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SO MUCH TO LOSE MASTERLIST - ONGOING

So Much to Lose - ONGOING

For readers 18+ only please!

summary:

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.note: Featuring Dark!Joel

story trailer

note: the gal in this is just a stand in, because the Reader is YOU in it.

Chapter 1 : Patrols

Chapter 2: The Doe

Chapter 3: You Make the Rules, Remember?

Chapter 4: Early Riser

Chapter 5: You still want this?

Chapter 6: Trapped Inside

Chapter 7: Spoiled

Chapter 8: Shoulder to Shoulder

Chapter 9: Repairs

Chapter 10: Rancher Street

Chapter 11: Snow

Chapter 12: Town Meeting

Chapter 13: Family Dinner

Chapter 14: Coffee Flavored Kisses

Chapter 15: Going Quiet

Chapter 16 : Will you tell me?

Chapter 17 : Pockets of Beauty - coming January 2025

Chapter 18: Useless

Chapter 19: Footprints in the snow

Chapter 20 - Looking Forward

Chapter 21 - Epilogue

EXTRAS

"Chapter 7 Joel" by @loveIvyxxx

Story MoodBoard by @angelbabysblog

Joel Miller Moodboard by @angelbabysblog

SMTL meme

So Much to Lose Chapter 18 PART 2

PLEASE READ: This is PART 2 of 2 for this chapter because apparently Tumblr wants to make my life a nightmare and won't let me post the whole thing in one. So please don't panic, PART ONE IS HERE.

Also important: TAGS AND WARNINGS FOR THE WHOLE CHAPTER ARE FOUND AT THE BOTTOM OF THE CHAPTER UNDER THE JOEL GIF. SCROLL THERE TO SEE ANY WARNINGS OR TAGS.

RATED 18+

And lastly... please review. This chapter is over 30K. It was re-written after laptopgate 2024. It is blood, sweat and tears. Please review, reblog, and COMMENT. Even if you're mad at me.

Chapter 18: Useless - Part 2

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 SHIT 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. I think that's it.

--------------------------------

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SMTL Chapter 18 PART 1

I couldn't wait to post...

PLEASE READ: This is PART 1 of 2 for this chapter because apparently Tumblr wants to make my life a nightmare and won't let me post the whole thing in one. So please don't panic, PART TWO IS HERE.

Also important: TAGS AND WARNINGS FOR THE WHOLE CHAPTER ARE FOUND AT THE BOTTOM OF THE CHAPTER UNDER THE JOEL GIF. SCROLL THERE TO SEE ANY WARNINGS OR TAGS.

And lastly... please review. This chapter is over 30K. It was re-written after laptopgate 2024. It is blood, sweat and tears. Please review, reblog, and COMMENT. Even if you're mad at me.

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!"

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, 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, uprighting 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."

WARNINGS/TAGS/DO NOT READ FURTHER UNLESS YOU WANT SHIT TO BE POTENTIALLY SPOILED.

tags/warnings: romance, love, soft!Joel, ANGST, gore, blood, Animal death. Human death, mentions of guns, P in V (protected), dirty talk, trauma, clickers. I think that's it.

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