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after a long, tough weekend at work for you both, javi shows up and interrupts you just as you’re about to take your ‘everything shower’.
the harvest festival
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you agree to take your nephew to his first harvest festival where he meets a new friend… and you get to meet her hot dad. jolabrew + withcheese fall challenge by jolapeno and goodwithcheese
the bright green string of fate
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after moving to an apartment in austin, texas, you meet your new neighbor, joel. soulmate au
post-it note pursuit
javier peña x reader | one shot | fluff | read on ao3
someone in the office is leaving you post-it notes. dear-uary epistolary challenge by jolapeno
"baby, where's your underwear?"
javier peña x reader | drabble | mild spice | read on ao3
javi persuades you to go commando in the office. never have i ever challenge by yxtkiwiyxt
"that won't ever be me, bebita."
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javi and steve go missing. with los pepes at large, you and connie wait up and worry for your loves. angst challenge by almostfoxglove
sweet enough
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frankie takes care of you when your blood sugars crash. disability visibility challenge by romanarose
like breathing
javier peña x f!reader | one shot | angst/smut | read on ao3
you try to get javier peña to come home.
best day ever!
javier peña x f!reader | drabble | fluff | read on ao3
javi takes you to disneyworld and you try to convince him to wear the damn ears. trope search by jolacheese b&b
amor prohibido
javier peña x !reader | one shot | smut | read on ao3
javier peña is catching feelings for the last person on earth that he should. 🎶summer tunes writing challenge🎶 by burntheedges
the morning commute
javier peña x reader | completed series | action | read on ao3
in the midst of escobar’s desperate war for control in colombia, your morning commute is disrupted when you find yourself tangled up in his latest bomb threat. speed (1994) au
the inbetween
joel miller & trauma surgeon!ofc | series | angst | read on ao3
it's been five years since the incident and someone has something to tell joel miller.
more
reading and recs blog | iknowisoundcrazyreads
a little bit more about me | from iknowisoundcrazyreads
dividers by me, but with canva measurements from @saradika-graphics (thank you!)
characters: joel miller & angelina alvarez (trauma surgeon!ofc)
rating: 18+ (mdni)
word count: ~2.9k
chapter summary: angelina senses someone is there. sarah learns more about her would-be saviour.
chapter warnings: pov switching, angst-adjacent, joel isn't good with words even in the written format, no use of y/n.
a/n: i’m not sure my tags are working, and i’ve no idea how to tell (it just looks funny here?) or to fix it, so i apologise if you’ve not been getting tagged! what did the note say, what did the note saaaayyyyyy? i straight-up forgot what day it was, i’m sorry - we had a weird work pattern this week which threw me off, but here we are! a shorter one today! i hope you're enjoying if you're still with me 💕 we're more than halfway through now. let me know what you think!
read on ao3 | masterlist | series masterlist
dividers by @thecutestgrotto
Angelina arrived in her office and sighed heavily as the door clicked closed behind her. It wasn’t even lunch yet and she had already conducted two short surgeries. Her back felt close to breaking, and she reached a hand behind her shoulders, awkwardly trying to press out the knots she could feel forming there. When that proved to be useless, she grabbed a granola bar from her stash and made her way to the comfier chair in the corner of her office, flopping down and tossing her head over the back of it. There wasn't much she could do during this short break, she couldn't leave the building, walk a little further to get away from the chaos, so sitting here in the silence with her stale granola bar was the next best thing.
Groaning, she lifted her head after several minutes of silence and unwrapped the bar, taking a bite and feeling like she was chewing cardboard. As she made a mental note to look into a different snack she could keep stashed in her desk drawer, perhaps something that didn't crush her soul when she bit into it, something small fluttered across the room and caught her eye.
Pausing mid-bite and blinking slowly, she gazed at what she now recognized as a scrap of notebook paper, torn where it had once been ring-bound. She looked around at the noticeboard she knew it had fallen from, the one that she had pinned a few notes and cards to. They were mostly from patients she had helped, but there were one or two from family members of patients she could not.
Puzzled, she stood to retrieve the scrap, looking to see that the windows were indeed closed as she had suspected. The AC was on, sure, but the vent for that was at the other side of the room. No breeze could have knocked the paper from the board or had it falling the way that it had.
As she bent to retrieve it, she knew what note it was without having to read the message scrawled on it. This had been from the father of the girl she had spent the morning thinking about.
How serendipitous.
It wasn’t often she received cards or notes, and she never expected them, especially not from anyone whose life had been significantly worsened by her efforts, but here it was Crumpled from the amount of times she had carefuly held it, a few pinholes near the top where it had been stuck back onto the board. She had kept this one because she had been so profoundly touched by the words written upon it that she broke down on her office floor and cried for twenty minutes after receiving it.
She remembered that it had been just over a week since she had lost the girl, and she had been beating herself up about it the entire time. Everything had been affected: her focus, her sleeping pattern, her eating habits. All of it had gone to shit and she couldn't shake it. She knew there hadn’t been anything she could do, but it still felt shitty to lose someone. She had also been giving herself grief because she had promised this teenager that she would tell her dad she loved him, would pass on what ended up being her final words, and she hadn’t been given the chance to do so.
She should have been the one to inform the family, to shatter their world beyond repair, but she had been paged seconds after pronouncing the death. She had left the room to scrub up for another emergency surgery and hadn’t had a chance to catch the father, the one who had been shouting down the corridor. She’d never seen him, wouldn’t know him if she passed him in the street, and she was filled with regret for not fulfilling the promise of a dying girl.
So when the note had appeared on her desk one late afternoon from Joel Miller, accompanied with exactly the message she had needed to hear, she had broken down in tears. Following such a long day of surgeries and high levels of stress, she spent twenty minutes crying on her office floor.
Now Angelina remained crouched, her hand on the paper as she remembered that breakdown. She had sat almost in this exact spot, and mourned the loss of the first patient she had sole responsibility for that she could not save.
Eventually, having debated whether she should read the message again or not, she straightened up and glanced at the handwriting she could now identify anywhere.
Not sure what to say except thank you for being there for my baby girl. They said you held her hand. She wasn't alone in the end & I'm grateful for that.
Joel
After Joel’s name there was a crossed out capital S, and Angelina’s heart cracked every time she looked at it, knowing that the next name he was going to sign was that of his dead daughter. ‘& Eillie’ was scrawled in before the surname, Miller. The ink on the word ‘hand' was blotched and seeped into the paper, as if the father, Joel, had cried when he had written it.
Angelina’s thumb gently touched the crossed out S, treating the scrap of paper as if it was a personal treasure. And really, it was. Something short and simple, yet so raw and full of emotion. These words, filled with such gratitude for the moments that Angelina had been looking back on with guilt and regret, short though they were, had been such a help to her through the years. After reading, she was always able to snap her priorities back into place, to recenter her mind and bring the important things back into focus.
She took a deep breath, a small smile tugging on her lips, and stepped towards the notice board to pin the paper back up. She inspected the note to make sure it wasn’t damaged where the pin would enter, thankful to find no rips or tears. She glanced around the carpeted floor as she approached, searching for the fallen pin, frowning when she couldn’t see it.
Must have rolled under her desk.
She shrugged; there were spare pins around the side, she’d just use one of-
Angelina froze, hand mid-way to the board. She was staring at the pin that held the card in place, right there in its original spot. It hadn't moved.
But how could the paper have flown across her office, landing so far from the board, with no rips or tears and the pin still very much secured in place?
Carefully, slowly, she removed the pin, placed the precious note back where it had been for the last five years, and stuck it back to the board before taking a very slow, very deliberate step back.
Weird.
*
Sarah supposed she should be used to this by now; the fact that even if she might be caught in a compromising position, no one could actually see her. But she still found herself stuck in place as Dr Alvarez stood feet from her, her kind brown eyes trained on the notice board. Sarah held her breath as if she would be heard if she breathed too loudly.
The last time Sarah remembered feeling this way was the time when she quite literally got caught with her hand in the cookie jar. Ellie had given her a piggyback to get closer to the cabinet door, and in the ensuing riot of raucous laughter and shrieking and almost-head-traumas to reach the treats, neither girl had heard their dad and uncle walking in the front door until it was too late. They both had stood frozen, as if the stiller they stood, the less chance there would be of being noticed by the adults.
Their dad had sent them upstairs. Uncle Tommy had turned to face the kitchen wall. His shoulders had been shaking with what Sarah now knew to be uncontrollable laughter, after Ellie silently offered her half eaten cookie to Tommy with the most serious look she'd ever mastered on her face. In between keeping his serious face on for his eight-year-olds and chastising his brother who was almost 30 years their senior to keep his cool, Joel had forgotten to take the cookies off of the girls.
Sarah giggled at the memory that had hit her out of the blue and then clamped her hand over her mouth. Standing very still, scared to be found out, Sarah found herself in exactly the same position as over a decade ago now.
What felt like only seconds ago, she had been in her kitchen with Ellie and her dad, and then when he had mentioned a note he had sent to Dr Alvarez, she wished with all her heart she could know what it said, could know his thoughts and feelings from that time. Then suddenly she was here, in this office, reading Dr Angelina Alvarez FACS, Head Trauma Surgeon on the desk plaque. Sarah had looked around for a few minutes in a trance, getting used to the fact that this appeared to be something she could just do now, until she saw it; pinned to a noticeboard. Her dad's handwriting was undeniable.
She had raced to it, carefully unstuck the pin, then replaced it onto the cork as she paced slightly, reading her dad's short note.
Tears sprung to her eyes and it pained her in ways she couldn't describe to read those words. She could tell, even through the short, seemingly blunt words, that he was in a world of pain when he wrote it. She could also tell that it was not something that he had preempted - there were a lot of scores through words, some letters written over others when he had tried to write something different or where his words hadn't felt quite right to him.
She was so glad she could still read her dad through the page like this. To be able to see him in this way, so raw and emotional, through just a few words scribbled on a notepad page made her so tearful that she had to turn her face away. From what or who she did not know, but the note had slipped through her fingers and fluttered to the floor where she had stopped pacing, causing Angelina to look over.
It felt like forever passed - or seconds, she couldn't be sure - before Angelina pinned the notepad page back up where Sarah had found it. Sarah noticed the look in the doctors eyes, the film of unshed tears, and realised with a quiet poignancy that, for whatever reason, her dads words meant just as much - if not more - to Doctor Alvarez.
The longer Sarah spent in the doctor's presence, the calmer she felt. She observed the woman moving around her office and felt a peace she hadn't felt since before the accident. Remembering some of the last words she had ever heard spoken to her, Sarah couldn't help but think that they might be true.
…some people might find it comforting to know they were being saved by an Angel…
Sarah knew it then, would swear it now, despite never having been given any reason to believe in it in her living life: Angelina Alvarez had to be some sort of guardian angel.
*
"Bye, dad," Ellie bounced down the last couple of stairs and took a few steps towards Joel, who was sitting on the sofa with his head tilted backwards.
"Where are you off to? Hot date?"
"Urgh, dad-" Ellie cut herself off at Joel's scoff of laughter. "I'm just-" she sighed and let her shoulders drop, taking the last few steps and sinking into the cushion next to her dad. "I'm going to the diner."
Ellie watched Joel's brows crease as he turned his body towards her and reached to gently take his daughter's hand.
"You doin' okay, babygirl?"
He didn't use the term of endearment all that often anymore; he had used it much more when they were younger, and for a long while after the accident, he couldn't even bring himself to say it at all. But Ellie had noticed that he was able to use it more and more often as the years went on. It was never her thing, but it did bring comfort when Joel used it with her.
"I guess," she shrugged, not wanting him to stress any more than he already had that day. "Just… I don't know, I like going there now?"
Joel nodded, silent in his understanding as Ellie continued.
"I couldn't face it at first. That's where it happened, right? But since Maria and Tommy took me there with Benji last year… I guess it felt kinda nice? We used to love going there, and it was nice to be there and have Benji being a little shit."
"Ellie-"
"What?! He was!"
Joel smiled, no real heat behind his scalding - she was nineteen now, and had done a lot of growing up in her life.
"It felt nice to be there and see a family having fun again, so since then I've tried to go back a few times, just on my own. To sort of build it up I guess."
"I get it," Joel said, squeezing her hand and shifting in his seat again, "same thing happened with me. I'm beginnin' to think they brought Benji along on purpose now."
"Oh I know they did," Ellie nodded fervently. "They kept him off school."
Joel's eyes narrowed. Five years ago he'd have spotted that sneaky behaviour in his little brother instantly, and he was quietly struck by how much he might have missed out on, having spent the last five years in a stupour of grief and questionab;e coping mechanisms.
"Well," he shook himself from his reverie, giving her hand a gentle tug towards him so she fell into him in a sideways embrace, "as long as you're alright to go. Call me if you need me. I'll be there, no questions asked."
Ellie nodded, squeezed him one last time and stood, gathering her backpack and rushing out the door.
*
"Hey, doc," the young barista from that morning greeted her as she stepped through the door and made her way towards the counter, "you back again?"
"Rough day," Angelina replied, letting her shoulders fall a little as she inhaled the scent of strong coffee. "Thought you'd be finished by now?"
"Julia called in sick, so I get the pleasure of a double shift," she said in her cheerful voice, reaching to the serving hatch behind her where food was beginning to pile up. "If you wanna grab a seat, I'll be over as soon as I'm ready!"
"Take your time, I'm just deciding what pastry will fuel me tonight," Angelina smiled at the young girl and leaned towards the display cabinet, casting her eye over the various desserts, pies and pastries. She straightened up, eyes catching on the skinny fries that were being loaded onto a serving tray and immediately made up her mind that she was going for savoury over sweet tonight. A sudden sense of someone behind her made her freeze in her movement and step to the side.
"Oh, I'm so-"
She had turned to apologize for almost standing on the persons feet, sensing she had been about to knock someone over, but had spun around to see that no one was there. She froze once again when she saw the diner to be deserted - she couldn't even blame it on a kid running behind her, or someone walking by to get to the restrooms. The only other group in the diner at all were all sat and being served their food. Angelina had to physically shake her head a couple of times to shock her body into moving again. This had been the second time today that she had felt so jarred by something; first the fallen note in her office and now this.
All thoughts of food gone from her mind, she made her way to the booth from this morning with jerky movements, her mind still completely on what had just happened. She was recognizing the feeling within as the same one from this morning after she pinned the note back on her noticeboard; like she was being watched. Not in a way that felt menacing or unsettling; in fact, once she sat with the feeling for a few minutes and adjusted to it, it actually felt quite pleasant.
