lilyevanstan1325 - Tumblr blog

lilyevanstan1325 · 6 months ago

Text

SO FUCKING AMAZING ❤️

Every word, every syllable gave me goosebumps!

Sis, you're so fucking talented.You are gifted and i thank you and God for sharing your gift with all of us 😍😍😍

SO MUCH TO LOSE Chapter 20: Footprints in the Snow

rating: 18+

words: 21.6k (y'all, I need a sugar mama to keep me flush because writin' this nearly killed me!)

a/n: Y'all, its here. It's over 20K. Happy birthday to me, and here is my gift to everyone who reads, comments, re-blogs and is in general such a positive part of my life. PLEASE let me know what y'all think.

masterlist here

Chapter 20: Footprints in the Snow

"Save who you can save."

Tess told him that once and that one sentence has played itself like a cassette running through his ears ever since.

Save who you can save.

He saved Ellie and he did it by killing people. He took everyone down who stood in his way without hesitation. But who is he saving now? Who is he saving by pushing you away? Himself? Because this doesn't feel like saving. It feels like agony. It feels like loss again, the kind that steals breath from his lungs, burning hot. The kind of loss that has him twisting in his sheets, waking up with tears on his cheeks.

And it never would have happened if not for that red fucking scarf.

Joel's feet feel heavy as he exits out the chapel basement minutes after Jennifer. Minutes after everyone nearby heard the crack of Jennifer's slap across his face. Snow is coming down harshly, a storm beginning. How appropriate.

Now as he moves from the building he can still hear the uproarious sound of celebration behind him. It will go late, like every year Tommy assured him. The entire town sleeps in the next day, hung over.

The cold bites through his well-worn boots as he walks away from the jubilation; he'll need new shoes soon. It doesn't matter though, he doesn't feel it. He can't feel anything but a sharp, stabbing pain under his ribs. A kind of sting as if a needle was thrust between each bone and twisted brutally.

His jacket is partially opened, thrown on haphazardly before stepping out into a snowy wonderland. It's coming down heavily, and normally he might find the sight beautiful.

But right now he's not convinced that there can be any beauty left in the world for him. Everyone has someone and who does Joel have? Himself. Alone, always. Alone with Sarah, raising her by himself, alone with Ellie raising her by himself.But he has to wonder if it's him. If he's just not meant to be happy.

And he doesn't begrudge his girls one bit, but fuck* he sure wishes there was someone else to share his bed. He wishes there was someone to exchange secret smiles over coffee with in the morning, wishes there were nights curled by the fire with Ellie sketching and Joel quietly practicing his guitar as someone rests their feet in his lap.

No, not someone. He wishes it was you.

The worst part is that it almost seemed tangible. Walking around that farmhouse he could imagine just that life. For a moment he envisioned taking your hand in his and tugging you into bed. Of you brushing Ellie's hair in front of the bathroom sink as the two of you laughed. You dressed in his flannel making coffee and tea and humming to yourself in the kitchen.

It's like he had a taste of a promised joy only to have it taken from him. It left him reeling, days in bed with swollen eyes and an ache that would not heal. Left him with nightmares that returned, ghoulish and terrifying.

It's too familiar, that cruel anguish of having lost something.

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

The cool of March was in the air, the heavy jackets of a brutal winter had slowly been traded for warm flannels, vests and in your case a bright red knitted scarf. If it hadn't been for the vivid color Joel doubts he would have ever noticed you before patrols. But as it was, the red was like a slash of crimson around your neck, a beacon amongst the neutral colors of the dining hall in Jackson city.

Joel had walked in with Ellie, grabbing something to eat as she begged again to be taken on patrols. They had been in Jackson for less than two months and she was still adjusting. She was still whining to him when they took a seat at the back table.

"Ain't happenin', kid. Eat your muffin."

Joel was back to drinking his coffee, waiting for her verbal retaliation when he saw a flash of red in his peripherals. Something about the crimson color set his heart pulsing, the reminder of blood, of death and he felt that familiar sense of anxiety start to make his heart pump faster. A panic attack.

He gripped under the table for the wooden leg, inhaling through his nose and exhaling slowly as Ellie chattered on, oblivious. He didn’t want to alarm her. He'd learned to calm himself down during these episodes, regulating his breath. As he did this Joel's eyes darted between Ellie and the flash of red swimming between folks grabbing their breakfasts. With his blood rushing in his ears Joel watched the owner of the red scarf walk through the throng of morning patrons, their face and body shown for the first time.

You.

You flashed a brief smile at someone who greeted you in passing in on your way to find somewhere to sit, but Joel could immediately tell you were uncomfortable. It was there in the way you held your mouth to the side, the smile that didn't reach your eyes, the way your fingers gripped your tray so tightly your knuckles paled.

He watched you pass by his table and move to a more secluded one under the window, the highlights in your hair catching the sun from the day, the yellowed pages in the book under your arm, the texture of your red scarf so clear. It's like he was seeing everything about you in high definition.

"Are you listening to me?"

Joel's heartbeat had returned to normal and he glanced over to a quizzical looking Ellie with peanut butter on her cheek. He gave her an indulgent smile, shaking his head in amusement.

"Course I am you slob."

With a fatherly roll of his eyes he dabbed at her cheek with a napkin, even as she ducked away citing she wasn't a fucking baby. Before long she was starting in again, chattering about school and his attention couldn't help but drift.

You sat in the dining hall sipping your tea, bent over your book with your hair falling into your face and that scarf wrapped around your neck. Every so often you flipped the page or brushed the hair back from your face and he would see glimpses of your features.

You were attractive, sure. But there were several attractive women in Jackson. Beauty that was overt and commented on by others. However there was something else about you, something that he couldn't quite look away from. Maybe it was that you didn't try to talk to anyone, or that you scanned the space a few times, not quite comfortable. The look of someone always on guard. Maybe he related to that.

He didn’t understand what it was about that first moment with you that drew his attention, all he knew was that morning he couldn’t look away.

Then he and Ellie left for the chores a short while later and he forgot about the woman in the red scarf. His days were filled with a teenage daughter, with patrols, with contributing to the community. You were gone from his mind as other things crowded it- playing guitar again, helping Ellie set up her place in the garage.

It wasn’t until he walked into town one afternoon that he saw that flash of red again and he made note of the way you scurried from shop to shop. He observed how your head was always in a book or bowed, your posture not inviting company despite the smile you always had ready for anyone who greeted you.

You wore that scarf with you everywhere, trailing down your spine, thrown over your shoulder, wound around your neck. When he spotted you heading back from the greenhouse some mornings with a basket of vegetables for the kitchen crooked in one arm he couldn't help but keep his attention on you as he rode by you for the stables.

He was confused by this attention he spared for you. Other women in Jackson had made overtures since his arrival. He'd taken none up on it, still too fresh from the loss of Tess, not comfortable enough to let his guard down.

You didn't pursue him. You didn't spare him a glance when you passed him in the street. If your nose wasn't in a book you wore a look of contemplation, of inner anxiety that made him wary of you. He found out from observation that you worked for the kitchen doing prep. And for a while he stayed away from the dining hall, uncomfortable with the way he felt when he saw you.

But Jackson city was only so big.

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

The knock comes to your door not long after you've arrived back. You've pulled the dress from your body, pulling some stitches in the process but you don't care. You never want to see that dress again.

You never want to think about this night ever again.

You're in a robe when the knock sounds again, this time it’s a hard thump thump thump. You drag yourself to the front door, teeth clenched. If it's Joel on the other side of to this door you're not sure you're going to be able to contain your anger.

But it's not Joel. It's Jennifer, cheeks pink from the cold and eyes wide.

She doesn't even wait to be invited in; she just moves past you and takes a seat on the couch before the fire.

"Uh, do you want a cu-"

"Why didn't you ever say anything?"

Jennifer's voice is sharp, but sharper still are her eyes when they flick to your face. You stand staring at her, fingers grasping the edge of your robe anxiously.

"Why didn't you tell me?" she says in a way that dares you to lie. Despite this you try to avoid her inquiry.

"Tell you what?"

"That you have feelings for Joel," Jennifer insists, her voice rising. "That you've obviously liked him for a long time!"

"I didn't- I don't like him," you correct, cheeks flaming.

But Jennifer isn't listening, she's jumped up and is now pacing around in front of you, hand at her brow. Her crimson dress peeks out under her heavy jacket like blood.

"I'm not a fucking idiot," she seethes. "I saw how you both looked at each other just now." She shakes her head as if she's trying to deny it to herself. "You let me go on and on and this whole time you liked him? Why? You gave me advice on how to land him for fucks sake!"

No no no. This isn't how this was supposed to go. She was never meant to find out. Did Joel tell her?

"I wanted you to be happy," you explain, feeling your stomach drop. "You wanted Joel so I wanted you to have him."

"What? Like your sloppy seconds?"

Her normally sweet face is now contorted into something that's almost ugly. It frightens you, you've never seen her look this upset at you before.

"This is so messed up," Jennifer insists, shaking her head. "I tell you everything. Not just about Joel but about my life. And when you never gave anything back I just assumed you were shy or traumatized. But now I see that you're just sneaky and underhanded."

That feels like a physical slap.

"No Jennifer I'm not, I swear-"

"Have you fucked him?"

Your sharp silence and the way you drop your gaze to the ground is all the answer she needs. She gives a dejected huff of a laugh, head shaking, but slowly now. She gives you a once over, scanning you with a look of disgust.

"You know what's really awful about all of this? I really thought you were my friend."

You feel like a wounded animal, cornered by her inaccurate assessment. It makes you feel insecure and angry all at once and causes you to bare your teeth and clench your fists.

"You just wanted another person to study.”

Jennifer’s voice goes dangerously soft. "Excuse me?"

"Another way to pass some time, right?" You sneer, feeling a twist in your gut. "Jackson is pretty boring if you don't have a hobby."

Jennifer grimaces as you throw her words back at her. And now you feel that indignation starting to buoy you, making you turn spiky.

"You never wanted to know about me, Jenny. You wanted a project. Something fun to stave off the boredom."

"That's not true-"

"When did you ever ask me about myself when it wasn't immediately preceded by you wanting information on Joel, or to talk about Joel or Oliver or whoever else?"

Jennifer silent. For the first time since you've met her, the confidence has fled from her features. When you make a step towards her you're pleased to watch her take one back.

"You run through men for fun," you continue. "How was I supposed to know that you and Joel were the great romance of the century?"

"I never said -"

"You act as if you're so heartbroken, as if every other man in Jackson isn't in love with you," you continue, not caring that she's trying to speak. "As if Luke wouldn't get down on one knee and marry you tomorrow."

Jennifer blinks in confusion.

"Luke? Is that what this is? Luke likes me and you're upset?"

It's more than that, and something else entirely but you can't formulate the way to say it, you can't express that the feelings are jumbled inside of you and they don't have words yet.

"You could have any man in Jackson," you tell her tightly. "And you chose the one guy who didn't want you back. How unbelievable, someone doesn't want you, Jenny."

"Obviously he did until you walked in," Jennifer shoots back, her cheeks stained red. Her voice holds no conviction.

"Sure, Jenny."

The ugly monster inside of you is pleased with how Jennifer looks taken down a peg.

"I don't even know you," she says after a beat. "All I know is I want you to stay away from me."

"Fine by me. Better rush back to the dance. I'm sure Joel's cock needs warming."

She whirls from you, her boots slapping against your porch as she rushes away from your home. As soon as she's gone its like all the fight flees from your body, leaving you cold and devastated.

You slam the door with all your might, spine pressed as you slide down the wood and crumple onto the floor. Your bury your face in your hands and you let lose the tears and jagged sobs that you've been holding since the dance.

Now you really truly are alone.

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

"Got a new woman signed up for patrols with you Joel," Maria said over a family dinner at Joel's one Sunday.

Ellie was eating her carrots, sketching something in her book as the adults talked. At least once a month there was a family dinner hosted in one of the Miller homes and while every effort was made to keep the girl engaged, sometimes boring adult conversation interfered.

Douglas wasn't born yet, Maria was still plump and exhausted but beaming. She still had her hand in everything, still walked the perimeter of the town with that innate confidence she always seemed to possess.

"Mhm," Joel replied, distracted by the dam repairs from earlier.

"She's nervous though," Maria added, noting that her brother in law's distraction.

