For most people, the world ended on Outbreak Day. The infection spread and, in a matter of days, people went from living to surviving.
For Laurel, it was the opposite.
Her life hadn’t been particularly tragic or dark; she’d merely existed. She went where she was told and did what was expected of her. There were good days and bad days, laughter and tears. She kept to herself and checked off the appropriate boxes of her life, but with no real understanding of where she was going. What did she want? What did she love? What was the point of it all?
The only tragedy was that it took the downfall of society for her to find out.
Laurel wasn’t callous enough to say that the pandemic had made things better. Every day brought the same question: is it worth it to keep going? But the pandemic also brought her to Frank, who’d given her...everything. Friends, family, safety—a life in the middle of chaos and destruction. He’d given her purpose: helping others find theirs.
Summary: For most people, the world ended on Outbreak Day; for Laurel Haynes, it was the opposite. She wasn’t callous enough to say that the pandemic had made life better, but before the outbreak, she hadn’t had much of a life at all. She went where she was told and did what was expected of her; she existed. Laurel wasn’t sure she lived until she met Frank. Through Frank, she met Tess and Joel and Bill and Ellie. Through Frank, she learned what it was like to enjoy life, even when the world was crumbling around her.
Pairing: Eventual Joel Miller x FOC
Warnings: canon-typical violence, language, dark and suggestive themes. Subject to change, additional warnings per chapter.
A/N: I like a found-family, apocalypse slow-burn. So sue me.
Summary: Tess learns more about Frank on day one than she’s learned about anyone else in a long, long time. Surprisingly, she doesn’t mind.
Words: 2.6K
Warnings: guns, canon-typical angst, me filling-in Frank’s backstory because I can, takes place during the 1x03 flashback
A/N: Technically this is the first in my joel x oc one shot series. That said, Joel doesn’t have any dialogue in this and my OC simply isn’t there, so it can pretty much be read as straight fanfiction.
Masterlist | Next Chapter
August 2010
Tess was pretty sure she’d died and gone to Heaven. That, or she’d hit her head really hard. Hell, maybe she’d been infected, and this was some hallucination her brain had come up with while the rest of her body was invaded by cordyceps. That’d be fucking depressing, but she had to admit—this wasn’t a bad way to go.
She knew that it was a risk going to meet Frank in person; there hadn’t been an hour in the last week that Joel wasn’t reminding her of that. They’d only spoken on the radio, and everything he had to say was too good to be true: gated community, no infected, no FEDRA, stocked with supplies, and people willing to trade. Tess was prepared for it to be a trap, some kind of lure set up by FEDRA to catch smugglers in the act. At the same time, that was exactly why she wanted to go: no one else would be stupid enough to try it. If Frank was telling the truth, Tess and Joel would have access to resources no one else in Boston could dream of touching. “Good for business” would be an understatement. And if it was a trap…well, she’d trusted Joel to get her out of worse.
He hadn’t appreciated that argument when she told him. Now, though, he didn’t seem to have anything to say. Joel was a grumpy bastard at the best of times, but even he had a hard time complaining with a stomach full of venison and wine.
Tess took another sip from her glass—a sip of rich, delicious Cabernet out of a fucking crystal goblet—and shook her head in disbelief.
“Well, this really is—this is amazing.”
“Right?” Frank smiled and set about pouring himself another glass. He did a double take when he looked at his partner. “Can you not, please?”
Bill, the surlier of the two, reluctantly lowered his gun and clicked the safety on. He sent a dark look at Joel, sitting across from him. It didn’t escape anyone’s notice that the gun did not leave the table.
Joel nodded stiffly. “I’m the same way.”
“Oh, you’re a paranoid schizophrenic, too?” Frank asked dryly.
“I’m not schizophrenic,” Bill grumbled.
He glared at Frank, who was totally unfazed by his intimidating demeanor. Frank hid his smirk in his glass, his pinky raised with delicate poise. Bill might’ve owned the house, the traps, the supplies—but it looked like Frank usually called the shots.
Tess had to bite back her own smile. It was like looking into a mirror.
“Well,” she said again, clearing her throat to break the awkward silence, “can I just say, gun aside—which I get, by the way—how nice this is to have a civilized meal in such a beautiful place? It’s been so long, and…I mean, I wanna thank you, even if we don’t end up working together. I really needed this.”
