WILLOW & WHISKEY | season 1!joel x reader insert
[complete]
The outbreak took a lot from you, but it gave you a little sister. Wherever she goes, you go. Now, that means crossing the country with a man who keeps the world at arm's length. But 3,000 miles has a funny way of making the distance disappear.
one | two | three | four | five | six | seven | eight | nine | ten | epilogue
EMBER & EVERGREEN | jackson!joel x reader
[sequel to Willow & Whiskey – coming soon]
You thought Jackson was your fresh start, a place to finally settle down with Joel and Ellie. But when a familiar face walks back into your life, you learn that some debts can never be repaid, and some ghosts never leave.
NO PLACE LIKE HOME | neighbor!joel x reader
[coming soon]
After your estranged father's death, you return to your childhood home to settle his affairs. Getting the house ready for sale forces you to confront your painful past.
Luckily, you don't have it alone. Joel is right next door, and he's ready to help you navigate healing, forgiveness, and the possibility of something more…
MONSOON SEASON | ceo!joel x reader
[coming soon]
Your father and his business partner—ruthless hotel mogul Joel Miller—are set on acquiring a Thai island resort. You join them on a three-week trip there, but Joel only sees you as a spoiled distraction – until suddenly, you’re something else entirely.
THE BITTER/SWEET UNIVERSE | jack x chef!reader
[interconnected standalone series]
Bitter/Sweet | when a stubbornly charming chef keeps showing up in his ER, Dr. Jack Abbot finds it harder and harder to ignore the pull toward something—and someone—he didn't plan for…
Fallout | you and your sister plan to spend the day at Pitt Fest but instead spend the night in the hospital, and Jack is left to pick up the pieces.
On the Line | Jack takes a six-week placement across the country. Four specific FaceTime calls—full of banter, longing, and everything unsaid—hold you two together until he comes home.
A LITTLE SLIVER | jack x reader one-shot
The fear of being diagnosed with the very disease that took your mother’s life keeps you away from the hospital – until a cut on your hand brings you in, and a certain ER cowboy keeps you coming back.
I need help finding a series because I can’t for the life of me remember who it was by. It’s a Jack Abbott x chef reader where they meet in the ED because she slices her hand open and they continue running into each other (she passes out from exhaustion/dehydration). It’s four parts I think. The last part is reader in Pittsburgh and Jack in California and they’re having Skype dates and they miss each other so much.
Which of my unpublished works would you want to read next?
The options are:
Ember & Evergreen | jackson!joel x reader (sequel to Willow & Whiskey)
You thought Jackson was your fresh start, a place to finally settle down with Joel and Ellie. But when a familiar face walks back into your life, you learn that some debts can never be repaid, and some ghosts never leave.
No Place Like Home | neighbor!joel x reader
After your estranged father's death, you return to your childhood home to settle his affairs. Getting the house ready for sale forces you to confront your painful past.
Luckily, you don't have it alone. Joel is right next door, and he's ready to help you navigate healing, forgiveness, and the possibility of something more…
Monsoon Season | ceo!joel x reader
Your father and his business partner—ruthless hotel mogul Joel Miller—are set on acquiring a Thai island resort. You join them on a three-week trip there, but Joel only sees you as a spoiled distraction – until suddenly, you’re something else entirely.
Whatever gets the most votes will end up being what I publish next!
I love your bitter/sweet universe so much! Your writing is truly captivating. Are you going to write/post anymore in the near future?
Thank you for all the love 💕 I’m currently working on another part of the story which may be out in the next week or two but I’ll be sure to post a snippet in my WIP post this Wednesday for you x
Hi helllllllo I’ve binged all your writing and now I can’t wait for more, you’re so talented!! Do you have a timeline for when new stuff is gonna come out? Or any excerpts from some WIPs you wanna share 🥹
Thank you for such a generous comment, lovey 🥰 I just got back from holiday so I don’t have a timeline for new stuff but I’m going to start writing today and should have something new for you to read by the weekend!
And I’ll be sure to share snippets of my WIPs on Wednesdays x
(Will also be putting out a poll on what series of mine everyone wants to read next so keep an eye out for that as I’d love your opinion ❤️)
WHAT WERE THE RESULTS AHHHH😆😆😆😆 I loved that so much
ahh tysm! I always meant to leave the story open-ended because the uncertainty is part of what the character is carrying, and I wanted readers to sit with that too... so totally up to you to decide the ending x
i hope you planing a second part to "a little silver" it was so good and i can't stand not to know how the results come back. I like to see them in love, to have their little romantic moments.
so I actually wrote A Little Sliver intentionally as a one-shot. I wanted the focus to stay on the emotional weight of reader's journey, not so much the outcome of the testing. The ambiguity at the end was part of that – just reflecting how sometimes what matters most isn't the result, but how we live with the not-knowing, the hope, and the people who come into our lives along the way.
I don't have a sequel planned right now, but never say never – if inspiration strikes again, I'd love to revisit this story and delve deeper into the romance 💘
summary: the fear of being diagnosed with the very disease that took your mother's life keeps you away from the hospital – until a cut on your hand brings you in, and a certain ER cowboy keeps you coming back.
warnings/tags: slow burn, hurt/comfort, age gap, serious health condition, medical anxiety
word count: 4.9k
a/n: in my angsty era, blame my hormones
You hadn’t looked up once from your shaking hands, not since you’d sat down. The fluorescent lights above made your skin look worse – washed out, tinged with a sickly pale hue. But it was the tremor your eyes were fixed on – slight, controlled, like your body was already beginning to whisper the secret and would soon shout it from the rooftops.
You barely even glanced at the doctor who escorted you back through the ED. Didn’t glance at the exam room door, didn’t care what the table looked like before perching yourself on the edge.
Dr. Shen was kind. Gentle voice, competent hands. He didn’t comment on the tremor, not right away. Just asked you the procedural questions.
“What brings you in today?” You dropped a glass and cut your hand rushing to pick up the pieces.
“Why did you wait so long to come in?” You thought you’d picked all the glass out. It didn’t hurt much.
“Have you noticed any muscle-twitching or stiffness? Not from the cut.
Now that response caught his attention.
Your voice held that flatness people only got when the weight was bone-deep, nearly crushing them.
He thought he caught the tremor when he began examining your hand but it was so slight, barely there, that he figured it might’ve just been a nervous tick.
But it wasn’t.
You couldn’t control it. Your muscles twitched. Your grip had weakened, just the slightest. These subtle changes, in turn, caused a spike in irritability, aimed at whoever was in your line of sight.
All in the last three days.
Independently, none of these symptoms were too worrying. But combined, it made him wary.
He ran through the possibilities.
A stress-related tremor – though you hadn’t been burnout or fatigued lately.
Caffeine overuse – you were a tea drinker.
Multiple sclerosis – you didn’t have any vision changes or numbness.
Hyperthyroidism – he sent your bloodwork to the lab to check your TSH levels, but it was unlikely as you weren’t presenting other symptoms.
“I don’t think it’s neurological but I’d like to bring in one of our senior attendings to take a look. Dr. Abbot’s got an eye for that kind of thing.”
You nodded faintly, in the way people do when the words go in one ear and out the other.
Shen left for a moment, and you dropped your head to stare at your hand.
Your fingers wouldn't stop. The motion was subtle but consistent. It frustrated you to no end, especially at how familiar it all looked. How similar.
You pressed your thumb into your palm, hard enough to leave a crescent-shaped dent in your skin.
Another minute passed. Then, the door opened. You didn’t look up right away, just registered Dr. Shen’s rushed footsteps, followed by the sound of steady, deliberate ones.
Dr. Abbot introduced himself in a clipped voice, his tone lower and controlled. He sounded older, wasted no time – took one look at you and already knew it was more than just a hand injury.
When you looked up at him, you saw that he was tall and broad-shouldered. Black scrubs, with a long sleeve rolled up underneath. Close-cropped salt-and-pepper hair.
Expression completely unreadable.
He listened to you as you told him about your injury and symptoms. Didn’t interrupt, just watched you with unnerving precision. You knew he already suspected it was more than it seemed.
“Can I see?” he finally asked.
You held out your hand and he took it without hesitation, fingers cool and sure. His touch was light but efficient. He palpated gently along the edge of your wrist, then traced the line of the cut.
His eyes flicked back to your face. He noticed the fingernails you’d bitten, the raw skin at your cuticles. Your deepset, weary eyes, indicating sleeplessness.
He looked longer than he needed to, never saying anything, but you felt the weight of his gaze.
Dr. Shen, standing off to the side now, began listing what he’d already ruled out and what he wanted to test for.
Dr. Abbot added, “Could be Parkinson’s, FNS, SCA, maybe Wilson’s – ” He paused, glancing over at you before doing a double-take, specifically at the bruise on your upper arm. “How’d you get that?”
You shrugged, glancing at the bruise. “It’s dumb,” you muttered.
“How?”
“I lost my balance and stumbled into my bookshelf the other day.”
The way you said it was quiet, reserved.
It made Abbot pause. His expression didn’t shift, but you saw something tighten in his posture. His voice changed – got flatter.
“Shen, let’s add a full neuro workup. MRI, metabolic panel. And order genetic testing.”
You knew what he was circling even before he said it.
Shen, confused, asked, “For—?”
He looked at you again, and you answered for him, voice thin. “Huntington’s.”
Abbot’s eyes met yours, brows quirking slightly. He nodded once. No clipboard in hand, no tablet, but you could tell he was already categorizing, recalling data, mapping outcomes. Like you’d done for the past ten years.
You had this faraway look in your eyes, like you were already accepting your fate to be a brutal one. Like you already had it and now it was just a waiting game. Like you were already so used to bad news. Silently, he frowned to himself. You were so young; you shouldn’t have to be.
“Which parent?” he asked, eyes narrowing.
“Mom.”
“How old was she when she was diagnosed?”
“Forty-five.”
There was a long pause before his next question. “Have you ever been tested?”
You shook your head. The tremor felt worse when you did.
“Why not?” His voice wasn’t judgmental, but it wasn’t soft either.
You looked away, shrugging. “I’m here now. Test me.”
The silence that followed was thick. You didn’t fill it. Neither did he.
Your words landed heavier than you meant. You weren’t trying to shock him by acting so blasé. You were just… tired. And, now, the idea of waiting for your body to betray you felt worse than knowing for sure. You were so far gone already – you didn’t have much fight left.
Abbot studied you, like he was trying to match what you’d said with the weight you carried. Something about the way you sat, arms folded protectively, eyes staring into the distance, gave him pause.
Eventually, he turned to Shen and gave him a short nod.
“We’ll order the bloodwork and genetic panel,” Shen said gently, almost apologetically, before exiting the exam room.
Abbot lingered for just a second longer than he needed to. Then he left, footsteps even and measured, like everything about him.
You didn’t watch him go. Just looked down at your hand again.
Still shaking.
Between that first visit and the time it would take for the genetic testing results to come back, you had plenty more reasons to return to the ED.
And Dr. Jack Abbot was there every time.
He always pretended it was a coincidence – half-shrugged when the residents teased him, brushed it off when Jess, the night charge nurse, smirked and said, “Your girl’s back.” It didn’t make Jack smile. But he never bothered correcting her either.
One of those days was more memorable than the others – the lab required a further test to conclude with certainty whether you had the mutation for Huntington’s. That test was a lumbar puncture, invasive and high-stakes.
“I don’t want to do it,” you decided, voice flat, looking between Jack and the neurologist, Dr. Mehta. “I mean, there’s other ways to get what you need, right?”
Dr. Mehta glanced at Jack. He didn’t say a word, just stood with his hands in his pockets, eyes on you, waiting.
“You don’t have to do it,” Jack said eventually. “But if you do… the results will have a higher accuracy.” He saw you squirm in your seat, and added, “I’ll stay.”
You looked at him then. He wasn’t trying to talk you down, wasn’t trying to fix it. He was just there.
Quiet. Immovable. Present.
When the needle pressed into your spine, you didn’t flinch. Not really. But your fingers curled into the sheets, searching for something to anchor to. And then – his hand slipped between you and the sheet. Warm, calloused. Grounding.
When the worst of it was over and your body stopped shaking, you met Jack’s eyes and whispered, “Thanks.”
He didn’t answer. Just gave your fingers the barest squeeze.
Your other ED visits, though never fun, were never as bad as the lumbar.
Once, you showed up with a sprained ankle from a minor fall coming down the stairs. You told Jack you were just distracted, looking at your phone, but he noticed how you kept your weight off your left leg, almost as if your balance still wasn’t right.
You were quieter that night, avoiding his eyes. He didn’t ask. Just brought you a snack from the vending machine to make you feel better, the same one he’d seen tucked in your bag that first night you met.
Another time, you cut yourself shaving. It was high up on your thigh, an unusual spot and uncommon angle. Again, you shrugged it off, but Jack didn’t buy it. He cleaned the wound, stitched you up, and in return, you learned his coffee order and bought him a cup as a thank you.
The third time, it was worse. You’d passed out in a coffee shop after not sleeping for three days. When paramedics brought you in, humiliated and defensive, Jack didn’t have to ask why – he could see the abstract formulae sketched on the edge of a crumpled napkin in your pocket, ink bleeding from sweat.
He tried to get the story out of you, but you clammed up. So he let it go. Put you on IV antihistamines, ordered fluids, made sure the light over your bed was dimmed. Hours later, as he passed by in the middle of his shift, he noticed you’d fallen asleep in the hospital bed, limbs awkwardly curled, blanket half-off.
He adjusted it, pulling it up over your shoulders, careful not to wake you.
In the morning, he was surprised to find you on the roof, in his spot, where he sometimes went to clear his head.
You sat on the ledge, a hoodie he’d lent you pulled tight around your shoulders, cup of tea in hand, half-empty.
You startled when he walked out, shoulders visibly relaxing when you saw his familiar figure.
He sat beside you, thighs nearly touching, and you two just talked for a while. Not about the big metaphorical storm cloud clearly floating over you, but about things that could distract you: memories of your mom, stories he had from when he served in the military, a patient he couldn’t save last night – guilt he didn’t tell anyone else.
He didn’t cry, didn’t even look at you. Just spoke until the words ran out.
And you listened. Leaned your head on his shoulder, offered him what was left of your tea.
Neither of you spoke for a while after that, just silently watching the sunrise.
After that last visit, something shifted. Jack started checking the patient board at the beginning of every shift. Not consciously, not at first – but there was a moment each time, just a flicker of anticipation. More often than not, your name was up there.
While attending to whatever injury you had that day, you two made small talk over bad coffee and overpriced vending machine snacks. It was awkward and brief, until it wasn’t. Until you started to become obsessed with your symptoms, always having the same grim theory about what was causing them.
“It’s getting worse,” you revealed after the fifth visit, finally having the courage to say it aloud. “I mean, it’s only been a few weeks. How could it be getting worse?”
Jack’s gaze dropped to your chart, even though he’d already memorized it by this point. “It’s likely psychosomatic,” he said calmly. “You’re probably just stressed about the results. That can trigger tremors. Or – depressive episodes… I mean – have you been feeling hopeless? Uninterested in things you used to care about?”
You blinked up at him like he’d grown an extra head.
“Let me think,” you said, sarcasm thick in your throat. “I’m waiting on test results that could very well tell me I’m dying a quick death. Oh, but not before I lose my memory, motor function, and will to live. So yeah, Jack, I’d say I’m a little uninterested in anything else at the moment.”
That was new, too. You’d started calling him by his first name. It began as a joke, when you overheard Shen do it once, then it just stuck.
And Jack never corrected you either. Besides, he’d seen the worst parts of you – this wasn’t just a brief professional encounter anymore.
Now, he watched you huff, crossing your arms over your chest – angry in that heartbreaking way he’d come to know so well.
In your chart, he quietly marked down an increase in mood lability. “Well, aren’t you just a ball of joy today,” he murmured, trying to crack the tension.
You instead transformed it into anxious energy. “The other day, I came across this 2017 paper – the Neuron study out of UCSD, where they tracked prodromal HD markers before symptom onset. And they found cognitive changes—subtle, but measurable—years before motor symptoms even started…”
You swallowed hard, looking anywhere but at him.
“I mean, what if – what if that’s happening to me? What if I’m already on that path and I don’t even know it? What if I’ve already gone too far to come back?”
The room went silent.
Jack looked up from your chart, and something in his expression changed. His posture froze, brows faintly lifting.
“You read that paper?” he asked softly. You shrugged, but the motion was stiff. “That paper changed how I evaluate prodromal cases. It’s dense. Most people never get past the abstract. But you… read it. Understood it.”
The air between you suddenly thickened with everything that wasn’t being said.
He didn’t press, but you explained anyway. Maybe because the look he gave you wasn’t pity, like anyone else would’ve. Wasn’t sympathy. It was parity.
“I was at MIT when my mom got diagnosed,” you revealed.
Jack’s brows furrowed. “MIT?”
“It’s a school,” you shrugged. “In Boston.”
He tilted his head. “I know what MIT is, kid.” You didn’t smile at that, nor meet his eyes. He waited, then asked, “What happened?”
“I was studying bioengineering.” Your voice cracked, and you let out a dry laugh. “The universe has a funny sense of humor… Anyway, when she got sick, I started reading everything. Every case report, every preclinical trial. I used all my resources and funding and time and energy just to try and understand, conduct my own research… try to find a cure.”
You drew a shaky breath.
“I became obsessed with it. It was all I did, all I could think about, for seven years… and she died anyway.” Your eyes glistened, but nothing fell, not yet.
“And – and I’m not sick yet. Right? But the waiting is almost worse than a confirmed diagnosis. Like, there’s this little sliver of hope that maybe I don’t have it. And thinking about that sliver makes me sick. Because the odds aren’t in my favor. I probably do have it, and it’s gonna eat me like it ate her. And I won’t be able to stop it… again.”
With that, you left the exam room in a fog, before he could even blink. Didn’t wait for him to call you back – just walked, blindly. Found yourself in an empty stairwell on the abandoned sixth floor, slumping down in the corner, hands in your hair, breath shallow. Shaking. Finally sobbing.
Meanwhile, Jack was staring at the spot you’d just occupied on the exam table. He shut his eyes for a moment, sighed, and when he opened them again, he went looking for you with a heavy heart.
He found you in record time, after Shen told him he’d seen you heading towards the staircase.
He didn’t touch you – just sat beside you, quiet, knees pulled up.
He didn’t speak for a long while.
He watched the waterline of your eyes, how the tears couldn’t stop falling. How quiet you stayed, even as your hand began to tremble again.
His hand finally reached out, thumb brushing away the tears, even as new ones quickly replaced them. He offered a tissue.
“You’re right about the cognitive markers in the Neuron study,” he eventually said gently, “But that cohort had a very specific, very rare mutation profile. One that you’ve shown no indication in sharing.”
You looked up sharply. He held your gaze. “The odds are in your favor. The Neuron study is just one. There are hundreds more that show how a positive mindset changes physiology. Having that little sliver of hope, it’s enough to change your brain chemistry. Enough to weigh the scales in your favor, diagnosis or not.”
Your hand twitched again.
He steadied it with his own.
In that touch—warm and comforting palm over yours—he realized that the pair of you were two sides of the same coin. Both wired for control, science, self-sacrifice.
He looked at you—really looked—and something in his chest shifted. Whatever this was, it wasn’t born from pity or obligation, but understanding. Matching scars.
You let out a shaky laugh, brushing the tear off your cheek with your free hand. “Is your bedside manner always this… emotionally fulfilling?”
“You’re impossible,” he muttered, shaking his head.
With the ends of your lips tugged upwards ever so slightly, you replied. “No, just a ball of joy.”
Then, something you couldn’t have ever predicted happened – he laughed.
Not a huff or a grunt, like you usually got. An actual, honest-to-god laugh. The sound caught you completely off guard. It was warm, low, a little raspy. Like he didn’t do it much.
He looked different like that. Younger, less haunted. Like the weight he always carried slipped for a second.
And then it hit you – hard, sudden, uninvited. You wanted to see it again. Wanted to make him laugh like that again.
