks you have going on with Luke. The realization makes your mouth go dry and yet you need to be certain.

"Why?"

His eyes darken, falling to your lips.

"You know why."

His mouth crashes against yours. His hands fly from your elbows to slide to either side of your neck, holding you there as the kiss deepens. You melt into him, your body completely at his whim. Only your hands grip loosely at the sides of his flannel, your eyes falling shut.

He covets your mouth, taking and taking as you whine and whimper, mouth dropping open further so that he can continue to ravish it. His mouth moves to your jaw, his hands clutching at your waist. He seems desperate, like he doesn’t believe you’re letting him do this.

"Joel, I only do this with you," you whisper, too anxious to open your eyes.

He doesn’t speak, but he does urge your thigh around him. He holds you in place, palms gripping your ass as he pins you to the wall. It propels you to lean forward, arms circling his neck, pulling him tighter to you. He kisses you deep, groaning at times when your fingers tangle in the curls at the nape of his neck and his hips roll against yours.

He’s hard through his jeans, rutting against your center aggressively before he’s tugging at the neck of your sweater so that he can kiss down your sternum, giving little licks to the bone there.

You let your hands fall to his hair, luxuriating in the soft of his curls as his hands grope you firmly through your sweater. His mouth finds your straining nipples through the fabric, wetting it with his saliva.

You arch into his mouth, biting your lip so hard you almost draw blood. It feels so fucking good, especially when he starts to suck. You feel the jolts of pleasure like lightning go through your body and you whinny out his name.

He smiles against your body before his fingers come to the button of your jeans, popping it and dragging the denim down your legs. Your panties are quick to follow. You watch his mouth press sloppy kisses down the exposed skin below your navel, trailing spit and desire down the center of your body until he reaches your pulsing core. He takes one of your thighs in his hand, urging it over his shoulder and opening you up to him.

He’s barely touched you and yet your inner thighs are glossy with arousal. Joel lets his lips graze you lightly there before he pauses, dark eyes moving up your body until they come to rest on your face.

"You get this wet for anyone else?"

"No," you answer honestly, your voice breathless and high.

He gives a grunt in reply, his soft mouth now firmly pressing needy kisses to your inner thighs. You can only watch as his curls disappear between them, eyes rolling back when his mouth moves to your slick core.

You give yourself over completely, head tilting back against the wall as he parts you with his fingers, his sharp nose nudging your clit as his mouth moves against your cunt. Your hips jerk towards his face and you feel as one broad hand snakes up the center of your body, his wide palm flat and pressing to stomach, holding you against the wall.

Without thinking you hand falls over his, gripping his fingers as your hips continue to roll against his mouth. Your fingers lace with his and he pulls back a moment. Your eyes are stuck on his, seeing the pupil that dominates his eyes.

"I'm the only one that touches you," he pants, the hot air huffing against your cunt. "I’m the only one that makes you come. Me. Repeat it."

"You're-you're the only one," you agree, body in time with his. “You’re the only one I want touching me.”

You’re being honest, even though it terrifies you. You don’t want to do it with anyone else. Joel’s fingers unlace with yours, both coming to grip your ass, urging your cunt closer to his mouth. His fingertips dimple the flesh there, hard and unrelenting.

“Yeah?” Joel murmurs against your pussy as you roll your hips. “You don’t want t-“

“I don’t want anyone but you,” you finish for him. “Just you.”

Joel seems satisfied with this and he goes back to working between your thighs, coaxing your orgasm from you as you whimper his name. You can feel the plaster at your spine, the chill of the day, but all you can truly focus on is Joel knelt before you, consuming you with a passion.

"Mhm," he encourages between licks and sucks. "Just like that."

When you come he greedily laps it up, groaning as you tremor in the aftershocks. You feel dizzy, almost out of your body. Joel helps you into your panties and jeans, standing to button them back up. You watch his downcast eyes focus on the zipper and then the button loop.

He’s so handsome, every line in his face every curve of his features. You can’t help it; you tilt forward and capture his lips with yours. He welcomes it; his large hands moving to cup your cheeks as he kisses you back, letting you savor yourself on his tongue.

“You taste how sweet you are?” he murmurs.

You melt into him, allowing him to lick into your mouth with no pretense of anything else. Joel wants you and you want him.

Everything else is simple.

////

The two of you ride side by side on the horses, taking your time returning back to Jackson City as the day is still bright. You can’t help but keep sneaking glances at him through your hair, watching his strong profile scanning the area, seeing how his graying curls blow lightly in the winter breeze.

He catches you once, and you pretend to be surveying the trees to his left before sweeping your gaze elsewhere. He’s saying something to you; you realize this when he calls your name softly.

“Huh?”

“You goin’ to that concert tomorrow?”

The concert?

Oh right, Luke’s event. The musical night in the dining hall.

“Yeah,” you nod. You see Joel stiffen atop his horse and you frown. “He’s my friend, Joel.”

“I didn’t say anythin’.”

“You didn’t need to.” You swallow. “I don’t want to be afraid to talk about my friends around you. Luke and Jennifer.”

Joel is quiet, but you don’t miss his sharp nod.

You can still feel his mouth and fingertips on your skin, still taste his lips, still smell him on you. It makes you feel dizzy. He clears his throat and you move your attention back to him.

"So uh, the stuff we're doin’," Joel looks strangely anxious, wetting his lower lip. "I think maybe it stays between us."

"Agreed," you say quickly.

It's actually quite fortuitous that Joel doesn't want to parade whatever is going on between you through the town. You don't think you could look Jennifer in the face if you did. Its better that this is quiet, that you don't really have to tell Jennifer anything yet.

Joel eyes you as his fingers drum along his saddle while he rides.

"Yeah? You want that?"

"Yes.”

"Alright then," Joel nods, satisfied.

It would be different if you and Joel were something more. If this was a real relationship, but you don't think it's possible for either of you. You’re just two broken people at the end of the world trying to feel something.

You don’t want to ask him for more, to demand something you know he can’t give.

You couldn’t handle the disappointment.

///

After patrols your feet carry you to the home of Penny and Arthur. You knock on the door feeling strangely nervous when Arthur answers. He grins at you, though he’s surprised.

“Well this is a pleasant surprise!”

"Hi Arthur,” you say, relaxing at his pleasant demeanor. “Do you have a moment?”

“For you I have several.”

You grin weakly, about to say something when Penny comes from inside the home, seeing you there. She gives you a big smile, tottering over to you.

“Hello there honey-child,” she greets.

“Hi Penny.”

“Well, what can I do for you?” Arthur asks, seeing that you’re obviously nervous. You tug at the end of your fingers; an old, anxious habit along with finger tapping and teeth grinding that you’ve carried with you since your childhood.

“It’s about your ad, I saw it in town and I was wondering if I could get a portrait done," you say quietly. "I don't have a woman's jacket but I could get Jennifer to make you one custom. I asked her already and she agreed."

"You can make her a jacket?" Arthur asks in shock.

"My friend Jennifer can. She worked in textiles."

"Are you sure it isn't too much work?"

"She said she could get it done in two days.”

Arthur and Penny exchange looks of shock before Penny bursts out into a raucous cry of joy. Arthur goggles at you while Penny is clapping and jumping up and down behind him, her skinny legs kicking out.

"Thank Christ! My old jackets so full ‘a holes!"

“Of course I’ll do a portrait for you,” Arthur insists over his wife’s gleeful exclamations. “For you I would have done it for free.”

“You deserve payment,” you insist, touched by his sincerity. “I wonder if I could get one done of three people together?"

Arthur’s expression softens and he nods.

“Of course.”

///

The next day you wake to find Ellie at your front door when you leave to go for breakfast.

She startles you, causing you to jump back into your house when she leaps up from your porch steps. She immediately looks apologetic, waving her gloved hands in front of her face.

“Oh shit, sorry!”

You murmur that it’s fine, but in truth you’re exhausted. You barely slept last night. Old nightmares plagued you; ones you thought had left you years ago. For some reason they’re back, making sleep evasive.

You step out onto the porch, wordlessly motioning for Ellie to follow you. She does so quietly, kicking a stray pebble as you walk down the street to the path into town.

“So do I want to know why you were laying in wait for me?” you ask after a beat, arching your brow in amusement.

Ellie grins, kicking at some of the old ice as you travel the path to town. It’s clear from the coiled exuberance she’s trying to hold back something big, something exciting. She comes to a full stop, her tiny frame expanding as she holds out her arms wide at her sides.

“I asked her.”

You blink, mind still slow with sleep. “Huh?”

“Dina,” Ellie explains, her cheeks pink from the cold (or her excitement, you’re not sure.) “I asked her to the dance and she said yes.”

“Really?”

“Yeah!” Ellie is giggling. “We’re not telling anyone yet. It’s still new and everything. Joel knows that I like her, but that’s it.”

You don’t know if it’s your good mood about how things are going with Joel or just the genuine joy you have at seeing her so happy, but you can’t help it- you grab her around the middle and swing her in a semi-circle. Ellie grips onto your upper arms, giving a yelp as the world whirls by.

She laughs raucously when you put her down, stumbling a bit from dizziness.

“You fucking weirdo,” she says, thought her twinkling eyes say something else.

“Sorry,” you say, laughing back. “Couldn’t help it. Just too happy.”

She bids you a farewell, citing that she has to get to ‘boring fucking school’ as you grin. You make it to the dining hall quickly, your heart full as you think of how far Ellie has come. The same girl who didn’t have friends now has a girlfriend. Or well, do the kids call them girlfriends anymore? You’re not sure. It’s been a while.

The space is busy, as it often is when the weather gets cold. No one wants to make meals at home, they’d rather come out to the communal areas to catch up over coffee and warm breakfast. You’ve got a tray gripped in your hands as you prepare to walk to the table by the window, your favorite spot. It’s always cast in a warm light from outside, so bright and strangely calming.

You’re on your way there when you spot a familiar head of salt and pepper curls facing away from you, curled over a pancake breakfast. You don’t understand when your pulse begins frantically in your veins, causing your tray to wobble slightly.

I should sit somewhere else.

You don’t know exactly where you stand with Joel after everything. You talked, sort of, but so much is left up in the air. So you decide to do what you’ve always done before yesterday; you pass him sitting at the table, ignoring his presence as you move to your seat by the window.

You place your tray down shakily, trying to breathe normally. You’re facing away from Joel, moving your focus to your eggs and toast and…Shit. Your tea.

In your fatigue you forgot to grab it and considering the sleep you’ve had, you really need it today. On rubbery legs you stand, swallowing and avoiding Joel’s eyes which is hard because the second you turn you can feel his gaze on you.

You hold your breath as you pass his table, as in inhaling the scent of him will make you fall into his lap there in front of everyone.

And then you feel it, the light drag of calloused skin over the back of your hand as you pass his table. If you weren't always so very aware of Joel's proximity you doubt you would have felt it. But you are and you did.

When you glance over you see his last three fingers are hanging over the table and straining to graze your hand. When they connect you watch them retract as he busies himself with his breakfast.

///

"What are you signing up to bring?"

It's later that day and you and Jennifer are crowded around the notice board in town. You've both been reading the potluck list for the winter party. You can't help but feel your stomach do a little jump when a familiar name pops up on the list in familiar sharp script.

Joel Miller - drinks

You hide your smirk. How Joel Miller.

A pencil tied to string is pinned into the cork next to the brightly colored paper. You take it in your hand, hunching over.

"I think I'll bring brownies," you say as you write your name and the dessert onto the potluck list. "I've got a good recipe for it at home."

"Oh that's a good idea," Jennifer nods, looking at the list with scrutiny. Many names are already on there along with items.

Soup, bread, fruit preserves, casserole, vegetables.

"I think I'll bring... Apples."

You turn around and laugh sharply at your friend.

"Everyone loves apples," Jennifer laughs back. "They keep the doctor away."

"Jenny, you can't be serious," you say giggling still.

"I can't bake very well! You know that!"

Jennifer is laughing but you can sense a bit of insecurity there as well. She's good at so much in the world, but not this. You give her a half smile, shaking your head in amusement. You go back to the list and add Jennifer's name before writing "apple tarts" next to it.

"Hey I -"

"I'll be making them for you," you tell her, holding a hand up before she can deny this. "You're making me a whole dress, Jenny. Let me make you some fucking tarts."

Arm in arm the two of you laugh all the way to the dining hall, along with the rest of the town. It seems that you're not the only ones eager for some nighttime entertainment that doesn't involve movies, cards or drinking.

The tables have been shifted so that the far side of the hall has an empty space like a stage you’d find in a coffee shop. You can't help but scan the audience as you walk in, hoping to see familiar greying curls.

But of course you don't, this isn't Joel's scene.

You do however see Ellie sitting with a group of teenagers. The ones she always rolled her eyes at before. Sitting right beside her is Dina, saying something to make Ellie and the rest of the group laugh. Ellie catches your eye through the crowd and you give her a soft wink before turning away, giving her the privacy she deserves.

Jennifer sees some of her friends you've met before but can't remember the name of. They come over to chat as you stand to the aside awkwardly, smiling at them when they greet you.

You're confused when you turn at one point to see a group of pretty young women at a far table shooting obvious sneers your way. A brunette with thin lips looks in your direction before whispering to her friend. The group giggles and you feel insecurity flooding you, like ice in your veins.

Why are people looking at you like that?

"Let's get a seat," you mumble to Jennifer, wanting to get out of the girl's eyelines.

She agrees, and the two of you make your way to one of the nearby tables with a few empty seats. Jennifer settles in, both of you waving to Luke when he sees you before going back to tune his guitar.

There's a group of several Jackson city residents preparing to play, Martha from the textile group is on the drums, Jacob the librarian is the bass guitar, Shelly from the garden is on tambourine. It's a mismatched group but you think that's what you find so sweet about it.

"I hope they sound good," Jennifer tells you quietly as she leans across the table. "I don't know if I can lie to Luke if he sounds totally crap."

The two of you giggle even though her words strike a bit of anxiety in you. Lying. You're lying to her.

"Hi Jenny."

You glance to your left to see Oliver walking over, a grin on his handsome face. He's dressed in slacks and a thick wool sweater. He's got his cowboy hat in his hands, holding it in front of him like a nervous schoolboy.

"Hi Ollie."

"I was hoping you'd be comin'," he says shyly, rubbing the back of his neck.

"Same here," Jenny says with such easy flirtation it takes your breath away.

How does she do it? She manages to be cute and flirty all while being subtle. You wish you could study her, making notes and writing a book on the subtle art of seduction.

"You want to join us?" You ask, pointing to the seat next to Jennifer. "The place is filling up fast."

"Sure," Oliver says brightly with a nod, placing his hat on the seat. "Thanks. Lemme grab you two something to drink."

Jennifer's face breaks into a wide grin as the two of you watch him go to the side of the dining hall where several people are helping to hand out small glasses of wine.

"Everyone gets one!" Shouts Leticia, the ruddy-faced cook. "Don't be greedy. If you wanna get shitfaced head on over to The Bison. This here is a classy event."

You and Jennifer exchange amused smirks before you see those same girls from before shooting you more scowls. You duck your head, feeling your chest and neck heating. You're so used to blending in the background here, so used to being invisible that this negative attention makes your eyes burn. Jennifer can tell something is up right away.

"You okay?"

"It's these girls over in the corner. They're scowling at me," you murmur, trying to keep your voice even.

Jennifer immediately glances over her shoulder, locking eyes with the brunette and rolling her eyes.

"They're not glaring at you, they're glaring at me."

You raise your eyes to her. "You? Why?"

"That's Vanessa, Ollie's ex," Jennifer tells you. "A total bitch."

"Oh."

You'd only heard through the grapevine about Oliver's breakup, you didn't actually know Vanessa personally.

"Just ignore her, I always do," Jennifer shrugs. "She's always giving me looks like that. Her and that little posse."

Oliver is back, handing Jennifer the solitary wine glass with all apologetic look shot your way.

"I told her I was getting a glass for both of you but Leticia just told me I was being greedy," Oliver says dumbstruck. "So I could only get one. Sorry about that."

“It’s no problem,” you insist kindly. “I don’t really enjoy wine.”

You and Jennifer smile at his relieved expression as he takes his seat beside your friend.

"Thanks Ollie," she coos before giving him a soft peck on the cheek.

"No problem," Oliver stutters, grinning.

You don't miss the way Jennifer's cheeks pink. You feel a bit of relief at the knowledge that you're panicking for nothing. Jennifer is going for Oliver, who cares if you're sleeping with Joel? It's not even an issue.

The room is loud and warm with the copious collection of bodies. The lights are lit, strung beautifully and casting everything in a warm glow.

The room grows quiet when Luke steps forward, trying to get everyone's attention

"Hi all thanks for coming. We're the Jackson City Four and we're hoping to entertain you for the next little bit." Luke swallows nervously. "So uh, grab a drink and sing along if you know the words."

For the next half hour you watch Luke transform from the affable, tall man you've always known into a soulful almost sultry singer. He plays the guitar well, harmonizing with Martha beautifully.

"When I first saw you, with your smile so tender, my heart was captured, my soul surrendered…”

You watch from the corner of your eye as Oliver urges Jennifer to lean back against him during a slow song, and you can see through the crowd as Vanessa glares at them. But all you care about is the happy, contented look on Jennifer’s face.

Again your eyes scan the room, resting on Ellie and Dina sitting with shoulders touching before you sweep the rest of the entertained faces. There's no Joel, of course. You don't know why this disappoints you when it's hardly surprising. Have you ever really seen Joel at an activity like this?

"We're gonna take a brief intermission," Luke announces, grinning out at the crowd when the halfway mark arrives. The band receives raucous cheering before leaving their instruments on the makeshift stage.

There's a lot of movement as people use the restroom, grab their drink or go to chat to their neighbors. Everyone is talking about how good the show is so far and you have to agree.

"At least we can be honest when we tell him how good he was," Jennifer reasons. "Do you think they take requests?"

You're about to reply but something stops you. Something emerging from the group of milling patrons. A warmth from behind you followed by the familiar scent of cedar and almond soap.

"There you are."

Your heart drums as you turn and glance up at him. Jennifer is across from you, and you can feel her watching as your eyes meet his. What is she thinking?

Joel's hair is freshly washed, curling under his ears. He smells so good and looks so handsome that it momentarily makes you forget how to talk.

You realize belatedly that he's glaring down at you though, his mouth thinned in irritation. You feel a bit of anxiety mixed with irritation. What did you do now?

"What?"

"I told you that you needed to tie the horse up properly. Let's go."

"Huh?"

You feel eyes on you as you stand, moving back from the group of people staying for the concert. You never have had to tie up Chestnut. What the fuck is he talking about? Is this a new thing on patrols that you don’t know about?

"Let's go," he repeats, only this time there's no patience.

You feel Jennifer's sympathetic gaze on you as you dutifully fall in line, following Joel out of the dining hall. He's silent the entire walk to the stables, giving you plenty of time to go over what he's upset about.

What happened this time? Why is he so mad?

You feel his hand at the small of your back, guiding you into the barn before he pulls the doors shut. He leads you to a room you've never been in, the one where they keep track of the livestock. It's a simple room with a desk, chair and heaps of scribbled notes.

Joel calls out some names you don't recognize. You both wait in silence, and Joel seems satisfied. When Joel closes the office door behind you both, he steals over to you and his hands go to the collar of your jacket, quickly moving to the top button at your throat.

"What're you doing?"

You stare at him, body slack like a doll. You don’t understand what the fuck he’s doing or why his irritated façade from only moments earlier has been replaced with an almost mischievous grin as he gazes at you before looking to his fumbling fingers.

"Gotta be fast."

The buttons are plucked and within seconds your jacket is shucked off, tossed onto the desk. His hands go to your blouse, unbuttoning that as well, all the while you stand staring at him as you try to understand what the fuck is going on. It’s clear he wants sex, but you’re completely flummoxed.

"Wait, Joel, what about the horse?"

Joel stops his movements so that he can focus his attention on your face. His eyes are twinkling and a tiny smirk is pulling at the corner of his mouth, the meaning suddenly clear.

Oh.

"Silly thing," Joel mutters almost affectionately before his lips slot between your own. You give a surprised giggle at his actions, a combination of irritation and amusement fighting for dominance. You give into the latter because Joel’s hands are on his belt, unloosening it as he kisses you.

"Couldn't think of another way to get me here?" You say against his plush mouth. "Gotta act like an asshole in front of everyone?"

"Had to keep up appearances," Joel murmurs against your jaw, licking their before kissing gently. It makes your skin prickle deliciously. "Don't wanna make it look like I'm going soft."

"Don't think a-anyone could accuse you of being soft at the moment."

He huffs a laugh along your collar and the two of you quickly unbutton your jeans, dragging them and your under things down before Joel is backing you against the sturdy wood wall of the office.

You feel his grin against your lips and then he's got one large hand at your hip to hold you in place, the other braced beside your head, effectively curling himself against you. He slides his fingers down the crease of you your thigh before he pauses, looking into your face.

“You still want this?”

Your brain is barely working when Joel is this close with his jean covered cock unconsciously making gentle circles against your thigh. Your hand drifts to his cheek, the back of your fingers grazing his jaw as you gaze up at him.

“Yeah. But why now?”

You make this inquiry, not that you care either way.

“I just needed you.” His throat bobs as his eyes scan yours. “S’that okay?”

Your arms are around his neck and your mouth finds his with ease, as if he'd been waiting for you to answer him this way. His fingers begin to move between your legs, coating themselves in arousal before sinking into your core.

"You're dripping," Joel murmurs huskily.

Your legs buckle slightly at the sensation and his words, whimpering into his throat as your hips begin to freely match the tempo of his thrusting fingers.

It's not long before you feel that familiar coil of tension running through your core, your orgasm taking you by surprise. You give a shuddering cry, muffling it in Joel's shoulder as his fingers work steady within you, silently urging you to keep riding it out.

Another moan escapes you, low and aching but you quickly clamp your mouth shut instinctively. Even though the stables are quite a far walk from town you're still concerned someone could overhear. But Joel has other ideas, nudging your nose with his so he can kiss down your neck

"Be loud," he tells you as you ride your release on his fingers.

You nod, hips still grinding against his hand as he tugs down his jeans, releasing his hard cock. It bounces as it’s freed from its denim confines and you whimper when you see it, the head quickly covered by the condom from his back pocket.

You feel as he notches himself between your legs, cock warm and thick. When he sinks himself into you with ease you feel your entire body break out into anticipatory shivers. As if Joel's body releases something in you that signals the rest of your body to relax.

He makes a sound halfway between a grunt and a groan and another wave of arousal floods you. Your body rasps against the wood wall of the stable as Joel continues to drive himself into you and withdraw. He does this over and over until your body is boneless and all you can think about is how much you want this pleasure to continue.

Instinctively your lower lip is tucked under your front teeth to hold back your burgeoning whimper. But Joel's thumb is there, peeling it back, opening your mouth and releasing your surprised gasps.

"Stop hiding those noises," he commands, hips snapping up, making you pant out as you cling to him. "I wanna fuckin' hear ‘em."

With each renewed thrust upwards from Joel, the ball of your foot is temporarily lifted in your shoe. And with each driving rut Joel is groaning such animalistic sounds in your ear you think you could come from them alone.

Your arms are still wound tightly around his neck, one hand gripping the curls at the base. With every harsh smack of his pelvis into yours you whimper pleasurably. Your body is growing slack, his hand moving under your thigh, urging it around his waist as feeds his cock into you further, watching your face in amazement as your brows crumple.

"Joel," you keen, eyes rolling back.

"That's right," he croons. "Who's makin' you come? Who’s making this pussy sing?"

"Y-you, Joel," you moan loudly as his cock fills you. You don't hold back, you don't edit or second guess. You want to feel him tomorrow.

"Yeah, it's me," Joel says and you can feel him smiling against your cheek. "S'fuckin' me."

You groan when he moves his hands to grip under your ass, hauling you up and urging your legs to hook at the ankles behind his back. You acquiesce and Joel begins to fuck into you with gusto, chasing his own release as he holds you against the wall. Each thrust punches out a cry of delight from your lungs.

"Louder," Joel urges you, mouth curled to one side as he saws into you deeper faster and faster. "My hearin' ain't what it used to be."

You don't care if you're caught or if someone can hear you. You want to give Joel everything he's asking for. You let him pound into you, his big hands gripping your ass as you arch for him and you let the shuddering moans escape.

"F-fuck, yes!"

"More," he growls.

"Joel, please," You cry out, body absorbing his thrusts as your head tilts back. "Please come."

Joel makes a strangled noise as he gives one final thrust, erupting inside you for so long that if not for the condom he wears you're convinced you'd be changing your underwear for the rest of the night. The two of you breathe heavily, still wrapped up in one another.

"Fuck that was good," he finally breathes against your neck when you both come down.

“Yeah,” you breathe shakily. “It really was.”

“Lemme walk you home,” he murmurs, kissing your jaw slowly.

The concert likely isn’t over yet and so you can’t think of a reason why not.

“Yeah,” you nod, pulling up your jeans and buttoning them. “Okay.”

He walks you home in quiet, listening to the sound of a quiet Jackson City. That’s the benefit of under a thousand people, there’s still times when its so quiet. The kind of quiet that feels safe and calm, the kind that makes you feel like the world hasn’t ended.

When you reach your porch you stop at the bottom step.

“Thanks for walking me home.”

He hums a response and looks at you for a moment before his head tilts forward and he kisses you softly on the lips. You savor it, eyes falling shut before he moves back with a weird little half smile.

“Have a good sleep.”

And then he’s gone, walking away from you, leaving you to walk into your house with a huge smile, all the while trying to convince yourself that you aren’t falling for Joel Miller.

///

Maria glances up as you stand at the frame of her bedroom door one morning holding a small box of cookies. She's propped up in her bed with a book over her lap. She's wearing loose clothing and her hair is tied up. She has hollows under her eyes.

When she realizes it's you she smiles and places her book to the side of the bed.

"Hey."

"Tommy let me in," you explain as she looks at you. "I think he's taking Jackson for a walk."

You don't tell her that this was planned by Tommy days ago when you ran into him at the dining hall. That he doesn't want to leave her alone yet and you'd happily volunteered.

"Tommy told me peanut butter are your favorite," you tell her as you sit on the end of her bed.

"He's very right."

You make sure to look away when she reaches inside for one, not wanting your eyes to linger on her wrapped wrist.

"You don't have to look away," she says airily as she decides on which cookie to take. "I'm not going to fall apart. Not today."

"I know you're not."

Maria chooses the cookie with a disbelieving glance your way. She leans back, taking a bite and smiling in appreciation.

"So good."

"Glad you like it," you say, pulling your socked feet up and sitting cross legged at the end of her bed as you take a cookie for yourself.

"I assume Tommy sent you?"

You have the cookie halfway to your mouth.

"No, why would-"

Maria's look deepens and you can't help but give a small sigh.

"He's just worried about you, Maria."

"I know. I'm really not upset," Maria answers, chewing her cookie slowly. "I can only imagine what he thought when he came home and saw me like that."

The two of you lapse into a thoughtful silence, the peanut butter sticking to the roof of your mouth. It takes you a minute to unstick it with your tongue.

"Tommy's been really busy lately," Maria offers. "With the dam and stuff. Looks like it might have been animals, not people."

This interests you. "Really?"

"Yeah, but honestly I figured as much. People around here are so paranoid, they think whatever they see is Raiders or clickers and half the time it turns out to be a fucking bird or deer." She smirks. "But, I figure it could be worse. I'd rather them be overly cautious."

You feel a bit more at ease with that. You've always been terrified going out on patrols but this gives you a bit of relief.

"At least Joel is always there to help him," Maria sighs. "He may be a bastard sometimes but he's dependable."

You nod at this, unable to look at her. Your finger traces absently along the quilt over the bed as you think of Joel. Something pops into your mind and you raise your gaze to hers.

"Hey, this is a weird question but could I see the photo of Sarah you told me about? The one Joel won't take?"

Maria nods before swinging her legs out of bed. You watch as she slowly makes her way to the dresser, tugging it open and digging around. Moments later she retrieves the photograph, wrinkled from age.

She hands it to you before saying she needs to use the washroom. You give her a lingering look but she simply nods, letting you know all is well.

She pads down the hall, closing the door behind her and you finally let your eyes fall on the photograph of two figures at what looks like a soccer game.

Sarah is wearing a striped shirt and soccer shorts and she's leaning back against a much happier, much younger looking Joel wearing a green t-shirt and blue jeans.

Sarah's left hand holds up a trophy in exuberance, her other hand flashing a peace sign at the cameraman you can only assume was Tommy. She must have won that game and a part of you thinks "Of course she won. She's Joel's daughter."

You can't imagine his offspring being any less formidable when it came to focussing on a target. The times you've watched Joel scanning the forest or the horizon you could clearly see translated into this young girl's face. You can almost picture her legs carrying her to her destination, kicking in the winning goal with her father cheering loudly in the stands. The kind of smile where his dimple pops out.

In the photograph Sarah smiles so widely, her hazel eyes large and bright, her kinked hair in two thick braids at her side. And in that youthful face of hers you can see so many parts of Joel. The mischievous glint in her eyes, the slight hitch to one side of her smile.

Why wouldn't he want this picture? Why wouldn't he want the chance to gaze at his little girl every day? If you had the chance you would travel back home to find ones of your family. You would look at them every fucking day.

But you know that all that's there are the charred remains of your former home.

You remember being in the back of the van with your sister, the two of you clinging to one another and sobbing. You looked out the back window seeing the carnage of neighbors attacking one another and then your sister screaming when a plane fell from the sky.

You can still hear the sound of it crashing heavily on your home, causing flames to roar mightily as your father sped you all towards what he thought was safety.

Stop it. Don't think about it. Push it down.

You move to linger on Joel's face in the image, musing that he's closer to your age in this photo. He's gazing down at Sarah with a soft smile, his arm protectively at her shoulders. He looks so happy, so healthy, so free of the devastation you've seen in him now.

You find yourself unable to stop tracing his frozen image with your fingertip until Maria makes her way back to the bedroom. She glances over your shoulder, speaking gently.

"She was beautiful wasn't she?"

"Yeah," you nod, eyes unable to look away from this precious memory. "She was."

You hand the photo back to her and she takes it, placing it back in the drawer. Back to the darkness.

Back to being forgotten.

///

The day of your portrait you're feeling a bit of apprehension. You haven't thought this much about your family in years. You've always tried not to. But now, this afternoon, you’ll have to if you want this done right.

Penny is the one to greet you at the door, bright smile and red hair wild. She ushers you in, taking your coat.

Along with the jacket from Jenny you've brought a bouquet of paper violets, the closest thing you could get to the floral tattoo Penny wears. Penny fusses with them, dancing to the kitchen with them in her hand after she tugged on her new jacket.

Arthur and Penny's home is similar to yours in its layout, and since their fairly new to the community is sparsely decorated as is yours.

"Follow me," Penny tells you leading you into the adjoining room. It's the one you have a couch and fireplace in. However here Arthur has set it up to be a little studio in the section by the window.

An old looking wood table sits under the front window. The light spills into the room, showcasing the stack of paper, the sharpened pencils in a cup, the chipped ruler and stubs of eraser resting on a portrait in progress.

You recognize the women in the image immediately, Savannah, one of the women you used to work with in the dining hall. There's also what looks like a tabletop easel made from old wood scraps. Arthur sits there in front of it sketching and humming to himself, totally lost in the moment. He only looks up when Penny touches his shoulder.

"You're here," he says warmly before pulling out the chair opposite him. "Please take a seat and we can get started."

"Do you mind if I join y'all, sweet pea?" Penny asks you, pointing at the chair by the fireplace. "I love watchin' him work."

"Of course."

You take your seat, strangely nervous. Arthur fixes you with a genuine smile.

"You ever had anything like this done before?"

"No."

"Okay, I'm gonna ask you a few questions, and I want you to be as detailed as possible."

"Alright," you nod.

For the next hour Arthur asks you questions about those in the portrait, did they have high foreheads? Did they tilt their head when they listened? Did they have crinkles by their eyes when they smiled?

"Nothing is too big or too small," he tells you. "If it was a wayward freckle, a slightly bent nose, overlapping teeth, I wanna know about it."

You smile. "My sister had rabbit teeth. You know? Uh, like, the two front ones were a bit longer than the rest. I used to call her Bugs."

"Perfect," Arthur says exuberantly tapping the edge of his pencil into the air. "Just like that.”

"It wasn't even that obvious," you laugh. "She just got so angry every time I said it and she looked so funny when she was upset."

Arthur grins, not taking his eyes off the drawing. You see him continue to make little marks on the paper held by the easel. You wish you could see what he was doing so far, but aside from the very start as you helped him get the face shapes correct he hasn't shown you the in progress drawing.

You close your eyes, allowing memories in that you haven't before. Ones that open heartache.

You describe your father and sister, their faces similar and easy to find behind your eyelids. Your mother is harder, her smile more evasive to recall.

"My mom always smelled like jasmine. This perfume she wore every day. My dad bought it for her every year." You smile, almost able to recall the notes. Then you frown. "Sorry, I just realized that's not helpful for the drawing."

"It is," Arthur insists. "Please go on."

For the next hour you talk about your family. You laugh over memories, you grow somber as you tell him about living in the QZ without your mother. He asks a few questions here and there, did your mother have a wider nose? Did your sister’s cheeks swell big when she smiled? Did your father's ears stick out?

You answer this all and it's like for a moment they're still alive. All waiting back at home for you. And for a beautiful moment you can make it go quiet all on your own, living in that memory of them. Of warm hugs and trips to the mall and teasing your sister about her teeth.

You take a break a short while later, when Arthur’s questions are less and you find yourself more lost in the memory of your family members.

"You and Penny go have a drink,' Arthur says, his pencil working hurriedly."I'm just gonna finish this up here."

Penny takes you to the kitchen, pouring you a glass of whiskey.

"From my own private collection," she laughs. "I used to secretly make it back in the old QZ. Don't have access to the same supplies here."

You grin, taking a sip and trying to suppress a grimace. The taste is astringent and goes down like straight acid. She throws hers back, asking if you want another. You shake your head politely.

“You’re a sweet woman,” Penny says, looking at you carefully. “But you got a lot of demons, don’t ya?”

Penny has the uncanny ability to see past the bullshit. She knew about Maria and she can just tell about you. You thought you had most people fooled; you kept quiet, smiled when necessary, volunteered. But Penny can see the bullet holes you cover with band aids.

It makes you uneasy and you shrug.

“Doesn’t everyone?”

“Finished!”

Arthur’s voice rings out and you eagerly go to your feet, excited to see the finished piece as well as avoid Penny’s searing gaze. You walk over to him, your eyes on his as he grins at you, holding the paper towards you.

With delicate reverence you take it between your fingers, turning the picture to face you and all at once your body goes cold.

"Oh my..." You can't even speak past that.

Your hands are trembling as you look down at the group.

Your sister stands in front, that familiar shy smile on her face, the pale scar over her cheek, the soft of her hair. It's her, staring right back at you with her wide, mirthful eyes.

Behind her is your father, one heavy hand on her shoulder. He grins into the camera, his floppy hair falling into his eyes, the crinkles at his eyes and mouth, the height, the tapered ends of his fingers. It's all there.

Beside him, with her arm slung around his waist is your mother. Mom. She is more serious, her countenance playful but stoic, just as she always was. Arthur has also drawn you in there, beaming at the invisible camera, your hand in your sisters.

Your family unit complete, joyful, as if the Apocalypse never happened. As if you and your sister weren't frozen in time. As if you went off to college and got married and had children and your parents were the cool grandparents that gave out full size chocolate bars at Halloween and took their grandbabies swimming.

You aren't expecting the sobs that come ripping from your chest at the sight of your family together again. It shocks you, bringing you to your knees as the image before you becomes a watercolor blur.

Wiry arms are around you at once, holding you like a child as you howl kneeling on the floor.

"its okay honey-child," Penny whispers, stroking your hair as she holds you. "You go ahead and cry."

And cry you do. You sob for what feels like hours and all the while Penny comforts you rocking you back and forth in her arms. She murmurs the things a mother would, that you’re okay, that she’s here. You cry for all the years you didn’t. You sob for the years you stuffed those feelings deep within yourself, for the times you swallowed the good memories because they brought up the bad. You cry their names, your body twisting and jolting with the sobs that seem to come from your feet.

Penny eventually pulls you, a grown woman, into her narrow lap and pats your hair while making soothing noises. It makes you cry harder at the knowledge you’ll never have that again, that you are alone in this world until your sobs turn to sniffles and then silence. And still Penny sits there with you in her lap, rubbing your back until you pull back. When your crying finally ceases she rubs the wet streaks from your cheeks and gives you a gap-toothed smile.

“Feel good to get that out?”

You nod.

"Thank you," you croak, heart aching.

She pushes the hair from your eyes gingerly.

"No sweat, honey. I know it can be a lot. You ask Arthur, I had the same reaction when he drew my brother."

Arthur nods soberly. "She did. Only she didn't have a Penny to comfort her, she was stuck with useless 'ol me."

"You ain't useless one bit," Penny states. “Not one bit.”

You pick yourself up off the ground, wiping at your tears, feeling embarrassed. You don’t know Penny and Arthur all that well, but you just unloaded emotionally on them in a big way. It makes your cheeks flame as you bid them a goodnight.

Arthur places your portrait in between two other pages, not wanting your piece smudged or ruined on your walk home. You know exactly where you’re going to put it – right atop your mantle where you can look at it every day.

You walk home in the brisk cold, your nose twitching. It feels like it’s going to snow again soon, something in the air tells you this. You make it home quickly, the night descending quickly as you reach for your house keys.

"You're home late."

You spin at the voice, your heart hammering in your chest as the keys clatter to the wood of your porch.

"What the-"

Joel steps off from the shadows, his dark eyes trained on you. He looks amused when he sees your discomfiture.

"Didn't mean to scare ya."

He leans down and grabs your keys, handing them back to you with a smirk.

"Yeah, you did."

Joel chuckles softly.

"Nah, but I gotta admit seein' you jump just then was pretty funny."

You roll your eyes but your smile gives you away. You open the door, silently inviting him inside. He follows quickly at your heels, his hands on your wrist before you go too far. He motions to the paper in your hand.

"What's that?"

You pause, looking down at the page in your hand. It feels intimate to show him your family. Sex isn’t exactly the same as true intimacy.

"I uh.... It's... I got a portrait done," you finally explain awkwardly. Joel scans your face, surprised.

"Of yourself?"

"No," you laugh at the suggestion. "Of my family."

"Oh."

His eyes drop to your hand again. You know he won't ask but he wants to see. It's human curiosity. You take a beat before slipping the image from between the two other pieces of paper.

You hand him the portrait, careful not to smudge it. Joel takes it between his fingers delicately, knowing that it must be something important. You watch as he scans the image, taking his time to soak in the details. You can see the way his eyes trail over each face, marveling at the sheer talent of Arthur.

He takes a seat on the nearby couch, his hand on his knee as he holds the portrait.

"He sure got you right," Joel remarks, squinting a bit. You remember the reading glasses beside his bed and you hold in a giggle.

You sit back on the couch next to him, surprised when he slides a hand onto your leg companionably, his free hand still holding the portrait as he gazes at it.

"He got us all right actually," you admit. "It's like I'm really looking at a photo. That's exactly how they all looked."

“You and your sister look like your Mama.”

“Yeah,” you nod. “Except I got my Dad’s hair.”

“I see that,” Joel observes with a gentle murmur. “And you kinda smile like him.”

You’ve never really noticed, but now that Joel points it out you can see it. You smile to yourself, touched that a part of your father still lives on in you every day. Something about that makes you feel emotional.

Joel looks at the portrait a few moments longer before, satisfied, he places it into the coffee table you have your feet propped up on.

"That Arthur is sure talented."

"He really is," you murmur.

This moment between you and Joel feels comfortable. Like old clothes that fit just right. The two of you watch the fire, your eyes drifting over to see Joel has his eyes closed. He must be exhausted today. You snuggle up against him, your body balanced against his side. He feels warm and safe.

You wonder what you feel like to him.

Your finger absently traces the back of his hand, coming to graze the band of his broken watch. Your fingers slide against the broken face of it, curious that it's never been repaired. Joel's sleepy voice falls over you.

"That was my last birthday gift from Sarah. She fixed the face of it. I couldn't throw it away when it got busted."

"I get it," you whisper. "If I had anything left of my family I wouldn't throw it away either. I guess that's why the portrait felt so important to get."

Joel is quiet, contemplative. You continue to rest there beside him. You pluck up a bit of courage and place your head on his shoulder. He's usually the one to initiate affection, so you wait to see if he'll voice any objection. He doesn't.

"You're really lucky you have a real picture of Sarah," you offer.

"Not as lucky as you'd think," he says softly.

You can't help but pull back from him, the warmth of his side gone in an instant.

"How is it anything other than lucky, Joel?"

His hand is removed from your leg as Joel shakes his head, his body tensing up. "Just forget it."

A familiar feeling is overtaking you. One that has you gritting your teeth and curling your palms into fists

"This drawing of my family is amazing. But you don't think I'd rather see them in color?" You don't mean to sound bitter but you are. "And you sit there with the option of having that and you just don’t?”

"You just don't get it," Joel scowls.

"No, I guess not," you scoff. "Because if I had that luxury of a having a real photo of my family I'd never be so careless as to just leave it at my brother's house, forgotten."

Too far.

Your brain's reaction is slower than your mouth's, but it still hits you sharply when you see the hurt in Joel's eyes. It's quickly covered by the familiar sight of rage.

"You don't know a goddamn thing about me," Joel seethes.

"You're not the only one who lost someone, Joel,” you say, your anger prompting you to stand. Joel does the same, and his eyes narrow on you before he shakes his head, making a disgusted noise in the back of his throat.

"Fuck this."

He leaves quickly, slamming the door behind him as he exits your home. You don't even turn to watch him go. But at the sound of the door slamming you collapse onto the couch. You don't understand how but Joel's sudden absence hurts like a physical pain but it does.

"I don't care if he ever comes back," you say out loud to your ceiling. "Fucking asshole."

Except you do care.

You keep trying to convince yourself that you don't want Joel but it's pathetically clear that you do. You want him in your bed, in your arms, talking; sharing parts of yourselves you normally keep hidden. You want the good in him just as much as you want to sweeten the bad. You want to be the reason he smiles.

It's terrifying to think of sharing so much of yourself with him. But at the same time it feels right. Joel is steadfast and true and even if you weren't bedding each other you think he would hold your secrets safe within him.

But then again he walked out at the first sign of disagreement, your first fight. First fight? That's laughable. You've done nothing but fight since the day you met. But now it feels different doesn't it? Because he's moved from being Joel the asshole patrol partner to something else. It almost feels like you could be a couple.

Thoughts of walking hand in hand into town drift over you. Images of Joel stroking your back as you stand grabbing breakfast, kissing him when he wakes up and murmurs he's going to grab coffee, laughing with him during movie nights.

Beautifully domestic things. Boyfriend things.

Thinking of Joel as your boyfriend makes you laugh. Boyfriend doesn't seem to suit him. Partner does. Lover does. He feels like he wants to be both to you sometimes. But you can't ask him that yet. Not when things feel so tentative and vulnerable. Not when he left here looking furious and devastated. Like a flower during the first frost you need to be delicate.

Should you go after him? Should you apologize for saying the wrong thing? After all, it wasn't kind, what you'd said. It was downright cruel. But then Anger, that old familiar friend is back heating you from the inside out.

Fuck Joel Miller and his inability to communicate.

Fuck him and his emotional brick walls.

He's probably at the Bison getting shitfaced, you tell yourself with a sour expression. Probably hitting on some other desperate woman he can make it go quiet for.

You lay on the couch, listening to the fire, staring up at your ceiling. You hate this pain that rips through you, making you feel nauseated. You hate it because you realize the only thing that will make it better is Joel himself. You’ve come to depend on him.

You care about him.

You like him.

You want him.

You want to see what he'd look like dressed up at the winter celebration. You want him to ask you to dance and look at you all soft. You want his hands on you like the first time; soft and sweet with an unguarded face. And right now you want his arms circling you and holding you.

You want to take his hand in yours, feel each finger slowly curl around your palm like a promise. You want to make him smile a real, broad, eye-swallowing grin. You want to lay curled next to him on a bed with the breeze rustling the soft curls that frame his tanned face.

You want the man that cares for a daughter that isn't his own like she was his own flesh and blood. You want the man who patrols bravely even though he's seen more horrors than most. You want to be there when he has hard days, want to be there to kiss his brow and murmur comfort.

You want Joel Miller despite how everything began.

You feel your eyelids growing heavy both with the fatigue of the day and from the emotional expulsion with Joel. You curl onto your side as you drift off to sleep, trying not to think of sorrowful brown eyes or the way your heart aches.

///

The knock at your door wakes you from your nap on the couch. You didn’t even realize you’d fallen asleep. The fire in the hearth is gone, the house still and dark. You raise yourself up, wandering over to the door with apprehension.

Who the fuck is coming to see you at this time of night?

You rub your eyes, opening the door with a yawn. You weren't expecting to see Joel’s broad shoulders and wide, sorrowful looking eyes reminiscent of a kicked puppy. And you certainly weren’t expecting the words he then murmurs to you.

"You were right."

It's late and the streets are empty but you still hold the door open and allow him access inside. He moves past you and you observe he must have been walking outside, the scent of snow and fresh air clinging to him. He hasn't been to the Tipsy Bison as you'd just assumed.

You cast one last look outside, thankful that it's still desolate before you close the door behind him. You watch Joel move a few steps away, his body tilting from you as you cross your arms over your chest; defensive, fearful.

"What do you mean I was right?"

He lifts his eyes to you. "About the picture."

You don't know what to say so you say nothing. You just nod. He nods in return and you can see how uncomfortable he is. He makes sure to stand near the fireplace, shoving his twitching hands into his jean pockets.

"It's just... I get sorta defensive sometimes and...I’m sorry..."

He trails off, swallowing and shuffling his boot against the floorboards. You know it took a lot for him to come back and to apologize. It’s not in Joel’s nature to show his underbelly, and you’d be foolish to overlook such a gesture.

"I understand,” you offer, coming to stand next to him. “And I'm sorry for what I said too. It was shitty."

Joel nods again, hands shoving deeper into his pockets.

"S'okay."

You can feel the animosity slipping away from you, draining out the soles of your feet. You don’t want to fight with Joel. You want him to hold you. You want to hold him. He takes a very deep breath, the kind that comes from low in his soul, the kind that hurts as he exhales before speaking.

"Whenever I look at that photo of Sarah at Tommy's all I can think about is the fact that she'll always be that age. I’ll never get to see her older. She'll never have a family and a career. I'll never walk her down the aisle."

Joel's voice gets creaky, like the old steps of an ancient house and he blinks back the damp of his eyes.

"I look at that photo and I think of how I failed her. How she's not here because of me."

His face is stony, but his eyes always tell you everything. And while they're trying valiantly not to connect with yours; you see the pain in them all the same.

"Joel you didn't fail her."

"Dunno that we'll ever agree on that one," Joel says. "The photo... It just makes me think of how I gave up when she was gone."

You don't understand and Joel can see that in your expression. He points to the scar at his temple, the one you assume he got fighting raiders.

"I tried to kill myself," Joel says bluntly. "But I couldn't even do that right. I was so scared I flinched at the last minute. S'why I have this scar and my hearing is shit on that side. I'm so fucking useless I couldn't even kill myself."

Useless.

You gaze at Joel for a long moment, memorizing everything about his face. The dark, haunted eyes, the creases in his brow and at his eyes. He has the look of a man broken by everything and everyone.

There's so much you want to say to him, to comfort him with words but none feel right. Instead you extend your hand to him. His eyes scan yours, silently imploring.

"Let's go to bed."

His brows rise, clearly expecting your ire from his previous transgression. When you give him a soft smile, warmth touches his expression. Joel nods and takes your hand gratefully. You look at his large hand enveloping yours, feeling the dry warmth of his skin.

He darts forward, kissing you briefly and then allows you to lead him up to your room and your bed. He's never been in here before and much like you did at his, you watch his dark eyes taking in his surroundings. The books gathered on the dresser, the mismatched pillow cases, the blank walls.

He watches silently as you come to unbutton his flannel, helping him to shrug it off. You fold it over the chair by the window. You come back, tugging his t-shirt over his head, leaving his hair mussed boyishly. He continues to look at you, his eyes soft when you urge him out of his jeans and then urging him under the covers with you.

Immediately he's pulling you into his arms, burying his face in your neck and inhaling. You both speak at once.

"You smell like that soap." "You smell like the snow."

The two of you grin to yourselves. You feel the moment shift when his head remains buried in your neck, arms winding tighter around you. He breathes slow and even, almost prompting you to do the same. When your breathing slows you spin in his arms, allowing him to curl around you.

His hand is at your waist, gently tracing over your belly. Through the thin t-shirt you wear he can feel the jagged scar under your sternum. He nuzzles into your neck, inhaling gently as his thumb gently traces it.

"Will you tell me what happened to your sister?"

His voice is soft, like anything louder will spook you. Tonight is too overwhelming, too emotionally charged. You’re already spent from your time with Arthur and Penny and holding space for Joel as he shared about Sarah. You spin again, this time burrowing tightly against his front.

"Yes,” you whisper. “But not tonight."

He seems satisfied with that because he nods against your collarbone. You continue to hold him, fingers stroking the base of his muscular neck, massaging gently there. He's tight all over, hardly surprising.

"Tense from patrols," you joke, feeling him melt as you work at his tired muscles. He doesn't reply, he's gone quiet. You pull back, seeing if he's fallen asleep. But instead that wounded look is back in his face. He blinks it away before pulling you tight against him again, face buried in your hair.

"All that time," Joel murmurs as he holds you. "All that fuckin' time I forced you to do shit out on patrols even when you were scared."

"Joel-"

"I used to think I was doin' you a favor because you were so scared all the time," he continues, his voice scratchy. "Thought it would toughen you up. But after what you've been through it was just ... Torture, wasn't it? I was torturin' you the whole time."

Joel shakes his head at himself, disgusted with his previous actions. You pull back and you can see the anguish in his expression.

"I'm so sorry."

"I forgive you, Joel," You reply honestly. You forgave him a long time ago, you think.

"Yeah, well, you probably shouldn't," he sighs.

"You thought you were doing what was right," you offer.

His thumb and forefinger find your chin, tilting your face up so he can see your eyes.

"I never wanted to hurt you," he says, his voice clear, like he wants you to know how serious he is. "I just wanted to keep you safe."

Tears burn the back of your eyes because you know he's being honest. Something about that touches you behind your ribs, an invisible string tightening between the two of you.

You move your face towards his, finding his warm, chapped lips easily. You kiss him slowly and for once you're in control. And when you urge him on top of you, you don't do it to make everything quiet; you do it because you just want to. You kiss him sweetly whilst tugging his boxers down and parting your thighs.

He makes love to you slow and sweet, his words nothing but praise and his hands nothing but tender. You hold him tightly against you, whimpering his name when he groans yours.

When tears slip out the corners of your eyes he kisses them away, knowing precisely why they fall.

Chapter 17: Pockets of Beauty

Chapter Text

Chapter 17: Pockets of Beauty

When you rise the next morning you feel a creeping disappointment slither behind your ribs when you feel Joel isn’t there. You crack your eyes open you to see that half of the bed made neatly, his clothing gone from the chair by the window. There’s no note, no indication that he regretted leaving without waking you, nothing.

He’s just gone.

You go to rise up when a wave of fatigue hits you. You lower yourself back down, swallowing the prickly feeling in the back of your throat. You can tell what this is; a winter cold right on track. Days in snow, nights curled in front of the fire have given you the customary cold you get every year around this time for as long as you can recall. If you force yourself to sleep you can get yourself over it by tomorrow, you think. Experience has told you as much.

You spend the entire morning warm tea, eating soup or sleeping. You laze about on the couch, reading for a bit before the fire when the day gets darker and then you’re back in bed, sleeping off your sickness.

And in between that, you think about Joel.

He couldn’t have left a note? He couldn’t come by later today to check that things are okay? You feel a sense of discontent behind your ribs, making you ache in a way that soon drifts into irritation.

After last night it's like something has cracked open. A box that cannot be shut. All barriers have started crumbling down. You can feel it. Perhaps that’s why you’re hurt that he’s not here. Perhaps that’s the very reason he isn’t. Joel isn’t a man forthcoming with much of his emotional baggage, perhaps last night he felt he shared too much.

Why do you even like him? He was such an asshole when you met. He’s always been an asshole. You shouldn’t like anything about him. And yet you think of his tender moments, the secret smiles, the whispers that he’ll make it go quiet for you. Does he think of you in moments like these? Does he think of you as anything more than a way to get his rocks off?

The thought makes you feel nauseous in a way you can’t blame on your cold.

You roll over in a bed with fresh sheets. You don’t want your bed to smell like him, all cedar shavings and whatever deodorant he uses. You don’t want his scent trapped in the place you sleep every night. If he’s going to run at the first sight of intimacy you want him erased from you. You’re not strong enough to keep him if he does that.

By evening you feel strong enough to putter around your house. You clean the dishes and after a warm shower you change your sleep clothes. You glance around your home, struck by its bare walls, dragging a thumb across your lower lip in thought before you look at the portrait of your family on the mantle. They smile down at you almost as if they’ve always been there.

You pull out a piece of paper from your desk, making measurements with your ruler and pencil. You spend a moment making some notes and then you yawn as your fatigue overtakes you. You still need to rest.

"’Night guys," you whisper to the portrait above the mantle before blowing them a kiss. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

///

The next morning you wake feeling much restored. The day is bright and your head no longer pounds. You pull on your coat and crimson scarf, winding it around your neck as you trudge in the snow towards the wood shop in town.

Cherry, the woman who runs the place smells like cedar and has arms like canons that ripple under her tight sweater. She gives you a thin smile when you walk in, her version of extreme pleasantry.

“Whadda ya need?”

You move like a quiet church mouse towards the table she stands behind. Cherry has always intimidated you with her muscular stature and serious countenance. It doesn’t help that her voice is so loud, so commanding that it makes you feel like you’re a child in trouble at all times.

"I was wondering if I could get a picture frame made?" You ask, pulling out the piece of paper you wrote the dimensions on yesterday. “Here’s the size of the picture.”

You slide it across the table. Cherry tilts over, a hand gripping each side of the table as she takes a look at your measurements before nodding adroitly.

"We might have something in the back.”

She disappears into the back space while you stand in the cramped front room, listening to the distant sounds of saws and hammering. There are a few people in Jackson now that help her run the woodshop. They came a few months ago and they help to build the houses, the pens, anything that needs extensive repairs. But they’re usually younger folks with no arms or riding training. You think that if he hadn’t been placed on patrols that Luke would fit in great here.

Cherry appears moments later with a frame the size you needed in a deep wood grain. You run your fingers over the exterior before grinning widely at her, amazed at how smooth it is.

“You did it so fast.”

Cherry brushes back the kinked hair that’s fallen into her eyes before shrugging her wide shoulders.

“Wasn’t a tough gig.”

“I could trade for labor,” you offer genuinely. “I don’t know much about woodworking but I could help clean or something for a day?”

Cherry smirks at that. “Nah, I saw you building those pens last summer. I think you and wood shops are like oil and water.”

Your cheeks burn with embarrassment, are you forever going to be haunted by your lack of wood crafting skills?

“Saw those flowers you made for Maria though,” Cherry says scratching her head with her pinky nail. “Could use somethin’ like that in here to brighten up the place.”

She motions around the blank wood walls of the shop. You glance around at the dimly lit front room. All that exists are measuring tools hung on one side, a slab of a desk Cherry stands behind and a wood box holding myriad of pencils. It’s drab and depressing. It reminds you of your own bare walls.

“You want paper flowers?” you ask, surprised.

“Nah, I’m not a flower person,” she says, sucking her teeth. “But this place could use somethin’ that makes the grey days feel less grey.”

Your mind immediately goes to work, trying to imagine what would look good in this room. Something colorful but appropriate for the space. You take your time stepping around the space, eyes drifting over each exposed inch of wall. It takes you a moment but when you think of it you almost bounce excitedly.

“How long do you think it would take to make, say, six more frames?” you ask her. “They could be different sizes and you can use your cheap wood.”

“Not long.”

“Any paint?”

“Yep. Heaps out back.”

“Perfect.”

///

A short while later with your morning project completed you head over to the dining hall, seeing no one that you know and settling in by your favorite seat under the window. This way there’s no one at your back and you can survey the entirety of the hall. A leftover from your days travelling with The Group, you think. You were never sure just when something might creep up behind you.

You poke at your eggs, sipping your tea, lost in thought. Not surprisingly your thoughts turn to Joel. You like Joel, you like him in your bed and you like talking to him. It seems that the feelings aren’t one-sided, but then again waking up to an empty bed has you uncertain.

“You seen Joel?”

You break from your reverie to see Tommy standing next to your table, peering down at you with an amused look on his face. He’s wearing a heavy coat, gloves and a cowboy hat. In his hand he holds a coffee, his nose pink. He’s clearly been out in the cold for a while this morning.

“No,” you answer quickly. “Why would I have seen Joel?”

Tommy stares at you a moment. “Because you’re usually with Ellie and where Ellie is, Joel usually is.”

Fuck, of course.

“Right,” you nod, smiling weakly, motioning for him to join you at the empty table.. “Well I haven’t seen either.”

“Damn,” Tommy says plunking himself across from you at the table, sipping his coffee. “I could use his skills again tomorrow. There’s a shipment of meds found out by the Elk Creek trail. Don’t want raiders getting’ to ‘em first.”

Your head raises, eyes on him.

“Raiders? I thought Maria said that was a false alarm.”

Tommy eyes you from the corner of his gaze, his countenance heavy. You know what he’s going to say, but you listen intensely anyway.

“I didn’t think she needed anything else stressin’ her out.”

“Oh.”

Joel travelling beyond the gates gives you sudden pause.

“Why Joel?” You ask, poking at your eggs in hopes of looking nonchalant. “Plenty of other younger guys here.”

“None that know the trail like him.”

Your fingers tighten around your spoon.

"He's not going by himself is he?" You ask trying to sound casual.

"Nah, we got a team,” Tommy finally answers. "S’why I need to talk to him, to organize it."

"Oh good," you take a deep breath. "That's good that it'll be a group going."

"Yeah?"

You nod before you see the way his eyes go small as he grins at you.

"You worried about that killin’ machine?" Tommy says gently teasing.

"No."

You answer too quickly and both you and Tommy know it. His dark eyes observe the way you won't meet his gaze, how your cheeks are heating and how you swallow thickly under his scrutiny. Thankfully the teasing cannot continue further because Jennifer and Luke are headed your way, laughing loudly to one another. They greet you with a wave as they approach. Jennifer sits across from you as Luke goes to your side, sliding in next to you on the bench seat. He smells good, like leather.

“Hey Tommy.”

“Hey Jennifer, Luke.”

You see how happy Jennifer looks today and you can’t help but feel a surge of pride knowing you contributed to that!

Luke launches into a story about how the musical group the town formed is starting to get serious about their rehearsals after their music night proved popular. You’ve heard many of the residents murmuring about how good it was, how they hope there’ll be more.

“Who knows, maybe we’ll take it on the road, travel to the local QZ’s and become rock stars,” Luke jokes, laughing along with the table. The image of such a thing has you and Jennifer tickled.

The door to the dining hall opens as he speaks and you hold your breath when you glance up to see Joel striding into the dining hall. He wears his thick dark brown leather jacket, his hands covered in gloves.

He glances to see his brother at your side and you see the way his eyes dart to you, lingering. Joel is completely fixated on you, observing Luke across the table from you next to Jennifer. Sees the way you're grinning at Luke's story and you don't miss the tic in his jaw.

Despite everything that you've said to Joel you know that he doesn't like you talking with Luke. Despite all your explaining there's still a glint in his eyes and you hold in a smile, noticing his curled hair, still damp from a shower, the broad of his shoulders under his jacket.

You squirm in your seat realizing, fuck, you’re getting wet just looking at him.

You have to force your attention back over to Luke who is chatting about the show with Jennifer.

“I really liked it,” she says honestly. “We weren’t expecting you guys to be so good.”

“Hey!” Luke laughs in mock offense.

“In a nice way,” you amend for her. “We’ve never heard you sing before. It was beautiful.”

“Thank you kindly,” Luke grins. “I’m getting’ a coffee you want anything Jenny?”

“Nah, I’m good.”

Luke slides out of the seat just in time to see Joel approach the table, looking stormy. He gives him a brief nod as he passes by.

“Finally,” Tommy announces, having seen Joel over his shoulder. You pretend to hold in a grimace when Jennifer looks your way. “The fuck you been?”

“Slept in.”

“Lazy ass,” Tommy chides as Joel slips into the newly empty seat next to you. You feel your heartbeat kick up behind your ribs, making your face feel hot. His thigh is pressing against yours, unseen under the table.

“Hardly.”

“Some things never change,” Tommy continues with dramatic levity. “Been that way since we were kids.”

“You’re one to talk.”

So Joel used to like sleeping in. Interesting. You file that little nugget of information away in the mental folder called Joel Miller’s Interior Life.

“I’ll give ya a pass considerin’ yesterday,” Tommy says flashing him a wink.

“What was yesterday?” Jennifer inquires and you want to kiss her forehead for asking. You yourself can’t ask without it looking suspicious. You take a bite of egg, feigning disinterest.

“There was a rumored medical shipment outside of Outpost 6,” Tommy explains. “Tried to find it but no luck. Long fuckin’ day though. Out at dawn, back at nightfall. I bet Joel’s still exhausted from it.”

“Pretty much,” Joel murmurs, his head not inclining your way. “Had to take off real early. Didn’t even get a chance to say goodbye to Ellie.”

Or you.

You hear that silent addition for your benefit in the linger of his drawl, the way his head moves slightly in your direction before catching himself. Something akin to relief goes through you at this. So Joel didn’t just take off for no reason yesterday morning. He was late to pick up medical items. You try not to look too relieved at that, but suddenly your breakfast tastes much better.

Luke appears at the table, noting his seat has been taken. Unperturbed he takes a seat next to Jennifer, glancing her way and yours.

"I meant to ask, do either of you sing?" Luke asks. "We’re always looking for new band members."

"I’m not bad,” Jennifer muses. You’re about to answer Luke when you feel Joel’s hand curl around your knee under the table, subtle but there. A quiet testimony that he’s here, he’s with you. It thrills you. Luke is staring at you and you realize it’s your turn to answer the question.

“M-me sing? No. Terrible. Can’t carry a tune in a bucket.”

“So we’re still on for pickin’ out the tree today?” Joel asks you both, but you know he’s only glancing at you. You still can’t look at him directly, your eyes will give everything away.

“Yep.”

“Oh, shit,” Jennifer looks suddenly concerned. “I’m so sorry, I totally forgot I have a... I have a thing I can’t get out of. I’m so sorry I can’t go with you two.”

You look at her red cheeks and the way she can’t meet your eyes and immediately you know exactly what she can’t get out of. An Oliver thing. You go to save her the embarrassment of admitting it, but Joel pipes up first.

“S’okay,” Joel answers. “We’ll pick it out. You can come help chop it down.”

“Really?” Jennifer’s face breaks into a beautiful smile.

You watch as her hand snakes across the table, resting on Joel’s around his coffee cup. It’s almost like it’s in slow motion. You see the curl of her delicate fingers against his, the perfect cut of her polished pink nails. (How did she find polish in the fucking apocalypse?)

Immediately you stiffen, barely noticing the way Joel’s eyes slip to you and then back to Jenny.

“Thank you for being so understanding, Joel,” she coos, batting her lashes.

“’Course Jenny,” Joel replies shortly.

Your body feels cold in the legs and absolute lava in your guts. What the fuck is going on?

Why the fuck is she batting her lashes? Isn’t she with Oliver now? Why is she touching Joel? What the fuck is her problem? And why isn’t he pulling away? Why is he just sitting there like a fucking bump on a log letting her touch him? Does he like this? Does he like Jennifer? Then what the fuck is he doing crawling into your bed and making you come on his tongue?

You don’t realize that you’re grinding your teeth and frowning at their hands until Luke calls your name. You glance up at him, breaking from your hateful inner monologue.

“You okay?” Luke asks you, his eyes fixed on your face. “You look upset.”

“Me?” you offer a sharp laugh that sounds pitifully forced. “No, no, just the eggs are a bit rubbery is all. Taste gross.”

You poke at the eggs as if further proving your point. He's got one hand on your knee under the table and the other is wrapped in Jenny's. You rip your knee out of his grip.

Jennifer gives Joel’s hand a soft squeeze before pulling it back to her side of the table. She's blushing faintly. Suddenly you need some air. You need to be away from seeing this.

“I have to go,” you say abruptly. “I have to…grab my gloves before…tree stuff.”

As far as excuses go, it’s pretty pathetic. You feel all eyes on you as you bid them a good morning and stumble from the table. You feel upset and embarrassed and furious. Furious in a way you haven’t been in a really long time.

“I’ll meet ya at the gate,” Joel tells your back as you stride away from him. “Five minutes.”

You give a listless raise of your hand to indicate you heard him. Then you’re gone, dashing towards your house and trying to stop the hammering of your heart. You go to the sink, hands circling the glass and pouring yourself a cup of water that you throw back. You brush your teeth, scrubbing every unpleasant moment of the last fifteen minutes from your mouth. You stare at yourself in the warped mirror over the sink.

Why are you so upset?

You and Joel are nothing. You’ve promised each other nothing. Sure, you’ve both shared some important stuff, but that doesn’t make him anything more than a guy you sometimes sleep with. You need to stop putting some nonexistent meaning into it. He didn’t even come to see you the other day. He wanted a quick fuck and he got it. You wanted it to go quiet and it did. You both got mutual pleasure and that’s good enough.

A knock sounds at your door, shaking you from your glaring reflection. You open the door to see Joel there, looking smug.

“Thought we were meeting at the gate.”

“Thought I’d save us some time and pick you up,” Joel says with mirth in his dark eyes.

You shrug in reply, pulling the door closed behind you and following him down the trail that leads outside of town. The same one you took with Buckley weeks ago, the one that takes you past that old farmhouse you love so much. It makes you upset to feel so out of sorts on a walk you normally love.

“Should be some good trees to pick from up on the left a little ways,” Joel offers.

“Mhm.”

“You eat enough at breakfast?”

Why are you acting like you care?

“Yep.”

Your boots crunch over the snow. Joel walks casually, his hands in his pockets. You can feel him looking at you, but you refuse to meet his gaze. There’s something about his energy that upsets you. He seems so light as you walk alongside him feeling so heavy. Does he even care that you were in bed all day yesterday? Does he even care about you?

“Seemed like you were a little upset back there,” Joel finally observes lightly when you don’t speak for a bit. You don’t miss the amusement in his tone and it pisses you off further. You give a small scoff under your breath.

“Back where?”

“At breakfast,” Joel adds before he shrugs as if he doesn’t care either way.

“I was fine.” you reply coolly.

“Yeah?” Joel’s voice is silken.

“Yep.”

It’s such a blatant lie you can’t believe you said it. But there’s no way you’ll give Joel the satisfaction of knowing that. Even as you walk alongside him now he looks so pleased with himself and it sets your teeth on edge.

“F’you say so.”

You frown, walking ahead of him a little quicker and the two of you continue on in silence. You reach the outskirts of town shortly thereafter, passing by the old farmhouse you like. Your eyes linger on it as you pass; noting the charming look it has when it’s covered with a light dusting of fresh snow like today.

“This the place you were talkin’ about before?” Joel must have noticed the way your pace slowed and how you can’t drag your eyes away from it. You glance over; relieved to see the self-congratulatory look is gone from his expression. You nod.

“Yeah.”

“S’go inside.”

“Why bother?”

Your reply is curt and Joel raises a brow in response to it.

“You were talkin’ about it before and it got me interested. I’ve been out this way before but never really took notice of it. Thought you could show me why you like it so much.”

“Fine.”

You don’t really want to extend this trip. You’re irritated with Joel about this morning and about how he just left you yesterday, how he didn’t even say goodbye even though you know the reason. You think maybe that’s not what upsets you the most. It was Jenny’s hand wrapping around his. Despite this the two of you head into the old farmhouse. Joel has to walk rapidly to keep up with your irritated pace as he calls your name.

You pretend you can’t hear him, tugging open the door and throwing yourself into the quiet space. Joel enters shortly after, looking at you incredulously. You feel him appraising you as you stand in the center of the living room, eyes flinty.

Despite telling yourself that how Joel feels about you doesn’t matter you find you can’t quite swallow your irritation from this morning.

Why didn’t he pull back from her? Why was he just okay acting like that when he hasn’t seen you in days?

You walk around the creaking floors, observing that it feels different than he last time you were here. No sun filtering in the windows, the wood looks cold, the space unwelcoming. The threadbare carpets look even worse and you’re convinced the moths have all but disintegrated the gingham drapes over the kitchen sink window.

“I kinda like it,” Joel observes, walking slowly around, dark eyes scanning the space. “S’homey.”

You don’t answer him. You just watch as he moves from room to room, heading upstairs. You stay below, not wanting to be anywhere near him right now. You need space to think. You’re warm inside the space, despite its chilly looks. You remove your jacket, tossing it onto the couch before pacing around. Your anger has you warming rapidly, your teeth clenched.

You hear him creaking upstairs, taking his time and appraising. He was a carpenter, you recall. He’s likely looking at the craftsmanship. He affirms this when pads down moments later, looking pleased.

“Place has good bones.”

“Mhm.”

“Good size bedrooms too.”

“Mhm.”

Your terse replies don’t go unnoticed. Joel’s hands slide off the banister and he comes to stand near you. You don’t move, you just flit your eyes to his face, frowning. Joel looks at you with a solemn expression.

“Look, I’m sorry I didn’t say goodbye yesterday. I just wanted to check on Ellie back at the house. I figured I’d be back before you even woke up but then I ran into Tommy and he needed me and I couldn’t exactly tell him why I couldn’t join him. It was a big shipment for the city.”

You’re silent, eyes on the floor.

“And when I got back it was so late,” Joel continues, his voice soft. “I went to your place but the lights were all off. I wanted to knock but then figured you were probably catching up on your sleep. I know it’s hard for you to do so I figured I’d come see you for breakfast.”

You nod.

“I understood that.”

“Okay,” Joel hedges, obviously confused that you’re still not looking at him. “Well… Is it that you’re disappointed Jenny couldn’t join us today? I didn’t know it would upset you that much. We can pick a tree another day.”

You scoff so loudly Joel’s eyebrows jump to his hairline.

“I say somethin’ funny?”

“I don’t think I’m the one upset Jennifer isn’t here, Joel.”

Joel looks at you with an inscrutable expression on his face. He crosses his arms over his chest casually, shoulder resting against the nearby wall.

“Come again?”

“I mean, seemed like you two were getting pretty cozy at breakfast,” you spit, feeling venomous. “Maybe she should be here instead of me.”

Now the smile is back on his handsome face, even more smug than before. Joel’s arms uncross and he steps towards you. You try to turn from him, but he’s there, caging you against the wall. He gives you plenty of space to escape if you want, but his body is tilting so you can’t avoid his eyes.

“Just say it,” Joel smiles

“Say what?”

“Say why it bothered you.”

“It didn’t-“

Joel pulls back, his dark eyes dancing. “Bullshit.”

You feel peevish and you cross your arms in front of you, glaring up at him. He’s about to say something else but all you can think of is how he sat there and let Jenny touch him in front of you. You push his shoulders and he moves back, watching you go to the couch in the center of the room. You throw yourself onto it, your pulse thrumming.

Joel plops himself next to you on the couch and you’re so irritated to see his smile is barely contained. Why is he so fucking smug? Doesn’t he hate it when Luke touches you? Is it really so amusing to see that you don’t want him touching others? Is this how Joel has been feeling all this time? This twisting, sticky ugliness behind your ribs? Maybe you can understand some of his sharpness before.

Joel moves to you, arm around your shoulder. You allow it, hating that your resolve seems to be lessening the more he touches you. He pulls you into him and your hand lands on his thigh. Slowly he moves his mouth to your cheek, kissing there softly. Your lashes flutter. His mouth is petal soft and so warm on your bare flesh.

“You think I want Jenny?” Joel murmurs against cheek.

“You didn’t seem to mind her pawing at you,” you mutter petulantly.

“What would you have preferred?” Joel says, now pressing soft kisses to the hinge of your jaw. “Should I have whipped my hand back? Would’ve been rude.”

“As if that’s a first,” you say, but there’s no bite in your tone because Joel’s mouth is so soft.

He’s sliding his hands around your waist, and you try to focus on what you were trying to say when he urges you onto your back. You hit the cushions softly, your eyes fixed on his luminous ones above you.

Your legs part and Joel kneels between them, his arm holding his body over yours. The steady pulse in your heart matches the one between your thighs as his hand slowly slides down between your breasts, fingertips trailing over the nipples straining under the fabric of your bra and shirt.

“I didn’t like it.”

His palm slides down your sternum, trailing over the soft of your stomach as he gazes down at you, the clear delight in his eyes infuriating you.

“Why didn’t you like it?”

“Because it’s…” you stutter breathlessly when his forefinger dances along the waistband of your jeans, the short nail scraping just lightly enough to have your body breaking into goose bumps. Your eyes jump back to his self-satisfied expression.

“I just don’t like her touching you.”

His mouth moves to your throat, pressing feather soft kisses there. You tilt your head to the side, allowing him better access. His voice is pitched low and it vibrates against your skin when he rumbles his reply.

“How come?”

“Because....” your brain searches desperately for an answer that won’t show your hand. “…Because I know you don’t like people touching you.”

“I like some people touchin’ me,” Joel murmurs as his fingers come to unbutton your jeans. You look down your body and watch as he lowers the zipper, hypnotized by what’s happening.

“And I like touchin’ some people.”

He tilts over you, his broad body warm and protective as his fingers slide down over your mound through your panties. You’re mortified when you realized the wet patch on the gusset is painfully obvious.

“You k-know what I mean,” you squeak as he slides his fingers underneath the cotton, curling them delicately along the seam of your cunt. “I know you don’t like it when people grab you like that.”

“Is that it?” he teases, a crooked grin on his face as he watches you slot your lower lip tightly behind your front teeth. “You were just lookin’ out for me?”

He curls his fingers around your jeans, tugging them down with a grin on his face. They pile by your feet on the cushion.

“Mhm,” you lie.

Joel smirks when your hips rise; helping him to slide your panties down over your hips your legs, grazing down your calves and them finally they join the pile at the end of the couch. You feel your fingers itching to touch him, to see more of him. They go to his belt, and Joel allows this, watching your face as you fiddle with his belt, zipper and jeans.

“Know what I think?” Joel teases as he pushes down his boxers and denim. “I think you didn’t like her touching what’s yours.”

Yes. That’s exactly what it was. You didn’t like her touching Joel because he’s yours.

“I think you’re a greedy thing,” Joel says with a wicked grin. “Aren’t you?”

You don’t answer, but your whimper is enough. Joel grins widely, his mouth capturing yours victoriously, tongues dabbing gently. Your fingers lace behind his neck, welcoming him, needing him, wanting more of him.

“Take what’s yours then,” he whispers.

He wraps you in his arms, rolling onto his back and urging you to straddle him there on the couch. You do it, eager for the full sensation that comes with riding him. He watches you line the head of him with your glistening cunt before his eyes are back on your face, pinning you with his heated stare.

This is always your favorite part, the first breech of his cock entering you, the combined groan of you and Joel. You adore the fullness that comes with it, the incredible stretch that has your eyelids heavy and your body coming out in shuddering waves when your ass hits his thighs.

Joel watches this with his hands behind his neck, looking up at you, not even attempting to touch you. He's doing it on purpose. He wants to see you take what’s yours. Joel is always the one guiding things, leading you both so to be the one in control has you feeling heady. You realize that you actually like it, the feeling of control.

Briefly.

Joel is being so wonderfully submissive, just lying there, and thrusting gently when he can't take it anymore. You make a whining noise, frustrated at how turned on you are and yet you feel like you can't contain it. Your thoughts are jumbled in your head, taking you out of the moment.

"Joel," you gasp, head dropping. "Make it go quiet."

He surprises you by shaking his head from side to side slowly. He sees your confused expression.

"You can make it go quiet for yourself," Joel tells you, flexing within you, making your eyelids flutter. "Go on."

"I can't-"

"You can," Joel informs you gently. "Concentrate."

"Joel, I -"

"Think of shooting," Joel murmurs, his hips continuing to shallowly circle. "Said you've been having lessons. How do you concentrate on the target? How do you focus?"

You long for him to take control again. It's what's familiar. He leads, you follow.

"Joel please-"

Joel's hands move from behind his neck, they reach up and cup your cheeks on either side of your face, holding you delicately as you gently rut against one another.

"You can do this," Joel encourages, his eyes imploring you to attempt it. "C'mon, baby. Try."

Baby.

Something about his softness prompts you to close your eyes. His hands fall away from you, curling back around his neck. You know he's watching you. Your brain continues to go in a million directions.

Focus. Focus. Focus.

You think back to shooting lessons, of being in the snow with the gun raised to your eye. You think of Jennifer's instructions to breathe, to focus, to think of something that brings you calm.

The sun.

Chestnut.

Warm tea.

Joel's eyes.

Joel's voice.

Joel.

Your eyes crack open to see Joel staring up at you with a faraway look. You allow yourself to swim in the dark depths of his eyes, surrendering to it, floating. You realize that the longer you do, the quieter it is in your mind. Instead of being full of concerns of what you do or how to move you just look at Joel and feel a warmth spilling from your very heart.

You're about to say as much when you shift your thighs and Joel's length stretches the velvet of your walls, nudging against a sensitive spot and sending you bucking. He feels it the same time as you do and his head tilts back against the arm of the couch, his cheeks flushing.

“You gonna take what's yours?" Joel eggs you on, watching where you join. "Huh?"

You breathe softly before nodding your head, your palm resting on his chest as you roll your hips. His eyes scorch a path up your body, resting on your flushed face, circling his hips and hitting you deliciously deep.

"That's my girl," Joel groans as you start to bounce lightly. His eyes are fluttering shut as his hips gently thrust in time with yours. "You go on and take it. S’all for you."

My girl. His girl. Joel's girl. Yes your his. He's yours. Hasn't it been that way for so long?

It's always been Joel.

///

When the two of you are redressed you continue your journey to the forest to find a tree. Jackson city is larger than its town would suggest and the forested area is large and sprawling. Due to the cold of winter its empty, no one wants to journey out here in this weather. But today to you it's perfect. You enjoy the isolation of it today because Joel is here.

"Gonna plant more saplings in the new year," Joel murmurs absently as you enter. "But we got lots of choice right now."

You nod, humming. The two of you walk further into the snowy forest, marveling at the beauty of it. You feel the tentative touch of Joel at your wrist, sliding down until his gloved hand laces with yours.

You know that your cheeks are pinking from the cold, but now they flame for an entirely different reason. This is intimate. This is sweetness. This is something you never really got to experience and you love it. Holding hands with Joel as you walk pointing out the virtues of different trees.

"At Christmas we had real trees growing up," you muse.

"Same here."

"My family would have a decorating night on December first. Hot cocoa, matching pyjamas the whole nine yards. Charlotte and I would string popcorn to decorate with and Charlotte would eat more than she would string."

You laugh at the memory of your sister munching away on popcorn as your mother chastised her (always with a smile). You always followed the rules, always wanted to have the tree looking perfect, always strung the popcorn dutifully.

"Sarah always wanted to hang the star at the top first," Joel smiles as your feet crunch through the snow. "Always had to have that thing perched up there, shining down while we put on tinsel and ornaments."

You giggle, delighted at the thought.

"We didn't have tinsel," you tell him. "We weren't allowed after our dog ate some as a puppy and, yikes, it wasn't pretty."

Joel chuckles loudly, the kind that rumbles delightedly in his chest. You grin toothily at him, so pleased you could do that to him. You look away, trying to think of something else that would amuse him when your eyes suddenly landed on a tree a short distance away.

"That one," you say, pointing excitedly. "That's our tree."

You leap forward, eager to mark it. But you don't loosen your grip from Joel. You bring him along with you as you almost skip to the tree.

You and Joel walk around the tree, surveying it from all sides. It's a great shape, no bald patches. It's the perfect height; it has strong branches for holding ornaments.

"This is the tree." Joel smiles down at you. Now he loosens his grip from your hand as he retrieves the twine he brought from his back pocket.

You watch him wind it around the trunk of the tree, clearly marking it for the party. It's going to look gorgeous.

"I hope this party is better than the last one," Joel murmurs as he stares at the tree.

"Did you dance at the last one?"

"I would have," he admits. "If Tommy and Maria weren't pesterin' me the whole night, tryin' to get me to talk with every single fuckin' woman in Jackson. Felt like a set up so I ducked out pretty early."

"That's annoying," you say, eyes on the ground. But really you're pleased because that means Joel doesn't waste time with women he doesn't enjoy the company of, right?

"Mhm. Guess it'll be different this year though."

"Oh?"

Your eyes slowly go to his and he squeezes your hand as he speaks.

"Any chance you wanna go with me?"

You feel your heart starting to pick up speed. Jennifer will find out. The whole town will know. Ellie may not like it. There will be no going back from this.

You don't fucking care.

"Yeah, I'd love to."

Chapter 18: Useless

Notes:

If any of you are sensitive and need lots of tags/warnings for angst, etc in your stories I recommend you scroll to the bottom of my story where you'll see a SPOILER TAGS for this chapter.

Chapter Text

Daylight bleeds into the bedroom, waking you with a gentle stir. Delight rests heavily in your belly making the world tinge a pink and yellow glow. Joel asking you to the dance. Holding your hand until the two of you made it back to town. But then just as quickly as you glow from the inside regret creeps in, darkening the moment.

Jennifer.

You have to tell Jennifer.

You’re desperate to get this ugliness out of the way. You want the party to be fun. You want the two of you to dance with your men without having to hide it. You want to giggle with her about Joel, to confess to her how you feel about him like girlfriends do.

So an hour later you head over to her place with a coffee for her, surprised to see her still in her pajamas when she opens the door, her eyes red -rimmed. She always looks beautiful, but today she appears to have been crying.

"Hey," you chirp happily extending the coffee to her. "Up for a visit and some shooting?"

"Visit yes, shooting no."

Your smile drops as she gives a sniffle. She takes the coffee from you before indicating that you should enter. You follow her to her couch, noticing that even up close she looks a bit drawn. You feel a twinge of panic.

"Jenny, what's going on?"

Jennifer sighs, scrubbing her hand down her face.

"It's Oliver," she says quietly. "He uh, he and his girlfriend got back together last night. He just came by this morning to tell me face to face. Said he felt like he owed it to me."

Fuck.

"I'm so sorry," you say, your hand going to her shoulder.

"It's not your fault," she says taking a sip of coffee.

Isn't it?

You pushed her into Oliver's arms without knowing anything about him. You encouraged the romance for your own selfish gain. And now look at what happened, Jennifer, the sweetest woman alive feels like shit.

"The worst part is I thought I really liked him," she says scoffing to herself. "But I don't know if I liked him or I just liked not being alone."

Jennifer was always one of those women that you saw surrounded by men and women. People clamored to be around her, to exist in her orbit. They still do, but something has changed. You see it when she's in a crowd, her smile not as bright.

"I used to like the flirting and the sex and all that distraction," she explains. "But now, I dunno."

She's quiet and you don’t like the downcast expression in her face. Guilt consumes you when you see how devastated she looks. And you know it’s because of your own selfishness that she’s like this.

"Is there anything I can do?"

She gives you a weak smile.

"Can we take a break from talking about men?" She laughs, rolling her eyes. "I'm sick of ‘em."

You swallow. So much for sharing about Joel. Bringing that up right now would only hurt her further. You force a smile to your face.

"Yeah, of course."

///

"Let's go for a walk.”

“I dunno…”

You’re at Maria’s house on her front porch, your mind whirring about Jennifer. You thought that a visit to Maria might help. She’s answered the door dressed, but her hair is askew. Stains litter the front of her shirt. Tommy comes up behind her, gazing at the back of her head. He holds a grunting Douglas in his arms, smiling at you.

“What’s goin’ on?”

“Trying to convince your wife to go for a walk with me,” you chirp merrily waving a bag in the air. “I even brought a carrot to feet Chestnut if you want.”

Maria still looks tentative; it's if she wants to turn down this idea. But you know how much she loves the animals. You know she’s been hiding herself indoors and you just know some fresh air would do her good.

“Go on, honey,” Tommy encourages gently. “Me and Douglas are just goin’ for breakfast anyway.”

“Make sure he-“

“Has his thick socks,” Tommy finishes for her with a gentle nod. “I know, Maria.”

Maria relents with a small smile in his direction. She presses a small kiss to Douglas’ forehead and Tommy’s cheek. You watch her pull on her boots and her thick winter jacket and the two of you make your way towards the stables.

Maria has that distant look you associate with folks you've run across in your years since the outbreak. Eyes that have the life sucked out of them, cold and blurry like they're somewhere else.

She walks next to you in silence, her hands shoved deep in her heavy coat pockets. For once it's you who needs to chatter away, still uneasy about how to speak with her when she's so withdrawn. You don't want to push her further into herself, but you also don't want to trudge beside her in silence.

You smile at this. Maria looks up ahead to the stable and barn where several sections of the livestock are held.

"When I first got here I used to come here all the time," you explain as you walk beside her. "I liked watching the chickens. When I first got here there were tons of chicks. So cute and fuzzy."

Maria hums a response and any further comments you might have made fall into the snow, forgotten.

Eventually the two of you come to the entrance of the barn. You unlatch it, tugging it open with a creak. Maria enters first, kicking the snow from her boots on the cement floor. You follow after her, closing the door with a thump.

The barn inside is quiet, peaceful even in the early hour of the morning. The chickens are in this section, clucking madly as you pass.

"Sorry folks, not breakfast for you yet."

Maria smiles and you feel relief that her mood already rising. Goats bleet quietly on the other side of the barn, some of the kids kicking up hay. You and Maria take your time here, walking and watching the animals play. Some nuzzle your hand when you reach into the pen.

You spot a light grey nanny goat at the far corner of the pen, lying in the straw. Two little ones with similar coloring nestle against her plump belly sleeping soundly.

Maria runs her hand along the wood fencing that keeps them penned in. She sighs heavily. The Nanny goat raises her head sleepily at Maria, watching her with marble eyes before going back to resting.

You feel rather than see Maria shake her head.

"You know what's funny? I helped make this barn. I helped fix up the old houses and man the dam and build these very pens." She clicks her tongue, as if amazed. "And until Douglas I never really slowed down enough to really see it, you know?"

You don't say anything; you just stand next to her, shoulders almost touching as you stare at the goat. Maria needs to talk and you need to listen, it's as simple as that.

"When you move fast it's real easy to overlook stuff. Like, that my baby is gonna grow up in this place, probably gonna run things if he's anything like me or Tommy... Or me." She smiles. "But that's a real uncertain future. What if the dam stops working? What if things get worse?"

She looks at you now and you turn to face her, your arm resting on the fence.

"We were so damn selfish bringing a baby into this shit."

Her eyes are filled with tears, fresh ones and you watch her chin tremble. She looks away from you, back at the goat and her kids. One of the kids has woken up, stretching. Maria folds her arms on the fence before lowering her head to bury her face in them. She's so broken that it actually hurts you to watch it.

Your hand goes between her shoulder blades, rubbing gentle circles. She allows this, not tensing under your touch.

The kid makes its way over to you both across the straw, giving soft little bleets. You cast a smile, watching as it attempts to nibble at the bottom of Maria's pants.

"It's nature, Maria," you offer softly. "It's natural for some people to have the desire to create new life with someone they love."

"You wouldn't," Maria says sharply. She's prickly now, exposed and hurt. She waits for your response with the look of someone waiting for a slip up. Or maybe hope that she's wrong. She deserves more than a lie.

"No," you admit truthfully with a slow shake of your head. "I probably wouldn't."

Maria looks at the goat by her feet.

"But you're so good with Douglas and you get along so well with Ellie."

You grin.

"Well Douglas is an angel and Ellie, yeah, she's a cool kid. I probably like them so much because I don't have any of my own. Love surplus."

Maria seems to find this amusing because she looks at you with a small smile.

"A love surplus. I like that."

The two of you go back to looking at the animals, watching the Nanny goat who has just now realized that one of her babies is missing. She rises shakily before moving over to the quietly bleeting kid by you.

"She doesn't know about tomorrow," you tell Maria, pointing at the mother goat. "She just knows she has a kid that she brought into this world and needs to protect it. That's all she can do. That's all she can control."

Maria is quiet for a moment, absorbing what you’ve said.

"Are you really comparing me to a fucking goat?'

You hear the levity in Maria's voice and it brings a smile to your face.

"Yeah, I guess I am."

She gives you a playful shove with her shoulder. You grin before urging her to follow you to the closed barn door leading to the stables. You open the adjoining door to the stalls and feel your chest tighten when a familiar broad shouldered figure is seen standing by the pens.

He's murmuring something to Chestnut, patting his nuzzle. But when the door creaks open he glances over quickly in the direction of the sound. When he sees you and Maria his brows rise in surprise. Maria walks towards him with a wave.

"What are you doing here, Miller?"

"Needed a break from Ellie. She’s found a new CD and she won’t stop fucking playin’ it. Givin’ me a headache."

He shakes his head good-naturedly, as if to say some people’s kids. But there’s no anger in it, no resentment, just gentle amusement.

“How about you two?”

"This one insisted I get out of the house," she says with a thumb pointed over her shoulder at you.

Joel's eyes slide over to you, the depths of the dark brown color warm and sweet.

"Good."

You feel your cheeks heating as he gazes at you before he drags his eyes back to a whinnying Chestnut.

"I know, I know, your favorite girl's here," he murmurs to the horse. Something about the way he says it makes your heart flutter.

"I thought we could come give Chestnut a snack," you explain holding up the carrots in front of you.

"Only if you brought enough for the rest of the class," Joel teases.

"We have enough."

You hand Maria a few of the carrots from the bundle. You step towards Chestnut in his paddock walking back and forth eagerly as you approach.

"I'll feed these guys," Maria says leaning over the opposite paddock to run her hand over Glimmers muzzle. Midnight stands in the corner, looking with uncertainty between you and Maria.

Joel moves a little closer to you at the fence of the paddock, his eyes scanning the horses before you feel them coming back to land on your face.

You can't look at him though; you know you'll give everything away if you do. It's getting impossible not to gaze at Joel these days, your eyes heavy with longing. Instead you keep your attention on the horse, your face warm.

"Hello handsome boy," you croon at Chestnut. "Did you have a good sleep?"

Chestnut comes trotting over to see you, his downy muzzle coming to rub your cheek. You giggle at the sensation before raising the carrot in his direction.

"Okay charmer, relax. You're getting one."

Maria feeds Glimmer and a few of the other horses as Chestnut chomps away on his treat, the chewing noises loud and pleasant. You place a kiss to the center of his forehead before rubbing his flicking ears.

You hear Maria's entreating voice.

"C'mon boy. Just a nibble."

Maria holds out a carrot to Midnight who still stands off to the side looking petulant as the rest of the horses enjoy their morning treat.

"He's a toughie," Maria says in amusement, holding the remaining carrot outstretched towards you. "You try."

"I think Joel'll have better luck," you tell her, unable to look at the man as you say it. "Midnight likes him best."

You feel Joel shuffle a little closer beside you, his forearms resting on the wood fence. He scratches his beard absently while he looks to the Midnight staring balefully at everyone.

"You should do it," Joel says to the back of your head. "He's gotta learn to be less stubborn if he wants somethin'."

You smirk at that before giving a shrug. "Sure, I'll try."

You take the carrot from Maria, going to stand closer to Midnight's section of the pen. You hear Joel following you close behind.

"He's picky," Joel informs you. "He only eats from the palm 'a your hand. Small pieces."

You nod, cracking the carrot into several bite sized pieces before cupping them in your palm. You tilt over the paddock, clicking your tongue.

Joel waves off the other horses who linger, waiting for a chance to get extra.

Midnight watches Joel standing behind you before taking a wary step forward. You flinch when Joel's hand goes to your waist, holding you against him. His mouth is at your ear.

"Stay real still or you'll spook him."

His hand squeezes your waist gently and your body trembles in response at being so close to him in front of someone else.

You sneak a glance to see Maria's eyes fixed on Chestnut. She kisses the horse between the eyes, gently murmuring to him. You look back to see Midnight keeping his eyes on Joel as he ambles over, his nose twitching, catching the scent of the carrots.

"Palm flat," Joel says huskily in your ear. You suppress a shiver at the sensation of his warm breath huffing against your earlobe.

You know how to feed a horse from your hand safely. You're about to tell him as much when you feel his wide hand going to yours. He stands behind you, cupping the back of your hand in his and rising it towards the waiting horse.

You watch his arm under yours, lifting your hand and flattening. Your palm goes flat, the carrot pieces bunched together. Your breathing is unsteady, and you should be looking at Midnight but all you can focus on is how Joel's thumb strokes the side of your wrist.

"Just let him take it."

You swallow at this, trying not to observe how silky Joel's voice has gotten. How it's dripping, sinfully sweet in your ear like honey.

One hand stays on your hip, squeezing slightly. The other still holds your own hand under Midnight's mouth. Midnight still waits, looking at you with large, shiny eyes.

"Go on," you say softly.

You watch the distrustful animal bend forward, huffs of warm air falling over your palm. Then with gentle precision you feel him take the first piece of carrot into his mouth, crunching quickly.

Joel's warm mouth is at your ear, his voice dropping an octave.

"Good girl."

It's murmured quietly. Your face feels like it has a heartbeat, throbbing in time with your pulse. You don't even mean to, but you let out a shudder exhale. You hear Joel's breathing hitch before he steps back from you, clearing his throat.

"Tommy up with the baby?"

Maria nods, staring at Glimmer.

"Yeah, when we left they were heading for breakfast."

"Might join him. I'll see ya later."

You watch as Joel gives you both a short wave before ducking out the side door of the barn, closing it behind him.

You cling to the fencing, feeling like you're going to pass out. There's something about Joel that gets you so wound up. You wanted nothing more than go home with him right now, to force him into bed and to ride him until his eyes roll back in his head.

"We should head back too," Maria announces before shooting you a smile. "This was a good idea. Thanks."

You grin; delight blooming behind your ribs. Maria already looks much more at ease, her countenance relaxed as the two of you walk back to her house. You can see the fresh tracks left by Joel in the snow, a trail leading you both home.

"I like the two of you together."

Maria says this suddenly, breaking you from your thoughts. You fight to keep your face and voice neutral.

"Who?"

"You and Joel."

Your head jerks back to face her, your eyes wide. You physically come to a stop, sliding in the icy patch of wet snow.

"Excuse me?"

Maria's eyes bounce between yours, trying to read your expression.

"We're not …. That's not..." You stammer further when Maria stares at you, a playful smirk crossing her lips.

"I’m not blind," she states sagely and you can see in her eyes that there's a relief in her knowing this part of you. Like she isn't the only one being vulnerable in this friendship. You feel the walls start to come down.

"It's new. I don't exactly know what it is."

"But you're happy?"

A flush crawls up your neck as you suppress a small smile. "Yeah."

"I always thought there might be something there," Maria says tilting her head after the direction he left in. "You're a good match. Always thought so."

"Yeah, well, like I said it's still new. Nothing's official."

Maria opens her mouth to say something but then thinks better of it. She settles for walking quietly with you towards her place.

"I don't want people knowing," you say quietly. "Not until I've figured some stuff out. I'm pretty sure Joel feels the same."

"Your secret's safe with me," she assures you with a pat on the back of your arm. "I won't say a word to anyone, not even Tommy. Not until you're both ready."

You don't speak anymore on it, but there's a lightness in you at having shared this. A strange relief that bubbles up in your chest at the realization that someone else knows about you and Joel. And that there was no recrimination or judgment involved.

When you approach her house you see one of Maria's neighbors, Bethany, there with a pie, waving at you both.

"I was hoping to have a visit," she tells Maria as the two of you approach. Your friend holds in a grimace, forcing a weak looking smile

"That's so kind, Beth but I'm a little tired."

"Well that's fine by me. I'll just come read by the fire while you nap."

The woman's face is sweet and you can see the anxiety there in her eyes. Maria sighs before nodding, realization hitting you both. Tommy set this up in case he wasn't home yet. A babysitter.

You and Maria bid each other a goodbye with a quick hug and then your feet are hurriedly making their way towards the dining hall.

You're hoping to catch up with Joel.

You feel like you're turning into a bloodhound because you're certain you can smell the leather of his jacket in the air. You round the corner of Magnolia Street and see his broad figure walking slowly down the sidewalk.

Some folks wave a hello to him as they pass and you fight the urge to call out his name. Instead you walk quicker, watching his long legs carrying him to the dining hall.

You watch as he comes to a stop in front of one of the shops, peering in and glancing around in the display window.

You walk casually towards him, your boots crunching snow underfoot. Joel must hear you approaching because his dark eyes dart up to catch yours in the windows' reflection. Something about the sight makes your stomach flip.

You walk up to him casually, aware that there could be eyes on you. You keep your eyes on his reflection, your heart loud in your ears.

"You wanna come over for coffee?"

Joel’s brow furrows.

"Thought you didn't drink coffee."

"Wasn't really talking about coffee."

You can't help the little smirk that crosses your mouth when you say this, surprised at even yourself. You don't miss the grin Joel hides behind his palm.

"Yeah, okay."

He follows you home and then upstairs to your bedroom and fucks you so hard that your headboard chips some of the plaster off your wall. You laugh about it after when he remarks that he's "too strong for my own good” after coming so hard your body twitches well into the afterglow. You feel drowsy, facing Joel, his hand over yours. Your eyes are closed but you feel him staring at you.

“What was Tommy talkin’ about that night in the Bison?”

“Huh?”

“You were with your friends talkin’ about repairs he said somethin’ about rememberin’ you and the stables.”

You cheeks flush with embarrassment at the memory. The day Joel sat next to you in the pub while Tommy brought up your embarrassing lack of carpentry skills and you go to pull the sheet further up your body.

“When I got here I volunteered to help with rebuilding the stables. Only I’m just as shit at repairs as I am with patrols.”

“You’re not shit with patrols.”

“Oh no?” you roll onto your side, grinning at him. “I feel like you may only be saying that considering what we’ve done on them.”

“Nah,” Joel says softly. “You got good eyes and good ears, and I’m a good shot. We make a good team.”

You snuggle closer to him in the bed, head resting on his chest and the two of you fall into a drowsy mid-day nap. You can hear the steady thrum of his heartbeat underneath, lulling you into a comfortable half-slumber and before long you wake still in his arms. A moment of concern hits you when you see the sky is starting to darken and you glance up to see Joel is already awake, looking at you.

“Will Ellie be waiting for you?”

“Nah, she’s visitin’ her friend.”

“So you can stay a little longer?”

You feel Joel’s smile on the top of your head. “Yeah.”

Thoughts of Ellie bubble up in your mind, her sweet smile and the way she talks about Joel like he’s the most wonderful man she knows. There’s a familial feeling despite their lack of blood relation.

“Ellie doesn’t really talk about how you two know each other,” you tell him, gazing up his shoulder. “She’s private like you.”

Joel exhales gently, his dark eyes unfocussed as he stares off into middle distance.

“I was takin’ her to the Fireflies. Tess and I were, actually.”

Tess, his not-quite-girlfriend if you recall correctly. The Fireflies that radical group your dad told you about.

“I didn’t wanna do it, but Tess had that way of persuadin’ me.” Joel rubs at the back of his neck. He speaks slowly, deliberately. “Tess got infected pretty early on, but she made me promise to take Ellie all the way to the Fireflies. It was the least I could do for her.”

Joel takes a deep breath, thinking back.

“S’funny, I couldn’t stand the kid when I first met her. Thought she was annoyin’ and reckless. But, you know Ellie, she has a way of makin’ you come around to her.”

You smile. Yes, she certainly does.

“Anyway, took us a while to get there and when we got there to the hospital, they. . . “ Joel blinks rapidly, his chest rising. “They wanted to operate on her. Cut open her brain and see if they could find the cure that way.”

“What the fuck?” It comes out of you in a rush, your eyes widening in disgust. You push up in the bed, clutching the blanket over your bare chest. “She was okay with it?”

“She didn’t know.”

Anger flashes in your eyes, unmistakable.

“How…Was it guaranteed? This cure?”

Joel shakes his head slowly. Your mind races, trying to understand how Ellie went from being with the Fireflies in the hospital, her life at stake, to living with Joel in blissful youth. It doesn’t add up.

“But, how did she get out?”

Joel sweeps his eyes to you, seeing your hand raised to your mouth and you almost wish he hadn’t. His big, dark eyes are so fucking broken that it literally takes your breath away. It’s like you can see the hurt living in him.

“I couldn’t save Sarah, but I could save Ellie.”

It feels like a gut punch and you go still, your eyes searching his.

“You got her out?”

“Yes.”

He stares you down, almost daring you to force him to justify his actions. It’s like he wants your ire or your disgust. You give him neither, instead you take his hand, nodding. You understand. You picture sweet, childish Ellie in a hospital gown; knocked out and unknowing her short life was at an end.

You can’t say you wouldn’t have done the same if you had the same tactical skill set.

“I’m done having the people I love taken from me,” Joel murmurs.

“Same here.”

There’s a heavy emotion in the air, something sweet that lingers. But it makes you feel strange, almost anxious. Despite this you take his face in yours and press a kiss to his pouty lips. You don’t miss the sheen to his eyes as he kisses you back, lowering you onto the mattress and making love to you slow and deep.

Help me forget, his body whispers, each groan and thrust a silent beg for you to take him away from that darkness. To repay him for all the times he’s made it go quiet for you. And you do, body drawing him closer, soft exhalations of his name again his neck.

You both continue to lay in the bed afterwards, sex warmed and intimate. You hear Joel begin to hum under his breath, a twangy tune you half remember. You let it twist lazily through the air, the deep notes spinning slowly in your mind. You prop your cheek up with one hand so you can grin at him.

"Have you always been musical?"

"Since I could afford an instrument," Joel says with a far-off in his eyes. "Wanted to be a famous singer when I was a kid."

"Yeah? Johnny Cash?"

"The man in black himself." Joel chuckles softly at your amused grin. "But I'm not a suit guy."

You watch his chest rise and fall in the following quiet. Your free hand twitches before it goes to rest gently over his sternum. You feel the smooth of his chest and the strength of his heartbeat thumping steadily under your touch. He covers your hand there with his own heavy palm, keeping it there, keeping you close.

"Sarah always got embarrassed when I sang in the car with her," Joel grins, eyes unfocused. "I'd be drivin' her to soccer practice and Elvis or somethin' would come on. I'd start singing and she'd cover her ears moaning that I was embarrassin' her."

You grin at the remembrance of being a teenager girl with an embarrassing dad. Before everything went to shit you were a teenage girl who loved riding horses, going to the mall, reading, flirting with the guy that worked at the movie theatre. Anything to be considered cool.

When your own father threatened to take you to school in his pyjamas and walk you to class if you skipped out of math again it had felt like the end of the world.

How strange that the end of the world would happen not long after.

"Did you ever want to be anything else?"

"Oh sure," Joel shrugs. "When my dad was teachin' me n' Tommy how to shoot I was convinced I was gonna be a hunter and that I'd live off the land, have my own farm. Then when I played highschool football I figured I'd do that professionally until Sarah came along."

You watch him speak, your mouth slightly agape as you take in every word he says. Every time he takes a breath you're worried that he's finished, that no more stories will be told.

Suddenly you understand why Ellie sits and stares at you when you talk about the past, why she urges you to tell her more and more.

This is an insight into a world you don't know, a world where Joel played guitar and dreamt about being a singer. A world where he went to Sarah's soccer matches. You want to learn more, to hear more.

"What was Sarah like?"

It slips out of you before you can help yourself. It spills over your lips before you can realize how personal a question it is. Joel's dark eyes grow glossy in the moonlight and you mentally kick yourself.

"She was funny," Joel says, surprising you. He inhales slowly, eyes distant. "She was so damn funny without even tryin' to be. And she loved goin' to museums. I think I took her to every single one in Texas by the time she was twelve. She loved watching bad movies with me. I remember our favorites were the Curtis and Viper ones. You know those?"

"Action movie?"

"Yeah."

"Then no. I was strictly a rom-com girl back then," you smile as you jiggle your hand against his sternum, prompting him. "What else?"

Joel gives a grin.

"She was beautiful, had the most beautiful smile and she was so loving. To animals, to other people. That was my girl, all heart."

You close your eyes, imagining this girl with a bright smile and gentle disposition. You wish you could have seen more than the one photo of her you got from Maria.

"She was smart as hell too, smarter than I ever was." He sniffs softly. "N' so responsible... Too responsible, maybe. I think she felt like she had to take care of me sometimes."

"Take care of you?" You hope the shock isn't too evident in your features. The thought The Joel Miller would need someone taking care of him of all people surprises you.

"Yeah, I think because..." Joel looks puzzled, as if explaining is impossible. "I think she saw me single, workin' all the time at a job I didn't really love, takin' care of Tommy, no social life, and she felt like I needed to be taken care of too. Was just in her nature to think of other people."

You both fall silent as the words settle in your mind.

"She sounds like an amazing kid," you finally whisper. "You were lucky to have her."

Joel's head slowly tilts until he's facing you, his gaze fixed and gentle.

"Yeah. I was."

You nod, lowering your cheek back to your pillow now. Your palm is still flat on Joel's sternum, his big hand over yours. You watch them rise and fall as he breathes, slow and steady. You chance a look up at his expression even though tears are prickling the back of your eyes. He's got a wet look to his gaze, the kind that turns his dark eyes into glassy marbles.

You shuffle up the bed slightly, sliding your hand to his neck before kissing him slowly. His hand finds itself cupping your jaw as your lips move against one another. Joel sees you about to nod off, wrapping his arms around you and settling against you in the bed. You shift until he's curled around you, his mouth at your shoulder.

"Sleep."

Immediately you feel yourself dropping off. You think he says something but you can't be sure and you can't reply. You're asleep, nestled in the safe harbor of Joel Miller's arms.

///

"What are you signing up to bring?"

It's later that week and you and Jennifer are crowded around the notice board in town. You've both been reading the potluck list for the winter party. You can't help but feel your stomach do a little jump when a familiar name pops up on the list in familiar sharp script.

Joel Miller - drinks

You hide your smirk. How Joel Miller.

A pencil tied to string is pinned into the cork next to the brightly colored paper. You take it in your hand, hunching over.

"I think I'll bring brownies," you say as you write your name and the dessert onto the potluck list. "I've got a good recipe for it at home."

"Oh that's a good idea," Jennifer nods, looking at the list with scrutiny. Many names are already on the list along with items. Soup, bread, fruit preserves, casserole, vegetables.

"I think I'll bring... Apples."

You turn around and laugh sharply at your friend.

"Everyone loves apples," Jennifer laughs back. "They keep the doctor away."

"Jenny, you can't be serious," you say giggling still.

"I can't bake very well! You know that!"

"Hey I -"

"I'll be making them for you," you tell her, holding a hand up before she can deny this. "You're making me a whole dress, Jenny. Let me make you some fucking tarts."

Arm in arm the two of you laugh all the way to the dining hall, breaking apart when you see an anxious-looking Ellie waving you over. Jennifer sees a few of her friends at the far side and mentions she’s going to catch up with them.

You sit across from Ellie, taking in the girl’s frantic features.

“I need your advice.”

You nod, attempting to listen but all you can think about is how you’re going to tell both she and Jennifer about you and Joel. You’ve both been so busy you haven’t seen much of each other to talk. It seems whenever the two of you do find time, most of it is spent with him between your legs and you falling asleep in his arms. Part of you doesn’t want to bring up the potential awkwardness of what’s to come. You don’t want to think of Jennifer hating you or Ellie being disgusted.

“….on Thursday?”

You're completely distracted, your eyes glazed as Ellie sits across from you. She repeats the question twice before snapping and calling your name. You blink, coming to attention.

"Huh? What?"

The sounds of the dining hall come flooding back, reminding you where you are.

"I said Dina is coming over for dinner Thursday night," Ellie explains patiently. "And I wanna make it special. So could you help me make something good for dessert?"

"Sure, of course." You pause as you think about it. "I could actually use some practice baking apple tarts. How about I come over Wednesday after your school is done?"

"Great," Ellie says, satisfied.

"So," you offer gently, not wanting to come off as annoying. "Is it like a date?"

"Don't know how much of a date it can be if Joel is sitting there scowling at the other end of the table," Ellie says with a frown.

"I don't think he'd do that," you offer. "He'd give you privacy."

"You don't know Joel," Ellie laughs into her porridge.

Her reply eases your mind. She clearly doesn't even suspect about you and Joel. You both need to talk about how you're going to explain it to Ellie. Something tells you it's got to be handled delicately and it should come from Joel. You don’t want to step on anyone’s toes.

///

"Damn, you're getting really good!"

You flush at the praise from Luke at the side of the target, giggling when Jennifer claps wildly for you.

"It's just a lucky shot."

"One is lucky," Jennifer assures you, taking the gun from your hand. "Four is a talent."

You feel delight at this. Jennifer is a really good shot so to have her praising your skills makes it feel like you might sincerely be improving.

You're glad to see her out here pink-cheeked and looking happy. She's even wearing a new jacket she made with embroidered roses along the collar.

You went to her this morning and after a bit of gentle prodding she decided she was tired of being miserable and that she needed to get out and forget all about Oliver.

So with Jennifer's gun slung over your shoulder you both knocked on Luke's door and the three of you make your way to the target practice site.

You've all been taking turns with Jenny's gun, practicing your shots. It's at the range and no one is around. Tin cans and targets are set up far away.

You watch as Luke sets up the tin cans you knocked over along the log before jogging back, his air huffing in front of him in the chilly air.

Jennifer focuses her light eyes, lips thinning as she hones in on the targets. Her lean finger wraps around the trigger and then a crack sounds out and you see the first can shoot up into the sky.

1, 2, 3, 4, 5... All of them go up into the air, knocked perfectly out of the way of the others.

She readjusts her stance.

... 6,7,8,9,10.

And on the tenth when the can flies up she shoots again, spearing it out of midair. Your jaw drops as it slams into the snow with finality.

Just when you were feeling good about your four shots she goes and pulls off a perfect ten. Luke bounces up and down whistling

"Damn, Jenny!"

You can't help but cheer loudly because that's some remarkably impressive shooting. You feel a tiny stab of jealousy at how easy she makes it look, watching her hand the gun to Luke.

You take your turn setting up and jog over to the log, up-righting the cans along it for Luke before making your way back through the snow coming to stand next to Jennifer.

Luke shakes out his arms before raising the weapon and aiming with intense focus. You and Jennifer watch, cheering when he hits most.

You take a sip of hot chocolate from your Thermos, watching Luke's stance. You make a mental note to square your shoulders more.

"Hey, come by the shop next week," Jennifer tells you as you both clap at Luke's next shot. "Gotta do the final touches on your dress."

"Sounds great."

Your pulse and heart flutter as you think about yourself in that dress. The graceful way you'll move into the dance, floating between the couples until Joel greets you by bringing you into his arms. You imagine him dipping you, kissing you with gusto, making you swoon inwardly.

"Your turn."

Luke breaks you from this daydream by handing you the gun with an encouraging smile. You blink before thanking him and taking his spot.

You raise the gun to your shoulder, bracing it there as Your eyes lower to the scope. The old empty bean can sits there just asking to be knocked over.

Focus. Go quiet.

Sometimes it comes to you, that ability to make things go a little quieter. You try to shut out all the noise surrounding you right now but you can't help but catch Luke's low murmur to Jennifer just as you pull the trigger.

"Have you noticed Joel Miller lately?"

Your gun falters and the shot goes wild, burying itself into the log the cans perch on. You fight to keep your breath even.

They don't notice your wild shot, both are chatting back and forth, focused on the topic at hand.

"What do you mean?'

"He's different." Luke's voice is amused as you raise the gun back to your shoulder. "Not as miserable."

"I hadn't really noticed."

"Bastard must be getting laid."

He and Jennifer share a laugh and you fight to swallow the grin that threatens to spill across your features as you pull the trigger.

///

"We start with the crust because that needs to be refrigerated for thirty minutes.”