So preoccupied with her thoughts as she turned to remove her laptop and notepads from her backpack, Angelina didnt't hear Jenny until she was standing right in front of her table, notepad in hand, with a bubbly, what'll it be, honey?
Angelina ordered, thanked Jenny for the coffee she poured her, and then opened her laptop with a quick glance towards the door of the diner. Happy there were no prying eyes, she unlocked her laptop and brought up the notes from the case she had been thinking about all day.
Sarah Miller.
next ->
a/n: thank you, once more, for sticking with me! if you want to be added or removed from the taglist (assuming it’s even working at this point 😂), then please just drop me a message or reply to the post!
i’m so glad you touched on this little detail! i know they used that as an impactful thing in the source material so i wanted to try and make it meaningful in it’s own way here, i guess? thank you for noticing! 💕
characters: joel miller & angelina alvarez (trauma surgeon!ofc)
rating: 18+ (mdni)
word count: ~3k.6
chapter summary: sarah goes home.
chapter warnings: angst, supernatural goings-on as a plot point, no use of y/n.
a/n: ngl, i've had an awful week (i had to say bye to my cat very suddenly and unexpectedly), so i'm a tad late, i'm sorry! a little more info for sarah, she's remembering more! more of angelina in the next one. i hope you're still enjoying if you're still reading!
read on ao3 | masterlist | series masterlist
dividers by @thecutestgrotto
Sarah glanced around, taking in the decor that hadn't changed. She saw the shoes dropped haphazardly at the door, the keys in the bowl on the sideboard that she knew belonged to Ellie due to the green dinosaur keyring, the two mugs on the edge of the coffee table.
She hadn’t been here in five years.
The day of the accident, she had left the house in their usual flurry of activity, and she now noticed the same pots and pans she had used that morning still on the counter, clean and tidied away. Ellie’s bag was by the front door next to her dad’s work boots.
Sarah was willing to bet that Ellie would still trip over them.
She smiled at the memory of the last time she’d seen the shoes. She had been waiting for Ellie by the door when the clumsier girl had run down the stairs and tried to come to a screeching halt, hissing I got ‘em! while brandishing their dad’s broken watch and some cash.
“Shh!” Sarah had giggled and shoved both items in her backpack before sending Ellie out the door ahead of her.
She had tripped on the boots. Sarah had laughed.
They’d been bundled into Uncle Tommy’s truck, dropped off at school with a rushed thank you and I love you and happy birthday dad from each of them, alongside a promise of meeting him at the diner after school for his annual birthday treat.
Sarah hadn’t made it home. Hadn’t even made it to the diner.
Stepping further into the kitchen now, she was able to make out her dad’s handwriting on what looked like blueprints that were sprawled over the kitchen table, the same one she had eaten scrambled egg (shells) at during her last morning alive. Looking closer at the blueprints, she smiled to herself as she remembered how, even from a young age, she had helped her dad with some of the math required for construction work.
It first started when she noticed he’d made a mistake. He’d been moaning to Uncle Tommy about not having enough of a certain material. Turns out, he had calculated incorrectly because he had been awake for almost thirty-two hours and was running on about seven cups of coffee at the time. Sarah had asked to see the calculation, hadn't missed the way her dad and uncle both eyed each other as one shrugged and the other inched the paper closer to her. She, of course, caught the error quickly, and they was able to correct the order with enough time to avoid an extra charge.
"Shit," Tommy had grinned after hanging up on the call to fix the order, kissing Sarah on the forehead before addressing his older brother, "there's hope for us yet."
From then on, Joel would ask her opinion on his math skills (and would ask Ellie for her artistic input on the company image). More than once, Sarah caught her dad staring in awe or reaching for the calculator, pushing the mini buttons in disbelief when it gave him the same answer she had just come up with. It reached a point where, if he had blueprints or notes left on the kitchen table - much like now - she would add her own corrections or scribbles along the side for him to look over when he got home.
Sarah was about to move away to look through the rest of the house, absorb more memories, when she spotted it. It was so obvious, even to her. A simple miscalculation. All of the rest of the mathematical thinking was correct, but in its current state, her dad would be having a repeat of not having enough timber.
She glanced around, almost forgetting that she was alone and that, even if she wasn't, no one could see her.
Oh, what the hell?
She reached for the pencil sitting atop the notes and was surprised yet again to see that it felt solid beneath her touch. The wood felt smooth to her touch as she picked it up, hardly believing that she was able to manipulate it at all. Quickly, she scratched out his 112 and changed it to a 139. She had to think hard about the next calculation, but she was sure she was correct. Before she knew it, she had changed three or four of his answers to the correct values.
So engrossed in her activity, Sarah didn’t hear the front door opening, nor did she hear the footsteps heading her way until she glanced up to see her sister and her dad walking into the kitchen together. In her fright, she jumped, throwing the pencil onto the table where it bounced twice, knocked off a 'world's best dad' coffee mug, and then clattered to the floor.
The silence that followed was deafening. Time seemed to freeze. Sarah stood stock still, as if caught in the act of doing something she shouldn’t have been. Which was both true and not true; yes, she shouldn't have written on the blueprints without permission, but also, she did not even technically exist anymore.
Both Ellie and Joel stopped short, seeming to have clocked the unnatural movement of the pencil at the same time.
“Did you…?” Ellie started to ask, and her dad shook his head.
“Nuh-uh,” he grumbled as if in denial, bending to pick up the pencil, tossing it carelessly on top of the notes Sarah had just been writing, and heading straight for the fridge without a backwards glance. Sarah saw his had shaking side to side every so often.
Ellie stood where she was for a few moments longer, eyeing the pencil as if willing it to move with an internal force like in those space movies she loved so much. When nothing happened, she took a few steps further and leaned against the island.
Sarah breathed out slowly, heart still racing.
“Uh, Joel…” He made a noise of recognition from the fridge as he looked around in there and Ellie took a deep breath.
“Can I ask you something?”
“Y’just did.” He appeared from the fridge with a smug smile on his face, holding a carton of orange juice. Sarah beamed.
“Ha-ha,” Ellie deadpanned. “I can see that being a year older has not increased your wisdom level even slightly, or had any affect whatsoever on the dad jokes."
Joel grinned.
"I’m serious, though," Ellie continued, and Sarah watched as Joel's smile faded to a quiet, private one.
“Okay,” he cleared his throat and pulled out a chair from the head of the kitchen table; his spot, Sarah observed. “What’s up?”
Ellie took a breath and then sat down next to him, in the seat that had always been hers. Out of habit, Sarah stood behind the chair she always used to take and noticed that although the table was littered with different things, her space remained spotless.
“Okay,” she blew out another breath and glanced at Joel. “At the diner today, did you notice the woman sitting by the window?”
Suddenly intrigued, Sarah noted the look on her dad’s face. Had she not been so interested in the direction this conversation was going, she would have laughed aloud at the uneasy look.
“You’re not tryin’ to set me up, are you?” he gruffed, “Because-”
“What? Ew, no. Gross. Dad-” Ellie took a deep breath and shook her head, as if clearing it, before trying again. “That’s not- no.”
Sarah found herself smiling at the exchange. It was just so… normal. Nice.
“I mean, did you recognize her?”
He took a slow breath. “Can’t say I did, kiddo. I saw someone, but I couldn’ even tell you what they looked like, let alone if I recognized ’em,” he trailed off, as if hating to disappoint her. “Why?”
Ellie stayed silent, and Sarah noticed that she looked nervous.
“C’mon Ellie, why?” Their dad had noticed her silence, picked up on her unease, and was beginning to look concerned,
“I-” But she couldn’t get more than that out.
“You can tell me, whatever it is,” Joel reached out and clasped her hand tightly in his. “Whatever it is. Talk to me.”
After a few deep breaths, Ellie began. “You remember when I was um… looking into Sarah’s medical team?”
Sarah could see her dad fighting to keep a straight face as he hummed in acknowledgement. Although this was the first time she had heard about this, it didn’t surprise her that Ellie had gone to such extensive lengths – she always did love a research project.
“Well, I’m sure the woman in the diner earlier was the lead trauma surgeon, Angelina Alvarez.”
Sarah blinked furiously, gasping softly as her vision suddenly layered over with another; kind eyes the colour of chocolate, olive skin hidden by a face mask and scrubs, and dark waves tied away and hidden by a hair net.
My name is Angelina… some people might find it comforting to know they were being-
“Saved by an angel,” Sarah whispered, completing the sentence aloud as if she'd been engulfed by the memory. Still distracted by the memory of Angelina, she noted Ellie’s shoulder lift in a kind of laugh.
“Yeah, downright cheese-fest, right?”
“What’s a downright cheese-fest?” Joel asked.
Sarah’s head whipped towards him almost as fast as Ellie’s did. If anyone could have seen the three of them gathered around the table, Sarah thought absently, they'd have found it comical.
“Her name being Angeli- wait, what do you mean? You just said, ‘saved by an angel’ and I said that was cheesy…” Ellie looked like she was questioning, almost hopeful, that this had been the case.
“I didn’t say nothin’, kiddo,” he responded, and Sarah’s jaw dropped. She knew it hadn’t been him that had said it, and she was still surprised, still shocked, that someone had heard her.
Again.
“I was jus' tryin’ to remember what I knew abou' her,” Joel continued, giving Ellie a cautious look but not an unkind one.
“Uh…” Ellie faltered, a questioning frown taking over her features as she looked at Joel. Sarah could tell it was because Ellie was questioning if their dad was messing with her. “Yeah, I- yeah. If you wait a sec, I can go and-”
She didn't finish her sentence, and Sarah watched her sister scramble away, climbing the stairs in record speed. She only had to wait a few moments before hearing Ellie thunder back down. As Joel waited alone in the kitchen, Sarah studied her dad. He smiled softly although the frown remained on his brow, and she couldn’t help but think he looked tired. He always had, working double shifts or late into the night with Uncle Tommy to provide for them – Sarah and Ellie had understood that – but this kind of tired - exhaustion, she guessed - could only come from heartbreak. She felt her own heart crack in two as she thought of what their little family would have gone through in the aftermath of the accident, both immediately and in the longer term.
“So,” Ellie sounded breathless as she heaved a heavy binder onto the table and placed her laptop to the side. “The lead surgeon, the trauma surgeon, she was called Angelina Alvarez.”
As she spoke, Ellie flicked through a few pages before she found what she was looking for. It seemed to Sarah like a printout of an internet page with Angelina’s picture off to the right of the page. Sarah scrambled to stand behind her dad’s chair to get a look at the woman who soothed her in her final fearful moments.
Kind, she thought, as she glanced into the eyes she had remembered minutes ago, and with waves in her hair. Brown. She knew it, could visualize it behind the net that had held the surgeon’s hair back from her face when she was operating. Now that she was looking at the picture again, Sarah couldn't imagine having forgotten her at all.
“I know they told us what happened,” Ellie continued, as Joel pulled the binder closer. He needed glasses, Sarah noted. She was half listening, half reading over Joel's shoulder. “But I wanted to know more,” she implored, and then took on the mocking tone of what Sarah knew to be their dad’s rough grumble. “‘What the hell even is a surge, anyway?’ That’s what you said to Uncle Tommy.”
At this, Sarah noticed her dad’s head lift sharply, and saw he was now staring at Ellie with a look she couldn’t quite place.
“When did I say that?”
“When we left the hospital that day. You thought I was sleeping but I-” she hesitated, held her breath for a moment as if deciding if she was going to voice her next sentence. Eventually, it came out in a rush, “I couldn’t face everyone’s sympathy.” Ellie looked down at her fingers that were now fidgeting against her thigh - a habit she had picked up from their dad. She looked embarrassed. “I couldn’t face one more person looking at me like that, not again, so I- I pretended to be asleep and let Tommy carry me out to the truck.”
It seemed as if Ellie was embarrassed to admit she had allowed herself that moment of weakness, to even let that happen, and Sarah knew it must have taken a lot for Ellie to admit that. Sarah, having known her sister at the age of 14, knew that she wasn't the most comfortable with physical touch, especially when she was overwhelmed. The fact that Ellie had allowed Uncle Tommy to hold her close to him and carry her out of the hospital on what was pressumably one of the worst days of her life was very telling of the state she must have been in. Sarah found herself thinking that, had she still been alive, she would have hugged Ellie tightly.
As it turned out, Sarah wouldn’t have needed to. Their dad, ever observant, stood silently and wrapped an arm around Ellie’s shoulder. He held her tightly for a few seconds before loosening his grip, pressing a kiss to her forehead, and sitting back down.
Ellie’s cheeks were rosy.
“So, what did you find out?”
Ellie shared all she had learned about surges, which fascinated Sarah the more her sister explained what had happened. It was like things were clicking into place. Sarah was basically dead on that table, had technically and legally died, but then her body had given such a tremendous push to stay alive that she somehow surpassed the anesthetic coursing through her veins and woke up. She remembered becoming compos mentis enough to have an almost-conversation – had it not been for the breathing tube down her throat, she'd have made one final request for Doctor Alvarez to pass on the message for Joel.
Sarah didn’t remember most of it, but she did remember asking about her dad. She was sure she was in the ward at the time, maybe even in the corridor. There had been a lot of movement. Joel had been on her mind; had been the last person she’d remembered seeing before encountering the woman she now knew to be Angelina Alvarez. Her would-be saviour.
Although he had looked uneasy, reluctant, at the beginning of Ellie’s explanation, by the end of it, Joel looked much more curious. Perhaps, Sarah thought, he had searched himself and found it to be slightly less painful than he’d initially thought it might be.
"Alrigh', babygirl," he started, holding his hand out in a gentle request for Ellie to breathe, which Sarah noticed she did. "I'm not sayin' this ain't interestin', because it is, but where's it all goin'?"
"Well-"
But Ellie was cut off from explaining when Joel's eyes roamed over to the blueprints from before. Sarah felt a horrible lurch in her stomach when her dad reacted, sighing and tutting in annoyance as he stretched to reach for the papers.
"Now who in the hell has-"
He didn't finish his sentence. Barely breathed, from what Sarah could see. She had frozen, scared that she would somehow become impossibly visible to the other occupants of the kitchen. From the corner of her eye, she saw Joel's head turn to find the pencil he had picked up from the floor, and then twice his gaze passed right over her as he scanned the area, as if searching for the culprit. His gaze landed on Sarah's chair.