"Yeah, she caught me earlier today to say she hasn't got much experience," Tommy added, ladling mashed potatoes onto his plate. "Only shot small game."

Joel took note of this now, attention drawn to his brother.

"Why are you sticking me with someone who's got no experience?" Joel said with irritation clear in his face.

"Because we match up by skills," Tommy said chewing. "You know that. You’re the best shot, so you’ll train her."

Joel sighed, visions of a middle-aged woman with bad eyesight flooding his mind. Someone else to babysit during patrols. For a moment he almost wished he was worse at shooting.

"Which woman?" Joel asked her through a mouthful of potato.

"The quiet one from the kitchens. She usually wear a red scarf, her head in her book," Maria supplied as Tommy nodded. “Can’t remember her name right now, but she’s a soft thing.”

Joel felt his fingers tighten around his fork, his throat tightening.

You.

He reached for his glass, taking a deep gulp of water as Maria turned her attention to Tommy.

"Honey, you should help her, take her out for some practice," Maria told him. She shifted in the chair, wincing as a muscle in her back strained. “She seemed anxious about being put on patrols.”

"I can't, I still gotta prep stuff for the baby."

Maria rolled her eyes. "Tommy you're worrying too much."

"I thought you could give her lessons, Joel," Tommy said, breaking into his older brother's thoughts. "Since she'll be riding with you and all."

You on patrols with him? Hours spent in your company? The thought had his throat closing in anxiety. No. He couldn't do that. He shouldn't do that. Time spent alone with you? It would be a mistake.

"Yeah, yeah of course," Joel said, voice creaking. "Just gimme her address and I'll go tomorrow."

And then you were there in the flesh looking just as shyly at him as he knew you would. Only now he could see your socked feet, the length of your lashes and the curve of your cheek. You were so real and your house smelled of sweet baking and when you smiled at him in greeting he actually felt his stomach clench.

"You're the one that needed gun lessons?"

"That's me," you introduced yourself softly and Joel hated the way his heart throbbed at the sound of your voice. He couldn't understand his reaction.

"And you are?"

Joel didn't realize you'd prompted him for his name. Embarrassed he frowned.

"Joel."

You stepped back, silently inviting him into your home. It smelled amazing inside, like sugar and vanilla but he knew if he stepped into your home it'd be too much for him. He needed to keep his wits about him. He needed you to remain a mystery.

"Let's do this outside."

"Sure. But did you want a cookie first? I made some."

You'd made baking because he was coming over. You'd spent time and your rations to make cookies for a stranger. You were just as soft as Maria had implied. You were not a survivor.

He'd felt you at his elbow as you walked to the outskirts of town, patient and curious. You were observant; you listened when he instructed you. And despite the way you barely spoke Joel felt agitated.

He couldn't figure you out.

And because he couldn't figure you out he was irritated for the entire lesson, like a bear with a toothache. He was here to teach you survival and you were wearing sneakers, like the world outside wouldn't eat you alive. It was easier to be unkind to you, thinking he was doing you a favor by toughening you up.

"You should be wearing what you'll be patrolling in," he remembers barking at you. "Don't wear that scarf either."

As soon as your hand went to your bare throat Joel felt his breath leave his chest. The red scarf he'd first seen you in, the red scarf that haunted his fucking dreams. The one you clearly weren't wearing right now. The one he shouldn't know about considering this was the first time you were officially meeting.

"The red one I saw hanging in your house," Joel managed to get out, his eyes hard when you questioned him on it. "It's bright, you'll stand out."

And he stood away from you, sure to keep his body a fair distance from yours because the closer he got, the stronger a pull he felt. This urge to be gentle back to you. Joel Miller wasn’t a cruel man by nature, circumstance and experience had turned him so. But when affronted by your earnestness and gentle nature he felt a strange softening of his sharp edges. Like the old Joel who played tea party with Sarah, who bailed his brother out of jail, who never said a cruel thing about Sarah’s mom to her.

But that Joel didn’t exist. He couldn’t exist in this new world of infected and raiders and dog-eat-dog mentality that resided outside the walls of Jackson City. And he knew that better than most, so instead of giving into that weakness that whispered he should be kind, he did what he’d learned to do best.

He pushed you away, he wore you down with snide comments and scoffs and it was hardly a surprise when you'd announced you couldn't possibly be patrol partners.

Relief flooded his chest, knowing that there was no way he could concentrate with you around. Not in a way that would keep you safe. He could tell right now that you were soft through the shell you put up; delicate in a way you couldn't see in yourself.

And yeah, there had been disappointment as well in the coming days. A slight regret that he hadn't been gentler and allowed you to bloom. And maybe a bit of shame mixed in there too, a dash of irritation that you weren't plagued with him the way he was obviously becoming with you.

So when you told him to go to Tommy to switch patrols Joel had felt himself stiffen, features tight as he stared at you.

I should let her. This is what needs to be done. Us together on patrols is a disaster.

"You wanna be moved, you go to Tommy."

"You're saying you don't wanna be moved?"

The confusion was in your tone and the squint of your eyes. And that softness, that fucking delicate nature in you made him snap. All he could see was how easily you'd be taken advantage of by clickers, by raiders. And you were trying to tell Joel what to do?

It was only seconds before the toe of his boot bumped into yours, the flash of fear in your expression propelling him to continue.

"I'm sayin' you don't tell me what to do. I'm the one who gives orders. Not you."

His eyes had hardened, his shoulders squared as he marched away from you across the clearing. He internally congratulated himself for not showing you more kindness than he would anyone else. Only as he arrived home to an empty house with his insides still jumbled he almost tripped up to his bedroom.

"Terrible fuckin' shot," Joel grumbled, shrugging his jacket off and slapping it onto the nearby chair.

He paced around his bedroom; his foot falls heavy as he thought of the way your eyes had darkened when he told you he gave the orders. Only a flash of it, if he'd blinked he'd have missed it. But as it was he saw the way your pupils dilated, and the way your face pinked.

You'd liked it and that aroused a part of Joel he thought was long dead. It made him throb in his jeans.

"Useless," Joel told himself as he lowered the zipper. "She can't even hold a fuckin' gun properly."

He kept this up, telling himself over and over of all your shortcomings. Of your ridiculous cookies and your obscenely bright scarf. But even as he catalogued your failings he brought his cock out from his jeans, stiff and pulsing in his greedy palm.

"I should teach you something worth knowin'," Joel told your phantom image, the one that rested just behind his closed eyes. The one of you seated in front of him on your knees, gazing up at him with adoration.

And soon, all too soon Joel was on the bed, his back arching off the mattress as he imagined your mouth on the very cock he stroked furiously.

"Fuck, fuck,” Joel had groaned, the slick pull of his cock increasing in speed. "You'd be so fuckin' good for me, wouldn't you?"

Yes Joel.

"You want this," Joel all but shouted. “Fuckin' prove you deserve it."

The fantasy image of you that rested behind his eyelids smiled sweetly before opening her mouth and letting her pink, wet tongue fall delicately out.

Please, Joel.

Joel groaned, hating himself for doing this but unable to stop jerking himself off to thoughts of you on your knees for him. And when he came spectacularly it was your name he couldn't stop groaning.

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

It was for the best. It was for the best.

Joel feels numb all over as he repeats the night's events over in his mind as he crawls into bed. The look of pity in your face, the harshness of Jennifer's slap. The guilt warms his cheeks, causing him to wince.

He rolls onto his back, his mouth dry and his head pounding.

Why did you do it?

The creaking wood asks him as the snow begins to fall heavily out his window.

"I did it for her," he tells the ceiling in a desperate rasp, as if trying to convince the beams above him of his sincerity. "This is the only way to keep her safe."

How? How could you do this to her?

"She made me weak," he insists to the dark, cedar planks above him. "If I'm weak I can't protect her, I can't protect Ellie, I can't protect anyone."

His voice cracks now because it hurts to say out loud the words he's only thought. That he doesn't deserve what he can't protect. If he's not a protector what is he?

"I did this for love."

Nothing but the creak of the setting house is heard in reply. He is alone and his bed will remain alone until the end of time.

He recalls your hands. He doesn't know why, but he remembers how they looked in his as you slept. The soft skin such a contrast to his calloused fingers. The first part of you that willingly touched him.

Sometimes he lays in bed with his eyes shut. He unbuttons his flannel, exposing the gold of his skin to the air. He brings your face to mind, letting his fingers trail down his sternum and back.

It's not done with a sensual aim but as a soothing reminder of how you once touched him with the tender reverence of a woman in love. How he felt with every press of your lips to his that he was your choice, that he was yours.

Joel silently prays for a dream tonight. One where you hold him and kiss him just other that and you whisper to him that he's worth something. A dream where he holds you against his chest and murmurs how much he needs you.

Because it's only in his dreams that he didn't lose you.

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

Joel and Ellie had arrived with a carved rattle (from Joel) and a handmade card (from Ellie), eager to see the newborn Douglas. Maria was on the couch under blankets, holding tea and smiling exhaustedly as the two stepped into the room near the crackling fire.

"There you are," Tommy said with a proud smile on his face as he rocked his newborn. "Thought you should be the first aside from us to hold him."

"Oh yeah?" Joel took the proffered bundle into his arms a little clumsily.

"Yeah," Tommy nodded, giving a shy smile. "I mean, given his middle name is Joel n’ all."

The brothers exchanged a look, both misty eyed. Ellie watched them before peeking down at the infant, wrinkling her nose in disappointment.

"He looks like a potato."

Maria barked from her place on the couch as Joel and Tommy chuckled.

It had been decades since Joel held new life and he felt a bit uncertain as the child squirmed. But it came back to him soon enough, resting the child into the crook of his arm and gazing down at his gurgling nephew.

Joel looked down into the scrunched up face of the newborn and for a brief, flashing moment he saw his Sarah.

He saw his beautiful baby girl the moment she was handed to him in a bundle of pink, her eyes still shut and her face going red as she grunted and cried.

An eighteen and terrified Joel stared in fascination at the life he helped to create, feeling awestruck.

Joel's voice was wobbly and warm as he gazed down in fascination and said his very first words to her.

"Hey there, babygirl. You're okay, no need for tears."

And as soon as she heard Joel's voice his daughter's face smoothed in relaxation and although she was only hours old and far too young, Joel could swear there was a hint of a smile.

"She's already a daddy's girl," his girlfriend Gabby said in amusement from the hospital bed, exhausted but glowing. "Should've known."

They'd been together since they were in the same English class in the eleventh grade. She had a confidence Joel was drawn to, a sharpness that made him feel like he was always on the verge of losing her that drove him crazy as much as it made him hard.

The pregnancy hadn't been planned; it fucked with their college plans. But Gabby had a way of convincing him that their family of three would be worth it, that they could overcome the odds.

So Joel got a job on construction sites and she started working retail when Sarah was old enough for daycare. Grandparents were never in the picture for Joel, both parents dead years before. Gabby's family helped out with babysitting every so often, but then that stopped too.

It would be a year before Joel's girlfriend would have an affair with the new guy from her work. The one she got all twitchy talking about when Joel asked about her day over the dinner table.

Joel would like to think that it was all her fault, that being a mother was too hard because they were both too young. That being a teenage mother with a husband that worked twelve hour days was a hard load for her and that she was selfish.

He was so focused on his apprenticeship, on getting Tommy out of scrapes, on watching his friends go off to college, that there seemed to be nothing left to give the mother of his child.

But Sarah always seemed to fix the bad days. Her little giggle when he tickled her chubby neck, the sweet scent of milk and baby powder that clung to her, the way she gazed up at him with that big hazel eyes so full of trust. She filled his heart, she made the bad days good.

Gabby was jealous that all his softness and smiles seemed reserved for their daughter and told him so one night during what seemed to be an ever increasing amount of arguments.

Joel, exhausted from his day and frustrated with their cramped apartment and way she glared at him bit back.

"If I gotta choose where I spend my time, I pick her. She needs me."

"Of course," Gabby had scoffed. "I forgot, Joel Miller needs to be needed."

And she was right, that comment speared him because it was accurate. Joel spent so long being needed by everyone that when he wasn't it didn't sit well with him. And Gabby didn't need him, she never had.

So six months later when Gabby took off in the middle of the night with a note full of apologies and shitty half explanations about needing a fresh start, Joel wasn't even that sad to see her go because he had a young daughter who needed him and together with Sarah they could face anything.

