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bookworm-with-coffee · 10 months

Text

Softly. . .

(Kili x Reader)

(A/N); Hillooo!! Let's switch up the angst today, lovelies with more Kili love!! As always, enjoy!!

Plot; When Kili is dying and can't rely on Tauriel, who then can he count on?

Pairings; Kili x Reader (Romantic)

Warnings; long fic, blood/injury, mature themes, coarse language, violence, unrequited love, angst, eventual fluff

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Exhaustion burned like a sting through the muscles in your legs. Having travelled so far in the span of a day, the Company had made it from the stability provided by Beorn's home now to the depths of Mirkwood where the days seemed timeless and dark. Your own footsteps rang like a drum in your ears, the grip that an Elven soldier had on you was unyeilding.

Completely stripped of your outer layers and weaponry, you felt unbelievably helpless as you were marched along the winding bridges to perhaps a worser fate than death. You all didn't know.

"Tolo hí", a cocky Elf unwisely shoved Thorin towards a staircase, the King matching the taller male's glare. You angrily tried to shrug yourself from the grip of the soldier holding you, attempting to stick up for your Company's leader. The Dwarves shared your sentiment, Thorin waving all of you down before the fights could begin. You all weren't exactly in a position to stir trouble, after all. Things had to remain peaceful for good negotiations.

"Don't struggle. I will be back", he assured you all, his ocean gaze burning with surity before he ascended the steps to the throne room. The Elves forced you all onwards, your path leading you further down into the bowels of the city; the dungeons. The leader Legolas, he'd been named; scrutinized you with his harsh gaze, undoubtedly noting how you stood out like a sore thumb amongst the others of this Company. One human female and thirteen male Dwarves certainly made for an interesting travelling circus, in his eyes. Yet, you knew you were missing one more member of your group.

Bofur noticed Bilbo's disappearance first, always seeming to keep track of your whereabouts as much as the missing Hobbit's. You all declined to mention your lost fifteenth member of the Company, trying to avoid making it known that you were seeking him out hopefully. Some part of your heart screamed to you that he was already here, that he hadn't abandoned you all. He would rescue you all soon, you were sure of it.

The Elves finally made their stop, the soldier that held you releasing the hard hold he had on your arm. You were sure you would have bruising later. Your captors began to lead your group in pairs or singles up and down stairs, completely separating you all. Balin turned to you, attempting to offer you assurance with a steady smile and a glance that told you, everything will be fine. You hoped so as you were finally lead away from the older Dwarf with Bofur. Worry flashed in Fili and Kili's eyes as you ascended stairs to your right with your cellmate, the brothers both having some level of protectiveness over you.

The cells were small with no chairs or any form of comfort, only the cold floor to sit on. While trudging forwards, you were suddenly shoved into the small room behind Bofur, crashing into him and hitting the floor. "Oh, shit!", you hissed, rubbing at your head and helping him to his feet.

"Are ye alright, Love?", he asked, wholeheartedly unconcerned with himself. His hand moved your own to check for any blood or wounds that the fall may have given you, finally sighing in relief. "You'll be fine". Patting your shoulder, he moved past you to look through the bars of the now locked door. He gripped the bars, much like the others had started doing. All of the Dwarves, save for Balin, kicked and threw themselves desperately at the bars in their attempt to dent or break them. The metal was completely reinforced, the Dwarves risking harm to themselves more than their cell bars.

"It's no use!", Balin shouted. "This is no Orc prison. These are the dungeons of the Woodland Realm!". Dejected, everyone dropped to the floor, inclusive of yourself. Balin was right. There was no escaping unless Thorin could strike a deal with the Elven King, Thranduil. An agitated roar left Dwalin's throat, punching the bars before throwing himself down as well. You would all have to sit this out and wait.

Turning your head to your right, you gazed down at the other cells. Kili's cell with Fili's above his, Ori and Dori together to his left, Balin to his right. Nori was probably further up from Kili. Dwalin's cell was behind yours, meaning Gloin and Oin were probably in the cell beneath your own. Bifur had been locked with Bombur in the cell by the staircase you'd climbed. They were the first to be locked up.

Gnawing on your lower lip, you found your gaze landing on Kili. He was your closest friend and the one you worried for the most. This quest had been costing on you both, mentally and physically so. But, you'd found comfort in each other.

On the days when it rained, the young Prince was always there to tell a joke that reminded you of sunshine. When you were cold, he would offer you his strong and heated arms. Kili had already saved your life numerous times, always throwing himself in harm's way just to protect you.

In the late hours of the night, you'd offer solace to the homesick Prince who often dreamed of his mother and home in the Blue Mountains. It was in these quiet hours when he was unafraid to open himself to you. Sometimes you'd spar and train with him to give him relief from his restlessness, participate in pranks or tell him stories of your homeland if he was down. Your bedroll was always beside his leaving the Company to speculate on your relationship with Kili.

There was nothing to tell, to your disappointment. Kili had admitted no feelings for you and vice versa. Some part of you feared losing the fierce friendship and bond with him, should he know the truth and not feel the same. Your feelings for the Dwarf were obvious to everyone, even to Fili, who had become like a protective older brother to you. Yet, they were not obvious to the one who held your affections.

Your head turned to find Bofur's gaze already on you, an amused grin splayed on his expression. He sat with his back against the opposite wall, his brows risen suggestively. "What?", you sputtered, feigning innocence.

"Am I supposed t' act like I don't know who yer' starin' at or what?". He laughed softly, folding his arms with a shake of his head. A flush of heat hit your cheeks in embarrassment. "You've got it bad, Love".

"Got what?".

"The love bug", he shrugged. "You're in love–".

"Don't say it any louder!", you hissed, a few giggles escaping the Dwarf.

"I don't know how long it's been since I first noticed it, but I've known for a long time now", he confessed, your head dipping in further abashment. "And there's no shame in it". Bofur nudged your leg with his foot, offering you a kind smile when your eyes lifted again to meet his own.

"Does Thorin know?".

"He'd have t' be deaf, blind and stupid not t', Love", Bofur guffawed.

"Oh dear", you groaned, hiding your face in your hands.

"Fili knows". Your eyes widened in shock, peeking through the splits in your fingers at the dark haired Dwarf. Thinking it best to be honest, he continued, "In fact, I don't think there's a soul amongst us, save for Kili himself, that doesn't know about this. Sorry, Lass".

"And you thought of telling me when??", you gaped.

"When Dwalin would finally be at snapping point at yer lovesick bantering", he laughed. "Which surprisingly, he hasn't reached yet". You groaned again in your shame, too embarrassed to show your face. " 'Ey". He nudged your leg again. "Don't be ashamed. Dwalin is a patient Dwarf, as are we all. We understand". Your calf being the only thing he could grip from where he sat, Bofur began to caress it to try and soothe you. "Jus' be thankful yer' not sharing yer cell with Dwalin right now".

Your hands fell from your face whilst you giggled, the both of you finding humour in his additional statement. "I'm in the next cell, not deaf, Bofur", a grumble followed quietly.

"Aye. Noted. Sorry!", he called back softly, the both of you lapsing again into a short fit of shared laughter. You realized it was his aim all along. With gratitude shining in your gaze, you inclined your head to your cellmate.

"Thanks, Bofur". Tipping his hat, he grinned with immeasurable mirth,

"Yer' always much welcome, Lass".

The wait for Thorin's return began. Or to be rescued by Bilbo, whichever first. Hours, perhaps even days were passing. You didn't know. The dungeons of the Woodland Realm fell silent for some time, your eyes coming to close. Cheerful music and voices softly began to pour down from the upper levels, almost lulling you asleep with its beauty. Your stomach growled painfully, reminding you that you hadn't eaten since Beorn's. Footsteps descending from the throne room caught your immediate attention, however. Your brows rose, peering from the bars of your prison cell as the familiar figure of the redheaded Captain of the Guard, Tauriel made her way past your cell before travelling downward. Patrolling. Kili had occupied himself with something and it was clear that the pointy-eared bitch couldn't keep her nose out of his business.

"The stone in your hand", she whispered sternly. "What is it?". Was nothing sacred?? Could he not have something in his possession??

Your chest puffed out, ready to tell her to leave and mind her business when Kili finally replied, "It is a talisman". This caught your curiosity as well as Tauriel's. "A powerful spell lies upon it. If any but a Dwarf read the runes on this stone, they will be forever cursed! ", he spat, forcing her to gaze at the dark object. Good job, Kili. You relished in her shock, relaxing as she finally seemed to be leaving. "Or not". Your mouth fell open. What was he doing?? She was your enemy! Tauriel backtracked her steps, returning to Kili's cell. "Depending on whether or not you believe in that kind of thing, it's just a token", he shrugged, a soft laugh escaping him. It seemed as if Tauriel was smiling as well. "A rune stone. My mother gave it to me so that I'd remember my promise".

"What promise?".

"That I will come back to her", Kili smiled, your heart burning with envy at the kindness he shared with her. Never in all the nights you'd spent in his company, had the Princeling shared this special rune stone with you, nor its backstory. Not that it was anyone's business, of course. But, you now found yourself wishing that he had shared something this intimate and unique with you. "She worries. She thinks I'm wreckless", he continued with a sigh.

"And are you?", Tauriel failed to fight her smile, clearly enjoying her time with the Prince.

"Nah". When throwing the stone again, however, it slipped from his grip. It skidded out of his cell and under her boot. You'd tensed, worried that it would've fallen into the nearby chasm. Now it was in her possession and she'd confiscate it for sure. Her nimble fingers held it into the dim light, looking over the intricate runes that covered the small stone. Kili had stood, worrying over the stone the way you had. "It's quite the party you're having up there", he mused, trying to draw her attention from the stone.

"It is Mereth en-Gilith", she replied. "The Feast of Starlight. All light is sacred to the Eldar, but Wood Elves love best the light of the stars".

"I always thought it is a cold light, so remote and far away", he confessed. Incredulously, she whispered,

"It is memory! Precious and pure!". Her turquoise eyes fell to the dark stone occupying her palm. "Like that promise". Reaching it forwards, she allowed Kili to take it back. "I have walked there sometimes", she added, gathering his undivided attention. "Above the forest and up into the night. I have seen the world fall away and the white light of forever fill the air".

Looking down at the Prince, he seemed effortlessly taken by her. His hazel orbs were glittering in awe, his lips parted in a state of wonder. And could he be blamed?? Tauriel had pure, creamy skin, unblemished and ageless with the beauty of the Elves. Long, thick tresses and a graceful air about her. She's a far more skilled warrior than yourself, which Kili also seemed to admire.

"I saw a Fire Moon once". Another story he'd failed to share with you, intriguing the Elf in his presence further. His smile grew as he leant against the bars. "It rose over the pass near Dunland. Huge! Red and gold it was as it filled the sky". Tauriel sat by the stairs of Kili's cell, intently listening to his story the way you would have. "We were an escort for some merchants of Ered Luin. They were trading in silverware for furs. We took the green way south, keeping the mountains to our left. And there up ahead, this huge Fire Moon lighting our path. I wish I could show you".