Tess nodded to herself and left it at that. A part of her wanted to keep going—to explain that this felt like more than a meal or a break. It felt like stepping into a time machine and remembering the person she’d been seven years ago. It felt like some kind of cosmic reminder that she didn’t have to live the way she’d been living. There was still life outside the QZ, good people, peace. The whole world hadn’t gone to shit just yet.
Of course, she didn’t say any of that. She’d had two glasses of wine, but she was very aware of the way all three men were watching her silently. She was preparing a snappy line to cover her sentimental ass when Frank raised his glass.
“We are working together,” he assured her.
He gave Tess a knowing smile, and the way he held her gaze told her that he already knew how she felt. She didn’t need to say anything, because Frank was sentimental too. She grinned and clinked their glasses together.
Bill opened his mouth to complain, until Frank repeated, “We are.” At which point, Bill sank moodily down in his chair.
“You know what?” Frank dropped his napkin on the table, a mischievous look in his eye. “Let’s go inside. Tess, I wanna show you something.”
“No—”
“Actually, I have been wanting to see inside,” Tess said as she got to her feet. “Thank you!”
“Bring your wine—”
“Not inside! Frank!”
Frank ignored Bill’s shouting the same way Tess ignored Joel’s panicked expression. They grabbed their drinks and escaped toward the house, giggling like a couple of scheming schoolgirls. Tess spared one look back at the table, where Joel was watching her in betrayal. She winked, then followed Frank through the front door.
Shocking as the tidy lawn and flowerbeds had been, the inside of the house was just as baffling. Frank led Tess through the mud room, gesturing for her to wipe her boots on the doormat before stepping onto the ornate rug in the hallway. Tess couldn’t help but look around in wonder as she walked forward, taking in the paintings, the picture frames, candles, vases of flowers, stacks of books…
“I’m sorry about Bill,” Frank apologized, ushering Tess into the sitting room. “He’s an old grump with no manners, but he’s smart. He understands this a fabulous opportunity—for both of us. He just doesn’t like accepting help.”
“Oh, I know the type.” Tess snickered and peeked out the window at the front yard. “Do you think it’s okay to leave them out there?”
“Meh, they’ll be fine. It’ll be good for them to socialize a bit. Besides, I really do have something to show you. Let me just—” Frank took a hasty sip of his wine and placed the bottle on the coffee table. “—grab it from upstairs. Make yourself at home and I will be right back!”
He smiled, yet again, before scurrying upstairs.
Tess wished she could’ve made herself at home, because Bill and Frank certainly had a home, but she couldn’t bring herself to relax that much. As much as she teased Joel for his constant vigilance, she wasn’t any less paranoid. If she was, she wouldn’t have lived this long. So instead of sitting down on the couch and tucking into the wine by herself, she took the opportunity to poke around a little.
The centerpiece of the room was a grand piano, which Tess was too cautious to touch; some part of her was still hardwired to think of it as expensive. Instead, she opted to look through the desk in the corner, then the stacks of books on the coffee table, then the rows of pictures that lined the built-in shelves.
Most of the photos were old and yellowing, relics of a time long before the outbreak. Most of them showed an aging couple, a few family gatherings, a disgruntled kid Tess imagined to be Bill. He didn’t seem the type to move around. Chances were he’d planted himself at his childhood home, fortified it into a castle, and stood his ground. There didn’t seem to be any photos of Bill as an adult, before or after the outbreak. It looked like the electric fence and perimeter traps were his only way of personalizing the place.
Tess took a step closer to the shelf as a larger frame caught her eye. Inside were two Polaroid photos, slightly askew the way they were taped to the backing. They were creased and worn, but it didn’t look like the kind of damage that came from age; more like the way a book fell apart when you handled it too much.
On the right, Frank stood with his arm around a young woman, both of them smiling wide. Frank’s smile was natural, but the girl’s expression was forced, her eyes almost crazed as she strained her face into the biggest grin her muscles could manage. It was stupid and silly, an ordinary photo—which is why Tess did a double take at the second one.
