to you, i'm just a man (to me, you're all i am) part four | joel miller x reader
Joel Miller x Fem!Reader
Word Count: 5916
Summary: Time is running out for you in the fight against David. Joel comes to your rescue.
Note(s): Okay, so now it's become five parts. I should just never set a goal for how many chapters I'm writing because I always exceed it hahahaha but at least Joel and reader are reunited!! I'm not gonna lie this took so long to write because I hated writing for David. He is so creepy and I felt so gross. Anyway, I hope you all enjoyed, and I promise this time, the next chapter will be the last haha! Thank you for all the love I'm so grateful! And as always feedback is appreciated, but please be respectful! Please give me any (detailed, please!) requests in my inbox or comments if you have any, I would love to hear them! Thank you so much for reading! ♡
Taglist: @wonwoosthetic @paleidiot @orcasoul @slut4mascss @paqerings @missladym1981 @oscarisaac2099 @stilllivindue2spite @aspecialgreenie @amyispxnk @caitlynsixxx
The bitter cold stole your every sense of direction in the relentless blizzard, pushing you to stumble aimlessly through the thick snow, much like you had the day before, only this time you were no longer the hunter but the prey.
All around, the storm howled, and your every step was one of desperation in the search for any sign of David and James' group.
"Stay alert, everybody; if this man's not already dead, he's dangerous." David's voice calling out from the other end of the street had you bolting to hide behind a fence, your rifle clutched steadily in your hand. "And the woman too; she can’t be fully trusted, either."
Clutching your rifle, you took a shaky breath, straining your hearing to catch the next set of orders.
“What about the little girl?” James' voice cut through the harsh wind, and a surge of protectiveness swelled within you at the mention of Ellie. You silently vowed not to let any of them get near her—not one step.
“We bring her back with us." David responds. "Her, and the woman.”
"Try it, motherfucker," you muttered, biding your time as they started advancing down your end of the street, where you remained safely hidden, at least for the moment. There was no need to risk wasting bullets and missing a shot; you had to be smart about this.
A loud scoff cuts through the air, and a voice that you haven't heard before rings out: "That woman will kill us all in our goddamn sleep if we let her stay with us."
"Yeah, I agree," James cuts in soon after. "I don't mean to question your sense of mercy, David, but we can kill the man and the woman and just let the little girl go. If we bring that little girl back with us, she's just another mouth to feed."
You peek out, taking your aim and squeezing one eye shut.
"If we leave either of them out here, they'll die," David chastises, still seemingly set on having you and Ellie come back with him.
As if you'd let that happen.
James scoffed, and as the group approached, you could now count their numbers.
You watched as James bitterly shook his head, and almost instinctively, you raised your rifle, focusing on the moving target. "Maybe that's God's will."
David's head snapped to look at his taller friend, but before he could speak, your first shot rang out.
James practically folded in on himself, the bullet finding its mark right between his eyes. Genuine shock registered on David's face before a darker expression replaced it just as swiftly. The other four members of the group looked around in utter bewilderment, raising their weapons and expressing a mix of fear, anger, and shock.
"What the fuck do we do, David?!"
Too preoccupied reloading your rifle, you didn't notice David's eyes settling on the neck of your gun, which was slightly peeking out from behind the fence.
"Split up. Find the house they're staying in and get that little girl back to me alive. I'll take care of the woman."
As the three scatter in different directions, you finally look up, and that's when you notice David approaching the fence, his own gun at the ready, aimed and dangerous.
You feel it before you hear it—the burning sensation as the bullet rips through your coat and shirt, sinking into the skin of your shoulder. The sickening whoosh of the bullet through the air is only heard after. Had your senses been more in tune, perhaps you would have dodged it. Instead, a muffled cry of pain escapes your lips as you slam them together, forcing yourself into a standing yet crouched position. Running along the back of the fence, you do your best to ignore both the pain and the sensation of your blood coating your fingers, compressing the wound as you move, the rifle held limply in the hand of your injured arm.
Your legs turn to jelly as you sprint through the snow, heading straight for one of the houses. Despite the intensifying pain in your shoulder, you strive to keep your cool. Bullets whiz dangerously close to your tattered boots, narrowly missing as you move just a fraction too quickly for David's shooting ability.