Some part of you knew and berated you for not seeing this coming. Perhaps it was blissful ignorance? Or misplaced complacency in your heart?? Kili always had a predisposition of curiosity towards the Elves, having shamelessly flirted with one of them in Rivendell and admitting, accidentally to his humiliation, that he found one of their males attractive. So, what chance did you stand against them?? None.

Dejectedly, your head hit the rough wall behind you, their shared laughter and conversations bitterly reminding you that you never did stand a chance to begin with. It was clear that your feelings for the Prince weren't returned. Only now was it plain for you to see. Hating the way jealousy's unkind flames wreaked havoc within your mind, tears began to burn in your eyes without forgiveness. With a sigh, your face suddenly crumpled and your shoulders shook, sobs wracking your body. Bofur heard your silent sniffles, being the light sleeper that he was. "Hey!", his voice cooed to you softly, instantly waking from his daze. "What's goin' on??". Your throat felt tight, your heart aching painfully within your chest. Desperately, you wiped at your eyes, the kind Dwarf moving to sit on your left. He needed only to look through the cage bars to realise what ailed you. His gaze softened, surprised at this revelation. However, it didn't stop his warm arms from circling you. Your head fell into the crook of his neck, safe from the negativities of the world. Bofur's large hands worked comforting caresses on your back and shoulders. "There, there now", he hushed you. "There, there. I've got ye".

"It hurts, Bofur", you wept. Part of his heart broke hearing those words, knowing that no joke he could offer you now would make it better. He felt useless.

"I know", he whispered. "I know it hurts". Bofur's heated arms tightened their embrace, some part of him hoping that they would help remove the pain. "He didn't know how ye felt for him. And as far as I'm concerned,—", he wiped at your face. "— he's an idiot for not bein' in love with ye instead of that daft Elf maid". You chuckled bitterly,

"She's hardly daft. She's beautiful".

"Perhaps on the outside", he conceded. "But, if Kili can't see the beauty that's both outside and within yerself, don't waste time pursuing the heart that clearly isn't yours". You knew what he was implying and the thought of disregarding your feelings for the Prince horrified you.

"It's not some simple fixation, Bofur! I love him!", you sighed hopelessly. "It's not easy to let go of someone you–". He nodded in understanding. You felt connected so deeply with Kili, you were sure that the concept of soulmates existed. You'd never felt anything like this before. And now, every part of you felt like that connection was being torn away. It was agony.

"Whatever ye decide, I only hope as yer friend that ye choose your happiness above all else. Even if it's hard". You nodded. "I'm here for ye, Lass. We all are, remember that".

Sleep eventually took you within Bofur's embrace, the kind Dwarf refusing to let you go. Despite no romantic attraction to you, he still valued your happiness and everyone else's. You were exhausted, in desperate need of food and sleep. Even if it was a tad of rest, he'd still help you get it with a bit of comfort.

The wait to be rescued continued for some hours thereafter, Tauriel finally leaving to join the festivities above. Marching footsteps thundered through the halls, startling you awake. Thorin was back, at last. Alive and unscathed to your relief.

"Did he offer you a deal?", Balin's voice called out, all of you eager to listen.

"He did", Thorin replied, his voice growing to a yell that echoed through the very heart of the Woodland Realm. "I told him he can go ishkh khakfe andu null!! Him and all his kin!!". The white haired Dwarf sighed through his nostrils in exasperation, shaking his head.

"Well, that's that, then", he huffed. "That deal was our only hope".

"Not our only hope", the King shot back, his eyes glimmering with the same hopes in all your hearts. He too had faith Bilbo would return.

The Hobbit wasn't too far away, having already infiltrated the kingdom using the Ring that not one of you knew about. It had saved him from the Goblins and he'd use it to save you all too. Bilbo's steps were invisible and silent when he descended into the bowels of Mirkwood. He'd cautiously followed the Elf that bore the prison keys, marking his patrols. The wine cellar was where most of the guards seemed to be. They spoke of the festivities above, the keeper of the keys not willing to forsake his duties. "They're locked up!", the others insisted, snatching the keys to hang them on a hook. "Where can they go?". Bilbo smiled. If only they knew..

"I'll wager the sun is on the rise", Bofur ground out beside you. "Must be nearly dawn".

"We're never going to reach the mountain, are we?", Ori's faint sigh echoed. Your heart sank for the Company. You'd been enlisted to help them, but there was naught left that even you could do for them now. Fili stomped in frustration, throwing himself on the floor.

"Not locked in here, you're not", the familiar voice of Bilbo rang out. You felt as if you'd waited forever to hear those words, relieved to see your friend alive.

"Bilbo!", you gasped, clawing at the bars with a grin.

"Bilbo!!", the others began to shout happily, collectively overjoyed to see the Hobbit as well.

"Shh!! There are guards nearby!!", he hissed, starting with Thorin and Balin's cells, working his way upwards. He worked his way along with Fili, Ori and Dori, Oin and Gloin, Kili, followed by Bifur and Bombur.

Finally, he reached your cage. Once the door swung open, the Hobbit was in your arms, happily embracing you back. "I'm so glad you're alright!", you laughed ecstatically.

"Same with you!", he assured, breaking from you with a grin to continue on his way to let out Dwalin and Nori. Bofur lead you down the steps, Kili seemingly waiting for you by the bottom, relieved to see you again. The sentiment wasn't shared. A flush of resentment had filled your heart, your brows creasing at the Prince.

"Are you alright, (Y/n)?". His question fell on deaf ears. Noting your short-sleeved tunic, he continued, "You're looking cold. Here, I'll–".

"Just leave me alone", your words were a sharp grumble, your eyes unusually apathetic. You moved past the Prince as if he were nothing. Hurt and confusion flashed through Kili's eyes whilst he watched your retreating figure, his hand slowly dropping to his side.

Various members of the Company, noteably Thorin, Balin and Fili; onlooked in shared confusion at your uncharacteristic behaviour. Had something happened??

Dwalin clapped Kili's shoulder in passing, drawing the Princeling back to focus. He quickly followed his gathering kin at the top of a stairwell with varying routes. "Not that way!", Bilbo's call was still a whisper, leading you all onto one of the others that lead downwards instead. "Down here! Follow me!!".

Freedom, you thought. You all followed close behind the Hobbit, confident in his plan of escape. Strangely, he seemed to know where he was going. Or so you thought until you reached what looked to be a wine cellar. The sounds of snores reached your ears as you descended the last steps to your destination. A group of intoxicated Elves were resting their heads on a table, completely ignoring their guard duties. Having followed Bilbo down first, Kili growled, "I don't believe this– we're in the cellars!!". Bofur followed after,

"Yer' supposed t' be leadin' us out, not further in!!".

"I know what I'm doing—", Bilbo tried to respond, Bofur cutting in,

"Shh!!", holding a finger over his mouth. The Dwarves all filed in ahead of you, Dori and Dwalin flanking you protectively out of instinct. From where he stood with his brother, Kili eyed you with a pensive gaze, his strong brows knitted together in concern.

"Everyone! Quickly! Climb into the barrels now!", Bilbo's orders were hushed, his eyes desperate. He had a plan. That much you could tell.

"Are you mad?!", Dwalin hissed. "They'll find us!!".

"No, they won't! They won't! Please, please, you must trust me!". Following his words, you watched then as Bilbo turned to Thorin with a pleading gaze.

"Do as he says", the King whispered. Instantly, everyone began to climb into the barrels, even Thorin himself. Only, there were two problems. One, there weren't enough barrels for you to join the Dwarves. Two, you would surely be too big for a barrel. Thirteen concerned sets of eyes caught onto that situation rather quickly, various whispers of,

"What about (Y/n)?", "She needs somewhere to hide too!!", "Where can she go??", filling the room.

"Calm down!", the burglar begged quietly. "Let me think!!".

"No time!", you insisted. "I'll have to go without". Whispers of protest rang out from the Dwarves, not satisfied with your situation.

"For the love of Mahal, (Y/n)! Don't be a fool!", Fili chided.

"Climb in my barrel?", Kili offered hesitantly, your brief harshness towards him being forgotten in his concern for your safety. Bofur's head snapped towards him with an expression that read, 'Really?? After the damage you've done?'.

"I will not risk your safety", Thorin interluded, your gaze falling to the leader you respected so much. "There's no time. Climb in with Kili". Your previous resentment towards the younger Prince was already gone. And despite your hurting heart, all you truly wanted for Kili now was for him to be happy, even if it was without you.

Climbing up, you slipped quickly into the warm alcove of the Princeling's barrel. It was a tight squeeze, but you managed to fit everything under your shoulders into it. "Are you comfortable?", Kili's voice was a gentle calm, his hot breaths fanning over your face.

"I'm fine", you matched his hushed tone, your body slowly warming in the close proximity you shared. Little did you know, you'd be needing it..

Now satisfied with your situation, the Dwarves all stuck their heads out. "What do we do now?", Bofur asked.

"Hold your breath", was the only response you received from the Hobbit before he pulled a wooden lever.

"Hold our breath??", Bofur sputtered. You all then realised what was coming. The ground tilted up, gravity seeming to change for you and the Dwarves. A set of strong arms held you in the form of a brace as the barrel you were in spindled and became weightless. Everyone cried out, falling for what felt like an eternity.

Water suddenly submerged you all, cold and biting against your skin. Once hitting the surface, you gasped for air as every limb fell into a state of shock. "Breathe", Kili's instructions barely registered, your nose burning and head buzzing. He gazed up at you, attempting to warm your face and arms with his heated hands.

"Where's Bilbo?", Bofur's head bounced from the water. Despite the chattering of your teeth, you smiled amusedly,

"He forgot himself". Thorin followed in your amusement with a smile of his own,

"Give him a moment". A moment was all the Hobbit needed, falling stiffly with a scream into the waters by Nori's barrel. The tri-haired Dwarf hauled Bilbo against his barrel, getting him to hold on for the journey ahead. "Well done, Master Baggins", the King commended proudly. It was much deserved. Still being the humble burglar he was, Bilbo waved the act off as if it was nothing. Thorin began to motion everyone along. "Come on! Let's go!".

The barrel you shared with Kili had become uncomfortable as it tipped forwards, your bodies squishing together. In any other instance, you'd crave this contact. Yet now, it was painful for more than one reason. Both of you used an arm each, dipping them into the numbingly cold water to row your barrels along. Sunlight poured in from the end of the cave's tunnel, the water seeming to give you speed in its new flow. You soon realised why. "Hold on!", you shrieked, the barrel cascading forwards into ferocious rapids. The current carried you all forwards and down the river effortlessly, the coldness having been briefly forgotten in your adrenaline. The Company's escape was brilliantly carried out. All you needed to do was leave Mirkwood to the lands beyond. It seemed so simple until a horn's cry pierced the air. You'd all been caught!