The thought lodged itself somewhere between your ribs and never left.
And the sound of his laugh – it made that little sliver in your heart widen just the slightest.
Jack felt that tiny warmth flicker inside him, too – but it brought something darker with it. Fear: that caring too much meant opening a door he maybe wasn't ready to walk through.
Beneath that warmth was the weight of your secret – the truth he’d just discovered, the one you hadn’t shared in a week.
And it terrified him.
So, the next time you saw him, he buried that laughter, that hope, deep under the surface.
You could immediately tell something was off.
You didn’t know what exactly – it wasn’t obvious. He still said hello when he entered the room, still glanced at your chart, still examined your reflexes.
But something was off.
He didn’t meet your eyes for more than a few seconds at a time. Didn’t linger like he used to. Didn’t ask how you were sleeping or if you’d eaten today. Didn’t crack a dry, witty joke when you made some half-hearted comment.
Just gave you the clinical version of himself – the stripped-down, by-the-book version that everyone else got.
You told yourself that you were imagining it. That it had been a long week, and you were sleep-deprived and anxious and inventing things that weren’t there.
But even Jess noticed.
“Did you guys fight or something?” she whispered while re-taping your IV. “He’s been weird all day.”
You shook your head, confused. “No, I mean – we barely talked.”
What you didn’t know was that Jack had figured it out.
He knew.
Of course he did.
You’d gotten the envelope a week ago. The results – a definitive answer to the question that had threatened to split you down the middle since the moment you first walked through the ED doors.
And you never told him.
Never brought it up.
No, you came in for something else entirely – what was it, dehydration? Maybe just another phantom symptom you were too scared to ignore. And he scanned your name on the board and felt… different. Like the space between him and your name on the board had increased.
And suddenly, he couldn’t stop thinking about the envelope.
You kept it tucked away in your bag, the edges worn and creased from being handled but never opened. Sometimes, when you sat down, you could almost feel it burning through the leather of your purse – a silent promise of everything you weren’t ready to face yet.
And Jack knew it had come. There was a date, a system, a rhythm to those tests – hell, he’d even tracked yours down. It was delivered a week ago. And you hadn’t said a word.
And that did something to him.
Frustrated him. Scared him. Hurt him in a way he didn’t have the right to be hurt.
You were practically his patient. He wasn’t entitled to anything.
But the truth settled under his skin like a splinter he couldn’t dig out: he wanted to know. Not because of your file, or because of pure professional concern.
But because he cared.
More than he probably should, if he was being honest with himself.
And caring that much was dangerous. Unprofessional. Messy.
He realized it as he stood near the nurse’s station, after he’d just lost another patient. And it widened the hole in his heart.
“You alright?” Jess asked quietly, glancing up from her computer.
He hesitated, then shook his head slightly. “I don’t know if I can keep doing this… being this involved.”
She gave him a small, knowing nod. “Sometimes, you have to protect yourself. It’s not giving up – it’s just keeping balance.”
He let out a slow breath, the decision settling like a weight he couldn’t shake. Maybe pulling back was the only way he wouldn’t break.
So he made a conscious decision to take a step back.
Small things first – a little less eye contact, fewer jokes. Keeping his hands busy so they wouldn’t drift to yours. No more check-in texts. No more vending machine snacks.
And you felt it, clear as day.
You didn’t understand it, but the difference was like walking into a house you’d lived in for years and suddenly finding the furniture rearranged. Same walls, same door. But nothing was where it was supposed to be.
You immediately wondered if it was you – if you’d crossed that blurry line between you two. Wondered if your hand had stayed in his too long. If you sat a little too close one time. If you said something that made him realize he didn’t want this anymore.
You even considered bringing up the envelope, but something stopped you – fear, maybe. Or that strange, tight feeling that if you said it aloud—if you broke the silence—you wouldn’t be able to handle his reaction.
At this point in your relationship, he felt like an anchor. And you couldn’t handle watching him drift.
But you couldn’t do anything about it either, especially if he didn’t want to talk.
So, instead, you let the space grow.
And that was something Jack wasn’t expecting. But to prove to himself that he was fine with it—that he wasn’t that deep—he said yes to a date with one of the visiting surgeons at PTMC.
Someone age appropriate. Polished. Settled.
They got dinner at some nice place in Regent Square, somewhere one of the hospital admins had recommended. She ordered the house salad, said all the right things, smiled at all the right moments.
But the whole time, he kept staring at her martini glass and thinking about how you would’ve ordered a fruity mocktail instead. He stared at her hand, steadily reaching for the glass, and thought about how yours shook when you were scared but pretending to be fine. He heard her speak and thought about how your voice caught when you talked about your mom.
And he knew, in the pit of his stomach, that he could sit at a thousand nice restaurants with a thousand nice women and none of them would ever be you.
As his date talked about some surgery or another she’d done today, his eyes drifted around the restaurant.
He saw you instantly, as if his gaze was magnetically pulled to you.
You’d chosen the restaurant because its bar was quiet, familiar. Dim and lowkey, the kind of place where you could drink in peace, alone and lost in your thoughts.
You sat at the end of the bar, fingers curled around a hot pink straw, stuck inside a fruity, orange mocktail. You hadn’t drank more than a few sips. Your mind was elsewhere. You were just tired.
Bone-deep, soul-wrecked tired.
Hair in a messy bun, dark circles under your eyes.
Jack’s hand twitched around the whiskey glass he suddenly didn’t want. His date was speaking, but he didn’t hear it. Didn’t hear any of it.
Because you were across the room, and you looked like hell, and all he wanted to do was walk over and pull you back from the emotional spiral you were in.
The woman across from him tilted her head. “Jack, are you with me?”
He hummed, forcing his eyes to tear from your figure and meet his date’s once more. “What? Yeah, I – ”
The woman knowingly shook her head, softly saying, “No, you’re not.”
He blinked. Looked at her, guilty. “No,” he said, honest. “I’m sorry. I’m not.”
She looked over her shoulder, finding the object of his gaze.
“She’s why you’re not here?”
He didn’t lie. “Yeah.”
She nodded, kind. “Then go.”
He didn’t offer an apology. Just set his glass down, muttered something half-hearted about promising to pay, and left the table.
Crossed the room like it was both the easiest and hardest thing for him to do.
You didn’t turn when he sat down beside you at the otherwise empty bar.
Didn’t greet him.
Didn’t pretend.
Just took another mindless sip of your mocktail and said, flat, “You should go back to her.”
Jack exhaled. “She doesn’t matter.”
You paused, the quiet swallowing the space between you.
“She looked nice,” you said slowly, voice low. “Like the kind of person you could have a future with. A good, long life. She doesn’t shake when she drinks… she won’t forget your name in ten years.”
That stopped him cold. The weight of your words pressed down on him. He swallowed hard, jaw clenched, but said nothing at first.
The silence stretched, thick and fragile, before he finally broke it.
“I don’t want her.”
Your laughter was bitter, sharp. “You don’t want me either.”
That hit him harder than he expected. His jaw flexed like he wanted to deny it immediately, but his hesitation said everything.
He looked down at your hands, then back up, voice tight.
“That’s not true. I just – I pulled back because I knew… I knew you got the results. And you didn’t tell me, and I didn’t know how to ask. I didn’t want to be the person who needed to know something you could barely bring yourself to even do the testing for.”
You stared at your drink, silence folding over you like a shroud.
“And I thought maybe,” he added, quieter now, “if I put some space between us, it’d be easier. For you. For me. Like if I pretended I didn’t care as much as I do, maybe I’d stop.”
You looked up, eyes glossy, rimmed with red. “Did it work?”
He shook his head slowly. “No… it made everything worse.”
You turned fully toward him, vulnerability softening your features. “So what now?”
Jack leaned in, hand finding yours as the overhead light caught the streaks of grey in his hair. He was closer now, speaking low, like the words were meant only for you.
Because they were.
“Now I stop pretending. I’m here for you. I see you. And I’m not going anywhere.”
You didn’t blink. “What if the results are positive for the mutation? What if I have it?”
His eyes didn’t waver.
“What if I stop remembering you?” your voice cracked. “What if I stop remembering me?”
Jack didn’t hesitate.
“Then I’ll remind you.”
Your chest caved in at the words. You shook your head, blinking fast, mouth pressed tight. A single breath quivered out of you.
Slowly, almost numbly, you reached into your purse, fingers trembling as they pulled out the wrinkled envelope. It looked so small now. Just paper and glue and ink.
But in your hands, it felt impossibly heavy.
You held it between you, hands shaking harder now with all the unspoken fears and hopes.
“Will you…” you whispered, words catching before you could finish the sentence.
But Jack understood.
His eyes softened as he reached out, hand closing gently over yours, steadying it. The reassurance in his touch grounded you, made you believe wholeheartedly in his promise of sharing the burden and providing unyielding support.
He lifted the envelope carefully, and for a moment, time seemed to slow. The world around you faded away, leaving only this quiet, fragile moment between the two of you.
Then, with deliberate care, Jack took a deep breath and broke the seal.
Bro wtf you writing word wizard how do u do that??? Binged ur abbot fics and holy shit I don’t have the words it was fantabulous. (it’s nice to know the dilf addiction is hitting other people as ferociously as it hit me) ok luv u bye
Wth this is the kindest message 😭 It makes me so happy that u liked the Abbot fics! now that I’m done with my Joel series, I’m gonna give my Jack girls more content x
(the dilf addiction is well and alive over here 🫶🏼)
summary: in the heart of summer, you finally settle into a normal life in Jackson... until your past comes knocking at the front gate.
warnings/tags: age gap, adult language, I think that's it for once lol
word count: 1.7k
series masterlist
“You know, I’m pretty sure I had a wet dream about this once.”
Joel nearly choked on the beer he was sipping, stunned by your words.
You grinned up at him, of course speaking of the sight of him standing in front of the grill, flipping patties and hot dogs alike. He was wearing a tight grey tee, a fitted pair of jeans blessed by the gods themselves, and cowboy boots to top it off – a dangerous combination, especially now, when you were ovulating.
His curls had grown out to a length you went absolutely feral for. It allowed you to tug, wrapping them around your fingers as he satiated the heat between your legs.
You slapped a hand on his back as he sputtered out the alcohol.
When his airways were clear, he muttered, “Angel, I don’t know if this family friendly barbecue is the place to be admittin’ that… especially not when you’re wearing that dress.”
His eyes trailed achingly slow down your body, taking in every inch of the flowy white sundress you were wearing.
Summer had settled in Jackson, marking precisely three months since you, Joel, and Ellie had arrived. Maria had graciously kept the house you’d stayed in vacant, waiting for you to return. But what surprised you the most was how much you missed Tommy. The moment Joel was done hugging him, you practically threw yourself at the younger Miller brother, letting him squeeze you comfortingly.
He felt like family long before either of you realized it.
And, like family, he was already prepared for your arrival. He signed Joel up for patrol the moment he got here, enrolled Ellie in the school, and even had a cushy job secured for you at the bakery. You couldn’t believe he’d remembered the one time you talked about it the last time you were here – about wanting a normal life where you could just stay home and bake your heart out, like you remembered your mother doing when you were young.
Now, staying home wasn’t much of an option, but he could make the baking part happen, and he did. And you loved him for it.
Now, three months later, you, Joel, and Ellie were settling into routine in Jackson, with the horrors of everything that had happened in the winter behind you.
For the first few weeks in Jackson, you tried to assimilate to normal life—community movie nights, exchanging food recipes, even getting your haircut—but there was still a layer of unease beneath it all. You were sure Joel and Ellie felt it too, though you tried not to bring it up, tried to make the transition as smooth as possible for them. You, on the other hand, were constantly watching for shadows, checking your six, waiting for something to shatter this peace.
But nothing ever did.
Not even when new faces began to arrive from outside. The town was growing, prospering even, with all the new hands pitching in and brains thinking up novel ways to help. With the newcomers came rumors of settlements on the outside – murmurings of strange attacks, groups disappearing, whispers of people being “taken” or “sold.”
Tommy and Maria reassured everyone, promising them that they were safe; to your surprise, it comforted even you. The couple had been here for years, Maria since the inception of this town, and if they said it was safe, you owed it to them to believe it. To take the word of family and trust it.
That trust slowly built up over the past twelve weeks and now here you were, at the community barbeque in a white sundress, flirting with your man, with a sweet tea in one hand, a tupperware of strawberry shortcake in the other – and not a care in the world.
You balanced both as Joel pulled you in and pressed a kiss to the side of your head.
“Look who decided to finally show up,” came Tommy’s teasing tone from behind you two.
You pulled away from Joel, rolling your eyes and giving the younger Miller brother a hug too. “It took longer than Clara said for the cake to cool. You wanna eat a soggy cake, Miller?” You scrunched up your nose in disgust for added effect, making Tommy laugh.
“Alright, alright. Hand it over so I can put it in the fridge before it practically melts.” He took the tupperware from your hand, and you could finally wrap a free hand around Joel’s waist.
“And can you get someone else to cover the grill? I’m trying to kiss the chef.” Tommy waved it off, letting you two wander off as Mike came to take over.
Joel sat down on one of the lawn chairs with a grunt, and you perched yourself on the wide arm of his chair, feeling the coarse denim of his jeans brush against your bare thighs as he leaned back with another quiet groan of contentment.
His arm found your waist without effort as you listened in on a story Astrid was telling the group. His big hand rested low on your back, pulling you in. You tipped your head, watching the curve of his mouth as he took a long sip from his beer. There was an ease in him that you hadn’t seen in… well, ever, if you were being honest. His shoulders were loose, his eyes soft under the heavy line of his brows.
This is exactly what you pictured Joel might’ve been like before the outbreak – hosting summer barbeques in his Texas backyard, grilling while his brother played the social host part perfectly, with a content smile at his lips.
He caught you staring, lost in thought. “What?” he murmured, voice low and rough in a way that sent a thrill through you.
“Nothing,” you said innocently, leaning down so your lips brushed his ear. “Just enjoying the view.” He huffed out a laugh, and when you leaned back, you saw his eyes glued to the low neckline of your own dress. “You’re shameless, y’know that?”
“Just enjoying the view,” he quoted you, grinning as you shifted slightly to balance your weight on the arm of his chair. One hand smoothed over his shoulder, fingertips idly tracing the line of his collarbone through his shirt.
“Uh-huh,” you grinned. “That’s why you love me.”
Joel’s lips found your temple, warm and fleeting. “Damn right I do.”
As if on queue, Ellie’s laughter rose from somewhere nearby, bright and genuine and utterly childlike, the kind of laugh that made people turn their heads just to smile along with her. You glanced over to see her with a small group of friends – Dina, Jesse, and a few other kids her age, plus a few older teenagers, who were clearly taken with her sarcasm and quick wit.
She was leaning against the picnic table, waving her hands as she mimicked someone’s voice, drawing more laughter from her circle.
For a moment, you let yourself just be in that scene – the easy pulse of the community around you, the sun casting everything in gold, the simple weight of Joel’s hand on your waist, and the sound of Ellie’s laughter ringing clear like a bell.
All of it caused the day to pass in a blur. You chatted happily with your neighbors, slow-danced with Joel as Gustavo brought out his guitar, and settled beside him at the end of the night in front of the bonfire, as the eventful day began to catch up to you.
The peace was so complete, your eyes began to flutter shut, the sound of your community lulling you to sleep on the love of your life’s shoulder.
You almost didn’t notice the commotion starting by the front gates… almost.
A voice called from the wall, sharp enough to pierce the haze of laughter and chatter. “They’re back!”
People turned, a ripple of curiosity and anticipation passing through the crowd. Joel’s grip on you tightened slightly, the reflex of a man used to tension rising from nowhere. You let him help you up, squinting toward the gates as a small group came into view – dusty, tired, but alive.
“Must be Max and them returning from patrol,” Joel murmured. His hand slipped into yours, fingers intertwining – bracing for whatever news they brought.
By the way the crowd seemed to press on, it must’ve been an eventful shift.
But something about the atmosphere suddenly seemed off, like a sharp shift you hadn’t accounted for.
Even Ellie seemed to notice, drifting closer to you, laughter fading into the hush that had fallen over the gathering. You felt her presence at your side, small and solid.
Patrol was waving through two ragged figures – thin, dirty, heads down, one limping heavily. They looked half-dead, clothes torn and stained, like they hadn’t seen food or shelter in weeks. They looked in worse condition than anyone else you’d seen Jackson take in.
People around you murmured, concern flitting through the crowd. They watched the pair whose heads were bowed, grateful smiles on their faces as they murmured thanks.
A few of the Jackson residents moved forward with water and blankets, asking if they needed medical attention.
The taller of the two, limping slightly, glanced up – just for a second. His eyes, light and sharp beneath a mask of dirt and overgrown hair, flickered across the crowd.
And then his gaze locked onto yours, from a few yards away.
Your breath hitched, chest tightening painfully. Time slowed, the world fading around you.
You were convinced you hadn’t seen right. You couldn’t have.
But there he was.
Alive.
Here.
His face was thinner, the shadows beneath his eyes deeper, but the electric blue of his eyes—the way his curly hair drifted in front of his eyes as he blinked at you—was unmistakable. There he was, standing like a ghost, like a past you’d buried in the ruins of Boston.
“Is that…” Ellie’s voice broke through the quiet shock, low and uncertain, her eyes narrowing as she too caught the familiar line of his jaw, the curve of his mouth that tugged in a way she hadn’t seen since Boston.
Joel’s hand squeezed yours, making you look up at him with wide eyes before your gaze shifted back to the familiar figure.
“Nathan?” you whispered.
.
.
.
a/n: that's all for Willow & Whiskey, lovies – its sequel Ember & Evergreen is in the works!! I'll be tagging everyone from this original taglist but if you'd like to be removed (or added if you're not already), just let me know. Until then, happy reading x
summary: in the final stretch of your journey to the Fireflies, you learn that time isn't the only thing that heals wounds.
warnings/tags: age gap, adult language, blood and violence, injury, death, gun violence
word count: 7.1k
series masterlist
Joel took watch the next several nights. He usually sat next to Ellie, rifle pointed upwards on his left side as Ellie curled up against his right. Her eyes fluttered shut as exhaustion claimed up – faster every day, it seemed.
You’d been sitting across the fire, keeping some distance between your body and his. And no matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t sleep. Every night you shut your eyes, you saw your bloodied hands slamming down on David’s face, again and again, with a rage that consumed every atom in your body – until he was unrecognizable. Until your knuckles bled and your body shook, and the only thing that lived inside you was fury. Until it scared you how natural it felt.
Joel had cleaned and wrapped your hand up as best as he could that first night. Now all you could stare at was the blood slowly seeping through the gauze, but you weren’t in any pain. You were just numb.
“You know, I heard you,” Joel said, his voice splitting through the silence of the woods. Your head lifted, finding his eyes on the fire, not you. “When my wound got infected and you were takin’ care of me. That second day – I was in and out. I heard you. I heard everything.”
Everything.
He heard you threaten him not to die, or else you’d kill him yourself.
Heard you crack open your bleeding heart and let the emotions pour out.
Heard you confess your love for him.
Heard you beg him to come back so he could tell you he loved you too.
You swallowed hard, a bitter taste coating the back of your throat.
Somehow… somehow, that felt like a version of you that no longer existed. That girl—desperate and soft, terrified and brave—she felt far away now. After what you did… you didn’t even know if you were capable of being loved anymore, or capable of loving.
You kept your gaze on the fire. “I thought you were gonna die,” you said eventually. “I didn’t want our last interaction to be me hating you.”
“You had every right to.”
You did. But it didn’t matter anymore.
You glanced at him then. Studied the faint smile tugging at his lips, the crinkles forming around his eyes when he said, “She would’ve liked you, you know?”
Sarah.
Your stomach flipped, like it always did when he brought her up. You bit the inside of your cheek.
She wouldn’t have liked you. Not after finding out what you did. Not if she saw you now.
When you said nothing, Joel went on. “Ellie, too. Them two would’ve gotten on like a house on fire… My three girls. I wish you could’ve met.”
Your chest squeezed.