“It doesn’t have to be this hard!”
Gasping for breath, you reach cover at the side of a nearby house, pressing your back against the cold exterior. The bitter wind bites at your exposed skin as you take a moment to assess the wound on your shoulder, your fingers coming away stained with blood. You reach back, whimpering to yourself as you feel the unmistakable hole in your shirt and coat, realising that, for one small mercy, the bullet has gone straight through.
"I didn't want to hurt you." David's voice echoes chillingly close, urging you to retreat to the back of the house. As you hastily assess for an entry point, he adds with a sinister tone, "You forced my hand."
Despite the searing pain in your shoulder and the fear gnawing at your senses, a twisted sense of relief settles in as you reach the back of the house. The knowledge that it's you who David is pursuing, and not Joel or Ellie, somehow grants you a twisted comfort.
“There’s no need to keep fighting me like this. It’s pointless.”
With trembling hands, you fumble to open the door, your mind racing faster than your jittery heartbeat.
The wooden door creaks open, revealing the dim interior of the house. Staggering under the weight of pain and panic, you stumble inside, the world spinning as you navigate the all-too-familiar surroundings from when you were desperately searching for any first aid for Joel the day prior, so you already know there is nothing here that is going to help you. The urgency of your situation intensifies, and you quickly slam the door behind you closed.
The house offers a brief respite from the relentless blizzard and the immediate threat of David's pursuit. As you move deeper into the residence, your unsteady footsteps echo against the worn floorboards. The muted sounds of the storm outside contrast with the thunderous beating of your heart.
A narrow staircase comes into view, and with each step, your legs feel heavier, like lead. The ascent is a gruelling task, with your battered body protesting with every movement. As you reach the top, you catch your breath, realising the vulnerability of your situation. You're wounded and isolated, and you're at the mercy of your surroundings and David.
Summoning the last reserves of your strength, you push forward, weaving through the upper floor. The pain in your shoulder becomes an unbearable companion, gnawing at your resolve, and your vision blurs. A distant bedroom beckons, and you stumble towards it, guided more by instinct than conscious thought.
With each step, the world becomes more of a blurry haze. You push the bedroom door open with a light swing, revealing your final refuge from the chaos. Collapsing against the far wall, behind a double bed, you sink to the floor, your breaths ragged and laboured. The room spins around you as you succumb to the exhaustion, your body finally finding a momentary sanctuary amid the turmoil.
The unmistakable echo of a gunshot reached Joel's ears, shattering the relative silence of the basement and snapping him out of the uneasy rest he had slipped into.
It felt like just moments ago that he had watched you leave, resolute in facing danger to protect him and Ellie. The mental image of you willingly sacrificing yourself for their safety wound around his heart like barbed wire, each beat accentuating his feelings of pain and helplessness. Staring at the closed door, he had been consumed by profound desperation, silently yearning for you to turn around and come back to them, to him. But, as the seconds ticked away, it became clear you weren't coming back.
Ellie's eyes had met his, her dark pools of pleading tears watching him as the weight of sleep threatened to pull him under.
"Joel! Wake the fuck up! We have to go!"
Suddenly, Ellie was gripping his shirt, the surge of adrenaline from the shock of it all combatting the heaviness of his slumber. The gunshot's resonance wasn't just a haunting echo of his nightmares about Sarah; it was the stark reality now centred around you. Whether you were the shooter or the one being shot at, Joel couldn't allow himself to stand, or rather lay, by while you faced danger, even in his weakened state.
"Joel!" Ellie repeated, shaking him just as furiously as before. "Fuck, wait a second."
She disappeared from his sight for a moment, peripherals included, and for some twisted reason inside of him, the thought of her leaving too made him even more scared. He couldn't lose both of you.
"Ellie," he called hoarsely.
She was back within a few moments, seemingly fueled by the sound of his voice as she kneeled beside him, syringe and medicine bottle in hand. "Yeah, I'm here. Just give me a minute. I've never done this before."
He held still, barely breathing as the needle pricked his wound once more, not wanting to freak the kid out any more than she already was.