Fear leapt into your throat whilst you all rounded a corner, thrown forwards again to see Elven soldiers closing the gates of the river. "NO!!", Thorin exclaimed, his barrel being the first to reach the now closed door before you all followed after. Freedom seemed more further away now than it had ever been. And it was only going to get worse. Orcs had now made their appearance, slaughtering the Elves that were preventing your escape.

"Watch out!!", Bofur shouted. "There's Orcs!!". Corpses of both Elvenkind and Orc fell into the waters, all of them battling furiously amongst themselves. Kili had forced you to crouch uncomfortably, your legs burning at the tightness of the squeeze. He was aiming to protect you from the flying arrows and falling bodies, bracing you. His hazel eyes travelled to your own, clouded with fear. You'd never seen him so afraid, your hand subconsciously reaching for his.

"Slay them all!!", a foul voice ordered in the words of Black Speech. This was not Azog's voice, but one just as hideous. You decided to release yourself from the brace, standing straight with Kili to fight the Orcs that leapt into the water. Your heart raced, pounding within the confines of your chest. You all needed to get out of here. There had to be a way out. And that's when it came to you. The lever! You climbed out of the barrel, Kili shouting your name in protest whilst you waded in the freezing waters to the stairs of the wall. The sunkissed concrete instantly warmed your numb limbs whilst you clambered up the steps. It was so relieving to feel the warmth beneath your palms, that you dreaded eventually having to go back into the freezing waters below.

You dodged a blade slicing down towards you, rolling to the side and onto your back. Darting your foot upwards at the Orc who had tried to end you, it fell from the wall and to the forests below. Scrambling to your feet, you raced forwards across the wall. "Kili!!", Dwalin shouted, your head snapping in the direction of the call. The Prince had followed you onto the wall, catching the blade that Dwalin had tossed him. He used it to slay the Orc that had tried to pursue you to the lever. You hadn't realised either the creature or Kili's presence, grateful that he'd flanked your back. Fili always kept one eye on his brother, even when they weren't side by side. He threw blades into the Orcs that tried to overpower Kili in his attempts to protect you. Bolg had seen your motives of escape, noting that you had no weapons or the like. He had to stop you now if he ever wished to end Thorin and his kin here. Kili saw the hideous Orc arming his bow, his eyes blowing wide in horror as you fought your way through the carnage, unaware of the threat. His feet hit the ground in a dead sprint, slicing through the Orcs in his path like butter.

"(Y/n)!!", his throat burned with his scream. His heartbeat thundered in his ears deafeningly, finally catching your steps. The arrow flew, hitting flesh. You'd fallen to the floor with a yell, Kili crashing on top of you with a shout of his own. Your back ached from the impact, Kili's palms stinging from grazing the concrete.

"Kili??", you breathed, your brows furrowing in concern and confusion at his actions. Why had he stopped you?? The Prince's expression of shock fell suddenly into a pained grimace, your eyes drifting downwards to see the obscenely large arrow that had impaled his knee. "Kili!", your panicked cry left your throat raw. Bolg grinned in a sense of victory, having hit at least one target. Fili's head snapped upwards at your scream, spotting his brother's ailments with terror,

"Kili!!". The young Prince ground out a yell between his teeth, feeling the stinging sensation of blood dripping from the malicious wound. The sensation was unlike any pain he'd felt before, burning within his blood like a disease. What had he been pierced with?? He suddenly fell back with a scream, your figure quickly entering his vision. Kili's brows creased, his eyes fixed on you whilst he panted erratic breaths. His hand grasped the one you'd offered him with an almost painful grip, his eyes suddenly darting to his right. Tauriel broke through the woods, slashing and firing arrows with a graceful precision. "Kill her!!", Bolg shrieked. "Kill the She-Elf!!".

Kili's lips had parted, entirely enamoured by her presence. Not allowing your resentment to cloud your judgement, your hand broke from the Princeling's grip, hurrying to instead pull the lever down for the Company to escape. "We need to get out of here!", you yelled, Kili nodding in agreement. Without thinking, he slid forwards, his legs dangling above the barrel you'd shared. Both you and Fili saw this as a bad idea.

"Kili!!", Fili exclaimed.

"Wait!! I'll remove it!!—", Kili's cry of agony cut you off as he slid into the barrel, the arrow snapping painfully from his leg.

"Shit!", you cursed, leaping into the freezing waters without a thought, clinging to the barrel that Kili was in. Alike to Bilbo, you'd have to hold on externally. And it would be no easy feat. The rapids bashed at your face constantly, submerging you in its chaotic stream as it went. You were gasping for air whenever you could manage it, the water painfully blurring your vision and disorienting you. The grip you had on Kili's barrel was starting to wane, his hands gripping onto your arms. The water settled eventually from rapids to a speedy and winding current, no longer depriving you of sight and air.

From your view in the river, you'd spied Fili, Dwalin and Thorin using the Orcs' weapons against them, lopping down the branches they stood on and bashing the ones that tried to attack them from the banks of the river's flow. Legolas had joined the fight, using every resource in his surroundings, inclusive of the Dwarves' heads as he leapt from one side of the water to the other. In any other situation, you would've laughed at the expressions of Dwalin and Dori as they both were stepped on first, followed by the others who didn't seem to enjoy it either. The blonde Elf used the sword that had belonged to Thorin. Orcrist. It seemed wrong in the hands of Legolas, but he used it to a valuable advantage against your shared enemies. Thorin had even graciously covered for the Elf whilst he fought, ensuring no untimely demise met him. It was more than he deserved for the way he treated you all, yet you couldn't help that Thranduil would see it as a token of friendship at some eventuality. For now, you all had gotten away. The Elves had given up their pursuit of you to instead drive out the Orcs, a bigger threat. The Orcs still were on the hunt for you all, but it would take some time for them to catch up.

The river slowed, all of you able to clamber from the barrels and onto the rocky shores of the land once more. Your legs shook when you finally stood on them again after your large dose of adrenaline and cold. Stumbling forwards, you couldn't feel your hands, now so cold that they were stinging in the fingertips. The cool air blowing from the mountains nearby had goosebumps rising in every pore of your skin, your teeth chattering with the damp cold that enveloped you. However, your gaze focused on only one person, a trail of red water following behind him as he limped onto dry land to sit on a boulder for support. Concern, fear and anger rippled through every ounce of your blood like a wildfire, helping you forget the cold. You marched towards Kili, his face screwed in pain as he tried to wipe his wound clean. Bofur had stood near him, his eyes lit with the same concern as yours. Kili had spied his gaze first. "I'm fine", he snapped. "It's nothing". You wordlessly knelt by him, attempting to inspect the wound when he noticed you and swatted you away. "Don't". His harsh tone caught you offguard, your brows raising in challenge. "I'll be fine". Despite his confidence in saying it, not even he had full belief that his words were the truth.

"Let me see it", your voice was a terrifying calm, your gaze showing the emotions simmering beneath the surface. Your eyes met the Prince's in a silent battle of wits, his brows creased in an anger to combat your own.

"I said it was nothing—". Your hand pried his away from the wound, feeling the nausea beginning to creep up. The wound was deep, perhaps to the bone, and was bleeding openly. Bruising had already strangely appeared around the cut and it seemed horribly inflamed for a simple arrow wound. Kili spied your eyes brimming with tears, his blood running cold with remorse.

"Kili", you sighed beneath your breath.

"I've had worse. Really—", he tried gently, your head shaking.

"You need a healer. You need proper medical help".

"(Y/n), it's just a little cut!", he downplayed it with a frustrated edge to his voice. "Stop being so overdramatic!".

"You want me to stop being concerned for you?? Then maybe stop endangering yourself for once!!", your words shattered the air, shocking everyone in the Company. Kili's eyes flickered sadly from your own. "Better that the arrow really had hit me instead of you!". Anger flashed in the Princeling's gaze.

"Oh really? And why is that??".

"It would've been better than listening to your bullshit", you huffed, storming away from the stubborn Prince. Kili's head slumped, his face screwed up in a glower. Dismissing the tone you'd taken with his nephew, Thorin had established that you were all to leave promptly after Kili's wound was to be bound, Fili taking it upon himself to tend to his brother's leg.

"She's angry with me", Kili mumbled beneath his breath, his hazel eyes lingering where you sat with Ori. Fili almost laughed, his amusement twitching his smile.

"She is", he agreed, squeezing out the blooded cloth he was using for the wound. Ocean orbs flickered up to his brother's melancholy expression. "It's what caring for a person entails, Kee".

"She's been different to me. Distanced", the younger Prince continued with a sigh. "She does not look at me the same. Mirkwood has changed her".

"Maybe", Dwalin mused, catching onto the conversation. "Or perhaps she saw y' gettin' friendly with that Elf maid?". Kili's brows furrowed in confusion, turning his gaze to the older Dwarf.

"Why would that bother her??". Shrugging, Dwalin responded,

"If y' don't know by now, ye never will, Laddie". Know what? , Kili's mind echoed, his eyes closing from exasperation. He had not the energy to ask. The Prince only hoped that you'd be willing to talk to him again as you once did. Whenever that may be.

"I'm absolutely drenched", Ori groaned in irritation, pouring the water from his boot.

"Think about me. I'm human. Not a short, walking furnace like yourself". The younger Dwarf spared a laugh despite his misery. Sensing a pair of eyes on your back, you turned to find a man standing on the hill above. His bow was drawn, aimed for you and Ori. Instantly, you covered the smaller Dwarf with yourself, Dwalin leaping down from where he stood to protect you. The older Dwarf held a large branch for a makeshift weapon and shield, baring his teeth like an animal defending its young. The Company became highly strung, Kili standing to his feet without a care. The stranger fired an arrow at Dwalin's branch, already anticipating the Princeling's next move and firing an arrow at him as well. The second arrow bounced from the stone Kili had attempted to throw, the Prince's eyes wide in surprise.

"Do it again and you're dead", the man spat, his resolve showing in the threatening tone of his voice. He had armed his bow with a third arrow, everyone's hands raising in a form of surrender. Balin stepped forth.

"You're from Laketown, if I'm not mistaken?". The bow was instantly aimed for the cheerful Dwarf, his feet coming to a halt out of caution. "That barge over there. It wouldn't be for hire by any chance?". The stranger's brows creased, his weapon slowly being withdrawn.

"And what makes you think that I would help you?". The stranger gladly took the barrels you all had used, loading them into the boat with the others he had. Balin was the negotiator, offering every reason for this stranger to give refuge to and accept payment from you all. The man's coat, his three children and wife. To your surprise, the man was a widower. Alike to Balin, you felt the same remorse and shame creeping into your heart at these findings. A single father trying to raise his three children alone in a barren town of ice, water and poverty. You could see why he was cautious of you all.

"Oh, come on. Come on, enough of the niceties", Dwalin finally grunted.