She was sure he was remembering the way she used to correct his math.
"What- what's wrong?" Ellie's voice sounded small, far away, and even Sarah could pick up on the small insecurity there. Ellie thought she had angered Joel with all this research stuff.
Joel stood immediately, banging his knee against the table and jostling it as he rose, but he didn't seem to care as he strode around it and straight to Ellie, grasping her shoulders.
"Not you," he said firmly, squeezing her shoulders and bending closer to her height to catch her eyes. "Not you. I just got caught off guard, that's all," he nodded his head towards the blueprints. "It's fine, my girl."
It was then that Sarah realized he had misunderstood. He thought Ellie had made those calculations. Sarah could see it in Ellie's face, her confusion, as she glanced around at the papers in the middle of the table. She also clocked the moment that it dawned on Ellie.
"I didn't do that," she said vehemently, and Joel leaned back a little, still gripping her shoulders.
"Baby, it's oka-"
"I did not do that!" she repeated, stepping back from him and towards her. "You had to pay for a tutor for me to pass math, remember? There's no way I'm touching your blueprints for math. Sarah had to tutor me on top of the-"
It was Ellie's turn to freeze now as he eyes landed on the same pencil she had watched bounce through the air, the same one Joel had picked up from the floor and settled next to the pile of papers.
"No fucking way," she breathed, reaching out and grabbing the pencil. Spinning round, her eyes locked on Joel's and she took a steadying breath. Sarah clocked it, the look in their dad's eye, before Ellie did, and watched as he began to shake his head when Ellie spoke.
"Have you noticed anything weird today?"
"Ellie, no."
"Oh come on, dad! Back at the graveyard? I'm sure I heard something, and I know something happened to you. What did you see?"
He sighed, moving over to the breakfast counter and fiddling with a set of keys. "Nothin', Ellie. Drop it."
Sarah glanced in Ellie's direction and saw her sister was fighting demons. She looked like she wanted to argue, but instead she took a few more steadying breaths and sat back down in front of her laptop. Sarah noted, rather absentmindedly, that this was such huge progress from when Ellie would run out on confrontations, slamming doors and spewing hurtful words. She felt a rush of pride towards her sister.
"I just think that it's… curious… that things keep happening today. Of all days. That's all," she said quietly, bending a corner of Angelina Alvarez's printout back and forth between her fingers. Sarah looked at the picture of Angelina again, feeling a deep sense of gratitude towards her, knowing she had did all she could to help Sarah in the last few minutes of her life.
Joel sighed behind her.
"I'm- I'm sorry, Ellie. It's just… hard. I wish every single day that she was still with us, with you, but it's just… our brains- playin' tricks. I-" he was scrambling, and Sarah wondered if he believed his own words. Looked like Ellie was wondering the same. "A coincidence. It was probably Tommy. Nothin' more."
Ellie shrugged one shoulder, "Pretty big coincidence, 'f you ask me." She began piling up the research sheets in the middle of the table, but left the binder open on Angelina's page, scooting it towards their dad's chair. "You should call her up, talk to her."
Joel's shoulders slumped in defeat, but he did seem relieved to be off the subject of strange happenings in graveyards or mystery markings appearing on blueprints. "About what?" The weary look he sent Ellie's way told Sarah that he wasn't convinced by Ellie's claim of not trying to set him up.
"About Sarah!"
"What would I even say? 'Hey, 'm Joel, you almost saved my daughter five years ago but y'didn't, so thanks for nothin'?'" Sarah could sense that he was trying to inject a little bit of humor into it - of course he would never say that to someone - but Ellie wasn't buying it.
"Not like that, no," she looked at her hands, twiddling her fingers around.
"Yeah," he scoffed, "didn't think so."
Sarah watched her sister begin to react. Her cheeks flushed, and Sarah thought she could understand her frustrations. Without really thinking about it, she reached out and placed her palm against Ellie's shoulder.
The effect was instant. The hot flush climbing up Ellie's cheeks vanished as she took a deep breath, uttering dumbass under her breath at the same time Sarah did.
"Besides," he continued with a gentle shrug, softer now, tired, "I already left her a note."
next ->
a/n: thanks for sticking with me, i hope you're still enjoying! if you want to be added or removed from the taglist please just drop me a message or reply to the post!
i just know, that if they were around at the same time (not even the same age, honestly, just at the same time), there would have been a point where this would have happened. both of ‘em, muttering dumbass together under their breath.
characters: joel miller & angelina alvarez (trauma surgeon!ofc)
rating: 18+ (mdni)
word count: ~4k
chapter summary: sarah sees her dad up close. joel and ellie talk about last night.
chapter warnings: pov switching, angst, mentions of blood, injury detail (hit & run), grief and ways people process it, alcohol intake, mention of adrerall, deep talks, no use of y/n.
a/n: this one's a little longer and it's quite heavy, so take all the time (and breaks!) you need. long live joel & ellie that's all i can say. also special shout out to @bergamote-catsandbooks for tagging me in this post by @spritejac which inspired a small paragraph a bit further on. thank you both!
read on ao3 | masterlist | series masterlist
dividers by @thecutestgrotto
Sarah had only been here once before, the day they had buried her. It had cleaved her chest in two and torn her heart to shreds to watch her dad cry. Until that moment, she hadn't ever seen him cry. She wasn't naïve enough to think he never cried; she knew him well enough to know when something was troubling or upsetting him, but he'd always taken quiet moments away from the girls if he had needed to.
He hadn't cried in front of her when her mom left them, nor when their dog had died a few months later and she had been inconsolable for three straight days. He hadn't even cried when her grandma, his own mother, had died. He had been close to tears the first time Ellie accidentally called him dad, but Sarah had known that was a different kind of emotion, even at the age of nine.
But here she stood, almost five years since the last time, directly behind her own headstone, within grasping distance of the willow that was swaying in the warm September breeze.
It really was beautiful. He had chosen a good spot.
She watched as Joel, her dad, came to a stop in front of her gravestone, standing atop the earth that her coffin was buried under. His eyes were puffy, raw, as if he had done nothing but scrub at them for the last week. He was holding himself so tensely, gritting his jaw so tightly, that she felt he might crack a tooth or spontaneously combust. He would only be in his early 40’s now - 41 today, she thought - but he looked older, hair already greying in spots. She noticed his fist, clenching and unclenching as if it were a lifeline, spotted the shaking in his knees as if he were about to collapse.
She hoped he wouldn’t. She didn’t want to see that again. Couldn’t watch Uncle Tommy have to drag him to his feet as Maria turned Ellie away, holding her head into her chest to shield her from the sight of him collapsed in the grass in grief, mud splattered up his good suit.
Maria might not need to do that now, though, Sarah noted. Ellie looked older, but also like she always had. She realized that Ellie would be nineteen now, the same age she ought to be, and felt a sad smile tug at the corner of her mouth. She was meant to be there beside her.
They would always talk about what they would do when they were older. When Ellie spent her first night in the house as a Miller, the day everything became official, they had all camped out in the living room. Maria and Tommy had spent the late afternoon building blanket forts while Joel had taken his girls for ice cream at the diner. When they returned, buzzed on sugar and syrup, it was to find their aunt and uncle arguing good-naturedly over the perfect pizza topping. A hour later, the five of them were sprawled out together watching a movie, and an hour beyond that, Ellie and Sarah had pinned Joel down and painted his nails.
Later that night, when the adults were either sleeping or fighting it hard, Sarah and Ellie could be found tucked away in their own corner of the blanket fort, whispering about how they would always be together. How, when they became old enough, they would move out together. Even at the age of eight, when they should have been arguing and bickering over everything, they were thick as thieves.
Ellie would paint Sarah’s nails; Sarah would teach Ellie soccer moves. They stuck up for one another fiercely. Ellie would help Sarah on the hard levels of the video games they played; Sarah would help Ellie with math homework.
Joel always joked that one day they’d get bored of each other, but they never had.
Sarah watched now as Ellie, her sister and best friend in the entire world, walked up beside their dad and reached out to hold his clenched fist.
The effect was immediate, almost magical to Sarah's eyes. He relaxed an infinitesimal amount and unclenched his jaw long enough to exhale fully.
It fascinated Sarah to see such intimacy between the pair, particularly from Ellie. Her dad had always been affectionate in equal measures to them growing up, showing his love in an abundance of ways. Ellie had struggled with being on the receiving end of such affections, especially as they ventured into becoming teens together. So seeing her dad’s fingers readjust to hold her sister’s hand and squeeze, and seeing Ellie’s head rest gently on his shoulder for a few moments, was almost enough to bring Sarah to tears.
They would be okay.
“I miss her too,” Ellie spoke, and it was like music to Sarah’s ears – she had missed her terribly and hadn’t heard her voice in what felt like forever.
Joel sighed deeply, releasing his breath then turning his head to kiss the crown of Ellie’s head.
“I know, baby girl.”
His voice was quiet, deep, gravelly. Strained, as if he was trying not to cry. Sarah’s breath left her in a rush, and she felt her eyes prickle with unshed tears.
As much as she felt like she had missed Ellie’s voice after hearing it, she was not prepared for the deep sense of longing that she had felt as soon as she heard his voice. The want, the need to hear him more.
Oh, how she needed her dad.
Ellie crouched suddenly, movements jerky, and left a small bottle in front of the headstone. Sarah had to step forward and peer over the stone to see what it was.
It was a bottle of her favorite blue nail polish. The same blue, sparkly nail polish that was on her fingernails now, chipping at the corners.
A laugh, sudden and unexpected, bubbled up her throat and released loudly. Sarah heard it echoing around the willow tree in the autumn breeze.
Ellie’s head shot to the left and she stared hard at the tree, eyes narrowing in suspicion. Joel hadn’t noticed; he'd been reaching into his jacket pocket for something. Sarah watched as Ellie stood, wrapping her arms tightly around Joel, and then stepped off in the direction of the willow tree, as if she would find someone standing behind the thick trunk.
Sarah stood rooted to the spot, staring after Ellie. Had she heard her laughter? Is that why she had looked so quickly?
She was brought out of her reverie by her dad, who cleared his throat. Sarah held her breath.
“Hi, baby girl,” he whispered, crouching down in much the same way Ellie had, although she heard the pop of his knee from where she stood. She smirked to herself, thinking he more than deserved the title of old man that she used to give him, convinced that his I’m only thirty-six was a damn lie.
Sarah’s breath caught in her throat as she heard the words she’d longed to hear.
“I miss you, baby, every damn day,” his breath shuddered as he fought to stay calm. Sarah's nose stung. “I think abou’ you all the time. Bought you your favorite treat from the diner this mornin’. Couldn’t bear to have a coffee an’ know you’d be poutin’ at me for that damn ice cream,” he let out a little laugh, and she did too as she came around to the front of the grave and sat on the ground beside her dad, facing him fully and watching his face.
She found herself entranced, tracing the new lines in his face up close. There was a new scar on his nose, small, and she imagined the ways he might have broken it.
“I hope you remembered the extra sauce,” she whispered, too scared to speak any louder. She knew deep down he wouldn’t hear anyway.
“Forgot the damn sauce, though,” he grinned, and hers was identical to his. She knew he’d forget, “Didn’t have you there clypin’ in my ear to remind me.”
His grin faded. Again, she found herself drawn to the lines on his handsome face and, strangely, she thought of her English teacher - the one who had always had a crush on her dad. Sarah had always teased him about it, and delighted when Ellie learned of this and joined in.
He looked tired. Tears gathered on his waterline and mingled with his lashes, not quite falling.
“’m so sorry, baby. Wish I coulda done somethin’ more that day. I see it in my head, every time I close my eyes.”
Sarah frowned at this; she barely remembered what had happened. When she thought about it, she had to concentrate hard. One thing she knew for certain, though, was that it couldn't have been her dad's fault.
“I shoulda kept you safe,” his voice had become higher in pitch, and it cracked on the word 'safe'. She pinched her eyes closed, trying to think back to that fateful day.
There were only flashes: gripping the straps of her backpack and stepping into the road; sending a big wave towards her dad, who she could see sitting in one of the window booths in the diner, pointing at three sundaes; turning back and shouting on her sister, hurry up Ellie!
“Oh, baby girl, I’m sorry,” he sniffed loudly, and she suddenly was hit with a memory so strong it would have knocked her to the ground had she been standing.
A high-pitched scream.
A roar of anguish from somewhere far away, a dainty bell tinkling over the bellowing, “No! No, no, no, no, no! No! Sarah!”
Snippets of the scene flashed behind her closed eyelids: concrete, scraping, then sudden pressure.
She was looking at her dad. He was covered in blood. Had he hurt himself? Why was he bleeding?
The top of Ellie’s head came into view against the bright blue sky. The concrete was hot. Why was she lying down? No, she wasn't lying down, she was swaying.
Her dad was shouting. Was he mad at them? They weren’t that late.
It clicked: the swaying was her dad. She was in his arms. With every rock, Ellie’s face came further into view. Her jaw was agape. Horrified. She looked traumatized.
Help.
He was shouting for help.
Who needed help? Had she been hurt? She must have been. There would be no other reason for him to react that way.
People were gathering around. One had a cell phone and was looking down the street, shouting a garble of letters and numbers.
Handprints.
There were handprints on her dad’s arms, his t-shirt. How did they get there? Who's handprints were they?
Pushing.
It was her handprints. She was pushing him away.
He was hurting her.
No.
He would never.
He was helping her.
Someone else had hurt her.
She cried out in agony and her dad held her tighter than he ever had before. She felt icy fear grip her when she realized what was happening. Was she going to die?
She had to tell him she was sorry. He looked frightened. She had to tell him that she loved him.
Sarah’s eyes shot open. She felt as if she could see through time, tunnel vision closing in on that one thought. She heard her dad sniffing and watched him use his arm to wipe at his eyes. She felt so overcome with emotions; he thought that it had been his fault? He was trying to save her!
Before she could reason with herself that it would be futile, that he wouldn’t be able to hear her, let alone feel her, she threw out a hand towards him and grasped his forearm.
To her surprise, he felt solid beneath her fingers.
She wasn’t sure what she expected, but it hadn’t been that.
He didn’t seem to notice, but she didn’t mind. Leaning forward slightly, she knocked her forehead against his bicep, smelling his familiar, comforting scent for the first time in forever. “It wasn’t your fault, dad,” she whispered into the crook of his elbow.
She was categorically unprepared for what happened next.