Well, as it turns out, almost anything.

///

The first patrol with you was a disaster. He had to pull you along like a terrified animal, wide eyes and shaking. And he was furious about it. You had no business being out here.

He tried his best to train you. Forcing you along with him, explaining everything. You seemed to get better with time inside the safe house, but when he shot the doe he saw all goodwill sail out the window.

"You're a fucking asshole."

You were so furious, trembling with anger at him and Joel felt that same fury simmer in his belly. You were calling him an asshole? After all the trouble he'd gone to training you? Showing you how things worked?

You really were too fucking soft.

By the time the second patrol rolled around he was just as grumpy as when he'd left you the last time. He didn't look forward to having to cart you around.

But you were a natural on a horse, Chestnut gave you a confidence he'd never seen in you. He thought that maybe you had potential as he rode ahead of you, leading you down the trail.

But when you both entered the house and you fell against his back he felt his cock twitch at the contact. He was horrified with himself, shaking you off as the whistling sound upstairs belatedly coming to him.

You were a distraction.

When you dropped that pencil filling out the log books he'd hit his limit with your mess ups. He was looking for reasons to snap at you and you'd given him the perfect opening.

"You've been a fucking thorn in my side every fucking moment of today."

He wasn't expecting your fiery gaze.

"Maybe if you weren't such a miserable assh-"

He couldn't control himself, grabbing you by the collar and pushing you against the wall. You made him feel so fucking mixed up and he hated it. And then he said the words that would start this entire thing.

"Fucking smart mouth. Should teach you a lesson."

And then there was a shift. One so subtle he only realized because he was glaring at you. It was the way your pupils went from pinpricks to dark, glossy moons.

"Are you going to?"

"Going to what?"

"Teach me a lesson."

He was confused by your behavior, uncertain.

"You want me to?"

'You give the orders, Joel, not me. Remember?"

And fuck if that didn't go straight to his cock. He stared at you, not quite believing what was happening. He was so hard and you were still there just waiting for something to happen.

And it did.

“Take me outta my pants.”

He threw the gauntlet knowing you would never actually pick it up. He did it to prove you were just as weak as he thought you were. But then you did it, you slid your achingly soft hands around his cock and there was something about your desire to do this, to touch him, to listen, that made him heady.

It was a test, he told himself. He wanted to see how far you'd go.

Joel can still recall the way your soft hand slipped as best it could around his cock. The way he thrust into your hand, chasing the pleasure, closing his eyes and forgetting himself.

"Your hand’s soft."

And he heard it, the way your lips pulled back as you smiled up at him and he couldn't stand the sight of it when he glanced down.

Why were you smiling? He was being so cruel and cold. He was ordering you around and you were just happy about it? He had to cover your eyes with his hand to keep going because the guilt was starting to build.

"Much better at this than shooting, turns out your hands were just made for handling cocks, not guns."

He saw the way you scowled at his cruelty.

"Or maybe it's because you're not getting mad a-"

A new anger went through him. You were supposed to be afraid of him. You were supposed to be on guard, not talking back to him.

"None a' that. No smart mouth unless you want it fucked dumb."

Your reaction told him everything he needed to know. Yeah, you wanted it. Maybe even more than he did. And he told himself that it was a one off. That is was a lapse in judgment, a moment of weakness. He hadn't gotten off in a while and you were just there.

But it didn't explain why he started to search you out. Or why the following morning at breakfast he couldn't stop looking at you having breakfast with your friend. He tried to force his eyes back to his eggs several times, but the pull to you and your damn scarf wouldn't let him. Like a magnet they kept moving back to you.

It pissed him off.

When you suggested to him that Jennifer replace you on patrols, he should have been relieved but instead he'd been unable to contain his ire.

"Uh, you see that girl, Jennifer? The pretty one? She uh, she wants to be matched up with you on patrols. She told me. She's from B watch."

Joel knew Jennifer and he wasn't oblivious to the looks she'd shot his way since he'd arrived in Jackson City. But she didn't interest him like that; she was too young for him, too eager for eyes on her.

But you standing there suggesting you switch after you've made him come made him feel strangely offended. He was pissed that you were trying to change patrols. Because not only were you trying to tell him what to do but he felt ashamed that you seem so eager to leave.

But this is what he had wanted, right? To keep you away? To use you for pleasure and then be done with you? But he didn't let you off the hook and you didn't switch.

And he couldn't stop thinking about that day. Of the breathy way you spoke as you stroked him, at that eager expression you wore, wanting to please him. It shouldn't have appealed to him, but it did. You were his opposite in so many ways and it should have made him disgusted with you. But instead he found himself craving more.

Joel kept seeing you in town—walking to the stables, at the soap maker’s. When the three of you sat down for coffee with Hannah, Joel felt his stomach flip when you glanced his way, and he couldn’t understand it.

He didn’t want to think of you in a positive light; he really didn’t. But then, when Hannah mentioned the paper flowers at Tommy’s, he’d seen your flustered reaction and just knew.

When he’d dropped off your soap and saw the flowers on your table, he wasn’t surprised, but he was confused. Why would you do that? As far as Joel knew, you and Maria were barely acquaintances, and your reasoning for giving them to his sister-in-law?

“I like making people happy, I guess.”

There it was the long and short of it. That was the type of woman you were—doing for others because it made you feel good to do so.

And he felt it in his chest, that flicker of a candle starting up behind his ribs, warmth expanding, and it made him panic.

It was easier to keep you at arm’s length. It kept both of you safe on patrols to pretend you didn’t affect him. The worst part was that, around you, he was starting to see everything differently. Jackson wasn’t just a place of survival—it was a true community.

There were even moments he experienced at the Bison or strumming his guitar or laughing with Ellie over dinner, these snapshots of time that felt like the world hadn’t ended two decades prior. For brief seconds, he forgot about losing Sarah.

He hated you for it.

Hated that you made him feel weak in a world where he needed to be strong. He hated that you showed him these moments of reprieve from his guilt—he didn’t deserve it. He hated watching you fearful, inept, and soft on patrols. And so he distanced himself; he was cruel, thinking he was teaching you survival.

But it was impossible to truly distance himself because Ellie wouldn’t stop talking about you. How nice you are, how you can bake, how sweet you seem. Ellie isn't used to warm and gentle, she finds you even more of an anomaly than Joel. But instead of scaring her, she finds you fascinating.

"She says she can teach me to make pop tarts. I just need the recipe."

You existed in his home now. Infesting his brain and he didn't like it. Nevertheless it didn't stop the way he gripped himself in the shower to the memory of your eyes darkening when he asked if you wanted him to fuck your mouth. Didn't stop him from coming harshly against the tile, biting down on his lip to keep from groaning your name.

Didn't stop others from bringing you up either.

"How's that new woman working out?" Tommy asked him one day over drinks at the Bison.

Joel made sure not to tense his shoulders at the mention of you. Tommy was his brother, he picked up on the little things.

"Terrible fuckin' shot," Joel had finally replied with a sip of the gold liquid. Tommy had just rolled his eyes at his big brother.

"Anythin' good about her?"

He wanted to cuss his brother out for sticking him with some anxious mess when he saw the fatigue in his brother’s eyes. Maria wasn't well and Joel knew that he couldn’t very well add to his burden. So Joel paused thoughtfully, glass at his lower lip.

"She's a natural on a horse."

And a horse is where he ran into you next. In the pen with a calm Chestnut, attempting to shoe him. He was on one knee, holding the horses hoof in place. You were on his mind again, thoughts of the next patrol, and then like a dream he heard your voice.

"Hello handsome."

Joel swore he felt his heart stop. And for one delirious moment he thought you were talking to him. Then he heard the click of your tongue and the sight of your hand over the pen coming to stroke Chestnut's soft mane.

"It's getting cold, huh? Hope you're not too chilly in here."

Of course you'd worry about that. He wanted to scoff, but he couldn't find it in him to do so.

When he finally found an opportune time to stand, the shocked look on your face was almost comical.

"Jesus! You're like a pop up book from hell!"

He had to fight hard not to smile at your comically wide eyes and shouted response. But then you just kept staring at him with that open look and he felt himself growing spiky. He couldn't shake you.

Everywhere he went there you were. In his home filling Ellie up with dreams he couldn't give her. On patrols with your sweet hands and soft looking mouth. In town, over meals, it frustrated him.

But it also made him feel strangely warm.

"You still want that mouth fucked dumb?"

He'd considered never bringing any of it up again but your presence, the scent of your soap, the curve of your cheek, everything about you made him ask it. And then you'd replied, the certainty clear in your voice.

"Yes."

And that's when the trouble truly began.

Because you seemed to like it. He saw the way you willingly surrendered, the peaceful look that came over your features when you were on your knees for him. You didn't just want this, you needed it. You liked him ordering you around, you enjoyed that he told you what to do. He just couldn't understand why.

And your eyes heavy with arousal, your mouth full of him, full lips stretched and the tiny mewls you let out as you gazed up at him between his legs were too much for him. Because when you looked at him it felt like you saw him to the bone. That you saw he needed this as much as you did.

Don't look at me. Don't look at me.

Your eyes made him feel vulnerable and exposed in a different way. And in turn it’s like he could do the same. He could see the hurt in the depths of your eyes as you licked him slowly. And he found he couldn't have your shining eyes gazing up at him as he cruelly used your mouth.

And then he saw that red scarf that had haunted his dreams. He wanted it ruined, for the power you unknowingly held over him to be destroyed.

Fuck you, he thought as you took his cock deep into your throat that second and third time, fuck that red scarf. Fuck your sensitivity.

He fucked all that hatred, letting it spill down your eager throat. And he waited for that same hatred to grow in you.

But it didn't.

You had wanted him to do it—so eager, so willing. And he fell into the familiar role of giving orders, knowing they would be followed. There were days he didn’t know what made him come harder: you doing it, or you begging him to make you.

He couldn’t let you touch him during those times of intimacy. Joel felt that if he just used your mouth, it stayed transactional. Even when he called you a good girl. Even when he watched the way your mouth trembled around his cock.

But it was the sound of you reaching climax when you thought he was gone that made his legs shake. Despite having come minutes before he was hard as a rock at the whimpers and groans you tried to muffle behind the bathroom door.

Those noises haunted him before bed, cock in hand as he played those sounds over and over, knowing full well that you likely despised him. Knowing that they weren't for him.

The attraction was only growing stronger. He couldn’t deny it anymore or play it off as something else. He felt it in the hiccup of his heart when you passed by him in the dining hall or when he caught a glimpse of you smiling to yourself on horseback during patrols.

But he told himself attraction wasn’t anything to put stock in. After all, he’d briefly been attracted to that Jennifer girl when he first arrived. She was fine-looking, but there was a hunger in her eyes that had unsettled him from day one. Other women in town continued to pursue him, but there was something about your quiet intensity that kept his attention.

He kept you at a distance, knowing that softening toward you would be a foolish thing to do in this world. But you were there at the soap maker’s, at Maria’s, in town, at breakfast.

You were there, and he couldn’t stop looking for you through the crowds, couldn’t stop himself from pressing up against you in the booth at the Bison, fascinated to know what Tommy was talking about. He craved knowledge about you; he listened when Ellie dropped little crumbs of information about you.

You were always full of anxious frowns and pinched expressions. He got used to that perpetually concerned look you wore, the polite smiles you flashed at those who passed you in town. But they never really touched your eyes, never seemed to be sincere.

Joel supposes that's why he was so struck at how relaxed you grew in Tommy's living room right before his eyes, laughing and agreeing when Ellie called you weird, being so compassionate with Maria and then so delicate with the tiny Douglas in your arms.

And there Joel saw it, the first true, peaceful smile he'd ever been in the presence of. It struck him dumb, his eyes glued on your face as you cooed at the baby.

When Douglas gurgled, Joel inhaled softly as a broad smile overtook your face, genuine and ethereal, the kind that made your eyes squint and all Joel could think was that you were the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen.

He didn’t want more kids—not in this world and not at his age. But there was something about seeing your tenderness in that classically maternal pose that stirred something loose in him. The flame behind his ribs grew brighter.

He immediately chastised himself because he wasn't supposed to be attracted to you outside patrols. He was supposed to be able to use your body for gratification and that was supposed to be it.

