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pascalxp · 7 days ago

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This healed me from episode 2. Thank you!

"I only see daylight"

Joel Miller x f!reader

Summary: What is waiting for you after life ends? Joel woke up to a life he had spent missing this whole time. You are there, Sarah is there, and a baby too. w.c: 1,7k (tiny baby) warnings: mentions of blood, crying, and mentions of an afterlife. I don't know if you believe in that but I like to think about it.

a/n: I don't know if you could consider this a fix-it fic, but I hope you do because I love this little idea I had the other day. I know it's short, but I have requests to work in and more "Blind faith" chapters to work in. Happy reading. Please remember to reblog and comment. I appreciate them very much.

dividers by @/saradika-graphics

“Joel…Can I ask you something?” Ellie asked, clearing her throat.

He kept his eyes on the road ahead of them but gave a small nod. “Shoot.”

“Did you… I mean, before all this. Did you ever… you know. Love someone? Like, for real?”

Joel’s grip on his backpack tightened. For a moment, he wasn’t walking on that road anymore. He was somewhere else. Back when he was younger, with his baby girl in his arms and a woman’s laugh in his ears.

“Yeah,” he said softly. “Yeah, I did.”

Ellie looked over at him, surprised by the weight in his voice.

“Who was she?”

He hesitated, then let out a breath. “Her name was… well, she came into my life the day Sarah was born. Her mother… she didn’t stick around. But she did. God, she did. Never asked for anything. Just… showed up with a smile and a cup of hospital coffee. Held Sarah like she was her own. She was her mother and she was my wife.”

Joel smiled faintly, a ghost of a smile. “We were together for years. Raised Sarah, built a life in Austin. Didn’t even get around to getting’ married. World ended a month before that.”

Ellie was quiet, watching him. “What happened to her?”

Joel’s eyes clouded. “The outbreak happened.”

He didn’t say more. He didn’t have to.

He still couldn’t say out loud how you died on his arms two days after Sarah.

How the smell of fresh coffee that filled the kitchen at home became the smell of blood sticking on his hands while he tried to keep you alive.

The snow fell fiercely outside the lodge. Joel’s breath ragged and shallow.

He couldn’t take the pain anymore. He couldn’t survive another punch against his face. He was dying.

He could barely see Ellie, screaming some feet away from him. Pleading.

“Joel, please get up.” “Joel, please” she choked.

Oh, his baby girl. He wanted to swallow all the pain, but his broken bones and body could barely bear the pain.

One push, one try. But something sharp on his neck stole his lasts breaths away.

His vision blurred. The world dimmed. In those mere last moments, last seconds. He saw them.

Ellie crawling to him.

But he also saw you. Beautiful as ever, eyes wet, reaching for him.

And Sarah just as she was that night in Austin, her smile breaking his heart.

Joel tried to speak, but no words came.

A tear slipped from the corner of his eye.

Then, nothing.

All went black.

For a moment, or perhaps forever, there was nothing. No pain. No cold. No Ellie’s voice calling his name. Just silence.

The soft chirping of morning birds. The faint hum of a ceiling fan. And the distant smell of fresh coffee.

Joel’s eyes fluttered open.

His breathing was steady, his body didn’t hurt. No blood. No searing pain in his ribs. No snow or cracked lodge ceiling above him.

Instead, a familiar ceiling fan turned lazily overhead, and pale morning light streamed through the curtains of his room.

At home, in Austin.

He sat up abruptly, a cold sweat clinging to his skin.

The bed side next to him was made, your side, neatly tucked like you always did. A glass of water sat untouched on your nightstand. The clock on the wall read 7:14 AM. The same perfume he had never got to forget lingered on your pillow, soft and warm, and so goddamn real Joel felt his chest tighten.

His hand shot up to his face — searching for cuts, bruises, something. But there was nothing. His hair was damp with sweat, but his fingers came away clean.

He swallowed hard, heart thudding in his ears.

What the hell was this?

Joel swung his legs over the side of the bed, bare feet pressing against cool wooden floors. He could hear movement in the kitchen, the gentle clink of a spoon against a mug, the scrape of a chair.

His throat closed up.

It was you, your laugh echoing through the house.

Soft. Carefree. Real.

And for a moment, he was terrified to move, terrified that if he stood and crossed that room, it would disappear — like every other goddamn thing in his life had.

But the pull was too strong.

Joel pushed open the bedroom door.

The house was just as he remembered it. The old photographs lining the hallway. Sarah’s soccer trophies. The faded denim jacket slung over the back of a chair. Everything untouched by fire, or blood, or the passage of time.

And then, there you were.

Standing in the kitchen, back to him, pouring coffee into two mugs. One of them — his old favorite. The one with the chipped rim.

You turned as if you felt his eyes on you.

That same smile. That same light in your eyes.

“Morning, stranger,” you teased, unaware of the storm brewing in his chest.

Joel couldn’t speak. Couldn’t breathe.

He crossed the room in three long strides and pulled you into him, arms wrapping around your waist so tight it made you laugh, the mug nearly slipping from your hand.