It's Wednesday afternoon and you've arrived with all the components needed for apple tarts.

Joel answered the door the second before you knocked, his dark eyes dancing as you smiled at him. You hadn't seen him since Sunday and even though only three days had elapsed you felt yourself hold in a sigh at the sight of him.

He glanced over his shoulder to ensure Ellie was in the kitchen before sliding a forefinger through the empty belt loop of your jeans. With a gentle tug he pulled you into the house, capturing your lips with his as he closed the door. Then as if everything was normal he gave your ass a pat, nudging you in the direction of the kitchen.

Now you're in the kitchen next to Ellie, vibrating with your desire for him as you pull on your apron, trying very hard to concentrate on the recipe you found in one of the old library books you keep at your house.

"Will you stay until they're out of the oven?"

"Sure," you say, trying really hard not to think about Joel in the next room. The two of you begin working on the crust, mixing bowls in hand, butter softening and the sound of faint guitar playing in the background. Joel is playing his guitar and right now you’re dying to listen to him. But you’re here for Ellie and she deserves your undivided attention.

“So, this is all for Dina?”

Ellie flushes to her roots before shrugging; giving a half-smile that is so Joel-coded it makes your chest tighten.

“She uh, she’s good. She gave me a book for me to use when I sketch.”

She awkwardly brushes some of the hair from her face and you’re amused when she leaves behind a swipe of batter along her cheek. You grab a cloth and gently take her chin between your fingers.

“You’re a messy baker,” you tell her with affection, “just like Charlie.”

“Who’s Charlie?”

“My sister.”

Ellie goes quiet at that, allowing you to rub the batter from her face. You work quietly, allowing the dough to rise before starting on the next step, peeling apples. As you do this Ellie brings a chair to sit at next to you at the sink.

“Tell me about Dina and the book.”

"We went for a walk to see the horses and uh, yeah, well she knows I like to draw and stuff so she got me this drawing book. So I can get the proportions right and stuff."

"Ah, hence the dinner,” you say with a sly wink. “A little payback.”

"Yeah, I wanted to do something nice back and I found some of these old magazines at the library," Ellie tells you. "There was a lot of stupid shit in there and ugly clothes but there was this thing where people write questions to someone?"

"An advice column?"

"Sure. Anyway, it was this girl asking what counted as a date because she wasn't sure if this guy she liked was dating her or just being her friend."

"Oh yeah?" You try to hide the amusement from your face, especially when Ellie looks so serious about the topic. She raises her fingers, counting off what facts she's learned.

"Yeah so the other person says that a romantic date has just the two people on it, and the people dress up nice and they eat together and do an activity. So I'm getting dinner and then we're gonna have dessert and then I dunno, I'll think of an activity."

Your mouth twitches as you fight back a grin at the innocence of Ellie. Despite everything she must have seen, there is a sweetness and naivety that charms you.

"You're really going all out, huh?"

"I want it to be special," Ellie explains, brows furrowed as she looks over the recipe you've written.

"Trust me Ellie, this is special."

Ellie doesn't look at you, but you see the blush under her dusting of freckles. The two of you begin adding the dry ingredients to the wet, swirling the mixture until it's ready to be formed.

"Do you remember your first real date?"

You take a moment from kneading, trying to recall and then you breathe out a small chuckle, nodding.

"I do. I was twelve, it was Michael Ramos. He had tons of freckles and his hair was really curly. He asked me to the movies and when he showed up to my house he had these beautiful flowers for me." You smile fondly at the memory. "The movie was terrible and Michael was obnoxious, but I'd never gotten flowers before. I kept them until well after they died in the vase."

Ellie laughs, imagining such a time. It’s hard for her; she’ll never know what it is to go to the movie theatres, waiting anxiously outside for your date in a new outfit as cars drive by. She’ll never experience the plush seats and dimming lights and the scent of popcorn in the air. She’ll never see trailers for new movies or sing along to the dancing hot dog telling her to go to the lobby for snacks.

All Ellie will know is a crowded old building with a makeshift screen. She’ll know crowded bench seats and popcorn with no butter. She’ll be happy and content with this, but your heart aches for the traditions she’ll never experience like you did.

"Hey, I got paper," Ellie tells you after a beat. "We could make some of those paper flowers! Then I could give them to Dina!"

“Great idea.”

She scampers off, returning almost immediately with the supplies. The two of you take a seat around the kitchen table and she watches you intently as you fold. The two of you chat about the upcoming dance and target practice. Things are going swimmingly until a creak of wood sounds behind you and you force yourself not to tense.

Ellie glances up from her folded abomination, scowling at Joel as he enters the space.

"Just getting a water," Joel says holding up his hands in mock surrender before retrieving a glass from the cupboard. "Don't lemme ruin girl’s day."

He pours the water into the glass as Ellie wrinkles her nose.

"Ew, don't call it that," Ellie says as she struggles to fold one of the stems. You smirk, murmuring to Ellie how to double fold the leaf.

“It’s tricky but the folds need to be really precise,” you explain. “The sharp creases make it possible to fold back.”

You glance up to see Joel watching the two of you, his eyes stuck on the rose you're folding to show Ellie. He must feel your gaze because his eyes drift up to meet yours. He winks at you and you look away, flushing.

“Can you show me that part again?” Ellie asks, frustration lacing her tone. She’s intent on watching your fingers. You fight to keep them from trembling when Joel moves to stand behind your chair.

You feel the warmth of him there behind you and you're shocked at how turned on you are just having him in the same room. You know you can't look at him too long, can't touch him as he passes. The inability somehow makes it arousing.

"Those look nice," Joel murmurs in that deep, sexy voice of his.

"They're fuckin’ hard to fold," Ellie grunts. She's completely consumed with the task at hand, her nose inches from the paper.

You hold in a giggle when you feel Joel's fingers go to the bottom of your hair, winding a piece around his finger and tugging it gently, playfully.

"I give up," Ellie sighs and you feel Joel's hand drop from you. He leaves the room and you feel your heartbeat slow a fraction.

"Don't give up," you say, bringing her a new sheet of paper. "We'll go slow. Step by step."

When Joel is gone from the room Ellie leans forward, dropping her voice to a whisper meant only for you.

"See what I mean? He's gonna hang around me and Dina and make it weird."

You hold in a laugh.

"Why don't you just send him over to Tommy's? Tell him you want him out of your hair for the evening. I bet Tommy'll keep him busy doing dishes or changing Douglas's diaper or something."

Ellie laughs at that. "That's a good idea."

///

You begin the following day by wandering into town to get some groceries, just small staples like fruit and jerky for the days you sleep too late for breakfast or just feel like keeping to yourself.

You clean your house from top to bottom and strangely invested in having your space more colorful, you begin to hang more things on the walls. Paintings given to you during your move here, knick knacks you’ve gathered are put onto the coffee table. Books that rested in boxes are brought out and shoved onto bookshelves.

You stare at your belongings, lingering on the mantle before your feet carry you to Maria’s, your mind fixated on something. Tommy answers the door and encourages you to come in, citing that he’ll take Douglas for a walk while you two visit. The fire roars pleasantly and Maria looks more upbeat than when you saw her last. This encourages you.

“You look different,” she says as she walks back into the room with two steaming cups of tea. She hands you one before settling on the opposite side of the couch, surveying you.

“Oh?”

“Lighter,” she says, scanning your eyes. “I can’t explain it.”

You give a soft giggle and not want to say much about that you change the subject.

"The party sure looks fun," you say through a sip of your tea. "I'm making brownies and apple tarts for it."

"Oh yeah?" Maria gives a little half smile at this. "I haven't had apple tarts in years."

"Hopefully mine are decent."

"All your baking is good," she assures you with another sip from her teacup. "Ellie still brags about the pop tarts."

“Really?”

“Yeah,” Maria smiles. “As for me, I think the turkey is gonna be a nightmare this year.”

"You want help?"

"Nah, apple tarts are more than enough as long as everyone remembers to bring their share. Last year Monica over on Trestle Ave said she was bringing cookies and she showed up empty handed, saying she forgot." Maria rolls her eyes and you giggle. “Except the year before she forgot mashed potatoes too.”

You both giggle over this, talking companionably about decorations (Yes, you and Jennifer have been planning on what to do) and the tree (Joel and you found a great one) and setting up (All three of you are planning to cut it down next week, closer to the event).

And not once does she mention the romance of you and Joel. Not once does she wink and nudge you with an elbow and pry for details and for that you are so grateful. You’re not at a place where you feel really comfortable talking about that yet. You think it’s because you still haven’t told Jennifer.

“Oh, I almost forgot, come with me,” Maria says out of nowhere, gripping your wrist and dragging you to her bedroom.

She pulls you beside the dresser and begins digging around in the top drawer. As she does this you notice the real photograph next to the bed, one you’d never noticed before. It’s of a young Tommy from his army days dressed in fatigues, a cigarette hanging out the corner of his mouth.

“He and Joel look so alike and yet so different,” you mumble, looking at the photo.

“I wish I had more photos,” she frowns glancing at it. “I have a few of my family, but I’m greedy, I want more.”

You smile.

"Hey can I borrow that photo of Sarah for a day?" You ask. "I'll bring it back tomorrow."

"Of course," Maria shrugs. "It's not going anywhere."

She moves to one side of the room, plucking the photo of Sarah from where it sits and hands it to you. You thank her before shoving it into your pocket. Maria digs in the desk under the window before giving a crow of delight.

“There it is!”

She turns back with a delicate gold chain holding a sweet dark blue sapphire. Or it could be a fancy blue rock; you’d never know the difference.

“That’s beautiful Maria,” you said admiring it. “Are you wearing it to the party?”

“No, you are.”

You look at her confused. She’s smiling broadly.

“I wanted to give you this,” Maria says, slipping the necklace into your palm. “I’ve had it for years and I think you’ll look beautiful in it.”

“Maria I can’t-“

“You can and you will. I want to give it to you. You said the dress Jennifer made you is blue. This’ll go perfect with it.”

You take it, your heart bursting. It’s the most beautiful thing you’ve ever owned. You take it and gingerly place it in your pocket. You can’t wait to put it away in the drawer back home. You might just hang somewhere in the house so you can look at it all day.

“This is the most beautiful thing I’ve ever owned.”

Maria smiles, pulling you into a crushing hug before releasing you. The front door creaks open and you hear Tommy call out.

“Hey honey, Dougie and I are back. Brought you a coffee!”

Maria smiles indulgently before rolling her eyes.

“You know since the… you know,” she drops her voice and winces, “Tommy hasn’t left me alone for more than three minutes. Either its him or one of his babysitters.”

“He’s just worried, I guess.”

“I know,” she says with a small sigh. “I just feel like such a burden at times.”

You grow serious, hand on her shoulder. “Maria, no. Please don’t say that. I don’t know how I would have survived in this place without you.”

Maria isn’t close to crying, instead she has a strangely eerie calm about her. A resilience you don’t remember seeing before. She hugs you again, thanking you and citing that she’ll come to your place for coffee next time.

You bound home with a spring in your step, breathing deeply as the crisp air of the day invigorates you. You make a small detour to see Arthur and Penny before heading home with your groceries from earlier, thoughts on what to make for dinner. Perhaps you’ll have Jennifer over for dinner and talk to her then.

///

You’re in your kitchen later that evening thinking of how you’ll admit everything to Jennifer. Perhaps over dinner tonight you could soften her up? Remind her of how wonderful and understanding she is. Then the two of you could take a walk tomorrow and chat about it further, you could tell her then? Then it might be more palatable.

You’re still mulling this over when a knock sounds. You’re confused, walking over and pulling open the door.

Joel stands there, looking as handsome as ever. He smells different, like he’s wearing cologne or something. It’s heady and masculine and it makes you blink rapidly as you open the door wider.

"Joel. Hi. C’mon in."

You step back, allowing him to enter despite your confusion at his presence.

"Told Ellie I was goin' out to give her privacy for her date," Joel says, stepping into your house. "You mind if I stay here for a bit?"

You close the door behind him.

"Of course, c'mon in. I was just about to start dinner," you tell him, pleased.

"No need."

From behind his back he produces the bag in his left hand, the scent of chicken and potatoes emitting from it. He gives you a shy smile.

"Stopped by the dining hall on my way here."

"Amazing," you say grinning widely. "Follow me and I'll grab you a drink and we can dig into this."

"Sure, thanks," he says clearing his throat.

Before you can move he's brought his hand out from behind his back, thrusting a bouquet of wilted red paper roses towards you. Many have been folded over and re-creased.

"I made some after you left the other day," he explains. "Ellie was right. They're hard to do."

You feel a smile breaking out over your features. You take the bouquet from him, holding them as dearly as if they were real.

"At least these ones won't die on ya."

He quickly turns pink as you smile dreamily at him.

"But only if you wanna keep em, I mean." Joel looks flustered. "You don't have to. I know they're kinda ugly but I remember you said red was your favorite color so-"

You wrap your arms around his middle before standing on tiptoes to kiss him. He melts into it and you feel him relax in your arms. You can’t believe that big tough Joel Miller spent time hunched over his table, folding and re-folding paper just so he’d have flowers to give to you.

"I love them, Joel."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah," you nod. "Thank you."

"You're welcome," he replies, ducking to kiss you again.

You quickly place them into the vase along with your yellow flowers from weeks ago. You blink back the tears that are sitting there, just waiting to fall. To distract yourself you bring out a few apple tarts from your ice box, placing them in the oven. You set it to warm, wanting them to brown slowly. You don't want to rush this dinner. You want to take your time having Joel in your home.

"Can I help?"

"Nah, just relax."

Joel nods, fingers drumming anxiously on the table.

"I like baking but I don't really enjoy cooking," you admit as you slice up the chicken and plate it, quickly followed by the potatoes and green beans.

"I don't mind it," Joel says, taking a sip of his sweet tea. "Can't say it's my favorite thing to do."

You nod, passing him his plate and sitting next to him. The two of you begin to eat and you catch Joel glancing at the flowers in the center of the table.

It's strange sitting across from Joel in your own home, digging into a dinner that smells delicious. It feels strangely domestic to have this man sitting across from you, eyes raising to yours between bites.

"This is nice," you say without thinking. Embarrassment creeps up your neck the second the comment hits the air. But Joel surprises you by smiling and nodding.

"Yeah," Joel says warmly. "It is."

You go back to your dinner, taking slow bites and trying not to stare at Joel.

Is this a date?

You can't ask that out loud, that would be humiliating. But it sure feels like a date. Flowers, dinner, being together one on one. All that's missing is an activity, according to the article Ellie read.

If he suggests an activity this is definitely a date, you tell yourself. You can't help but observe that you really want this to be a date.

"So Ellie and Dina," Joel says between bites. "Who saw that one coming?"

"Me."

Joel raises his brows at you, amused. "Oh yeah?"

"Yeah. She was always complaining about Dina," you offer with a smile around your fork. "But I saw the looks she shot her."

"Really?"

You nod. Joel looks stumped. "I thought she hated her."

"That's how I knew she liked her," you say. "How does the saying go? It's a thin line between love and hate? Passion is passion."

Joel blinks, letting your words register.

"It reminded me of Charlotte and this guy in her algebra class. He teased her all the time, for months. She hated him and I mean hated him," you push your peas around your plate as you reminisce. "Then Valentine's Day rolls around and who do you think got her chocolates and a card confessing he had a huge crush on her?"

Joel's fork is beside his empty plate, his focus rapt on this story. "Really?"

"Yeah."

"What did she say?"

You giggle.

"She smashed the chocolates and told him that next time he liked a girl he should try being nice to her."

Joel laughs loudly, the rich sound ringing through the air as you grin. You like that sound, it fills your small home and makes it feel cozy.

"Damn, she and Ellie would have gotten along."

"You know, they actually would have," you acknowledge with a laugh. "Charlie didn't take shit."

"You called her Charlie?"

"Ever since we were kids."

And then out of nowhere it's there on the tip of your tongue. Desire to tell Joel everything. About Rock River, about the scar you wear. But the moment is so peaceful, this evening so beautiful and you want it to stay that way. You have so few truly happy memories, you want to cherish it. You want to file it away, a movie you can return to and watch over and over if things get grim.

Joel must notice something in your face that betrays your mixed emotions because he glances over your shoulder, breaking the tension.

"Damn, those tarts smell good."

Then he stands, taking his empty plate and yours over to the sink. You watch him, belatedly springing into action.

"You don't have to-"

"S'okay," Joel insists gently, kissing the top of your head as he walks by. “You did enough.”

You feel your heart swelling as you watch Joel carry the plates and cutlery to the sink, pouring in soap. Joel's rolling his sleeves up to his elbows, humming gently to himself as the sink fills up, bubbles dotting the water.

You launch yourself off the chair and go to your cupboard. You crouch down to pull out the red coffee tin from your low cupboard before straightening. You set the kettle on the stove, already half full from this morning's tea.

Joel glances over, intrigued at what you're doing.

"Thought you might want coffee with dessert,” you explain. “Interested?”

"Yeah, I'd love some."

You smile, pleased with yourself before scooping the coffee out of the tin. The smell is divine, rich and calming. You pour it into the paper filter, shoved in a homemade drip system you made out of an old sugar lid.

Joel is drying the dishes by the time the kettle squeals. He turns, wiping his hands on the towel as he finishes, watching you pour the water over the coffee system.

"Clever."

"Necessity is the mother of invention," you quote as you pour the remaining water over your teabag in the mug placed next to his. Joel puts the plates and cutlery away as you set the kettle back onto the stove and seal the plastic lid over the coffee canister.

"You can take it with you if you want," you offer to Joel, holding the tin in his direction.

Joel shakes his head, coming to take the coffee mug instead.

"Nah, keep it. That way I'll have it to drink when I'm here."

Something about the casual way he says it makes your heart flutter. Like he's planning on being here at your place often enough to need it. The thought pleases you immensely as you watch him come back to the table.

You bring out the apple tarts, inhaling the rich aroma of cinnamon. It takes you right back to fall nights with your family. Joel is wandering around your living room with his coffee mug, sipping slowly as he takes in the portrait over the hearth.

"You got it framed," he observes. His voice sounds strangely unimpressed.

"Yeah, the woodshop guys whipped it up for me," you say over your shoulder as you plate the warm tarts.

Joel hums, but you think you can hear judgment in it. You have no idea why. You hear his footfalls as he moves around your space. You watch him peer at the bookshelf and table before he turns to you.

"You got playing cards?"

"Uh, yeah I think so," you say absently motioning towards the cupboard by the door. "Top drawer."

You watch Joel dig around inside the drawer before finding them next to a few old pencils and a collection of dust. He brings them back, his eyes on you as you place the plate of tarts in the center of the table before you sit back down with your tea.

"You wanna play Texas hold ‘em?" Joel asks as he takes his seat.

"How cliché, Texas," you muse, taking one of the tarts off the plate. "How about crazy eights instead?"

"Damn haven't played that one in a while," Joel says shuffling the cards. You watch how smoothly he does it, fingers snapping the cards together, loosely shuffling. He deals you both eight cards and as you lift them to read you realize something.

Playing cards together is an activity.

This is a date. You're on a real date with Joel Miller. Your cheeks heat as you glance at your cards, smiling widely.

"So what are we playing for?"

"What d'ya mean?"

"Whenever I played cards with friends or my sister the winner got something as a prize."

Joel's brow raises, a smirk crossing his plush lips. He tilts back in his chair slightly, pressing his lips together in thought.

"What were you hopin' for?"

"I dunno," you shrug, distracted as you parse through the cards in your hands. "Winner picks I guess. Anyway, I think I go first."

Forty minutes later, six tarts, two drained mugs and the two of you are both on three. You watch as Joel lays down the remainder of his cards.

"Two."

"You're cheating," you huff, knowing he's not. Joel breaks out into a soft chuckle, amused at your poor sportsmanship.

"Don't need to cheat when I'm this good."

You roll your eyes good-naturedly and the game continues. You crow when you pick up a six of spades on your following turn, matching the remaining six of hearts in your hand. You slap it onto the discard pile in the center of the table.

"I'm on two!"

Joel just smiles patiently at you, holding his growing collection. You can tell he thought he'd be out by now. You pick up the two cards at the top of the deck, your heart leaping. It's the two of clubs and the two of hearts.

Joel scowls, looking at his hand before picking up another card from the deck. You slap down your pair, eyes bright with delight.

"One!"

You reach for the top of the deck, sliding the top card face down towards you. Joel watches this, his dark eyes tracking your card. Joel and you look across the table from one another, cards in your hands. You're playing for something, you just don't know what.

He places down a jack of hearts, quickly followed by the five of hearts and the five of clubs. He still has two cards in his wide fingers. Tension is now palpable in the room. It wasn't there for the majority of the game, but you feel it pounding between you now, so strong you can almost taste it.

Joel's eyes dip to your chest and then your mouth and then finally back up to your eyes. It's clear what Joel is going to demand if he wins this game and it makes you swallow nervously. It wasn't where your head was at previously but now that's all you can think about. Demanding a prize from Joel Miller, anything you want. Now your eyes drop to roam his body, your thighs pressing together.

"Go on," Joel encourages softly. "Let's see what you've got."

You glance down at your card, licking your lips nervously. You feel a broad grin stretch across your face as you slap the card down on the pair of fives.

An ace of hearts.

"I win!" You pump your hands in the air dramatically. "And the crowd goes wild!"

You raise your hands to cup around your mouth as you make fake group cheering noises. Joel watches all of this with a soft little smile on his face. You lower your hands, unsure of what to make of his expression.

"What?"

"Nothin'," Joel says with eyes butter soft and a voice to match. "Just like seein’ you happy is all."

He must realize how sincere and sweet that sounds because he clears his throat and tosses his remaining cards onto the table.

"Guess I should let you win all the time."

"Yeah right," you laugh, taking the cards and shuffling them together before placing them into the card sleeve. "You just can't accept that I'm finally better than you at something."

Joel looks like he wants to say something but decides better. He just watches you, dark eyes scanning your features as you place the cards to the side. The undercurrent of tension is still there, a gentle thrumming that tightens your nipples under your sweater.

You rise from your chair slowly, noting that its only Joel's eyes follow sharply as you approach him, the rest of him remains still. You come to stand next to him seated in the chair, your pulse ticking.

"I won," you murmur.

Joel remains sitting, but he swivels around to face you. You watch him reach around your legs and you feel his wide hands come to land on the back of your thighs. Your stomach jumps when you feel his palms slowly sliding up.

"Yeah, you did."

His big hands are warm through your jeans, fingers tightening as they curve around your ass.

"So I think it's time for my prize," you whisper, almost embarrassed to say it out loud.

His cock lengthens in his jeans, straining against the zipper and Joel tugs you to come stand between his parted legs. Your pelvis tilts towards him when he begins to knead your ass, lust clear in his expression, but his eyes never leave your face.

"Whatever you want it's yours," Joel murmurs eyes like bright coals as he waits for you to decide.

"Anything?"

Joel tilts his head, amused. "Within reason."

You smile back, eyes disappearing into crescent moons before you nod. His smile fades slowly when you begin to kneel between his legs, your jeans hitting the floor gently as you grip his thighs on the descent.

His breathing is elevated as he watches you smile up at him from your position. He tenses, flinching away when your fingers go to his belt.

"Hey," be rasps, hands coming to cover yours. "What're you-"

"I'm collecting my prize," you remind him firmly, pushing away his hands. "Anything I wanted, yeah?"

Joel hesitates, dark eyes bouncing between your mouth and your gaze. He's throbbing under his jeans; you can feel it through the denim. Finally he relents, leaning back in his seat with a creak of the old wood at his back.

"Yeah."

You nod satisfied before tugging down the zipper through the teeth of his fly. He watches you smiling, nibbling your lower lip in anticipation as you pull him from his boxers.

He's hard of course, the weeping tip a rosy blush that has you aching between your own legs. You are momentarily snapped from your trance when you feel Joel's palm curving around your cheek.

"You don't have to do this," he murmurs down at you, concern marking his features.

"I know," you answer back honestly. "If I thought I had to I'd never do it."

Joel chuckles at your honesty. Then he watches as you lower your mouth to his waiting cock. You keep your eyes on him as your tongue gives a gentle drag around the tip. Joel swallows, grunting at the sight.

You swallow him shortly after, finding yourself desperate to have him in your mouth again. When all you can taste and breathe and feel is him in your mouth you sigh happily, eyes glazed as you stare up at him.

"You sure you like doin' this?' Joel murmurs, the indecision clear in his eyes. "Still?"

"Mhm," you offer, your mouth stuffed full of him. You don't just like it, you love it.

And unlike all the times before, Joel is so gentle. He barely moves his hips and his eyes are on you the entire time. When in your eagerness you take too much of him and gag, he presses his bottom into the chair, trying to inch out of your mouth.

"Hey, hey, you really don't have to do this."

His hand comes to cup your cheek, thumb slowly rubbing as he pulls you off of him. It's tender and sweet.

"I want to," you whisper. "Please, Joel."

He’s breathing heavily through his nose, his eyes flitting between yours and then finally, he nods.

Your mouth circles the head, tongue flicking the underside of the mushroom shape until you feel his legs start to twitch. Then you take all of him, tonguing him as you go.

"Fuck, you look so good like that," he rumbles, his mouth parted. You preen under the compliment, smiling around his cock.

You and Joel never look away from one another and you revel in the rumbled helpless sounds he makes as he watches. You continue like this, taking your time, enjoying the intimacy of the act in a completely new way.

"You take what's yours," Joel murmurs, echoing his words of days earlier.

He comes hard, but instead of it being done with cruelty it feels intimate, like he's letting you see a private part of him as he gasps, his eyes never leaving yours as he floods your mouth. You swallow him down, savoring the taste of him. Joel's cheeks are blotchy pink and he's breathing heavily. You smile up at him, blinking slowly like a satisfied cat.

You squeal when he launches forward, gripping you around the middle and bringing you into his lap. He grips your jaw, kissing you fiercely as you squirm along his softening length. You feel heady and powerful making a man like Joel come apart like that. His taste still lingers in your mouth as your tongue dabs his.

Your arms circle his neck, holding onto him as he grips your thighs tightly. You roll your hips against his, unable to stop the whimpering that escapes you at the pleasure it brings.

"Those sounds," Joel groans against your mouth. "Those fuckin' sounds you make."

His hands are curving around your ass, holding tightly, urging your core against his pelvis. You rut against him, sitting on his lap, kissing him lazily. You can't get over how natural it feels to hold him to you, to have him in your home like he belongs there.

"You're so fuckin' sexy," Joel murmurs between kisses, nudging your nose with his, urging you to tilt your head. You move your head back, his mouth nibbling down your jaw as you moan at the sensation. No one has ever called you sexy, you don’t even think the word fits you. But Joel is rutting against you and you believe he believes it.

"Joel," you breathe when his teeth scrape your pulse point gently. Joel groans into your neck at the sound of his name on your lips.

You feel him twitch to life between your thighs and you can barely hold in your pout when he urges you off his lap. But it's replaced by a grin when he herds you in the direction of your bedroom, swatting your bottom playfully, citing:

"Now it's time for the runner up prize."

You can only laugh at that until his mouth meets your core and then all you can do is moan. He works quickly and it's only a matter of time before your hips are rolling against his mouth as his wide palms pin you in place.

Your hands are fisted in the sheets as he pulls pleasured noises from you. He holds your thighs in position over his shoulder as he sucks your clit into his mouth, flicking with his tongue. You let out a sharp cry.

"Joel, I'm so close!"

You watch his eyes slowly crack open, pussy drunk as he looks up the length of your undulating body. The sight causes you to arch your spine, and when you release you can only hear the sound of Joel's delirious pleasure as he feasts between your legs. Then just as you feel you’re going to pass out from the bliss he tugs on a condom and lines himself up with your core.

"Gonna take me now," he tells you, hips gently rutting against yours. "Gonna take it all, yeah?"

You nod, already feeling so loose limbed and relaxed. He smiles down at you, his cock circling your entrance before with aching slowness, he sinks into you. The sensation causes both of you to groan in unison, eyes locked.

"Look at that," Joel whispers, groaning as your cunt starts to milk him, eyes trained on where you join. He feeds his cock into you until your clit rasps against the curls at the base of his cock. "Look at you takin' me so well."

He moves slowly against you, his body curling over yours; protector, leader. Your mouth is open in a silent scream, body jerking under his as the pleasure floods you.

“That's my good fuckin' girl," he grunts before his mouth comes crashing against yours again.

Then it's frantic, his hips rutting against yours, his arms holding you to him and you feel him release deep within you through the condom before you're tumbling quickly into a second pleasured release. Sweaty and smiling in the afterglow you snuggle together.

“I liked your prize.”

“Me too.”

///

A short while later you exit the shower in your sleep clothes to find Joel still lying in the bed, under the sheets. He looks like he's contemplating something. You turn off the bedside light.

"Can you stay the night?" you whisper, climbing under the covers and snuggling up to him. "Is that okay?"

"Yeah." You feel Joel smile at the crown of your head. "I can stay."

The room is dark, the moon low in the sky this evening. Everything feels quiet and calm. Joel’s arms are around your, holding you to his side. Your fingertips trail along his sternum, feeling the warm flesh there. Joel’s finger begins tracing the scar under your ribs. The one you know he’s curious about.

“It was an old woman that did it,” you whisper in the darkness. “She attacked me when we broke into her house. She wasn't evil or anything. Just a scared woman who thought I was there to hurt her."

You don’t miss the way Joel’s arms tighten around you. You lapse into silence, the soft tick of your alarm clock the only sound aside from your breathing.

“You never said what happened to your sister.”

His voice is soft, softer than the way he holds you, softer than the way his breath feels huffing against your neck. You don’t answer him. He feels your hesitation and so he changes tracks.

"What's your favorite memory with her?”

The question floods your eyes and brings a shaky smile to your face. Your favorite memory? How can you pick just one? In all the years of sisterhood there were so many to choose from. And yet as you lay here in the quiet of night one comes to mind immediately.

"Easter, I was in the fourth grade, she was in the third. We always had to wear these stupid matching dresses and frilly socks and bows in our hair for the family pictures and then this big family dinner my mom would host. We looked fucking ridiculous. I wish I had the photos to show you.”

You hear Joel’s soft chuckle.

“Anyway, the dress that year was really itchy. I mean I don't know what the fabric was, but it was awful. The tag drove me nuts and all I wanted was to be rid of it. I was almost in tears with how much I hated it and I told Charlotte as much.” You shift in the bed, your memory carrying you away. “ So we're starting the hunt for eggs, mom's got the camcorder following us around while dad is giving hints where to look. And all of a sudden I feel these hands come up from behind me and shove hard. I go flying, the eggs go flying out of my basket, I slide into the biggest mud puddle, I'm drenched, the skirt part of the dress is torn, and it’s done for.”

“Oh shit,” Joel chuckles again.

“Yeah, and I turn around and there's Charlotte with a strange little smile on her face. And you have to understand that Charlotte was the good daughter. Never did anything wrong. And I'm crying because it hurt and my knees sting and my eggs are gone. But Charlotte is just smiling down at me until my mom marches over all furious, she saw everything. Charlotte is immediately sent inside after a swat on her butt and I have to inside and change into some old dress from Christmas. A lot more comfortable.”

“Less ruffles?”

“Ruffle-free,” you tell him giggling. “Charlotte and I shared a room and I remember going to change and she was on the bed, all teary from being grounded. I remember asking her why she did it because she was never a violent kid. And she looks at me all serious and goes, ‘Now you don’t have to wear the itchy dress.’”

Joel makes a sound halfway between a chuckle and an ‘awww’.

“So I brought her my chocolate basket and thanked her. And The thing is I remember confessing to my mom that Charlotte and I hated the dresses and my mom telling me "Charlotte doesn't mind." And I told her "Sure she does. She hates it just as much as me." My mom had this little smile on her face. "You know why Charlotte never complains that I get you the same matching dresses every year? Because she thinks the two of you look like twins. You're her hero." I've never forgotten that. Her hero."

The smile dies along with the warmth in your eyes as the last sentence is uttered.

And then the fire is extinguished, the flame snuffed out.

///

Jennifer and you walk quietly through the snow, darkness encroaching. Your feet feel heavy, your body hollow. You look at her, heart sinking when you see she’s not even attempting to make eye contact with you.

"Please say something, Jenny."

She looks upset, her beautiful face crumpled. She winces away from you as the two of you come to a stop. Snow whirls around you, the world around you both grey. This is not going how you wanted it to. Jennifer looks devastated.

"You knew I liked him."

Tears run down her face. You wish you could hug her but your arms won't move from where they hang at your sides.

"You lied to me."

"I didn't mean to, Jennifer."

Your eyes go to the ground, watching the flakes circle your ankles.

"He's going to break your heart."

You look up from the snow in just enough time to see the knife raised above Jennifer's head in her shaking hand. The blade is brought down brutally, stabbed into the center of your chest with a wet thunk. Red blooms under the wound and your eyes fly from the injury to Jennifer.

But it's not Jennifer anymore, it's Charlotte. Red runs from the deep sockets where her eyes once were, her nails black and broken. When she bares her teeth they're rotted, many missing. She leans forward and her stringy hair clings to her sagging flesh. She bares her teeth again.

"Where were you?"

"I'm sorry!" You cry out, the injury forgotten. You reach for Charlotte, trying to grip her but she's floating back from you, her hands outstretched.

"Don't leave me!"

You scream out, running after your little sister but your feet won't move fast enough. She's being pulled by an unseen force, disappearing into the ether. You scream again, ragged and desperate.

"Wake up!"

Someone is shaking your shoulders and you jerk awake mid-sob, your entire body trembling. Your legs are tangled in the sheets and your hair is soaked with anxious sweat. You blink in the darkness, taking a moment to register where you are. All you know is that you're crying and you're terrified.

You feel strong arms envelop you, pulling up into a strong, firm body that begins rocking you gently.

"Hey, you're safe, you're safe."

Joel’s voice is thick with sleep and it rumbles against your ear.

"Shhh, shhh, you're okay," Joel soothes, pressing a kiss to your forehead. "You're okay."

You cling to his sleep-warmed body as tears wet the front of his t-shirt. Your fingers are claws, digging into him like you'll never let go. His mouth is at the curve of your ear.

"What happened?"

His softness, his strength, his gentle way of sitting there and holding you gives you the ability to find words.

"N-nightmare," you hiccup.

You blink away the damp to see Joel peering at you in the darkness. He brushes the hair from your eyes.

"Wanna tell me about it?"

You shake your head, feeling your face fall again as you think of the pain and the hurt in dream Jennifer's eyes. Of Charlotte’s screams. You sniffle, bowing your head into the crook of his neck and continuing to cry softly.

Joel holds you, waiting for you to catch your breath. The tears and whimpering cries soon ebb, leaving you sagging against him. Your face is hot, the tears brushed away by the back of your arm.

"You wanna glass of water or somethin'?"

His fingers skate up and down your spine, his voice a rumble against your ear. If you hold your breath you can hear his heartbeat slow and steady.

"No. I'm okay."

You gently extricate yourself from him, lowering yourself back onto your pillow. Joel does the same, rolled onto his side, gazing at you.

Joel is a man that's often hard to read and you think it's the wall he presents to the world, a way of guarding the softness in him. But half asleep and with you there's nothing flinty in the way he looks at you.

Your palm rests between your bodies on the mattress. His hand covers it, thumb brushing your knuckles. You welcome his touch, eyes locked on his. His even breathing and his touch are comforting to you as the dream fades in its terror.

"It was my sister," you say quietly. "Charlotte."

Joel nods, his beard rasping against the covers. He doesn't push you for any further information; he just lays there with quiet calm radiating from him. There's something about the way he holds your silence and your pain that makes you feel safe. You know that you could pretend to go back to sleep, that you could just ignore what happened. But something compels you to tell him. Something no one else in the entire world knows.

"Joel, I want to tell you about Rock River."

///

The day begins like any other.

You’re shivering with Charlotte slept against you, her tinier body snuggled as close to you as possible, her dirty hair pressed against your cheek. The two of you are chained to the large metal radiator in the corner. It clinks when you shift a bit.

She's warm, which is a boon considering how cold it's been. You gaze down at her still slumbering face. You see the length of her lashes, the slack of her mouth. You notice the way her normally full cheeks have started to go hollow and the dark bruises under her eyes. You haven't seen your reflection in months but you can only assume you look similar.

Muffled laughter begins behind the door and this startles her into waking. She yawns softly before raising her head.

"S'early," she offers, seeing the sky outside the window is still dark.

"Must be hunting today."

The bedroom doors open and Red steps out, still talking to his wife Freckles. You never learned their names, never wanted to, but in your mind they're categorized by features. Beard and Ponytail arrive moments later, followed then by Smokey, the Raider who never stops smoking even when the air becomes acrid and you choke on it.

The entire group is suited up in their hunting gear, large guns strapped to their backs. Smokey goes to unlock the chains around both sets of wrists before tugging you both to a stand. You both learned early on that compliance was the only way to stay alive, although some days you don't know why you bother.

Freckles helps you both into heavy jackets and your boots. You both stand, slightly wobbling.

"Toilet?"

You both nod.

They aren't cruel to you in the traditional way. They take you to the bathroom. They give you water and feed you both an apple and slice of cheese while they drink their coffee and eat their toast and muffins. They let you sit in the chairs and sometimes if there are leftovers they shove their plates towards you. You always make sure Charlotte has first dibs.

"Gonna be a long one today," Red, the de-facto leader tells the group, sucking at his back teeth. "Grant on the CB says there's a big house half a day by truck. He'll meet us at his place first."

"What's so great about it?" Ponytail is always challenging Red, glaring at him from behind her taped glasses.

"Big place, nicer’n this. Old lady that's there is a hoarder. Never leaves unless it's to get medicine or food. She's got chickens out back too."

Freckles whistles lowly in appreciation. Fresh eggs sound good.

"Why doesn't Grant try on his own if he knows about it? S'just some old lady."

"Says too much noise coming from the house to be just one person," Red confirms. "Doesn't wanna go unarmed. Needs one of the Searchers."

"Which one?"

The Group slowly turns to scan between you and Charlotte huddled close together. You feel their greedy eyes bouncing between the two of you, trying to decide who is better for this mission.

"Might as well bring 'em both, 'n Grant can choose."

///

The ride is long and cold. You and Charlotte bump in the back of the truck, your bodies huddled together for warmth. Despite the heavy clothes and jackets you're both still freezing in the crisp air.

Grant's compound is dirty with high chain link fencing; vicious looking dogs that pace back and forth as you arrive. They've been trained only to bark if infected come near, but they growl lowly when the Group and you and Charlotte approach.

Grant pops his bearded head out from the shack he calls a home. Despite everything happening in the world he remains portly, well fed and ruddy-cheeked.

"Up the road a ways," he tells Red before spitting a line of brown chewing tobacco into the dirt. “Place called Rock River. Used to belong to the real hoity toities before everything went down.”

He and Red chat a moment longer before Red motions your way. Grant scratches his ratty beard with a thoughtful look on his face before deciding.

"We can bring 'em both. Place is big."

"If there's nothin’ there you know it costs to use 'em," Red warns. "So you better come through."

"Don't you worry about that. Old lady's got lots of space in that big house. She'll have plenty worth trading for."

The group chats amongst themselves quietly before Ponytail breaks from them, stalking over to you with a frown.

"Here," she says handing you a large bowie knife from her belt. "You see anything you start stabbing and screaming."

If you were more naive you could think of this as a kindness. But you know better. This is a protection of assets, the privilege that comes with being a good and dependable pet.

You turn the gleaming knife around in your palm, eyes tracing the serrated edge. The errant thought of jabbing it through her throat crosses your mind. But even if you stabbed one of them the others would gun you and your sister down within seconds.

You grip the knife in your hand, motioning to Charlotte behind you.

"What about my sister?"

Ponytail sneers.

"Share."

She stalks off and you glare after her.

“Here," you tell her Charlotte after handing her the knife. "Make sure you have a strong grip on it."

"What about you?"

"Take care of yourself Charlie."

///

Grant takes you and your sister in his truck, citing that the open back of a truck is no place for two ladies. Grant affords you more kindness than the others, but you know his intentions aren’t philanthropic. You’ve seen how he eyes your sister when the two of you are brought out to him.

“Got you two something.”

Grant’s meaty hand grabs something from the front of his rattling truck, handing it back to Charlotte. It’s a chocolate bar, old and white from age but she tears into it happily, breaking it in half. The two of you eat quickly, starving most if not all days.

“Thank you.”

Grant’s dog Lady, beside him in the cab of the truck, resting on the blanket afforded her regarding you both with an intense glare in the backseat. She’s an old dog, Grant’s most loyal companion and he brings her everywhere he goes. She’s too old to hunt, too old to do much of anything except shoot nasty looks at everyone.

“Here we are.”

Grant helps you both down from the truck, his hand lingering on Charlotte’s a little too long. You wince, grabbing her and tugging her out of his grip. The Group pulls up alongside Grant’s truck and all of you take a look at the large estate.

The house is dilapidated, wood hammered over windows, the lawn yellowed and withered. If it weren’t for the faint clucking of the chickens in the backyard you would think it abandoned. A large tree sits in front of the house, a tire swing attached to it, an obscene mockery of old fashioned family life.

Freckles passes you one of the flashlights and you take it.

“Alright you two,” Red says sucking his teeth. “Go on.”

You and Charlotte link hands, taking a deep breath and making your way towards the home. The rest of The Group hangs back inside the vehicles. If there’s a horde of infected they’ll get away easily.

This is the panic that always overtakes you at the start, the hurdle you have to overcome. The infected. You do it because if you don’t you’ll be killed. Your sister will be killed. And so you trudge with terrified steps up splintered wood steps, pushing the creaking door open.

You swallow thickly, listening for anything. Charlotte does the same, her head tilted to the side. When nothing but silence greets you the two of you exchange nods and step inside.

You’ve developed a silent shorthand for when you’re together, a way of communicating with barely imperceptible movements. Wide eyes: I hear something. Squinting eyes: Careful. Nods: Safe. There are dozens more, but those three are the most commonly used.

You stand back to back, arm linked as you move through the first room. Creaking floorboards and old furniture rest inside. There is no dust, no debris. This house is lived in. That means there’s a chance there’s someone here. But they’re a human someone.

You move through the bowels of the house, flashlight raised in front of you. Charlotte is silent, her eyes scanning the space around you both. You move through the hallway, flashlight scanning the empty bathroom.

You move to the kitchen, eyes on the muffins that sit on the table. Your mouth waters and you look at your sister. She’s seen the same thing. Without words the two of you scramble over to the table, gripping the muffins and hungrily shoving them into your mouths. The sugar makes your jaw ache, the taste of it so sweet on your tongue. Charlotte has her eyes closed, chewing quickly, savoring it all.

You wonder if the place has anything to drink. What if she has milk? You haven’t had milk in years. The thought makes the food thicken in your mouth. You swallow before turning, preparing to see what’s inside the fridge.

A flash of movement starts in front of you and a blinding flash of pain rips into your abdomen that drops you to your knees. The flashlight goes rolling under the cupboards and you grip your stomach, knelt over.

Charlotte hears your groan of surprised pain, whipping around to see an old woman with a shaky hand holding a bloodied knife. The woman looks terrified, her frizzled hair in a loose bun and her hands gnarled. She looks at you in horror at what she’s done.

“I’m so sorry,” she gasps.

She doesn’t finish. You watch as you baby sister takes the knife and slices it brutally across the woman’s neck. Red spurts like rubies along the edge, flying over the floor.

“Charlie, no!”

The woman drops to the floor beside you, her hand around her throat as she tries to staunch the blood flow. You look to see she’s fallen on her knife, the handle digging into her spine. Your breathing is labored as you try to assess the situation. You fall back on your training.

“Is there anyone else in the house?”

She shakes as the blood pours from her, the sticky warmth spreading. She stares up at you with saddled brows, regret apparent on her face. Charlotte is sniffling; rubbing at her eyes as the knife she was holding clatters to the ground. She’s never killed anyone before, not anyone human.

"Only m-my grandson," the old woman whispers, her gnarled hand coming to grip your jacket. "Please.... P-l-lease take care of him. He's -"

You watch as the light fades from her eyes and she slumps back. Her fingers fall limply from your jacket to land on her abdomen. You glance up to see Charlotte’s eyes spilling tears, her face paling and her entire body shaking. She’s going into shock.

“I didn’t mean to-“

“You did what you had to do,” you tell her honestly, your voice dead as you hold her, warming her up by rubbing her arms. “And now we have to scan the house. We have to do our job. C'mon."

It takes a few moments of this before the life comes back to her eyes.

“Your stomach.”

“Its fine,” you insist, groaning as you stand. “It hurts but she didn’t get me too bad.”

You’re lying of course. The pain is there, but adrenaline is overtaking you for the time being. You take a nearby tea towel and press it to your stomach to stop the blood flow. You dig around in the kitchen drawers, frustrated before moving to the bathroom. You pull out the drawers in there, thankful to find several packed bandages.

With Charlotte’s help she winds it around your abdomen several times, keeping the tea towel snug to your body, securing it around your ribs.

“Great, thanks,” you insist with a wheeze. “Let’s go.”

You go back to the kitchen, both sets of your sneakers and the bottom of your jeans drenched in her blood. You can’t find the flashlight and none of the lights seem to be working. The boarded up windows make the place dark and murky.

“Grab your knife,” you instruct Charlotte. She does so, attempting to dislodge the one under the woman but giving up when it won’t budge.

You glance around the kitchen, disappointed to see nothing that will help aside from a butter knife. She must store her weaponry elsewhere. That will be something to report back to Red; that will earn you both extra rations tonight.

You take Charlotte’s hand in yours, guiding her through the rooms a bit more at ease knowing that there’s only one other person in the house. You make your way up the stairs, marveling at how well-maintained the home is.

The first room holds a bed with plush looking sheets. You have the strangest urge to touch them, but you don’t. You know The Group will take them for themselves, you best not get attached. Maybe you could talk them into giving you one of the pillows to share though.

Next you come upon an office, your eyes scanning the various books held on sagging shelves. The Grey’s Anatomy textbook propped up on the large desk. Yellowed pages full of script and drawings catch your eyes and you step into the room.

One is of a human brain, different labels on each section. You were never good at biology, but you can see that she was working on something to do with brain and serums. You take a look at the journal with hastily written in script. It dates back four months.

Charlotte takes a look around the room, pocketing a small pencil as you read.

You however are coming to realize something as you look at the beakers and different plants and herbs before thumbing through more of the entries. She’s written it there in plain English, and you feel your stomach tighten at the realization.

"She was trying to make a cure," you murmur to yourself, looking at the sheets of paper and notes.

Charlotte draws over, her eyes wide as she scans the pages, her hands trembling in ancitipation.

“Did she? Did it work?”

You look at the book half opened in your grip, flipping to the latest entry. A single sentence stares back at you, ugly and short.

“Subject remains infected.”

Disappointment floods the both of you, shoulders sagging. There is nothing quite like the pain of lost hope.

“I don’t know why I thought for one second it was possible,” Charlotte scoffs angrily.

You start when she rips the journal from your hand and flings it against the wall. You can see the furious tears in her eyes, the curve of her mouth as she pushes more of the papers off the desk.

“I don’t know why we even bother! We’re never escaping this fucking nightmare!”

Glass beakers go crashing to the floor as she kicks over the desk and you grip her around the elbows, tightening so that you’re bear-hugging her. It sends a searing pain through your abdomen, fresh blood starting to seep through the bandage.

“I’m going to get us out of this,” you promise her, your forehead against her spine. “I promise.”

It’s a hollow oath and you both know it. It’s been years of this and you’re no closer to saving her, no closer to escaping. She just goes limp in your arms, silently sobbing. You let your sister cry, her sobs wrung from her tiny body. And then you release her, gripping her face in yours.

“Trust me Charlie. I’m going to protect you.”

She opens her mouth to say something when a thump sounds out from down the hall.

The two of you start, Charlotte gripping the knife from her jean pocket. She raises it, eyes going to you and narrowing. You nod, the two of you slowly making your way down towards the hallway.

Thump…thump…

You stand outside a door at the end of the corridor, your eyes going to the pale blue sign on the door. It’s got whimsical cartoon dinosaurs all over it, hand painted.

Ryan’s Room. No girls allowed.

"Her grandson," Charlotte says with sad eyes, her voice a whisper. "He’s just a kid."

Your stomach sinks as you realize the same thing. Charlotte lowers the knife to her side, looking at you with an imploring gaze. The thumping has ceased.

"We could take care of him," Charlotte reasons. "He could be like our little brother. We could tell them that he'll be a searcher like us."

You shake your head, frustrated. The Group would never go for it, not another mouth to feed. And not a young child. They would see no use in it. And you don’t need another person to look out for.

"Charlotte we have to do our job. We scan the house and report back. It's not up to us to rescue anyone."

“After what I did to his grandma,” she says with a trembling lower lip, “I can’t leave him here. I just can’t.”

You see the toll that today has taken on your sister. Her first kill of an innocent, the guilt of that and leaving a child behind would break her further. You can’t have that happen. With a frustrated exhale you grip her shoulder.

"We can help him escape the house but that's it, Charlotte," you tell her in a whisper. "Give him time to pack a bag and run to the nearest QZ. Tell him how to avoid Raiders, but that's it. He cannot come with us."

Charlotte nods and you hate to disappoint her. What if this kid is really young? Can you really turn your back on a frightened toddler in peril? You can only pray Ryan is old enough to get to a QZ on his own.

Charlotte breaks into a relieved smile, giving you a tight hug. The door is creaked open and you wait at the doorframe. You don’t want to scare the kid. He likely heard the noise from the office, likely taught to hide if he hears something.

“Hi Ryan,” Charlotte coos into the darkness. “We’re not here to hurt you.”

She steps into the room, fumbling for the light switch. But something feels off, something that makes you grab her shoulder and tug her towards you out of the room. You both stumble back further, horrified when a snarling sound emits from the dark room.

"Oh fuck!"

Your sister whimpers as the rotting corpse of a young boy leaps towards you both at the door, gnarled fingers outstretched. Half his face is covered in the fungus, his teeth ground down to points.

You both fall back onto the rotting wood in shock. In terror Charlotte loses her grip and the knife clatters to the floor. You stare at the boy, seeing the thick rope tied around his waist and secured to the heavy bed. He can go no further than the door. Despite this he swipes at your both fruitlessly.

You begin to grope around on the floor for the fallen knife, your eyes wide with fearful adrenaline. The boy makes a chilling clicking noise and you hear the groaning of wood.

Your fingers finally grip the knife and your sister shrieks again as you scrabble to a stand, pulling her back by the shoulder. The boy is halfway out the door, dragging the bed behind him. You hear the wood splintering

"HELP!"

You hold your knife in front of you as you drag Charlotte backwards to the stairs. You hear the sound of the Group coming up the stairs with Grant leading them. They have their weapons raised, and Red barks at you from the bottom step.

"How many?"

"O-one infected up here," you shout at him. "One dead woman in the kitchen."

Red sprints up past the rest of the group and takes the knife from you. His glare is narrowed on the boy stuck by the width of the bed and the doorframe. He snarls at the Group, swinging his arms wildly.

You pull your sister along with you as you hear the wet sound of a knife being thrust into flesh. Red has often remarked that he doesn't like to waste bullets when a knife will do just fine. There's a wet thunk and then finally a silence. Charlotte has tears streaming down her face and you go to wipe them.

"It's okay," you tell her, wrapping her in your arms. "You're safe. I've got you."

“Fucker took my knife,” Red snarls as he stalks back. “Can’t get it out of his fuckin’ skull.”

You and Charlotte make your way out of the house, followed by Grant.

“You stay here,” he instructs. “We’re gonna load up.”

The two of you sit in the back of the truck, Charlotte shivering as you attempt to comfort her. She doesn’t speak, just keeps whimpering and whining. The Group goes through the house, pilfering useful items, weapons and foodstuff before loading them into the vehicles. They all make jokes and smile as they tally up their goods.

“You both did good,” Grant says with a smile as he finishes up. His round face is sweaty from excursion. “Let’s head back. Hop up front.”

You nod, crawling eagerly from the back of the truck bed. You wait for your sister to join you, confused when she stays there, holding onto one of the mattresses that Grant took from the house.

“I’ll stay here,” she mutters.

“Charlotte, its freezing,” you say, urging her to stand by grabbing her by the shoulder of her jacket. “C’mon.”

“Alright,” Red calls from his truck on the other side of you. “Let’s head back.”

“Charlotte, c’mon.”

Charlotte remains crouched, shaking her head as Grant comes alongside you.

“I’ll hold the furniture,” she insists. “Make sure it doesn’t fall out.”

“Nah, don’t need that,” Grant insists. He’s big and strong and before she can deny him he’s holding her under the armpits and lifting her unwilling form out of the back of the truck bed. He settles her down on the ground, smiling at her patiently. “Besides, I don’t get your company often. I wanna take advantage.”

Charlotte doesn’t smile back; she just stands there until you take her hand, cajoling her into joining you. You open the door, urging her in before you. You see the blood around her sneakers and the bottom of her jeans. It matches yours, left from the old woman in the kitchen. You wince.

Charlotte is withdrawn as Grant brings the truck to life. The previously sleeping Lady awakens at the sound, giving a little sniff as she licks Grant’s face. He smiles lovingly at her, pressing a kiss to the top of her head.

Lady sniffs the air again, her bleary eyes scanning the truck bed. She fixes her gaze on Charlotte, who stares back balefully. You both start when Lady begins to growl and then bark.

“Hey now,” Grant soothes, patting her belly. “Enough ‘a that, Lady.”

But Lady isn’t stopping. The old bitch is up on all fours, trying to leap into the back seat. Her eyes are fixed on Charlotte and you can see how the blood has drained from your sister’s face. Grant’s bemusement suddenly shifts and his eyes go to the rearview mirror, his eyes lingering on Charlotte before going back to the snarling Lady and then back to Charlotte.

Grant stares at her for a long moment before sighing. You watch his pudgy fingers go to the ignition, slowly turning the key to stop the truck from running. You stare at him, confused when he opens the door of the cab with another sigh, grabbing Lady by the collar and dragging her out of the cab. He closes the door, leaving your sister and you sitting in anxious silence.

You reach over and grab her hand, tightening yours around it. She gives you a watery smile.

“I love you.”

“Love you too.”

You turn to watch Grant out the window talking to Red in the truck. They look serious. Red keeps shaking his head and throwing up his hands before he and Ponytail shove open the doors and follow Grant back to the truck.

You’re startled when the door is yanked open and Red grabs Charlotte by the back of the neck, dragging her out of the truck. She shrieks and you clamor down, held back by Freckles as you attempt to intervene.

“What the fuck are you doing?”

Red holds Charlotte by the upper arm in front of him, nodding at Grant. Grant, looking devastated grips Lady by the collar, guiding her slowly towards Charlotte. Lady immediately goes crazy, barking madly and almost foaming at the mouth as she nears your sisters ankle. Charlotte whimpers, looking at you fearfully.

“Leg,” Ponytail says pointing at Charlotte’s blood-smeared jeans and sneakers. Freckles holds tight to you as you try to wrench out of her grip, shaking your head. They think she’s infected? Are they stupid?

“It’s not her blood! It’s from the woman we killed in the kitchen!”

Grant guides Lady backwards, watching as Smokey comes over, yanking up Charlotte’s jeans to show everyone a faint bite mark above her ankle. Everyone circling around lets out a groan of disappointment. Your stomach drops and then your world collapses on top of you. You fall to the ground onto your knees, unable to comprehend what you’re seeing.

“Musta’ got snagged by the kid upstairs before we got there,” Red remarks. “Fuck.”

He shakes his head as if he’s more irritated than anything. He looks your way, anger in his eyes.

“And you?”

You don’t answer him, you can barely hear anything. Everything is muted, like you’re under water. This can’t be happening. You just stare at her as Lady is brought over to you by a wet-eyed Grant. You don’t even acknowledge the dog sniffing at you; you just shake your head with wet eyes as you gaze at your sister.

“Charlie it’s not from the kid, right?” you ask with a trembling voice. “It’s a mistake, right?”

Charlotte doesn’t answer you.

She just looks at you with heartbreak in her eyes before she’s thrown to the ground by Red. She cries out as the cold ground bites into her hands and knees. A scream sounds out from you, ripped from your lungs at the sight of your sister in pain. Red looks at the rest of The Group before nodding at you with his head.

“Load her in the back.”

You’re halfway to your sister, jogging with your outstretched fingers almost touching hers when you feel arms around your middle, tugging you back brutally.

“No!” you shout as they begin to drag you over to the truck. “You can’t do this! CHARLOTTE!”

Smokey and Ponytail grab Charlotte by the wrists, tugging her screaming body back to the large tree outside the front of the house. You watch in despair as they begin to wind rope around her body, tying her to the tree. She screams your name, her face crumpled in terror.

“Just one moment,” you beg as they hold you, “I just want to say goodbye.”

“Too dangerous,” Red announces. “Only got one ‘a you left now. Can’t take any chances.”

You scream and struggle and when you won’t stop Freckles decks you across the face. Blood goes spurting from your split lip and you immediately silence. Terror is there in you, knowledge that if you make more screaming noises you’ll be hurt further.

You’re thrown into the back of Red’s truck, just as you were that morning when it was you and Charlotte huddled together. Your ankles are tied together, attached to one of the heavy dressers brought from the home. You lean over, your frantic eyes able to make out your sister’s trembling frame and Smokey and Ponytail headed back towards you.

Charlotte continues to scream your name, shouting for you. You can’t understand why they’re leaving her tied up like that. You look over when Red is about to get into the driver’s seat, your heart in your throat.

“You can’t leave her out here,” you beg him, tears falling down your cheeks. “Please. You can’t.”

Red takes a look at Charlotte tied to the tree, shrugging at you before clamoring into the front seat.

“She’s as good as dead. And I ain’t in the business of wastin’ bullets.”

///

Joel is holding you, as he has been the entire time you’ve been speaking. You know he’s looking at you in the dark, seeing the tears that stream down your cheeks as you cling to him. But your eyes are a blur of tears and blue-black night.

“I never understood if they did it to punish me or if they really just didn’t want to waste bullets,” you say in a voice so detached it doesn’t actually sound like you.

“The last thing I remember is she was screaming for me. And all I could do was sit there, holding my hand out, useless, crying and watching her get smaller and smaller…”

Joel shifts to a seated position, you half in his lap, his fingers trailing soothingly up and down your spine once more.

“I left my sister out there to turn by herself because I was too weak to fight back,” you say through clenched teeth. “I should have forced them to take me to her. I should have grabbed Red’s gun. I should have done something, but I was so scared.”

“You woulda been killed.”

“And my sister wouldn’t have had to die alone,” you whisper, tears slipping onto the pillow under your head. “I was her big sister. Her hero.”

Joel must sense that there’s no use trying to rationalize how you feel. It’s no different than how his emotions get the better of him when he talks about the night Sarah died. Sometimes in grief there is no logic, only pain.

“And I was never able to go back,” you tell him, swallowing. “Chiyo and I were so far from it by the time we started for Jackson City. We didn’t have enough to get us back to Rock River. So I don’t know if she’s still out there, wandering around, trapped in an infected body. I don’t know if she was killed. I’ll never know.”

Joel clings to you, holding you tighter than he ever has as your face moves to his shoulder and the sobs begin anew. He seems to know that nothing he says will help in this moment, nothing he tells you will change the past. Instead he holds you in both and spirit, the compassion flooding from him into you as he rocks you in his arms. There are tears on your temple but not from you.

“I’m sorry,” he says in a thick voice. “I’m so sorry, baby.”

You’re not sure what he’s apologizing for.

///

Joel holds you until you fall back asleep and he’s there when you wake up, fingers trailing over your cheek. You lick your dry lips, eyes crusty from sleep as you peer up at him in the early morning light.

"Did you watch me sleep all night?"

His lower lip sticks out slightly, a shoulder brought to his ear in a noncommittal shrug.

"Wasn't really that tired."

You see the way he sleepily squints down at you, watching as he poorly swallows a yawn. You could ask him why he did it but you know why.

"Liar."

Joel chuckles rich and soft before kissing your cheek. With a pout you let him extricate himself from your limbs. You yawn, listening to him using the shower before exiting dressed a few minutes later, damp hair curling at the ends.

He crouches down beside your bed, his broad hand coming to push back the hair from your forehead. He kisses your face over and over, soft, feather-light kisses, warm from his plush lips and you melt into them.

"I got a lot to do today. Helping Tommy with building some shit, meeting with Hank about the fencing and then guitar with Ellie."

You're disappointed of course, but there's not a part of you that's resentful. You had an entire night with him; he has a life outside you and you him. Your hand goes to loosely wrap around the wrist of the hand he has against your forehead, ready to tell him as such.

"But I can cancel the stuff with Tommy and Hank if you need me to," he murmurs, mouth against your forehead. "Just say the word. I could even reschedule with Ellie, she’d understand."

You gaze at him from your pillow, taking time to memorize the wrinkles around his eyes, the plush of his lower lip, the gray creeping into his beard and hair. You are in awe of the way his dark eyes seem so soulful, so open as he looks to you like you bring out the sun.

You lift your head just to kiss him gently, citing that it’s fine, that you actually need some time to yourself, that you’ll see him tomorrow for patrols and eventually after many kisses and ‘you sure?s’ he leaves you, looking concerned until you throw a pillow at him and tell him to get lost.

Left alone in the quiet of your home, in the bed still warmed from Joel’s body, you stare up at the ceiling. Contrary to what you expected there is a lightness about today, of sharing everything with another person. There is freedom in telling Joel everything, even the parts you kept from Chiyo. It makes you feel strangely reborn in a way.

You’d expected darkness and depression, but instead you’re met with a strange sense of calm. You know however that the ugly thoughts may resurface, muddling your thoughts. On days when your brain feels crowded it helps to go for a walk, to clear your head and make sense of the world. So you pull on your boots and you make your way to the old farmhouse.

Buckley is there at the end of the street wagging his tail merrily as you give a scratch behind his ear. You pass him and begin to wander down the quiet path leading to the farmhouse. As you do your mind is cluttered with emotion and feelings you have to sift through.

You still can't believe you shared all of that about Charlotte with Joel. Further yet to can't believe he didn't try to give advice or press you for more details. He just held you, shed a tear and watched over you until you woke the next morning.

Your heart feels achy but in the best way. Like there's so much love inside your meagre body can't contain it all.

You enter into the old farmhouse but take your time, scanning the space through fresh eyes as you recall Joel's assessment of the place the last time you were both here.

Place has good bones.

It's the kind of thing someone says when they want to buy a place, isn't it? When they envision starting a life with someone else and-

Stop it.

You walk up the stairs, making sure to note every scuff mark, every chipped baseboard, every threadbare carpet in the bedrooms. You wonder about the family here before. No knickknacks were left behind, no personal effects.

It's a blank slate in some ways, the walls even more bare than yours at home. But the small bits of furniture that remain speak to a family.

You pause, glancing into the first bedroom. The narrow bed, the faded pink stars of the wallpaper. You can imagine that a young girl one resided in this room, she did her homework under the window, read books in a chair by the corner.

You move to the bigger room with no bed, but one rickety end table. The walls are a faded taupe color, attached to a large bathroom with a rusty toilet and a shower with a missing door and broken shower tiles.

But the longer you stare, the more this visage fades from view and morphs into something out of a dream. You can imagine everything repaired, the windows washed and casting warm light in every room.

You can envision a working claw foot tub and Joel's handyman skills working at refinishing the broken tiles, making a mosaic in colors of your choosing.

You imagine nights walking wrapped in a towel, slick and warm from the tub into Joel's waiting arms. Of nights taking turns bringing each other to toe-curling orgasms as you cling to the sleigh bed from his bedroom back on Rancher Street. You're not shocked when you feel your cunt throb in your jeans.

You go to the next bedroom, looking at the large boarded up window and thinking it would be perfect as an art room for Ellie once it was spruced up. You could even do some crafts in here when you felt like it.

The next room is at the far end of the hall. It's got it's own private bathroom, a large bedroom. It's not as independent as Ellie having her own space in the garage, but maybe she'd like it anyway.

You can almost hear her girlish laughter as you sit on her bed and brush her hair, whispering about Dina and first kisses. In that same fantasy you can imagine Joel poking his head around the frame and saying something about interrupting girls day.

You can easily envision mornings laughing over coffee with Joel in the kitchen, of Ellie rolling her eyes but unable to keep the grin from her face as you and Joel press your lips together gently.

A family.

Nothing like the one you envisioned as a young girl, but perfect to you in this world.

You catch your reflection in the busted mirror above the sink. You're beaming, actually fucking beaming at this imagined scenario. At the sight of it you flush, eyes averted to the ground.

"Stop it," you murmur to yourself out loud, frowning. "You fucking loser."

It's too early to be thinking like this, to have such domestic fantasies of moving in together and becoming some little family. You're being silly, delusional.

You had such little romantic experience before outbreak day and then after that you felt stunted. Dating in the QZ wasn't the same, romance was odd and rushed. Even without a wider context of relationships you know that you're thinking too far ahead, wanting to move too fast.

But one thing is clear as you walk along the uneven wood towards the front door, you are thinking of a future with Joel Miller.

///

Patrols arrive the next morning and as you get dressed that morning you're strangely giddy. You pull on your socks smiling. You hold back the urge to skip into town, swallowing the excitement of seeing him.

You want to talk with him about Ellie and Jennifer and see what he thinks. He asked you to the dance, obviously he knows what that means. But maybe he doesn't want anyone knowing until then. But you need to tell him Jennifer needs to know now, the minute you get back from patrols.

Joel isn't there yet and Hank tells you that you're early, smiling when you hand him the bag of apple tarts.

"What're these for?"

"Practice," you smile, taking some of the peels from a separate bag and bringing them over to Chestnut.

"Hello beautiful boy," you say, pressing a soft kiss to Chestnuts soft nose. "Did you miss me?"

You hold out some of the apple peelings, grinning when he huffs his warm breath along your palm before indulging. Midnight stands nearby, the two of them secured to the fence in anticipation of patrols.

"Here you go," you offer almost shyly, your palm flat and your eyes on the ground. There's a shuffling and then you feel his warm breath on your palm. Your eyes peek up to see Midnight surveying you warily even as he munches on the snack.

You're gradually aware of a warmth behind you. You glance over your shoulder to see Joel standing there. He's smiling subtly, his voice dropped for only your ears.

"Told ya you'd win him over."

That same warm arousal builds in your lower belly as you tell yourself to look away from him, knowing that the longer you stare the harder it is not to kiss him. His eyes flick to yours, the pull clearly strong in him as well.

"There you are Joel," Hank says cheerfully coming up behind him. "The horses are all ready for ya both."

Joel's expression immediately drops and he turns to face Hank, wearing his customary scowl.

"Good." He glances down at the bag in Hanks hand curiously. "S'that?"

"I'd offer you one of these tarts but your partner there only made enough for me."

He shoots you a playful wink as you giggle. The look Joel shoots Hank could wither fruit on the vine. He looks over at you.

"Are you ready to go or not?"

There's something about Joel pretending to be stern in front of everyone that amuses you, and if you're honest, turns you on a tiny bit. You muse that it rests in the knowledge that Joel is so sweet and soft but only with you, away from the prying eyes of Jackson City inhabitants.

It makes you try very hard to swallow a giggle when he looks at you dismissively before throwing his leg up over the saddle. You and Chesnut follow him out, the gates closing behind you.

"I liked your apple tarts, you know."

Joel is watching you out of the corner of his eyes. You glance over, seeing his face looking solemn.

"Huh?"

"Those ones you gave Hank. I liked ‘em."

"Oh good."

You ride beside him, lost in thought. Why is he bringing up your baking? Was he hungry? Joel is never hungry on patrols like he's trained his body to only feel hunger during the lunch break. Realization slowly dawns on you.

"Joel are you upset I didn't bring you baking?"

"No," Joel says quickly, frowning at the empty space in front of him. "Just that if you're goin' around givin’ out baking I wouldn't mind some."

He looks over sharply when you start laughing to yourself, your cheeks sore by the time you're done.

"Joel, I just figured you'd have some when you came over next."

You don’t miss the pink at his cheeks as he nods almost shyly.

“Okay. Good.”

You and Joel are quiet the next little bit, knowing that silence is paramount on patrols. It doesn't stop you from watching him out the corner of your eye. Doesn't still your heartbeat when he randomly glances over at you and smiles.

You give Chestnut a gentle pat behind the ears, looking down at your beloved horse with affection. He moves at a steady clip, his movements smooth and focused.

"Hey."

Joel's whisper draws your attention to see he's looking at you not with warmth but instead heavy concern.

"It’s our turn to check the traps," Joel offers with a gentle tone. "You okay with that?"

What a difference Joel's kindness makes. When he asks you to do this instead of commanding it. You nod, following him dutifully atop Chestnut.

"We'll be fast," he tells you as the two of you jump off and tie up your horses on the outskirts of the forest. The same one you ventured into before. Both horses huff at each other, their breath caught by the chilled air and frozen.

You fumble with Chestnuts reign, distracted by the way Joel's arms bulge in his jacket. Filthy images of him in bed are invading your mind as you half-heartedly tie Chestnut to the nearby tree by Midnight.

You feel your heart pound delightedly when Joel catches your gaze and gives you a smirk and a wink.

"Let's go."

He reaches a hand towards you and you take it with a grin up at him. This all feels so natural, so easy. He seems so comfortable walking with you through the snow, a faint look of contentment on his features.

You make your way through the forest quietly. Got the first time since you took his hand you feel anxious, despite having him at your side, gun always ready. You still hate the forest, still haven't gotten used to the thin fingers if branches that strain forwards you.

Joel must notices this because he gently urges you into one arm, dropping your have so that he can band an arm around your shoulders, holding you. You both survey the traps quietly, seeing nothing of note.

"Jennifer is making me a dress for the dance," you say out of nowhere as you circle them twice, just to make conversation. "It's blue."

"Yeah?" Joel's eyes flick down your body, likely imagining it. "I'm gonna enjoy seein' you in that."

"Why do I feel like you'll enjoy taking it off me more?"

Joel bursts into a laugh before he catches himself, remembering you both have to be quiet out here.

"Damn, I remember when you were a shy thing offerin' me cookies. Now look at you, getting’ me hard in the middle of patrols."

Oh.

Your face feels warm and you have to look away from him, suddenly shy. That familiar thrum begins between your legs and you try to change the subject.

“I’ve been practicing my shooting,” you offer with a creak in your throat. “You might be surprised at how good I’ve gotten. I hit four cans at practice the other day."

You walk behind him with your shoulder’s back, feeling cocky.

"Four cans huh?" Joel says lightly. You glance over to see him suppressing a wry grin.

"Oh shut the fuck up," you say with a laugh and playful shove at his shoulder. "I'm so sorry I didn't grow up in Texas with a shotgun next to my pacifier."

Joel chuckles loudly at this, the rich sound bouncing off the trees. You grin at the sound, your heart thumping delightedly. Again he remembers himself, smirking at the ground and shaking his head in amusement.

He seems to think of something before reaching into his pocket. He produces one of his knives, a thin thing he barely ever takes out. He places it in the center of your palm, urging your fingers to wrap around the handle.

"Let’s see how good you are at aimin’," Joel says with a crooked grin. "Stay here."

He walks over to one of the fallen trees, placing his flask atop it. Much like when you and Luke and Jenny practice shooting the tin cans. His boots crunch over the snow as he comes to stand in front of you once more, his face coming into view as you gaze up.

His dark eyes are like liquid heat, bright and hypnotizing. It makes you feel like you're in the calm before the storm. He eyes you slowly, gaze drifting over every inch of you, his hand coming to readjust himself in his jeans.

"You look good like that," he muses, his voice low and rumbling. He takes a step forward, disbelief and lust making his speech sound slurred. "Holdin’ my knife.”

You roll your eyes, secretly pleased.

“I haven’t practiced throwing knives, Joel.”

“Then this is your first lesson,” he offers cheekily. "Hit the flask."

"I'll wreck it."

"I barely use it," Joel reasons before his mouth hitches on one side as he looks meaningfully at you. "Plus I don't think I have much to be worried about."

“Hey!”

"Prove me wrong, darlin'," Joel says, coming to stand behind you.

Darlin'. It sounds so good coming from him in that low, husky twang. You wonder if he said it on purpose to throw you off.

"I'll even give you a pointer to start you off," he continues. "Step one is actually raising your arm up."

"Okay, get outta here," you grumble, trying not to smile as you shake off his hand on your shoulder. A knife can’t be that hard to throw.

You breathe slowly, your chest rising, holding. You remember what Jennifer said about thinking of something safe. Your something safe is standing behind you.

"That’s my girl," Joel murmurs behind you, breaking your concentration just as you throw. Not shockingly the knife goes wide, sinking into the snow.

"Just jitters," you tell him as he goes to retrieve it. "I'll get the next one."

"Mhm."

You take the cool blade into your hand once more, feeling him standing there behind you. You tell yourself to ignore him and that this is the shot you’ll make. You balance the knife in your fingers, trying to find the best spot to grip it.

"Are you aimin'?" Joel croons in your ear as his hands start to slide up under your jacket. Cold air hits your skin, causing goosbumps to rise. You twist your head to look at him, seeing the merriment that dances in his eyes.

"What're you-"

Your breathing hitches when his large palms slide up under your sweater and then under the band of your bra until your breasts rest heavy in his eager hands.

"So soft," he murmurs, kissing the back of your neck as his thumbs trace your nipple.

His voice is low, seductive and it drips between your legs like warm honey. His large hands begin to knead your breasts, his greedy fingers locating your nipples with ease. They immediately pucker under his touch, mercifully warm from being in his gloves. He tugs at them, making you moan, knife wavering.

"C'mon, baby," Joel murmurs with a grin, his hands sliding down your skin, coming to slide down the front of your jeans, rubbing your swollen clit through the denim. "Concentrate."

Baby. He's definitely doing this to fuck with you. Your ass rolls against his front, not immune to the erection pressing into your lower back.

"Hit it and I'll fuck you," Joel promises his breath hot against your cold cheek. "Right against that tree there."

You follow his finger pointing at the large trunk a few feet away. You're swaying in his arms, unable to concentrate but you raise the knife anyway. It's held tightly in your grip, but Joel isn't stopping the fingers that rub between your legs, making you arch.

"You're so fuckin' soft," Joel rumbles against your hair. "But I know just where you're the softest."

You gasp when you feel him unclasp the button of your jeans. Your body breaks into goose bumps as his greedy fingers find their way underneath the waist of your panties.

"C'mon and aim," he urges you in a rough whisper, the tone teasing. "Show me how good you are."

"I can't," you mutter, already giving over to the sensation, your hips rolling as his fingers slide between your slick folds. His thumb circles your clit and you cry out, nerve endings already strained.

"You were just braggin'," Joel reminds you. "Four cans was it?"

"Only the one time," you tell him breathlessly, ass rolling against his hardened front, feeling his long fingers starting to thrust up into your velvet clutch. "Just once. And that was with a gun."

Joel's wet mouth is sponging along your neck as your eyes shut, your back leaning against his front. He's holding you upright, your legs turned to jelly as his thumb comes to tap and circle your clit, his second and third finger curling within you.

"I wanna watch how good you are with a knife," he says softly, moving the hair sticking to your heated cheek and kissing there.

You look over your shoulder at him, your free hand gripping him by the back of his neck as you feel his fingers thrusting deep.

"Joel, please."

Joel gives you a quick peck and now he removes his fingers from your panties. You feel his hands going on either side of your hips, positioning you.

"C'mon sharpshooter," he teases. "Let's see."

You raise the knife shakily, swallowing.

Focus.

You want to impress him. You want to show him that you're better than he thinks. But his hands are still at your hips, holding. You inhale slowly, forcing all other thoughts to leave you. You raise your gun, looking through the scope.

The flask. The tiny silver square that glints at you in the sunlight, teasing you. It becomes the only thing you can see, the rest of the world going fuzzy and quiet. Throw it on the exhale.

You throw it.

You see the flask wobble as the blade whizzes by, the rush of air upsetting it slightly but it remains standing. Your shoulders sag in disappointment. Joel grabs you, gently spinning you around to face him. You're surprised to see he's grinning as he hoists you into his arms with a grunt.

"Close enough."

You laugh at that, holding onto him like a horny koala, your legs wrapping around his waist. You kiss his neck, desperate to feel him as he carries you to the tree. He pins you against it, his mouth and hands hungry for you.

He sucks your tongue into his mouth, groaning lowly as your thighs squeeze around his waist. Your hips begin to jerk, chasing the friction that builds between you and its only seconds before your jeans are shucked down and your panties are pulled to the side before he’s plunging into you, a condom over his cock.

He pushes your sweater up and tugs your bra down, exposing your breasts to him in the chilled air. You keen as his mouth sucks at your nipples, tongue flicking as you arch. His mouth kisses your collar, tasting you everywhere with your back biting into the bark of the tree. He raises his head back up, eyes on your face.

There's something about Joel's warm body and the frigid air that makes you feel so awake. The dueling sensations make everything feel more acute, sharper. The bristles of his facial hair rough on your neck as he kisses you there, the softness of his thick curls in between your fingers. He sinks deeper into you, his soft groans muffled against your neck.

You feel safe with him, you feel alive for the first time in years. You urge him deeper; as if by doing that he can physically feel the adoration you carry for him.

He moves you both in rhythmic undulations against the tree, hurried in desire but gentle in execution. He wants you to feel good and you want the same for him. You grip your arms around his neck, murmuring softly between kisses about how good he makes you feel.

"Anyone else make you feel this good?"

"No," you gasp, hips rutting against his. Your hand is on the back of his neck, your face inches from him as you bounce against him, thighs spread wide to accommodate him, the rasp of the bark against your tailbone.

"Only need my cock," Joel grunts, thrusting himself to the hilt with a rumbling groan. "Only need me."

You stay gripping his neck, eyes on him as he buries himself in you over and over, grinding his hips to yours, his mouth chasing yours as welcome him deeper. You rise and fall like the waves of an ocean, bodies in a dance as old as time, in a rhythm as ancient as time itself.

"Not just because of that," you whisper, your body still moving in time with his. You're gaze is still stuck on him, soft.

"No?"

Joel's cheeks are red circles, his body increasing in tempo as he pins you against the tree. You can see the question in his dark eyes, the almost hopeful expression.

"You make everything good."

It comes out in a whimpered rush. It escapes you so quick you don't even have time to think about it because you're cresting, falling over the edge into bliss as Joel continues to fuck you through it against the tree.

He kisses you, urging your thighs to part further. He pivots his hips, circling them and your eyes begin rolling back at the sensation. Your fingers grip him by the shoulders, bouncing against him, your back rasping against the bark of the tree at your back.

"Joel I don't wanna stop,"

"We ain't gonna."

"I d-don't just mean now," you groan as he starts to withdraw and thrust into you with relish. "I-I mean-n-n..."

You can't say anymore, your words are gone, lost in the trees that shake with the approaching wind.

"I know what you meant, baby," Joel says as his mouth covers yours again. "I know."

A thrill goes through you at his words and you kiss him back ardently, neck tilting back when he hits the perfect spot deep within you. Your spine lengthens as you arch violently.

"Fuck! Right there!"

His forehead presses to yours, his eyes inches from your own. He's staring at you, unblinking as his hips continue to rhythmically jerk.

"Come for me," he rasps, eyes not blinking. "Come on my cock right now. Gimme what’s mine."

Joel moves his face to your shoulder, his growls feral and loud against your jaw. It's the kind of noise that makes you keen and come harshly on his still pistoning cock, coating him.

"That's it," he praises as his hips start an even faster rhythm, making every part of you bounce for him. And then your entire body shudders as you come for him, offering desperate little whines as he continues to pound into you.

“Fuck, I can feel you flutterin’.”

He releases with a growl at your neck, making you moan as you continue to come down from your high. His hands come to your face, the end of his sharp nose grazing yours. He’s panting, his face flushed and his stare intense.

"I wanna give you everythin'."

You grin, feeling completely wrung out. You kiss him softly, everything inside you blooming. Then your head is against his chest, hearing the staccato of his heartbeat as you catch your breath.

I love you, Joel.

The words rest behind your teeth, gnashed down by nerves. You can't say them out loud. Not yet. But they exist and in your mind you can scream them over and over.

You drag his mouth to yours, sighing when he shows no hesitation. He's never said it, but you can feel it on his side. The warmth he casts over you with his smile, his words. A Joel you found by digging in his shadow.

He moves you both in rhythmic waves against the tree, hurried in desire but gentle in execution. He wants you to feel good and you want the same for him. You grip your arms around his neck, murmuring softly between kisses about how good he makes you feel.

You love him.

In this moment with him, in so many moments the words bubble up inside you. Like a still corked bottle of champagne, waiting to be popped. The words rest behind your teeth, gnashed down by nerves. You can't say the words out loud. Not yet. But they exist. In your mind you can scream them over and over.

"Well ain't this cute."

Your blood runs immediately cold as your eyes blow open. Joel's motions immediately stop, his grip on you tightening. He's facing you against the tree so you can see the moment his eyes widen in horror.

"Caught myself two little lovebirds.”

The voice is a low growl from behind Joel. You lift your head up to see a man with oily hair standing, watching you both. He wears a thick jacket, gloves with holes and his face is drawn thin and malnourished.

A raider.

Your blood runs cold, that familiar fear cloying in your throat.

"Might wanna get dressed," the man says amused.

Joel's eyes meet yours briefly as he tucks himself away and you pull up your jeans, both buttoning in a hurry. He's trying to gauge your reaction. Your eyes are blown wide in terror and Joel murmurs something that sounds like stay behind me, but the blood is roaring in your ears.

The raider holds a gun in his right hand and a smile stretches over his thin lips. He cocks it when Joel reaches for his shotgun resting against the base of the tree.

"Ah ah, I don't think so, friend."

Joel grits his teeth and continues to stand in front of you, shielding you from the man. You tremble behind him.

"Sorry to interrupt love birds. But I think you might have something of mine." The man eyes you both. "A shipment of medicine? I was delayed a bit and rumor is you folks helped yourselves."

"We don't have it," Joel tells the man flatly. "We just came to check the traps."

"C'mon now," the man laughs, the gun still aimed at you both. "You think I don't know a liar when I see one?"

He comes closer; his eyes glancing over at you huddled behind Joel.

"I told you we don't fucking have it," Joel repeats.

The humor flees from the older man's face.

"Now I've been polite but you're really starting to piss me off. I know you have my shit and I want it back." The man sniffs angrily. "We heard about a guy fittin' your description. Came by with a few others last week."

"We did come looking for it last week but we didn't find anything," Joel relents.

"Now why would you go and do that?" The man asks as if he's actually offended. "Stealin' another man's property?"

"Didn't know it was yours."

"Well it sure as shit wasn't yours, now was it?"

Joel says nothing, but you feel his breathing hitch. His broad shoulders that you stand behind seem to slump. You don't have any way out of this.

You peek your head out the side of Joel, eyes fixed on the grungy raider glaring at Joel. You want to help in some way.

"P-please," you whisper in a stammer. "We don't have your things. I swear."

The man's eyes slide over to you, his face a sneer.

"Like I'm gonna believe the words of a whore," the man spits out with a cruel smile.

"Watch your fuckin' mouth," You hear Joel growl. His hands are balled fists at his sides.

"You wanna try that again?" The man asks, pressing the gun to Joel's forehead. You feel your body shaking when you feel Joel's body tighten up. His back is to you but there's no mistaking the way he holds himself terrified.

"The others will come lookin’ for us," Joel warns the man. "Leave us be and we'll pretend this never happened."

“Ain't no one gonna find you out here."

"You wanna bet?"

The man's eyes narrow. "Even if they go come lookin' after ya I'll be long gone."

"Your tracks won't be." Joel motions to the man's heavy boots. "We got bloodhounds that'll sniff you out in under an hour."

Joel is still stiff but his voice is cold and menacing. You see the man in front of him falter slightly before his yellowed eyes flick your way. They rove your body hungrily, sucking at his back teeth before he speaks.

"In that case I better get my kicks in while I can." He gives a gap toothed grin your way. "Girlie it's been a while, so be polite for me. Get on your knees and show me why your friend here keeps you around."

When you don't move he reaches around to aim his gun at your head. Your stare at the barrel pressed between your eyes.

This is how you die.

You whimper, eyes wet with terror. You finally found something to live for outside of your own survival and this is how it ends? Dead in the snow at the hands of some stranger? Before anything more can happen Joel pushes in front of you, the barrel now aimed at his chest.

"Get the fuck away from h-"

Joel doesn't finish the sentence before the man hits him harshly with the butt of his gun. Joel hisses and he folds at the waist, his face cracking to the side. You shriek, your voice carrying through the forest.

“Joel!”

"I don't wanna repeat myself, girlie."

The injustice of all of this makes furious tears roll down your cheeks. This bastard is going to take everything from you after all you've been through. Images of Charlotte flood your mind, the sound of her screams, the sight of Maria covered in her own blood, the way Penny held you as you sobbed for your dead family. All of this pain, this horror, its never-ending.

A scream comes from you, an unholy terrified thing from the bottom of your toes as you glare at the raider, your eyes wild. The man looks momentarily taken aback at the sight and sound of it, gun faltering.

And then it all happens so fast.

A loud whinny echoes through the trees shocking all of you. You turn to see Chestnut comes hurtling towards the group of you through the trees. His gallops are slick in the icy snow, his breath coming out in white clouds as he streaks towards you.

"The fuck?"

The man is confused. He might be wondering if there are more of you about to surround him.

Joel whirls around to face you, half his face covered in sticky blood. He bear hugs you to him, tackling you to the ground. He cushions your fall but you let out a grunt as your spine hits the snow. The air is punched out of your lungs.

Instinctively the man raises his weapon, his gun aimed and with a terrifying finality he pulls the trigger. It’s like slow motion, watching as Chestnut’s eyes widen so much you see the whites. Red blooms at the side of his head and you scream.

"No!"

Chestnut goes stumbling and then crashing to the ground, a strangled whinny of pain going through the forest before a hideous silence settles.

It's a split second but it's enough, Joel's hand is already on the butt of the shotgun. It's in his grip within seconds and before the raider can do anything Joel's aiming it at the man and pulling the trigger.

A spray of red shoots from the man's shoulder, dotting the snow and causing his gun to drop, but not before shooting widely. He turns on Joel with a snarl.

"Fucker!"

You can't see Joel's face from where lay in the snow but he moves as if he's on autopilot. A force to be reckoned with. His shoulders are tight and he raises the gun to his eyes.

Joel blasts the raider again and you watch the spray of red that explodes from his head. This one sends the man crumpling onto the ground, blood pouring from the half of his face that's now missing. He lands forward in the snow, the red of his blood seeping into the white earth like ink on paper.

There's a throbbing in your leg that you're noticing as Joel is urges you to stand, pulling you onto his arm, his face a contortion of anxiety and frustration.

"C'mon, get up. We gotta go."

He hauls you towards the entrance of the trees without thought, one arm around your waist, the other hand aiming his gun at anyone who you may meet along the way.

Your eyes however land on the frozen body of Chestnut. You sweet, darling savior. A creature that heard your scream and came running. His ribs don't expand and he lies with eyes wide open, unblinking. He's not moving.

You go to step towards him but Joel continues hauling you away, his eyes fixed in front of him.

"We have to go."

Your hand reaches fruitlessly for Chestnut as Joel drags you from the clearing. Tears slide down your cheeks and your voice is cracked.

"We can't leave him out here, Joel. We have to bury him or something."

Joel's face betrays a shadow of regret.

"We don't know if this guy had friends who just heard a bunch of gunshots. We gotta go."

His breathing is rapid, but his focus is clear. He knows what to do in this situation whereas you’re blind with panic and regret.

"I didn't tie him properly," you sob, your cries cracked in the cold air. Each inward breath feels like a stabbing behind your ribs.

"You did," Joel insists distractedly, guiding you both through the trees.

"No, I was just so excited to touch you," you spill out, not caring that it's embarrassing to admit this. Your heart aches too painfully to care. "I was distracted and ... He's dead because of me."

Your feet fumble, tripping up as you hold onto him as you beg him to do something with Chestnut. He grunts, righting you and urging you to keep going.

"I know you're scared and sad and I can't take that away, but we gotta go," Joel says pulling you more aggressively.

You choke down another sob, finding your footing and running back alongside Joel until you make it out of the clearing and back to an anxious looking Midnight, still tied to the tree. The horse watches warily as the two of you approach.

You're trying to muffle your sobs as Joel kneels, motioning for you to stand on his thigh to climb onto Midnight's back. You're halfway onto the horse when his dark eyes widen and you stop climbing confused at his expression.

"You're shot."

You look down at your leg to see a bloom of red starting under the denim.

"It's not mine," you insist, swiping at the denim. You hiss when you realize in fact you did get hit. The stray bullet must have grazed you. You were so focused on that was happening around you that you didn't even notice.

You raise your eyes to his terrified face. "I don't feel anything."

"It's shock."

You should be crying. You should be feeling something, but nothing is happening. You just feel cold all over.

Joel looks like he's going to be sick.

"I'm fine," you insist with a tremor in your voice.

You're shaking, body going cold. Joel is pushing you onto the horse, urging you to wrap your arms around his waist when he climbs in front of you.

"Hold tight."

He takes off like a bat out of hell, the trees whipping by you all as Midnight gallops back to Jackson City.

You fade in and out of awareness. The pain in your calf keeps you awake, but what just happened has you feeling absolutely drained. You could cry when the familiar sight of Jackson's walls come into view. Midnight huffs exhausted, clopping quickly to the entrance. Joel’s spine straightens, his voice a gruff boom.

"Open up!"

You see Hank climbing down from the watchtower, calling for Fred and others. Joel throws himself off the horse.

"She's hurt!" Joel shouts, his voice cracked. "Bullet to the calf."

The doors remain closed. Your body tightens, anxiety holding you. You hear Hank's voice through the heavy wood.

"Grab the dog."

"No time for the dog!" Joel roars. He bashes his gloved fist against the closed door until Hank opens it a crack, his face just visible through the thin slit.

"Joel you know the rules," Hank says quietly eyeing you both. "Someone comes back injured from patrols, we gotta test 'em."

"S' fucking ridiculous,” Joel pants, motioning to you. “She's bleedin' out."

"We've already sent for the doctor. Just sit tight."

You're whimpering from the pain as Joel paces back and forth in front of you, looking increasingly agitated with every moment that passes by. Finally Melody from the dog kennels jogs over with a bloodhound, followed by the town medic, Lily.

Melody raises her hand in front of the dog that eyes you. Joel helps you down from the horse, murmuring something to you that you can’t hear.

"Boba...check."

Melody gives a snap and the dog takes off trotting towards you. Boba sniffs you as you try to remain standing. After a moment the dog rubs his face against your kneecap, accepting the scratch behind his ears.

Boba moves to Joel, sniffing at his boots before he moves back to Melody, unimpressed at having found nothing of note.

"All clear."

You see Hank visibly relax. Lily, the medic on shift for the evening urges you both inside the gates. Lily is a ruddy faced woman of about fifty. Her strawberry blonde hair is cut just at her jaw.

She always has a sense of no-nonsense, a professionalism that makes you feel safe. She was a nurse back before the world went to shit. She doesn't ask you much outside of what occurred out there.

"You're both gonna come to the infirmary," Lily informs you after a quick rundown of what happened. Joel says nothing, but he urges you onto his shoulder, helping you limp after the woman to the nearby hospital bay.

She puts you in the first room, usually saved for things like surgery. Lily’s eyes flick between the two of you briefly as Joel helps walk you to the bed, his face grave.

"You stay out there," Lily instructs Joel when she enters with her medical bag. He looks about to contest this but the door is closed in his face and you’re too tired to fight for him to remain.

She helps you slip off your jeans. You wince as the denim peels away from the dried blood of your wound and Joel peers from over her shoulder.

"Just a graze," she says sounding relieved.

She helps you into the bed, tugging off your jacket before you lay down. Sweat is drenching your hairline, you're body sweaty but cold. Lily keeps insisting you drink water even after you've swallowed the pain pills.

She patches you up slowly, cleaning the wound on your calf carefully to avoid infection. You lay tensed up; eyes scrunched shut as she works on you. It hurts, despite the painkillers she gave you.

"Joel, I can't work if you're breathing down my neck. And I thought I told you to wait outside."

Your eyes crack open and you shakily raise your head to see Joel in the room beside the bed, gazing down at your leg with what looks like anguish. You follow his eyes and glance down to see the puckered flesh of your calf being sewn together.

A wave of nausea goes through you and you lay your head back down on the pillow.

"I'm okay," you tell him quietly, as if Lily isn't in the room with you. He drags his eyes from your leg to your face.

"This never shoulda happened."

He looks angry, but not at you. His eyes have that haunted, distant look to them. A look you've grown to fear when you see it in the eyes of people you care about. Without thinking you reach for him, but he stays standing with his arms hung at his sides. It's like he's a million miles away even as he stares at you.

You stretch your arm further, fingers aching to come into contact with any part of him. In your desperation you begin shifting in the bed.

Lily sighs, irritated at your movement as she attempts to work on your injury.

"Joel, go wait in the other room. I'll be there in a sec to get you stitched up."

Your hand lowers to the bed despondent when Joel says nothing. He takes one lingering last look at you and then he's stalking away from the bed, slamming the door behind him.

///

Lily doesn't let you leave the infirmary until late the next afternoon with a bandaged leg and a few pain pills in a bag. She gives you crutches to use, citing you probably won't need them long.

She sends you home with specific care instructions that include finding her the second the site begins to swell.

You attempt to use the crutches but find them more cumbersome than helpful. You make your way home stiffly, trying to focus on not slipping with your psyched leg, ignoring the looks that the others give you on your journey.

You settle in on the couch, napping and taking pain pills when necessary. The sky darkens and your mind goes to Joel. You hope he got patched up okay. You don't remember hearing him after Lily left your room.

You're a little surprised he hasn't been by to check on you today. A part of you thought that he'd want to be after everything that happened. You know you wish you were in his strong arms right now, feeling protected.

I wanna give you everythin'.

There was something about the emotion in how he said that, his large hands holding your cheeks. Something that makes you think that perhaps he was thinking the same as you were.

That you love him. It snuck up on you or maybe it just feels like that. One second he was an asshole you couldn't stand and now he's the one person you want to see more than anything.

There's a knock on your door just as you think about putting yourself to bed. Relief spreads over your features as you glance at the locked door.

Joel is finally here.

Delight floods through you, combating the sting that goes along with standing and hobbling over to the door. You tug it open, surprised to see that it's Tommy on your porch.

"I come bearing food," he says, raising a crochet bag to eye level. Whatever's inside smells amazing and your stomach rumbles. You give him an appreciative grin, pushing the door open.

"Come in."

Tommy enters the home, closing the door behind him. He places the bag on the coffee table where you have your leg propped up. He looks at the injury, his lips thinning before he forces a weak smile.

"So how's the patient?"

"The patient is doing okay," you shrug, yawning from both fatigue and the pills. "What's in the bag?"

"Stew and Maria sent over cookies," he tells you pointing at the bag. "She says there nowhere as good as yours but that she hopes you like ‘em anyway."

You give a soft chuckle at that while Tommy looks around your home, observing the small pieces of yourself that you've started decorating with. The framed photo of your parents on the mantle of the fireplace, the paper flowers on your dining table. The space is far from homey, but it's getting there.

"You need anything ‘side from food?"

"Nah."

You shake your head. Tommy exhales slowly, coming to sit on the coffee table, facing you with his hands folded between his legs. He looks serious.

"Joel told me what happened to y'all out there."

You wince, not wanting to think about what occurred. Tommy seems to understand this and so he speaks softer, more gently.

"I know it's askin' a lot, but you got enough energy to answer a few questions about it?"

You swallow. "Sure."

"Joel tells me the fella was older, early sixties."

"Yeah."

"He look well fed?"

"No, pretty thin from what I remember."

"Any distinguishing features?"

"Not really. Just old."

Tommy swipes a hand down his face in thought. "Did he say if there were more of ‘em?"

You take a moment to think about what happened.

"I can't remember," you answer honestly after a beat. "I don't think so."

"S'what Joel said," Tommy sighs, looking grim. "Was hoping you mighta heard somethin' more."

"Honestly I don't remember much. I was hiding behind Joel for most of it."

There's a shame that comes with that admittance, embarrassed that while Joel stood between you and a loaded gun all you did was cower pathetically behind him.

Everything is so tinted with panic and fear that it's hard to hold onto any details outside your own terror. You attempt to hide a yawn but Tommy sees it, giving you a smile that doesn't touch his eyes.

"I should let you rest. I'll stop by tomorrow to see if you need anything else."

He stands, heading towards the door.

"I'll be fine, Tommy you don't have to do that."

"Maria'll kill me if I don't," Tommy grins and this one seems sincere. You grin back, brows raised when he stops mid-step.

"If you have the energy tomorrow night we're playin' a movie in town," Tommy suggests brightly. "Curtis and Viper. Thomas found it on the last patrol."

"That sounds fun," you acknowledge, pressing your thumb into your forefinger, distractedly.

Despite everything, this visit has warmed you, touched by your friend's care for you. When his hand is on the doorknob you add:

"Tell Maria thanks for the cookies."

Tommy grins, giving you a little mock salute before closing the door behind him.

"Will do."

///

The medicine does its job and you fall into a fairly dreamless sleep. You wake bleary-eyed with cotton mouth to see it's after eleven. And like most mornings as of late, your thoughts turn to Joel; the tingles that go through you when his beard grazes your neck, the sweet way he exhales when he's inside of you.

And it's not just the tactile, it's everything. It's him sharing his deepest pains and accepting yours. It's his smile when you say something funny. It's the softness of his eyes

I wanna give you everythin'.

You want to give him the same. You want nights and days with him, dances and card games, dinners with he and Ellie. A family.

Images of Jennifer and Ellie go through your mind, going through an imaginary list of their potential responses. In the end you realize it doesn't matter. You're going to tell them tomorrow, you tell yourself. No more waiting.

Jennifer will understand, you're sure of it. She may be hurt at first but she's an understanding woman, she's your best friend. As for Ellie... That may be up to Joel. But either way the truth is coming out.

The dance is in less than two weeks and you want to go feeling happy and beautiful on Joel's arm. You want people to smile and greet you. You want both of you laughing with Jennifer and Luke, you want to dance with Maria and Tommy there cheering you on.

With this fantasy in mind you shower and dress in fresh clothes, wrapping your red scarf around your neck and tugging on your gloves.

Your leg is still sore, but you can walk just fine on it, only limping slightly. The pain is nothing to you though because you're buoyed by the promise of Joel's face bleeding into a smile when he sees you, the warmth of his eyes when he opens the door.

You make it there quickly, thankful you don't run into anyone you know on the way. Your heart pounds in anticipation as you rap your knuckles on his door. There's a shuffling and then the door creaks open. Joel stands there dressed in his customary flannel and jeans. His hair is damp from a shower. He blinks at you slowly.

"What're you doin' here?"

The response is colder than anticipated, but you chalk it up to him being in pain. You can see the stitches running over his cheekbone, subtle but there. Another scar, another horrible memory. You reach a hand out to touch him, confused when he steps back further into his home, tilting his face from you.

Silence falls and he doesn't invite you in. Indecision starts to creep into your belly; making your body feel colder the longer you stand there staring at him. He remains half in the shadow of his dark home. He doesn't look welcoming or even relieved to see you. He seems hard and unmoving.

"Is Ellie home?"

"School."

“Oh. Good."

He raises a brow at that, a flash of movement on an otherwise stoic face. He doesn't look away from you, but he doesn't beckon you closer. You think perhaps he's feeling a bit out of sorts from what happened and you think perhaps this is a good time to brighten his day.

“I thought we could talk?”

He turns away from you, walking into the house but leaving the door open. Confused you trail in after him, following him to a room you haven’t seen before. This one is neat and organized. It’s got tables holding papers with scribbled notes, pieces of wood and hammers hung on shelving. Joel is digging around in one of the drawers.

“I’ve never been in here,” you observe. “It’s so organized.”

“Have to be organized if you’re in construction.”

“Guess old habits die hard,” you offer brightly, coming to stand behind him. Your hands trail over the wood table, noticing the carved dog in wood. It looks like Buckley.

“Yep,” Joel mutters to the bolts he sorts through.

You thought that hanging with Joel at his place would be a good idea, a chance to talk and hold one another. But judging by his tense shoulders and the way he won’t look at you, you decide perhaps an outing might be better.

"So there's a movie on tonight. A Curtis Viper one. You were saying that you and Sarah watched those movies right? You wanna go and-"

Joel sighs, throwing the last of the bolts into the drawer. He slams it, turning to face you. He crosses his arms, his lower spine balanced against the table. An ugly darkness has settled over Joel's features. Something you recognize as one recognizes the sound of distant thunder; a warning. It makes the rest of your question die in your throat.

"I'm not goin' to the movies," Joel says quietly.

There's something about the way he's looking at you, this quietly intense stare that makes you shift the weight from one foot to another.

"Oh, are you busy?"

"No."

You give an awkward huff of a laugh at his truncated response. A breathless, insecure thing borne of the building gravity in his face.

"Then, why-"

"Because I'm not your fuckin' boyfriend."

And just like that the cold, cruel Joel is back.

You thought he'd been cast aside, slain like some mythological creature. But no, he's here in the flesh standing with his painfully beautiful eyes and disdainful curl of his mouth. You feel uneasy, a creeping insecurity flirting across your features.

"I never said you were, Joel."

No, the words had never been spoken aloud. But hadn't they been there, seeping through the cracks? Hadn't it been whispered in the touch of his fingers on your skin? Hadn't it been huffed over your heart when you told him about your sister and he told you about Sarah? Hadn't the two of you morphed from something more than just patrol partners?

Apparently to Joel that's all you two remain. He stands with his feet planted, dragging his muscled arms into a tight cross over his chest. You wish he'd look away from you with that ugly expression, but at the same time you long to look at his face.

"I’m not fuckin' you anymore," Joel says stiffly. "I'm done with all that."

You feel the way your eyes well at the cut of his tone. You swallow thickly and as your do you see it - the flash of soft that creeps into his gaze. The brows that almost saddle before forcing themselves into a knot. He turns angrily, facing away from you to busy himself with his tools.

"Joel, please," you say barely above a whisper, blinking back the tears that threaten to spill over your lash line.

"Please what?"

You exhale softly before wiping your damp eyes with the back of your sleeve.

"Please don't do whatever it is you're doing."

You watch his shoulders sag, head facing down.

"What am I doin'?"

"Pushing me away." You blink at his back. "What I don't understand is why you're doing it."

"You're actin' like we were in some kind of relationship," Joel says, the sneer evident in his tone. "We were just fuckin’ each other because we were bored."

"That's not true," you tell his shoes.

"It is true," Joel says, voice dead. He starts busying himself with putting away his tools.

You stare at his broad shoulders a moment, wanting to pull him harshly to face you. Insist with a scream that he tell you the truth.

"We wouldn't share the things we've shared with each other if this was just sex," you insist, chin wobbling. "You... You wouldn't ask me to go to the holiday party."

He falters for only a moment, his broad hand sweeping a few screws into a drawer.

"I would if I wanted to get you in bed," Joel says over his shoulder and you don't miss the ugly curl of his mouth as he says it.

"Joel, you can't-"

"You're a good lay," Joel cuts you off. "But I'm bored of it so I'm done. You’re gonna have to find a new fuck buddy."

You let out a soft sound halfway between a whimper and a gasp. It physically hurts to hear this coming from Joel, to hear the words that you secretly feared. That you pinned all this affection on a man who saw you as nothing more than ready sex.

But you don't want to believe him.

"Joel you can't... You don't mean that."

He balances the base of his spine against the table before launching off of it. He comes to tower over you, tilting his neck down, forcing you to look into his face. His eyes are fierce.

"I'm only sayin’ this once and then I want you outta my house." His voice has dropped to a menacing baritone. "I don't wanna see you anymore."

You physically recoil at this statement, not just from the words but from the dark pitch of his eyes.

"I don't need some useless patrol partner who can't even shoot straight clinging to me like some needy little-"

He stops abruptly when he sees your shaky hand rise between the two of you. It's like you're holding him off from physically attacking.

"Stop," you all but beg, cringing away from him. "Just... Stop."

Joel's mouth closes slowly, jaw clenched so tightly it tics. It’s almost like he catches himself and you’re half convinced you see regret in his gaze.

Useless.

The world is tilting, growing hazy as you try to steady yourself. You take a moment to breathe deeply, trying to organize the thoughts racing in your mind.

Joel doesn't care for you at all. You're a fucking idiot to have thought he could. You built up this vision in your head of some tragic romantic figure when he's been clear all along. He never promised you anything, never claimed he liked you outside of your time fucking together. You pieced that together with your own delusion, taking snippets of moments and trying to give them deeper meaning.

"I'll leave you alone," you tell him in a shaky voice. You blink rapidly, refusing to cry in front of him. "I... I'll... I'll go. Just please stop talking."

You twist around, swallowing the sob in your chest. You grope for the doorframe, the world becoming a watercolor blur. You move into the cold of the night and it stings the tears on your cheeks.

You think you hear his footsteps coming towards you, creaking over the wood porch and you hold your breath. Seconds pass and you realize it's your imagination.

You're alone.

As you walk back to your home in a daze you think of the doe that first day on patrol. The empty look in its eyes after Joel killed it. At the time you'd only been able to think of Chiyo, about how his eyes had that same glazed look when you killed him.

But now you realize you were the doe all along, just waiting for Joel Miller to strike.

WARNINGS/TAGS/DO NOT READ FURTHER UNLESS YOU WANT THIS CHAPTER TO BE POTENTIALLY SPOILED .

tags/warnings: romance, love, soft!Joel, ANGST, gore, blood, Animal death, human death, mentions of guns, P in V (protected), oral (m and f receiving), dirty talk, trauma, clickers, horror themes. I think that's it.

Chapter 19: Under the Lights

Notes:

I got this one out for my birthday month! I wasn't sure if I would be able to, so I'm real happy. Hope you enjoy it it and as always COMMENTS are what keep me goin'! I LOVE hearing your analysis on characters, things you like or (more likely in this chapter) don't like! heh heh. Just keep in mind we're heading for a HEA eventually....
Thanks for all your support and being gracious about me updating a little slower going forward. It really takes the pressure off of me.

Chapter Text

The entire walk back to your house you don’t think you blink once. Your eyes stare blindly ahead of you, feet moving mechanically on a trail you’d know blindfolded. Home. Safety away from potentially prying eyes and the memory of Joel’s cruelty.

The world feels tilted. Almost like those silly fun house carnival attractions you used to enjoy walking through with your sister. You used to love how everything moved in a colorful tunnel as you walked the straight plywood towards the exit, the swirling effect tricking your mind.

It always resulted in you and Charlotte teetering through the fun house hand in hand, shoulders bumping before you made it out the end of the tunnel, blinking at the sun outside the attraction and laughing, head fuzzy and feet wobbly.

But nothing is funny about this. Nothing is funny about the way Joel looked at you as if you were nothing.

Useless.

That word keeps floating in your mind. That word that's followed you for what feels like forever. Your teeth gnash together, clenched tightly, jaw muscle feathering. You know that if you open your mouth even a fraction a low, mournful howl will escape you.

You arrive and you go to your bed, not even bothering to get undressed. You close your eyes and you sleep. It’s the sleep of the exhausted, the sleep of the shocked. When you wake up hours later the sky is still dark, your eyes crusty and your mouth sour.

Strangely the first thought you have when you wake up isn’t Joel, its Chestnut. How he heard your scream and came thundering towards you. How he sacrificed everything for you, for someone who couldn’t even keep him safe. The thoughts you’ve been trying to avoid since it all happened.

You can still hear the sound of him munching on apple skin, of the gentle whinny he made when he saw you approach. The way he made you feel cared for and safe even in the darkest moments on patrols.

Chestnut. I’m so sorry.

You rise to shower, brush your teeth and then you crawl back into bed naked. You don't know how long you cry for because now you can't hold them back. You curl into the fetal position, eyes slammed shut and your body wracked with sobs.

It goes on like this for two entire days.

Barely eating, barely getting out of bed, barely living. But oh so many tears. Tears of anger of longing of pain. They were brought on by memories of Chestnut’s nuzzle against your cheek, of the way Joel's eyes went dark, memories of the things he used to say, the sweet things he would croon in your ear.

I wanna give you everythin'.

Was it fear that made him do this? Had what happened with you out on patrols just terrified him into this? Or was it something worse? Was it a wake-up call for him that you weren't worth his time? That you were in fact useless? Had he just suddenly realized that caring for you was too big a burden?

That thought makes you sick.

///

The knock on your door Saturday morning wakes you, face sticky with tears, leg sore under the bandage and back aching from laying in so much the last few days. You try to ignore the thrum against wood, hoping whomever is on the other side of the door just fucks off.

But the banging persists and with great effort you pull yourself from bed. You throw on a robe and shuffle to the front door.

Jennifer stands on the other side, smile dimming when she takes in your puffy eyes and tear-stained cheeks. Then she looks down to see your bandaged leg and she goes white as a sheet.

"What the fuck happened?"

You tell her quickly, glossing over some of the embarrassing details, not lingering on others. It's painful to recount it. You want to go back to bed and sleep. You want to keep crying over a love that will simply never work. You want to become invisible like before.

Jennifer throws her arms around you pulling you into a bear hug that you stand stiffly in. News travels eventually around a small town like Jackson, even if those involved are tight-lipped.

"I'm so glad you're okay," she says emphatically.

"Yeah me too."

You say it without conviction. Right now you wish the bullet had gone right through your heart. Surely it couldn't hurt worse than it does right now? Jennifer releases you, eyes going down to your bound calf again.

"Is it really painful?"

"Nah, it wasn't that deep. Looks worse than it actually is." You raise your leg and circle your ankle as you recall your discharge orders from Lily. "Lily said I should be able to start walking on it."

"Oh good, then you're still up for getting the tree tomorrow."

Fuck. The tree. You'd forgotten all about it. You feel the blood drain from your face, trying in vain to come up with a reason you can't join them.

"I'm sure Joel will do most of the work chopping it down," Jennifer adds. "You and I get to do the fun decorating stuff. Tommy says he's stringing up the lights next week and...."

Jennifer's voice fades into the background as your breathing accelerates. You feel rooted to the spot, stricken at the thought of having to see Joel again.

"I think I'm getting a cold," you suddenly tell her, cringing at how lame that sounds. You want to curl into yourself. You want to avoid Joel for the rest of your life.

"We don't have to do that much," she says, softening her tone at your hesitation. "We can do a bit each day until you feel better."

I'll never feel better again.

You can tell Jennifer won't accept anything less than you compliance and you're too tired to fight her on it. So you force a smile and nod and Jennifer tells you she’ll be back to pick you up tomorrow mid-morning.

“If you need anything let me know,” she says giving you a tight hug in farewell.

A new heart, Jennifer. I’d love one of those.

///

By the third day you find the strength to pull yourself from bed, to shower, to tug on clean clothes, to brush your teeth. And it's because you're no longer fueled on heartbreak, but on the molten heat of fury.

Joel Miller is no picnic himself. Recalcitrant, withdrawn, quick to anger He's no fucking prize, there's a reason he's been single ever since he got to the city, you tell yourself. Good looks couldn't hide his many shortcomings.

You cringe at the way you used to think about him. The way you dreamt about waking up in his arms, the trust you put in a man you barely knew. You thought you knew him, but you couldn't have. He couldn't look at you like a stranger like he did that last day if you really knew him. The only thing consistent was Joel with his scraps of affection. Joel who you don't understand but still want despite knowing he potentially doesn't see you like that.

How dare he think that he makes the rules for everything.

You want to scream or punch something but do neither. Instead you go to the kitchen and begin to rummage through the cupboards. You take the red canister of Folgers coffee in your hands and you dump it into the trash. You don't even want to keep the can anymore.

“Fuck your fucking coffee.”

You start scanning the kitchen shelves and surfaces and you spot the flowers on the table that he brought you, from the night that you thought was a date. Pathetic. How were you so pathetic over him? Mooning about a future with Joel fucking Miller?

He’s just a man. An old, bitter man who couldn’t truly care about anyone unless it was his daughters. No wonder he was a single dad, no wonder his wife or girlfriend or fiancée or whatever left him. He would have disappointed you too if you’d been stupid enough to stay with him.