The left picture was a candid of the same woman. It might even have been the same day, judging by her clothes. She was sitting in the grass, deeply focused on the book in her lap and totally oblivious to the camera pointed at her. In one hand, she twirled a short pencil; the other was resting on a semi-automatic rifle at her side.
Tess scanned the photos again to pick out the smaller details, ghosting a finger along the glass. It looked like they were at some kind of encampment in the woods, a fire going just outside the frame, some rusty cars blurred in the background. The girl’s face was dirty, a dark bruise blossoming on one temple. Frank was sporting some scratches too and, on closer inspection, he didn’t look much younger than he was now.
Footfalls on the stairs broke Tess’s train of thought. She quickly stepped away from the shelf and sat on the edge of the couch, just as Frank re-entered the room. He was carrying a large cardboard box, which he dropped on the floor with an unceremonious thump.
“Found it,” he said with pride, resting his hands on his hips. “We’ve got a little boutique just up the road. It’s a little upscale—dresses, heels, sports jackets, stuff like that—but I collected the more practical pieces. Should be some jeans in there if you want a fresh pair.”
“Wow, uh—yeah, that’d be great,” said Tess. “I’ve tried patching these a few times, but honestly, I think I’m making the problem worse.”
“What about you?” Frank asked. “Find anything interesting down here?”
“Huh?”
He nodded past her, and Tess followed his gaze back to the shelf…where she’d left her wine glass next to the frame. Fuck. A rookie mistake, and a bad one at that. She didn’t even remember putting it down.
“I’m sorry,” she apologized at once. “I saw the Polaroids and—”
“It really is fine, Tess. I’d be more worried if you weren’t curious.”
He chuckled as he walked past her, and though Tess was tense, he sounded genuine. He passed her wine back to her and picked up the picture frame, then joined her on the couch.
“So, you’ve got a camera?” Tess asked hesitantly.
“Yeah. Not something most people were looking to salvage back then.” He held the pictures out in front of him, smiling fondly. “Found it in an old department store while everyone else was digging for food. Laurel just about clocked me with it, but it was worth it.”
“Your kid?”
“No, no. Not in the traditional sense, anyway. We met in Baltimore QZ and—well, adopted each other, I suppose. Smartest woman I ever met.”
“Yeah?” Tess found herself smiling too, as if Frank was contagious. “She some kinda doctor or something?”
“Nope. Just smart. She knew a lot, learned fast, always quick on her feet. She…she saved my life, out there.”
Frank rubbed a hand along his chin, his solemn mood spreading just as fast as his smile had. Tess knew better than to ask any questions. The past was a sore subject for everyone these days. You never knew what kind of shit you’d dig up by asking, so it was safer not to say anything at all. Tess spoke about what was in front of her and that was it. Joel was the same way. So it surprised her when Frank continued talking unprompted.
“When Baltimore QZ collapsed…it was messy. FEDRA and the Fireflies were causing enough damage, and that was before the infected got in. After that, it was pretty much every man for himself. Laurel and I got out with a few others from our building, decided it would be safer to travel as a group. We figured we’d pick our way up the coast until we found another QZ to take us in.”
“You made it pretty far North,” Tess offered, mildly impressed.
“We had to,” Frank laughed dryly. “I mean, you know what it’s like, I’m sure. Most places are over-capacity already. Philadelphia, New York, New Haven, Springfield—they were either full or gone, so we certainly weren’t the only people out there looking for someplace to go. Between the raiders and—and the infected and the conditions and the lack of supplies…it was just me and Laurel by the time we made it to Massachusetts.”
This time, it took Frank a little longer to collect himself. He placed the picture frame down on the table and turned to his glass of wine. Tess wasn’t sure if it was more polite to give him some privacy or to sit there and wait for him to continue. Her conversation skills were more than rusty; the only person she talked to outside of making deals was Joel, and he made it easy by rarely talking back.
Tess glanced out the front window, checking that he and Bill hadn’t killed each other yet, until Frank cleared his throat.
“We almost made it to Boston, too,” he said softly. “We were only a couple miles west of here when another group cornered us. We were outnumbered and—well, I had a busted knee, so I wasn’t running anywhere. Laurel decided to lure them away and…that was the last time I saw her. I waited there for two days, but she didn’t come back.”