“Whoa! Easy, cowboy,” you chuckled against his shoulder. “Bad dream?”

His hand cradled the back of your head, burying his face in your hair, drinking in your scent, the warmth of your body.

“I… I don’t know,” he rasped, voice thick.

“Hey,” you whispered, pulling back just enough to look at him. “I’ve been right here, Joel. I’m not going anywhere.”

And when you kissed him , soft, steady, grounding, it felt like everything broken inside him finally came home.

He kept his forehead pressed to yours for a beat longer, eyes shut, breathing you in like a man starved. But then, something shifted. His hand, still resting against your waist, slid down — and froze.

A gentle curve. A fullness where there hadn’t been one before.

Joel’s brow furrowed, his eyes snapping open. He pulled back just enough to look down, and there it was.

Your belly, round and unmistakably swollen beneath the soft fabric of your, his worn t-shirt. His mouth parted, but no sound came out.

You followed his gaze, a smile tugging at your lips. “Hey,” you murmured, resting your hand over his. “Don’t look so spooked.”

Joel swallowed hard, eyes flicking from your face to your stomach, then back again. His heart thundered in his chest, a thousand questions fighting for room.

And then you said it, soft and calm, like it was the most normal thing in the world.

“Ellie is right inside here.”

Joel’s breath caught.

That name.

Ellie.

The word carved through him like a lightning strike. His mind, already fragile, started to crack along the seams. He stared at you, at the tender way your hand cradled your belly, at the glow in your eyes, like this had always been your life.

“Ellie?” he croaked, his voice barely a whisper.

You smiled, brushing a thumb along his jaw. “Yeah?” you nodded, looking a bit worry because of his state. “Remember doctor says she’s stubborn already.” You chuckled, your eyes shimmering with a mix of joy and mischief. “Wonder where she gets that from.”

Joel staggered back a half-step, running a trembling hand through his hair. The room spun. A wave of warmth and memory and heartbreak crashing into him all at once.

He remembered Ellie. How couldn’t he? He remembered snow and blood and a lodge floor.

But here, here she wasn’t a girl with a mouthful of trouble. She was…

His and yours.

For real.

A future that had never existed. A life stolen from him, given back in pieces.

Joel’s vision blurred. His knees buckled slightly, and you caught his arm.

“Joel,” you whispered, concern flashing across your face. “Hey — hey, it’s okay. Breathe, baby. You’re alright. We’re alright.”

He clung to you like a man drowning.

Joel clung to you like a man drowning, his face buried in the curve of your neck, your hand stroking the back of his head, steady and familiar. You felt his breath hitch, the tremble in his arms. Whatever nightmare had clawed at him, it was still lingering in his bones.

Then, he heard the footsteps.

Light, quick steps padding down the hallway. The soft creak of the floorboard outside the room.

“Dad?” a young voice called.

Joel stiffened. His head jerked up.

And there she was.

Sarah.

Alive. Whole.

Framed by the doorway in her faded hoodie and denim shorts, backpack slung over one shoulder, a little messy ponytail, like she always rushed through it in the mornings.

“Dad, Mom — it’s getting late for school,” she groaned, rolling her eyes like any other teenager. “I already saw uncle Tommy waiting out front, and if I have to listen to him sing along to the radio one more time, I swear I’ll jump outta the truck.”

Joel’s breath punched out of him like he’d been hit. His lips trembled.

“Baby girl…” he rasped.

Sarah blinked, confused. “You okay, Dad? You look kinda… weird.”

You smiled gently, your heart cracking a little at Joel’s expression, and stepped toward Sarah, brushing a hand down her arm. “Hey, sweetheart — give your dad a second, okay? He’s just… he had a rough night.”

Sarah sighed, the way only a 12-year-old could. “Ugh, bad dreams again? Should’ve told him not to eat chili dogs that late.”

Joel let out a strangled laugh, a sound halfway between a sob and a chuckle.

You leaned in, pressing a kiss to Sarah’s temple. “Uncle Tommy’s taking you today. Go grab your stuff, and I’ll be out in a sec.”

Sarah groaned but turned, heading back toward the hall. “Tell him I call dibs on the front seat!” she shouted over her shoulder.

The moment she disappeared around the corner, Joel collapsed back to your arms, his hand dragging down your skin.

“Jesus Christ,” he whispered.

“You’re safe, Joel. You’re home.” You promised as you caressed his neck with your fingertips

His eyes, wet and wide, met yours. “Is this… is this real?” His voice cracked like it was too fragile to ask. “You. Sarah. Baby Ellie. Is this…?”

You leaned, pressing your forehead to his.

“It’s real,” you promised softly. “It’s ours.”

And for the first time in years, in decades, Joel Miller cried.

He didn’t know what he had done to deserve to see this light again.

But whoever had mercy on him. Gave him the chance to live a second life in daylight.

With you, Sarah, and a baby, Ellie.

#pedro pascal #pedropascal #joelmiller #joel miller #thelastofus #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you

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