"What's your hurry?", the bargeman shot back.

"What's it to you?".

"I would like to know who you are". His brown hues crossed over you all, lingering on you for a brief moment. "And what you are doing in these lands".

"We are just simple merchants from the Blue Mountains, journeying to see our kin in the Iron Hills". A lie from Balin, but a well told lie. The bargeman had no reason to believe him and he most likely didn't, his eyes crossing over you again.

"And what about you?", he asked, directing his attention to the one who stood out the most. Female and human in a troupe of male Dwarves. It was a very uncommon sight indeed. "What's your story?".

"It's none of your business", Kili snapped.

"I don't believe I was asking you".

"This is my family", you replied, gathering the archer's attention wholeheartedly. The Dwarves felt some part of their hearts warming at the thought of you considering them family. You'd spent many months with them, lived through many hardships and they knew that you'd meant your words. It showed in your eyes. The stranger's brows rose, an amused smile playing on his lips,

"Thirteen Dwarves is quite an unusual family for a human, wouldn't you think?".

"Hardly", you replied, continuing Balin's lie with more truths of your own. "We've been through the worst together. I love them. And I would be prepared to give my all to see our kin again". The bargeman saw the truth of your words in your keen gaze, but his instincts were calling to him.

"Are you certain that you not a Ranger of the wilds, baring the gifts of your true kin??". Your expression remained neutral. How had he known??

"My true kin??".

"Your sharp senses. You heard my coming before that of your family. And you bare the mark of Ithilien on your leather boots. A tree crowned with six stars and a crescent moon". Your silence was answer enough for the bowman, a soft chuckle leaving his lips. He was a harder man to fool than you'd first presumed. His eyes flickered to Balin with a knowing smile. " 'Simple merchants', you say??".

"We need food, supplies, weapons. Can you help us?", Thorin chimed in. With reluctance still prominent in his demeanour, the stranger marked the barrels he'd pulled from the water,

"I know where these barrels came from".

"What of it?".

"I don't know what business you had with the Elves, but I don't think it ended well". The bargeman turned back to you all, readying his ship to depart. "No one enters Laketown, but by leave of the Master. All of his wealth comes from trade with the Woodland Realm. He would see you in irons before risking the wrath of King Thranduil", he huffed, throwing rope at Balin. The Dwarf turned his attention to Thorin who mouthed something in Khuzdul, encouraging him to continue pushing the debate with the stranger. And push he did.

"I'll wager that there are ways to enter that town unseen!".

"Aye", he agreed. "But, for that, you would need a smuggler".

"For which we would pay double", Balin insisted almost pleadingly.

Something suddenly snapped in this stranger, causing him to relent and follow your cause. It wasn't the money he was promised, but the desperation he'd seen all too many times before in those he loved. After accepting thanks from both yourself and Bilbo for his help, the man introduced himself as Bard. He set off with you all post-haste, setting his course for Laketown. The misty haze covering the water was thick, the waters almost black and dead, save for the movement of the vessel you stood in. Bard used a large oar for a rudder placed at the back of the boat, steering the ship through the dark. "Look out!!", Bofur had shouted, spotting jagged cliffs ahead, spotting randomly and towering by many feet in the waters. Bard steered by them with an expert precision.

"What are you trying to do?", Thorin piped up. "Drown us??".

"I was born and bred on these waters, master Dwarf. If I wanted to drown you, I would not do it here".

"Oh, I've had enough of this lippy lakeman", Dwalin grumbled beneath his breath. "Let's say we throw him over the side and be done with it". Bilbo huffed in frustration,

"Bard. His name's Bard".

"How do ye know?", Bofur asked.

"Uh, I asked him??", the Hobbit answered as if it were obvious.

"I don't care what he calls himself, I don't like him", Dwalin shot back.

"We do not have to like him", Balin shrugged. "We simply have to pay him. Turn out your pockets, lads". You'd already given Balin your coin purse, taking to leaning stiffly leaning against the right side of the boat. The conversations faded from your ears, the cold air still nipping at your skin. Your eyes came to a soft close, riddled with exhaustion. A burning warmth enveloped your numb hands, two larger ones coming to rest upon them. You knew those callouses, your gaze falling to your right. Kili's hazel hues were set upon the waters, as your own had been.

"I never got to thank you for saving my hide", you mumbled, offering his larger hands a caress. "Again". Guilt played within your gaze, his eyes meeting yours with a slightly amused smile. "I'm sorry, Kee".

"I am too. I shouldn't have spoken to you the way that I did either. You were just worried. I would have been".

"I'm still worried", you confessed, brushing his fringe from his face, noting his skin with concern. "You're so pale, Kee". The back of your hand pressed to his forehead. "You're burning up". He removed your hand with a great amount of gentleness, rejection needling your heart. You'd spied his leg, dark blood weeping through the fabrics wrapped around it. The Prince drew your gaze with his breathtaking smile,

"I'll be fine, (Y/n). You'll see".

Those same words echoed in your head with Kili splayed across Bard's bed only a day later. You'd seen his eyes become red with inflammation and exhaustion, seen his skin turn a shade of pale white. You'd seen him become weaker with every passing hour, now unable to stand properly. All you had seen, despite his assurances, was his slow suffering. And it was killing you from the inside out.

Every part of him was rippling in agony, his body trying to burn off the poison raging in his blood to no avail. Sweat was trailing down the Princeling's skin, matting his hair. His breaths were erratic in his struggle to breathe. "(Y/n)", his voice cracked, his hazel eyes almost terrifyingly dull, yet clouded with fear. He felt a fool now, having ignored your words of warning on his injury. Because some part of him understood now, alike to yourself, that he was dying. He had been all along. Hot tears stung his eyes, his fingers barely able to reach for your hand. Taking your lower lip into your teeth, you tried to keep from breaking down. You had to remain strong for Kili, but hope was disappearing with every passing second. He squeezed the fingers you'd offered him with what little strength he could muster. "I'm— I'm so sorry". A pained groan left him, trying to restrain the urge he had to move.

"Don't start that", you told him, returning the grip on your hand. "No goodbyes yet, Kili. We can still save you". Bard brought out a box of various herbs on a separate table. All were useless to Oin.

"None of these are any good to me. Do y' have any kingsfoil??".

"Kingsfoil? It's a weed?", Bard replied, brows creasing in confusion. "We feed it to the pigs". Kili's grip suddenly became painful on your hand, feeling as if a hot knife had been plunged through him. A wail escaped his throat that had you wincing, Fili rushing to your side again to offer not only his brother comfort, but you as well. The eldest Princeling had tried to convince you to leave with Thorin, promising you that this was only benign. Now, Fili was grateful that you'd stayed, not allowing your friends to go this alone. He was facing the possibility of losing his younger brother this very evening and here you were, holding the blonde's hand with your spare one to alleviate the stress. Amidst Kili's groans of pain, Bofur rushed to the table, exclaiming something about Kingsfoil.

"Don't move!", he'd told the younger Prince, recieving a pointed glare from him in return. Bard had left the house with his son Bain and a black arrow in tow. It was very possible, given the tremors you'd felt this evening, that Smaug had awakened. However, Bain had returned sooner than expected, claiming that his father had been pursued by guards and the black arrow hidden safely. Hope was fading faster by the second as the tense waiting began. The air was eerily quiet in Laketown, save for the odd cries from the Dwarf in your care. You all waited on Bofur, praying that the intuitive Dwarf would return with the herbs. Sigrid stepped outside, praying for her father's return as well as Bofur's.

"Da?", she called out, hearing movement along the wooden boardwalks of the town. When turning to retreat inside, her blood-curdling scream caught your attention. Sigrid tried to close the door, the Orc that had tried to strike her jamming his sword between it.

"Get away from the door!!", you yelled, Sigrid leaping back only to get thrown on one of the chairs, moving to hide under the table with her younger sister. Fili had charged from your side and into the Orc, battling by hand. More came crashing in through the roof, both Bain and yourself using the furniture at your disposal to fight them off. It became a struggle to fight their growing numbers in your attempt to protect Bard's children as well as Kili.

On any other occasion, you would've despised her presence, yet now you couldn't be more grateful for the extra set of hands Tauriel offered as she stepped into the room with her blades drawn. Her keen emerald eyes scanned the room, immediately beginning her onslaught against the growing number of Orcs in Bard's living room. Legolas leapt in not too soon after, joining your fight against the hellish creatures. You spoke not a word to either of them, taking their help as an advantage. Another wail from Kili broke the room, seeing that an Orc had gripped his injured leg, pulling him along the bed. Tauriel threw a knife into the skull of the Orc, the Princeling falling to the floor with a cry. You'd rushed to his side, Legolas flanking your defence. His skills with Elven daggers surpassed even the skill of Tauriel, weaving through the room like a graceful, yet sharp wind. "Get down!", Fili had yelled, pulling Bard's children behind the fallen table to hide. Kili had grabbed Tauriel's dagger from the dead Orc who had attacked him, using it to try flanking your defence and Tauriel's. Instantaneously, he'd collapsed with a scream, one of the Orcs vaulting from the room in its escape. The battle was forgotten, your makeshift weapons clattering to the floor. You heaved Kili's heavy body into your arms, the Prince now writhing in excruciating pain.

"Kili", you tried to calm him, your voice tremoring with the chilling anxiety rushing through you. Oin and Fili sprinted to your side with urgency, Tauriel's mouth falling open at the wound on Kili's leg. Black blood dripped onto the floor, the Morgul poisons all too familiar to the Elf.

"You killed them all", Bain gasped, almost feeling sick at the sight of his home.

"There are others", Legolas stated, readying his weapons to face of with your shared foes once more. "Tauriel, come". He beckoned his counterpart, hesitation showing in her features.

"We're losing him!", Oin begged, looking to Tauriel for help. She was capable, her people far more skilled than your own in the arts of medicine. Her eyes were wide, darting between you all and the retreating form of the Elven Prince. Her duty to the world, to her Prince Legolas surpassed the needs of your Prince, your best friend. Despite her curiosity of Kili, Tauriel didn't share the feelings for Kili that he had for her. For the Dwarven Prince, it was almost like love at first sight, continuing to be enamoured by her, her graceful and kind spirit, her smile. For Tauriel, it was a silly dream to pursue love with a Dwarf. He was handsome for one of his kind, but her heart lied with her duties, her people and with the man she'd slowly come to love. Legolas. Despite his father's wishes, she was not one to easily give up in the pursuit of love and it was clearly requited by the Prince. You envied her for that reason. Tauriel moved past your group without anymore hesitation.

Every part of you stung with hurt for Kili, knowing that he would feel that same agony you had alongside his current ailments. Unbridled rage filled your heart, watching as she left him helpless, screaming. "So that's it??", you called to Tauriel, allowing Fili to take his brother whilst you stood to confront her. "You'll just let him die??". The redhead turned, confusion etched into her expression.