"Ellie," he repeated. Her eyes fell to his as she continued to plunge the syringe slowly, just as she had watched you do so many times. Her dark eyes were still watery and held so much fear that she attempted to hide with her otherwise stoic expression, barring the slight trembling of her lips. "It's...it's gonna be okay."
"Yeah," she nodded, though her gaze fell away from him as if she didn't believe him. "I know."
Silence settled between them, a void that you typically filled. As Ellie withdrew the syringe, returning it along with the medicine to her bag, the echo of a second gunshot pierced the air, prompting them to exchange uneasy glances.
The heavy footsteps from above spurred Joel into action, breaking the inertia that had held him for days. He staggered to his feet, his unsteady legs protesting disuse, and gently guided Ellie into the corner beneath the stairs. Pressing his rifle into her hands, he saw the horror in her eyes. A shake of his head preceded his retrieval of her knife from the bag.
"If anything goes wrong, you shoot and run, alright?" Her mouth opened, but he silenced any objections, his tone unwavering. "No. No questions, no smart remarks. You run."
Joel's voice carried a resolute authority, his eyes revealing a blend of concern and determination. Ellie nodded, her grip tightening on the rifle as she comprehended the gravity of the situation.
The clamour above intensified, muffled voices now accompanied by the crash of furniture in front of the basement door.
Time seemed to stretch as they waited, breaths suspended in anticipation. As the footsteps finally seemed to reach the top of the stairs and the door opened, Joel whispered one final directive, his voice barely audible.
A tender touch, brushing hair away from your forehead, coaxes you back to awareness. Initially feeling numb, the haze lifts as you blink away blurriness, and the searing pain in your wound snaps into focus. A cry escapes your lips, and instinctively, you reach to cover the injury, as if the pressure could quell the pain. Surprisingly, a make-shift bandage is wrapped around the bare skin of your shoulder, and as you withdraw your hand, you find no fresh blood, only the remnants of dried staining from before.
A fleeting sense of relief washes over you when you suddenly realise someone is taking care of you; you've been saved.
"You were lucky; I'll give you that."
Anticipating Joel's deep, somewhat soothing tone, the sudden and chilling sound of David's higher voice jolted you. Startled, you looked up and blinked rapidly, only to find the devil himself kneeling in front of you, his hand resting on your cheek.
"Getting the jump on us like that. It was smart." He chuckled slightly, unsettling you further, prompting an instinctive flex of your fingers to search for your rifle. It must have been moved, and you think you can see the handle just behind him on the bed. The sheet on top of the mattress appears to be torn, evidently being what was used to conceal your wound. "I won't say it'll earn you many brownie points with the folks back home, but I understand. I understand why you did it."
You draw in a shaky breath, attempting to breathe through the pain and panic, while desperately searching your mind for any semblance of a plan.
David withdraws his hand from your cheek, replacing it with two fingers on your neck's pulse point, holding them there for a moment. "You know, I was worried you weren't going to wake up at all."
You make your best attempt to shrug him off, disliking the sensation of his cold fingertips on your skin. Despite your weakness, you glare up at him and retort, "You should be more worried than I was."
He smiles with a glint of amusement in his eyes, and you despise the gut-wrenching feeling of vulnerability blooming in your chest at the notion of being stuck in this man's presence. A chuckle escapes him, and he sucks his teeth before raising his hand, causing your head to snap to the side as the back of his hand connects with your cheek, a ring on his finger slashing your cheek upon impact.
Stunned to silence, you manage only a few heavy breaths as blood dribbles down your cheek. Eventually, you compose yourself enough to meet his gaze once more.
David releases a heavy sigh, observing you with a gaze that combines pity and satisfaction as he sits back on his knees.
You glare back at him, biting back a snide comment.
He smiles, releasing a soft chuckle. “You’re so much different from the women back in my village. They’re so docile, complacent, and scared of their own shadows. You, on the other hand, are feral. Violent. A murderer.”
You swallow uncomfortably, unsettled by the excited glint in his eyes as he gazes at you.