“In another life…”
Your eyes met across the firelight, and you clung to the warmth in his expression, letting it anchor you. “I don’t ever wanna be apart again. Never again. Promise.”
“Why do you keep saying that?” The sharpness in your voice surprised even you. “We’re not safe. Right? I mean – we’re not. Not just cause of this but – even before – Tess, Henry… Sam.” You laughed, low and humourless. “We’re not safe.”
Joel didn’t flinch. He just watched you.
“And what if these fucking Fireflies are the same? What if they’re dangerous? What if they try to hurt us?”
“Then we’ll deal with them, too,” Joel said, calmly.
You exhaled, a flicker of something dark settling behind your eyes. “Kill them,” you confirmed. “Every last one.”
Joel looked at you a beat too long. Not afraid, just… studying.
He’d never heard this edge your voice had now – sharp and unforgiving. It was never directed at him, nor Ellie, but it was there nevertheless.
And Joel noticed, but never said anything.
Not for days, or weeks. Not even when spring arrived.
It felt symbolic – you changing with the season.
As the snow melted, flowers sprouting from cracks in the pavement, you found yourself refusing to thaw with the season, choosing instead to freeze over.
You started moving like Joel – measured, precise, vigilant. You kept your knife in your boot, his spare pistol tucked in your waistband. You circled the camp every night, constantly checking perimeters. Even when you weren’t on watch, you refused to sleep. You rested your eyes, but your grip never left your weapon.
The warmth that Joel once saw in your eyes—that playful, mischievous spark—was buried beneath thick layers of grit and grief. When you did joke, it came out bitter. Barbed.
And still, every night, Joel unwrapped and rewrapped your hand with infinite patience. Your fingers twitched beneath his touch, from shame. You couldn’t meet his eyes at first. Couldn’t risk seeing disappointment in them.
But he only ever looked at you with tenderness.
One night, when he reached to tilt your chin up and your eyes finally met his, you braced yourself for the judgment. For him to see the monster and turn away.
Instead, he only said, “I got you,” and pressed a kiss to your temple like it was nothing. Like you were still you.
Something inside you cracked open then.
You began to reach out again – not because you felt whole or back to normal, but because you wanted to be. A hand on his back when you passed behind him; fingers threaded through his; his palm resting over the back of your neck when the world spun too fast.
Even if you hadn’t wanted it, you weren’t sure you could go without it. Even when your heart felt distant, the muscle memory of love persisted. Physical touch helped you tether yourself to the present. This was you fighting to hold on to the softest parts of yourself for the people who mattered, even when everything inside you felt jagged.
Ellie, on the other hand, recoiled from that same comfort. She became quiet in a different way – distant, unreachable.
You tried to talk to her about what happened with David but she shut down almost immediately every time. You didn’t push – just told her, gently, that when she was ready, you were there.
She never responded. Just nodded.
She was trying.
“Ellie, look,” Joel commented one day as you three continued your trek to the Fireflies’ secret lab in Salt Lake City. He held up a can and a small board game box. “I found this in the car over there. Beefaroni – Chef Boyardee.”
As was normal these past few weeks, Ellie was taciturn. “Oh. Cool.”
Joel tried again, closing the distance and holding up the battered box. “And have you ever played this? Boggle? It’s a word game.” Ellie shook her head. “Well, if you wanna beat me at somethin’, it would be this.”
Ellie nodded, as distant as ever.
Joel glanced at you and you quickly moved to her other side, ruffling up her hair. “We’re getting close,” you noted, eyeing the signs on the highway. “Hospital’s that way… if I’m looking at the map right.” You rotated the map in your hand in an effort to make Ellie laugh but it didn’t work. “You want to take a look, love?”
She briefly glanced at it. “Yep, looks right. Let’s go.”
As you walked, Joel kept trying.
“Found a banged-up guitar in that RV over there,” he pointed it out. “Got me thinkin’ about Christmas – when I promised to teach ya. You still wanna learn?”
Ellie zoned out for a moment before blinking. “Oh, yeah. That’d be great.”
Joel looked at you then. His hand found yours, and you twined your fingers with his.
“What about you, baby?”
You quirked a brow up at him. “Me? Yeah, no thanks. Nathan tried teaching me once – and the neighbors called FEDRA because they thought someone was dying in the apartment.”
That got the smallest twitch of a smile from Ellie. It was the most reaction you’d gotten out of her in weeks. You leaned forward, softly adding, “But I bet you’d be great at it.”
She gave another non-committal nod and continued to walk ahead.
Hours later, when Salt Lake came into view, sun high overhead and buildings glittering in the light, you climbed through the bones of a construction site. Vines coiled up the scaffolding, nature slowly reclaiming steel and cement.
Ellie was her usual quiet self as you scavenged… until suddenly, she wasn’t.
She ran past you and Joel, eyes wide with wonder, darting toward something unmissable. “Whoa!”
You shared a quick look with Joel,curiosity blooming in your chest. It was the first time Ellie had shown that kind of excitement in a long time For a second, the sound of her voice—breathless and light—was enough to ease the tension from your shoulders.
“You guys gotta see this!” she called out, voice echoing down the concrete corridor.
You rushed after her, nudging Joel with your elbow, heart pounding from the sheer unfamiliarity of this lightness you hadn’t felt in a while. Joel grumbled behind you, though you heard the subtle shift in his gait that told you he was just as curious. You rounded a corner, followed her around the skeletal scaffolding, until the crumbling wall of the building opened to something impossible.
A giraffe.
It’s head stretched through the gaping hole in the concrete, tall and surreal, chewing lazily on some overgrown vines. The afternoon light broke through the space, painting golden streaks across its neck, making the entire scene look dreamlike.
You skidded to a halt so suddenly that Joel collided into you, his hand instinctively wrapping around your waist to steady you.
“Baby, what – ” he started, but followed your gaze and fell silent.
For a moment, the world fell silent. Everything rummaging through your head—the fear, the grief, the blood—all quieted.
Joel didn’t say anything else. He didn’t have to. He saw it too – saw the awe on Ellie’s face as she watched the creature, saw the tension leave your body for the first time in days. This wasn’t just a distraction, it was a reprieve. A breath of fresh air in the middle of hell.
When Ellie whispered, “Don’t scare it,” Joel moved gently, crouching to pick up two leafy branches from the floor, the kind of gesture that said more about him than words ever could.
He handed one branch to Ellie, who stepped forward without hesitation. The giraffe leaned down with slow, graceful movements, accepting the offering with a flick of its long tongue.
Joel extended the other branch to you, but you shook your head once, taking a step back. Your hands, now sweaty, stayed clenched at your sides. He didn’t push, just stood beside you quietly as Ellie soaked in the moment.
You stared at the giraffe like it might see through you. Like if you moved toward it, it’d know. Somehow.
Know what you did, what you’ve become.
If you could still feel the blood caked under your fingernails, the heat of your rage, the exhaustion in your bones as you landed hit after hit – then the animal in front of you could certainly feel it too. Surely, it could tell that these steady hands were once shaking – from fury, from fear, from the sheer force it took to destroy an evil man, and all that it cost.
No, you couldn’t take the branch. What if it flinched? What if it sensed the rot in you, the violence – and turned away?
Maybe you deserved it, anyway. That rejection – the confirmation of what you already suspected: that you’d been changed irreparably, and not for the better. That maybe you were something to fear now.
But then – god, Ellie laughed.
A real, hearty, breathless laugh. It cracked the silence like sunlight streaming through storm clouds, wrapped around your heart and squeezed. You hadn’t heard that sound in so long; you almost forgot what it felt like to hear her sound so young.
And, somehow, that sound undid you.
Because if she could laugh like that after everything… if she could still find joy, still be soft… maybe you could too.
Your gaze drifted back to the giraffe, who now leaned closer to you, as if sensing your apprehension. It watched you with those steady, patient eyes. You thought it might turn away after meeting your eyes – like it might sense what you’d done, what you were capable of. Smell it on you. The violence. The blood.
But it didn’t.
If anything, it leaned closer, and in your periphery, Joel’s hand appeared again, holding the branch.
This time, you took it.
Tentatively, you lifted it, hand trembling ever so slightly. The giraffe leaned down and gently took the offering from your fingers. Its tongue brushed your skin, rough and warm. You didn’t pull away.
Instead, you let your hand linger, fingertips grazing its soft, velvety face. And it leaned into the touch.
You exhaled, shaky, finally understanding – there was no judgment in the giraffe’s eyes. No flinching. No fear. And in that simplicity, a realization bloomed in your chest, tender and terrifying.
You weren’t a threat.
Not to this animal. Not to Joel. Not to Ellie.
You were violent, yes – but only when you had to be. Only when it meant survival. And wasn’t that what nature was too? A storm doesn’t apologize; a predator doesn’t ask for permission. They just are.
And so were you.
A tear slipped down your cheek before you even felt it. You didn’t brush it away.
Maybe because that’s what this was – not redemption or absolution, but something quieter. A reminder. That you’re still human. Still capable of gentleness. Still capable of love. You didn’t have to grip so tightly to the rage, the shame, the fear – there was still space inside you for softness. Still a place for peace.
Joel came to stand beside you, quiet, his presence grounding as his arm brushed yours.
“I didn’t think I could still feel this,” you whispered, eyes never leaving the giraffe.
He didn’t hesitate. “You can,” he said. “You do.”
And somehow, for the first time in weeks, you believed him.
The giraffe eventually turned away, wandering toward its herd in the overgrown distance. You let the branch slip from your fingers, replaced by Joel’s hand sliding into yours.
Your heart felt a little lighter.
And Ellie seemed it, too. She turned back to you both, eyes bright and cheeks flushed.
“So, what’s the verdict?” you asked, stepping beside her.
She shrugged, grinning. “This place’s got its ups and downs… but you can’t deny that view.”
You all looked out. The city stretched beyond the greenery, broken but alive. A strange kind of peace settled over the moment.
Joel let out a deep sigh, clearing his throat. “Look, I don’t know exactly where this hospital is… and maybe there’s nothin’ bad out there, but so far – there’s always been somethin’ bad out there.”
You met his eyes, understanding. His voice was low, measured – like he was trying not to say too much too fast.
“It’s just – I’m only sayin’ – it’s risky,” he added, hesitant.
You reached for Ellie’s gaze. “We don’t have to do this. We could just go back to Jackson. Be part of the community – have normal lives. Find some semblance of peace.”
Joel nodded beside you in silent support.
Ellie’s lips pursed. “After all we’ve been through––everything I’ve done––it can’t be for nothing.”
“It’s not for nothing,” you said softly. “None of this is. You don’t have to prove anything, love. You already matter. Your life already has meaning.”
She looked down, quiet, considering. Then, quietly, she added, “I know you both mean well… you want to protect me – you have. And when we’re done, we’ll go wherever you want – Tommy’s, sheep ranch, the moon…”
Joel smiled at that. You did, too.
“But there’s no halfway with this,” she said firmly. “We finish what we started.”
Joel nodded first. Then, reluctantly, you followed. Because if this was what she needed—what she believed in—then you’d follow her anywhere.
And so, you continued on your journey.
The outskirts of Salt Lake greeted you with ruin. It was cluttered with tattered military tents, broken gurneys, and rusted medical supplies strewn about. It looked like an abandoned medical outpost.
“Is this a FEDRA thing?” Ellie asked, tugging at your sleeve as you walked through the area.
“Army,” Joel clarified. “They put these places up all around, the first few days after the outbreak. Emergency medical camps.” He swept his eyes across the crumbling canvas and blood-stained cots. “Obviously didn’t last… they had me in one just like this.”
Ellie hesitated, then carefully asked, “With Sarah?”
“No,” he said calmly. “She was gone already.”
“So what was wrong with you?”
He touched the faint scar on his temple.
“The guy who shot and missed,” you remembered, though you were starting to feel a pit grow in your stomach as you began to put the timeline together.
“Huh,” Ellie said, not catching on. “I figured that would’ve happened later.”
“No,” he answered. “Second day.”
You stumbled, the implication hitting you like a blow to the chest. Your blood ran cold, face drained of all color – you felt like you were going to throw up.
“Whoa,” Ellie said, steadying you. “You okay?”
You nodded too quickly, unable to speak. Joel’s eyes were on you.
He knew you knew.
Ellie didn’t notice the shift.
“Well,” she said with a light laugh, “I gotta hand it to the army people. They were way better at stitching you up than we were.”
Jeol didn’t respond. Neither did you.
The air hung heavy as Joel continued to stare at you and you stared back, nervously chewing your bottom lip as tears began lining your eyes and blurring your vision.
“It was me,” he finally admitted quietly, watching a tear roll down your cheek. “I was the guy who shot and missed.”
Ellie froze, head snapping back to Joel. He stepped back, leaning against a concrete barrier. She joined him. You hovered, unsure whether your body wanted to run for the hills or stay planted where it was and simply listen.
In the end, Joel reached for you and you inevitably stepped forward, letting his arm wrap around your waist, anchoring him. Anchoring you.
“There’s no story,” he said. “Sarah died, and I couldn’t see the point anymore. Simple as that.”
Your lungs refused to fill. His words wrapped around your ribs like a vice.
“And I wasn’t scared either. I was ready. I couldn’t have been more ready.”
You wiped at your wet cheeks. The tears were falling freely now.
“When I – ” He choked on his words for a second. “When I went to pull the trigger, I flinched… still don’t know why.”
You did.
Because he was meant to stay. Meant to find you. Meant to hold Ellie’s laugh in the palm of his hand like something precious. Meant to bring you back every time you felt like the darkness might swallow you whole. Meant to be your family.
“I’m really glad you flinched,” you whispered, pressing his head to your chest, fingers carding gently through his hair. You kissed his temple. “Really fucking glad.”
Ellie shifted closer, placing a hand over his. “Me too.”
Joel nodded, pulling back enough to look at you both. His eyes glistened – but he didn’t cry. “Anyway, the reason I’m tellin’ you all this – ”
Ellie cut in before he could finish. “I know why you’re telling us all this.”
Joel held her gaze for a moment. “Yeah, I reckon you do.”
A silence stretched between the three of you, soft and heavy.
Then, Ellie said, “So time heals all wounds, I guess.”
Joel’s eyes flickered between her and you. His hand dropped down to yours, calloused fingers wrapping tightly around your own.
“It wasn’t time that did it,” he said.
The weight of those words settled heavy over you. But not in a suffocating way; more like a weighted blanket, comforting. You felt your breath catch – saw Ellie’s do the same. Her eyes were shining now too, and she blinked quickly, swallowing hard.
You couldn’t take your eyes off him. You stared at him like it was the first time – and then, you nodded. Not because you were expected to, but because you understood. Maybe better than anyone.
After a while, Ellie murmured, “We should probably get going.”
You and Joel both nodded. He turned and started walking again, slow and steady You hung back just long enough to squish Ellie against your side, pressing a kiss to her hair.
“I love you,” you mumbled against her skin. “More than anything.”
And instead of her usual groan or exaggerated eye roll, she clung to you tighter, burying her face briefly in your shoulder. She mumbled those words right back, barely audible.
You nudged her gently, teasing now, as if to keep either of you from sinking too deep into the moment. “It’s kinda quiet here, huh?” you said, quirking a brow as you jogged forward to catch up with Joel. “Too quiet. Like maybe some shitty puns could fix that?”
Ellie’s face lit up. She was already digging through her pack, and you caught the way Joel’s mouth pulled into a ghost of a smile.
“Ya know what? I was just thinkin’ the same thing,” he said.
He reached a hand back, and you laced your fingers through his like it was second nature, matching your pace to his. Ellie cleared her throat behind you, theatrically.
“People are making apocalypse jokes like there’s no tomorrow.” Joel let out a long, dramatic sigh. “Too soon?”
“No,” he said, smirking slightly. “It’s topical.”
She giggled, flipping the page. “Oh, I love this one! Moon rocks taste better than earth rocks – why?”
You perked up. “Because they’re out of this world!” you guessed excitedly, thinking you’d gotten it right, only for Ellie to shake her head.
Ellie snorted. “Because they’re meteor – get it? Like meatier?”
You frowned at that and Joel pulled you closer, mumbling, “I liked your punchline better, baby. Ten out of ten.”
“Oh, fuck you, it was good,” Ellie huffed, but both of you shook your heads anyway. “Alright, alright. How about this? What did the green grape say to the purple grape?” You glanced at Joel, who shrugged. “Breathe, you idiot.”
Joel chuckled at that. “That was a three out of ten.”
“Seven, minimum,” Ellie tried.
You tilted your head, considering. “Hmm, maybe a five. Maybe.”
“Five?!”
And then – the sound hit first. A sharp metallic clink against the dirt.
All three of you turned, instincts sharpened, seeing a grenade.
You barely had time to register it. No time to run. No time to yell. No time to shield Ellie’s body with your own.
Just a sudden, concussive boom that tore through the air and sent your body flying.
Your head hit the ground with a sickening crack, encasing you in darkness.
You awoke with a start.
The ringing in your ears was sharp and metallic, like a fire alarm had just gone off in your head. Disoriented, your body jerked upright before you could make sense of your surroundings – white walls, a stiff mattress beneath you, a small bandage on your temple.
It was a hospital bed, and Joel was lying beside you.
He stirred slowly, groggy and blinking against the harsh fluorescent lighting that buzzed faintly above you both. Relief poured over you as you reached out instinctively, hand curling around his arm to steady him as he sat up.
“Hey, are you okay?” you asked, voice hoarse.
He nodded, sluggish and still shaking off the haze. “Where’s Ellie?”
“She wasn’t hurt.”
But the words didn’t come from you.
You both turned toward the doorway to see Marlene stood there, arms crossed and bruised, looking like hell. Her voice still carried authority, even if her body looked seconds away from collapse.
“Easy,” she said, stepping into the room. “You both got hit pretty hard. Patrol didn’t know who you were.”
Your spine stiffened at the sight of her. The last time you’d seen Marlene, she handed you and Ellie off like parcels to a couple of strangers and called it a favor. No resources, no roadmap, no idea what waited beyond the QZ walls. Just vague promises and hopeful half-truths. And now here she was, talking like this was just a misunderstanding.
“Where’s Ellie?” you asked again, sharper this time. You had no patience for her right now.
Marlene’s expression didn’t change, but her mouth flattened before she said, “We lost half our crew crossing the country. I had five men whose only job was to protect me and I still almost got killed.”
You scoffed, the sound bitter in your throat. “Pity you’re still here.”
Joel didn’t so much as flinch beside you. He knew how deep your resentment ran. You’d all nearly died in that journey more times than you could count, and Ellie had come out of it changed, carrying more weight that any kid should.
“How’d you do it?” Marlene asked, eyes landing on Joel now as he pushed upright to sit at the edge of the bed.
“With no fuckin’ help from you,” you snapped.
“I don’t want to fight – ”
“I don’t care.” You stood now, the ache in your muscles forgotten as the fire rose under your skin. “You – you sent us out there. I’d never been past city lines and Ellie – she’s fourteen. And you threw us out there like we were expendable – and for what? A gamble? A maybe cure? I mean – shit – do you even have the people to do this?” You gestured wildly to the space around you “No, you don’t. You’ve probably got – what? Premed students? Lab techs? Veterinarians, if you’re lucky.”
You didn’t miss the way her jaw ticked, nor how her eyes fluttered shut as she drew in a slow, bracing breath. That was answer enough.
You stepped forward. “Take us to her.”
“I can’t.” Marlene’s tone turned to stone. “She’s being prepped for surgery.”
Beside you, Joel went still. Your heart dropped. “What surgery?”
“Our doctor…” She hesitated, and your laugh was low and hollow. Doctor, sure. Whoever this person was, they sure as shit weren’t a doctor. “He thinks that the Cordyceps in Ellie’s brain has grown with her since birth.”
“Why is she in surgery?” Joel asked again, this time more forcefully, standing beside you.
Marlene keep talking, too calm, too detached. “It produces a kind of chemical messenger. It makes normal Cordyceps think that she’s Cordyceps. It’s why she’s immune.”
Your hands curled into fists, and your vision started to blur with red. You were beginning to feel like you had only once before, back in Silver Lake.