He had a similar approach with Tess back in the QZ. His heart could never be touched, not when Sarah didn't exist. It was clear Tess wanted more, but she was grateful for what he gave her. Fucking, sleeping together, sharing bits and pieces of themselves.

But whenever Tess tiptoed too close to the secret, tender parts he tried to hide, he snapped shut like a clam. He wasn't unkind to her like he was to you, but Tess also never left him half as disconcerted as you did.

You set him on edge. You made him feel exposed and vulnerable, powerless to the emotions that stirred up in him when he was in your presence.

You weren't trying to be sexy, that much was apparent. The way you cowered behind him at the safe house, the skittering way you moved, brows tying together anxiously, the way you avoided his eyes.

The only time you were almost confident was on your knees with his cock in your mouth. Uninhibited behind the scarf, making delicate little hums around his length.

And yet thoughts of you drove him to distraction. It angered him to have no control over this part of himself. Control is all he knew, control was how he survived, how he kept Ellie alive.

But it wouldn't go away.

And he couldn’t stop the strange desire that overtook him when he watched you, couldn’t help but graze your body with his when you walked by him. Everything you did drew his attention, and soon he was finding reasons to catch glimpses of you between patrols. He watched you at breakfasts with Jennifer, walking on snowy days, talking with your neighbors.

And suddenly fucking your mouth was starting to weigh on him more heavily. How could you enjoy him ordering you around like that? But you'd been so clear-eyed, so sure of yourself.

"I think you need it the same way I do. Only you need to be giving the orders. Am I right?"

Yes. You were right.

"You've never given me anything I didn't want, Joel.”

And those words bolstered him. And when you sat at his knees and asked him to tell you what to do, Joel didn't want you to wear the scarf. Because now he wanted your eyes. He wanted to see how you were affected by everything. And when he came on your body he marveled at the way his spend clung to your skin, mesmerized at your beauty.

The urge to be gentle with you was all encompassing. Just one moment of being soft with you and then he could go back to being cold. Because being cold kept you safe.

Just lemme be soft with her. Just once. I'll only do it once, I swear.

And it was heaven feeling the silken sensation of your cheek against his palm. The light drag of his thumb along your plump lower lip.

And then you sighed at his touch and Joel saw the openness there in your gaze. A trust reflected there, one that he had not earned and he pulled back brutally, insisting to you and to himself that this would never happen again.

It couldn't happen again.

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

You can’t sleep.

Not after Jennifer blowing up at you, not after that atrocity at the dance, not after Ellie’s pitying look shot your way. You feel restless and ugly and prickly and you decide you need some fresh air. You toss on your jeans, gloves and warm jacket.

You take a look at your red scarf, debating before you take it before winding it around your neck.

You don’t know where you’re going at first. You think maybe you’ll go to the farmhouse and relax there in the quiet knowing that no one will come for you. But then you think it’s too dark, too snowy.

You’ll go to the stables instead, you’ll see Glimmer and maybe even bring Midnight a carrot. You stop by the greenhouse, pulling a few and shoving them into your deep coat pockets.

When you arrive at the stables you’re confused to hear noise coming from inside. Not the noise you typically associate with the quiet barn at this hour. You jog towards it, concerned that something is wrong.

What greets you when you finally make it to the pens is a figure looking frantic. He stands opposite an angry sound Midnight. The horse is wrenching his face away from the individual and it takes you a second to recognize the glossy black hair tied back in a low bun.

"Tommy? What’re you doing?”

Tommy looks frantic, continuing to attempt to saddle a grumpy looking Midnight. He doesn't look over at you as he replies in a tight voice, his boots scraping the ground as he works.

"It's Maria. She’s gone."

You see now that his hands are trembling.

"What? For how long?"

He doesn’t answer you. He’s fixated on the bridle, untwisting the nose band over the glossy Midnight’s muzzle before moving to the cheek piece. You rush over to him, concern clear in your features. Tommy doesn’t act like this, all jerky and terrified. The last time you saw him this out of sorts was when Maria had her incident.

“Tommy,” you say quietly, “How long has she been gone for?”

You ask him this while gently touching his arm. He starts at the contact, his big brown eyes darting to your face before he turns to face you head-on, his voice wavering.

"Kyle came and told me," Tommy says, heart obviously in his throat. "She just left... Said she'd be back in a minute. Didn't even say where she was goin'"

"He just let her go?"

"He's new. This was his first night doing it solo. If it had been anyone but Maria maybe he would have questioned it."

Maria is practically royalty in Jackson City. She and her parents began the settlement; her word is as good as law.

Your stomach drops as you watch the younger Miller's hand trembling with the reins. Midnight whinnies, jerking back from him, strained by the man's frenzy.

The other horses are newer, less familiar with the terrain, especially in this snow. Glimmer and Chestnut were the only other experienced ones. With them gone it all falls on Midnight.

"We need to get some of the others," you insist, voice trembling. "Barry and David and-"

"They're all fuckin' shit faced from the party and I don't have time to wait for them to sober up!"

He's throwing the saddle over Midnight's back, securing it as you draw closer. You place a tentative hand on Tommy's shoulder.

"Tommy you can't go by yourself."

"The fuck I can't," he spits out furiously, shaking off your hand. He's not listening to you, he's not making sense. He's acting from a place of fear and its guiding his shaky movements and widening his dark eyes.

"I have to go after her, I have to-"

"No," you insist, tugging him back by his sleeve. "Tommy you need to get a search party together. You have to go home to your son.”

"He's with Grace."

Something about his eyes takes you back to the dance. Like a movie you replay the moment that Barry started talking about the Raiders. You'd assumed Maria was irritated with him, but now you realize she was anxious.

Suddenly you know exactly where Maria is.

"Tommy if you go after Maria alone there's a good chance you'll be depriving your son of both parents," you say firmly. "You don't know how many raiders are out there."

"I don't have time for this," Tommy shouts, obviously not listening to you any longer. His mind has been made up. He faces away from you, blocking you out as he fiddles with Midnight's throat latch.

He screams this at you over his shoulder and the animals in the pens seem to sense this tension. Even Midnight has stopped rearing back, simply standing and allowing Tommy to unwind his reins.

“Tommy, if she's still alive there's a good chance she'll have attracted attention beyond the raiders. There could be infected."

"I'm not abandoning my wife," Tommy shouts loud enough to make Midnight give an uncomfortable whinny in the paddock. "I'm not leaving Douglas without a mother."

"If you go after Maria all alone in this state you’re likely going to deprive him of both parents," you insist sharply. "What you're suggesting right now is a suicide mission."

Tommy can't go. There's too much for him here. The town, Douglas, the future of this civilization. He’s not thinking clearly, he’s going to go out there and get himself killed. There will be a child becoming an orphan in one night.

It can be avoided.

The plan is formulated before you even have time to think it through. You're tugging the gun from Tommy's shoulder and throwing it over yours.

"Hey, give that here."

He attempts to grab at it when he realizes what you're doing.

"You're not goin'," Tommy insists, his eyes hard as he tries to pull the leather strap from your shoulder. "You can't."

"I am."

"You said yourself it’s a suicide mission," Tommy says, throwing up his hands. "And aside from that, Joel'd kill me if I let you go."

Joel wouldn't care. Joel would find a new pussy to fuck and a new woman to play head games with. And right now you don’t give a fuck about anyone aside from Maria and the fact that you can do something that helps someone. You can change Douglas’ fate. You can give him at least one parent.

"Tommy, I'm going."

“I said no," Tommy repeats, and now he turns from you, attempting to calm a visibly distressed Midnight.

And normally you would back off, raising your hands and telling Tommy it wasn’t your business. But Maria is your friend and Douglas is her son and you feel like his future is your business.

You're not a violent person by nature, but when it comes down to saving others it seems you’re guided on brutal instinct. It’s the only explanation you have for taking the heavy gun from his shoulders. Chiyo's face slides into your brain, digging through your brain and memories to force itself at the forefront.

The two of you are huddled over a small fire in a park on your way to Jackson. Chiyo cooks you both a large can of BBQ beans from his day of scavenging nearby. You're sitting atop your sleeping bag, exhausted from the weeks walking.

"Where did you get that?"

"Passing guy."

"He put up a fight?"

Chiyo shoots you a small smirk as he shifts the cans over the fire. "Of course."

"You use the gun?"

"Nah. Didn't wanna draw attention."

He serves you your bowl first before digging into his. Through a sickly sweet bite you keep questioning him.

"Then how?"

"Knocked him out."

Chiyo doesn't like hurting people. He's always looked at violence as a necessity at times. He sits with his long legs crossed, eating thoughtfully.

"How?"

"One punch."

"Like Steven Segal?"

Chiyo laughs a little at that before shaking his head good -naturedly.

"No. Like Bruce Lee."

"Show me?"

The two of you make quick work of your dinner. You both stand, wiping the collected dirt from your jeans.

"When you strike someone to incapacitate them you must be sharp. A hook to the side of the jaw is most effective. An uppercut."

When he feels you tug his arm, Tommy is mid-way through a frustrated insult. He doesn’t expect the gun to catch him under the side of his jaw with the butt of his gun.

You catch Tommy’s slack before he hurts himself passing out, grunting as you grip him around the middle. He sags heavily and with a groan you lay him on his side, making sure he's breathing evenly before you double check the gun is secured to your back.

You go to the pen, opening it slowly as Midnight whinnies, backing away from you instinctively.

"C'mon now boy," you say clicking your tongue gently, holding out a carrot from your pocket. "I know we're not exactly friends but I need you to work with me, here."

Midnight stills, giving a soft huff through his nostrils. He's already been saddled by Tommy, so you attempt to stick your foot onto the foothold. Midnight rears back, giving you a wild-eyed look.

"Enough," you mutter frustrated. "We gotta go!"

But Midnight doesn't care about your plans. He continues to dance around you when you get close, kicking out his back legs ferociously, knocking his hooves aggressively against the pen, rattling the wood. The carrot drops to the ground, covered in dirt. Panic is clouding your judgment. All you can think is that you need to leave now.

The other horses aren’t saddled and every moment that passes is time spent not going after Maria. If she isn’t too far there’s a chance that you could intervene and get to her before she does something insane.

"Midnight C'mon, please!"

You want to scream in frustration before a singular memory of Joel comes back into your mind. A time during patrols in the rain when he put Chestnut in line with a single word. You fix Midnight with a stern look, unblinking.

"Enough!" You shout angrily, lowering your voice to a boom as you grip his bridle in one hand, tugging with a snap. "You stay still you hear me?"

And miraculously he does. His flanks go rigid, subdued and completely still as you pull yourself up.

You cast one last look at Tommy on the ground, still breathing. A pang of guilt goes through you but you know you've made the right decision. You dig your heels into the horse’s ribs.

"Let's go."

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

Joel spent half his days convincing himself that he couldn't stand you and the other half desperate to see you. It led him doing things like sliding into the booth beside you at the Bison over drinks with Luke and Jennifer, curious about Tommy's previous joke about your building prowess.

This was just curiosity, he tried to convince himself. He needed to know more about his patrol partner. But that didn't explain the disappointment when you wrenched yourself free of the booth.

It also didn't explain the anger he felt at Luke's continual presence. He realized it soon enough, though he tried to deny it by flirting with Jennifer, sure that her attention would arouse something in him.

But she just wasn’t you.

And you kept talking to Luke in a way you'd never talked to Joel. Curious about Luke's past, listening attentively as your leg bobbed up and down. And he needed an excuse to break you from him, a desperation washing over him as he gripped your leg.

"Stop shakin' your damn leg. You’re knockin’ over the coffees."

But it was a pathetic ruse. He couldn’t stop observing the warmth of your skin under the denim, can't help but linger before pulling back.

Joel hated Luke. Hated how you got all fluttery around him. Hated how the boy (because to Joel he sure wasn't a man) touched you.

Seeing that asshole's arms around you teaching you how to hammer a nail set Joel off in a way he wasn't expecting. His pulse jumped at the closeness making Joel feel possessive enough to reach forward, grabbing you and pulling you back towards him.

Mine, he thought even as you wrenched free of him.

It’s why he demanded you ride on the back of his horse on the way back from repairs, even though he could see you angling for an invite from Luke. He was eager to claim you the best he could in front of the others, putting you on his horse, knowing it was his waist you encircled with your arms.