“I like that. It’s realistic. A woman who does what she has to do to get what she wants. It’s the only way to survive, right?” David smiles, reaching out to clasp your limp hand that sits on your lap. “We’re very similar in that way. We do what we have to do to provide for the people who rely on us. No matter what, right?”
You fight the urge to snap his fingers in your palm, feeling his thumb stroking roughly over your skin, a poor imitation of Joel's comforting touch from only hours ago.
“You see, I’m not your enemy here.” He whispers in an attempt at a soothing tone. “I never have been. In fact, I am your equal, and in being that, I believe you would make the perfect addition to stand by my side in leading our people through the darkness that this winter has brought.”
You shake your head, but he raises a hand and emits a shushing noise.
“I know. It’s a hard concept to grasp when you’re in this fight-or-flight headspace. I’m sure you feel you won’t be accepted by them for all your sins and for all the heartache you’ve brought to our community, but they, as well as you, will come to understand, in good time, that reformation is indeed possible.” He squeezes your hand tight—so tight that it becomes uncomfortable very quickly. You breathe your way through the pain. “And if you can’t, then you can provide for our community in another way.” He lifts his other hand to lift your chin, forcing you to meet his eyes. “My people are hungry, you see. I wouldn’t be a good leader if I didn't do what I needed to provide for them, despite sacrificing what would be the closest thing I have to my equal. You understand the necessity of that, right?”
A sickening feeling churns in your stomach. Whatever he has in mind for you is likely nothing you want to endure. You bite your tongue, resolved to maintain composure and conceal your fear.
“And then, I suppose, your daughter will be the one to take your place beside me.”
Your entire body tenses, and he seems to notice the fire blazing in your eyes at the mention of Ellie, a light smirk settling on his lips.
Quick to wipe it off, you wrap your palm around his middle finger and tug it back with all the strength you can muster, causing a sickening crack as it breaks, ricocheting around you. He lets out an anguished cry of pain, filling you with relentless satisfaction. As he releases your hand entirely, you shove him backward and use the wall to guide you to your feet.
Rushing for your rifle, your movements are short-lived as you feel his hand wrap around your ankle, grabbing hold of you. Swinging your arm around to hit him, he tugs you forcefully via your arm, causing you to flop face down on the floor beside him.
Releasing angry pants, he flips you over onto your back and uses his free hand to press down on your wound, keeping you down and eliciting a cry of unbearable pain from your lips.
“There it is. There’s that fight in you I like so much.”
You spit at him, aiming directly for his face, and raise your knee to strike him in the crotch. He releases your wound, and you take a sharp intake of breath, readying your hand to deliver a strike to his face. But he's too quick, grabbing your wrist and yanking it hard, exerting so much force that you feel your arm being ripped out of its socket.
A blinding wave of pain overwhelms you, bringing all your struggles to an instant halt. Your pain threshold has been entirely depleted. You're done fighting. It's all too much.
He clears his throat as he shifts to hold himself above you, his gaze a mix of satisfaction and disappointment as he looks down at you.
“Is that all you’ve got in you?” He laughed breathlessly. “I’m disappointed. Underneath all that strong facade, you’re just the same as every other woman. Weak. I should’ve known you’d end up just the same: under my mercy."
Your strength waned, unable to conceal the overwhelming fear as his weight bore down on you, and instead, you opened your mouth, releasing a gut-wrenching scream.
It was guttural—the scream that tore through the streets—and it sent a shiver down Joel's spine. Ellie was huddled at his side, his arm protectively encircling her, marking the first substantial contact between them. The moment he tensed, he felt her reaction mirror his own.
Joel held tight to Callus' reins in his other hand. Although logic dictated that he and Ellie should be riding towards your safety, the events in the basement lingered in Joel's mind. Forcing two out of three men to reveal your whereabouts, even with Ellie upstairs and out of direct earshot, it had been a traumatic ordeal for the both of them. Joel couldn't deny Ellie the comfort of being close to him after such a harrowing experience. Contrary to his initial fears, it became evident that Ellie wasn't terrified of him; in fact, the very opposite seemed true.
'"That's her," Ellie said through chattering teeth as the biting winds whipped around them. "We have to help her."
Joel nodded, his gaze firm and determined, tugging Callus along once more. "We will. We'll get to her."