"And what would you have me do? Orcs are running rampant, more innocents will die if I do not help them". Tears fell freely from your eyes.

"He's dying!!", you roared, gesturing to Kili. "He hasn't time! Save him!! Please!".

"I cannot linger—".

"Bullshit!! He opened his heart to you, Tauriel!! You can't leave him like this!!", you bellowed. You saw in her gaze that perhaps she knew of Kili's attraction to her. Yet, you'd come to understand why she'd taken to ignoring it.

"I can't—", she whispered with a shake of her head, turning again to leave.

"Please, Tauriel", your voice broke, lowering to a whisper only she could hear, "I love him". And that's when Tauriel understood. Guilt swam in her gaze when she looked upon you again. The stabbing pain of unrequited love sat heavy in your eyes.

"I'm sorry", she murmured, the entire apology heartfelt and genuine. You watched, helplessly as the Elf darted from the balcony and to the rooftops beyond, falling to your knees. A frustrated cry left your lips, Sigrid covering her mouth from seeing you this distraught. Bofur stumbled through the door, baring the Kingsfoil weed. He'd spied your tear stricken face with terror, seeing the desperate situation he'd returned to.

"There's no time!!", you shouted, staggering to your feet.

"(Y/n)? What will ye do??", he asked, all the eyes in the room falling to you.

With surity, you replied, "I have to save him".

You ordered Tilda and Sigrid to ready you some cloths and warm to hot water to best extract the essences from the herbs. Oin, Fili, Bofur and Bain took to lifting the now thrashing Prince onto the kitchen table. Being a Ranger from the South, kingsfoil was commonly used for healing practices by your kin, but you were not schooled in medicine. Your skills were honed on navigating the lands, tracking, stealth and basic combat. You felt useless, only faintly remembering hearing a few healing chants. Most were in Elvish, some in the common tongue of men. The words were lost on you, save for one or two chants. You would have to try.

"Are y' sure y' know what yer doin', Lass?", Oin piped up, watching as you peeled the leaves and flowers into the water.

"No", you huffed a bitter chuckle, your eyes falling down to his own. "But what choice do I have?". Fili eyed you from where he held down his brother, his ocean gaze glistening with hope.

"I have faith in you", he murmured.

"As do I", Bofur added, smiling to lessen the pressure. Oin nodded, giving you his seal of approval. He admired your gaul to act swiftly and take initiative. You would make an excellent healer in his opinion.

Taking a deep breath, you gripped Kili's leg, a pained scream leaving his lips. He writhed, kicking away your touch. His eyes had darkened, having no perception but the agony he felt. "Hold him down!! Please!", you begged the lads, all of them contributing. You tore the fabric away from Kili's wound, nausea creeping into your throat as it had the first time. The wound was still bruised and open, weeping black blood as a large swollen mound with dark veins. No time, you reminded yourself, reaching into the water. Scrunching all the leaves you could find into your palms, you silently prayed that the blood of Numenór flowed true within you as you began the healing chants you could remember. "May the blessing that was given to me, be sent from me to him. May he be released from death", you commanded, pushing the kingsfoil into the wound. His back arched, a piercing cry leaving his lips. Your eyes closed applying pressure. "May the blessing that was given to me, be sent from me to him. May he be released from death".

"Tilda!", Sigrid shouted, the two joining in holding down Kili's limbs as he continued to struggle from your touch. Oin and Fili watched in awe as you repeated your words over and over. Your chant was in common tongue, yet it seemed to breathe life into the room itself. You had begun to think and worry that nothing would work, that Kili was too far gone. Tears slipped again from your eyes, your voice remaining sterdy despite the tightness wanting to creep through your throat. Your mind was wholly set on saving him, imagining him as spriteful as the day you'd met him. Love and care poured through every fibre of your being and perhaps the Divines felt it?? You prayed that they'd help encompass all that energy for him if they did. Feeling the tension slipping from Kili's limbs slowly, you heard his cries dying into calmer, but ragged breaths. It was working..

"May the blessing that was given to me, be sent from me to him. May he be released from death", you repeated with more fervour, finally having the courage to open your eyes to meet his own. His hazel hues were no longer pale and dull. They were now full of life. His lips were parted, eyelashes fluttering in some semblance of shock, as if you'd pulled him from water to save him from drowning. And you had saved him. The darkness that clouded his vision, blinding him to all else was broken. It was as if he was watching the sun rising for the first time, seeing that divine light cracking the dark horizons open to see you. There was only you in his line of sight, pulling him like a lifeline. Kili found himself wondering how you'd ever come to be so beautiful. The infatuation he'd held for Tauriel paled in comparison to the affection for you that wormed its way past his broken heart and into his soul. And perhaps it had always been there?? The Prince felt a sense of relief fill him, coming to understand why he'd always felt differently for you. It had been you all along, he was only blinded to it.

Kili's pain faded from him, his body no longer fighting the poison. It had been neutralised, expelled from him. Death couldn't touch him any longer, or so he felt. His body instead burned with a warm, pure light. Every part of him relaxed under your touch, a soft sigh leaving the Prince as his breathing turned to some form of normality. His blood ran red through your fingers, cleansed now. The swelling would slowly decrease over time, as would the inflammation and bruising. You smiled, crying from your relief. The stiffness in your limbs created by the tense situation had dissipated. A breathy laugh, wet from your tears left your throat. You'd done it, you'd saved him. Bofur happily placed a hand on your own, both Tilda and Sigrid alight with joy over this victory. The girls circled the table, taking you into their shared embrace, giving you words of assurance, congratulations and gratitude for helping protect them. Fili grinned, sharing in some semblance of relieved laughter, resting his forehead on his brother's in a familial embrace.

Everyone had relaxed, leaving the room to allow you to continue in your endeavours to finish your work on Kili's wound. You pulled the kingsfoil from the scar, rinsing a cloth with the water the herbs had soaked in. The water was still warm and clean, fragrant with the essences of the weeds. You wiped the fabric over the wound, brushing away dirt, dead flesh and irritants. Once it was clean and dry, you started to bind his leg with cleaner fabrics that Bain had sought for you.

"I have never seen the healing practices of the Dunédain until this evening. That there was a privilege to witness", Oin marveled, turning to the blonde Prince who had also been in some state of awe at what he'd seen.

Softly, your hands worked at the bindings on Kili's leg, placing the material thickly over his wound to ensure it was well protected from weeping blood. "(Y/n)", The Princeling beneath you croaked, his voice hoarse and raw from his screaming. You smiled with a wistfulness, relieved to see him so at peace.

"It's okay, Kee", you breathed. "I'm here. Lie still for me, alright?". His hazel hues held an emotion you couldn't read, fluttering in their attempt to stay awake. A tired smile slowly etched onto his face, twinkling weakly with his usual cheekiness.

"You're so,—", his voice cracked. "—so beautiful".

Your brows knitted together in confusion when you glanced at him from his leg. He was clearly delusional. He had to have been.

"You're a bit dazed, Kee", you smiled, politely dismissing his words. "You need to rest".

"You are", he insisted beneath his breath. "You're so, so beautiful". You felt his warming fingertips brushing over the hand that rested on his thigh, the goosebumps from his touch spindling across your skin. "You were crafted by the sunglow of another world. Your light saved me. It wasn't a dream". Your lips parted, unsure of his kind words and the clarity behind them.

Kili breathed as if it were difficult to talk, his eyelids drooping in exhaustion. His smile still remained, eyeing your hands when you brushed your thumb over the fingers that rested upon your own.

Slowly, his breathing evened out, a light sleep taking the Prince as you continued to work. Once securing his bandages with a light knot, you leant down, brushing your lips over his forehead with a silent prayer that the Company was alive in Erebor. That the ruin that Bard had predicted wouldn't come to pass. Fili shared your sentiment, his eyes worriedly meeting your own before he embraced you in gratitude, thanking you once more for saving his brother. But, your complacency was only temporary.

When you stumbled onto the rocky shores in the cold light of the dawn, you beheld desperation, sadness, loss and terror amidst the ruin that had come to pass. Smaug's onslaught was without mercy or conscience. Bard had been right all along. Now, you were praying that he was alive with his son. You'd grown worried for the bargeman and his son after seeing Smaug plummet from the skies.

Frantically, you searched the shores for the two males. Tilda was in your arms, fresh tears pouring from her eyes. Sigrid clung to your free hand, shouting for her father. The Dwarves were readying the cannoe you'd all travelled in for the trip to Erebor. It felt wrong to leave everyone behind. You wouldn't leave yet, not until the girls had their father back.

Kili was hardly focusing on helping his kin with the small boat, his hazel eyes admiring you from afar. "Kee?", Fili called to him, beckoning him to help.

"Eyeing the lass?", Bofur asked with some suspicion and confusion, a smile twitching on his lips.

"What if I was?", the younger Prince shrugged, missing the hopeful glint in the older Dwarf's eye. "I have to make sure she's alright". Fili turned to Bofur, his brows raised. Both said no more in watching Kili ascend the shores. You had begun to make your return, Bard and Bain now reunited with the girls in the small encampment.

With exhaustion heavy in your steps, you smiled at the brunette Princeling on his unexpected approach. Your mind flashed back to those warm callouses brushing against your skin, goosebumps flushing across your arms at the thought. He'd hardly spoken a word to you since the previous night, making you question if he'd even been coherent when he mumbled those sweet words to you. Perhaps it was your wishful thinking in the end?

"Ready to go?", you'd asked him, beginning to stray past him whilst he'd stopped.

"(Y/n)", he called to you, the softness in his voice halting your steps. Your brows furrowed,

"Kili, we need to go".

"I need to talk to you". His hand reached for your own before you could turn away, gently tugging at your smaller fingers. Even after all this time, you found yourself unable to ignore the intensity of his hazel hues, something unreadable sitting hard within his gaze. "Please", he spoke, barely above a breath.

Instinctively, you turned fully to face him, your thumb brushing over his larger hand. "Of course", you replied, almost unsteady with nervousness. Some part of you felt that he may assure you that he had no feelings for you, that his words to you had been hollow. And you prayed that if he were to reject you, that he'd do so softly.

"I just want to say thank you", he confessed. "For saving my life".

"Kili, you needn't thank me", you insisted, his other hand pressing something smooth and cold into your palm. "What are you—".

"The days are growing darker, (Y/n)", he cut in, clasping your fingers around the object. His second hand warmed your cold, stinging skin. "Last night, I realised how little time we may have left and I have grown so afraid that I won't have the time to say what I must to those who matter". Your brows creased in concern, always content to allow him to express his innermost thoughts. "I'm giving you this token. As a promise".

"Kili—", you tried to desist him to no avail.

"Amrâlimê", he hushed you with a silken voice. It was like the word had caressed your very soul. A smile splayed slowly onto his features whilst his eyes seemed to read yours. "You felt it too, didn't you?".

"Felt what, Kili? I don't know what that word means", you replied with a quiver to your whisper, his grin growing.