Joel shot to the side, jerking away from Sarah, causing her to fall back in the opposite direction. They both landed on their ass, palms in the mud, jaws agape. For a moment, she could swear he looked directly into her eyes, but that moment passed quickly as he frantically searched the empty space beside him.
“Joel, you fucking idiot,” Sarah heard Ellie’s voice from behind the trunk of the willow tree as she made her way back to the group, notes of laughter shining through her words. “How did you fall over when you were already kneeling? You’re getting old, dude!”
From where she sat, Sarah could see the frown on Maria’s face melt away when her brother-in-law simply scoffed and stood up, dusting the grass and flower petals off his jeans.
“I’ll thank you for less of the cheek next time,” he grumbled under his breath. And just like that the tension was broken. He crouched, reaching to the ground for what had fallen from his hands.
A small bundle of forget-me-nots. Her favorite flowers.
“I’ll pay you for more of the cheek next time,” Sarah heard Tommy mutter in Ellie’s ear as he passed, making his way towards his brother, and towards his niece’s grave.
*
Joel watched his daughter grin and frowned at Tommy.
“You’re an asshole,” he muttered as Tommy clapped his shoulder.
“Nah, just a younger siblin’, that’s all. We gotta stick together, ain’t that right, El-belle?”
“Fuck off, Tommy,” Ellie called, and Joel grinned.
Tommy’s jaw dropped then he pointed straight at her while looking at his older brother. “Definitely your kid.”
A warmth spread through Joel, as it always did when someone called Ellie his kid. Even after a decade, that feeling never got old.
He turned to face Sarah’s grave, standing shoulder to shoulder with Tommy. He felt lighter after speaking to her. He always did.
“Are you okay?” Tommy asked, and Joel turned his head to see him nodding at the ground.
“Oh, yeah,” he cleared his throat. “Jus’… jus’ lost my balance,” he shrugged.
Joel wouldn’t admit it to anyone, but he could have sworn that he heard Sarah’s voice. He rationalized it as him being tired – he had barely slept at all this week, and had spent most of the night before locked in nightmares, plagued by the vision of his baby being flung into the air by a speeding car. He still heard the sickening crack of her head as it smacked down onto the concrete and the echo of Ellie’s scream.
Fluke, he thought, as he brushed off dirt from his jeans.
He stared for a long time at the date of her death carved in the stone – his god damn birthday – and thought of how that day should have gone. It should have been ice cream, hyper kids and a shitty late night movie. Sighing deeply, he turned to wait on the concrete path close by to give Tommy and Maria a chance to spend time with their niece at the grave.
Bye, baby.
Stepping back towards the concrete path, he watched Ellie as she craned her neck and looked around the graveyard, her eyes falling to the willow tree again.
“C’mere, kiddo,” he spoke quietly, holding out an arm and pulling her close into a one-sided hug.
She smiled, going freely, and he felt relief – there had been a time, many years ago now, that she would flinch like a skittish kitten at the slightest idea of touch. Now she went willingly.
Well, as willingly as a nineteen-year-old might.
He pressed his nose into her hair, breathed deeply, then kissed her where his lips rested against the crown of her head. His heart rate steadied out a little.
“You doin’ okay?”
She leaned heavily against him while she answered, melting into his side.
“Yeah…” she trailed off, tilting her head back to look at him and narrowing her eyes a fraction. “Are you?”
“Yeah…” he imitated her, and he liked that they both knew what each other had meant.
No. Not really. But I’m better now.
“I heard you,” she whispered, so quietly that Joel tilted his head slightly to catch what she was saying, “last night.”
He felt a deep sense of shame flood his nerves. He hadn’t ever made it through the night on Sarah’s anniversary, and he hated that Ellie had to hear him reliving the worst moment of their lives. Ellie had been through so much already before she crash-landed into their lives, the last thing he wanted was to unintentionally pile even more on her already precariously balanced plate.
“It sounded rough. I was worried.”
“I know you were, kiddo, an' I’m sorry. I feel the same way when I hear you.”
Joel suppressed a shudder at the memory that took over his brain.
A year or two after the accident, he had discovered that Ellie had been refusing to sleep. She was scared to close her eyes because, like him, she would see it happening over and over again. She had begun to obsess over trivial things, to hyper fixate on topics she could research, things she could write papers on, just so she wasn’t thinking about that moment.
At first it had been space, following on from a research project she had been assigned in school where they had to pick a famous astronaut to present. Of course, not only does Sally fuckin’ Ride have the best name ever, she was the first gay astronaut, Joel.
That particular obsession had coincided with the release a book titled Project Hail Mary that became Ellie's entire personality - I can have coffee, question? I'm going to the store do you need anything, question? This took her down the path of science in general. She memorised the periodic table and the atomic number of every element. She even knew most elements melting and boiling points. Her school science teacher was absolutely delighted with her grades. She took an interest in chemistry, that's where the most fun experiments are, Joel. His nerves had never been quite as shattered as they had been during the bunson burner phase.
Following that, it was a complete history of the cretaceous period, because they had watched Jurassic Park and actually, barely any of these dinosaurs were around in the Jurassic period, Joel, you of all people should remember that – he had rolled his eyes so hard he was convinced she could hear it.
When he’d asked about her keen interest in these topics, she had brushed him off and said they were cool, and he was in complete agreement. He only realized it was something more when, one night near Christmas, he was ripped from fitful sleep by Ellie’s screams.
Joel had stumbled to her, vision half-blurred by the whisky he’d drunk just hours before to help him nod off, and wrapped his arms around her tightly. Trying to break through the nightmare, he had called her name so loudly that the Adler’s appeared at the door to see if Ellie was okay.
It turned out, the thing she had chosen to research had been the medical team that had worked on Sarah at St. David’s. She was surrounded by printouts and notebooks in which she had scribbled. Joel saw a list of names in amongst the commotion: Spencer, Angelina, Eduardo; as well as SURGES?? enclosed in a thick circle – and realized she must be conducting a detailed background check of their histories, or investigating whether what they had been told was in fact true. He had forced it from his mind as he helped her to calm down.
Ellie had fallen asleep at the kitchen table after fifty-six hours with no sleep or rest. He spotted her Adderall next to a pile of what looked like medical journals and made a note to check in with her about her usage as his eyes swept over the energy drinks and mugs of coffee.
Joel had later learned that the incessant research, the meticulous studies, was just Ellie’s way of trying to understand what happened. She needed the full picture, needed to feel in control.
Eventually, Joel had sent the Adler’s away, helped Ellie tidy up her research when she was calmer, fought her on having a glass of whisky (he relented to one sip, which she almost spat out, that shit is gross, Joel), and sent her to bed with the promise that he would stay awake by her side.
He had.
He spent the time thinking about looking through Ellie’s research but deciding against it. Not only would that betray her trust, he wasn't entirely sure he was ready to read about anything that Sarah would have gone through during her final hours on Earth. He also scheduled in extra therapy appointments for them both that week and booked another appointment to discuss medication with Ellie’s doctor. He’d be damned if he was going to feel fear like that again.
Now, Ellie straightened up again, bringing Joel back to the moment in the graveyard, and looked him in the eye.
“I still see it sometimes,” she tried to shrug, but Joel gripped her shoulders. “It-it’s not as bad as it was before,” she was glancing away from him, but he nodded anyway. “I hate it.”
“Me too,” he was still nodding, completely understanding what she was – and, more importantly, wasn’t – saying. “Gets a little easier every time you face it,” he paraphrased something his therapist had told him, that Ellie had heard many times before, “but it still feels like total shit.”
She nodded, not saying anything for a while, before she steeled herself and looked back at Joel. “You don’t talk about it as much anymore. I-I don’t… I don’t want you to shut me out or not talk about it and for you to get worse. I-”
“Baby girl,” he breathed deeply, overcome with emotion, tears stinging his eyes again. It killed him to know this is how Ellie was feeling; he remembered the constant uphill battle he had fought in the months following the accident to prove to Ellie that it hadn’t been her fault. She was still that skittish, abandoned 8-year-old girl at heart, and he never wanted her to feel that way because of him. “I promise ’m not shuttin’ you out. It’s hard, still, to think about, and mostly I manage not to, but sometimes it creeps up on me an’ catches me off-guard. 'specially now. An’ it takes a bit to get past it, that’s all," he crouched to meet her gaze. "That’s all. I am not shuttin’ you out, baby.”
Ellie looked as if she was struggling to swallow as she blinked away tears. “I know,” she whispered, now looking slightly frustrated. “I know, I just… forget.”
Joel knew all too well that Ellie often forgot that she was safe and loved and cared for with him, with them all. When she first joined the Miller’s, she was small, feisty, and full of fear of abandonment, but Joel saw straight through her tough girl act and made sure to remind her every single day that he loved her. She’d needed extra reminders in the months following the accident, often lashing out in ways that Joel knew she didn’t mean.
“We’re okay,” she nodded her head resolutely, and Joel found himself mirroring her, humming his agreement.
“We’re okay,” he crouched to reach her eyeline again. “If you’re okay, we’re okay.”
Ellie smiled at him, a small but genuine smile, and he felt relief flood his nerves and replace the shame that had been there moments before when she pushed forward and wrapped herself around him again in a tight embrace.
If he closed his eyes tight and concentrated hard enough, he almost felt as if both of his girls were in his arms.
next ->
a/n: thank you again for reading! go and have a nice cup of tea and take a consensual hug or forehead kiss from me. if you want to be added or removed from the taglist please just drop me a message or reply to the post!
pedro pascal stans post a picture and be like “sugar daddy🥵 dilf 🥵dom😫 spit in my mouth🥺 punch me in the stomach 🥵yes sir im your whore🥵” and its a picture of a man who looks like he would make it to the quarter finals of the great british bakeoff and then lose.
characters: joel miller & angelina alvarez (trauma surgeon!ofc)
rating: 18+ (mdni)
word count: ~3.3k
chapter summary: meet angelina. discover the connection.
chapter warnings: [spoilers!] pov switching, angst, injury detail, surgical detail (inaccurate), death [please feel free to message to discuss any of these if you're unsure!], no use of y/n.
a/n: this is an odd chapter to dedicate to someone, but if you'll indulge me, i'd like to dedicate it to jolapeno. she helped me so much with this one, and if it weren't for her help and support (and chicago med knowledge) during this one, then this whole series wouldn't be a thing. ily friend!
read on ao3 | masterlist | series masterlist
dividers by @thecutestgrotto
Angelina Alvarez pushed open the diner door with a yawn, choosing a booth along the front window to set her stuff down. This place had been one of her more recent discoveries since moving to this side of town, and she was glad of its tranquility as she settled into her seat and glanced at the menu. She hadn’t been feeling much more than coffee, but knew that going into a fourteen hour shift at the hospital on an empty stomach wouldn't be her finest idea, so ordered a sweet pastry along with her morning fix of caffeine to see her through.
As she waited, she glanced around at the detail of the diner. She liked that she found a new thing to focus on every time she visited; this was now her third time and she had just noticed the 50’s inspired posters along the back wall. Booths lined one side, the edge of the counter seating lined the other, all leading to the toilets in the back. The neon pink of the sign complemented the pale blue of the uniforms worn by the waitresses, and also stood out nicely against the posters she was currently admiring.
Her gaze fell on a man who had just arrived, and she tracked his movements through the space with her eyes. He seemed undecided on which booth to sit in for a moment, but eventually settled for one close to the back, just along the alcove area where she had been looking. It seemed more private over there. The man slid into the booth, facing the door with a resolute sigh.
She wondered if he were meeting someone and found herself feeling strangely sorry for whoever it could be. This man looked grumpy and harassed. Sad. Very unlike the couple who sat a few booths down from her own, giggling away to each other, the girl hiding behind her hand and twirling her hair every few minutes. They were being handed their check which would leave only her, the grumpy man, and a boy in his late teens in the diner once they left.
Angelina's eyes fell on the teenage boy, sitting at a far counter seat. Maybe he was a student? She remembered it well; he had the same haunted look in his eye that screamed late night studying followed by an 8am class.
She did not miss it.
That had been her life for what felt like as long as she could remember. Sure, now she was one of the highest-ranking trauma surgeons in the state, but it wasn’t because it was handed to her on a platter. She worked her ass off to get the grades she would need, gain her medical degree, attend and graduate med school top of her class, and eventually return to Austin for her residency at St. David’s. She’d aced that, too, and had stayed there to hone her skills through her fellowship. She practically trained her brain to function – and function well – with little to no sleep, as well as tune out any negative attention she had received from her fellow, often male, colleagues.
Blinking away the old memories, she was brought out of her reminiscing by the server, who placed her order down with a hearty helping of Southern hospitality.
"Val picked one of the bigger ones out for you and said you've to pack up what you don't eat now and eat it on your break," she drawled with a bright smile. Angelina warmed at the thought of Val, the owner of the diner who had wrangled Angelina's life story out of her on her first visit, taking care of her. Val must have known she had a long day ahead of her.
Angelina thanked the young girl, making sure she knew to extend that thanks to Val, before she watched her turn and spot the grumpy man. She watched as her hand flew to her hair before flouncing back towards the counter and reaching behind the cash register for what looked like a tube of lip gloss. Her suspicions were confirmed when, after applying the lip gloss, the waitress checked her reflection in the side of the cash register before lightly skipping off to hit on the grumpy but extremely attractive man.
Angelina hid her smile behind her first sip of coffee; go and get him, girl.
She finally took a bite of the sweet, flaky pastry and had to stifle her moan at how delicious it tasted, especially when paired with her bitter coffee. Sitting back in the booth, her gaze fell onto the street outside, where a black car had just sped past the diner, making her jump.
It was jarring.
She had dealt with a lot of patients involved in car wrecks during her time at St David's, so she hated seeing cars driving so recklessly, and at such speed, especially in built-up areas like this. The boy in his late teens watched the car zoom by as he stood up to leave, jamming his earphones in as he shook his head slightly, as if annoyed with the sight too. Angelina barely noticed him leave, only hearing the bell tinkling above the door long after he was gone.
She was already lost in thought.
Perhaps it was because she had been reminiscing about her time as a student, or maybe it was the sight of the speeding car itself, but she found herself thinking back to the memory of the first patient she had ever lost. Patients that had passed before this girl had always been under the careful guidance over another, more senior, surgeon, and so although she remembered every one of the losses, this young girl had always felt a little different.
By the time Angelina had met this particular patient, she had already been solely responsible for a fair few of her own patients. She remembered the day like any other; she'd easily been able to take charge of the situation and do what needed to be done.