She was talking about Ellie’s brain like it was a theory, a science project.
“He’s gonna remove it from her, multiply the cells in a lab, produce those chemical messengers and then we can give it to everyone… He thinks it could be a cure.”
You stared at her, numb. Beginning to come to terms with the reality of what you were going to have to do to get Ellie back. Beginning to settle into how familiar it felt for your bones.
Joel was quiet beside you, processing it all. He turned slowly to her, to the woman who had just casually admitted they were about to cut into Ellie’s brain.
“Find someone else,” he said flatly.
“There is no one else,” Marlene said. “We didn’t tell her. We didn’t cause her any fear. There won’t be any pain.”
Didn’t tell her?
Your breath stuttered – they were going to do this without telling her. Without asking. Without giving her a choice.
Joel was already stepping forward. “No, no. You take us to her. Now. Right now!”
The guards outside the door entered before he could make it more than a few steps, rifles raised, pushing you both back.
“I have no other choice,” Marlene said quietly, already turning. “I’m sorry.”
Your voice cut through the room like a blade. “No, you’re not… but you will be.”
But she didn’t flinch. Didn’t look back. She turned to the guards, telling them to walk you two out to the highway with your packs. “They try anything… shoot them.”
The words barely registered.
You didn’t feel scared, not anymore.
You just felt tired. Bone-deep, soul-weary tired – for what you were about to do.
Because you already knew what was coming.
Even as the guards walked you through the cold, dim halls of the hospital. Every footstep echoed too loud in the concrete stairwell as they led you downward, each flickering light above casting shadows against the walls.
“Joel,” you whispered, eyes glued forward.
“Quiet,” one the guards barked, but you persisted.
“You remember what you said to me after Silver Lake? When I asked you what we would do if the Fireflies tried the same thing?”
Joel stopped for a moment, and so did the guards, and that was all you needed.
You moved fast, driven by instinct and anger and love. Your elbow rammed back into the guard behind you, hard and sharp. The crunch of bone was immediate. His grip on his gun faltered, and Joel didn’t hesitate. He reached for the rifle, spun, and fired.
One shot, then two. Clean. Final.
You heard the radio on one of them crackle. “Shots fired, shots fired!”
You shared a look with Joel before grabbing what you could – ammo, weapons, your packs. Ellie’s knife.
“She’s on the sixth floor,” you told Joel breathlessly. “That’s where pediatric surgery is. I saw it when we passed by the directory.”
He nodded, already moving. But before you reached the next landing, you froze.
Something pulled you back.
“Joel – ” You turned to him, voice softer now, the adrenaline giving way to something much harder to say. His eyes locked on yours. “I don’t know what we’re gonna face up there, but I just – I want you to know I meant it. What I said when you were injured in that basement…”
You swallowed, throat burning. In that dim stairwell, with the air charged and the world about to collapse again, you said it again. Clearly. Unmistakably.
“If something happens up there, I want you to know. I… I love you.”
Joel’s eyes widened. Sure, he’d heard you say it before, but he was half-conscious then, with a stab wound in his gut, and you were likely scared to death. And even when he brought it up later, the night after Silver Lake, you didn’t repeat it… So, he figured maybe it was the heat of the moment. Maybe you thought you were going to lose him and you really didn’t want your last words to be spiteful ones.
But here, now, he looked in your eyes and saw that none of that was true. You really did love him, maybe even before he got stabbed. Maybe before Jackson, before Christmas, before Henry and Sam died.
Maybe you knew when he knew.
When the five of you were walking through the tunnels under Kansas City and you gave Sam a piggy-back ride when his legs got tired. When you whooshed him back and forth, promising him it was like flying, and his giggles echoed through the damp burrow.
He knew when he thought about how dangerous it was that you were being loud—in these tunnels that were eerily quiet and could easily contain Infected and living threats alike—and, for once, he didn’t care.
And he didn’t want to stop it. He wanted you to keep going, keep making Sam laugh so he wouldn’t think about being scared.
That was the kind of person you were. Always thinking about others before yourself, always making sure everyone else was okay. Always lightening the mood, making everyone laugh, being that bright spark in both physical and metaphorical dark tunnels.
That was who you were.
And that was when he knew.
And this time, he didn’t hesitate to say it. He stepped closer, eyes bright, jaw tight.
“I love you,” he said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.
You blinked, lips parting in shock.
What – did you think he didn’t love you? That anyone was ever capable of not loving you? So far, he’d found it an impossible task.
“I love you,” he said again, quieter this time, and pulled you in like gravity, his mouth crashing on yours.
The kiss was bruising and deep, messy with emotion and meaning. He kissed you like it was the first time, or maybe the last time. Like he wanted to feel you in his chest, his blood, his bones.
When he finally pulled back, he rested his forehead against yours. One hand came to cup the back of your neck, grounding you. His voice was low and certain. “Let’s go get our girl.”
You nodded, breath hitching as you gave him one last kiss before turning back toward the stairs.
And he was right behind you, like always.
You two moved in tandem through the less-than-sterile corridors of the hospital, every footstep silent, every breath measured. There was no room for fear or hesitation. Just instinct. Just the two of you, backs to one another, weapons raised.
You quietly walked, making no noise except for the occasional sound of a gun going off – either yours or Joel’s, aimed right at a Firefly, and quickly taking them out.
You didn’t think about how many shots you fired. Didn’t count the shells or the faces. Didn’t pause to consider whether they were aiming to kill or to plead. You couldn’t afford to. Not when Ellie was lying somewhere in this building, unconscious, about to be cut open like she was nothing more than a stepping stone to find a supposed cure.
Each floor you cleared left behind its own graveyard. In the hallways, the rooms, the staircases.
Bodies, everywhere.
Of people you’d never known, and people you didn’t care about. Nor felt sorry for – not when they were so willing to take Ellie’s life.
When you reached the sixth floor, the tension shifted. There were no guards, no shouting, no more gunfire. Just a hallway so quiet, it immediately felt wrong. Like the calm before the storm.
You could hear it then – a soft, rhythmic beeping of a heart rate monitor.
You exchanged a glance with Joel, meeting his steely gaze. He nodded once.
You pushed the OR door open, slow and silent. And there she was.
Ellie – lying unconscious on the table, a hospital gown drowning her frame. She was being given anesthesia, surrounded by one “doctor” and three “nurses.”
Joel stepped forward, his voice a low, feral growl. “Unhook her.” The nurse closest to Ellie gasped, startled.
The doctor’s brows furrowed. “How did you get in here?”
“You heard him,” you snapped. “Unhook her.”
There was a hesitation, like they still believed this could go another way. The doctor fumbled, grabbing a scalpel like it was going to save him.
“I won’t let you take her,” he said, hands trembling slightly.
You tilted your head, something dark and cold unfurling in your chest. “Are you the doctor?” He didn’t answer. “Do you have a medical degree?”
“I – I have a bachelor’s,” he stammered. “In biology.”
You nearly laughed. “A college degree… You thought you could do this with a college degree? No research? No experience?”
“I know what I’m doing,” he defended, but you could tell even he didn’t believe it.
“No,” Joel said, firm and final, “You don’t.”
Before the man could utter another word, Joel raised his gun and fired. The bullet lodged itself right in the doctor’s head. He fell to the ground with an unceremonious thud, dead.
You didn’t flinch.
Your own weapon was already aimed at the nurses. Their cries filled the room – whimpers, choked sobs, the kind that might’ve cracked your heart once.
But not now.
“Move,” you ordered.
Their hands shook as they obeyed, unhooking Ellie. You wanted every motion, and the moment they stepped back, you told them to turn around. Joel scooped Ellie into his arms, her head resting against his chest like she belonged there.
She did.
You nodded once – not at him, but at what you knew had to happen next. Then you pulled the trigger three times. One for each nurse. No hesitation.
You wouldn’t leave witnesses. Not when they would’ve let her die. Not when they’d just keep coming for her.
As you walked out of that room, your boots echoing against the tile, you didn’t feel guilt clawing at your throat.
You felt relief.
Relief that Ellie was alive and back with you. Relief that the people who tried to take her away were gone… all but one.
And that loose end––Marlene––was waiting for you at the garage, gun drawn.
“You can’t keep her safe forever,” she said, voice cold, stepping closer. “No matter how hard you try, no matter how many people you kill. She’s gonna grow up… eventually leave. Then what? How long till she’s torn apart by Infected or murdered by raiders? Because she lives in a broken world that you could have saved?”
You almost laughed. The arrogance. The delusion – the hypocrisy.
“Spare me the lecture,” you bit out. “You really thought you’d change the world with a bunch of selfish zealots and a guy with a bachelor’s degree? You would’ve killed her for nothing. And I would’ve spent every minute of my existence hunting you down, to make you pay for it. Thinking about all the creative ways I could make you suffer for what you did – ”
“This isn’t about you,” she shot back. “This is about Ellie, and what she would want… I think she’d wanna do what’s right, and I think you know that, too. Listen, it’s not too late. Even now, even after what you did. We can still find a way.”
You looked to Joel then, still holding Ellie. His face was ashen, jaw clenched, eyes burning with something you recognized too well.
You reached out, brushing a strand of hair from Ellie’s cheek, her skin still warm beneath your fingers. Her face was so peaceful, innocent – unaware. Your hand slid down her back until it met Joel’s, steady and strong beneath her. You laid your hand over his. One look up at him and you sighed, knowing what you had to do.
In one swift motion, you turned and fired.
The shot hit Marlene square in the chest. She gasped, staggering, collapsing to the ground. Dead before she could say another word.
Even Joel flinched, just barely. But he didn’t stop you. He wouldn’t have. You were both far past that.
And now, the blood on your hands matched his.
You left the hospital without looking back. You drove in silence, the world rolling by in muted colors as dusk settled over the land. Ellie lay curled in the back seat, still unconscious. Your hand stayed in Joel’s, fingers tangled, a lifeline between the two of you.
It had been hours, and you two barely spoke. You were mostly too busy trying to breathe under the weight of what you’d done.
And worse – the certainty that you’d do it again.
You looked over at him when he glanced your way. And in his eyes, you saw it – the same fire, the same care. You were the same, doing whatever was necessary to protect the ones you loved.
You didn’t care if the world burned, so long as yours didn’t.
Your fingers threaded through his curls, gentle and grounding. He turned his hand and kissed the back of yours, soft and grateful.
And the silence settled over you both once more.
Eventually, Ellie stirred. She gasped, bolting upright, and your heart lurched. You turned, calming her instantly with a touch to her arm.
“It’s alright, love,” you whispered. “You’re with us.”
Groggily, she sank back down, gripping your hand like a child with a comfort blanket.
“Take it slow,” Joel murmured. “Drugs are still wearin’ off.”
“What drugs?” she asked, voice hazy.
Joel didn’t hesitate. The lie slipped from his lips with ease, like it had been practiced a thousand times instead of just the once you discussed it.
“They were runnin’ some tests on you, and some others. Turns out there’s a whole lot more like you. People that are immune. And the doctors, they couldn’t make any of it work.”
You nodded, hating every word. “They’ve actually – they’ve stopped looking for a cure.”
Ellie blinked slowly. “Where are my clothes?”
“Raiders attacked the hospital,” you answered. “We barely made it out.”
“We’ll find you some new ones on the way,” Joel added, voice warm.
She was quiet for a moment. “Were people hurt?”
Joel’s jaw clenched. “Yes.”
“Is Marlene okay?”
You reached for a blanket, offering it to her. “That’s enough questions, Ellie. You should rest.”
She frowned, sensing something. Of course she did. She always could. But she nodded and turned away, curling into the blanket.
Joel’s voice was barely above a whisper. “I’m sorry.”
You squeezed his hand.
He wasn’t the only one who should be sorry. He shouldn’t have to carry this burden alone.
And he wouldn’t, not ever.
After a beat, he tried again. “Sometimes things don’t work out the way we hope. You feel like you’ve come to an end and you don’t know what to do next… But if you just keep goin’, you find something new to fight for. And maybe that’s not what – ”
“Swear to me,” Ellie cut him off, sitting up again, more determined this time as she fixed her gaze on both of you. Her voice cut through the air like a blade. “Swear to me that everything you guys said about the Fireflies is true.”
“I swear.”
You were the first one to say it, forcing yourself to meet her gaze as the words spilled out of you. She deserved that much.
“I swear,” Joel echoed, softer.
Ellie searched your faces, for truth – for hope, for betrayal. And then she nodded.
“Okay.”
The moment lingered, and though you knew you’d come to hate yourself for lying to her, you couldn’t now.
Not today.
Not when you felt so much rage and disdain for what the Fireflies had in store for Ellie; not when they were so willing to let her die for the blind hope of a cure.
No, you didn’t hate yourself for killing them now. You didn’t even flinch. It was for family, for something to fight for, and you would do it again in a heartbeat.
After all, in the end, there were worse ways to endure, worse ways to survive.
summary: you and Ellie are left to fend for yourselves and in the snow-covered wreckage of a forgotten town, you learn what people are truly capable of... and what you’re capable of, too.
warnings/tags: age gap, adult language, blood and violence, injury, death, castration, mentions of sexual harassment/assault
word count: 5.6k
series masterlist
“Shit,” you mumbled, voice tight, eyes glued to the swollen, tender skin around Joel’s stitches. The area was angry and wet, ringed with red and seeping pus. You glanced up at Ellie. “It’s infected.”
She was already moving, rifling through the dwindling supplies you’d gathered with frantic hands. “W–well, how do we fix it? What does he need?”
You laid the back of your hand against Joel’s temple. The heat beneath his damp skin confirmed it – the fever was getting worse. He was burning up. Fading.
You swallowed the lump rising in your throat. “He needs medicine,” you said softly, defeatedly.
After a pause, Ellie’s breath stuttered.
“Where the fuck are we gonna find that?”
“I don’t know,” you admitted, voice cracking around the edges. You couldn’t look at Joel for too long or you’d fall apart. His face was too still. His chest rose and fell, but shallowly. He was too close to the line.
Your gaze shifted back to Ellie, who was staring at him, eyes wide, jaw clenched, like she was trying to memorize his features – like she was bracing to lose him.
“Why don’t you take the rifle?” you offered gently. “Go hunting. See if you can catch something?”
She blinked, nodding slowly. But you saw the hesitation in her eyes.
This wasn’t about food. Not really. It was about getting her out of this suffocating basement – away from Joel’s labored breathing and the quiet dread creeping in like cold through the cracks in the foundation.
She was a kid. She shouldn’t have to carry this kind of weight.
She climbed to her feet, grabbing the rifle. Her shoulders were stiff as she headed upstairs, glancing over her shoulder before the door closed behind her.
The silence that followed was thick and unnatural. You sat beside Joel, heart tight in your chest. Snow fell softly outside the boarded-up windows, casting faint shadows on the walls.
“I can’t believe I’m finally letting all my emotions out and you’re not even awake to see it,” you muttered under your breath, brushing a curl from his damp forehead. “You practically begged me for it for five days. Now, who’s the stubborn one?”
Your fingers found his. They’re colder than they should be.
“I was serious about what I said before,” you whispered, quieter now. “You better not fucking die. I didn’t come all this way just to bury you in some fucking basement.”
The silence stretched. The only reply was the rasp of his breath.
You leaned in close, pressing your forehead lightly to his temple, and it just slipped out – almost carelessly, like a secret you didn't mean to say aloud.
“I love you.”
But it wasn’t careless. It was a long time coming.
It was in everything between you two.
In the way he draped his jacket over you as you slept. In the way you made him coffee every morning, even if you didn’t really drink it yourself. In the way he carved the fox for you. In the way you teased him. In the way you treated each other like family, because you were.
“I love you,” you repeated, the words feeling like the most natural thing you’d ever said. “So come back and tell me you love me too.”
You tightened your grip on his hand.
When Ellie returned hours later, she stumbled down the stairs, red-faced and breathless.
“Holy fucking shit,” she gasped. She rushed to you, clutching two small bottles in her shaking hands. “I got medicine. I got him medicine. Is this okay?”
You blinked, stunned, as you took them from her. “Ellie… where did you get this?”
“I ran into people while I was hunting. Shot this deer, tried to trade half of it for medicine, but…” She faltered. “The two men I ran into – they were from the same group. The ones at the university. The guy who stabbed Joel.”
Your stomach dropped. “What?”
“I’ll explain, can you just – ” She gestured frantically to Joel, and you sprung into action, peeling his shirt up. The sight of the angry wound nearly stopped you, but you steeled yourself. The syringe felt awkward in your hand.
“Where the fuck do I even put this?” you muttered, glancing at Ellie. She just shrugged helplessly.
You took a breath. Fuck it.
You slid the needle into the edge of the wound and injected the penicillin. Joel didn’t even flinch.
“Come on,” you whisper. “Please, Joel. Hold on.”
You pulled the blanket back over him and pressed a trembling kiss to his temple. He was still burning up.
Ellie curled up beside him, trying to share her body heat. You laid down on the other side, stretching your hand across Joel’s chest until it met hers.
A fragile tinge of hope warmed the coldest place you’d ever know.
“Who were those guys?” you asked softly. “The ones you ran into?”
“They said they had some small town four miles out.”
“That’s not far,” you frowned.
“Should we move?” Ellie returned.
“I don’t know. Did they seem… dangerous? Like they were out for revenge?”
Ellie frowned. “I couldn’t tell.”
“That’s dangerous.” You closed your eyes. “We should move.”
You both fell quiet. Joel wheezed faintly in his sleep.
“In the morning,” you decided. “Let’s wait a little, see if the medicine kicks in.”
Ellie nodded in agreement.
Morning came quicker than you anticipated, the air outside brittle and sharp. You and Ellie took turns obsessively checking Joel’s wound. You’d convinced each other that it was getting less red – maybe. Maybe.
You fed the horses in silence, fingers numb, breath visible in the cold.
That’s when the flock of birds over your heads scattered.
You should’ve seen it coming. The moment they scattered, their cawing echoing around you like a warning, your gut coiled tight. Ellie stiffened beside you, hand twitching toward her rifle.
Then, the first man appeared – half-shadowed in the trees, gun drawn. And then another. And another. Five… six…
You could tell when the leader Ellie had spoken of, David, appeared into view. Calm, steady, like he was taking a stroll through a goddamn churchyard instead of hunting you three down.
“Go,” you mumbled, low enough for only Ellie to hear. “Back to Joel. Run.”
She didn’t move.
“Ellie, I said – ”
“No,” her voice wavered, but her resolve remained strong. “I’m not leaving you.”
Your eyes didn’t leave David as he lifted his hand, a silent signal. The men fanned out, quiet as ghosts.
You subtly pulled Ellie back towards where Orion was grazing, a few yards away.
“Clever,” David’s voice cut through the trees. “Hiding your friend in this neighborhood. But didn’t take us long to track you.”
The conversational tone of his voice made your skin crawl.
But you didn’t let it distract you as you shoved the reins into Ellie’s hands. “Climb up. Now.”
“What about Joel?” she whispered.
“We’ll lead them away. He’ll be safer if we’re not here,” you explained, climbing up in front of her and taking the reins.
You turned to face the group. “Hey, assholes!” you shouted. “Come and get us.”
Orion took off like a shot. The wind stung your face as Ellie clutched onto you tightly.
Then – a gunshot.
Orion reared, screaming. His hooves collapsed beneath you, snow rushing up and Ellie’s arms ripping away as you hit the ground hard. Everything went white and sharp.
“Ellie!” you screamed, scrambling toward her. She was lying crumpled in the snow. Unconscious.
You barely got to her before rough hands grabbed your arms. You pulled your knife, slashing wildly, hitting someone’s ankle – but they overwhelmed you.
Someone grabbed you from behind – strong, fast. Another punched the side of your head, making your vision tilt.
You hit the ground again, snow in your mouth, blood in your ears.
“Don’t kill her!” David shouted. “We need them both breathing.”
Your knife got ripped from your hands and a man hauled you up, struggling and screaming and biting whoever’s flesh was closest to you but you were smaller. Outnumbered.