He came to hate how Luke sang, how Luke ate, how Luke walked. He hated how Luke pretended to know things he clearly didn’t and he absolutely loathed how you returned from that long snowed-in night with Joel and went running into that gangly idiots arms, grinning and laughing.

And he was still carrying that hate with him that night of the town meeting. Hating himself for needing to be close to you, despising that you weren't as desperate as he was, furious that you were talking with your friend about that fucking Luke.

It was anger that made him follow you into that back room of the chapel, it was pride that made him corner you, it was humiliation that made him cage you against the wall but it was desire that made him slip his fingers down the front of your panties, lust that made him curl those digits within you and it was possessiveness that made him murmur that your release was his, that your cries of pleasure belonged to him.

But it was insecurity that lingered the entire time.

I'm better than him. Admit it. I'm the one that makes you come, not him. C'mon be my good girl, come on my fingers, just mine. Only I can make you feel like this. I'm better than Luke, say it. I'm better.

The night of the snowstorm Joel felt the change in him continue. A twinge under his ribs that kept him staring at you. Watching the blanket drop from your shoulders before the fire had him lurching up from the couch, pretending to check on the horses downstairs. Instead he just stood there, cock hard and body tense.

He told himself that it was smart the two of you had stopped your carnal pursuits. But at this moment knowing you were upstairs naked under your blanket had him squeezing his eyes shut and willing his throbbing cock to go down.

Sharing his coffee with you had been a no-brainer. It was instinct to share with others and part of him felt pride that he could provide for you in some small way. The flask of whiskey was a welcome addition, but he found he could barely drink from it. He needed to be sharp. He thought of you and Chiyo and was sickened that his first reaction was jealousy at the way you talked about another man with such reverence.

"Joel, why did you stop wanting to do stuff on patrols?”

How to tell you the truth? That he didn't see you as just release anymore? That you were a human woman and not just something for him to fuck his hatred into? It made him sick to think he could have ever seen you that way.

"I miss it."

The sigh you give as you said that had him immediately hard. You did? You really enjoyed it when he was so emotional distant? You missed his rough words and his harsh movements? How?

When he glanced over you looked so delicate wrapped up in the blankets, only your face visible. You looked forlorn and all he could think of was how harsh he'd been with you. Something tugged at his lower belly that felt like arousal mixed with regret and a deep, deep need. It capitulated him from where he sat, crawling over to you.

I can be soft with you. I can be gentle. Let me show you. Let me prove it. Let me atone.

Being between your thighs that night was like nothing Joel had experienced. He was ravenous for you. Not just because of the weeks you spent giving him pleasure, but because he wanted to hear the sound of your cry and know it was him that caused it.

He’d been unable to stop himself from devouring you. The taste of you, the sounds you made, the touch of your fingers in his hair made him crazy. He'd never come early like that, not since he was a teenager.

And he wanted to make you come over and over because Chiyo never had, even though Joel knew it was fucking pathetic to be jealous of a dead man.

One orgasm wasn't enough though. He wanted you spent and sated. And he thought he could hold off his own pleasure until you gripped his curls and held tightly as you called out his name with a lusty cry.

Joel…

He hadn't even needed to touch himself. His eyes rolled back and he felt the warm spend coat the inside of his blanket as you writhed under his tongue, hips rutting greedily against his mouth.

Eventually you laid there spread wide, legs hooked over his shoulders completely asleep. You trusted him to do this, you trusted him and that made him linger. Not just the taste and scent of you, but the desire to keep you there, warm and pliant.

Joel laid between your legs for hours that night, teasing and tasting and licking. He revelled in the tender little hiccupped whimpers you gave in your sleep. He sighed when he could feel your thighs twitching against his head.

For a while he simply rested his cheek against your inner thigh, just breathing you in, listening to your light snores. But you'd twitch or whimper and he was hard again, desperate to hear those sounds you made, knowing that it was him that brought them out of you.

Eventually he felt your body go slack with a deeper sleep and something about your surrender to Joel had him hard again. But he refused to touch himself. This wasn't about him.

The snow continued to fall heavily outside but he didn't care because he was here with you, your bodies warm against one another. And you were so wet, splayed widely for him, just for him.

For a bit of time he dozed off, the side of his face balanced atop one of your spread inner thighs, breathing you in as you both slept. You were so warm and soft and he was so cold and, as he came to realize later, so touch-starved.

Touching you without restraint when he awoke was exciting. The kind of exciting that pulled at his groin and made him grow sloppy, amazed at how you lay spread widely for him, so trusting. And it wasn't long before you were crying out again, waking from sleep long enough to thank him before sinking back into the depths of slumber.

He pushed himself off the couch after that, needing to stretch his tight back. Looking down at you gently snoring, he took his time gazing at you. Enjoying this version of you without your furrowed brow or worried expression.

You were beautiful.

He memorized the stray hairs of your eyebrows, the length of your lashes, the shape of your lips. He took in each part of your face, taking his time to truly absorb what he was looking at. He wanted to commit this to memory, to have this secret piece of peace to look at during future times of darkness.

Almost as if you felt him staring at you even in your sleep, you shuffled, rolling over away from him and sighing. Joel viewed the length of your spine and bare back exposed at the shift, noticing you shiver in your sleep.

Don't do it, Miller. Do not sleep there.

It was seconds of internal debate before he crawled beside you, curling around your back, warming you both, his breathing stirring the hair at your temple.

He watched the moonlight bathe your skin, making you shine for him. Your bare shoulder was exposed above the blanket, the skin there so soft looking.

He held his breath, paranoid you would wake as he tentatively pressed his lips there. He laid his plush mouth against that small strip of your flesh and he was enraptured when you snuggled back against him.

He pushed his luck, his arm sliding over your waist and laying there heavily, testing the weight and if you would wake up. When you didn't stir he left his arm there. Holding you that night, your body against his, bare flesh against bare flesh, Joel had felt an all encompassing peace overtake him. A sensation that had eluded him since the night of Sarah’s death.

and eventually he felt himself fading, not even registering that for the first time in so long that he didn't dread the darkness.

Not as long as you were nearby.

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

Midnight makes a huffing noise and then he's gone through the paddock, his hooves making rhythmic taps over snowy terrain as you make your way quickly through the town.

Kyle tries to stop you at the gates, his eyes red-rimmed. It’s clear he feels guilty for what happened with Maria. He was on gate patrol tonight, inexperienced and not expecting anyone to be leaving.

"Tommy sent me," you tell him firmly.

Kyle gives you a once over, eyes cloudy. You know he doesn't believe you.

"I'm losing time, Kyle. Open the gate."

He says nothing when he opens the gate, pulling the mechanism. He only offers a broken "good luck" to your back. You don't even slow down as you exit the safety of the town. Your eyes are peeled, ears pricked for anything that will guide you to your friend.

The snow isn't too bad right now. You can see ahead just fine and in the bright reflection of the moon you can see the faint track marks of what you think is Glimmer’s hooves.

It's only now, several miles away from Jackson city that the doubts begin. What if there are infected? Were you a fucking idiot to do this?

But then you think of Douglas in Tommy's arms. Of a boy growing up with wide brown eyes so sorrowful it makes your heart ache. Of a child who could at least lean on one parent.

Maria is worth saving, she has Tommy and Douglas. A life. What do you have waiting for you back at home?

You think of the cold way Joel looks at you. You think of the way Jennifer no longer acknowledges your existence. You think of the way you don’t really quite fit in.

The vision of Charlie begging you to come back assaults you out of nowhere. The sight of her reaching for you as the truck drove away. You’ve always fled from fear, but now? Nothing will stop you. You will not turn around.

You have your answer.

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

Joel didn’t imbibe to the point of drunkenness often. It was usually preceded by an event like the anniversary of Sarah’s birthday or his own. Something would stoke the fires of loss, and he found himself blindly reaching for the bottle.

On those nights, his defenses lowered, his inhibitions forgotten, he often did something out of character. Like when he staggered to your home in the middle of the night. You had been on his mind since Ellie’s birthday dinner—the way you smiled at him, a secret, tentative thing before you murmured that it was nice to remember the good times.

And it was, but it hurt too.

That night, he drank to the memory that his daughter Sarah would have no future birthdays and would remain twelve forever. It hurt so badly, and all he could think of was you.

Instead of digging into himself, he stood blearily, not caring that it was the middle of the night. He moved through the quiet streets toward your home, and when your front door came into view, he let out a shuddering exhale.

He let himself stand there, his dark eyes on your window. Silently, he willed you to come to the window so he could see your face, but it wasn’t close enough. He stumbled up your porch steps, his heavy hand coming to rest against the doorframe.

His eyes closed, and it was like he could take himself back to that first day when he stood in the same place, the scent of cookies in the air and your bright eyes gazing out at him.

And then, like magic, there you were in your robe, your face pinched in concern as light steamed from behind you. You looked like an angel.

“Joel, its 3 a.m.”

He was captivated by you, unable to think straight and somehow completely at ease. That ache in his heart seemed to ache less, your presence bringing more comfort than he thought possible.

Ellie managed to mend his heart, that was for certain. In their time together, she fixed up that open, bleeding wound in him, stitching the thread of love and trust along the ragged edges. And it was like you were that bandage on top to make sure the stitches remained together.

He couldn’t explain that in his drunkenness, though. He couldn’t tell you that his feet carried him there because, in this pain, all he wanted was your presence. And he couldn’t take you into his arms because you wouldn’t understand. You weren’t friends; you weren’t anything aside from mutual release.

But you were there, and you were safe, and even if you weren’t his, you were alive, and everything about you was beautiful. And that was enough for him to walk away from you that night after staring at you in silence.

Just you existing in the world was good enough for him.

And then your eyes searched his over the dinner table during Ellie's birthday dinner. "It's nice to remember the good times."

That was the night when he admitted to himself that something in him was shifting.

Then the coffee you'd made for him, the lengths you went to procure it. The fact that you'd done it just for him made him feel heady. And that's when he'd realized it, that you'd gone past a woman he enjoyed touching and tasting. There was not just possessiveness but a desire to protect.

He liked you.

He talked to you about Sarah, something he so rarely did. And when he did he felt less heavy, like the pain of his loss was spread between two people instead of one, making the load more bearable. It had all but been sealed when his mouth first met yours, desperate to feel all of you. And then the little noise you made that caused him to pull back, terrified he’d fucked this all up. But your gaze was true and your voice a whisper.

"I've never kissed anyone before."

The sensation he experienced at that hushed confession from you was indescribable. The electric pull that made him groan against your tongue. Joel just felt it in that moment that of course you hadn't kissed anyone before because you weren't meant to kiss anyone but him. You were his.

And all he could think with each pass of your soft lips against his was: Mine to protect. Mine to touch. Mine to care for.

Mine.

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

Joel isn't unaccustomed to nightmares. He has then nightly. Ones where his daughter Sarah looks terrified up at him, others where she cries for his help, terrible ones when the infected find her and lastly the ones where he's sobbing with her in his arms as the life bleeds from her body.

He’s in the middle of one curled on his side when the boom of his front door jolts him awake.

Joel's head pounds from being woken mid-sleep, his hair askew and his mouth dry as cotton. There's noise downstairs, the kind that clutches at his sternum and tugs painfully. He hears Tommy's muffled call from downstairs and his guts churn.

Something is very wrong.

Joel is still half asleep, pulling on his clothes when Tommy pushes into the bedroom, his eyes wild.

"You gotta come. Now."

Joel doesn't need more instruction than that. His baby brother is terrified and now so is Joel.

He follows Tommy out the front door, their feet sinking into the deepening snow. He's trembling, his hands shaking anxiously as he tugs the gun over his shoulder as they go.

This is the life he didn't miss - this get up and go mid-slumber. This quiet terror that grows with every stride towards the gates.

Only Kyle stands at the gates, his younger face downturned. Shame is etched there in his expression. He can't be more than twenty-five and with that defeated expression he looks even younger.

Two of the newer horses are tied to the gates, shifting nervously as the men approach. They were brought by the newbies to Jackson City last week, they don't trust others yet and as Tommy approaches they pull back, whinnying loudly.

Joel can't understand why Tommy's brought them here. If he hopes to go past the city gates these horses don't know the terrain. Where's Glimmer? Midnight?

"What's goin' on, Tommy?"