You dodged a bullet, you avoided a fate you would have bemoaned. You’re happy he’s gone. Delighted you don’t have to put up with his mood swings and his miserable fucking puppy-dog eyes.

You brutally rip the flowers to shreds, spit flying as you growl out how much you can't stand him. You want every piece of Joel to be wiped from your home, torn, ripped, and ruined. You want it to be like he never existed. You want to savagely tear him from your life and scrub him from your mind.

Your chest is heaving by the time you’re done, the shredded paper at your feet and scattered along the table. Your eyes fly around the room, desperate to find some other evidence he was in your life, needing to destroy it.

You spot the red of your scarf and you stomp over towards it, fingers outstretched. That red fucking scarf. You'll take great joy in plucking it apart stitch by stitch and throwing it in the trash. You’re just about to pluck it from its spot on the hook when there's a knock at the door.

Your strides stop and you glance to your right. Your entire body is vibrating, hoping its Joel. Your adrenaline is pumping, almost wanting the confrontation. You want to tell him to his face that he’s the useless piece of shit, not you!

Instead as you pull open the door you see that Ellie looking at you with wide eyes and an eager smile. She takes in your flushed face and tangled hair and you see her assess you quietly before she speaks.

"Hey wanna go for breakfast together?"

You feel a pang of hurt go through you just at the sight of her. She’s part Joel and yet not. She’s a piece of the puzzle that doesn’t fit into your anger. You deflate at the sight of her, all the anger flooding out of you.

"Hey Ellie," you offer with a weak smile. "Uh, I'm kinda tired."

"The snow will wake you up," she insists reaching for your hand. "C'mon! I haven't seen you in days!"

Because I haven’t left my house in days. Because your dad broke my heart.

You feel detached from your body, looking down at her tiny fingers on your wrist, the eager look in her eyes. She's Joel's daughter, a piece of him. And while you don't want to think about Joel anymore there's no way to push Ellie out of your heart. She did nothing wrong.

"Sure, let's go."

///

It's not so busy this time of the morning and you and Ellie have an entire table to yourselves.

You sip your hot tea slowly, savoring the taste before you dig into your eggs and pancakes, eating with gusto. You're hungrier then you thought. You're on your third mouthful when you notice Ellie smirking at you.

"See? I knew you needed to come for breakfast."

You swallow, grinning. "When you're right, you're right."

She is right. Some of the wild fury you’d been living off of has dimmed a fraction. You don’t feel happy, but you don’t feel as reckless as before. You even smile a few times when she tells you something funny about school.

"So where have you been hiding all week?" She asks sounding years older than her teenage self.

"Been sick in bed," you lie, swirling the milk in your second cup of tea. "Haven't really left the house."

"You and Joel must've caught the same bug," Ellie reasons between bites of egg. "He's been in bed the last few days too."

You swallow your grimace. You don't care what Joel's been doing. You don't care if he's caught a cold. You hope it turns to pneumonia. You hope he puked for two days straight.

No, you’re not going to waste thoughts on Joel anymore. You want to push him from your life and your mind. Instead you turn all your focus to the sweet-faced teen across from you drinking her milk in gulps.

"So how did the date with Dina go?"

"Real good," Ellie grins, a dusting of pink under her freckles. "She loved the flowers."

"Yeah?"

"And she thought the apple tarts were the best fucking thing she's ever eaten. I told her we made them together. I think she was pretty impressed but I dunno, maybe she was just saying it."

"Dina doesn't seem the type to blow smoke."

"Yeah, she's honest," Ellie nods, looking at her pancakes with a soft pull of her mouth to one side. "She just says what she's thinking all the time."

"You always said honesty was important to you," you remind her.

"Yeah... I really like her," Ellie offers quietly, eyes unable to meet yours. "I think I want her to be my girlfriend."

Your heart swells just as acutely as it cracks. Love is possible for some. Love is not possible for you. Love was never in the cards for you, but for Ellie? There’s a lifetime of possibility with the person she cares for.

"I think that's a great idea."

"How do I do that?"

"You say Dina will you be my girlfriend."

"That's it?" Ellie leans back in her chair a little awe-struck. "That easy?"

Yeah, that easy. So easy that you and Joel never mentioned it in the weeks you were together. So easy that you just assumed you were together until he said those horrible things and cast you aside. Your face contorts into what you hope is a smile.

"For some people it is."

You spot Dina over Ellie's shoulders entering the dining hall and scanning it for Ellie. When she spots her you see the way the girl struggles to hide a goofy smile before approaching the table, swinging her long black braid over her shoulder. You've seen Dina plenty of times around town but this is the first time you've seen her look nervous.

"Hi El."

Ellie jerks her eyes up to see the girl standing awkwardly beside the end of the table. You smile to yourself, trying to look at your tea to give them privacy.

"Hey Dee.”

The two stare at each other with that puppy love look of flushed cheeks and quickened breathing. You can’t help but sneak a glance at the two of them before going back to your teacup, fingers wrapped tightly around it.

"Wanna walk to school together?"

"Sure."

Ellie shoots you a concerned look, worried you'll be offended at her sudden departure. You give her a subtle wink, raising your teacup to your mouth.

"Have a great day."

Ellie smiles at you, pulling herself from the table and chatting animatedly with Diana. You don't miss how their shoulders touch as they walk, how they can't stop looking at each other and smiling. You should be jealous or hurt but you feel neither of those things. You just feel happy for her.

Ellie has been through so much in her short life, knowing that she has this connection makes you feel good. It makes you feel like there's still hope left in the world for other people.

You take a glance around the fairly sparse canteen, trying not to focus on the couples and the families that sit bunched up together. You feel so impossibly alone right now. With Ellie gone you decide it’s safe for you to leave.

You’re just sliding off of the bench seat when a voice calls out your name. For a split second it almost sounds like Joel, so much so that you actually whimper anxiously. But when you glance up it’s to see the friendly face of Tommy striding your way.

“Hey,” Tommy smiles as he takes the seat opposite you. His cheeks are pink tinged and his jacket thick, but there are dark circles under his eyes.

He looks like he’s been out all morning despite the early hour. You wonder if Maria is okay, but right now you know you can’t be any help to her. There’s too big a chance of seeing Joel at their house. And honestly, you’re so broken yourself you don’t think you can be around too many people. Still despite this, seeing Tommy look so tired across from you makes you feel guilty, like you should be checking up on your friend.

“How’s Maria?”

“She’s doin’ real good actually,” Tommy says and there’s a relief in his smile when he says this. Like the storm clouds have passed by. “She’s up and she’s spendin’ lots of time with Douglas. Things seem… good.”

Despite your own heartache a smile blooms across your features.

“That’s awesome.”

“Yeah,” Tommy says nodding. He gives you a brief smile, one that seems agitated and it sets off alarm bells.

“What’s up Tommy?”

“I was wonderin’ if you’d maybe you’d wanna start a little shop in town. A bakery. We don’t have one.”

That was not what you were expecting. The town of Jackson City is being built up every week. Last week there was the addition of a glazing studio and the glass was being steadily replaced in shop windows and homes.

Still, his suggestion throws you.

“But the kitchen-?”

“You know better than anyone they’re overburdened as it is,” Tommy acknowledges, hand lifting. “Besides, we’re hoping to shut down the dining hall for lunch and dinners next year.”

“What?”

“A bunch of folks wanna do their own restaurants,” Tommy says with a twinkle to his dark eyes. “Alice wants to start up a BBQ joint, Lark wants to do a sandwich shop. Nancy and her husband are talkin’ about opening up a little café and an in Inn for folks traveling through. Could mean good trade. Plus folks can get their own groceries now we got a steady supply at the Twin Sisters Grocers. If you did some of the breads and desserts I think that would be amazin’.”

You stare at him, eyes wide as he gives you all this detail. It sounds so modern in a world that feels so left behind. You can almost imagine the bustling downtown filled with hand painted signs and bulb lights. How children will run through the streets in a world that isn’t as far away from the one you recall.

You’d never considered starting your own shop in town because you never thought you had that much to offer aside from your labor. But you can imagine it now – the scent of cinnamon buns in the air, soft dough rising in the ovens. The thought of it makes you feel anxious and excited all at once.

“We could find someone to assist you,” Tommy offers when he sees you hesitate. “There’s plenty of folks who would love it, I’m sure.”

“But what about patrols?”

Tommy licks his upper lip nervously, a trait he and Joel share in common. It makes you physically cringe, the pain of it sinking deep in your belly.

“Well, some new folks that just moved into Jackson last week that’re a great shot and a came with their own horses. When they heard about patrols they were real interested.”

Tommy goes quiet and only the sounds of scraping silverware and quiet conversation in the distance remains. Realization falls over you like a heavy blanket the longer you stare at one another.

"You're taking me off patrols."

"I never thought you liked ‘em much," Tommy says with a furrowed brow. "I remember at the start how nervous you were and Joel mentioned how anxious you get and we figured this was for the best. Thought you'd be relieved."

So this was Joel's idea. Of course it was.

You're off patrols. Your last tenuous connection to Joel, that thin string, is now severed. And along with that is a bitterness that chokes you. It’s clear that the entire ruse was just to get you off of patrols. No need to pretend a bakery was ever actually something the town needed or wanted. You feel your eyes hardening, your jaw clenching.

“I don’t think a bakery is my thing. But I get if you want me off patrols, just stick me anywhere,” you tell him quietly. “I don’t really care where I work.”

Tommy looks troubled by your reaction, but he doesn’t make any move to change your mind. He seems to know you well enough to know you’re not in the mood for further discussion. Instead he blinks at the table, searching his mind for somewhere to slot you.

“Gardening might be nice.”

“Sure.”

“Okay then,” Tommy says uneasily and sensing the growing tension in the air he rises, pulling his jacket collar up before he prepares to head back into the snow. “But if you change your mind about the bakery, just gimme the word.”

“Uh huh.”

You don’t want him exit the dining hall. You don’t even remember going home. All you know is that one moment you’re in the dining hall and the next you’re curled up in your bed, the tears so violent they wrack your body, the sobs silent.

///

There was a time in your life when you guarded everything about yourself. When people in Jackson City knew only your first name. When they thought of you as quiet and deeply withdrawn.

You wish you could go back to that time.

Because now as you make your way from your home to collect the tree with Jennifer and are greeted with a myriad of friendly faces. All you wish is for your previous anonymity. You're nursing a broken heart you can't tell anyone about.

You wish you were once again invisible.

Jennifer chatters on beside you, her Hands gesticulating wildly in front of her. But you barely pay attention. You're still cold despite being bundled up, but you think that might just be your sensitivity to everything; Loud noises, dark rooms.

You could have denied Jennifer if you really tried. You could have told her you didn’t want to go, that your leg was too sore. But there had been that pathetic part of you that was desperate to see him. That part that craved the sound of his voice, the sight of his face. The part you tried to time and time again smother, but it would not die.

You also feel the need to show that you aren’t hurt, that you don’t care about him just like he doesn’t care about you.

So you and a bright and chirpy Jennifer had met Joel in the Town Square avoiding each other's eyes by looking studiously at the ground. Jennifer had been none the wiser chatting happily as the three of you made your way into the forest towards the marked tree with Joel carrying a large sled behind him.’

“This is just the best time of the year,” Jennifer said, nudging you gently. “Don’t you think?”

You had only been able to smile weakly and nod while your mind filled itself was filled with crowded thoughts, all of them centered on the tall man who won't meet your eyes or engage in conversation.

When you pass the same farmhouse he fucked you weeks earlier, whispering that you were his, you actually feel a physical twist in your stomach.

I kinda like. S’homey. Place has good bones. Good size bedrooms too.

This was the place that you showed him, your secret spot.

You gonna take what's yours? That's my girl. You go on and take it.

Joel doesn’t even glance in the general direction of the house. You know because your eyes drift to his back, watching to see if he tenses at all. But he looks nonplussed from behind, just walking steadily, his legs long and outpacing you both.

Joel doesn't speak to either of you the entire time. Just grunts when Jennifer asks him something and orders you both to be careful when he starts to chop the tree down. You and Jennifer stand to the side as he brings the axe down into the trunk.

Sweat gathers at his neck and he lets out deep grunts when the axe head connects with the tree trunk. He shrugs off his jacket, tossing it onto a nearby log before rolling up the sleeves of his flannel to the elbow. Then he gets back to work. His shoulders are always broad, but under the flannel you can see the biceps that bulge out with every swing, see the ripples of back muscle and see the sheen to his temples.

He's magnificent.

Despite how angry he makes you, how hurt you feel, you can't deny he's a sexual powerhouse, especially in moments like this and judging by the way Jennifer stares she is similarly affected. Watching Joel chop a tree down is almost pornographic.

Every grunt he makes takes you back to his bed, every curl of his bicep reminds you of how he held you against the wall as he entered you. Finally you have to look away because you're entire body is thrumming with desire.

You’re disgusting for still wanting him after everything he’s done to you. Shame suffuses your entire body, making you heat up all over in humiliation. You don’t want him load the sled, tying the tree to it. You just trudge behind Joel and Jennifer who are now in a minimal conversation. Jennifer does all the leg work, peppering him with questions as he tugs the sled behind him.

“You must have had to do a lot of chopping in your construction job.”

“Nope. Learned it in the QZ.”

“Oh, I didn’t know they needed lots of wood chopped.”

“Was chopping bodies for disposal.”

That ends the conversation quickly. Jennifer casts a wide-eyed look at you before she just stops talking altogether.

You reach the church shortly after, watching as Joel hefts the tree inside. He sets it up in the stand, wedging it between the screws before tightening. He stands, rubbing the sap from his hands on his jeans. Jennifer, hoping to restart the conversation smiles over at him.

“Did you want to help with the rest of-“

"You two are the decorators," Joel mutters, effectively cutting her off.

Then he's gone, leaving the two of you to hang the baubles and string the lights. You don't mind though, you felt sick with him being there.

Once inside the church basement you feel like you can relax a bit. Joel is gone and it's just you and Jennifer. The place is cold but after working for a bit hauling out decorations from the storage and setting everything up you both begin to warm up.

You chat back and forth about where to hang certain items, where to tell Tommy and Hank to string the lights, how to hide some of the more threadbare items artfully.

"Are you coming by to get your dress finished?"

Jennifer asks you this as you restring some of the old ornaments. At her inquiry you tense up all over, leg throbbing, heart aching.

"I don't think I'm gonna go to the dance," you say averting your eyes.

"It's still a week away, your cold will be over by then," Jennifer reasons before she looks concerned. "Unless you think it's something serious? Is it your leg?"

You shake your head. "No, my leg is fine."

"Then why?" Jennifer asks as you pass her the strung ornament. She hitches it over the window ledge, securing it with twine

"I don't have a date."

I don't have a date because the guy I'm in love with broke my heart. I don't have a date because he doesn't want me anymore. I don't have a date because I'm a useless burden.

You feel your eyes start to burn, a lump in your throat.

Don't do it. Don't cry. Hold it together.

But it's too late, you can feel your lower lip twitching, your chin starting to wobble and before you can swallow them back, two lonely tears roll down your cheeks.

"Oh honey," Jennifer coos before wrapping her arms around your shoulder, hugging you loosely.

"It doesn't matter," you say, stiffening and moving from her touch. "I don't even like big crowds."

And Joel will be there. He'll be there so beautiful and broad and you know he'll smell good. He'll break your heart further just by existing and it won't matter how gorgeous you feel because all you'll be able to focus on is how he's not yours. How he was never truly yours.

"Is it the guy you were seeing?"

Your eyes snap to her face. "What?"

"C'mon, you've been so secretive the last few weeks, way more smiley. I caught you that morning pretending to look for a bracelet."

Jennifer lists off these with amusement in her eyes, no hint that she actually knows who your secret man is.

"Luke never mentioned anything so I figured it wasn't him," she says. She dips her eyes to your twisting fingers. "Unless it was Luke and he's just being private?"

"There was no guy," you insist, eyes on the next ornament you now pull from the box. "I was just feeling weird because it was the holidays. It’s a hard time for me."

Jennifer seems like she wants to tease you but she stops and looks at you with resolve, a hand taking yours gently between her own soft palms.

"What do you think about being each other's date for the party?"

"Why?"

"I don't have a date either," she continues before shooting you a sardonic look. "And we are both gonna look way too hot in our dresses not to be going. Fuck all the losers that didn't take advantage of asking us when they could have."

You feel your face break out into a relieved look, tears blinked away.

"I love that idea," you say gratefully. "I'd love to go with you."

She smiles widely, dancing in spot delightedly as she offers a little Yay! You feel slightly more relaxed about the event.

"Perfect, I'm gonna have the most beautiful girl on my arm that night," she tells you with a little bob of her head as she begins to hang more ornaments on the tree.

She's being generous of course. Jennifer is easily the most beautiful girl in Jackson City, but her comment still brings cheer to your face.

"Okay, the candy canes look good there," Jennifer says with the serious appraisal of a decorating veteran. "Let's do the tree tomorrow. Tommy can string the lights first. We can just finish with the ornaments here.”

Jennifer chats on a bit more as you pass her baubles, promising that you’ll help her with doing some popcorn and cranberry strings. And not for the first time in your friendship you wonder what you did to deserve a friend like Jennifer.

///

Despite your great time with Jennifer, you still feel dark most days. You need to get out, you need to clear your head and shooting with Luke seems like the perfect chance to do it when he suggests it one morning for breakfast. Despite you no longer being on patrols, the thought of focusing on something else appeals to you.

Jennifer is busy helping with textiles, but she offers to lend you her gun. So you agree, hauling the borrowed weapon from Jennifer, ammunition in your pockets.

Luke is, as usual, a nearly perfect shot. He reloads, smiling briefly when you clap for him as he knocks down his fifth can in a row.

"You're so good at this," you sigh wistfully. "You don't even need shooting practice. Why do you come out with us all the time?"

Pink creeps up Luke's neck. You see it peeking up above his scarf as he aims at the next target.

"Guess I like spending time with you guys."

In earlier months such a confession from Luke would have brought a thrilling little sweep to your stomach. But now? The sensation is a dull flicker. You take the gun from him, smiling sweetly as you aim for the remaining can. It’s far away, father than you’ve ever shot. Despite this you focus intently, making the world disappear as you train your eyes on it.

You clear your mind of everything. No Joel, no Chestnut, no raider. There’s not even birdsong as you stare at the far away tin can. You can only hear your heartbeat.

You shoot.

"Amazing," Luke breathes behind you as the can bursts off the log, shot up into the air before falling into the snow.

"Holy shit, I can't believe I got that one," you say in awe.

"We need to get you some practice with a moving target," Luke muses as you secretly cringe. There's no way you'll hunt for practice, not a chance.

"Your turn again," you tell him, handing off the gun.

Luke takes it from you as you jog over to re-set them up. You trot back over to see Luke raise the gun to eye level, shooting you a playful wink.

“I’m really proud of you,” Luke says when you arrive back beside him. “I know how much you’ve been practicing.”

Proud of you.

The words hit you directly in the chest, momentarily winding you. It makes grateful tears spring to your waterline. Someone is proud of you. And he isn’t saying it for anything other than he wants to build you up.

"Luke, you’re the most wonderful person," you say, hoping that it gives even a tinge of sincerity. "I'm shocked you haven't been snapped up."

It's a stupid thing to say, something to fill the awkward chunk of time between your first comment and the second. You regret it immediately but thankfully Luke doesn't seem upset, more thoughtful.

"I was married actually," Luke says, his light eyes going flinty. He raises his gun to his eyes, shooting and knocking the smallest can over. "So I guess technically I was snapped up."

"Wait, what?" You bring a gentle hand to his forearm, willing him to put down the weapon. "You were married?!"

Marriage in a post-outbreak world is rarer, especially with people your age and younger.

"Technically."

"Do you feel like talking about it? The whole marriage thing?"

"Sure."

You and Luke move to one of the benches set up, pushing the snow from the seats before plunking down. Luke brings out his Thermos, offering you some before you decline.

"So ... Married," you prompt, still disbelieving. You cross your legs, facing him with your chin in your palm.

Luke's neck bobs as he swallows his coffee, nodding.

"Yeah, uh, where I grew up it was pretty normal to be married."

Luke looks a bit embarrassed to be telling you this but you are fascinated. Luke always seemed like such an easygoing person to you, you'd imagined him in one of these with a bunch of loving family members.

"What was it called?"

"The Way of Eden."

You squint, trying to recall the name. You and Chiyo had traveled a lot but you'd never heard of anything like the way of Eden. You tell Luke as much.

"Not many people know about it," Luke says, shrugging as if he's a bit embarrassed. "It was a religious settlement."

"Oh."

"Yeah, they had kinda strict rules... Like no touching certain animals, no interacting with non-believers and you have to commit to community values," he explains patiently, realizing that you're not mocking him or judging, you're just curious. "The whole thing was about repopulation so they wanted people together as soon as possible."

"Were you in love?"

"Love isn't taken into account. You don't get to choose your spouse," Luke says laughing hollowly. "I got matched with a girl around my age. I'd never spoken two words to her."

"Was she nice?"

"No." The word is short and clipped. "She was an excessively cruel person."

"But what did your parents say?"

"My dad was the... Pastor," Luke says tightly and you decide you don't want to know anymore. There's something about the way he clenches his jaw that tells you it's not a good topic.

"We were together five years," he offers up, answering what you won't ask. "I did woodworking and she was on chapel duty. And I thank whatever entity above that we were never able to have kids."

You lapse into silence for a moment, the weight of this confession falling over you. Luke was married. He had a wife.

"Are you still married?"

"If you ask them back in the settlement, yeah," Luke frowns, "but if you ask me I never was. I never wanted it."

"So you ... How did ..." You struggle to formulate the sentence, hands palm up swaying. "How did you get here?"

Luke sighs, taking a deep sip from his Thermos. When he pulls it away his lips are pink and damp.

"I left. Packed a bag, took one of the guns, horses and I left in the middle of the night."

"Left your whole history behind," you say softly to yourself.

"Same as everyone else in Jackson City."

You nod. It's not lost on you that this would be an opportune moment to tell him about. Charlotte, to tell him about your own life and your own experiences. But something holds you back. Instead, you shoot him a grateful smile reaching across the bench to grasp his hand in yours.

"Thank you for telling me all of this," you say with sincerity. You mean it, there's something that's really humbling about him sharing this part of himself with you.

"I've only told you and Jennifer about it," Luke confides, cheeks pink. "I'd appreciate if you didn't ..."

"I wouldn't say anything to anyone," you promise him. "This is just between you and me."

Luke smiles at you crookedly, eyes going butter soft.

"You're so nice," he says kindly, laughing softly when he sees your furrowed brow. "I don't mean that in a... What I mean is that you're gentle. You're so kind to people and you're so thoughtful and-"

"And useless."

It jumps out of your mouth, muttered to yourself more than anything. You only know that Luke heard you when he suddenly stops short and his voice rises.

"Who the fuck told you that?"

Luke doesn't get angry very often, so his response takes you aback. You see the anger there in his light eyes, the clenching of his thick fingers. You swallow, forcing the voice that expels between your lips to be steady.

"No one important."

Luke seems satisfied with this response.

"Wanna keep shooting?"

"Yeah."

You both stand and turn your attention to the remaining cans propped on the log. You peer at them, a hand shading your eyes.

"Did you want me to set some more up?"

When no reply comes you drop your hand and glance over your shoulder. Luke is still holding the gun at his side and you're confused as he lowers it.

"Is everything okay?"

Luke looks at you strangely, almost nervously.

"Can I kiss you?"

The question surprises you, causing your brow to arch.

"You want to kiss me?"

"Yeah," Luke nods. "Is that okay?"

You think about it for a moment, feet shuffling in the snow.

"I don't have a lot of experience," you admit, and now it's your turn to look shyly at the ground. You can feel your face burning in embarrassment.

"Neither do I," Luke laughs, licking his lips nervously again. "First and last person I kissed was my wife."

There's some comfort in that but you don't know how you feel about kissing Luke so soon after the whole Joel thing. But then you hear his voice in your ears, a dark rumble of cruelty.

I don't need some useless patrol partner who can't even shoot straight

"Yeah. Okay."

Luke flashes a brief grin your way before his fingers grip your chin, holding you in place. His eyes dart to your mouth and before you can do anything his lips are pushing against yours. Your hands go to his shoulders, fists gripping the collar of his jacket for purchase.

Luke's lips feel rubbery, his mouth overly wet. You're unsure if this indictment is because you're indifferent to Luke or if he's just no match for Joel. Joel kisses you like you're oxygen, like he wants to breathe you in. You feel desperate for Joel in a way that doesn't make sense for you.

Or at least you did.

Luke’s large hands slide to settle over your hips, holding you. He kisses you gently, no force, no tongue, just a sweet and timid touching of mouths before he pulls back. There's a beat of silence as the two of you come to terms with what just happened. You blink at him curiously.

"I thought we owed it to ourselves," Luke explains, his cheeks pink. "To uh, to try that."

"Uh, yeah, totally," you nod. "Should we do it again?"

Luke smiles and nods, head tilting to capture your lips again. You shut your eyes languidly, leaning into the sensation of his mouth on yours.

You wait for that same pleasurable sensation to overtake you, to make your insides burn like a raging inferno the way it did with Joel. But as Luke continues to kiss you, arms wrapping around your middle, in comparison it feels like the weak flame of a birthday candle behind your ribs.

Stop thinking about Joel.

You wait for the world to get quiet, for your body to prickle all over. You anticipate the ache that is sure to start between your legs and the warmth in your belly.

But nothing comes.

Instead all you can focus on are the weird tactile sensations. His mouth feels wet, lips chapped from the cold, tongue acrid with stale coffee. He sighs softly against your mouth, exhaling through his nose as the kiss deepens.

You close your eyes, forcing yourself to find pleasure in this moment. The kind of pleasure Joel gave you-

Joel.

Joel's eyes, his mouth, the way his curls felt weaving through your fingers, the way his body felt resting heavily between your thighs. Joel appears behind your eyes and your don't chase him away. In fact you feel a sudden pulse between your legs, making you arch against Luke.

Luke responds in kind, arms holding you by the base of your spine. A small whine escapes him, a really high-pitched thing that makes you wince.

No no no. Everything about this is wrong. Everything about this feels forced and insincere. It doesn't feel right.

So what, the only way it feels right is with a guy who can't stand you anymore? That can't be your only opinion, right? Either way the moment is carrying on far too long for you and you step back, breaking the kiss.

Luke's face is entirely pink, his eyes unfocused. He stares at you with a strange look on his face, something that you don't quite understand and you wonder if he’s mirroring your own expression.

"Thank you."

"I should get back," you croak, cheeks flushed and heart aching. Luke stares at you, swallowing.

"I'll walk you," he offers stiltedly.

"No, thanks, I'm okay," you smile. "Besides you need to practice now that I’m getting so good you’ll have some real competition next time."

Luke laughs a little too long at that before he's nodding and turning back to the target with his rifle raised.

///

Your first shift in the greenhouse is on Thursday and you arrive early, face still puffy from poor sleep and nightly cry sessions.

An Asian woman named Petra wearing a bandana and heavy clothing waves at you as you advance. She’s wearing a dirty apron that holds a myriad of gardening implements.

"Hi," Petra greets you, pushing some stray stands of hair from her face. "You used to be on kitchen duty right?"

"Yeah."

"This is a way better gig," she says handing you a pair of thick gloves. "Short shifts, quiet space."

She introduces you to the other worker inside, an older man who waves absently before going back to pruning.

And Petra is right, the greenhouse works just fine for you. It's quiet and relaxing. No one really talks inside and the result is therapeutic. And since you have previous experience from the kitchen, you learn quickly how to harvest.

All you can smell is the fresh soil, the sound of ripping roots as you tug the fresh veggies from the earth. That's all the job is. Gardening, harvesting vegetables and fruit for meals in the canteen. Spraying water on new planting. It's meditative and calm.

It feels like a sanctuary for you after the most brutal severing of connections you've ever experienced.

And it's fine, but it's not enough.

Nothing will ever be enough.

///

"You never told me Joel was so funny."

This comment out of nowhere spears you. You have to fight valiantly to suppress your surprise. The two of you are in Jennifer’s house; a giant bowl of popcorn and a smaller bowl of cranberries sit in the center of her coffee table. The two of you have been stringing tons of it with a needle and thread, chatting about what will happen at the dance.

"Funny?"

"Yeah," Jennifer smiles, stringing the cranberry after the popcorn, chasing both down the thread. "I was having breakfast the other morning and he asked if he could sit with me. Can you imagine? Anyway, obviously I said yes and I was shocked at how funny he was."

Joel is not funny. He's barely got a sense of humor. How on earth is he sitting there with Jennifer making her laugh? Why was he sitting with her at breakfast? You force your face and voice to remain neutral.

“I never noticed.”

"He's so different to what I thought," she continues on, oblivious to your internal pain. "He was so attentive when we were talking. I always thought he was kind of cold and stuff, but he was really sweet. He was asking all about decorating, seeing how we were getting on."

You're going to be sick.

“I uh, gotta grab the cookies from the oven.”

You stagger to the kitchen, feeling the blood drain from your face. What the fuck is Jennifer talking about? Why is Joel acting so nice to her? He barely tolerated her before. And why the fuck do you care? It’s not like he’s your boyfriend, he made that abundantly clear.

You take the cranberry cookies from the small oven, pulling them out and sliding them onto the cooling racks on your counter before returning to see Jennifer humming to herself, perched on the couch.

“I forgot to ask,” she says when you reappear, “how did shooting with Luke go?”

Oh great. Another awkward topic. You shrug, eyes remaining on the bowl of cranberries as you pierce a particularly plump one.

“Uh, fine. I’m getting better.”

Jennifer is quiet and when you glance up she’s giving you a squinty little stare. She places the string of popcorn she’s been working onto the table, turning to give you her full attention. You pretend not to notice until she talks.

“Spill.”

“What?”

“Whatever you’re not telling me.”

“Uh… Well,” you swallow before clearing your throat. “We were just talking and we, uh, kissed.”

The room is so quiet a pin could drop and you look back to her face. She smiles with raised brows, making you flush.

"You kissed Luke?" Jennifer asks breathlessly.

"Uh, he kissed me," you say, blinking as she jumps up from the couch.

"Oh my gosh," Jennifer is pacing back and forth, looking at you while wringing her hands. "This is so exciting. I didn't think you two were ever gonna... What was... What was the kiss like? Were there fireworks? Did he use tongue?"

She's talking a mile a minute, her face frozen in a smile as she no doubt silently congratulates herself on her matchmaking skills.

"It was nice."

Jennifer looks at you from the corner of her eye, her pacing suddenly stalled. She throws herself back into the cushion opposite you holding your gaze with a disbelieving look.

"It was nice?"

"Yeah."

Jennifer turns, folding her legs and staring you down.

"Nice is not a term you use when the kiss is good."

"I'm just... I don't think I'm in the right head space for romance right now."

"How come?"

And there it is; the perfect opening to tell Jennifer everything. To admit through sobs that a man broke your heart after you offered it up. That Joel took the candle in you and snuffed it out.

You could break down and tell Jennifer everything that transpired between you and Joel, but you don't see what good it would do. It would drive a wedge between you two when she found out how you felt about Joel this whole time.

Thoughts of losing both Joel and Jennifer all at once makes you feel nauseated, your stomach flipping.

"I guess I've just been preoccupied with Raider stuff," you lie.

"But do you think you'll go for him when you’re feeling better?"

She has a distant look on her face, a strange one you can't pin down. You wonder if she suspects about anything.

"He's really nice guy," you finally offer with a shrug. "There’s not many single men I'd trust in this town."

Jennifer nods, lips thinning. She doesn't believe you; that much is clear but she's also not pushing the issue. Maybe she can sense that you're too delicate for it today.You stand up, moving to your kitchen to retrieve the cooled cookies. You arrange them on a plate artfully before re-entering the living room.

"Those look so good," Jennifer says with obvious delight, eyes wide. "The second I'm done stringing these. I'm taking that big one in the middle."

The two of you exchange smiles, and you hope the one that you force upon your face seems genuine enough.

Something has been stuck in your brain since she mentioned she and Joel having breakfast. You don't want to bring it up, but you feel like you have to.

"So has anyone asked you to the dance?"

"No," Jennifer says confused, pointer finger wagging between you and her. "I thought we were going together."

"We are," you insist. "It's just... I wondered if anyone asked you after we decided to go together."

It's a pathetic way to beat about the bush and you seem to have confused Jennifer who stops chewing to squint at you.

"Did someone ask you to the dance?"

"No."

"Are you wanting to ask someone else?"

"No."

"Okay..." Jennifer trails off, giving you a bemused look before she resumes her task, raising the needle to her popcorn. "No, no one else has asked me. And even if they did I'd have to turn them down. I already have a hot date."

Jennifer gives you a friendly wink before she moves her popcorn string to the side, hand reaching for the cookie plate.

"I need another one."

Delighted you push the plate closer to her.

"I'm glad."

"I wish I could eat your baking all the time," Jennifer sighs, popping the cookie into her mouth and humming appreciatively. "It's so fucking good."

At her words you think back to Tommy and his suggestion of opening a bakery. You wonder what advice she would have given you. But it doesn’t matter, that’s not the life for you. You’ll fade away in the greenhouse, forgotten and once again, invisible.

///

You don't sleep very well anymore.

Your leg is healed, so you can't blame that and it's not just Joel that keeps you from slumbering; it's also the terrible memories of losing Charlotte and your father, of losing your mother.

Charlotte telling you that you abandoned her. Your father's dying scream. Your mother's soft voice telling you to wake up. All combine to wake you up in a cold sweat, sobbing and gasping for air.

And there's no warm, broad presence beside you in bed. No murmured soothing words against your temple.

You can make it go quiet for yourself.

It's the only gift he ever gave you that was worth anything. The reminder that you could do it yourself. Though on the really dark, scary nights it's hard to recall this.

Like this evening when the moon is merely a sliver outside your window, casting ominous shadows in your bedroom. You sit up shakily, dropping your feet to the floor and making your way with a stumble to your kitchen.

You're so thirsty, so drained of tears that you think your body is dehydrated because of it.

You grab a glass, clinking gently against the others. You drink the cool water down, gulping loudly. After your third glass you pour another and trudge up to your bedroom. The stairs creak underfoot, the inky blackness a strange comfort. You carry your glass in front of you, yawning gently.

You go to the bedroom, pressing the warped door open, your eyes drifting to the window when you suddenly freeze as a figure outside slips nearby.

There's someone out there.

You are silent, eyes blowing wide as you scan outside for the figure that just caught your passing gaze. Your body goes cold in fear, of memories you try to suppress.

And then you realize who it is and feel the heat come back to your face.

It's Joel, standing at the end of your street. If it weren't for the holiday lights strung on the nearby home you don't think you would have noticed him in the blue black darkness.

He's tucked to the side of the house across from you, partially hidden by the shrubs. But there's no mistaking his wide shoulders and tapered waist, even in his thick leather jacket.

And for a moment you think about screaming at him from your window. Of throwing it open and tossing out obscenities that would make your neighbors blush.

But you don't. You remain standing in the shadow, hand clutched around your water glass. He can't see you in the darkness but you wonder if he senses you.

What the fuck is he doing here? He never explained why he did this before, and you don't get it now. He doesn't want to see you anymore so why is he here?

Is it possible he does want to see you? That he's checking up on you? The thought shouldn't make your heart leap and yet the traitorous organ does.

Stop it.

Even if Joel is here because he misses you, even if he is here because he regrets how he spoke to you, the damage is done. He broke you. Shattered you into minuscule pieces and then left you for the wind to dispose of.

You do not forgive him.

You place the glass on the table next to your bed before going back to the window. Joel's face is tilted towards it, but too far for you to see his expression.

It doesn't matter.

You close the curtains with a snap regardless.

///

"What's going on with you?"

"Huh?"

You're in the textile shop with Jennifer a few days later, the pit in your stomach growing. She's done the finishing touches on your dress and she needs you here for the final fitting. She works hurriedly as you stand on the podium, facing away from the mirror. She glances up at you, thread clenched between her teeth.

"You seem... Different."

"I'm fine," you insist, forcing a weak smile on your face. "Just tired. Gardening has me up really early."

The hour is late and you are tired from your shifts. Gardening means short shifts more often through the week. It also means getting up early. But you don’t mind, you’ve barely been sleeping anyway

"I still don't get why you switched to that," Jennifer murmurs as she pulls the thread through the fabric, tightening it around your waist.

Because Joel took me off patrols. Because a man I was falling for suddenly decided that he didn't want me anymore.

"I was just too anxious on them."

"Right," Jennifer nods, half distracted by her sewing. "Oh well, I heard Gregory from the market signed up to go with him. Wants to move away from stocking shelves."

You don’t say anything to this. And besides, Jenny is standing back, hands stemmed on her hips as she takes in the dress.

“Okay. The front is nearly perfect. Turn around.”

You do, feeling your heart race excitedly as you take in your form. You can't get over how beautifully constructed this is. Even before the outbreak you don't think you ever owned anything so perfectly tailored. The skirt of the dress is full and moves beautifully as you shift from foot to foot. You only have a moment of self-doubt as you gaze at the neckline.

"You don't think it's too low cut?"

Jennifer gives you a look of mock outrage before embracing you from behind, staring at you in the mirror.

"Fuck no!" Jennifer insists, her chin hinged over your shoulder. "You need to show off your assets, girl. Luke's gonna have a heart attack when he sees you in this."

Luke.

Right.

Because you're supposed to like Luke.

Because Luke is a nice, normal man. He wouldn't string you along and then tell you he isn't your fuckin' boyfriend. He wouldn't get you pulled off patrols.

"We just need to take it in a bit here," Jennifer says squinting in thought as she pinches the fabric at your shoulder. "Then it'll be perfect."

You still can't believe how gorgeous it looks and it's not even finished yet. You feel beautiful. You haven't felt beautiful in so long. Beautiful was reserved for a time before infected and fighting for one’s life. Beautiful was never an option until you met Jennifer. She's brought beauty back into your life.

"I just can't wait to dance in this. I'm never taking it off!"

Jennifer takes your hand in hers and spins you around again in front of the mirror. You can't help but smile, giggling along with Jennifer when there's a tinkle of the front door opening. She glances over her shoulder.

"Shit, forgot to lock the door."

She straightens and goes sailing off towards the front of the shop. In a moment of vanity you watch yourself in the mirror, shifting your hips back and forth to watch the fabric swish.

You feel beautiful. You haven't felt beautiful in so long. Beautiful was reserved for a time before the infected and fighting for one's life. Beautiful was never an option until you met Jennifer. She's brought beauty back into your life.

You hear footsteps and low voices.

"Sorry we're-" Jennifer starts but her voice dies.

You glance up in the mirror to see what caused this and you immediately go stiff as the vision of Joel and Ellie striding into the room reflects back at you.

"Come on in," Jennifer breathes, stepping back so that Ellie and Joel can enter more fully into the room. You turn around, hands folded against your chest, feeling strangely naked despite being dressed.

Ellie holds a few pairs of jeans in her grip, her face breaking into a wide smile as she sees it's you by the mirror.

"I've never seen you dressed up before," Ellie observes with a broad grin as she walks over to you. She reaches a hand for the fabric of your full skirt, thumb rubbing the soft fabric.

Joel's dark gaze is on you, you feel it in the periphery. You don't let yourself look up though. You keep your attention on the grinning Ellie.

"Damn, you look really good!"

Your cheeks are on fire with the extreme praise and attention, unaccustomed to compliments regarding your appearance. You hide your face behind your hair the best you can.

"Thanks. It was all Jennifer. I just asked for a dress, she's the one who made magic."

Ellie gives a nod at this, still not Jennifer's biggest fan but giving her a chance because obviously you see something in her. She glances over at Jennifer who's standing uncomfortably close to Joel.

"You did a good job."

"Thanks Ellie."

Jennifer gives a shy smile and you don't miss how her eyes flit over to Joel standing inches away from her. You let your own attention move from her over to the tall man, cheeks heating further when you notice his eyes are still on you.

And despite everything you're a little desperate to have him come closer to you, to tell you he never meant a word of what he said. A need for him that bypasses your own dignity. He scans your expression before blinking his eyes in the opposite direction towards Jennifer.

"We just came by to drop off some stuff to get fixed," Joel tells her as Ellie moves back towards her, holding the jeans aloft.

Jennifer takes the jeans from Ellie, looking through them asking a few questions about how they want them repaired.

"You do patrols and this?" Joel inquires, ignoring the desperate gaze you throw his way. You can't look away from the two of them, the way Jennifer is going all fluttery.

"I don't really work here anymore," Jennifer says tagging the jeans. "I just like to make stuff for folks around town."

Ellie is looking around the shop in interest, but Joel and Jennifer are locked in on one another.

"But don't worry," Jennifer promises. "I'll leave a note for the folks who come in tomorrow morning."

She places the jeans onto a nearby table and reaches for a pencil to scribble a note. Ellie takes her time to glance through the fabric that lines the shelves along the wall.

Joel however has his attention on Jennifer.

"That's mighty kind a' you, Jenny."

Joel's voice is low and syrupy. Your eyes go to his reflection in the mirror and you see him smiling softly at your friend. Your stomach twists.

"S'no problem," Jennifer replies equally silky. "I like to help."

You don't miss the subtle way she tilts her hips, arching just enough to be enticing without being too obvious.

You watch the way Joel's thumb moves to rest hooked on his belt buckle and the way Jennifer's eyes flit there, slowly scanning back up his body, matching the seductive smile Joel sends her.

"You makin' a dress for yourself?" He asks.

"Yeah, mine's all finished up," Jennifer says blushing prettily under his gaze. Then she leans forward and drops her voice to a breathy purr.

"It's red and a little scandalous at the back."

Joel openly scans her body from top to bottom before nodding in approval, his voice pure seduction.

"I bet it looks real nice on ya."

It's like you're not even there. It's like the two of you never existed. The mixture of pain and fury overtakes you, making you need to close your eyes to steady yourself.

He's not yours. He was never yours.

You want to scream. You want to slap him across the face. You want to rip this dress to pieces. But mostly you just want to get away from him.

Thankfully Ellie is now bored of the shop and as you crack open your eyes you see she gives you a wave before looking at Joel.

"Joel can we go? I wanna get good seats for the movie."

"Yeah s'a good one tonight," Joel tells her before giving Jennifer a slow wink.

"Night ladies."

His eyes slide over you in passing but you don't offer him anything other than a wounded glare. This seems to satisfy him.

Jennifer waits until the two of them are a good distance away from the shop before she comes skipping over to you, eyes bright.

"He totally checked me out!"

"He did," you say evenly.

Jennifer doesn't seem to notice your muted tone, she's already remarking that she's certain Joel will ask her to dance, that she'll finally get a chance to feel his muscles for herself.

"I mean he was pretty obvious," she giggles. "I cannot wait for the dance."

You smile weakly and you respond as supportively as you can. Jennifer is in a crush bubble and Joel is giving her all the attention she craves.

There's a moment when you consider breaking down and telling her everything, but then your eyes catch your dress in the mirror. She's done so much for you. She's been a friend, a tailor, a cheerleader. Telling her seems impossible now. You've left it too long.

What would you say to her? "Hey Jennifer I was really into Joel and despite him telling me he wants nothing to do with me I don't want you seeing him"? You'd look insane, or worse - pathetic.

No, instead you'll do what you've always done; hide the feelings deep. Don't share them with anyone. You've seen what happens when one shares their heart.

///

A late December dump of snow that week has most everyone miserable and hiding indoors. Patrols have been suspended this week - not that you would know for sure. You've been removed from them after all.

You decide to go to the Tipsy Bison that evening because you can't stand being inside your home another day. You go because you want a drink. You go because working in the greenhouse is isolating in the winter months and you don't know anyone there.

Everyone else in the greenhouse has their clique and you have... Well, no one. Jennifer is on patrols, so is Luke. Maria and you had tea yesterday and she did seem in good spirits, but she’s busy with the event this weekend. Ellie is in school so... You keep to yourself.

You had considered playing hermit longer after the humiliation of Joel's rejection but some strange inner anger buoys you, forcing you to go about your days as if nothing has changed.

You weren't in the wrong. You'd done nothing besides misplace your affections. You tell yourself it doesn't matter. As if you're not removed from patrols, as if the feeling of Joel's mouth on yours doesn't haunt you.

So you trudge through the snow and push open the door to a loud group of ruddy faces and barked laughter. Someone is playing the jukebox, some old tune you don't recognize.

The Tipsy Bison is warm with the bodies and loud with all the voices and gentle music when you finally push yourself into the center of the room. The bustling nature of it used to intimidate you, but now the sound is almost comforting in its fullness.

Your eyes sweep the room for an empty seat, finding none before your eyes go to the bar and you feel yourself go still.

Despite not seeing his face because it's tilted away from you, there's no mistaking who the broad shoulders belong to. Joel is seated there, shoulders hunched. He's got a tumbler of whiskey in his right hand on the bar. His hair looks like he's been running his hands through it and he's not alone.

Jennifer is there on the stool beside him twisting her own tumbler in her hand and tossing her hair over her shoulder as she laughs merrily.

Jennifer who Joel claimed he didn't enjoy the company of. Jennifer your friend. Jennifer who you realize has no idea the depths of your feelings for Joel. Jennifer who is laughing coquettishly at something Joel is saying.

And then you see it, her delicate hand sliding over his, her beautiful, sparkling eyes on his handsome face. You can't see it from where you stand, but you just know he's smiling at her. The nice kind of smile he rarely threw your way.

You feel everything in you go cold at the intimacy of the action. You thought Joel rejecting you was nothing you couldn't handle and now you see how wrong you were.

A cold hand is at your elbow, dragging you back into the world. It's Penny, already at least two pints in sitting in the chair behind you.

"I snagged a table, sweet pea, come join me," Arthur's wife says in that charming twangy way of hers, like some gap-toothed lifeline. You feel your heart swell with gratitude as she motions to the vacated seat across from her.

"Thanks."

You collapse into the chair and watch as she takes a long sip from her glass. You can see the tattoos poking out the edge of her sweater on her wrist.

"Arthur didn't really have a taste for the stuff," she explains pointing at the beer. "But I sure missed it."

As Penny chats about she and Arthur you nod along, offering hums instead of replies at first. You smile at the right times, answer briefly, but your attention is on Jennifer seated at the bar next to Joel.

You watch them covertly over Penny’s shoulder, noting that Jennifer has been deep in conversation with Joel for at least ten minutes. Her hand is no longer on his, but their knees touch under the bar twice. Each time is like a hot dagger between your ribs.

"You and your fella are on the outs, huh?"

Your attention is immediately back on Penny surveying you with more shrewdness then you'd thought her capable of at her current level of sobriety.

"Huh?"

"Well I see you sneakin' glances over there and I see him chattin' up your pretty friend so I just put two and two together."

"He's not my... We're not together. We're just- we used to be patrol partners," you offer lamely. "But not anymore. I got moved to the greenhouse."

"Ah, I see."

Through her bleary eyes you can see she doesn't believe you. But it doesn't matter because your eyes have risen back over her shoulder to see Jennifer and Joel snuggled up at the bar. When she makes him chuckle quietly you think you might actually be sick.

They look perfect together. You can just imagine them parading through town arm in arm knowing all the while that he kept you his dirty secret. You wonder how it'll feel when Jennifer's stomach swells with life and Joel gives her a ring to show the world she's his.

Bile rises in your throat.

Immediately you fix your eyes to Penny's drained glass. You manually force your breathing to slow; to calm yourself but the world is growing so loud. The kind of buzzing loud that has you gripping the sides of your chair for stability.

You can't just sit here and watch them fall in love. You can't watch them grow closer and know that you were so casually tossed aside. And yet like some glutton for punishment you raise your vision back to them at the bar.

There's a smile from Jennifer, that same flashing sweet grin she uses on every man she likes and you have to force your eyes back to the redhead across from you.

"How did you manage to stay in a relationship with Arthur all these years?" You ask Penny abruptly.

Her bony fingers swirl around the damp lip of her glass before she puffs up her top lip in thought.

"He's always been there when I really need him. Never given me any reason to doubt 'im." She tilts back in her chair. "But I think love is different for different folks. Some are scared of it, reminds ‘em of what they stand to lose. Other folks run headlong into it with arms wide open."

She leans forward on her elbows.

"What kind are you?"

"Wouldn't know," you say with a painted on smile. "Never been in love."

Penny's thin lips curl into a small smirk.

"You sure about that, sweetheart?"

You hum a non-committal response, your face growing hot the longer she stares at you.

Your vision travels back over to where Jennifer now places her empty whiskey tumbler (since when does she drink whiskey?) onto the bar top. You can't help but swallow harshly when Jennifer places a hand on Joel's broad shoulder before leaning in for a kiss to his cheek.

You don’t watch her lips connecting to his bronzed cheek. It would be too much to bear. You raise your hand to your forehead to shield your face, waiting for Jennifer to leave. When the doors swing shut you lift your gaze to see the Bison is still bustling but Jennifer has indeed left.

"Alright, I got us the seats you get us the drinks," Penny says with a soft slap to the glossy table top. "I'm parched."

Panic overtakes you. She wants you to up to the bar where Joel still sits, shoulders slumped? You can hear your heartbeat in your ears. You can't explain to Penny why going up to the bar is impossible, it's too humiliating especially after what she implied.

You scan the still busy bar and decide that Joel won't even see you're there if you're quick.

Stay on the far end of the bar, grab the drinks, head back to the table. Easy.

You give a brief nod, licking your dry lips and tell yourself that Joel is on the far end of the bar. That in this crowd he won't notice you. That this can go off without a hitch.

You shuffle nervously towards the busy bar. The place is packed, music is going loudly and several folks give you a hello in passing that you reply to with a short wave and nod. You get to the bar, trying to shield yourself from Joel by standing beside Stan the burly mechanic who often works in the dam.

You catch Gary the bar tender’s attention with a quick wave of him over. He gives you a polite smile. Reba is off for the night, so instead it’s the dough-faced Gary with his thinning gray mop combed over to the side.

"What can I get ya?"

"Two beers please."

Gary glances over your head at Penny who bobs her head along with the music playing on the jukebox and his smile promptly drops.

"I already told your friend she's cut off."

Gary's voice is loud due to the music, but it still feels like it draws everyone's attention your way when he says it. Just then Stan sees a friend across the bar and calls out their name, crossing the pub to join them and leaving you exposed.

You immediately feel as Joel's eyes snap to the side of your face but you don't give him the satisfaction of acknowledgement.Nevertheless your cheeks prickle with embarrassment.

"I didn't know," you mumble.

"There's a limit you know?" Gary continues on as if you're the one over imbibing. "Can't have one person taking more than their fair share."

"Just one then. She can have my glass," you say tightly, eyes stuck on Gary. "I'm not that thirsty anyway."

You're convinced that Joel is still staring at you with what you assume is disgust. Fuck, what if he thinks you followed him in here? New shame envelops you. You want nothing more than for this interaction to be over with.

"You know that's not how it works darlin’," Gary says as he wipes down the bar. More heads are turning your way and you feel your heart hammering.

Someone knocks into your shoulder but you're stuck in place, convinced that through the throng of bodies you can smell Joel now, that heady cedar and almond soap smell that has your knees knocking. Warmth seeps into your back as a voice is offered out behind you, low and rumbling.

"Just give her the damn drink, Gary."

You turn to look over your shoulder and see Joel is there, jaw tight. At first all you can fixate on is the vein in his neck, then the patch where his beard doesn't quite grow. Your traitorous eyes move up to the soft plump of his lips.

Fuck you miss those lips.

Even after everything your body still yearns for his. To feel that all encompassing safety and protection. And was there kindness? Care? You thought there was, but perhaps that was mislaid along with your affections.

When you finally summon the courage to dart your gaze to Joel's face you see his big, dark eyes are trained on you. It has you breathless and confused. And suddenly it's too much. Gary's complaining, the noise of the bar, the bodies milling around you, and Joel's confusing eyes.

You stumble away, muttering "just forget it" and then you're out the door of The Bison, your face flaming and your heart in your ears.

You struggle in the snow for a moment, slipping over a slick patch of ice with heart in your throat when a strong hand grips you by the elbow, keeping you from falling. You glance over your shoulder but you already knew who it was the second he touched you.

“Careful.”

You attempt to jerk your arm back from him, wanting to give a snide reply but unable to find your voice. Instead you’re about to take off again when he pulls you after him into the dark space between the Bison and the Grocers where the snow hasn’t accumulated.

Its pitch black in the alley, casting you both in shadow. He backs you up against the wood siding of the Bison, the chill felt through your jacket as you gape at him. He’s still as a statue, just holding your arm against your chest, pinning you against the wall with his touch and stare.

“What do you want?” you finally ask, wishing your voice didn’t sound so wobbly.

“You seemed upset.”

His voice is soft, his warm breath whiskey-tinged. He’s clearly had more than one. This infuriates you – that he can only talk to you when he’s inebriated. You wrestle a bit with his grip, trying to tug your elbow from his strong hand. But not surprisingly he doesn’t relent.

“Stop doin’ that,” he commands gently.

And despite everything that’s happened you listen to him. You stop wriggling and just stand there, breathing inches from his pouty mouth. His hips slowly curve, coming to pin you against the wall. His hands take your wrists, and instead of pinning them to the wall as well he urges them around his neck as his face descends.

“What are you-“

"Wanna give it to you," Joel murmurs behind your ear, pressing a damp kiss there. "Let me."

And despite everything Joel has put you through your knees still buckle at the sound of his husky words. If he hadn't been pinning you against the building with his hips you would have fallen to the ground.

Joel wants you. He still wants you. And your pathetic, needy body still wants him.

Your fingers lace around his neck, holding him. You feel his hard length between your legs, despite the jeans you both wear. He's not trying to be subtle; his hips grind into yours, his cock hard and seeking. His mouth drops lower, his hand coming to cup your breasts over your jacket and squeezing. You shudder a moan, your body coming alive everywhere he touches you.

He shifts and slots his thigh between your legs, mouth moving along your throat as you keen, hands gripping his jacket so tightly they’ve gone bloodless.

"You wet?" Joel murmurs against your jaw as your pelvis rasps against the denim of his thigh. When you don’t reply he practically growls. “Answer me.”

"Yes," you groan.

And you are. You can feel it, warm and simmering low in your belly, making each roll and rut of your hips feel like heaven. Joel can sense it; he must because he smiles against your skin, licking a small patch before he groans against your throat, pushing sloppy kisses up the column. You sigh, head tilting back to give him better access. He drags those soft lips along your skin, breathing against it, inhaling you.

His hands slide to cup either side of your face, thumbs hooking onto your lower teeth and tugging, urging your mouth to open to him so that he can search your tongue with his. He licks into your mouth desperately, frenzied.

His hands begin to fumble at your jean button, his mouth still dizzying you as he moves from your lips to your jaw. His mouth is so soft and full. He's at your neck before you shake yourself from your stupor.

"Joel what the-"

He's attempting to tug your jeans down but you grip them by the belt loops, wrenching them out of his grip.

"Joel we're in public."

"No one'll see," he promises, his pelvis still grinding against yours.

"I'm not fucking you," you shoot back at him, hating how turned on you are despite the circumstance. Hating that even after everything your body still craves his touch. Joel's body is curved over yours, his frame broad and his eyes searching your face.

"Just lemme make you come," Joel breathes warm air over your cheeks. "Just wanna see it... Need to hear it."

His hand slides down the front of your jeans, under the waistband. You make a little groaning sound of disapproval, but Joel's lips graze your earlobe.

"I'll make you feel so fuckin' good. I always do."

You shudder when his cold hands meet your warm pussy. He groans against your neck, a sinful sound that has goosebumps rising everywhere on your body like a ripple in water.

"Already wet f'me," he rasps against your ear in approval. "Always so fucking wet."

Long fingers slide on either side of your clit, rubbing forcefully and you want to protest but...Fuck it feels so good

"Seein' you in that dress," Joel murmurs, mouth latching behind your ear and kissing in a way that sends tingles through your entire body. "You got no idea how much I fucked my hand this week thinking about you in that goddamn dress."

Your forehead drops to his shoulder and you can feel the relief in his voice as he feels you start to succumb.

"That's right, just relax."

His voice is so low and rumbled you can feel it everywhere. Your hips widen as he steps between them, fingers working tirelessly against your clit. You whimper into his neck and you feel him swallow when your hips start to rut against his fingers.

"Yeah, just like that. Keep makin' those pretty noises. Who’s got your pretty pussy dripping?” Joel croons, his hot breath buffeting your cheek as his fingers flick open the top button of your jeans.

"You, Joel."

"Fuck," he grunts, breathing heavy and hot against your skin. "Say my name again. Tell me who makes you this wet."

"Mmm," you keen, hips rolling. "You, Joel.”

Joel is eager, his breathing elevated and his eyes unfocused. You feel his fingers dance over your slit through your soaked panties.

“Yeah, this is all for me,” he murmurs almost proudly. You gasp when his fingers curl around the fabric, slowly sliding between the lips of your glossy cunt until he’s knuckle deep. He begins groaning as he watches your brows saddle at the full feeling of those two thick digits sinking into you.

“Feels good, doesn’t it?”

“Yeah.”

Joel nods, smiling dazedly as he begins to pump his fingers in and out of your dripping slot, his body pressing yours into the wood, shielding you. He kisses the corner of your mouth, groaning appreciatively when you start to whimper.

“That’s it,” he grunts, fingers curling within you. "Who you gonna come for?"

"Y-you."

"That's right," Joel smiles against your collar, sucking there. "Me."

And you want to sink into his touch and let go, to surrender into this pleasured dance you know so well with him. You want him to fuck you right here, not caring that anyone could pass by and see you.

But then you hear laughter from inside and it reminds you of Jennifer laughing with Joel previously. All at once your mind can't stop replaying the moments of he and Jennifer. Jenny. Jennifer touching him. Joel's smiling. I'm not your fuckin' boyfriend. Jennifer’s hand over his. I don't need some useless-

Despite your body screaming for release you pull back from him, tugging him by the wrist out from under your pants. You push back from him violently, watching as he stumbles backwards in the snow, looking agitated. His middle and forefinger glisten against the outdoor Christmas lights along the bars eaves. You button up your jeans with shaking hands, glaring at him.

"I don't know what's going on with you but you need to sober up," you tell him sharply.

"You were close," Joel says with mouth in a firm line of displeasure. "You were soaking my fuckin' fingers."

"Sleep it off, Joel."

"I need to see it," he says almost desperately. His glassy eyes blink slowly. "Just need to make you come one more time and I can..."

He stops himself and you feel your confusion growing. Something frosty enters into his gaze and he pushes himself back from you, looking down his nose at you.

"Forget it," he says taking another step back from you. "Just fuckin' forget it."

Oh no. He doesn't get to play mind games and then walk away like you're the one who did something wrong.

"Your horny and wanna make a girl come, is that it?" You scowl. "Well I’m sure if you follow Jennifer home she'd love to make that fantasy come true for you."

You shoulder past him before he can give you any reply. You don't want to hear it. You hate that you cared for Joel in any way. That you made yourself vulnerable with the worst possible man you could have chosen. You feel Joel's hand wrap around your wrist.

"Don’t fucking touch me, Joel."

He drops your wrist and takes a physical step back at the vitriol in your voice.

"And how dare you get me taken off patrols."

Joel's face is contorted into confusion. "But you don't like-"

"You don't know what I like," you tell him flatly. “You don’t know me at all.”

It’s a shameful lie. Joel might know you better than most any other person alive on this planet. But you can’t admit that to yourself, you don’t want to acknowledge that the one person who knows you best is the one person who hurt you most.

"I know what's best for you," Joel states as he stares at you.

"No Joel, you know what's best for you,” you bite back, teeth bared. “And I don’t need you looking out for me. Wanna know why? Because you’re not my fucking boyfriend.”

You don't bother to stick around and see if your comment landed. You need to get away from him before he sees the wet sheen to your eyes.

///

“That dress is so elegant, Jenny. You look like you could be a politician’s wife.”

“Is that a good thing?”

"Totally."

The two of you are at Jennifer’s house, dressed in your beautiful gowns and doing your last minute primping. Jennifer’s dress is an elegant crimson number with a plunging back that reaches just above the dimple of her bottom. When she moves she looks like something out of a magazine and the moment you saw it this evening you could only utter: “Holy shit.”

“Trust me,” you say in awe. “You’re going to turn heads.”

Probably Joel’s.

No. We’re not thinking about him. Enough.

She fluffs your hair once more, pinching your cheeks - "for blush"- and tells you to bite your lips to redden them.

“You look so great," Jennifer squeals when she’s finished. "Okay, now you can look."

She gently spins you to face the mirror in her bedroom. You see her grinning face over your shoulder and then you take a moment to sweep your gaze over yourself. Your breath hitches in your throat as you take in the reflection before you. If you ever felt beautiful before this moment, it's been so long you can't remember.

"Jennifer..."

The words won't come. They don't exist.

You stare at your reflection in the mirror, not quite believing what you're seeing reflected back at you. The woman in the mirror that stares back at you is stunning, with a dress that hugs all her curves, soft looking hair, and a graceful air you never thought you could possess.

Disbelieving tears actually come to your eyes as you look into Jennifer's reflection. She's smiling as well, and her eyes look shiny.

"You look so beautiful."

"So do you."

Sisterly affection flows through you as you flash grins at one another in the mirror's reflection. You'll never have Charlotte back, you'll never have that sister bond but in this moment Jennifer feels like a sister to you, a beloved part of you that you cherish.

You spin, taking her into your arms and hugging her fiercely around the middle. She gives a little oof for the tightness of your embrace.

"I don't know what I'd do without you, Jennifer," you whisper, mouth against her shoulder. "You're the best friend I've ever had."

Her arms wrap around you and you hear her sniffling, squeezing you before releasing. Her face is pink and she's wiping at her eyes, laughing.

"Damn it, don’t say anything else sweet. I don't wanna be all splotchy."

///

Entering arm in arm to the event with Jennifer makes you feel brave, like you can face anything as long as she's there. But you're quickly distracted by the way the place looks at night. Along with the decorations you and Jennifer spent days on, Tommy and some of the other folks have strung Christmas lights up, pale gold circles that line the space and make it look like something out of a story.

It's something like before the outbreak, faint memories of decorated malls you and Charlotte used to walk through; marking off items you'd excitedly bought for parents.

"Holy shit."

Jennifer glances over at you in confusion at your quiet utterance before her face relaxes into a smile.

"Oh that's right, this is your first one. Well, take it in, honey. This is what it's like every Christmas and .. " she stops, smile dropping. "Wait, are you okay?"

She's looking at you concerned and when her thumb brushes your cheek you realize tears have escaped your eyes.

"I just..." You swallow, wiping your damp face, laughing at your emotional response. "I don't think I ever imagined life could be this wonderful again."

Jennifer looks around at the space again, as if seeing it through your eyes and she nods, smiling gently.

"Yeah. I know what you mean."

"Hello, you two!"

You and Jennifer glance over to see Maria approaching. She looks beautiful, wearing a pale blue dress, her coiled hair twisted on top of her head, her dark skin glowing in the soft gold lighting.

"No Douglas tonight?"

"Grace is looking after him," Maria smiles. "She knew Tom and I would be run off our feet trying to organize everything tonight.”

She explains that Grace is one of the sweetest, older women in town. She isn't much for parties anymore, so she happily volunteered to take care of baby Douglas this evening.

"I have to say, you look amazing Maria," Jennifer says, mouth agape.

"Me? I've got nothing on these dresses," Maria says, mouth agape as she takes you both in. "They're stunning."

"Jennifer made them from scratch," you tell her, motioning to Jennifer who stands shyly there at your shoulder. "She's the best seamstress here in town."

"Why the fuck do we have you on patrols then?" Maria laughs, looking at the beautiful girl smiling embarrassed behind you.

"Because she's a great shot too," you insist and you feel like a proud older sister once more.

"Damn," Maria whistles lowly. "Jennifer you're a dream woman."

Jennifer laughs out loud at this, thanking Maria.

The two of them begin chatting and you take this time to gaze around the room once more.

The tables are positioned so that they're circling the empty dance floor. Friends are sitting at some of the tables drinking punch. Others are milling around the long wooden table laden with the food everyone in attendance brought.

"I'm gonna put the food on the table," you tell the women, hefting the tarts and brownies in your arms. Ellie is there when you approach, swiping a cookie and looking guiltily at you as you approach, smirking.

She's dressed in black trousers and a pale blue sweater dotted with embroidered white stars. Her hair is brushed, half up half down.

"You look great.”

“Not as great as you.”

“I disagree,” you say with a laugh. Ellie shrugs, a little embarrassed, a little delighted at your praise.

“It's only missing one thing," you say, tugging the blue ribbon from your hair.

"But I gave that to you," Ellie frowns as she watches this.

"And I want you to wear it," you finish for her. "My gift my choice. Now turn around."

She does slightly reluctantly allowing you to tie it into a sweet bow. When she turns around she's smiling.

"Do I look nice?"

"No. You look beautiful."

You're not expecting her wiry arms to go around you, hugging you tightly. Instinctively you curl around her, bending slightly to hug her back.

"Okay, I'm gonna go find Dina," she says with a wave as she pulls back. "See you later!"

Then she's gone, disappearing through the crowd. You gaze after her, smiling gently before eyes on the opposite side of the room catch yours.

Joel stands at the edge of the crowd, hands in his pockets and an inscrutable look on his face. Your heart jumps into your throat, jolted.

You don't miss the soft inhale he makes or the way his eyes flick over your body before he turns abruptly to walk the other way. Your skin prickles in delight at his reaction.

You got no idea how many times I fucked my hand thinkin' about you in that dress.

Good. He can eat his heart out tonight for all you care. You hope he goes home and jerks it, crying about how he fucked everything up. You hope he comes sobbing into his clenched fist as he mourns the loss of you in his life.

You turn quickly, like you've just seen a horrible accident on the road in front of you. You march back to Jennifer and Maria who seem to be wrapping up their conversation.

"Looks like everyone is here," Maria acknowledges as She glances over your head and looks at the milling people. "Better get this show on the road."

///

Dinner is delicious.

Turkey, potatoes, thick bread, gravy, roasted vegetables, cookies, cakes, you lose track of everything. Wine and beer is littered through the long table.

You're wedged between Maria and one of the kitchen staff you haven't seen in a while. Luke is across the table having arrived late with a burnt bean casserole he attempted just as everyone was moving to take a chair.

Maria and Tommy are at the other end along with Ellie, Dina and you assume Joel. You wouldn't know because you don't let yourself look down in that direction until Tommy stands to make a speech.

The children scream with laughter, talking over one another as they eat, some of the few toddlers crying in their parent’s arms. And instead of frustration all you can feel is gratitude. Life now is messy and loud and chaotic. But there’s something about the vibrant exuberance of the children feels hopeful.

You eat slowly, taking your time to look around the table. Your eyes land on Oliver and his girlfriend laughing several times. When they do you glance at Jennifer sitting across from you, but she doesn’t seem upset. She’s deep in conversation with Luke and some of the women next to her.

You glance around to see Cherry slapping the table and laughing at something Grant is saying. Luke chuckles next to you, his arm swinging behind the chair at your back, casually landing on it. He's warm and he smells like the outdoors.

"I'm kinda nervous," Luke tells you both quietly, drawing your attention back to the conversation. "I haven't played and sung for this many people before."

Luke and the rest of the gang from the coffee house event are putting on the music tonight. He's been practicing like crazy and despite his talent he still seems a little anxious to be performing.

"You're going to do great," Jennifer insists with e comforting pat of his hand. "Even if you do sound terrible, we'll be out here cheering for you anyway."

"Totally," you add with a small grin.

The three of you laugh and continue to eat. And soon enough dessert is announced by Tommy telling everyone who's interested to bring their plates to one of the side tables where the desserts are artfully arranged.

People quickly scramble to take their turns to go through the bounty of items and you're very proud to see your brownies are already gone and the apple tarts close behind when you eventually wander up to the table with Jennifer.

"There's so much stuff," she says in awe. "I can't wait to try one of my tarts."

The two of you grin at each other at that. When you eventually arrive to that side of the table you can see only one tart remaining on your plate. You're just reaching for it to give to Jennifer when your fingers bump into anothers going for the same target.

You glance up to see Joel, eyes widening as he realizes it's you. The both of you start, like you’ve seen a car crash, snatching your hands back abruptly.

"You made 'em,” Joel tells you robotically with a motion towards the plate. “You should get to enjoy 'em."

You don’t reply, feeling uncomfortable as he continues to stare at you. His eyes are flinty and don’t linger on yours when you gaze up.

“Oh there’s one left,” Jennifer announces from behind you delightedly. She swipes it from the plate, oblivious to what’s happening. She talks to Selena behind her, the two of them chatting about tonight’s dance.

You remain staring at Joel, and when memories of the other night bombard you all you can do is stride from the table, your cheeks heating.

A sick part of you wonders if he’s watching you leave, if he’s turned on by you in the dress. Another part wants to dissolve into sobs because he doesn’t feel like the same Joel. He’s recalcitrant and withdrawn and he’s nothing like the warm, sweet man you were starting to uncover.

You stride away from the crowd and hide out near the coats, internally berating yourself. You cannot fall to pieces every single time you see Joel. You both live in this town and you need to get over him.

“Alright everyone, we’re gonna start with a requested tune,” comes Luke’s voice from one side of the large basement, distracting you. He and the rest of the group from the last event stand with instruments in hand, starting with a jazzy rendition of Rockin’ Around the Christmas Tree.

You see Jennifer and some of her friends move onto the dance floor, shrieking with laughter. They spin each other, hair flying wildly as Luke smiles on. You scan the bustling space, thankful you can no longer see Joel’s dark presence looming over the festivities.

"Why are you hiding in the corner, honey child?"

You spin around to see Penny standing there, amused. Arthur is nowhere to be found, you can only assume he's off getting punch. She wears a nice pair of pants and a thick sweater. Her hair has been braided and looped over the crown of her head. She smiles broadly at you, coming closer.

"I'm hot," you lie with surprising ease. "Just needed a little air"

"Of course," she says with disbelief dripping off of every syllable before she scans your dress "Well ain't you just a vision."

"That's very kind of you to say," You offer with a shy little motion towards the skirt of your dress. "Jennifer is the one who did all of this."

When she doesn’t reply you glance up to see her surveying you with a concerned look.

"You doin' okay?"

"Why wouldn't I be?"

Penny stares at you for a moment, analyzing your expression with a furrowed brow before shrugging.

"No reason. Anyway, I'm off to find my man, I'll see you out on the dance floor, honey."

"Sounds great."

You watch her fading presence as Luke croons out something sweet from the stage, an up tempo song you're not familiar with. Jennifer is on the dance floor with some of her friends, she waves you over smiling big. You shake your head with a smile and she rolls her eyes good-naturedly before going back into a spin with her friend Jason. You go towards the floor to watch, stopped when Tommy spots you.

"Well, don't you look beautiful," he says pulling you into a half hug. "Maria's gonna go crazy when she sees you in that. She keeps talking about how she wanted to see you in something other than jeans."

“I saw her already,” you say politely, feeling your face grow hot with the attention. “She said she liked it.”

Tommy motions to the bustling dance floor.

“How come you’re not out there cuttin’ a rug with your friend?”

“I’m not an experience dancer.”

“That doesn’t matter,” Tommy insists with a smirking scoff. “You think any of these folks are pros?”

Most of the people moving over the wooden plank flooring have no rhythm. Some spin each other laughing, others focus on their footwork. Most however just jump and swing their arms to the best of their abilities.

“I guess not,” you say with a giggle.

The tune slowly fades, replaced by something smoother, something slower, a mournful tune to your ears, but maybe it’s just because of how you’re feeling. Your eyes drift to the dance floor. Luke’s eyes are closed, his voice deep and soulful.

“Tonight, I wanna give it all to you…In the darkness, there's so much I wanna do…”

You recognize the tune from before the outbreak, a song your dad loved listening to by a band called KISS. But this tune is slowed down, bittersweet and full of longing as Luke sings, his brows saddling with emotion.

“..And tonight, I wanna lay it at your feet.... Cause, girl, I was made for you and, girl, you were made for me…”

Jennifer has found a partner, a spotty-faced boy from the grocers. Much too young for Jennifer, but she’s likely just indulging him to be kind. His face is pink and he keeps nodding as she chats casually with him.

“That’s no reason-“ Tommy stops himself mid-sentence, his eyes drifting over your shoulder. “Oh hey, Joel, c’mhere.”

You stomach drops. You refuse to look behind you, but you know that Joel is approaching. You force your eyes to move back to the dance floor, not even acknowledging when Joel comes to stand next to Tommy. You know that if you rush off now it’ll look suspicious, so you pretend not to notice him.

“What do you want?” Joel mutters, voice low and cutting through the saccharine tune.

“You gotta get out and dance, brother.”

“Not a fuckin’ chance. This music is shit.”

"Don't be a grouch," Tommy says nudging his shoulder against his brother’s. "Take the pretty lady for a dance."

Your head snaps back in their direction, eyes blown wide. Joel is looking at you, and this close you can smell that sweet, spicy cologne he wears. He watches you raise your hand, head shaking in protest.

"No that's-"

Joel just steps forward, fingers circling your wrist and he practically drags you onto the dance floor behind him. You try to tug out of it, hearing as Tommy tells you both to try your best not to step on each other’s feet.

"Joel we don't have -"

But it’s too late; you’ve been brought into the throng of warm bodies on the dance floor. Joel takes you into his arms stiffly, his right elbow tucked beneath your armpit, his hand on the small of your back. His other hand clasps yours lightly, holding it aloft as your free arm rests on his bicep, hand loosely at his shoulder. You’re close together, but not quite touching bodies.

You can’t help but glance around at the crowd, watching to see most couples with their bodies pressed tightly together, fingers laced behind necks, broad arms wrapped around waists as Luke continues to sing.

“Tonight, I wanna see it in your eyes….Feel the magic, there's something that drives me wild…”

A group of zealous dancers enter the dance floor and knock against you, shoving you against Joel’s front. You give a grunt of surprise, relieved that Joel doesn't pull back as if disgusted. If anything his fingers dig into your waist, holding you there.

“…'Cause, girl, you were made for me and, girl, I was made for you…”

Joel is so warm and the dance floor is heating up. You know your face is flushed, your hair dishevelled. It makes you feel vulnerable in a way, your walls slightly cracked. The briefly discordant tune wraps its way around you, pulling you into an emotionally anguished place.

You miss how you could talk with Joel about anything. You miss how he held you. You miss his mouth on yours, his skin pressed to your lips, his deep growled groans as he filled you. You miss how it felt to have him smile just for you, or the way you could make him laugh.You miss how it felt to be cared for by him.

“ …I was made for lovin' you, baby, you were made for lovin' me...”

You let your eyes move from his mouth to his eyes, surprised to see them trained on your face. It's a confusing look of both irritation and deep openness as you sway back and forth. It emboldens you to ask the question that's been in your mind for weeks, murmured only loud enough for him to hear.

"Why do you hate me?"

His thumb is rubbing gently along your knuckles in his hand, his other hand splayed against your lower back, holding you tightly against him.

"I've never hated you."

Outside it looks like two people dancing to a slow song, but at this closeness you can see the way a sheen covers his dark eyes, making them glossy. It takes your breath from your lungs in one sweep.

"I miss you."

The words come out gently, huffed between your bodies, escaping past your teeth and tongue before you can stop them. And to your horror your chin begins to wobble, your eyes growing damp. You close them quickly, stopping the tears from falling.

"Baby."

He whispers it and it's so soft you're not sure you actually heard it. But when you open your eyes his irises have gone soft at the edges. The longer you stare into each other's eyes the surer you are that this feeling you've been carrying isn't one sided.

Joel doesn’t hate you. Maybe even the opposite if his wet gaze is anything to go by. But it doesn’t help does it? It somehow makes it worse if he loves you and still pushed you away. Makes it worse that he must know how much you ache and yet still continued to distance himself.

But that fire in your belly has sizzled to coals, replaced by the heavy feeling of longing as you gaze into his limpid stare. And then you feel them; the words that have been there on your tongue for weeks. The ones that haunt you.

"Joel, I lo-"

A loud cry goes up, startling the both of you into snapping your heads in the direction of the door. Wayne has appeared with the wine barrel over his shoulder and everyone is cheering, glasses raised.

And then just as he took you into his arms moments earlier, Joel drops you. His hands slide from your waist and he steps back as if he's been burnt.

“Joel,” you begin, confused at his reaction.

His eyes search your face for something that you can't understand and then he's striding away from you on the face floor, his long legs carrying him out of your sight. You watch him shoulder through the crowd of the dancing couples whose eyes move from his receding figure back over to you standing on the dance floor alone as the music continues, Luke’s voice a velvet croon.

“… I was made for lovin' you, baby, you were made for lovin' me...and I can't get enough of you, baby, can you get enough of me?”

Blind panic consumes you, humiliation soon joining it when you see the couples begin to whisper, some eyeing you. You feel an ugly flush starting to go up your neck, your eyes growing wet as you try to spy a good escape route.

"I must have this dance."

You swallow the tears when you turn to see Arthur behind you extending his hand in your direction.

“This song is simply too good to sit through,” he prompts, hand moving closer to you. He's wearing a sweater with a Santa face stitched onto it. You didn’t really notice it until just now and something about the absurd sight makes you want to laugh to yourself.

Your face breaks into a watery grin as you accept his pudgy hand, allowing him to gently pull you towards him. He sees the sheen to your eyes as you nod, allowing him to sweep you into a turn.

"Penny insisted I take you for a spin before all the other bachelors see you're available," he tells you with a charming grin on his ruddy cheeks.

The two of you look over to see Penny at a table on the edge of the dance floor holding a beer while waving at you both enthusiastically. You almost cry in relief at not being completely abandoned in front of everyone.

"Please tell her thank you," you tell him, relieved that your humiliation is somewhat over.

“Of course,” he assures you. The two of you dance to the ebbing slow tune, your shattered heart making it impossible to focus. Your eyes stare out into the distance, unable to register what’s just happened.

“You deserve a better man than that,” Arthur says quietly out of nowhere. You glance up to see his disappointed expression before giving a weak shrug.

“He was never mine to begin with.”

Arthur hums a reply, hand tightening around yours. It’s a protective movement, one that reminds you of a father-figure. That alone has your chin wobbling precariously, but you’re able to stuff down those ugly feelings when a fast tune starts up.

“Thank you, Arthur.”

“Anytime, sweetheart.”

He presses an air kiss next to your cheek and you suck in a deep breath; ready to exit the dance floor and face pitying glances when the familiar friendly face of Cherry is there, coming to stand in front of you in a way you can only think of as menacing. She’s wearing a sweater and tights, her severe expression offset by pale lipstick.

"Lemme get a dance in," she insists with a dramatic bow to you, extending her hand. You take it with a surprised laugh, letting her spin you around the dance floor to a light-hearted tune. You didn’t know she was such a good dancer.

Jennifer is close behind, swinging you around the dance floor to an upbeat version of “Take On Me”, the two of you mouthing the words at one another.

Then it's Hank from the gates at your elbow, insisting he get a dance with one of his favorite Jackson residents. He’s a terrible dancer, but his bad moves and his quiet swearing under his breath as he counts his steps makes you laugh.

Then it’s both Arthur and Penny, the three of you in a circle dancing to Footloose with a bunch of the lyrics messed up. You don’t care, the beat is good and you feel beautiful in your dress as you spin, swishing dramatically.

You finally get off the dance floor flushed and smiling to yourself. Joel’s horrible expression is fading from your mind because you can't remember the last time you had so much fun. Jennifer is at your side, clapping for Luke who is ending his set.

"Alright everyone, I'm gonna take a break. But the rest of the band has some tunes for you to enjoy so get off your asses and dance!"

The crowd laughs, some going back to their tables to join their friends, others hitting up the dessert table or grabbing another drink.

“He’s so good!” Jennifer tells you, her face warm and flushed from the crowd. Her breath is alcohol tinged and warm on your temple. “I’m shocked at how good a singer he is!”

“I know!”

“Have you seen Ollie and his fucking girlfriend?” Jennifer says against your hear over the music that rises in volume. She scoffs when you shake your head. “Apparently they’re getting married in the spring. Married.”

You pull back prepared to see the devastation on her pretty face. She shakes her head disgusted, eyes on you. She isn’t crying, nowhere near. But you can tell that she’s upset. It’s a dash to her ego, a strong rejection. And then all at once you both speak at the same time.

“He’s an idiot to turn you down, Jenny.” “I’m really happy for you and Luke.”

“Oh uh,” you both laugh at this, belatedly hearing what she said to you. “Yeah, Luke’s a great guy…”

You want to confess to her that no matter how much you try, you can’t muster up enough romantic enthusiasm for him. That Luke is an amazingly patient, funny, kind, good friend but that's all he'll be to you.

“Yeah, you’re really lucky to have him,” she tells you with a deep exhale as the two of you make your way off the dance floor. “Anyway, I need a breather. I’ll see you in a bit.”

Before you can reply she surges ahead and threads through the throngs of jovial revelers, her crimson dress disappearing in the crowd.

You’re on your way to the punch table when you pass Maria and Tommy chatting with a group of folks who work at the dam. Maria shoots you a smile, about to greet you when Barry lurches over, his voice booming. Barry is a tall, barrel-chested man that tends to take over most conversations, even when he’s not tipsy.

“Great party you two. Even better than last year.”

“Thanks man,” Tommy says clinking his beer bottle against Barry’s. “Glad you could join.”

The group chats on about the dance, how next year they’ll have to move it to the barn due to the high volume of attendees.

“Jackson keeps gettin’ bigger and bigger,” Tommy says with a proud look at Maria. “Soon we’ll have to build a whole dance hall.”

The crowd laughs and you can’t help but smile at the thought. Who knew what Jackson would be like in ten years? Would you still be in your same home? Would you still be in the greenhouse? Or would you consider the bakery idea?

“You two work so hard to make this community thrive,” Barry adds, swaying a bit while Maria smiles beatifically at him. “And you do a damn fine job.”

“Thanks, Barry.”

"But what about them Raiders, Tom?" Barry asks, blinking back the bleary drunkenness from his eyes. "What are we doin' about them? I’m getting’ nervous and I ain’t the only one."

The mood suddenly drops to a thick tension you feel. Some of the crowd nods, murmuring in agreement. Tommy, who has been so pleasant suddenly darkens in a way that is pure Joel. The sight of it makes your stomach flip unpleasantly.

"We got the traps, we got patrols going out four at a time now," Tommy says, mouth in a thin line of displeasure. “And we’re doin’ two shifts a day.”

"What about the last-"

"Barry," Tommy warns, his jaw ticking. "Maybe it's time to hit the dance floor, yeah?"

You've never really seen Tommy upset before, he usually so calm and laid back. It makes you uneasy to see. But Barry is oblivious to the social cue; he just shakes his head and keeps blathering on.

"I'm serious, Tommy," Barry says, tipsy but not drunk. "Pete from last patrol said there was rumor about a whole camp of 'em."

You watch as Maria's eyes drop to the floor, eyes distant. Her shoulders sag and you feel yourself exhale on her behalf.

"A camp?" Maria repeats, brow furrowed. She shoots a quick look at Tommy and then back at Barry. "Are you sure?"

"Yeah, I-"

"I said we're on it," Tommy assures, casting a worried look at Maria and then back at the burly man in front of him. Barry seems to get the message now, bleary eyes blinking.

"Uh, right. Yeah, sounds good, Tom. Talk later."

He raises his beer, nodding and lumbering away to rejoin his table of friends. The crowd tapers off, whispering to one another about what just went on. You have to admit that even you feel a bit anxious about it.

"Someone should check on Douglas," Maria says worriedly, her eyes scanning Tommy's.

"Honey, Grace has it handled."

"Tommy, I wanna go check on him," Maria insists.

Tommy wraps his arms around her.

"Okay, baby, if it'll make you more comfortable, you go ahead,” Tommy murmurs into her hair. Maria exhales, relieved.

She takes Tommy's face between her hands and gazes up at him, eyes glittering. And then she kisses him so tenderly you feel slightly embarrassed and have to look away. The moment feels private and so you leave them and draw over to the punch bowl.

You scoop some of the lemonade into a chipped mug, your mind racing about what Barry brought up. Shit, what if there are more Raiders? What if they’re waiting in the wings, preparing to get revenge for what happened to their friend Joel killed?

“Penny for your thoughts?”

You glance up from the punch bowl to see Luke smiling at you.

“Too bad currency is a thing of the past,” you muse. “What’re you up to?”

"Taking a little break," he explains, taking a sip of his pale drink. "Thought I'd see if you wanted a dance."

"Sure."

A very vindictive part of you is hoping that Joel is watching you right now. That he sees how Luke smiles at you and places his hand at the small of your back, guiding you to the dance floor. You hope that he watches as Luke sweeps you gently into his arms, smiling down at you.

You stare up at Luke and feel your heart swell with gratitude. Luke would never treat you like Joel has. Luke is kind and sweet and you were an idiot to ever overlook him.

The dance floor continues to pack and you're pressed tightly against Luke who holds you delicately. Your eyes dart across the dance floor to see if Joel lingers, but you can’t see him. For all you know he already left for home.

"Have you seen Jenny tonight?"

You glance up at Luke’s words, trying not to fixate on how different his body feels compared to Joel’s.

"Yeah, we came here together." Your eyes scan the large space but you can't see her trademark blonde locks. "Can't see her right now. Maybe she's in the bathroom. She was upset earlier."

Luke looks concerned. "She okay?"

"Ollie went back to his girlfriend and now they’re engaged," you say with a wince. “I think she’s having a tough time with it.”

"Poor Jenny," Luke sighs. "She never gets an easy break."

"No, she doesn't," you agree, thinking of her past. Luke looks distantly into the crowd of people.

"She deserves someone who treats her like a princess,” Luke says in a rush, mouth pursed. "A girl like her is.... Well... She's special."

His voice has gone strange and you take a moment to survey his red cheeks and the way he’s stammering when he speaks. And then like a dam bursting to flood your mind, snatches of moments past flash in your mind. Luke asking Jennifer if she wanted to ride with him to do repairs. Asking if she wanted coffee. The excitement in his expression when she invited him to go shooting. The way he was always sure to sit next to Jennifer at every opportunity. And even the flush to his cheeks when you asked why he bothered going shooting with you in the first place. “I guess I like spending time with you guys.” How did you never see it before?

“You like Jennifer.”

It spills out of you, hushed between your bodies as Luke’s face goes a deeper shade of red, confirming your suspicions. He continues to hold you, his eyes skittering away from your own as he nods.

A girl like her is special.

A girl like Jenny is perfect. A girl like Jennifer is what men like Luke and Joel want. Shame and pride are a potent cocktail stirring in your belly as you stare him down.

"If you liked Jennifer all this time then why did you kiss me?"

Luke at least has the good grace to look embarrassed. He leads you to the side of the dance floor, still holding you, but trying to give the two of you some privacy. He looks around, sure that you both won’t be heard before diving in.

"From the minute she introduced you and me, Jenny just kept saying you and I would be this great couple. She said that we had so much in common and were well suited and I figured she was probably right.” He sees the flinch in your expression and goes on. “I mean, I love spending time with you, I don’t ever regret it. You’re funny and pretty and, anyway, I thought that I should give us a chance.”

“But you don’t feel that way for me.”

Luke grimaces and you feel a hot throb of rejection settle behind your sternum. It’s not like you want Luke, but it doesn’t exactly feel great to be rejected no matter what the situation.

“I’m sorry. I've liked Jennifer for a long time and the feeling isn't going away. I can't stop thinking about her," Luke continues softly swaying you from side to side and you see the pain that lingers there in his voice and tone and for a wild moment you think it reflects your own.

“Why didn’t you just ask her out if you liked her?”

“Jennifer would never go for a guy like me and now I feel like I’ve fucked everything up,” Luke moans, eyes slamming shut in embarrassment. “There’s no way we can all be friends again.”

“Sure we can.”

Luke’s eyes crack open. “Really? You’re not. . . I mean, the two of you are best friends and-“

“Luke, it’s cool, I promise.” You try to say the next part gently. “I really, really wanted to like you the same way you like Jennifer. And honestly, at first I think I maybe did but. . . we’re not a good fit. When we kissed I just felt like there was no chemistry that way.”

“You seemed to like it,” Luke hedges, his own pride obvious.

“I was thinking about…” you feel your cheeks heat, “…someone else.”

You see Luke physically relax, the two of you still dancing slowly, eyes on one another. And it’s like you both realize at the same time that the whole thing was so ridiculous because you both burst out in small chuckles.

There’s something so freeing about getting this all out in the open. Knowing that Luke doesn’t want you like how he wants Jennifer is strangely liberating. There are no signals to give off, no concern of leading him on. You can just exist as friends.

“You know, I don’t get why she wanted us together so bad,” Luke says with an uncertain chuckle, spinning you as you nod.

“I think she just likes playing Cupid,” you say with a laugh. “She sees two people who should be together and she just wants them to-“

And suddenly you stop mid-sentence as you think back to all the times spent together with Luke and Jenny.

You think of when Luke touched you in front of Jenny, how she would go quiet in the more recent times. How she wanted to know how you and Luke were getting on. All the times she asked about Luke. The strange way she reacted when you told her that you’d kissed him. The way she told you that you were lucky to have a guy like Luke. A

And then like a thunderbolt to your brain it hits you: all this time you were so preoccupied with Joel you didn't even realize the signs. Jennifer likes Luke but thinks you like him. All the anger you were holding falls from you like an unwelcome jacket, a smile breaking over your features as you realize.

“Luke, Jennifer likes you.”

“No,” Luke scoffs, eyes rolling. “No, she likes guys like Ollie. Big, handsome manly-men.”

You bubble forth a delighted laugh, head shaking.

“I can’t believe I didn’t get it until just now. Luke, she totally likes you. You have to go find her," you say over the music, dropping his hands. "Go and tell her how you feel right now, tell her everything. Trust me, Luke."

Luke stands awkwardly, brows furrowed.

"But you and I have kissed," he reminds you. "And the two of you are best friends. I know how she talks about you."

“I’m happy to confirm there are no hard feelings on my side,” you say, almost laughing at the concern in his expression. “I swear. I feel the exact same way about you, Luke. You’re an amazing guy and you deserve an amazing girl. A girl like Jenny. She can come and check with me if she’s not sure. But trust me, Luke. She likes you.”

“Really?”

It’s like you just told him a cure for the Outbreak was found. He’s beaming so brightly he may just block out the lights Tommy strung around the room. A grin is spreading across your features and a flutter begins in your chest.

"I'm serious Luke. Go tell her."

“Okay uh… okay, yeah,” Luke says, smoothing his hair awkwardly and glancing around the busy space. “I’m just gonna go and find her.”

“I’ll look too,” you say, almost giddy. “I’ll tell her to look for you on the dance floor.”

“Good, Great, okay.”

And then he’s gone, dashing from the dance floor in pursuit of Jennifer. You want to laugh, your heart beating just as excitedly as if he was professing his adoration to you. You think of your friends together and there’s a profound joy that settles over you.

You exit the dance floor just in time to be stopped by a solid figure holding a handful of wine glasses in his long digits.

“Here,” Barry says, thrusting a wine glass into your hand. “Gonna do a cheers pretty soon. Bad luck to have an empty glass.”

“Thanks Barry,” you say taking it from him, distracted.

You begin to scan the crowds looking for Jennifer’s telltale blonde hair and listen for her tinkling laugh but you find neither. You go to where the crowd is lessening, some of the families with younger kids preparing to leave.

You go towards the doors, your beaming face twisting to see if you can spot her when a flash of crimson catches your eyes. You turn your eyes to the right and Jennifer’s familiar frame comes into view.

Only she’s not alone.

The two of them are half-hidden by the coats hung on the hooks. But not hidden enough.

Joel is leaning against the wall; his head tilted back, eyes closed languidly. One palm is pressed flat against the wall; the other is at the small of Jennifer's back, holding her against him. Jennifer has her hands on Joel's shoulders, standing on tiptoe, their hips grinding against one another slowly as she kisses his neck. The sight is sensual and intimate and it makes you physically recoil.

The entire world starts to get loud and garbled. The kind of feeling you used to get when swimming and your ears got clogged with water. Then echoes of tonight's comments.

Jennifer you're a dream woman. A girl like her is special. Dream woman. Special. Special.

Jennifer is a dream woman; Joel's dream woman.

Jennifer continues to kiss Joel's jaw languidly, going to suck delicately at his neck, not noticing that you’re watching them. Now all that you can really hear over the din of the celebration is a sharp high pitched buzzing noise in your ears.

Her hand slides over his belt, nails catching on the gleaming buckle and that's when the wineglass you've been holding falls to the ground, shattering. Wine spills like blood over the floor, splashing onto the bottom of your dress.

At the sound of its crash, Joel's eyes jolt open, piercing you. He doesn't change his expression or his movements. His cool appraisal has you swallowing anxiously as Jennifer whips her head around, her eyes glazed and mouth puffy. She looks dishevelled, like Joel has fucked her once already. Has he fucked her before? Surely she would have mentioned. The thought brings bile to the back of your throat.

But it's not Jennifer that you're upset with. It's Joel standing there with his hand still on her back and his dark eyes fixed on you. The world feels tilted, your feet having trouble finding their footing. And then a strong feeling goes through you, but not the one you expect. It's not fury or betrayal or even embarrassment.

It's pity.

"Really, Joel?" You say with a scoff.

Joel looks struck by your response before his eyes dart to your feet where the broken glass rests. The red wine begins to seep between the floorboards. His tone is low and growled when his gaze darts back to yours.

"Clean it up."

You give a disgusted sound in your throat before shaking your head ruefully at him.

"You don't give me orders anymore."

Jennifer seems completely bewildered, looking between you and Joel for a beat. She's about to say something when Ellie appears at your elbow, calling your name cheerfully. You try to school your features into something resembling a pleasant smile.

"Hey, Ellie."

You try to sound upbeat, but you're emotionally spent. Ellie quickly sobers as she takes in your expression. She's about to ask what has you looking so out of sorts when she catches sight of Joel and Jennifer partially hidden in the corner.

She takes one look at Jennifer's fingers limply resting on Joel's belt and looks at him disgusted.

"What the fuck is going on?"

Ellie gestures towards Joel and Jennifer, the latter of which seems stunned into not moving. All the bravado in Joel's expression flees at the first sight of Ellie. His eyes go owlish in his face, blinking rapidly.

"Ellie? I thought you were just here for the dinner,” Joel croaks. "Since when do you go to dances?"

"Since Dina asked me," Ellie replies pointing over her shoulder to where Dina stands grabbing punch.

"Oh I... I didn't know you were stayin’," Joel stammers.

"Guess not," Ellie shoots back before she's facing over to you, seeing the gloss to your eyes, the position of Jennifer and Joel, the spilled tray at your feet. Ellie is a teenager but she understands heartbreak just fine.

The music continues on in the background, a low thump of the bass guitar. Jennifer is still thrown by everything, stepping back from Joel to cast a flummoxed look around at everyone.

"You wanna come hang out with me and Dina?"

You shoot Ellie a weak smile. You want to embrace her for her kindness. For her understanding despite her young age.

"I don't understand," Jennifer murmurs as she peers at you, her face contorted in confusion.

Her eyes go from your blotchy face over to Joel, taking in the red of his cheeks and the way his eyes can't meet yours. Something like understanding passes over her features.

"I have to go," you say shooting Ellie a tight smile. "Starting to feel a headache coming on. Enjoy the party."

You can't even look at Joel as you glide away, your feet hitting the wood floor harshly as you start to jog out the door. The sound and lights of the party are behind you, your eyes wet and your body shaking by the time you get home.

You're not there when Joel's eyes move back up, looking to Ellie with shame clearly written in his expression. You're not there up see the repulsed look she gives him.

"I'm gonna stay at Tommy's tonight," she tells Joel with a disappointed shake of her head. Before he can say anything she's gone, leaving him alone with Jennifer.

The music flows around them, the distant sound of dancing and laughter mingling with the notes which seems so discordant with how things are going right now. Jennifer backs up a fraction, her hands at her side as she stares at Joel. He's looking in the direction that you left, his mind replaying your face moments prior.

Joel had been expecting the hurt in your eyes. Had readied himself for your tears, braced himself for your anger, but he hadn't been expecting the obvious pity you held there in your hurt gaze.

Joel also isn't expecting the sharp slap across his face, jerking his head to the left with a grunt as the crack of it sounds out. Isn't expecting Jennifer to turn from some sweet, country girl into a furious woman before his eyes, her mouth curled into a snarl.

"You fucking asshole."

And then she's gone, striding from him and through the group of people milling near the front door of the church.

And when he's left all alone, his cheek red and his heart aching, Joel tells himself that he did what was needed.

This is all for the best.

Chapter 20: Footprints in the Snow

Notes:

Y'all, its here. It's over 20K. Happy birthday to me, and here is my gift to everyone who reads, comments are such a positive part of my life and inspire me to write faster. PLEASE let me know what y'all think!

Chapter Text

"Save who you can save."

Tess told him that once and that one sentence has played itself like a cassette running through his ears ever since.

Save who you can save.

He saved Ellie and he did it by killing people. He took everyone down who stood in his way without hesitation. But who is he saving now? Who is he saving by pushing you away? Himself? Because this doesn't feel like saving. It feels like agony. It feels like loss again, the kind that steals breath from his lungs, burning hot. The kind of loss that has him twisting in his sheets, waking up with tears on his cheeks.

And it never would have happened if not for that red fucking scarf.

Joel's feet feel heavy as he exits out the chapel basement minutes after Jennifer. Minutes after everyone nearby heard the crack of Jennifer's slap across his face. Snow is coming down harshly, a storm beginning. How appropriate.

Now as he moves from the building he can still hear the uproarious sound of celebration behind him. It will go late, like every year Tommy assured him. The entire town sleeps in the next day, hung over.

The cold bites through his well-worn boots as he walks away from the jubilation; he'll need new shoes soon. It doesn't matter though, he doesn't feel it. He can't feel anything but a sharp, stabbing pain under his ribs. A kind of sting as if a needle was thrust between each bone and twisted brutally.

His jacket is partially opened, thrown on haphazardly before stepping out into a snowy wonderland. It's coming down heavily, and normally he might find the sight beautiful.

But right now he's not convinced that there can be any beauty left in the world for him. Everyone has someone and who does Joel have? Himself. Alone, always. Alone with Sarah, raising her by himself, alone with Ellie raising her by himself.But he has to wonder if it's him. If he's just not meant to be happy.

And he doesn't begrudge his girls one bit, but fuck* he sure wishes there was someone else to share his bed. He wishes there was someone to exchange secret smiles over coffee with in the morning, wishes there were nights curled by the fire with Ellie sketching and Joel quietly practicing his guitar as someone rests their feet in his lap.

No, not someone. He wishes it was you.

The worst part is that it almost seemed tangible. Walking around that farmhouse he could imagine just that life. For a moment he envisioned taking your hand in his and tugging you into bed. Of you brushing Ellie's hair in front of the bathroom sink as the two of you laughed. You dressed in his flannel making coffee and tea and humming to yourself in the kitchen.

It's like he had a taste of a promised joy only to have it taken from him. It left him reeling, days in bed with swollen eyes and an ache that would not heal. Left him with nightmares that returned, ghoulish and terrifying.

It's too familiar, that cruel anguish of having lost something.

--------------

The cool of March was in the air, the heavy jackets of a brutal winter had slowly been traded for warm flannels, vests and in your case a bright red knitted scarf. If it hadn't been for the vivid color Joel doubts he would have ever noticed you before patrols. But as it was, the red was like a slash of crimson around your neck, a beacon amongst the neutral colors of the dining hall in Jackson city.

Joel had walked in with Ellie, grabbing something to eat as she begged again to be taken on patrols. They had been in Jackson for less than two months and she was still adjusting. She was still whining to him when they took a seat at the back table.

"Ain't happenin', kid. Eat your muffin."

Joel was back to drinking his coffee, waiting for her verbal retaliation when he saw a flash of red in his peripherals. Something about the crimson color set his heart pulsing, the reminder of blood, of death and he felt that familiar sense of anxiety start to make his heart pump faster. A panic attack.

He gripped under the table for the wooden leg, inhaling through his nose and exhaling slowly as Ellie chattered on, oblivious. He didn’t want to alarm her. He'd learned to calm himself down during these episodes, regulating his breath. As he did this Joel's eyes darted between Ellie and the flash of red swimming between folks grabbing their breakfasts. With his blood rushing in his ears Joel watched the owner of the red scarf walk through the throng of morning patrons, their face and body shown for the first time.

You.

You flashed a brief smile at someone who greeted you in passing in on your way to find somewhere to sit, but Joel could immediately tell you were uncomfortable. It was there in the way you held your mouth to the side, the smile that didn't reach your eyes, the way your fingers gripped your tray so tightly your knuckles paled.

He watched you pass by his table and move to a more secluded one under the window, the highlights in your hair catching the sun from the day, the yellowed pages in the book under your arm, the texture of your red scarf so clear. It's like he was seeing everything about you in high definition.

"Are you listening to me?"

Joel's heartbeat had returned to normal and he glanced over to a quizzical looking Ellie with peanut butter on her cheek. He gave her an indulgent smile, shaking his head in amusement.

"Course I am you slob."

With a fatherly roll of his eyes he dabbed at her cheek with a napkin, even as she ducked away citing she wasn't a fucking baby. Before long she was starting in again, chattering about school and his attention couldn't help but drift.

You sat in the dining hall sipping your tea, bent over your book with your hair falling into your face and that scarf wrapped around your neck. Every so often you flipped the page or brushed the hair back from your face and he would see glimpses of your features.

You were attractive, sure. But there were several attractive women in Jackson. Beauty that was overt and commented on by others. However there was something else about you, something that he couldn't quite look away from. Maybe it was that you didn't try to talk to anyone, or that you scanned the space a few times, not quite comfortable. The look of someone always on guard. Maybe he related to that.

He didn’t understand what it was about that first moment with you that drew his attention, all he knew was that morning he couldn’t look away.

Then he and Ellie left for the chores a short while later and he forgot about the woman in the red scarf. His days were filled with a teenage daughter, with patrols, with contributing to the community. You were gone from his mind as other things crowded it- playing guitar again, helping Ellie set up her place in the garage.

It wasn’t until he walked into town one afternoon that he saw that flash of red again and he made note of the way you scurried from shop to shop. He observed how your head was always in a book or bowed, your posture not inviting company despite the smile you always had ready for anyone who greeted you.

You wore that scarf with you everywhere, trailing down your spine, thrown over your shoulder, wound around your neck. When he spotted you heading back from the greenhouse some mornings with a basket of vegetables for the kitchen crooked in one arm he couldn't help but keep his attention on you as he rode by you for the stables.

He was confused by this attention he spared for you. Other women in Jackson had made overtures since his arrival. He'd taken none up on it, still too fresh from the loss of Tess, not comfortable enough to let his guard down.

You didn't pursue him. You didn't spare him a glance when you passed him in the street. If your nose wasn't in a book you wore a look of contemplation, of inner anxiety that made him wary of you. He found out from observation that you worked for the kitchen doing prep. And for a while he stayed away from the dining hall, uncomfortable with the way he felt when he saw you.

But Jackson city was only so big.

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The knock comes to your door not long after you've arrived back, a hard thump thump thump. You drag yourself to the front door, teeth clenched. If it's Joel on the other side of to this door you're not sure you're going to be able to contain your anger.

But it's not Joel. It's Jennifer, cheeks pink from the cold and eyes wide.

She doesn't even wait to be invited in; she just moves past you and takes a seat on the couch before the fire.

"Uh, do you want a cu-"

"Why didn't you ever say anything?"

Jennifer's voice is sharp, but sharper still are her eyes when they flick to your face. You stand staring at her, fingers grasping the edge of your robe anxiously.

"Why didn't you tell me?" she says in a way that dares you to lie. Despite this you try to avoid her inquiry.

"Tell you what?"

"That you have feelings for Joel," Jennifer insists, her voice rising. "That you've obviously liked him for a long time!"

"I didn't- I don't like him," you correct, cheeks flaming.

But Jennifer isn't listening, she's jumped up and is now pacing around in front of you, hand at her brow. Her crimson dress peeks out under her heavy jacket like blood.

"I'm not a fucking idiot," she seethes. "I saw how you both looked at each other just now." She shakes her head as if she's trying to deny it to herself. She begins pacing around in front of you, hand at her brow. She breathes in harsh little puffs, like a tired steam engine.

“I d-don’t….”

You've never been a good liar, but even if you had Jennifer knows you better than that. She sees the tense of your mouth and wince in your cheek and she can tell that you're lying immediately.

"You let me go on and on and this whole time you liked him?" Her blonde head shakes. "You gave me advice on how to land him for fucks sake!"

You feel your stomach drop. You've never been on the receiving end of Jennifer's ire. You've never even seen it before, not like this. It frightens you.

"I just wanted you to be happy. You wanted Joel and I wanted you to have him."

Jennifer stops her pacing and the second she does you grimace, realizing that you've said the wrong thing when her eyes narrow on you.

"Wanted me to have him? Like I'm some charity case?"

Her normally sweet face is now contorted into something that's almost ugly. You flounder for your words, feeling panic creep into every syllable.

"No, that's, it's not like that. I only mean that you were so into Joel that I wanted to do everything I could to help. Because you're my best friend!"

Jennifer stares at you a beat; a withering look that has you shrinking back in your own home.

"And Oliver?"

"What about him?"

"Why tell me he liked me? Why do that?"

"I really thought you'd hit it off and I didn't-“

"You didn't want me going after Joel," she finishes for you. "Because you knew he'd pick me."

He never liked you like that! You want to scream. He used you to hurt me, I just don’t understand why!

But instead you’re silent, hands folded in front of you, the edge of a jagged fingernail catching on the delicate dress fabric.

“You know, I told you everything. Not just about Joel, but about my life. I told you shit I haven't told many other people." She licks her lips anxiously as she recalls. "And I figured you didn't share much because you went through some pretty brutal shit yourself and I understood that."

Jennifer is looking around your home, light eyes landing on your sparse furniture and empty walls. She must think you a phantom, a woman with no history, no real life. Vapor.

"But now I get it," she decides with a humorless laugh. "You're a fucking liar."

Tears are starting at the corner of your eyes. Desperate things that beg her anger to lessen.

"No Jennifer I'm not, I swear-"

"No? Have you fucked him?"

Your sharp silence and the way you drop your gaze to the ground immediately is all the answer she needs.

She gives a dejected huff of a laugh, head shaking slowly. You swallow, daring to face up at her. She gives you a once over, scanning you with a look of disgust.

"So what was this? A way to humiliate me or something? Were you two laughing at me behind my back this whole time?"

"What? No, Jennifer, never!"

But Jennifer is too far gone. She's pink in the face and the tops of her ears. You have a moment of clarity where you realize Jennifer is seeing you for the first time and she doesn't like what she views.

"I really thought you were my friend."

"I am," you insist with a croak. "You're the first real friend I've had in so long."

"Well then let me teach you something," Jennifer says with her hands on her hips. "Friends are honest with each other."

"I've been honest-"

"You lied about Joel."

"I omitted," you correct quickly. "And it's because there was nothing to tell. It was just... Mutual release. Just sex."

"It wasn't just sex that had him looking at you like that," Jennifer says. She shifts from one foot to the next. "There was hurt there."

"Joel is not hurt," you say with a disgusted curl of your lip.

I'm not you're fuckin' boyfriend.

"Yeah right. Like I'm gonna believe anything that comes outta your mouth."

Jennifer sneers at you and there's something in it that makes your jaw set.

"You know why you don't know anything about me, Jennifer? Because you never asked."

She wasn't expecting your ire as showcased by the way her brows rise. She clutches at the edge of her dress shirt, knuckles white.

"And before now I never really cared that you just love to talk about yourself. I even like listening to your stories, I don't even mind that everything out of your mouth is about you you you." You can feel the edge to your words sharpening. "But don't you dare stand there and pretend like I kept my life from you. The truth is you never gave a shit enough to ask."

Jennifer grits her teeth, pink crawling up her slender neck.

"You and Joel are made for each other, both of you like to fuck with people's heads."

Something in her derision angers you. The way she's looking at you and the way she's speaking to you makes your body puff up with anger. Something about her looking at you like you're garbage that has ugly bubbling forth in your gullet. It makes you lash out.

"You never wanted to be my friend, you just wanted another person to study," you shoot back feeing insecure.

Jennifer blinks back at you, surprised. She's backing away from you, hands raised as you pursue her.

"Excuse me?"

"Another way to pass some time, right?" You sneer, feeling a twist in your gut. "Jackson is pretty boring if you don't have a hobby. You never liked Joel or me. You were just bored."

Jennifer grimaces as you throw her words back at her.

"That's not true."

"Oh yeah? You run through men for fun. You use people like Joel to keep yourself from being bored."

"I never -"

"And as for me I was just a human doll to you, someone to dress up and keep yourself entertained, just admit it."

Jennifer suddenly looks like she's about to cry. But you're too far gone, your frustration over everything this evening bottlenecking and now erupting. The ugly monster inside of you is pleased with how Jennifer looks taken down a peg.

"You act as if you're so heartbroken, as if every other man in Jackson isn't in love with you. As if Luke wouldn't get down on one knee and marry you tomorrow if you so much as winked his way."

Jennifer's face screws up into a caricature of confusion.

"Luke? What are you talking about?"

"Luke is crazy about you," you tell her tightly. "Asked me tonight if I thought he was your type."

Jennifer shifts her weight from one foot to the next again, peering into your face. You can tell she’s thrown by the news, but also confused.

"Is that what this is all about? Luke likes me and you're upset?"

It's more than that, something else entirely but you can't formulate the way to say it, you can't express that the feelings are jumbled inside of you because they don't have words yet. All you know is that you don't want to look at Jennifer anymore tonight.

"Why don't you just go run back to Joel?" You sneer. "Looked like interrupted a really intimate moment there. Who knows, maybe you'll blow him on the dance floor next."

Jennifer takes a physical step back as if you struck her across the face. She inhales sharply and she just stares at you for a beat, her eyes growing glossy.

"I really don't know you at all."

"No, you don't," you snap back. "So let's just go back to how things were before."

"Fine by me."

She whirls from you, her shoes slapping against your porch as she rushes away from your home.

You slam the door with all your might at her departure and then the tears come, dripping off your chin to stain the front of your dress. The dress you wore to impress Joel, the one made by a woman you thought was your friend.

With a furious scream you pull at the dress from your body, popping stitches, sending buttons flying across your wood floor in the process but you don't care. You never want to see that dress again. You never want to think about this night ever again.

In tatters you slide down the wood door until you’re crumpled on the floor. Your bury your face in your hands and you let lose the tears and jagged sobs that you've been holding since the dance.

Now you really truly are alone.

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"Got a new woman signed up for patrols with you Joel," Maria said over a family dinner at Joel's one Sunday.

Ellie was eating her carrots, sketching something in her book as the adults talked. At least once a month there was a family dinner hosted in one of the Miller homes and while every effort was made to keep the girl engaged, sometimes boring adult conversation interfered.

Douglas wasn't born yet, Maria was still plump and exhausted but beaming. She still had her hand in everything, still walked the perimeter of the town with that innate confidence she always seemed to possess.

"Mhm," Joel replied, distracted by the dam repairs from earlier.

"She's nervous though," Maria added, noting that her brother in law's distraction.

"Yeah, she caught me earlier today to say she hasn't got much experience," Tommy added, ladling mashed potatoes onto his plate. "Only shot small game."

Joel took note of this now, attention drawn to his brother.

"Why are you sticking me with someone who's got no experience?" Joel said with irritation clear in his face.

"Because we match up by skills," Tommy said chewing. "You know that. You’re the best shot, so you’ll train her."

Joel sighed, visions of a middle-aged woman with bad eyesight flooding his mind. Someone else to babysit during patrols. For a moment he almost wished he was worse at shooting.

"Which woman?" Joel asked her through a mouthful of potato.

"The quiet one from the kitchens. She usually wear a red scarf, her head in her book," Maria supplied as Tommy nodded. “Can’t remember her name right now, but she’s a soft thing.”

Joel felt his fingers tighten around his fork, his throat tightening.

You.

He reached for his glass, taking a deep gulp of water as Maria turned her attention to Tommy.