“I’m sorry, Frank.” Tess fidgeted and, worrying she might not sound genuine, added, “I’ve lost partners too and…it’s never easy. Sorry for bringing it up.”
“Oh, please—you didn’t.” Frank waved off her apology and shook his head. “No, I’m the one who started gabbing. You came here to trade supplies, not sob stories. I apologize.”
“No, it’s fine! It’s uh…nice, actually.” She was surprised to hear herself say it, more surprised that it wasn’t a total lie. “I don’t…talk much anymore. Like this, anyway. So…yeah. It’s fine.”
Frank considered her for a moment, thinking that over. He placed his empty wine glass back on the table and folded his hands together. “I know it’s silly, but…I’d like to think she’s still out there. That she found someone like Bill to take care of her, and…maybe she’s not that far away.”
Tess followed his gaze to the box of clothes, the cardboard marked with two pieces of masking tape: Woman’s Shirts, SM – MED.
“I don’t think that’s silly,” she assured him. “It’s…optimistic, but not silly.”
Frank chuckled and turned to look at her again. His eyes shone as he reached over to pat her on the knee. “You’re a good person, Tess.”
Immediately, a series of flashback played behind her eyes.
“I’m really not.”
“And I believe you believe that,” said Frank, “but I also don’t believe you’re right. I happen to be a fantastic judge of character. How do you think I weaseled my way in here?”
He gestured to the grand piano and Tess laughed. She really laughed, for the first time in what felt like a long time. She tried to hold onto that feeling as she and Frank dove into the box of clothes, sorting through what would and wouldn’t fit her, what could be repurposed, what was straight up ugly. And when she left, it was with a new pair of jeans and a strange feeling of hope.
It had been a risk, coming to meet Frank in person. Joel complained all the way back to Boston about how she’d abandoned him with Bill, how the trek was too long for regular trades, how she was out of her mind if she thought he was coming back. Tess couldn’t find it in her to care. Hell, she’d come back on her own if that’s what it took. If Frank was contagious, she wanted as much of his optimism as she could get.
me, looking at this 6-page plot document: it’s a one shot series it’s a one shot series it is just a one shot series it is only going to be a one shot series—
Summary: Tess returns a favor and gets a favor in return. Or maybe it's the other way around.
Words: 2k
Warnings: Pretty light. Mention of pills and alcohol, the nightmare of working in customer service.
A/N: Look, I promise Joel shows up eventually. I also want to thank @arrthurpendragon for giving this story a shout out the other day, and thus giving me the motivation to do another chapter. Genuinely, thank you for all that you do.
Masterlist | Previous | Next
March 2013
As it turned out, the doctor’s apartment wasn’t all that far from Tess and Joel’s. It was just on the other side of the main market, which meant you could cut straight through the heart of the city if you were up for it; most of the time, Tess wasn’t. She and Joel kept to the outskirts of the city by nature—less FEDRA officers, more shadows—but there were days where even recluses like them had to brave the city center.
It was one of the few times Tess was using ration cards to buy actual rations. Normally, you’d get a better deal trading with your neighbors than you’d get at the market, but things were always tough at the end of winter. Hunting was bad and supplies were thing, which meant FERDA held all the cards. It also meant the bastards could hike up prices as much as they wanted. Tess spent a small fortune and only walked out with two bags of jerky, a bottle of water, and one shitty excuse for an onion. It was a crap haul, but she guarded it carefully as she walked out the other end of the market; she’d been jumped for less before.
Thankfully, it was only a few minutes before she found herself climbing the narrow stairs to the third floor apartment. None of the buildings in Boston were exactly quiet, not when the thin walls were stained and starting to rot, but Tess noticed at once that it was noisier than usual. Her hand gravitated toward her knife, hovering cautiously as she moved toward the disturbance.
“I don’t understand, I gave you the shirts. You were supposed to fix them!”
“Kendra, there wasn’t enough to fix. As soon as I started to stitch them, the fabric unraveled. The best I can do is salvage them for patches and thread.”
“But I already paid you.”
“Yes, I get that—”
Tess relaxed, hand falling back to her side. She’d had this conversation before. No matter what business you were in, customers were always a pain in the ass.
She knocked loudly on the door, which caused a slight pause in their argument.