This time had been the same as those times before; she took charge, delegated tasks, scrubbed in and undertook hours of backbreaking surgery, but nothing could be done to save the teen.
That wasn’t what had chilled Angelina to the bone, or what made the memory of this patient so unforgettable.
*
It was chaos. There had been a car wreck on the interstate and a hit and run within minutes of each other at opposite sides of town. Angelina had been mid-round in the afternoon when she got the call; had thrown a patient’s chart at the closest intern and ran, already going through her checklist to prepare for the surgeries she would have to perform.
She had no idea if she was heading for the car wreck patient or the hit and run one, but either way, it was not going to be a pretty sight.
Rounding the corner, she was met the ER doctors and initial response team walking her way. As soon as she was within hearing distance, they fired off the important information for her to lock away. Female, 14 years old, hit and run, broken ribs, collarbone fractured in several places, punctured lungs, open head trauma, possible trauma to the brain, unresponsive.
Angelina took it on board, blocked out the screaming from down the corridor that she assumed came from the family - agonised screams, shouts and cries for help - and visually assessed the young girl. Angelina had been right; this was not a pretty sight. There was bone, blood, and cartilage everywhere, a heavy split down one side of the patient's head, the gash so deep that Angelina could already see bone. It was a miracle the girl was still fighting for her life even now. If her injuries hadn’t killed her already, the shock certainly might.
There was a rasping noise just below Angelina as they made their way towards the operating theatres; the girl's lung was collapsing. Just as Angelina was about to ask why she wasn't intubated properly, she received the first shock of the day.
The young girl, dying on the trolley that was wheeling her to surgery, gasped and shot upright on the bed. Angelina scrambled to push her down, to calm the wide-eyed look of terror as the girl tried to turn her head this way and that.
"Hey, hey, you're okay, you're in the hospital," she adopted a calming tone as she firmly held her down. "You've been in an accident but we're here to help you."
The girl still struggled, her mouth moving as if she was trying to form words.
"Shh, don't try to move honey, you need to stay still." Angelina moved her palm over the side of the girls face that wasn't torn open. "I'm going to help you."
"M-m-my- my-" the girl was fighting, and Angelina had to admire her for it. "Please-"
“My name’s Angelina,” she said, interrupting the girl in the hopes that she would stop moving and listen. “My parents used to call me Angel. Said it was really fitting that I became a surgeon like this, that some people might find it comforting to know they were being saved by an Angel,” she rambled, but the girl was now blinking up at her, an almost-calm seeming to spread over her. She took this opportunity to demand that the teen was sedated and intubated in the corridor; it didn't look like she would remain calm for long.
“I know, right?” Angelina rolled her eyes at the teen benevolently, “How cheesy is that?”
She thought she saw a hint of a smile on the girl’s face and, because she felt like it was the right thing to do, she held her hand as the team around her prepared the breathing tubes.
“You’re gonna feel a little pull, okay honey? Like a wave washing over you, but don’t worry, it’s just the anesthetic.”
“My dad-” the girl gasped again, sounding firmer, more determined. “Please,” Angelina felt the girl squeeze her hand with surprising strength for someone at death’s door. “Love him, tell him-m.”
She was turning a ghastly shade of grey, eyes filling with fear and hands feeling colder by the second as she whispered, “Please tell m-my dad. Tell him.”
Angelina found herself nodding. "I will," she said, "I promise."
Maybe it was the comforting sort of way that the nurse, the one pushing the anesthetic through her canula, was stroking her hair, or maybe it was said anesthetic washing over her and making her more comfortable, or maybe – worse somehow – it was the idea of the promise that Angelina had just made to the dying girl, but the teen seemed to relax then. She exhaled shakily and squeezed her eyes closed, as if ashamed of the whimper she had let out. Angelina watched a glassy tear streak down her temple and into her hairline as she slipped under.
With one shaky yet steadying breath, Angelina steeled herself, gently dropped the girls hand to her side, and began delegating to all the staff around her.
She was determined, now more than ever before, to save this girl.
-
It was nearing the four-hour mark, with many close calls, and still Angelina refused to let this girl go. If she was honest, the prognosis was looking worse by the minute; the teen kept crashing and had lost too much blood despite their best attempts to replenish it. Angelina was surprised she was still alive.
The monitor detecting the girl’s vitals sounded a long, ominous tone, signaling her heart stopping. Angelina froze where she was for a fraction of a second, taking a shaky breath.
But suddenly, and with no explanation, the girl’s eyes shot open, and she gasped around the thick tube in her throat. The vitals monitor was going crazy in the background as several members of the team around her fought to stabilize the girl.
“Hold her!” Angelina barked the order, fighting to hold her equipment steady as the girl writhed beneath her. Currently, Angelina was wrist-deep in the girls chest cavity. She heard the metallic clang of equipment clattering to the ground as some of the nurses around her grasped the girl's shoulders and held firm.
“How?!” Angelina practically snarled at the anesthesiologist – this girl’s chest was cracked in two, her ribcage wide open in front of them - there was no way on Earth she should be conscious right now, let alone trying to speak to her again. The anesthesiologist was shaking her head frantically, just as confused as Angelina, and started instructing his assistant.
The vitals monitor beeped away in the background, sporadic and sounding weak – Angelina watched the girls heart pumping erratically and blinked back out of her initial shock. She looked into the eyes of her patient, hoping she could portray a sense of calm.
“I know honey, you're okay. Try to relax,” she spoke quietly, then instructed the nurses to put up a barrier between the girls face and chest, at least until she was knocked out again.
The girl was gasping for air, whimpering. Angelina watched her lungs expanding, saw the fresh drain she had spent hours fixing start to wobble. Her lungs were working too fast, yet her heart was beating too slow. Angelina passed the equipment in her hand to one of the general surgeons next to her, instructing them to keep everything exactly as it was, then pulled her mask down from her face.
The team were working to get more anesthetic into the girl, and Angelina knew there was nothing she could do until she was back under again. She smiled reassuringly at the girl.
"I'm Angelina, remember? Like the angel?" She watched the girl calm down, if only marginally. She could see the girl’s heart beating slowly in her chest from where she stood and knew that she didn’t have long. What they were seeing now was the strongest pre-mortem surge she had ever witnessed in a patient.
This was it.
She couldn’t save her.
Not until the anesthetic took her back under, but the teen was fighting it tooth and claw.
She thought she saw a hint of a smile on the girl’s face and then she tried to talk again.
"No, no, shh, don't try to talk. Don't worry, I haven't forgotten about your dad. I promise to tell him, but first I'm going to help you."
Angelina was grateful when the girl relaxed. She made eye contact with the nurses monitoring the patient's heart and saw them shake their heads. They needn’t have; Angelina could hear the machine emitting slow, irregular beeps. She looked towards the surgeon currently holding her equipment in place and silently instructed them to continue working. It was against the more ideal scenario, where the girl was unconscious, but this was Angelina's Hail Mary. She’d be damned if she let this teen die – if she was going to fight so hard to stay alive, to see her dad, then let her fight.
Angelina’s heart was hammering in her chest as she waited for the anesthetic to work. She’d been in the room when they had lost patients before, but none of them had ever been lucid. And judging by the look on everyone else’s face, this was unfamiliar territory for them all, too.
“I'll tell him,” Angelina spoke softly, and reached for the girl’s hand once again. On her opposite side, she saw a nurse do the same thing, leaning to gently brush her curls from her eyes.
The girl's breathing suddenly sounded like a death rattle, and Angelina felt something settle in her stomach like an omen. She fought the violent stinging in her nose. She was about to lose her first patient, was about to hear the last breath of a soul in this room, and all because some asshole was running late for work that morning.
Angelina took a breath to encourage the girl to let go, to succumb to the anesthetic, but the alarms of the vitals monitor sounded out before she could. It was jarring, each alarm fighting to be the first vital to be corrected. Chaotic. Warning, a crescendo, and then suddenly- a single tone. Calmer. Somber.
A death knell.
-
Angelina jumped high in her seat again as the bell over the door tinkled gently, and it took her a moment to fully come back to herself. Her hand closed over her racing heart as she glanced over to see a man holding the door open for his family.
“Thanks, baby. Make mine a latte please, double shot,” his partner said, reaching out a hand to squeeze his arm and then making her way over to the grumpy man at the back who now had a coffee sitting in front of him and a strawberry sundae at the empty space across.
Huh, she thought, the man holding the door did look a little like the man sitting down. He stayed for a few more seconds, and then a girl in her late teens appeared – daughter, maybe? He smiled softly at her and outstretched his hand to gently nudge his knuckle into her cheek. She returned the soft smile and rolled her eyes with no malice as she stepped over the threshold of the diner.
The man let the door fall closed behind them, pointing over her shoulder in the direction of the occupied booth before heading to the counter and ordering their drinks to go. As the teenager passed, she frowned in Angelina’s direction – not unkindly, just with a vague look of confusion, maybe recognition. Angelina gave her a small smile then returned to the last few bites of her almost-forgotten pastry.
The server couldn’t believe her luck, it seemed - two hot men? - as she had the families order ready to go in minutes. She secured the drinks into a carboard holder and fluttered her lashes at the second handsome man. Angelina smiled again, not bothering to hide it this time, as she took another sip of her coffee. This waitress really was giving the most and Angelina could not fault her.
The family gathered their things together quietly and made their way to the door. The same man who held the door on the way in did so once more on the way out. His partner gave him a knowing smile and plucked her coffee from the holder. The girl threw another inquisitive glance in Angelina’s direction then quickly looked away when their gazes locked, hurrying out after the woman. The grumpy man was the last to leave, and he paused in the doorway, glancing back at the booth he had been sitting in.
“C’mon, brother,” the man holding the door spoke, slapping his hand over his brother’s shoulder in what she supposed was a comforting sort of way, “let’s go.”
As the bell tinkled to sound their departure, Angelina’s gaze fell back to the booth they had just vacated.
The strawberry sundae sat untouched on the table.
*
The car ride was quiet, dulcet tones from the radio being the only thing to cut through the solemn silence. The only time anyone spoke up, in fact, was when a mellow Avril Lavigne track played, and Joel asked Tommy to switch the station.
Tommy pulled into a parking spot twenty minutes later and they exited the car together, heading through the gates. Instinct seemed to take over Joel at that moment, and Tommy watched him forge ahead, knowing by heart which way to go. Soon enough, just in the distance, he saw her, nestled just under the shade of the willow tree.
Joel reached her first.
Sarah Miller
20 July 1989 - 26 September 2003
Beloved daughter, sister and niece
next ->
a/n: thank you so much for reading! this was a long one, phew. if you want to be added or removed from the taglist please just drop me a message or reply to the post!
SUMMARY: Javier gets acquainted with his new job and new life in small town, Texas.
WORD COUNT: 6.7k
RATING: 18+ Mature topics such as sex, drugs, murder, the occult, religion, cannibalism and other triggering matters will be explored in this body of work. Minors DNI.
CHAPTER SPECIFIC TAGS: Mutual pining, talks of homicide, they really wanna fuck each other, beginning of a beautiful slow burn, lots of smoking, southern gothic vibes are strong with this one, if you love worldbuilding then this is the fic for you, mentions of a religious cult, subtle slutshaming.
DISCLAIMER/WARNINGS: The Javier Peña referenced in this body of work is solely based off of the character that appears in Netflix’s Narcos and not the actual person. Very canon divergent and I will tweak things as I see fit to compliment the narrative of this story. While efforts have been made to be accurate in terms of canon timeline, a lot of details will be fictionalized.
A/N: it’s official, i am now licensed! lol jk jk but hooray to a first chapter! i’ve been working on this thing non stop trying to get the characterization and dynamic and overall voice of the story down pat. i had so much fun writing this tbh and i hope the person reading this enjoyed… well… reading it! i’m still trying to get the hang of writing/posting a whole ass fic while also learning how AO3/Tumblr works so pls be GENTLE with me *cries* i'm not sure what the upload schedule will be yet but just know ya girl is devoting all her free time to this currently.... anyways feel free to drop any type of feedback in my ask. < 3
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Javier Peña doesn’t know if he should see this reassignment as a good thing. He had gotten himself in a pretty hairy situation down in Colombia. His involvement with a death squad and the cartel had him pulled from the biggest case of his career right as they were on the verge of catching Escobar… and only he is to blame for that. He crossed a boundary with himself, gotten innocent people killed and what exactly does he have to show for it?
A reassignment to a small, shitty town in the middle of Texas.
At least in South America he had a great view to cope with the shitty happenings. The lush mountains of Medellín that stretched for miles and miles, the bustling of the the country’s capitol, Bogotá, or the portrait perfect skyline of Cali.
Here, it’s just dirt roads with barbed wired fences lining the vast amounts of grassy lands. Occasional livestock litter the area; Seminary’s only lifeline is farming since most of the families that reside here own ranches or crop fields. The town is able to sustain itself with what it produces, therefore not needing many additional businesses. Just a few blocks of shops and civil buildings. No hospital but a doctor’s office with one singular clinician, a grindhouse, some boutiques, a bakery, a very small post office that shares its space with the local newspaper.
Typical spaces you’d find in a settlement like this.
He can’t change his past and all his wrongdoings. Instead, Javier can try and see the fucking silver lining of the situation; that he finally has time to catch his breath… to slow down, for once. The concept is foreign to him. He’s been fleeing from it since he was an adolescent.
A fact that his father, Chucho, had brought up when Javier told the older man of his new job.
“Seminary? ¿Donde putas es eso? (Where the fuck is that?)”
“Couple hours southwest of El Paso. A smidge on the map.”
“A smidge on the map sounds like exactly what you need, hombre (man).” His pops tells him, taking a swig from his beer as the two lean against the wooden fence that keeps the herd of horses from running amuck.
Javi doesn’t say anything, instead gazing out into the vastness of the family ranch.
“All that craziness down there in Colombia te pudre le mente. El cuerpo. (It rots your mind. Your body.) And I’ll be damned if a heart attack takes you out before me.” The men chuckle briefly, sounding just alike.
“Comes with its own shit. A damn ‘cult’.” Javi scoffs, taking a smooth drag from the cigarette between his lips. “Least that’s what the locals think. Could just be a damn serial killer.” No different from what he’s experienced with the cartel.
“Shit is goin’ to be anywhere you go, hijo (son), pero se me hace a mi (it seems to me) that the shit they got goin’ on in Seminary is much more manageable than la mierda con Escobar (the shit with Escobar).” Just hearing his name has Javier clenching his jaw subconsciously and Chucho takes notice.