"Maria took off during the party. Took Glimmer and pulled her weapon on Kyle here." Tommy is focused on trying to subdue the horse closest to him. "She told Kyle she'd shoot him if he didn't let her pass or if he hit the alarm bells."

"Jesus. Why would she do that?"

Tommy doesn't answer, but Joel has an inkling. Maria has been doing well the last little bit, but mentions of the Raiders were all around the party, like little hissing snakes in the corners.

He realizes this is a rescue mission as much as it is a defense.

"And the other patrol-"

"All the capable ones are drunk. Others are useless on a horse. I didn't have time to check 'em all. It's just you and me, brother."

Joel looks at Kyle, drawing nearer to the young man.

"How long ago was this?"

"I dunno, an hour?"

Joel whips around to look at Tommy. "A fuckin' hour, Tommy?"

Tommy is red-faced with exertion. He's got the first horse steady and he hooks one boot in the stirrup.

"I went to get the horse right away and your lady found me. Insisted she go instead."

Tommy's words are like ice water in Joel's veins. He feels himself stumble, eyes wide and voice dragging the ground.

"Why the fuck would she do that?" Joel roars and then he takes the front of his brother's sweater in his curled fist. "Why the fuck would you let her?!"

"She knocked me unconscious, Joel," Tommy snarls, tugging himself out of Joel’s grip. "Hit me in the back of my head with my own fuckin' gun. When I came to and saw she was gone I brought the horses here and came to get you."

You've been out there for an hour? You went after Maria by yourself? You, his dear sweet gentle woman went tearing off into the darkness during an oncoming snowstorm? Why?

Because you abandoned her.

And then there it is, the thing Joel has been fighting since the day he realized he felt something for you: that debilitating fear. If you weren't on patrols you couldn't be hurt. If Joel wasn't close to you he could turn off his affection for you. Or at least he thought that would be it.

He was so fucking wrong.

Because right now after everything Joel set in place you're in danger and he's overcome by terror, only now it has a twin to go along with it named regret.

"Wait!" Kyle shouts from atop the lookout. "I see movement!"

He raises his gun, peering through the scope. The Millers look up at him, anxious until they see the young man's face break out into a large grin.

"She's back!"

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

Who can say the exact moment a person falls in love?

If someone had asked Joel, he would have shrugged and muttered that it was impossible to know.

All he knew was that his feelings for you had snuck up on him slowly.

The first inklings had crept in when you showed up at his house to make pop tarts. He felt nervous. He couldn’t remember the last time he had felt this way around a woman. Tess had been so blunt, so forward that he never had to guess how she felt. It was easy to go along with.

You nestled there, finding a home in the spaces between his pain. You warmed yourself, blanketing yourself with his remorse and you made it bearable. You made the darkness lighter.

And you didn't even mean to do it. You just existed and it was enough for him. Enough for him to let go of so many things that tied him to pain.

You burrowed under the fence he constructed and emerged on the other side open and gentle. The gate that he built around his heart. He let Ellie in and he thought that was enough for him but there had always been that missing piece. The part of him that didn't quite fill up no matter how many faceless women he fucked in the QZ or how many nights spent with his beloved Tess holding him.

He’d tried to find ways to fill the guilt and when alcohol didn't work he thought inflicting pain might. Hurting people filled a part of him but there was still that emptiness that lingered. Toughness, grit, spikes. That's what would fill the ache, that would touch on the gaping wound that would not mend.

And then there you were, opposite in every way to what he thought he needed for survival. Gentle and trusting and sweet. Of course you had bite, you had passion. But you did everything slow and soft to start. It terrified him as much as it confused him.

He knows that he started lowering his defenses when he played the guitar for you at Maria and Tommy's. He never played guitar for anyone but his family. And yet at the first request from you he didn't even hesitate.

'I keep a close watch on this heart of mine'

You were smiling so openly at him he felt breathless.

'I keep my eyes wide open all the time'

The lyrics rumbled from his chest, a gentle croon that grew more confident as he saw your gazing at him. You were so gorgeous just sitting there with a drowsy baby in your arms and a gentle smile across your lips.

He didn't realize the lyrics held such a double meaning until he got to the line before the interruption.

'You give me cause to lo-'.

-love.

That day of baking with Ellie in your sexy little apron and the way you treated her, had his stomach doing somersaults. He was drawn to you, watching you interact with Ellie so easily. It was like he needed your presence, your soft voice as you patiently explained things to Ellie.

He stood outside the kitchen, leaning against the wall, tilting his head to catch snatches of information about you. You liked Chicago the musical. You didn’t dance very well. And even more surprising was how he saw himself through your conversations with his adopted daughter.

"Joel could never disappoint me."

Gratitude swirled in his belly at the sound of that. The lingering doubts that he wasn’t good enough at caring for Ellie were erased.

He had seen the way you found joy in making others happy. Had he truly met anyone like that since the outbreak? Someone who did for others without the expectation of recompense? In the QZ with Tess, that wasn’t how survival had worked. Being a smuggler didn’t lend itself to charity. It was give and take, transactional.

Your reaction to her bite at her birthday dinner hadn’t been that surprising, but your desire to talk with her afterward was. He needed to busy himself, and the pop tarts seemed like a natural thing because they would make you both smile. And while he wanted to give you both privacy, he had been worried about what might be said. Ellie was so delicate.

And so he crept towards the garage door and he leaned his ear to it, picking up on your murmured voices. Listening to you talk about The Group and Chiyo floored him. He felt guilty for listening and spying but he couldn’t tear his ear from the door.

"I’m so glad you exist, Ellie. The world would be so much worse without you in it. You’re special, Ellie. And not because you’re immune. Because you’re smart and brave and funny, and you make people like me feel like we’re worth something."

He melted right then and there. And when you both exited into the kitchen he wanted you to stay longer, even got up the courage to ask, but you were gone.

And it wasn’t just Ellie you were kind about. He had always kept Sarah as a secret he held against his chest, as if sharing about her would make him forget her. But there was something about knowing you suffered loss as well, that you too had felt the hard squeeze around your heart at the mention of family that made stories about his daughter bubble forth.

You always listened intently, your focus sincere. He felt your empathy and your sorrow with none of the pity he expected. You saw him, and he saw you. Your arms around him in a hug of comfort terrified him at first, but all too soon he was embracing you back and trying to swallow his tears. When you shared about Charlotte, he knew in that moment he would do anything to keep you from experiencing the pain of loss again.

He was falling for you. And you were falling just as hard.

He saw the way you looked at him through your hair, the way your smile grew wide and unrestrained, and the way your body curled perfectly with his. Joel felt the change. He felt it and he reveled in it because it felt so good. Adoration flowed through his veins, stitched in the bruised and battered remainder of his heart.

He would do anything to keep you safe.

Then as if out of nowhere he found he was so needy for you, desperate for you in a way he hadn’t felt for anyone in decades. It was like a drug, this painful ache he had in him when you weren’t around or worse, when he caught Luke cozying up to you.

Thoughts of you throughout his day made him smile to himself, humming in the shower, and whistling as he made breakfast for himself and Ellie.

"You’re weird lately," she told him through a yawn at the table.

"Good mornin' to you too."

"Not in a bad way," Ellie amended with a grin as he took a seat across from her. "It’s just I don’t think I’ve ever seen you this... light."

Light. That was the word for it. He didn’t feel that heavy burden of grief that usually followed him around like a shadow.

Look for the light.

Simple things made his heart catch. Taking your hand in his for the first time, marveling at how his swallowed yours. He couldn't help smiling to himself as you two walked hand in hand through the snow, as if it was a casual date and not at the end of the world.

When you came to him that night, begging for him to make it go quiet, he initially told himself it was a bad idea. That you had breached his walls and he needed to pull back.

But his body acted independently, stepping back, ushering you to his bedroom where he stripped himself bare. Not just his naked body, but the words he spoke to you, the way his mouth moved to yours with an urgency that should have frightened him.

The first time he entered you - and fuck, he'll never forget that first clench - the sight of your head tilted and exposing your throat, eyes cheating to the back of your head, the sounds you made when you came. And his name on your lips.

And then making love to you, because that's what it was. He didn't want to fuck you, he wanted it to be kind and soft like you deserved. He took his time, feasting on your lips, gazing at you and marveling that he could feel like this again. Slow and safe and loving. He never thought real romance would find him again. Never thought that he'd be in bed making love to a woman who trusted him like this, who he loved so deeply it sometimes scared him.

It had been so much more than making it go quiet for you. It had been a coming together that made his eyes gleam as he watched where your bodies connected, his forehead against yours, his hands on your hips.

When your dual gazes rose to meet one another’s and you kissed him with abandon, Joel felt the final crack to his wall and everything came crumbling down. With his hands on your cheeks, your eyes butter soft he felt everything in him attune to you.

I wanna take care of you.

Then it was so easy to gather you into his arms, rocking and soothing you because he understood why your tears fell. They fell for the same reason his did. For loss, for a grief few could understand.

He wanted to know where your scar was from. He wanted to take every painful memory you had and heal you. He wanted you to be his. You slept there in his bed, in his arms and Joel thought that he might just die a happy man.

And it was in that moment that Joel could finally admit that he had fallen in love with you.

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

The gates creak open and Midnight huffs his way inside, eyeing the Miller men. Maria is slumped over the horse, her fingers knotted in his mane. Joel can see Maria's face is streaked with blood, her jacket torn.

Tommy lets out a cracked sound of relief as he runs to her, eyes watering as she realizes where she is and calls his name. Joel's looking for you, confused when the gates begin to close.

"Wait, she's still out there-"

"No one's out there," Kyle says with a wince, as if he's concerned his news will cause Joel to punch him. "I gotta close the gate."

No one there. You're not out there. You're still out there in a hard world with your soft heart and it's all his fault.

As she hands the reins to a relieved looking Kyle she throws herself to the ground and goes running for Tommy. At this angle Joel sees that her left arm is hanging oddly.

"Get Melody," Joel instructs Kyle sharply. "Tell her to bring the dog."

Kyle takes off, his feet moving quickly through the snow. The three of them wait there, watching the young man rushing away.

"Joel, its Maria," Tommy insists, relief clouding his common sense. "She ain't infected."

"She's covered in blood."

"There were no clickers," Maria promises them in exhaustion as she clings to Tommy. She looks at the dried red on her hands, the sticky blood still collected on her jacket.

"This isn't all my blood."

Joel understands immediately. She starts to sob now, heavy sounds breaking forth from her, your name in a broken cry. The woman's face, highlighted in the full moon is twisted into a gruesome scene of tears, snot and blood.

"She told me I had to come back. Told me that Douglas and you needed me."

By now Melody and Boba have arrived. The dog trots over, sniffing at Maria's feet, then legs and hand before going back to stand with an exhausted looking Melody.

"I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry Tommy," Maria sobs. Her hot breath makes wispy clouds as she exhales.

“What happened?"

"We need a search party!" Maria says, ignoring his question. "We need at least six to be safe."

"Honey,” Tommy says, trying to get her attention, “where did all this blood come from?"

"Glimmer got scared and threw me off of her. I must've hit the trees or something because there's so much blood and I think my arm is broken."

"Call Lily!" Tommy shouts at Kyle who takes off, skittering towards the infirmary.

Joel's dark eyes move from the blissful reunion towards the gates which are now closed.

"Where is she?" Joel demands, his dark eyes searing into Maria's face. "Maria where is she?"

"She found me out there," Maria explains shakily pointing towards the gate with her knee good hand. "I was trying to find them. The camp. I was trying to keep Douglas safe. I was trying.... to be a good mother and..."

She breaks off sharply, burying her face in Tommy's shoulder. Joel can see that she's exhausted and her body starting to go slack.

"She told me to ride back," Maria whispers into Tommy's neck. "She told me that Douglas needed me. That you needed me. She made me get on the horse. Told me I couldn't do anything with a broken arm, losing blood."

"She was right, honey," Tommy insists, rocking her in his arms. "We need you here."

Joel is happy for his brother, he really is, but Maria is here safe and you're not.

"How many?" Joel interjects, taking the weapon from over Tommy's shoulder. His brother is so giddy with relief that he doesn't even notice.

"I was only trying to protect him Tommy. I need you to believe me."

"Of course I believe you, darlin'."

"I said how many?"

The sharpness of his booming voice causes the two of them stop to look at him. He feels sick when he sees how Maria's face crumples.