Your arms were wrenched behind your back, rope biting into your wrists. A man grabbed your hood, yanking you upright, eye-to-eye with David. He brushed snow from your cheeks, in a gentle and sickening way.
“You’ll understand soon,” he said softly. “You don’t have to be afraid.”
You spat in his face.
In retaliation, they dragged you roughly through the snow, letting the forest swallow you whole.
And the last thought that broke through the pain was the one that made your knees go weak. Joel doesn’t even know you’re gone.
The cage you woke up in was cold, barren. You lifted your head first, feeling it pulsing in pain. Your eyes adjusted to see the wire fence caging you in, in a kitchen of sorts.
Ellie was in the cage beside you, now awake, and when she met your eyes, she rushed over, fingers straining to shove through the bars and meet yours.
“I started worrying you wouldn’t wake up,” David’s voice echoed through the large room, making you snap your head towards him.
“Let us out,” you growled, voice thick with unease.
“Well, that’s certainly the goal… The others, they want me to kill you both for all that’s happened… but I stopped them.”
You scoffed. “Yeah, out of the goodness of your heart, I’m sure. Fucker.”
He paused for a moment, seemingly taken aback with your potty mouth, and then said, “Why don’t we start with names?”
“Eat shit,” Ellie retorted, making him glance between you two, considering the dynamic.
“Mom and daughter?” he guessed, before correcting himself, having seemingly had a lightbulb go off in his head. “Sisters.”
When you didn’t confirm nor deny, he hummed, standing from the stool he was sitting on and stepping closer to the cages. “You two—small, weak, frail—can’t survive on your own.”
“Why don’t you come over here and find out?” you growled at him.
“I can help you,” he insisted. “I can protect you.”
“We already have someone for that,” you spat.
“Right,” David said. “Your friend… and how is he?” You didn’t dare let your face give anything away. But Ellie’s hardened look cracked, just a little. “I can see how much you both care about him, so I know it hurts. But even so, you two gotta face reality. That part of your lives, it’s ending. But what I'm offering you is a beginning. You two need to find a way to trust me because, otherwise, yeah – you will be alone.”
He gave a final, patient smile, as if he was offering you mercy. Then, he turned and left, the heavy door clanking shut behind him, locking you and Ellie back into silence.
You moved first, testing the bars, even though you already knew they were solid. Cold metal bit into your fingers as you pulled, yanked, searched for any weakness. Nothing – just rust and steel and the sharp throb of your own frustration.
Ellie mirrored your efforts on her side, rattling her cage with all the defiance she could muster. “There has to be a way out,” she muttered through gritted teeth. “There has to be.”
You scanned the room – the wooden table in the center stained with dark, dried something; the butcher tools hung meticulously on the walls; the bloodied hooks overhead.
Every inch of this place screamed something was off, but your brain was still too focused on survival to fully clock it.
Ellie gave the bars one more frustrated shake before slumping to the ground with a groan. You sat too, letting out a long, steadying breath. For a second, the silence stretched between you – thick, aching.
Then Ellie stilled.
She was staring toward the table, brows furrowed, mouth slightly open. “What is that?” she asked, barely above a whisper.
You followed her line of sight. At first, all you saw was the leg of the butcher's table, thick wood and iron bolts. But then your eyes adjusted, and your stomach twisted.
There, lying half-hidden in the shadow beneath the corner of the table, was a human ear. Pale and small. Jagged at the edge, as though it had been crudely sliced off.
You went still. Every sound seemed to drop away as you came to the realization. Your mind tried to reject what you were seeing.
No. No, that can’t be –
Except it could.
The stains. The saws. The bloody hooks hanging from the ceiling. David’s calm insistence that this was a beginning. That you and Ellie had to “face reality.”
You felt sick.
Just then, the door opened again and David entered slowly, almost serenely, carrying two steaming bowls. The smell hit you first – meat. It might’ve been appetizing if you hadn’t just seen the ear.
David walked up to the cages and crouched down, sliding a bowl under each one through the narrow gap beneath the bars.
Neither of you reached for it. Neither of you moved.
He followed your gaze – both of you frozen, eyes still locked on the ear beneath the table. And when he saw it, he sighed.
Not in panic. Not in apology.
In resignation.
“For what it’s worth,” he said gently, “this is just deer meat. I swear.”
You stared at the bowl and your stomach dropped, suddenly feeling like the bare contents of it might come back up. “Why the fuck would we believe that?” you spat. “For all we know, we’ll end up chopped into little pieces in your next ‘deer meat’ stew.”
He offered a thin smile, unbothered. “I’d rather not do that.” His voice was maddeningly calm. “Please. Just tell me your names.” You and Ellie stared back, unmoved. David spread his hands as if he were the victim here. “Look, if you wanna judge me – ”
“Judge you?” Ellie barked, snapping. “You’re eating people, you sick fuck!” She kicked the tray, sending it clattering across the floor in a spray of oily broth and stringy meat. The stench turned your stomach once more.
David didn’t flinch. “Yes,” he said simply. “There are only a few of us that know.”
“You're an animal,” you muttered, voice low and seething.
He sighed. “Well, yes, we all are. That’s sort of the point.” His eyes met yours again. “It was a last resort. You think it doesn’t shame me? What was I supposed to do – let them starve? These people who put their lives in my hands, who rely on me, who love me?”
You scoffed, the sound hollow in your throat. “Maybe you should’ve.”
His eyes lingered on you. “You don’t believe that,” he said softly. “And I don’t think your friend would either. Didn’t he take another man’s life to save yours?”
Your heart stuttered. Joel’s face flickered in your mind – bloodied, broken, wild-eyed in the snow. You blinked hard.
“He was defending himself,” Ellie snapped.
“He was defending you.” Curiously, he turned back to you again, gaze almost thoughtful. “You knew that… you see a lot. But she…” He nodded at Ellie. “She reminds me of me. A natural leader, smart… loyal. Violent – dangerous. You think you’re keeping her safe, but I see it clear as day. She’s a threat.”
You stiffened. “You don’t know shit about us.”
“I know more than you think.” His smile curled into something amused, pitying. “You? You’re all bark. Noise and fury. You hide behind others, probably behind your friend. But she? She’s the one with teeth.”
At the look in his eyes, your fists clenched at your sides. “Try to touch her and I’ll – ”
“You’ll what?” he interrupted, eyes gleaming. “Cry? Shout? Throw another empty threat?”
Without missing a beat, your voice lowered, threateningly. “I’ll chop your fucking dick off,” you growled.
He let out a single laugh, leaning closer to the bars, voice soothing – condescending. “You’re soft. Maternal. You’re wired for protection, not survival. You’ll scream and spit, sure – but you won’t do what needs to be done. When it comes down to it, you’ll freeze. You’ll beg. You’ll break.”
Your jaw clenched so hard it ached. But something in your chest twisted – not rage. Not yet.
Shame. Because some part of you feared he was right. That when the moment came, you wouldn’t be fast enough. Brutal enough.
Joel would be. He’d burn the world down.
“No,” David decided, “you’re not the one I’m worried about. You’re not like me.” He turned to Ellie again, smiling. “But she is.”
He stepped up to Ellie’s cage, meeting her eyes. “Yeah,” he hummed. “You have a violent heart. And I should know – I've always had a violent heart. And I struggled with it for a long time. But then the world ended and I was shown the truth.
“Cordyceps isn’t evil. It's fruitful, it multiplies. It feeds and protects its children and it secures its future with violence, if it must. It loves.”
His voice lowered. “I’m a shepherd surrounded by sheep and all I want is an equal. A friend. Someone who understands what it means to do what’s necessary. I can give you a future, Ellie. You, and the people you care about.” He spared you a glance.
“What about our friend?” Ellie asked, voice careful.
“Loyal,” David nodded. “I can tell the others to stop looking for him. They’ll spare him.”
You scoffed bitterly. “They should be praying he doesn’t find them.”
David ignored you entirely. “They do what I tell them to do. They follow me. And they would follow us. Lord knows I could use the help… think of what we could do together as strong as we are. We’d make this place perfect. Grow, spread out, do whatever we need for our people. Imagine the life we could give them. Imagine the life we could build.”
He reached again, pressing two fingers to the bars of Ellie’s cage. Your breath caught.
“Get your fucking hands off of her!” you raged, hands white-knuckled around the bars of your own cage, nails digging into the rusted metal. You tried to use all your force to pry them apart, to get in between your sister and the nightmare of a man before her.
David hummed in enjoyment, pausing his movements for a second. “Look at you. So angry. So scared. All that fire, and nowhere to put it,” he tutted.
He turned back to Ellie, who hesitated, then rested her fingers over his. Carefully. Lightly. Then they gripped hard, and all you heard was a snap.
David howled, snapping his hand back and cradling it to his chest as Ellie backed away, triumphant.
“You little cunt,” he snarled, taking a look at his mangled fingers as he retreated toward the exit. “Let’s see what I go tell the others now.”
“Ellie,” she smirked.
“What?”
“Tell them that Ellie is the little girl who broke your fucking finger!” she shouted after him.
David turned slowly at the door, seething. His eyes briefly met yours. “How did you put it? Tiny little pieces?”
And then he was gone.
The fire cracked somewhere in the next room. Outside, the wind howled against the walls. Inside, your hands were trembling.
You didn’t know if it was from fear… or from the way your vision had gone red when he touched her.
The way his fingers slithered through the cage bars, settling on top of Ellie’s like he was comforting a child. Like he hadn’t just implied the vilest things with a preacher’s calm and a butcher’s smile. That hand didn’t shake. It moved with practiced precision. Like he’d done this before. To another child.
And Ellie—God, Ellie—she played along. And when he screamed and recoiled, he glared at her like it was her fault he tried to touch fire and got burned.
You didn’t flinch. Didn’t look away. Because in that moment—watching Ellie stand her ground, even in a cage—you felt something shift inside you. Like a lever being pulled. Something old and buried and ruthless unfurling in your chest.
You had always been the calmer one. The caretaker. The one who usually deescalated while someone else did the dirty work. You shot only when you had to.
But this was different.
You had seen men like David before. Heard them call it kindness when they took whatever they wanted. You’d fought them off enough times. But it had never been someone you loved at their mercy.
Until now.
And it clicked – he didn’t see you. Not really. He thought you were weak because your voice trembled when you threatened him. Because you put yourself between him and Ellie like a goddamn shield instead of a weapon.
He thought Ellie was the fire and you were just the smoke.
But the thing about smoke? It choked. It blinded. It suffocated, slowly.
And he was about to find out you weren’t afraid of something you already knew how to be.
Instinctively, you stepped closer to Ellie.
You watched her stare out, chest rising and falling rapidly. For a moment, you thought she might collapse from the tension running through her body, but she didn’t. She didn’t move at all.
You reached out for her but stopped yourself at the last second. Ellie was already retreating into herself, expression distant, like she was trying to process something that was too much for her to fully understand at her young age.
“Ellie,” you said, voice low but urgent. “Are you okay?”
Her eyes flicked toward you, but there was a moment of hesitation before she spoke. The defiance usually lit her up like a Christmas tree, but it was now replaced by something else entirely. Perhaps fear, or shock – or a mix of both.
“I… I didn’t mean to – ” she started, voice trailing off as if she couldn’t figure out a way to finish the sentence.
You knew what she meant.
This was the first time Ellie had truly been forced to confront a kind of danger that wasn’t just physical. The kind of danger that left scars on your soul. The kind you'd tried to shield her from her entire life.
You stepped closer, trying to let your presence be grounding for her. “Ellie,” you said softly, voice steady. “Look at me.”
When she did, you saw that this was new territory for her. The things she’d faced, the people she’d run from or fought, none of them had been like David.
“You didn’t do anything wrong,” you assured her, though it felt like an odd thing to say. What had happened wasn’t her fault, but it was something darker than just self-defense.
Ellie had never had to face a predator like him before, a man who didn’t just want to hurt her physically, but wanted her body for his own.
You’d always protected her from it. From the men in the QZ who would have taken advantage of her had you not stepped in. You’d kept her hidden, kept her safe, from the ugliest of truths. You’d always known the dangers, but Ellie hadn’t seen them – not fully, not like this.
As she stood there, still silent, hands shaking silent, you watched her come to understand just how dark the world really was.
You couldn’t help but feel a stab of guilt in your chest for not protecting her from this, too. From him.
“Ellie, you’re okay,” you said quietly. “You are gonna be okay. I’m here, alright?”
Her lips trembled as she nodded, but she didn’t say anything else. The words were stuck in shock, in pain. You could feel the weight of it, like a dark cloud hanging over her head.
Whatever was left of her innocence was gone.
And all you could do, from your own cage, was hold her gaze in a silent promise to always keep her safe. Even if she had to face this world on her own, you’d be right beside her, every step of the way.
You barely registered David’s footsteps echoing on the concrete as he returned with his right-hand man. Your hands clenched into trembling fists, wrists still sore from the cage.
Your thoughts were a pendulum, swinging between cold calculation and rising panic. Your heartbeat sped up, drumming in your ears, as they unlocked both cages, yanking the doors open, and dragged you and Ellie out into the middle of the room.
Ellie bit David’s hand in an attempt at defense.
“Let’s start with her,” he said, shaking out his wrist and nodding at you. “Ellie can watch. Maybe it’ll help her cooperate.”
Your heart stopped.
Ellie’s eyes met yours. Wild. Fierce. Defiant. Shaking her head with a terrified whimper.
David shoved you roughly onto the table, his grip bruising your shoulders. You barely had time to struggle before he raised the cleaver, the blade catching the light.
“Wait!” Ellie’s voice cracked through the tension, loud enough to make both men freeze for a second. “We’re infected! We’re infected! We got bit. Out hunting. It got her in the leg and it got me here! Look, roll up my sleeve. Look at it – look at it!”
David hesitated. His grip faltered, and the cleaver thudded onto the table as he reached for her arm. When he saw the mark, confusion darkened his expression.
“I told you,” Ellie sneered, a dry, humourless laugh escaping her. “I’m infected – and now so are you.”
The second-in-command, James, took a step back. “David…”
“No, no, no. She would’ve turned by now. They both would have. This isn’t real.”
“It looks pretty fucking real to me,” James pointed, his voice sharper now.
As they bickered, you met Ellie’s eyes again and motioned, just slightly, toward the cleaver resting by her hand. In the same breath, she grabbed it and buried it in James’s neck.
The sound was wet. Immediate.
You surged forward, slamming your body into David with as much strength as you could muster. His skull cracked against the concrete wall with a sickening thud, giving you just enough time to pull Ellie and bolt out of the room.
You burst through the doors and stumbled into the dining hall that used to be a steakhouse. The booths were overturned, the tables stripped for firewood. Ellie ran to the main doors, finding them all locked, while you sprinted into the kitchen. The smell hit you first – smoke, char, rotting meat.
You grabbed two knives from a butcher block and handed one to her along with a burning log from the spit. It looked like you two were fighting your way out of this one.
The room glowed dim and orange, like it was already in hell. And maybe it was.
David crept through the swinging doors, and Ellie didn’t wait. She hurled the burning log at him. He ducked, but it smashed into the curtain behind him. Fire began tricking upward with eerie slowness, catching the fabric.
The entire wooden structure slowly began to burn.
Smoke filled your lungs with every breath. Your eyes watered.
“There’s no way out, girls,” he called, a mockery of kindness in his tone. “The doors are locked. And I have the keys.”
Good, you thought bitterly. You’ll need them – to escape us.
You glanced at Ellie and tilted your head. She nodded before creeping left, and you went right. It was a silent understanding: draw him out, find an opening.
David’s voice echoed between the flames. “Ellie. I know you aren’t infected. No one infected fights this hard to stay alive.”
The fire crackled, eating up the wooden beams along the far wall. The heat made your skin slick with sweat.
“No one likes being humiliated,” he continued, voice raising. “You don’t know how good I am! You don’t know what I could’ve given you – if you just let me…”
The sound of his words turned your stomach.
“Well, I have news for you. Neither one of us is dying today. You see, I’ve changed my mind. I’ve decided you do need a father. So I’m gonna keep you, and I’m gonna teach you… Ellie. Ellie,” he sang, twisting her name into something grotesque; and it made you rage.
“She already has a dad, you fucking creep!” you roared, seeing nothing but red as you launched yourself at him, swinging your knife. It slashed across his ribs, the tip biting deep. He gasped, staggered, but he was quick to dodge your next attack, twisting and knocking you to the ground.
“You fucking bitch,” he spat, blood bubbling at his lips. He kicked you hard in the side.
Something cracked.
The pain was blinding.
You choked on air as Ellie screamed and launched at him. She stabbed him in the back, just missing his lungs. He hesitated but was able to spin and throw her off.
Ellie hit the floor with a hard grunt, skidding across broken glass. David turned to you again, a sneer on his face, and kicked you once more – directly where he’d likely already broken a rib. You screamed in agony.
"I'll deal with you later,” he muttered, “Don't you worry."
Then, he turned to Ellie.
Your mind went dark with horror as he straddled her, pinning her limbs, pressing his weight down while she squirmed and screamed beneath him.
"I thought you knew... the fighting is my favorite part."
And just when you thought you couldn’t breathe, couldn’t move, those words lit a fire deep in your gut and something in you snapped.
"Don't be afraid. There's no fear in love,” David hummed.
You forced yourself upright, coughing, choking on smoke, but you couldn’t stop. Your vision tunneled. The pain didn’t matter. You saw his hand at his waistband, going to unbutton his pants, and that was it.
You screamed as you charged at him, no hesitation – just motion. It was instinct at this point, survival, rage in its rawest form. You tackled him off of her, the full weight of your body crashing into his side and sending both of you skidding across the burning floor.
He snarled, scrambling back to his feet, but you were faster. You rammed your body into his once more, mounting him, and started swinging with a force you didn’t realize you had. Your fists met his face over and over again – bone, teeth, soft flesh.
Again. Again. Again.
You felt your knuckles split and you didn't stop even then.
Blood gushed from his nose, his mouth. It smeared across your hands, sticky and hot and endless. You didn’t even feel your wounds anymore.
You grabbed the cleaver he’d tossed aside with shaking hands. He tried to crawl away, like the fucking coward he was, but you were on him. You slashed at his chest, once, twice, and when he kicked out to throw you off, you slammed the heel of your boot down on his ankle until you heard a crunch.
“You wanted violent?” you growled, dragging him by the collar back into the center of the room. The fire crept closer now, the heat unbearable, smoke curling into your lungs, but you didn’t care.
You weren’t done.
You were nowhere near done.
David spat blood, struggling to speak through his broken mouth. “You don’t… have to do this…”
“I think the fighting might be my favorite part, too,” you snarled, flipping the cleaver in your hand. You crouched over him, dragging the blade slowly, deliberately, up his thigh. He screamed. “You said I was too soft… That I’d freeze.”
You pressed the blade to his groin and leaned in close. “You said I’d beg.”
He whimpered. You pressed harder.
“But I think you're gonna be the one who begs... So beg.”
He looked up at you, wild-eyed and panting, terror finally eclipsing that smug certainty. “Please,” he sobbed. “Please – don’t – ”
“Louder.”
“Please! Please don’t – ”
You did it anyway.
You screamed through your teeth as you brought the blade down and castrated him with a sickening, wet slice. His cries didn’t even sound human. They sounded like an animal – fitting.
The cleaver slipped in your hand, his blood warm and thick and coating everything, and still you kept going.
You stabbed. You cut. With each slice, you felt like you were becoming something else—something feral and unrecognizable—and you didn’t even realize when his screams stopped. It wasn’t until Ellie’s hand landed on your shoulder that you stopped to register the carnage.
David was unrecognizable. The fire’s glow cast grotesque shadows across what remained of his face and torso. Your hands were shaking. Your whole body was shaking.
You let the cleaver fall from your grasp and stumbled back, chest heaving.
You were soaked in blood. His. Yours. You didn’t even know anymore.
Ellie was staring at you, eyes small and scared, like she wasn’t sure what you would do next.
You didn’t know either.
You stood, grabbing her hand, and she flinched, just barely. You felt like you might vomit again.