“Just an old man’s opinion. Take this time to look within. Figure out the type of man you want to be after being chewed up and spat out of Colombia.” Another swig of beer, “Pero eres tan bruto, nunca me haces caso (but you’re so stubborn, you never listen to me). ”
“In a shocking turn of events, this might be the one time I do.” Javier snuffs out the finished cigarette against the wooden pole, tossing it aside carelessly and crossing his arms against his chest. “But don’t get your hopes up. ”
“As long as you don’t drink the damn kool aid, vaz a estar bien (you’re going to be fine).” The father and son share another laugh, this time much more lighthearted.
Javi blinks slowly behind the aviators that sit on the bridge of his nose, the bright and grueling Texas sun beaming down on him harshly. Finishing his cigarette, he pushes himself off the hood of his restored Ford pickup truck. He’s been sitting outside of Seminary’s Sheriff’s Department for about ten minutes now, the small building located right in the middle of town very easy to find.
Then again, it wasn’t hard to get lost in a place this small.
It is unimpressive and has the makings of any other small town government building. An American flag flown proudly above Texas’s, the lettering that labeled the building faded due to being unkept and time.
Javier knows that the dread he feels comes from not being able to sit still. It’s why he found some kind of pleasure working down in Colombia. Things were always moving at a fast pace, albeit he had done a lot of pencil pushing and running down the clock, but the city itself was bustling with life and culture that kept him on go even when he was idle.
Here, however, the stillness is suffocating and he wonders how the people of Seminary can breathe.
Is this sentiment what sparked the murders? Had someone finally had enough of the mundane and decided to spruce things up?
His eyes narrow, if he continues to stand out here any longer, the sheriff will begin to wonder if the new guy had bailed before even coming in.
He jogs up the steps that lead up to the main building, taking them two at a time then pushing open the worn, glass door of the entrance; removing his sunglasses and letting them hang from the collar of the cream colored button up shirt he’s wearing.
He takes in his surroundings and somehow he feels like he and Murphy had more space back at the embassy than what they have here.
There’s a front desk to the immediate right being tended to by an older woman with fiery red hair that’s got reading glasses on, too engrossed in her novel to notice that he’s stepped in.
Other than that, it's everything one would expect a sheriff’s department to look like. Desks pushed together here and there, singular ceiling fan lazily spinning in the center of the room, a break room tucked to the back, the hallway that led to detaining rooms and other necessary spaces, variety of office supplies and filing cabinets.
It almost looks too normal.
“Need somethin’, dear?” He is returned to himself as the older woman finally takes notice of him with a friendly smile, her eyes not so subtly giving him a once over. “We don’t usually get hunks ‘round here. You must be lost, sugar.”
Javier smirks, even without trying he’s got women smitten.
“Fortunately for you, ma’am, seems like I’m in the right place. Javier Peña, new Deputy Sheriff.” He strolls over to her desk, leaning against it as he reaches his hand out for her to shake.
She lets out a warm laugh and they shake hands in which Javi notices a soft pink tint of blush on the apples of her cheeks. “Fortunately for me indeed. I’m Lorraine, darlin’, I pretty much run everythin’ ‘round here but don’t you go tellin’ Romeo that.” She winks at him.
“Don’t go tellin’ Romeo what now, Lorraine? That you’re gunnin’ for my job?” A boisterous voice interrupts them and Javier immediately recognizes it to be the sheriff.
“Oh, I thought that was somethin’ we all already knew?”
“Hate to say it but she’s right. Works circles around me that one. Romeo Leighton. Great to have you here, Javier.” The sheriff now speaks to Javier directly, and he takes this as a sign to straighten his posture and formally introduce himself as well.
The man has a good fifteen years on Javi, standing a few inches taller with a much more worn look to him. He’s a bit skinny yet built, except for the typical beer belly most southern men tend to have. A scruffy and short beard with unruly hair that’s a mix of grays and dark browns.
“Thanks for having me.” The two share a brief handshake, “M’sure you two could handle the town all on your own, so I appreciate you making room for a plus one.” Javier decides to turn on the good ‘ol southern charm and it seems to land as intended as the atmosphere in the room remains friendly and the sheriff chuckles.
“Look at him catchin’ on so quick. We just might not let you go, amigo.” Lorraine playfully rolls her eyes and reaches over to pass the older man a stack of files. “These just came in from Rankin County.”
“You got here just in time. We got some new developments on the murders.” And just like that, the lively talk is over and they get right into the job.
“Heard there were mentions of a group of some sorts?” Javier brings it up, wanting to get a gauge on the sheriff’s reaction instead of just reading about it through reports.
“Just rumors. Nothing concrete to back it up.”
The two men now find themselves in Romeo’s office, each smoking a cigarette with multiple files sprawled across the wooden desk.
Here’s what they know: three woman murdered along the highway that these towns share all within a year. They sustained multiple stab wounds, yet the fatal insertion was that of a sharp blade going straight through the heart. The men don’t know if that was intentional or accidental due to the amount of times their chests had been punctured.
It is gruesome, to say the least, but nothing that Javier hasn’t seen before, unfortunately. The way the cartel got creative with their murders just to send a message to their rivals had him exposed to many atrocities; he was desensitized to most forms of violence. Yet, the passion behind these crimes and unclear motive has piqued Javi’s interest the more they discussed it.
“Then again… it could be nothin’. Just a giant, fucked up coincidence.” The sheriff grumbles, clearly frustrated by the lack of information.
“No, I don’t think so. Too similar of a killing method. Any clue what weapon was used?” Javier leans forward in the uncomfortable, leather chair to ash his cigarette and sifting through the papers, trying to find the coroner’s reports for all three victims.
“Some kind of dagger or knife. Thought it might have been a huntin’ knife but all the wounds were clean cut. No serrated edges on the weapon.”
Javi hums, going over the details in his head for the millionth time trying to see the picture that was so clearly painted in front of him.
There was just simply not enough evidence to make anything out of it. On top of that, the assailant hasn’t struck again in months. A good thing for the general public but not for them if they have any intention of bringing justice to the families of the victims and catching whoever was behind these heinous crimes.
Javier also realizes that while these murders were tame to him, they were most certainly not tame to the people around here. Atrocities as these simply didn’t happen in places like Seminary and surrounding areas. Now that they were dealing with the aggressive reality of humanity, it was shaking them to their core.
So much so that the God fearing townsfolk began spreading rumors that the devil had its eye on the town and already infiltrated the progressive minds of the local youth.
“There’s always some truth to rumors, you know.” Javi begins, gray smoke flooding out from his mouth and nostrils as he puffs out from the nicotine stick, “Someone must’ve seen or heard somethin’ to implicate the younger crowd. ”
The sheriff leans back in his chair, using his thumb to rub out the concentrated frown that had etched itself between his brows, “People ‘round here are pretty stuck in their ways, myself included at times, they don’t like the way this new generation is comin’ up. Barely goin’ to church, spendin’ more time at the bar than at work. How sexual music’s gotten. Small shit like that gets people talkin’. It’s annoyin’ but it’s just talk.”
Javier is going to have to polish his interpersonal skills. Something larger could be at play here so he makes a mental note to go out and talk to these people himself to get a better feeling for what the general sentiment is.
Hell, he might even start going back to church. He can’t remember the last time he step foot in one. With what all had transpired further south; he’d lost his faith entirely. There was so much evil and greed in the world, he felt helpless at the realization that even religion became aversive to him.
“M’sure somethin’ll come up eventually.” Javier decides to be optimistic, struggling to do so but also wanting to turn over a new leaf, “In the meantime we’ll just have to make do with what we got. It’s been a while since the fucker struck so maybe they're done. Got a taste for it and decided they didn’t like it.” He finishes off his cigarette, stubbing it out and leaning back against the chair.
“A fresh set of eyes will really help with that. Appreciate you comin’ here, Peña. Don’t know much about your time down in Colombia but I can imagine it was rough. This is a massive change for you. Goin’ from damn drug traffickers to a coupla girls gettin’ stabbed on the side of a highway.” The older man continues to puff on his cigarette, his statement falling flat and almost in bad taste but Javier doesn’t say anything, instead shrugging.
“I got a job— M’not complaining’.” That was almost not the case, and a nasty feeling at the pit of his gut stirs at the remembrance of his meeting with the board in D.C. in a few weeks to get his official reprimanding for his ties with Los Pepes.
Javi is surprised that the Sheriff doesn’t bring up Judy Moncada’s quotes from the Miami Herald. Either he wasn’t informed or he simply did not care.
“That’s the spirit. What do you have goin’ on tonight?” Romeo begins, changing the subject entirely, and Javier can sense an invitation incoming. “‘Cause I’d love to have ya over for dinner. Give you a proper introduction to Seminary. You can meet my daughter, Paloma, too.” The sheriff then picks up one of the framed photos on his desk, turning it over for Javier to see.
A portrait of a stunning young woman sporting a cowboy hat, smiling brightly at the camera.
“Ain’t she a beaut?” He pulls the picture back, asking rhetorically and Javier clears his throat.
For a moment he contemplates the dinner invitation, part of him wanting to be alone in the comfort of his new space but the other part wanting to just throw himself into this to keep his mind occupied and away from the grueling memories of the lengthy time he’d spent in Colombia.
“Sure, I’ll come by.” He decides. If he thought about it for a second longer, he’d talk himself out of going.
A large, friendly grin spreads on Romeo’s face and he nods, finally finishing off his cigarette. “Alright now, you can stop by ‘round 7.” He moves some of the files aside revealing a notepad and he digs in his shirt pocket to pull out a pen. Scribbling down his address messily onto the blank piece of paper, he tears it off and leans over to hand it to Javier.
“Not that hard to get to.” Javier nods curtly and takes the paper, folding it and stuffing it into his back pocket.
It’s later in the day, the sun cascading into the distance; its hues of deep oranges and reds softening as the night sky begins to take over.
Paloma sits on the rocking chair that matches her father’s out on the porch. A guitar nestled in her lap and personal booklet resting on the arm of the chair as she strums lightly, building the chorus of her new song out loud. She takes the pencil from behind her ear and jots down something quickly and messily, returning to strumming and humming simultaneously.
“Paloma!” She hears the loud voice of her father practically making the walls shake as he calls out for her from his bedroom that was on the other side of the house. They often opened all the doors and windows to allow the soft breeze to flow throughout their space.
She groans, stopping her actions as the melody she was on the brink of figuring out leaves her entirely.
“What, daddy?!” She yells back, waiting for his reply which never comes.
He does this all the time.
Cursing quietly, Paloma stands from her comfortable spot, gently leaning her guitar against the wall then walking in to the house.
She finds Romeo exiting his bedroom and walking towards her, bottle of his good scotch in hand with a relieved look on his face. “Couldn’t find the goddamn liquor. Thought you had nabbed it from me.” He pinches her nose as he walks by her, in which she scrunches her face at the action. It's something he’s done since she was a little girl. It can be endearing but most of the time; it was just annoying.
“That’s the good stuff, daddy. I would never.” She follows behind him as they enter the kitchen, “Man must’ve left quite an impression for ya to be bustin’ out the crown jewel.” She watches as he begins to set out the dinnerware for tonight, and that’s when she realizes how late it has gotten.
It’s easy for Paloma to lose herself in her music. She has been able to since she was a child. Her mother had nursed the hobby the moment she saw how truly talented her daughter was. In return, Paloma became skillful in being able to play damn near any instrument put in front of her. And she could sing, too.
Beautifully.
“Javier’s got a sharp mind that I can use ‘round here. Thinkin’ I can finally start makin’ some damn progress. That deserves a special drink, don’t ya think? Come help me set the table.” She obliges, thinking her father’s words over.
The murders have been weighing heavily on his shoulders since they began. All the time and effort he’s put in to make the puzzle pieces fit only to come up empty handed. Paloma doesn’t know the specifics of it, just what he rants to her here and there. He doesn’t like to bring his work home.
Romeo has been away a lot since putting his entire focus on the cases. Many nights spent at the office but he at least tries to share one meal with his daughter throughout the week. Paloma understands this, and like always she gives him his space and doesn’t complain about it.
The only reason she’s stuck around Seminary for so long is for him. He wouldn’t know what to do without her.
“Well I’m glad things are lookin’ up, finally. Can’t wait to meet this sharp thinkin’ Javier.” They finish setting up and Paloma excuses herself to go get changed into something a little more dressy seeing as her father was looking more put together than usual.
He must really be trying to make an impression.
Her room is on the second floor, alongside her childhood playroom and the empty room that contained some miscellaneous items.
Like her mother’s things.
Paloma always has a habit of letting her gaze linger at the closed, white wooden door of the room every time she passes it. In a strange way, she feels like her mother is standing behind that door; just waiting for her to open it and greet her like her daughter wishes she could.
But she hardly ever does, the sorrow feeling in her chest too heavy for her to bear being in there for longer than a few minutes.
She passes it with a quick glance, now entering her bedroom and throwing open her wardrobe doors. It’s a mess, like it usually is, but it’s an organized chaos that only Paloma Leighton could decipher.
After eyeing some outfits, she decides on a cream toned, linen romper with shorts. It has a deep V cut in the front that tastefully exposed some of the tanned skin between her breasts. However, she puts on a matching lace bralette underneath to soften the risqué of the outfit.
Her hair is the brown of aged mahogany. Long and thick, it falls almost to her waist and she does nothing but brush it out. It naturally falls the way she likes. A beautifully sculpted cross necklace hangs from her neck; it was her mother’s and she’d given it to Paloma shortly before passing. She finishes getting ready by spritzing some of her perfume and applying lip gloss before sauntering down the steps.
She hears the soft sound of her father’s record playing some old school country tune, the song sounding throughout the house and she smiles gently. She crosses the threshold and is out on the porch to gather her things from earlier when she catches the headlights of a vehicle coming down the elongated driveway of the property.
That must be him.
“Daddy, your friend’s here!”
Javier got a chance to get to get acquainted with the town before his dinner with the sheriff. He wandered around the shops and establishments that littered the main street of Seminary, drove the backroads then up and down the highway a few times to get a feel for how he would approach his new job.
The conclusion he’s come to is that the town, for the most part, is harmless. But he’s only been here one afternoon so what the hell does he know?