"Honey, you should help her, take her out for some practice," Maria told him. She shifted in the chair, wincing as a muscle in her back strained. “She seemed anxious about being put on patrols.”

"I can't, I still gotta prep stuff for the baby."

Maria rolled her eyes. "Tommy you're worrying too much."

"I thought you could give her lessons, Joel," Tommy said, breaking into his older brother's thoughts. "Since she'll be riding with you and all."

You on patrols with him? Hours spent in your company? The thought had his throat closing in anxiety. No. He couldn't do that. He shouldn't do that. Time spent alone with you? It would be a mistake.

"Yeah, yeah of course," Joel said, voice creaking. "Just gimme her address and I'll go tomorrow."

And then you were there in the flesh looking just as shyly at him as he knew you would. Only now he could see your socked feet, the length of your lashes and the curve of your cheek. You were so real and your house smelled of sweet baking and when you smiled at him in greeting he actually felt his stomach clench.

"You're the one that needed gun lessons?"

"That's me," you introduced yourself softly and Joel hated the way his heart throbbed at the sound of your voice. He couldn't understand his reaction.

"And you are?"

Joel didn't realize you'd prompted him for his name. Embarrassed he frowned.

"Joel."

You stepped back, silently inviting him into your home. It smelled amazing inside, like sugar and vanilla but he knew if he stepped into your home it'd be too much for him. He needed to keep his wits about him. He needed you to remain a mystery.

"Let's do this outside."

"Sure. But did you want a cookie first? I made some."

You'd made baking because he was coming over. You'd spent time and your rations to make cookies for a stranger. You were just as soft as Maria had implied. You were not a survivor.

He'd felt you at his elbow as you walked to the outskirts of town, patient and curious. You were observant; you listened when he instructed you. And despite the way you barely spoke Joel felt agitated.

He couldn't figure you out.

And because he couldn't figure you out he was irritated for the entire lesson, like a bear with a toothache. He was here to teach you survival and you were wearing sneakers, like the world outside wouldn't eat you alive. It was easier to be unkind to you, thinking he was doing you a favor by toughening you up.

"You should be wearing what you'll be patrolling in," he remembers barking at you. "Don't wear that scarf either."

As soon as your hand went to your bare throat Joel felt his breath leave his chest. The red scarf he'd first seen you in, the red scarf that haunted his fucking dreams. The one you clearly weren't wearing right now. The one he shouldn't know about considering this was the first time you were officially meeting.

"The red one I saw hanging in your house," Joel managed to get out, his eyes hard when you questioned him on it. "It's bright, you'll stand out."

And he stood away from you, sure to keep his body a fair distance from yours because the closer he got, the stronger a pull he felt. This urge to be gentle back to you. Joel Miller wasn’t a cruel man by nature, circumstance and experience had turned him so. But when affronted by your earnestness and gentle nature he felt a strange softening of his sharp edges. Like the old Joel who played tea party with Sarah, who bailed his brother out of jail, who never said a cruel thing about Sarah’s mom to her.

But that Joel didn’t exist. He couldn’t exist in this new world of infected and raiders and dog-eat-dog mentality that resided outside the walls of Jackson City. And he knew that better than most, so instead of giving into that weakness that whispered he should be kind, he did what he’d learned to do best.

He pushed you away, he wore you down with snide comments and scoffs and it was hardly a surprise when you'd announced you couldn't possibly be patrol partners.

Relief flooded his chest, knowing that there was no way he could concentrate with you around. Not in a way that would keep you safe. He could tell right now that you were soft through the shell you put up; delicate in a way you couldn't see in yourself.

And yeah, there had been disappointment as well in the coming days. A slight regret that he hadn't been gentler and allowed you to bloom. And maybe a bit of shame mixed in there too, a dash of irritation that you weren't plagued with him the way he was obviously becoming with you.

So when you told him to go to Tommy to switch patrols Joel had felt himself stiffen, features tight as he stared at you.

I should let her. This is what needs to be done. Us together on patrols is a disaster.

"You wanna be moved, you go to Tommy."

"You're saying you don't wanna be moved?"

The confusion was in your tone and the squint of your eyes. And that softness, that fucking delicate nature in you made him snap. All he could see was how easily you'd be taken advantage of by clickers, by raiders. And you were trying to tell Joel what to do?

It was only seconds before the toe of his boot bumped into yours, the flash of fear in your expression propelling him to continue.

"I'm sayin' you don't tell me what to do. I'm the one who gives orders. Not you."

His eyes had hardened, his shoulders squared as he marched away from you across the clearing. He internally congratulated himself for not showing you more kindness than he would anyone else. Only as he arrived home to an empty house with his insides still jumbled he almost tripped up to his bedroom.

"Terrible fuckin' shot," Joel grumbled, shrugging his jacket off and slapping it onto the nearby chair.

He paced around his bedroom; his foot falls heavy as he thought of the way your eyes had darkened when he told you he gave the orders. Only a flash of it, if he'd blinked he'd have missed it. But as it was he saw the way your pupils dilated, and the way your face pinked.

You'd liked it and that aroused a part of Joel he thought was long dead. It made him throb in his jeans.

"Useless," Joel told himself as he lowered the zipper. "She can't even hold a fuckin' gun properly."

He kept this up, telling himself over and over of all your shortcomings. Of your ridiculous cookies and your obscenely bright scarf. But even as he catalogued your failings he brought his cock out from his jeans, stiff and pulsing in his greedy palm.

"I should teach you something worth knowin'," Joel told your phantom image, the one that rested just behind his closed eyes. The one of you seated in front of him on your knees, gazing up at him with adoration.

And soon, all too soon Joel was on the bed, his back arching off the mattress as he imagined your mouth on the very cock he stroked furiously.

"Fuck, fuck,” Joel had groaned, the slick pull of his cock increasing in speed. "You'd be so fuckin' good for me, wouldn't you?"

Yes Joel.

"You want this," Joel all but shouted. “Fuckin' prove you deserve it."

The fantasy image of you that rested behind his eyelids smiled sweetly before opening her mouth and letting her pink, wet tongue fall delicately out.

Please, Joel.

Joel groaned, hating himself for doing this but unable to stop jerking himself off to thoughts of you on your knees for him. And when he came spectacularly it was your name he couldn't stop groanin g.

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It was for the best. It was for the best.

Joel feels numb all over as he repeats the night's events over in his mind as he crawls into bed. The look of pity in your face, the harshness of Jennifer's slap. The guilt warms his cheeks, causing him to wince.

He rolls onto his back, his mouth dry and his head pounding.

Why did you do it?

The creaking wood asks him as the snow begins to fall heavily out his window.

"I did it for her," he tells the ceiling in a desperate rasp, as if trying to convince the beams above him of his sincerity. "This is the only way to keep her safe."

How? How could you do this to her?

"She made me weak," he insists to the dark, cedar planks above him. "If I'm weak I can't protect her, I can't protect Ellie, I can't protect anyone."

His voice cracks now because it hurts to say out loud the words he's only thought. That he doesn't deserve what he can't protect. If he's not a protector what is he?

"I did this for love."

Nothing but the creak of the setting house is heard in reply. He is alone and his bed will remain alone until the end of time.

He recalls your hands. He doesn't know why, but he remembers how they looked in his as you slept. The soft skin such a contrast to his calloused fingers. The first part of you that willingly touched him.

Sometimes he lays in bed with his eyes shut. He unbuttons his flannel, exposing the gold of his skin to the air. He brings your face to mind, letting his fingers trail down his sternum and back.

It's not done with a sensual aim but as a soothing reminder of how you once touched him with the tender reverence of a woman in love. How he felt with every press of your lips to his that he was your choice, that he was yours.

Joel silently prays for a dream tonight. One where you hold him and kiss him just other that and you whisper to him that he's worth something. A dream where he holds you against his chest and murmurs how much he needs you.

Because it's only in his dreams that he didn't lose you.

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Joel and Ellie had arrived with a carved rattle (from Joel) and a handmade card (from Ellie), eager to see the newborn Douglas. Maria was on the couch under blankets, holding tea and smiling exhaustedly as the two stepped into the room near the crackling fire.

" There you are," Tommy said with a proud smile on his face as he rocked his newborn. "Thought you should be the first aside from us to hold him."

"Oh yeah?" Joel took the proffered bundle into his arms a little clumsily.

"Yeah," Tommy nodded, giving a shy smile. "I mean, given his middle name is Joel n’ all."

The brothers exchanged a look, both misty eyed. Ellie watched them before peeking down at the infant, wrinkling her nose in disappointment.

"He looks like a potato."

Maria barked from her place on the couch as Joel and Tommy chuckled.

It had been decades since Joel held new life and he felt a bit uncertain as the child squirmed. But it came back to him soon enough, resting the child into the crook of his arm and gazing down at his gurgling nephew.

Joel looked down into the scrunched up face of the newborn and for a brief, flashing moment he saw his Sarah.

He saw his beautiful baby girl the moment she was handed to him in a bundle of pink, her eyes still shut and her face going red as she grunted and cried.

An eighteen and terrified Joel stared in fascination at the life he helped to create, feeling awestruck.

Joel's voice was wobbly and warm as he gazed down in fascination and said his very first words to her.

"Hey there, babygirl. You're okay, no need for tears."

And as soon as she heard Joel's voice his daughter's face smoothed in relaxation and although she was only hours old and far too young, Joel could swear there was a hint of a smile.

"She's already a daddy's girl," his girlfriend Gabby said in amusement from the hospital bed, exhausted but glowing. "Should've known."

They'd been together since they were in the same English class in the eleventh grade. She had a confidence Joel was drawn to, a sharpness that made him feel like he was always on the verge of losing her that drove him crazy as much as it made him hard.

The pregnancy hadn't been planned; it fucked with their college plans. But Gabby had a way of convincing him that their family of three would be worth it, that they could overcome the odds.

So Joel got a job on construction sites and she started working retail when Sarah was old enough for daycare. Grandparents were never in the picture for Joel, both parents dead years before. Gabby's family helped out with babysitting every so often, but then that stopped too.

It would be a year before Joel's girlfriend would have an affair with the new guy from her work. The one she got all twitchy talking about when Joel asked about her day over the dinner table.

Joel would like to think that it was all her fault, that being a mother was too hard because they were both too young. That being a teenage mother with a husband that worked twelve hour days was a hard load for her and that she was selfish.

He was so focused on his apprenticeship, on getting Tommy out of scrapes, on watching his friends go off to college, that there seemed to be nothing left to give the mother of his child.

But Sarah always seemed to fix the bad days. Her little giggle when he tickled her chubby neck, the sweet scent of milk and baby powder that clung to her, the way she gazed up at him with that big hazel eyes so full of trust. She filled his heart, she made the bad days good.

Gabby was jealous that all his softness and smiles seemed reserved for their daughter and told him so one night during what seemed to be an ever increasing amount of arguments.

Joel, exhausted from his day and frustrated with their cramped apartment and way she glared at him bit back.

"If I gotta choose where I spend my time, I pick her. She needs me."

"Of course," Gabby had scoffed. "I forgot, Joel Miller needs to be needed."

And she was right, that comment speared him because it was accurate. Joel spent so long being needed by everyone that when he wasn't it didn't sit well with him. And Gabby didn't need him, she never had.

So six months later when Gabby took off in the middle of the night with a note full of apologies and shitty half explanations about needing a fresh start, Joel wasn't even that sad to see her go because he had a young daughter who needed him and together with Sarah they could face anything.

Well, as it turns out, almost anything.

///

The first patrol with you was a disaster. He had to pull you along like a terrified animal, wide eyes and shaking. And he was furious about it. You had no business being out here.

He tried his best to train you. Forcing you along with him, explaining everything. You seemed to get better with time inside the safe house, but when he shot the doe he saw all goodwill sail out the window.

"You're a fucking asshole."

You were so furious, trembling with anger at him and Joel felt that same fury simmer in his belly. You were calling him an asshole? After all the trouble he'd gone to training you? Showing you how things worked?

You really were too fucking soft.

By the time the second patrol rolled around he was just as grumpy as when he'd left you the last time. He didn't look forward to having to cart you around.

But you were a natural on a horse, Chestnut gave you a confidence he'd never seen in you. He thought that maybe you had potential as he rode ahead of you, leading you down the trail.

But when you both entered the house and you fell against his back he felt his cock twitch at the contact. He was horrified with himself, shaking you off as the whistling sound upstairs belatedly coming to him.

You were a distraction.

When you dropped that pencil filling out the log books he'd hit his limit with your mess ups. He was looking for reasons to snap at you and you'd given him the perfect opening.

"You've been a fucking thorn in my side every fucking moment of today."

He wasn't expecting your fiery gaze.

" Maybe if you weren't such a miserable assh-"

He couldn't control himself, grabbing you by the collar and pushing you against the wall. You made him feel so fucking mixed up and he hated it. And then he said the words that would start this entire thing.

"Fucking smart mouth. Should teach you a lesson."

And then there was a shift. One so subtle he only realized because he was glaring at you. It was the way your pupils went from pinpricks to dark, glossy moons.

"Are you going to?"

"Going to what?"

"Teach me a lesson."

He was confused by your behavior, uncertain.

"You want me to?"

'You give the orders, Joel, not me. Remember?"

And fuck if that didn't go straight to his cock. He stared at you, not quite believing what was happening. He was so hard and you were still there just waiting for something to happen.

And it did.

“Take me outta my pants.”

He threw the gauntlet knowing you would never actually pick it up. He did it to prove you were just as weak as he thought you were. But then you did it, you slid your achingly soft hands around his cock and there was something about your desire to do this, to touch him, to listen, that made him heady.

It was a test, he told himself. He wanted to see how far you'd go.

Joel can still recall the way your soft hand slipped as best it could around his cock. The way he thrust into your hand, chasing the pleasure, closing his eyes and forgetting himself.

"Your hand’s soft."

And he heard it, the way your lips pulled back as you smiled up at him and he couldn't stand the sight of it when he glanced down.

Why were you smiling? He was being so cruel and cold. He was ordering you around and you were just happy about it? He had to cover your eyes with his hand to keep going because the guilt was starting to build.

"Much better at this than shooting, turns out your hands were just made for handling cocks, not guns."

He saw the way you scowled at his cruelty.

"Or maybe it's because you're not getting mad a-"

A new anger went through him. You were supposed to be afraid of him. You were supposed to be on guard, not talking back to him.

"None a' that. No smart mouth unless you want it fucked dumb."

Your reaction told him everything he needed to know. Yeah, you wanted it. Maybe even more than he did. And he told himself that it was a one off. That is was a lapse in judgment, a moment of weakness. He hadn't gotten off in a while and you were just there.

But it didn't explain why he started to search you out. Or why the following morning at breakfast he couldn't stop looking at you having breakfast with your friend. He tried to force his eyes back to his eggs several times, but the pull to you and your damn scarf wouldn't let him. Like a magnet they kept moving back to you.

It pissed him off.

When you suggested to him that Jennifer replace you on patrols, he should have been relieved but instead he'd been unable to contain his ire.

"Uh, you see that girl, Jennifer? The pretty one? She uh, she wants to be matched up with you on patrols. She told me. She's from B watch."

Joel knew Jennifer and he wasn't oblivious to the looks she'd shot his way since he'd arrived in Jackson City. But she didn't interest him like that; she was too young for him, too eager for eyes on her.

But you standing there suggesting you switch after you've made him come made him feel strangely offended. He was pissed that you were trying to change patrols. Because not only were you trying to tell him what to do but he felt ashamed that you seem so eager to leave.

But this is what he had wanted, right? To keep you away? To use you for pleasure and then be done with you? But he didn't let you off the hook and you didn't switch.

And he couldn't stop thinking about that day. Of the breathy way you spoke as you stroked him, at that eager expression you wore, wanting to please him. It shouldn't have appealed to him, but it did. You were his opposite in so many ways and it should have made him disgusted with you. But instead he found himself craving more.

Joel kept seeing you in town—walking to the stables, at the soap maker’s. When the three of you sat down for coffee with Hannah, Joel felt his stomach flip when you glanced his way, and he couldn’t understand it.

He didn’t want to think of you in a positive light; he really didn’t. But then, when Hannah mentioned the paper flowers at Tommy’s, he’d seen your flustered reaction and just knew.

When he’d dropped off your soap and saw the flowers on your table, he wasn’t surprised, but he was confused. Why would you do that? As far as Joel knew, you and Maria were barely acquaintances, and your reasoning for giving them to his sister-in-law?

“I like making people happy, I guess.”

There it was the long and short of it. That was the type of woman you were—doing for others because it made you feel good to do so.

And he felt it in his chest, that flicker of a candle starting up behind his ribs, warmth expanding, and it made him panic.

It was easier to keep you at arm’s length. It kept both of you safe on patrols to pretend you didn’t affect him. The worst part was that, around you, he was starting to see everything differently. Jackson wasn’t just a place of survival—it was a true community.

There were even moments he experienced at the Bison or strumming his guitar or laughing with Ellie over dinner, these snapshots of time that felt like the world hadn’t ended two decades prior. For brief seconds, he forgot about losing Sarah.

He hated you for it.

Hated that you made him feel weak in a world where he needed to be strong. He hated that you showed him these moments of reprieve from his guilt—he didn’t deserve it. He hated watching you fearful, inept, and soft on patrols. And so he distanced himself; he was cruel, thinking he was teaching you survival.

But it was impossible to truly distance himself because Ellie wouldn’t stop talking about you. How nice you are, how you can bake, how sweet you seem. Ellie isn't used to warm and gentle, she finds you even more of an anomaly than Joel. But instead of scaring her, she finds you fascinating.

"She says she can teach me to make pop tarts. I just need the recipe."

You existed in his home now. Infesting his brain and he didn't like it. Nevertheless it didn't stop the way he gripped himself in the shower to the memory of your eyes darkening when he asked if you wanted him to fuck your mouth. Didn't stop him from coming harshly against the tile, biting down on his lip to keep from groaning your name.

Didn't stop others from bringing you up either.

"How's that new woman working out?" Tommy asked him one day over drinks at the Bison.

Joel made sure not to tense his shoulders at the mention of you. Tommy was his brother, he picked up on the little things.

" Terrible fuckin' shot," Joel had finally replied with a sip of the gold liquid. Tommy had just rolled his eyes at his big brother.

"Anythin' good about her?"

He wanted to cuss his brother out for sticking him with some anxious mess when he saw the fatigue in his brother’s eyes. Maria wasn't well and Joel knew that he couldn’t very well add to his burden. So Joel paused thoughtfully, glass at his lower lip.

"She's a natural on a horse."

And a horse is where he ran into you next. In the pen with a calm Chestnut, attempting to shoe him. He was on one knee, holding the horses hoof in place. You were on his mind again, thoughts of the next patrol, and then like a dream he heard your voice.

"Hello handsome."

Joel swore he felt his heart stop. And for one delirious moment he thought you were talking to him. Then he heard the click of your tongue and the sight of your hand over the pen coming to stroke Chestnut's soft mane.

"It's getting cold, huh? Hope you're not too chilly in here."

Of course you'd worry about that. He wanted to scoff, but he couldn't find it in him to do so.

When he finally found an opportune time to stand, the shocked look on your face was almost comical.

"Jesus! You're like a pop up book from hell!"

He had to fight hard not to smile at your comically wide eyes and shouted response. But then you just kept staring at him with that open look and he felt himself growing spiky. He couldn't shake you.

Everywhere he went there you were. In his home filling Ellie up with dreams he couldn't give her. On patrols with your sweet hands and soft looking mouth. In town, over meals, it frustrated him.

But it also made him feel strangely warm.

" You still want that mouth fucked dumb?"

He'd considered never bringing any of it up again but your presence, the scent of your soap, the curve of your cheek, everything about you made him ask it. And then you'd replied, the certainty clear in your voice.

"Yes."

And that's when the trouble truly began.

Because you seemed to like it. He saw the way you willingly surrendered, the peaceful look that came over your features when you were on your knees for him. You didn't just want this, you needed it. You liked him ordering you around, you enjoyed that he told you what to do. He just couldn't understand why.

And your eyes heavy with arousal, your mouth full of him, full lips stretched and the tiny mewls you let out as you gazed up at him between his legs were too much for him. Because when you looked at him it felt like you saw him to the bone. That you saw he needed this as much as you did.

Don't look at me. Don't look at me.

Your eyes made him feel vulnerable and exposed in a different way. And in turn it’s like he could do the same. He could see the hurt in the depths of your eyes as you licked him slowly. And he found he couldn't have your shining eyes gazing up at him as he cruelly used your mouth.

And then he saw that red scarf that had haunted his dreams. He wanted it ruined, for the power you unknowingly held over him to be destroyed.

Fuck you, he thought as you took his cock deep into your throat that second and third time, fuck that red scarf. Fuck your sensitivity.

He fucked all that hatred, letting it spill down your eager throat. And he waited for that same hatred to grow in you.

But it didn't.

You had wanted him to do it—so eager, so willing. And he fell into the familiar role of giving orders, knowing they would be followed. There were days he didn’t know what made him come harder: you doing it, or you begging him to make you.

He couldn’t let you touch him during those times of intimacy. Joel felt that if he just used your mouth, it stayed transactional. Even when he called you a good girl. Even when he watched the way your mouth trembled around his cock.

But it was the sound of you reaching climax when you thought he was gone that made his legs shake. Despite having come minutes before he was hard as a rock at the whimpers and groans you tried to muffle behind the bathroom door.

Those noises haunted him before bed, cock in hand as he played those sounds over and over, knowing full well that you likely despised him. Knowing that they weren't for him.

The attraction was only growing stronger. He couldn’t deny it anymore or play it off as something else. He felt it in the hiccup of his heart when you passed by him in the dining hall or when he caught a glimpse of you smiling to yourself on horseback during patrols.

But he told himself attraction wasn’t anything to put stock in. After all, he’d briefly been attracted to that Jennifer girl when he first arrived. She was fine-looking, but there was a hunger in her eyes that had unsettled him from day one. Other women in town continued to pursue him, but there was something about your quiet intensity that kept his attention.

Ellie was similarly affected by you, often bringing you up in conversation. She mentioned your name one day as she sat with Joel's guitar over her lap.

"You know she's one of the few grown ups around here that isn't totally annoying."

"Mhm."

They were at the kitchen table, the morning light streaming in from the window as she strummed the last note, smiling at him proudly.

He was amused at her confident strum, looking at her with a smirk before taking a sip of his coffee.

"She doesn't talk to me like I'm a kid or like I'm dumb." Ellie muttered as she readjusted in her seat, shifting her fingertips along the frets of the guitar.

Joel said nothing about that.

"I want to have her over for dinner," Ellie told Joel, her thumb strumming the strings. "Next week."

"I'm sure we could figure somethin' out," Joel said, trying not to look too over eager.

If he did, Ellie didn't notice. She was caught up in her world of Dina and teen romance. She wasn't clued in that her father figure was slowly falling headfirst for you.

But he did start to watch you more when you interacted with Ellie. Saw how you made her laugh, saw the tender expression you sometimes wore for her. And the walls continued to crack.

He kept you at a distance, knowing that softening toward you would be a foolish thing to do in this world. But you were there at the soap maker’s, at Maria’s, in town, at breakfast.

You were there, and he couldn’t stop looking for you through the crowds, couldn’t stop himself from pressing up against you in the booth at the Bison, fascinated to know what Tommy was talking about. He craved knowledge about you; he listened when Ellie dropped little crumbs of information about you.

You were always full of anxious frowns and pinched expressions. He got used to that perpetually concerned look you wore, the polite smiles you flashed at those who passed you in town. But they never really touched your eyes, never seemed to be sincere.

Joel supposes that's why he was so struck at how relaxed you grew in Tommy's living room right before his eyes, laughing and agreeing when Ellie called you weird, being so compassionate with Maria and then so delicate with the tiny Douglas in your arms.

And there Joel saw it, the first true, peaceful smile he'd ever been in the presence of. It struck him dumb, his eyes glued on your face as you cooed at the baby.

When Douglas gurgled, Joel inhaled softly as a broad smile overtook your face, genuine and ethereal, the kind that made your eyes squint and all Joel could think was that you were the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen.

He didn’t want more kids—not in this world and not at his age. But there was something about seeing your tenderness in that classically maternal pose that stirred something loose in him. The flame behind his ribs grew brighter.

He immediately chastised himself because he wasn't supposed to be attracted to you outside patrols. He was supposed to be able to use your body for gratification and that was supposed to be it.

He had a similar approach with Tess back in the QZ. His heart could never be touched, not when Sarah didn't exist. It was clear Tess wanted more, but she was grateful for what he gave her. Fucking, sleeping together, sharing bits and pieces of themselves.

But whenever Tess tiptoed too close to the secret, tender parts he tried to hide, he snapped shut like a clam. He wasn't unkind to her like he was to you, but Tess also never left him half as disconcerted as you did.

You set him on edge. You made him feel exposed and vulnerable, powerless to the emotions that stirred up in him when he was in your presence.

You weren't trying to be sexy, that much was apparent. The way you cowered behind him at the safe house, the skittering way you moved, brows tying together anxiously, the way you avoided his eyes.

The only time you were almost confident was on your knees with his cock in your mouth. Uninhibited behind the scarf, making delicate little hums around his length.

And yet thoughts of you drove him to distraction. It angered him to have no control over this part of himself. Control is all he knew, control was how he survived, how he kept Ellie alive.

But it wouldn't go away.

And he couldn’t stop the strange desire that overtook him when he watched you, couldn’t help but graze your body with his when you walked by him. Everything you did drew his attention, and soon he was finding reasons to catch glimpses of you between patrols. He watched you at breakfasts with Jennifer, walking on snowy days, talking with your neighbors.

And suddenly fucking your mouth was starting to weigh on him more heavily. How could you enjoy him ordering you around like that? But you'd been so clear-eyed, so sure of yourself.

"I think you need it the same way I do. Only you need to be giving the orders. Am I right?"

Yes. You were right.

"You've never given me anything I didn't want, Joel.”

And those words bolstered him. And when you sat at his knees and asked him to tell you what to do, Joel didn't want you to wear the scarf. Because now he wanted your eyes. He wanted to see how you were affected by everything. And when he came on your body he marveled at the way his spend clung to your skin, mesmerized at your beauty.

The urge to be gentle with you was all encompassing. Just one moment of being soft with you and then he could go back to being cold. Because being cold kept you safe.

Just lemme be soft with her. Just once. I'll only do it once, I swear.

And it was heaven feeling the silken sensation of your cheek against his palm. The light drag of his thumb along your plump lower lip.

And then you sighed at his touch and Joel saw the openness there in your gaze. A trust reflected there, one that he had not earned and he pulled back brutally, insisting to you and to himself that this would never happen again.

It couldn't happen again.

-----------------------------

You can’t sleep.

Not after Jennifer blowing up at you, not after that atrocity at the dance, not after Ellie’s pitying look shot your way. You feel restless and ugly and prickly and you decide you need some fresh air. You toss on your jeans, gloves and warm jacket.

You take a look at your red scarf, debating before you take it before winding it around your neck.

You don’t know where you’re going at first. You think maybe you’ll go to the farmhouse and relax there in the quiet knowing that no one will come for you. But then you think it’s too dark, too snowy.

You’ll go to the stables instead, you’ll see Glimmer and maybe even bring Midnight a carrot. You stop by the greenhouse, pulling a few and shoving them into your deep coat pockets.

When you arrive at the stables you’re confused to hear noise coming from inside. Not the noise you typically associate with the quiet barn at this hour. You jog towards it, concerned that something is wrong.

What greets you when you finally make it to the pens is a figure looking frantic. He stands opposite an angry sound Midnight. The horse is wrenching his face away from the individual and it takes you a second to recognize the glossy black hair tied back in a low bun.

"Tommy? What’re you doing?”

Tommy looks frantic, continuing to attempt to saddle a grumpy looking Midnight. He doesn't look over at you as he replies in a tight voice, his boots scraping the ground as he works.

"It's Maria. She’s gone."

You see now that his hands are trembling.

"What? For how long?"

He doesn’t answer you. He’s fixated on the bridle, untwisting the nose band over the glossy Midnight’s muzzle before moving to the cheek piece. You rush over to him, concern clear in your features. Tommy doesn’t act like this, all jerky and terrified. The last time you saw him this out of sorts was when Maria had her incident.

“Tommy,” you say quietly, “How long has she been gone for?”

You ask him this while gently touching his arm. He starts at the contact, his big brown eyes darting to your face before he turns to face you head-on, his voice wavering.

"Kyle came and told me," Tommy says, heart obviously in his throat. "She just left... Said she'd be back in a minute. Didn't even say where she was goin'"

"He just let her go?"

"He's new. This was his first night doing it solo. If it had been anyone but Maria maybe he would have questioned it."

Maria is practically royalty in Jackson City. She and her parents began the settlement; her word is as good as law.

Your stomach drops as you watch the younger Miller's hand trembling with the reins. Midnight whinnies, jerking back from him, strained by the man's frenzy.

The other horses are newer, less familiar with the terrain, especially in this snow. Glimmer and Chestnut were the only other experienced ones. With them gone it all falls on Midnight.

"We need to get some of the others," you insist, voice trembling. "Barry and David and-"

"They're all fuckin' shit faced from the party and I don't have time to wait for them to sober up!"

He's throwing the saddle over Midnight's back, securing it as you draw closer. You place a tentative hand on Tommy's shoulder.

"Tommy you can't go by yourself."

"The fuck I can't," he spits out furiously, shaking off your hand. He's not listening to you, he's not making sense. He's acting from a place of fear and its guiding his shaky movements and widening his dark eyes.

"I have to go after her, I have to-"

"No," you insist, tugging him back by his sleeve. "Tommy you need to get a search party together. You have to go home to your son.”

"He's with Grace."

Something about his eyes takes you back to the dance. Like a movie you replay the moment that Barry started talking about the Raiders. You'd assumed Maria was irritated with him, but now you realize she was anxious.

Suddenly you know exactly where Maria is.

"Tommy if you go after Maria alone there's a good chance you'll be depriving your son of both parents," you say firmly. "You don't know how many raiders are out there."

"I don't have time for this," Tommy shouts, obviously not listening to you any longer. His mind has been made up. He faces away from you, blocking you out as he fiddles with Midnight's throat latch.

He screams this at you over his shoulder and the animals in the pens seem to sense this tension. Even Midnight has stopped rearing back, simply standing and allowing Tommy to unwind his reins.

“Tommy, if she's still alive there's a good chance she'll have attracted attention beyond the raiders. There could be infected."

"I'm not abandoning my wife," Tommy shouts loud enough to make Midnight give an uncomfortable whinny in the paddock. "I'm not leaving Douglas without a mother."

"If you go after Maria all alone in this state you’re likely going to deprive him of both parents," you insist sharply. "What you're suggesting right now is a suicide mission."

Tommy can't go. There's too much for him here. The town, Douglas, the future of this civilization. He’s not thinking clearly, he’s going to go out there and get himself killed. There will be a child becoming an orphan in one night.

It can be avoided.

The plan is formulated before you even have time to think it through. You're tugging the gun from Tommy's shoulder and throwing it over yours.

"Hey, give that here."

He attempts to grab at it when he realizes what you're doing.

"You're not goin'," Tommy insists, his eyes hard as he tries to pull the leather strap from your shoulder. "You can't."

"I am."

"You said yourself it’s a suicide mission," Tommy says, throwing up his hands. "And aside from that, Joel'd kill me if I let you go."

Joel wouldn't care. Joel would find a new pussy to fuck and a new woman to play head games with. And right now you don’t give a fuck about anyone aside from Maria and the fact that you can do something that helps someone. You can change Douglas’ fate. You can give him at least one parent.

"Tommy, I'm going."

“I said no," Tommy repeats, and now he turns from you, attempting to calm a visibly distressed Midnight.

And normally you would back off, raising your hands and telling Tommy it wasn’t your business. But Maria is your friend and Douglas is her son and you feel like his future is your business.

You're not a violent person by nature, but when it comes down to saving others it seems you’re guided on brutal instinct. It’s the only explanation you have for taking the heavy gun from his shoulders. Chiyo's face slides into your brain, digging through your brain and memories to force itself at the forefront.

The two of you are huddled over a small fire in a park on your way to Jackson. Chiyo cooks you both a large can of BBQ beans from his day of scavenging nearby. You're sitting atop your sleeping bag, exhausted from the weeks walking.

"Where did you get that?"

"Passing guy."

"He put up a fight?"

Chiyo shoots you a small smirk as he shifts the cans over the fire. "Of course."

"You use the gun?"

"Nah. Didn't wanna draw attention."

He serves you your bowl first before digging into his. Through a sickly sweet bite you keep questioning him.

"Then how?"

"Knocked him out."

Chiyo doesn't like hurting people. He's always looked at violence as a necessity at times. He sits with his long legs crossed, eating thoughtfully.

"How?"

"One punch."

"Like Steven Segal?"

Chiyo laughs a little at that before shaking his head good -naturedly.

"No. Like Bruce Lee."

"Show me?"

The two of you make quick work of your dinner. You both stand, wiping the collected dirt from your jeans.

"When you strike someone to incapacitate them you must be sharp. A hook to the side of the jaw is most effective. An uppercut."

When he feels you tug his arm, Tommy is mid-way through a frustrated insult. He doesn’t expect the gun to catch him under the side of his jaw with the butt of his gun.

You catch Tommy’s slack before he hurts himself passing out, grunting as you grip him around the middle. He sags heavily and with a groan you lay him on his side, making sure he's breathing evenly before you double check the gun is secured to your back.

You go to the pen, opening it slowly as Midnight whinnies, backing away from you instinctively.

"C'mon now boy," you say clicking your tongue gently, holding out a carrot from your pocket. "I know we're not exactly friends but I need you to work with me, here."

Midnight stills, giving a soft huff through his nostrils. He's already been saddled by Tommy, so you attempt to stick your foot onto the foothold. Midnight rears back, giving you a wild-eyed look.

"Enough," you mutter frustrated. "We gotta go!"

But Midnight doesn't care about your plans. He continues to dance around you when you get close, kicking out his back legs ferociously, knocking his hooves aggressively against the pen, rattling the wood. The carrot drops to the ground, covered in dirt. Panic is clouding your judgment. All you can think is that you need to leave now.

The other horses aren’t saddled and every moment that passes is time spent not going after Maria. If she isn’t too far there’s a chance that you could intervene and get to her before she does something insane.

"Midnight C'mon, please!"

You want to scream in frustration before a singular memory of Joel comes back into your mind. A time during patrols in the rain when he put Chestnut in line with a single word. You fix Midnight with a stern look, unblinking.

"Enough!" You shout angrily, lowering your voice to a boom as you grip his bridle in one hand, tugging with a snap. "You stay still you hear me?"

And miraculously he does. His flanks go rigid, subdued and completely still as you pull yourself up.

You cast one last look at Tommy on the ground, still breathing. A pang of guilt goes through you but you know you've made the right decision. You dig your heels into the horse’s ribs.

"Let's go."

--------------------------------------------------------------------

Joel spent half his days convincing himself that he couldn't stand you and the other half desperate to see you. It led him doing things like sliding into the booth beside you at the Bison over drinks with Luke and Jennifer, curious about Tommy's previous joke about your building prowess.

This was just curiosity, he tried to convince himself. He needed to know more about his patrol partner. But that didn't explain the disappointment when you wrenched yourself free of the booth.

It also didn't explain the anger he felt at Luke's continual presence. He realized it soon enough, though he tried to deny it by flirting with Jennifer, sure that her attention would arouse something in him.

But she just wasn’t you.

And you kept talking to Luke in a way you'd never talked to Joel. Curious about Luke's past, listening attentively as your leg bobbed up and down. And he needed an excuse to break you from him, a desperation washing over him as he gripped your leg.

"Stop shakin' your damn leg. You’re knockin’ over the coffees."

But it was a pathetic ruse. He couldn’t stop observing the warmth of your skin under the denim, can't help but linger before pulling back.

Joel hated Luke. Hated how you got all fluttery around him. Hated how the boy (because to Joel he sure wasn't a man) touched you.

Seeing that asshole's arms around you teaching you how to hammer a nail set Joel off in a way he wasn't expecting. His pulse jumped at the closeness making Joel feel possessive enough to reach forward, grabbing you and pulling you back towards him.

Mine , he thought even as you wrenched free of him.

It’s why he demanded you ride on the back of his horse on the way back from repairs, even though he could see you angling for an invite from Luke. He was eager to claim you the best he could in front of the others, putting you on his horse, knowing it was his waist you encircled with your arms.

He came to hate how Luke sang, how Luke ate, how Luke walked. He hated how Luke pretended to know things he clearly didn’t and he absolutely loathed how you returned from that long snowed-in night with Joel and went running into that gangly idiots arms, grinning and laughing.

And he was still carrying that hate with him that night of the town meeting. Hating himself for needing to be close to you, despising that you weren't as desperate as he was, furious that you were talking with your friend about that fucking Luke.

It was anger that made him follow you into that back room of the chapel, it was pride that made him corner you, it was humiliation that made him cage you against the wall but it was desire that made him slip his fingers down the front of your panties, lust that made him curl those digits within you and it was possessiveness that made him murmur that your release was his, that your cries of pleasure belonged to him.

But it was insecurity that lingered the entire time.

I'm better than him. Admit it. I'm the one that makes you come, not him. C'mon be my good girl, come on my fingers, just mine. Only I can make you feel like this. I'm better than Luke, say it. I'm better.

The night of the snowstorm Joel felt the change in him continue. A twinge under his ribs that kept him staring at you. Watching the blanket drop from your shoulders before the fire had him lurching up from the couch, pretending to check on the horses downstairs. Instead he just stood there, cock hard and body tense.

He told himself that it was smart the two of you had stopped your carnal pursuits. But at this moment knowing you were upstairs naked under your blanket had him squeezing his eyes shut and willing his throbbing cock to go down.

Sharing his coffee with you had been a no-brainer. It was instinct to share with others and part of him felt pride that he could provide for you in some small way. The flask of whiskey was a welcome addition, but he found he could barely drink from it. He needed to be sharp. He thought of you and Chiyo and was sickened that his first reaction was jealousy at the way you talked about another man with such reverence.

"Joel, why did you stop wanting to do stuff on patrols?”

How to tell you the truth? That he didn't see you as just release anymore? That you were a human woman and not just something for him to fuck his hatred into? It made him sick to think he could have ever seen you that way.

"I miss it."

The sigh you give as you said that had him immediately hard. You did? You really enjoyed it when he was so emotional distant? You missed his rough words and his harsh movements? How?

When he glanced over you looked so delicate wrapped up in the blankets, only your face visible. You looked forlorn and all he could think of was how harsh he'd been with you. Something tugged at his lower belly that felt like arousal mixed with regret and a deep, deep need. It capitulated him from where he sat, crawling over to you.

I can be soft with you. I can be gentle. Let me show you. Let me prove it. Let me atone.

Being between your thighs that night was like nothing Joel had experienced. He was ravenous for you. Not just because of the weeks you spent giving him pleasure, but because he wanted to hear the sound of your cry and know it was him that caused it.

He’d been unable to stop himself from devouring you. The taste of you, the sounds you made, the touch of your fingers in his hair made him crazy. He'd never come early like that, not since he was a teenager.

And he wanted to make you come over and over because Chiyo never had, even though Joel knew it was fucking pathetic to be jealous of a dead man.

One orgasm wasn't enough though. He wanted you spent and sated. And he thought he could hold off his own pleasure until you gripped his curls and held tightly as you called out his name with a lusty cry.

Joel…

He hadn't even needed to touch himself. His eyes rolled back and he felt the warm spend coat the inside of his blanket as you writhed under his tongue, hips rutting greedily against his mouth.

Eventually you laid there spread wide, legs hooked over his shoulders completely asleep. You trusted him to do this, you trusted him and that made him linger. Not just the taste and scent of you, but the desire to keep you there, warm and pliant.

Joel laid between your legs for hours that night, teasing and tasting and licking. He revelled in the tender little hiccupped whimpers you gave in your sleep. He sighed when he could feel your thighs twitching against his head.

For a while he simply rested his cheek against your inner thigh, just breathing you in, listening to your light snores. But you'd twitch or whimper and he was hard again, desperate to hear those sounds you made, knowing that it was him that brought them out of you.

Eventually he felt your body go slack with a deeper sleep and something about your surrender to Joel had him hard again. But he refused to touch himself. This wasn't about him.

The snow continued to fall heavily outside but he didn't care because he was here with you, your bodies warm against one another. And you were so wet, splayed widely for him, just for him.

For a bit of time he dozed off, the side of his face balanced atop one of your spread inner thighs, breathing you in as you both slept. You were so warm and soft and he was so cold and, as he came to realize later, so touch-starved.

Touching you without restraint when he awoke was exciting. The kind of exciting that pulled at his groin and made him grow sloppy, amazed at how you lay spread widely for him, so trusting. And it wasn't long before you were crying out again, waking from sleep long enough to thank him before sinking back into the depths of slumber.

He pushed himself off the couch after that, needing to stretch his tight back. Looking down at you gently snoring, he took his time gazing at you. Enjoying this version of you without your furrowed brow or worried expression.

You were beautiful.

He memorized the stray hairs of your eyebrows, the length of your lashes, the shape of your lips. He took in each part of your face, taking his time to truly absorb what he was looking at. He wanted to commit this to memory, to have this secret piece of peace to look at during future times of darkness.

Almost as if you felt him staring at you even in your sleep, you shuffled, rolling over away from him and sighing. Joel viewed the length of your spine and bare back exposed at the shift, noticing you shiver in your sleep.

Don't do it, Miller. Do not sleep there.

It was seconds of internal debate before he crawled beside you, curling around your back, warming you both, his breathing stirring the hair at your temple.

He watched the moonlight bathe your skin, making you shine for him. Your bare shoulder was exposed above the blanket, the skin there so soft looking.

He held his breath, paranoid you would wake as he tentatively pressed his lips there. He laid his plush mouth against that small strip of your flesh and he was enraptured when you snuggled back against him.

He pushed his luck, his arm sliding over your waist and laying there heavily, testing the weight and if you would wake up. When you didn't stir he left his arm there. Holding you that night, your body against his, bare flesh against bare flesh, Joel had felt an all encompassing peace overtake him. A sensation that had eluded him since the night of Sarah’s death.

and eventually he felt himself fading, not even registering that for the first time in so long that he didn't dread the darkness.

Not as long as you were nearby.

--------------------------------------------------------------------

Midnight makes a huffing noise and then he's gone through the paddock, his hooves making rhythmic taps over snowy terrain as you make your way quickly through the town.

Kyle tries to stop you at the gates, his eyes red-rimmed. It’s clear he feels guilty for what happened with Maria. He was on gate patrol tonight, inexperienced and not expecting anyone to be leaving.

"Tommy sent me," you tell him firmly.

Kyle gives you a once over, eyes cloudy. You know he doesn't believe you.

"I'm losing time, Kyle. Open the gate."

He says nothing when he opens the gate, pulling the mechanism. He only offers a broken "good luck" to your back. You don't even slow down as you exit the safety of the town. Your eyes are peeled, ears pricked for anything that will guide you to your friend.

The snow isn't too bad right now. You can see ahead just fine and in the bright reflection of the moon you can see the faint track marks of what you think is Glimmer’s hooves.

It's only now, several miles away from Jackson city that the doubts begin. What if there are infected? Were you a fucking idiot to do this?

But then you think of Douglas in Tommy's arms. Of a boy growing up with wide brown eyes so sorrowful it makes your heart ache. Of a child who could at least lean on one parent.

Maria is worth saving, she has Tommy and Douglas. A life. What do you have waiting for you back at home?

You think of the cold way Joel looks at you. You think of the way Jennifer no longer acknowledges your existence. You think of the way you don’t really quite fit in.

The vision of Charlie begging you to come back assaults you out of nowhere. The sight of her reaching for you as the truck drove away. You’ve always fled from fear, but now? Nothing will stop you. You will not turn around.

You have your answer.

--------------------------------------------------------------------

Joel didn’t imbibe to the point of drunkenness often. It was usually preceded by an event like the anniversary of Sarah’s birthday or his own. Something would stoke the fires of loss, and he found himself blindly reaching for the bottle.

On those nights, his defenses lowered, his inhibitions forgotten, he often did something out of character. Like when he staggered to your home in the middle of the night. You had been on his mind since Ellie’s birthday dinner—the way you smiled at him, a secret, tentative thing before you murmured that it was nice to remember the good times.

And it was, but it hurt too.

That night, he drank to the memory that his daughter Sarah would have no future birthdays and would remain twelve forever. It hurt so badly, and all he could think of was you.

Instead of digging into himself, he stood blearily, not caring that it was the middle of the night. He moved through the quiet streets toward your home, and when your front door came into view, he let out a shuddering exhale.

He let himself stand there, his dark eyes on your window. Silently, he willed you to come to the window so he could see your face, but it wasn’t close enough. He stumbled up your porch steps, his heavy hand coming to rest against the doorframe.

His eyes closed, and it was like he could take himself back to that first day when he stood in the same place, the scent of cookies in the air and your bright eyes gazing out at him.

And then, like magic, there you were in your robe, your face pinched in concern as light steamed from behind you. You looked like an angel.

“Joel, its 3 a.m.”

He was captivated by you, unable to think straight and somehow completely at ease. That ache in his heart seemed to ache less, your presence bringing more comfort than he thought possible.

Ellie managed to mend his heart, that was for certain. In their time together, she fixed up that open, bleeding wound in him, stitching the thread of love and trust along the ragged edges. And it was like you were that bandage on top to make sure the stitches remained together.

He couldn’t explain that in his drunkenness, though. He couldn’t tell you that his feet carried him there because, in this pain, all he wanted was your presence. And he couldn’t take you into his arms because you wouldn’t understand. You weren’t friends; you weren’t anything aside from mutual release.

But you were there, and you were safe, and even if you weren’t his, you were alive, and everything about you was beautiful. And that was enough for him to walk away from you that night after staring at you in silence.

Just you existing in the world was good enough for him.

And then your eyes searched his over the dinner table during Ellie's birthday dinner. "It's nice to remember the good times."

That was the night when he admitted to himself that something in him was shifting.

Then the coffee you'd made for him, the lengths you went to procure it. The fact that you'd done it just for him made him feel heady. And that's when he'd realized it, that you'd gone past a woman he enjoyed touching and tasting. There was not just possessiveness but a desire to protect.

He liked you.

He talked to you about Sarah, something he so rarely did. And when he did he felt less heavy, like the pain of his loss was spread between two people instead of one, making the load more bearable. It had all but been sealed when his mouth first met yours, desperate to feel all of you. And then the little noise you made that caused him to pull back, terrified he’d fucked this all up. But your gaze was true and your voice a whisper.

"I've never kissed anyone before."

The sensation he experienced at that hushed confession from you was indescribable. The electric pull that made him groan against your tongue. Joel just felt it in that moment that of course you hadn't kissed anyone before because you weren't meant to kiss anyone but him. You were his.

And all he could think with each pass of your soft lips against his was: Mine to protect. Mine to touch. Mine to care for.

Mine.

-----------------------------

Joel isn't unaccustomed to nightmares. He has then nightly. Ones where his daughter Sarah looks terrified up at him, others where she cries for his help, terrible ones when the infected find her and lastly the ones where he's sobbing with her in his arms as the life bleeds from her body.

He’s in the middle of one curled on his side when the boom of his front door jolts him awake.

Joel's head pounds from being woken mid-sleep, his hair askew and his mouth dry as cotton. There's noise downstairs, the kind that clutches at his sternum and tugs painfully. He hears Tommy's muffled call from downstairs and his guts churn.

Something is very wrong.

Joel is still half asleep, pulling on his clothes when Tommy pushes into the bedroom, his eyes wild.

"You gotta come. Now."

Joel doesn't need more instruction than that. His baby brother is terrified and now so is Joel.

He follows Tommy out the front door, their feet sinking into the deepening snow. He's trembling, his hands shaking anxiously as he tugs the gun over his shoulder as they go.

This is the life he didn't miss - this get up and go mid-slumber. This quiet terror that grows with every stride towards the gates.

Only Kyle stands at the gates, his younger face downturned. Shame is etched there in his expression. He can't be more than twenty-five and with that defeated expression he looks even younger.

Two of the newer horses are tied to the gates, shifting nervously as the men approach. They were brought by the newbies to Jackson City last week, they don't trust others yet and as Tommy approaches they pull back, whinnying loudly.

Joel can't understand why Tommy's brought them here. If he hopes to go past the city gates these horses don't know the terrain. Where's Glimmer? Midnight?

"What's goin' on, Tommy?"

"Maria took off during the party. Took Glimmer and pulled her weapon on Kyle here." Tommy is focused on trying to subdue the horse closest to him. "She told Kyle she'd shoot him if he didn't let her pass or if he hit the alarm bells."

"Jesus. Why would she do that?"

Tommy doesn't answer, but Joel has an inkling. Maria has been doing well the last little bit, but mentions of the Raiders were all around the party, like little hissing snakes in the corners.

He realizes this is a rescue mission as much as it is a defense.

"And the other patrol-"

"All the capable ones are drunk. Others are useless on a horse. I didn't have time to check 'em all. It's just you and me, brother."

Joel looks at Kyle, drawing nearer to the young man.

"How long ago was this?"

"I dunno, an hour?"

Joel whips around to look at Tommy. "A fuckin' hour, Tommy?"

Tommy is red-faced with exertion. He's got the first horse steady and he hooks one boot in the stirrup.

"I went to get the horse right away and your lady found me. Insisted she go instead."

Tommy's words are like ice water in Joel's veins. He feels himself stumble, eyes wide and voice dragging the ground.

"Why the fuck would she do that?" Joel roars and then he takes the front of his brother's sweater in his curled fist. "Why the fuck would you let her?!"

"She knocked me unconscious, Joel," Tommy snarls, tugging himself out of Joel’s grip. "Hit me in the back of my head with my own fuckin' gun. When I came to and saw she was gone I brought the horses here and came to get you."

You've been out there for an hour? You went after Maria by yourself? You, his dear sweet gentle woman went tearing off into the darkness during an oncoming snowstorm? Why?

Because you abandoned her.

And then there it is, the thing Joel has been fighting since the day he realized he felt something for you: that debilitating fear. If you weren't on patrols you couldn't be hurt. If Joel wasn't close to you he could turn off his affection for you. Or at least he thought that would be it.

He was so fucking wrong.

Because right now after everything Joel set in place you're in danger and he's overcome by terror, only now it has a twin to go along with it named regret.

"Wait!" Kyle shouts from atop the lookout. "I see movement!"

He raises his gun, peering through the scope. The Millers look up at him, anxious until they see the young man's face break out into a large grin.

"She's back!"

--------------------------------------------------------------------

Who can say the exact moment a person falls in love?

If someone had asked Joel, he would have shrugged and muttered that it was impossible to know.

All he knew was that his feelings for you had snuck up on him slowly.

The first inklings had crept in when you showed up at his house to make pop tarts. He felt nervous. He couldn’t remember the last time he had felt this way around a woman. Tess had been so blunt, so forward that he never had to guess how she felt. It was easy to go along with.

You nestled there, finding a home in the spaces between his pain. You warmed yourself, blanketing yourself with his remorse and you made it bearable. You made the darkness lighter.

And you didn't even mean to do it. You just existed and it was enough for him. Enough for him to let go of so many things that tied him to pain.

You burrowed under the fence he constructed and emerged on the other side open and gentle. The gate that he built around his heart. He let Ellie in and he thought that was enough for him but there had always been that missing piece. The part of him that didn't quite fill up no matter how many faceless women he fucked in the QZ or how many nights spent with his beloved Tess holding him.

He’d tried to find ways to fill the guilt and when alcohol didn't work he thought inflicting pain might. Hurting people filled a part of him but there was still that emptiness that lingered. Toughness, grit, spikes. That's what would fill the ache, that would touch on the gaping wound that would not mend.

And then there you were, opposite in every way to what he thought he needed for survival. Gentle and trusting and sweet. Of course you had bite, you had passion. But you did everything slow and soft to start. It terrified him as much as it confused him.

He knows that he started lowering his defenses when he played the guitar for you at Maria and Tommy's. He never played guitar for anyone but his family. And yet at the first request from you he didn't even hesitate.

'I keep a close watch on this heart of mine'

You were smiling so openly at him he felt breathless.

'I keep my eyes wide open all the time'

The lyrics rumbled from his chest, a gentle croon that grew more confident as he saw your gazing at him. You were so gorgeous just sitting there with a drowsy baby in your arms and a gentle smile across your lips.

He didn't realize the lyrics held such a double meaning until he got to the line before the interruption.

'You give me cause to lo-'.

-love.

That day of baking with Ellie in your sexy little apron and the way you treated her, had his stomach doing somersaults. He was drawn to you, watching you interact with Ellie so easily. It was like he needed your presence, your soft voice as you patiently explained things to Ellie.

He stood outside the kitchen, leaning against the wall, tilting his head to catch snatches of information about you. You liked Chicago the musical. You didn’t dance very well. And even more surprising was how he saw himself through your conversations with his adopted daughter.

"Joel could never disappoint me."

Gratitude swirled in his belly at the sound of that. The lingering doubts that he wasn’t good enough at caring for Ellie were erased.

He had seen the way you found joy in making others happy. Had he truly met anyone like that since the outbreak? Someone who did for others without the expectation of recompense? In the QZ with Tess, that wasn’t how survival had worked. Being a smuggler didn’t lend itself to charity. It was give and take, transactional.

Your reaction to her bite at her birthday dinner hadn’t been that surprising, but your desire to talk with her afterward was. He needed to busy himself, and the pop tarts seemed like a natural thing because they would make you both smile. And while he wanted to give you both privacy, he had been worried about what might be said. Ellie was so delicate.

And so he crept towards the garage door and he leaned his ear to it, picking up on your murmured voices. Listening to you talk about The Group and Chiyo floored him. He felt guilty for listening and spying but he couldn’t tear his ear from the door.

"I’m so glad you exist, Ellie. The world would be so much worse without you in it. You’re special, Ellie. And not because you’re immune. Because you’re smart and brave and funny, and you make people like me feel like we’re worth something."

He melted right then and there. And when you both exited into the kitchen he wanted you to stay longer, even got up the courage to ask, but you were gone.

And it wasn’t just Ellie you were kind about. He had always kept Sarah as a secret he held against his chest, as if sharing about her would make him forget her. But there was something about knowing you suffered loss as well, that you too had felt the hard squeeze around your heart at the mention of family that made stories about his daughter bubble forth.

You always listened intently, your focus sincere. He felt your empathy and your sorrow with none of the pity he expected. You saw him, and he saw you. Your arms around him in a hug of comfort terrified him at first, but all too soon he was embracing you back and trying to swallow his tears. When you shared about Charlotte, he knew in that moment he would do anything to keep you from experiencing the pain of loss again.

He was falling for you. And you were falling just as hard.

He saw the way you looked at him through your hair, the way your smile grew wide and unrestrained, and the way your body curled perfectly with his. Joel felt the change. He felt it and he reveled in it because it felt so good. Adoration flowed through his veins, stitched in the bruised and battered remainder of his heart.

He would do anything to keep you safe.

Then as if out of nowhere he found he was so needy for you, desperate for you in a way he hadn’t felt for anyone in decades. It was like a drug, this painful ache he had in him when you weren’t around or worse, when he caught Luke cozying up to you.

Thoughts of you throughout his day made him smile to himself, humming in the shower, and whistling as he made breakfast for himself and Ellie.

"You’re weird lately," she told him through a yawn at the table.

"Good mornin' to you too."

"Not in a bad way," Ellie amended with a grin as he took a seat across from her. "It’s just I don’t think I’ve ever seen you this... light."

Light. That was the word for it. He didn’t feel that heavy burden of grief that usually followed him around like a shadow.

Look for the light.

Simple things made his heart catch. Taking your hand in his for the first time, marveling at how his swallowed yours. He couldn't help smiling to himself as you two walked hand in hand through the snow, as if it was a casual date and not at the end of the world.

When you came to him that night, begging for him to make it go quiet, he initially told himself it was a bad idea. That you had breached his walls and he needed to pull back.

But his body acted independently, stepping back, ushering you to his bedroom where he stripped himself bare. Not just his naked body, but the words he spoke to you, the way his mouth moved to yours with an urgency that should have frightened him.

The first time he entered you - and fuck, he'll never forget that first clench - the sight of your head tilted and exposing your throat, eyes cheating to the back of your head, the sounds you made when you came. And his name on your lips.

And then making love to you, because that's what it was. He didn't want to fuck you, he wanted it to be kind and soft like you deserved. He took his time, feasting on your lips, gazing at you and marveling that he could feel like this again. Slow and safe and loving. He never thought real romance would find him again. Never thought that he'd be in bed making love to a woman who trusted him like this, who he loved so deeply it sometimes scared him.

It had been so much more than making it go quiet for you. It had been a coming together that made his eyes gleam as he watched where your bodies connected, his forehead against yours, his hands on your hips.

When your dual gazes rose to meet one another’s and you kissed him with abandon, Joel felt the final crack to his wall and everything came crumbling down. With his hands on your cheeks, your eyes butter soft he felt everything in him attune to you.

I wanna take care of you.

Then it was so easy to gather you into his arms, rocking and soothing you because he understood why your tears fell. They fell for the same reason his did. For loss, for a grief few could understand.

He wanted to know where your scar was from. He wanted to take every painful memory you had and heal you. He wanted you to be his. You slept there in his bed, in his arms and Joel thought that he might just die a happy man.

And it was in that moment that Joel could finally admit that he had fallen in love with you.

----------------------

The gates creak open and Midnight huffs his way inside, eyeing the Miller men. Maria is slumped over the horse, her fingers knotted in his mane. Joel can see Maria's face is streaked with blood, her jacket torn.

Tommy lets out a cracked sound of relief as he runs to her, eyes watering as she realizes where she is and calls his name. Joel's looking for you, confused when the gates begin to close.

"Wait, she's still out there-"

"No one's out there," Kyle says with a wince, as if he's concerned his news will cause Joel to punch him. "I gotta close the gate."

No one there. You're not out there. You're still out there in a hard world with your soft heart and it's all his fault.

As she hands the reins to a relieved looking Kyle she throws herself to the ground and goes running for Tommy. At this angle Joel sees that her left arm is hanging oddly.

"Get Melody," Joel instructs Kyle sharply. "Tell her to bring the dog."

Kyle takes off, his feet moving quickly through the snow. The three of them wait there, watching the young man rushing away.

"Joel, its Maria," Tommy insists, relief clouding his common sense. "She ain't infected."

"She's covered in blood."

"There were no clickers," Maria promises them in exhaustion as she clings to Tommy. She looks at the dried red on her hands, the sticky blood still collected on her jacket.

"This isn't all my blood."

Joel understands immediately. She starts to sob now, heavy sounds breaking forth from her, your name in a broken cry. The woman's face, highlighted in the full moon is twisted into a gruesome scene of tears, snot and blood.

"She told me I had to come back. Told me that Douglas and you needed me."

By now Melody and Boba have arrived. The dog trots over, sniffing at Maria's feet, then legs and hand before going back to stand with an exhausted looking Melody.

"I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry Tommy," Maria sobs. Her hot breath makes wispy clouds as she exhales.

“What happened?"

"We need a search party!" Maria says, ignoring his question. "We need at least six to be safe."

"Honey,” Tommy says, trying to get her attention, “where did all this blood come from?"

"Glimmer got scared and threw me off of her. I must've hit the trees or something because there's so much blood and I think my arm is broken."

"Call Lily!" Tommy shouts at Kyle who takes off, skittering towards the infirmary.

Joel's dark eyes move from the blissful reunion towards the gates which are now closed.

"Where is she?" Joel demands, his dark eyes searing into Maria's face. "Maria where is she?"

"She found me out there," Maria explains shakily pointing towards the gate with her knee good hand. "I was trying to find them. The camp. I was trying to keep Douglas safe. I was trying.... to be a good mother and..."

She breaks off sharply, burying her face in Tommy's shoulder. Joel can see that she's exhausted and her body starting to go slack.

"She told me to ride back," Maria whispers into Tommy's neck. "She told me that Douglas needed me. That you needed me. She made me get on the horse. Told me I couldn't do anything with a broken arm, losing blood."

"She was right, honey," Tommy insists, rocking her in his arms. "We need you here."

Joel is happy for his brother, he really is, but Maria is here safe and you're not.

"How many?" Joel interjects, taking the weapon from over Tommy's shoulder. His brother is so giddy with relief that he doesn't even notice.

"I was only trying to protect him Tommy. I need you to believe me."

"Of course I believe you, darlin'."

"I said how many?"

The sharpness of his booming voice causes the two of them stop to look at him. He feels sick when he sees how Maria's face crumples.

"Three when she told me to leave."

You're out there three to one, maybe more? His stomach lurches. No. This can't be happening. He was so sure he was keeping you safe. Taking you off patrols, pushing you from him. You were safe away from Joel, away from the harsh outside world. Joel only brought chaos and violence with him.

And it didn't matter. You're out there.

--------------------------------------------------------------------

I wanna give you everythin’.

He did. Everything Joel could give you he wanted to. You wanted to go to the dance? He'd take you. Fuck what everyone had to say about it. You wanted flowers? He'd fold and refold them as many times as you wanted until he had a bouquet. You wanted a farm house? He was already looking into it, noting the good bones, the open bedrooms.

He could envision the bedroom you two would share, the nights that would be spent with your bodies writhing, moaning into each other's open mouths. He could imagine Ellie in the big bedroom at the end of the hallway. Not a garage, but still private. He imagined family dinners and nights playing cards.

He could imagine a life with you.

And then that fucking raider took it all away the second he raised that gun to your head.

Like slow motion Joel remembers his gaze going from the barrel of the gun to your wide terrified eyes. In that moment all Joel could think was "not again". Not again would someone he loved be taken from him.

And thank goodness you weren't. But not because of Joel; because of Chestnut, who sacrificed himself for you. Without that distraction, you both would be frozen corpses. And that had scared the utter shit out of him.

Looking at you in that hospital bed, leg being sewn up, reaching for him, all Joel could think of was his failure.

What if it had been a clicker that came upon you? What if it wasn't a bullet that grazed you, but the bite of an infected? Could he ever truly forgive himself? Even now he carries the guilt of what happened to Tess.

And it's when he realized that his love for you made him weak. It made him reckless. It made him a bad protector. It made him unworthy of you.

But you never would have agreed. You have this ability to make Joel feel things. Things he normally can shove down deep.

He couldn’t tell you outright. He knew the moment he saw your face the words would fail him and so he avoided you. The pathetic part of him was hoping that you'd just get the message and stay away from him. He didn’t want to face you after everything that had gone on.

But that wasn't you, was it? You cared with your whole heart, and Joel knew he must have taken up a small piece of real estate there in the upper chambers.

And your face. Your sweet, excited face as you came to his home and asked him to the movie.

"You were saying that you and Sarah watched those movies, right? You wanna go—"

And he could have been taking you there, could have been holding your hand in the dark, watching the flickering images as the faint scent of popcorn wafted through the air. He could have slung an arm around your shoulder and sneaked a kiss as the lights went down.

He could have walked you home after, leaving you with a deep kiss at your doorstep after your first date outside the walls of your house.

But instead, he was there, trying not to let you in. He was trying so damn hard not to buckle. His fingers gripped the edge of his workbench so tightly that his knuckles turned white.

"Joel, you can't... You don't mean that."

He wasn’t being cruel enough. You weren’t running like you always did before.

Say it. Say it, or she won't leave. You'll give in. You'll forget why you needed to push her away in the first place. You needed to keep her safe.

"I don't need some useless patrol partner who can't even shoot straight clinging to me like some needy little—"

The crumple of your brow was what instantly made the regret flood through every part of his body. The way you stepped back, like he'd physically punched you in the gut, was what made his resolve falter for a moment.

Too far. Too far. Too harsh and cruel.

You raised your hand, flinching, and he saw the devasta tion etched in your features. His hands twitched as he fought his body to keep them still.

"I'll leave you alone. I... I'll... I'll go. Just please stop talking."

Your voice was all shaky as you fought back tears, and Joel could only attempt to convince himself that he was doing the right thing.

She makes you weak. You have to be strong. If you love her, you'll be strong. You'll protect her.

And he wanted to avoid you altogether, to scrub your very existence from his mind but pieces of you existed everywhere. The color red. How could someone own a color? And yet the flash of any crimson transported him to your bed, to your laugh, to your moans.

Fuck he ached for you, nights more lonely than he'd thought possible. The pulsing sadness that squeezed his heart until his breathing was hitched and he was leaned over next to his bed, panic suffusing him.

Go to her. You need her. You want her.

Stay away. You'll only get her hurt. Think of Sarah. Think of Tess.

You kill what you love.

Your distraction makes you weak.

And you were the ultimate distraction. Your smile, your softness, the way you were with Ellie, the way you looked at him when he told you about Sarah. And then that fucking patrol. The raider. Joel's lapse in judgment, his heavy breathing, his good ear pressed against your temple, blocking out the sounds of footsteps approaching in the snow.

You would have convinced him that he was wrong. That loving didn't make him weaker, it made him human. You would have convinced him with your soft eyes and your tender hands and he would have fallen for it hook line and sinker.

You were too soft for this world.

That's why he needed to push you away, he needed to hurt you so badly you wouldn't want him.

He wanted you to hate him, to ignore him, to forget him.

--------------------------------------------------------------------

Joel can feel furious tears at his waterline, his teeth clenched. It's so much easier to feel furious rather than terrified. He clicks his tongue, guiding Coal towards the gate. He'll figure it out. He'll find you. He hoists the gun over his shoulder, face a mask of indifference, save for the glistening eyes.

"She can't fight them all," Maria manages before she goes completely limp in Tommy's arms. And now Lily is back, but all Joel can focus on is: she can't fight them all.

Midnight offers a low whinny as Joel passes and there's something in Midnight's disposition that makes Joel pause. A power in his haunches as he spots Joel. A strange understanding passes between them as Joel looks to the glossy horse, dark eyes wet.

There's no time to wait for an entire search party.

He moves to the gates, pulling the hinges to thrust them open. With his gun and flashlight he scans the space and finds it clear. He jerks the reins from where they remain tied to the gates. He thrusts a boot into the stirrup and pulls himself atop the glossy black of Midnight.

Tommy breaks from kissing Maria’s forehead to cast an anxious look at his older brother.

"Joel that horse has been ridden hard and-"

"He'll get me to her."

He can't think of anything but you. He turns, starting through the gate. Tommy holds a limp Maria in one arm, the other hand stretching towards Joel’s back.

"Joel, slow the fuck down! We need to get a team-"

"She's out there alone Tommy," Joel shouts over his shoulder. "I never should have been away from her."

"Joel you can't go out alone," Tommy insists and Joel sees the fear in his brother's expression.

"My girl is out there and if she's not dead she's scared for her life," Joel spits, unsure if Tommy can even hear him.

"I can't leave her again."

--------------------------------------------------------------------

"You need to take her off patrols,"

Joel sat in Tommy’s kitchen, his hand tight around a warm mug of coffee. Tommy was bouncing a fussy Douglas in his arms as Maria joined them at the table with a steaming mug.

"Why?"

"She can’t be out there anymore. It’s not safe."

"That's what you said last time," Tommy sighed,

"I know I did."

"And when I talked to her about it, she was fine to stay on."

"She needs to come off," Joel reiterated, trying not to snap at his baby brother. "She almost died out there."

"Joel," Maria said gently, "she got a graze to the calf."

"Yeah, and what if it had been a few inches over? What if it hit an artery?"

Joel knew his face was growing red with frustration and he tried to even his breathing.

"This isn't her choice," Joel said darkly. "It's mine. I don’t want her on my patrol anymore."

Tommy shrugged, finding nothing too wrong with this suggestion. His brother was a hard man to deal with in this world.

"Okay, so I'll move her to a new patrol."

" No ."

Joel's voice came out louder and harder than intended, so much so that Douglas started in Tommy's arms, giving off plaintive little whines.

"She shouldn't be on any patrol,” Joel continued on. “She's not equipped. She's a liability. And besides, we got those new guys in town last week. The ones with the horses? They seemed like a better fit for patrol."

"That they do," Tommy nodded, rubbing Douglas's chubby cheek with his thumb to quiet him. "But I don't think she's gonna want to be pulled off."

"Then don't give her a choice."

Tommy moved his gaze from his son to his brother. Tension grew between the three adults around the table. Maria surveyed Joel's face across from her, understanding reflected in her features the more she stared at his down-turned eyes and thinned lips. She glanced over at Tommy with a small smile.

"Honey, do you mind putting Douglas down for his nap?"

Tommy, seeming to sense something was going on that he didn't quite understand, nodded, taking the gurgling child into the next room.

When it was just Maria and Joel, she took the opportunity to focus on his sagged shoulders and devastated countenance.

"It wasn't your fault, Joel."

"’Course it was," Joel stated sharply, teeth gnashed together so tightly his jaw bulged.

"Accidents happen."

"Yeah, because of me."

His dark eyes finally rose to his sister-in-law's, and she could see the pain in those shiny, dark orbs.

"Please, Maria. Have Tommy take her off patrols. Put her somewhere safe. Please."

Maria heard the crack in his voice and saw the way he couldn't quite keep the pain from reflecting in his expression, and for this big, broad, hulking man, she felt herself soften.

"Okay," Maria finally nodded, reaching across the table to pat his hand. "Okay, Joel, I'll do it. But the two of you—"

Joel stood abruptly, quietly thanking her for taking you off patrols. She fell silent, knowing Joel well enough to accept that he couldn't talk about you like this now.

He made his way to their front door, and then as a seeming afterthought, he glanced over at Maria.

"She's not safe with me."

--------------------------------------------------------------------

The wind bites at his cheeks and errant flakes spear into his eyes, but Joel doesn’t slow.

Midnight is panting, his strong legs carrying them towards the trail head. Joel trusts him, knows that the horse will take him exactly where he needs to go. He doesn’t know why, but he just feels it was right.

"She's all alone," Joel murmurs to himself as Midnight thunders over the snow. "I pushed her away. I fuckin' abandoned her."

He doesn’t know how long they ride for, all he knows is that he sees the large mass lays prone in the snow up ahead, a halo of red around its head. It’s Glimmer, shot in her pursuit to get to or from the raiders.

Midnight rears back, the scent of blood in his nostrils. A trail of red trails faintly into the forest and Joel doesn’t think twice before throwing himself off of Midnight, tying the tired animal to the nearby tree.

“Rest,” he tells the panting animal, trailing a hand down his muzzle. “You rest.”

He makes his way to the traps, his chest tight and burning. He bellows your name, the sound ripped from the soles of his feet, spiky around the edges and scratching his throat. He does it again and again and it's greeted by nothing but a heavy silence.

He holds his gun at the ready, not caring if his calls attract others. He'll take them all if it means getting to you quicker. He'll stab infected, he'll climb over frozen corpses if it means finding you sooner.

Where are you? What if you're frozen somewhere? Did you dress warmly enough when you left?

He fucking hates himself even more than before, and he didn't know that was possible. This is all his fault. There is no world in which this is not entirely his fault.

He fucked up. He fucked up so brutally that there's a chance the only woman he's truly ever loved and been loved by is gone forever.

"Please!" He begs the unfeeling trees that surround him. "Please answer me!"

The wind bites into his wet cheek and he hisses. He feels like Frankenstein's monster, legs heavy, movements jerky as he lets out a howl of desperation.

He reaches the traps soon enough, the familiar grove of tall trees surrounding the space, coated with snow. The wind is slightly less chilling in here and Joel can blink away the wet snow from his eyes.

He stumbles, his foot catching something half buried in the snow. It’s a body, hair is sticking out from the snow, blowing in the slight breeze, a bloom of blood surrounding its head. Snow is quickly gathering atop of it.

And then Joel sees it, the slash of red fabric. It blows in the wind, caught in the branches of a nearby tree.

Your scarf.

And with a chilling grip that overtakes his entire body Joel realizes that he is too late.

You're gone.

---------------

Seeing you at the Bison had been brutal. He had been sure that he could handle avoiding you. And you rarely went to the Bison in the first place. He had been depressed, needing to get out of his head.

"Mind if I take a seat?"

A glance over his shoulder told him it was your friend, Jennifer. She wore a clingy shirt and tight jeans. Just the kind of thing that had all the men passing by shooting him jealous looks.

"Go right ahead."

He hadn’t intended on talking to Jennifer. She was a nice enough girl, but she was far too eager for Joel, too hungry for something he couldn't give her. She slid into the chair next to his, and he didn’t have it in him to be rude.

"Looking forward to the party?"

"Mhm."

"Me too." She smiled, ordering a tumbler of whiskey and inching herself a little closer to him, her voice dropping to a husky whisper. "I’m excited to wear my dress."

And he knew what she was angling at; the topic of her scandalous red dress. For him to flirt so brazenly with her again. But that wouldn't be happening. You weren’t there to act in front of, so why bother?

And while Jennifer chirped on about her dress, all Joel could think of since that day was you in your dark blue fabric, the swell of your breasts, the flush to your cheeks.

He had never seen you in anything but jeans and sweaters, and seeing you stand there on the podium in your dress like a member of royalty had made his mouth run dry. You were exquisite. The urge to march over to you, sweep you into his arms, and kiss you silly in front of Jennifer and Ellie had been so strong he had physically ached.

He hadn’t been strong enough to turn you away if you advanced, so he had turned his attention to Jennifer, flirting with her in front of you even though it killed him. He had felt your furious gaze on him, and he’d been relieved. You hated him. This was what he needed.

"She's making my dessert for me," Jennifer had smiled now at the Bison, swirling the gold liquid in her glass.

And there it was, a crumb of information about you. She said your name, the letters an exquisite torture as his attention shifted back to Jennifer. He shouldn't have been this interested, and yet now his eyes met Jennifer's.

"What's she makin'?"

"Apple tarts and brownies."

"Sounds real good."

Jennifer took a sip of her drink, trying not to grimace before she nodded.

"Everything she makes is so delicious," Jennifer enthused. "She made me these baked bar things one time, and they were the most delicious things I've ever eaten. But then she was like, 'They're okay, a little too much flour in this batch.' Too humble, that woman."

The two of them chuckled, and Joel felt so fucking light talking about you. Like he could breathe again, properly.

"Too humble, and she takes care of everyone," Jennifer had added, spinning the tumbler in her fingers, their knees touching under the bar.

"I'm hoping things work out with her and Luke. She deserves to be taken care of herself. She deserves to be happy."

And then she had clammed up, realizing perhaps that she and Joel weren't really the kind of people that talked this much.

"Yeah, she does," Joel had managed before taking a long pull off his drink and ordering another.

I hope things work out with her and Luke.

This was what he wanted, wasn't it? You safe, you happy, you alive. Luke could offer you happiness and support. He wasn't a cruel man; that was obvious. He was a good match for you.

And yet...

Joel threw back his next drink, frustrated that the stinging edges of his pain weren’t dulled. You and Luke? The thought should have relieved him, to know you’d be taken care of. But the thought of you with anyone else had him seeing red.

"Anyway, are you and Ellie going to do anything special for Christmas?" an oblivious Jennifer asked. "Do you have a tree in your place?"

And Joel answered quietly, his mouth twisted in bitterness, causing Jennifer to shuffle a little closer to hear him.

"Yeah, we got a tree."

Jennifer chattered on about the decorations at her place, and Joel tried his best to be polite. She touched his hand at one point, and he tried not to shake it off. If he wanted to hear tidbits about you, he needed to be sure to keep this connection open. It meant being polite to Jennifer in the hopes that you'd be brought up.

And later, when he heard you through the crowd trying to get a beer for Penny, he immediately sprang from his seat at the bar, coming to stand behind you. His resolve was gone, desperation clear in his expression when you turned around before ducking out of the bar. He needed to touch you.

But his heart hurt when he saw you had that familiar expression he knew so well; that grimace you wore when the world got too loud and overwhelming. He knew how to fix it.

He could make it go quiet for you.

He wanted to bring you that comfort. And selfishly he just needed to see it one last time. One last memory to take with him as you grew to hate him. One last moment as his.

You were anxious, your body tight as he pressed you against the side of the building. But he saw the same longing in your eyes that he knew his possessed as well. If he could make you come just one more time he could move on. He just needed to make you his one more time.

And fuck you felt like heaven. Ready for him, so beautiful and sweet-smelling and he could have cried at touching you again. He told himself he would memorize your expression, the little whimpers, the way you felt against his shoulder and then he could move past your time together.

But when you pushed him away he felt that familiar darkness creeping back in.

And he knew that it was for the best.

He would only hurt you.

-------------------

Joel feels everything drain out of him at the sight of your body frozen and bloodied in the snow. That strange sensation that overtook him at the hospital with Ellie, the helpless rage that coursed through his body with Sarah.

You're gone.

He played it safe, he denied himself and denied you and now it's too late. He's always too fucking late. With Sarah. With telling Ellie the truth of the hospital and the fireflies. With you.

You tried time and time again. You shared yourself, you cared for Joel in a way no one ever had. And how had be repaid this kindness? This affection? By turning his back on you. By telling himself that keeping you near would only be bad for you.

He never truly considered the alternative.

The snow storm has made quick work of the body, your face and legs covered.

He won't leave your body here, not with your sweet, soft face buried in snow.

He thinks of the doe he killed. Of how he'd forced you to carry it thinking he was helping to make you strong. He wishes nothing more than to go back in time.

He can still hear the way you laughed with him over coffee, the delicate skin of your inner thighs against his mouth, the curve of your back when you arched for him. But mostly he thinks of your eyes searching his.

"I'm so sorry," he mutters to your frozen corpse, holding back ugly sobs. "I'm so fucking sorry, baby."

-----------------------------

He wasn’t going to look at you. Wasn’t going to go near you. Wasn’t going to touch you.

These were the rules Joel had set in place for himself as he walked over to the chapel to the holiday party. He was still humiliated by the memory of cornering you against the side of the Bison and he made sure not to drink much this evening.

He had his large keg of homemade cider under one arm, his throat bobbing as he swallowed nervously, joining the groups of people heading into the chapel, the lights shining beautifully.

He had tried to back out of the whole thing, but Ellie had been so eager to go, so excited to experience the event for the first time. How the hell was he supposed to say no to her? And Tommy would have questions, would needle him into confessing why he wasn’t coming, and Joel didn’t want to talk about it.

He stood awkwardly to one side.

Then he heard Ellie’s voice and scanned the bustling room until he spotted her with you. He stood on the fringes, watching as you tied a bow into his daughter’s hair and hugged her like she was your own.

Then she was gone, and you felt Joel’s eyes on you. You looked ethereal, your eyes sparkling, your hair soft-looking. Joel had always loved you in your sweater and jeans, but something about you dressed up and so at ease made his heart throb.

And he wanted to strangle and then embrace Tommy for making the two of you dance. To feel your warmth and your softness in his arms again. Joel knew it was foolish to reach out and take your wrist in his hand. But he was desperate, pathetically so. He needed to touch you, to feel you in his arms again, even if it was only on a dance floor.

He couldn’t stop staring at you, feeling oddly proud as others whispered nearby about how beautiful you looked. And he wanted to turn to them, to beam and point and say "Isn't she? And she's with me. She's mine."

But you weren't his.

And you truly were so exquisite, but you were also so vulnerable in a way that hurt him as he held you against him. Your eyes gazing into his reflected the sorrow that he himself had been fighting for as long as you had. The days spent in bed, the nights pining for you.

“Baby.”

It slipped out, a hush of a thought accompanied by the desire to kiss you softly and whisper that he was there, that you never had to worry when he was around. It was followed by a lump in his throat at the acknowledgement that he had hurt you.

It was the wrong thing to say because he saw how your brows saddled and your eyes filled with tears. When you looked at him, he couldn’t help but feel overwhelmed himself, especially when you offered him a murmured:

“Joel, I lo—”

And he knew that the moment you finished that sentence, he would be done for. He would let the walls come crumbling down around him. He would push the fears and anxieties about your safety away and would be selfish enough to say it right back. He would take you in his arms and claim you as his, and he would forever be distracted at the thought of you in his home, in his bed.

He would be putting himself in danger. He would be putting his patrol partner’s life in danger. And if he couldn’t keep the infected and the raiders at bay, he would be putting you and Ellie and Tommy and Maria and Douglas and everyone else in danger. He couldn’t allow this distraction. Distractions meant death.

You all needed protection and safety, and he couldn’t offer you either if all he could think about was you. What use was he if he couldn’t protect others?

So it was good that Wayne came through the door with more booze and distracted everyone because it gave Joel just enough time to remember himself. It allowed Joel to step back from your pull and to leave you on the dance floor before he did something foolish. He didn’t even think about how it would look, only that he needed to get away.

Everything in him called to you, but that was his Achilles' heel because his weakness was you. Your love made him useless, so you needed to hate him.

It was the only way to keep you from chipping away at his self-restraint. It was the only way to keep everyone safe. He told himself this as he scanned the room for the one person who promised him your hatred.

Jennifer.

Jennifer was only too eager to follow Joel to the far side of the dance floor, near where the coats were hung and he internally cringed when she breathily told him she’d been waiting so long for him to really notice her. They were partially hidden, away from prying eyes but public enough for others to glimpse. There’s a chance you might see and that’s what needed to happen. You needed to come upon them and you needed to hate him.

Joel thought of your eyes when he pulled the eager Jenny up against him, moving his mouth to hers.

She felt wrong to kiss, her lips clumsy and unfamiliar. They didn't touch his right, they weren't responsive like yours. It wasn't working.

But her hand was at his buckle and he knew he needed it to work to get you out of his head, to get you to hate him. If you didn’t catch them, Jenny would tell you about this tomorrow and the line would be drawn. You would hate him and it would be done. No chance of reconciliation.

So he closed his eyes and with her mouth going soft for a moment he could almost convince himself it was you. He could recall the little gasp you made when he first kissed you. The way you breathlessly looked at him the first time he entered you.

And then he was hard, kissing this woman and thinking only of you.

Jenny’s hips were circling his as Joel’s eyes fell shut with your face behind them. He tilted his mouth from her, unable to continue the vision of you when her unfamiliar lips pecked at his.

She didn’t mind, moving her mouth to his neck and placing languid kisses there. She was needy for him, eager to explore his body, but all Joel could imagine was you in his bed, the way you moved for him, the absolute trust in your eyes, the love he had for you and would always have for you.

I wanna give you everythin’.

But at the crash of the wine glass and the sight of you looking so betrayed Joel felt nothing but cold regret the second he watched you taking in the scene. He tensed up, instinctively wanting to pull from the confused Jennifer.

But the sight that stopped everything was the absolute pity in your eyes for him. The barely contained disgust and contempt. It made him sick to his stomach to see it. It wasn’t the response he had been expecting. You were supposed to be angry at him. The wineglass seemed a perfect opportunity to rouse such a feeling in you.

“Clean it up.”

Why weren’t you shouting? Why weren’t you telling him he was a piece of shit that you hated?

"You don't give me orders anymore."

He could only stare after you as you left the party, feeling like he’d swallowed a cold stone as he watched you leave his life. Despite doing this for your safety, everything in him wanted to grab you and explain that he was doing this for you. To save you from him.

When Jennifer slapped him across the face it had felt appropriate. He deserved worse. He almost wished she had punched him, that she'd drawn blood.

Maybe if he spilled his blood he could exercise you from his body in the same way.

--------------------------------------------------------------------

Joel falls to his knees, his hands gently moving the building snow from your frozen body, his eyes a watercolor blur. Tears fall down the corner of his eyes as he brushes at the flakes. He’ll bring your body back, he’ll give you a proper burial.

Tears slide down his nose and fall onto the snow covering you.

“I’m sorry,” he repeats over and over. “I’m so fuckin’ sorry.”

How many times did he hold himself back from taking you into his arms? How many times did he push you away thinking he was doing the right thing? How could being away from you ever be the right thing?

He thinks of you dying out here by yourself, of how you died here in a forest that terrified you. He thinks of how you died thinking he didn't care about you and of how you must have felt the same terrified way you did when The Group took you and your sister all those years ago.

Were you crying this time? Screaming? Did you fight back? Did you think of Joel? Did you curse him? Did you go to the grave hating him? He would have deserved it. He should have been here with you. Protecting you.

“Joel, I know that if you loved something you'd protect it with everything you had."

The reminder of those words in your tender voice have him sobbing now, curled on his knees as he continues to brush away the flakes from your face. He sees the blood emerging with each brush, the halo of red until your face is revealed to him, a bullet wound straight through the center of your skull.

No.

Not your skull.

Not your face.

A woman he doesn't recognize. A woman with similar hair but a completely different face. A woman with unseeing eyes and a snarl frozen in her features. Her vacant eyes rest wide and forever ever un-blinking up at him.

It isn't you.

He stands, his gun raised and his heart pounding as he glares out into the continuing snowstorm.

Save who you can save.

He can save you.

Chapter 21: The Red Scarf

Notes:

I dunno about you, but its been a shitty fuckin' week and I need an escape. Remember that comments are how we authors survive. It's why we continue to bring you content. It's why we sacrifice our free time so PLEASE let me know what y'all think (fav and least fav parts).
warnings: There is some SERIOUS gore in this chapter. So if you're sensitive to that please be aware.

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

Chapter 21: The Red Scarf

Image created by @looshelle on Tumblr/tiktok

Midnight huffs along, his wide body jolting you with every gallop. But you barely notice, your eyes are peeled for your friend.

An errant memory sticks out in your mind, of watching Joel all those times on patrol. Him leading you with such confidence, his broad shoulders and stoic stance that made you feel like you were safer.

Stop thinking about Joel.

You are your own safety now. You don't need Joel anymore. You don't need anyone. There's no point.

You’re very likely going to die out here. Even if you find Maria alive, if she's run into the raiders there's a small chance you'll make it out.

And while that thought days ago would have terrified you, now a strange peace has settled over you.

This is what needs to happen.

What do you have left? There's nothing waiting for you back in Jackson except humiliation and heartbreak. If you die out here it'll make no difference.

There's no husband, no children, no friends left. Maybe Luke will shed a tear, perhaps Ellie a little upset. But it will pass quickly, your impact shallow at best.

Without the shackles of fear it seems somehow possible to breathe deeper. And you do, taking cold pulls into your lungs before expelling them into the falling snow. The calm of your pulse makes it easier to scan the horizon without shaking.

There's a small pinch however, one that stings at the base of your sternum. It's the feeling that you still have so much to say to someone, despite knowing it won't be well received.

Joel made it very obvious that he doesn't want you in his life. He went to great lengths to insult you, to hurt your feelings, to wound you. You don't understand why but you have a feeling it has something to do with his need for control.

You loved him and if you're honest, a small part of you loves him still. You're terrified to think that you'll take that love with you to the grave. But that's where it should be, dead and buried with a tombstone that reads your name and how little you accomplished in this life.

Midnight gives a frustrated huff, his large body masterfully weaving through the fallen foliage and thick snowflakes. The rhythmic clops of his hooves, lulling you.Your fingers are tight around the reins, cold even though the gloves.

And then up ahead you see a flash of color and feel your heart jump.

Your knees squeeze into Midnight's ribs gently, causing him to slow as the scuffed pile of earth comes into view. Something fell here and judging by the footprints leading into the forest you have an idea just who it was.

Your gun is raised and ready in case your hunch is incorrect. The wind and snow begins kicking up, making it hard to see even within the shroud of trees. Your eyes scan for motion ahead of you, causing you to suddenly skid to a stop when a figure emerges from the forest and makes its way towards you.

Peering through the rifle scope you feel a shuddering whimper leave you as a familiar face comes into view.

Maria.

Relief is acute and causes warm tears to sting your eyes. You found her and she's alive.

She's staggering towards you, hand outstretched. You jump down, gathering Midnight's bridle in your hand and leading him towards her. She gives a cracked sob before flinging one arm around your neck when as you finally meet.

"What happened?"

"Glimmer threw me off," Maria winces, sniffling. "By the time I got back up she was gone. I thought I'd be safer in here."

You notice that she's favoring one arm, the other hanging loosely against her hip. You cringe at the sight.

"Your arm?"

Maria touches the shoulder tenderly. "Just dislocated I think."

"But you're not hurt other than that?"

"No."

You exhale in relief. You made it in time. There's no sign of raiders, she didn't get far enough.

"Good, let's go back."

"Back?" Maria straightens immediately, peering at you with a shake of her head. "I can't go back. And you have a gun so now there's two of us."

"We have to," you instruct, no room for debate. When you see her stepping back in the snow you "Maria I'm serious."

"I can't," Maria says shaking her head. "I need to do this."

"Why?"

Her eyes fill with tears.

"You remember what you told me about that nanny goat that day in the barn? You said 'She doesn't know about tomorrow, she just knows she has a kid that she brought into this world and needs to protect it. That's all she can do. That's all she can control."

You understand that she's trying to say she's the same. That the Raiders posed a threat to her son and she went to take care of it. That's all she could control. But this isn't the same.

"That's different, Maria."

She's about to deny this, her face twisting in fury. But your anxiety overtakes her anger and before you realize what you're doing your hand is at her coat collar, tugging her brutally towards you.

"Listen to me," you say gritting your teeth. "Your son is at home. Your husband is going to come charging after me. If you stay out here you're going to make that child an orphan and that's not brave, that's selfish."

This is what brings the clarity into Maria's dark eyes. She looks at you as if she's just woken up from a very long coma, blinking rapidly.

"No, that's... I was doing it to protect him."

"I know. But you can't protect Douglas if you're dead." You soften, your hand falling from her collar. "We can go back and get a whole team and come back and find their camp. Then we can take every fucking raider there is. But we need to do it prepared."

Maria sobers, blinking rapidly before nodding. You take her good arm and begin to lead her back to Midnight. You're halfway back when a dark voice reaches out to you.

"Hold it."

Sometimes Joel wondered why the bullet missed him that night. Why instead of being dead he wears a scar at his temple. He was so certain he wanted to be dead, to be reunited with Sarah and yet he flinched. He was spared.

Then he met Ellie and it all made sense. He was meant to live so that he could save her from the monsters in that hospital. To bring her to safety.

But then in Jackson he found himself wondering why he continued to feel so restless. He mused it was because Ellie was settled - she had shelter and food and eventually friends. She didn't need Joel anymore.

And he wasn't exactly lonely because she was still there in the garage. He could hear her singing to herself as she drew, laughed to herself when she read new joke books. And she was there at meals asking him questions, demanding answers that made him smile inwardly.

And still the restlessness remained.

It tugged at him as he washed dishes at the sink and watched out his kitchen window at the changing seasons. It circled his spine when he saw couples walking hand in hand. It was a longing to be needed in a different way.

And then he met you and you needed him so strongly. You begged him to lead you and even though it would be months before he could admit it to himself, Joel was so fucking grateful for you. You made him feel wanted.

You were funny, you were serious, you were shy, you were bold, you wanted to be led and you hated Joel's barked orders. In you were multitudes that mesmerized him.

He loved so much about you from your beautiful face to the way your eyes brightened when you spotted him in a crowded room. If he had the skill he could write a sonnet on the arch of your brow or the curve of your bottom lip.

He was besotted and lovesick and fell for you so hard and so deep that one morning he woke up with tears in his eyes; joyful tears that came from living decades of loneliness he saw the twin reflection of when he gazed into your eyes.

And what had he done for you? He pushed you away so brutally that you'd run into danger without a second though. And he knew deep down that it was his fault. If he hadn't turned his back on you, you would have been in his arms tonight. You would have been dancing and laughing and later he would have taken you to bed and shown you just how grateful he was for you in his life.

But instead he's here in a near blizzard, a red scarf wrapped around his palm and an ache in his heart so strong it makes him breathless.

Your stomach drops to your toes as you realize you're not alone. The voice gets closer.

"Stop right there."

You ignore the deep voice, hoping that the snow still shields you enough to get away. You both start to jog to the mouth of the forest when another crack of a shot goes off and a bullet catches the side of your jacket arm, narrowly missing flesh.

You immediately pause, throwing your arm up in surrender.

You turn around to see a man in a thick wool jacket, a gun raised. You don't see anyone else with the man, but that doesn't mean that more won't be arriving.

"We're leaving," you tell him through the whistling wind that's kicked up. "Just let us go. We don't want trouble."

"And why would I do that?" He says without humor. "You people killed my cousin."

You think back to the grizzled man who held you and Joel at gunpoint.

"That wasn't us," you lie, trying to shield Maria as the man advances.

"Bullshit," he spits.

"It was someone else."

"Even if that's true, they ain't here," he smirks, licking his lips. "I have a feeling killing you two would cheer me up plenty. Or maybe I just need to kill one of ya, take the other one back to camp to play with."

He lowers his gun, a crazed look on his face. Your stomach roils at the thought of his dirty man even breathing near you, let alone touching you. Behind you Maria grabs the small gun hastily shoved in your back jean pocket.

"Arm," she whispers for only you to hear. You raise your right arm and she slides the gun around your side.

"You surrendering?" the man says coming a little closer, his own gun loosely held at his side as he tries to see you through the flurry of flakes. "That's a smart move."

With what feels like alarming accuracy considering she only has one working arm, Maria fires a bullet towards the snarling man's. Maria's shot goes wide, only grazing his ankle. The man hisses in pain but keeps coming.

"Fucking bitch!"

The man continues to stagger towards the two of you. You watch as he starts to raise his own gun in your direction again, the twin barrels menacing.

This is the end.

You feel Maria shaking behind you, her small whimper of her son’s name and then it's like all the lessons and advice and practice come back to you in a single moment of clarity.

Go quiet. Calm. Focus, breathe out and then pull.

Both your guns rise at the same time, but it's you who fires first. There's a cracking echo of the shot that sends birds cawing and flying away from the treetops.

A violent burst of blood exits the man's chest as the bullet tears through his flesh. He gives a gasping cry of surprise, gun swinging wildly and you take advantage by shooting again. Now he crumples to the ground in a heap, his gun forgotten, blood spilling over the snow. He’s dead.

"Go Maria," you tell her as you move towards the body, taking the man's gun and handing it to your friend. "Take this and go."

"I can't leave you!"

"Maria, you have one good arm, no horse and who knows how many others are going to be back now that they've heard that gunshot?"

As if on cue you hear the distant sound of shouts. You turn to the woman who stands behind you, peering into the distance.

"Maria they'll shoot us both before we get to Midnight," you hiss before shoving her. "Now fucking move."

She gives you a tight nod of understanding and starts to run, noticing that you don't follow. The sight of three figures in the distance terrifies her but she moves to go closer to you. You hold up a hand, stopping her.

"I couldn't help Charlie," you tell her through angry tears. "Please let me help you. For Tommy. For Douglas. Go back to them. Fucking go, Maria."

And with that you take off into the snow, red scarf trailing after you. Maria watches you go for only a moment before her feet carry her through the trees, back to the mouth of the forest where an agitated Midnight waits.

There is a distant gunshot and Maria feels her stomach drop. Was that you? Was that your final moment? Go, you told her and so she will. Maria clamors atop the horse, grunting in pain as her bad arm swings up.

With one last look at the dark forest Maria gives a cracked sob, her heels digging into Midnight's side.

"Take us home."

He can't find you.

Joel's chest feels tight, like an anxiety attack is well on its way.

"Where are you?"

His voice is caught in the trees, held there by the thick snow that clings to heavy branches. The familiar curl of dread winding its way around every individual rib before tugging furiously.

Not now not now.

But his body doesn't care that you're out there, scared and alone. It stops him in his tracks and pulls him to his knees, the cold snow biting through the denim.

It's your fault if she's dead.

He clutches his sternum through the jacket, feeling as the breathlessness approaches.

She's here because of you.

The fear compounds into a heavy dread that has tears flirting around his waterline.

You failed her.

This is how you felt every day he forced you on patrols. This terrified, doomed sensation that incapacitates him. He breathes deeply, his shoulders rising to his ears and then dropping slowly. He slows his breathing, in and out through his nose. His eyes slam shut, blood roaring in his ears.

In and out. C'mon, in and out. She's still out there. Gotta get my shit together. Gotta find my girl.

He needs to calm down.

The red scarf is so bright, so scarlet. It reminds him of blood. It reminds him of you. It reminds him of fear and then of love. It makes his heart throb for an entirely different reason.

He puts it to his lips, his mouth moving over the knitted yarn. He never noticed the delicate weaving at the edges, the way that even though it’s been out in the snow it still holds traces of your soap. He inhales it, feeling his body relax increment by increment.

The trembling in him subsides and he stands shakily, eyes wet as he props himself up against the trunk of the nearby tree. The gun swings over his shoulders and he clutches at his chest as the anxiety sits on his sternum.

I'm always fucking failing

Joel shouts your name into the snow, the wind carrying his words into the trees. He falls to his knees there in the snow, curling into himself as he bunches his gloved hands into helpless fists. Failure.. He failed Sarah. He's failed you.

It's all he is.

It's all he's ever been or ever will be.

You let the red scarf hang loosely from your throat as you take off towards the traps. The figures spot you easily as was your intention. You hear them shout to one another before they begin to rush after you.

C'mon C'mon. Follow me, you fuckers.

You need to guide them away from where Maria is making her escape. With every painful lung full of air you tell yourself that your friend is one step closer to home, she's safe.

You lead them deeper into the forest, avoiding where you know the bear traps lay dormant with delicate attention. Footsteps are crashing through the forest behind you, smashing into low hanging branches and cracking ice.

You dart behind a large tree trunk when a mighty snapping and bellow goes off behind you. You catch your breath and peer around the tree to see a man doubled over in pain. His balding head is shiny with sweat and he holds at his bloodied leg useless.

A woman and another man are there, standing further away, concerned they too may fall victim. All three look emaciated and poorly dressed for the freezing weather. The standing man holds no weaponry that you can see.

"Gary what is it?"

"Fucking bear trap! The bitch led us right into a set up."

At least one is incapacitated. You watch carefully hidden to see the woman scoffing, many of her teeth missing and her hair wild around her head.

"Christ, Gary," she hisses. "You can't do anything right can you?"

He doesn't reply, just holds his leg and continues to bleed out. He looks at his partners with desperation.

"Help me!"

His leg is completely mangled. Even from where you crouch you can see that the leg is going to need amputation and that's only if he doesn't bleed out on the way to a doctor.

The woman and man exchange a look before the man nods. Without any emotion the woman steps forward, unsheathing a knife from her hip pocket. She draws closer to the man in the bear trap.

"No, Betty, wait!" Gary pleads when he realizes what's about to happen. "I just need some stitches!"

Betty takes a fistful of the man's greasy hair, tugging his head back. But he tries to wrench out of her grip, his desperate eyes flying to the man.

"Vince, stop her! I just-"

The rest of what he was about to say is immediately cut off as Betty slashes the knife across Gary's throat. Blood pours from the wound and you watch, sickened, as Gary gurgles before falling back into a pool of his own blood, eyes open and un-staring.

You see the woman looks defeated as she gazes down at Gary. This was not an enjoyable task for her. She swipes at her eyes and sniffles as she wipes her bloodied knife clean over the thigh of her jeans.

"That bitch is gonna pay for this." She looks around. "I'm pretty sure I saw her friend headed to the main road."

You don't know how many bullets remain in your gun and you can't check without making noise and arousing attention. Where before you wanted to be as visible as possible, now you want to be stealthy. You unwind the scarf, tossing it behind you as you creep closer to the two figures.

Focus. Focus. Take them out. Be quick. Think of the cans.

Your hands are shaky when you raise the rifle to your eye. You close one, trying to focus, but all you can think about is the fact that Maria might not be far enough away. That the horrible woman might catch up with her. You exhale and then shoot, wincing at the noise of the bullet leaving the chamber.

The bullet whizzes by Betty’s head, embedding itself into a nearby tree. You grit your teeth, squeezing your eyes shut and frustration and disappointment. The woman stops abruptly, her boots skidding in snow before spearing Vince with a sharp look.

"She's here."

You hold your breath, watching as the two begin to scout around. You hear the man cry out about the red scarf when he comes upon it, and you try to follow them with your eyes but they are eventually lost in the furious flurry of snow.

You creep between trees, hoping to be as shielded as possible. You hold your breath, praying you aren't seen. After a few moments you see a figure up ahead.

It's the woman who stands by the tree, a knife in one hand and a scowl on her face. She's clearly waiting for you and she doesn't appear to have any other weapons.

You could take her out with a single bullet. You just can't let your fear overtake you. You raise the gun again, trying your best to stop it from shaking in your grip. You can do this. You just need to-

"Gotcha."

Hands grab you from behind, one on the back of your neck, the other on the barrel of your gun. You shoot wildly, desperate to injure the man. But they all fire into the ground, shooting dirt and debris up but injuring no one.

Vince chuckles darkly before pressing you against the tree. You squirm as he checks for weaponry in your pockets and back of your jeans. When he finds nothing else he whirls you to face him.

"You killed my friend."

Before you can say anything in defense his hand comes back to smack you across the face. He’s holding a sharp rock in his knuckles and it catches on your cheekbone. You cry out, your face already stinging from the cold, but now you feel warmth dripping down your cheek.

He looks out into the blizzard over your head.

"I got the bitch, Betty!"

You hear the crow of triumphant laughter through the snow, and then her echoing voice calling out.

"Bring her here. Along the tree line unless you wanna end up like Gary."

Your scalp stings as Vince takes you by the roots and drags you behind him. You try to wrench out of his grip but he's stronger than you and thrusts you towards the woman.

Betty stands at the base of the tree smirking victoriously. She looks at Vince behind you. He's holding your gun over his shoulder.

"Her guns out of ammo."

Betty looks at your bloody face and she laughs before looking back over at Vince.

"Our gun?"

"Gary had it."

Betty shakes her head before shooting another oily smirk in your direction. She raises the knife in her hand.

"No matter. I like doing things up close and personal anyway."

She advances and you scramble back from her.

"Please! Don't do this!"

Vince watches passively nearby, chuckling at your desperate cries. Betty is obviously the de-facto leader and he's waiting for his next instructions.

"Go and get the horse," she instructs. "I wanna make sure we give Gary a proper burial back home."

Vince nods and goes jogging off in the direction of what you assume is the horse.

"C'mon girlie," Betty croons hideously. She tosses the knife back and forth between her bony, red-tipped fingers. Either she doesn't feel the cold or she just doesn't have gloves to wear.

"You don't have to kill me," you plead, not caring that you sound pathetic.

"I know I don't have to. I want to," Betty informs you. Something about her smile as she says that makes your flesh crawl. She's fucking insane

And that scares you because all of a sudden it becomes so obvious that you do want to live, even if it's a world in which Joel Miller isn't yours.

You want to live for Charlotte and your dad. You want to find your mother even though it seems impossible. You want to make amends with Jennifer. You want to cuddle Douglas. You want to make flowers with Ellie. You want to create and bake. You want to see another sunrise.

"Please," you try again, your chest constricted. You raise a hand out imploringly only to have her slash the blade through your palm.

You cry out as the serrated knife cuts through the meat of your palm. You pull your hand back against your body. It pulses in agony.

You're still crawling backwards with one arm, only stopping when you brush up against something stiff. A quick glance down to the left tells you it's the prone body of Gary in a bloody puddle.

You narrowly avoid the nearby trap ready to spring shut close by. If it snaps on you at this angle you're as good as dead. Betty sees the dead body and her eyes grow colder. She bares her remaining teeth at you.

"You're the reason he's dead."

"No," you gasp, head shaking. "I promise."

You watch her advance and you feel hot tears at your waterline when you realize you can't go any further back. But they aren't desperate or hopeless tears: they're tears of fury.

Fury that you're forever at the mercy of others. Furious that you always seem to be the one cowering in fear.

"I'm gonna enjoy cutting out your lying tongue," Betty hisses. "Gonna fry it up with my eggs."

Your uninjured hand sweeps beside you in blind desperation, shocked when the tips come in contact with the unmistakable sensation of cool metal. The gun from the dead Gary is there under the snow, brushing against your fingers.

Your last chance. Your salvation.

"Gonna cut off that pretty hair and shove it down your throat," Betty continues to snarl. "Gonna make you choke on it while I slit your throat."

Your focus goes narrow, fixated completely upon the woman telling you all the ways in which she will desecrate your body.

"I can't wait to-"

Her voice drifts away as Jennifer's voice comes whispering into your ears.

"Think of something calming. Something that makes everything go quiet."

And so your mind goes elsewhere. It goes to a quiet place inside you where things feel slow and calm. In that place Joel is holding you in bed, whispering that he wants to give you everything. Baby. His girl. His big dark eyes pull you in, soothing your shattered nerves.

With a focus free of tumultuous fear you grab the gun from beneath the snow. In one fluid motion you stand and raise it the weapon front of you, aiming for her head.

The woman looks shocked at this, pausing for only a fraction of a moment, but it's long enough.

You pull the trigger.

The sound of the gun going off so loudly that you wince, but the woman just stands there above you staring down at you. For a moment you think that perhaps your shot went wide.

That's until a trickle of red appears in the center of her forehead and she drops to the ground like a puppet whose strings have been severed.

Her knife tumbles to the ground and you stand shakily. She isn't breathing; she couldn't be after that direct shot. You don't have time to be awestruck by your aim. Vince will be back soon.

You curl over Betty's dead body, frisking her prone form to find nothing aside from the knife she dropped which you now snatch from the snow and shove into your pocket.

You're standing like a newborn calf, shaky and unsure. You like to think you'd be able to rush back to the main road, but there's no way because Vince has just arrived back with the horse.

The two of you lock eyes and when he sees what's happened to Betty he rushes over with a cry of anger. You aim the gun at him, ready to take him down. He sees the gun and freezes just as you pull the trigger

Nothing.

Vince is less than thirty feet from you and sees what's happened. His fear turns to amusement.

"No more bullets."

You pull the trigger a few more times before you accept that this gun is just as useless as yours. Still you swing it at the unarmed Vince as he advances.

You rush back for the tree line, determined to escape the traps. Vince follows in close pursuit as you think up an option of what to do. Could you get to his horse? Could you ride it out of the forest?

But Vince is still there at your back and his long strides overtake yours. He tackles your knees with a growl of fury sending you to the ground and knocking the wind out of you as the shotgun falls out of your grip.

Vince is making his way to you in a crawl, obviously intent on killing you with his bare hands if he needs to. You kick out your legs, catching him in the chest. The horse gives a whinny before taking off into the tree line, its form disappearing.

Vince falls back in surprise, but rights himself quickly as you attempt to army crawl towards the gun. He sees what you're doing and he's faster. He leans down to grab it just before your hand can curl around the base.

You turn on your back; elbows propped to see him shakily stand. There's blood from a large gash over his left eye, something he sustained in the fall and despite this, he's glaring down at you.

Unlike Betty he's not one for words. He simply raises the gun by the barrel and brings it down with the intent of smashing your head in like a pumpkin.

You roll at the last second and the thick comb of the gun misses you by an inch, sinking into the ground and sending dirty snow flying. He grunts, pulling it out if the snow as you flip back to face him.

Your hand fumbles in your pocket and curls around the handle of Betty's knife as he raises the gun over his head once more by the barrel.

With a scream you jerk forward and sink the blade between his ribs before twisting. Shocked, Vince bellows in surprise and you take advantage, standing and using the knife to push him to the ground.

The gun flies out of his hands as he falls back with a thunderous roar. You tug the knife out as he falls before you throw yourself on top of him. He can toss you off easily and so you have to work fast. And yet the thought of killing someone like this isn't natural for you.

It reminds you of Chiyo.

Of the night he returned to your shelter with a rabbit tucked under his arm after being gone all day.

It had been days since you'd run out of canned food and Chiyo was certain he could hunt down a squirrel.

Chiyo was strangely quiet as he prepared the rabbit over the fire. You were chatty, effusive in your thanks and musing that by tomorrow evening you'd be possibly eating with other people.

"You remember how to get the rest of the way to Jackson City, right?" Chiyo asked as he spun the rabbit slowly over the crackling flames.

"Uh, yeah," you frowned at him, confused at his energy. "Should only be another days travel."

When the rabbit was prepared he handed the stick to you, shaking his head when you offered him some.

"Aren't you hungry?"

"I'm not gonna waste the food."

You stared at him in confusion, about to ask more questions when he let out a shaky sigh and pulled back his jacket.

A bite mark stared back at you, wet and oozing.

"Found an old shop and thought I'd scrounge to see what I could find," he explained with a grimace. "I already had the rabbit but I was being greedy. Infected was stuck under an old freezer. Didn't see him until it was too late. Took him out but..."

Chiyo broke off as your stomach dropped.

"There wasn't anyone else I came across. No raiders, no infected. Just a bad spot of luck for me."

"Maybe in Jackson they have something," you said still in a state of shock. Chiyo fixed you with a sardonic look.

"You know there's no cure. And you also know it's only a matter of time before I turn so you need to act quick."

He pulled down the jacket and you could see the thin sheen of sweat to his forehead as he removed the dagger and gun from his pocket.

"You have two opinions. If it's the knife you stab right here. That'll go through my ribs and straight to the heart," Chiyo said lining up the dagger to his chest. "But it has to be here. Otherwise you're just gonna stab and stab and it'll take me ages to die. Or you can slit my throat, but I think you'll have a hard time watching that."

Chiyo spoke calmly and evenly, his face dispassionate as he described the ideal way to end his life.

"If it's the gun, the barrel sits here," he tapped the center of his forehead, "and you pull the trigger. It's cleaner and faster but it's loud and I don't know how you'd feel seeing that."

You were only a day away from salvation, from a future. The injustice of that chokes you, like a bitter plume of smoke.

"I can't," you blubbered, terrified and shaking as he placed both weapons in front of your knelt position.

"You have to." And for the first time since you knew him Chiyo looked uncertain of himself. "I thought I could do it to myself but... I can't."

The tears slipped down your cheeks. You had been through so much together. You never imagined Jackson City without him. He knelt in front of you, his dark eyes warm as he regarded your worried face.

"Let me see my wife again."

In the end the gun proved to be the fastest opinion.

As you line up the dagger with Vince's chest above his heart you can't help but draw the parallel.

"You useless cunt!" Vince shouts, attempting to wrestle out from between your legs.

Useless.

The word swirls around in your head, sparking a flame within you. It feeds on the fury of that single word. The word that has haunted you since you couldn't save your sister. And suddenly all you can think about is The Group. The sneering faces and the way they treated you.

But above all you think of Charlie and her screams for you.

You give an inhuman shriek of pain as you raise the knife above your head. You don't know what the man sees in your expression but he visibly pales, eyes widening.

And there's your mom's voice, sweet and serene in your ear talking about Easter dresses and your little sister.

"You're her hero."

And it's that final thought which allows you to bring the knife brutally down into the man's chest before twisting it. He cries out at the sensation of your blade sliding between his ribs. Not over his heart but a few inches below.

You have no intention of ending him quickly.

With a grunt you pull the blade back out of his body and stab it again, but now in his guts. You pull it out and stab again. And again.

"No no," he gurgles, blood spilling from his mouth, dropping into the snow.

Yes. Yes yes yes.

You don't know what you scream after that. It's possible it's gibberish or even the name of your sister over and over again with every stab and slice. You feel droplets of warm blood flick onto your face as your blade sink into soft, split flesh.

“She never got a chance to really live!”

With every thrust of the knife you think of Charlotte. With every withdraw and re-stab you think of the life she won't get the chance to live. You think of her screams as you were driven away. You think of your dead father. You think of the whole world turning to shit.

And then the knife is forgotten because it doesn’t seem like enough and you're just punching him over and over. Levelling your fists against his cheekbones, his mouth, and the socket of his eye. With every crunch you feel stronger, every gurgle more enraged. Soon he's not moving or making any noise but it doesn't matter. Your ears roar as you recall your sisters screams. The fear in her eyes. The way she called your name.

The things you shout are barely comprehensible, mostly just a flurry of profanity as your fists rain down on his face. Eventually your fist is covered in blood and gore. You don't know how much time has passed, all you know is that when you finally lose the energy to keep going, the man below you is a bloody pulp. You stop only when the power from your arms gives out.

Then you shakily stand, feeling disorientated. The wind is picking up and you know that you'll have a hard time making it back to Jackson without a horse. On wobbly legs you move, thrusting the bloodied knife into your jacket pocket. You go to retrieve the gun that's fallen nearby. It's empty but in case you run into anyone you'll at least looked armed.

Maria will be sending a search party. You only need to find a hiding spot to wait it out in case more raiders venture here. Your mind feels sharp, the metallic scent of blood in your nostrils and Joel's words are there, his voice low and serious in your mind.