But there was no time.
The fire was spreading fast.
You pulled Ellie to her feet and ran, staggering out into the snow, coughing and gasping for breath. The freezing air stung your lungs, and you welcomed it. Anything to feel clean again. Anything to feel human.
You fell to your knees and retched into the snow, the bile bitter and hot in your throat.
When Ellie screamed again, you lurched to your feet, heart in your throat—body instantly going into fight or flight mode once more—only to see Joel wrapping her up in his arms.
"It's me. Hey, it's me," he kept softly whispering, and Ellie finally stopped squirming and clung to him, sobbing. "It's okay, baby girl."
Your knees buckled, body shaking at the sound of his voice.
Joel turned to you, outstretching his right arm. You instantly fell into him. His arms were strong and shaking. He buried his face in your matted hair, promising, "I got you. I got you both. You’re okay. You’re safe.”
But you weren’t okay.
Not really.
You were still shaking. Shellshocked. Silent.
Looking down at Ellie, you weren’t sure what scared you more – what almost happened to her… or what you just found out you were capable of.
summary: it took five days for you to tell Joel you couldn't trust him again, but only one for you to desperately beg him to stay.
warnings/tags: age gap, adult language, blood and violence, injury, stab wound
word count: 5.5k
series masterlist
It took five days to get to the Firefly base at the University of Eastern Colorado.
Five easy days, Ellie had called them, counting the lack of Infected and ambushes as a win. But for you, they were five long, grueling days – sleepless, aching, every mile dragging beneath the weight of Joel’s actions.
You hadn’t lied when you said you understood why Joel made the decision to stay behind in Jackson and hand you and Ellie off to Tommy for the last leg of the trip. He thought he was doing the right thing; thought he was protecting you both, from the inevitable fallout of letting people get close.
But understanding and being okay with it were two different things.
You weren’t okay. You weren’t even close.
You were still angry, disappointed, even heartbroken – though you’d never admit it to him. The resentment curdled inside you, hot and sour, spilling into every interaction.
You made a point of keeping your distance: falling behind him on the trail, slowing your steps until the gap widened between you two, then speeding up when he deliberately hung back to match your pace. You dodged his painful attempts at tentative small talk. You only spoke when necessary – and really only to take extra watch shifts or chores to avoid downtime with Joel.
And Joel noticed. Of course he noticed.
He began quietly hovering, staying close enough to be protective, but clearly unsure how to bridge the emotional gap between you two. He kept trying small ways to show he was there – offering to carry something for you (you insisted you were fine), adjusting your pack straps when you weren’t paying attention (of course you were, but you pretended not to notice), and even sliding an extra blanket your way at night (you took it, mumbling a stiff thanks that tasted like ash in your mouth).
You were hurting, and you were guarded. Every night, you turned your back to him by the fire, wiping at your eyes in what you thought was secret. Every morning, you steeled yourself before meeting his gaze, if you even did.
“Don’t worry about me,” you told him flatly one afternoon, when he tried to offer a hand up a steep incline. “I can handle myself.”
He let his arm fall, silently resigning.
On the fourth night, to both your surprise, Joel finally decided to say something.
That day, Ellie had chosen to ride with Joel, her small hands clutching his jacket as she leaned her cheek against his back, giggling at whatever story he was telling. You’d trailed behind on Orion, watching from a distance as the two of them shared a softness you couldn’t bring yourself to touch.
Joel’s lips had twitched upward at her giggles and when he looked back, he caught you just as you scrubbed a tear from your cheek. His smile instantly fell as he watched you avert your eyes to the first road ahead.
Now, here he was, watching you take first watch, Ellie already fast asleep, and in the dim glow of the fire, he finally had the courage to ask, “Are you ever gonna talk to me again?”
You turned, meeting his gaze over the flickering flames. Your chest tightened at the hope woven in the question, the way it softened his rough edges. This exact tone was what got you in the first place. So, now, you forced a shrug.
“What’s there to talk about?” you asked, voice clipped and hollow, matching the tone he had taken on those first few weeks traveling together.
He flinched at the coldness. He hated hearing it coming out of your mouth, replacing that lighthearted, playful and sweet tone that was your default.
“I’m… sorry.”
You’d imagined him saying those words a hundred times over the past four days, dreamed of them like they would magically fix everything. Instead, they only made your heart clench tighter.
You looked away, the fire’s heat barely touching the chill settling into your bones now. “It’s fine.”
“It’s not,” he insisted.
And for whatever reason, that was what set you off – where did he get off trying to make everything right now? Trying to pretend like him leaving hurt him as much as it did you? Like it was the toughest decision he ever made?
Your eyes snapped back at him, anger rising sharp and bitter. “Why does it matter?” you bit out. “You made it very clear we’re not family. So why are we even having this conversation?”
“I was wrong,” he admitted, words landing heavy between you. “I just want to explain why I thought it was the right thing to do. I didn’t want to leave you, I just – I didn’t know what else to do.”
To his surprise, you said, “I understand why you did it.”
His brows lifted, hopeful. “You do?”
You gave a sharp nod. “You were scared – scared you were getting too close to us, starting to care, worried about losing us like… like you lost Sarah – ” Joel’s eyes darkened at the mention, but he didn’t interrupt. “I get it. But I never would’ve made that decision… Ellie is my Sarah. I love her, I’d do anything for her. And I’m scared every single day of losing her. But I’m never gonna leave.
“I’ve protected her for fourteen years and I’ll protect her until I die. She’s my sister. My responsibility. Everything I do is for her, and you…” You weren’t sure if this was the right time to bring it up but the words spilled out of your mouth before you could stop them. “Look, I respect you. I care for you, if that wasn’t abundantly clear already. But you have a habit of self-sabotaging, and this last time really hurt Ellie… and it hurt me. So, when this is over and we get back to Jackson… I’m gonna ask Tommy to find me and Ellie a house to stay in.”
Joel paused for a moment, frown deepening as he pointed out, “You already have a house.”
“We can’t stay there.”
“Why not?”
“Because I can’t trust you not to leave again.” The words fell heavy in the night air. “You dumped us on Tommy like we were a problem, Joel. Like the last half a year didn’t mean shit.” You shook your head. “I don’t care that you changed your mind thirty minutes before we left. It doesn’t change anything. We’re creatures of habit, us three. You always leave and we always get left behind.”
His voice cracked. “I’m not leavin’. Not this time.”
You met his gaze across the fire, your own breaking under the weight of it. “I don’t believe you.”
A twig snapped in the woods beyond, and both of you jerked toward the sound. Instinct surged through your veins like electricity – you raised your rifle; Joel reached for the knife at his ankle.
After a pause, a fawn emerged from the brush, its delicate legs carrying it past the camp without fear, vanishing into the night.
Your shoulders sagged with relief, though your pulse still thundered in your ears. “Go back to bed,” you mumbled, keeping your eyes on the treeline. “I’ll wake you when it’s time for second watch.”
Joel hesitated, lingering a moment longer before finally retreating into the warmth of his sleeping bag. You listened to the restless rustle of his tossing and turning until it was time for second watch.
The hours of the next afternoon were spent with you listening to Ellie and Joel converse about the rules of American football. By the time the campus came into view, you were grateful for the distraction. If you had to hear the word “touchdown” one more time, you’d bash your head into a wall.
To your favor, the conversation shifted to college as the three of you passed through the quiet, overgrown campus, your horses’ hooves crunching over old leaves and cracked pavement.
“So people would live here and go to classes and stuff?” Ellie asked, craning her neck to take it all in. “Even though they were adults?”
Joel gave a small nod, shrugging as his gaze swept the empty grounds. "Sort of adults. I think it was just as much about partying and findin' themselves as anythin' else. Figuring out what they wanted to do with their lives."
"What they wanted to do with their lives..." Ellie echoed thoughtfully, then turned her curious eyes to you. "What did you want to do with your life? Before all this, I mean. Did you ever think about college?"
You flicked a glance at Joel, who was already watching you, then narrowed your eyes at Ellie. "I was seven when the outbreak happened, El. You know this."
"Yeah, but like… dream job. Didn't you ever think about what you wanted to be when you grew up?"
You hesitated, thoughts swirling in your mind. "Before the outbreak, we used to have these neighbors. The Sinclairs –”
“The ones with the telescope in their backyard?” Ellie perked up, piecing it together. “The one that got you interested in space?”
You smiled faintly at the memory, nodding. “Mrs. Sinclair used to be a ballerina. And on days that my mom was late coming home from work, she’d send me next door, and Mrs. Sinclair would put on old records and teach me little bits of her old routines. She’d tell me stories about being on stage, about the music and the lights, and I couldn’t get enough of it.
"That year for Halloween, Mom bought me this pink leotard with a little tutu, and Mrs. Sinclair gave me one of her old ballet pins to wear with it – in the shape of a tiny silver slipper. ‘Just to borrow,’ she’d said. ‘Until you earn your own someday.’”
You paused, swallowing the lump rising in your throat, blinking against the prick in your eyes.
“I wore that pin every day for nearly a year after that. Always in my hair, always in a bun. Like if I kept it close enough, maybe it’d come true.”
When you looked back at Ellie, she was smiling softly, almost wistfully. “You would’ve made a great ballerina,” she said gently, making your smile widen.
“The best,” Joel added, his voice quiet but certain. You really met his eyes then – brown and steady and watching you with something careful and protective. Your chest ached. You searched his gaze for some hidden meaning or ulterior motive tucked behind the compliment, but found only honesty. It unsettled you, in a way. You looked away first, breaking the moment, fixing your eyes ahead.
Joel cleared his throat, shifting his weight as if shaking something off. “So I've been thinkin',” he began, addressign Ellie. “I don’t want a sheep ranch, actually. I mean, if I can do anything – well – when I was a kid, I wanted to be a singer.”
Ellie let out a surprised giggle, and despite yourself, a huff of a single laugh escaped your lips. Joel didn’t miss it.
“Why’s that funny?” he challenged, though his eyes crinkled faintly.
Ellie grinned. “You gotta sing something now.”
“No.”
“Come on,” she pressed. “We’re not gonna laugh.”
“You’re already laughin’,” he pointed out, deadpan.
Ellie had no defense, only a shrug. “Well, you’re singin’ for me later. I’m gonna save the fucking world, man. It’s the least you can do for me.”
After a pause, Joel conceded. “Fair enough.”
You refused to glance his way after that, but your mind betrayed you, spinning with images of Joel singing. You wondered what his voice sounded like? Probably rough and low.
Wondered what he would sing – country or something softer?
Wondered if he’d ever give in to Ellie’s relentless requests to sing Take On Me – God, you’d heard her play that on the radio for hours back in the QZ. You missed those nights sometimes, when danger felt more distant, and laughter was louder than worry.
But the moment slipped away from you as the Biomedical Sciences building, the unofficial headquarters of the Fireflies, came into view. You slowed instinctively, unease crawling your skin. Something was off – it was barren and quiet. The guard stations had no guards; the inside was eerily still. Joel even found a packing list, like they were leaving. No Fireflies.
The three of you did find a map pinned to the wall, the route traced in red leading to a hospital – St. Mary’s, in Salt Lake City. Your stomach dropped. The journey wasn’t over, not yet.
A scrape of boots echoed from outside. Joel stiffened, pulling you and Ellie back into the shadows. A group of four armed men entered the building, scanning the area. They hadn’t seen you – yet.
“Go,” Joel murmured, ushering you and Ellie toward the back exit. You moved quickly, heart pounding in your ears, weaving through the building until you spilled out near the horses. So close. Almost home free.
Then, Ellie shouted, “Look out!”
A man lunged from the side, swinging a bat at Joel. The crack of wood splintered against a tree snapped through the air. Joel grabbed the man, wrestling him into a brutal chokehold until his body went limp.
You barely had time to process before you turned, saw Joel… and saw the knife lodged into his abdomen, the hilt slick with his blood. Your breath caught, a frozen gasp in your throat.
Joel’s eyes met yours, steady even now as he gripped the handle and pulled it free. The blade clattered to the ground, darkened with red.
“Oh, my God. Oh. my God,” you whispered, frantic, rushing to him as he staggered. “Joel – ” You helped him up onto Callus with a strength pulled from panic. “Ellie, get on Orion – now!”
Ellie scrambled onto the horse as the other looters rounded the corner, weapons raised. “They’re coming!”
“We need to go – now!” you shouted, snapping the ewins, urging Callus into a gallop. Behind you, Ellie fired blindly, the crack of her pistol mingling with shouted curses. Your heart pounded so loud it drowned everything else. Hooved thundered beneath you. Trees blurred past. You didn’t dare look back.
Not until the sounds faded behind you, not until the adrenaline finally slowed and cold reality seeped in. Only then did you glance at Joel. He was slumped back, his weight leaning heavily into you. “Joel?” you called, voice shaking.
No response.
“Joel,” you repeated, louder now, as fear clawed up your spine. “Joel, stay with me – please – ”
But his body tipped sideways, sliding off the saddle before you could stop him. He landed in a snowbank with a dull, sickening thud.
“Joel!” You dropped down beside him, knees hitting the snow. “Joel, open your eyes!” Your hands pressed hard against the stab wound, but the blood kept coming, warm and wet beneath your fingers.
Ellie dismounted, kneeling opposite you, her face pale. “Joel – come on. You gotta get up!”
“I can’t fuckin’ do this without you,” you growled, pushing harder, desperate, the snow beneath him staining red. “Joel, get up!”
Ellie’s breathing hitched, tears welling in her eyes. “Joel!”
You leaned closer, hands trembling over the wound. “Please,” you whispered, voice cracking as tears lined your own eyes. “Please, Joel. Please get up.”
Somewhere in western Colorado, inside a house long since abandoned––its walls brittle, windows coated with grime, and air thick with mildew––you knelt beside Joel, ripping a spare shirt from your pack into uneven strips. Your hands moved fast but clumsily, fingers trembling as you worked.
The cold bit at your cheeks, but you barely noticed; your pulse thrummed loudly in your ears, drowning out everything but the sight of him bleeding beneath you.
You yanked open his shirt, buttons echoing on the floor as they scattered, and pressed the makeshift cloth firmly against the wound. Joel gasped awake with a sharp inhale, his body aching. His hand shot up, gripping your forearm, knuckles white, skin clammy and pale beneath the flickering light of your flashlight.
Your breath came fast, shallow, a tinge of fear clawing up your throat. “Stay with me, stay with me,” you whispered under your breath, like a mantra, a prayer.
“Holy shit, that’s a lot of blood,” Ellie said, hovering nervously nearby, her voice thin and small.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” you muttered, the words spilling out in rhythm with your heartbeat. The cloth was already darkening, and despite everything, you latched onto the silver lining that at least he was conscious – even if his face was contorted in pain.
"Leave," he rasped suddenly, his voice rough and breaking. His brown eyes locked onto yours, urgent. “You have to leave.”
The shock of his words knocked the air from your lungs. “What?” you breathed, stunned.
Ellie was quicker to respond. "Shut up, Joel."
But Joel wouldn’t let it go, wouldn’t stop. "Take the gun,” he pressed, his grip on you tightening.
"Joel, shut the fuck up!" you snapped, a wild panic edging your voice. What was he saying? How could he say that, after all you’d been through together? "Let me think!"
But Joel was relentless, dragging you closer by the collar of your jacket, his strength frightening despite how much blood he’d lost. “You go,” he ordered, fierce and fading all at once. “You take Ellie and you go north. Go to Tommy. You go.”
With the last of his strength, he shoved you back, hard. The force sent you stumbling, landing on your ass, the wind knocked clean from your chest.
You stared at him from the floor, heart pounding, torn between fury and terror. But there wasn’t time for either. You pushed yourself up, jaw clenched, and grabbed Ellie’s wrist. “Come on.”
You pulled her upstairs, the old wooden steps groaning under your feet. “Check every drawer. We need medicine, bandages, something for the stitches. We need to find something!”
Ellie nodded, splitting off, and you both rifled through the dusty remnants of another family’s life: broken dishes, scattered photos, clothes long moth-eaten. Drawers squeaked and banged, every sound loud in the stillness.
“Here!” Ellie called, thrusting a small tin sewing kit into your hands. You didn’t even look at her, just sprinted back downstairs, knees hitting the cold floor beside Joel with a painful thud.
His eyes flicked open at your arrival, hazy but locked on you. There was something in them – raw, unguarded disbelief that you’d came back.
“We’re not leaving,” Ellie vowed behind you, moving closer. “We're not going anywhere." She took his free hand in hers, and your chest clenched painfully at the sight of Joel’s fingers squeezing hers, grounding himself to her.
Your own hand hovered above his chest before settling, trembling slightly over his weak heartbeat. "If I’d known a stab wound would've turned you into a big softie, I'd have done it myself ages ago, old man," you teased, voice thick with emotion.
A faint smile ghosted over Joel’s lips, brief but real, and you cupped his cheek for a fleeting second, thumb brushing over his stubble before turning back to the wound.
“I’m really sorry about this,” you warned quietly. “Trust me, this is not how I pictured my first time taking off your shirt going, either.”
You drew in a long breath, trying to steady your hands. “Okay,” you whispered to yourself, building up your confidence. “Okay.”
And then you got to work.
The first time the needle pierced his skin, Joel groaned, his grip latching onto your bicep like a vice. His whole body tensed under your hands, and you felt his pain ripple through you, raw and electric.
"I know, baby. I know," you murmured, the words falling automatically as you worked, threading the needle through torn skin, pulling it tight, again and again. as you threaded the needle in and out of his skin. Hot tears continued to burn as they slid down your cheeks. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry…”
Joel’s eyes fluttered shut before you were even halfway done, his weight sinking heavier into the ratty mattress. You pressed harder, worked faster as the stitches held but the bleeding didn’t stop as quickly as you’d hoped.
When it was finally over, Ellie helped you by covering Joel with the thickest blanket she could scrounge up from upstairs. She curled up beside him, her hand resting on his chest, her body seeking his warmth. You watched Joel, unconscious, instinctively tilt his head toward her, leaning into her touch even as he drifted deeper into sleep.
A tiny, exhausted smile pulled at your lips.
You lay down beside him, your sleeping bag doing little against the hard concrete. The cold crept up from the floor into your bones, but you barely felt it. Your eyes stayed fixed on Joel’s pale face, watching the slow rise and fall of his chest, counting every breath like a lifeline.
You reached out hesitantly, your hand finding his where it rested limply by his side. You threaded your fingers through his, squeezing tightly, silently begging him to stay.
Your thumb brushed over the back of his hand, tracing the scars and calluses, grounding yourself in the reality of him, alive and here, even if hanging on by a thread.
But Joel Miller was a fighter – a thread was all you needed.
Ellie’s quiet snores filled the room, soft and steady, and for a moment, you let yourself breathe.
But as you lay there, tethered to him by the small, stubborn clasp of your fingers, the weight of it all settled deep into your chest. It felt… complicated.
Complicated because of how you’d left things with Joel – the silence, the tension, the unspoken things you were both too stubborn to say.
And yet, somehow, it felt like the simplest thing in the world.
Because the second he was hurt––bleeding and broken beneath your hands––nothing else mattered. Not the fights, not the distance, not the walls he insisted on building around himself.
All that mattered was him. Saving him. Keeping him alive.
You closed your eyes, pressing your forehead lightly against the back of his hand.
“I’m not leaving you,” you whispered, voice horse. “I’m not going anywhere.”
And in that quiet, flickering dark, you knew you meant it with everything you had. You didn’t care if he pushed you away – you’d keep coming back. Because that was what you did… for people you loved.
You didn’t sleep that night, afraid of what would happen if you woke up and Joel had stopped breathing. So you spent the night on your side in that uncomfortable sleeping bag, eyes glued to his chest, finding comfort in the rhythmic way it went up and down as he breathed. Every once in a while, your gaze would flicker to his face, to how peaceful he looked, even if he didn’t feel it.
You only realized it was morning when daylight began to filter through the broken window panes, casting pale patterns across the floorboards. Now awake, you sat up, resting our back against the nearest wall, arms loosely draped over bent knees. Outside, the wind howled through the bare trees, reminding you of the wintery mix existing outside.