After his exploration, he finally made it to the place he would be calling home until further notice. A dingy yet quaint trailer home located on about two acres of land. It has everything he requires. Furnished neatly and stocked with all the cooking utensils he could ever need but ultimately never use. Javier found himself more comfortable after unpacking the few items he’d brought along with him.
Maybe his father was right. Maybe he can finally slip into some normalcy.
But he’s only been here one afternoon so what the hell does he know?
After a stop at the local bakery, an ‘if you blink you’ll miss it’ type of establishment, and the purchase of some homemade banana pudding; the man is driving up a dirt path to Romeo’s home.
The sheriff lives on an impressive mount of land, his house looking like something plucked straight out of an old southern painting. A large, two story home with a wraparound porch. A typical white picket fence surrounds the immediate area. The landscaping is beautiful, it looks very well tended to and he can hear Chucho’s voice ringing in the back of his head.
“¿Vez? Que te dije (see? what did I tell you)— peaceful.”
He cuts the engine of his Ford, checking his appearance in the rearview mirror before grabbing the tinfoil container from the passenger’s seat and getting out.
The first thing he sees as he approaches the front door are long, tan legs that lead up to some full and soft looking thighs that instantly have him licking his lips.
And who is this?
“Good evening, ma’am.” His deep voice cuts through the sound of the summer evening, his Texan accent thick. The sounds of toads croaking in the distance and different insects chirping about set a pleasant ambiance for the southern night.
The woman stands alert at the sound of his voice and turns to face him, which causes Javi to damn near lose his breath at the sight of the beauty in front of him.
It is the same woman that Romeo had shown him earlier, except the picture didn’t do her natural beauty any justice. She’s got the most gorgeous features he’s ever seen on a woman, and he’s been around a lot of beautiful women.
Her lips are pouty and pink, the gloss she’s wearing accentuates their plushness so well. Honey colored brown eyes that even from where he stands can see twinkle with curiosity beneath the soft porch lights. Freckles sprinkle across her nose and the tops of her cheeks complimented by her natural blush.
Damn.
“You must be Javier. I’m Paloma, Romeo’s daughter.” She smiles at him in which he can’t help but mirror as she sets down the guitar in her possession and he slowly walks up the porch steps.
Well, this certainly is a pleasant surprise. When Paloma’s father had told her about the new guy that was joining the department, she just pictured some run of the mill, old looking man. One that looked like every other one of his colleagues.
She most definitely wasn’t expecting such a handsome man like the one that’s in front of her.
“Paloma.” The way her name falls from his lips with a Spanish accent has her stomach erupting in butterflies.
She’s never heard anyone say it like that.
“Beautiful name. Very fitting.” The flirtatious compliment is one she’s heard too many times to count, but hearing it come from him makes it feel like the sweetest thing she’s ever heard. Their close proximity has her catching a whiff of his cologne mixed with.. cigarettes?
Her thighs clench involuntarily.
Javier takes her hand in his as she extends it to greet him. Instead of going in for a handshake, he brings it up to his lips and places a soft kiss against her knuckles. It has her tingling all over; electricity sprouting from the spot where the kiss is planted. She can’t help the way her blush deepens at the action, and she almost wants to slap herself for reacting so easily.
Dating isn't a priority in Paloma’s life. Any man worth having in this town is already taken and the rest are nothing but a waste of time. Just some fun for her to have, hooking up with a handful of them whenever her fingers couldn’t get the job done.
It is rare when there's an eligible newcomer and even then she is too preoccupied with keeping the family home in shape and her music to even think about dating. She is aware of the way the gossips in town talk about her, disliking that she is a single and childless twenty-six year old woman.
“She should be married by now. At her age I already had three kids.”
“It’s so sad, really.”
“I’ve heard she’s given it up to about half the boys in town.”
They gasp and glance over at her over their shoulders. Paloma pretends she doesn’t see them do this.
Her true love, aside from music, is that of traveling. She wants nothing more than to leave Seminary all together and head west, see what the rest of the world has to offer. Take a chance on her music... make a name for herself.
Unfortunately for her, she’s got some heavy family ties here in Texas (her father) and after the death of her mother— she wouldn’t dare leave him. The guilt would eat her alive.
Was it fair for her to give up her aspirations just to keep one person happy? No… but things aren’t always fair and she has a decent life here in Seminary. She doesn't have to worry about paying any bills or surviving on her own; though she knows she’s more than capable of doing so if she really had to. She only has that job at the library to help pass the time whenever she’s not buried in a book or playing her day away on the piano. Any money she receives is stashed away in an old jewelry box in the back of her closet in case one day she finally decides to leave.
All that to say that romantically, men aren't something she focuses on. However, this man in particular, she could spare some of her attention to. Something about his swagger is attractive. He shifts his weight onto one foot and pokes his hip out slightly; giving her a good view of his built figure.
“Clever and charming. Guess daddy was right about you.” Paloma cocks her head to the side slightly, taking in his appearance better now that he was closer and damn, is he handsome. The type of handsome that you only see on TV.
He’s clad in a long sleeve, forest colored shirt with a few buttons undone at the top; a gold chain teasing her against his brown skin. He’s rolled the sleeves up on the shirt up to his elbows and she notices how rugged he looks, veins on his forearms flexing ever so slightly. Tight cowboy jeans are paired with some expensive looking brown leather boots and a nice belt to tie it all in together.
Her eyes travel up from his body to his countenance, noticing how truly handsome and mature he is. Like he’s experienced things she’d never come close to imagining. She wants to know it all. The full 70s looking pornstache above his lip somehow very appealing to Paloma, whose ‘type’ up until this moment has been clean cut, military boys.
He is anything but clean cut, and she likes that.
His lips full, nose very distinguished with a devilish curve and… stable looking. A perfect seat for her to perch herself on. She can practically feel it nudging against her clit before he completely devours her.
A lazy yet cocky lopsided smile tugs at his lips, as if he can see the filthy thoughts in her head. “Already talking me up, I see.” he greets Romeo, whom Paloma hadn’t realized had stepped outside since she was too preoccupied eye fucking the stranger in front of her.
“Didn’t tell her nothin’ that wasn’t true. What’s that you got there?” The older man gestures to the container.
“I could spot Betty’s homemade banana puddin’ with my eyes closed.” Paloma speaks up, trying to recover from the slight embarrassment she feels for thinking so sinfully about him.
Javier’s onyx colored eyes meet hers again and she looks away almost bashfully, occupying herself by finally gathering her things.
“I couldn’t show up empty handed. Ma woulda slapped me right upside the head. Where are your manners, niño (boy) ?” He does what she would assume is an impression of his mother and this gets a giggle out of her.
She is utterly interested in getting to know him better.
“On behalf of us, you can thank your mother for instilling manners into ya. Come on in, we cleaned for once.” He jokes, ushering his company in and she just rolls her eyes playfully at her father’s antics.
The night turns out to be very enjoyable for Javi. He is in good company and the dinner provided, cooked by Paloma since she didn’t let her father take credit for any of it, definitely helped soothe over some of the smaller, sore spots left by Colombia.
They laugh and swap stories, Javier shares some of his more lighthearted moments in the country down south while Paloma and Romeo try to out-embarrass each other with different family tales.
It helps to have some eye candy, though, as he finds it difficult to keep his eyes away from her longer than a few seconds. Even while the sheriff is in direct conversation with him, Javier can see her from his peripheral and how she also can’t seem to peel her gaze from him.
Murphy always gave him a ‘hard time’ about his effect on women and how Javier used it to his advantage. It’s the only way he got shit rollin’ down in Colombia. The only people that approached him willingly were the working ladies that resided in the city.
And who was he to turn down a good, even great time?
Quickly enough, word had spread amongst the girls and next thing he knew; he had a list of ‘informants’ so long that even he began to lose track.
It was simple, getting information from them then taking them back to his place… his car… or the bar restroom. Whatever was most convenient.
Most of the time they would come to him with bullshit leads just to see him again, and most of the time he would just give them what they wanted, which was just another blissful night with Agent Peña.
Something about Paloma, however, gives him the impression that he wouldn’t fuck her how he did those girls down south. Not unless she asked… begged him to, at least.
He’d make sure to kiss every inch of her golden skin, make her feel good and satisfied before burying himself deep inside her. What’d he do to see those pretty lips parted with his name falling from them like a prayer.
“You should sing him somethin’. ”
Romeo’s suggestion has Javier raising his brows and snapping him out of his thoughts.
They’ve moved out onto the porch, taking in the peacefulness of the night and the clear view of all stars the littered the unobscured sky. The banana pudding long gone.
“I am not some show pony you can just make do tricks whenever you like, old man.” She retorts playfully from her spot on the top of the porch steps, meddling with the rings on her fingers.
From this angle, Javier is able to get a better look at those thighs he’s been fantasizing about all night. Is it a terrible move to go after your quote un quote ‘bosses’ daughter after just meeting her? Probably, but Javi’s done worse and he’s picked up that she seems to be very keen to his subtle advances. Or not subtle, depending on how well he is able to hide any type of direct flirtation with his natural charisma.
“You shy to?” Javi asks her, lighting the cigarette that rests between his lips. He is a pro at chain smoking, this making it the fourth one he’s smoked in the last hour that they’ve been out here.
She snorts, shaking her head and looking over at him. When their gazes meet, he can’t help the shadow of a smirk hover his lips and she slightly narrows her eyes at him.
“That one? Shy? The last damn word I’d use to describe her.” Romeo takes a swig from the scotch he’s poured, pointing at his daughter. “Sometimes I can’t get her to shut up.”
“Wow, and father of the year goes to…” She replies sarcastically, standing which allows Javier to let his eyes linger over her body, taking a long drag from the cigarette to keep his perverted thoughts at bay.
Like how he wanted to feel her thighs wrapped around his waist. Or better, his head.
“I’m just teasin’. She’s got such an angelic voice, I never get tired of hearin’ her sing.” The sincerity in Romeo’s tone pulls Javier out of his ogling, attention now over to the older man.
“You should come see her at The Whiskey Fox weekend nights. Puts on one hell of a show.” She leans back against the railing, crossing one foot over the other. This causes the shorts of her romper to rise up slightly, exposing more of her skin.
Like a moth to a flame, he’s eyeing her once more but doesn’t make it as obvious. He wouldn't want to be chased out of here by a shotgun wielding, overprotective father.
“Is The Whiskey Fox the spot to go to in town?” Javier asks to no one in particular, ashing his cigarette on the small plate that sits on the small table between him and the sheriff.
“More like the only spot in town. It’s a bar with a stage, n’they have the best loaded fries. Swear.” She informs him, once again commanding his undivided attention.
No matter how many times he looks at her, he’s still taken aback by how breathtakingly beautiful she is.
“Well if you swear then I guess I’ll have to stop by some time.” He nods his head towards her and she smiles softly, pushing herself off the railing.
“Just give me a heads up when you decide to make your first appearance.” He hears a hint of flirtatiousness in her statement, as if she’s rolling the ball in his court to make the first move.
As badly as he wants to take her up on that, thinking on a whim like he always has; Javier stops from doing so. This was a chance for him to start anew, amend for all the mistakes he made in Colombia.
But she’s making it very difficult for him to.
Did he really have any intention of changing if all it takes to throw caution in the wind is one pretty girl?
“As much as I’d love to stay in the pleasure of y’alls company….” She runs her hands down the front of her outfit and begins to head inside, “I have to be up early to open the library. You still takin’ me, daddy?” She asks the sheriff softly, stopping by the front door and Javier looks away, glancing out into the distance.
The older man grumbles out, “Yeah. We gotta get that car of yours up and runnin’ though. Don’t know how many free rides I got left in me.” The statement piques Javier’s interest and he can’t help but to rejoin the conversation.
“Got car problems?” He looks between them two, gaze lingering over her as she speaks up.
“Yeah, my Darla quit on me ‘bout a month ago. Mechanic in town can’t seem to fix the problem.” Paloma seems annoyed by that fact and that has him offering to help before his own brain can stop him from doing so.
“I restored my truck. Had some help from my pops but I pretty much got her up and runnin’ all by myself.” Javier takes another puff of his cigarette, keeping a small smirk at bay as he catches Paloma’s attention drift over to his vehicle in interest. “I wouldn’t mind takin’ a look at yours. If that’s okay. ”
Her father also lets out a sign of content, “That’d be fuckin’ great, Javi. Godsend this guy, poppin’ into town and helpin’ me solve all my goddamn problems. What’s it been— not even a day? Shiiit.” Romeo lets out a laugh, finishing off the contents in his short glass.
Javier would usually find this amount of praise annoying–– ass kissing to keep him content in the shitty position he’s been put it in. However, in this instance, he doesn’t really mind it. It would also give him an opportunity to get to know Paloma better without it crossing over into more nefarious territory.
“Yeah, very sweet of you. I’d really appreciate that.” Yet another glimpse of her enchanting smile. She bends down to place a kiss on her father’s cheek and then waves at him. “Good night y’all. It was a pleasure meeting you, Mr. Peña.” Even though Javi had already told her to call him by his first name earlier, he can’t help but enjoy the way his surname pushes past her lips. That sweet voice of hers sounding like pure honey.
characters: joel miller & angelina alvarez (trauma surgeon!ofc)
rating: 18+ (mdni)
word count: ~3k
chapter summary: meet (some of) the millers.
chapter warnings: pov switching, angst, mystery lady, no use of y/n.
a/n: ahh, it's here! thank you for all of the interest in this series already, i can't quite believe it! it's been over a year in the making and i'm so glad to finally have reached the point of posting. thank you to @myownwholewildworld & @bergamote-catsandbooks & jolapeno for all your cheerleading and hand-holding. this is more of an intro with a sprinkling of angst and mystery, so i hope you stick around for more!
read on ao3 | masterlist | series masterlist
dividers by @thecutestgrotto
All things considered, Joel Miller had a good life. He had family around him, a home that he worked hard to own, he paid his taxes on time, and had even started his own construction company with his brother, Tommy, during the recent rocky years.
Tommy Miller, incidentally, remained a complete enigma to those who knew him as a young boy. How he ended up being a good business partner who made level-headed decisions in the best interest of their company, an excellent father, and an even better husband, regularly blew the minds of everyone who had known the Miller brothers as teens. There were still some in the community - like Val, the owner of the diner - who remembered watching the eldest Miller attempt to wrangle the youngest into some sort of line - there goes that Miller boy again, they would say benevolently as they poured coffee or sipped on milkshakes.
But Joel knew deep down that Tommy was the reason he was still alive. He had never said as much out loud, had never talked it out with his baby brother over a late-night whisky. But it was the truth; Tommy had pulled him through hell and made sure he saw light on the other side.