Once again, your scream, fraught with fear and desperation, reverberated through the desolate streets. The chilling sound momentarily froze time, leaving Joel feeling utterly helpless about where to go or how to reach you. The haunting silence that followed became almost unbearable, casting an oppressive weight on Joel's chest, which he tried to ignore with every stride he took, Ellie in tow.
Abruptly, just as it had ceased, your screaming resumed, and Joel couldn't summon the strength to look down, yet he could feel Ellie's tears soaking his shirt. Each agonising note sliced through the air, and this time, it seemed to pierce Joel even more deeply than before. The raw, visceral sound of your distress clawed at his heart, dismantling any remaining walls that held back his emotions towards you. He despised that sound—the sound of you in pain, the sound of you scared, the sound of you broken—and silently vowed to do whatever it took to never hear it again.
However, amidst the torment, there existed a perverse sense of gratitude. Your screams served as a guiding force, leading Joel, Ellie, and Callus through the relentless blizzard in pursuit of you. A steely resolve tightened Joel's jaw, determination etched across his weathered face as you fell silent once more, only to start screaming again seconds later. The idea of you enduring suffering was unbearable, and an urgency to reach you surged through Joel's veins, propelling their movements forward through the biting cold.
Reaching the front of the house from which your screams echoed, Joel gently pulled away from Ellie's trembling frame. He tried to ignore the way she instinctively sought to move closer, holding her by the shoulders. "I need you to listen to me, Ellie."
Her face was pale, tear-stricken, and concerned, lacking the strength to argue. She nodded in response.
"I need you to ride Callus to the furthest house away, to the very last one in this neighbourhood, okay? Not one sooner. The very last one."
Her lips parted, wobbling, but your scream from above tore every word from the tip of her tongue. She made her way to Callus, placing one foot in the stirrup before Joel helped launch her onto the horse completely. He held back a wince as his wound ached with every movement, and raised his rifle for her to take.
"I'll come and find you as soon as we're out. You don't leave for anything. You stay right there, hidden, until we come back. Got it?"
Ellie took the rifle, slugging it onto shoulder, before gripping Callus' reins and nodding. "Got it."
"Good." He hummed, stroking Callus' side before meeting Ellie's eyes. "Go on."
She simply sniffled, murmuring, "Let's go," to the horse before she and Callus thundered off down the street.
Joel watched as Ellie rode away, his rifle slung over her shoulder, and as he turned back towards the house, it took him about a second to realise you were no longer making any noise, and it only took half of that time to send him into utter panic.
The carpet beneath your fingernails was the only sensation you registered as David's hand coiled around your throat, tightening its grip and stifling any more attempts at screaming.
You weren't fighting back anymore. You couldn't. You'd lost it all the moment David had you pinned down and injured. The likelihood of Joel succumbing to the brutality of David's men gnawed at your conscience. Imagining Ellie, now alone and convinced you were lost too, fighting desperately to escape their clutches added another layer of anguish to your already shattered resolve. You didn't want to risk that becoming a truth, and so you just lay there.
Time seemed to stretch with each agonising blink, your eyes lingering shut for longer intervals. As David's suffocating grip on your throat gradually released, you struggled to focus through the haze. His lips moved, likely weaving a twisted soliloquy, but the only sound that reached you was the persistent thud of blood coursing through your veins. Each breath you managed to draw felt like a desperate attempt to refill your lungs, your chest heaving with the effort.
His vice-like grip on your neck finally released, and as you dared to steal a glance downward, all you saw was his hand moving towards his zipper.
You clutched at the carpet, fingers digging in, and drew in a wheezy breath, steeling yourself for whatever might come next.
David's face and body loomed over you, paralysing you with fear. Just as you thought it was all over, the sudden impact of your rifle against the side of his head sent his looming figure crashing to the floor beside you. Through the haze of your vision, you could vaguely make out a blurry figure in a brown coat gripping your rifle and ruthlessly slamming it down repeatedly onto what appeared to be David's body.
Unable to discern many words, you could only catch snippets of angry and pained sounds. Fear gripped you, but in a moment of reprieve, you managed to turn on your side. For perhaps the first time since you woke up, you felt a semblance of relief, as if you could finally afford to breathe again.