When Ellie woke up, she fidgeted with her pocket knife, scraping the dull blade against the concrete floor around her. Every few minutes, she glanced over Joel’s still form lying on the mattress, as if waiting for him to stir awake. You followed her gaze every time, your own heart sinking deeper at the sight of his pale skin.
For a long while, neither of you spoke. The quiet wasn’t awkward – it was heavy, thick with the unknown of the future. You watched Ellie scratch patterns into the concrete, her lights pressed tight, shoulders tense.
It reminded you of before. Before Jackson. Before Kansas City. Before Joel. Back when it was just you and Ellie against the world. Just two people surviving day by day, moving forward without knowing where forward even led.
You swallowed hard, thinking about how lonely it used to feel. And you hadn’t even realized it then. You hadn’t known how much lighter it could be with someone else helping you carry the weight. With Joel carrying more than his fair share. You didn’t realize how much his presence had changed both of you, made you more than just two survivors scraping by.
Ellie finally broke the silence, her voice soft and steady. “What are we gonna do if… I mean, what if he doesn’t…”
She couldn’t bring herself to finish the thought but she didn’t need to; you understood exactly what she was asking.
What if he doesn’t wake up?
The question made your chest tighten. You looked at her, then; really looked at her – at the circles under her eyes, the way her mouth trembled just a little as she spoke. Maybe she was asking it partly out of fear, but you knew it was mostly out of a need. Because she deserved an answer.
You didn’t realize how much Joel’s interactions with Ellie affected you. He treated her like an adult, like she was capable of handling the harsh cruelties of the world you lived in. And she’d only thrived in that environment. She’d loved learning how to hunt from Joel, how to shoot the rifle, how to take watch.
She deserved to be treated like an adult by you, too. She deserved for you to be honest, even if it was hard, because it was necessary. You couldn’t shield Ellie with false hope anymore; now, you had to honor her strength the way Joel had. The way Joel does.
You inhaled deeply, letting the breath linger in your lungs before exhaling. “I don’t know, Ellie.”
She blinked at you, surprised, maybe expecting you to lie to protect her, as you’d done her entire life. You shook your head gently. “I won’t bullshit you. I wish I had a plan. I wish I knew how to fix this. But…” Your gaze drifted back to Joel. “I don’t know what to do. I’m honestly just trying to get through the next hour.”
Ellie nodded slowly. Her lips pressed together again, but she didn’t argue. Didn’t tell you to come up with something. Instead, she scooted closer, crossing her arms over her knees and resting her chin atop them.
“I hate this,” she mumbled. “Just waiting.”
“Me too,” you admitted.
You let the silence fall again, but this time, it felt companionable. Ellie’s presence beside you was a quiet reminder that you weren't alone in this, even if it felt that way. Her head on your shoulder grounded you.
Joel had changed everything. And God, you hadn’t seen it back then. You hadn’t realized how much warmer things had become with him in your orbit. He made you both better, stronger, more stubbornly hopeful.
You didn’t say any of it aloud, but you knew Ellie felt it too.
You leaned your head atop hers, arm coming to wrap around her. “We’re gonna figure it out,” you reassured her, keeping the truth at the center of your hope. You two would figure it out, because you always did.
Ellie gave you a small, tired smile, agreeing. “Yeah. We always do.”
After another bout of silence, Ellie stopped chewing her lip and stated, “He was trying, you know.”
You furrowed your brows. “Trying what?”
“To fix things with you.”
The words landed like a stone in your chest. Ellie glanced up at you then, serious in a way that made her look older than she should’ve. “I could tell… even if you couldn’t.”
You sat up a little straighter. “What do you mean?”
She shrugged. “I don’t know. Just… stuff. Like when we were crossing that creek last month? You slipped on a rock and he grabbed you. Real quick. But he didn’t let go right away. I thought – I thought maybe he was just steadying you. But he kept his hand there. On your arm… He does that a lot.”
You stared at her, words caught in your throat.
“And when you got clipped by that guy’s knife in Denver? You were bleeding from your shoulder and he went to you first. Before he even checked himself. I mean, if it had happened back when we were near Boston… he never used to do that.”
Memories flooded you – moments you’d brushed off, or told yourself didn’t mean anything. Joel shifting your sleeping bag closer to the fire one cold night. Waking you up gently for your watch shift so Ellie could sleep longer. The way he’d listened when you told that stupid story about how you’d spent that one birthday at the pancake house. He’d turned his entire body toward you as you spoke, his tired gaze softened like he was letting you in without saying a word.
“You didn’t notice,” Ellie added, a little quieter.
You pressed your palms against your knees, blinking hard. “I… I think I didn’t want to.” You rubbed your face. “Fuck, I was so stubborn.”
Something in your chest cracked open. You pressed a hand there, feeling the ache widen. “I should’ve told him I saw it. That it mattered.”
“You can tell him when he wakes up,” Ellie said, simple and certain.
You looked at her then, this scrappy kid who was fighting tooth and nail to hold onto hope. And you remembered just how much stronger, braver, and softer Ellie made you.
You swallowed again, voice thick. “Yeah. When he wakes up.”
The rest of the day was spent scavenging the house for any leftovers you could eat and making sure Joel was comfortable. Ellie found some canned food to hold you over until tomorrow, at least. It would’ve eased your stress if Joel didn’t look like he was getting worse.
The botched stitching job you’d done was starting to grow darker, more tender. You only realized after Ellie had fallen asleep, curled up beside Joel on the mattress, her small form pressed protectively against his side. Her hand came up to rest over his chest like she could hold his heart inside his body, keep it beating, keep it from slipping away.
You shifted to sit nearby on the floor, knees hugged tight to your chest beneath your blanket. The wind outside picked up again, rattling the loose shutters of the basement windows, howling through the cracks. Shadows danced along the walls from the flickering flashlight you’d lit earlier.
You couldn’t stop watching Joel’s face, his chest rising and falling shallowly beneath Ellie’s hand. You counted every breath like it might be his last.
The tightness in your throat built under it forced you to move. You crawled closer, kneeling beside him. His skin felt warm beneath your hand, feverish. You pressed your palm gently against his forehead, feeling the damp heat, and then let your hand slide to his cheek.
“Hey,” you whispered, even though you knew he couldn’t hear you. “Joel…”
Your thumb brushed over the stubble along his jaw. “I know you’re not awake. I know you can’t answer me, but… I need you to hear this.”
You closed your eyes for a moment, grounding yourself with the weight of his hand beneath yours. Then you leaned forward, pressing your forehead to the side of his temple.
“I forgive you,” you whispered. “Okay? I forgive you for what happened in Jackson. I forgive you and I mean it. I'll forget it, I'll never bring it up again. Just come back to us, please, Joel... come back to me. I need you. I can't do this without you. So please just come back."
You pressed a templing kiss to his temple, closing your eyes tightly, letting your tears freely fall now.
“I don’t even know if you can hear me,” you whispered into the dark. “But if you can, just hold on. Okay? Hold on for me… cause if you die, I’ll kill you.”
The words felt fragile, ridiculous like tossing pebbles into the void. But you said them anyway, again and again, until they dissolved into broken sobs.
“I’ll do anything,” you breathed. “I’ll stop avoiding eye contact. I’ll laugh at those horrible jokes you tell. I’ll let you carry my pack. I’ll thank you whenever you give me your jacket to sleep in. You can keep adjusting my pack straps, keep checking my boots for wear, keep giving me the biggest portion of Chef Boyardee because you know I love it.”
You laughed through the tears, willing Joel to wake and join you. But he didn't.
You didn’t know how long you stayed there fore, forehead pressed against his, hand gripping his tightly like you could tether him to this world. Eventually, your voice gave out, raw and hoarse, and you simply sat there, holding onto him.
Somewhere in that endless night, something inside you shifted.
You sat back slowly, wiping your face with shaking hands, and stared down at him. Your jaw tightened.
Your gaze flicked toward the window, toward the cold wilderness beyond. You thought of what little food you had left. Of the likely infection burning through Joel’s body. Of what you had to do next.
And the determination rose beneath the exhaustion.
Tomorrow, you’d find a way. Tomorrow, you'd’ save him.
summary: You find what you've been searching for in Jackson. And then, just as quickly, you risk losing it.
warnings/tags: age gap, adult language, angst, probably more I can't think of right now
word count: 6.2k
series masterlist
You watched quietly from the top of the stairs, spine pressed against the furthest wall, breath held tight in your chest as the front door creaked open. A stranger stepped inside, older, weathered, and armed – he set his crossbow down carefully by the door, then began to hesitantly take his jacket off.
Below, Joel’s voice cut through the stillness. “And the gun.”
The man's gaze immediately shot to the corner of the room, where Joel emerged from the shadows, gun raised.
"Who the hell are you?" the man asked.
"Just someone passin' through," Joel replied, tone low and unreadable.
You nearly rolled your eyes at how predictable that answer was. Beside you, Ellie shifted her weight and leaned forward, curiosity buzzing under her skin.
"I'm lookin' for my brother," Joel said, calm but firm. The man scoffed, denying ever seeing him. "I haven't told you what he looks like."
"Does he look anything like you?"
"A bit."
"Then I ain't seen him.”
From where you were crouching, you could see Joel’s jaw ticked. You didn’t need to see his face to feel the tension; it rolled off him in waves.
The man’s wife spoke up from her spot on the rocking chair. "He's got two girls with him,” she said, nodding toward Joel. “One’s a kid. Other’s a little older. Pretty. He thinks so, too.”
Heat quickly climbed up your neck, tinting your cheeks pink. You stiffened, eyes flicking toward Joel instinctively.
Before you could even begin to translate the look on his face, Ellie spoke up from behind you.
“Can we come down?”
Joel looked up, eyes catching yours for a moment before flicking to Ellie. “No,” he ordered firmly. But she was already bolting down the stairs, boots heavy on the creaky steps. “Ellie!”
The couple chuckled softly, amused by her personality. You descended after her, catching up just as Joel turned to scold her.
"What did I just say?"
Ellie rolled her eyes at him. "Joel, come on. They're, like, a thousand."
"Ellie!" you hissed, shooting her a look before turning to the couple. "Sorry. She's a little – "
"Psycho?" the husband offered, amused.
"Impatient," you corrected, protectively slinging an arm around Ellie’s shoulders.
"Who are you two?" The husband asked.
"Never mind them," Joel muttered while you, simultaneously, introduced yourself and Ellie to the couple, ignoring Joel’s scowl. Meeting his eyes, you shrugged. "What are they gonna do? They are, like, a thousand." You turned back to the couple. "No offense."
The man tilted his head, eyes flicking between you and Joel before settling on Ellie. "She yours?"
It took a moment for you to realize he was asking if Ellie was your and Joel's kid. Your mouth opened––then shut––then opened again, heat prickling your cheeks all over again.
"Ew, what?!" Ellie said, feigning a dramatic gag. "He's nearly as old as you two!”
You clamped a hand over her mouth, your laugh betraying you.
“What my sister means to say is,” you said sweetly, “he’s hot for his age and he’d be so lucky to have babies with me. Unfortunately, he’s a little too grumpy all the time to even get in the mood.”
Joel sighed heavily but you didn’t miss the way the corner of his mouth twitched. He turned back to the man, insisting, "I need you to tell us where we are."
"If you got a map, how come you lost?" the husband asked.
Ellie pried your hands away from her mouth, giving her usual smartass reply. "Must've missed all the street signs in the enormous fucking forest."
The man raised an eyebrow, entertained by Ellie. "Ho-ly," he lowly whistled at the crude language she used. His wife laughed again.
Joel stabbed a finger onto the map on the coffee table. “We’re somewhere here. Exactly where? And your answer better be the same as your wife's."
The couple shared a glance, then the man pinpointed their location on the map. The same place his wife had located.
Joel sighed, putting away his gun and commenting, "Well, you found a great place to hide, I guess."
"Hide?" The husband scoffed. "Came here before you were born, sonny. Get the hell away from everybody."
"I didn't want to," the wife murmured.
There was a thick pause before the man continued, his voice softer now. "Listen, I didn't mean to upset you about your brother, but if you've come this far, then you know what's out there. You seen Cody?"
You sat beside Joel, the couch cushions sinking beneath you as you let out a quiet breath. "We got close enough to know it's crawling with Infected. Guessing Laramie and Wind River Reservation too?"
The man nodded grimly, adding, "Anywhere people used to be, you can't go there no more."
"So, you haven't heard the name Tommy?" Joel asked.
"Nope."
"What about the Fireflies?" Ellie added.
"We get those in the summer."
"Not the bugs," Ellie explained with a sigh. "The people."
"There are firefly people?" the wife asked, and you nearly snorted at her blissful ignorance.
"You got any advice on the best way west?" Joel asked, voice quieter now too.
The old man nodded, tapping the map. "Yeah. Go east... But never go past the river here. Ever."
"What's past the river?" Ellie asked.
"Death,” the wife answered. “We've never seen who's out there but we see the bodies they leave behind.”
Bodies? You thought. Tommy couldn’t be –
You cleared your throat, skin crawling slightly. "Well, that's comforting," you murmured, hand instinctively resting on Joel’s back. He barely settled back against it, mind distracted by the disturbing warning.
"If your brother's west of the river, he's gone," the man concluded.
"You're not gonna scare us," Ellie said stubbornly.
"Scared them," the wife replied, nodding toward you and Joel.
Neither of you reacted until you exited the cabin.
Outside, the cold hit sharper. Wind whistled through the trees and snow crunched underfoot as the three of you stepped away from the cabin. Your breath fogged in the air.
Joel walked a few steps ahead, head bowed, so you took it upon yourself to answer her. "They've lived here a long time. There’s no reason for them to lie.”
"They don't know anything,” Ellie argued. “Never even heard of the Fireflies."
You were about to respond when Joel suddenly stopped. He froze mid-stride, one hand gripping the fence post, knuckles pale. His back was rising and falling too fast, like his lungs couldn’t catch up.
Your heart dropped.
"Joel," Ellie tried, her voice brittle with alarm.
"Joel, hey," you echoed, already moving toward him. "Are you okay?"
He didn’t answer at first. Just kept his head down, shoulders tense. His eyes were squeezed shut. “I’m fine,” he finally ground out, unconvincingly. “I’m okay.”
Neither of you believed him.
"Holy shit, is he dying?" Ellie asked, turning to you.
"How the fuck would I know?" you replied. "I mean – he doesn't look like he's dying… does he?"
"I'm okay," Joel muttered again, quieter this time – almost like he was trying to convince himself. "I'm okay."
"No, but are you?" Ellie pressed, unrelenting. "Because just a reminder: if you're dead, we are fucked."
"I said I'm fine," Joel softly snapped, finally straightening enough to glance back at you two, his face pale, jaw clenched. "It's just... the cold air all of a sudden."
You and Ellie exchanged a look, both knowing better than to believe him. Whatever it was, the stubbornness of both of you combined would get to the bottom of it.
But for now, you tried to ease his pain by taking a note from the best and offering some wonderful comedic timing.
"Maybe Ellie was right, old man," you teased softly as Joel caught his breath. "Should we get you a wheelchair?"
He huffed, low and annoyed. But he seemed to breathe a little easier. “Alright,” he mumbled. “Let’s go find Tommy and the Fireflies.”
“Yeah, it'll be easy,” Ellie chimed in. “All we have to do is cross the River of Death."
You had to admit, the “River of Death” was way too overhyped in your head. For hours, the name had rattled around in your mind like a warning, sending shudders through your spine at the image of carnage and horror. You thought you’d see piles of bodies – decapitated, missing limbs, dried blood staining the snow.
Instead, you found no missing limbs. No blood. No bodies.
Just a frozen-over river, quiet and still beneath a thin layer of fresh snow.
It was close to dark by the time you made the decision to stop for the night, setting up camp in a cluster of shallow caves carved into the rocks along the riverbank. Tomorrow, you’d cross. Tomorrow, you’d face whatever was on the other side.
But tonight? Tonight, you would be thankful for the clear night sky, which offered you a breathtaking view of the aurora borealis. Above you, it stretched in ribbons of bright green, glowing softly against the dark sky. The sight grounded you, allowing your mind to rest in the rare, aching wonder.
“Wow,” you murmured, just as Ellie’s awed voice drifted down from the boulder she’d climed.
“Get down from there,” Joel called up, his tone firm but tired. “You’re gonna break your neck.”
Ellie hopped down with a huff, brushing snow off her sleeves, and nestled beneath your arm without a word. Her body was cold against yours, but you held her close anyway, warming both of you under the shared sleeping bag.
Her eyes flickered to the river, dark and silent under the moonlight. “Thought it was supposed to be scary,” she mumbled against your side.
“Yeah,” you agreed quietly, rubbing warmth into her arm. “Maybe isolating yourself in a remote cabin for half a century can make you lose your marbles a little.”
She snorted a soft laugh, burrowing closer.
You watched Joel as he settled near the small fire, his silhouette rugged and steady. He unclasped his flask and took a slow sip, his shoulders relaxing at the warmth. He caught you watching and offered the flask. Your brow rose. “What did I say about drinking?”
Joel’s lips twitched, his tone dry as the winter air. “That I’d better take you out on a real date before tryin’ to get you drunk,” he stated monotonously, like he’d had the phrase memorized. You did say it often enough.
You huffed a laugh, settling deeper into the sleeping bag. “And this is supposed to count as a date? In front of the River of Death? Romantic,” you deadpanned, but the warmth in your voice betrayed you.
The corner of his mouth curved up.
“Can I have some?” Ellie perked up beside you, eyes bright with mischief as she looked at Joel. He was already shaking his head. “Just to warm up,” she pleaded, her gaze shifting to you, big brown eyes shimmering with exaggerated innocence.
You sighed, already knowing where this was going. The puppy-dog eyes – you could see it coming from a mile away but that didn’t stop you falling for it every time. With a nod, you relented, “Just one sip.”
Joel hesitated before handing over the flask. Ellie took it, tipped it back, and immediately recoiled, face scrunching in disgust. “Yep, still gross.”
You giggled, watching her hastily hand it back to Joel, who took another swig without flinching.
The fire crackled softly, filling the quiet. Ellie shifted beside you, her voice thoughtful. “So, I’ve been thinking…”
You snorted. “Huh. That’s new.”
She elbowed you, light but playful, nudging you closer to Joel’s side. You didn’t move away; didn’t want to. And he didn’t seem to mind.
“Let’s say we find the Fireflies, it all works; they draw my blood and put it through their fancy machines and make a cure… Then what? Like, what do we do?”
Joel was quick to speak up, teasing in that dry, serious tone of his, “Oh, it’s ‘we’?”
Your smile deepened as Ellie rolled her eyes. “Okay, fine, whatever. You. You can do anything you want. Where are you going? What are you doing?”
Joel thought for a moment, gaze distant, like the answer was almost inconceivable. “It’s never been an option,” he admitted quietly. “Maybe… an old farmhouse, some land, a ranch.”
Your chest squeezed tightly at that. You could picture it so easily – Joel leaning sitting on a rocking chair on a creaky wraparound porch, guitar settled into his lap as he strummed away mindlessly. There’d be a quiet peace in his face that you’d never seen before but could still picture so clearly.
Ellie was grinning. “What kind?” she pressed.
“Sheep.”
Your head snapped up, eyes meeting Ellie’s, who was now smirking knowingly. “Huh,” she said, “Popular dream. Maybe you two can raise sheep together.”
Joel’s eyes flicked to you, glinting with quiet amusement. “What? You too?” You nodded. “What – city girl on a farm?”
“I’ve lived in Boston all my life,” you started, shrugging. “Never really got that small-town experience – quiet, peaceful, simple. I think I’d fit in well in a place like that.”
To your surprise, Joel nodded too. “I think so, too,” he murmured, voice softer than you’d expected, before clearing his throat and turning to Ellie. “And what about you? Where are you gonna go?”
You nudged him gently, giving him a hint by pointing up, at the sky and the shining, big cratered sphere amongst the stars. The moon.