"You gotta think smart. You climb a tree, a good sturdy, tall one with thick branches. Once you're in the trees you stay still and quiet. You hide yourself in the tree and don't move. It's your only hope."

"Okay."

"Repeat it."

"If I am unarmed and in danger I need to climb up a tree. I need to remain quiet and out of sight."

“Good.”

You survey the trees around you before picking the one with the thickest looking branches. With much burning in your muscles, you plant one foot in the side and start to crawl up, feet scraping against the trunk, thankful for the snags in the bark.

You grunt and groan when you slip and have to start again. You dig your fingers into the trunk and with a burst of desperate energy you manage to claw your way to the first branch. Not high enough. You keep going up the large and sturdy tree, wincing when the wind slices through and shakes the smaller limbs.

Still you climb up, eyes fixated on the branches above you. In your haste some of the sharper foliage scratches your cheek. You hiss and keep going, stopping only when you feel your stomach drop at the height.

Don't look down. Not yet.

When you reach a thicker branch that shields you with its snow covered foliage you stop, curling around the trunk and resting lightly on the branch. Your arms wrap around the trunk, forehead pressed there.

Now you wait.

Joel feels his body going numb and not from the cold. He feels that shell going over him, the one that's full of self loathing and disgust. The one that whispers in a voice that's like his but harder.

You thought you deserved happiness? Love? After the way you failed Sarah and Tess? You deserve nothing. You are nothing.

"But she's everything," he murmurs to himself and to whatever higher power might be listening. "She deserves a good life. If nothing else let me find her and take her back safely. Do whatever you want with me; just let me take her home safe."

He pleads this out loud all the while his ears and eyes are peeled for potential dangers. He sees it nearby in the pile of blood and gore half buried in the snow. He draws over

The man lays on his back, his stomach sliced open brutally, his organs spilling onto the snow. One of his eyes has been gouged out, the lips so split they don't resemble a mouth anymore. There's so much blood Joel cannot believe it. It looks like the man was attacked by a wild animal.

The sight of it turns his guts and Joel has to shut his eyes to stop his stomach from heaving.

What happened here? Did the raiders turn on one another? Has a wild animal survived long enough to do this? It can't be an infected, he's never seen something like this in the decades since outbreak day.

It's eerily still out here, the wind rustling in the trees. Some trees creak nearby, their thinner trunks no match for the wind. Joel actually thinks he hears his name within the breeze and symphony of creaking.

He hears it again. Through the snow and the wind he hears it; your sweet voice calling to him from the forest. The sound of your voice tired and pushed out of your lungs.

"Joel?"

It's like it's coming from everywhere in the forest, echoing. He spins around, shielding his eyes from the kick up of snowflakes.

He peers ahead of him, worried gaze scanning the dark forest. Nothing. He hears his name again and he goes towards it, eyes lifting to the top of the trees until he sees it - your gloved hand weakly waving from in between heavy branches.

You're up in one of the upper crotches of the tree, one arm hugging the trunk, the other holding a shotgun. He can see the flicker of your hair caught in the breeze, your eyes, heavy lidded.

How the fuck did you get up so high?

Up there you're hidden by the thick leaves and snow. If he hadn't been scouring it for you, there's a chance he never would have seen you.

There you are, face pinched as you gaze down at him from a branch near the top. You're shivering, mouth trembling. You blink down at him, as if you can't quite believe what you're seeing. Like he's a phantom.

Relief flows through Joel so strongly that his legs temporarily feel weak. He has to lean by the nearby tree trunk or he'll topple over. Everything becomes background noise to him: the whistle of wind, the bite of the cold against his cheeks. All he can see is you, the rest of the world fuzzy and ignored.

"I'm here," he shouts, legs scissoring the space until he's there at the base of the large tree. He reaches a hand up uselessly; you're far out of his reach.

"Can you get down?" he calls up to you, desperate to touch you. "You're safe," he adds when you don't move. "There's no one here."

He motions to the carnage around him, the blood splattering the snow. You look so small up there hidden in the trees. Only your face pokes out from over the snowy branch. You're covered in blood from where Joel stands and he feels like someone has kicked him in the chest. He staggers over to the tree, eyes trained on you. How injured are you?

You look to the bloodied scene below, shaking yourself from the slow trance. Joel's stomach tightens when he sees there are specks of blood on your cheek and when you come more into view he can see more on your jacket.

You shout down to him. "Is Maria okay?"

"She’s fine!" Joel calls up, eyes fixed on you. "Just her shoulde- Come down and I'll tell you everything. Can you make it down yourself?"

You nod, your feet sliding down the trunk increment by increment. You slowly begin your descent, clutching at the branches as your feet move down the trunk. It's just as precarious going down as it was going up. You have to move slowly and with intense focus.

Time slows as he watches your body shimmying down the large trunks, hands grasping tree limbs. Joel feels his stomach twist every time you appear to slip.

"Careful!"

You ignore him; you're focused entirely on the limbs of the tree that you grasp as you slowly lower yourself down the trunk. When you finally prepare to touch down on the ground and don't you think you might be falling.

You're not even on the ground before he's pulling you from the trunk and into his hold, an ugly choking noise escaping him. He pulls you against his chest, unwilling to let you see the tears fall down his cheeks.

"Baby," he manages before the lump in his throat is too thick to talk through.

Your arms fly to wrap around his neck and you cling to him with jagged little sobs. You bury your face in the slope where his shoulder meets his neck. He feels the cold tip of your nose against his warm skin and he revels in it, rocking you back and forth in his arms.

You're tired and weak. You've been out here for a long time and Joel can feel your shivering. But you’re alive.

My girl. My girl. Safe. She's here in my arms. Thank you thank you. She's safe. I've got her.

"What the fuck were you thinking?" Joel suddenly shouts one hand on the back of your head, the other arm banding around your waist.

His voice comes out harsher than intended, passionate in a way that seems aggressive.

"You said I needed to get to higher ground," you say crying, the tears warm against your frozen cheeks. "You said so!"

"I didn't mean scale a fucking tree to the top!" Joel says in a voice of pure anger. But the words and the way he holds you against him are anything but. "You're fuckin' crazy," he says with a laugh that turns into a cracked sob as he feels your body sagging against him. Your hands wrap around his waist as he rocks you.

You're sniffling against his shoulder, eyes swollen. Your hands tighten against his ribs, and despite the hurt you feel, just being in Joel's arms soothes you from the inside out. He releases you only so that he can cup your face with his hands, needing to see your eyes. You gaze up at him with an exhausted expression.

You whisper his name and then burst into tears, sobbing like a terrified child. It's uncontrollable; the jagged cries making your body shake. The tears stream down your cheeks, leaving trails through the dried blood.

He holds you, letting you cry against his chest. Your wails cause Joel's heart to ache. He whispers your name and his touch is overpowering, thick arms pulling you into and holding you in his bracing grip.

"I'm sorry," he whispers against your ear. "I'm so fucking sorry. You never shoulda been out without me. Never."

Eventually he pulls you back from him so that he can peer into your face. He is still very aware that you're exposed and there's a potential for an ambush.

"Are you hurt?"

“Not too bad,” you mutter as a hand moves to your cheek. "A cut on my hand and I think my face? And maybe some bruises. I was pretty lucky."

Joel looks at your blood-splattered face and clothing. “Where did all this blood come from?”

"The raiders I killed."

Joel thinks to the woman’s face with bullet between her eyes. The gore at the base of the tree. The bloodied form he spotted on his way in. He looks at your innocent face and his brows knit together.

“All of them?”

You nod gravely. “It was either me or them."

Your tone is scratchy and distant. Like someone else is speaking for you using your voice. Joel takes a moment to survey your eyes and he sees a strange disassociation in them. A glazing as you think back to what you've done.

"You did so good, baby."

You don't smile, but Joel thinks he sees a relief overtake your body at his words. Like you'd been holding your breath and only now released it.

It's strange what a shift like this will do to a person. Less than six hours prior, Joel had accepted that he would never talk to you again, would never see you, never touch you. And now here he is doing all three and so fucking grateful for the chance. He's not going to fuck this up with you, he's going to tell you everything, he's going to explain it all, and he’s going to fix this.

But first he needs to get you home and checked out by the doctor. Your body is starting to go slack. Without thought he throws the scarf he’s been carrying around your neck, tightening it to keep you warm.

"I'm gonna get you home," he murmurs after a kiss to your temple before he's guiding you out of the forest. "C'mon, the horse is just outside the trees. Can you make it?"

"Yeah."

You move stiffly, your body shaking. It's not just from the way you were curled in the trees, it's also the relief. The adrenaline has left you, resulting in rubbery legs. Halfway to Midnight Joel feels your legs give out. You would have collapsed if your hand wasn't firmly wrapped in Joel's.

Without a thought he bends down, gathering you into his arms and hoisting you into a bridal carry. You allow it, wrapping your arms around his neck and resting your temple on his shoulder.

It's harder to walk in the snow like this, but Joel wouldn't dream of complaining. You're here, you're safe, and he’s got you. You both make it back to Midnight and at the sight of you he gives a tired whinny.

You croak his name as Joel lifts you towards the horse. Your feet slip on the stirrup but eventually you're able to pull yourself over the saddle with Joel hoisting himself up after you with a grunt.

You're body is going limp and Joel knows you won't be able to hold onto him from behind. Hell, you probably won't be able to sit in front of him without toppling over. He puts his hands on your shoulders gently.

"Can you face this way? Towards me?"

With his help you turn backwards to position yourself towards him on the saddle, eyes drooping. Joel feels adoration flow though him at the sight of your sweet features.

"Got enough energy to hold onto me?"

You nod as your legs hook over his thighs and you press your face against his sternum. Joel melts as he feels you tighten your arms around his rib cage.

"I just need you to hold onto me as much as you can manage," he murmurs into your hair.

"Okay."

Your head slumps forward, forehead touching against his shoulder. Joel feels another thread of relief tighten around his ribs as he gathers you into his arms,. You know he wants to say so much more, but the snow is continuing to fall and the chill of the wind is starting to slice across your cheeks.

Midnight begins the trek home, his movements a bit staggered, his body obviously tired. Joel intends to treat him to all the food he wants, a warm wash and a week off from patrols. Hell, he’d let the fucker retire at this point.

Joel holds you in the cage of his arms, your face still buried in his neck.

“Maria? Did she-"

"Back safe and sound," Joel assures you, needing you to know everything is okay. Needing to bring you comfort. “You saved her.”

You make a soft sound between a coo and a cry and Joel feels tears slip down his cheeks. You can’t see them and so he doesn’t brush them back. He just keeps a tight hold on the reign with one hand, the other around your shoulders.

He feels your body go slack as you either faint or pass out from exhaustion. Either way he clucks his tongue and urges Midnight to go just a bit faster. He wants you home, he wants you seen by the doctor before he can really relax.

The gates come into view a short while later, voices loud and angry from behind it. He sees Rod at the outpost with binoculars. He gives a wave excitedly when he sees Joel and you galloping towards the settlement.

A crowd is gathered at the gates inside. Two of the newbie’s are on one of the horses shouting that their horses are being used. Jennifer is screaming at Kyle and a now a beleaguered looking Hank. A crowd of half-tipsy inhabitants are there shouting that they need to do something. Jennifer however is the loudest, her face pink with anger.

"You let me fucking pass, Hank! I'm one of the best shots here!" She wears a gun over her shoulder and a snarl over her face.

Hank gives a mighty sigh. "I've got orders. No one else exits until Tommy gets back."

"My best friend is out there! She needs my help you fucking bastard! Now open the fucking gates!"

“They’re back!”

The crowd dims as Rod jumps down from his post, urging Kyle to help him with the heavy gate mechanics. Jennifer watches with her heart in her chest as the gates open and Midnight trots in carrying Joel and a slumped figure in his arms. You're out cold, face tucked against Joel's front so she's not quite sure who it is but she’s fairly certain when she spots the red scarf peeking out from your jacket.

Melody and Boba are there in the snow, waiting to do their job. “Boba, check.”

The dog approaches and begins sniffing the air around the two of you before moving on. The gates are shut and Joel looks at Tommy who is approaching on horseback with a litany of guns in his arms and a few others jogging after him, also armed. Obviously he was gathering a group to go after you and the raiders.

When he sees Joel he screams his name, bringing the inexperienced horse he’s riding over to his brother.

“You found her.”

“Yeah.” Joel nods. If you were awake you might feel the vibration of his voice through his chest. “I need the medic.”

He doesn’t spare any more words. He needs to get you checked out. Without another look at the spying crowd he clicks his tongue and rides you both over to the medic center. Lily is already standing there with a coffee in one hand as she waves you both in.

“How did you know-“

“Had a feeling.”

Joel climbs off the horse and gently pulls you after him. You land on your feet, sighing in pain. Your hand is clutched against your chest, your cheek throbbing. You want to lie down. Joel helps to lead you into the medic office, feeling his heart aching as he sees you in here again.

“Put her here,” Lily says her eyes going to where you slump up against Joel. His left arm is still clutching you to him, still terrified to let you go before he slowly helps to lower you onto the table. He can breathe because its nothing like the last time you were both here. He got to you in time. You’re safe. He didn’t fail you.

“Gimme space, Joel,” Lily instructs distractedly as she begins to gingerly pull your outerwear from you. “I’ll call you.”

Joel nods, the fight gone from him for now. She says nothing more to him, instead she’s murmuring to you that she’s here to check on you, to get you fixed up and you’re muttering your thanks.

Joel goes to the waiting room – a few wood benches under the windows and heavily lowers himself onto it. He buries his face in his hands, exhausted and grateful all at once. A potent cocktail that leaves him with wet eyes and an aching heart.

The door to the medic office opens a while later and he raises his head to see Jennifer walking in tentatively. She kicks off the flakes from her boots and pulls the snowy wool hat from her head.

She spots Joel and she draws over to the bench opposite him. Silent tears slide down Jennifer's reddened cheeks and she swipes at her eyes with her gloved hand.

"Is she okay?" Her voice comes out thin and shaky.

"Exhausted, but yeah, I think so," Joel says quietly. “Cut her hand I think. And one of the fuckers got a punch in. But other than that, she’s okay I think.”

Jennifer sniffles. "I was so scared she wasn't coming back."

"Me too." He isn't expecting his voice to come out so hoarse and cracked, but it does. It catches somewhere in his ribs. Jennifer watches his face carefully, her head shaking.

"She was fucking insane going out like that."

"Maria needed help and she knew it."

"She's like that," Jennifer muses, gazing at you softly. "Always wants to help everyone."

Joel hums a response to that, not able to add anything she's not already said. He thinks of you helping Ellie, about wanting to make sure the horses are taken care of, the paper flowers for Maria. The list of your thoughtfulness goes on.

“She’s the closest thing I’ve ever had to a sister,” she tells Joel, her hands clasped in her lap. Love for you is so clear in her expression. "I've never had a friend like her."

"She's a special woman."

It sounds awkward out loud from Joel, but he means it. You are special to him and Jenny and he reckons plenty of other people in town.

Jenny gazes out the window above Joel's head, watching the flakes easing up. She's quiet for a moment, the only thing heard in the room is the dual breathing from both of them. And then she looks at Joel with a hard expression.

“I never would have gone near you if I’d known how she felt about you.”

Regret sweeps through Joel in an instant at her words. He wishes more than anything he could take back the last few weeks, especially the last twenty four hours. Encouraging the flirtatious Jennifer at the dance was a shitty thing to do. Seeing Jennifer at the gates, knowing that she was about to go out after you makes him feel further shamed.

Joel knows this isn't the time but he doesn't know when a better occasion will present itself.

"Jennifer I’m real sorry about what I did.”

Jennifer clearly isn't moved by this, but she gives him the decency to look curious. “So then why did you do it?”

He exhales slowly, arms crossing in front of him. He looks at the closed door that you rest behind when he answers her.

“I was… I was scared of losing her.”

o her credit she doesn’t sneer or mock. Instead she looks at him with a kindness he doesn’t deserve.

“That doesn’t make sense.”

He feels vulnerable sharing this with her, but she deserves his answer. He can only imagine how hurt she's feeling right now, how used.

“I thought I couldn’t keep her and Ellie safe if I was distracted. The last time we were on patrols we were foolin’ around and this raider found us and…” Joel breaks off, swallowing. “What if it had been an infected? What if he shot her? How could I have lived with myself?”

Jennifer is quiet, contemplating his words.

"I got her taken off patrols and I thought that'd be good enough. But I couldn't stop thinkin' about her, lookin' for her. I knew I wasn't gonna be strong enough to stay away from her for long, so I wanted to make her hate me," Joel explains. "If she hated me, she'd be safe. So I flirted with you in front of her and then at the dance..."

He trails off with a wince, not wanting to replay that horrible moment ever again. He feels sickened by his behavior. He hurt so many people in the process, not just you; he hurt Jennifer and Ellie.

Jennifer remains sitting there, listening to him spout off his reasoning and he doesn’t expect her to understand and so he’s surprised when she nods.

“I see.” She tilts back on her bench. “And I forgive you.”

No one is more surprised than Jennifer when Joel's eyes spill over at her words. She's never seen Joel truly emote, never seen the way his large brown eyes go wide and childlike before his brows saddle.

“Thank you, Jenny.”

Jennifer nods and is about to say something more when the door to the exam room creaks open. Joel nearly jumps up from his seat when Lily exits, wiping at his eyes with the back of his sleeve.

“Well? She okay?”

“Injuries are fairly surface level. A few bruises to her side, some scratches. She’ll need to come back in the next few days to keep an eye on her hand and that cut at her cheek.” She hands Joel a small rattling paper bag. “A few pain pills in there if she needs them. I gave her one already so no more until morning. And there's also a bottle of disinfectant to be put on the injuries.”

Joel takes the bag, eyes large.

“So I can take her home?”

Lily nods and Joel rushes into the room to see you seated, half slumped. Your hand has been bandaged with gauze, and your cheekbone is covered by a large tan bandage. Your bloodied jacket is on the floor and Joel shrugs his own off without thinking.

You blink sleepily at Joel as he enters, silently standing as he slips your arms into his jacket, buttoning it up for you. You’re still quiet, just watching him through glazed eyes. He pulls you against him, one arm around your frame, your eyes closed as he leads you out of the room.

Jennifer is still there on the bench but she stands when you exit. She draws over and and she looks at your drowsy frame, a fondness in her delicate features before she slides a calming hand down the back of your head. The same thing you used to do with Charlie.

"I'll come by to visit her tomorrow," Jennifer offer.

"She'll be at my place," Joel says quietly and despite everything the tops of his cheeks go pink.

"Good."

He hears your steady breathing in the crook of his neck and that gives him strength not to fall apart entirely. He shifts his jaw, tucking you under his chin. Jennifer watches the exchange, expression soft and eyes watery when she speaks again.

"Take good care of her. She deserves to be loved properly."

In any other instance Joel would balk at the word love, but not now. Not when he was so close to losing you forever. He nestles you tighter against him.

"I understand."

"Do you? Really?" Jennifer raises a brow, a silent challenge.

He thins his lips, nodding seriously.

"Yes."

"Then don't fuck it up," She adds before tugging on her wool hat. Joel twitches a whisper of a smile, nodding again.

"Yes ma'am."

Jennifer lets a small smile slip at that honorific before she's nodding and heading back out the door. Joel follows, surprised to see Tommy and some other folks hanging around outside waiting. Some of the patrol folks, some of the kitchen workers. Arthur is there amongst the crowd, Penny too and they cling to each other like anxious parents. Cherry has her hands in her pockets, looking concerned. Hank is wringing his hat between his fingers nervously. They all look at you with their faces twisted in concern but Arthur is the one who speaks.

“Is she okay?”

“A little banged up,” Joel offers. “But she’ll be okay.”

The group exhales slowly, the relief clear in all their expressions, but especially Tommy’s. Joel knows he wants to thank you, to fall down on his knees and kiss your feet for sending his wife back to him. The other folks pepper Joel with questions.

“Did she see anythin’?”

“How many raiders?”

“Where were they exactly?”

“How many of us need to go after them?”

You give a small exhausted huff against Joel's neck and without thinking he presses a kiss to your temple. Tommy and several of the men watch this interaction from yards away but Joel doesn't give a fuck. He's done hiding; he's done holding you at arm’s length. He's done not having you with him.

“You can all go back to bed,” Joel announces, not too loud to startle you. “They’re dead. I’ll fill y’all in tomorrow. But right now I gotta get my girl home and to bed.”

The men nod, muttering to one another and soon the group dissipates, leaving only Tommy standing there glancing between you and Joel. He gives a small, lingering smile between you and his brother before nodding to himself, as if satisfied.

“Night, Joel.”

He walks back in the direction of his home, back to his wife, his son, his life. To the neighbors who are watching over them. To his bed where he’ll wake up with his family together. Joel smiles after his younger brother, knowing that awaits Tommy.

“Ready to head home?”

You make a small grunt of agreement and Joel half guides and half carries you home. You walk, but its wobbly but Joel is patient with you. You make it to his place in a decent amount of time. In his thick leather jacket you’re warm and cozy, and the pills have made you feel so relaxed.

You both arrive at the front door and Joel is taken aback when he hears rustling from inside and Ellie tosses the door open before popping her head out.

“About fucking time.”

Joel blinks at her in surprise. "Thought you were at Tommy's."

"Heard what happened," she says, eyes trailing over to your slumped frame. "Thought I should come home."

Joel nods, relief touching every nerve in him. His two loves are here, close to him. Everything is going to be okay. He tilts his head in your direction.

"I'm bringin' her inside.”

Ellie looks at you in Joel's arms, sees the way Joel holds you tenderly and a large smile creeps across her face.

"Well I’m heading to bed. Just wanted to make sure you got home alright old man."

“Smartass.”

Joel plants a kiss to the top of her head that she accepts with a grumble as you all step inside. Joel isn’t usually the peck and soft words type with Ellie. But she allows it tonight, the relief that he’s safe very clear in the wet eyes she tries to hide from him.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you everythin’ Ellie.”

“I know.”

He shifts you in his arms, feeling the soft and even way you breathe that tells him you’re half asleep.

“We’ll talk more about this tomorrow. You can ask me anythin’ you want.”

“Deal.”

Ellie gives a gentle wave before heading back for the garage. Joel watches her go, a warmth radiating from his chest. Ellie and him are gonna be okay. You and him are gonna be okay. Everything is gonna be okay.

Joel guides you up the creaking staircase to the bathroom before propping you up on the closed toilet seat. Your shoulders are slumped forward, head tilting down.

Your skin is cold to the touch, even after he's removed the jacket, gloves, boots and socks. Joel gently takes your chin in between his thumb and forefinger, tilting your face up, looking to see the bandage. He notices your bottom lip is slightly bruised and he runs his thumb over it.

You sit in a daze, eyes closed and mouth slightly parted. He holds himself back from kissing you awake. Instead his nose nuzzles yours, inhaling faintly. He moves delicately, his touch placid and slow.

"Hey, can you open your eyes for me?"

Your eyelids flutter delicately before cracking open. You attempt to focus on his face but to Joel your eyes look glassy.

"Where am I?" Your voice is a quiet mumble but Joel catches it.

"My bathroom. We gotta get you warm. You were out in the cold for a long time." He falters a moment. "Can I undress you for the shower?"

You give a yawn that cracks your jaw before nodding. Gently Joel undresses you, peeling each damp layer until you sit wearing only your panties and swaying gently atop the toilet seat. Joel feels his heart lurch up into his chest at the sight of you so defenseless and vulnerable. He knows that it's his fault you went out into that danger and it breaks him. Tears burn his eyes but he blinks them back.

"I'm so sorry," he murmurs. You don't hear him; your head has fallen forward in fatigue.

He looks over your body, seeing the ugly bruises littering your skin, thankful that aside from that and scraped knees nothing else looks damaged. With his help you stand, allowing him to divest you of your panties by dragging them down your legs. You step out of them shakily, one hand on Joel's shoulder for support.

Joel remains fully dressed and despite your nudity, sex is the furthest thing from his mind. Right now his focus is making sure you don't get hypothermia. He didn't fight so hard to get you back just to have the flu take you.

"Come'ere," Joel murmurs, gathering you into his arms. His heart thumps when you don't pull away but instead lean into him as he guides you into the shower.

He holds you under the dripping shower head, dousing you both in warm water. Your cheek rests against the damp flannel of his chest. You barely flinch when the water hits you but you do let out a low moan when it rains over the bruises over your ribs.

"I know, baby," Joel soothes, hands sliding down your slippery spine. He hates that you're in pain. "After this is bed, I promise."

You make a mumbling sound of agreement, allowing Joel to soap your body and hair, getting the dirt out from under your fingernails, rinsing the blood from your scalp. Ensuring that every scrape he finds is cleaned and then kissed gently as if physically atoning for not getting to you quicker.

Between this he looks at your face, each eyelashes, the curve of your cheek, the way your soaked hair sticks to your scalp and he feels himself exhale for the first time in what feels like days. You make a soft sighing noise and he pauses.

"Doin' okay?"

You give a little nod and if there were any remaining walls to break down in Joel, all have been levelled. His palm cups your cheek, thumb stroking your damp skin.

"Joel," you sigh when he runs a tender thumb across your uninjured cheekbone.

His heart softens further when you lean into his wet palm, nuzzling. Tears are at his waterline, spilling over when he thinks of how close he was to losing you. Your mouth moves soundlessly and he ducks his head closer to you.

"What?"

"You came to get me," you repeat in a mutter. He watches your face smooth into a slack expression of sleep.

"Always, baby."

Because he's yours and you're his. He's been yours for months now, but he's been too fucking stubborn and terrified to admit it. But that ended the second he realized he'd lose you even after taking you out of his life.

He turns the shower off only after he feels your body is sufficiently warmed and he bundles you into the fluffiest towel he has. He uses the towel to dry your hair the best he can. Satisfied he braids your hair clumsily down your back before securing it with one of Ellie's hair elastics he's always finding around the house.

He threads your arms into one of his old t-shirts, long enough that it just covers your bottom if you keep your arms down. He observes as you lean your nose to the shoulder, inhaling before mumbling something he can't hear but he thinks is his name.

"Under the covers," he urges, amused that your eyes have been closed since he removed you from the shower. You do as he says, blindly crawling into the center of the bed and snuggling down. He covers you in the duvet and the extra blanket he keeps around for the cold weather.

As if just realizing he's still soaked he pulls off the wet clothing before tugging on a new t-shirt and sweatpants. He draws back over to where you lay against his pillow, body curled tightly into itself.

"Still cold?"

"M'feet."

Joel nods, striding from the room with purpose. He grabs a water bottle from the kitchen, returning once it's filled with warm water. He grips your ankle under the covers before lifting it slightly, slipping the water bottle between your feet. The crease between your brows immediately erases and he smiles down at you.

"Better?"

"Mhm."

"Good."

He feels a bit of that blind panic leaving him at the sight of you snuggled there in his bed.

You're here. You're safe. You're alive.

He crawls in under the covers next to you, trying to give you space but needing to be as near to you as possible.

He's quietly delighted when you turn over, snuggling up against his front. You fit your head under his jaw, hands tucking up under your chin. Joel urges your cheek to rest atop his bicep, his other arm wrapping around your waist.

You make a soft noise against his throat before you fall into a deep sleep. Joel feels your body go sleep-slack, pliant under his touch as he cuddles you to him. In your sleep you cling to him as if he's your protector and the thought brings a tightness to his throat. How could he have ever thought of pushing you away? How could he have hurt you thinking that it was the right thing to do?

"I'm sorry," Joel whispers against your forehead, his mouth pressing there. "I'm so sorry, baby."

You breathe on soft and even, lips parted. He'll spend the rest of his life being sorry for this. For letting you think that he didn't care about you. For hurting you, thinking he was somehow doing the right thing when he was just terrified.

You sigh his name in your sleep, the sound of it bringing tears to the corner of his eyes.

"I love you," he whispers. "I love you so much. I'm so sorry."

He falls asleep with your weight in his arms, inhaling the scent of your skin and the feeling of your body tucked up against him. It feels so good that he finally allows himself a small cry, sniffling to himself quietly so that he doesn't wake you.

And then he kisses the end of your nose, holding you so tightly against his chest he swears his affection for you will be transferred directly into your own body.

"I love you," he whispers again, his mouth against your cheekbone. You don't answer but he never needed you to. He just wanted to finally say it to you, the words he's been carrying for you in his heart for what feels like ages.

It makes it hurt so much worse the next morning when he wakes to find the bed empty.

Notes:

I love comments. I survive on them. Please comment! What did you hate? What did you love? What do you hope is in store in the future?

Chapter 22: Looking Forward

Notes:

a/n: Y'all really came through with the comments and I was so fucking touched I worked my ass off to bring you this chapter, (one of my fav to write).
Love y’all and lemme know what you think of this chapter! (what you love AND what you hate! I love reading your thoughts).

Chapter Text

Chapter 22: Looking Forward

You close the front door behind you with your hips, arms wrapped around you as you enter the bracing cold of the morning. Your legs are in your bloodstained jeans and the long t-shirt you woke up in is thin. But you couldn't find your jacket anywhere and you were desperate to leave.

You wince as you stumble towards home, your mouth like cotton. Your face feels swollen from tears and from the beating. The snow has subsided and you're thankful that you don't run into anyone you know.

You woke up disoriented in Joel's warm arms only moments ago and your head still feels fuzzy as you march up your porch, shoving your door open.

You have snatches of memory after climbing that tree yesterday. You know that Joel found you, that he held you tightly, that he sobbed an apology and brought you back to Jackson.

After that it gets blurry. You think you remember Lily and judging by your bandaged hand and cheekbone she must have tended to you. But then why did you wake up in Joel's bed? Why didn't he take you home to yours?

Instead you were warm and a tangle of limbs. His hair was tousled from sleep, his mouth parted. He slept deeply, his eyes fluttering lightly when you pulled yourself slowly from against his body.

Now in your quiet home you grunt, peeling off your stiff jeans. You throw yourself in the shower, scrubbing yourself down before pulling on fresh clothes and crawling into bed, too tired to think about Joel or anyone else.

He doesn't believe that you're gone at first. He assumes that you've rolled over, out of his touch. He blindly gropes the sheets and when he doesn't come into contact with your warm skin his eyes crack open.

Joel staggers to a stand, pulling on his jeans and jacket when he realizes you're gone. He feels his heart hiccup behind his ribs, bumping into his dresser as he tugs on his socks.

Ellie is there reading at the table, eating an apple. She raises a brow at Joel when he stumbles into the kitchen, his hair askew. She arches a knowing brow in his direction.

"Busy night?"

Normally Joel would tell her off for being a smart mouth, but right now he's anxious that you're gone. He quickly checks every room and feels his throat tighten when he doesn't find you.

He snatches the paper bag Lily gave him last night before he pulls on his boots, his muscled legs scissoring as he rushes to your house.

You have to be there, right? Where else would you have gone? Maybe you went to grab some clothes to bring back to Joel's? The thought warms him.

He'll fuss over you as long as you need him to. He'll bring hot water bottles and make soup and rub your back until you're sleeping peacefully. He'll apologize for everything he did and you'll be able to start fresh.

He ignores the ugly voice that whispers the alternative. That you left because you wanted to be free of Joel.

It's mid-morning and he sees several folks from last night. Most are hungover, but offer him a wave that he's too distracted to return. All his focus is on is your closed door up ahead. He practically flies up the steps and in his rush almost catches the tip of his boot in a wayward slat.

He rights himself, muttering under his breaths before he pounds on your door. He doesn't mean to do it so harshly, but his anxiety is thrumming through his entire body, making it hard to control his movements.

When you don't answer he frowns, looking around the neighborhood as if you'll be there walking up the lane. He's just deciding whether he'll try Jennifer's house when the door creaks open and you poke your head out.

Joel feels a relieved smile break over his features, his glossy eyes taking you in. You stand there blinking at the bright light of the day. You're wearing new pyjamas and your hair is mussed from sleep. Just the sight of you has his body relaxing, his heart thrumming in adoration for your sweet face.

"There you are," Joel sighs as he reaches a hand for your cheek. The smile fades as you flinch away from his hand.

"What do you want, Joel?" The door to your home stands only half open. You're not inviting him in.

The cold stone sinks in his belly at the chill of your words.

"I was worried when I woke up and you were gone."

"Why?"

"Well, because..." Joel peers at you as if he can't understand why you're acting so cold. "Because last night you were hurt and… I was tryin' to take care of you."

"That’s not necessary anymore," you tell him stiffly. "Lily came by earlier to check on me."

Joel scans your face, taking in the firm set of your jaw and the narrowing of your eyes. You remind him of a wild animal cornered. Despite this he takes a step forward, his footfall heavy.

"How are you feeling right now?"

"Tired."

"How about the hand?" The paper bag crinkles at his side and he recalls the reason for coming to see you. "If it's bad you can take these."

He stretches the hand holding the bag to the small gap in the door.

"These're from Lily," Joel says with bag outstretched. "Pain pills and disinfectant for your scrapes. If you need anything else-"

You cut him off as you take the bag from him with a flick of your wrist.

"This is fine.”.

You stand there in silence before sighing at him. It takes him a moment to realize you're waiting for him to leave. That's it? After everything that's all you're going to say? He feels so out of sorts he just stares at you, blinking.

"Don’t you wanna talk?"

"Like I said before, I'm tired."

Joel flinches at the cutting way you speak and look at him. It makes him feel small and insignificant. He supposes he just needs to give you some time.

"Can we talk later?"

"I don't think so."

Last night you clung to Joel, you wanted him there. And now you're acting like he's a stranger, the expression on your face verging on disgust.

"I think we should," he presses. "There's lots to talk about and I wanna explain my side of things."

"I'm sure you do," you say tightly with a nod. "But I'm not interested in hearing anything you have to say."

Joel is stung by the sharp callousness of your reply. A large part of him had been deluded into thinking that he was forgiven now that you were back safe.

"Look, I know I fucked up, but baby, please lemme just -"

"No," you say sharply, shaking your head and raising your palm to him. "You don't get to call me that, Joel."

Joel just stands there like some heart bruised idiot, staring at you incredulously.

"What? You thought you could treat me like shit, fuck around with my friend and I'd welcome you into my bed because you took care of me?" The absurdity of such a thing makes you laugh sharply. "Are you insane, Joel?"

Joel feels the world tilting, his feet stumbling slightly as you spit verbal venom at him. He stares at you wide eyed as you cross your arms in front of you and shoot him a sneer.

"Guess you were surprised someone so useless managed to take down three killers on her own."

The word hangs in the air, sharp and ugly.

Useless.

"You're not useless," Joel starts, hating that he ever mentioned that word.

"I know I'm not," you shoot back at him haughtily. "I got Maria back. I killed those raiders. I climbed that tree."

With every I statement you slap an open palm to your sternum, emphasizing what you say.

"You didn't do shit. You were just the first one with a horse to reach me," you scoff, looking him up and down like he's trash. "But I didn't need you, Joel. Not then and certainly not now."

You tilt your shoulder against the door frame. He steps forward, his body almost against the door. He needs to breathe you in, to see you up close. You don't open the door further, but you don't shut it either.

"But what if I need you?" Joel croaks, feeling as you pull back from him, like sand through his fingers.

He sees the challenge in your eyes, the softness gone from your face.

"I don't give a shit what you need."

It's a dagger through the heart as Joel sees the way your lips curl in disdain for him.

"Please just let me explain," Joel says, his face contorted in pain. "About everything that happened after that day we got attacked. And that night at the dance, what you saw with me and Jenny, that was a mistake-"

"You just tripped over a loose floorboard and started tongue-fucking my best friend, is that it?"

Joel's face goes pink and this time it isn't from the cold. "It's not like that. I don't have feelings for her. I never did."

"I know it's not. I know you were doing that to hurt me, which is why it's so fucked up," you say quietly.

It doesn't mean it didn't hurt. Doesn't mean that the sight of the man you adored kissing another woman didn't squeeze your breath from you. Joel's eyes look impossibly wounded.

"Please let me just explain."

Please, please, please. He won't stop saying please. He keeps saying he wants to explain, but every time he says it your shoulders inch towards your ears.

"Don't bother."

"But baby-" it sounds so plaintive and small. Despite his large size he feels diminutive. You hate hearing baby again. The way he thinks you still hold affection and space for his own despair. What about yours all those weeks? It makes your words punch out of you furiously.

"I came after you that night." Joel offers this weakly, as if it can explain away the terrible way he treated you.

"I never asked you to."

"You didn't have to," he enthuses. "You never have to. I’ll always be there for you whenever you need me."

The sudden chill from your gaze makes the hair on the back of his neck stand on end.

"I don't need you Joel. Not anymore."

You slam the door with finality, feeling the thrill of having told him off. You listen for the scrape of his boots along the wood porch. You hear him make his way down the steps before wet snow crunches under his feet.

You take one of the pills from the bag and swallow it dry. You're exhausted and sore and you just want to sleep the day away. And you should be glad, right? You just comically told of Joel.

Despite this you're groping in front of you, leading yourself to your bedroom because you're blinded by your tears.

You collapse under the blankets, sobbing so hard it aches.

Hating Joel.

Loving Joel.

Hours later there's a knock at your door and despite everything you drag yourself over to it, surprised to see Tommy standing there with a cloth bag that smells delicious.

"Hey, brought you some dinner. Maria wants to know if you wanna come over for tea tomorrow morning," Tommy broaches, looking anxiously at your disheveled appearance. "Or we can come here. Whatever's easier."

You take the bag from him feeling your stomach gurgle.

"No thanks. I don't really feel seeing anyone for a bit."

"I understand."

He shifts anxiously from foot to foot. You wonder if he's going to ask about Joel and you brace yourself. But instead he just swallows and you think you can see tears spring along his waterline.

"I don't know what I would've done if she was gone." He clears his throat. "And uh, I didn't love being knocked unconscious," he exchanges a brief smile with you, "but I know why you did it."

You nod, very aware that Tommy is now fighting back tears. He blinks them back in an action that reminds you of the elder Miller.

"You saved my wife. You saved my son's mother. You saved me." His mouth twitches, chin trembling as his voice goes shaky. "If you ever need anything, any damn thing, you just say the word."

He speaks with such sincerity you wish that you had the energy to hug him, to let him know that you regret nothing, but you're so tired.

"You're a goddamn hero, you know."

He wipes at his eyes with his thumb and middle finger as you groan, shaking your head at his words.

"Oh fuck, please don't call me that," you say with a tired laugh he joins in on. "I don't feel like a hero. I feel like roadkill."

"Joel isn't taking good care of you, huh?" Tommy grins widely. "Do I have to give that fucker a talking to? Teach him how to make soup for his patient?"

The amusement is wiped from your face immediately and Tommy must notice because his toothy smile fades.

"Things, uh ... Not so good there?"

Suddenly the food smell is making you nauseated and your head pounds. You don't want to be upright anymore.

"I'm pretty tired, Tommy. I'm gonna head back to bed."

"Oh yeah, of course," Tommy nods. "You get to bed and uh, if you need anything we're around."

You nod, giving him a gentle goodbye and closing the door. You force yourself to eat a few bites of the pasta and chicken he brought before you climb back into bed.

The tears are there, as they always are.

You hear knocking on your door the next several days and you ignore it every time. You stay curled in your bed, sleeping off the trauma and the hurt. You don't want to see anyone.

You come to recognize Tommy's fist against the wood- a steady beating sound accompanied by Maria's voice giving a gentle "Hey, we're just checking in. Left you something to eat", the rustle of a bag placed at your door and their dual footsteps down the porch steps.

Jennifer's tapping is lighter, her voice soft as she calls your name and leaves a new pair of mittens at your door after you don't answer.

It continues on like this with townsfolk coming by and leaving you little trinkets to collect when the sky grows dark and you're alone.

Arthur and Penny come by leaving a painting of Chestnut for you. This gift makes you cry as you sweep it into your arms and place it next to your family photo above the hearth.

Luke leaves a record with a note that says he hopes you enjoy, not knowing that you don't have a record player. Bless him.

Cherry drops by and drops off several more wooden frames, including one perfect for the painting of Chestnut. You wonder if it was a plan between the two of them.

Kyle is the one who leaves a fresh bag of deer jerky he made himself and a scribbled letter saying how sorry he is that you were in danger because of him. You almost break your isolation to tell him it's not his fault, but you can't find the energy to do it.

You exist in a darkness that no one can pull you from. Not even Ellie's quick raps and your name called over and over.

You eat sparingly, you sleep a lot. You thought memories of what you did and of who you killed, would haunt you. But strangely all you can feel is vindication. Knowing that Charlotte would be proud of you for standing up.

Despite this you sleep with a large hunting knife beside your bed.

Your sleep is dark and endless. No nightmares, but no dreams. It leaves you waking feeling even more exhausted than when you went to sleep. You barely shower, you just move from couch to bed and back again, carrying your large blanket, too exhausted to keep crying.

It's not just the raiders that have you feeling so upset. It's everything that happened before that. It's the horrible things you said to Jennifer, it's the pity you saw in Ellie's face.

And then the thoughts of Joel come. The sweet Joel who held you and whispered that he wanted to give you everything. You ache for that Joel, for those moments. And even now you know why he did what he did. He was scared; he thought he was doing the right thing. But it's not enough a reason for you.

Even if Joel did come to get you, even if he did tend to you, even if he does care for you, all you can think is that he wanted to hurt you. That he would do that instead of communicating to you. That he brought Jennifer into all of this.

You'll be thankful to him for the survival wisdom he imparted, you'll be thankful for the tender times that helped you grow strong. You'll be thankful to him for coming to get you in a snowstorm.

But that's it. That's where the chapter of Joel Miller ends.

You wake up on week two of this to the sound of clattering in your kitchen. You jerk up in bed, heart hammering. In an anxious reflex you lurch for the knife beside your bed and you stand, pulling on your robe.

The noise continues as the vestiges of sleep drain from you. Who would be breaking into your house? Is it an animal? Jackson City isn't known for its thieves.

You round the corner with the knife at your side, your heart fluttering. What you see stops you in your tracks.

Ellie is hallway through your kitchen window with a bouquet of paper flowers held between her teeth by the stems. Her one foot is in your sink, causing the cutlery to rattle. When she sees you her eyes go wide with guilt at being caught.

"Ellie, what the fuck?"

She climbs in the rest of the way, avoiding the sink the best she can as she jumps down from the counter, closing the window after herself. She pulls the flowers from her mouth and wipes the damp stems on her jeans.

"Here, these are for you."

You slide the knife covertly into your robe pocket and step forward to take the flowers.

"You've improved." You pull your robe tighter around your body, sure that you look and smell terrible. "Want some tea?"

Ellie looks relieved that you're not kicking her out of your home. She nods animatedly, the smile breaking over her features.

"Sure."

Ellie stares at your hand and then the bandage under your eye as you make your way to the kitchen table. You place the flowers in the center of the table and move to boil the water, glancing over to see her worried expression.

"It looks worse than it feels," you assure her. Ellie just nods, taking a seat and silently watching until you return with two steaming mugs, one of which you slide in front of her at the table.

"So the front door was too conventional for you?" you ask as you drop into your chair.

"I don't know what that means," she says frowning. "All I know is you weren't answering your door. I got worried."

Love flows through you for the earnestness in her voice and face.

"I'm okay, I promise. The Doctor says my hand is almost all healed up."

"That's good."

Ellie taps her mug, absently chewing on her thumb nail as she absorbs everything she sees. The injuries to your body, the pile of plates in the sink, the fine layer of dust.

Then she looks back at you sipping your tea and you just know what she's not asking.

"I'm sorry I never told you about Joel and I. We shouldn't have kept it a secret. I was never really sure about where Joel and I stood so it never felt right to share."

Ellie is quiet, contemplating your words. She has her hair in a knotted mess of a ponytail, the whisps around her temples frizzed.

You remember the tenderness you've always held for the girl. The times spent, brushing her hair, baking and laughing. She must be recalling such events too because she looks at you with such a wide and trustful gaze.

"How come you didn't stay?"

"I wanted to come home."

Ellie taps the side of the mug again, feeling the heat underneath the pads of her fingers.

"Joel says he fucked up and you don't want to see him anymore. That he has to give you your space."

"He told you that?"

"After I wouldn't stop bugging him about it for a couple days." Ellie forces a half smile but you can tell that she's troubled. "You must not wanna see me anymore now that you hate Joel."

Your breath catches.

"Of course I want to see you, Ellie."

"But you won't see Joel?"

You pause, seeing the tender look in her eyes. You can't lie to her.

"No."

"Never?"

You bite back the 'never' on the tip of your tongue. You can't be harsh with Ellie, even if the mention of Joel makes you grimace.

"I don't know."

"What did he do that was so bad?"

He's her father figure, he's someone she looks up to. You can't disparage him openly.

"That's between us, Ellie."

She doesn't like this response, shifting in her chair. She doesn't think of herself as a kid, believes she deserves to know everything that is going on.

"How are things with you and Dina?" You ask hoping to shift the topic. And your susiegers suddenly breaks out into a large smile.

"She's my girlfriend. Officially."

You reach across the table to squeeze the hand wrapped around her mug

"Seriously? That's amazing, Ellie!" You both beam at one another. "Tell me everything."

For the next hour Ellie speaks non-stop, her hands gesticulating wildly as she tells you about her time with Dina. It feels fun and familiar and above all, it feels normal.

"And Dina says she planning a really nice date for us and-" Ellie breaks off, seeing the clock over your stove. "Oh shit, I gotta go, I'm late for school!"

The girl who hated school now can't wait to go if it means seeing her girlfriend. She stands, throwing her bag over her shoulder. You walk her to the front door, commenting that you want to hear all about how the date goes.

"Will you come over to our place for dinner? I thought the four of us could eat dinner and play cards or something."

You wish that you could say yes, you wish that you could forget everything that has happened.

"That's not a good idea right now, Ellie. But you can come here anytime."

Ellie pulls on her jacket, looking upset. This obviously wasn't the response she was hoping for. She's about to leave, her hand on the doorknob when she pauses. She turns to look at you and her young face has grown solemn.

"Did you love him?"

The question she poses so innocently has your breathing caught between your upper and lower ribs.

Yes. I loved him with everything I had.

Your practiced answer of no is tentative; your feelings for Joel are very complicated despite everything. In the end you don't say anything. You just shrug your shoulders and force a sad smile in her direction.

She sighs, her head shaking disappointedly in your direction.

"I told you I don't like liars."

Your heart sinks. "I know."

This is where Ellie will permanently take her leave. She'll look at you with disgust and you'll never see her again. The thought hurts your chest and you brace yourself.

"Don't do it again."

Your eyes fly to her face, taking note of the upset look in hers. Her expression is anxious and she's picking at the hangnail on her thumb.

"I promise, Ellie. Never again."

You're taken aback when she takes a step forward and wraps her arms around your middle. You hold back the tears, your top teeth biting into the flesh of your lower lip as you contain your relieved sobs and hug her back.

You were so worried you'd never talk to Ellie again. That this sweet connection would go away the moment Joel did. You're thankful at being wrong, so relieved that you haven't lost her.

"You wanna come over for a baking lesson next week?" You ask her, covertly wiping the damp from your eyes with the arm of your sweater. "There's still lots of pop tart flavors you haven't tried yet."

"Yeah I'd love that." Ellie grins, also wiping the wet from her eyes with the back of her arm. "Your stuff is so good. No one makes stuff like you."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. I thought you'd be all bossy teaching me how to make those pop tarts but you were so gentle and patient. I think it must be like how drawing is for me," she reasons. She touches the spot below her sternum. "It's like everything in here goes calm and warm when I do it."

You know what she's describing; that sensation of peace and serenity.

"It's like you put all this love into your stuff... Or some shit," Ellie corrects when she realizes she's getting too saccharine. "Anyway, I better go, c'ya."

She gives a cute little wave and then sails down the porch steps on her way to school.

You watch her leave, feeling strangely touched by her break-in. It's like it helps you wake up a bit. When you move to the window and pull open the curtains the day is bright and the snow glistens beautifully. And for the first time in weeks you feel like you can breathe.

Ellie's visit stirs something in you, propelling you into action and you begin to tidy your home.You throw away all your bloodied clothes, wincing at the sight. You strip your bed and toss everything into the wash. You continue on scrubbing dishes and sweeping the floors.

You do this until your home resembles its previous cleanliness and then you throw yourself into the shower. You scrub and shampoo away the remnants of your depressive isolation. The laundry is dried by the time you're done and you remake the bed.

Dressed in new clothes you make yourself a sandwich with the jam in your cupboard and the bread Tommy and Maria left earlier in the week. You eat it thoughtfully at the table, making notes to yourself on a piece of loose paper.

Then you're up, shoving them into your pocket and pulling on your jacket and boots. You step out into the chill of the afternoon and can't help but let a smile out. The sunshine has come to radiantly bask the town through the trees, making everything glitter.

You feel at peace, you feel less like a bruise with a finger being pressed into it. You feel like perhaps you’ve changed. You don’t feel the same and instead of terrifying you, the thought brings you a sense of comfort.

Jennifer's house eventually comes into view and you pause. Is this a terrible idea? Will she even want to see you? You've ignored all her knocks on your door and you said such awful, ugly things to her the last time you spoke to her.

You step back, resting against one of the large trees. Maybe you were hoping for too much too soon. You don't even know if Jennifer would want to be friends again.

Then like something out of a fairy tale the door to her home opens and Jennifer steps out, her blonde hair like spun gold in the sunlight. She wears one of her own creations, a knitted pink sweater with little clouds over pale blue jeans.

And she's not alone.

Luke steps out after her onto the porch, his smile wide. You watch partially shielded by the tree, feeling your heart throb at the sight of Luke taking her into his arms and kissing her sweetly. She's got a teasing smile on her face, saying something to him before they both laugh, the duel reverberations sounding like a joyful symphony.

She waves him off and you think you hear the words "... you after work" before he waves back, his heavy feet carrying him off the steps and towards town.

She watches after him, a gooey expression on her face. She turns to go back inside when she catches sight of you. She raises a hand to her forehead, shielding the sun as she stares at you, blinking against the light.

“Uh, hi,” you say, awkwardly moving from behind the tree to offer an uncoordinated wave. She shoots a confused little smirk your way.

"What are you doing hiding behind the tree?"

Like a kicked puppy you make your way to her door, your eyes on the wood planks of her porch. She says nothing as you come to a stand in front of her, head lowered.

"Can I come in?"

"Of course."

She steps back, pushing the door open and turning to the side. You brush past her, eyes still on the floorboards. Once inside you follow her to the table by the window. It sits by the yellow wall bathing the entire space in a mellow beauty that soothes your frazzled nerves. You take a seat, hands clasped on your thighs like a chastised schoolchild.

“I’m really glad you’re okay,” she soothes. You can only nod, the shame of your last words to her still lingering in your mind.

Jennifer's voice is soft and patient. "I'll get us a tea."

She steps into the kitchen and you listen to the sound of clinking porcelain, the running of the tap, the eventual whistle of the kettle and you smile at the normalcy of it all. You feel the need to fill up the quiet tension you feel.

"So, looks like Luke talked to you," you say with a small grin to her empty seat. "And it looks like it’s going well?"

Jennifer returns from the kitchen with two mugs of peppermint tea. You can't help but smile when you view the shy way she tucks her chin against her shoulder.

"Yeah. It’s actually going really well." She pushes your drink to you across the table, taking a seat and you can feel her fixing you with a strong gaze. "Luke said that you told him to go after me at the dance."

"I did."

"He said that you told him you were certain that I liked him. That I'd liked him for a while."

Your fingers circle the handle of the mug, noticing it's a pale peach color whereas Jennifer's is a pale pink.

"It clicked for me that night," you say blowing the steam from your mug. "All I could think of was how weird you got over the months and.... Well, you know."

Now you finally raise your gaze to her face, surprised to see her eyes are butter soft.

"He came over that night after I left your place. We talked forever and confessed how we felt and..." She trails off. "Then he spent the night."

"Oh did he?" You give her a look that sets her off giggling embarrassed, waving you off.

"He just slept over. Nothing scandalous... that was the next night."

You both giggle yourselves silly at that, taking sips of your tea and basking in the cozy warmth of Jennifer's home. You shake your head slowly, laughing softly to yourself.

"Looking back I can’t believe how obvious it was that you guys liked each other."

"That's actually how I felt about you and Joel." Jennifer says with a small tug of her lips to one side. She misses the way you've tensed up, the humor gone from your face.

"I mean, I was so fucking oblivious. The way you got when he was around, the way he stared at you." Jennifer shakes her head. "I thought it was because you were patrol partners and he got on your nerves. But that night when I saw you two it just seemed so fucking obvious."

You're tracing the table gently with your fingers, your mouth suddenly pinched. You don't want to talk about Joel and you. But you want honesty, you’re tired of keeping things from Jennifer.

"Sometimes I worried that the only reason you were my friend was to find intel on Joel."

She leans back in her chair, light eyes thoughtful. She takes a moment to think about what you've said before a grimace overtakes her face.

"Maybe it was kind of like that at first," Jennifer admits, blowing the steam from her cup. "But not for a long while. I thought we were close."

"We were-are."

"So then why keep Joel a secret?"

"I was ashamed of myself. At first I told myself it wasn't a big deal because you weren't dating him and it was just sex."

"But eventually it wasn't just that."

"No,” you sigh heavily. “Not after a while."

"When did it change?"

You look up from your teacup feeling wounded. Jennifer has that familiar look of interest on her beautiful face.

"Honestly I don't know exactly." You search your mind. "You know how when we'd go shooting you'd tell me to think of something calm?"

"Yeah."

"I guess, one day he was my something calm."

Jennifer gasps, putting a hand to her chest in a swoon. Her reaction draws out a surprised laugh and Jennifer immediately joins in when she realizes how dramatic her response was. And suddenly it's like it always was, giggling over boys, smiling and the world feeling light. But before the good moment lasts she abruptly sobers.

"Did you really mean that the stuff you said about me not asking you about yourself? That I didn’t care enough about you to ask?" Her eyes scan yours. "If I'm honest that hurt worse than anything else you told me that night."

Considering the barbs you threw at one another this impacts you hard enough to wince.

"Honestly? Sometimes it felt like it was the Jennifer show and I was just your audience."

Jennifer's cheeks pink in embarrassment.

“Yeah, I can see how it would be like that.” She looks at you thoughtfully. “I guess because it felt like you were so hesitant to share about yourself so I just filled up the empty space.”

You accept that, nodding. She’s completely right. She left the door open many times, you just always held back. She was always there doing things in her own way to make you feel cherished, setting you up with Luke, making your dress, teaching you to shoot. You had so many opportunities to share and you just never did.

Jennifer sucks at her teeth lightly and leans towards you.

"I’m sorry I made it all about me," Jennifer says with a sniff. "You were there devastated and all I could do was talk about how I felt you hurt me, how I felt betrayed. I never even asked if you were okay."

"I was fine."

"No you weren't," Jennifer says firmly. "I saw the pain in your eyes."

You drop said eyes to the floor, shrugging listlessly.

"But I was embarrassed," she admits with a shy duck of her head. "I mean, being rejected is hard enough. Realizing you're a pawn is so much worse."

"I'm sorry, I know how much you liked Joel," you tell her with sincerity. She sighs heavily.

"You were right about how I felt about Joel. I barely knew anything about him. He was just a fun chase. I never actually liked him." She tilts back in her chair. "It's just when I thought you and Luke were really falling for each other I felt... Weird. I mean, now I know why but at the time I just wanted to be distracted. I loved the thrill of the chase with Joel. When we were kissing all I could think was that now I had him and I still wasn't happy."

You wince, still not enjoying the memory. She seems to sense this because she stops talking, going back to her tea.

"You know I didn’t mean what I said that night, right?" She asks in a quiet voice. “I knew Joel wouldn’t have picked me. I was just saying shit because I was hurt. I’m so sorry.”

Jennifer is misty-eyed, her hands clasping yours.

“Jennifer, I’m so sorry for what I said to you that night,” you say ardently. “I was just so embarrassed and hurt and confused and I didn’t mean a fucking word of it. I was just lashing out.”

You swallow, blinking back tears. It’s strange to think there was a time when you rarely cried. When all that hurt just stayed festering within you.

"I tried to see you a few times when you got back," Jennifer says searching your eyes. "You never answered the door. I thought maybe you were still upset with me."

"Never," you insist. "I didn't answer the door to anyone after that first afternoon. After that I just couldn't make myself leave the bed."

Jennifer takes a long sip from her mug, her knuckles a pale white as she grips the handle.

“I was so worried about you,” Jennifer says eventually and her voice is croaky. “I was with the team coming to get you. You wouldn’t believe how relieved I was when I saw Joel bringing you in.”

This stops you, causing you to give her face a scan.

"You were coming after me that night?" you say quietly, blinking wet eyes. "Why would you do that? I was so horrible to you."

"You're my best friend."

"Still?"

Jennifer gives you an indulgent smile replete with warmth along with a head tilt.

"Always. I just can't understand why you couldn't just tell me about Joel the start."

"I wanted to," you insist honestly. "But I wasn't even sure of what Joel and I were... And then by the time I figured it was something more it was too late. I'd left it too long. Plus you had Oliver..."

And now you feel your stomach wobble, the world growing a little fuzzy.

"Jennifer, I set you up with Oliver because I wanted your attention off Joel. He'd never asked about you, I just thought you two would be cute together." You bury your face in your hands, shamed. "You were right about some of what you said that night. I was sneaky and underhanded."

You half expect her to throw you out of her house at this confession, so you're taken aback when she laughs.

"It's really not that serious."

Your hands slowly lower, her beaming face jailed behind your fingers.

"But you were devastated when he went back to his girlfriend. I remember when I came to your house-"

"That same morning Luke told me that things were progressing with you," she confesses, exhaling. "I was more upset about that than anything."

"Why the fuck didn't you just say something?"

"The same reason you didn't say shit about Joel."

You drop your eyes to the table at the mention of his name and now she seems to sense your unease because her brows draw together.

“What? What’s going on?”

She squeezes your hand and you absently notice her warm palms are calloused, the only rough part of her. You raise your eyes to meet hers and she’s a watercolor blur you need to blink through.

“I can’t be with Joel.”

“Why not?”

“How could I ever be with Joel?” you ask her, voice trembling. “I could never trust him.”

It’s not just the girlfriend comment and the kissing Jennifer that still has you upset; it’s the entire relationship if you can even call it that. He was always taciturn, always making you second guess, blowing hot and cold. That isn’t what you want. He isn’t what you want.

"He didn't mean what he did. I know he didn't."

"Jennifer-"

"You didn't see him when he brought you back," she insists, swallowing. "I saw him. I talked to him."

"You did?"

Jennifer nods, recalling it.

“He apologized to me for everything. He told me why he did it, to keep you at arm’s length because he thought he was doing the right thing. It’s fucked up logic, but his heart was in the right place. And I forgave him.”

You’re quiet, your fingers still lacing together with hers on the table.

"He was holding onto you for dear life. Kissing your forehead, looking at you like I've never seen him look at anyone, in front of everyone,” Jennifer enthuses. “I've never seen Joel Miller be gentle. He loves you."

Joel Miller may love you, but he’s never said the words out loud. He’s given you snatches of affection dispersed between moody instability. He’s guarded his heart and effectively shut you out dozens of times. You understand why, his Sarah, your Charlotte. You empathize with that, but you can’t nurture such an affection.

"That's not what love is," you finally tell her firmly. And now it's time for your voice to crack. "This right here, Jenny? You and me? This is love. Honesty, showing up when it matters. This is real love."

Jennifer lets out a small sound in the back of her throat before she's coming around the table, throwing her arms around you, pulling you into a crushing embrace. You hug her back, the tears flowing but so different from the ones that spilled in the previous weeks. These are tears of long held hurt, of truth acknowledged.

"I love you so much," Jennifer says and then with a small sniffle and a wet giggle she adds: "but I'm sorry to say you're not my type."

The two of you collapse into sniffling laughter, the relief of everything being out in the open making you both silly.

"So, any other secrets?"

"None," you say, wiping the last of your tears, but then something comes back to you from your fight. Something that you've been unable to shake.

You never share about yourself.

You take stock of this, looking at the girl across the table from you. She’s so open and honest and she has been from the start. And you think of how she has been a friend, a sister, a confidante.

"Jenny, I want to tell you about my sister. Her name was Charlotte but I called her Charlie..."

In the coming days you find yourself having coffee with Jennifer (after hours of talking and crying as you shared about your life you two parted with the promise of grabbing breakfast on Thursday morning), a lunch with Ellie and coming back into yourself. On an early morning you enter into the kitchen and pause. It takes only moments before you’re pulling on your apron.

You mumble to yourself about what you’ll make as you crouch down, opening cupboards and and bringing out the supplies that have been neglected. Chocolate chip cookies and cinnamon fried dough knots. Simple and delightful. You’re thankful you have the ingredients for both.

Humming to yourself in your bright kitchen you can’t help but feel a sense of calm overtake you. It feels good to be in here, nice and peaceful with the scent of cinnamon and butter and fond memories of a life before the outbreak.

You package the cinnamon knots up in wax paper when they’re cooled, along with your notes and then you’re on your way to Tommy and Maria’s with a determined look on your face.

The idea of the bakery isn't a new one. Tommy had mentioned it weeks ago and now as you look around your home you take stock of what you want moving forward. You never really enjoyed patrols, kitchen duty wasn't your thing and while the greenhouse is perfectly lovely, it doesn't suit you. A bakery does. But not in town.

You arrive at Tommy's bright and early the next morning bearing fried dough dropped in cinnamon sugar.

Tommy greets you enthusiastically pulling you into an embrace before ushering you inside.

“I brought you these,” you say handing the bag of cinnamon knots to Tommy shyly. He peeks inside, inhaling deeply before shooting you a look of consternation.

“We should be the ones bringing you somethin’.”

“Consider it a bribe,” you joke. “I wanted to talk with you and Maria about a business proposition.”

Tommy grins, urging you to come into the living room room where Maria sits before the fire, rocking Douglas in her arms. When she turns and sees you her face registers shock as well as gratitude.

“Oh my g- you’re here,” she says pulling herself to a stand. She hands Douglas to Tommy before throwing her arms around you. You hold her tightly, rocking her as she sniffles against your temple.

“I’m gonna change Douglas,” Tommy says, sensing you need your privacy. When the door closes Maria pulls you onto the couch.

"I never thought anyone would come after me," she explains quietly, her large eyes searching your face. "I never would have done it if I thought anyone would."

“I know, Maria.”

"I thought about leaving Tommy a note so he wouldn't think I had left him for something he'd done," she explains when the silence stretches on too long. For the first time when she looks at you there's a clearness in her eyes, no longer foggy and distant

"Did you plan on coming back?"

"I don't know," Maria says with honesty. "All I could think was these fuckers were coming for Douglas' home and I needed to keep him safe."

She stands, wiping her face and going to stare out the window. You join her, giving her space as she continues.

"How did you know where I was?"

"I didn't for sure," you admit. "But when I saw your reaction to the raiders I had a feeling."

She nods, her eyes on the lightly falling snow. After a moment’s pause she looks over at you.

"When you killed that first raider it’s like you were a different person."

You remain quiet, still uncomfortable with what happened. You don't ever want to think about that horrible night ever again. When you think about that night you feel like an empty glass, a fragile shell holding nothing inside.

"I'll never be able to repay you for what you did," she tells you earnestly. You smile at her.

"I'll never ask you to."

Tommy re-appears with a now squirming Douglas. You ask them both to take a seat and your cinnamon knots fried are munched on as you launch into your idea, bringing out your smudged notes and trying to explain everything as simply as possible.

"I'd like to open the bakery, we spoke about," you tell them. "But I'd like to run it out of the old farmhouse a bit out of town. The one on Sheriff Street. I’d live in it and I’d run the shop out of it. I’ve written up some ideas on how that can work and I’ll leave ‘em with you. "

Tommy and Maria exchange a look and you know why. The big lots are reserved for those with big families. With Jackson City expanding those homes are being pre-emptively saved for big groups. You speak hurriedly, trying to convince them.

“I know it’s a big space and you usually save those for groups but-“

“When do you want to move in?”

You pause as Maria asks you this, your brows knitted.

“Uh… As soon as I get it fixed up, I guess.”

“Okay.” Maria looks back at Tommy, her mind going a million miles a minute. She seems like her old self, confident and organized. “We have to make sure that this place is at code before she moves in.”

“Of course,” Tommy nods, rocking their son. “We can get some of the guys to do lumber, the carpenters to do finishings.”

“I’ll get someone to check plumbing too.”

“Oh, and they can check for mold while they’re at it.”

The two of them go back and forth like this, both excited with the idea. You can’t help but give a disbelieving laugh.

“You’re sure? It’s not too big for one person?”

“You saved my wife’s life,” Tommy tells you plainly. “I’d give you any fucking house in town if you asked.”

The three of you chuckle at this, chatting back and forth about the potential summer opening. You can feel the smile stretching over your features, the joy starting to seep back into your soul. Douglas follows the sound of your voice and begins reaching towards you.

"I say this calls for champagne to celebrate," Tommy says rising from the couch and placing Douglas into your arms. "But since we don't have any, what d'ya say to a glass of cider?"

"I say cheers!"

Tommy disappears into the kitchen and you think there's a sound at the door but you're distracted by Douglas's gurgling laugh that makes you laugh right back, tickling him under his chubby chin. Maria watches this, face beaming.

This right here is why you risked everything. This little life is why you went into a snowstorm to save his mother.

“Any chance you’d want to be his godmother?”

You look up from Douglas to give her a surprised look. “Really?”

“Really.” She smiles gently. “Tommy and I talked about it. There’s no one else we could imagine being in his life in that capacity. You’re the reason he has both his parents.”

You told yourself you were going to cry less, but the tears are there, burning your eyes. You swallow, nodding shallowly.

“I’d be honored.”

You hear the scuff of boots over wood and Maria glances up, surprised when there are two low voices at the door. Your skin prickles at the familiarity of one in particular.

"... To see her."

"You shouldn't be here you know. She's here t..."

Tommy sounds agitated and there is a small mercy found in the realization that this wasn't a secret plan from the start.

You attempt to quell the building anxiety by drawing your attention to the baby in your lap. He reaches a hand for your hair and you extract it with a crestfallen look on your face. You don't want to be here anymore.

The two men step into the room but you don't turn your head to look. You know who it is.

"Joel dropped by," Tommy says with a cringing tone. You give a thin smile into the hearth before pressing Douglas into Maria's waiting arms.

"Thanks for the visit."

"Of course." Maria stands, rocking Douglas in her arms as she shoots Tommy an aggressive frown.

You turn around to see Joel at the entrance of the living room, his broad frame eating up the edges of the divider, his strong body held tense.

Your gaze drifts over him to see his hair askew and note passively that he has dark circles under his eyes. Like you he clearly hasn't been sleeping well. His tongue darts out to lick his upper lip nervously.

"Hi."

His voice is a low rasp and the sound makes your body clench. But you ignore him entirely, giving Tommy a shadow of a smile.

"I'll see you two later."

Tommy nods briefly, still grimacing at the awkwardness of the situation, has his hands in his jean pockets. He gives you a flick of a smile, nodding as you make your way to the front door.

Joel's dark eyes follow you walking across the room, desperation etched into every line on his face. When he sees you passing right by him his frame instinctively moves towards yours. His voice is a low croon, soft and needy.

"Can we talk?"

You want to laugh in his face. Instead you glide past Joel without sparing him a glance, faltering only a fraction when his fingers brush the crook of your elbow. They immediately retract when he sees the scowl cross your face.

"Please."

You shake him off before moving into the kitchen to pull on your coat and shoes, fingers trembling as you push open the front door. You can hear Joel's boots scuffing behind you, following you closely.

"Just lemme explain."

But you're already marching quickly towards home. You don't want to hear what pathetic reason Joel could have for treating you so badly or how he could use your best friend like that.

His jogging quickly outpaces yours and he throws himself in front of you, frenzied. Like a startled horse you rear back, wide-eyed.

"I wanted to keep you safe," he pleads with both his eyes and his voice. He reaches for your hands, needing to you to understand the depth of his sincerity. "I just wanted to-"

You rip your hands from his, disgust flashing across your features. Your lips are curled viciously.

"Joel, get the fuck out of my way," you snarl before shoving him harshly in the chest. He allows it, moving back for you to walk by him.

His eyes follow the strength of your profile, noting the sheen to your eyes before your face is turned from him, only your back clear to him as you hurry home.

"Fuck, listen to me, please," Joel begs, his voice cracked as he calls out to your retreating figure.

You don't want to know someone like that. You don't want him infecting your life. You turn on August Ave, ignoring that he's started following you again, sure to give you plenty of distance.

"You asked me when the nightmares about Sarah ended," Joel calls out to you when it's clear you won't be stopping. "You remember askin’ me that?"

You continue striding quickly away, not wanting to hear anymore. You don't care why his nightmares ended. You don't care why he's still sniffing around you after treating you so horribly.

"Leave me alone, Joel," you shoot over your shoulder. You think this will stop him, but your brief acknowledgment of him has his footsteps hurrying. There are people around on the street heading into town, but neither of you slow. Joel doesn’t even lower his voice.

"It was that first night I spent with you," Joel calls, hoping you'll hear him. "That night of the snowstorm. It was the first time I'd slept so well since it all happened. Because of you."

He continues to call your name, his strides beginning to overtake yours, his nearness causing an urgency in you.

"It felt so good with you, laying there with you in my arms. It felt so safe," he says and you don't miss the hitch in his voice. It joins the one lodged in your chest as you continue to stride away from him.

And then all of a sudden it's his next words caught on the wind and carried to you that makes you finally stop.

"You make it go quiet for me."

Your feet slow as his words are absorbed. You feel sluggish in body but so awake in your mind. The words hit hard, extinguishing the ire left in your body like water over red hot coals.

Taking advantage of this momentary pause Joel jogs the rest of the way to you, his breathing heavy and cheeks pink from the cold when your eyes slide to his.

"What did you just say?"

"You make it go quiet for me," Joel repeats, his eyes luminous as he gazes down at you. "Since the start of it all."

You don't know what start he means but it doesn't really matter. The meaning stabs you deeply, causing you to swallow thickly.

"How can I believe anything you say?" You ask him quietly. "I shared so much of myself with you. I shared everything with you. And you just... Dropped me."

"I did what I thought I had to do to protect you," he whispers, his eyes still closed.

"What?"

"After the raider almost killed you all I could think was that you were a distraction. That if I pushed you away I could keep you safe."

You're quiet; arms crossed in a way that made Joel feel even smaller than he already did.

"But then I couldn't stay away from you. Like outside the Bison and ... I couldn't stop myself from wanting you. I knew it was only a matter of time before I couldn't hold it back and so I figured you needed to hate me."

Mission accomplished. You don't say it out loud but he can see it in your eyes.

"It's too late," you tell him honestly.

"No," Joel breathes, feeling like the world is getting dark around the edges. "Please don't say that."

"I can never trust you again."

"You can, I promise you can."

"No. I can't." You shake your head slowly. "You did all of this without communicating anything to me. You brought my best friend into all of this. You actively tried to hurt me all in the name of some self-righteous bullshit."

You've never seen Joel's face crumple but as you witness it now you feel a physical ache. His brows saddle and his eyes brim with tears.

"I love you."

You feel like your stomach has been hollowed out, scooped clean. He says it like it's been buried deep within his chest, unearthed and shakily laid at your feet. Joel thins his lips, jaw tightening. You stand there, wind rustling your hair. Joel Miller loves you. The thing you once thought you wanted most in the world.

"You love me?"

He's clenching his jaw tightly and you see the single tear that slides down his cheek as he nods.

"What a horrible thing to say to me right now," you tell him, lower lip quivering. "You break my heart, you treat me like shit and then you stand there and tell me that's love?"

You wipe the tears angrily from your eyes with the back of your hand. Joel watches this, biting the inside of his cheek.

"If you really loved me Joel you'd never speak to me again." Your voice is wavering. "If you really loved me you'd pretend we never met and leave me alone forever."

You look at him once more, eyes taking a final snapshot of him before you're gone, leaving him there in the snow, the cold seeping into his boots.

The next morning you motivated to start on your latest project. You wake early and make your way down the lane out of town with a different destination in mind. You've been given a second chance at life and you're not going to waste it.

Your boots crunch over the icy bits of snow, listening to the faint chirp of birds in the trees. You wish Buckley was here to join you this time, but the quiet of the journey helps you to focus on the task ahead.

The farmhouse comes into view and you can't help but smile at it. The snow that covers it gives it the appearance of something out of a Thomas Kinkaid painting. The kind your grandparents had hung in the house.

When you walk up the path to the front door you can't help but give a crooked grin. The house feels like a friendly monster you've come to love, a space where you can feel calm.

You push the door open with a creak and walk slowly into the space, eyes scanning the rooms and the possibilities. It's so silent in here apart from the groan of the roof with the snow.

An errant thought pops into your mind; that this will be the thing to make you go quiet. This will be where your thoughts fly when the world gets too loud. To this battered home that reflects you more than you realize.

It brings a happy sheen to your eyes as you move through the space, cataloguing as you go.

The kitchen is already a good size, clearly made for a large family. The appliances will have to be changed out for working ones.

You'll need to scrub the entire place clean, disinfect with vinegar and whatever cleaning items remain in town. You'll need to make repairs and set traps for the vermin that seek shelter here. You make mental notes of everything you pass by. Replace the soiled carpet, see if there's some good paint for the shabby exterior, check the roof for leaks.

You make notes of all of this, eager to share your findings with Tommy and Maria at a later date. You decide to stop by Arthur and Penny’s afterwards, giving them big hugs and thanks for the Chestnut drawing.

“It’s hanging right next to the one of my family.”

“He was a beautiful horse,” Arthur tells you with sincerity. “It was an honor to commit him to paper.”

Penny wraps her arms around you, cooing in your ear that she’s so happy your okay. You hug her tightly back, burying your face in her shoulder and just letting her rock you. She feels like a comforter to you, despite her extra lithe stature.

Arthur and Penny insist on having you stay for lunch and you’re thankful when all they want to do is talk to you about the bakery after you bring it up. Arthur insists on doing some of the art for it and Penny says she’ll be your first customer.

A few hours later and with a full belly you walk towards home, thinking about your future. You never expected life to turn out like this. After Charlie your world just seemed grey and bleak. But now? There’s more color, more vibrancy than you ever recall.

You think of how Charlotte would have been the first person you told about this venture. It makes your heart ache to know she’ll never be here to see the light at the end of the darkness. You smile when you think of how she would have shown up and been there to help you scrub and clean the space.

It'll be a big job and you'll need to gather a team to help you. When you think back to the tokens left for you at your front door over the last few weeks you think you might already have one. The thought causes you to smile to yourself.

You, the woman who thought she had no one actually made herself a community.

Despite the powerful joy you feel, the nights can feel long at times.

Not because of nightmares or bad memories, but from this strange empty feeling in your bed. Like someone else should be there to occupy it. A warm body that holds you from behind, murmurs that they want to give you everything. You always force yourself to ignore it, refusing to linger on a man who you cannot trust with your heart.

I don’t need him.

But still a nagging sensation overtakes you most evenings, having you pace around your room, attempting to pack some of your house up before you eventually give up and plop down in the chair by your window, staring up at the moon swollen in the sky.

It becomes a tradition, sitting at your bedroom window, staring up at the serene night. Your sleep becomes a bit disjointed as a result, but you don’t mind. There’s something about the absolute stillness that reminds you to take a breath, to enjoy the world instead of shrinking from it or trying to will the days to go faster.

It’s on such a night that you see a familiar figure moving down your street. His shoulders are broad, his curls highlighted in the moonlight. It’s almost three in the morning. He moves with purpose, no swaying or sloppy movements. He’s stone cold sober, weaving through the toys the children sometimes leave out on their lawns.

You throw yourself onto your bed, trembling.

A mixture of feelings hit you all at once; Desperate, syrupy longing to have him here in your arms and in your bed. And then hot, molten anger at the realization that even though you told him to leave you alone that he’s still here, haunting your block.

You let it fester within your belly for a few minutes before the latter propels you down the stairs in your robe, your hands clenched as you whip open the door.

You can see Joel is hunched on the front steps of your porch, his frame whipping around at the light and sound of the door. His eyes go owlish in his face and he springs to a stand, caught.

"I’m sorry," Joel says quickly, his voice soft. “I didn’t…. I didn’t know you were up.”

“Why the fuck are you here?” you hiss, ensuring your voice doesn’t carry down the sleepy block. “I told you to stay away from me.”

“I know, I know you did. I…. I just wanted to be near you,” Joel blurts out before closing his eyes and shaking his head. He exhales soundlessly through his nose.

“I know it’s stupid but I just. . . I feel better out here knowing you’re inside and…”

He trails off, his cheeks stained pink. He must decide that he’s not humiliated himself enough because he keeps on talking, uncaring that he looks pathetic standing there in the middle of the night, caught on your porch.

"I fucked up,” he says in a rough whisper, careful not to wake the neighbors. “I know I fucked up. I never should have let you go and-"

He immediately ceases when he sees you roll your eyes and scoff thickly. He feels more pink rush to his cheeks at your indifference.

"Joel, just stop," you say with an exhausted exhale. "You act like you know what's best for everyone. You did it with Ellie and you're doing it with me right now."

At the mention of Ellie you see a mix of emotions flood his eyes. Anger at mentioning the fact and then a strange strong concern that you said something to her about how he took her from the hospital.

"I would never tell her," you tell him swiftly, reading the relief in his dark brown eyes. "That's between you and her."

You go to turn but his tone is beseeching. Despite everything he's put you through there is still this pull to him you cannot ignore. He slowly makes his way up the porch, his long legs carrying him until he’s standing directly in front of you.

Your body responds, your hips tilting ever so slightly towards him. Up this close you can see his eyes are bloodshot. His beautiful, dark eyes hold a galaxy you once thought rivaled the stars. And they look at you now with an anguish you can almost taste.

"After we were attacked during patrols all I could think was that I fucked up,” he says, “that you were mine to protect and I d-"

He doesn't finish the sentence because you've suddenly lost all patience. Joel goes quiet, not oblivious to the way your eyes have narrowed. You actually go up on the balls of your feet because the power of your indignation propels you.

"Yours to protect? Yours?!"

Joel remains silent as you wind up into a fever pitch.

"I'm not yours" you spit out. "I never was."

Those words make Joel's stomach sink to his toes. Before he would leave in a huff and go somewhere private to lick his wounds. But he holds no anger towards you; his heart is soft and it begins stinging in the face of your disdain.

"I was yours. The first moment I held you in my arms, I was yours." He swallows thickly before his voice finds itself again, a little more gravelly. "I never stopped being yours and I still want to be."

"And what if I don't want you, Joel?"

It feels like a physical slap across his face. So much so that Joel actually flinches.

The sight of him looking so bruised by your words infuriates you. He’s hurt? What about the months of shitty treatment? Of your humiliation at the dance? Of using your friend? He comes to your house all sad because you aren’t falling over your feet to go back to him?

You feel reckless, you feel spurned, you feel like a ball of spikes and you want to poke everyone and everything that crosses your path. You don’t want Joel to show up anymore, you want to be rid of him, you want to start a new chapter, one where you don’t feel weak and soft all the time.

"I fucked Luke."

It's petty and ugly and you don't regret it for a second. You lie smoothly, hoping your words will cut him and you watch in dark satisfaction as Joel's broad shoulders sag further, the light dimming from his eyes.

"You did?"

"Yep." You cross your arms over your chest. "You think I was just gonna stay in my house mooning over you after you treated me like absolute shit?”

Joel's face looks pained even as he sucks at his teeth. You lean forward a bit, your voice a slow cruel murmur.

"You know that night I saw you at the Bison? I went and found Luke and I brought him back here and I fucked him there on my couch. Bare. And he was good, Joel. The best I've ever had."

You brace yourself, waiting for him to fight back like he always does, for that ugly sneer to cross his features, for him to unearth that anger that’s always slowly simmering under the surface. But he doesn't, he just keeps staring at the ground and his lack of action makes you feel victorious.

You don't miss the way Joel's teeth clench so tightly his jaw bulges. He shuffles his foot against the grain of your wood porch, nodding down at his shoes.

“Okay.”

His voice is low, dark and defeated. It’s enough for you. You deflate, all the anger gone from your body, replaced with a cold sadness that makes you feel weary to the bone. You give him on last cursory look.

“Don't ever come on my property ever again."

Joel knows he deserves this, even as his heart throbs and his body prickles with humiliated heat. He deserves this treatment and worse because he didn’t just let you slip through his fingers, he thrust you out into a cold and unforgiving world after saying he wanted to give you everything.

He raises his eyes to your face, wanting one last look. You don't say anything else, you just give glare at him before you slam the door in his face as Joel takes it, all the while repeating the same three words.

I’m always failing.

Chapter 23: Charlie's

Notes:

This one just flew outta me with every thoughtful review and ask I received! This feels so exciting to be doing together if that makes a lick of sense? It feels like a real community rallying around this story. Love y’all and lemme know what you think of this chapter! I don't know how y'all are gonna feel..... But you KNOW I am living for each and every single one of your comments. I re-read them when I'm feeling unmotivated to finish chapters. Anyway tldr: I LOVE EACH AND EVERY ONE OF YOU WHO INTERACTS WITH MY STORIES.
Also, BIG NEWS:
Now to everyone goin:
"Wait what does this mean? Are you taking it down from tumblr/A03?"
The answer is NO!
I just found that so many of you were supportive of this story that I wanted to format it into an e-book (or PDF if you prefer) so you can add it to your e-readers. NOTHING is getting removed. This is just like, a bonus. I will still be updating here and there until the story concludes!
The difference between the Tumblr/A03 story is that in the e-book there will be the following:
Additional Scenes
The whole thing will be edited better! (I hope)
A Mini S.M.T.L. cookbook! So you can make some of the items listed in the story, as well as a few that inspired me during my writing of this story.
A few other things I won't give away just yet because if you're anything like me, you enjoy a lil' surprise.
I will be uploading it on tumblr and here for your download enjoyment - no need to register anywhere!
I don't expect anything in return and you do NOT have to download this. No expectations, just a little gift I wanted to give y'all for supporting me this year.
love, emma

Chapter Text

You crawl back into bed and immediately roll onto your side, your heart throbbing painfully as you recall Joel's crumpled expression. He looked so downtrodden, so defeated. That wasn't the Joel you recognized; the brooding, serious man who never gave you an inch. That was a broken man on your doorstep just now.

Doing this was supposed to feel good, so why do you feel so hollow? Why does the thought of his wet eyes make your stomach twist? It makes you focus on the interactions you've tried to ignore, the moments with Joel on the last few days that you forced from your mind.

You make it go quiet for me.

More than I love you, more than I need you, more than I wanna give you everythin', those same seven words replay over in your mind.

You make it go quiet for Joel?

Why does that make the pain so much more acute? Why does that make everything hurt so much worse?

The answer is immediately supplied: it's because Joel was so rarely soft and sensitive. Joel barely shared himself like that. You think back to the time when he pulled you from Luke's concert, caressing you feverishly in the barn, his kisses verging on needy. You can still recall the open look he gave you, like someone lost when you asked him why.

“I just needed you. S’that okay?”

You feel anguish now, belatedly realizing you held the same power over Joel that he held over you all these months. The power of that brutal truth curls you into the fetal position; chin trembling before the darkness of sleep finally consumes you.

"I did something really stupid."

You're at Jennifer's hours later with your hair askew and your eyes hooded with fatigue. When Jennifer suggested a cup of coffee you accepted, even though you hate the taste of it, but the smell reminds you of Joel.

She's brought you a mug in from the kitchen and now sets it down on the coffee table so she can turn her full attention to you.

"What?"

You cringe, wishing you didn't have to say the words out loud.

"I told Joel that I slept with Luke."

Jennifer suddenly bolts up in her seat; her spine straight is a rod. Tension exists in every part of her body.

"Wait, did you sleep with Luke before?"

The tension is very clear on her face and you're gratified that nothing like that ever actually happened.

"No! No, I swear, never, not even close. I just...I feel so stupid," you say with your face in your hands. "I just needed you to know. Just in case Joel brings it up. I'm too mortified to her Luke. I don't think Joel will do anything, but just in case. Fuck, I'm sorry."

Jennifer is looking at you with a confused expression on her pretty face.

"Why would you say that to him?"

You groan, leaning back in the couch, your coffee forgotten. Your cheeks feel like they're on fire.

"I wanted to hurt Joel." You swallow. "I wanted to make him feel as horrible as I do so I said the one thing I thought would hurt him the most. I thought it'd make me feel better."

Softness and pity creep into Jennifer's features.

"Did it?"

"No."

Hurting Joel didn't fix the pain, if anything it compounded it. And you dragged poor Luke into everything. Poor Luke who’s done nothing to deserve this kind of treatment after everything.

"I'm so sorry Jennifer. Fuck, I feel so awful."

"Hey, we said no secrets. You're just holding up your end of the bargain." She shrugs, amused.

"Please tell Luke I'm so sorry for dragging him into this. I'm too mortified to tell him myself."

She nods, crossing her legs on the couch. You’re amazed at her capacity for forgiveness, confused and envious of this carefree way she has about her.

“Jennifer, can I ask, how could you forgive Joel after bringing you into all that shit? He did all that stuff at the dance and-"

"-Then I slapped him." She says it so casually, almost like she just remembered.

You stare at her, blinking rapidly as the words settle.

"What?"

"The second I realized what had happened," Jennifer smirks your way. "I slapped him real hard. Maybe it knocked some sense into him?"

You can't help but let out a small chirp of amusement, covering your mouth with your hands. The thought of Joel getting slapped across the face in public is strangely satisfying on Jennifer's behalf.

Jennifer has this casual, slow ease that you wish you could emulate. She leans further into her chair now, a languid movement as she ponders your prior question.

"I think the thing I've learned since you know; everything I've gone through is... Tomorrow's not promised. I could be murdered on patrols or infected could breach the walls tomorrow. So I guess I ask myself if this anger I'm holding onto serves any purpose."

She tucks her feet up under her legs on the couch, continuing.

"When Joel apologized to me I saw his sincerity, I knew he was truly sorry. And then when I saw how he held you and loved on you I just knew there was a deeper story. So yeah, I forgave him and I moved on."

You absorb her words, feeling strangely moved. She sees the way your face drops, almost as if you’re reeling and she leans forward, a hand outstretched wiping at the air.

"I know that sounds like I'm saying forgive and forget like its some easy thing to do. That's not it,” she enthuses. “It's just, I guess if Joel added some joy to your life maybe it's something to consider in the future."

You nod at her, realizing there is still so much about your best friend to discover. Maybe she could teach you how to let go of this bitterness. You pause, letting her words wash over you and she tilts her head.

"Can I ask what would Joel have to do to make you forgive him?"

This is something you haven't taken time to consider. So much of you was wrapped up in your dark feelings for him you never considered there was ever a possibility of reconciliation.

"I don't know that it's all about forgiveness," you tell her honestly after a moment's thought. "I think our whole foundation was fucked up from the start."

"What do you mean?*

"Like, at first I was scared of him. Then I just wanted to turn off my brain and he was so good ordering me around that we fell into these weird roles. I started to depend on him and he always kept me at a distance. At first I didn't mind but the more we shared and talked the more I found myself..."

"Loving him?" Jennifer supplies.

You blink back the wet of your eyes, unable to say the words out loud. But she knows it, and she seems to sense the heavy weight that now rests on your shoulders.

Her voice turns lighter and she fixes her gaze on you.

"Okay, one last question and it are a serious one" Jennifer says and you see the small lift to the corners of her mouth. "What was the sex like?"

She ducks just in time to avoid the pillow you throw at her head.

Seeing Jennifer and Luke together makes something in your body sing. They look so right together. The way they gaze at one another, the way Luke moves her hair behind her ear before he kisses her. They join you at lunch hand in hand later on that day, both of them looking giddy. You wanted to tell them the good news together.

"Hello lovebirds."

Luke's face flushes and Jennifer giggles. Luke slides into the seat across from you, smiling up at his girlfriend.

"I'm gonna get some soup," Jennifer says pressing a kiss to his cheek. "You want anything?"

"Coffee?"

Jennifer nods, flashing you a wink before heading to the counter holding the food. Luke watches after her with a moony expression on his face. You're going over your latest notes working on your next recipe when his voice reaches out.

"So, Jennifer told me about... Uh, what you told Joel," Luke says with a grimace.

You want the earth to swallow you up right now. You cover your face, groaning and shrinking in your seat. You knew that this was coming but you’d hoped he’d not mention it to you. You thought maybe he’d laugh it off with Jennifer.

"I'm so sorry Luke."

Luke leans forward slightly, voice dropping. "Why would you tell him that?"

You lower your fingers to see him looking at you with a soft expression. This is Luke after all, your friend, the man who supported you with your shooting, the man you supported at his singing event. He doesn't look angry, he looks concerned.

"I wanted to hurt him."

"That's what Jenny said," Luke nods, "I thought you hated each other, but Jennifer says you were together?"

You stare at Luke, realizing that Jennifer must have skipped over a few details.

"Uh, no, we uh, yeah... I guess we were kind of together."

Luke blinks at you in surprise, the information settling over him as you sit across from him in tense silence.

"For how long?"

"A couple months." You shift in your seat wishing Jennifer was back. "Jennifer didn't already tell you this stuff?"

"She was pretty vague; she said it was your information to share." Luke clears his throat and you see his throat bob. You go back to writing in your notebook, but Luke isn’t finished. He cocks his head to the side, studying you.

"So what happened? Why did he treat you so awful at the dance?"

"He said he was trying to keep me safe," you say rolling your eyes. "That if he was distracted by me then he couldn't keep me and Ellie safe."

"Oh," Luke sounds ponderous before nodding. "I get it."

You stare at him gob smacked by his response. Jennifer rejoins the table just as you snap back.

"What do you mean you get it?"

"I mean I get why he did it," Luke says, taking the coffee from Jenny with a "thanks, hon."

Jennifer and you stare at Luke until he realizes, placing his coffee cup on the table, glancing between the two of you in confusion. "What?"

"You said you get why Joel treated her so badly?" Jennifer says her tone sharp. "You think it was okay?"

Luke's eyes widen, realizing what he's said in front of two women who clearly don't feel the same. He almost chokes on his coffee.

"No no, never said it was okay," Luke says, concerned. "It's more... As a guy I can see why he did it. I've talked to Joel enough times to know he's shitty with expressing himself."

"So? That justifies him treating her like shit?" Jennifer says, defensively.

"No," Luke soothes. "I'm just saying I get why he did it, not that it was the right thing to do. I'm saying that Joel might've thought it was the only way he could keep you safe. I mean, you know his history better than me, is it possible?"

Sarah. Tess.

You're quiet for a moment, thinking over your time with Joel, of the secret pains he shared with you. It gives you pause but Luke sees Jennifer's eyes on him and must feel like he has to continue.

"Doesn't mean what he did was right, but-" Luke abruptly cuts off, "fuck, he's here."

You glance up at Luke from your notebook, eyes widened to see Jennifer's face frozen in a half wince as she glances behind you towards the large doors of the dining hall.

"He just walked in with Ellie," Luke murmurs, his eyes drifting over your shoulder briefly before a stricken look crosses his face. "What... What do I do?"

"Nothing," you say quickly, your cheeks warming.

You're supposed to meet Ellie here today for lunch, that's probably why he's here. He’s just come to drop her off. Or, you realize with a sinking feeling in your stomach, he's here to kick Luke's ass after what you said. You cringe as you force yourself not to look Joel's way.

Jennifer grabs your hand from across the table, her eyes on you.

"Tell me about the new recipe."

"Huh?" You're half aware of what she's saying, the other half painfully aware of Joel's voice as he speaks to Ellie behind you.

"Tell me about the new recipe you're working on," she repeats, motioning to the paper you've scribbled on.

"Oh, it's an apple turnover," you say, focusing on her eyes. "It's uh, an idea. I haven't made puff pastry in a long time."

She nods, not allowing you to look away from her. She keeps your attention, calming you.

"Sounds delicious."

You smile. "Yeah. I loved them as a kid."

You hear your name being called and now you turn to see Ellie smiling and jogging over to you. Over her shoulder you see the back of Joel's head as he exits the hall, a coffee in hand.

He's not coming over. He clearly saw the three of you, Luke included, and he didn't pick a fight. You feel your body relaxing as you let out a slow exhale.

Relief floods you as Ellie comes to stand beside the table, offering a brief hello to Luke and Jennifer before glancing over at you.

"Hey," you say with a wobbly smile. "Just the girl I was hoping to see."

"You said we were having breakfast together and that I needed to bring my book?" She says motioning with a hand holding a glass of milk to her sketchbook under her arm.

"Take a seat."

Ellie slides in next to you, her shoulder bumping yours. She drinks her milk slowly, eyes on you, curious when you take a look at everyone around the table.

"So I wanted to tell you all, uh, that I'm opening a bakery. But not in town. It's out by that old farmhouse. Well, it is the farmhouse," you say slipping over your words as you excitedly tell them everything.

"I'm gonna live in half of it and the other half is going be the bakery. I'll make all the bread and stuff for the town, but I'm also gonna be making specialty items like cakes and scones and stuff like that."

There's a moment of silence in which all three figures around the table look to one another before staring at you.

"I'll do the sign," Ellie suddenly announces, bringing out her sketchbook. "I found a really cool book on calligraphy the other day so we can make it look really nice."

"You know I have experience in building," Jennifer informs you, her eyes alight. "Framing and all that, so I'm in for that. Plus I need to help you decorate this new place because I love you, but your place now is totally void of color."

"I'll do cabinetry," Luke says, making a mental note as he looks thoughtfully in the distance. "I can do built-ins as well depending on load bearing wall placement. When can we see it?"

And then as if just realizing, Jennifer jumps up from her place across the table to come around and capture you in a bear hug.

"Holy shit congratulations!"

Ellie echoes this statement, giving you a quick side hug as Luke nods, telling you that you don't have to worry, that with a little elbow grease they'll have the place looking like new.

You feel a smile break over your features as you realize your dreams are even closer to becoming a reality, thanks to the community that surrounds you at this very table.

“Your deal.”

“I’ll take two.”

The Miller brothers sit at the table in Joel’s home playing cards and sipping whiskey a few weeks later. The space is warm and quiet, almost serene if it weren’t for the intermittent sigh from the elder Miller. Tommy can see that his brother looks like shit with heavy circles under his eyes and a general weariness that patrols can’t explain away.

Ellie bursts in from the garage with a bag slung over her shoulder. She greets Tommy with a wave before looking at Joel with a solemnity she usually reserves for serious talks.

“Where’s my glove?”

“Think I saw it by the couch,” Joel says, glancing up from his cards to watch her flitting around the space, her eyes searching for the striped object she wears. “What’re you up to?”

“I’m gonna go to the dining hall,” Ellie tells Joel breathlessly saying your name as she falls to her knee to grab a glove that fell under the couch. “She wants to talk to me about a project she wants me to do some of the art for.”

Ellie misses the flinch in him at the sound of your name, but Tommy sees it plainly from across the table. It hurts him to see it, even as he shuffles the cards and glances over at Ellie. She pulls on the found glove, coming to see Joel’s cards before pointing at his whiskey glass.

“Can I have some?”

“Nope,” Joel replies without glancing up from his cards. “Be back for dinner.”

Ellie rolls her eyes at the fatherly tone, but she doesn’t say anything other than a quick goodbye before closing the door behind her. Tommy and Joel fall into a quiet game, speaking only when it’s time to exchange cards.

The topic of you is one that Tommy doesn’t broach often, but at the continuous hangdog look on his brother’s face Tommy can’t handle it anymore. He drains his whiskey glass before tapping it onto the tabletop, drawing Joel’s attention.

“Maria’s started goin’ to that new woman, Heather.”

“Who’s that? Your deal.”

“She used to be a therapist,” Tommy says, shuffling the cards before dealing them. His eyes jump between Joel and the playing cards. “She’s real good.”

“Mhmm.”

Therapy had always been too woo-woo for the Miller boys. Growing up with parents that didn’t believe in it made it seem like a pseudo-science, something akin to snake oil. How much could come from talking to some stranger for an hour?

“I can’t believe the difference,” Tommy continues on airily. “She’s a lot better. Sleepin’ better, spendin’ more time with Douglas.”

“That’s real great,” Joel says truthfully before he looks at his cards. “I’m glad she’s doin’ better.”

Tommy inhales slowly, lowering the proverbial hammer.

“I think you should go see her too, Joel. I really think it’d help.”

The silence is suddenly so thick in the room that Tommy could choke on it. Joel’s jaw bulges as he clenches his teeth at his younger brother’s words. His dark eyes remain trained on his cards, his thick fingers tightening around them before he speaks in a low rumble.

“Burn the card, Tom.”

"You need the deck extended for outdoor seating," Luke suggests as he and Jennifer walk through the farmhouse with you. "But those rotted planks need a major overhaul."

You nod, making a note in your book.

"It's been a really wet winter," Luke mentions, running his hand along the wood arch going into the kitchen. "Have a bad feeling that'll go into spring."

"What does that mean?" You ask concerned.

"Just means a delay," he tells you with a reassuring smile shot your way. "Gotta let the lumber we have dry out before we chop new stuff down."

Of course, you don't waste here in Jackson City. But that doesn't bother you,

"We can do the interior framing," Jennifer suggests helpfully. "We probably have enough building lumber in the barn storage for that. Just gotta check with Tommy and Maria."

Jennifer and Luke insisted on coming to see the farmhouse today and you were more than eager to show them, almost skipping all the way there.

Jennifer had a blueprint all sketched out thanks to Ellie, and is very knowledgeable about building and framing. You were blown away by what they came up with.

Half the house will stay as is, a sweet farmhouse style with tall windows and warm-colored wood floors. It will end in three bedrooms, two bathrooms and a large living space by the hearth that will also hold a chairs and a table for eating.

The bakery will be attached to the back of the house with a converted shop to peruse items as well as outdoor space to sit and enjoy the baked goods in nicer weather.

A wall is going to be constructed separating the two spaces via the kitchen and sliding farmhouse doors. When you look at the sketches Ellie made of the place you couldn't help but give her a watery smile.

"Let's see upstairs!" Jennifer gushes before rushing up the stairs, taking them two at a time as Luke grins behind her.

"Wow even with the bakery there's so much room left" She says amazed as she pulls open the door closest to the staircase.

The wallpaper is peeling and the floors front grimy, but it won't take much to make it beautiful.

"What will this room be?" Jennifer asks, motioning to the empty space as she scans it.

Ellie's bedroom.

The thought comes to you quickly, loud and startling. You'd just pictured her in there so many times hunched over her desk drawing. Sitting on her bed as you brushed her hair. Reading in a chair under the window.

"Don't know," you manage to eek out after a second. "Maybe storage?"

""Or a guest room?" Jennifer winks, "for, say if your best friend comes over and you both end up drinking too much wine and she can't make it home so she has to sleep over?"

"Totally," you say with a forced chuckle.

Jennifer and Luke laugh, moving onto the bathroom as you trail after them, closing the bedroom door behind you. Suddenly this tour doesn't feel as exciting as before.

They chatter excitedly between themselves before finally arriving at the master bedroom. Jennifer claps excitedly when she pushes open the door to reveal honey-colored wood, a brick column running between the tall windows on either side.

You'd envisioned something for this room too. A man with broad shoulders holding you in a plush bed. You bringing him coffee in the mornings before pressing a kiss to his bare shoulder to wake him. A man with a soft, full mouth bringing you to pleasure as the moon glows in through the windows. A man with wide hands massaging your back as you drift off to sleep, murmuring how much he loves you

But you won't have that. You can't have that man anymore.

"Wow, you're gonna be able to get a big bed," Jennifer laughs as the three of you walk the perimeter of the space. You blink back the wet along your waterline.

"Yeah, I guess so."

"Major renovations will have to wait until spring," Tommy tells you a week or so later in the dining hall. "Lumber is gonna be a bitch to do in snow and rain."

"That's what I expected," you say nodding. “Luke mentioned.”

Even though that's exactly what you had been expecting, you can't help but feel a little disappointed. So many of your items are already eagerly stored in boxes.

"Good news is me and some of the guys went through and the place is good enough to move into by the end of March if you want," Tommy adds.

"Wait, really?"

Tommy nods, his eyes disappearing when he smiles down at you.

"Just wanna make sure we get the place sealed properly first, unless you want mouse roommates."

You throw your arms around his neck in excitement and he laughs, patting your back stiffly.

"Sorry," you say pulling back immediately When you realize your outburst. "I'm just so... It's so great."

Tommy grins, giving you a goodbye before heading over to the next table to chat about the next town hall meeting. Jennifer and Luke sail into the space hand in hand, making you smile just at the sight of it. They’re so perfect together, so well suited that it makes you smile.

Jennifer leans over your shoulder, reading your recipes as Luke grabs her a tea.

“Holy shit that looks so good,” she gushes as she points at a sketch of a raspberry cake.

“Tommy says that the building can’t start until late spring, so I figure summer will be the grand opening. So, I’m thinking of summer recipes,” you tell her in excitement, flipping through the pages as Luke joins you both at the table.

“So I’m gonna do a raspberry cake and a blueberry tart.”

"That sounds so freakin' good," Luke groans at the thought. "Can it be summer already?”

“I agree,” Jennifer pouts as she slips into the seat next to Luke, their shoulders pressing together. I'm sick of all this rain."

It's been a particularly dreary and wet couple of months. Most of your time is spent indoors working on recipes and packing up your home.

"I'm thankful for the extra time to work on recipes," you insist. "Otherwise my grand opening will consist of bread and a few cinnamon knots."

"I wouldn't mind that at all," Jennifer sighs happily before she sits up straight her eyes wide on you. "Wait, could you make a garlic bread?"

"For you Jennifer, I'll make anything."

You walk to the medical building in the main square of town, the scar on your hand itchy even though your hand is healed up nicely. You check in with Lily every few weeks as she requested, just to make sure it continues to heal properly.

She’s finishing up with someone else in the office, you can hear them talking quietly as you sit there on the bench, your eyes drifting around the space. It’s a fairly bare place, only bench seating and a few landscape pictures on the walls. It looks like the kind of art you used to see in hotels on vacations with your family.

Mrs. Knapp exits the room, thanking Lily and giving you a sweet little wave before she leaves, the jingle of the bell over the door signalling the end to her visit. A tired-looking Lily welcomes you into the room, digging around in her large cupboard for something. You hear the gentle clinking of glass before she turns back, urging you onto the exam table.

“You’re still feeling good?”

“Yep.”

“It looks good,” she says officiously holding your hand to the light. She inspects it before dabbing it with a cream that smells strongly of mint. “Put this on at night and the scar should eventually fade.”

You smile excitedly, flexing your healed hand. “Thanks.”

You stand, taking the salve in the glass container and grin. She gives you a once over, almost like she wants to say something but decides on a small smile and a quick, “take care of yourself.”

You nod, taking the bag holding your notebook and pencils from the floor, eager to work on some more recipes. You have some ideas you’ve been tossing around in your mind and without the bandage you feel in even better spirits. You decide you’ll stop by the market and grab some ingredients.

You pop out of the medical building, noticing that the Christmas tree in the center of town is being undressed by some of the folks in town. They chat pleasantly as they remove garland and lights and baubles from the large tree that sits in the center of town. You feel a little disappointed at the sight of the colors being packed away, but it means that spring is on the horizon and along with spring comes summer and your future that awaits.

The square is busy this time of day and you take a moment to take it all in; the two older women chatting back and forth about some of the grocery items, the children who squeal and throw snowballs at one another, the couple you recognize as Bonnie and her husband laughing and holding coffee as they walk by the tree.

You turn, a smile crossing your features when you see Arthur standing by the steps, talking animatedly with a sweet-featured Asian girl that looks to be about Ellie’s age. You overhear them chatting about artwork and tattooing as you near them, wanting to say hello.

But then there’s a murmur in the crowd and like a nightmare you notice Joel is walking towards the medical building, his frame unmistakable even in the light snowfall. For a horrible moment you think he’s going to approach you out here in front of all these people. Instead he lifts his eyes from the ground in front of him and notices you. His eyes widen, like a frightened horse and he stops himself immediately mid-stride.

The two of you stare at one another; hearts thrumming as the whispers around you begin, hissing snakes in the background. Arthur and the girl have turned to face you, along with the women who were shopping at the market.

You feel so many eyes on you that it causes your cheeks to prickle with embarrassed heat. Your fingers rub together at your side, anxiously.

They're laughing at me. They're judging me. They're thinking what's wrong with me? Why am I not running into Joel's arms? Why is he just standing there, staring at me? Why am I just standing here? Fuck, I hate every single person whose just standing there watching. Fuck them all.

Joel stands like he's rooted to the spot, his wide shoulders hunched up by his ears

The old, trembling, terrified you is gone. She died out there along with the raiders. You're done being a pushover to your own emotions. The old you put up with shitty treatment from Joel. It allowed him to fuck with your head. It made you fall into bed with a man who always held you at a distance.

But not anymore.

So instead of shrinking away from the looks and whispers you hold your head high and turn away, heading home without giving Joel a second look. You feel his eyes on your back you as you leave, but to your relief he says nothing and makes no attempt to follow.

“I don’t even know why I’m here.”

“You wanted to make a change, Joel. And I’m here to help you with that.”

Joel feels his irritation flare at the put-on soothing tone from the woman across from him. Her sickly sweet voice sets him on edge, feeling like she’s acting phony. He sits on the floral couch in the middle of the woman’s living room with a mug of coffee in one hand and his other damp palm clutching his knee.

Heather is an older woman with stringy blonde hair and deep-set blue eyes. She is always wearing an oversized sweater and she always has time to talk. Heather arrived last month with her granddaughter Millie, fitting into Jackson City almost like she’d always lived here.

Now seated amongst her feline artwork on the walls and holding the warm mug, Joel feels strangely vulnerable. He hasn’t even taken his jacket off, feeling like it would be liking peeling himself away under her soft gaze.

“Let’s start,” Heather says picking up an egg timer and turning it. “You have forty five minutes to talk about everything and anything. Nothing you tell me leaves this room. I’m here to listen.”

Joel cringes at the way she speaks, all sugary sweet.

She waits a long while for Joel to start, but he finds he can't find the words. When he doesn't come up with something she gives him a patient smile.

"How about this, when you came here you probably did so because of a problem you're facing, right? Let's start there."

He looks down at his mug of watery coffee, thinking about the time you snuck him the Folgers. Back when he could look at you, touch you. Back before he fucked everything up out of fear.

“I uh, I saw someone I used to, uh, be with,” Joel finally says, feeling the blood rush to his cheekbones. “Recently. And it was hard.”

The town is only so big; Heather likely knows all of this already if she’s as social as she seems. It embarrasses him, but at the same time he doesn’t know what else he can do. The pills from Lily don’t help his sleep and he’s tired of feeling like shit every day.

“Okay,” Heather nods. “What made it hard?”

“She wasn’t happy to see me. Not that I think she should be. And I, uh, I think about her a lot.”

Heather leans forward to show she’s actively listening.

“What specifically do you think about?”

Joel is quiet. He doesn’t know how to explain that you're back safe but you're not you. You're different altogether. Joel finds that he likes parts of this new version. He respects that you're stronger with a growing confidence. He enjoys that when he does see you, you’re smiling or your focused. No more skittering from place to place, no more hiding.

But you're not the same woman who laid with him in bed. The last time he saw you your eyes were flinty, the warmth drained from them. He sighs, hating that he has to say these words aloud to Heather and not to you.

“I think about how shitty I treated her. And I think about how I need to stay away from her," Joel sighs.

If Heather knows about you and Joel she doesn’t show it. She simply sits back, crossing her legs at the knee lacing her fingers over them.

"Why is that, Joel?"

"She told me to leave her alone," Joel says before he feels like he needs to explain himself. "But I know if I could just sit her down and explain-"

"But you can't."

Joel is startled by Heather's firm reply, momentarily struck mute before he tries again.

"Yeah, but I know if I could just talk to her -"

"But you can't," Heather emphasizes. "She's told you what she wants, Joel. She wants space from you and you need to respect that. Every time you insist yourself upon her you're breaking that trust."

This stings.

"I'm not tryin' to," he insists softly.

"I'm sure you're not," Heather says with a piteous glance shot his way. "But as you can imagine actions speak louder than words."

"But what if she wants space from me forever?"

"Then you'll give her space forever," Heather shrugs. "I know that's not what you want to hear, but it's the truth."

Joel is quiet, fuming at this whole exchange. What was the point in coming here? Just so this older woman could shit on him for being desperate to see you? Heather lets the silence stretch for quite a long while before she begins prompting him.

"You obviously have deep feelings for this woman. Tell me more about her," Heather suggests. "When did it start?"

"A little over half a year ago."

"And there was an immediate attraction?"

Joel thinks back to the first time he saw you, the flash of crimson around your neck.

"I think at first I was just curious. She was so quiet, always scanning a room she went into like she was waiting to get jumped. It reminded me of me."

Heather nods. "And that upset you?"

"No, not at first," Joel shrugs. "Then we got paired for patrols and she was so scared and skittery. I thought I was doin' her a favor by bein' harsh with her. Thought it would toughen her up."

Heather crosses her legs, not saying anything. It makes him feel uneasy, like he has to fill up the silence.

“I didn’t wanna be attracted to her, it just sorta snuck up on me. She was nothin' like Gabby, nothing like Tess, nothin' like any woman I'd ever been attracted to. She was so soft."

"Meaning?"

"Gentle. Like the world wouldn't gobble her up." Joel almost sighs when he thinks about your open smile. "Everyone after the outbreak was so hardened, but not her. And the thing is she deserved to be. Especially after everything she'd been through you'd think she'd be twisted and angry. But she was just so thoughtful and sweet to everyone. I mean, Ellie took to her right away."

"And who is Ellie?" Heather interjects, slowing him down.

"Ellie's my kid," Joel says brusquely. "I kinda adopted her. S'a long story."

Heather nods, taking mental notes. "Ellie's opinion matters a lot to you."

"Uh, yeah," Joel nods. "Plus my brother liked her straight away and his wife and ... Honestly everyone who meets this woman likes her. She's just that kinda person."

"What kind of person?" Heather asks curiously.

"The kind you feel good bein' around," Joel says after a moment of thought. "The kind that makes you feel safe and makes you wanna be a better person."

There's a lightness in him as he speaks to you, a warmth like a sunbeam shining in through the window to warm him. It makes the world seem honey tinted and beautiful just to be in the memory of your goodness.

"And do you think you were that for her, Joel?" Heather pontificates. "Do you think you were the kind of person she liked being around? Someone who made her feel safe?"

Joel feels like he's been punched. The sunshine warm feeling he's been holding onto at speaking about you is suddenly sucked from the room leaving it drained of color.

"I don't know."

The timer suddenly goes off, startling Joel before Heather reaches to turn it off. She gives him an encouraging smile.

"We have to end there for today I'm afraid. And I want to thank you Joel for all you shared today, I'm honored you felt safe to share."

Joel nods awkwardly at her words before placing the still full mug onto the coffee table between them.

"I'd like to see you again next week if you're comfortable with that?" Heather continues. "I think there's a lot for us to dig into."

Joel stares at the egg timer, searching himself for the answer. He doesn't like this sensation of being vulnerable. It makes him feel on edge. He hates the ugly floral fabric on her sofa, and the boring paintings she has on her walls.

But at the same time talking about you felt really good. He feels he has no one else to speak to about it, Tommy and Maria are your friends as well and Ellie is his kid. Flashes of your face, of your laugh, your voice hit him and if he can only talk about you in these sessions then it's inevitable he will continue to return.

"Okay."

Ellie arrives one evening with a sketchbook under her arm and an eager smile on her face.

"I wanna show you what I've got so far. I know you said you liked the first version of the sign but I wanted you to see this one too."

You invite her in, making a pot of cocoa and the two of you take a seat at the kitchen table.

"This is perfect," you say amazed when she opens the sketchbook to show you several proposed signs styles to use for your bakery.

"I wanted to do these little...uh... Flower de something," Ellie says with a vague motion to the corners of the sign. "Arthur taught me, but I can't make 'em fit."

"How about if you moved them here," you say pointing to a spot in her book. "Might be a little smaller but then it might be easier."