"Three when she told me to leave."

You're out there three to one, maybe more? His stomach lurches. No. This can't be happening. He was so sure he was keeping you safe. Taking you off patrols, pushing you from him. You were safe away from Joel, away from the harsh outside world. Joel only brought chaos and violence with him.

And it didn't matter. You're out there.

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

I wanna give you everythin’.

He did. Everything Joel could give you he wanted to. You wanted to go to the dance? He'd take you. Fuck what everyone had to say about it. You wanted flowers? He'd fold and refold them as many times as you wanted until he had a bouquet. You wanted a farm house? He was already looking into it, noting the good bones, the open bedrooms.

He could envision the bedroom you two would share, the nights that would be spent with your bodies writhing, moaning into each other's open mouths. He could imagine Ellie in the big bedroom at the end of the hallway. Not a garage, but still private. He imagined family dinners and nights playing cards.

He could imagine a life with you.

And then that fucking raider took it all away the second he raised that gun to your head.

Like slow motion Joel remembers his gaze going from the barrel of the gun to your wide terrified eyes. In that moment all Joel could think was "not again". Not again would someone he loved be taken from him.

And thank goodness you weren't. But not because of Joel; because of Chestnut, who sacrificed himself for you. Without that distraction, you both would be frozen corpses. And that had scared the utter shit out of him.

Looking at you in that hospital bed, leg being sewn up, reaching for him, all Joel could think of was his failure.

What if it had been a clicker that came upon you? What if it wasn't a bullet that grazed you, but the bite of an infected? Could he ever truly forgive himself? Even now he carries the guilt of what happened to Tess.

And it's when he realized that his love for you made him weak. It made him reckless. It made him a bad protector. It made him unworthy of you.

But you never would have agreed. You have this ability to make Joel feel things. Things he normally can shove down deep.

He couldn’t tell you outright. He knew the moment he saw your face the words would fail him and so he avoided you. The pathetic part of him was hoping that you'd just get the message and stay away from him. He didn’t want to face you after everything that had gone on.

But that wasn't you, was it? You cared with your whole heart, and Joel knew he must have taken up a small piece of real estate there in the upper chambers.

And your face. Your sweet, excited face as you came to his home and asked him to the movie.

"You were saying that you and Sarah watched those movies, right? You wanna go—"

And he could have been taking you there, could have been holding your hand in the dark, watching the flickering images as the faint scent of popcorn wafted through the air. He could have slung an arm around your shoulder and sneaked a kiss as the lights went down.

He could have walked you home after, leaving you with a deep kiss at your doorstep after your first date outside the walls of your house.

But instead, he was there, trying not to let you in. He was trying so damn hard not to buckle. His fingers gripped the edge of his workbench so tightly that his knuckles turned white.

"Joel, you can't... You don't mean that."

He wasn’t being cruel enough. You weren’t running like you always did before.

Say it. Say it, or she won't leave. You'll give in. You'll forget why you needed to push her away in the first place. You needed to keep her safe.

"I don't need some useless patrol partner who can't even shoot straight clinging to me like some needy little—"

The crumple of your brow was what instantly made the regret flood through every part of his body. The way you stepped back, like he'd physically punched you in the gut, was what made his resolve falter for a moment.

Too far. Too far. Too harsh and cruel.

You raised your hand, flinching, and he saw the devastation etched in your features. His hands twitched as he fought his body to keep them still.

"I'll leave you alone. I... I'll... I'll go. Just please stop talking."

Your voice was all shaky as you fought back tears, and Joel could only attempt to convince himself that he was doing the right thing.

She makes you weak. You have to be strong. If you love her, you'll be strong. You'll protect her.

And he wanted to avoid you altogether, to scrub your very existence from his mind but pieces of you existed everywhere. The color red. How could someone own a color? And yet the flash of any crimson transported him to your bed, to your laugh, to your moans.

Fuck he ached for you, nights more lonely than he'd thought possible. The pulsing sadness that squeezed his heart until his breathing was hitched and he was leaned over next to his bed, panic suffusing him.

Go to her. You need her. You want her.

Stay away. You'll only get her hurt. Think of Sarah. Think of Tess.

You kill what you love.

Your distraction makes you weak.

And you were the ultimate distraction. Your smile, your softness, the way you were with Ellie, the way you looked at him when he told you about Sarah. And then that fucking patrol. The raider. Joel's lapse in judgment, his heavy breathing, his good ear pressed against your temple, blocking out the sounds of footsteps approaching in the snow.

You would have convinced him that he was wrong. That loving didn't make him weaker, it made him human. You would have convinced him with your soft eyes and your tender hands and he would have fallen for it hook line and sinker.

You were too soft for this world.

That's why he needed to push you away, he needed to hurt you so badly you wouldn't want him.

He wanted you to hate him, to ignore him, to forget him.

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

Joel can feel furious tears at his waterline, his teeth clenched. It's so much easier to feel furious rather than terrified. He clicks his tongue, guiding Coal towards the gate. He'll figure it out. He'll find you. He hoists the gun over his shoulder, face a mask of indifference, save for the glistening eyes.

"She can't fight them all," Maria manages before she goes completely limp in Tommy's arms. And now Lily is back, but all Joel can focus on is: she can't fight them all.

Midnight offers a low whinny as Joel passes and there's something in Midnight's disposition that makes Joel pause. A power in his haunches as he spots Joel. A strange understanding passes between them as Joel looks to the glossy horse, dark eyes wet.

There's no time to wait for an entire search party.

He moves to the gates, pulling the hinges to thrust them open. With his gun and flashlight he scans the space and finds it clear. He jerks the reins from where they remain tied to the gates. He thrusts a boot into the stirrup and pulls himself atop the glossy black of Midnight.

Tommy breaks from kissing Maria’s forehead to cast an anxious look at his older brother.

"Joel that horse has been ridden hard and-"

"He'll get me to her."

He can't think of anything but you. He turns, starting through the gate. Tommy holds a limp Maria in one arm, the other hand stretching towards Joel’s back.

"Joel, slow the fuck down! We need to get a team-"

"She's out there alone Tommy," Joel shouts over his shoulder. "I never should have been away from her."

"Joel you can't go out alone," Tommy insists and Joel sees the fear in his brother's expression.

"My girl is out there and if she's not dead she's scared for her life," Joel spits, unsure if Tommy can even hear him.

"I can't leave her again."

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

"You need to take her off patrols,"

Joel sat in Tommy’s kitchen, his hand tight around a warm mug of coffee. Tommy was bouncing a fussy Douglas in his arms as Maria joined them at the table with a steaming mug.

"Why?"

"She can’t be out there anymore. It’s not safe."

"That's what you said last time," Tommy sighed,

"I know I did."

"And when I talked to her about it, she was fine to stay on."

"She needs to come off," Joel reiterated, trying not to snap at his baby brother. "She almost died out there."

"Joel," Maria said gently, "she got a graze to the calf."

"Yeah, and what if it had been a few inches over? What if it hit an artery?"

Joel knew his face was growing red with frustration and he tried to even his breathing.

"This isn't her choice," Joel said darkly. "It's mine. I don’t want her on my patrol anymore."

Tommy shrugged, finding nothing too wrong with this suggestion. His brother was a hard man to deal with in this world.

"Okay, so I'll move her to a new patrol."

"No."

Joel's voice came out louder and harder than intended, so much so that Douglas started in Tommy's arms, giving off plaintive little whines.

"She shouldn't be on any patrol,” Joel continued on. “She's not equipped. She's a liability. And besides, we got those new guys in town last week. The ones with the horses? They seemed like a better fit for patrol."

"That they do," Tommy nodded, rubbing Douglas's chubby cheek with his thumb to quiet him. "But I don't think she's gonna want to be pulled off."

"Then don't give her a choice."

Tommy moved his gaze from his son to his brother. Tension grew between the three adults around the table. Maria surveyed Joel's face across from her, understanding reflected in her features the more she stared at his down-turned eyes and thinned lips. She glanced over at Tommy with a small smile.

"Honey, do you mind putting Douglas down for his nap?"

Tommy, seeming to sense something was going on that he didn't quite understand, nodded, taking the gurgling child into the next room.

When it was just Maria and Joel, she took the opportunity to focus on his sagged shoulders and devastated countenance.

"It wasn't your fault, Joel."

"’Course it was," Joel stated sharply, teeth gnashed together so tightly his jaw bulged.

"Accidents happen."

"Yeah, because of me."

His dark eyes finally rose to his sister-in-law's, and she could see the pain in those shiny, dark orbs.

"Please, Maria. Have Tommy take her off patrols. Put her somewhere safe. Please."

Maria heard the crack in his voice and saw the way he couldn't quite keep the pain from reflecting in his expression, and for this big, broad, hulking man, she felt herself soften.

"Okay," Maria finally nodded, reaching across the table to pat his hand. "Okay, Joel, I'll do it. But the two of you—"

Joel stood abruptly, quietly thanking her for taking you off patrols. She fell silent, knowing Joel well enough to accept that he couldn't talk about you like this now.

He made his way to their front door, and then as a seeming afterthought, he glanced over at Maria.

"She's not safe with me."

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

The wind bites at his cheeks and errant flakes spear into his eyes, but Joel doesn’t slow.

Midnight is panting, his strong legs carrying them towards the trail head. Joel trusts him, knows that the horse will take him exactly where he needs to go. He doesn’t know why, but he just feels it was right.

"She's all alone," Joel murmurs to himself as Midnight thunders over the snow. "I pushed her away. I fuckin' abandoned her."

He doesn’t know how long they ride for, all he knows is that he sees the large mass lays prone in the snow up ahead, a halo of red around its head. It’s Glimmer, shot in her pursuit to get to or from the raiders.

Midnight rears back, the scent of blood in his nostrils. A trail of red trails faintly into the forest and Joel doesn’t think twice before throwing himself off of Midnight, tying the tired animal to the nearby tree.

“Rest,” he tells the panting animal, trailing a hand down his muzzle. “You rest.”

He makes his way to the traps, his chest tight and burning. He bellows your name, the sound ripped from the soles of his feet, spiky around the edges and scratching his throat. He does it again and again and it's greeted by nothing but a heavy silence.

He holds his gun at the ready, not caring if his calls attract others. He'll take them all if it means getting to you quicker. He'll stab infected, he'll climb over frozen corpses if it means finding you sooner.

Where are you? What if you're frozen somewhere? Did you dress warmly enough when you left?

He fucking hates himself even more than before, and he didn't know that was possible. This is all his fault. There is no world in which this is not entirely his fault.

He fucked up. He fucked up so brutally that there's a chance the only woman he's truly ever loved and been loved by is gone forever.

"Please!" He begs the unfeeling trees that surround him. "Please answer me!"

The wind bites into his wet cheek and he hisses. He feels like Frankenstein's monster, legs heavy, movements jerky as he lets out a howl of desperation.

He reaches the traps soon enough, the familiar grove of tall trees surrounding the space, coated with snow. The wind is slightly less chilling in here and Joel can blink away the wet snow from his eyes.

He stumbles, his foot catching something half buried in the snow. It’s a body, hair is sticking out from the snow, blowing in the slight breeze, a bloom of blood surrounding its head. Snow is quickly gathering atop of it.

And then Joel sees it, the slash of red fabric. It blows in the wind, caught in the branches of a nearby tree.

Your scarf.

And with a chilling grip that overtakes his entire body Joel realizes that he is too late.

You're gone.

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

Seeing you at the Bison had been brutal. He had been sure that he could handle avoiding you. And you rarely went to the Bison in the first place. He had been depressed, needing to get out of his head.

"Mind if I take a seat?"

A glance over his shoulder told him it was your friend, Jennifer. She wore a clingy shirt and tight jeans. Just the kind of thing that had all the men passing by shooting him jealous looks.

"Go right ahead."

He hadn’t intended on talking to Jennifer. She was a nice enough girl, but she was far too eager for Joel, too hungry for something he couldn't give her. She slid into the chair next to his, and he didn’t have it in him to be rude.

"Looking forward to the party?"

"Mhm."

"Me too." She smiled, ordering a tumbler of whiskey and inching herself a little closer to him, her voice dropping to a husky whisper. "I’m excited to wear my dress."

And he knew what she was angling at; the topic of her scandalous red dress. For him to flirt so brazenly with her again. But that wouldn't be happening. You weren’t there to act in front of, so why bother?