“It’s probably because I grew up in the QZ. Behind you, there’s ocean; ahead of you, there’s a wall. Nowhere to look but up.”
Pride swelled at your chest for the oddest of reasons. Even if you weren’t blood, she was yours. That curiosity about the stars, that hope of a better life – you gave that to her. It belonged to both of you.
“I read everything I could in the school library. Neil Armstrong, Buzz Aldrin, Jim Lovell… But you know who my favorite is?”
Joel didn’t even blink. “Sally Ride.”
“Sally fuckin’ Ride! Best astronaut name ever.”
You hummed in agreement, letting silence settled again, heavy and soft like the blanket of snow surrounding your small group.
Then, small and tentative, Ellie asked, “It’ll work, right? The vaccine?”
Joel, missing the crack in her voice, mumbled, “It’s a little late to start wonderin’.”
You gently elbowed him, gaze still steady on Ellie. “Why do you ask, love?”
Her eyes shimmered faintly, the firelight catching the hesitant look on her face. “I tried… with Sam.”
You felt Joel tense beside you as Ellie continued, “I knew he was infected. I rubbed some of my blood into his bite – ” She rushed on, defensive but broken. “I know, I know. It was stupid. But I… I just wanted to save him.”
You shifted closer, reaching out a hand. When she took it, you squeezed three times. “Then it wasn’t stupid,” you simply stated.
Joel’s voice rumbled low. “And anyway, I reckon it’s a lot more complicated than that. Marlene, she’s a lotta things – ” You huffed in agreement. “ – but she’s no fool. If she says they can do it, they can do it.”
Ellie nodded faintly, but you could see she wasn’t convinced. Not really. She tucked herself tighter beneath your arm, letting the silence win this time.
“Are we gonna flip for first watch?” she mumbled.
Joel sighed, stretching his back, “I’ll do it. Get some sleep… both of you.” His voice softened as he added, almost fondly, “Dream of… sheep ranches on the moon.”
And just like that, your heart melted all over again.
The next morning, the three of you continued your trek along the River of Death, finally coming upon a bridge with frost still clinging to its rusted rails. You crossed in a steady silence. Joel and Ellie chatted ahead of you, something about hunting and dams, but their words felt distant, muffled beneath a creeping stillness.
Something didn’t feel right.
You couldn’t explain it at first. Just… a pressure. Like the air itself had shifted. It felt unnaturally still, like someone had willed it so.
Your suspicions were confirmed when out of nowhere, a group of horses burst from the treeline, all charging at you, their riders masked, weapons raised. It happened so fast you barely registered it, body moving on instinct as you shoved Ellie behind you, gun already in your hands, barrel aimed out at the strangers as they circled you.
“We’re not lookin’ for any trouble,” Joel called out, hands raised, voice calm but clipped. “We’re just passin’ through.”
“Drop the gun,.”
Joel’s eyes flicked back to you, silently nodding. Reluctantly, you lowered your weapon, muscles coiled tight, thumb still resting near the safety. You positioned yourself close enough so that Ellie could reach for the knife tucked in your back pocket if she had to.
“Any of you been near Infected?” one of the masked men asked. When you denied it, another rider approached, with a large dog straining against its leash, teeth bared.
“If you’ve been infected,” he warned, “he will smell it, and he will rip you up.”
You swallowed, heart thudding painfully as the leash slipped free. The dog lunged for Joel first, sniffing furiosity. Joel stood stock-still, jaw clenched. Then the dog turned to you and Ellie.
Your hand twitched toward the knife but Ellie’s hand caught your wrist, giving it a subtle squeeze as if asking you to wait. You glanced back at her, wondering what the hell she was thinking, until the dog was bounding forward and… licking Ellie’s face.
A small giggle bubbled out of her, startled and breathless. The tension snapped from your shoulders, chest flooding with shaky relief as the dog moved on to you, tail wagging, tongue warm against your cheek.
“You just bought yourselves ten more seconds,” the man muttered. “What are you doing out here?”
You scratched behind the dog’s ears as Joel explained, “Just lookin’ for my brother. That’s all, nothin’ more.”
A woman at the back urged her horse forward, dark eyes scanning Joel like she knew him already. And, to be fair, she did.
“What’s your name?”
“Joel.”
At that, something shifted in her expression. A flicker of recognition, or maybe surprise. Instead of shooting you all dead and leaving more bodies along the River of Death, the group offered your group two horses to follow them toward their community.
Beyond the impressive, impenetrable gates, Jackson felt like a time capsule. Like a small town frozen in time. Storefronts with faded signs, people walking on the brick-paved main street, children laughing as they made snowmen nearby. Street lights twinkled along rooftops, surging with electricity.
“Holy shit,” Ellie whispered from behind you, taking the words right out of your mouth.
The horses came to halt near the stables, but Joel wasn’ t looking at that, nor at the town. His gaze had locked onto a figure atop a construction platform.
You could see the family resemblance before Joel even shouted his name.
“Tommy!”
The man’s head snapped up, recognition lighting his face like sunrise. Joel swung off his horse, boots crunching through the snow as he strode forward. Tommy met him halfway, pulling him into a hug so fierce you could almost feel it in your own ribs.
It warmed you, watching them. For a moment, as he was laughing with his brother, Joel looked younger, softer.
After their reunion, Joel introduced Tommy to you and Ellie, and, in turn, Tommy introduced Maria, the woman who’d asked for Joel’s name during the ambush. The five of you made your way to the dining hall, so that you, Ellie, and Joel could warm up and get some food in your empty stomachs.
Ellie practically scarfed her food down, and you weren’t much better. Each bite felt like Michelin-star cooking.
“There’s more if you need it,” Maria offered, kind but cautious.
“Thank you, ma’am,” Joel replied, polite in that stiff way he got around new people. “It’s been a while since we’ve had a proper meal.”
“Actually, I don’t think I’ve ever had a proper meal,” Ellie mumbled with a mouthful of food. “This is fuckin’ amazing.”
Joel’s eyebrows shot up. “Ellie, let’s mind our manners.”
Ellie shot you a look across the table and you shrugged, hiding a grin. Joel… parenting? You never thought you’d see the day. He seemed tamer here, almost domesticated.
From beside you, Tommy cleared his throat, sensing the tension at the table and offering, “You know what? I think maybe y’all got a little off on the wrong foot.”
“She was gonna have her guys kill us!” Ellie pointed out.
“Well, we gotta be real careful about who we let in this place,” Tommy explained gently. “But it’s all bark. We’re just tryna scare off those who might wanna try us is all.”
“Well, you got a couple of 90-year-olds shitting themselves out there,” you snorted, gettin Joel’s scolding look aimed at you now. “They said you leave dead bodies around.”
“Those are the people who tried us,” Maria said, cool and even.
Joel cleared his throat, shifting the air again. “Ma’am, we’re grateful for your hospitality and all. But it’d be nice to have a moment here, maybe just for family.”
“Well, um…” Tommy began, reaching for Maria’s hand. “Maria is family, actually.”
You nearly choked on your potatoes at that, coughing hard until Tommy patted your back to help.
From all you’d heard of him, the younger Miller brother was unpredictable – liked the attention from the ladies, never wanted to settle down, always a troublemaker.
But that seemed to be pre-outbreak Tommy. The pandemic changed everyone, you supposed. It made you wonder what pre-outbreak Joel was like.
“Oh shit,” Ellie reacted to Tommy’s news, before offering a smile. “Congrats.” She nudged Joel, who found it hard to spit out, “Congrats” in that predictably stiff way of his.
Tommy nodded, his smile faltering just a bit. You’d been on the other end of a disappointed Joel Miller, and it was not a fun place to be.
So, when Tommy suggested a tour of Jackson, you hung back with him while Ellie walked with Maria and Joel trailed behind them.
“I’m happy for you,” you told him, breaking the silence between you two.
Tommy gave you a curious glance. “You don’t even know me.”
“Feels like I do,” you laughed lightly, making a smile break out onto his own face. He felt your positivity – it was contagious. “Just from what Joel’s said.”
“Yeah, and what’s that? All bad stuff, I bet.”
You were already shaking your head. “Not all bad. From what he told us, you seemed… passionate. Empathetic. Funny – though I’m gonna have to be the judge of that myself.”
Tommy’s smile only widened. “He said that?”
“Not in so many words,” you teased.
“Yeah,” Tommy agreed. “You seem kind, too. Probably passionate. Funny – based on that comment about the elderly couple.”
You nodded, finding comfort in his presence already, and you knew why. “Might be two sides of the same coin, you and me.”
“Might just be, darlin’,” he agreed as the two of you caught up to the other three.
“So, are you, like, in charge?” you heard Ellie ask Maria.
“No one person’s in charge. I’m on the council – democratically elected, serving 300 people. Everyone pitches in, we rotate patrols, food prep, repairs, hunting, harvesting. Everything’s shared. Collective ownership.”
“So, uh… communism,” Joel noted, a hint of playfulness in his accusation.
Tommy was already scoffing. “Nah, it ain’t like that.”
“It is like that,” Maria corrected. “Literally. This is a commune. We’re communists.”
That had Tommy pausing in his steps, and you nearly ran into him. “Seems like you might need a minute to digest that info, Commie,” you teased, patting him on the shoulder as you walked past with a giggle.
“I’m not – ” he began shouting after you but then lowered his voice, mumbling to himself, “I’m not a communist.”
But you were already out of earshot, joining Ellie and Maria as the latter led you two girls over to a house across from hers and Tommy’s, leaving the Miller brothers to catch up.
Ellie took the first shower in your new (temporary) house. You watched her disappear into the bathroom, shoulders lighter than you’d seen in weeks. And when she reemerged, she seemed like a different person.
“I feel so clean!” she announced excitedly, and you giggled, finally stepping into the steaming shower yourself when Ellie left for Maria’s to get a haircut. Hot water against your cold skin felt so rare, like a small, stolen moment of normalcy.
You didn’t realize how long you’d been in there. When you exited the bathroom, in fresh clothes and wringing your hair out on a towel, Ellie stormed past you through the hall, her face crumpled with anger and eyes glassy.
“What happened?” you asked, following her into her room as she roughly tossed her jacket off and threw it across the room onto the bed.
"Did you know?" she snapped back, angry tears continuing to silently fall down her cheeks.
You froze. "Know what?"
"That Joel was planning on leaving us? Dumping us onto Tommy like we're a problem?"
The words knocked the air from your chest. "What are you talking about?"
"I heard him, talking to Tommy. Saying something about how he knows he's gonna get us killed; about how he has to leave us... I mean, that's just another way of saying he doesn't want us around anymore, right? That he's dropping us, that we're replaceable."
You flinched at the words, shutting your eyes as you processed what she’d just said. That didn’t sound like something Joel would say – and yet, simultaneously, it felt exactly like something he’d say.
You sat with Ellie for the next hour, letting her anger burn itself out beside you, until her tears dried out, until both of yours did.
As she settled under her duvet cover, you silently made your way into the master bedroom, now getting nauseous at the look of it – at the look of Joel’s stuff on the left nightstand and yours on the right – at the look of a life you could’ve had, one that was apparently too good to be true.
You couldn’t believe it – yet, you could.
Before you could overthink yourself in circles again, you got to work, moving all your things into Ellie’s room. Quietly, carefully.
You were so lost in thought that you didn’t hear the front door open. Didn’t hear Joel’s heavy boots making their way up the stairs. Not until you bumped into him, arms full of the last of your belongings.
"What are you doing?" he asked softly, gaze flicking to the new half-empty bed behind you.
You met his eyes, steady. “Are you making Tommy take me and Ellie the rest of the way?” you quietly asked him, voice empty of any resentment or anger. You weren’t desperate to understand his actions, not like Ellie seemed to be.
You already understood them. Understood them in the little moments – the way Joel hunched over outside the old couple’s house, his shaky voice when the group from Jackson had cornered you three, how he silently stared at the way you and Tommy interacted.
He was afraid of fucking it all up.
And though it didn’t feel fair––you were always afraid of that same thing, but it never made you abandon Ellie––you understood. Just like you always did.
Joel’s jaw tightened and a frown settled onto his face. “I’m – ”
Ellie’s voice cut through from her doorway. “Why’re you still here? If you're gonna ditch us, ditch us."
Joel looked between you two, both expressions unreadable. He'd never seen you two look so alike before.
"What exactly did you hear?" he asked Ellie.
She ignored him, scoffing, "You know, I stood up for you today because I thought – " She cut herself off, voice cracking.
"I made this decision for your own good,” Joel said, softer now. “You two are better off with Tommy. He knows the area better than I do – "
"Do you even give a shit about us?" Ellie asked roughly.
His frown deepened as he answered, "Of course I do.”
He tried to meet your eyes, silently asking for backup but when he looked at you, your face was stoic. And if it had been any other moment, Joel would've been proud. Your face didn't give anything away – or at least, wouldn't have to a stranger. But Joel knew you better than that. He saw how deep the frown you were sporting really was, how your eyes had widened just a bit more than normal, likely to keep the tears at bay.
To you, it seemed like everything you two had been through, everything you’d built in the last few months, came crashing down in a single night.
"Then why are you leaving us?" Ellie asked quietly. “What are you so afraid of?" She paused for a moment, then pressed on, "I'm not her, you know? Maria told me about Sarah and – "
"Ellie," Joel cut her off sharply, his voice dangerously low. "You are treading on some mighty thin ice here."
"I'm sorry about your daughter, Joel. But we have lost people, too."
Joel's face hardened like you’d never seen it. "You have no idea what loss is."
Your heart broke at that. For him, for the way those words clawed their way out of him. For Ellie, standing there with her fists clenched, tired of getting left behind. For yourself, because deep down, you knew exactly what Joel was like, that he was so wrapped up in his own grief that he had it in him to say something like this.
But hearing it aloud felt like the door slamming for good. It felt like the distance between you was insurmountable. Like you couldn’t come back from this.
"Everybody we have cared for has either died or left us... Everybody fucking except for you," Ellie shot back, shoving Joel's chest. "So don't tell me that we’d be safer with somebody else because the truth is we both would just be more scared."
Joel looked between you two: at Ellie angry and shaking; then, at you, looking… defeated. You met his eyes and gave a slow shake of your head, as if to say, If you’re gonna go, just go…
"You're right,” Joel decided, a finality to his tone. “You're not my daughter, and I sure as hell ain't your dad. We are not a family. Now, come dawn, we're goin' our separate ways."
We are not a family.
The words hit like a dagger, slicing you open over and over again.
Maybe he was right – maybe he wasn’t your family. And when he said he was, maybe he was just trying to make you feel better.
It didn’t work.
You felt like shit now.
You felt like shit for the rest of the night, not getting any sleep.
Ellie didn’t either. You two lay facing each other in the dark, both staring at nothing. To both your surprise, it was you who let the first tears fall.
"I just thought…” Your voice cracked. “I don't know. It's stupid. I thought maybe he'd wanna stay with us. For forever, maybe... and we could just live in this house… dream of sheep ranches on the moon…”
Ellie didn’t say anything at first. She just reached for your hand under the blanket, fingers curling tightly around yours before she squeezed three times.
“I wanted that, too,” she whispered.
The silence between you stretched long and heavy, filled with everything you didn’t know how to say. You should’ve been comforting Ellie. Yet, all you could think was how it was stupid to think he would say. Yeah, maybe it was… but it was a nice dream.
In the morning, you felt heavy. Not just tired from the lack of sleep, but heavy, like the weight of last night had settled into your bones overnight, leaving every movement sluggish.
Packing your things for this last leg of the trip felt mechanical. You didn’t bother being quiet as you shoved supplies into your pack, each zip and buckle loud in the stillness of the empty house. Not that Joel was inside anyway – you’d heard him leave an hour ago, likely not wanting to see you off.
It was all so unceremonious, anticlimactic. You’d thought leaving would feel different.
Outside, the air was cool and damp, the ground slick of last night’s snowfall. Tommy waited for you and Ellie on the front porch, already geared up. His rifle hung across his chest, his face tight with something between concern and guilt. Ellie trailed a few paces ahead, shoulders hunched, silent.
“Hey,” Tommy began gently, noting the way yesterday’s warmth had drained from you, leaving something colder in its place. “I’m sorry.”
You slung your pack higher on your shoulder, meeting his eyes with a steadiness that didn’t really feel real. “You don’t have to apologize for him, Tommy. You’re not your brother.”
Something shifted in his expression – like you’d given him permission he didn’t know he needed, like he was waiting for someone to say that to him all his life. His mouth parted slightly, jaw slackening under the weight of your words. You recognized that look – knew what it was like to live with that kind of pressure.
“Still,” he said quietly, his voice thick with emotion despite his efforts to bury it, “you don’t deserve that.”
You didn’t know what to say to that. So instead, you stepped a little closer to him as you walked, the faint brush of your sleeve against his grounding in a way that words failed to be.
The stables smelled of damp hay and leather, the sharp tang of horses lingering in the cool morning air. Two horses were already saddled and waiting, their breath misting in the chill. And beside one of them stood Joel. His back was to you, shoulders curved inward as he secured a few last-minute supplies to the saddlebag.
A flicker of something twisted in your gut at the sight of him, though you couldn’t untangle it. Anger? Sadness? Relief?
Ellie was the first to speak, gaining his attention. "You came here to say goodbye or something?" she muttered, her voice rough from the lack of sleep.
Joel’s head lifted, but he didn’t turn around right away. “No,” he said eventually. “I came here to steal another one of these horses and go."
"I woulda gave you one anyway," Tommy offered from beside you, his voice softer now.
Joel finally turned, his gaze skimming over Tommy, then Ellie, before hesitating to land on you. And when it did, he looked away again just as quickly, jaw working, unreadable. He turned back to Ellie.
"Anyway, that was 30 minutes ago, and I guess... you deserve a choice. I still think you two would be better off with Tommy – "
Ellie cut him off with a sharp shove of her duffle into his arms. "Let's go."
It seemed she had made her decision.
And so had you.
Whatever you felt about Joel in that moment––rage, betrayal, disappointment––it dimmed beneath the quiet fire in Ellie’s eyes. If she wanted Joel with you, then he would come. You could suck it up and go along. For her.
"Okay," Joel confirmed, his voice raspy and low as he finally dared to meet your gaze again. This time, you held it. You didn’t look away as you stepped forward, taking the reins of the nearest horse. His eyes searched your face for forgiveness, or maybe understanding. You weren’t sure what he found.
Tommy walked beside you as you led the horse out into the morning light, the crunch of your boots on gravel filling the silence between you. “You okay with this?” he asked carefully, glancing at Joel behind you
You exhaled, a humorless huff. “Gonna have to be.”
He sighed, frustrated. You reached out, palm pressing briefly against his chest, feeling the steady thump of his heart beneath the layers of fabric, grounding both you and him. “It’ll be okay, Tommy,” you told him, quieter now. “We’ll be fine… And if anything goes wrong, at least you’ll have a reason to escape your communist utopia and come after us.”
Tommy huffed a laugh, shaking his head, but his smile bloomed slow and wide across his face. He helped you mount the horse, steadying your foot in the stirrup, his hands strong and sure. “Come back when it’s over,” he said softly, more plea than order. “This commune sure could use a few extra hands to help around.”
You leaned down, reaching for his hand, squeezing it tightly. “We’ll be safe,” you promised, though neither of you dared guess for how long.
With Tommy’s help, Ellie climbed up behind you, her arms wrapping instinctively around your waist, cheek pressing into your back.
You two thanked Tommy before guiding the horse––Orion––toward the front gate. Joel followed on his own horse, trailing a step behind, lingering a little longer with Tommy before finally nudging his mount forward to catch up.
And then you were off, the wilderness stretching ahead of you, the gate creaking closed behind. The weight of the morning pressed down on all three of you, but still – you rode on.
so random but i just read ur jack fic and literally had a full body reaction when u used the named “eleni” for the sous chef LMFAOOOOO like wait THAT'S MEEEE i've never seen my name used in fic before 🥀 (the beauty n pain of having an ethnic name)
Awww I love that 🥰 I have a friend with the same name and thought it was too stunning not to use 💕