Ellie realizes what you're trying to say and she nods emphatically before putting her pencil to the paper.

"Good idea."

You yourself have your own notebook open to a blank page as you try to recall some of the recipes you liked the most. You can't think of things too difficult to make, you need recipes that you can use the local harvests for.

Carrots are always in abundance in the greenhouse and you hurriedly write at the top of the page: Carrot Cake.

Ellie glances at your writing, curiosity in her features accompanied by a nose scrunch of distaste.

"Is that .. does that have actual carrots in it? Who wants carrots in a cake?"

You smile up at her, nodding. "It sounds weird but trust me, it's delicious. I’ll teach you how to make it next week if you want."

“Alright.”

Ellie looks dubious but she continues to sketch across from you. The two of you work in a comfortable silence, one that warms you. Ellie has a calming presence about her when she's focused. You like sitting there working together on independent projects sipping hot cocoa and listening to the fire crack in the hearth.

"I forgot to say that Dina wants to know if you want help with renovations," Ellie mutters, her attention still on her sketching. "I told her I'd ask."

"That's so sweet of her," you say, touched. "She can help on the weekends if she wants. I don't want her missing school over this. Or you, Ellie."

You give her a pointed look that she rolls her eyes at. There's a brief knock at the front door before it's pushed open.

"It's me!"

Jennifer walks through holding swatches of fabric. She greets you as she kicks off her boots at the front door.

"Hey Ellie," she says warmly as she enters into the kitchen.

"Hey Jen," Ellie replies with a smile. She watches as Jennifer places the paper bag beside you, giving you a grin. "Fabric samples."

You peek your head into the bag, delighted at the rich fabrics that greet you. These won't be for the shop but your own home. You didn't want much, just a new chair to have by the fire and a few pillows for the couch.

"Oh wow you are so talented," Jennifer says as she pours herself some hot chocolate and takes a seat at the table.

You're surprised when you see Ellie's cheeks go pink as she mutters her quiet thanks.

As you passively watch this interaction something suddenly clicks for you. The sniped comments Ellie sent Jennifer's way from the start. The way Ellie always disliked Jennifer up until recently was so similar to how she acted with Dina you can't believe you didn't realize it.

"How are things with Dina?" Jennifer asks with a warm smile.

Ellie shrugs, eyes shooting to Jennifer before landing back at her sketchbook. You have to suppress a grin. How did you not see that Ellie was a girl with a crush on a pretty older lady?

You yourself had always been attracted to the handsome teachers at your school, the older actors on television that made your teenage heart flutter. Ellie is no different - Jennifer is a beautiful and strong woman and you want to laugh at the realization you never clued in.

"Luke says he wanted to come by and see the cabinets so he can take some measurements," Jennifer tells you between sips. "Plus I had an idea for the back of the house, what do you think of a small little build-out with a thick window so that when it's cold you can just hand folks their orders without having to freeze?"

"That's genius," you tell her with wide eyes. You never would have thought of such a thing.

"Well, I like think I'm not just a pretty face," Jennifer says with a playful chuckle thrown your way that you join in on.

Ellie just blushes further.

It's been a few weeks of seeing Heather. Sneaking off with vague excuses if Tommy or Ellie comment on his exit. He has a feeling Tommy knows but is too respectful to say it. He prefers it that way, this secret hour for himself every week.

He walks with his hands in his pockets and a stern look on his face for anyone he passes. He makes sure the street is empty before he jogs up to the porch, knocking furtively. Heather always greets him with a warm smile, ushering him inside where she has a coffee waiting for him.

Some weeks are hard. Weeks when Heather challenges him, weeks where she reminds him of his cruelty to you. Where they dig deep into the things you said about thinking he knows better than everyone. She makes him face the ugly way he treated you.

And she doesn't stop there. There are weeks where she makes him talk about Sarah to the point he feels that familiar panic overtake him. The kind that makes his hands shake and his lungs squeeze. She teaches him breathing exercises, instructs him on ways to face the anxiety and move it from his body.

Heather pushes him to the point of almost storming out several times. But then he thinks of why he's there and he rides it out. Session after session he tells himself this is the last one, and yet he continues to come back.

"You've briefly mentioned your ex wife Gabby," Heather says gently one day. "And a bit about the woman from the QZ?" She pauses, trying to recall the name from previous sessions. "Tessa was it?"

"Tess."

Joel stretches his arms against the back of the couch. He's gotten used to the floral fabric, almost comforted by the rasp of the fabric against his palm now.

"Right, Tess," Heather nods. "And despite these intense relationships, when you speak of this woman in Jackson you appear different."

Heather is kind enough not to say your name aloud. You are the woman in all sessions. Joel doesn't think he could hear your name week after week.

"Because she's the only person I've ever felt about this way."

"Not Sarah's mother? Not Tess? I assume you would have felt deeply for them both."

"I did," Joel nods, wincing at the memories that flood him. "Sarah's mom was the first girl I ever loved. But we were so young; it was a different kinda love."

"And Tess?"

"Tess was a good woman," Joel offers, shifting in his chair before he clears his throat. "A real good woman. She deserved a helluva lot better than what she got."

Heather nods, recalling the information shared.

"But she didn't make you feel how this other woman in Jackson does?"

Joel hates the way Heather's eyes burn into his, the unrelenting pressure to share his deepest wounds. He knows that this is the purpose of being here. That this is what he needs to get over you, but his heart aches when he thinks about you.

"Tell me more about Tess," Heather says when she notices Joel's reluctance.

Joel swallows thickly as Heather leans forward, a look of warm interest on her face.

"Tess helped me avoid thinkin' about the hard stuff. She was tough. She'd lost a kid too so we understood each other. We made a good team."

"A partnership?"

"Yeah, I guess." Joel nods.

"And yet you say this other woman here in Jackson is the only one you've felt such deep feelings for."

Joel stares at her before wearily exhaling.

"I wanted to want Tess the same way she wanted me," Joel admits quietly. "It would've been so easy to just be together like she wanted."

Joel recalls the words Tess spoke to him, ones she'd never said aloud until that moment with her light eyes desperately searching his.

"I never asked you for anything - not to feel the way I felt."

Joel thinks about Tess' final moments, the way she told him to go, the strength in her face and he's not surprised to feel his eyes watering.

"Tess was so strong, so fearless. But I... I was too sealed off, I guess. Tess knew me before I met Ellie, before I started openin' up about Sarah and all that."

"Do you think you could have felt about Tess the way you feel about this woman now?"

To Joel it feels like betrayal to shake his head no.

"I liked Tess a lot," he admits after a moment, scraping his nail against his cooled coffee mug. "I might have loved her. But no, I didn't have that same feeling I have with this woman."

"Interesting," Heather says in a way that makes Joel feel scrutinized. "I wonder why that is. By all intents and purposes Tess seemed like your ideal match."

"I didn't need her and she didn't need me."

It escapes him without thought, the words delivered to Heather whose eyes have gone bright.

"Do you think you need to be needed Joel?"

The egg timer goes off before he can reply.

TWO MONTHS LATER

"Ready?"

"Ready."

You raise the sledgehammer over your head and bring it down with a mighty grunt. Rotted floorboards groan before giving way.

Luke grins at you, lowering his worn safety glasses.

"How did that feel?"

"Really fucking good."

You and a small group of artisans from town are helping you to do some of the bigger remodels of the home. Mainly removing the old rotten sections and replacing them with the lumber recently cut. The place is a mess, your personal items inside still in boxes, but it doesn’t stop you from waking up every morning with a smile on your face.

Joel hasn't been by to help with any of the construction. You asked Tommy to make sure of it. And after the blow up on your porch all those months ago Joel has been staying away from you. And as it turns out, everybody else.

"I never see him anymore," Jennifer confides in you. "Not even in the dining hall."

You just nod and change the topic. You don't notice how she watches your down turned face, an inscrutable look on her own.

"He took a break from patrols," she tells you another day as you scrub at the baseboards of the old farm house.

She's not reporting on Joel, per se, but still proving passive information. You could tell her to stop or ignore it entirely, but a small, secret part of you still aches to know.

"How come?"

"Dunno, I heard some of the other guys talking about it when I went to check on the horses," Jennifer says between grunts over one particularly stubborn bit of grime.

You don't question Ellie about it. Joel is a non topic between the two of you. Your bakery, her and Dina, art and animals always find their way into conversation so it's not like you're lacking in things to talk about.

Life is moving along as it always has, punctuated by good days and bad. There are moments when it hurts to see Jennifer bringing Luke his lunch.. Days when the sight of Arthur and Penny on a walk hand in hand makes your chest hurt.

But you'd never begrudge them the joy. They deserve a love like that.

You make paper flowers and you bake and you laugh with your friends. But when it comes to Joel you've changed. No longer do you seek out his eyes in the dining hall. No longer do you slide into his bed after a nightmare. You're a stranger to him.

And that should be the end of it, that should be the book closed and re-shelved never to be open. But there are times when his face is behind your eyelids when you make yourself come. It's his voice in your ear telling you that its you who makes it go quiet for him.

There are nights when you reach across the large mattress you rest on, wishing that it was his warm body your fingers were sliding over. Days when you remember how you could open up to him and talk about Charlotte. Afternoons where you think of what it would be like to rest your head on his lap before the fire, the two of you reading as he smoothed your hair with his palm. A life shared.

But then you wake yourself from the reveries with reminders of what he did. And while the pain of such actions never go away, over time they do begin to lose some of their sting.

You meet Kevin Washington during your second month of renovations. He and Luke come by one morning chatting animatedly about the deck.

"Hey, I don't know if you two have met but this is Kevin,"' Luke says as the two of you shake hands. "He was one of the fellas that came last winter with the horses."

"That's right," you smile warmly. "Arrow right?"

Kevin nods. "Arrow's mine. She's a good girl. Luke told me that he was helping you build a deck and I figured I could lend a hand. I used to help building similar stuff back in the QZ."

Kevin has deep dimples and thick midnight hair he wears in a loose braid down his back. He has light pox scarring in his bronzed cheeks but you think that adds to his character. His eyes are the darkest brown you've ever seen. He's a little taller than you, sturdily built with a sensual mouth that curls into a friendly smile.

But the thing you come to adore about Kevin as he helps with the build is that he's always so cheerful. He laughs loudly when something amuses him, he squints his eyes shut and howls, slapping his knee. You love watching it. It's so pleasant seeing someone that finds joy in a world full of darkness.

Over lunch breaks during that first week he tells you about he and his brother living with his adopted family the Washington's. That they adopted them both when they were young.

He laments that he wishes he knew his own heritage better. That he wishes he knew his true Blackfoot name. That sometimes he thinks the outbreak was just nature's way of giving it back to destructive humans.

In the coming days you gravitate towards him, fascinated by a man who emotes so easily, who always seems so happy to see everyone. He must feel similarly because he always has a kind word to say, always a polite "mornin' ma'am" when he sees you and isn't shy to share how he's amazed at the vision you have for the farmhouse when you point out different plans you have.

"Anyone would think this place was just a rundown heap. But you saw a future in it," Kevin says with a low whistle. "That's impressive."

His praise delights you. You don't know if it's because he has nothing to gain from you by offering it or just because he's a capable and clever person. Either way you find that you enjoy his company. It's nice to have a new friend in Jackson.

"Are you into him?" Jenny asks one night as she braids your hair in front of the fire. "He's pretty cute."

"He's handsome enough," you acknowledge.

"But?"

But he's not Joel.

Ellie’s been popping by to work on the sign with you, frustrated that you still don’t know what you want to call the place. She helps scrub and paint when she can, but most of the time she sits on the stool watching you mixing dough and talking about life. You enjoy her sweet voice as you smile and sprinkle flour onto the gleaming counter top.

But today she’s not at her usual spot, she’s standing by the kitchen window and peering out of it.

“Why is that Kevin guy here again?” Ellie says with a sour expression.

She continues to stare out the window where Kevin and Luke are doing final touches on the new deck.

“He’s a builder,” you say with a frown. You feel heat creep up your neck as you pull the fresh buns from the oven as you realize her tone is verging on accusatory. Her frown grows deeper.

"He’s here all the time. Even when he’s not building.”

“He must really like free bread,” you say with a little smile that Ellie doesn’t return. She walks over to you with her arms crossed loosely in front of her.

“We both know why he's hanging around all the time and it’s nothing to do with free fucking bread."

You don’t want to get into this with her, especially when there’s nothing to get into. You really have no feelings like that for Kevin. You don’t know how long your bruised heart will be out of commission, but something tells you it’s a long way from being healed.

"Ellie," you warn lightly.

"Joel’s still in love with you," she bursts out and you're devastated to see the hurt in her dark eyes. "I know he is. He's never given up on -"

"Ellie, stop," you say sharply. You try to keep the wobbling from your chin as you add a desperate little: "Please, just stop."

"Are you really never going to forgive him?" She demands and you hate that tears are starting at the corner of her eyes too, clumping her lashes together.

“Ellie I don’t want to talk about this.”

For the first time in a long time you see Ellie’s face contort into anger. She pushes the stool out of her way, sending it clattering to the floor. You call out her name sharply but she’s already storming out your front door, slamming the door behind her.

You watch out the window to see her marching past the men standing by the deck. Luke and Kevin call over to her, likely asking her about school but she doesn’t slow. She just shoots them the middle finger and a loud “fuck off” before leaving the property.

Kevin and Luke shoot you a puzzled look through the window and all you can do is shrug.

Kevin spends lots of time with his younger brother Will. Much like Kevin, Will is pleasant and cheerful, but he keeps more to himself, is more reserved. Regardless of this you and Jennifer try to bring him out of his shell. You invite the Washington Brothers out for drinks at the Bison during lunch, knowing it won't be as busy and knowing that certain people don't enjoy it during the day.

Will stays for one drink before the noise of the place gets to him. He winces at a particularly loud laugh by Barry and mutters that he has to go, leaving behind a still full pint.

You all watch him go, disappointed that you could keep him here but understanding the anxiety he must be under.

"He saw our Dad die in the QZ," Kevin confesses to you all. "Got hung for smuggling right in front of him. I was working, I didn't even know until it was too late. He hasn't been the same since."

All of you are solemn, hearts sinking both in pity and terror that such a world exists outside these walls. Even more than usual you're grateful for making your way to Jackson City.

"I just wish I could do more for him."

Kevin's jovial face is suddenly drawn, his deep eyes troubled. It cracks you open, leaving you gooey and emotional.

"You're doing everything you can," you insist. "He's lucky to have you. And you're strength is making him strong, I promise."

Something passes between the two of you, a communion that only two eldest siblings can understand. This forced parental role that makes you feel like your heart walks around outside your body.

"I think I needed to hear that," Kevin says sweeping his sleeve over his watery gaze. Thanks."

He's so solemn looking that you can't help but lean over to offer him a timid hug. He immediately reaches out and holds you tight beside him in the booth, murmuring his thanks.

He's not afraid of emotion, not afraid to share that he's upset. He makes a soft sniffling noise against your shoulder and you feel your eyes water in response.

Jennifer exchanges a tight look with Luke who squeezes her hand. Then her eyes fly over to the open door and you don't notice how she suddenly looks so stricken.

Joel is exhausted. He's been up for days and he needs a break from the monotony of working inside the radio room at the tower. His head aches from the lack of sleep and he knows that he has another long week ahead of him. But his brain won't shut off long enough for him to sleep.

He walks into the Bison wearily, aching for something to get him drowsy enough to sleep. He doesn't have the pills he used to rely on in the QZ, so booze will have to do.

He sees you immediately, your presence a magnet for his eyes even subconsciously. At first he feels a bit of delight for the unexpected run in - he can't be blamed for this accident surely? - but then he sees the broad native man holding you against his barrel chest and Joel feels a wave of anger and devastation build in his stomach.

His first instinct is to march over and pull the man's hands from your body. Who the fuck did this guy think he was? You’re Joel's!

But then he remembers your words: "I'm not yours." You're not his. And the devastation is much more acute. It steals the breath from his lungs as he stands there dumbly at the door just staring. You rub the man's back in soothing circles, murmuring something to him as he holds you against him.

That coulda been me. I coulda had everythin'.

Joel knows that what he's watching is the result of his own idiocy, but it doesn't make it sting less. Doesn't make the roll of his stomach any more bearable.

Then he catches Jenny's eyes on him from across the booth to you. He sees the sorrowful way she looks at him, full of pity. It shames him further and he wordlessly leaves, letting the door close behind him.

He makes his way home not angry, not defeated, just calm. Ellie is already in bed, her door closed and the lights off. He makes his way to his bed, collapsing onto it. He’s not tired,

Peace is a strange bedfellow for Joel. After decades of running from the infected or raiders or armed guards and even his own emotions, the quiet is almost worse. The quiet leads him to think and when he thinks things turn ugly.

He's so twisted up about everything that his dreams take on a similar tone of sharp teeth and dark shadows. At least back in the QZ he had pills he could take to stop these. White circles taken dry to help him sleep, to take away the long, dark nights.

He has booze now if he needs it, but it doesn't work the same. He doesn't want to depend on it, too aware of how a casual desire to forget can turn into a gut wrenching addiction. But tonight he has to clear his mind, to do his homework as Heather calls it even when he rolls his eyes at the term.

"You don't like to talk about Sarah," Heather said gently in session this very morning. "But that makes her death the only narrative you have for her. You think Sarah. My dead daughter . The one I failed ."

Joel winced at the blunt phrasing, wishing he'd never shown up at all today. But Heather pushed him, familiar with these defensive expressions.

"Tonight I want you to clear your mind. Close your eyes, deep breath. And I want you to think of Sarah when she was little. Just one small memory of her where you felt nothing but joy."

It had seemed an impossible task. It seemed every time that Joe closed his eyes, all he could remember was the blood, the screaming, the cries of pain and terror.

He knew he would need more than just a memory, and so he went to his brother's house that afternoon for a token of memory.

And so he lays awake in bed tonight and for the first time in weeks you are not the first thing on his mind, nor is Ellie. It's his his beloved child as he holds up the picture of her that he'd left at his brother's.

"Hi babygirl," he says to her static image, dark eyes scanning the glossy photograph.

He can still hear the sound of her excited squeal when she saw him coming over the hill to the soccer field crawling with parents and others for the tournament.

"Dad! Dad! Come sit up front!"

He'd come straight from work, sawdust still clinging to his jeans as he jogged over. He didn't think any parent was as proud as he was that day, jumping up to cheer each goal Sarah made.

And the snapshot of his memory in that one moment of her on the field taking a penalty kick. Despite her thirteen years she looked so tiny, so young as she scanned the crowd for him. When her large eyes found his he saw the relief. A look that said, 'of course, there you are. I knew you'd be there.'

Joel feels his chest starting to heave in memory of it. The photo he holds now had been taken by one of the other soccer moms. He with his arm wrapped around Sarah's shoulders as she posed with her trophy.

And then like a cascade he’s affronted with memories, snapshots of times with the soundtrack of her laughter and the way she called him Dad. Her sweet toddler face peeking over the kitchen table at him. Those big hazel eyes full of mischief when she thought she got away with staying up past her bed time in the second grade. Her bubble of excited laughter when he took her trick or treating with her friends, the year before she got too old and cool for it.

And then finally the way she’d gazed up at him when he held her for the first time in the hospital, the room sun soaked and his daughter looking up at him with all the trust in the world.

A handful of photos flipped through like shuffled cards, snapshots of his daughter with no darkness or despair. Only the sunshine moments, the happy yellow and pink tinged memories of her girlhood, of her goodness.

For the first time in a long time the tears that fall from his eyes aren't in pain or in regret. They're tears of fond memory, of nostalgia, of a love that expands and constricts his heart all at once.

And now he thinks of you, of how Sarah would have absolutely adored you. How he can picture the two of you on the couch drinking tea and laughing over something he said. Ellie's there too, leaned over the back of the couch, eyes on you and a grin on her face. Joel can picture it so vividly that alone in his bed he actually reaches forward, as if he could touch you.

He lives in this fantasy for a bit, imagining the loves of his life sitting there together. He falls asleep with a soft curl at one side of his mouth, and his mind fades blissfully into a pleasant dream for the first time in years.

Your bed feels empty a lot of the time.

You think it must be because of the size. They’ve given you a large mattress, one suited to the large size of the bedroom. But it feels like overkill when it’s just you here. Sometimes Buckley stops by for a scratch and a cookie, but most of the time it’s just you working away at recipes, reading in front of the fire, or tossing in your large half-empty bed.

Tonight you can't sleep with your mind going in a million directions. There are thoughts of the upcoming bakery opening, of the garlic knots that aren’t quite rising the way you want them to, of how you need to get out for a walk tomorrow because your back is getting stiff. Your hand smooths the blankets around you in hopes of lulling you to sleep but you feel the familiar ridge of your scar.

You look at your palm, running a forefinger over the lingering raised scar there, visible in the blue moon’s shine through your window. You muse that it’s almost like a new lifeline or a raised road on the map of your life. Who knew your map would lead you here to a new home?

The scar intersects another on your palm, almost suggesting the shape of a jagged heart. It makes you think of Luke and Jennifer and how perfectly they go together, like missing pieces of a jigsaw puzzle. You think of the devotion Tommy has for Maria, and the unparalleled love they have for Douglas. You think of how fiercely protective Ellie is over Joel and vice versa.

After a few moments of gazing at and stroking the scar you decide to rise from your bed and pull on your shoes. You walk out into the night, the velvet sky full of stars. The air is pleasant, the promise of spring well on its way.

You arrive at the greenhouse quickly, desperate for the scent of earth and vegetation. It calms your nervous system.

You're so fixated on going inside you don't realize the lock is half hanging on the door. You just push your way in, inhaling deeply. The air is humid and warm and you want to enjoy it, but you're not alone.

Joel.

He's bent over one of the vegetable boxes, digging in with his bare hands.His wide shoulders are hunched, his flannel shirt rolled to the elbows. He looks tired, his eyes heavy lidded and his mouth thinned in concentration.

And despite everything he put you through, despite the anger you hold onto even now, a traitorous thread of desire winds itself around your heart at the sight of him. You shift, loosening dirt underfoot.

At the sound Joel's head jerks up and he looks like he's seen a ghost. You can actually see the air leave his body.

"Hi," you offer tentatively taking a step towards him, your eyes dropping to his soil covered hands. Joel shifts uncomfortably, eyes dancing over your face briefly.

"Ellie wanted to make, uh, some carrot cake for you, so..." He holds the carrots up by way of further explanation. “She said you both had some big fight and she wanted to make it up to you?”

"Wasn’t a really big fight. I’m not upset."

“She wouldn’t tell me anythin’ about it.” He forces a smile, “teenagers.”

He lowers his eyes to the garden box, thrusting the carrots into the cloth bag he's brought. You can tell he's eager to leave and you're fine with that; you need a bit of quiet. And yet seeing him here away from prying eyes makes you want to keep staying in his orbit. You step forward a bit more, close enough to see the way his shoulders tense when you speak.

“How are things?”

Joel’s eyes which had been resting firmly on the carrots in his bag now drag up to your face. You’re starting a conversation, you’re reaching out. He thinks of what Heather would say but comes up empty so he wings it.

“Uh. They’re okay. Thanks.”

“Good.”

“How about you?” Joel says, wishing his throat wasn’t so dry. “How’s the bakery comin’? Ellie and Tommy told me about it. That’s a real big accomplishment.”

“Yeah, I’m really excited. It’s been a real learning curve doing renovations. Some of the framing is a bit tricky but, you know,” you shrug, “it’s good to learn new skills.”

“I could always-“ Joel starts and then immediately stops what he’s about to offer. He needs to stop assuming that you need him to swoop in and save things for you. Heather has been trying to beat that into his brain for months now.

“That’s good you’re learnin’ new stuff.”

“Yeah.”

The silence stretches on and you can see Joel getting ready to stand up, to leave.

"I'm stuck on a name for the place though," you suddenly offer awkwardly. "The Bake Shop seems appropriate but boring and cutesy names aren't really my style so I guess I'll just go with Bakery or something equally uninspired."

You stop talking abruptly, realizing that you're chattering away to fill up the silence. You wait for Joel to say nothing, or just leave the greenhouse altogether. You look back at the ground, feeling your face warm. Joel clears his throat again, his voice a little scratchy.

"Could ... Would you be okay if I made a suggestion?"

You raise your head to look at him in surprise. He's still knelt by the carrots, his hand still half buried in the dirt. He looks uncomfortable, like he broke a promise to himself by offering up that sentence.

"Sure," you answer with a subtle nod, "go ahead."

He swipes a tongue over his top lip nervously and you have to force yourself to focus on any other part of his face.

"What about, Charlie’s?"

Everything in the greenhouse goes quiet, so silent you feel like you can hear your heartbeat in your ears.

Charlie’s.

It's perfect.

Joel seems to take your silence for disappointment and so he winces, shaking his head as if he's trying to dislodge such an idiotic thought from his mind. He immediately straightens, taking a few carrots with him.

"Damn, maybe that's too personal or it's a-"

"I like it."

"You like it," Joel repeats slowly, like he can't quite believe it. But he's relieved to note you don't look upset, if anything you look less tense.

"It's perfect actually." You smile a bit to yourself before whispering, "Charlie’s."

Joel watches the serenity cross your features and feels his body vibrate, like every atom in his body craves anything you'll offer: the warmth of your skin, the sweetness of your smile.

And at the same time he knows he has to leave. He has to remember what Heather said. You don't want him like he wants you and that's okay.

Seeing the calm that crosses your features is enough for him. He'll carry the memory of that home with him, nurturing it within his chest cavity like a single flame he doesn't want to ever extinguish.

"Yeah, well, I'm glad you like it," Joel finally says clearing his throat. "Anyway, I got the carrots so I'll leave you be."

He shoves the rest of them into the bag he brought, wiping the excess dirt from his jeans hurriedly as you stand there watching him.

He strides past you in the narrow aisle between the vegetables and the door. He holds his breath as he passes you, knowing if he inhales your soap and shampoo he'll be too weak to keep walking past you.

He moves slowly and you can't help but inhale when he passes by you in the narrow lane of vegetation.

You curl your fingers into a loose fist, closing your eyes as he passes by. The scent of warm soil, his almond soap and something that is so uniquely Joel makes your eyes prickle with tears.

You could move, but something roots you in place. There's this strange compulsion that makes you want Joel to stay. You know he's about to leave, you can hear his hand on the door.

"I never slept with Luke."

You notice the sound of his boots slowing to a stop. Your heart pounds in your ears, your throat almost closing as you wait for his response.

"I know you didn't."

"You did? How?"

"I like to think I kno-knew you pretty well," he self corrects. "It just didn't seem like you. Figured you were sayin' it that night to hurt me."

Your head drops slightly.

"I don't blame you," Joel offers at your response. "I deserved it and worse."

There's nothing left for you to do but sigh. It feels like a natural conclusion to the conversation and your starting to feel more than a little emotional.

"I should get goin'," Joel says gently to your back. "It was nice seein' you."

His hand goes to the door again, his eyes traitorously glancing back over to you. You still haven't turned around, you still face away towards the greenhouse and he feels emboldened to add something that's been weighing on him. Without your eyes he might be able to say it.

"I hope this is okay to say, but I'm really so sorry for everythin'. I treated you like shit and then I tried to justify it. I brought your friend into it, I told you what you wanted instead of talkin' to you. And then I thought I could make it up to you by just takin' care of you even though we all know you don't need anyone takin' care of you."

You don't turn to face him, you don't want him to see the tears that are starting along your waterline. You just keep your head tilted down, arms crossed over your front. You hear the shift of his feet against the gravel.

"The truth is I was scared if I was distracted I'd lose you. I just... I pushed you away thinkin' it was the right thing to do." You hear Joel swallow thickly. "When I heard you took off after Maria I realized how fuckin' stupid I'd been. But it was too late. I'd already ruined everything."

You're trying to absorb his words but so much is coming at you.

"I'm startin' to understand that the way I loved you was a selfish kinda love. And I'm sorry about that. You deserve love that makes you feel good and secure and that doesn't come with strings and..." he realizes he's rambling and so he stops, ending with a soft, "Anyway, I'm just sorry." He takes one last long, shuddering breath from behind you. "I don't blame you for hatin' me."

With that you hear his feet taking him away from you, closing the door after him, sealing you in the greenhouse alone.

You face the closed door, feeling the warmth of your tears slipping over your cheeks. It's only the plants that hear your whispered reply.

"I don't hate you, Joel."

It's April twenty eighth.

You'll never forget that date. It's the day you woke up early, eager to get started on the landscape of the farm.

It's the day you threw yourself into the shower, smiling and whistling.

And it was the day you heard tentative knocking at your front door that you opened to reveal an older woman with tired eyes that filled with tears at the sight of you.

You blinked disbelievingly at the figure who stood in front of you dressed for travel with muddy jeans and tangled hair.

You choked out the next word as your knees fought not to buckle.

"Mom?"

Chapter 24: Reunited

Notes:

okay, so its earlier than expected BUT it's also just one half of what I was creating. It's an emotional arc and I didn't want to rush it so I had to add an extra chapter because this thing was turning into a BEAST. I hope you don't mind! Also I don't know how I'm going to let go of these two.... Love y’all and lemme know what you think of this chapter! You know reviews are what keep me goin!

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

You don't know how long you stand there half hidden by your door, blinking at your mother. She smiles widely, her cheeks wet with her tears.

"Hi angel."

There is a beat, a moment of uncertainty when you’re convinced that this is a dream. But then you feel the chill of the weather trailing around your ankles and you can smell the cinnamon from the kitchen and you realize with a breathless laugh that she’s here and she’s real.

“Mom!”

You fling the door open widely before throwing yourself into her outstretched arms. Your face is buried in her neck, your body trembling. You feel her lungs rapidly expanding and contracting as the two of you cling to one another, sobbing and clutching as if you both can't believe the other is there.

"I've been searching for you," you say choking on your sobs. "I radio-ed every QZ I could."

"I tried to find you, I t-traveled everywhere-" your mom is breathless from her tears, inhaling at your neck. "I never gave up on you, honey."

Your mother peels back to hold your face between her weathered hands, fingertips curling around the back of your ears. She holds you there so she can take her time and gaze at you. Something she did when you were a child and the tugs on your heartstrings as you recall it.

“My baby.”

You can’t stop crying, even though you’re so happy. The tears don’t stop sliding down your face, even when the cries lessen.

"You're grown."

She gazes at you so long her un-gloved hands grow cold. You feel them chilled on your warm cheeks and you snap into action.

"Come in come in," you tell her, ushering her inside and seating her on the couch. "You need to get warm."

The fire blazes in the hearth and you pull one of your blankets from your bedroom and return, tossing it over your mother's lap. You blink down at her and the two of you suddenly give a barking laugh in unison.

“I’ll be right back,” you promise. With shaking hands you prepare a tea and plate some of your cookies. You glance down at the kettle, seeing your warped reflection in the shine of its side.

My mom is here.

You glance at the back of her head as she stares into the fire. Her hair is now mostly grey, especially at the temples. She’s got a glow about her, a silhouette that turns to profile as she hears you approach.

"Look at you," she says in awe as you pass her the mug of tea and plate of cookies. She motions with her mug at your home. "Look at all you have."

"A recent acquirement," you say, still staring as you take a seat next to her.

Your mom takes a deep sip of her drink and you watch the newly acquired lines around her puckered mouth, her eyes, the way her hair is all grey now. She's more slender, more frail looking than you recall.

Your eyes go to her hands as they lift the cookies to her mouth. The hands you always thought were beautiful and slender and elegant as they cracked eggs and smoothed your hair. They’re crooked now, decades of hard work evident in the light scar along her forefinger. No polish adorns them and you can see the start of age spots.

But her eyes remain unchanged, still bright and beautiful. Eyes that crinkled in amusement when you and Charlotte did something funny, eyes that looked in pride when you made your first cake.

You stare at her, cataloguing these changes, watching the muscle in her cheek bulge as she chews your latest batch of cookies.

"Heavenly," she sighs, closing her eyes as she chews. She takes her time, savoring each morsel.

"How on earth did you get to Wyoming?" She asks when she opens her eyes. "You were in

"Dad took us out of the QZ and tried to get us here. We were... We were trying to find you."

Your mother closes her eyes again and tears track down her cheeks. You know she must be feeling an insurmountable amount of guilt.

"Mom where have you been?" You ask when she's on her third cookie, unable to hold back your questions. "How come I couldn't find you all this time? What QZ have you been in?"

"None," your mother says with the sigh of a woman who has to unload a lot of information.

"My auntie Mara had that cabin she was fixing up in Montana, remember?" She continues as you nod your head. "When everything happened she took us there and I'm so thankful to her for it. I don't think we would have survived otherwise."

"But I thought she was sick. That's why you went to visit her."

"She was," your mom says looking at her hands.

Pain flashes in her eyes, the kind that you immediately recognize. Aunt Sunny was her older sister, the same aunt who fell into the clutches of darkness after birthing your cousin, the likes of which she could not escape.

Now great Aunty Mara is gone as well. A woman who you never really understood, she was more recalcitrant, more subdued than the vivacious Sunny. Your mom was always a balance of the two women.

And no one understands the pain of losing family like one who has lost themselves. You urge her to tell you more about the life out there and she paints a picture for you, one of brutal winters and busy summers.

"We made friends out there, other survivors, "she continues without letting her tears fall. "We helped each other out. Had a bit of a community ourselves, of course nothing like this. Nothing like these resources."

She begins motioning to your home again before shaking her head as if she still can't quite believe it. Very similar to how you reacted when Maria showed you to this house and told you it was yours; disbelief and joy mingled as one.

"The last of them died in the spring. Pneumonia of all things if you can imagine." You're mom looks pained. "Supplies started to run out so I headed to the nearest QZ. Made some friends there, the kind that don't mind getting you information for a price. The kind that radio into neighboring communities to see if a woman your age and description popped up."

You both were looking for one another, narrowly missing the window of connection. How had she been able to find you here?

She goes on to tell you more about her life in the QZ. How she worked odd jobs while fantasizing about finding her family. She tells you in detail of the people she met, who helped her carry on. You get lost in her stories, not noticing the time pass.

"A month or so ago I got an alert that your name had popped up here in Jackson," she says with a croak in her throat. "So a few days ago I snuck a horse and I took off like a bat outta hell for this place."

You stare at the woman in front of you, frailer than you ever recall. You can't imagine her navigating through the snowy days and cold nights alone.

"You travelled this whole way by yourself?"

Your mother furrows her brow, staring at you. You worry you’ve offended her, but instead she just looks disconcerted.

"There was another guy traveling to a different settlement. I joined him for part of the way."

You stand, exhaling. This is so much information and you've been sitting so long you excuse yourself to use the washroom. You splash water on your face, your hands trembling. You don’t know if its excitement or your body is just so overworked it doesn’t know what to do with the extra energy.

When you return your mother is standing in front of the hearth, warming her front and staring at the framed photo of your family. You walk up behind her, hearing the light sniffle coming from her. You watch her raise a finger and trace along the faces of her husband and daughter and your heart aches.

"You haven't asked about dad or Charlotte," you observe quietly.

You’ve had years to come to terms about their passing, as best you could. Your mother is affronted with it now and you wouldn’t wish that pain on anyone.

"They're gone," your mom whispers as she stares at the drawing. "I knew it the second I saw you."

"How?"

"Your eyes."

You have so many other questions for her, so many needling inquiries but it's been hours and fatigue is starting to take hold of you both.

You lend her pajamas and show her to the shower. As she gets cleaned up you scrub the dishes in the sink, eyes glazed as all of this information settles.

You bring her into your bed, wrapping her in an additional blanket as she yawns. For a moment you can imagine her as a child, her hands tucked up under her chin, her body in fetal position. She casts you a sleepy smile, warm and genuine.

“I love you so much, honey.”

“I love you too, mom.”

You watch her eyelids flicker as she falls into a deep sleep. You watch her sleep for a while, lulled by the calm of her light snoring, amused that this is what she used to do for you as n infant. You give a watery smile, snuggling next to her, your own eyes eventually closing.

Your mom is here.

The next morning after more tears, talking and embraces your mother pulls out the large backpack she brought with her. Inside is an assortment of clothing, a hand gun and some rations. Her entire life has fit into one large bag and there’s something profoundly sad about that to you.

“I wanna show you something,” she says with a glee that transforms her face into a younger version. The version you remember from your youth.

Grinning she digs around in the front of the bag, producing a weathered photo. You take it from her with an anticipatory smile which drops the moment you turn it over. Your hand flies to your mouth and you let out a choked sob.

It’s you and Charlie and your dad and your mom.

Taken only weeks before the outbreak in your backyard. You can still feel the sun on your shoulders, the way the scent of hot dogs and onions hung in the air. You remember the spicy mustard Charlotte insisted on and then never touched.

You sit around a picnic table with wide grins. Your dad had just told a pun, one you can’t remember now. But one that had you all groaning and then giggling. You can see it in the amused glint in all your eyes.

Charlotte is midway saying ‘Cheese’ and your dad laughs so wide his eyes disappear. You have vanilla frosting at the corner of your mouth as you give a shy grin, the cupcakes in the center of the table the culprit.

Your Mom looks beautiful and effortlessly put together holding the camera high to ensure you’re all in the photo. She was always the kind of woman who ensured she had lipstick on before she left the house. But she was also the woman you see in the photo, holding the camera with one hand and a hot dog with the other.

The woman who cheered and giggled and joined when Charlotte started the Macarena.

"I took it with me to give an updated photo to Aunty Mara," your mom says with a small laugh, brushing your hair from off your face. "If only she could see you now. More beautiful than even I could have imagined."

You give a shy grin, eyes dropping to the floor. For not the first time you wonder what she thinks of when she looks at you. Does she just see you, her eldest daughter? The way your mouth curls more to one side than the other? Or does she see whispers of her youngest as well when you tuck your chin to your shoulder when you feel shy?

You suggest putting the photo on the mantle next to the portrait you had done. Your mom agrees and there’s something so unearthly about seeing your family again in color. The two photos sit side by side and you have it in mind to ask Arthur to blow your mother’s photo up in sketch form.

You know that this must hurt so badly for her to see; the confirmation that out of everyone, only you and she survived it all. In insecurity you wonder if she wishes the outcome had been different. If she wishes that her delicate, beautiful Charlotte had survived. Charlotte with the bigger heart, Charlotte with the way of charming people with just a smile and a laugh. But in the end it wouldn’t change anything and you’d never ask.

Instead you glance over to see your mom’s eyes are watery even though she’s smiling gently at the photo.

“Mom, do you want to visit Dad and Charlotte?”

You both shrug on warm jacks and boots before you take her over the snowy ground.

You used to frequent the cemetery when you first moved to Jackson. It was a quiet place that people rarely went to. A further walk than most wanted to make, hidden behind lush vegetation in a flat piece of land.

You guide her through the parted trees and she follows, her eyes scanning the space in curiosity.

You used to venture around the perimeter of this place, looking at the names and dates carved crudely into large stones. Many had symbolic headstones, dates that predated Jackson City’s creation. A garden of memories rather than the true dead.

There weren’t that many bodies, but you found the space solemn and peaceful. You go there today, your feet heavy as you clutch your mother’s hand in yours. You guide her to the space beneath the biggest tree, your breath coming out little puffs of air.

You’re thankful that it’s just you and your mother here. You don’t want any other witness to this moment.

You gaze down at the headstone Cherry etched you weeks ago, a piece of paper held tightly in your hands and tears in your eyes. You offered her anything she wanted, anything you could make her. But she wouldn’t accept anything, telling you that it’s just what was done around here.

You brush the newly accumulated snow from the headstone, exposing your father and Charlotte’s names and their lifespans listed there in beautiful script and a small sentence.

If love could have saved you, you would have lived forever.

Your mother’s cries are soft things she attempts to hide by biting the edge of her palm. You watch silently, your face wet with your own tears. You don’t know how long you stand there with her, holding her when she has to bury her face in your shoulder. But when she comes up for air there is a change.

There is a peace.

For the next week your mother and you exist in a sort of cocoon. Meals made in your home, tea and talking in front of the fire, long nights reminiscing about good times, talking about your Mom’s life in the QZ.

You tell her about The Group, about Chiyo about your dad and Charlotte. She holds you and howls in pain as you do the same, your anguished tears soaking her clothes.

You tell her about Jennifer and Luke, you tell her about Ellie and Dina, you tell her about Cherry and Hank and Kyle and everyone else. You tell her about the community that you’ve started to build here.

But you don’t tell her about Joel.

The topic of Joel seems to heavy, too loaded for right now. After talks of Charlotte and your father and Chiyo you don’t want heavy and loaded conversation. You want lightness and joy.

Talking about Ellie and her sharp tongue makes her laugh. She already loves Jennifer despite not having met her yet. She makes you describe the dress Jennifer made for the Christmas party, which now shamefully exists as scraps in your dresser.

You tell her details about the town, about the lazy mornings that you’ve come to cherish in the dining hall. How Jackson City is large enough to find quiet pockets of space. She can’t believe how fresh the air is here, how everyone smiles and looks so at peace. She can’t believe you have things like Christmas lights and a bar.

This is what your mother marvels at the most when you and she go for an early morning walk – all the space. In the QZ everyone is on top of each other in dilapidated buildings with dust settling so thickly in her nose she had to stuff it with tissue.

She talks about her life in snatches, brief interludes she doesn’t like to remember. She has her own Chiyo and Charlotte story, you’re sure of it. But she doesn’t share it, doesn’t want to go back to that and you can’t blame her. She doesn’t want to burden her child, even if her child is a grown woman. Mothers are forever mothers it would seem.

When she catches you one morning writing away in your notebook she takes the seat across from you at the table and watches you with a fondness mothers have for their own. She listens to the rasp of the pencil on paper, her tea steam curling in the air. She balances her chin on her hand, gazing at you with adoration.

You raise your eyes to her, flashing a nervous smile. “What’s up?”

“Whatcha working on?”

You twist the notebook to face her, tapping on the words with the blunt end of your pencil.

“Schedule for the bakery. It'll be open Tuesday and Thursday for now," you tell her. "Monday is for baking bread for Jackson, Wednesday for catching up on any special orders."

"You've really thought this through," she says amazed, her aged finger tracing along your pencil marks.

"Not a lot of other things that excite me this much," you answer honestly.

She smiles and gazes at you again with that unflinchingly warm way mothers do. Again you wonder what she sees when she looks at you. Is she marveling at how you’ve aged? How you have the same habit of clicking your teeth when you’re focused? Or does she just see everything she’s lost?

“You’ve really built up a whole life of your own,” she offers when the quiet stretches too long for her.

“Yeah, I guess I did,” you reply toothily. There’s pride in that, pride in all you’ve accomplished. You’d thought yourself as weak and soft for so long, forgetting all you’ve been through.

The two of you sit in a comfortable silence as you go back to your writing, feeling her eyes on you the entire time. You don’t mind it though; having the seat across from you filled makes you feel more contented. It chases away the lonely feelings that used to settle over you in the darkness of night.

“Maybe I’ll be able to do the same,” she breaks into your thoughts, shifting in her seat. “Maybe I’ll get my own job, my own place one day.”

Your mother was always independent, always a woman who thought of the next project. Even before the outbreak she worked two part-time jobs, citing that she loved the challenge of it all.

You know that working at a bakery in the woods isn’t her dream. She loves people, loves interacting with others on a daily basis. It gives her a boost instead of draining her. You prefer people in bursts, favoring one on one time with close friends versus a constant barrage of faces.

You know she likes living here, likes sees you every day. But she also sees the life you’ve started for yourself and you know she’s worried she’s overstepping, even though you’ve assured her time and time again that she’s not.

But the thought of your mom leaving makes your throat close and a nervous flutter start in your stomach. In some maternal cognizance she sees this and takes your hand in hers, rubbing her calloused thumb against the side of your hand.

"But not today," you insist with eyes you know are glassy.

“No angel,” you mom says squeezing your hand gently. “Not today.”

You wake up two weeks or so after your Mom’s arrival to an urgent tapping at your front door that drags you out of bed. Your mother is already awake, you hear her in the bathroom. Ellie stands there on your porch looking out of breath, the end of her nose and cheeks are pink from the cold.

"I need to talk to you about something," Ellie says with a concerned look on her face.

You hate to disappoint her, but at the same time every moment with your mother feels sacred. You don’t want to disrupt this quiet solemnity you have with her. You pull your robe tighter around you, licking your dry lips.

"You know I'm always here to talk, but I have a guest right now. Can I come see you later?"

"A guest?" Ellie wrinkles her nose at you in confusion before she frowns and the distaste is clear. "Kevin?"

"No, my... My mom."

As if on cue you mom exists the washroom with a relieved sigh. As if she'd been holding her bladder for hours. She notices you and Ellie standing at the door and comes striding over, her eyes bright.

Ellie stares at her with wide eyes and a slightly agape mouth. She stares your mother down, unable to understand that this woman here, the woman you told her you’d never see again is there in your home.

"Your mom?"

There's something about Ellie's tone that confuses you. You watch her extend a brief wave at your mother. Her face isn’t pleasant, if anything its grim.

"Hi I'm Ellie."

"Ellie?" Your mother casts her eyes excitedly your way. "This is Ellie?"

You smile, noticing the way that Ellie shuffles in place, her eyes averted. You can tell she’s feeling shy, but your Mom doesn’t notice. She’s just so delighted to be meeting the one and only Ellie Williams.

"Nice to meet you," your mother finally says introducing herself. "I hear you and my daughter love baking together."

"Yeah."

Ellie doesn't offer more than that and you feel a bit embarrassed for both parties. This moment feels unnecessarily awkward. You turn to your mom with a tense smile, brows saddling as you think of a delicate way to handle this.

"Can I meet you in the kitchen?"

"Of course."

She pads away into the kitchen, the door to its closing behind her. You look back at Ellie to see her staring at the floor with an angry expression. You wait for her to say something, but she seems determined to stay quiet. It’s on you to break this, your head tilting as you search for her eyes.

"What's up?"

She shakes her head, not wanting to answer at first. But then you draw a little closer and her head raises a fraction. You’re confused when you see that her dark eyes are glossy, your chin trembling.

"Everyone has a mom except me."

Her words are small and sad and you can't stop the red hot poker of pain that sticks itself between your ribs at the sound. Ellie being in pain causes a visceral reaction in you, one that has you closing the remaining distance between your bodies. She allows you to pull her into an embrace before burying her face in your sweater, sniffling.

"Oh Ellie."

“I thought we were the same,” she says in a raspy whisper. “But you have a mom. A real one.”

"You had a real mom too Ellie,” you whisper into her hairline. "One who loved you so much."

"How do you know?"

"I just do," you whisper, pressing a brief kiss to her forehead. "Who couldn’t love you?"

“Lotsa people.”

“Dumb people,” you assure her, thankful for the twitch of amusement in her cheek.

There's nothing else to be said or done. You can only hold her until the sniffles lessen and she sags in your arms.

"I wish you were my mom."

You know that more tears will make her uncomfortable and so you valiantly fight back the ones that threaten to spill.

"I think that's the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me," you whisper. You pull her back, wiping her hair from her eyes. "And if it helps, I wish you were my kid."

Ellie smiles shyly at you, blinking away the remaining tears. She scans your face, something there in her expression before she buries her cheek against your chest, clutching you tightly to her.

"I know I'm not your mom," you tell her quietly rocking her back and forth in your hold. "But I'm always here for you Ellie. Anytime you need to talk or you just want a hug or a safe place to go. I'm here."

You feel her wiry arms tighten around your waist and you force your voice to remain even.

"I'll always be here, Ellie."

In the coming weeks you introduce your mom to everyone. You feel like a child bringing something to show and tell as you bring your mother to the dining hall and the barn and the chapel and everywhere Else you think she'll enjoy.

Jennifer and your mom hit it off right away, both lovers of quilting and sewing. She and Luke bond over his cabinetry since she learned to do a lot of building with your Aunt Mara. This leads her to meet Cherry and that leads her to meet Hank and soon it's like your mom has always been there.

Your mom fits into Jackson City like she was born here, waving at passersby in town, bringing coffee to the folks at the watch tower, offering to help in the greenhouse. By the end of her first month she's already part of the quilting circle Jennifer started up with several of the textile workers.

And so the bedroom on the lower level becomes your mother's. No longer holding ingredients but a narrow bed and dresser, her items from the bag lined up atop of it. The dresser is full of clothing Jennifer found for her or made.

"Why don't you just move her into the room at the end of the hall upstairs?" Jennifer asks you as she and Luke help you to haul her mattress up the porch steps.

"I wanted her to have more privacy," you insist, grunting as you pull one end. "Plus then she kinda gets her own bathroom when the bakery is closed."

By May your Mom knows almost everyone in town and greets them with the same warmth she always has for you. She loves going to the dining hall in the morning for coffee and in the evening for a warm meal. She loves talking with new people and she goes out of her way to greet Ellie who is always polite.

“She’s a scream!” Penny announces after sharing breakfast with you both. “She’s so funny; I see where you get it from.”

“A hard worker,” Maria tells you during a walk with her and Douglas. “She’s sharp too.”

“We can find her a real nice place when she’s ready,” Tommy tells you as he helps to load the last of the lumber onto the deck.

You beam and preen and feel impossibly proud with every compliment thrown your mother’s way. You’re so thankful the universe brought you back together, so impossibly grateful that your lives will continue to grow intertwined.

She goes to your father and Charlotte’s memorial once a week, if not more to lay down a new flower and visit. You don't usually join her, preferring the solitude of your time with them.

One day the two of you go to the dining hall for dinner, tired of your kitchen and recipes and craving some of the stew you heard about in town. Luke and Jennifer join you, talking animatedly about an upcoming singing event.

“You’ve got to come,” Luke insists. “I need all the support I can get.”

“You’re insane,” you tell him through a mouthful of salad. “Your last performance was amazing. Everyone loved it.”

“Yeah, but… What if that was a one-off?”

“Honey, you know that if nothing else me, my daughter and your girl’ll be there,” your mother assures him, pointing her fork in his direction. “And if that doesn’t work I’ll force some others to come so don’t you worry. I brought a gun with me.”

Luke and Jennifer laugh uproariously at this. You can only smile, shaking your head but secretly delighted at how well everything is going. The three of them start talking about music and you’re engaged, listening intently until a broad figure enters the space.

And for a moment the world stops.

All you can hear is your breathing, your own rapidly increasing heartbeat. Your fingers clutch the fork in your hand, but you make no attempt to raise it. You can only sit there, feeling boneless as Joel enters into the dining hall talking with Ellie, his focus completely on her.

He’s smiling so widely that his dimple shows, looking so relaxed and at ease that you're temporarily thrown. Joel hasn't been seen in town very much since the whole dust up last year so to see him there looking so laid back makes you stare.

He looks good, better than he has in a long time. It's not just his muscled arms with their flannel rolled halfway or his broad wingspan that reminds you of all the times he held you. It’s not even his full mouth which is still so beautiful even from this distance.

It takes you a moment to locate the change and after a moment of covert scrutiny you land on it. He looks well rested, the creases of anguish smoothed between his eyes, his skin less wan. He looks lighter, more at peace with himself.

Jennifer says your name, asking you a question about music you’d want to hear. It takes you a moment to register what she’s said, her brows rising in curiosity at your distraction. You lick your lips, trying to think.

“I mean, I guess I always liked older music.”

“That’s true,” your mother acknowledges between bites. “Everyone else was all about Britney Spears and this one was obsessed with the Bee Gees and KISS.”

“The Bee Gees?” Luke teases with a chuckle.

“My parent’s liked old music!” you insist with a good-natured grin. “It’s not my fault! It’s in the genes.”

“My generation’s music was the best,” your mom says superciliously. “Bowie, the Doors, Led Zepplin, Cream, Pink Floyd… Shall I go on?”

“Did you ever see them in concert?” Luke asks, his mouth hinging open in awe.

“You bet your ass I did, kid. Bowie even winked at me.”

Luke and she dive deep into a conversation about concerts she attended but their voices quickly fade into the dull murmur along with everything else because Joel and Ellie have taken a seat across the hall. Too far to hear what their saying, too far to hear that deep rumble of his voice.

But close enough that you can see the cording of Joel’s neck when he glances over to greet Dina. You stare at his neck, mesmerized by it. You don't know how long you stare at him but eventually he must feel your focus on him because those big, beautiful dark eyes slide from Ellie's face to yours across the dining hall.

You feel your breath leave you in a sharp exhale, feeling like you’ve been slapped. You want to look away, embarrassed at being caught out. But you can’t, you feel ensnared like a rabbit in a trap, pinned by his gaze.

His face morphs from casual passivity to sharp interest when he realizes it’s you staring at him. It’s like he’s an animal who catches the scent of blood in the air, everything is attuned to you, his eyes hypnotizing.

Your mom’s hand goes to squeeze you shoulder, breaking the spell.

"You feeling okay? You look flushed."

"I'm fine," you answer quickly, eyes going back to your food.

You feel your mother's eyes linger on your face, making your cheeks burn further. You frantically search your mind for another topic, desperate to change the subject but all you can think about is Joel across the dining hall, the man you swore you'd move past but can't seem to do.

You tell yourself that the dining hall staring contest with Joel was a once-off. A chance encounter. But it seems as if fate likes screwing with you because the following week as you walk back from Hannah’s with a fresh ration of soap for you and your mother you spot him again.

Only this time his shoulders are hunched and while Joel never seemed approachable before, right now his body language is clear: fuck right off.

You know that he’s respecting you by leaving you alone. He’s been doing this for months, actively avoiding your presence.

So then why are you following him? Trailing him like a shitty detective as he nears a neighborhood you’d never really ventured down.

Before you know it you're following at a distance across the street, shielding yourself by the shrubs and trees in the yards until you stop to duck behind a thick tree.

You don't know what compels you to stop but you do, eyes following his tall form moving rapidly. You realize he has a box under his arm, something that looks like a wrapped gift.

You watch as Joel makes his way down the street, his shoulders hunched. Curious you slow down long enough to see him knock quickly on the front door of a small blue house in the middle of the block.

The door opens and you feel the wind knocked from you when you see it's a woman who answers, smiling widely up at Joel. He smiles before handing her the gift. She looks surprised before he says something and she nods taking it from him.

She steps back, ushering Joel in with a flourish before closing the door behind them.

He's there for patrol business, you tell yourself. That woman must be from patrols. It's none of my business anyway. I need to get home.

Despite this you wait for him to come out of the house to show you it was nothing untoward. You stand hidden in that spot for almost an hour. When it begins to rain you just pull up the hood, listening to the tips and taps of the droplets hitting the fabric. But you still remain, eyes fixed on the blue house.

When Joel finally exits you hold your breath, watching as he and the woman embrace. Your stomach drops at the sight of him bending down to hold her tightly, murmuring something that she nods to.

He's moved on.

You watch him stride down the street, his shoulders less hunched, his body not as tight. He seems happier and you're ashamed to feel a sting along your waterline at the realization.

"Deliveries," Kevin announces one June morning with a broad sweep of his arm towards the cart. It holds bags of flour, of eggs in baskets, honey jars, oats and more.

Your mother is almost seventy, but spry. She's always been athletic and that hasn't changed. She helps you to bring the ingredients in, despite you and Kevin insisting she relax. She rolls her eyes and helps you cart everything into the kitchen.

You carry the bags of flour in, grunting as you drop them onto the counter while Kevin and your Mom chat. Your mom has the ability to make friends with anyone and Kevin is one of those open, bright people that draw others in so it doesn’t shock you that they get along.

Kevin is here often and you really enjoy his company. He makes you laugh and he distracts you on the days when the bakery seems out of reach. He and Luke love helping you with it, citing that it’s nice to have a project.

“You want a coffee or anything?” you ask Kevin when the cart is unloaded.

“I would but I have deliveries for Hannah and Herb after this. Raincheck?”

“Totally.”

He gives you a grin, his glossy black waves bouncing as he jogs down the steps to his cart. Your mom comes up behind you, watching him take off down the lane.

"He's nice," she says lightly.

"Yeah, he is."

"He comes by pretty often," she says.

You just watch his form disappearing around the twist of the lane leading into town.

"And he's handsome," she adds when you don’t say anything.

And suddenly you feel like you're thirteen again, tossed through decades like a doll until you feel as if you land back in your teenage body. Your face flushes and you try to find something to busy yourself with. You decide on ensuring the eggs are properly stored.

“Yeah, I guess.”

Your mom is standing there at the counter, her eyes fixed on you.

“But he’s not who you want.”

You jerk your head up so fast you nearly hit your skull on the bottom of the cupboard.

“What?”

She has that countenance of a woman who knows more than she’s letting on and it unnerves you. She wore the same face when she interrogated you about stolen cookies or bad test grades; the face of a mother who knows the answer before she’s asked the question.

“Is there anything you wanna tell me?” she asks you, her face curious. “About anyone?”

Jennifer or maybe even Penny must have told her about Joel. Or shit, maybe Luke did. You don’t know. All you know is that Joel is a specific pain you don’t want to delve into. A pain that you still carry with you and have to see in town from time to time.

“No, Mom. There’s no one.”

Sometimes you dream of Joel. Vague recollections of his hands on your body or the rumble of his voice. On those mornings you wake up in your cold and empty bed feeling like you've lost something or someone.

Do I want to forgive him?

There's confusion there; a deep seated unsettled feeling that dogs you. You tell yourself over and over that you'll never forgive him, that he's not worth your time.

But then you think of the tender moments. How he stepped in front of you to block you from the raider, how he followed you alone that night to find you, willing to fight whomever or whatever crossed his path.

You think of the way he held you in his bed, the soft way he kissed you and made love to you, constantly making sure it's what you wanted.

You think of how he’s made sure to stay away from you, how he respected your space when he realized he was wrong to crowd you.

Yes, Joel fucked up so much. The foundation of your relationship with him was a nightmare of mixed up feelings and trauma. But later it felt different, didn't it? It felt like love, although you don't know what it truly feels like. You've never felt it for anyone the way you do for Joel.

And recently its felt changed. Like he's softer around the edges, his shoulders not so tense.

But how can you go back to him? How can you live with a man who blows hot and cold? You don't like that feeling of walking on eggshells. You don't like not knowing where you stand.

Yes, he asked you to the dance but he never said you were together. He never made any overtures until you were home here safe and he was desperate to have you back when you wanted nothing to do with him.

I love you.

You think about him saying it, about how your entire body jerked. You wish he'd said it before everything went to shit. Back when you could believe he meant it more than an emotional twist.

I was yours, the moment I held you in my arms. You make it go quiet for me.

Those words never really leave you. They're always there, lingering in the back of your mind. The words that make you ponder if there is hope for the two of you.

You just don't have an answer.

Luke catches you and your mother going through town one morning attempting to find some new pillows for her bed.

"Hello ladies," he says walking alongside you, "You got any plans tonight?"

"Nope, none that I can think of," your mom answers. "Why do you ask, honey?"

"The band and I that little concert I mentioned a few weeks ago," Luke explains, walking along with you both. "It’s happening in the chapel because they have better acoustics. Anyway I'm going around to drum up an audience. You two interested?"

"Of course!" Your mom enthuses, always excited to try new things in Jackson. “You take requests, honey?”

“For you of course,” Luke says with a wink her way.

“Please, please, play me some Elvis,” your mother gushes. “It reminds me of being a young girl.”

“You got it.”

“Then we’ll be there.”

He thanks you both and goes off to find more concert fans. Your mom makes sure to mention it to everyone you pass in town, energetic and excited to share the news. You can only watch in awe as she charms them all.

That evening Jennifer is there at the door of the chapel waiting for you. She's wearing a sundress with bows at the shoulders. She smiles and giggles when she sees you, like any girlfriend of a bands lead singer would.

She flutters around like some gorgeous nymph, taking you both by the hands and leading you down the stained red carpet towards.

"I saved us really good seats," she tells you both before ushering you into a pew in the middle of the space.

Luke and the rest of them are at the front on the old altar, tuning their instruments and chatting quietly to one another. You glance around to see it’s already half-filled inside the chapel and you take this as a good start. Jennifer does too, citing that this is already a success.

“My mom was so excited to come and see Luke perform,” you tell Jennifer in a quiet hush. “You might have some competition.”

Jennifer squeezes a snort into her forearm and the two of you collapse against each other, laughing. Your mom glances over from the woman she’s talking to, amused at your girlish squeals muffled behind your clasped hands.

"Luke says that this is where the best sound will be," she explains, "something about the acoustics. I dunno."

The two of you chat as the chapel begins to fill up. You glance around to see familiar faces, greeting them with waves and hellos. Luke and the band have disappeared into the old sacristy, waiting to make their grand entrance.

"I knew they'd have a good turnout," Jennifer says with stars in her eyes as the chapel doors close behind the latest attendee. "Luke was so nervous but I reminded him how much everyone loved the last concert. Plus how well he did at Christmas."

“He’s honestly very talented.”

“You’re just saying that because he’s my boyfriend,” she says rolling her eyes.

“Oooooh, so it’s officially boyfriend-girlfriend is it?” you tease, elbowing her in the ribs. She flushes a light pink along her cheekbones, shrugging.

“I think it might be more than that pretty soon,” she admits.

Her eyes flash to you in shy delight before flying back to the back of the figure in the pew in front of her. You angle your body to face her more head on, your voice lowered.

“Wait, is the famous Jennifer going to be taken off the market?” you say in mock-awe.

“He mentioned something last week, that’s all,” she says as she pushes your shoulder with one hand playfully. You clasp your hands in front of you, lacing the fingers and adopting your best sincere expression.

“Can I be maid of honor?”

“I’m done talking to you.”

Jennifer pretends to ignore you when you ask about who the best man will be when you hear a familiar chuckle amongst the din from near the back of the chapel. Every hair on your body stands on end at the sound, a sound you know so intimately. Slowly your turn your head, looking curiously over your shoulder.

When did he get here?

Joel is chatting with Ellie and an unfamiliar teen about something, his eyes disappearing into half moon crescents. Your heart leaps at the sight of it. You must have been so distracted with Jennifer that you didn’t even notice him slipping into the row near the back.

You continue to watch him over your shoulder across the room, biting the inside of your cheek as you watch him murmur something to Ellie and smirk. She laughs and then turns to the other girl to repeat it. The two girls dissolve into giggles.

Joel leans back, watching their amusement before he starts to casually scan the room. His eyes dance around the space until his eyes connect with yours and you watch his brows rise.

You look away quickly, embarrassed at being caught out. Your face burns but you're thankfully distracted by your mother's tap on your arm.

"It's starting," your mom says pointing at the front of the chapel.

Luke and the band enter onto the stage, waving. The crowd applauds in anticipation and Luke begins blushing when Jennifer starts wolf whistling. The band arranges themselves in formation behind him.

"Hi all thanks for coming out tonight. For those of you that don’t know, we're the Jackson City Four," he says with an easy grin introducing the folks behind him. "We’re really glad you could make it. This is only our second time playing together in public so please be kind."

The crowd murmurs a laugh as the band starts to strum their instruments. There is an anticipation in the room and the ever enthusiastic Jennifer squeals beside you when the first note is played, looking at Luke with a sigh.

"He's so handsome up there."

You tilt over, your moth at her ear. “What about flower girl?”

“Shut the fuck up,” she whispers, but her smirk tells you she secretly loves it.

Luke begins to sing, his rich voice filling up the space as a polite hush falls over the group of families and music lovers.

I keep a close watch on this heart of mine I keep my eyes wide open all the time I keep the ends out for the tie that binds Because you're mine, I walk the line

The songs familiar tune runs its way around the large space, making your body tingle. Its not only because Luke is talented, but because as he offers this rendition of the song you can’t help but remember the last time you heard this very song.

As sure as night is dark and day is light I keep you on my mind both day and night And happiness I've known proves that it's right Because you're mine, I walk the line

You recall how Joel sat in Tommy’s living room, you with Douglas on your lap and Joel with the guitar in his. You remember everything about the moment as Joel crooned the very same tune for you in that deep baritone of his.

I keep a close watch on this heart of mine I keep my eyes wide open all the time I keep the ends out for the tie that binds Because you're mine, I walk the line

You heart aches at that, making you swallow

"This next song is dedicated to a very special girl of mine," Luke smiles out in the crowded pews, spotting Jennifer with ease and winking. She beams back at him.

Watching every motion in my foolish lover's game On this endless ocean, finally lovers know no shame Turning and returning to some secret place inside Watching in slow motion as you turn around and say

Take my breath away Take my breath away

You remember this song from a long time ago, the lyrics not quite familiar but the tune is.

Watching every motion in this foolish lover's game Haunted by the notion somewhere there's a love in flames Turning and returning to some secret place inside Watching in slow motion as you turn my way and say

Take my breath away

My love, take my breath away My love, take my breath away My love, take my breath away

Now you remember, it’s from the movie that your Dad loved to watch over and over. Top Gun. The movie your mom would roll her eyes on every time she caught your dad on the couch, beer in hand, the film on citing “you know how I always wanted to be a pilot!” with a grin.

Through the hourglass, I saw you Each time you slipped away When the mirror crashed, I called you And turned to hear you say If only for today, I am unafraid

Take my breath away Take my breath away

You hear a light sniffle from your left and look at your mom from the corner of her eyes. She's smiling and humming along to the tune, but her cheeks are wet. She obviously remembers your father’s favorite film as well and this makes the pain feel more acute. Thankfully the song ends to an uproar of clapping and cheering and your mom wipes the tears from her face before whooping louder than everyone.

The songs go on; covering everything from disco to grunge and you can’t help but feel the infectious rhythm that comes along with it. Soon thoughts of Joel are pushed from your mind and you’re just a woman at a concert, wiggling in her seat.

“Alright folks we’re slow it down a tick,” Luke’s voice booms over the crowd as a familiar tune begins. “We had a request for Elvis tonight and we’re happy to oblige. Sing along if you know it!”

You settle back in your chair, brows raised in anticipation.

It's now or never Come hold me tight Kiss me my darling Be mine tonight

Something about the lyrics makes you still. You let them wash over you, confused that they seem to prickle your ears, causing your body to tighten.

I spent a lifetime Waiting for the right time Now that you're near The time is here, at last

You can’t explain it but then it hits you all at once and it’s like being transported to last year. This song was playing the same night Joel pulled you from the dining hall citing you needed to help with the horses. When he fucked you feverishly against the barn wall and you relished every moment. It comes back to you, hitting you brutally below the navel.

You can’t help but sneak a glance over your shoulder at Joel, your startled heart jumping when you see his dark eyes already fixed on you. And though you are no mind reader you can tell just by his heated gaze that he's remembering it too.

Your lips excite me Let your arms invite me For who knows when We'll meet again this way

You force your attention back to the band, cheering with your mom and Jennifer. At the end of the song you take the opportunity to scramble over your mom's legs up exit the pew.

"I'm gonna get some air," you tell your mom who's so immersed in the show that she just gives you a nod and half wave as Luke introduces the next song.

You stand on shaky legs, moving quietly to the back of the chapel with your heart in your ears. It takes everything within you to avoid Joel's searing gaze as you pass by him.

Luke has slowed it down further now, singing an acapella version of Hallelujah. It's quiet and mournful. You need air but at the same time you don't want to draw attention away from the band.

Since the door to the chapel squeaks you decide against heading outside right now. Instead you look at the familiar closed door to the back room. After barely a pause you throw the door open, ducking inside and tugging it closed after you.

You slip into the darkness, lit only by the moonlight in through the narrow window at the top of the wall.

A quick survey tells you it's much the same with its stacked tables and chairs. Only now it has some shelving for smaller items opposite the door. You go there, arms on the shelf at your height before placing your forehead on a forearm.

Breathe. Breathe. Breathe.

You inhale slowly, clearing your mind. You force it to dissolve everything, the white chaos bleeding into the dark of calm. You Focus on the steady inhale and exhale, the expanding of your lungs and ribs into your mind dreamy and blank.

It remains like that until you hear the click of the door behind you.

A small snick as it's slowly pulled open, letting in the music louder, a wash of light over your turned back and the knick knacks in front of you on the shelf. It's a few miscellaneous holiday decorations, some snowflakes, a cut out of a witch, a roll of homemade wrapping paper.

You stare at the items wide eyed as you hear the shuffling footsteps enter, blinking at the wave of darkness as the door is closed again.

You'd know him just by his gait, that heavy walk on the edges of his boots to cut down on noise, a habit that's never left him.

Joel.

He followed you in here.

Your eyes shut slowly as you take another long inhale and note the air feels thick and warm with his wood shavings and almond soap scent.

Your arms unwind and your fingers move to curl around the edges of the shelf so tightly your knuckles start blanching. You need it to keep steady in case your legs give way.

Joel walks towards you in silence and you don't dare turn around. If you face him, if you press your hips to his, it's all over. You know with certainty that you will not be able to stop yourself from urging his hands to your body or from licking into his mouth with feverish need.

Instead you focus on keeping your breathing even. In and out. You think if you're still that maybe he'll stop his advancing. As if he's a predator that relies on movement alone.

You inhale softly when one broad hand goes next to yours clutching the edge of the shelf. Your eyes move from your own tight grip to the brawny hand next to yours. You take in the deep shores of his knuckles, the silvery lines of faded scars.

There still remains the coiled tension in your belly, the frantic fluttering of your pulse. He's warm behind you, his body heat and lust palpable.

You can't tear your eyes away from his hand, watching as his shaky thumb comes to drag lightly over your pinky.

You feel your mouth dropping open at the contact, body thrumming now with the electric current of desire as you begin to breathe heavily. You hear him do the same, imagining that he too is watching the motion with a similar focus.

His warm exhalations are felt at the back of your neck, through your hair. They stir your locks and cause you to shiver. He's barely touching you and you think you might combust.

You both stand there panting lightly, the only parts of your body touching are those two digits until you feel the back of his knuckles on his other hand coming to graze down your spine. The movement is soft and fluid yet it scorches a path down your vertebrae. He starts at the middle of your back before the descent, grazing every notch of your spine before the touch stops just above your tailbone, a step before impropriety.

The twine of tension snaps between you and without meaning to a breathy whimper escapes you before you can clamp your lips together.

You hear the hiss of air sucked between Joel's teeth in response and then his voice is dry and ragged, sandpaper on bone.

"I-"

An invisible knife cuts the rest of the sentence off with sharp acuity. The letters stay resting on his tongue before withering away.

You hold your breath, waiting for his next words, craving that familiar raspy drawl that's never quite left your mind.

Instead you feel him go still, his hands slowly retreating from your body and the shelf. The clear sound of his shoes creeping away to the door reach you, along with the wave of light, of louder music and then muted darkness.

Only then do you exhale.

Joel is shaking when he rushes out of the chapel, his body tight all over as he moves into the night.

He jogs back to his home, forcing his arousal to abate as everything assaults him once. Your hair, your body, your warm fucking skin. He can't help himself he's so hard he's aching.

You have too much power over him. Just a glance over your shoulder tonight, a locking of eyes and he was following you into that back room of the chapel.

The feeling of your warm body through your shirt was enough to have him clenching his teeth. He barely grazed you but his hands tingle in memory of it.

He misses you, he longs for you. He thought he could just be your friend, a passing acquaintance he saw in town, but it's not possible when his body responds to yours like that. Not when he needs you so much he physically shakes.

Joel rushes upstairs rapidly, shaking his boots off as he goes, his fingers popping open the button of his jeans. His footsteps are rushed while he thrusts his wide palm down the front of his boxers.

He falls into his bed, kicking the bedroom door closed behind him and groaning your name.

"You guys wanna try fishing?" Kevin asks you, Luke and Jennifer one June morning as the guys finish up the deck. “Tommy said there’s some trout nearby.”

Will lingers nearby packing up the tools, his invitation assumed. Jennifer is hand stitching some oven mitts, but she drops her project eagerly onto the table. Your Mom is in town with some of her new friends, playing cards.

"I don’t know about fishing, but I need to relax in the sun," Jennifer gushes, "I’m tired of sewing for today." She glances at Luke with a hopeful lift of her eyebrows. “What do you think?”

"I'm game,” he responds with a quick wink. He’s always game for anything Jennifer suggests.

"How about you?" Kevin asks you as he takes the lemonade from the pitcher you've supplied to the group.

Part of you really wants to go, but the other part is very aware of the fact that time is slipping away from you. Between your mom being here and everything else in your crowded mind, you still have the opening.

"I should really finish up these new recipes," you say with a half wince. "The opening is next week and-"

"-and you're overworked as it is," Jennifer finishes for you, grabbing your arm and dragging you to the house. "We're going to fish. Grab a towel and let's go."

You begrudgingly join the group, trailing after them as everyone talks about how early it got hot and but your mind is full of sugared almonds and what color you want for the aprons Jennifer has offered to make you and your mom for the opening.

The heat really crept up on you all this year leaving you feeling sticky and uncomfortable as you follow Kevin down to a spot by the river that he often comes to with Will.

There are only three rods and five of you, so you willingly bow out, citing you just wanted to join to relax. Jennifer happily hands her rod to Luke.

"You go first I'll work on my tan," Jennifer smiles as the guys go to set up the rods, chatting quietly. Will is on the far side of the stream, his dark eyes intently focused on the waved surface in front of him.

The men move into the water, the cool stream sliding along their bare legs. You watch the moving current, hypnotized by the sound. Kevin and Luke chat quietly to one another as they cast, their figures silhouetted by the sun.

You sit with your back curved, your knees drawn to your chest. Your forearms rest atop them, your hand shielding your eyes as you watch the serenity of the scene in front of you.

You don’t know how much time passes, but your eyes are closed and your hair stirring with the light breeze at your temples. The moment feels like something out of a story you read, of peaceful days along the river and egg sandwiches and good company.

"Do you think you'll ever forgive Joel?"

Your eyes blink open and dart to your friend lying out on her towel, her eyes closed. She asked such a monumental question, yet she looks serene as if the two of you were talking about cake flavors.

You haven’t told her about Joel and the back room of the chapel incident. Mostly because there’s nothing to tell.

Hey Jennifer, Joel walked into the same room as me and then left.

It sounds stupid no matter how you slice it.

Even if in that moment the air felt heavy with promise and the breaths you took were shuddering inhales. That you had to walk for hours to stop the throb that began beating traitorously between your thighs. But you’re not ready to talk about it, not ready to think about it. You have the bakery, you have your mom, you have your own life. You don’t want to think about Joel Miller.

You decide to ignore Jennifer’s question until she asks again, her voice a low murmur to keep from catching the boys’ attention.

You sigh, moving onto the empty towel next to her, both of you curling onto your sides. She levels a look at you, her light eyes free of guile. She really wants to know the answer. And instead of giving a brief “no” you attempt the truth.

"I think I already have," you answer honestly as you watch the reflection of the light on the water dancing along her bare arm. "I don't really feel angry anymore."

Jennifer looks at you eagerly, darting to a sit on her towel.

“Wait, so then that means you can be with him right?"

She's never been subtle in her acknowledgement that she thinks you and Joel are meant to be. While she thought Kevin was a good match, she's always been vocal about Joel's care of you. She's a hopeless romantic.

"Just because a person forgives doesn't mean they forget," you tell her with a slight frown and crease between your brows. "There's a lot to forget."

Jennifer looks disappointed but nods before groaning. She moves up off the towel, holding her hand out to you as she stretches.

"Fuck, it's too hot. I need to cool off."

Jennifer tugs you into the water with her. It rises to mid thigh, soaking the ends of your shorts. Goosebumps break out over your body and you shiver. But you don’t mind, it reminds you that you’re alive.

"You're gonna scare the fish!" Will complains, shaking his head.

"Chill out," Kevin says tugging his younger brother’s braid before dropping his rod on the shore and following you and Jennifer back out into the deeper part of the river.

The water feels so good on your heated legs. You tilt back, enjoying the combination of the sun's warmth and the chill of the water.

"This feels so good," Jennifer sighs happily as Luke joins her, wrapping his arms around her from behind.

"Like the summer before everything happened," you tell her in a wistful voice. "Back when I felt free."

Joel watches this from where he crouches with a fishing rod in hand. He's shielded from your group having found the quieter spots were the most lucrative when it came to catching fish.

He heard your voice an hour ago, back when he'd been about to pack up. Peeking through the greenery he saw the group of you together looking at ease.

You're so beautiful even when you don't try. Your hair is sticking to your temples from the heat, your old t-shirt is full of holes - a perfect baking shirt - and you look like you've not been sleeping well. Joel can only lean against a nearby tree and exhale in a swoon.

He knows what your sweat smells like, what the texture of your hair feels like under his fingers, how the smooth of your skin is almost always warm.

I miss you.

You squeal with laughter as Kevin flicks water at you now. Joel sees the smile on your face as you hide behind Jennifer, flushed and giggling.

It fucking hurts to see you moving on from him, but seeing you laugh and smile like that has Joel feeling good. He realizes that his darkness didn't dim your light. You shine bright as the sun; just as vibrant, just as warm.

Because this is who you always were, the girl before the outbreak who laughed with abandon and saw the good in everyone. The woman who cares about every single living thing she comes into contact with because her heart guides her and not because she hopes to gain anything from it.

And Joel can see it in you, the unbridled joy in your expression, the way you throw your head back when you laugh, the way you don’t scan the space around you in paranoia. This is who you were always meant to be.

He watches you for several minutes, just basking in the gentle glow of your presence. How you tread the water up to your thigh, skin glistening. You splash at Kevin and a glum-faced Will, your laughter carried up through the wind. The sound wraps around his heart and squeezes tightly, causing a hand to go to a nearby tree to steady himself.

Joel wonders how he's going to get over you. Moving from Jackson wouldn't be fair to Ellie. But maybe seeing you in town is his penance for taking someone soft and trying to break them.

He’ll always love you, of that he’s certain

But to know that you've found joy? That's enough to make him smile before he begins packing up his fishing supplies and leaving, giving you and your friend’s your well-deserved privacy.

You’re walking through town later in the week with a list of ingredients you want to try. There’s the gardening club that meets today and you’re hoping they’ll be amenable to sharing some tarragon for a lemon braid loaf you want to try.

“That’s perfect!”

A jubilant voice sounds out from a nearby shop and you glance to catch sight of a blonde woman chatting with Cherry, motioning for some design she wants created as Cherry nods, writing down the order.

Your eyes widen and your footsteps pause as you recognize the woman you saw Joel embracing on her doorstep. From this distance you can’t make out much aside from the lines that bracket her mouth.

You can only stand there, slack jawed as she exits, pulling her light jacket a little tighter around her. The spring chill has left, but the evenings can still be a bit breezy. You watch her move through the dwindling crowd, following her at a distance.

She moves to the BBQ joint next, thanking Ranvir for the pulled pork sandwich before she’s making her way down the street, humming to herself happily. The night is pleasant and she looks contented, her eyes distant like she’s thinking about something.

Is she thinking about Joel?

You follow her the entire way back to her home, hidden carefully in shadows, your footsteps light. When she disappears inside her house tell yourself to leave and that there’s nothing more to uncover. But instead your feet are carrying you across the road and you're knocking on the woman's door.

What am I doing? This is insane.

She answers the door quickly, stirring your hair with the inward tug of air. She places one hand on the side of the door, a pleasant smile on her face.

"Can I help you?"

Up this close you can see the woman is older, at least a decade older than Joel which surprises you. You don’t know why, but you never pictured him with an older woman. Perhaps there’s much about Joel you just don’t know.

"Hi," you say with false cheer in your tone as you introduce yourself. "I'm uh… I’m going around telling everyone about the opening of my bakery next week."

It’s a pathetic ruse, but the only one you could formulate as you crossed the street. She doesn’t look suspicious, if anything her blue eyes twinkle with delight. She slides her hand from the door to perch on her hip.

"Well that’s just marvelous," the woman says enthusiastically. "I love baked goods. What day?"

"Next Friday."

"I'll be sure to attend," she gushes as you describe the bakery’s location.

"Great," you say with a false smile. "It starts at ten. I don't know if you have patrols then..."

Subtle.

"Oh I'm not on patrols," the woman smiles with a laugh, shaking her head as if the thought is beyond amusing. “I don’t think my hip is up to riding if I can help it.”

You feel your polite smile wavering. She's not on patrols. She's not from the medical building. So what would Joel need from her? You were right,

What was it about this older woman that Joel was so attracted to? Was it the way she looked so put together? The serene expression that seemed to be permanently etched on her face?

Inside her home smells of patchouli, sandalwood and underneath it all the scent of wood shavings.

Joel.

Your stomach twists hideously at the thought he may be home right at this moment, maybe even waiting for her upstairs in bed. Is that why he left the chapel? So he could run over here and crawl into her bed? Is he waiting to surprise her?

You can't help but look past the woman into her cozy looking house to see if it answers your question. The furnishings are warm, the walls a muted earth tone replete with pictures of landscapes. Everything suggests comfort and relaxation.

Your eyes land on the coffee table by the hearth and you notice a carved kitten playing with a ball of yarn sitting atop it. It's intricate and beautifully done, the yarn so lifelike you’re convinced it would be soft under your fingertips.

"I like your cat," you tell her honestly, motioning with a weak hand at the item. You don’t know how else to close out this conversation.

She looks confused before glancing behind her in the direction you're looking. She gives a soft little laugh in realization before turning back.

"Oh yes, one of my patients brought it. It was our last session and they wanted to thank me. I think he made it."

You look at her curiously. "Patient?"

"I'm a therapist," the woman explains, careful not to reveal anything personal about her clients. "I used to have my own practice before the outbreak and there's no shortage of people dealing with trauma here. I’m sorry, I didn’t even introduce myself. I’m Heather."

You stare at her, blinking rapidly. Was Joel was here for therapy? Why does the thought shock you so much? Is that why he said what he did at the greenhouse the other month? Is this why his demeanor seems changed?

"Any chance you make croissants?"

Heather’s voice breaks into your distracted thoughts and you notice her hand is stretched in greeting. You take it, pumping it animatedly as you go over in your mind what she just asked you, your brain slow to catch up with your body.

Croissants are time consuming and never worth it to you because by the end of all that rolling and laminating dough you want to scream. You hate the idea of spending hours over an item that you don’t find particularly tasty.

"Of course,” you enthuse. “I'll be sure to save you one."

You leave quickly, your footsteps quick, your shoulders light and a sensation flooding your body that feels an awful lot like relief.

Notes:

You know reviews are what keep me goin so lemme know what you liked, hated, were surprised by.... I live for it y'all!

Chapter 25: My Only

Notes:

Okay, here it is, the final full chapter of my story. 28k. After this comes a small epilogue, but it will just build a little scene or two on this final chapter. My dearest readers, your comments, your support, your re-blogs, your likes, your kudos, your everything has made this experience so rich for me. I haven’t had an experience quite like this in a long time. Your passion for the characters, your heartbreak, your joy, all of it culminated on making this such a special time for me. This story started in November of 2023 with a desire to write something. And my first authors note details what we’ve all been through.
'This world is not always pretty, there's blood and gore and tears in this world along with the quiet strum of a guitar in front of the fire or the taste of freshly made cookies. This Joel is dark. He's not the sweet soft Joel I've grown to love writing. No, this one is full of sharp edges and darkness. But there's light there too, I promise, it just needs to be uncovered."
Let's uncover it together.

Chapter Text

The pale gold dough you made this morning is already proofing in bowls by the sink. Gleaming silver metal measuring cups sit by the deep brown mixing spoons and muffin tins. The eggs rest in their basket, beautiful pale white shells with deep orange yolk.

Your kitchen is alive with color.

Your arms are sore and aching from all the rolling of dough and mixing of batter. You're mother helped as long as she could until she announced her tired back was giving her trouble. You had to usher her to her room, insisting that you were almost finished.

Now its hours later and your cheeks are smeared with batter, your hair sticky with sweat and plastered against your temples and the back of your neck. It’s warm in the place at night; but tonight feels unbearable without a fan.

A million thoughts scatter in your mind, reminding you of last minute additions to pastries, of organizing the paper flowers for the tables outside, of wiping down the shelves once more just in case they accumulated dust the past twelve hours.

You hurry outside, wiping your slick forehead with the back of your forearm, not caring that flour gets caught in your hair as you do. You take a broom with you, eyes widening in the night to see better. You move so quickly out of the house that you only know something is wrong when you feel the broom catch on an object above.

You start, dropping the broom as your head whips up to see the wood sign hung so beautifully this morning crooked. Even in the night you can see the glossy red with Charlie’s in flowing white script. You watch it teeter on one hinge before snapping off and toppling to the ground.

“No no no.”

You scramble over to where it’s landed, half against the side of the house, half buried in the dirt of your new landscaping. You pick it up and wipe at it, focused on the dirt smudged into the carved H of Charlies. It feels worse than if you’d knocked her tombstone over.

The perfect little shop you were so eager to show off tomorrow suddenly feels like a disaster. Everything seems ugly and improperly decorated. The space looks cramped and ugly. And now the sign, the beautiful sign bearing your sister’s name that Ellie designed is half in the dirt.

Devastated tears are starting, sniffles escaping you. You’re so stressed right now and this is the last thing you wanted to happen. You wanted to start tomorrow fresh and excited and as perfect as possible. You turn over the sign to see one of the hinges to hold the sign is completely off.

You think about waking up your mother, but then you remember the poor woman only got to sleep a few hours ago. She’ll need all her energy for tomorrow. Besides, you’re a grown woman, you don’t need to run to your Mommy for help.

You stand there with the sign in your hand, staring down at it in numb shock.

“I just need to fix it,” you murmur to yourself, trying to calm the increasing agitation. “I just… I’ll … just fix it.”

The only problem is you don’t know how to fix it. The community toolbox is locked up in town; you don’t even have a personal one yourself. Where could you find someone at this hour that might have one?

Your mind turns over the possibilities before you land on the obvious: The Tipsy Bison. Always overflowing with fix-it types, especially this late. Cherry is often in there or Hank, one of them will be able to help you, surely.

You pull on your shoes before you’re taking off down the lane, jogging at a fast clip, not caring that your dirty apron is still tied or your hair is clotted with sugar and butter. All you can focus on is the anxious staccato of your heart, the intense focus of your task.

Town is uncharacteristically dark and quiet and that should be your first clue. But instead you make a beeline for the Bison, noting the dark windows and silence as you approach. You slow slightly, your mind catching up with your body.

What the fuck?

You go to the locked door, your fists raining down on it. Your voice is cracked, frustration overtaking you.

“Hello?”

No one answers. The jukebox doesn’t play, the sound of murmurs and muted laughter not heard. The telltale clinking of glasses and groaning barstools don’t sound out. There is nothing but dark blue silence that greets you.

It’s always open until one

You recall this, smacking your hand uselessly against the cold wood again. When still no one answers you press your forehead to the smooth wood, biting back more tears.

You push yourself back and glance at the small handwritten sign with the hours on it and you suddenly remember that during the week it closes at midnight.

Fuck.

Now the fatigue of disappointment and long days in the kitchen catch up with you. Your body sags and you slide down the wood door. You bury your face in your hands and curl onto your side, letting silent tears slide down, pooling at the hollow between your eye and nose.

After a moment you simply lay there, with your eyes closed as you try to focus your breathing, telling yourself this isn’t the end of the world. But then why does it feel like it is?

"You know you're covered in flour?"

You glance up from where you’re curled to see familiar brown eyes gazing down at you softly.

Joel.

You realize that you're still wearing your dirty apron, your face and hair covered in streaks of batter and flour, your eyes puffy from crying. You must look a sight.

You clamor to a stand, embarrassed at being caught out like this. You attempt to smooth down your hair, but combining with your damp, swollen eyes you think there’s not much to salvage.

Joel stands in his jeans and t-shirt, neck ringed with sweat. His forehead is dotted with it as well. You swallow when you notice his eyes scanning your face.

“What’s goin’ on?”

Just the sound of his voice makes you want to start crying again. That tender, husky voice of his that murmured baby as he promised to give you everything. The same voice that soothed you in his bed, whispering sweet nothings as you fell asleep in his arms.

He stands a distance away, sure not to crowd you. You fold your arms loosely in front of you, blinking when angry tears spring to your waterline.

"I just... I fucked up when I was setting up for tomorrow. I knocked it over…and... And..."

You break off and now the tears silently track down your cheeks, your breathing turning into an anxious hiccup as you hang your head, defeated. You’re overtired and emotionally drained with everything.

"Whoa, hey, take a breath," Joel says drawing closer to you. "Just explain when you can."

You take a shaky inhale, trying to speak without crying.

“The sign fell off my house. One of the hinges was loose I think. I knocked it when I was trying to clean up.”

Joel flinches, knowing how much that would have upset you.

"It break into a bunch of pieces or…?"

"No. It came loose and I just can't put it back up."

Joel nods before glancing around the empty town square. He scans the desolate space before looking back at you.

“So why’re you here?"

"I panicked," you say with a thick voice. "I only have a ladder. I don’t have a toolbox and I knew it was too late to ask anyone for the key to the community locker. So I thought I'd see if anyone was awake at the Bison to help but I didn't realize it was already closed."

Joel knows he shouldn’t want to sail in and play hero for you. But at the same time if someone is in trouble shouldn’t he try to help them? He takes a chance.

"I have a toolbox."

You sniffle, opening your eyes to see Joel looking expectantly at you. You furrow your brow at him.

"Oh-" you falter as you realize that he's offering to help you. "Joel you don't have to-"

"It'll take five minutes, ten tops. C'mon," Joel urges you gently with a curl of his fingers into his hand. "S'go fix it."

You don't bother telling him that it's almost two in the morning. You just stand and nod, following him to his house. The two of you walk at a brisk pace, his long legs scissoring beside you as you scramble to keep up.

You notice he’s very intentional not to touch you, not to brush your arm with his, too far away to inhale the scent of his skin. And you appreciate it because right now you’re too vulnerable, too raw to do anything but follow his lead.

“Wait here,” he murmurs when you arrive at his place. He jogs up the porch steps and into the dark house. You look up at the home you can still journey by memory alone, recalling the warmth of the moments shared there.

He reappears with a bag over his shoulder, giving you a nod to keep going and lead him to your new home. On the way out of town you pass by your old place, noting the new flowers out front, ones you never bothered trying to grow. A new couple lives there now making their own memories.

You look at it a lingering moment before speeding up, wanting to fix the sign. Joel keeps pace with you easily, his t-shirt clinging to his muscled arms.

You arrive at the place quickly, your voices low as not to wake anyone. You lead him to the ladder left by Kevin the other day. Joel tucks it under his arm as you guide him to the side of the house that holds the bakery.

He shoots a concerned look up at the windows.

"Your mama asleep?"

You nod, creeping around the back. "She's a heavy sleeper though, don't worry."

"Right," he says as he looks up at the shingle. "Mind passing me the Phillips head screwdriver? It's the one with the cross."

You go to the toolbox, digging around quietly and checking the ends of each metal screwdriver before locating the right one.

"Thanks," he says shooting you a soft smile before slipping it into his back pocket.

He props the wood ladder up against the roof gently before climbing. You hold the bottom rungs, trying not to fixate on how good his ass looks flexing in those jeans.

You watch him shine the flashlight over the space the sign once hung before nodding to himself.

“Oh yeah, easy fix. It's the hinge screw.”

He clamors down the ladder to dig his fingers through the toolbox, bringing out a few screws and tucking them into his back pocket. He climbs the ladder again, his face focused.

His broad hands flex as he continues to place the new screw in place, his broad back straining in his t-shirt. You force yourself to look at his boots, anywhere you won’t linger. The quiet is marred by far off cicadas, but it still feels too quiet for you.

“Why were you in town so late?”

Joel shrugs, his tongue lodged at the left corner of his mouth as he finishes twisting the screwdriver.

“It’s real hot in the house so it’s hard to sleep. I like walkin’ through town when there’s no one around.”

You nod, understanding. Your own place feels like a sauna with the weather combining with your well-used oven.

“Mind passing me the sign?”

You nod, crouching down to retrieve the glossy red sign and handing it up to him.

"Did Ellie tell you that she helped me design the sign?" You offer as he continues to work quietly. He nods, his eyes fixed on the wood in front of him.

"Yeah she mentioned it. She was real happy you liked it."

“I would have been happy with anything she designed,” you admit with a soft laugh that Joel matches.

And despite enjoying the quiet moment of Joel working and you standing nearby, you still feel like you need to say something more.

"Jennifer mentioned you're not doing patrols anymore," you offer quietly.

Joel glances at you from the corner of his eye. A look of hesitation passes over his face before he refocuses, his fingers deftly hanging the sign back in place.

"I took a bit of time off. I'm back doin' em now."

You hum a reply, trying to affect nonchalance by looking at the accumulated sugar and dough under your fingernails. He climbs down the creaking ladder, his movements brisk.

"I got a new partner," Joel adds as he starts to drop the leftover screws and screwdriver into the toolbox. You think he does it to fill the quiet.

You wonder what his partner is like. Is it a woman? Does he spend hours in silence with her or is he chatty and open now that he’s had therapy? Why does that thought frustrate you?

And yet you find the thought somehow comforting. That Joel won’t be alone in the coming years. It lightens you somehow, the edge of it still stinging regardless.

"Hopefully this partner shoots better than your old one," you muse with a curl to one side of your mouth. You surprise even yourself with your teasing.

Joel steps towards the ladder, preparing to pull it back and place it back where you grabbed it from. At your words he goes still, eyes on the rung as his voice carries to you.

"My old partner shot really well," Joel says with gentle amusement. "She was tough as nails, I just didn't realize it."

He's facing you entirely now, his boots head on with your turned body, his hand on the higher rung of the ladder. He grips there tightly to keep from moving closer to you.

"She sounds fantastic," you murmur, feeling shy under his unrelenting gaze.

"She is." Joel's voice drops an octave.

The moment turns on a dime. A sweet joke between acquaintances suddenly takes on a somber, heavy meaning.

The silence is heavy, moments pass and you're curious to find you don't want to leave his company quite yet. That hot anger that used to always accompany your seeing him seems to be abating.

He’s offered you an olive branch and you find yourself willing to do the same.

"My partner was pretty good too once I got to know him," you say gently and now you let your eyes move to his face and linger.

Joel has always been an intensely featured man with his sharp nose and piercing eyes, but the way he gazes at you now makes you feel positively ensnared. He watches every micro expression you make, dark eyes swimming over your face.

"I miss my partner a lot."

The sincerity of his statement causes blood to rush to your cheeks and your heart to trip. Your eyes dart back to the sign, blinking rapidly.

"I miss laughin' with her and talkin' about stuff I never shared with anyone before," he continues in a voice of coarse sand. "She had a way of makin' me feel safe."

You're quiet, feeling a hum go through your body at his words. You can feel the emotion sweeping through them and now he means every syllable.

Joel shifts next to you, the ladder groaning as he leans against it.

He looks at the ladder, fingers scraping against the wood grain.

"Sometimes I wonder if her and I could ever be friends."

You raise your eyes from the ladder up his arm and finally to his eyes. He's already looking to you with a sober expression. You have a feeling if you threw your arms around him he'd welcome you into them without question. But instead you decide on staying in place and speaking softly.

"I think she'd like that."

You don't miss how his body jolts, like the information injects itself directly into his veins.

"Yeah? You sure?"

His voice is sotto voce, a rasp of disbelief and he holds his breath as if exhaling will blow the goodwill from the room. He's allowing you a chance to double back, to change your mind. But you don't want to. You nod lightly.

"Yeah."

Joel inhales and exhales slowly, his chest rising and falling.

Friends.

"Okay then. Good." Aware there's a chance he'll overstay his welcome and you might grow exasperated he gives you a small smile. “Need anythin’ else? I make a pretty mean pop tart."

Joel smirks at this and you can't help but grin back.

"Thankfully all that's handled. It was just the sign."

"Alright then."

Joel packs the screwdriver and extra screws back into the toolbox as you watch him, affection flowing through you. He walks over to you, looking strangely out of his element.

"Thank you for your help," you whisper as you gaze into his sweet, serious face with its furrow lines and scruffy jaw. A face that despite everything is still so dear to you.

You see the way his eyes go a little soft, luminous in moonlight. His hand reaches out slowly and a thumb gently grazes your cheekbone. He allows himself this one, fleeting touch of your skin, aware that he’s only making it worse for himself.

"I meant what I said," Joel murmurs huskily. "I'll always be here for you whenever you need it, baby, I promise"

You can tell the baby slipped out because he tenses and drops his hand to his side. He clears his throat before he forces a smile to his face. The kind that doesn’t touch his eyes, but does carve that dimple into his right cheek.

"Better get some sleep. Big day tomorrow."

The day the bakery opens it feels like a hurricane of emotions hit you all at once. You wake up in a cold sweat, showering with trembling fingers as you imagine what lies ahead.

As ten draws nearer your mother is there at your side, well rested and wearing the apron that Jenny made to match yours. A deep red with white stitching that reads Charlie's.

You nibble at your bottom lip anxiously.

"What if no one comes?"

"They will," your mother assures you with a tight squeeze. "Now stop worrying and let's get the final things ready."

It's silly to worry about this. You're in a community at the end of the world. You know your bread is appreciated by the kitchen staff who no longer have to make it.

You know that even if no one comes it's not like you were making money on it anyway. But still, your pride will be hurt.

At least you know you can count on Luke, Jenny and Kevin coming. Ellie too if she's feeling up to the crowds. Sometimes she's a bit wary of them on an off day. And a part of you wonders if she'll bring Joel. But you don't rest on that thought for long.

Instead you throw yourself into preparing the outdoor display. The weather is gorgeous so some little treats sit on the picnic tables Luke and Kevin built for you.

You bring out the baskets of rolls, placing them on the shelf inside your modest bakery. Next is the cinnamon rolls your mother iced this morning, some raspberry tarts, blueberry muffins, candied nuts and a handful of croissants just in case Heather actually shows up.

Your mom is wiping down the outdoor tables, humming when she lifts her head at an approaching noise. She smiles broadly.

"I don't think you need to worry about customers."

Confused you follow her line of sight to see groups of people making their way to your home. Many are chatting happily, voices rising in anticipation as they get close.

Penny and Arthur are beside Jennifer and Luke, leading the gang. Penny waves her scrawny arm excitedly when you step out onto the deck.

"Are those cinnamon buns I smell, honey child?"

Your mother's arm threads through yours, and you can feel the pride coming off of her in waves.

The crowd approaches, standing in formation at the door, all eager to see what lays inside. The children stand on tiptoes, eager to see over the wood built ins.

Jennifer is at your side in a flash, embracing you tightly with Luke coming up the rear.

"I'm so proud of you," Jennifer whispers.

You embrace her tightly with thanks before taking a moment to look at all the anticipatory faces smiling back at you

There are at least twenty people and they point at the cute way you've set up the shop, they point out the sign and murmur the name, they inhale deeply the aroma of fresh baking.

"Jennifer says you have raspberry tarts?" Cherry mentions as she joins the others on the deck.

"And muffins?" Kyle asks eagerly from behind her. "Blueberry ones?"

More and more people are coming to join the growing line of customers outside the door, so much that it winds into the laneway. It's like the whole of Jackson City is here excited to support you.

"Looks like you've made quite an impression in this place," your mom whispers at your elbow.

You swallow the sobs and brush away your tears just in time to flash a smile at the excited crowd.

"Okay, who's first?"

By midday most of your stock is depleted. Groups of laughing friends sit at picnic tables or on the steps of the deck with frosting covered fingers and sticky lips. And above it all you watch, marveling at how happy everyone looks.

"This is the best thing I've had in decades," Maria announces as she and Tommy share a raspberry tart. "I can't believe we had to working patrols when you could bake like this!"

You laugh along with them, enjoying the sight of Douglas sleepily reaching for the dessert. The three of them look so content, so happy sitting there under the shade of the tree that your heart throbs.

All of your friends have come to visit today including Hank, Barry, a handful of singers from Luke's band, Will,

But no Joel.

But you don't have time to focus on that, you're kept busy by customers that ensure they'll be returning when you next open. Others asking if they can take a few home for their families.

You're exhausted, delighted and vibrating with inner joy at the sight. When you see Penny jogging back up the lane you have to laugh.

"Back for round two!" You ask her with a chuckle as she approaches, a little out of breath.

"No I promise I'm not being greedy," Penny grins her gap-toothed smile at up. "I came back because Arthur's birthday is coming up and I wanna surprise him. Any chance you got chocolate cake on the menu?"

"Consider it done," you tell her without pause. "Whatever you or Arthur need, consider it made. Anytime."

She thanks you with an excited bounce and moves off the deck just in time to avoid Ellie running up the steps, grinning at you.

"I had stupid chores," she explains before you can get a word in. "Plus Dina is sick so I was visiting her. Did you save me anything? Oh and congrats!"

She says it all in an excited huff that brings amusement to your face. She also hands you a beautiful bouquet of real flowers, all shades of red.

"To match the sign," she explains.

"Thanks so much," you tell her delightedly. You inhale the light scent of the flowers, feeling spoiled.

"Made you something special," you say with a wink. "Follow me."

You guide her through the throng of people into the kitchen. You point to the brown paper bag resting next to the flour on the island.

You grab a mason jar and fill it with water before plopping the beautiful bouquet in.

Ellie leaps up onto the counter like a teenage monkey, legs swinging as she eagerly dips her hand in the bag before bringing out a dark chocolate rectangle.

"A chocolate pop tart?!" She nearly screeches.

"Yep, and enough in there for you to share with Dina if you're feeling generous."

Ellie beams, taking a bite and closing her eyes. "These are so fucking good!"

You laugh at her dreamy expression before telling her about the morning's events.

"I better get back out there," you tell her as she finishes her first tart. She slides down from the counter, taking the bag with her and thanking you again.

Heather still hasn’t shown up for your much labored-over croissants go to Kevin and Will who arrive just as Ellie is leaving.

"These are incredible," Will murmurs, chewing slowly as Kevin groans in agreement. He casts a tentative look your way, his shy demeanor ever present. "Do you think you could ever make fry bread?"

"What's that?"

"Our cousin's used to make it all the time. It's pretty simple I think. Kevin probably has the recipe if you ask him."

"I'm happy to do that," you assure him, making a mental note to ask Kevin about the fry bread.

Will who normally seems so shy and reserved blooms before your very eyes at the promise of such an item. It reminds you of why you're here and doing this. You want people to taste life before things went to ruin. You want to bring joy amongst the pain. You want to take a mental snapshot of this moment. To remember this collection of community on your doorstep.

You murmur for him to enjoy the croissant and walk to the edge of the property before turning back to get the full view of your home and shop. You did this, these happy faces, this bakery, this love.

You did it.

The afternoon sun beams down on you, warming you from the outside in. You bask in that sweet sunshine, heart full as you watch chattering townsfolk chewing and laughing. The moment feels vanilla sweet and whipped cream light.

You hear footsteps coming down the lane and look excitedly to see who approaches, excited about whatever new customer awaits. Your heart catches when you see the figure is Joel clutching a small bouquet of red flowers.

His eyes are on the ground, watching his boots as he makes his way slowly towards your home. He's muttering under his breath quietly before he feels your eyes on him. He straightens and his face flushes pink everywhere, caught in a vulnerable moment. He raises a hand in a loose wave before a tentative smile crosses his full mouth.

"Hey, I hope this is okay," Joel murmurs lowly as he approaches you and hands you the flowers. Your fingertips brush and you feel a jolt go up your arm. "Just wanted to come and see it in the daylight."

You can't help but feel your face flush when you gaze up into his eyes. They're warm and soft. You nod, motioning to the flowers.

"Yeah, it's okay. Thanks for these."

Joel stands awkwardly with his shoulders back and his fingertips grazing against his thumb. He gives a vague indication towards the house.

"Thought they'd match the sign."

"They're perfect."

He gives a relieved little smile before glancing up at the farmhouse, taking in the painted exterior and the people for a moment. You watch his expression move from awe to quiet satisfaction at seeing the bustling scene.

You hear the faint buzz of bees sliding by you, the rustle and scent of grass, the sensation of a faint wind teasing the ends of your hair. It’s like everything exists in high focus when he’s around.

"Looks even better than I imagined it could."

You hold the flowers in the crook of your arm, flushed with the interaction and pride. You feel yourself more softened towards him than you expected.

"Well, you knew it had good bones."

Joel smiles a little wider. "Yeah, I guess I did."

You feel your hand twitch; longing to feel the soft fabric of the green flannel he's wearing, to run your fingers along his muscled forearm, to fist your hand through his soft looking curls. You’re surprised by the desire you feel for him, still molten in your core. This strange pull that never seems to cease.

You think about how he's been to therapy and how he seems changed. How he appears less guarded, more open. Did he do it for you? Did he do it for himself? Does it change anything about how you feel about him?

All of a sudden you hear your mom call your name, snapping your focus back to the present moment. She spots you and Joel in the grass and comes striding over, her face unreadable.

"There you are," your mom says with a breathless smile.

And for some reason you feel it imperative that she and Joel meet. For him to view this part of your life you thought was dead. You want him to glimpse into your past and you can’t rightfully explain why.

"This is my mom," you say introducing them. "Mom, this is Joel Miller. He's Ellie's dad."

Your Mom takes a moment before she and Joel exchange a brief look. He clears his throat and sticks out his hand her way.

"Nice to meet you ma'am."

"And you," your mom says with a tense expression as she pumps his hand once before she turns to you.

"Sorry to interrupt honey, but Kevin wants to know if you want the tables moved? He says they might be better over there by the pergola."

Joel sees Kevin helping to arrange the picnic tables with Cherry so the porch can accommodate more people. You smile over at Kevin, returning the wave and wink he shoots you with a shy smile.

"Sure, I'll be there in a sec, to help," you tell your mom. She nods, bidding Joel a polite farewell before moving back towards the group.

Joel catches the interaction between you and Kevin and you notice that the smile he gives you is accompanied by glassy eyes.

"I'm really happy for you."

For a brief moment you want to step forward and wrap your arms around his waist. You want his strong arms to hold you. You want to inhale that clean, masculine scent that clings to him. You ache for him.

Instead you just nod and try your best to look put together.

"Thanks, Joel."

You think he might want to say something else judging by the way he steps forward, eyes scanning your face. But instead he just gives you a tight smile, nodding as he finally walks away.

The knock arrives on your door early the next morning. So early that it's your mom that answers it, her voice floating up from downstairs as it creaks open.

"Sure. Come in."

"I'm not sure that's a great idea," comes the deep baritone that has you jerking up in bed.

It's Joel.

You rush to the bathroom, splashing water on your face and brushing your teeth as the voices continue below.

You're in jeans and a t-shirt, tugging on socks at the top of the stairs when you see Joel at the door, hands in his pockets looking at your mom like a child coming to ask if the neighborhood kid can play outside.

He remains on the porch, not crossing the threshold because you haven't given him permission to do so. Instead he stands framed by the arch, his shoulders dwarfing it.

His eyes catch the movement, scanning over your mom to see you coming down the stairs and it's like Cupid himself shot an arrow directly into his chest, knocking the wind from him.

A smile escapes him, tentative at first and then wider as you return it.

"Mornin’," he says softly, eyes following you as you pad over to the front door.

"Morning," you reply. Your face feels hot, your hands damp.

Your mother, watching this exchange with a wry smirk clears her throat, drawing your attention.

"I've got coffee waiting for me." She gives Joel a small wave. "Nice to see you again, Joel."

"Ma'am," Joel says with a respectful tilt of his head.

You see the wink she covertly sends your way and you flush, hoping Joel didn't.

When the two of you are alone he lets his eyes linger on your face, taking in how well you look. The summer sun has you looking healthier, your eyes bright and Joel realizes, how rested you look.

No more nightmares.

This warms him more than he could possibly say.

You gaze back at him, frustrated at how much you want to touch him. In the morning light he looks angelic, his curls recently trimmed, his face relaxed. You force yourself not to stare at his neck.

"I'm on my way to give Midnight a visit," he says, his voice thick with nerves. "Thought I'd see if you wanted to join me."

You know that in order to do that he'll have to backtrack from your home. That this wasn't a casual pass by, but an intentional choice.

Friendship. This is what friends do.

"Sure, I'd love to."

You call out to your mom that you're heading out for a walk, feeling like a teenager going out past curfew.

The two of you move off the porch in silence and begin to walk next to each other, careful not to brush shoulders or hands.

Quiet falls over your duo and for some reason your mind has gone incredibly blank, no topics rising to the surface, no idea on how to break the tension.

Eventually you pass by the cemetery hidden away and a topic does come up. But not one you know will be received well. You bottle it up, saving it for another day.

When the barn comes into view the relief is palpable between you. Midnight is there, a prompt, a distraction from this awkward interaction.

It's a warm day and the doors are open, inviting visitors and encouraging the horses to get out and enjoy the rays.

Midnight is in the large pen, nibbling at grass and ignoring the rest of the horses near the barn.

"Hi boy," you coo as the two of you draw nearer. "Did you miss me?"

Midnight takes a long, hard look at you, black eyes glossy. You think for a minute you're communicating by soulful glances until he huffs a breath and turns away.

You can't help but laugh a bit at that response. Some things never change and you're okay with that. He was there when you needed him to be

"You miserable bastard," Joel chuckles. "After all the two of you have been through and this is how you greet her?"

You watch as Joel clicks his tongue and see Midnight's ears perk up immediately. His hooves clomp over to his rider, nose nuzzling against Joel's palm.

You stand next to Joel, feet slotting between the fence poles, lifting up off the ground. Your shoulder brushes Joel's and you have to swallow the sigh that lodges in your throat.

He still smells the same, of the outdoors and wood shavings and almond soap. So uniquely Joel it makes your eyes flutter.

Midnight continues to run his muzzle against Joel's palm a moment longer before a family with two children comes by, carrots in hand. You recognize them but don't know their names. They crouch down, waggling the items at the suddenly intrigued Midnight. He takes off without thinking, flicking his tail as he lumbers over to the giggling children.

"Little shit," Joel smirks as Midnight crunches on a carrot, looking smugly over at Joel.

"Nah, just misunderstood," you counter with an impish grin. "Takes after his rider."

Joel shoots you a smirk before shrugging in a shy way that has your pulse quickening.

"Oh, I think that's Arrow," you say as the auburn mare makes her way over you both. "Kevin's horse."

Joel feels a tic in his jaw at the mention of the handsome man he's seen in your company. The man you were holding in The Bison. The man you were fishing with. The man who was at your opening.

Your new man.

His lips part, teeth still gnashed together. He wants to rain down questions on you, to make you answer each one.

Is he better than me? Can he make you come on his tongue for hours? Does he know what you look like when you wake up? Does he know the scent of your neck? Do you tell him to make it quiet for you? Does he know how fucking lucky he is to be with you?

And then the rational side chimes in, reminding him of all the work he's put into this. Into making his life better.

Remember what Heather said.

He went back to Heather last week, frantic for a session. She welcomed him in, showing off the carved kitten that rests on her mantle.

He told her everything since the last time he saw you, stuttering over his words in desperation to get it all out.

"You've come a long way," she told him warmly, the pride there in her eyes. "I think a friendship is a beautiful idea."

"Yeah? It's not too pushy?" Joel's fingers tapped along his Jean clad knee,

"You asked and she agreed," Heather assured him. "But I think what's important to remember is that she's agreeing to a friendship, Joel. Not a romance."

"Right. Right."

"So you can't push that," she reminded him. "Either you want to be her friend or you have to stay away. Pursuing her when she's made it clear she's open to only a friendship is not okay."

"I understand, I do," Joel nods. "Besides I think she's taken up with some other guy in town."

"And how do you feel about that?"

Joel was quiet, fingers stilling as he searched himself for the answer.

"Heartbroken but... Happy. I mean, happy for her," he emphasizes. "Sometimes I'm beside myself if we're being honest. But then I see her with her friends, with him, and she seems so fucking happy. Like this is the person she was always meant to be. And even though every part of me wants her, I don't need to have her like I did. I'm satisfied knowing she's out in the world content."

This is what he reminds himself of as you glance over at him, confused by his sudden silence. Joel forces a smile, nodding.

"S'a beautiful horse."

"Yeah."

The two of you watch the horse’s mill around for a while before moving to the sheep pen. Joel watches over the flock, musing about how he'd told Ellie he'd have a sheep farm. He kind of does, he supposes.

He sneaks a look at you from the corner of his eyes, watching as you grin, chin coming to rest on the hands folded on the wood fence.

"Did you see the babies in March?" You ask him, eyes trained on the lambs still with the ewes.

"I didn't actually," Joel shakes his head. "Was kinda busy in those days."

You nod, not inclined to ask why. What if he'd been seeing someone? You don't want to know that.