And while Jennifer chirped on about her dress, all Joel could think of since that day was you in your dark blue fabric, the swell of your breasts, the flush to your cheeks.

He had never seen you in anything but jeans and sweaters, and seeing you stand there on the podium in your dress like a member of royalty had made his mouth run dry. You were exquisite. The urge to march over to you, sweep you into his arms, and kiss you silly in front of Jennifer and Ellie had been so strong he had physically ached.

He hadn’t been strong enough to turn you away if you advanced, so he had turned his attention to Jennifer, flirting with her in front of you even though it killed him. He had felt your furious gaze on him, and he’d been relieved. You hated him. This was what he needed.

"She's making my dessert for me," Jennifer had smiled now at the Bison, swirling the gold liquid in her glass.

And there it was, a crumb of information about you. She said your name, the letters an exquisite torture as his attention shifted back to Jennifer. He shouldn't have been this interested, and yet now his eyes met Jennifer's.

"What's she makin'?"

"Apple tarts and brownies."

"Sounds real good."

Jennifer took a sip of her drink, trying not to grimace before she nodded.

"Everything she makes is so delicious," Jennifer enthused. "She made me these baked bar things one time, and they were the most delicious things I've ever eaten. But then she was like, 'They're okay, a little too much flour in this batch.' Too humble, that woman."

The two of them chuckled, and Joel felt so fucking light talking about you. Like he could breathe again, properly.

"Too humble, and she takes care of everyone," Jennifer had added, spinning the tumbler in her fingers, their knees touching under the bar.

"I'm hoping things work out with her and Luke. She deserves to be taken care of herself. She deserves to be happy."

And then she had clammed up, realizing perhaps that she and Joel weren't really the kind of people that talked this much.

"Yeah, she does," Joel had managed before taking a long pull off his drink and ordering another.

I hope things work out with her and Luke.

This was what he wanted, wasn't it? You safe, you happy, you alive. Luke could offer you happiness and support. He wasn't a cruel man; that was obvious. He was a good match for you.

And yet...

Joel threw back his next drink, frustrated that the stinging edges of his pain weren’t dulled. You and Luke? The thought should have relieved him, to know you’d be taken care of. But the thought of you with anyone else had him seeing red.

"Anyway, are you and Ellie going to do anything special for Christmas?" an oblivious Jennifer asked. "Do you have a tree in your place?"

And Joel answered quietly, his mouth twisted in bitterness, causing Jennifer to shuffle a little closer to hear him.

"Yeah, we got a tree."

Jennifer chattered on about the decorations at her place, and Joel tried his best to be polite. She touched his hand at one point, and he tried not to shake it off. If he wanted to hear tidbits about you, he needed to be sure to keep this connection open. It meant being polite to Jennifer in the hopes that you'd be brought up.

And later, when he heard you through the crowd trying to get a beer for Penny, he immediately sprang from his seat at the bar, coming to stand behind you. His resolve was gone, desperation clear in his expression when you turned around before ducking out of the bar. He needed to touch you.

But his heart hurt when he saw you had that familiar expression he knew so well; that grimace you wore when the world got too loud and overwhelming. He knew how to fix it.

He could make it go quiet for you.

He wanted to bring you that comfort. And selfishly he just needed to see it one last time. One last memory to take with him as you grew to hate him. One last moment as his.

You were anxious, your body tight as he pressed you against the side of the building. But he saw the same longing in your eyes that he knew his possessed as well. If he could make you come just one more time he could move on. He just needed to make you his one more time.

And fuck you felt like heaven. Ready for him, so beautiful and sweet-smelling and he could have cried at touching you again. He told himself he would memorize your expression, the little whimpers, the way you felt against his shoulder and then he could move past your time together.

But when you pushed him away he felt that familiar darkness creeping back in.

And he knew that it was for the best.

He would only hurt you.

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

Joel feels everything drain out of him at the sight of your body frozen and bloodied in the snow. That strange sensation that overtook him at the hospital with Ellie, the helpless rage that coursed through his body with Sarah.

You're gone.

He played it safe, he denied himself and denied you and now it's too late. He's always too fucking late. With Sarah. With telling Ellie the truth of the hospital and the fireflies. With you.

You tried time and time again. You shared yourself, you cared for Joel in a way no one ever had. And how had be repaid this kindness? This affection? By turning his back on you. By telling himself that keeping you near would only be bad for you.

He never truly considered the alternative.

The snow storm has made quick work of the body, your face and legs covered.

He won't leave your body here, not with your sweet, soft face buried in snow.

He thinks of the doe he killed. Of how he'd forced you to carry it thinking he was helping to make you strong. He wishes nothing more than to go back in time.

He can still hear the way you laughed with him over coffee, the delicate skin of your inner thighs against his mouth, the curve of your back when you arched for him. But mostly he thinks of your eyes searching his.

"I'm so sorry," he mutters to your frozen corpse, holding back ugly sobs. "I'm so fucking sorry, baby."

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

He wasn’t going to look at you. Wasn’t going to go near you. Wasn’t going to touch you.

These were the rules Joel had set in place for himself as he walked over to the chapel to the holiday party. He was still humiliated by the memory of cornering you against the side of the Bison and he made sure not to drink much this evening.

He had his large keg of homemade cider under one arm, his throat bobbing as he swallowed nervously, joining the groups of people heading into the chapel, the lights shining beautifully.

He had tried to back out of the whole thing, but Ellie had been so eager to go, so excited to experience the event for the first time. How the hell was he supposed to say no to her? And Tommy would have questions, would needle him into confessing why he wasn’t coming, and Joel didn’t want to talk about it.

He stood awkwardly to one side.

Then he heard Ellie’s voice and scanned the bustling room until he spotted her with you. He stood on the fringes, watching as you tied a bow into his daughter’s hair and hugged her like she was your own.

Then she was gone, and you felt Joel’s eyes on you. You looked ethereal, your eyes sparkling, your hair soft-looking. Joel had always loved you in your sweater and jeans, but something about you dressed up and so at ease made his heart throb.

And he wanted to strangle and then embrace Tommy for making the two of you dance. To feel your warmth and your softness in his arms again. Joel knew it was foolish to reach out and take your wrist in his hand. But he was desperate, pathetically so. He needed to touch you, to feel you in his arms again, even if it was only on a dance floor.

He couldn’t stop staring at you, feeling oddly proud as others whispered nearby about how beautiful you looked. And he wanted to turn to them, to beam and point and say "Isn't she? And she's with me. She's mine."

But you weren't his.

And you truly were so exquisite, but you were also so vulnerable in a way that hurt him as he held you against him. Your eyes gazing into his reflected the sorrow that he himself had been fighting for as long as you had. The days spent in bed, the nights pining for you.

“Baby.”

It slipped out, a hush of a thought accompanied by the desire to kiss you softly and whisper that he was there, that you never had to worry when he was around. It was followed by a lump in his throat at the acknowledgement that he had hurt you.

It was the wrong thing to say because he saw how your brows saddled and your eyes filled with tears. When you looked at him, he couldn’t help but feel overwhelmed himself, especially when you offered him a murmured:

“Joel, I lo—”

And he knew that the moment you finished that sentence, he would be done for. He would let the walls come crumbling down around him. He would push the fears and anxieties about your safety away and would be selfish enough to say it right back. He would take you in his arms and claim you as his, and he would forever be distracted at the thought of you in his home, in his bed.

He would be putting himself in danger. He would be putting his patrol partner’s life in danger. And if he couldn’t keep the infected and the raiders at bay, he would be putting you and Ellie and Tommy and Maria and Douglas and everyone else in danger. He couldn’t allow this distraction. Distractions meant death.

You all needed protection and safety, and he couldn’t offer you either if all he could think about was you. What use was he if he couldn’t protect others?

So it was good that Wayne came through the door with more booze and distracted everyone because it gave Joel just enough time to remember himself. It allowed Joel to step back from your pull and to leave you on the dance floor before he did something foolish. He didn’t even think about how it would look, only that he needed to get away.

Everything in him called to you, but that was his Achilles' heel because his weakness was you. Your love made him useless, so you needed to hate him.

It was the only way to keep you from chipping away at his self-restraint. It was the only way to keep everyone safe. He told himself this as he scanned the room for the one person who promised him your hatred.

Jennifer.

Jennifer was only too eager to follow Joel to the far side of the dance floor, near where the coats were hung and he internally cringed when she breathily told him she’d been waiting so long for him to really notice her. They were partially hidden, away from prying eyes but public enough for others to glimpse. There’s a chance you might see and that’s what needed to happen. You needed to come upon them and you needed to hate him.

Joel thought of your eyes when he pulled the eager Jenny up against him, moving his mouth to hers.

She felt wrong to kiss, her lips clumsy and unfamiliar. They didn't touch his right, they weren't responsive like yours. It wasn't working.

But her hand was at his buckle and he knew he needed it to work to get you out of his head, to get you to hate him. If you didn’t catch them, Jenny would tell you about this tomorrow and the line would be drawn. You would hate him and it would be done. No chance of reconciliation.

So he closed his eyes and with her mouth going soft for a moment he could almost convince himself it was you. He could recall the little gasp you made when he first kissed you. The way you breathlessly looked at him the first time he entered you.

And then he was hard, kissing this woman and thinking only of you.

Jenny’s hips were circling his as Joel’s eyes fell shut with your face behind them. He tilted his mouth from her, unable to continue the vision of you when her unfamiliar lips pecked at his.

She didn’t mind, moving her mouth to his neck and placing languid kisses there. She was needy for him, eager to explore his body, but all Joel could imagine was you in his bed, the way you moved for him, the absolute trust in your eyes, the love he had for you and would always have for you.

I wanna give you everythin’.

But at the crash of the wine glass and the sight of you looking so betrayed Joel felt nothing but cold regret the second he watched you taking in the scene. He tensed up, instinctively wanting to pull from the confused Jennifer.

But the sight that stopped everything was the absolute pity in your eyes for him. The barely contained disgust and contempt. It made him sick to his stomach to see it. It wasn’t the response he had been expecting. You were supposed to be angry at him. The wineglass seemed a perfect opportunity to rouse such a feeling in you.

“Clean it up.”

Why weren’t you shouting? Why weren’t you telling him he was a piece of shit that you hated?

"You don't give me orders anymore."

He could only stare after you as you left the party, feeling like he’d swallowed a cold stone as he watched you leave his life. Despite doing this for your safety, everything in him wanted to grab you and explain that he was doing this for you. To save you from him.

When Jennifer slapped him across the face it had felt appropriate. He deserved worse. He almost wished she had punched him, that she'd drawn blood.

Maybe if he spilled his blood he could exercise you from his body in the same way.

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

Joel falls to his knees, his hands gently moving the building snow from your frozen body, his eyes a watercolor blur. Tears fall down the corner of his eyes as he brushes at the flakes. He’ll bring your body back, he’ll give you a proper burial.

Tears slide down his nose and fall onto the snow covering you.

“I’m sorry,” he repeats over and over. “I’m so fuckin’ sorry.”

How many times did he hold himself back from taking you into his arms? How many times did he push you away thinking he was doing the right thing? How could being away from you ever be the right thing?

He thinks of you dying out here by yourself, of how you died here in a forest that terrified you. He thinks of how you died thinking he didn't care about you and of how you must have felt the same terrified way you did when The Group took you and your sister all those years ago.

Were you crying this time? Screaming? Did you fight back? Did you think of Joel? Did you curse him? Did you go to the grave hating him? He would have deserved it. He should have been here with you. Protecting you.

“Joel, I know that if you loved something you'd protect it with everything you had."

The reminder of those words in your tender voice have him sobbing now, curled on his knees as he continues to brush away the flakes from your face. He sees the blood emerging with each brush, the halo of red until your face is revealed to him, a bullet wound straight through the center of your skull.

No.

Not your skull.

Not your face.

A woman he doesn't recognize. A woman with similar hair but a completely different face. A woman with unseeing eyes and a snarl frozen in her features. Her vacant eyes rest wide and forever ever un-blinking up at him.

It isn't you.

He stands, his gun raised and his heart pounding as he glares out into the continuing snowstorm.

Save who you can save.

He can save you.

#fanfiction recommendation #joel miller fanfiction

946 notes · View notes