"I think you do", he bounced back, a featherlight playfulness present in his glimmering gaze. "It's my promise to you. That I'll always come back to you". You saw the glassing of tears within his gaze. "Even at death's door, I will come back to you".

"Why would you promise such a thing to me, Kili?", you asked, confusion clouding over your expression. "When your heart clearly belongs to another??". To Tauriel...

A soft laugh slipped from the Princeling's lips, an affectionate glow radiating from his tender gaze. "It was infatuation, an idea that I'd tried to pursue with Tauriel", he murmured with a soft shake to his head. "It was foolish to pursue that which was but a shadow to how I feel for you, (Y/n). I know now how I feel— how I've felt all along for you and I'm not afraid. I was just too blind to see our connection for what it was". You felt his fingers squeeze yours, his eyes playing across your more delicate features. "For that, I hope you can forgive me and realise that my words to you last night were not of a daze, but from my heart. You make me feel alive".

Ignoring the tears that stung in your eyes, you finally felt as if your own heart had been freed, your smile like a pure light shining on the Prince. The warmth of Kili's spare hand reached to cradle your face, swiping his thumb over your glistening eyes.

The short gap between you was no more when your head had dipped, the softness of his lips engulfing your own in a deep caress. Kili's hand twined into your curls, pulling you flush into him whilst his other hand remained with your own, as if to solidify his promise to you. Your thumb worked soothing caresses over his rough skin, getting lost in his kiss before you heard whistles from the shore nearby.

Your lips parted from the Prince's, quickly missing the sensation of his hot touch in the biting cold of the morning breeze. Whistling and clapping, Bofur stood upon the cannoe, overjoyed at the scene playing before him. "If you both are done, we do plan on travelling today! ", Fili shouted, a playful grin on his expression.

Both yourself and Kili lapsed into a soft bout of laughter, sharing an affectionate glance before you allowed the Princeling to finally lead you to the boat to travel home.

The End. . .

__________________________________________

Hey readers!!

I hope you all enjoyed this fic!! I have a LOTR fic in the works as we speak, so keep your eyes peeled, folks! As always, any and all feedback is welcome! If you wish to be added to my tagslist, check out my masterlist and let me know what you'd like to be tagged in! ❤❤

As always, thank you all for your support in my works!! ❤❤

* * *

Translations;

Tolo hí = "come on" (Elvish/Sindarin)

Ishkh khakfe andu null = "go pour excrement on your head" (Khuzdul)

__________________________________________

TAGLIST; @fizzyxcustard @lathalea @emrfangirl @deadlymistletoe

#kili x reader #kili #kili durin #the hobbit #the hobbit fanfiction #the hobbit fanfic

611 notes · View notes

wheresarizona · 1 year

Text

September Part 4

Jackson House of Worship, 2024

summary: Joel Miller didn’t get a chance to marry you twenty years ago, and now that you’re back together, he’s not wasting any more time—especially after you both bared your souls the night before, revealing your darkest secrets to make your bond unbreakable.

rating: Explicit (18+! No y/n, alternating POV, age gap (10 years), unprotected p in v (wrap it up!), creampie, dirty talk, praise kink (Joel gets called a good boy), spit mention, spanking, Joel should’ve stuck to missionary, flashback to the first meeting, handwavey medical jargon, mention of period typical sexism, emotions, tons of banter, LOTS of fluff, wedding, Ellie taking her best man duties seriously, Ellie’s handkersleeves, sweet Joel & Ellie father-daughter moments, Tommy being a little shit, Ellie giving Joel so much shit, dancing with Joel, Joel playing guitar, angst with a happy ending, confessions, emotional hurt/comfort, talk of pregnancy loss (stillbirth), talk of child loss, grief/mourning, talk of suicide attempt (Joel), TLOU tv/game spoilers)

pairing: Joel Miller/f!reader (reader is a doctor with no physical descriptions)

word count: 24.8k+ (This is who I am.)

a/n: I apologize for the delay in getting this done—March was not great for me. A lot of people wanted Joel to find out about the baby, and oh boy, does he. This chapter is emotional; you’ll laugh, you’ll cry, you’ll feel all warm and fuzzy, you’ll swoon, and you’ll have a good time. Shoutout to the love of my life, @juletheghoul, for being by my side through this whole thing. This is unbeta'd all mistakes are my own.

Thank you for reading! Comments and reblogs are appreciated!

Prev - Next - Series Masterlist - Masterlist

July 2002 - Austin, Texas

The clinic wasn’t your first pick for where you wanted to do your residency to become a doctor; it wasn’t even your fifteenth choice. You applied to fifty programs across the entire country, hoping for a bustling hospital in a big city or a large clinic somewhere you could have the opportunity to explore different specialties—pediatrics calling to you, but also interested in internal medicine and surgery. And yet, out of fifty applications, the place that accepted you was a family medicine clinic in Austin, Texas.

But what had you expected? You weren’t a prime candidate due to being a lot younger than others fresh out of medical school, and the real nail in the coffin is you’re a woman; gender bias in the medical field is absolutely astounding.

So, here you are in this clinic with its beige walls and oak wood accents, sitting at a desk reading over the chart of a patient the attending physician said would be easy enough for you to handle on your own, with it only being your second week in the program.

The patient is Joel Miller, a thirty-four-year-old male complaining of knee pain. This is his follow-up appointment after he had scans done the previous week, and your job is to go over the treatment plan the physician has already decided on.

Your nose crinkles at the other doctor’s notes, seeing he isn’t offering a long-term solution but instead is basically shoving a band-aid over a gaping wound that will progressively get worse over time. That wouldn’t do; already figuring out better options in your mind that would have lasting effects and offer relief—that’s something that drew you to medicine in the first place, always having to solve puzzles, making your brain work to help people and save lives.

You’re interrupted by Janis, the nurse who you’re pretty sure hates you, though you don’t know why glaring as she lets you know the patient is ready to see you. Maybe she’s just one of those people with resting bitch face, and you shouldn’t take it personally, except she’s so cold towards you. There isn’t anything you can do about it. Shrugging it off as you get up from your chair, your white coat on and stethoscope hanging around your neck, making your way to room four with the chart in hand.

There are many facts you know about the man you’re seeing: his name, age, occupation, vitals, what the inside of both his knees look like—knocking softly on the door twice, you enter, closing it behind you for privacy—those details hadn’t prepared you for what he looks like. When your eyes land on him sitting on the edge of the exam table, you pause, struck by how handsome he is—brown waves of hair, big chocolate-colored eyes, plush lips, ridiculously broad shoulders that have the navy blue t-shirt he’s wearing hugging his chest sinfully.

You gulp, mentally berating yourself for finding a patient attractive, reminding yourself you’re here to do a job to help him feel better, quickly regaining your composure and offering your name.

“...I’ll be your doctor today,” you tell him.

His eyes round, mouth falling open before he catches himself and closes it, seeing that gorgeous throat of his work as he swallows.

You need to stop noticing his attractiveness—he’s a patient.

“Doctor…?” he asks slowly, with a drawl you’re becoming familiar with.

The surprise is clear on his face, which is something you’re used to, the walls rising inside you, readying yourself for a fight because either he’s going to be okay with you taking care of him, or he’ll be a dick and demand another, older, male, doctor—which has happened multiple times this week and is why you’ve only treated a dozen or so patients.

Your chin rises as you reply with a nod, “Yes. I’ll be handling your care.”

“I’m sorry, it’s just I can’t believe you’re a doctor.”

Your eyebrow quirks.

“Because I’m a woman? Young?”

He shakes his head as he speaks, “‘Cause you’re so beautiful.”

That’s an unexpected response that has you so taken aback that your breath hitches, trying to control the butterflies that are wildly fluttering around in your tummy.

His eyes get big, realizing what he said, quickly backtracking, flush staining his cheeks as he looks away. “I am so sorry, ma’am,” he says. “It’s rude of me to be commentin’ on your looks when you’re just doin’ your job. You probably think I’m some creep.”

This poor man is beating himself up about saying the nicest thing anyone’s said to you all week.

“I don’t think you’re a creep,” you reassure him. His eyes meet yours, him gauging if what you’re saying is true, so you smile. “You’re honestly very sweet. A lot of people have a hard time getting over my age or that I’m a female in a male-dominated profession, so you thinking I’m too beautiful is a lovely change and also wonderful for my self-esteem.” You laugh.

His lips curl up.

“Well, I’m happy you’re not kickin’ me out. You bein’ a young woman doesn’t bother me—wish my daughter was here so she could see that if she wanted, she could be like you one day.”

The sincerity of his words has your chest going tight. In med school, a doctor told your class to let the patient ramble at the start of the appointment for five minutes because you’ll learn quite a lot about them. Usually, it’s things about their lifestyle or what’s actually causing them issues. What you now know about Joel Miller is that he’s respectful, a sweetheart, and a caring father—you’re fucked, realizing your eyes are drifting to his left hand, happy that you don’t see a ring.

Not that it means anything to you. He’s your patient. You need to focus.

“How old is your daughter?” you ask.

That’s a safe question. It’s important to build rapport and trust, plus you’re genuinely curious and want to know more about him to ensure you give him the best care—at least, that’s what you’re telling yourself.

He visibly brightens, and it’s adorable.

“She’s twelve, turnin’ thirteen Saturday after next. Her name’s Sarah and I can’t believe how quickly she’s growin’—feels like just yesterday she was havin’ me check under her bed for monsters.” He has a fond expression on his face.

“Wow, you’re gonna have a teenager. Are you and your wife planning a big party for her?”

There’s no way he’s single, not that it matters to you.

“No wife, or girlfriend, for that matter. Sarah wanted a slumber party with her friends, so I’ll be hidin’ away in my room alone watchin’ a movie or somethin’.”

It shouldn’t excite you to hear he doesn’t have a partner, but there’s a thrill moving through you.

“Sounds like my ideal Saturday night—just relaxing watching tv or a movie.”

“Yeah?” He smiles. “We got somethin’ in common, then.” He scratches at the back of his neck, looking a bit sheepish. “I, uh, wanna apologize again. You just caught me off guard, is all—was expectin’ Dr. Carlson with his bad combover.” There’s a smirk on his face when he continues, “But you’re a nice surprise.”

“Because I’m easier on the eyes?” you tease.

Don’t flirt with the patient!

“Yes,” he chuckles.

It’s time to focus on your job and not how his eyes twinkle, clearing your throat as you approach him.

“So, Mr. Miller—“

“Please call me Joel,” he interrupts.

You smile.

“Okay, Joel, I was looking over your chart, and you're having pain in both knees?”

“That’s correct.”

Pulling your pen from your pocket, you ask, “Has it gotten worse since last week? Feel any different?”

“No, ma’am.”

You jot down his answer.

“Well, that’s good.” Your eyes land on his. “May I take a look?” you ask, pointing your pen at his lower half.