Your body ached, and your lungs burned with each precious breath of fresh air, reminiscent of a dog lapping up water on a scorching day. Curled into a foetal position, the only sounds that reached your ears were the haunting echoes of sniffles and whimpering. It didn't take long for you to grasp the painful realisation that those anguished sounds were escaping your own lips.
A hand gripping your ankle jolts you into immediate action, fearing the worst. A distressed wail escapes your lips as you kick out, refusing to glance at the person who has a hold of you. Slowly crawling away, you use your uninjured arm to support yourself, doing your best to fight the searing pain flowing through you.
The hand lets up, and then it moves to land delicately on your back. Gentle and light, it hovers, assuring you of his presence.
Everything seems to move once more in slow motion as you continue to kick out, eventually flipping onto your side and meeting your would-be assailant's eyes once more.
His lips are parted, and he is speaking to you softly. His face is taut with concern, distress, and fear.
"..'s me; it's just me. It's me."
The sound of relief escaping you doesn't come close to the immense relief flooding your insides.
As Joel senses the realisation dawning in your eyes, his expression eases slightly, a fraction of his concern dissipating.
You can't help but avert your gaze, your eyes falling upon David's battered body lying a short distance away. The butt of your rifle, stained with his blood, rests by his side. It's evident that Joel has discarded it and hurried to your aid.
His touch on your cheek is gentle, coaxing you to meet his gaze once more.
"Look at me," he urges, his voice a comforting murmur. "You're okay. You're with me. Just keep your eyes on me. Keep focusing on me."
Your lip trembles. "J-Joel...he…he…”
"I know," he murmurs softly, his face etched with pain as he gently covers your hand with his own on the floor. The gesture makes you flinch involuntarily, and memories of David flood your mind. "I know, honey. I know."
The term is uttered with such tenderness, so delicately, that it catches you off guard. His eyes glisten with unshed tears as he regards you with the utmost care, as if he can hardly believe he's reached you in time.
Tears stream down your cheeks, unnoticed, until you feel his arms enveloping you. It's surprising the sheer gentleness emanating from a man hardened by years of violence, his fists having shed blood from countless adversaries. Yet here he is, cradling you as though you're the most precious gift, as if it's the most natural thing for him to do, as though he was born to love and protect you, no matter the time it took for him to realise it.
His hand finds solace in your matted hair, anchoring you to him as you weep against his chest. For a long while, he remains silent, allowing your sorrow to seep into him as if, by some miracle, it might alleviate your pain. You feel a shift in his posture, and then his chapped lips brush gently against your forehead.
Drawing back slightly from the comfort of his embrace, you meet his gaze.
"You're... you're alive," you breathe out softly.
The corners of his lips twitch up a little, and he nods gently down at you. "Your stubborn ass saved me, remember?"
"I... I had to. I couldn't... couldn't lose you," you respond, still teary-eyed. Your gaze darts around frantically for a moment. "E—Ellie? Where's Ellie? Did they get Ellie?"
Joel shakes his head quickly. "We... I got 'em, I swear. They didn't touch her. She's safe."
"They... they were really bad people, Joel," you whisper, a slight desperation in your voice, as if you need him to believe you, though you have no idea why you feel the need to justify it. "Really bad. They... they... the things he wanted to do."
Your gaze starts to drift back to David's body, but Joel gently redirects your focus to him with a tender touch on your cheek, his thumb wiping away the blood from where David's ring had cut your skin. "No, no. Don't look at him, alright? Just keep looking at me and listening, okay? Focus right here on me and me only."
You nod, your attention fixed on him.
“You did good, sweetheart. You did so good. You saved me and Ellie, and…and you’re still here with us. It was always going to be your life over any of theirs. You did what you had to do.”
Weakly, you nod and rest your trembling hand on his arm.
He glances down at your hand, resting his own atop it, and takes a breath. Using the next few moments to assess your condition, he notices the blood-soaked sheet wrapped around your shoulder, his face paling considerably. Then, his gaze falls on the swollen part of your arm where David has torn it from its socket.