A smaller sheep exists into the pen from the barn, her coat reminiscent of cotton candy. Before you can say anything, Joel's hand is at the small of your back, pressing gently to get your attention.

"Hey, look at that," Joel whispers against your temple. "That one looks pink."

His breath stirs the hair at your ears, his body so close you could lean back into him.

"I have a feeling this might be a Kool-Aid prank," you say with a shaky laugh. "I bet a certain girl is behind it too."

"You mean Ellie? Nah she's a good kid," Joel insists.

"Who loves to make people laugh," you insist. Feeling brave you tilt up your head to the side to face him.

His nose is so close to yours, his mouth so plump, his face so masculine and beautiful at once. Like a piece of pottery shattered and put back together with gold. Your eyes flit to his mouth before darting back to his eyes.

Joel doesn't miss this small action and he swallows lightly, unable to stop the trance he finds himself in. His eyes drop to your mouth now, curved and delicious.

One kiss. Just one more taste of her. Please, just one.

You notice Joel's hand is still there lightly pressed to your back, long fingers spread. You feel like your body is reaching for his, your skin crying out for him.

Don't stop. Please don't stop touching me.

You're convinced your mouths are closing in on one another and you feel powerless to escape, or maybe you just don't want to?

As if he hears the opposite of your inner desires Joel drops his hand suddenly remembering himself.

Friendship.

We're friends.

"We should head back," Joel says huskily.

"Yeah," you breathe, nodding and smoothing your shirt down as it snags on the wood fencing.

Your heartbeat is in your ears and between your legs. You were convinced the two of you were going to kiss. So sure of it you could taste the need between you two.

You walk quietly side by side, just as you did when you came in the other direction. Joel seems disconcerted, his broad shoulders slightly hunched and his eyes focused on the dirt lane in front of you.

He keeps his large hands in his pockets, terrified he'll try to touch you again despite knowing that it's the wrong thing to do.

You pass by the cemetery again and you exhale. When enough time has passed you feel like you can find your voice.

"I was thinking of something earlier," you tell Joel quietly, not breaking your stride. "And I hope you won't be offended by it."

Joel's stomach clenches in anticipation of what you'll say.

"I got a headstone made for my dad and Charlie," you offer with your eyes on your moving shoes, "and I thought maybe you should get one for Sarah because it's really nice to have a spot to go to and remember, you know? You could go and visit a place."

Joel is quiet as he digests this suggestion, his own eyes distant as he considers this.

"S'a good idea," he murmurs after a moment.

You just nod, knowing not to push the topic. It was a just an idea, not one you are insistent upon. Grief looks different for different people after all.

You don't know if it's the moment or the way he looks so vulnerable, but you take his hand in yours and squeeze gently.

Joel feels his body tingle at your touch, stomach tumbling inside knowing you're only his friend and that he can't cross that boundary.

Remember what Heather said.

He reminds himself of the tentative friendship you're embarking on as you drop your hand from his loose fingers.

You feel momentarily stung by his lack of response, but you don't let on. Maybe you were just picking up on something that wasn't actually there. You're desire for him must be making you act this way.

You listen to the sound of the day, of distant voices back in town, of the bugs buzzing and the birds singing. The day is beautiful and you take note of the day's joy.

If nothing else you have Joel as a friend. You like his company and enjoy his humor. It's good enough for you just to exist in the same orbit.

"I hope this is okay," Joel says as your home comes into view.

"What?"

"Us walking together, talkin', bein' alone. I don't wanna be disrespectful to your relationship."

Your footsteps begin slowing as you try to understand what he's talking about. Joel looks beside himself, unable to meet your curious eyes.

"Relationship?"

Fuck, are you going to make him say it out loud?

Joel feels discomfort flooding his body, closing up his throat so that the name comes out in a scraped hush.

"With Kevin."

The house is steps away, but you stand in place, eyes squinting up at him in true confusion. He stops as well, large shoulders twisting and facing you.

He looks so broken, so anguished and sorrowful that you genuinely don't understand what happened. Then you see it, that familiar ember deep in his eyes, the smoldering sight of barely concealed jealousy.

The sight thrills you, even though it shouldn't. You shouldn't feel your body respond in deep yearning at that look.

"You have to stop assuming that every guy I talk to I'm in a relationship with," you say with a light chuckle. "First Luke, now Kevin."

Joel feels his feet slowing even further, eyes trained on your profile as you step up the porch stairs. He follows after you, his eyes owlish in his face. He sees the amused curl of your lips as you give him a teasing shake of your head.

"I'm not with Kevin, Joel. I'm not with anyone." Your smile wavers. "How could I -" you stop abruptly, editing yourself.

How could I be when I’m still not over you?

Joel stands there like a puppet without strings, his body slack with shock.

"Oh."

Not with Kevin not with anyone.

That one sentence continues to play on loop in his mind, blocking out all the other sounds in the world around him

You push open the door to your home, still not prepared to have him enter. It doesn't feel right, too soon, too emotional. To your relief be doesn't attempt to, perhaps picking up on your unsaid hesitancy.

You glance over your shoulder as you enter, turning to face him with an open look.

"Thanks for the walk, Joel. I enjoyed it."

Joel doesn't let the excitement show on his face. He simply nods, brain still taking in what you've told him.

"I did too. Have a good rest of your day."

You smile, closing the door gently as Joel turns, moving on shaky legs towards the lane to town.

It doesn't matter. We're just friends.

September leaves have begun to fall when your mom sits you down and announces that she is going to find her own place.

"I love being here with you," she insists with wet eyes, "but I need to start fresh here too, honey. That means my own place. A place I can decorate with my stuff and a bed that’s set up in my own room."

You're surprised to find that you understand completely. She needs to start her life in Jackson City just like you did.

"I’ve been hanging out with some of the older ladies and they think I’d do really well in the greenhouse," she explains with a hopeful look. "And there's a cute little place over on Archer Street Maria suggested to move into. It's close to town."

Your mom always craved interaction with others, lively and outgoing. It makes sense she would want to be where the action is.

"I'll still help you with running the bakery when you need it," she insists gripping your hand tightly. "I still want to see you all the time."

"Same here, mom."

She embraces you tightly and the two of you make plans about the following months, of where she’ll live and where you know she’ll thrive.

You enter the dining hall a few weeks later with a wince. The space is louder than usual, busy with people flitting from space to space.

Instead of the usual table formation they're spaced apart with people sitting behind them. Trinkets and pieces of art sit on the tables and everyone looks bright-eyed.

A coffee station is at the side, a small line curled in wait. People sit behind the tables, showing off their wares with bright smiles.

You watch as an older man exchanges an old lamp for a new blanket. A young girl pushes an old teddy bear towards a woman who hands her a wood toy train.

You catch sight of Penny walking past with two coffees, her loping walk immediately recognizable. She catches sight of you and gives you a gap-toothed grin.

"Hey honey child."

"Hey Pen, what's goin on here?"

"Swap meet," she tells you before raising a cup in the direction of the bustling crowd. "Everyone's bringing stuff they wanna trade. Arthur's got his artwork up for trade. You should stop by."

"I totally will."

You're intrigued by this whole affair, looking at the items as you bid her a goodbye. Your eyes go around the room before moving to the nearest table.

You look longingly at the smiling faces of the vendors and wish you would have known about this. Your dedication to the bakery has kept you isolated and away from town events the last few months.

You take it as an opportunity to see what's around to see. The place is so crowded is hard to navigate through the bodies because everyone is distracted, jabbering excitedly and walking into everyone.

You find Arthur's table, eyes widening at the beautiful artwork you see. Penny is chatting to the woman with knitted caps next to her table. Arthur greets you with enthusiasm.

"I swear I've gained five pounds this month because of that fry- bread," he says patting his rounded stomach.

“I guess I shouldn’t tell you I’ve got a raspberry spread to go with it now?”

"It's worth the extra cushioning."

You laugh, delighted. "I'm so glad."

You look at the various paintings artfully assorted on the table, crouching to get a better view. You see one particularly soothing painting of a lake and you smile.

"These are stunning," you say over the din of the room. "I need something for my mom's place. Any suggestions?"

"You're Mama's actually been by already," Penny says with a proud smile, drawn into the conversation. "Traded Arthur an herb garden for some art lessons."

"Really?" You gaze at Arthur who is nodding, pleased.

"Yeah, turns out she's really interested in trying landscapes."

Something about this sweet tidbit has your eyes watery. Knowing that your mom is embarking on a new chapter in her life touches you deeply.

"I hope she has so much fun," you tell him before bidding he and Penny goodbye.

You have a spring in your step as your walk around the maze of the swap, entranced by the remarkable offerings.

Along with decorative chocolate, an older couple has figured out how to make candy in the vague shape of animals. Most of the Jackson children mill around this table, jumping up and down and tugging their parent’s hands.

Colorful fishing lures capture your attention and draw you to a table with hand carved fishing poles and lines. The lures are handmade with painted circles and feathers on hooks.

You move on to several tables of knick-knacks; things people brought with them from home to swap. Jewelry, old clothes and magazines, books with yellowed pages, dolls and toys for kids.

You wonder if Jennifer is here trading her unique clothing items and are about to traverse to find her when a figure bumps into you from behind.

You feel hands wrap around your elbows to keep you from falling before releasing when they see you're stable.

“Pardon me.”

A familiar scent envelops you, warm and masculine and desire begins flooding you.

"Sorry, I didn't see ya standing there," Joel murmurs at the back of your head, disconcerted at seeing you here and anxious you're going to think this run in was on purpose.

You turn to face him, your pulse galloping as you see him regard you.

"It's okay," you finally tell him with a brief smile. "It's so crowded in here it's hard not to."

"Yeah," Joel offers lamely, hating that he can't think of anything better.

You try to slow down your breathing but it feels impossible with him standing there looking so beautiful, the crowds around your forgotten.

"You here to barter?" You ask him, intrigued by his presence..

"Nah, Ellie told me she wanted to see if anyone wanted to trade for her drawings but she didn't wanna do it alone. So we're sharin' a table."

"Can I see?"

Joel blinks, gauging if you're serious before he ghosts a smile, nodding.

"Sure. Follow me."

He moves slowly through the crowd, looking at you from the corner of his eyes, making sure he doesn't lose sight of you.

You look so beautiful today, eager to see everything at the tables. He wants to take your hand to lead you through the bodies but he knows that's crossing a line.

Do you think about him? Do you want him like he wants you? Do you ever lie in your bed, body aching and dreaming of Joel holding you?

He forces his eyes forward as you both approach the table where a sullen looking Ellie is slumped behind it. She eyes Joel before raising one brow on agitation.

"Where's my hot chocolate?"

"Got diverted," Joel explains, about to say your name when Ellie sees you.

"Hey! Come here."

You approach the teen with apprehension when you notice her glum attitude. She motions lazily at the papers in front of her as her face pinches.

"Do you think these sketches are good?"

You glance down at the table, noting the variety of sketches. Some landscapes but many are animals. Buckley asleep in the shade, sheeps grazing in meadows.

"No one's wanted any," she frowns, glaring at the crowd as if they’re doing it to personally offend her.

"It's still early," you say with a comforting drape of your arm around her shoulders.

"Yeah I guess," Ellie sighs. "At least the carvings are doing well."

She points at the carved figures on Joel's side of the table. He pretends to be engrossed in a conversation with the guy next to him but he's secretly listening.

"But those are Joel's," she tells you with a point to the intricately carved figures on the table beside her drawings. "So who knows if people like ‘em or the ladies just wanna date him."

You choke on a laugh, muffling it in your sleeve.

"Well I think everything at this table is gorgeous," you tell them both, still unable to look at Joel directly. “And I want this one of Buckley. I’ll trade you for some-“

“Apple tarts,” Ellie finishes for you. “They were so good at the Christmas party.”

“Deal.”

"Okay… well, I wanna grab a hot chocolate," Ellie tells you firmly. She stands and motions to her chair. "Save my seat until I get back? Everyone is fighting for chairs in here today."

You're about to deny this request but she's already sliding past you and heading to the beverage station.

Your eyes dart from the chair to Joel and back again. His neck is pink and he looks nervous. You stand awkwardly, unsure of how to proceed.

"Hey is that chair free?"

A tall man you don't recognize asks this from behind you, moving towards Ellie’s empty seat.

"No, I'm sorry it's taken," you say quickly dropping into the chair, bumping into Joel's elbow. The two of you watch the man stalk off back to his table where he has a collection of decorative knives.

The hall is so loud that thankfully the tension between you and Joel didn't feel so acute amongst all the noise.

"Surprised you're not here with those flowers you make," Joel murmurs beside you, desperate to find a reason to keep talking to you.

"Honestly I didn't even know about this," you say. "I just came for breakfast."

"Oh shit, you my must be hungry," Joel says as he brings his bag into his lap and begins to dig around."I think I have an apple-"

"No, Joel, its okay," you offer with a small laugh, tapping the crook of his arm to get him to stop rifling in his bag. The contact makes both of you freeze before you tug your hand back sharply.

"These really are great," you say motioning to the carvings in a rush to break the tension.

"Ellie said people would like ‘em and a few have stopped by to do some trades."

He looks uncomfortable; shy about what he feels is tantamount to bragging.

But all you can think is that these are the reasons he smells of fresh wood shavings and why his attention to detail is so keen. It's a part of him you don't know as well and desperately desire to.

"How long have you carved for?"

"My whole life," Joel answers after a moment’s thought. "My grandpa taught me and Tommy. He never stuck with it but I always found it kinda relaxing."

You're rapt with fascination at this tidbit of Joel's past. You ache to learn more.

Tell me everything. Were you a serious child? Did either of your parents have dimples in one cheek like you? Who was the first girl you kissed? What was it like growing up with a brother? Did you feel loved?

You want to peel back more and more of Joel, to slip off his skin and see past the tendons, down to the bone. You want to know every inch of him.

But instead your eyes fall to the carved horse on the table. You can see Joel's fingers in every blade mark, every sharp line, every smooth curve.

"This one is especially good," you offer quietly, fingertips running over the mane delicately.

Joel watches this, eyes trailing from your hand up your arm, landing on your serene profile.

I love you I love you I love you.

He thinks this over and over and over. But what he replies out loud is: "Thanks."

It's on the tip of your tongue to ask about the carving you saw at Heather's but Joel is leaning towards your, eyes catching hold of yours and not letting go.

"Uh, hey, I wanted to ask you somethin'," Joel says in a hushed tone. "Is there any chance-"

"No hot chocolate left so they gave me a glass of fucking milk!"

You and Joel tilt your heads back, attention immediately drawn to the teen rolling her eyes and approaching the table holding a glass.

"I thought you loved milk," you reason as you slide out of her chair. She swaps spots with you and drops down into it, sure not to spill her drink on her descent.

"Not as much as hot chocolate."

You smile, your eyes drifting to Joel surprised to find him gazing at you. Obviously he still wants to talk to you, but maybe not with Ellie around.

Ellie sips her milk as you and Joel glance away from each other like school kids with their first crush.

"Well I need to get something for my mom's place," you say to break the silence. "What do you recommend, Ellie?"

"Your mom's place?"

"Yeah, she's gonna move out soon and I really wanna get her something special."

"But then you're all alone in that big house," Ellie says frowning. You see sincere concern in her expression and you can’t help but flinch away at the sight of it.

You sound like such a charity case when she says that and your cheeks burn.

"I mean, a lot of the house is the bakery," you insist, "and I won't be lonely."

"I'll come visit you," Ellie announces as if that is the answer to all your problems. It makes you feel touched as quickly as it makes you feel pitied.

Is this what people think about you? That you're a pathetic loner? You're about to say more when you feel a pair of arms slip around your waist from behind.

"I didn't you were coming here!"

You turn to see Jennifer and Luke smiling at you. Luke has a bag full of what looks like music books and Jennifer has a new bundle of clothing.

"It was a happy accident," you explain as Luke greets Joel and Ellie. "I was just coming for breakfast. I'm surprised you're not participating."

"I don't have any more room in my house for new stuff," Jennifer says with a laugh. "I think I might be a hoarder."

Joel watches you and Jennifer chatting and laughing a bit away from the table. He pretends to listen to Luke but all he can hear is your voice. When you smile he has to tamp down the instinct to smile as well just at the sight.

Jennifer glances over at Luke who's studying one of Ellie's sketches. It looks like you're preparing to leave and Joel feels a sense of panic overtake him.

Just fucking do it. Do it you coward. One sentence. You can do it. One question. If she says no it's no.

He stands abruptly, ankle clicking against the table leg, causing him to wince. He walks over to where Jennifer leaves you, drawing over to Luke and gushing to Ellie about her talent.

You're walking away, your hair bouncing as you prepare to leave the vicinity. Without thinking Joel reaches out and clamps his hand around your wrist, stopping you from moving away.

"Wait."

His deep voice cuts through the crowd and the warm clutch of his fingers around your wrist make you gasp.

You stop, turning to look back at him with a brief rise of your eyebrows. He's so close you can see the thickness of his lashes and the small line in the center of his plump lower lip.

"Before you leave I just wanted to know if you wanna come over for dinner tomorrow night? With me and Ellie?"

His hands are in his pockets, stance a bit tensed up as he waits for your reply. You look surprised, your eyes owlish in your face.

"Really?"

"Yeah." He nods, eyes trailing around your face. "If you want. Just as friends,” he emphasizes, concerned it sounds too date-y.

“Sure,” you reply quickly before internally telling yourself to calm down. You don’t want to seem eager. You grin crookedly at the offer, feeling your heart hiccup as you nod at him. "Yeah, I'd love that."

Joel's smile spreads over his face, gleaming white against the dark of his beard. You can see Luke and Jennifer standing by the table, murmuring to each other and watching as you and Joel speak.

"What should I bring?"

"Just yourself."

“Joel we both know I’m going to bring dessert.”

Joel chuckles richly and you feel your smile pressing further into your cheeks. Luke and Jennifer are silent; their eyes ping ponging from you to Joel and back again.

"Well, uh, c'mon over after seven,” Joel says, never breaking eye contact.

"I'll be there."

"Great." Joel cringes when he realizes how overzealous he sounds. He nods, looking satisfied before giving a half wave. "Okay then. I'll see ya."

His broad figure recedes from your space, taking with him the scent of the outdoors and coffee and wood shavings. He heads back to his table and you go to the front door.

Jennifer is there at your elbow, dragging you outside.

"What the fuck was that?" Jenny whispers, her eyes wide with surprise.

"We decided to try being friends," you reply airily, your eyes dropping back to your book.

"Friends?”

“Friends.”

"Go fish."

"You're lyin."

"Am not, old man. Go fish."

You sit at the table with Ellie and Joel, your plates from dinner forgotten, feeling warm and contented. Ellie sits between you and Joel, her voice high and joyous when she tells Joel he has to pick up another card.

From the moment you walked into the house tonight Ellie was all over you. Dragging you to her bedroom to show you the new sketches she'd done, pointing out the new books she’d found until Joel hollered that dinner was ready.

There was no moment of awkwardness, no uncomfortable glances around the room as if a topic were hidden in the wallpaper.

Ellie kept the dinner easy and fun with her energy and her jokes. Yeah, you felt Joel's eyes on you sometimes lingering, but you didn't mind it. You actually sort of… liked it.

You absently adjust the ribbon in your hair, the thick stripe of green you thought elevated your casual look for tonight's dinner. You don't know why you put it in last minute on your way out. This isn't a date so there's no need to try and gussy yourself up.

It was just sitting there on your kitchen table amongst several others Jennifer brought over the week before, insisting she wanted to find the exact right shade for throw pillows.

Something about the color appealed to you today. And so you secured your hair into a ponytail with the green ribbon, feeling festive as you walked over to the Miller home this evening.

Now you sit hunched around your cards with a gentle smile on your face.

“You’re a cheat,” Joel grumbles with a smirk at Ellie as he swipes the top card from the deck in the center of the table.

As you wait your turn you take in the details that you missed the last time. The rugs on the floor, the way the windows are crystalline with not even a smudge on them.

Your eyes travel over to the table by the door, the catch all table as your mom would call it. The place where car keys would face been tossed, mail dropped next to them. Neither exist in this world.

Instead there is the accumulated pile of items, old screws, scribbled notes, a matchbox and curled and frayed is Ellie's blue ribbon. You can imagine her slipping it out of her hair and dropping it there on the table as she got home from the party.

You tried to ignore that Joel smelled amazing and looked even better when you arrived.

“Can I have some more of the cake you brought?” Ellie asks as she plays her card.

“Of course.”

She slips out of her chair and into the kitchen. You and Joel exchange smiles as you hear her clattering a fork against the plate. She returns moments later, looking at you.

“What’s this called again?”

"Dark chocolate cake with ganache."

"Its so fucking good," Ellie all but moans as she takes a bite. Joel shoots her a dark look.

“Language.”

“Sorry, so freakin’ good,” Ellie says rolling her eyes at Joel. She shovels the rest of the cake in her mouth, talking through a mouthful of icing. “Goh Fhish.”

“Fucking swallow before you start yappin’,” Joel taunts.

“Language,” Ellie says pointedly after a glass of milk clears her throat.

You watch the exchange, smiling to yourself. Something about their banter feels so natural and so loving that it warms something within you.

A knock at the door sounds, surprising everyone. Joel darts a glance over Ellie’s way.

“You expectin’ anyone?”

“Nope.”

Ellie that moves from the table, jogging to the door. You hear a young female voice and can only assume that it’s one of her friends from school.

She reappears flushed and happy as she looks imploringly to Joel.

"Joel, Cat's asking me if I wanna sleep over can I?"

"Who's Cat?"

"Joel you met her at the chapel concert," Ellie sighs, rolling her eyes in a way that reminds Joel of Sarah having a fit. "Her family moved here a couple months ago. She likes art like me, remember?"

Joel has faint recollection of meeting a teenage Asian girl during the music event at the chapel, but most of that evening’s memory is dominated by you in the back room and how desperate he was to touch you.

"Ellie we have a guest," Joel rumbles, eyes dipping from you back to her.

"She doesn't mind," Ellie insists. She looks over at you with an expectant smile. "You don't mind right?"

"You got school tomorrow," Joel insists with authority before you can answer.

"Cat and me go to the same class Joel. This place is only so big," Ellie rolls her eyes. "Obviously I'll go with her."

Joel sighs, casting a sideways look at you before fixing Ellie with a stern look.

"If I find out you skipped school-"

"Thanks Joel!" Ellie says before he can finish, skipping to the garage to quickly pack. You smile into your water glass as Joel exhales.

"I got no authority in this fuckin’ house."

For some reason this statement from Joel causes you to burst into laughter. Loud and uninhibited as you squeeze your eyes shut.

Joel glances over in surprise, his brows raised. But the sound and sight of your amusement causes him to smile, completely besotted.

"It was.... Just how you said it," you manage as you catch your breath as Joel grins back at you.

Ellie sails into the room, her bag over her shoulder. She gives you both a wave, not stopping.

"See ya!"

"Brush your teeth before you go to bed."

"Maybe!"

Joel smiles after her, shaking his head as the door closes. You start to rise and collect the dessert plates, not wanting to overstay your welcome.

"You don't need to do that," Joel insists, gently touching your wrist. "Just sit down and relax. You want a drink?"

You wish your heart would stop fluttering. He pulls his hand back, concerned he's overstepping.

"I know this is weird but do you have any whiskey? I was looking through this recipe book and I found this one for orange pound cake with a whiskey glaze. I haven't been able to stop thinking about it."

"Sure. Grab a seat on the couch."

You quietly thank him and make your way over to the couch. The wood creaks under your feet, barely heard over the old record Joel put on before dinner. He claimed it was one his mama loved listening to when he was a kid.

I love how your eyes close whenever you kiss me And when I'm away from you I love how you miss me

The warm food and the fire leave the house feeling warm and settled by the evening and your movements are sluggish from the food. You begin humming along to the song absently as you trace the perimeter of the room with slow footsteps

I love the way your touch is always heavenly But, darling, most of all I love how you love me

Your eyes fall onto a portrait near the window on a shelf and your feet come to an abrupt stop.

It’s new, something you never saw in this place before. A young girl smiles toothily out of the frame, her lashes long and lush, a tiny mole at her hairline, a dimple in one cheek.

Sarah.

It’s obviously Arthur’s handiwork, the sketching perfect. From what you can remember of Sarah from the photograph at Maria’s you can see that Arthur has captured her likeness perfectly. You can’t help but take it from the mantle, holding it by the delicate wood frame around it.

When did Joel ask him to do this? You want to call out to Joel and ask him all about it, but you stop yourself. You don’t need to make Joel feel scrutinized.

Instead you place the photo back flat on the shelf, concerned of it tipping over if you try to set it upright. Joel can fix it when he comes back.

"Here's for you to take home," he says handing you a flask. "And here's for now," he adds passing you a tumbler of the gold liquid.

"Thanks."

He takes a seat next to you on the couch, sure not to crowd you. He makes sure his legs don't widen or his kneecaps brush yours even if the desire just to graze you has him aching. And unlike at dinner the moment isn’t calm, it’s charged. His mouth is going dry as he searches his mind for a topic.

"So the bakery still going well?"

"Yeah it is," you say, delighted that he's asking.

"You don't mind makin' all the bread for Jackson?" Joel asks, taking a small sip from his glass. "Not much room for creativity. Thought you might find it borin'."

"I don't mind at all actually," you say as you swirl the amber liquid in the tumbler thoughtfully. "It feels good to be needed. To be appreciated."

Joel's voice is soft. "Yeah, I get that."

Your eyes search one another's with moments unsaid. You know Joel enjoys the feeling of being needed and for once you can relate to him. Being needed makes you feel confident and proud in many ways.

You take a small sip of the strong drink, surprised that it goes down smoother than you recall.

"Tastes better than the last time I tried it," you say before you catch yourself.

The last time you tried it ended with Joel between your legs for hours, his mouth and tongue bringing you to orgasm over and over. The memory causes goose bumps to pop up everywhere along your body.

You know Joel's thinking the same thing because his eyes have gone soft around the edges and have begun dragging up your body ever so slowly. He puts his drink on the table, his palms feeling tight.

He's never forgotten that night when he tasted you for the first time. When your cracked whines and cries sent him over the edge time and time again. Arousal begins to creep up his spine, the fire of desire heating his blood. But one of Heather's comments brings him down.

"Friendship is the foundation of many good relationships. Don't push those boundaries. If she wants more she'll communicate that."

He doesn't want to fuck that up with you. If you're happy he's happy. Your friendship will have to be enough for him.

Your brain tells you to leave, that you've agreed to a friendship with Joel and you don't want it ruined. But that string knotted between your ribs and tied to his tugs viciously.

You lick the remnants of the whiskey from your bottom lip. Joel watches this with hooded eyes, his breath coming out a little quicker. You lean forward and place your glass on the coffee table and you don't overlook that Joel's eyes are pitched dark when you turn back to him.

He doesn't want to assume anything is going to happen just because of the sudden tension in the air. That could be from anything.

But then you start to shift over his way, your thigh against his. His heart flips brutally in his chest as your torso tilts and your hands land on his shoulders.

It's clear what you want and in the face of your lust Joel can admit he hasn't wanted anyone this much in his entire life. Memories of how your skin felt under his mouth and tongue cause him to exhale shakily.

Joel feels your chest begin pressing against his tightly and without thought his hands circle your waist, thumbs rasping against the fabric of your shirt.

Your face nears his, eyes dropping to his mouth. You want to kiss him and your mouth begins parting ever so slightly.

“Do friends do this?" Joel murmurs with his face drawing closer to your own.

"Yes,” you whisper back, and then your mouth closes the distance to press against his.

It's all the permission Joel needs before he groans into your mouth, palms sliding around your body to pull you onto his lap. He's already hard, his hips pressed to yours and it feels so good you quiver.

You forgot how good Joel's lips felt. Granted you've only felt his and Luke's, but Joel's are so fucking soft and full that it makes a shiver go up your spine at the first graze of his mouth.

When he touches you everything seems to come alive. It's like your body was dormant, asleep and Joel's warmth has caused you to truly wake up.

The strength of this sensation causes you to shudder a gasp, your fingers twisting in his flannel, grounding you. He responds with a groan of his own, arms tightening like a vice.

He pulls back with a pant, his eyes searching yours.

“This okay?”

You nod breathlessly, your mouth already chasing his. You don’t want to talk, you just want to feel. Your arms crook around his neck, your tongue invading his mouth, desperate to taste him again. Joel is more than receptive, tangling his with yours, his hands sliding along your body.

You urge him onto his back, your eyes dark with desire. Joel’s spine kisses the cushion and you continue to straddle him, kissing him fiercely. You’ve missed him, you want him, you need him.

Joel can feel himself growing harder underneath you, his breath leaving him before you finally pull back, your lips swollen and your breath shaky. Joel is practically panting, desire thick in his throat.

Joel watches as your hands go behind your head to loosen the ribbon from your hair. You look so sensual in this pose, like a work of art. You tug the ribbon free from your hair and he looks on awestruck as your hair tumbles from its confines over your shoulders, tousled and sexy.

You're like something out of a dream he had once. All femininity and dominance in one package as you sit there. Joel can’t decide where he wants to look most, resulting in him staring at the way your jeans pinch into the crease of your thighs, your ass firm in his hands.

Before he can do anything you've raised the green ribbon in front of his face, a silent dare.

“Close your eyes," you order gently.

Joel looks up at you, guarded for a moment, unsure of what this means. He views your unflinching gaze, trying to judge what you’re thinking.

Does it matter? It’s you asking.

He surrenders, his eyelids fluttering to a close.

You slowly wind the thick ribbon over his eyes, watching as his breathing deepens when you secure it behind his head. He says nothing as the green fabric turns to black shadow and obscures his view of you.

He can hear your light breathing, can smell the sweet scent of your shampoo and can feel the seam of your jeans rasping against his as you secure the knot at the back of his head

As the knot is secured he realizes exactly what this is. A payback. A reminder of what he did to you last year. And he finds that he won’t fight you on it. He’ll accept it.

His full lips are parted as he sucks in air in shaky breaths before he starts to inhale through his nose, desperate for all sensations to become more acute. Without his sight he wants to touch and smell and taste and just experience everything about you.

But when he feels you remove yourself from his lap and hears you unbutton and then shimmy out of your jeans he's suddenly desperate. When he hears more fabric hit the ground he’s almost beside himself.

"I wanna see you," he says, hand coming to raise the edge of the ribbon over his eyes. "Please lemme see you."

He doesn't even get a peek before your hand is on his wrist, stopping him.

"No." Your voice is closer, breath hot on his cheek. "I make the rules tonight, Joel. Not you."

His cock swells aggressively at the husky way you tell him that. He could insist of course, he's stronger, but that's not the point. The point is you trust him. He lowers his hand to the cushion, rubbing it anxiously with his flat palm.

He can't see you but he feels you slowly shuffle back onto his lap, the warmth of your naked skin seeping through the denim. He loves the weight of you on top of him, the scent of you everywhere.

Not being able to see you feels like a punishment, his desperation to watch how you move is all he can focus on until you start to roll your hips. He grits his teeth, forcing his long fingers into a desperate clench. He keeps his large hands balled at his side, knowing if he relents he won't be able to stop himself.

Your hands remain on his shoulders feeling the muscles twist and curl as he forces his body not to react. He groans softly when you arch, your core brushing against him. He can feel the cotton of your panties dampening his jeans the more you tilt your hips against his.

You watch all of this intrigued, curious to know if this heady power is what Joel felt all those times in the safe house. Because you feel more emboldened without his eyes on you, stronger in a way that makes you feel bold.

You see his hands begin to rise as in desperation he reaches for you, groping in the semi darkness. Needing to touch you, to prove you're real. You veer out of his touch with a playful raise of your eyebrow.

You move your hands to his wrists, pulling them unwilling at first until he allows you to raise them, pinning them on either side of his head against the soft couch cushion.

At first he winces, uncomfortable with this new arrangement. He's never been one to give up control in the bedroom, never been comfortable enough to let someone else take the reins. But he'll give you everything you want and more. You view the clench of his teeth and for a moment you pause.

"Do you want me to stop, Joel?"

"No."

The word is firm, rasped and out in a huff before you can finish the question. Joel can hear the curl of your mouth in your reply.

"Good. Keep your hands there."

You release his wrists so that your fingers can move to the top of his flannel, tracing the two unbuttoned loops at the top, leaving his flushed neck visible. You can't help but move a finger to graze against his bobbing throat.

He radiates heat between your legs like a human water bottle. It makes you melt into him, eyes studying his face, marveling at the detail you can take it now that you're not rushed. The space where his beard is bit patchier, the scar you got so used to you forgot existed.

You're eyes fall to the flannel again and with slow precision you begin to undo the shirt, plucking each button with a slow reverence.

Joel’s ears are pricked with an aching desire to hear you. He picks up on your shallow breathing and the way you sigh when the last button slips through the slit and his entire torso is revealed to you. For a moment he feels self conscious when you flip the fabric to the side, leaving him exposed to you. But then he hears the shaky whimper you give and he’s a goner.

Your hands plant on either side of his head, brushing his wrists. Your movements are feline as you lower your mouth, unable to stop from planting the softest graze of a kiss to the right of his jugular. His neck bobs as he swallows, sighing softly.

“Baby.”

He wants to see you so badly, but having nothing but the darkness does something to elevate the sensations. His skin flushes when you begin to nibble at the soft patch of skin at his jaw.

You continue on, licking the pebbled flesh before starting to suck lightly. Joel feels a jolt go through him at the sensation of your wet tongue coming to dab against his neck.

Without meaning to, Joel's hips begin rutting against you, his stomach tensing as you both rub against one another.

“Can I touch you? Please?”

If he weren’t so delirious with pleasure he’d cringe at how desperate he sounds. His husky voice cracking at the edge of his words, his back arching up off the couch for better friction. He’s beside himself with want, his hands roving the bare plains of your thighs, the smooth inner skin rasping against his jeans.

“Yes,” you whisper against his lips, not quite a kiss but a warm brush before you pull back. “You can touch me, Joel.”

He groans at the sound of his name on your lips, head tilting back against the couch, his lean neck exposed. His hands search your body, noting the bare of your torso and thighs. Just as he thought, you’re not wearing anything but your panties. Fuck.

His fingertips dig into your hips so tightly you know they'll leave a constellation of bruises behind, but you don't care. In fact you want the evidence of your coupling. You want to look at your body and see him there in the purple dots that line your hips in a galaxy of memories tomorrow.

You allow him to keep his hands on your hips as you start to roll them over his lap, sighing softly as you continue to work your mouth, tongue and teeth against his neck. He turns to putty, body loosening and cock throbbing.

His body and yours remember one another, even through the layers of clothing. You both rise and fall, breathing into each other’s mouths as the pleasure builds.

You're getting so close that your thighs begin to tremble. And you don't want to look at the green ribbon anymore; you need to see that open gaze he always seems to wear just for you.

"T-take it off," you order breathlessly. "I wanna see your eyes."

Joel doesn't hesitate; he rips the ribbon from his head as he blinks away the darkness. Now he can see you there in the low light, your hair over one shoulder, your body bare save for your panties.

His eyes go between your legs and it takes everything in him not to come just from the sight of thighs spread wide and your hips rolling, the damp cotton sticking to your folds.

He groans, hands tightening around your hips as his eyes work their way up your body, your hands pressed flat on his chest, your breasts swaying softly as you ride his fully clothed body.

"You're so beautiful," he whispers and he feels something in him crack when you give a lazy smile down at him in response. Your cheeks are flushed and eyes heavy lidded. Your hair is wild around your shoulders.

"I'm gonna take what's mine," you rasp out at him. Joel can only stare at you, lips parted as he gives a shuddering exhale.

"Please," he whispers back at you.

It's different than the last time you discussed taking what was yours all those months ago in the farmhouse. Back then it was amusement tempered with desire, but now as he holds your gaze with his galaxy filled eyes there's nothing but vulnerable need.

Claim me. Choose me.

Joel makes a choked groaning sound, hands dropping to his sides as you undulate, feeling him swollen and needy beneath his jeans. .

With every curl of your hips Joel's groans grow louder, spurring you on. He looks so good, fully dressed but so fucked out, so big and beautiful and willing to be used by you. You start feeling light headed when you see how his eyes search yours in desperation and he bites his lower lip so hard he almost draws blood.

He can't believe how good you look like this. It's been so long he forgot the way your brows saddled when you were close to coming. He forgot the way your breasts swayed when you were on top of him. The sight raises a lump in his throat, his eyes burning.

He can't stop looking at you, his eyes greedy for every slope and curve and plane. He slides his palm over and over your ribs, fingertips grazing your shoulder blades, thumbs rubbing just under your navel. Every piece of your body he didn't take time to cherish.

Your nipples pebble in his palm, breasts warm and soft. So much of you is warm and soft and he wants to live here, skin to skin, his hands rough, your flesh smooth.

He needs you, not just like this, not just with your thighs spread and your whimpers in the air. He needs you here in his home, in his life, in his world. Waking up with you in his arms, face sun-soaked and sleepy, eyes squinty as you blink away the remnants of dreams, a piece of you no one else sees.

He wants all those secret pieces, the ones that build you into this complex and stunning creature that looks at him as if he's worth the adoration.

He wants to watch your face grow more lines, wants to watch your hair grey because it will show that you survived, that you both lived in a home at the end of the world, that you survived.

You roll over his stiff cock and the friction between you and his clothes has him dangerously close to coming while fully dressed. Joel can't stop himself from helping you bounce in his lap, drawing up his knees behind you.

"I'm yours," he whispers to you in a rasp. “I just… I need you to know that.”

"Joel," you whisper against his lips, you're body jerking as he thrusts up against your core.

"I'm yours," he repeats, his breath coming out in rapid pants as he watches where the damp has spread on the fabric between your legs. "I'm fuckin' yours."

He says it with supplication, but the firm hands at your hips urging you to go faster and faster are anything but passive. His trembling fingers pull your panties to the side and his thumb begins to tap your throbbing clit, the other sliding behind your neck and gently urging your mouth to his.

You don’t hesitate, your kissing him back hungrily as your bodies continue to writhe against one another, your body twitching all over as you pull back, your cunt sliding over Joel’s digits, finding the exact pressure you need. You bury your head in his neck, inhaling him, your eyes burning

"Oh fuck, fuck," he whispers, watching as you ride his fingers. His eyes stay there for a few moments, unable to look away from the arousal that coats his fingers and the way your hands look splayed on his chest.

"Joel," you offer in a cracked moan as his fingers continue to slide along your clit, rubbing furiously as you start to crest.

"Always yours," he groans back at you, his forehead dotted with sweat. There's a fire behind his words, an ember stoked by your moans and whimpers.

Your head is thrown back now, your hips circling his as you chase that nearby high, the pressure building between your thighs until your eyes roll back and you feel your body start to shake.

"Just like that, baby," Joel offers in a rumbled groan as he watches you coming. "You take what you need."

You feel like everything in your body is coming alive, goose bumps breaking it over your skin, your muscles twitching as you release. Your cries are loud and two-toned and Joel can only stare at the beauty of it all unfolding right here in front of him.

"I wanna give you everythin' you need."

His voice is a husky rumble, his eyes never leaving your face. He wants to say so much more to you, to promise you everything you want, to tell you how much he never stopped loving you. But something has shifted in that moment and he sees the way you deflate.

I wanna give you everythin'.

The words are like a hammer over the head. A reminder of the time before, the ugly time you want to push from. It casts this entire exchange in a harsh light that has you reeling. Your orgasm suddenly fades and the warmth of the moment turns cold and stark.

Joel's lusty gaze takes this in and his face turns to concern. He stops his undulating hips, eyes scanning yours.

"What's wrong?"

You crawl off of his lap, your face burning as you reach for your shirt and jeans on the floor. He watches you with his guts churning.

"I'm sorry," Joel says quickly sitting up, his face devastated. "Fuck, this was all my fault. I shouldn't have-"

"No, it's not. I didn't stop you," you tell him, tugging on your shirt, smoothing your hair. "I didn't want you to stop."

You still don't want him to if you're honest. You want to keep going further but this all feels like a line crossed, a self promise broken.

"I should go," you tell him in a gentle tone.

"Is that what you want?"

You think about it, eyes scanning his features and surprised to see only compassion reflected there.

"Yeah. I want that right now."

Joel nods, still half hard in his jeans but he just stands and makes no move to stop you from dressing.

"Want me to walk you home?"

He's so beautiful. His curls are all askew and his mouth is all puffy from kissing. Fuck you missed those lips. You wrench your gaze from them.

"No thanks."

He shoves his hands in his pockets, clearing his throat. “Okay.”

You blink at him, desperate to stay longer, needy for his touch. But you know the longer you stay the worse it will become. He turns his large, puppy dog eyes on you.

"Hope we can still be friends."

You don't reply, you just cast one last look at him and hurry out of his bedroom, your footsteps echoing down the wood steps and out the front door.

The day is chilled but the sun is shining brightly. Maria and Tommy are seated outside on their porch wearing flannels with thick blankets over their legs. You’re standing on the front lawn, your feet planted in the cold grass, hunched over with your arms open wide.

“One…two…three…go!”

Douglas squeals a laugh before streaking towards you on his chubby legs. You grin and take the squirming toddler into your arms, spinning him around eagerly along the front lawn. Douglas loves it when you come over because you always bring treats. You also love to play airplane which is just lifting him up and tossing him a few inches in the air before catching him.

“Plane!”

“Once more,” you insist with a breathless laugh, “I’m getting tired!”

He shrieks with delight as you toss him up in the air, catching him under his armpits and spinning him onto the ground.

He stands abruptly, his tiny fists opening and closing as he reaches up to you making faint grunting noises that you know mean ‘again!’.

“Nope, that was the last one,” you say, hauling him into your arms and perching him on your hip.

He sticks out his lower lip dramatically in a pout before his eyes fill with crocodile tears and a plaintive cry sounds.

“Looks like someone needs a nap,” Tommy tuts, taking him from your arms as you come to the porch.

You and Maria remain on the porch, you breathless and she looking serenely out at the calm street. She shifts in her chair before her voice rings out.

“So you and Joel are friends, huh?”

“What?”

Your eyes blow wide as you glance over at her. She’s wearing a Cheshire grin.

“I heard from a little birdie that you were at their place last week for dinner.”

Has it only been a week? It feels like years since you last saw Joel and Ellie. You’ve been avoiding them both, still wrestling with your decision to leave in the middle of everything.

“Ellie told you I’m assuming?”

“She sure did,” Maria nods. “Came the next morning to tell me and Tommy. She sounded like she was announcing a fucking parade, so loud and excited.”

You wince at the thought of Ellie streaming over here to announce something that never should have happened. You should have left when she did.

“Oh yeah,” you say, fighting to keep your voice neutral. “It was nice to hang out again.

“Sure,” Maria says grinning. “Nice.”

Her smirk drops when she sees the tense way you hold yourself, your eyes on your lap. She turns her concerned eyes onto you, a hand moving to tap your wrist.

“Hey, what’s going on?”

At first you don’t want to answer her.

“I… I don’t know how to move past stuff with Joel,” you finally explain gently. “Sometimes I think I want to see him again. But then I’ll remember something shitty he said or did and it’s like I’m back at page one.”

“I wanna say something cliché like your heart will tell you, but the heart can be a bitch sometimes,” Maria tells you flatly, causing you to huff a surprised laugh. “Has he apologized?”

“Over and over,” you nod.

“And has he been respectful?”

“Yes.”

“Do you like spending time with him?”

You exhale slowly, watching your fingers twist in your lap. It feels weird to be talking to Maria about all of this. You lick your dry lips, cheeks puffing as you exhale.

“Yeah. I really do. He’s changed a lot, but, in a good way, I mean.” You blink rapidly. “He’s better to be around.”

“Yeah, I’ve noticed,” Maria nods. “Gotta hand it to him. Can’t be easy for a guy like Joel to give up control and get so vulnerable.”

You quietly digest this. You were so upset the other night that you didn’t think about how the old Joel would have handled this.

He would have come to your house in the middle of the night, he would have insisted you talk.

But now? Now he gives you your space. He hasn’t tried to intrude on your life once.

“You forgive him?” Maria poses this question tentatively.

A moment or two pass as you consider this.

“He’s not the same guy as last year,” you finally offer.

Maria is solemn as she continues to gaze back at you.

“The truth is you need to learn to trust him,” she explains gently. “I’m not saying forget everything that happened. But don’t fixate on it if you can if he apologized and meant it. You have to trust in what Joel says. Trust that he’s not that guy anymore.”

You’re still quiet, unsure what to say.

“Or don’t,” she says firmly. “It’s totally your decision.”

///

"I think I'm done," your mom announces at the doorframe. "Gonna do one final sweep."

Her hands are stemmed on her hips and she's grinning proudly if she casts her eyes around the room. She wears old clothes and a bandana around her head, her face sweaty from cleaning all morning.

She's been moving things out of your home all week and into her new place near town. It's a small duplex next to her newest friend Shanna, a widow of eighteen years. The two met playing cards and are often seen at the bison or having coffee together.

You look at her expressive eyes and for a moment you can imagine the child she once was. A bit of Charlie, a bit of you, a mischievous smirk on her face.

"You know I should get you some plants for inside," she muses as you sit on your heels, checking her drawers for forgotten items. "Could really make a difference in here."

"This is gonna be storage mom. I don't see how a plant is gonna help anything," you laugh.

"Still," she says in a tone verging on petulant.

Her comment is hardly surprising considering your mom has found her niche in cultivating plants in the greenhouse. She seems better after every shift, a rosy tinge to her cheeks, a lift in her voice. You had a lush garden when you were growing up so it's safe to say she feels right at home.

And while you're so glad that she's making Jackson her true home, you're sad to see her go, thinking of how lonely this place will be without her.

You like the sound of other feet moving along the stairs, of another person making coffee or listening to the record player your mom brought home with her one day.

You insisted she take it with her, not wanting her to feel lonesome. But a part of you wishes you had one of your own.

You survived so much on your own that it seems so silly to think about being lonely.

"Gonna start loading the boxes into the wagon," she tells you, preparing to move into the next room.

"Mom, wait, what about your clothes?"

"I got everything."

"Not from here," you chide as you tug the bottom drawer open.

It looks bare but when you peered closer this morning you’d seen a bit of fabric. You dig around for a moment before producing a lone green sweater with an embroidered collar.

"This was hidden in the back," you tell her holding it up for her to see. "Keep or donate?"

"Keep!" You're mom says with mock horror. "Jenny made that for me!"

She's snatches it from your outstretched hand and goes marching into the kitchen with determination. You hear her moving through the house whistling to herself and setting up boxes at the front door.

You peek inside the drawer once more, satisfied. You're about to close it when something blocks the drawer from closing all the way. You sweep your hand to the back, your fingertips grazing what feels like wool.

"Mom, you still have stuff in here," you shout with an amused roll of your eyes. She's been so focused on getting the new place ready that she's so scattered today.

You reach inside to pull out what you assume is another sweater, confused when it unravels to reveal it's a scarf. A scarf you'd forgotten, assumed lost in the move from your old place to the new. But as soon as you see it, the snagged loops on one end, the tight knitted design; it all comes back to you.

This is your scarf.

You look at the worn item, rolling your fingers along the familiar ridges and loose threads. This scarf is unmistakable, familiar and when you raise it to your nose it smells of outdoors and the lingering scent of your soap.

How did your mom get it?

Your mom comes to the door, responding to your earlier call. You shift, turning when you hear her footsteps over the creaking floor.

"Mom, why was this in your drawer?" You ask, holding the scarf aloft as you straighten and stand.

Your mom is holding a box of dishcloths, but when she sees what you’ve got in your hand she drops it. She follows it, kneeling beside it and shoving socks and shirt back into it with an agitated look on her face.

“Mom?”

She sighs, eyes scanning the ground as if she’s trying to remember. She gives you a lopsided shrug, reaching for a pair of oven mitts.

"Why was it buried beneath all your clothes?"

"Red’s not my color."

She’s acting cagey, avoiding your eyes as she stands with the box, placing it on the dresser.

“Mom.”

"Oh, uh. I brought it from the QZ," she tells you in a quick mutter. "Used to get real cold there."

Even if it weren't for the fact that you know it was certainty that the scarf is yours, your mother's strange behavior would have immediately tipped you off.

"You didn't get it at the QZ mom. You got it here."

"No I didn't."

"Mom this is mine. I've had it for years. I assumed I lost it."

She pauses and you can see the tick in her cheek as she clenches her jaw.

"Then I must have found it when I was cleaning up," she says with a determined nod of her head.

It's almost believable. A passable excuse as to why it would be here. And yet your mom still can't meet your eyes and that tells you everything you need to know.

"Mom are you lying?"

"No I'm not lying," your mom says forcing a laugh. You take a step nearer, your hand still clutching the scarf tightly.

"Tell me the truth."

She looks so small standing there at the threshold of the door, like she's shrinking into herself.

"I'm sorry," she finally says softly, her eyes glassy. "I just... I can't."

"What do you mean you can't?"

"I just... I can't," your mom says again with a plead in her tone.

You can see the anxiety in her face at your accusation but that doesn't stop you from asking again and again.

"I need to know why you have it mom."

“It’s not my place to say,” she tells you in a sharp voice you’ve never heard from her.

"Mom, you have to-"

"Just stop!"

The sharpness of her reply sends you backwards a step. She's always been a funny yet sensitive woman. Never raised her voice never raised a hand to you or Charlie.

Your mom huffs anxiously before grabbing the box from dresser and straightening. You can’t figure out why she’s playing this game.

She moves past you quickly, her hands clutching at the sides of the box. You know that she just wants a breather, a chance to collect your thoughts but you're not letting her get away with that.

You stride after her not willing to let her leave until your curiosity is sated. You slide between she and the front door, arms crossed when she complains.

"I need to go."

Your mom stares you down, her eyes going like tunnels that suck you in. You don't like the shadow that crosses her features.

“You’re keeping things from me,” you say with a wavering voice.

“And you’re not?”

You’re shocked at the challenge in her tone.

“What are you talking about?”

"I think we're both guilty of keeping secrets, honey." Her voice is low and measured, clipped at the ends.

"What are you talking about?"

"I'm talking about the way you live in this house."

"Huh?"

“Why didn’t you move me into that room down the hall from you?” Your mother suddenly asks you, pointing to the stairs. You feel struck dumb by this diversion.

“What? B-because I thought you’d want privacy.”

“Is privacy why that extra room upstairs is empty? Like it’s waiting for someone to come fill it?”

You stand stricken, your eyes wide. You can’t reply to her – how could she know? How could she possibly know your vision of a bedroom for Ellie? How?

Her voice isn’t accusatory, but it slices through the air regardless.

“Is privacy why you got that big bed upstairs? One that you only sleep on one half of, like someone else should be sharing it with you?”

“Mom-“

“Honey, I don’t want to tell you what to do. Lord knows you’re a grown woman, you have a whole life here. But if there is a family out there you want, why the fuck aren’t you doing something about it?”

How does she know about Joel and you? How could she? Jennifer and Luke? Maria and Tommy? Who told her?

You stand there feeling stupidly vulnerable, fear and irritation mixing in your belly. But it's sadness that trumps them all and you feel your lower lip trembling.

“Because I’m scared.”

She softens towards you immediately, her gaze limpid as she watches her daughters overflow with tears.

“I know,” she says quickly. “I know you are honey.”

You watch the creases in her forehead pull together as she pulls you into her arms, her heart rabbit-ing under your ear. She rocks you back and forth, her voice thick.

Just as when you were a child you feel the safety of her arms and the sobs start up. You drench her shoulder with salty tears as she murmurs your name in that loving way she always did.

"You have nothing to be scared of, honey," your mom soothes, rubbing your back as she holds you against her. "You're so strong and you've overcome so many fears. Look at you, surviving the Raiders, starting a whole new life. What do you have to be afraid of?"

You can't say it out loud; you can't commit your fears to the air. Instead you bury your face in her collar, letting her hold you until the sobs subside.

///

The next evening you lay on your couch humming to yourself as you flip through one of Jennifer's hardbacks, cringing at some of the violence in the murder scenes.

"Jesus, Jennifer," you mutter to yourself when another body washes on shore for the detective to find. "Find a Nora Roberts would you?"

You lower the book, tenting it over your stomach. You thought you'd feel the empty of the house more acutely, but in fact you're strangely relaxed.

Moving the last of your mom's things this morning felt cathartic. And even though you couldn't admit out loud your fear of moving forward with Joel, her words do bring you comfort.

You look at the red scarf hanging over the hook by the door. The Bright color catches your eye every so often, stirring something in your mind that you can't quite grasp.

"Look at you, surviving the Raiders, starting a whole new life. What do you have to be afraid of?"

The crimson of the wool turns bright, a beacon as the words repeat.

Surviving the Raiders.

That night, that horrible night when Joel found you. When he brought you to get checked on by the medical staff, when he took you home.

But you didn't have your scarf when you came back did you? You can't remember, that night is a blur of bloodshed and horror. But it's only logical that Joel would have had it last.

You throw yourself from the couch with your heart hammering. You grab hold of the scarf as you go sailing into the fall night.

Everything falls away for you, the thunder of your heart, the pounding of your feet as you begin to walk quickly. The chill settles over you, blowing over your heated cheeks.

Why would Joel give your mom your scarf? They've barely spoken since you got here. You've never seen them interact outside of the introduction you brokered between them.

The house on Rancher Street pulls into view as you steal towards the door, your eyes narrowed. The street is empty, the sun long set and so no one sees you draw to the door and knock loudly.

When someone doesn't answer right away you continue to pound away on the wood.

"Hold the fuck on," grumbles a muffled voice behind the door.

Joel unlocks and tugs the door open brutally, a scowl on his face. It disappears the second he realizes it's you and you watch his breath catch in his chest.

"What's wrong?" He manages to get out, taking a step towards you. "What's goin' on?"

He sees your furrowed brow, noticing belatedly that you hold the scarf on your hand.

You see his neck bob as he swallows, trying to swallow that creature that lives in your chest. The one that leaps and snaps it's jaws excitedly when Joel is around.

"How did my mom get my scarf, Joel?” You ask him with a trembling voice. "“Why won’t my mom tell me who gave it to her?”

"She was supposed to say anythin’," Joel scowls.

"Why not?"

Joel doesn't say anything, but you watch as a flush creeps up his lean neck. He shifts from foot to foot, staying silent.

“Someone gave it to her,” you say as you search his gaze.

"So? Someone gave your mom a scarf. What's the big-"

"Because this is my scarf, Joel. The one I was wearing that horrible night with the Raiders."

He cringes, eyes squeezed closed for a moment. It's clear the memory pains him.

"I want honesty," you tell him firmly. "We're friends, Joel. We tell each other the truth."

"Come in," Joel says when he notices a couple walking by, their heads turned in your direction at the noise. The last thing either of you want is an audience.

You walk in, suddenly become aware that you might have woken Ellie from the garage and you cringe.

“Is Ellie-“

“At Cat’s for a sleepover,” he replies smoothly. “You wanna drink?"

"Water is fine."

Several minutes later the two of you sit with a glass in hand, yours full of chilled water and Joel's full of an amber colored liquid you assume is whiskey.

Joel's foot bobs anxiously as he takes the first sip of his drink, his eyes skimming from the floor to you and then back again, waiting for you to speak.

"I want answers," you prompt him gently. The scarf remains folded over your thighs and you smooth your hand over it. Joel watches this.

"And you deserve ‘em," Joel acknowledges with a weak little smile.

You sit patiently taking a sip of your water, your spine rigid as you wait for him to explain. Joel takes a weary breath, leaning back against the worn cushion of his couch. He looks like he might be sick.

"So uh, after Christmas we were, you know, we weren't talking. And I was going nuts, I mean I couldn't stop thinking about-" he edits himself. "I knew I'd hurt you really bad. I felt fucking terrible, actually and I needed to focus on something. A project, I guess to keep me from spiraling."

You find yourself drawn in by his mellow voice with its hint of twang when he gets to certain words.

"Heather, she's this lady I go to for therapy," he adds for your benefit, "she said that you were very clear with your boundaries and that I couldn't force my affection on you."

"Smart lady."

Joel gives a crooked grin, nodding.

"Yeah. She is. So when I found your mama I told her that the deal was I'd bring her back to Jackson city, but she couldn't tell you it was me." He gauges your expression, brows buckling. "I was worried if you knew it was me you'd think I was doing it just to get you back."

"Wasn't that the reason?"

Joel shakes his head. "No."

"So then why did you do it?"

"Because I wanted you to be happy again," he says so softly you almost have to tilt forward to catch it. "And I knew it couldn't be me that did it anymore. So I went searching for someone who could."

"How did you find her?"

"You talked about finding your mama for so long," Joel says in a broken rasp. "Said how you radioed to the QZ's. So I did the same. Spent a weeks tryin’ my luck until I got a hit back from the Bo."

“How could you find her when I couldn’t?”

“They know me over there. I’ve got connections. Not the kind of people you would have known,” Joel explains. “I had a hunch of where she might be and it took a couple weeks but the hunch was right."

You sit unblinking, confused as to how you never suspected. You were just so happy that your Mom was here that you never gave a second thought as to how she made it.

"I didn't know what her health was like or if she had a horse or if she even wanted to leave." Joel scratches at his jaw, remembering. "So I told Ellie I had some extended patrol stuff and I took off to Denver. Took me two days because I had to stay off the main roads with Midnight."

You imagine Joel riding through the chilled wind, his gaze steady and his features stony. You can imagine his focus as he rode to an unknown QZ on nothing more than a hunch.

"There must have been a ton of women with her description," you say. "And everyone gives fake names nowadays for safety."

“I just had a feelin’ it was her.”

Joel rode two days on a feeling just to find your mom.

"Arthur did me up a sketch based on the photo you gave him for yours." Joel looks uneasy. "I thought if I had a photo it'd be easier to find her when I got there. I gave it to my contact and I found her a couple days later. Your mama liked to lay low in there. When she heard people were searchin’ for her she made sure to stay off the grid."

“Why? What did she do?”

“Helped smugglers. She was good at findin’ folks in need of smuggled items.”

Your cookies and milk gardening mom helped smugglers? The thought is so farfetched that it makes you want to laugh in disbelief. But then you think of the way she easily converses with everyone, how she seems so bold in a new world. She knows people that much is for certain.

"How did she know you were telling the truth?" You ask him, surprised you're mom would go along with Joel on his word alone. “How did she know this wasn’t just a chance to rob her or something?”

Joel exhales softly through his nose, tongue lodged in his cheek as he internally debates.

“Just a sec.”

With slow footfalls he goes to his jacket hung up by the front door. He locates the right pocket, hand stuffing inside before pulling out a small piece of paper.

He brings it back to you with a tentative look on his face, handing it to you and taking his seat back on the couch. The paper is worn, creased deeply from being folded and unfolded so often.

You open it with trembling fingers, eyes widening as you stare back at your own face done in pencil. You’re sitting at a table, smiling gently. Your face is radiant, your eyes bright as you smile out at the audience.

"I don't... How..."

"I asked Arthur for it," Joel whispers to the ground in shame. "I said it was for finding your mama but I kept it after."

You don’t know when Arthur managed to make this but it takes your breath away.

“At first your mama was just as suspicious as all get out,” Joel acknowledges. “Told me that I was tryin’ to fleece her or worse, kill her for her weapons. S’pretty common over there. But when I showed her the picture she just… softened. She started sobbing right there in the alley.”

Your eyes feel glassy and you blink them at the image in your mind. You can picture Joel standing there, holding her as she sobbed against his chest in disbelief.

“I told her where you were and what the plan was. She just kept thankin’ me over and over. I helped her packed her stuff in ten minutes and then we were gone.”

“Ten minutes?” You ask in awe.

“Just enough time to get some food and water, some belongings and she was insisting we not lose daylight.” Joel smiles crookedly at you. "I shoulda known any woman related to you would be a tough cookie. She wanted to ride through the night our first day out."

You can't help but huff a faint laugh, thinking that it sounds exactly like your mom.

“We camped out halfway back and she couldn’t stop tellin’ me about you. How you loved to help her bake, how you decorated your bedroom with band posters, how you were certain you’d marry Ewan McGregor when you grew up.”

“Oh Jesus,” you burst out in a giggle, covering your face. “It’s because he could sing! I was in love with Moulin Rouge!”

“That’s what she said,” Joel chuckles back at you. “She told me how the house always smelled like fancy candles and how you were grumpy when you had to mow the lawn.” His face grows somber. “She told me what life was like with you and Charlie and your dad…”

“Did you tell her…about…?”

“Yeah. I’m sorry, I did. I never would have but she asked.” Joel is solemn. “She said she had a feeling this whole time. She thought she was all alone in the world. It was a rough day.”

He spends a long while telling you about their journey back, about how tough your Mom is, how that first night she was cold but insisted she was fine until Joel forced her to take the scarf he had in his bag. This draws your attention, your legs folding up under you on the couch. But he’s already launching into another part of his story.

“She didn’t wanna keep it a secret you know,” he tells you tentatively. “I asked her to.”

“Did you tell her what happened between us?”

“I mean, I left out certain details,” Joel says with a flush to his cheeks, “but I told her the gist. Told her that I lost you because I was a fuckin’ idiot.”

You want to ask Joel more, but right now you’re overwhelmed with emotion and you feel like this is a good stopping point for the evening, telling Joel as much. You’ve received your answer and while it makes you feel dizzy with information, you feel satisfied.

“Thanks for answering everything. I think I’m gonna head out.”

“Of course.”

Joel stands when you do, following you to the front door. He can see the way you fight to keep focused how your eyes are far away as you lapse into thought. Your mind goes over something she said that first day she came to you.

"There was another guy traveling to a different settlement. I joined him for part of the way."

Joel was the guy. Joel brought her home to you. And he did it without wanting any thanks or glory. He did it to make you happy again.

You stop at the door, the scarf still in your hands and you’re overcome with the need for one final answer.

“Why did you have my scarf in the first place?”

A pause and then Joel’s voice is a husky murmur from behind you.

"It was the only part I had left of you.”

He kept it after that night, a talisman of sorts. All those months you hated him, ignored him, despised his presence he was here with a secret part of you. You turn slowly, seeing how Joel seems braced for your words, like he knows what’s coming.

“You really hurt me Joel,” you say with a tremor in your voice.

Joel stands there looking devastated. “You’re right.”

“And I didn’t deserve it,” you continue hotly.

“No. No you did not.”

“How do I know you wouldn’t do it again?” You sniffle. “How do I know you won’t just flip a switch and turn back into an asshole?”

Joel feels the wind go out from him at this question, a fear he never considered now popping up.

“I mean, I’ve gone to counseling and my therapist Heather says I’ve come a long way,” Joel says. His voice is scratchy. “But I guess that doesn’t really prove anything about the future.”

He doesn’t want to promise roses and perfection, he can’t guarantee anything, and he’s never keeping secrets from you again as long as he lives.

"I don't ever wanna lie to you again," Joel admits after a moment’s pause. "So I can't promise I won't have bad days. I can't promise I'll be perfect. But I can promise that I’ll keep workin’ on myself. And I can promise that I'll never be the reason you're in pain again. Never. I swear on my life."

He speaks with a determination that matches the force of his gaze. He's serious, he's sincere and you feel it.

No, you can't predict the future but you think of the last year and you can admit the many steps he's taken. You've seen his attitude change, the warmth that he's starting to exude.

"Okay," you say with a nod.

What else is there to say? You believe him. This version of Joel would never hurt you on purpose. Never. You know that. You trust that.

You trust Joel.

The gradual realization comes on as you both stand there in silence before Joel needs to share something.

"You know last year on patrols when you said you wanted to be someone's only?" Joel asks you, eyes burning into yours.

You nod, recalling that snowy night with you both on the couch wrapped in blankets, sharing a flask of whiskey back and forth before a fire.

"I don't need love. Wouldn't know what to do with it if I had it. I just wanna be someone's only."

Joel swallows, his voice coming out a cracked rasp.

"Well you're my only and all I wanna be is yours."

The moment feels charged with something you cannot name. A feeling that moves past love, something that feels sacred and real.

There is an inevitability in the moment. Like you were always meant to meet him here with your red scarf in hand. Always meant to cross paths with him, lives stitched together.

The months of animosity fall from your shoulders, the hesitation in you quickly melting away. Your feet move before your brain reacts, as if your body can no longer deny its need for him. You can't hold yourself back anymore.

You rush into his arms, wrapping him around the neck and breathing his name as he squeezes you against his chest in surprise.

“Come home with me,” you whisper through tears. “Come home.”

///

Joel can't understand why you're leading him back to your house, your hand in his, fingers laced tightly, but he’s not about to question it.

You keep sneaking glances at him, childish in your obvious delight. He feels a stupid smile splitting his face every time he catches it, his hand squeezing yours.

The brisk fall evening has you feeling giddy as you and Joel make your way hand-in-hand through the sleepy neighborhoods. This isn’t how you saw the night going, but right now it feels so right.

It's not long before the two of you are at your place and you drop his hand. Joel immediately misses the contact. He watches your hair bounce behind you as you make your way to the front door, pushing inside.

"Shoes off," you throw over your shoulder as yours are slipped off, "I just swept."

"Yes ma'am," Joel grins, toeing off his boots and leaving them at the door.

And now he steps over the threshold of the home he hasn’t stopped thinking about. The home he’s pictured you in with memories of stolen glances. The day he helped you with your sign, the day he came to see you for a walk. All little snapshots he’s pieced together when he imagines you here.

"I wanted to give you a tour," you tell him in a way Joel immediately recognizes as nervous. He moves his eyes from your warm furnishings and sees the way you twist your thumb with your other thumb and forefinger.

You're worried he doesn't want to be here.

"I'd love one," he enthuses. "Been wondering how it looked since you moved in."

He's not lying, he has been endlessly curious since construction began. Catching snippets of information from Tommy over dinner, watching Kevin and Luke carting lumber and tools in a large wagon, overhearing comments on how the place was coming along at the bison. And now he's here seeing the fruits of such labor.

And you, you look so fucking proud as you guide him along, pointing out the fireplace that barely needed any fixing, the wallpaper that came off really easy.

You’re almost prancing as you lead him to the kitchen, glancing over your shoulder to tell him that you just made muffins this morning and he's welcome to have some. He doesn't want to tell you that his stomach is in eager knots at being allowed into your sanctum so he politely declines.

"I had so much help from everyone," you acknowledge. "Tommy, Kevin and Jennifer did all the building. Hank actually helped with the landscaping this summer. I couldn't believe what a difference he made."

Joel knows he should be upset or even jealous that so many people had a hand in creating this with you. But how can he be?

Joel's chest is glowing warm as you guide him around the kitchen, pointing out things and giving little anecdotes; how the framed baking items from Arthur and Cherry.

Joel keeps murmuring "mhm" when you pause but he doesn't even know what you're talking about. He can't tear his eyes from your profile, from the happy way your eyes squint when you smile or the way you motion excitedly with your hands.

You're beaming from head to toe, magnificently in your element and Joel can only stare in awe of you.

"I have my own little herb garden," you tell him proudly motioning to it on the windowsill. "My mom got it started for me.”

Joel smiles with a nod. He’s always liked your mom from the get-go. No nonsense, funny and wickedly smart, just like her daughter. He can see so much of you in her and he wishes he could run over to her place now and thank her for creating you, for bringing you into the world.

"Luke did the cabinets," you say with a tender smile. "Turns out he's pretty good at it. And Cherry did a lot of the woodwork you see on the arches."

You didn't mean for this experience to be a test for Joel, but you can’t deny you do find yourself gauging his reaction to the news that he's surrounded in a home he didn't rebuild for you himself.

"He did a damn fine job," Joel says with a tight nod.

You exhale lightly, relief sliding down your spine. You show him the rest of the kitchen, the bakery, the bedroom downstairs that holds storage.

"I still need to build something in here to organize everything," you tell him pointing at the haphazardly stacked flour and sugar sacks, the mismatched dish towels and pots. "Right now I kinda just throw everything in here."

Joel nods, not saying anything, but in his mind he's already calculating the best built in needed for such a space. You could fit an office in here too if you wanted. But only if you ask.

Come upstairs," you tell him, a few fingertips grazing the crook of his arm. Joel's body breaks into goosebumps at the contact and he nods, following you.

He doesn't know why, he's certainly not expecting to go to bed with you tonight. Perhaps it’s the intimacy of being allowed into your home.

"This way," you murmur, urging him to follow you with a curl of your fingers.

The stairs don't creak like they did the first time he saw the place, when he kissed you against the wall of this very house against its peeling wallpaper, when you claimed each other.

Now the walls are scrubbed clean, repainted with a soft butter color that gives vibrancy to the old house. His hand slides along the banister, impressed at the smooth finish and he pauses, wondering how they got it so perfect.

Wood wax? Linseed oil?

You stand at the top of the stairs, amused at the way Joel takes his time inspecting everything. He catches you watching him and he ducks his head a little embarrassed before jogging the rest of the way up the stairs.

You tilt your head to the open door to the right of the stairs. He goes behind you, standing at the threshold of the room. He looks over your head, curious to find the space completely empty.

"I thought this could be Ellie's room," you tell him with a nervous glance up at him. "I thought she could put her desk under the window, it's perfect for light. And her bed could go to the left there. But, well whatever she wants."

Joel looks into the room in awe, seeing the vision you have for it. Like a phantom image he can see Ellie working hunched over her desk, laying on her bed reading, laughing as you brush her hair. He sees it all.

You take his hand again and Joel doesn't hesitate to clutch it tightly. Wordlessly you guide him down the hall, pointing out the bathroom, the linen closet, the portions of wood that have been replaced.

Joel feels a pang at the knowledge he couldn't help you with this. He would have made sure every part of him existed in this house with you. But that is rightfully his penance, he supposes, all those months without you.

You push open the door at the far end of the hall, eyes flicking up to his as he views your bedroom for the first time.

The bed is large, the blankets and pillows plush. Dual side tables are on each end holding mismatched lamps. A large closet stands on the far side, a faded rug on the floor. Despite its large size it feels cozy and welcoming.

"And I thought this could be our bedroom," you say nervously, finishing the tour.

Your heart pitter patters as you say this and you watch as Joel takes in what you've said, his dark eyes dragging from your bedroom back to your upturned face.

"Our bedroom?"

"If you want it to be."

His stomach swoops at your words. Joel is shell shocked, his fingers gripping the edge of the door to ground him.

"My mom asked me why I've been keeping that room at the other end of the hall empty," you confess to him in a hush when he doesn't reply right away, "and why this bedroom is set up for two people."

Joel's gaze searches yours, noticing the way your eyes have become glossy.

"I couldn’t tell her that it’s because I imagined us living here together as a family," you whisper thickly, not able to find your voice above that volume.

Joel peels his hand from the doorframe, his body turning to fully face you. He tilts his head, capturing your eyes.

"And... Do you still imagine that?"

"Yeah," you nod, lips quivering as a tear slides down the front of your cheek. Your eyes dart between his, anxious once more.

"What do you think about that?"

The words fall from your lips just as his crash into them. His fingers are suddenly at your jaw, holding you there so that he can show you everything he feels in this touch.

You break apart, his arms sliding around your waist to hold you tightly against him. You're both laughing lightly at the passionate exchange before your hands are sliding to his cheeks, rubbing. You stare into his face, his beloved face with all its masculine glory.

Joel stares back, swimming in the beauty of your eyes as you regard him. You're so strong, so beautiful, so independent. A moment of self reflection has Joel tensing up under your fingertips, trying to look away from you as he winces. You force his eyes to yours with a gentle nudge of your fingers.

"What?"

"You don't need me anymore," Joel says and his voice is ragged at the edges. "Maybe you never did."

You move your fingers to his stumbled jaw, urging him to look at you. His rounded eyes meet yours as you speak softly.

"Maybe not. But I want you."

You've always watched Joel's eyes when you were with him before, marveling at how the glossy black would overtake the chocolate brown. You noted how the ends of his long eyelashes were a faint blonde in the sunlight. You mapped the lines at the corner of his eyes.

But tonight you look deeper and see eternity in them. The steady promise of more than this moment. The unspoken voice that begs and promises forever in the same breath.

Your hands move to cup his cheek in a move that is nothing to do with possession and everything to do with adoration.

"I love you, Joel," you tell him plainly. There's no frills to it, no tease or coy twirl to your words. It's straight forward, raw and left there at his feet.

You don't look away from him when you say it as you normally would with such an overwhelmingly emotional confession. There will be no more hiding from each other.

And because of this steady eye contact you see how his eyes grow glassy. You see the quick blink as if he's afraid to miss even a millisecond of you. And now two fat crystalline tears escape like traitors down the side of his cheek.

For a moment he can't speak. His jaw quivers and his lips twitch as he tries to swallow the anguish building in his throat. You wait patiently, your thumb rubbing his cheek as you continue to hold his face.

"I love you so much," he tells you as if it's the first time. He can't stop blinking furiously, as if it will fan away the tears that are continuing to coat his cheeks. "I've loved you for so long. I-I-"

The ugly sob he's been trying to stifle escapes now, cracked and tremulous into the air. In shame he buries his face in your neck, clinging to you with his arms around you, palms at your shoulder blades.

"I never stopped," he says in shaking jolts as he fights to stop more tears. "I never stopped thinkin’ about you."

"Neither did I," you admit, your own hot tears silent. They begin dripping onto the back of his neck, disappearing into his curls at the nape. "I wanted to forget you but I couldn't."

You hold each other in the quiet of the bedroom, both rocking against one another. And suddenly Joel pulls back from you so that his hands can cup your damp cheeks.

"I'll never hurt you again," he swears ardently.

"I know you won’t," you tell him, nodding your head, barely able to because of his large hands. And you do know because you know Joel.

And now his head dips and you inhale as the plush warmth of his lips slot between your own. The kiss is sweet, slow and his hands slide down your ribs to circle your waist.

Your arms crook around his neck, face tilting to deepen the kiss. Had it always felt this perfect? Or is it only now that there is nothing but love between the two of you?

"So does that mean you'll move in?" You ask him when the two of you break apart, needing to lighten the intensity of this moment. "I mean, if Ellie wants to too."

"Of course she will," he promises with a smile that makes your insides tremble. "You know how much she talks about you? Living with you'd be her dream... And mine."

When you beam up at him Joel thinks he might faint. He's dreamed of this for so long, ached for your company and desired your sweet nature. And now you're here and you're accepting his love and he feels fresh tears starting.

You stare up at him with your eyes glassy and soft. The kind of look he prayed he'd see in you again

"I love you," he says again because he can. He says your name in a reverent whisper. "I love you so fuckin' much."

Your fingertips slowly move up his chest, forefinger dragging along the pebbled flesh of his neck before curling around the collar of his shirt.

"Show me?"

You ask him this quietly with a small hitch to the corner of your mouth. One that has Joel's body thrumming with arousal.

His mouth meets yours in a bruising kiss. He slouches slightly to grip you by the back of your thighs and hoists you into his arms, his mouth still devouring yours as he walks you both to the bed.

Yeah, he'll show you.

He'll show you for hours how much he loves you. He'll happily repent with his mouth between your thighs for all the times he was a fucking idiot. He'll worship your body the way he should have been from the start, slow and intentional.

He perches on the edge of the mattress, holding you there over his thighs. He wants a moment to gaze at you, to revel in your presence heavy in his lap, eyes hooded with matching desire.

"You're the only one I've ever wanted like this," he tells you with honesty. "Not just in bed, but in my life. You're the most wonderful woman I've ever met."

You preen under these words. The normally recalcitrant Joel Miller pouring words of affection and devotion over you like flower petals off the fullest branch in spring.

"Biggest heart," he continues as his lips come to press against your neck, "Creative and smart and talented." His tongue comes to swipe against the ticking pulse at your neck. "And you're so fucking sweet."

You don't know if he means in disposition or taste, but you find you don't really care. Not right now. You can only whine softly because it feels so good to hear these things but you're still both so dressed.

Your fingers come to his flannel, urging the buttons open but your hands are trembling in want. Joel takes over, kissing you as he shrugs the flannel from his shoulders, wishing he wasn’t wearing a t-shirt as well.

You stare at the broad frame of his body, a half smile on your face. You remember this body so well, like it’s etched on the inside of your lids.

“I need to feel you, Joel,” you murmur against the notch between his collarbones, just above the neck of the t-shirt.

Joel growls, almost tearing his t-shirt off over his head. Your arms go around his bare torso, mouth kissing his collarbone softly. He's so warm, so firm.

He urges you both onto your backs against the soft mattress, kicking off his jeans and boxers as he goes. You take the time to trace the sharp planes and slopes of his broad body, the strength of his arms and the way his body looks so powerful when he’s naked, his cock jutting.

Joel looks at your face bathed in the gentle light of the moon through his window. His heart thumps heavily behind his ribs at every point of contact.

A beat as he looks at your smile.

A beat as he strokes the flesh of your cheek, causing your eyes to close.

A beat as he leans forward and presses feather light kisses to your eyelids. He feels them flutter under his lips and his own eyes close as he savors the sensation.

And finally a tremulous beat as he whispers "I love you," against your mouth and you reply in kind.

Every inch of your body is explored with his hands or fingers or mouth. Nibbling at the side of your neck, groaning when you make a stilted moaning sound. Licking over the same spot, hoping he didn't mark you but secretly wanting the world to see his claim on you. But not in dark possession, in pride of you being his.

His fingers curl under your panties and you lift your hips to help him divest you of them. They join his boxers on the floor. He runs his hands along your bare thighs, eyes tracing the path over your exposed body and he sighs in desire.

An insecure part of your mind wonders if he'll still desire you the same way now that it's not forbidden. Will his fervor die off after tonight?

As if he can sense this he takes his time dismantling your anxieties, urging you to lay back and relax as he tends to your bare flesh. That you're the most stunning woman he's ever seen. That he's never loved anyone the way he loves you.

You bask in the sweetness of his words, letting them surround you like the sun on your body. Joel watches the serenity cross your features and he feels himself swell with pride.

You reach for him and he immediately acquiesces, tumbling into your arms and kissing you deeply. The two of you are bare and the warmth of your skin against each other puts you into a frenzy.

Your hips begin to roll against his, desperately seeking his cock where you want him most. But Joel doesn’t want to rush this. He gently urges your arm back, hand smoothing down your shoulder, your collar, and your breasts. As if he’s becoming reacquainted with the body that never left his mind.

His fingers wander along the slope of your belly before traversing to the crease of your thigh. He hears as you open yourself to him, thighs spreading widely.

Your thighs widen and Joel begins to tease your outer lips with his fingers, lightly grazing. The sensation causes goose bumps to rise all over your body, your nipples jutting.

He moves his mouth over one, sucking and nibbling just as two finger slide into your core. You gasp and Joel can’t help marveling at how warm and wet you are. The sensation so familiar, so welcoming, so safe.

He wraps one arm under your neck, his mouth moving back to kiss you. Your breathing is loud and Joel is groaning into your mouth as his fingers curl within you.

He continues pumping his fingers in and out of you slowly, building you up in a languid lazy way. He feels your thighs tighten and release over and over, your pelvis tilting to better meet his touch.

You want to cry. Not because you’re upset, not because you’re overcome emotionally, but because it feels so good. The months of your body missing his coming back in full force.

He can’t stop watching your body respond to him, your nipples hard and breasts heaving as you get closer to release. He tears his eyes from your saddling brows only to watch his fingers growing wetter and wetter with each pump.

You’re so perfect.

He strokes and taps and pumps faster. Your throat is exposed as your head tilts back, a low moan escaping you as a shiver of pleasure goes through your middle. He can’t help but lean forward, dragging his lips against that soft place behind your ear.

“I love how you sound when you’re close,” Joel groans.

You give a breathless smile, wanting to say something back but struck dumb as he begins to thrust and curl his fingers, his hot breath on your cheek.

Your thighs are shaking, your lower belly tensing with the approaching wave of pleasure. Joel can feel it, has mapped your body and its all flooding back to him as he keeps the tempo of his thrusting fingers steady.

“Go ahead and come baby,” Joel whispers against your jaw. “I wanna make you feel good.”

At the sound of that rasp in your ear, your voice goes into a stuttering cry of his name, your back arching aggressively off the bed. Joel feels your cunt clench and flutter against his fingers, his mouth hinged open as he watches you shatter for him.

“Just like that, baby, just like that.”

You cry out his name again, your hands fisting into the sheets as he wrings the orgasm from you, slowly and with a deep voice that urges you on. After a few moments with your body pliant you blink your eyes open.

Joel’s thumb is at your hip, rubbing there as he smiles down at you. He’s looking at you with desire and devotion in equal measure.

"You have no idea how much I missed that,” he tells you huskily.

"I have some idea," you giggle, feeling so free with him, so delightfully light, like your love for one another shone a warm yellow light and chased the darkness away.

He kisses your lips, savoring them before moving to your jaw, then your neck, a lazy map down your body. He does this taking his time, listening for every hitch of your breath, every whimper and moan.

Joel's eyes slide open to see you gazing at him down the length of your body. Your eyes are pitched black and hooded with lust, your chest rising quickly up and down.

His hands look so broad and rough against your skin, urging you to open for him so he can move his mouth to your core.

"Please lemme taste you," he begs, his breath hot against your inner thigh. "Please, baby, I've been dreamin’ of it."

His body squirms, trying to slot his broad shoulders between your legs. He’s shifting further downwards but you stop him with a hand at his shoulder, gripping loosely. Your fingers are weak from being curled into the sheets, but he stops regardless.

"Next time," you promise him with a breathless little sigh, "right now I need to feel you."

He nods in understanding, pressing a full-lipped kiss just above your core. Your body trembles as he begins to crawl up the length of your body, his eyes trained on yours.

You wrap your legs around his waist, urging him to enter you. You're tired of waiting. Still smiling Joel tilts back and reaches down between your legs, stroking up the lips of your cunt to find you coating his long fingers with your arousal. You mewl at the contact, whispering his name in a tortured moan.

You watch him grip his cock by the base before slowly dragging himself between the seam of your cunt, watching as your lips quiver with need. You’re still wet and sticky from your previous release and Joel feels heady from the sight and feel of it.

You squirm in the bed, whining as Joel grins proudly to himself, rubbing the head of his hard cock gently against your clit. You hiss his name, biting your lower lip and Joel knows if he continues teasing you he’s going to finish far too quickly.

To think he wasted even a moment of this intimacy with you causes anguish to nudge up next to the overwhelming ecstasy of being in bed with you.

You reach for him, fingers sailing through the night air until they make contact with his chest. There they slide over his flesh until they wrap around his shoulders. He plants his forearms on either side of you, sinking you both into the mattress. Joel smiles at you, that dimpled sincere smile and you think you might die from joy

"I missed you," you whisper.

"Same here," he replies.

Joel can't focus on anything over the tumultuous beating of his heart as he gazes down at you. And it's not your nudity that entrances him the most; it's the open, unguarded way you lay there waiting for him.

"I wanna give you everything," you tell him honestly.

The trust that flows between you both is like an invisible string that he feels tug when you utter this. His hand tilts, his fingers moving a few stray hairs from your face. Your sweet, beloved face.

"I'll take whatever you want to give me," he replies hoarsely. "And I'll give you whatever you want."

“I want you, Joel.”

That burning feeling is there at the back of his eyes again.

Don't start cryin' again, Christ, Miller.

Joel watches you notch him at your entrance and with a hitch of his breath he slowly sinks into you, eyes on your face the entire time. He refuses to waste a second more not existing in the moment with you.

He's not even halfway in when he feels you tense. He stops immediately, thumb rubbing your cheekbone anxiously.

"You okay?"

"Yes," you reply in a sibilant whisper. "It just...feels so fucking good, Joel."

You hear the sound of his smile before you even open your eyes to affirm it.

"I'm gonna keep making you feel good, baby," he says against your cheek, pushing his lips there. "You want that?"

"Yes... Yes," you groan, mouth finding his as your hips begin to roll.

There's no fight for dominance on either side. Just the meeting of equals both desiring to give the other pleasure.

His hands slide under your back, holding against your shoulder blades for purchase, body so tightly pressed to his you feel the drum roll of his heartbeat.

He makes love to you slowly and gently, pushing his desire into you deeply as you grip onto the back of his neck with one hand, the other tight around his shoulder. Your legs are pushed wide by the broad of his body and your breasts bounce with each thrust of him.

“More,” you whisper, your hips rising to meet his. “I wanna feel you everywhere.”

His body moves against yours a little firmer, nudging inside you more. Like he's making a home for himself within you, marking you in a completely different way.

He pulls out slowly, the tip teasing your clit before he sinks back into you, giving a throaty moan at the sweet clench of your cunt around him.

“Fuck!” you cry out at the sensation, your body tingling. “Yes, fuck, just like that.”

Joel smiles against your neck, grunting as he starts to go faster. He thrusts into you quicker and harder and before you can roll your hips once more to meet his your crest is starting out of nowhere.

Your forehead meets his, your mouth open in a silent scream as you jolt under him. Your hands are wrapping around his forearm, fingers digging in and leaving small crescents as you feel him start to fuck you into the mattress.

The pleasure between your legs is building as Joel continues to draw himself out and then bury himself to the hilt, his eyes on your face, gauging every expression

“You gonna come for me again?”

“Yes,” you whisper, brows saddling. “Fuck, yeah I-I-“

You don’t have time to formulate your next thought because a white strip of bliss slices through you, making you hiccup a gasp as your cunt spasms around Joel’s thick and thrusting member.

"You're so fucking good," Joel is rambling, hips slapping against yours as he feels you release around him. "So fucking good, baby. Gonna make me come."

Your eyes crack open, desperate not to miss a second of Joel's gaze. You can't help but grin up at him, your pupil’s heart shaped.

"On me," you whisper raggedly, you're body pliant. "I wanna feel you on my skin."

You want him on your flesh; you want to feel every part of him become yours. You want to melt into each other, to feel his stuttered heartbeat echoed within your own ribs, to be one in the deepest possible way.

He can't stop moaning your name over and over even as he reluctantly pulls from you, even as his hand strokes furiously and his eyes never leave yours. And it morphs into the same three words over and over until he begins to spill himself onto your belly.

"I love you I love you I love you-"

Those three words become a mantra as you whimper and arch, ready and desirous of him, kissing the gold forearm beside your head.

"Joel, please."

Your voice plaintive and needy for him makes his spine tingle and he coats your belly in pearlescent ropes until he's gasping for air, one hand still planted beside your head.

"So beautiful," he grits out, his body trembling from his release as he gazes at himself decorating your flesh. "You're so fucking beautiful."

He collapses next to you in the bed, pulling you into his arms and kissing you fiercely. You both stay like this for hours, touching and kissing until he washes you both up with a warm washcloth.

He snuggles into bed behind you, pulling your back against his front on the side of the bed you’d always reserved just for him. The thought comes to both of you from the ether of bliss as you drift off to sleep.

Home. You feel like home.

///

When you first wake up you do so slowly with your eyes in slits and hand groping for the warm form of Joel beside you. You immediately tense when you're fingers touch to find an empty bed.

It was a dream. It was a fucking dream.

Joel was never here. You never found the scarf. You never told him how you feel. It was all a desperate fantasy you concocted.

Anguish like an ocean wave crashes over you before it forces you into the fetal position. Your brows begin saddling as you're swept out into unforgiving and unkind waters.

It felt so real. It felt so perfect. How could it have been-

"I was made for lovin' you baby, you were made for lovin’ me..."

A dulcet voice singing softly carries through the quiet home before the clattering of pans drifts up the stairs.

Is it fantasy? Desperate ghosts you've created? You don't care, you throw off your blanket and pull on your robe. You move so quickly you trip down the last two steps off the stairs, sending you careening towards the kitchen.

Your eyes blink in order to adjust to the bright light casting the tall figure in silhouette. You take a step towards it, momentarily terrified that this is a phantom, an apparition.

He's standing in front of the stove, the sun streaming in from the window in front of him. On the counter is a small stack of pancakes. His shoulders move under his t-shirt as he flips one in the pan.

Your hand goes to the wall, holding yourself up. You try to say his name, but all that comes out is a cracked gasp.

At the sound Joel turns around with a smile waiting.

"Mornin', thought it was time someone did some cooking for you for a change," Joel says huskily.

His grin is sleepy and his hair tousled, but his lips curve down when he sees the anguished look on your face.

"Baby, what's wrong?"

Without pause he slides the pancakes from the strove top, moving the pan off the element.

You stay supported by the wall, your hands trembling as you watch him approach.

"I thought you were gone... I thought it was a dream."

Joel's face goes soft all over and he closes the distance in two long strides, pulling you into his arms so fiercely your feet momentarily come off the ground.

"I'm never leavin'," he promises you, his voice muffled by your hair. "You never have to worry about that ever again. I won't leave unless you want me to."

You pull back and gaze up at him, your fingers coming to curl around his jaw, thumbs tracing along his warm skin.

"I never want you to leave," you confess, though it's so apparent in the way you focus on him. You press your cheek to his chest. "Never."

"You say that now but you haven't seen my clothes on the floor or dirty dishes in the sink," Joel teases gently against your temple. "Haven't heard me snoring when I have a cold."

You smile to yourself, knowing full well that you'll cherish dirty dishes mixing with yours and the sight of he and Ellie's laundry hanging side by side along with your own.

Before you can tell him just that, Joel's gently urges your face up so that his mouth can lower against yours. His lips are always so soft and so warm and promise you everything you've ever wanted from him.

You melt; your entire body pliant as he tastes you, still in awe of everything that has happened in the last ten hours.

He's never going to fuck this up. He's never going to be the reason you cry. He's going to be the man you and Ellie deserve.

Your kisses turn more insistent, one calf coming to curl around the back of his knee as you crook your arms around his neck. Your tongue dabs his, a whisper of a sigh exchanged at the contact.

Joel knows that pancakes are waiting and the coffee brewing, but it doesn't stop his hands from frantically pulling at your robe's sash.

Your body is naked under the fabric, brought to light as he unties the sash and his hands greedily slide against your bare flesh. Goosebumps rise under his touch and your nipples are already hard.

You're so responsive to him. Will he ever stop being in awe of the way you melt under his touch? His mouth trails to the corner of your lips, pushing your robe off your shoulders until it pools at your feet.

You go to cover your naked form in the bright morning light, showing all your flaws. Joel shakes his head, gently tugging your arms from your body.

"Please don't hide," he whispers as he continues kissing down your neck, licking at the pulse under your jaw, his hands squeezing your breasts as you moan into his mouth. "Never hide from me."

You make a little whining noise when his fingertips begin to pluck and twist your nipples gently, pushing your chest into his big hands.

"Fuck, I love that sound," he murmurs against your collar.

His mouth travels down the valley of your breasts, his hands still cupping them, thumbs grazing against your straining nubs. Your own hands are weak from pleasure, head tilting back as you try valiantly to hold onto his t-shirt.

You whimper when he makes his way to his knees, his mouth never leaving your body. His hands slide over your thighs, over and over, lulling you as his lips trail downward.

He kisses your inner thigh, glancing up to see your eyes closed, giving into the sensation. The sight makes him grin before he urges one of your thighs over his shoulder, opening you to him.

You watch this through lowered lids, lips parted as you watch Joel's face. His eyes are shut and he kisses your hips with a peaceful look, his strong nose brushing against your inner thigh.

"Been dying to taste you again," he rumbles.

Your face is warm with shy excitement when you glance down to watch his mouth dipping lower.

"Joel," you coo, hands in his curls, your back arching, desperate for his mouth at your core.

His broad palms slide over your hips to hold you in place against the wall. Inhaling, his lips graze along your silky inner thigh. And then right there in the kitchen, bathed in warm morning light, Joel takes his time and finishes what he started the other night.

He groans as you fall apart under his ministrations, your hips rolling lazily against his mouth, your cry of his name a slurred chant as you crest.

He watches up your body, needing to see the exact moment you release, struck to find you already gazing down at him with starry eyes.

"I'm so close," you utter shakily, the last word two-toned as you come. Your body twitches and Joel groans, lapping between your legs as your stomach tightens.

"That's my girl," he growls, licking at you as you continue to cry his name.

Your hands are fists on his shoulders, your body finally slowing as you come down from your high. When you finally finish he kisses back up your body, leaving a glossy trail like a map of desire along your skin. He stands upright again, cupping your face and kissing you gently.

"I love you."

Then he helps you into your robe, tying up the sash and kissing you again. When you grin up at him he feels his heart give a tug at that open, joyful look in your eyes. The same one he saw at the lake that day.

He leads you to the table with his hand around yours, setting up pancakes and syrup in front of you. He kisses the top of your head and then moves to get you a cup of tea and him a coffee. You slice up your pancakes, savoring the sticky syrup as you take your first bite.

"Oh that's good," you hum.

"Yeah?" He smiles when he returns to sit across from you, his coffee and your tea steaming. "I'm no baker but I do okay with pancakes."

You grin at him, watching him start to dig into his own pile. You feel dreamy and unreal having him here with you in your kitchen, eating breakfast. His eyes meet yours and they don't dart away.

You grin at him, your hair wild from sleep and your face blotchy from where his facial hair rasped against your soft skin. You're the most perfect thing he's ever seen in his life.

He thinks about your offer to move in, of the way he can already imagine the memories to be made. How your home is filled with touches of everyone you love and how you allowed Joel here before anyone else. Back when it was just good bones.

He doesn't want to waste another moment not being with you.

"Was just thinkin' we could tell Ellie today about us and movin' in," Joel asks tentatively. "How do you feel about that?"

"Fine by me," you tell him with a toothy grin, your body flushed with delight. Truth be told you already brought out fresh sheets, ready for Ellie to spend the night on the couch until her bed was brought here.

"Then after that I thought we'd tell Maria and Tommy?" Joel's dark eyes search yours as you pop another sweet bite into your mouth. "Then Jennifer and Luke and whoever else you want to tell."

He's making it clear to you that he has no desire to hide this relationship. That unlike before when your coupling was hidden away, he wants this announced loudly. You're touched by this and yet you hesitate.

"Could we wait?" You ask gently, one hand reaching to run along his forearm. "Could it just be us for a little while longer?"

Joel can see the tension in your face, concerned that he'll be upset that you want to keep the two of you in a small cocoon a while longer. You just want to exist with him before the world intrudes with its loud ways.

You want it quiet just a little longer.

As Joel said, he'll give you everything and he meant that. He takes your free hand in his, bringing it to his mouth and kissing your knuckles reverently. He doesn't look away from you.

"Anythin' you want."

You're convinced your face will break for how wide your smile is. For the first time in so long your life feels how it was always meant to: quiet and peaceful.

"I'm really glad you're here," you whisper to him.

His hand snakes across the table to grip yours and his voice is thick.

"Me too, baby."

You move your hand to his cheek, marveling at how this same face you started out hating is now the dearest face to you in the world. He holds your hand there with his own, his eyes glossy the longer the two of you gaze at one another without speaking.

In that quiet morning you come to realize that you were right before. This moment, this life you're starting with Joel is a dream.

A dream come true.

Chapter 26: Epilogue One: SPRING

Summary:

Valentine's season has arrived in Jackson city.

Notes:

So, we all know how much I loved these two. And since there was so much angst in the story, I wanted to treat us to some little snippets between our sweet couple. I loved the "My summer Dream" Idea by @swiftispunk and so I will be updating with little seasonal epilogues (SPRING, SUMMER, FALL, WINTER). I know what y'all are gonna say. "Emma, spring starts in March!" well in my world it starts in mid February okay? Because its Valentine's and its too cute and I just wanted to. So there. Happy Valentines to my lovely readers, I hope you enjoy this little slice of life from two characters I sure miss.

Chapter Text

Epilogue One: SPRING

Valentine's season has arrived in Jackson city.

Couples stroll down the streets hand in hand, noses pink from the cold and smiles bright. In shop windows paper hearts of every color are strung up to create a festive environment. The dining hall boasts red and pink paper roses on every table, much to the delight of everyone who eats there. Teenagers look at each other shyly during school, giggling before traipsing home to furtively work on handmade cards in the shape of hearts.

And as for you at Charlie's? Cinnamon rolls in the shape of hearts line the counters. Cookies with pink jam centers are wrapped in wax cloth. Chocolate cupcakes with sweet frosting made pink from frozen raspberries are placed delicately onto trays.

Joel is gob smacked when he sees you pulling out the latest batch of chocolate drizzled tarts.

"Another one? You're gonna give everyone in Jackson diabetes," he chuckles as he moves into the kitchen.

"Some of these are from natural sugars," you protest with a smirk in his direction.

He looks at you with amusement, his hair tousled from sleep and his t-shirt pulled tight around his biceps. He looks impossibly sexy for a man that just rolled out of bed.

He waits for you to place the tarts onto the counter before he slides his arms around your waist, nuzzling into your neck and placing a tender kiss against the soft skin behind your ear.

"You're up early."

"Shop is opening in a couple hours," you remind him as if he isn't already aware. "I gotta keep my customers happy."

You feel him shift behind you, moving his wide hands to slowly slide up your torso. Your breathing hitches as he cups your breasts through your sugar-dotted t-shirt.

"What about your boyfriend?" Joel asks in a husky murmur as he trails his nose against your neck. "You wanna keep him happy?"

The heat of his words against your skin makes your body prickle. Your head falls back against his shoulder, giving into the sensation of his fingers kneading your breasts, fingertips ghosting over your tightening nipples.

"Yeah," you sigh blissfully, tilting your head to face up at him. "I love making him happy."

The sleepy grin Joel gives you could cure any depression, you're sure of it. Just the sight makes your heart throb with adoration.

It's true; you do love making him happy. You love Joel Miller more than you ever anticipated you could love another person. You love him down into your bones. And you know with certainty that he feels the same.

His mouth finds yours, full lips soft and warmed from slumber. His fingers dip only so that they can creep back up, but under the hem of your t-shirt this time.

You gasp when his warm hands heft your breasts, fingers pinching your nipples lightly.

"Good thing I like makin' you happy too," he whispers, nibbling at your neck, teeth scraping against the silk of your skin. "S'my fav-"

"Fuck, seriously? You can't keep that shit in the bedroom?"

Ellie walks into the kitchen with an exaggerated cringe, holding up her hand as if blocking the vision of you and Joel is the only thing that will save her.

You and Joel break apart like chastised children caught cheating on a test. Your face flames in embarrassment as Joel turns to face the sink, hiding the bulge in his sweatpants.

"What're you doin' up so early?" Joel scowls over his shoulder, pretending to fuss with the coffee machine.

"School stuff."

You give Ellie a sheepish grin that she returns with an amused laugh.

"Breakfast?"

Ellie shoves a book into her backpack, slinging it over her left shoulder.

"Have anything quick? I'm meeting Cat before school to go over Math stuff."

You nod, motioning to the counter. "Muffins. Go ahead. You're not meeting Dina?" You ask curiously, noting the way that the girl keeps her eyes on the muffin she unwraps.

"Nah, Dina's really good at math. She doesn't need the extra help."

You've known Ellie for over a year now and you know when she's being evasive. But you also know not to push her when Joel is standing only a few feet away.

"Okay, have fun."

"See ya," Joel calls, finally turning around with a coffee in hand. Ellie gives you both a wave and then is out the door, thrusting it closed behind her.

Joel waits until her footsteps diminish before he gives you a wolfish grin, his hand going to wrap around your wrist. He gently tugs you in the direction of the bedroom, his voice sultry.

"C'mon baby, now that we're finally alone lemme give you an early Valentine's gift."

Joel leaves on an errand and your mom stops by that morning with handmade cards for you, Joel and Ellie along with red knitted socks that display tiny white hearts. You smile thinking about Joel wearing his.

"Just a little Valentine's love," she says pressing a dry kiss to your cheek.

"I've been so busy I didn't even have time to make anything," you say a little disappointed in yourself.

"That's okay, honey. I'm happy to take a sticky bun as payment."

"Did you want to come for dinner tonight?" You ask as you cross the room to bring her a bun.

"Oh, uh, I'd love to it's just," your mom's sputters, her eyes starting around the room. "I just uh, am-"

"Mom are you okay?"

"Fine," she says with a little trill. But she's not making eye contact with you and you can't help but narrow your eyes.

"Spill it."

She straightens her shoulders back, brows saddled.

"I have... Well, a date."

Joel makes his way to Tommy's with a bag swinging over his shoulder and a spring in his step. He's fresh from the shower and still sated from fucking you against the tile in it.

What is it about your soaped up breasts that gets him so hard? He can't explain it, all he knows is that he's never enjoying taking a shower as much before.

He loves the feeling of your fingers clutching his shoulders tightly, attempting to stay upright as he feeds himself into you.

He loves watching where the two of you join, amazed at how beautiful you look taking him, body pliant and eyes blown black.

He loves watching first your eyes, and then your head tilt back, exposing your neck to him so he can lick and kiss and drag his teeth against it.

But it's your voice, wobbly and needy that sends him over the edge every time.

"Joel.. Please... I'm gonna..."

He relishes the sensation of your knees going weak as your orgasm overtakes you, pulling you tightly against him.

"Give it to me, baby. I've got you."

He'll always catch you when you fall.

And now as he moves through the day punctuated with a grey sky he thinks about the feeling he gets when he comes down in the mornings to see you in your apron, cheeks flushed from baking, hair sticking to your temples.

The way his heart swells as you seek his eyes out, as if reassuring yourself he's still there.

His hands are in his pockets, shoved there for warmth as he navigates the trail towards his brother's suburb.

He loves you with a fierceness that scares him sometimes. The kind of love that makes him breathless if he thinks about it too much. Sometimes he wakes from nightmares where it's not just Sarah he's lost, but you as well.

But unlike before when he woke to nothing but an empty mattress, you're always there. You wake up every time and wordlessly pull him into your arms.

You murmur sweet things and kiss his tears. He falls back asleep to the sound of your gentle hum and wakes with you curled around him, like a sentry to his heart and dreams.

Tommy greets him now, pulling the door open and glancing around comically dramatic.

"You bring it?"

"Yep."

"Great, C'mon in," Tommy says ushering his brother in and closing the door. "Maria won't be back for a bit so we have time."

"Where is she?" Joel asks as he toes off his boots.

"Took Douglas to visit Jenny and Luke. Now that they're expectin' they can't stop asking her advice." Joel nods, charmed at the thought of another child in Jackson city.

“You got my stuff?” Joel asks, eyes scanning the room.

“Waiting for you in the greenhouse. You want a coffee?"

"Sure."

Joel sets up his bag on the table as Tommy brings him over a mug of steaming coffee.

"Now I've carved and stained it," Joel says exchanging the frame for the mug and Tommy's hand. "So it's good to go."

"Perfect," Tommy says smiling broadly. "I got some glass from the shop that's supposed to fit in it.

He brings out the family portrait of Tommy, Maria and Douglas that Arthur painted painstakingly over the course of several months. Joel looks at it, still amazed at the attention to detail. Even the faint freckle under Douglas left eye is accounted for.

"What are you and your lady doin' tonight?" Tommy asks before raising his brows. "Aside from each other of course. Or maybe you already got that part done."

Joel laughs, shaking his head "Shut the fuck up, Tom."

Tommy laughs, ducking as Joel goes to give him a slap upside the head.

"Seriously now," Tommy insists, eyes open. "You planning on proposing to her?”

Joel's smile dims at his brother's question and expectant face.

"You think she's expectin' something like that?"

Joel never really thought of something like that. In this new world post outbreak day things like engagements, weddings all seem silly and unnecessary.

You'd never mentioned wanting it either. Always content to hold his arm in public, shyly referring to him as your boyfriend at any opportunity. And he's the same, arm around your waist, calling you his girlfriend, even if it does sound fucking cheesy at his age.

He still says it though because you flush and your eyes fly to his, delighted. And every single time he feels his body grow warm all over with love for you.

"Of course she is," Tommy says rolling his eyes. "Look at Maria. She was so fucking happy the day I proposed."

Joel thinks about this, knowing what a tough cookie Maria is. He hums a response, thoughts distant. He and Tommy head out to the greenhouse to retrieve the bouquet Joel requested. He had to trade Sally the horticulturist one of his old guitar straps for the huge array of flowers, but he doesn’t regret it.

He and Tommy chat a bit longer but Joel’s mind is still stuck on the whole proposal thing.

How would you look at Joel if he introduced you as his fiancée? Would you smile be even broader? Your eyes glittery with excitement? The thought stirs something in Joel, a desperate desire to make you happy. The thought of his ring on your finger.

He walks home a few hours later to the sight of others weaving down the laneway with cupcakes in hand and chocolate smeared on their cheeks. Obviously your treats were a great success. Pride blooms in him as several remark on how talented ‘your girlfriend is.’

So when he makes it home he's surprised to see you looking withdrawn on the couch. You've got a book propped up on your lap but you're eyes are on the fire. A quick glance in the kitchen and the empty display case tells Joel that your sales today were clearly a crowd-pleaser.

He holds the bouquet behind his back, feeling like a nervous teen on a first date.

"Looks like you sold out," he says with a grin, his eyes drifting over your distracted face. He toes off his boots and hangs his jacket.

You don't answer, your eyes reflecting the flickering flames of the fire.

"Baby?"

You blink, broken from your thoughts and turn to Joel with a weak smile. "What was that?"

“I was sayin’ that it looks like you ran outta everything.”

“Nearly,” you say with a weak smile. “Saved some stuff for you though.”

“Thanks,” Joel replies, tilting forth to give you a kiss. You smile against his mouth, taken aback when he retreats, bringing forth the floral arrangement for you from behind his back.

“Woah,” you say in awe as you take the large bundle into your arms. “They’re…they’re gorgeous, Joel.”

“You really like ‘em?” Joel asks, coming to sit next to you.

“How could I not?” You reply with eyes glossy. “These are the most beautiful flowers I’ve ever seen. And they’re real!”

Joel can feel himself beaming with pride. “Sally told me that flowers used to be used to send messages. The language of flowers I think she said it was called.”

“So what’s this one’s message?” You ask, holding the flowers in your grip and inhaling their sweet aroma. Joel brings a hand to cup your cheek, making your heart flip.

“I don’t know if they have a flower that could properly convey how I feel about you, baby.”

You feel your breathing stutter and you kiss him again gently, murmuring your thanks. Joel goes to grab a vase of water for the bouquet, returning moments later to see tears rolling down your cheeks. This isn’t over the flowers, this is something different.

"What's going on?"

He takes the flowers from you, placing them and the vase on the coffee table to be dealt with later. You seem to doubt yourself, opening your mouth to speak before pausing. You draw a breath, finally resigned to telling him everything.

"My mom stopped by earlier. She left you some heart socks by the way."

"Of course she did."

“And it’s silly but…” You sniffle, rubbing your tearstained cheek with the back of your hand "She's going on a date, Joel. A date with some guy in town."

“Okay.” Joel stares at you, head nodding slowly. He can't understand why you look so devastated. "And that's bad?"

"No, it's not bad," you say shaking your head. "It's just, weird."

"You upset?"

Your eyes drag from the fire to his face, lower lip trembling slightly. He has his answer. Joel's left arm tucks you up against him, lips pressing a gentle kiss to the top of your head.

"It feels like a betrayal," you explain gently. "But it makes no sense."

"Feelings sometimes don't."

"She was married to my dad when everything happened," you explain through sniffles against his chest. "And for Christ's sake, my dad's been dead for years. Why should I be upset?"

"Doesn't have to make sense," Joel assures you, fingers stroking your upper arm as you snuggle into his side. “Sometimes hurt just hurts.”

He pulls you into his arms tighter, pressing a kiss to your forehead. You seem a little less upset and he hopes that he said the right thing. Seeing you hurt in any capacity makes his body feel uncomfortable.

You embrace on the couch a little longer, thankful for the way Joel shares with you, the way he listens, the way he loves. You both watch the fire, feeling sleepy and contented.

“I have to bring some tarts over to Jenny tomorrow,” you murmur. “She’s been craving jam tarts like crazy.”

"Sarah's mom was always craving taco bell when she was pregnant,” Joel replies, nuzzling the top of your head with his cheek. “Didn't matter what time of day, she always needed a damn zesty chicken bowl."

"Oh that sounds so good right now," you say with a groan as you remember the crunchy goodness.

This is one of the many things Joel loves about you. He can talk with you about anything, even his ex wife. You've never been jealous, acted offended or even been angry. It's because you love learning more about him. You love hearing him talk about the world before this, the man he was before this one.

Sometimes you do grow secretly upset that you never met before the outbreak. That you missed what a younger Joel sounded and acted like. You mentioned your curiosity once only to have Joel tell you; “tired.”

The fire pops, dragging your thoughts back to the present. A glance at the clock reminds you that Ellie will be home soon and you want to give Joel his gift before she arrives.

“I got you something,” you tell Joel, leaning forward to pull out something wrapped in old fabric from under the coffee table. Joel immediately straightens, brows pulling together anxiously.

“What? Really?”

“Of course,” you tell him with a beam, sitting back with the gift on your lap.

A real, wrapped gift, he observes. Not something uninspired and cliché like flowers.

“But I didn’t get you anything,” Joel says, panic creeping into the edge of his sentence. You look at him confused, tugging down your sweater which has ridden up.

“What? You got me flowers.”

“Those don’t count.”

“Why not?”

“Because it…” Joel fumbles for the right words. “I don’t know, it’s just not enough.”

“Joel,” you say his name with a gentle tease, prodding his knee with your own. “How can you say that?”

“Because it’s true,” he mutters, shame creeping up his neck.

“Says who?”

“Me.”

“Well that’s not true,” you scoff, rolling your eyes. “And I hate to be that cliché girlfriend, Joel, but I’m always right so you might as well just accept that.”

A small smile tugs at one side of his mouth at your playful response.

“Plus,” you say as you reach for his hands, squeezing them in yours, “this is technically a belated Christmas gift. Does that help?”

The fear is replaced with a gentle amusement as he raises his eyes to you.

“Yeah.”

You smooth a wayward curl from his forehead, propping forward on your hands to kiss the tip of his nose before settling back.

“Valentines is always about romantic love, right? At least that’s how it was for me before everything changed in the world,” you say motioning vaguely about the room. “But your gift isn’t that. It’s a different sort of love.”

Joel watches your face, nodding. He doesn’t really know what you’re getting at but it feels like you’re nervous and that alone has his hand resting on your kneecap.

“I actually had these made a while ago. And I was gonna give them to you at Christmas, but then I had an idea on making it a, well a series I guess and you’ll see it and it took longer than expected so, anyway I’m rambling. Here, open it.”

Joel gives you a reassuring smile as he takes the package from you. It has a bit of heft to it, surprising him. He looks down at the fabric pattern, faded care bears in clouds. He remembers Sarah having a similar blanket when she was young.

“No card,” you tell him with a playful grin. “I needed a break from paper crafts. If I have to see another origami flower I’m going to puke.”

Joel chuckles as he tugs the fabric wrapping open, his eyes drifting to the dark blue book. Some folks have figured out how to do book binding here in Jackson and for a while, personal journals were all the rage. Even Ellie had demanded one, only to sketch in it for a bit before growing bored.

What stops his movements in this moment is the name that stares back at him from the cover.

Sarah Miller.

Joel’s eyes dart from the book to your expectant face and then back again. His fingers are trembling slightly as he pulls the book from the fabric wrap, opening it to the first page. The image that looks back at him causes a small rumble to escape him.

There staring back at Joel is a drawing of Sarah. One of her about the age she was in that photo you borrowed from Maria months before Joel broke your heart. The sketched image you could never bring yourself to destroy.

He turns the page and there’s his baby girl; her eyes in half moons as she blows out a birthday candle signaling her eighteenth birthday. Another page is turned and there is his beautiful daughter with an armful of books in her arms, waving out in front of a college.

You stay silent, watching Joel’s eyes widen with each new page uncovered. Your love for him feels all-encompassing, the tears on his cheeks swelling your heart enough to burst. He isn’t upset by this chance you took. It could have gone so wrong.

He wipes absently at his leaking eyes, not wanting anything to drop onto the pages Arthur surely created. Only Arthur could capture Sarah like this. Only Arthur could imagine his daughter so perfectly, a mix of her mother and Joel.

The next page is Sarah with a clipboard in hand and a stethoscope around her neck. She stands looking serious.

“You said she always teased you about your health,” you finally offer quietly. “I thought she would have made a really good doctor.”

Joel is too choked up to answer, but he turns the page to find another drawing of an adult Sarah, only now she’s in a police uniform, beaming. The next page is her in a classroom, her name in curly writing on the board.

He flips through the book and sees his daughter at different ages in different jobs. A teacher, a zoologist, a baker (you smile very wide at that one), a politician behind a podium.