“Of course.” He nods enthusiastically. “Look, touch, do anythin’ you want to me, I don’t mind.” He grimaces, whispering to himself, “Jesus, I’m embarrassin’.”

You can’t help the giggle that slips past your lips.

“You’re okay, Joel,” you say, putting away your pen and moving to set the chart down on the nearby counter opposite the exam table to wash your hands in the sink.

He lets out a long sigh.

“It’s been a while,” he says. “I’ve forgotten how to talk to women.”

“That’s gotta be a problem with fifty-one percent of the population being female,” you reply as you dry off your hands with a paper towel, tossing it in the trash when you’re done.

He snorts, you turning around and seeing the amused look on his face.

“I’ve forgotten how to talk to women I think are pretty.”

“Well, thank goodness we’re having no issue holding a conversation.”

“It’s taking a whole helluva lot of effort with your gorgeous eyes lookin’ at me.”

Heat is crawling up your neck to your face, focusing on getting your bearings back together. Taking a few steps, you’re close with a little bit of space, needing to get the appointment back on track.

“So, I’m going to examine your knees over your jeans. If I need to, can I push them up your legs?” you ask.

“Want me to take them off?” he asks eagerly.

It makes you laugh, him smiling.

“There’s no need for you to strip.”

“You sure?” he asks with a crooked smile.

“Positive,” you answer, winking.

What is wrong with you? You need to stop flirting with him. He’s a patient! You’re the embarrassing one here. It’s like something inside you shifts when you look down at his right knee, going into doctor mode, brain whirling as you gently touch it over his jeans. Joel tenses, a reaction that furrows your eyebrows, meeting his eyes.

“Does it hurt when I touch here?”

There shouldn’t be any pain based on the scans; if there is, you’ll need to have more imagining done.

“No.” He shakes his head.

“Okay. I need you to tell me if anywhere I touch hurts.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Your attention is back on what you’re doing, processing what you’re feeling under your fingertips, having him extend his leg so you can see his range of motion, Joel’s face pinching in pain, which you expected.

“I’m going to push up your jeans.”

“You go right ahead.”

Getting them up to his thigh, Joel shivers when you touch his warm skin.

“Sorry about my hands being cold,” you murmur, pressing into the back of his knee to feel his ligaments and tendons, comparing in your mind to what you saw on the scans with how it feels.

“Your hands are nice—soft,” he replies in a gentle tone.

The doctor-patient relationship is sacred and an essential part of healthcare, built on trust, respect, communication, and common understanding. You swore to follow certain ethical guidelines to ensure that your patient gets the highest level of care. Things might be flirty with Joel and you, but his health is your main priority—it’s your job, and you’re not going to cross a line, even if he’s tempting you like forbidden fruit in the garden of Eden. While he’s your patient, that’s all he’ll be and nothing more. You’re focused, being thorough, and checking for anything that’s out of the ordinary.

“You don’t have to answer,” he says, “I know it’s a personal question, but how old are you..?”

You’re busy working, answering distractedly, “Twenty-four.”

“Jesus,” he gasps. “And you’re already a doctor?”

There’s slight swelling but no tears that you can tell—everything matches the imaging.

“I have the degree,” you say. “This is the first year of my residency—basically, I’m a doctor in training, but I’ve treated people.”

There’s a curious expression on his face when you finally glance at him.

“I’m just thinkin’ about all the schoolin’. Are you a bit… younger?”

Smiling, you answer, “Yes. I did a lot of work to get my degree sooner—basically zero life outside of school for the past six years.”

He looks impressed.

“Christ, smart and beautiful, your boyfriend’s a lucky guy.”

“My boyfriend is non-existent—was too busy with school. Well, no changes in this knee from last week—” You pull his pant leg back down. “—so that’s good. Let me check the other.” You move, immediately pushing up his jeans this time. “Does one hurt worse than the other?” you ask, going through the same exam as you did on the other, checking his motion and behind his knee.

“Uh, nope. Both hurt the same. Sarah says it’s ‘cause I’m old,” he chuckles.

“Has Sarah thought about becoming a doctor?”

As you thought, this knee doesn’t have any changes either.

“No—she wants to be a singer.”

You finish, putting his pants back in place, straightening your spine as you look at him.

“Well, she’s got a knack for medicine—she diagnosed you.”

He frowns.

“The pain is because of my age…?”

“It’s a big contributing factor along with the wear and tear from the work you do.”

He runs a hand through his hair, sighing loudly.

“You must think I’m an old man.”

“I don’t.” You shake your head. “You’re only a little older than me.”

He crosses his arms over his chest.

“Ten years is a lot.”

“Not really.” You shrug. “And you’re in excellent shape aside from your knees, but that’s bound to be an issue with your job.”

There’s a change in how he’s looking at you, and it has you gulping, watching him slide his thumb over his bottom lip like he wants your attention to go there, getting his wish, not able to stop yourself from wondering if his lips are as soft as they look.

“You, uh, think I’m in excellent shape?” His voice has gone deeper, ignoring the simmering heat in your belly.

“Ye-yes,” you stutter. He’s smirking, and you need to get back into safe territory, clearing your throat before you start speaking, “So, let me go over what we’re gonna do to help with the pain.”

From the look on his face, he’s disappointed, which confuses you, not understanding his reaction.

A tired sigh comes from him before he says, “I’m assumin’ medication, then?”

Oh, he thinks you’re going to give him a prescription for pain relief instead of actually treating him. It’s a common issue with doctors who are up to their ears in patients—instead of taking the time to figure out the root of the cause and treat it accordingly, they just write out a prescription to make the patient comfortable, a temporary solution, that has them coming back again, and again. Dr. Carlson’s plan was medication for Joel.

You’re moving to pick up his chart, your eyes scanning over the information, and turning the page, seeing that this is his sixth visit this year, and it’s only July—imaging wasn’t even ordered until last week.

“How long have you been dealing with this pain?” you ask.

“Last couple of years, I started gettin’ achy. Then in, uh, December of last year, there was a big job I was workin’ on—twelve-hour days for almost three weeks straight, and they started hurtin’ real bad.”

Your blood is boiling that he’s had to suffer for so long.

There’s a serious expression on your face when you look at him.

“There are other things we can do that will be long-term. With you being a single dad, the sole provider for Sarah, and working a manual labor job, I don’t think you’ll have time to commit to physical therapy, and I wouldn’t want to take away from your quality time with her.”

He looks surprised before his expression softens.

“What are you thinkin’, Doc?”

You smile warmly, jumping into what you planned that he can do at home, Joel listening intently as you explain each of the things in detail, him nodding along, seeming to like what you’re saying.

“You think it’ll work?” he asks when you finish.

“I do.” You nod. “It’s just keeping up on the exercises—we need to strengthen and stretch those muscles to assist with joint movement, and the other things I suggested will help with the swelling and give you some relief.”

He’s nodding. “I understand—do the exercises. Don’t wanna let you down.”

You pull a small notepad from your jacket pocket, placing it over the chart as you start writing out your treatment instructions, replying, “You shouldn’t be worrying about me.”

“Maybe I wanna worry about you. You’re the first doctor that’s actually cared about helpin’ me. Gonna have to come here more often to see you since you take such great care of me.”

“I’m not your primary physician.” You’re almost finished writing. “You’d end up seeing Dr. Carlson.”

“What if you became my primary doctor?”

Tearing off the page, you hold it out to him, his hand taking it.

There’s something here between you two, a connection you can feel, so you tell him truthfully, “Then all I could and would be is your doctor.”

Understanding dawns on him.

“Oh, is the appointment over?”

“Do you have any other concerns?”

“No, ma’am.”

“Then the appointment is over. If you have any other issues or questions, please reach out to Dr. Carlson. It’s been a pleasure helping you today, and if there’s nothing else, you’re more than welcome to leave.”

He gets down from the table, groaning when he stands up straight, folding up your note and putting it in his pocket.

Thinking there’s nothing else he wants to say and not acknowledging the disappointment that feels like a stone in your belly, you make your way toward the door.

“Wait,” he says. You stop, turning around to face him. “I have a question.”

Taking a couple of steps closer to him, you ask, “What’s your question?”

He closes the distance, stopping when he’s taking up your vision, focusing on his big brown eyes, noticing his spicy cologne that has you feeling warm. He scratches at the back of his neck, looking nervous.

“Well,” he starts, “since I’m no longer your patient and you’re not my doctor, I’m not usually this forward, and I know I don’t have a chance in hell, but I’m wonderin’ if you’d wanna give an old guy like me a shot at takin’ you out?”

Happiness thrums in your veins that he asks, unable to help when a laugh sputters from you, quickly covering your mouth, his cheeks going red, looking unsure and embarrassed. You quickly apologize, “Sorry! I’m not laughing at you for asking me out—I want to go out with you.” That makes him perk up, rewarding you with a dimpled grin. “It’s just you said I was the first doctor to actually help you, and you’d rather date me than have me take care of you. It’s sweet but also hilarious.” You’re laughing again.

He chuckles, running a hand through his hair, the other perched on his hip, keeping his weight to one side.

“Yeah,” he says, “there are a lot more doctors out there—sure, I can find another, but I’ve only ever met one you, and I’m not gonna miss my opportunity to get to know you better.”

It feels like your skin is buzzing, so caught off guard by how genuine he is, seeing it in those dark eyes of his.

“How are you single?”

Is there something you’re missing? Some deep dark secret? He seems so perfect and adorable. It makes zero sense that he’s unattached.

There’s a sad smile on his face.

“Not a lot of women are into single dads.”

“That’s a lie—I’m very into single dads.”

He laughs, a beautiful flush crawling up his neck.

“I’m happy to hear that. Can I get your number?” he asks, pulling out a Nokia phone from his pocket and holding it out to you. “I just got this.”

“Of course.”

Taking it, you punch in the numbers, saving them to his contacts before giving it back. He looks at the little screen, hitting some buttons.

“‘Doc’?” he asks amusedly, meeting your eyes. “Why not your name?”

“Can’t take the risk of a handsome guy like you meeting another girl with my name—need to make sure I stand out,” you answer with a wink.

“No other woman is like you. I only want your number.”

“You’re really laying it on thick,” you tease. “I can assure you that you’ve successfully seduced me, and I really want to go out with you.”

He smiles.

“Good. I really wanna go out with you, too. What time are you off?”

“Seven.”

“Can I call you later?”

“I would like that very much.”

“Then I will.”

“I can’t wait.”

The joy is evident on his face, and you know you’re wearing a matching expression.

He holds out his hand as he says, “It’s been a pleasure meetin’ you today, Doc.” Holding his chart with one arm, you shake his offered palm that engulfs your smaller one. “You’re already a mighty fine doctor.” He winks, bringing your hand up to place a soft, chaste kiss on the back of it, his gaze staying on yours. Your skin tingles, and your body feels like it's burning from the inside out as your jaw goes slack.