“Just a sec! Look, Kendra, I can give you the rations back plus a few more for material—”
“I don’t need rations. I need shirts, so—can you just give them back?”
“Can—no! I just told you they’re unravelling. You could punch a hole through this fabric.”
“Well it wasn’t like that when I gave it to you.”
“Yeah, because I had to stab it with a needle. Which you paid me to do.”
“No, I paid for shirts, so—I don’t know! Give me other ones!”
“Oh, please—”
Tess slammed her hand against the door as hard as she could. Someone across the hall shouted for her to keep it down, but she ignored it. She’d rather kick the door in than listen to any more haggling; before she could, the door flew open.
“What the hell do you—oh…” The doctor stopped short, rage disappearing. She looked hurriedly up and down the hallway and tucked her short hair behind her ears. “Just hold on—”
“We need to talk,” Tess said firmly. “Now.”
She invited herself into the apartment and made a beeline for the couch. She took the liberty of making herself at home, kicking her feet up on the table, and raising an eyebrow at the shocked blonde woman across from her.
“Excuse me,” the woman said, aghast. “I was in the middle of—”
“Trying to con this woman out of some shirts—yeah, I heard. Scram.”
“C-con—excuse me? What I’m doing here is none of your business!”
“Lady, you made it my business when you started screaming for the whole complex.” Tess sat up abruptly and leaned forward, smiling when the other woman stepped back. “Now I don’t know how someone with the name Kendra survived this long in the apocalypse, but a little insider tip: if you’re that desperate for shirts, I know a few people who could make some out of you. Got it?”
She got a special kind of joy out of watching the lady squirm, her jaw dropped open wide as she scrambled for some kind of response. Luckily, her host put her out of her misery.
“Come on, Kendra,” the doctor sighed. “We’ll talk tomorrow.”
She led the shell-shocked woman out into the hall, pushing her the last few feet so she could close the door as fast as she could. She promptly sagged against it, dragging her hands down her face. Through her fingers, she glared at Tess.
“Thanks for that.”
“You’re welcome,” Tess said, without any sense of irony. “Chances are no one will fuck with you now.”
“Yeah, because they’ll all think I’m mixed up with a bunch of psychopaths.”
“You are.”
“Shut the hell up, Tess.”
The woman rolled her eyes and flipped her off, then turned her back as she walked to the kitchen. It was such a stark contrast to the speechless blonde that Tess could’ve smiled—she didn’t, but she could’ve.
“I got rid of her,” she said instead, “and Doc Laurel didn’t have to play the bad guy. Call it another favor.”
“Right. All this because you want me to cook for you.”
Tess actually snorted. “Cooking’s a strong word.”
“Oh, is it?” Laurel asked. “You do it then.”
She raised her eyebrows pointedly, then returned to the glasses she was grabbing from the cabinet.
There weren’t many people in Boston who could get away with talking to Tess like that; Laurel had become one of a rare few.
Tess wouldn’t have used the word “friend”—fuck, she didn’t even know if she’d call Joel a friend; the word felt pointless in the world they were living in—but Laurel wasn’t a stranger. Not a partner, but not exactly an acquaintance either.
Over the last five months, they’d fallen into a mutually beneficial relationship. It was supposed to be over and done with after Tess returned that damn blanket, but then it’d been Laurel’s turn to ask for a favor.
“Hey, you uh—you’re a trader, right?”
Tess had stopped in the hallway, turning back with an incredulous look. “Excuse me?”
“You trade…stuff,” Laurel attempted to clarify with a shifty glance down the hallway.
“Jesus—” Exasperated, Tess brushed past her and stormed back into the apartment. She didn’t continue until the door was closed tight. “If you’re looking for more pills, it’s gonna cost—”
“No, no, no,” Laurel jumped in. “Not pills—alcohol.”
“Go to a damn bar.”
“You and I both know that watered down crap isn’t worth a damn. I need something stronger.”
Tess had cocked an eyebrow. “For cleaning or drinking?”
In return, Laurel had shrugged. “Both.”
Despite her annoyance, that was an attitude Tess could respect.
That had started a long chain of transactions—booze for fresh socks, hygiene products for hidden pockets added to their clothes, medical supplies for rations that were actually edible…
“Yeah,” Laurel announced, inspecting the crappy onion Tess provided. “I can work with that.”