“I couldn’t decide what career fit her best,” you explain, “so I thought we’d explore some scenarios. Maybe you know which one she would have been.”

“She always wanted to be a photographer,” he whispers, his voice thick.

“Shoot I didn’t think of that.”

Joel pauses, his fingers dragging along the edge of the next page as his heart seizes.

On this page is a sketch of Sarah wearing a simple white dress, arm in arm with Joel in a suit. Joel sees the sketched diamond ring on her left hand and realizes that this is the imagining of giving his little girl away at her wedding.

“I know you’ll never get to see Sarah accomplish these things in real life. But I thought this could be a sort of tribute to the life she never got to experience. In this world Sarah can be whatever she wants to be and you can watch her.”

The book ends with a painted image, one that causes more tears to stream down Joel’s cheeks. It’s he and Sarah at the age he remembers. The two of them are at the beach, Joel’s arm slung over Sarah’s shoulders. She hugs him around the middle, her head tilted against his chest. They’re both smiling at the invisible camera and Joel looks about to laugh.

Joel looks down at the collection of picture of his daughter, the different stages in her life, and the different possibilities of what she could become. A doctor, a painter, a teacher. The life he always wished Sarah could have experienced. Months and months of work have gone into this. You did this all for him.

His eyes go to yours.

Marry me.

The proposal is there, almost escaping his mouth as he gazes at you, but he bites it back. This isn’t how he wants to do it, blurted out on the couch. He needs to do something special, something that’s just for you two, a private quiet moment. Something worthy of you.

But first he kisses you deeply, hands on your cheeks, tears in his eyes. You kiss him back, body melting against his, hands lacing behind his neck. You kiss like this for several moments; slow and sweet and stronger than just lust.

You eventually pull back to search his glossy eyes, your voice tentative.

“Do you like it? Really?”

Marry me because I have never loved or been loved like this. Marry me because you’re the kind of woman who it feels so natural and good to love. Marry me because you stitch up my wounds and heal me.

“I love it, honey. Thank you.”

Hours later the two of you are in bed. You’re particularly exhausted after all your weeks of prepping and baking. You fall asleep in under five minutes, kissing Joel’s shoulder and passing out with a pillow hugged to your front.

You often start the night snuggled up against Joel, arm limply over his belly. But if he keeps reading and his light is on you curl away from him, grumbling with your back to him. But tonight it seems that even in sleep you want to face him, your beautiful face soothed by sleep.

Joel slides his glasses up the bridge of his nose, falling into the novel he’s been making his way through. Something you got him for Christmas that he hasn’t gotten around to finishing. He relaxes against the pillows, dark eyes scanning the lines of script, but all his mind can fixate on is you.

You made that book before you’d even got back together. You made it when you still weren’t sure about how you felt about him. You kept that book instead of destroying it, even when he broke your heart. And you added to it, a photo love letter to he and Sarah.

Joel glances over at your form lit by the lamp. He smiles fondly at your face squashed half on the pillow, your limbs askew. You make a soft cooing sound, readjusting the pillow before falling back into a deep sleep.

He takes his time to follow the curve of your lips, the way your lashes fan against your cheekbone, the way your nose wrinkles as you dream. He could watch you for hours if he had it in him. Something about your face is so dear to him, so grounding, so comforting. He doesn't know if it's the sum of your features or he's just so incredibly in love with you that it wouldn't matter what you looked like.

"I want you to be my wife," he whispers knowing you're dead to the world and can't hear a thing. Your breathing continues on even and slow.

"I've never loved like this," he continues quietly. "Never loved anyone the way I love you. You make me better. You make me believe I'm good even when I don't think I am."

His voice hitches on the last word, surprising himself by the emotion overtaking him. It comes out louder and choked. It stirs you into wakefulness.

The sound of his quiet anguish pierces through your groggy state. He sees the way your head slightly lifts.

"You okay?" You murmur, eyes still closed as you blindly grope for him.

Joel takes off his glasses, placing them beside the lamp he twists off. He looks back at you still waiting for him before snuggling under the sheets and pulling your sleep warmed body against his.

You sigh happily into his neck, arm slung around his middle. He gives a watery smile into the darkness before pressing a kiss to your temple.

"I'm okay, baby. Go back to sleep."

Chapter 27: Vignette: Stay

Notes:

POTENTIAL SPOILERS FOR THE LAST OF US 2 SO DON'T READ FURTHER IF YOU DON'T KNOW WHAT HAPPENS
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Still here? Okay. Cool.
This chapter is a little SMTL extra that has nothing to do with the 'Seasons' installments. It takes place 5 years after our lovers got together. Inspired by March 3rd. For those that know, know.
In this world Joel doesn't go on patrol that day. In this world things are brighter. In this world, Joel gets the ending he deserved.

Chapter Text

"Stay."

Your voice reaches out to him in the darkness as Joel lifts himself from the bed. He stretches, groaning. He looks back at you, eyes blinking in sleep, shoulder of his old T-shirt slung low over your left shoulder.

"I gotta go, honey. Patrols-"

"They'll survive without you for one day, Joel."

Your voice is thick with sleep, your hair mussed from where his hands were tangled in it last night.

"If I don't go then nobody goes," he reasons.

Joel is a man of duty who knows what it means to do what's right. But the March snow has built up heavily and there's no reason to go out.

"Nobody needs to go today," you mutter, curling forward to get closer to him.

He doesn't miss the chance to sneak a look down the gaping neckline of your sleep shirt as you do. You give a drowsy smile his way when you notice.

"Come back to bed where it's warm."

Come back to me. I’m warm.

Your hand winds around his wrist, tugging him back to sit on the edge of the bed. It creaks and he gives a long suffering sigh before fixing you with a level stare.

"Joel," you say with a voice just as stern as his expression, "you've been pulling doubles all week."

"They needed me. Ethan's been sick-"

"It's time to take a break."

You can feel the mood shifting darker. It's not just patrols that has Joel feeling like this.

"I just need to clear my head."

You've had five years of nights spent in Joel Miller's loving arms. Five years of kissing and lovemaking and murmuring promises of endless fidelity. Five years of living in a home you feel was made a home by the addition of Joel and Ellie.

And almost two of those years have been without the sarcastic teen who felt as close to being a daughter to you than you ever thought possible.

You've missed her terribly. Her moratorium on Joel didn't extend to you, but as his wife it also didn't exclude you completely. It was a tightrope of making sure not to offend either party.

You kept their confidences, never tried to convince Ellie of anything. At almost twenty one she was a grown woman who could make up her own mind. It hurt of course, but you couldn't chance losing her.

"I think there's a chance at a happy ending here," you say moving to your elbows, your shoulders at your ears as you give him a once over. "I saw the two of you the deck last night talking about Dina."

Joel sighs, his dark eyes moving to the window to watch the snow gently falling.

"It's a start."

Last night was the first time Ellie has been home since the whole fight. You knew that day would come eventually, knew it back when Joel's first confessed it to you. Knew that Ellie's response would be nothing less than a volcano erupting.

You ache for him, knowing how brutal this experience has been for him. You don't want him braving the cold Wyoming March day. You want him here where you can hold him and love on him. Where you can soothe the sting.

And you know his mind is going a mile a minute, trying to figure out his next moves. You watch his broad shoulders squaring and you can tell he's debating whether or not to leave for patrols.

You make the decision for him.

His wrist is still loosely held in your grip and you urge it slowly underneath the blankets where you wait warm and inviting. He glances over to see what you're doing, eyes traveling from your face to where he can no longer see his hand.

Your body is already thrumming by the time his fingers are led under the hem of your sleeping clothes and positioned over your weeping slit.

"Baby," Joel warns in a husky murmur, even as his fingers begin to work of their own accord, parting your sex.

You let out a soft shudder, arching when you feel two fingers breech your cunt, thumb lightly grazing your clit.

"Stay," you whisper, eyes glossy with desire.

He smiles sweetly down at you, chuckling as your arms crook around his neck, dragging his mouth to yours. Cozy and warm under the covers, Joel strips you both of your nightclothes. You run your palms down his flanks, desire darkening your eyes.

With the falling snow outside your window muting all outdoor sounds, Joel slowly feeds himself into you. His breath is hot and damp on your skin as he tells you how much he loves you. You echo it against the hollow of his neck, his cheek, his temple.

One hand begins gripping the headboard, the other grasping your ass as he pistons faster and faster. You both come with words of adoration on your tongues, collapsing next to each other panting and smiling.

A short while later you bring coffee back to him waiting in bed. He's sitting up against the pillows, his broad chest flexing as he inhales. You see his dark eyes fixing to that window again and you pad towards him.

He takes the coffee from you gratefully, the steam billowing as he lifts it to his plush mouth.

"Folgers?" He teases.

"Run of the mill bean water I'm afraid."

You crawl under the covers and snuggle back against him, your own mug of tea warming your hands. He lifts his arm, pulling you tightly into him. He's quiet, thoughtful as his eyes return to the window.

"You still upset about Ellie?"

He lowers the mug to the table beside the bed. It chatters gently. You do the same, your eyes going to his face, seeing the tentative concern etched into his expression.

"I'm just not sure how to... Keep the momentum I guess." He frowns.

"Good thing I invited her and Dina for dinner tonight then."

His eyes move from the window over to your smirking face.

"You did?"

You know that Joel doesn't like when you meddle in his business. But you also know that if you didn't, things wouldn't progress.

"You two are the most stubborn people alive," you reason. "And even with therapy both of your communication skills could take some work. Figured you two could use a little push."

"You shouldn't have done that," His words are firm but his tone is anything but. "It wasn't your place."

You rest back on the mattress, stretching your arms behind your head.

"I'm your wife, Joel. You have to love, honor and obey remember? And before you start getting pissy you should know that she and Dina are both coming and they're bringing pop tarts for dessert."

Joel tries to muster up some anger, knowing you shouldn't fight his battles for him, but his gratitude for you in this moment is too strong.

All he can think of as he gazes at your sweet smile is that you did this for him. You want him to be happy. And he wants to be worthy of that trust and care. A hand comes to cup your cheek, thumb lightly dragging across your cheekbone.

"What am I gonna do with you?" He says with adoration dripping from every word.

Your eyes search his.

"You're gonna stay."

Joel's muscled arms pull you into him, your spine kissing his front, vertebrae intimately acquainted with the planes of his chest, the muscle of his abdomen. His breath stirs the hair at your temple as he settles behind you.

"Yeah. I'm gonna stay."

Chapter 28: Epilogue Two: SUMMER

Notes:

Two things:
AHHHHHHHHHH HELLO TO ALL OF YOU! I have been kicking my feet, twirling my hair, reading all your comments and absolutely swooning while hating that I cannot tell anyone in real life about this milestone he he. Thank you!
Secondly, someone asked if I would be comfortable if they had my book bound and I've gotten a few iterations of over the years I've been posting. So I'll just make it real clear here:

- I am NOT okay with my works being shared outside of my blog/a03.
- I am NOT okay with my works being transcribed into other mediums (scripts, podcasts, etc)
- I am NOT okay with my works being professionally/amateur bound, even for personal use. I don't even love the idea of my books getting downloaded onto e-readers but I accept that this comes with the territory.
- I am NOT okay with others profiting from my work. I am a woman who writes for my passion and for my community.
- I AM totally fine with folks doing video edits, artwork, moodboards, etc about my stories. In fact I am delighted when I see them.
- I DO love y'all
I hope this clarifies things! I am NOT offended at all at the person who asked this. I am really delighted that they would ask me instead of just doing it. However, So Much to Lose is currently being edited (so many grammar issues!!) and I will be adding extra scenes that didn't make it into the first draft. The final finished e-book copy will be distributed when the seasons Epilogues are completed by myself and myself only.
In the end I'm trusting that if you truly enjoyed my work you will respect my beliefs around it.
Love, Emma

Chapter Text

There are some days that you wake up and still cannot believe that Joel Miller is there beside you, slumbering on his belly, cheek squished against his pillow, lips plump.

And it's not just because it's Joel, but because you never thought you'd have this. This sweet, companionable safety with another person. You had just assumed the rest of your life after The Group would be one that involved moving from place to place, terrified of your own shadow, never setting down roots.

Could you have ever imagined that you'd run a bake shop? That you'd have your mother less than fifteen minutes from you? That you'd have a place to call home? Could you have ever imagined a man beside you in bed, one so beautiful and strong and caring? Could you have ever imagined finding love? True, unflinching, raw love?

Is it any wonder you move through life with an almost permanent grin on your face? Or why just the sight of him across the breakfast table makes your body prickle excitedly?

Whatever it is, it prompts you to press a ginger kiss on his stubbled cheek, careful not to wake him this morning. He can be a bit of a grouch when he doesn't get enough sleep.

You pad past Ellie's room, smirking to yourself when you hear her snoring.

Like father like daughter.

You make your way downstairs before yawning as you set up the coffee maker, Joel brought the day he and Ellie moved in. The early morning summer heat is already muggy, leaving you sweating in shorts and a light white T-shirt: one of Joel's. You like how it feels to wear it.

As the coffee brews you scratch at a piece of batter on the counter that you missed cleaning the other night. You've taken a few days off of making new items for the bake shop. In this heat you hate toiling over the oven. Instead you have day-olds waiting for anyone to grab on the table outside the house.

Today is a lake day. A blanket-picnic-and-swimming kind of day. Jennifer mentioned it yesterday and you agreed, knowing that the oppressive weather will put everyone in a bad mood.

You hum quietly to yourself, packing a few items into the small piece of fabric, tucked into the basket. Things like bread and cheese, a bottle of homemade lemonade from Jennifer, cookies you made yesterday. You also decide on a few strawberries from the greenhouse your mom works at before popping the basket into the fridge. Strawberries were always your favorite, Charlotte was more partial to raspberries.

Charlotte. Charlie. Her birthday is coming up this week. Something you've been putting off thinking about because it puts a pit in your stomach.

You move the coffee maker, pouring yourself a cup with a yawn. You're so tired lately.

You've been having nightmares the last few days. Ones that make you wake up with a start, shaking. Ones that previously sent you rushing to Joel's house.

But now you wake up, startled and you see him there in bed next to you. No need to leave the soft comfort. You can always snuggle up to his back, arm around his waist, kissing his spine through his t-shirt.

Sometimes his sleeping form turns over in a haze of half slumber, hugging you to him instinctually and just like that the nightmare are gone. Joel chases them away.

You want to focus on something else. Something happy. Something that will chase the gloom from your morning. You pour the sugar into your mug, taking in the way the sunlight streams through the windows and you breathe deep.

There's joy in the little things, in taking a moment to see them.

Your mother arrives right as you come to sit on the porch swing Joel built you last month, coffee in hand. She moves up the steps smiling slightly, her forehead shiny with sweat. Judging by the basket she totes she was in the greenhouse.

You sit up a little straighter in your chair as your mom shuffles over the wooden porch slats, her body language more tentative.

"Hello, angel," she says with her eyes dipping to your hands around the mug. ""Since when do you drink coffee?"

"Joel turned me onto it," you say without smiling. "Only drink it when I'm tired."

She nods like this makes sense, her eyes scanning around the space before she gives a warm smile over your shoulder.

"Morning Joel."

Your eyes follow hers to see Joel pouring himself a cup of coffee. You didn't hear him come down the steps, not since he fixed the creaky stair. His hair is damp from the shower and it curls into his forehead in a way that still makes you swoon.

"Mornin'," he says with a genuine smile to your mom. He carries his own mug outside, coming to join you on the porch swing.

"Mornin' baby," he murmurs placing a kiss on the top of your head before turning his attention to your mom who still stands awkwardly. "To what do we owe the pleasure?"

"I just came for some dinner rolls if there are any left."

"Sorry, all gone," you say quickly. You see how her brows furrow at your cold tone. You usually always save her a bag. At least you used to.

"Really?"

"Yep. They were really popular."

Joel watches this exchange from behind his coffee, eyes scanning from face to face.

"Oh. Darn."

Silence settles between the two of you. Your mother tilts her eyes to the side of the porch swing and then back to your face.

"Maybe you could save me some on Friday?"

"I'll try," you say to Joel's knee. "But they're pretty popular so..."

You trail off, feeling your mother's eyes on you. She nods, exhaling softly.

"Well, I'll come by anyway. Just in case."

"Okay."

"Love you, sweetie."

"Love you too, Mom."

She gives a wan smile Joel's way. "Bye honey."

Joel waves her off with a smile, waiting for the door to close before he turns his attention your way. You're sagged against the seat, looking devastated. As if he knows exactly what you need, he lowers his coffee mug to the ground and you watch passively as he slides along the bench seat towards you.

Despite the early heat of the day you let his arms circle you, bringing you against his broad chest.

"What's going on, baby?"

His voice rumbles in his chest under your cheek. His t-shirt is warm against your skin, it smells of him, of the carvings he often works on. You take a deep inhale.

"You know why she wants those dinner rolls, Joel."

His reply vibrates against your cheek. "I have an idea, yeah"

You pull back to raise your face to him.

"I'm not going to feed some asshole she's getting her kicks with."

Joel tries to stifle a laugh at your indignation.

"Last time I checked William wasn't exactly an asshole," Joel says gently.

William Huffman is a seventy year old man who lost his wife when the outbreak happened. He's prone to booming laughter and he works in the gardening sector with your mom. He's got a full head of white hair and a thin, matching moustache.

Being one of the few Jewish members of Jackson City, he's always keen to speak about his religion, bringing Chanukah into winter festivities and in general being a pillar of the community. Everyone loves him.

You fucking hate him.

"And I wouldn't say they're getting their kicks," Joel adds. "They've been together almost six months."

"Trust me, I know that. I have to look at his ugly face at town meetings and breakfasts and events."

Joel sees the sheen to your eyes and cups your cheek gingerly, holding your burning face in place. "Your mama seems real happy."

You blink your tears back, frowning. You know that it is wrong to be this upset with your mother moving on. That your father has been gone for decades. But still, this injustice rises in your chest whenever you see her and William together.

Joel's right though. She does seem happy with him. They hold hands and go on walks. He makes her laugh.

"I want her happy," you confess. "I just don't want to have to see it."

A short while later Ellie trudges into the kitchen rubbing sleepy eyes and yawning.

"What's for breakfast?"

"Whatever you're makin', kiddo," Joel mutters from beside the counter, fiddling with a piece of mechanical work he's helping Tommy with.

"Ha ha," Ellie says rolling her eyes, hitting his shoulder as she passes him. She looks your way. "Please tell me I don't have to cook. I've missed breakfast at the hall."

"Cinnamon buns in the fridge," you tell her with a wink. Her smile grows wide.

"Fuck yeah."

Joel's eyes slip from the item in his hands over to Ellie moving to the fridge. "Language."

Ellie turns, talking through a bite of cinnamon bun, one cheek bulging.

"Like you're one to talk, old man."

You see Joel's mouth twist in amusement.

Some mornings you watch he and Ellie over your coffee mug. You smile at the way she teases him but never looks away from his face when he shakes his head, smirking. She's observant, taking in the expressions he makes, gauging if she's really amused him. When he laughs she laughs harder.

She adores this brooding man who has smiles only for the women in his life that he loves. She trusts him in a way you don't see her showcase with anyone else. It makes you feel honored when she builds that same trust with you,

It had been easier for you. Ellie never really looked for a father figure in her youth, but she yearned for a maternal one.

You'd never wanted children, never wanted to worry about a child in this world or the one before, but for Ellie you would make the exception. She felt natural to you, like a piece you didn't know you'd been missing.

With Joel the puzzle was complete and the home you've created together is something you never thought possible.

"You wanna do me a favor?" You ask her, grabbing the box you prepared last night. "Can you drop these at Penny's today? I wanna grab a spot at the lake before all the good ones are gone.”

“Is Joel going?”

“After he’s done tinkering in the garage,” you mumble, distracted by Ellie and your mother’s previous appearance.

"Sounds good. Save me and Dina a spot." Ellie takes the box from you before tossing her hair into a ponytail. You look at the snags there.

"You need to brush your hair."

"Yeah yeah, whatever mom," Ellie says in a mocking tone before she's out the door with you giggling after her.

Joel hates the heat.

Hates the way his t-shirts cling to his back. Hates how stuffy it feels in the bedroom even with the windows all open. Hates how his curls stick to the back of his neck.

But he sure doesn't hate seeing you in the shorts you've made cutting an old pair of jeans. Doesn't hate how you don't wear a bra some days and he can see your tight buds peeking through thin fabric.

And he really doesn't mind you in a too-tight swimsuit as you slice through the water at the lake that afternoon.

He found the suit during a scavenging mission with the team and shoved it into his pocket. You'd been beside yourself when he gave it to you, practically screeching with excitement.

The lake is busy today, families and groups all clumped in groups eating and talking. Some have guitars and play upbeat melodies. Children shriek with laughter as they take off down into the water.

Joel was supposed to be here a half hour ago, but his electrical project longer than expected. He carries a towel under one arm, a thermos and basket in the other. You packed it this morning and in your excitement you forgot it.

"Tell me you have cookies."

Joel turns to see Ellie and Dina strolling towards him, the former reaching for the bag Joel brought.

"Hey hey," he says tugging it out of her reach. "Apple first."

"Oh for fu-" she stops herself when she sees Joel raise a brow. She sighs, hand out. "Apple please."

"About time, Jenny!"

Your hair is slicked back from your eyes, glistening. You paddle towards Jenny, your voice carrying over to your friend as she wades into the water.

Joel can see the belly stretching from under her shirt, noticing the swell of her ankles as she moves over the rocky shore and into the placid river, And for a moment he's transported back to when Sarah's mom was pregnant. He remembers the late night taco bell, the backrubs, the morning sickness.

"Didn’t expect to see you here.”

Joel turns to see Tommy, Maria and Douglas making their way across the baking ground.

“I thought you hated crowds,” Tommy says, laying a blanket down next to Joel's.

"Nowhere else to be on a day like today," Joel reasons, shielding his eyes with his hand.

"Looks like a pretty full picnic basket-"

"Get your own," Joel says gruffly, slapping Tommy's reaching hand away.

Maria comes up behind Tommy, helping a grinning Douglas make his way across the soft grass, giggling and babbling to his mother. It's been amazing watching the changes in Maria, seeing how she's coming back to herself, finding her strength and her joy again.

Joel knows a large part of that is thanks to you. She releases his hand, watching as he waves at those passing by, his tight curls shining in the sunlight.

"You gonna say hi to Uncle Joel?" Maria asks as they get closer.

"Hi," Douglas says before pointing at the dock near the far end of the lake. He looks back at Maria, pointing at the wooden slats. "Mama!"

"I promised I'd take him to the dock," Maria says with a bright smile.

"Lemme take him," Tommy suggests, reaching his arms out to his son. "You take a rest."

Maria hands Douglas off, coming to sit next to Joel on his blanket. She watches the two of them with her hand shielding her eyes from the sun.

Joel smiles at the scene, watching his little brother being a father. And yeah, it hurts a little bit, but he doesn't fault his brother for it because the joy is there under the sting.

"You enjoying the heat?"

"Fuck no," Maria says with a grimace. "The sun? Yes. I'm done with our fucking winters. But this heat? No thanks."

She pulls down the straw hat down, shadowing her face. One of the old ladies in town is a whiz with basket weaving and it was only natural that she'd start making hats so the Jackson inhabitants could beat the heat.

Joel looks over and can see Tommy and Douglas have reached the dock. They weave through the sunbathers, offering quick hellos.

Douglas leans over the edge to look at the lapping water with Tommy holding him around the middle.

"He's growing up fast," Joel observes.

"Too fast."

Douglas sees you and Jennifer from the dock and he waves at you. You give a wide wave from the water, smiling and saying something Joel can't hear.

"Tommy can't wait to take him fishing," Maria says with a light chuckle.

"I'll have to join ‘em," Joel says. "Tommy's a shit fisherman."

The two of them smile, still gazing at the families around.

"She looks like she's having fun." Maria says this as she motions to you in the water. "It's always nice to see her so happy."

Joel's eyes turn to Maria, seeing the sheen there. The gratitude for you even months after everything you did for her. You never bring it up, never make it seem like she owes you anything.

You're pointing at Jennifer’s belly, falling backwards into the water as you both giggle. The sight brings a smile to Joel's face.

"She's always been such a natural with the kids around here," Maria sighs happily, eyes scanning the dock for Tommy and Douglas as they start to move back.

"Mhmm."

Joel has always been attracted to that softness inside of you. That ability to connect with humans and animals without hesitation. The first time he saw you with the infant Douglas in your arms he'd felt his heart skip at the sight.

"Surprised the two of you haven't started on a family of your own."

Joel is ripped from the good memory and thrown back into his body, overheated and irritated.

His eyes drift over to you, seeing the way you swim to Jenny, touching her belly at Jenny's insistence. It looks like you feel the baby move because your eyes go owlish and you cover your mouth in shock.

You look so bright-eyed and eager, pulling your friend into a tight hug. Joel watches the two of you embrace before you both start talking rapidly.

Do you want children?

You've never talked about it and not because you've been avoiding it, it's just because it's never come up. Condoms and pulling out were never in question, just assumed.

That doesn't mean he doesn't imagine how it would feel to truly finish inside you. He can only dream about how good that would feel and look.

He can imagine you pregnant, waddling around in your apron or going to visit the horses. He can imagine your breasts growing plumper, your curves softer, bouncing on his hips in the bedroom as the sunlight streams in through the windows. There is nothing more appealing than that image at this moment.

But Joel doesn't want to be a new dad.

Being a parent to a newborn is screaming, little sleep and colic. Toddlers are messy and loud and require constant supervision.

And if he were younger would he love a child with your expressive face and sweet disposition? Would he love coming home to you with a baby on your hip and a kiss waiting for him? Of course he would. But that's never been you. And he's not a young man, the world outside the gates are bleak.

He had Sarah, he's got Ellie, he's satisfied in that department.

But are you?

Joel can't help but glare at Maria for her comment. Why the fuck does everyone think they can comment on his relationship with you? Joel is a private man; you are a private woman with certain things.

"Just you know," Maria adds awkwardly, "marriage, babies... It's kinda the next step isn't it? Permanence?"

Joel sighs heavily, shaking his head. Between the heat and this conversation, his irritability is growing.

"What's more permanent than living with her? Making sure she's taken care of?"

"I didn't-"

"What's more permanent than her welcoming me and Ellie like it was always supposed to be the three of us in that farmhouse?"

"Joel, I -"

"She wants something, I get it for her. She mentions a swing, I build it for her. She wants apples, I'll grow the fucking tree myself. Anything that woman wants, I will get for her and I’ll do it with a fuckin’ smile on my face because she is everything to me."

Joel knows his tone is sharp but he can't stop.

"What's more permanent than me being willing to die for her without a second though, hmmm? What more can two people need from each other if not that?"

Maria blinks the surprise from her eyes, understanding reflected now. She's never been a woman to mince words and she moves back to survey Joel as if through a new lens.

"You're right, Joel. There's nothing more you two need."

She seems easily subdued on the subject which makes Joel wonder why Maria of all people would bring this subject up. It takes him a minute, but Joel sees her eyes sneak to her husband on the dock and then back.

"Tommy put you up to this?"

Her silence is its own admission. Joel's jaw clenches. He feels too warm, too suffocated. He tugs off his t-shirt angrily throwing it onto the blanket.

Maria averts her eyes respectfully; regret washing over her face for the previous conversation.

"I'm goin' for a swim," Joel mumbles. "Help yourself to whatever you want in the basket."

"I think it kicked?"

"He or she loves kicking my bladder," Jenny says with a roll of her eyes. "This monster baby is trying to break me." She looks down at her protuberant belly and scowls. "And it's not gonna work you little brat."

She smiles back up at you when you giggle at her mock solemnity.

"Hopefully baby takes more after Daddy," she says as she moves deeper into the lake. "He's a lot more even tempered."

"Don't sell yourself short," you remind her as you move backwards, floating with a small smile on your face. "You're okay to be around."

"You suck," Jenny laughs, splashing at you before she slowly slides into the water up to her neck, sighing happily.

"I'm glad you made it swimming."

"It's the only time my back doesn't ache," she groans. "I can't believe I'm pregnant during the hottest time of the year."

"Yeah but just think, you'll have a baby soon," you say with a wide smile. "A cute, perfect little-"

"Not little," Jenny groans.

She wades in place, pushing her hair from her face. As she does you notice the glint coming off her hand, specifically her left hand.

"Wait. Is that a ring?"

She glances at her hand as if she's forgotten. "Yeah, we just got them made up from Brian. Still getting used to it. Luke loves his though."

You blink slowly at her. "Wait, are you married? Like officially?"

Jenny shrugs, rolling onto her back and sprawling like a starfish atop the surface of the water. Her stomach bobs out of the water. "I guess so. Yeah."

"But... You didn't have a wedding."

Jennifer is so beautiful and delicate that sometimes you forget that she was raised by her many brothers, that she always had to fight for survival, that silly girlish things you assume she would love aren't necessarily things that she does.

Yes, she loves nice fabric and romance and she loves surrounding herself in beauty. But she works hard, she likes shooting, she's independent, she's tough.

"It was just the two of us and the pastor. We wanted it intimate."

You can't help but feel a little disappointed. You knew they were engaged, but you didn't realize a wedding had gone on.

"Hey, don't look at me like that," she says frowning. "I wanted to just to be about the two of us."

You shoot your best devastated look her way, feigning a sniffle.

"I guess you just have to name the baby after me to make up for it."

Jennifer laughs, body bobbing in the water. "And if it's a boy?"

"Swap a few letters at the end."

The two of you laugh loudly and you join her in floating the top of the water. It feels serene out here, the noise of joy in the air.

Most of Jackson City has shown up today, desperate to beat the heat. The shoreline is crowded with people, everyone trying their best to stay cool.

"You ever think about having one?" Jenny asks you, a hand curling over her belly as she floats.

You wrinkle your nose, trying your best not to look horrified.

"Uh. No." You see her surprised reaction and feel compelled to explain. "I mean, I've always loved kids and I'm gonna love yours to death. But having one of my own? Nah."

The truth is even if you weren't living through an apocalypse you never really saw the point to kids. You loved them but you couldn't understand the desire to have your own.

You're thankful Joel is older than you, his days of fatherhood behind him. There's a comfort in that, in knowing that it will never be an issue.

"Ah, there's your man," Jenny says jutting her chin in the direction of the shore. "Seems to be in one of his trademark moods."

You squint against the bright sunshine, swimming in place as you scan for Joel on the crowded shoreline. When you spot him, your smile goes from mild to a beam.

His shirt is off, his broad torso shoulders glistening with sweat, neck twisting your way. You want him so badly it's insane.

Jennifer waves at him, her voice loud over the crowd. "Get in here you grumpy bastard!"

Joel rolls his eyes, a smile tugging the corner of his mouth. He shields his own eyes from the sun, watching as you laugh and splash water in his direction.

"I'm comin'," he says with false irritation.

You watch him slice through the water towards you, trying to keep the flush from your face as he approaches. When he flips his hair from his face, smoothing to back in a way that makes you stare.

Joel Miller is sexy, that's just a fact.

He gives you a playful splash as he arrives, along with a wink that makes you feel weak in the knees despite the fact that you're swimming.

"Hey baby," he murmurs. "Brought our lunch."

"I totally forgot- are you serious? You're amazing," you say swimming forward to give him a watery peck on the lips.

Jennifer is still on her back, her belly peeking up. She sees the two of you and she smiles. "You guys are so cute."

Joel flushes, embarrassed. He doesn't like attention when he's loving on you. It feels sacred, something he only wants for himself.

"Hey Jenny," he says politely. "How ya feeling these days?"

"Hot and fat."

Joel and you exchange amused looks.

"Are we still having dinner together next week at our place?" Jennifer asks, eyes still closed. "I seem to remember the men saying they could BBQ."

"I don't know about Luke," Joel smirks, "But I can."

The three of you swim and talk under the glowing sun, trying to shield yourselves from the rays by clinging near the dock.

Tommy comes by with Douglas, crouching down, holding his son by the belly to keep him from falling in.

"Gonna burn out here," Tommy says casting his eyes to the three of you.

"Worth it," Jennifer sighs. "I needed the vitamin D."

Douglas sticks a chubby hand your way, smiling broadly. It's no secret that you're one of his favorite people. You pull yourself up on the side of the dock and grasp his little fingers, smiling when Douglas gives a squeal of delight.

Joel watches this with his mouth in a firm line. You don't notice, you're too amused by Douglas and his bright eyes.

When Jenny leaves for the day you and Joel take breaks on the shore lying on the blanket he brought with your head in his lap. Maria and Tommy join you, feeding Douglas berries they froze overnight, the four of you talking about the upcoming summer events.

Joel strokes your wet hair as the two of you munch on lunch. You're drowsy and it's no surprise when you nod off, face smoothed in sleep.

Joel gazes at you with a throbbing heart, further compounded when a sleepy Douglas crawls your way, collapsing next to you and falling into a light sleep. Unconsciously your arm lifts, holding him to you as the two of you continue to slumber.

Maria and Tommy make soft cooing noises at one another, clearly charmed by the sight. Joel wishes that he could join in but as he stares down at you all he can think is that you look so natural like this. That maybe this is what you were meant for.

Joel worries for the first time in so long that there's something he cannot give you.

The two of you walk back damp and sleepy. Ellie is sleeping over at Dina's, leaving you and Joel to enjoy the quiet stroll together.

The sun is setting at your backs and the faint sound of cicadas are coming out to play you home.

"What a great day," you say with a yawn. "I'm gonna have sunstroke but it's worth it."

You smile to yourself, not noticing how quiet Joel is or has been for the last few hours.

"I still can't believe how big Jennifer is getting," you say in awe. "She's the prettiest pregnant person I've ever seen in my life."

"Mhmm."

You stare at Joel from the side of your eyes, noticing the distant look he wears, the way he trudges with the basket in one hand, your fingers laced together in the other.

Your heart pitter patters anxiously but you say nothing as you approach the house.

"Got some dinner stuff from the hall earlier," Joel mentions as you walk into the house ahead of him. "In the fridge."

"You are amazing," you say gratefully pulling the leftovers out and bringing them to the table. "I did not want to cook."

A dinner of cold chicken, cheese, bread and some wine one of the locals made is the perfect complement to the balmy evening. You shoo him away, insisting that you do the dishes after dinner since he organized it. He relents, mentioning that he wants to get some reading in for a project the laborers are working on.

You hum to yourself as you scrub, eyes unfocused ahead of you. The kitchen window over the sink is built out, a small ledge holding loose screws, Ellie's hair ribbons, a recipe card and the beautiful image illuminated by the morning sun.

The flowers Joel got you on Valentine's Day were pressed as soon as they began to wilt. They sit arranged between two slats of glass, Joel's handmade frame securing it. You look at it every morning and smile to yourself.

Your mother knew all about flower pressing and she was gleeful when you asked for her help and she heard what Joel had done.

"Such a sweet man," she'd said watching your shy smile. "You sure got lucky. But then again so did he."

You feel lucky, especially days like today. Ones where Joel feels more like a boyfriend (a term he only uses with you in private because he thinks the term to juvenile for a man his age.)

Days of laughter and picnics and sunshine and relaxation. Days where you see him laugh and play with his nephew. Days when you and he shake off the darkness of your pasts and just get to live in the wondrous now.

But this evening things feel different, strained even. The entire house feels tight, like the walls are sucking in, bracing themselves.

You try to put it out of your head, ignoring the niggle of self doubt when Joel puts on a scratchy record of a band you don't recognize. Ignoring it when the two of you stretch out on the couch, your feet in his lap and his thumb absently drawing circles on your ankle bone.

You enjoy watching the slow blink of his eyes, the touch of lashes fanning together. You love the mouth pursed when he comes to a passage he enjoys. You follow the long fingers that deftly turn the pages.

The books he reads are old and used with fading covers and yellowed pages, cracked spines and smudged ink.

But you'd never know it, he treats them reverently, each one beautifully imperfect in the bookshelves he made especially for the house.

The ones with carvings on the inlay, delicate little things one would only notice if they looked for it. Names; yours, his, Ellie, Sarah, Charlotte, your father, your mother. And then a tiny horseshoe for Chestnut.

"Saved the love of my life," Joel murmured when you pointed it out. "Happy to honor him some way."

You like to watch him fall asleep too. Your face will be half buried in blankets so he doesn't notice the way you gaze up at him.

Taking in the way he removes his glasses after reading, placing them on the side table. He always removes them on the left lens, smudging it which amuses you.

You love watching the expand of his chest as he yawns, muscles in his neck cording as he tilts his head back. He wears T-shirts to bed, ones that hug his biceps, highlighting the planes of them. He has the kind of muscles a working man does, the kind formed in hard labor.

You find him beautiful when he's drowsy, flicking the light off before snuggling down into bed. He always goes to sleep facing you, face painted blue from the moon's reflection through the window.

Sometimes he catches you watching him, despite your best efforts and sometimes he catches you. An amused growl, a mischievous glint and his arms are around you, pulling you against him and rasping that if you wanna look so bad he'll put on a proper show.

But often he falls asleep with a sweet dreams baby, even though he thinks you're asleep. This is always followed by a whiskered kiss on the cheek and a murmured I love you.

Joel would never admit it, but he loves watching you fall asleep too. Much less demure than him, always with a big sigh as you settle under the sheets.

He likes the way you rub your feet together to soothe yourself into a drowsy state. With Joel here you fall asleep fast, with you here Joel slumbers soundly.

Sometimes you get restless, unable to fall into oblivion. That's when you'll sneak to his side of the bed and tuck up under his arm, head on his chest, reading the book along with him. He can barely see the pages through your hair but he doesn't care. It feels too good, too pure to risk ruining these moments.

But tonight Joel is quiet, too quiet, lost in a world you are not privy to. It makes your stomach quake when you come to join him on the couch.

"You feeling okay?'

"Me?' Joel tries to smile but it comes out of grimace. "I'm fine, baby. Just tired."

But he's not just tired. You know what just tired Joel looks like. This is upset Joel, withdrawn Joel. You haven't seen him in a long time and it concerns you.

You should let it go, let him stew about whatever is causing him such angst and wait for him to come to you when he's ready. But you can't stop the nagging feeling, a need to know what's bothering him so you can fix it.

You join him in bed a short while later, showered but still warm. Joel is clad in only his boxers smelling of almond soap, you in only a thin T-shirt and sleep shorts. You flip through the book Jennifer lent you, skimming over the same section over and over because your eyes keep creeping up over the top of the page to watch Joel.

He's got his reading glasses on, his secret only you and Ellie know about. He's got a book open in one hand, the other draped over your ankle rubbing absently. You remember the first time you saw his bookshelf of old classics, the mix of newer and old. He's a mystery, a beautiful complex man that makes your heart ache in the best way.

Joel's book tonight is about DIY plumbing. It's propped on his abdomen as he reads, one hand over the top, mouth moving ever so slightly when there's information he has to commit to memory.

You should feel calm and at ease with this companionable silence. But instead you're on edge. You know Joel, you sense things and you know something is bothering him like decay under a healthy shell.

Usually you talk, chatting about patrols or the drama of what’s going on in town. Joel would never call it gossip but that’s what it is, no matter how haughty he acts when you point that out. Sometimes he puts on a record and you place your head in his lap, humming along to the tune as he strokes your hair.

But tonight none of these things happen. The magic of your nights is evaded by the tension that seems to coat every sideways glance and unspoken word. And when you notice his eyes aren't really focusing on the words and the stormy expression he wears you can't help but sit up a bit, eyes soft.

"Joel?"

"Mm?"

"What's been going on with you today?"

The book is tented over his lap. "How do you mean?"

You shift up until your spine rests against the headboard of the bed. You draw your knees to your chest, eyes skipping over his face. He's wearing that familiar look, the guarded one he used to wear with you, back before everything. The sight of it makes you feel sick.

"You seem distracted."

"I'm not."

"Is it patrols?"

"No."

"Ellie?"

"No."

"Tommy?"

You see the muscle twitch in his jaw, a flutter of irritation.

"No, baby. Nothin' is wrong."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes."

"Really, Joel? Because-"

You aren't expecting him to slap the book onto the bedside table. His voice turns hard, the southern twang more pronounced when he's angry.

"I said I'm just fuckin' tired, okay? And you askin’ me about it over and over is pissin' me off. So would you just quit it?"

His face drops the second that his words hit the air, as if he's just hearing them himself for the first time. Joel realizes his mistake the second it leaves his mouth. His words were hard and icy, snappy and cruel. He watches your eyes go owlish, rounded in surprise and a bit of anxiety.

I'm an asshole.

Here you are worried about him and he's turned on you like a fox in a trap. He winces, turning to face you in the bed. You stare at Joel, eyes widening. It's been so long since you've seen him like this, tense and angry.

"Baby-" he starts, already hating himself for ever turning his anger on you. Never you. He's worked hard not to let his temper get the better of him.

You’re staring at him with a hard expression, eyes narrowed.

"I figure you're in a bad mood because of the heat. You think I'm not grumpy because of it?"

"It's not-"

"But I don't turn it on you."

Joel goes quiet, unable to look at you through the shame he feels. And suddenly he's frustrated with the heat and this strange pressure he's been feeling since Valentine's Day. Frustrated that he feels like he can't give you everything you want.

He's been to enough therapy to know he's acting childish when he crosses his arms over his chest. Not that it stops him from doing it, frowning.

“Can we just drop it for to-?”

“Enough.”

His words end sharply as you crawl the distance between you in the bed. You throw a leg over his, sitting heavily in his lap.

"You don't scare me," You say in a dangerous voice as you straddle him.

You know cruel Joel, unkind Joel, recalcitrant Joel. You haven’t seen him in a long while. Back before the two of you were together. And this pale imitation here at your side in bed? This isn’t cruel or unkind Joel. This is a man lashing out.

Joel shifts underneath you, hating that just the pressure of your hips over his is making his cock swell. You don’t move an inch, choosing instead to lean your face a bit closer to his.

"I'm tired of you being an asshole, Joel."

"I'm not b-“

"You think you were speaking nicely to me?" Your hips begin to roll over his, your eyes glazed.

Joel swallows as your core drags over his thin boxers. Even through the sleep shorts he can feel the heat of your sex.

"No."

Your hands go to his shoulders, holding yourself in place. Joel stares up at you with his plump lips slightly parted, his breathing deepening.

"You had a chance to be nice," you inform him. "You didn't take it. So now you're gonna sit right here and make it up to me."

You feel his arousal press against your core, thick and throbbing at your words. His pupils are saucers. He likes this.

You reach between the two of you, pinky grazing his bare stomach. It twitches at the contact, his breath hitching, eyes heavy lidded.

Your hand smooths the wide leg of your sleep shorts to the side, exposing your bare sex. You cock your head, urging Joel to look.

Joel can see the glossy kiss of your arousal on your inner thigh. His hands begin guiding you by the hips, wanting to feel more of you, desperate to face you soak the front of his boxers.

You give a pleased hum, fingers carding through his damp locks, gratified when he makes a small groan in the back of his throat and his eyes flutter back.

"You gonna be nice?" You murmur, sliding your hands over his stiffening member still clothed in his boxers.

Joel can only nod, his hips bucking as you stroke him through the fabric, desperate.

You smile, kissing him deeply as you slowly pull him from his boxers, pumping him as you go. He's so warm and thick in your hand, tip weeping as you drag your thumb over the slit.

Joel shudders at this, biting into his cheek to muffle a lascivious groan. His eyes slam tightly as he focuses on not coming like some high school boy new to hormones.

"You sure you're gonna be nice now, Joel?"

"Yes, yes. So nice," he grunts.

You perch above him, labia kissing the tip of his cock. Joel's eyes snap open to watch.

"Prove it."

With a feral growl you feel Joel's wide hands on your hips tightening, urging you to slide down his length. You do, head falling back, breasts pushing into his chest as you groan.

It always feels so good. So perfect.

One of Joel's wide hands goes to the back of your head, bringing your face to his. His mouth collides with yours, all teeth and spit and tongue. A hungry beast that needs all of you.

You groan into his mouth, over-eager. This is supposed to be his punishment, but it feels like torture for you not to have his hands pressing into your bare flesh.

You move sluggishly, straightening when Joel's forefinger moves to the strap of your shirt, tugging you forward.

"You look warm," he says huskily, tugging the shirt from your body. "Let's make sure you don't overheat."

You giggle but it soon turns into a moan as his hands come to cup your breasts, thumbs slowly circling your tightened nipples. He looks up at you with those beautiful, big vulnerable eyes and your heart stutters.

He gives you a long, sweet smile before his head dips forward and he sucks one nipple into his mouth, sucking gently as you hiss. When he begins to nibble gently you feel the electricity shoot through your core and you need to come.

"Show me how nice, you can be," you remind him as your hips snap against his, urging him to fill you deeper, breasts bouncing as you rut against him.

Joel smiles, tongue tracing along his lower lip while his fingers go to your clit, circling and pressing as he moves inside you.

Normally the two of you take your time in bed. He loves pulling sounds from you, loves watching you shatter deliciously around him. But tonight the two of you are greedy and desperate for release.

You grip the headboard for leverage, body slick with sweat, hair sticking to your temples. It's too hot, too stifling and for some reason that turns you on. Fucking him through the heat, turning you both into sweaty writhing bodies.

His shirt sticks to him in the toasty room, his mouth warm to the touch, dry and sweet. Your mouths part rhythmically, honed by practice, memorized in adoration. His tongue dabs yours, sending that familiar sizzle through your middle.

His forehead is slick, eyes hooded as he gazes up at you. You say gaze because Joel Miller never just looks at you, he holds you in his eyes, cradles you with that yearning openness he holds.

The sight of it on you now, as heated as the air around you, propels you to surrender, to give into the clawing need that pools in your belly. You want to feel him everywhere, the tip of his cock grazing your clit before you sink back down on him. You do this twice more, growing quicker as Joel hisses.

He feels you getting close and watches as you half raise yourself up. Joel is focused only on your pleasure, on watching your face contort into blissful snapshots. You're so beautiful, so magnetic, so made for him.

Your arms are tightening around his neck, tacky cheek pressed to his as he moves against you, murmuring how beautiful you look, how perfect you feel.

It's not long before your brows are saddling and your thighs shaking as you bounce in his lap. Joel knows exactly how to touch you, how to bring you to that apex and send you flying into bliss.

His hand braces your lower back, wanting you to relax in his touch. He thrusts up deeply, kissing that sweet spot inside. Making you whimper his name, curving against him, hearts beating in tandem.

The two of you rise and fall like the tide, arms tight around one other, whimpered pleasure exhaled into one another’s mouth. Your hands curl on the headboard, breasts swinging in his face, nipples brushing his lips as you move faster and faster.

"Look at you,"' he says in awe.

You give a breathless smile, shooting him a cheeky wink that gets him harder if that were possible. You ride him furiously now, chasing your own high. You feel safe to do this, to take from him without fear.

Something about that realization touches something deep within Joel; the act of being given your trust. His arms go around you, holding you tightly to him.

You want to tease him, to draw this out, a passive punishment for his bad mood. Kitty scratching without the claws. But the sight of him between your naked thighs, the helpless way he lets you take take take and that desirous look he wears as you do, it's too much.

He must feel it too, down in his bones because his arm bands around you, rolling you both until he hovers over you, cock still warm and snug inside you.

"I love you," he breathes against your lips, thrusting up gently but so deeply, filling you perfectly as his fingers bring you to the edge.

His throat is shiny with perspiration, highlighting the contours, the dip between his collar, the unexpected elegance from a man who's all hard edges and bulk.

His glasses are heated up, foggy. He doesn't notice because his attention firmly fixed on you. The sight makes you smile up at him as your hand rises slowly; your forefinger curls around the nosepiece, dragging them down the bridge of his strong nose.

"There you are," you murmur. "My Joel."

His smile blooms and you remove the glasses entirely, tossing them onto the blanket by his feet.

His hips pick up their pace, snapping into you as he swallows you in the beckoning dark of his eyes. You see a sheen to them the longer he looks at you.

"My Joel," you repeat in a whisper.

His mouth crashes into yours, desperate, needful. Lustful and apologetic all at once. It's animalistic tempered with a gentle coaxing, a whisper of self-flagellation at having dishonored you in any small capacity.

"I'm so sorry," he breathes against your lips.

You don't make him beg; don't put him through any paces. Your smile grows when your eyes connect, the sweat on your skin giving you a sultry glow.

"I forgive you," you say through a shaky breath, arms around his neck, mouth slanting against his. "I forgive you."

His eyes are wet when his mouth claims yours once more, your bodies writhing together as you chase your climax. The kind that starts deep and floods your entire body, the kind that makes your vision blur.

“Joel!”

“I’ve got you,” he whispers hoarsely, never stopping his rhythm. “I’m here.”

You finally come down slowly, the both of you sticky with sweat, beaming at one another. Joel stares at you like you're salvation. He doesn't allow himself the same pleasure. He fucked up and this is his penance. He only cared about seeing you satisfied anyway.

However you aren't as militant as him. An hour later a condom is shoved into his hand and your smirking mouth is at his ear.

"Now it's my turn to be nice."

Joel wanders over to The Bison around closing time the following night, nodding at the folks making their way home. It's Tommy's shift tonight, his way of helping out during the later summer nights.

"Hey," he says as Joel comes through the door with a wave. "We're closing up for the night."

"I know. I came for a talk, not a drink."

Tommy's smile falters as he wipes down the bar top, bidding farewell to some of the regulars as they file out. The door closes behind them and Tommy slings the towel over his left shoulder. Joel watches as he goes to latch the door, giving them privacy.

"Whiskey?"

"Thought you stopped servin’."

"Have a feeling we both might need it," Tommy says taking two tumblers down and filling them with whiskey.

Joel takes a seat at the bar, hooking the heels of his boot on the lower rung of the stool, staring at the brown drink in front of him.

Tommy comes around the bar taking the seat next to him and looking at him with a concerned look.

"So what's going on?"

Joel’s temper has gotten a lot better in the last few years, a combination of therapy and your presence doing that to him. But right now he's ornery and he's not sure if it's because of the topic or the heat.

"Can you tell me why you're so fucking eager for me to get married?" He rasps, "or why you think I need to be a new father at my age?"

Tommy isn't one to get pink in the face, but tonight he does. The slow, blotchy hue of embarrassment. Joel watches him scrape a fingernail against the side of his whiskey tumbler.

"You don't wanna marry her?"

"Don't be a fucking idiot," Joel says sighing. "It's just that a woman like her ... She deserves somethin' special. Fireworks and candlelight dinners and all that shit. And what can I give her? Canteen food, a candle we usually save for emergencies?"

Tommy squints at Joel, dark curls falling into his forehead.

"So what? I asked Maria during shooting practice. S'not the place, it's the askin':"

Joel shakes his head. "If I can't do somethin’ perfect I'd rather not do it at all."

Tommy groans and throws his hands up in a dramatic showcase of frustration.

"Joel, you've been like that since we were kids you know? Practicing football until the sun went down. And then during construction work we couldn't quit until things were perfect."

"And it paid off didn't it? I was quarterback, our business was on the way to bein' successful before the outbreak."

"And you ran yourself ragged. You barely slept, you were exhausted. Tell me honestly, were you happy?" Tommy searches his face. "Of course you were happy with Sarah, that's not up for debate. But in your life? Were you actually happy?"

Joel thinks back to long nights worrying about bills, about how he worked himself silly, how he never had time for a real relationship. Yeah, he was great at his job but it was hard. But something about his brother pointing that out pisses him off. Because half the reason Joel had to work so hard was because his idiot brother was always in and out of jail.

"I know you made Maria ask about me having more kids,” Joel seethes.” The fuck was that about?"

"She told you?"

"She didn't have to tell me, Tom. I could see it in her. She was uncomfortable bringin' it up."

Tommy takes a slow pull of whiskey, not answering his brother even as Joel continues to stare at his profile.

"Answer me, Tommy."

Tommy slams the glass onto the bar top grimacing. "Why the fuck do you think?"

Joel is baffled by this response, confusion clear in his expression as he stares at Tommy. The younger man is breathing heavily, his broad torso expanding and contracting rapidly.

"I have no fuckin’ clue."

"I feel fuckin' guilty, man!" Tommy shouts, hating that his brother has pulled this out of him. Clearly hating that this conversation is happening.

He shoves himself from the bar, walking with his hands on his hips, shaking his head. Joel stands, following after but giving him enough space.

"Guilty?"

"Yeah, guilty," Tommy mutters.

"Why the fuck would I -"

"Because I got a wife and a little kid," Tommy says quietly. "I get to be a dad."

Tommy sighs heavily, like the weight of his words are weighing him down. Joel is perplexed.

"Tommy, why the fuck would I be mad at you for having your own family?"

Tommy whirls around, borderline crazed. Joel can see the sweat at his temples, the slight tremor in his hand. It's the same way Tommy's looked since he and Joel were kids getting punished for knocking over a lamp while they were roughhousing.

"Because Maria is talking about having another kid."

The silence that follows is loud. It makes the room feel larger than it is and Joel feels so small.

"But last time-"

"I know," Tommy says with a nod. "But we know what to do this time. We've got the therapist and we've got you and your girl and the new doctor and the medication. Maria can do it."

Tommy runs a hand through his hair.

"Most of all she wants to do it. She says she was robbed last time, that she never got to enjoy Douglas as a baby. And I get it. I wanna give her everything she wants."

Joel understands this all too well. He knows that need to protect ones partner, to give them all they ask for. Maria loves Tommy like you love Joel, with that same unwavering devotion.

"But then why-"

"It's bad enough I had one kid you have to see me with and now there might be two? Shoving it in your face? What if I have a daughter? What will that be like for you? Knowing Sarah...."

He breaks off, tears welling in his dark eyes. Joel swallows, feeling warmth prickle all over his body, a sign of his own incoming emotion. He steps forward, placing a hand on Tommy's shoulder. He's the big brother and Tommy is scared, anxious, guilty. He shouldn't be any of those things.

"Tommy, listen to me. I want you to have all the kids you wanna have." Joel blinks rapidly. "You're not shoving anythin’ in my face. You're livin’ your life."

Joel walks back to the bar top, his heavy boots scraping the floor as he moves. He takes a moment before lifting and raising his whiskey glass in Tommy's direction.

"So let me be the first to say congratulations, little brother. I hope it's a girl."

Tommy stares at Joel for a long moment, his gaze hard. It's as if he can't believe that this is the reaction from his brother. Like a hesitant animal Tommy approaches warily, his eyes flitting from the tumbler to Joel's eyes.

"You're really not upset?"

"No, I'm not upset." Joel gives a small, sincere smile. "A new baby is just what we need around here. Besides, I like bein' an uncle."

Tommy lifts his tumbler from the bar top clinking it against Joel's as the two brothers throw the shots back. The drink burns all the way down but the two of them smile at the feeling.

"Maria doesn't want anyone to know yet. And I mean anyone," Tommy says, the meaning clear. "She's still thinking about it and she doesn't want any other opinions."

Joel nods, knowing that keeping this from you will be hard. He tells you almost everything. But he has to respect Tommy's wishes.

"I thought if you had a wedding to plan or even a kid of your own you wouldn't be as hurt. That it would make it easier," Tommy says softly. "That's why I kept bringing it up and asked Maria to talk to you. I know it was stupid."

Joel suddenly realizes why Tommy has been so dogged in his pursuit of the topics. In his own fucked up Tommy way he's trying to look out for Joel, trying to put a band aid over a bullet hole.

No, not a bullet hole. A scar. A reminder, but not as fresh. Something that will always be a part of Joel.

Tommy mentions your name, drawing Joel's attention back to the sloe-eyed younger man.

"I know she makes you happy. I've never seen you smile so much, never seen you act like that with a woman, all sappy and shit. Not even before, not even with Sarah's Mom."

Joel was never the type to go on long dramatic monologues but when it comes to your love it just spills out of him.

"She fixes all the broken parts of me and I do the same for her," Joel says. "She sees me like no one has before. She loves the good and the bad in me. It's why I'm not jealous of you, Tom. I've got Ellie, I've got her. I've got everything I'd ever need and I'm so fuckin’ grateful every day I wake up next to her."

There's a quiet that feels like comfort that follows, both men wrapped up in thoughts of the women that love them.

"You're right," Tommy finally agrees with a slow nod. "You've got everything you'll ever need."

Joel nods, draining the last of his second whiskey.

"That being said," Joel says with the faintest of smirks, "I could always use help planning the perfect proposal."

When you awaken to find the bed empty the following morning you know Joel is on patrol. You can't pretend like the thought of him out there doesn't make you sick to your stomach, but you also don't want him feeling guilty for doing his part.

On these days you distract yourself with baking or reading. But today you feel restless, needing to move. You get ready for the day, pulling part of your hair from your face as you head for the top of the stairs.

You smile to yourself as you hear the sound of Ellie's muttered cursing from behind her door. She's been learning guitar from Joel for months, determined to be able to play with Luke and the rest of the band at the next holiday party months away.

You knock gently.

"Yeah?"

"I'm going to get breakfast then going for a walk. Any chance you wanna join?"

The door swings open moments later, a bright-eyed Ellie nodding. "Let's go. I'm fucking starving!"

You arrive at the dining hall with rumbling stomachs, Ellie's nose peeling slightly from her sunburn yesterday and your back sweaty.

"Hey Jenny," Ellie says kindly as you approach her at one of the tables, your trays full of pancakes and orange slices.

Ellie gives Jenny a smile, even if her lip does curl a bit in distaste for Jenny's pregnant belly.

"Hi Ellie. How's guitar coming?"

"Pretty good. Joel's a decent teacher."

Her eyes sail over to the breakfast items laid out. Cat stands there looking at some muffins with deep scrutiny. You watch as Ellie smoothes her hair back from her face.

"Cat!"

She gives a wave before she's jogging over to meet her friend. Luke passes her, giving a soft greeting before his eyes land on his wife sitting across from you. His smile turns dopey, a flush coming to his cheeks.

He's so in love.

"Hey honey," he says as he holds up a box that rattles. "Got the extra bullets for practice."

"Perfect," she beams.

Luke presses a kiss to her cheek, giving you a hello before coming to sit next to Jenny. He snatches one of her orange slices giving her a wink.

"Bullets?" You scan Jenny's face. "Wait, are you still practicing shooting?"

"Hell yes I'm still practicing," Jennifer says with a laugh. "As soon as this little guy is out I'm going back on patrols."

"Well... Maybe not right after?" Luke murmurs with a strained smile. "Maybe you'll take a bit of a break?

He knows he can't stop Jenny from doing anything. She's headstrong and knows what she wants and that's why he fell in love with her. You know this because according to Jenny it was the part he cried through during his wedding vows.

You yawn so widely your jaw clicks, eyes blinking blearily as you take a sip of coffee. Jennifer smirks over her tea at this.

"Joel keep you up late last night?"

"Shut the fuck up!"

You groan, laughing and tossing a small piece of toast at her that she easily ducks, laughing.

"No. I'm just not sleeping great. I don't know why," you lie, "must be the heat."

"Tell me about it," Jenny says patting her stomach.

You turn away from her, glancing over at Ellie standing by the drink station. She's gesticulating wildly at Cat pointing at something on the drink table.

You watch as Dina makes her way over to the laughing Ellie and Cat, her dark eyes flitting from one face to the next. There's insecurity in her expression and your heart hurts in response.

"That's gonna get messy," Jennifer says softly, watching along with you.

"Yeah I know," you sigh, watching the trio chatting. You see the flush to Ellie's cheeks but you're not sure if it's in excitement or embarrassment.

"Gonna be some broken hearts."

"They're young," you say turning back to your breakfast. "Not like they're getting married."

The two of them nod, but Jennifer keeps her eyes on you.

"Speaking of which...You ever think about getting hitched?"

Your eyes move from your pancakes to the very interested Jennifer. She's got that familiar expression, the one that craves details, the dirtier the better.

"Uh... Not really."

"Trouble in paradise?" She asks taking a ginger bite of her toast before grimacing. Morning sickness has been quite the bitch for her.

"No."

"I know," she says with a smirk. "You two are so in love it's disgusting."

"Oh, because you and Luke are so platonic?"

Luke who has been ignoring the conversation up until now wraps an arm around Jennifer's neck, pulling her against him. He waggles his brows at you mischievously. "Jealous?"

"Maybe if you weren't wearing your breakfast."

Jennifer bursts into laughter, grabbing a napkin and wiping the egg yolk that's been clinging to Luke's cheek for five minutes.

"Might want to put some water on that," she says giggling with affection.

Luke makes an exaggerated grumble before standing and making his way to the bathrooms. You attempt to take a bite of pancake but another yawn overtakes you, causing you to drop your fork back onto your plate.

"Hey, look at me."

You glance up to see Jennifer staring at you in that familiar searching way across the table. You fall victim to the deep blue, like an ocean taking you out to sea.

“You getting enough sleep?”

“Yeah. Why?”

"You've been acting weird all week. What's going on?"

You tell Jennifer a lot, but there are some things that hurt to think about, let alone say. So you offer up another secret part of you, something believable.

"Just thinking about the whole Joel marriage thing," you say popping a bit of egg into your mouth and chewing thoughtfully.

"What about it?"

"I just never really thought about marriage," you admit, flushing a bit under her surprised gaze. "Things are so perfect with Joel. I don't really need anything else."

///

Patrols were long and boring today. Peter also won't shut the fuck up about his new herb garden. Joel is thankful you're not on patrols anymore, but damn does he miss what you two used to do on them.

A little shiver goes up his spine some days when they go to the outpost. Joel will see your old handwriting in the logbooks or catch the couch by the fireplace out of the corner of his eyes and he's transported back to that time.

He doesn't miss the anguish associated with so many of those times of course. Never those. Usually it's memories of that snowy night when he was able to touch you soft and gentle, the way he'd craved to since he first met you.

Joel's day brightens immeasurably when he comes to the end of the lane leading to his home with you. This is his favorite part of patrols, the coming home to you in a house warmed not only by the gently crackling fire in the winter, but your smile, of Ellie's jokes, of his contentment.

Today however Joel is sticky with damp, a ring around his neckline, pits and a stripe down his spine. He looks forward to showering off, maybe you'll join him.

On hot days he usually finds you in the house, sprawled out on top of the bed with no sheets and the windows wide open. You've taken to naps in the hot weather this week and sometimes when Joel sees this he takes a moment just to marvel at your face as you sleep.

He jogs up the front stairs, pushing the door open to see the house standing empty. He shrugs off his backpack before heading to get a glass of water.

"Joel!"

Immediately Joel is on edge, the familiar panic fluttering his nerves as he hears Ellie's strained voice.

He knows that tone: danger.

He rounds the corner, nearly skidding as he comes to a stop. Ellie's chin trembles anxiously.

"She was screaming," Ellie says, wide eyes concerned. "I can't get into your bedroom. It's locked. Joel, I don't -"

The rest of Ellie's voice is cut off as Joel takes the stairs two at a time, bracing himself for your screams but hears only a terrifying silence.

His fist rains down on the oak as he calls your name through the door, voice rough like sandpaper.

Silence. Why aren't you answering him?

"Open the door, baby," he pleads, his stomach in knots. "Just unlock it. It's me."

No answer. Ellie's behind him, pacing there like a terrified puppy. She bites at her thumb nail, voice sharp.

"Is she okay? What's going on?"

"Wait downstairs," Joel barks over his shoulder.

"But I -"

"Ellie," he snaps before catching himself, glancing over his shoulder to give her a more patient look. "Please. I'll come down when I've got stuff handled."

Ellie looks like she wants to defy him, that familiar stubborn look on her face that he knows so well. The one he's been on the receiving end of more than once.

But instead she nods, relenting when she must see the worry in his face. He can hear the sound of her socked feet padding down the steps as he calls your name loudly through the door once more.

You still don't answer and Joel can't stand it any longer. He braces himself, walking backwards before charging at the door, shoulder first. His muscled shoulder hits the wood and for the first time he regrets the beautifully thick and crafted doors when it barely makes a dent.

He groans at the pain radiating down his arm. He used to do this with Tess back at the QZ. Knocking down doors to collect credits, his body younger and tougher.

He hears another straining sound behind the door, but this is more like a whimpering cry of his name. Joel. The sound chills him. You need him.

Joel gives a frustrated growl, rearing back and lifting a heavy boot, slamming it once, twice against the door until he feels it splinter. Another brutal kick and he's made a hole in the bottom of the door.

He reaches through it, twisting his arm until his long fingers land on the knob, unlocking it and turning. The door slams wide, his eyes scanning the room for you. His stomach drops further when he sees nothing.

You're not there.

"Fuck," he mutters to himself, running to the adjoining bathroom. The tub is empty, the sink dry. You're not here.

He walks the perimeter of the bedroom, calling your name as thunder rumbles overtop his cries. Frustrated tears are at the back of his eyes, his heart breaking.

Where are you?

That cold chill goes up his legs, a familiar twinge behind his ribs. Panic, that familiar squeezing of his heart that has him collapsing onto the edge of the mattress. He props head in his hands as he tries to calm the frantic beat of his heart.

He just needs to think. He needs to breathe. What did Gail teach him? One thing he sees, two things he hears... Or shit was it five things he sees?

Over the creak of the mattress he suddenly catches it; a soft muttering chant. Too low to understand what's being said with only one good ear. But nearby and clearly your voice.

He drops to his knees, head almost touching the floor as he pulls back the blankets and looks under the bed. And there you are, body shaking. You're in the fetal position, your cheeks stained with tears.

Joel's heart drops as he kneels there, reaching for you with one arm sliding under the bed.

"Baby, what's wrong?"

You can't hear him. Not over your heartbeat and your own anguished moans. Not over the sinister images that are assaulting you, taking you right back to one of the scariest moments of your life.

"Please, please," you're crying, eyes slammed shut, hands over your ears. "Please no. No no no."

He slides further under the bed, teeth gritted. When Joel's hand finds your ankle you scream, unfurling from your shell and trying to kick at the faceless figure.

"It's me," he calls out, wincing when your foot catches his forearm, "baby it's me!"

You're still screaming, eyes still slammed shut. Joel can't remember ever seeing you like this. Not this terrified, not this crazed. It frightens him.

Joel crawls under the bed on his belly, flinching at your wild limbs. He manages to grip your wrists in his hands, all but screaming your name in your face. But you're not listening, your eyes are open now but they aren't seeing him.

Joel's trying to pull you from under the bed, desperately attempting to pull you against him. Maybe if you can feel his heartbeat, smell his soap, you'll calm down.

But he can't get you that close, you keep evading his touch, sliding back under the bed out of his reach like a cornered cat.

And all of a sudden Joel hears his name being called, hands at his hip urging him back out from under the bed.

He swats at the hand, ignoring it in pursuit of you. He tries to crawl towards you but again he's tugged backwards by his belt and jeans. Giving a growl of frustration he pushes himself back out from under the bed, ready to fight whoever it is.

But it's not someone he would ever lay a finger on.

"Mama?"

It slips out, the term feeling as natural as it is strange. He didn't mean to say it, never even considered it. But as she stands there across from him, patting his arm in that maternal way, it feels right.

"Ellie came to find me," your mother says breathlessly, her hair sticking to her temples. "Let me see her?"

He can only nod, resignation in his expression. He moves to the side, his heart breaking at the further sound of your whimpers.

Joel sees your mom's eyes fill before she blinks it away. She gives Joel's arm another squeeze before slowly dropping to her knees beside the bed and then lowering herself to her belly, peering under the bed.

Joel gives the two of you privacy and moves outside onto the landing. His eyes are distant as he hears the murmur of your mother's voice. She talks to you like you're a feral animal in need of rescuing: patient and loving.

He sits there in the hallway, watching through the hole in the door as your mother stays there on her stomach, just gazing at you.

"You're safe my angel," she coos over and over. "You're safe."

Joel doesn't expect the tears that fall down his cheeks, the words a balm to his own wounds. He misses that effortless comfort that mother's can bring.

His heart leaps when he sees your trembling hand reach out from under the bed.

"Mom?"'

Your mother sniffles, wiping her wet eyes on the back of her forearm. "Yeah, it's me, honey. Can you come out?"

Joel's shoulders sag in relief as you crawl out from under the bed, crying loudly as a newborn. Your face is tear-stained, hair wild and knotted from being under the bed.

"It was.. I thought ..."

Your sputtering words are muted as your mother sits up, reaching for you and pulling your tired form into her lap.

She rocks you in her arms, murmuring soft comfort. You sob, face buried in her shoulder, your body shaking. Your fingers clutch at her as if you're terrified she'll disappear.

"Honey, you're okay. You're safe."

"Where's Joel?"

Joel's eyes blur, the desperation to be the one holding you almost overwhelming him. He wants to be the one comforting you.

"Just outside. Do you want me to grab him?"

Joel prepares to stand, his eyes hopeful.

"No."

He blinks, thinking he's not heard correctly.

"No?" Your mother asks, clearly thrown.

"No," you say, voice muffled against her shoulder. The sobs begin anew and Joel catches your mother's sympathetic eyes over the top of your head.

Joel feels a pit forming in his stomach. You don't want him there? He lurches to a stand before quietly making his way down to the kitchen.

He throws himself into the chair at the table, elbows on the top, head in his hands. Why didn't you want him in there?

"I'm sorry."

Joel drops his hands, eyes going to see Ellie standing a few feet away.

"Huh? For what?"

"For getting her mom."

She's biting the inside of her cheek, the toes of one sneaker tapping the floor. She's anxious.

"You did the right thing," Joel tells Ellie calmly. She looks like she doesn't quite believe him. "I'm serious. Thank you, Ellie."

Now relief etches over her young features and she smiles.

"I always know the right thing to do, old man."

"Yeah yeah, get the fuck outta here," Joel says with a wave of his hands. Ellie giggles before growing somber, looking up at the ceiling.

"She'll be okay," Joel insists, eyes soft. "I swear."

Ellie nods, her mouth pursing before she announces that she's going to head over to Dina's.

He continues to sit. We're early at the table, hearing the clock nearby ticked down the moments that he's not with you. He doesn't know how long passes before he hears a creak sound out behind him.

He jerks his head over his shoulder to see your mother entering into the kitchen with a drawn expression on her face.

"Mind if I grab a cup of tea?"

"'Course not," Joel says standing. "I'll make you one. Two sugars, right?"

Your mother nods coming to take the seat opposite the one Joel just vacated. He returns with her tea and its two sugars moments later.

"She used to have nightmares as a child," your mother says taking the mug from him. "Brutal ones that would have her screaming. Ones where she was half awake for them. Doctor’s called it waking nightmares. She grew out of them, or, at least she had when she was younger."

Joel knows that you've had nightmares before. Ones that propelled you out of bed and over to his home before the two of you were even together. How he'd made it go quiet for you then. But to know that you suffered so much worse today makes him sick.

He goes quiet, staring at his knuckles. He cracks them anxiously, desperate to see you yet knowing that he has to respect your request for space. Your Mom tilts her head, body language attuned to him.

"Joel, did you know it's Charlotte's birthday tomorrow?"

He sits dumbstruck, searching is mind for any hint, any comment that he might have overlooked. But nothing stands out. He feels he would remember that. "No."

"Yeah, not surprised," your mother says. "She likes to keep some things close to the chest."

He takes his seat, the wood creaking under him as he stares at the table between them. Devastation is etched into his expression.

"You can't be upset, Joel," your mother says softly.

"I'm not," he answers emphatically. "Not one bit. How could I be upset with her?"

"Not her. Me." Your mother gives a wry smile. "I know you're upset, honey. You wanted to be in that room holding your girl."

Yeah, he did. But Joel is also a father. When Sarah woke from nightmares it was only Joel who could comfort her. Even her favorite uncle Tommy couldn't soothe her.

Joel swallows, unable to speak for a moment. "I'm grateful you were here."

Your mom reaches across the table to squeeze his wrist. "She didn't want you to see her like that."

Joel's brows saddle. "Why?"

"She thought it would upset you."

Joel swallows the pain in that response. He knows exactly why you didn't want him there. Why you didn't want him holding you in his arms as you cried in pain. Sarah.

"I'm glad you were here," he reiterates with a catch in his voice. "She's missed you."

"I've missed her more, I can promise you that."

Joel can see the tears that are building in her eyes and he feels the threat of sympathy go through him.

"Look, I know that you're not trying to be cruel. It just hurts her to see you with Will."

"I know," your mom nods, flashing her eyes his way. "We talked about it."

"Yeah?"

"Mhm. My daughter is fine to feel how she does. She only ever knew me and her father together. It's hard for her to fathom. But she also needed to hear that it's been decades and I deserve companionship."

"How did she take that?"

"She wasn't exactly over the moon but we're good now."

Your mother tilts back in her chair a bit, scanning him with a bemused look.

"You called me Mama up there, Joel."

Joel's body tightens, a wince crossing his features. Did he? Oh fuck, he did. He waits for her confusion or even horror at having him, a grown fucking man, calling her Mama.

"I didn't mind," she continues and Joel can see her widening smirk.

Joel feels a blush rising to his cheeks and the tips of his ears. This whole moment feels so embarrassing. Your mom takes another sip of her tea and he’s shocked that she can consume such a hot beverage on a night like this.

"I already think of Ellie as my granddaughter, even if I'd never tell her so," your mother says dropping her voice. "Something tells me she'd tell me to fuck off if I tried."

Joel laughs softly through his nose at that, his eyes going to the ceiling when he thinks about you alone up there.

"Rumor is you’re thinking of proposing?"

For fuck’s sake. Joel feels the back of his neck flush as he's overtaken by the same feeling he had as a teenager picking up a girl for prom and being grilled by her dad. The father of Sarah's mom in fact.

“Who the f-“ Joel catches himself, “who said that?”

“Word gets around,” your mom says with a smirk. “Jackson’s only so big.”

Joel clears his throat, feet shuffling against the floor under the table.

"It didn't occur to me until recently that that's something she'd want. She never mentioned it." He swallows. "And I'd want your blessing before-

"You have it," your mom interrupts. "You had it the day you came to get me from the QZ. You're the only man I would trust my daughter to be with and I guarantee my husband would say the same if he were alive."

Joel swallows, fingers tightening around his kneecaps. "Thank you."

Your mother looks up at Joel through her lashes, wrinkled mouth thinning.

"But she's not gonna give you children, Joel. I hope you're aware of that."

Joel is taken aback, brows knitted. Where did that come from? Has he ever given any indication?

"I don't need more children."

"But you want them."

Joel shakes his head. "No. I want her."

Of course the thought of making life with you is more than a little appealing, especially when he sees how natural you are with Douglas. Thoughts of seeing you carrying his child within you warms him.

But you've been very clear from the beginning and he doesn't fault you for it one bit. You told him you didn't want to bring children into this world and he understands.

He's not twenty five anymore. He has two daughters, he has you and that's more than enough for any lifetime.

"Okay. Good." Your mother looks relieved. "So what's the hold up?"

"When I do it... I need it to be perfect," Joel explains after a moment. "She deserves it, a proposal as perfect as her."

He sees the sheen to your mother's eyes.

"You are such a softy," your mom says with affection.

Joel smirks, thinking that only your mother would look at him, a scarred killer, and think soft.

"Joel, my daughter is so fucking in love with you; you could ask her over a bowl of soup."

He knows it but the sound of the acknowledgement out loud still causes him to grin shyly. "I've just never proposed before and-"

"Joel?"

Your voice calls faintly from upstairs.

He's on his feet in an instant, eyes over his shoulder in the direction of the stairs. The conversation is done; all his attention is attuned to you. Your mom hides a smile at his clear devotion.

"Go see her, honey. I’ll show myself out."

Joel nods, murmuring his thanks as he takes the stairs two at a time. You can hear his heavy footsteps coming your way.

You're propped up in bed, your eyes puffy. When you see his anxious face at the doorway you burst into tears, despite being calmed by your mother earlier.

"Joel."

He's at your side in an instant, big hands cupping your cheeks, eyes scanning your face. "What happened?"

Your arms go around his neck, holding tightly as he squeezes you to him. He feels your sniffling against his neck, his eyes burning.

"I haven't had a nightmare this bad in a long time."

When you first moved to Jackson City there were months of nightmares. Ones Joel has been witness to. But nothing like the one you had last night.

"They were coming," you whisper, trembling in his arms. "The Group. Only they weren't just after me and Charlie. They were after my mom too."

Your sobs break into your words, shoulders jumping and Joel has to hold you, murmuring soothing promises of everyone's safety.

"I'd never let anything happen to you or your Mama," he promises. "Just like I'd never let anything happen to anyone in our family. I'd kill anyone who tried."

You raise your face up to him, eyes swollen and cheeks tear-stained. You search his gaze and know he's completely sincere. "You would, wouldn't you?"

"Yes, baby. I would."

Your smile warms him from the inside, so much so that his eyes wet when you wrap you arms around his neck, murmuring into the warm skin there.

Despite the heat in the house and the sweat that clings to both of you, you want to feel his body against yours, curling around it, keeping you safe.

“Hold me?”

Joel doesn't even hesitate. He strips off his t-shirt, crawling into the bed beside you. He pulls your eager frame against his, your spine hitting his front, heads cushioned by the pillows. He kisses your shoulder, nose grazing along your warm flesh. You're here in his arms, you're safe, you're okay. He's got you.

You give a contented sigh, before spinning in his arms. He smiles at you, cheek against the pillow, eyes full of adoration. His fingers brush some hair from your face, tucking it behind your ears.

You fall asleep in his arms, the window propped open to let the air in and wake up when the sky is dark and your mouths are gummy, bodies sticky with sweat. Joel pushes himself up onto one forearm, voice creaky.

"Let's get you some fresh air."

His hand swallows yours as the two of you move from the bedroom down the steps, careful not to wake a snoring Ellie.

Joel pours a cup of lemonade for the two of you to share, ice clicking in the mason jar as you both retire to the porch swing. Your head balances against his shoulder and you feel it flex when he raises the glass to his mouth.

"A perfect night for lightning bugs," you murmur. Your eyes following a few that have started to stir in the darkness. Joel's hand is on your knee, small circles grazing your inner thigh. All feels right, all feels calm. He kisses the top of your head, the two of you quiet once more, staring into the night.

Joel's feet are on the ground and they push the porch swing slightly, causing it to rock gently. It's a soothing feeling being with Joel in the quiet, the touch of a cool glass against your bicep as he silently offers you a sip.

“I was thinkin’ we could do something special for Charlotte’s birthday tomorrow,” Joel murmurs, glancing your way. “A dinner or somethin’? I can cook or maybe you want me to carve something to put by her headstone? She liked rabbits, right?”

Joel Miller is a kind man who thinks of you at all times, who wants to do all in his power to support and cherish you. And you feel the same, desperate to soothe his hurts to coax out that sweet, loving man he is at heart.

You glance up his arm, seeing that he's already gazing at you with those soft, endless eyes of his. The kind that whisper protection, the deepest desire, unflinching love. Your voice is soft, carried in the welcome breeze that stirs the hair at your temples.

“Joel, will you marry me?”

Chapter 29: SO MUCH TO LOSE: BEHIND THE SCENES

Chapter Text

SO MUCH TO LOSE: behind the scenes

So, I had a few questions about my So Much to Lose story involving plot points , questions about reader, symbolism, etc and I thought I would answer them here!

This is NOT a necessary read if you like the series. More just some behind the scenes info for those interested.

1. SMTL is very much a dom-sub love story

I was so sick of seeing dom-sub dynamics in popular fiction so inaccurate, of tiktok accounts spreading misinformation and everyone thinking fifty shades of grey was accurate.

The Sub-dom dynamic is, at its heart, about connection, the giving up of control to a trusted person, consensual power exchange.

You'll notice Joel is always checking in with reader during the start of their sexual interactions. And reader is very vocal in her desire for him to take control.

In canon Joel was a man who craved control to keep himself and others safe. I wanted a Reader who was the opposite, who needed to feel safe by giving up her control.

Dom-sub also isn't always about violence. If you notice, never does Joel hurt the reader during their intimate moments. There's no whips and chains and slapping that we see so often in popular culture.

Dom-sub is also about empowerment. Not only does Joel support her desire, he encourages and helps the reader make it go quiet for herself, helping her to take that power for herself.

Reader and Joel are both changed in their time together, taking not only sexually but emotionally, both of them taking on attributes of the other (reader is more confident at shooting, knows what to do in danger whereas Joel makes those pop tarts and grows more comfortable with being gentle).

I could go on and on, but I thought it was important for folks to see that dom-sub relationships can be some of the most loving, nurturing and secure relationships around.

2. I wanted a reader who wouldn't normally fit in the apocalypse

I wanted the Reader to be an accurate reflection of how someone like me, with very little survival skills, would actually make her way in a desolate, zombie-filled world. I wanted her to be the antithesis to Joel's tough, rough, confident way of being.

But I didn't want her to be a pushover for no reason, her trauma keeps her guarded and as the community embraces her she flourishes.

I wanted her soft and emotionally honest and in a way, scary for Joel to encounter considering how closed up he was.

I see so many fics where the reader is either this badass who can shoot great and kill without remorse, or she's mean and impulsive or the shy virgin trope. Not that these are bad, they just aren't for me.

3. I wanted to write a darker version of Joel

I had just come off the heels of writing "something to fight for" and wanted a change of pace from the sweet, romance.

I wanted a Joel that felt a bit "darker" that most I'd read, but with humanity. I wanted it realistic that his character would eventually break down his walls and fall in love, even if it wasn't what he wanted.

4. Reader was never going to be pregnant.

I made that decision early on. But I didn't want her to hate kids or be hard. It seems there's no room for soft, sweet women who don't want kids. You can love babies and not want any of your own!

5. The color red is a symbol for change

Colors are a big deal for me and I'm this story red indicate a period of transition; the red scarf, Jenny's red dress, the color of the paper flowers Joel brings, Charlie's sign, etc.

6. I wrote the reader to be in her mid-thirties.

You can imagine she and Joel at any age, but in my mind she was not a young woman. She's lived a life.

I never see a reader in Joel stories over the age of 25/26. It's a bit frustrating because I am a woman in her thirties and am often taken out of stories when I see how young the reader is paired up with Joel. (No judgement on those that write it, we all like different stuff).

I guess it's because when I think of canon Joel I cannot imagine him pursuing a woman younger than his daughter, Sarah would be. It just doesn't seem in his character (but he's fictional so y'all take from that what you will!)

I also notice a rather odd trend of infantalizing the reader to be inappropriately young in fiction. The shy virgin trope. Like acting like a young teenager and for a variety of reasons that does not sit well with me. I don't want young women thinking that this is their only option for being attractive in this universe.

7. In my original draft Joel ended up alone.

It ended with Joel having to watch the reader move on with another man in town. He would be regretful of the damage he caused, still go to his therapist and have it end with reader and he reconciling, and walking away being friends. He would be grateful to her for showing him he was worthy of love.

Obviously I scrapped that when I saw how deeply their relationship began to develop.

8. Reader + Jennifer = romance?

I joked about reader ending up with Jennifer in the end, but I did think about it for a bit when I saw the open hostility for Joel. I also saw how Jennifer and reader could be a good match. But in the end I loved seeing two women who love truly each other platonically.

9. I made Jennifer beautiful and blonde on purpose

Jennifer's character from the start was always going to be a big part of the plot. But I never thought about her and reader developing a true friendship until I saw all the Jennifer hate.

It made me realize that female friendships with no competition or backstabbing is so rare in fiction. Jennifer was always ride or die for reader.

Yes, Jennifer was a catalyst for the angst BUT the second she found out what Joel did she was out. Their subsequent fight wasn't really about Joel, in the end Jennifer was more upset that reader wasn't sharing of herself.

Jennifer turned out to be one of my favorite characters because she subverted the beautiful, blonde, helpless villain trope.

9. I wanted this story to showcase different forms of love.

I wanted romantic love, familial love, friendship love, self love, practical love, etc with many of the characters and supporting characters. There are so many facets to love and I wanted to explore them all!

10. I wanted Joel to confront his feelings about Sarah and Tess.

I haven't played the game but while Joel mentions being able to open his heart to Ellie, we never see him truly come to terms in a healthy way. Same

goes for Tess who obviously meant a lot to him.

11. I regret not putting more of Tess mentions into the story

She meant a lot to Joel and I feel like there was some good scenes that could have come from it. I also feel like he would still carry a lot of guilt about it.

12. I hate writing smut

I love reading it but writing it is such a chore. I never feel like my steamy scenes are cohesive. STFF made me attempt it. But for this story I knew it would be a large part so I forced myself, thinking it would be a good way to challenge myself.

However, my favorite sex scene is the one where a jealous reader and Joel do it in the farmhouse! (I need to know YOUR favorite! Please!)

13. I lost my job during this story

Yeah it was a hard time and this story really saved me in many ways. When people donate to my ko-fi I don't think they realize how much they're helping me not only to write but to thrive.

14. I almost abandoned the story.

When few people engaged with it on A03 initially, I thought there wasn't an audience for it. And I can admit, comments drive me to keep going. However when I shared it on Tumblr I was blown away by the community. I kept going because of it and I'm very thankful.

So you need to know community, sharing, support, etc are what drives creativity. It blossoms, it reaches across time to touch people. So thank you to every one who supported this one.

15. So Much to Lose - E-BOOK

After the end of my SEASONS Epilogues (ending in Winter) I WILL be releasing a FREE e-book of So Much to Lose with additional scenes and (hopefully) better editing! It will also feature a recipe book based on some of the food items within the story!

QUESTIONS FOR YOU READERS

1. What was your favorite all time scene? (Both smut and non-smut!)

2. Do you think Jennifer and Luke should have a boy or girl?

3. How do you think Joel responded after Reader proposed?

Chapter 30: Vignette: Joel's Response

Notes:

spoiler below: if you haven't read the other parts of the story this spoils things. If you have read, please enjoy this sweet little summer drabble that takes place immediately where the Summer' vignette ended.
I am working on the SMTL Fall Vignette for a September release, but this drabble is a small gift in thanks to everyone who has supported this story (tumblr, a03 and now to my delight - tiktok!)
In other news thank you for all your sweet comments and well wishes. I promise I am not losing heart, I am not giving up on anything. I have read every single message sent over and over.
love,
Emma

Chapter Text

You're confused when Joel just stares at you, big eyes round and glazed like he didn't hear you correctly. The two of you stare in silence, slow blinking at one another until the quiet stretches too long.

"Joel?" You murmur anxiously. "Did you hear me?"

"Huh?" He blinks again. "Didn't I answer?"

"No," you say with a shaky laugh. "You're just sitting there staring at me."

"Oh, shit," Joel says and now his arms come to circle your waist, tugging you onto his lap. "I must've just thought it. Of course I wanna marry you. Are you serious?"

You feel a grin spread over your features, relief flooding you after his hesitation, lips plumping together when he comes in for a devastating kiss. The kind that has your toes curling.

"I wanna marry you so fuckin' bad," he says hoarsely, eyes limpid.

He didn't want to be upset, not with you sitting there across from him in the porch swing, looking so pretty and excited with a glossy sheen in your eyes. He couldn't say what he was really thinking.

Not when you reached for him with a little coo caught in your throat, not when he felt his love for you swell almost painfully in his chest.

And not when he gathered you into his arms, pressing kiss after kiss to your waiting lips, murmuring of course he would marry you, of course.

And not when he had you caged underneath him in bed minutes later, fingers laced as he watched you gaze up at him, moaning his name as tears slid down the sides of your temples when he called you the future Mrs Miller. The only woman that had ever held the title, the only woman he had truly wanted to call his wife.

But in the dark hours later as he held your slumbering body next to his, listening to the soft rasp of your breathing did he feel the first twinges of disappointment.

I was supposed to be the one askin'.

Joel was at heart a man from the South where a man was the man. He was supposed to do the proposing. He was supposed to plan something elaborate. He was supposed to have a ring and a plan.

And he confided this in the only person he felt he could; his little brother as they walked in the early summer heat the next morning, forehead slick with sweat.

"What's the problem?" Tommy asked as they rounded the outer perimeter. Joel had arrived at his place at six am looking exhausted and asking for a walk.

"We uh... We got engaged last night."

The words were barely out of his mouth before Tommy had him in a bear hug, laughing loudly.

"About fuckin' time man! But I thought we were gonna plan the perfect proposal! How'd you end up asking her? Tell me the guitar wasn't involved, you cheesy bastard." Tommy stopped grinning and released Joel when he saw his big brother's expression. "What happened?"

"She asked me."

Tommy said nothing, just smiled and nodded. "She's a special one. I'm happy for you."

"Tom, c'mon." Joel sighed, scrubbing a hand down his face. "You think Dad wouldn't have something to say about it if he were alive?"

"Good thing he's not," Tommy said gently. "I don't think he ever had an opinion worth a lick a salt."

The two brothers grew quiet, walking in the wooded area, the gentle tweet of birds guiding them.

"What would you have done if Maria asked you?"

"I wouldn't have cared," Tommy shrugged.

"You're lyin'."

Tommy thinned his lips, eyes thoughtful. "I dunno, man. I think I just would've been happy I get to marry her, y'know?"

Something in his brother solemnity caused Joel to pause. Your eyes swam into Joel's mind, the way your body felt against his, the way you laughed with your whole body. Your kindness, your compassion, your beauty, your talents.

"Yeah," Joel nodded with a small smile. "I know what you mean."

When you wake up to an empty bed you're not totally alarmed. Joel gets up early some mornings to make breakfast or coffee.

Joel you're fiancé.

Joel you're soon to be husband.

The thought makes you giddy.

You throw the blanket off of you, showering and then running downstairs in an old sundress. You can't wait to hold him, to kiss him as your first full day as engaged people.You and Joel are private people. Going out to shout the information from the rooftops feels too sacred, too special to let out into the world just yet.

You want to nurture it, to keep it safe behind your ribs next to your heart for a little bit away from prying eyes.

That's why you're a little disappointed when Joel isn't there in the kitchen or his carving room. Ellie is at school so he's not with her. He hasn't left a note so he's not been pulled into patrols.

You search the yard, brows furrowed when you don't see him anywhere. Barkley is there, begging for a treat though. You grab a banana muffin, tossing it his way before you head into town with him at your heels.

You check the usual spots, but it's early and most are closed for another hour or so. You say hello to friendly faces, waving, but you're distracted looking for a familiar set of broad shoulders and wide hands.

When the usual haunts turn up empty you shuffle your way to the barn, thinking that perhaps he's gone to visit Midnight. Instead it holds Kevin and his brother Will, chatting and feeding Arrow. You give them a wave.

"Hey stranger," Kevin says, pulling you into a side hug.

"Hey you two," you say, smiling brightly. "If I'd known you were here I would have brought fry bread. I made this cherry jam I think you'd love."

"You're trying to get me fat," Will says patting his non-existent belly. "And I don't mind one bit."

The three of you chat amiably, delighted to hear that they've been able to find time for good fishing between patrols.

"Caught us a really good one Monday," Kevin brags, his long braid glossy in the sunlight. "Mountain whitefish."

"How did it taste?"

"Dunno. Gonna cook it up tomorrow." He raises his brows. "You and Joel want some?"

You're about to take him up on the offer when you think of the BBQ that you and Jenny planned for tomorrow.

She's like you, the more the merrier. So you don't hesitate in inviting Kevin and Will to it, citing they can bring their fish to share. The men look delighted, nodding and bidding you a farewell as you make your way through the barn.

You pass by the gates of the pens that hold the goats, sheep and pigs. The hot weather has them all seeking shade. You spot a familiar face walking to the sheep pen, two bottles in her hand.

"Hey," Maria greets you, smiling warmly. Baby Douglas is strapped to her back, milk drunk and passed out. "What're you doing here?"

"Just felt like a walk," you lie. "And I was inviting Kevin and Will for a BBQ Jenny And I are hosting. Any chance you and Tommy wanna come? We're thinking potluck style."

"Hell yeah," Maria nods happily. "I'll get Sheila to look after this little menace," she says tilting her chin in Douglas' direction.

The sheep begin bleating at Maria in hopes of extra food as she enters the pen, closing it behind her.

"Why are you in there with bottles?" You ask curiously.

She brushes hair back from her face, nodding towards two tiny lambs that bundle together near the edge of the pen.

"These little gals just lost their mama so a few of us are taking turns bottle feeding them every four hours."

You crouch down, watching the babies shoot you a concerned look through the fence. They look so small, so helpless. Your heart aches for them.

Maria on the other hand is in her element, cheeks swollen with a smile, eyes sparkling. She's so much herself again and she attributes most of that to her therapy and the medication she takes. It makes you feel good to see your friend back to herself, the kind of good that pushes your concerns about Joel out of your mind.

"Want some help?"

Maria smiles. "Grab a bottle."

Joel finishes fumbles with the pipes under your mom's sink with a grunt, his spine and underarms damp with sweat, neck and forehead shining.

"What the fuck did you put down here?"

"Nothing!" Your mom insists with a tut. "William came over for dinner last night, did the dishes and this morning I wake up to a gurgling sink that won't drain."

"And he didn't let anything go down the sink?"

"No."

"You're sure about that?" Joel pushes himself out from under the sink, holding up a chicken bone in her direction.

"Oh shit." A beat. "Well that's on William. I'm not the one who fucked up."

Joel can't help but laugh. Your mom is just as stubborn as you, just as insistent that she's right even when she messes up.

"Well, thank you, honey," she says as Joel finishes tightening the pipes. "Let me make you up something to eat before you go."

"Nah, I better get back," Joel says wiping down his hands with the rag hanging over the sink. "I have another stop to make before I head home for breakfast."

"Oh that's right, thank you for coming to fix this," she says genuinely. "I know you were going to... Well, actually I don't know where you were off to so early."

Joel's face goes pinched, licking his lower lip anxiously. Your mother narrows her eyes, lips pursed.

"You take a seat right now, Joel Miller," she says firmly. "You and I have some catching up to do."

By the time you wander over to Jenny's you've already run into Penny and Arthur who are delighted at the impromptu BBQ invite and insist they'll bring corn.

"Don't be upset with me," you tell Jenny the second she answers the door, "but I sort of invited a few people to our BBQ... Like....a bunch."

As you expected Jenny waves off your anxiety.

"As far as I'm concerned the more the merrier as long as they bring enough to share," she says with a smile before wincing. She pats her stomach. "Baby is excited too."

You lean forward, mouth inches from her belly.

"Listen you little brat, you better behave tomorrow night so your mom and I can have some fun."

Jenny laughs, an arm crooked around your shoulder as she leads you into the house for some sweet tea.

"Where's Luke?"

"Grabbing some last minute groceries from town."

The two of you sit on her back porch, sweet tea sweating in a mug. The day is turning mild bringing to mind thoughts of the upcoming fall season.

You smile, eyes unfocused as you think about a wedding. Will you do it like Jenny and Luke did? Maybe that's what Joel would want. He's low key and so are you.

"I miss patrols," Jenny admits out of nowhere, feet swinging gently. "I'm so bored not having a job."

"Really? I thought you'd like the break."

"No, I hate it. I'm not a sit around and eat bon bons type of girl. I need a project or something. I think I better go back to the textiles group and..."

You nod as she continues talking, but your mind is distracted. Your thoughts are not here with your best friend, they're out in the world wondering where Joel is.

"So what's the problem? Weren't we just talking about the two of you getting engaged yesterday?"

Your mother sits across from Joel looking utterly flummoxed. He feels like a child being scolded at recess.

"There's no problem," Joel insists with a shake of his head. "S' just... I thought things might.... I thought..."

He keeps starting and stopping, grasping for words that feel just out of reach. But your mom is shrewd and sees right through it.

"You thought you'd be the one doing the asking."

Joel’s shoulders lower, face downcast. "Yes, ma'am."

Your mother has a faraway look in her eyes, a small smile at one corner of her mouth. He can see the sheen to her eyes and the way she has to blink quickly. "My baby getting married." But then she blinks that away, eyes flitting over to Joel. "I know you wanted to be the one to ask, honey. But you got the same result, the two of you making it official."

"You're right," Joel nods. "It's what Tommy told me too."

"Smart boy." Your mom looks wistful. "She give you a ring?"

"No ma'am. That's where I was going today, gonna see if I can trade for one in town."

"No need."

Joel raises a brow as your mom moves her twisted fingers to the wedding ring she wears. Age and hard labor have twisted her fingers and knuckles. After a grunt and pull she tugs it from her fourth finger.

"You can have this one free of charge."

Joel stares at the thin gold band she holds between her thumb and forefinger. It's faded with age, dented from a rough life and yet Joel thinks it's the most beautiful ring he's ever seen.

"It's time for me to pass it on," she says with a bittersweet sigh. "I can't wait to see my daughter wearing it."

Joel's eyes go blurry as he looks at the delicate ring in his palm. He gives your mom a watery smile.

"Well then, Joel," your mom says with a broad smile, "you get to do something a little special now, don't you?"

Its mid afternoon before Joel returns smelling like sweat and sunlight. You're standing at the kitchen counter working on a new recipe when the front door creaks open.

Joel sees your frustrated expression and doesn't even take off his boots before he's striding towards you.

"I'm sorry I was gone so long," Joel says cupping your face in his wide hands and kissing you soundly. "Your mom needed help with plumbing and I was with Tommy and honestly the day just got away from me."

"That's okay, I was just worried."

He nods and you notice a slight tic in his jaw. An elevated way of breathing. He seems nervous.

"You look beautiful," he murmurs, kiss planted against your forehead.

"I'm sweaty and covered in flour" you say with a little laugh.

"Beautiful to me," Joel whispers, a sly grin crossing his features. "Good enough to eat."

And when he takes you to bed that night he shows you just how much he means what he says.

The casual BBQ turns out to be a ridiculous affair with everyone bringing their own chairs, Tommy borrowing a card table from the Bison, and enough food to keep everyone satisfied.

Ellie brought both Kat and Dina and the three of them hang out on the edge, that teenage angst keeping them from dancing. You don't mind, you ruffle her hair when you pass and grin when she tells you to quit it.

You're surprised when you see Joel approaching with your mom, her eyes bright.

"I didn't know you were coming," you say with a smile.

"Joel invited me."

"He did?" You look at Joel to see pink at his cheeks. "I'm so glad."

Your mom keeps coming to squeeze your upper arm through the event, kissing your cheek and gazing at you with that simultaneously sweet and annoying way all mothers do. You think she must know about the engagement but she hasn't said anything. You and Joel decided that you'd share the good news tonight with your friends when the time is right.

Luke brings out his guitar when dinner ends, his eyes on Jenny as he croons a love ballad. The group watches as Jenny beams, hand over her belly, eyes soft at the edges.

She deserves this love and so much more.

You bring out cupcakes you’ve made, delicious and sweet in the fading light. It feels like summer is giving way to fall but with resistance. You love hearing the delighted murmurs as the plate is emptied.

You swipe some icing from Jenny’s cupcake as you hand it to her, giving her a wink as you head back to Joel standing on the outer edges of the group. He smiles tenderly at you as you approach, holding out his arms for you to fold into.

Joel gently tugs you in front of him, your spine against his chest. His arms circle your middle, his chin over your shoulder as the two of you sway. As the song comes to an end you miss when Joel glances meaningfully at Luke, offering a short nod. Luke responds in kind with a little smile tugging at his mouth.

"Next up, one of my old favorites."

You watch as Luke’s fingers dance along the strings, everyone circled around him in their chairs. Some hold beer bottles, others licking sugar from their fingertips.

You've got a way to keep me on your side

You've give me cause for love that I can't hide. For you, I know I'd even try to turn the tide. Because you're mine, I walk the line.

You and Joel beam at one another, memories flooding back as Joel's hand slides down to your wrist, looping gently.

"Let's go over there."

You raise a brow when he softly urges you to follow him to the front yard, away from everyone else. No one seems to notice or mind that you're leaving the group, everything feels contented and happy.

The flowers are fragrant and the faint sound of Luke playing can be heard in the warm summer night behind you.

"May I have this dance?" Joel says huskily, extending a hand your way when you come to a stop in the grass.

"You may," you grin, taking it and squealing as Joel spins you into his arms.

You're up against him breathlessly before he parks one hand at your back, one hand holding yours to his chest and swaying you both gently in time to the slow beat. Joel begins to sing softly to the song, voice reverberating through his chest against your palm.

You've got a way to keep me on your side
You give me cause for love that I can't hide
For you I know I'd even try to turn the tide
Because you're mine, I walk the line

The lights Jenny hung along the backyard this summer twinkle magically around you and for a moment you can forget that there was ever an apocalypse, that there was ever anything but beauty and goodness in this world because the joy you feel right now makes you glow.

You close your eyes, cheek propped against Joel’s chest, really taking in the words before he trails off.

"I remember the first time I sang you this song."

You can too. You and Douglas sitting across from Joel, the man who at the time you thought was maybe a friend at best gazing at you as he sang.

"I was falling for you so hard. I couldn't believe it," Joel adds.

Me too.

You can hear the pitter of his heart under your ear and the way his voice echoes in his chest when he speaks.

"There's somethin' I've been wanting to say to you for a long time," he finally says in a whisper. "And I think now is as good a time as any."

Your head rises, gazing at him. He looks anxious, eyes bouncing all over your face like they know where to land. You know this look. Your hand goes to his sternum, fingers splayed over his chest. You breathe slowly, eyes locked until he begins to mimic you.

In and out.

In... and out...

In..... and.... Out.

It’s like he can finally breathe properly, inhaling deep fresh air as a shaky smile curves his mouth.

It's now or never.

"You're the only woman I've ever wanted to have my last name, the only woman who I feel like I trust to see the real me. You make the world quiet when it gets too loud for me. And I love making it go quiet for you."

You giggle shyly, heart hiccupping.

"I know you already asked me to marry you," Joel murmurs through a sniffle. "But I thought I'd ask you too. Because that's how we do things: together."

You feel him slip something onto your fourth finger, warm and metallic, like he's been holding it in his warm palm. You don't need to look down to know it's a ring.

"You need to know I'm gonna choose you today and for the rest of our lives together."

"I knew that without the ask," you reply, arms wrapping around his neck. "And yes, I'd love to marry you, Joel Miller."

The words hit him behind the ribs, wrapping around his heart and squeezing pleasurably. He grins so widely his face feels numb. He pulls you tightly against him. “I hope this is okay. Me askin’.”

“More than okay.”

His hands go to your cheeks, pulling your lips to his and kissing you tenderly, mouth soft and yours so sweet he feels like he must've done something good in a past life to earn this moment with you.

"Mrs. Miller," he murmurs against your lips, moving them to brush along your cheekbone, kissing away the tears that have fallen. "I can't believe you're gonna be my wife."

His mouth slants over yours again and he feels you sigh, arms wrapping around his neck as he begins pushing soft kisses to your cheeks, your eyelids, and your temple. Joel holds you there against him, swaying to the music, and your face against his neck, his cheek against the crown of your head.

"Guess we should tell everyone," you finally say softly against his jaw.

"In a minute," he murmurs, kissing your hairline gently.

There will be time to tell everyone at the party, to have the world in on this special announcement. To receive the well wishes and smiles and congratulations.

But for now Joel wants the quiet of this moment between just you two to go on a little longer.

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charleybee7 on Chapter 1 Mon 20 Nov 2023 03:29AM UTC

Yay, I was wondering what I’d read tonight!
I laughed so hard when I saw MC made cookies because I KNEW how well that would go over with Outbreak Joel 😂 I also loved the part about how he isn’t intense or cute, just an asshole, lol.

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1. auteurdelabre on Chapter 1 Mon 20 Nov 2023 03:48AM UTC
  
  He's on Atkins! Ha ha
  
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2. 1. charleybee7 on Chapter 1 Mon 20 Nov 2023 10:44AM UTC
    
    LOL, I just spit out my coffee. Put it that way and I’d probably be feral, too.
    
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OliveJuice3 on Chapter 1 Mon 20 Nov 2023 04:28AM UTC

Can't wait to see what's in store for these two !!

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Readerme87 on Chapter 1 Mon 20 Nov 2023 04:42AM UTC

❤️ interesting. can't wait to see where this goes.

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Feralr3ader (Guest) on Chapter 1 Mon 20 Nov 2023 10:58AM UTC

Its fun to sew a different Joel than we are used to! Can't wait to see how these two get under each other's skin...and what role ellie plays in it all!!
So excited to see you are still writing :)

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Serendipity22086 on Chapter 1 Mon 20 Nov 2023 07:28PM UTC

“I’m the one who gives orders, not you.” *kick to my kinks* lmao
I’m intrigued by bossy Joel, he’s definitely the ….ahem….dominant type.
And here comes poor MC with her introverted too-cautious-of-public-stimulation self making cookies. This is a match made in heaven.
I’m glad you’re still writing, you definitely have a gift, my dear.

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1. auteurdelabre on Chapter 1 Tue 21 Nov 2023 05:50AM UTC
  
  Thank you Hun! I think a dominant Joel is quite. . . Appealing.
  
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Drowninggirl on Chapter 1 Wed 22 Nov 2023 06:42AM UTC

Save me joel miller save me!!!
Omg YESS my fave author is back!!! Im so excited to see this dynamic between joel and MC!!

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Slappypapy on Chapter 1 Wed 22 Nov 2023 09:37PM UTC

I LOVE THIS ALREADYYY!!!! I’ve read all of your works, they’re so addicting, I have high hopes!

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Nadjaofantipaxos on Chapter 1 Sat 25 Nov 2023 10:56AM UTC

I'm so excited you have a new fic and this one already has dom Joel. Can't wait to see him being a hot old asshole.

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1. auteurdelabre on Chapter 1 Sat 25 Nov 2023 04:00PM UTC
  
  I love Dom Joel heh heh
  
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pineappley on Chapter 1 Sat 25 Nov 2023 05:31PM UTC

omg wait wait wait i can't get obsessed with this story tooooooo 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

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PedrosLittleLady on Chapter 1 Wed 06 Dec 2023 07:54PM UTC

Ooh! I’m loving the start of this, I’m excited! Love me some mean grumpy Joel in bad need of a hug 😂

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IfWishesWereHorses on Chapter 1 Sun 25 Feb 2024 01:23AM UTC

Looks good

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Wednesdaybb on Chapter 1 Sat 06 Apr 2024 09:36AM UTC

“This world is not always pretty, there's blood and gore and tears in this world along with the quiet…”
Good news! I love an emotionally unavailable man covered in blood! They’re my fav flavor.
“I'll check with Maria and see who you're paired up with”
Yeah, pls check Tommy. And it better be your dilfy brother with a bad attitude. Heheheheh
"Hey Miller," someone calls out from the street… Joel gives them a small wave and keeps walking.”
Um, who is my man waving at. Eyes on me Miller.
“He wasn't saying it to sound alluring, you know that because you can see the genuine irritation in his dark eyes as they bore into yours. And yet, Joel Miller's husky voice informing you that he gives the orders?”
OHHHH YEAH, that’s what I’m here for babe. It’s not even mean in a hot way— it’s more that he’s being mean and he is also stupid hot. Ya know what I mean? 100/10. I can’t wait to skip sleep to binge read about this sexy emotionally constipated idiot who scoffs at fresh cookies!
Like, pls help why do I need this man to be mean? Yell at me Joel? I wanna cry like I’m trying to do my math homework at the kitchen table with my dad as a kid (wait don’t linger on the attachment issues there). Gonna piss him off so bad. I sure hope he doesn’t have any unhealthy coping mechanisms like using sex instead of communicating orrrr holding all the feelings in until he accidentally becomes a little pathetic when he breaks, orrr being so mean SHE snaps and maybe he likes it when she’s mean to him- is that uno reverse?
Weeee! Can’t wait to see where it goes next! You keep me on my toes!!

Last Edited Sat 06 Apr 2024 09:51AM UTC

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1. auteurdelabre on Chapter 1 Sat 06 Apr 2024 04:24PM UTC
  
  "I sure hope he doesn’t have any unhealthy coping mechanisms like using sex instead of communicating"
  It's official. Your comments make my fuckin day
  
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2. 1. Wednesdaybb on Chapter 1 Sun 07 Apr 2024 05:35AM UTC
    
    PLEASE, every chapter makes me feel like I could die happy and my only dying wish is that rather than appointing anyone to delete my browser history-- I will appoint someone to lead a book club of my ao3 subscriptions so everyone gets to experience this holy torment.
    AND THEN when you reply to me? The RUSH! I feel like Joel just made prolonged eye contact with me and then winked at me. I'm squealing
    
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preparetobegay on Chapter 1 Sun 21 Apr 2024 05:30PM UTC

this fic has rewired my brain chemistry. i am gnawing at the iron bars of my enclosure waiting for each update. and i'm not even a huge fan of TLOU this is just That good.

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Missladym1981 on Chapter 1 Tue 07 May 2024 05:45AM UTC

OMFG OMFG OMFF I CAN'T WAIT FOR CHAPTER 12 AHHHHHHHHHH

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Keeloat2110 on Chapter 1 Sat 23 Nov 2024 04:24AM UTC

I hope there’s at least a couple chapters we get to see them together and happy before the end

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wannab_urs on Chapter 1 Wed 27 Nov 2024 04:28AM UTC

I love asshole!Joel so much... it makes the eventual softer side of him coming out so much more rewarding. Excited to dig into this!

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paladoris on Chapter 1 Thu 24 Apr 2025 06:00PM UTC

I've read it all except the Epilogues, which I'm saving for tonight. I wanted to thank you for this story and for the few days I spent wrapped up in its warmth. The characters left off the page...I could see myself in the frailty and strength of the reader, and I love her character's evolution from a frightened, shell-shocked trauma bomb to an independent, strong, yet still soft woman who deserves the world. So happy Joel could give it to her.
Furthermore, I love your joel. I love how hard and damaged he is, how closed off in the beginning. But you take us on a journey with his character, and we slowly see him open like a flower in the sun. Also appreciated the dual POVs allowing us to see what Joel was going through and his first impressions of reader in latter chapters. And I love the relationship between Ellie and reader. So needed. Some authors forget about Ellie, but her character shines here.
Thank you so much for writing. Someonen recommended this fic in the comments on tiktok, among others, and yours is the first one I've read. I eagerly await your published book :).

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1. auteurdelabre on Chapter 1 Fri 25 Apr 2025 04:35AM UTC
  
  Like a flower in the sun. My heart. Thank you so much for this, hon. Do you happen to know who recommended it?
  
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2. 1. paladoris on Chapter 1 Thu 22 May 2025 09:27AM UTC
    
    I don't, but its a frequent recommendation there, especially by me. There are whole TikTok edits devoted to your story. Next time I see one, I'll drop the link here.
    
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not_cricketing (cricketing) on Chapter 1 Wed 14 May 2025 01:06AM UTC

You keep saying this Joel is meaner but istg this is the most accurate characterization I’ve seen on this website, you’ve got his narrative voice DEOWNNNNNNNN I’m telling you

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1. auteurdelabre on Chapter 1 Thu 15 May 2025 09:07AM UTC
  
  I think that Joel is often written as either too soft or too passive. In my head when I write, it's 90% Boston Joel (my Roman empire)
  
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Cheam_Creems on Chapter 1 Fri 23 May 2025 02:32AM UTC

I’m locked in.

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Pascalobsessed32 on Chapter 1 Tue 27 May 2025 10:25AM UTC

This is the best Joel miller fic I’ve ever read I’m obsessseed ❤️

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Work Header

So much to lose

auteurdelabre

Summary:

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Chapter 1: Patrols

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Chapter 2: The Doe

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Chapter 3: You make the rules, remember?

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Chapter 4: Early Riser

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Chapter 5: You still want this?

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Chapter 6: Trapped Inside

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Chapter 7: Spoiled

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Chapter 8: Shoulder to Shoulder

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Chapter 9: Repairs

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Chapter 10: Rancher Street

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Chapter 11: Snow

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Chapter 12: Town Meeting

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Chapter 13: Family Dinner

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Chapter 14: Coffee Flavored Kisses

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Chapter 15: Going Quiet

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Chapter 16: Will you tell me?

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Chapter 17: Pockets of Beauty

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Chapter 17: Pockets of Beauty

Chapter 18: Useless

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WARNINGS/TAGS/DO NOT READ FURTHER UNLESS YOU WANT THIS CHAPTER TO BE POTENTIALLY SPOILED .

Chapter 19: Under the Lights

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Chapter 20: Footprints in the Snow

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Chapter 21: The Red Scarf

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Chapter 21: The Red Scarf

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Chapter 22: Looking Forward

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Chapter 22: Looking Forward

Chapter 23: Charlie's

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TWO MONTHS LATER