He reckoned that Tommy must know he had saved him, too.
Joel knew that when people looked deep into his eyes, he couldn't seem truly happy, even behind the occasional brief smile he let show. If ever anyone dared to ask how he was doing, he would grumble his response through a shrug and a gruff voice.
’m fine.
His guard was almost always up, even around those closest to him – brother, friends, hell, even his kid at times.
But he wasn’t fine. Not really.
Inside of Joel lived a monster. Anguish given claws and teeth and jagged edges. A pain so solid that it weighed him down most days, feeling it in his gut, causing his very soul to splinter and crack. A weight he carried with him daily, pressing down on him until his organs felt like they were failing, blackening inside him, pulse flattening, bones breaking, heart shattering.
But still, when the people he loved most in the world asked, he would shrug and grumble.
’m fine.
A spectacular lie.
’m fine.
He knew it.
’m fine.
What’s more, so did they.
’m fine.
’m fine. ’m fine. ’m fine.
So, all things considered, Joel Miller did have a good life.
But it wouldn't ever be as good as it once was.
*
Tommy cried out as he stumbled from the bedroom, stubbing his toe on the doorframe. He immediately tried to muffle the sound with his hand, but even with that attempt, it wouldn't have made any difference; Joel was making enough noise to wake the entire neighborhood.
He made his way blindly down the hallway, feeling his way along the walls as he struggled to open his eyes fully. Lightswitch, art decor, photos, doorframe - he had enough discernment to firmly close his niece’s door as he passed by on his way to the room at the end of the hall. When he reached it, he quietly opened the door and slipped inside Joel's room.
Tommy felt rather than heard the gentle creak of the door as he closed it behind him, shutting out Joel's cries of anguish to the rest of the house.
In the sliver of moonlight creeping in through the sheer curtains, Tommy could make out Joel's form in bed, writhing, thrashing in the sheets, almost feverish. As he stepped closer to his brother, Tommy’s eyes fell to the alarm clock: 4:07am. He didn’t have to look at the calendar on the wall behind it to know the date.
“Joel!” Tommy hissed the name a few times, from a distance. He was quiet at first, hoping to rouse him gently from the obvious nightmare, but became louder as the seconds ticked on.
A few years ago, when this first started happening, Tommy had leapt into action, tried to hold Joel’s arms when he fought an imaginary monster, and ended up with a black eye paired with a bruised rib or two. He’d since learned to go in verbally, much more gentle in his approach, until Joel’s shouts calmed to whimpers.
“It’s a wonder you don’ wake yourself up, brother,” Tommy muttered, when Joel’s voice, now hoarse, finally began to quiet. His limbs weren’t as tight, and his face – although still stricken with pain – had smoothed out considerably.
Tommy deemed it safe to sit on the edge of the bed as he listened to Joel’s staggered breathing begin to settle.
“C’mon, Joel,” he murmured, and noticed Joel’s head incline slightly in the direction of his voice, eyelids now fluttering. Tommy was able to catch a quick glimpse of the bloodshot whites of his brother’s eyes beneath his lids. “Jus’ go back to sleep.”
Joel sighed heavily, frown prominent on his features, and wrestled with the thin sheets as he rolled over, pushing them down to his waist and burying his face in the pillow. Tommy, seeing the sheen of sweat, leaned over and switched on the freestanding fan. Its quiet click was followed by the gentle whispering of the soft breeze as it filled the room.
Tommy, sensing Joel was settling down again, stood and began to pad across the floor to the door.
“Miss ‘er,” Joel grumbled, and Tommy froze for only a moment, his hand on the doorknob. He wondered if Joel had woken or if he was breaking his heart all over again in his dream world. He had his answer when Joel's next breath came as a gentle snore.
“I know, brother,” Tommy whispered. He quietly clicked Joel’s bedroom door closed and stood for a moment, willing his stinging eyes and nose to stop. Letting out a soft breath, he turned to creep back down to the guest room when he heard a soft call from further down the hallway.
“Uncle Tommy?”
Timid. Unsure. Upset.
The door, the one he had firmly closed just a few minutes before, creaked open as he walked by.
“He’s okay, baby girl,” he forced a small smile, the nickname rolling off his tongue as easily as it did Joel’s. A habit he had picked up from helping Joel raise her.
They both knew he wasn’t okay, though.
“Well,” he sighed as he came level with her, “as alrigh’ as he can be for now.”
She nodded her head, worry shining in her eyes as she muttered a small, “Okay.”
Tommy paused, reached out with a hand on her shoulder, and pulled her into an easy hug. “Try to get back to sleep. Things’ll be okay.”
*
She blinked.
Rapidly.
The harsh light flooded her eyes and she knew where she would be without even having to fully open them. She could feel the hard, rough concrete beneath her, could already feel the ache in her bones from lying there for so long. Groaning, she pushed herself up into a sitting position, grit and gravel digging into her palms and scraping the delicate flesh there.
She barely felt it.
Pushing herself to stand and stretching her arms above her head, she felt the almost delicious crunch of her entire spine. Shaking her head as if to clear a bad image, she looked around and spotted the diner across the street. She smiled, leaned down to pick up her backpack, and stepped further into the road.
Just as she crossed the center of the street, a car zoomed by and, gasping with fright, she leapt out of the way, sighing in anger and shouting after the small, black car. A strange sensation of déjà vu washed over her, crawling over her skin like a bad memory, but she shrugged it off as she hopped up onto the sidewalk next to the diner.
A boy in his late teens pushed the door open to leave just as she approached, so she slipped in behind him and headed to her favorite section. The booths that lined the front window – the ones where a familiar looking woman with brown hair sat watching the street outside with a glazed-over look in her eyes – were good for people watching, but she had always found that the ones nestled away at the back of the space, the ones that were slightly raised and surrounded by retro 50's decor, were perfect for when you wanted to be left alone.
Taking determined strides, she marched towards the furthest booth and flung herself down, back to the door, not bothering to remove her backpack as she scrubbed her hands down her face with a sigh. The skin on her face felt scratchy, and she barely felt the cold, metallic sting of the table that her elbows rested on. Despite having just opened her eyes, she felt exhausted. Her head sunk slowly down to the surface of the shiny table forehead pressing into it. She could feel the grains of salt digging into her skin, the layer of grease against her head, but found it not to be an annoyance.
She loosed another long, slow sigh.
The cute bell above the door of the diner tinkled but she didn’t bother looking up. Didn’t so much as lift her head when she felt her seat shift with the weight of someone sitting in the booth behind her.
It was only when she heard the gruff voice of the person now sitting behind her that she began to pay attention. Frowning, she raised her head slightly and listened as he ordered.
“Jus’ coffee. Black.”
The voice was familiar, but she felt like she hadn’t heard it in years.
There was a pause after the server asked if there was anything else, and it felt as though the man was deciding.
Eventually he replied, “Y-yeah,” cleared his throat, “a strawberry sundae.”
Her heart gave a loud thunk.
“Alrighty then! A black coffee and a strawberry sundae, comin’ right up!” The server’s Texan twang seemed stronger, and she sounded chirpier as he handed the menu back, hearing the slight wobble of the laminated page through the air.
Shifting slightly, she cursed herself for choosing to sit in her favorite side of the booth; back to the door. She used to face this way all the time to admire the 50’s-style posters and the flickering neon light decor that hung along the back wall. Subtly, she turned and glanced behind her, trying to surreptitiously catch a glimpse of the man she was so certain she knew.
He was bent low over the table, almost exactly as she had been moments ago. His hands were clasped tightly atop the shiny surface and his forearms rested along the edge of the table. His black t-shirt stretched across his shoulder blades, and she thought she could make out the faded white word ‘Miller’s’.
She smiled.
His beard, what she could see of it, was dark, and still looked to be patchy along his jaw line. His hair, much like when she had known him, was tousled and messy. As always, his curls seemed to have a life of their own.
It was longer now.
He stayed that way, steady and still, until his order arrived. Not even a nervous roll of his thumb and finger like she was accustomed to, or even a twitch of his lips. Just a straight, dead stare at the shiny surface of the table, as if he had a score to settle with it.
Eventually, the server placed both items in front of him, fluttering her eyelashes with a breathy enjoy. He barely nodded his head in her direction, his gaze stuck on the strawberry sundae.
It looked delicious – in fact, it was one of her favorites. Layers of ice cream, whipped cream and fresh chopped strawberries, all topped off with sticky syrup and the biggest strawberry she had ever seen wedged on the rim of the glass.
Her mouth was watering.
It was a few moments before she realized that he was now in a staring match with the frozen feast instead of the tabletop. His grudge had shifted from the table to the tasty treat before him. In the end, he reached out a hand, grasped the slender stem of the glass, and slowly, solemnly, slid it across to the empty side of the booth.
Suddenly, she felt like she was intruding.
She gulped.
Time to go.
Taking her chance, she gripped the straps of her backpack tightly, slipped silently from the booth, and high-tailed it out of the diner behind a giggling couple, throwing a quick thanks over her shoulder in their direction.
There was no doubt in her mind that he was who she was looking for. It was the closest she had been to him in years. And she was certain that it was him, couldn't be more sure of anything that fate had brought them together at that very moment.
Fate had finally put Joel Miller in her path.
*
“Y'shoulda heard ’im, Maria,” Tommy huffed, “it’s not been that bad in a few years.”
“Well, can you blame him?” she asked, leaning against the kitchen counter and crossing her arms.
“No, not at all! Jus’ thought he was gettin’ better.” Tommy caught the look on his wife’s face and hurried to add. “Not that I think it’s easy to get over. It jus’ seemed as if he might’ve been startin’ to come to terms with it. Copin' a little more. That’s all I meant, baby.”
He leaned in to kiss her cheek as he heard the footsteps of his niece begin to move around upstairs.
“How was she?” Maria nodded her head up towards the noise, dropping her voice to avoid being overheard. Tommy shrugged.
“Heard ’im. Worried, I guess. But alrigh’, I think. Y'know, all things considered.”
Maria nodded, deep in thought, then pointedly looked at the yellow post-it note, corners curling, that was stuck to the fridge.
“This is new though,” she mused, walking towards it and peering closely at the handwritten word, her brother-in-law’s handwriting scratched in blue ink.
“Yup,” Tommy nodded, moving to stand behind her and look over her shoulder, “he hasn’t been there in years.”
Tommy frowned at the yellow square, as if it would give him the answers he needed.
Diner.
“Well, at least we know where to find ’im,” Tommy clapped his hands together then took a few steps towards the kitchen door, hollering through the house for his niece to come downstairs. “Did Benji get to school okay?”
Grabbing the car keys and tossing them to her husband, Maria nodded. “Asked about you, but I told him you were having a sleepover with Grumpy Uncle Joel.”
“Yeah,” Tommy mused, reaching the front door as he heard some hurried movements through the house, “it was some fuckin' slumber party.”
*
Standing on the opposite side of the road to the diner, trying to peer in through the window between two parked cars, she found herself thinking how strange she would look if anyone were around to witness her. She knew she wouldn't be able to see in - he had picked one of her favorite booths affterall, tucked away in the back of the diner - but she couldn't help but feel hopeful that she might catch a glimpse of him again.
Just as that hope was beginning to dwindle, a voice from down the street cut through her reverie.
“Alrigh’ people, order up! I’ll get ’em to go.”
Long hair - longer than Joel's - was tied back into a bun away from his face, and his t-shirt (blue, where Joel's had been black) was pulled taught over his shoulders. In one hand he carried a toolbelt that would eventually find its way around his hips during the course of the day, and in the other he swung keys around his index finger.
He skipped a couple of steps ahead and held the door open for his wife, who thanked him and told him her coffee order. He stayed an extra few seconds for his more subdued niece to meet him, and when she stepped into the diner, he raised his hand and gently nudged a knuckle into her cheek, making her smile softly and roll her eyes with no malice. He followed her through the door, pointing over her shoulder in the direction that Joel was sitting, and they were gone.
There she stood, jaw agape. Not only had Joel been within touching distance of her this morning, but she had also caught a quick glimpse of the rest of the family. She felt hot tears begin to sting her eyes, but none fell.
It was hard to describe the way she felt in that moment: as always, there was immense pain, ever-present and almost-crushing, but there also was a strange sense of calm gently washing over her. A wave, like a welcomed rush of relief seeping through her veins. She took the time to really feel it spreading over her, like a cool breeze on a warm day, and, closing her eyes, she let it fill her veins, her chest, lungs burning with it. The calm, the relief, that was slowly filling her began to solidify into something much more palpable, more powerful: purpose.
By the time this new feeling had settled within her and she had opened her eyes, the family were heading back out of the diner and turning down the way they had come.
Joel was with them now, tagging along at the back of the group next to his brother.
She smiled and nodded to herself resolutely. She was determined now, completely backed by her new-found confidence after seeing the family.
There was something Joel Miller had to know; of that she was certain, or this purpose wouldn't have cemeted itself so thoroughly.
She had tried only once before, but had been met with such an immense wall of pain that she never tried again. Was always scared it wouldn't turn out the way she pictured in her head. But this, today, had been the push she needed.
Fate had intervened.
There was something Joel Miller had to know.
And today was the perfect day to tell him.
next ->
a/n: omg thank you for reading! if you want to be added or removed from the taglist please just drop me a message or reply to the post!
characters: joel miller, trauma surgeon!ofc angelina alvarez (no romantic pairing), the millers
rating: 18+ (mdni)
word count: ~27k
summary: it's been five years since the incident and someone has something to tell joel miller.
series warnings: [spoilers!] pov switching, mentions of medical procedures, death, grief, trauma, mental health, slice of life, ellie and sarah exist in the same timeline please suspend your beliefs, angst-heavy, hopefully ever after. check individual chapters for more warnings.
a/n: this has been literally over a year in the making! i teased this in wip wednesday's before (here and here) and i'm so excited to finally be sharing! i want to be so clear, this is not a romantic pairing! i'll post every couple of weeks, likely on a thursday or a friday. i hope you enjoy!
it’s so hard for me to listen to heartbroken/angry breakup songs by straight men bc no matter how good the song is i’ll be like i’m not sure if i fully believe you. let’s hear her side of the story.
Imagine being the gays at a pride event in 2004 living their lives when someone grabs the microphone and announces to the room that Ronald Reagan was pronounced dead. Can you even imagine the hype, the celebration, the pure elation