She put it aside and turned her attention to the rest of the food. One bag of jerky went back in Tess’s pocket while the other was emptied out into an empty coffee can, followed by the bottle of water. Laurel briefly climbed on to the counter, reaching over the kitchen cabinets and blindly searching until she found what she was looking for. When she hopped back to the floor, it was with a small jar of onion powder. Tess still wasn’t sure how she made it, but she really didn’t care. All she knew was that it masked the sickening taste of the FEDRA jerky, and that made it well worth a trip through the market.
Laurel added a dash to the coffee can, sealed it up, and gave it a quick shake. Then she placed it on the counter and held up her hands, wiggling her fingers for added effect.
“Thanks, Chef,” Tess scoffed.
The jab went unacknowledged as Laurel grabbed a hunting knife—previously provided by Tess—and stabbed it into the onion. She got a few slices in before her eyes flicked back up to her guest.
“Can you entertain yourself for half an hour?”
“Yeah.” Tess pulled a flask from her jacket and, this time, she did smile. “I can work with that.”
After that, the apartment fell quiet, silent expect for the rhythmic thunk of the knife and occasional turn of a page as Tess sat on the couch and leafed through one of Laurel’s books. She’d been expecting—well, she didn’t know exactly, but something to read for starters. There were some novels, sure, but most of them seemed more like workbooks, full of grids and pencil marks and mixed up letters. Tess flipped through it for a few minutes, reading the instructions, before she gave up.
“The fuck do you have this for?”
“Hm?” Laurel briefly looked up from her so-called cooking. “It’s a puzzle book.”
“Yeah, I know that. I’m not blind. I mean why do you have it?”
“What, just because it’s the apocalypse, I can’t have hobbies?”
“Sure, you can, but you already sew and stitch people up for kicks. I figured you’d want to double down on that instead of useless brainteasers.”
There was a moment as Laurel finished her dicing, scraping the bits of onion onto a scrap piece of metal and placing it on the window sill. When she turned back to Tess, it was with a thoughtful frown.
“I like having something else to think about on community shifts. Goes faster.”
Tess grudgingly tilted her head in agreement, but didn’t comment. Even living with Joel, smuggling high-demand goods, she had to work community shifts. Sweeping the street, shoveling shit, burning bodies, and starting all over again—it was bleak work. No wonder Laurel would rather focus on a riddle or code or some shit instead of the weight of a kid’s body.
“It keeps me sane,” Laurel said simply. “That’s not useless. I learned that real quick. When this all started, I used to—”
“Uh-uh,” Tess interrupted, raising a finger. “Nope. No backstories.”
Laurel huffed, but held up her hands in surrender, turning instead to pour herself her own drink.
No backstories. That was the rule they’d settled on. It was a rule Tess tried to live by, wherever she could. Knowing people meant understanding them, and that meant sympathy, emotional connection. That was a risk she couldn’t afford to take. She was already on a slippery slope living with Joel, knowing Tommy, their relationship, their past, Sara…
No. Tess had no intention of handing out the details of her weaknesses. And she wouldn’t risk getting attached to anyone else.
Laurel plucked the puzzle book from Tess’s hands as she walked past. “I like cryptograms, so shoot me. What do you do for fun?”
“I don’t know, just…”
Tess trailed off. The word “fun” felt a lot like the word “friend”—pointless. What even qualified as fun these days? A day she didn’t have to carry corpses? Getting to take a hot shower? Blowing off some steam in a fist fight?
Not that she’d ever say it out loud, but the closest thing she had to “fun” was Joel. Fun was listening to the two cassette tapes they had over and over again. Fun was breaking into a shitty bottle of moonshine and talking about nothing and everything for hours. Fun was trying to play poker with half a deck of cards when they knew there was no real way to win. Half their shared moments were things she’d rather forget, things that plagued them both at night and made it tough to sleep, but the rest…
“Nothing,” Tess said at last. “You’re right. I don’t do anything for fun.”
“Clearly,” said Laurel, without looking up from the page. “Maybe that’s your problem.”
“Yeah? You gonna prescribe me a crossword, Doc?”
Laurel almost managed to hide her laugh in her cup. “Sure. Five letter word for Tess.”