He releases your hand and rises to his feet, prompting a soft cry of his name from you, as if he might leave you in that state.
"I'm right here. You're okay," he assures you, reaching down to cup your cheek. "I just need to... I need to help you. You're hurt, sweetheart. Just keep your eyes on me. I'm not going anywhere; I just need to..."
Glancing over to the bed, where the ripped sheet lies, he reluctantly lets go of you and strides over to retrieve it. Returning to your side, he offers reassurance. "See? I'm still here."
You watch him carefully as he tears the fabric apart with his bare hands, studying his every move.
"Joel," you say softly at first, catching his attention only when you repeat his name with a bit more urgency.
"Yeah, what's up?" He responds, turning to you.
"I'm... I'm glad you're here."
His worried expression softens, though concern still lingers in his gentle brown eyes. After a moment's pause, he replies, "Me too, honey." Taking a breath, he continues, "Now, I'm gonna ask you to do something for me, okay?"
You weakly nod your agreement.
"Just stay still while I see what I can do about your arm, alright?" he instructs.
He shakily reaches over to lightly press your swollen, deformed-looking arm, retracting his hand almost immediately when you cry out in pain. The anguish in his eyes mirrors your own hurt, and once the wave of pain has passed, you grasp his coat with your uninjured hand, murmuring your apologies.
"It's okay, it's okay," he reassures you softly, cupping your cheek and meeting your gaze with his intense one. "I need you to trust me for a second, okay? This is going to hurt, but you are going to be just fine, I promise. Everything's going to be okay."
Tears brim in your eyes, but you nod. "I trust you, Joel."
He smiles softly at you, leaning forward to press a kiss on your head before he reaches out and takes your injured arm's hand in his own. With a shaky breath, he asks, "Can you feel that?"
"Good. That's good." He squeezes your hand gently. "And you feel that?"
He squeezes once more, meeting your eyes. "Still with me?"
Taking a breath, he squeezes for the third time, a nervous expression clouding his face.
It takes you a moment to process his confession as pain overwhelms you. But when you realise what he has said, everything stops hurting for a moment, and a relieved tear slips down your cheek.
He smiles weakly back at you.
"Almost there, sweetheart," Joel murmurs, his hand light on your back as he guides you through the blizzard, mindful of your delicate state. "I've got you."
Your injured arm is cradled in a makeshift sling, and a fresh bandage, fashioned from the same sheet, is carefully tied over your bullet wound. Despite the lingering pain, being with Joel feels like a balm to your soul, as if you're walking on air. The thought of being reunited with Ellie soon fills you with hope, giving you the strength to keep moving forward, despite the weariness weighing down your legs.
Every little noise puts you on edge, whether it's the howl of the wind or the thud of snow against a roof. But Joel is there, a reassuring presence, whispering words of comfort each time you tense up, trying to reach for a weapon and inadvertently causing yourself more pain.
"Hey, hey, it’s okay," Joel assures as you come to reach the last few houses on the road, the sight of horse prints visible in the snow-covered ground. "Look behind us; look around. There is no one here but us. No one is going to hurt you, I promise."
You look around nervously, seeing that he is right. You are simply overwhelmed by paranoia right now.
“No one is going to hurt you,” Joel repeats gently, a change from his usual tone but a welcome one. You've never felt safer.
You nod, scooting closer to him all the same.
The horse tracks lead up to the final house on the road, and Joel is grateful that Ellie followed his instructions this time.
He shuffles as slowly as you need up the short distance of the porch steps, and when you both reach the top and you begin to lose your ability to keep moving forward, he wraps your uninjured arm around his neck and keeps you moving. “I’ve got you. You’re okay, sweetheart. You’re just tired, that’s all. You’re going to rest as soon as we get inside, alright? Talk to me; let me know you’re still in there.”
“Still here..." you assure quietly, though your vision is beginning to blur and darkness is beginning to form in your peripherals.
“Atta girl, stay with me.” He presses a gentle hand over your ear and pushes the other to rest against his chest. He raises his voice, though muffled to you, as he kicks the front door as he has no hands free. “Ellie! Open up! It’s us!”
By the time the door opens, you are halfway through succumbing to the darkness.