Your voice is rough when you say, “You are a liar, Joel Miller.”

His eyebrows dip together, his thumb rubbing circles on the back of your hand.

“What are you talkin’ about?”

“You said you’d forgotten how to talk to women, and that is not true—not even a little bit. Got me thinking about kissing your stupidly perfect face.”

He crookedly grins.

“Stupidly perfect?”

“Yes,” you groan.

“And you wanna kiss it?”

He gets closer, your bodies practically pressing together.

“Yes.”

His hand comes up to cradle your jaw, leaning into his touch, his eyes moving from your own to your lips, the tension rising, thinking he might go for it and hoping he will.

His voice goes lower, “Then we better go out soon.” He takes a small step back, putting space between you, your heart pounding hard in your chest. “You busy tomorrow night?”

“No,” you breathe.

“Off at the same time?”

“No.” You shake your head. “It’s a half day.”

“Can I pick you up at seven?”

“Yes.” You nod.

He smiles brightly.

“It’s a date. I’ll call you tonight.”

“Okay.”

“Bye, Doc.”

“Bye, Joel.”

He brings your hand up to kiss the back of it one more time and leaves you standing there in a daze, thankful that out of fifty applications across the entire United States, this was the clinic that accepted you, inadvertently introducing you to Joel Miller.

Spring 2024 - Jackson, Wyoming

For a cold night, the house is comfortably warm, the room illuminated in a soft glow by the bedside lamp, the sky outside dark and hidden by the closed blinds—Joel’s on his knees on the bed, your legs resting over his arms keeping them spread with his hands tightly gripping onto your hips, holding your ass up as he fucks into you hard.

The nap had lasted a couple of hours, the front of your body snug against his back, his fingers intertwined with yours over his heart, kissing his bare shoulders when you woke. Water was drunk, some food was eaten from the rations in your pack, and the next thing you knew, Joel’s face was buried between your legs.

Now, he’s grunting as he pounds into you, his thick cock pushing into that one heavenly spot that only he’s been able to find with his eyebrows furrowed and teeth bared—your head is dizzy with pleasure, fire burning so brightly in your belly that it’s going to explode at any second.

You’re gasping moans, your fingers digging into the bedspread, feeling so fucking close to coming, every thrust having the muscles in your stomach winding tighter and tighter.

“Come on, baby,” he says through gritted teeth. “Let me fuckin’ have it—you feel so fuckin’ good. Fuck, wanna feel you come.”

“Close,” you whine. “Oh, fuck.” Your body is starting to writhe, not able to control yourself. “You’re fucking me so good, Joel. Oh, god. Gonna come.”

The slap of his hips echoes in the room, the sound magnified by how wet you are, filling the air with the loud squelch of your cunt mixing with rough sounds coming from Joel’s throat and your breathy noises.

The heat builds in the pit of your stomach, growing hotter and thicker until stars are dancing at the edge of your vision, coming with a shout of his name.

“There it fuckin’ is,” he groans, “My good girl—I fuckin’ love you.”

Your body seizes up, the pleasure starting deep in your center and radiating out through your limbs, feeling it spread to the tips of your fingers and toes, your mind going hazy. Joel slows to a grind, letting you feel every ridge and vein of his throbbing dick, working you through your high.

The orgasm ebbs and your body continues to tremble—opening your eyes to meet his lust-blown gaze, a lazy smile on his lips.

“Feel good, baby?” he asks.

Smiling dreamily, you answer, “Yeah, babe. Feel fucking amazing. You’ve always known how I like to be fucked.”

“Yeah, I do,” he rasps, slowly thrusting, “and I know you got one more in ya.” He slaps your hip, making you gasp when he pulls out, letting your legs fall to the bed. “Hands and knees, baby,” he says, helping you get into position, your body thrumming in excitement, knowing what’s to come.

Your knees sink into the mattress, hips up, forearms resting against the pillow just how he wants you, looking over your shoulder to watch him grab onto the flesh of your ass, squeezing hard.

“So fuckin’ pretty like this,” he says, spreading open your asscheeks, the bed jostling as he moves. His face gets close, moaning when you feel him spit onto your entrance, the hot saliva mixing with your slick and come, your eyes closing, facing forward once more.

He straightens up, wasting no time to press back inside you in one smooth thrust, gasping at how he stretches you. It was something you’d never tire of, the way he fills you and how your body makes space to have him fitting all nice and snug, sliding perfectly along your sensitive walls.

His hands are grabbing onto your hips, digging in his fingers as he starts moving, soft sounds falling from your lips with each push and pull of his cock inside you. He sets a punishing pace, hearing the dull smack of your bodies colliding and his balls slapping into your clit, him grunting in exertion with how hard he’s slamming into you.

Your head falls forward, pressing it into the cushiony pillow, him turning you into a whimpering, drooling mess at how good it feels, the familiar heat in your core growing, expanding, as he fucks you into the mattress.

“You gonna come for me, baby?” he grits out, his hand landing on your asscheek in a resounding smack that has your cunt clenching. “You’re so fuckin’ wet.”

He’s making your ass jiggle and thighs quiver with every hard thrust, whining in reply, “Yes, Joel. So good.”

You have to push back to keep him from fucking you into the headboard, your arms trembling, feeling yourself getting closer and closer to your end.

His hand leaves your hip to massage your clit, making you keen, the jolts of electricity ramping you up and setting every nerve in your body ablaze, clawing at the pillow for something to hold onto.

You’re so close—everything he’s doing to you builds you up until you fall over the edge, chanting his name as the waves of euphoria spread through you.

“My good fuckin’ girl,” Joel groans, grabbing your hips once more to fuck you through your climax, going harder to extend it—snapping into you with abandon. It makes your head spin, and feels like the pleasure just keeps going and going—

He comes to a sudden stop with a hiss—pulling out, the bed jostles as he falls onto it beside you on his back. You’re coming down from your high, turning your head to see his chest heaving as he catches his breath with his eyes closed. Reaching over, you pat his flushed, sweaty chest.

“Tire yourself out?” you mumble.

“Yeah,” he pants.

“Shoulda listened to Tommy and stuck to missionary, you old man.”

His head turns a fraction toward you, opening one eye with a grumpy expression on his face, grumbling, “Don’t be fuckin’ mean.” You laugh when he pinches your hip, your body crumpling flat onto the mattress.

“I’m sorry, babe,” you giggle, scooting over to him to throw your arm over his stomach and rest your head over his heart, leaning up to kiss his chin.

“Liar,” he replies.

“I’m not lying,” you say into his skin. “I am a little sorry.”

“Good—did I, uh, tire you out?” he asks.

You snort.

“Need me to get on top and finish you off?”

His cock is still hard and resting on his belly, wetting his skin in your slick.

He lets out a long sigh. “...Yeah.”

“Say no more,” you reply, kissing his stubble.

With a groan, you’re moving to straddle his hips, one hand on his chest to hold yourself up, the other moving to grab his dick to notch him at your opening, him twitching in your palm. It’s a reflex when his big hands land on your waist, his thumbs rubbing circles into your soft skin.

“Fuckin’ love when you’re on top,” he rasps, his glazed-over gaze on yours.

“‘Cause you like watching my tits bounce.”

He’s unable to reply, his mouth falling open as you sink down on him, your eyes fluttering closed at how he feels so much bigger like this, your thighs meeting when you bottom out.

“God, I love your dick,” you moan, both hands on his chest, rolling your hips, adjusting to the fullness.

His voice is strained when he replies, “I know you do—always hungry for my dick.”

“Says the guy who can’t keep his face out of my pussy—fuck,” you gasp, tilting your hips to have him press into something divine.

“Mmm,” he hums. “Gotta make up for lost time.” One of his hands moves to your center, pressing his thumb to your clit it making pleasure spark in your belly. “You wanna come again?” he asks.

Meeting his eyes, you shake your head, “No,” you answer. “I’m spent. Another, and I know I’ll pass the fuck out.”

He smirks. “Nothin’ wrong with that.”

Your eyebrow raises.

“Except that you’d have to get yourself off with your hand—I’m good, babe. It’s your turn.”

“Okay.”

His hand goes back to your hip, your inner walls fluttering around him, starting to move up and down, rising on your knees and falling over and over, his eyes locking on your chest with his jaw slack.

“Fuck,” he groans. “So fuckin’ beautiful. Lean down, baby.”

It makes you grin. Of course, he wants you to lean down.

Your hands move to either side of his head to hold yourself up, riding him in earnest, not surprised when he palms your breasts. His fingers tease your stiff nipples, rolling and pinching them, causing electricity to shiver down your spine, breathily moaning as you work him over, feeling the sheen of sweat coating your skin and your thighs beginning to burn. There’s a beautiful flush covering him, his golden skin glistening in the lamplight, wanting to lick the drops of perspiration along the column of his throat. He feels so good inside of you, his cock moving in and out of you, going at a rhythm he likes, his face screwed up like he’s in pain, knowing he’s getting close with the rough noises he’s making.

“Kiss me,” he pants.

Lowering your face, you hover your lips over his. “Aren’t you needy,” you say between heavy breaths, nudging his nose with your own. “You want me to kiss you?”

“Please,” he croaks out, looking absolutely wrecked.

“My good boy asking so nicely.” He moans loudly, feeling his cock jerk. You give him what he wants, capturing his mouth in a kiss, pressing your lips forcefully to his while you keep rutting against him, his hands squeezing your breasts.

It’s loud between your legs, hearing the wet sounds of you moving on him.

“‘M close,” he murmurs into your lips, making you go harder, your heart pounding in your chest.

It doesn’t take much more for his big hands to finally grab onto your hips, pulling you down all the way to be flush with him, a dirty, low groan spilling from his throat as he comes—his dick twitching, the warmth of his spend filling your inner depths.

You’re wrung out, your head falling into the crook of his neck, panting hot breaths into his skin, Joel sounding just as winded, hugging his arms around you to hold you close.

Minutes you lay wrapped up in each other, your heartbeats slowing together, comfortable, happy, neither of you wanting to move.

Exhaustion is creeping up on you, afraid you’ll fall asleep. Your voice is muffled when you say, “Joel?”

“Hmm?”

“I’m old.”

He swats your ass. “Stop that. You’re not old.”

“Joel, I want to sleep—I’m old,” you sigh. “I’m too tired to fuck.”

He sighs, too, replying, “Fuck, I’m tired, too—bone fuckin’ tired. That doesn’t mean we’re old.”

A memory comes to you. “Remember that one weekend Tommy watched Sarah? You’d been swamped with work the week before, and according to him, you were an absolute asshole because you needed to get laid, so when the job was done, he told you to stay with me all weekend, and we literally fucked the entire time?”

You’d barely left your bed.

“That was a good weekend.” You can hear him smiling.

“It was. We barely slept and fucked like rabbits. Joel, we didn’t even last all of tonight. Face it, babe, we’re old.”

“We just need a good night’s rest, and we could easily go all night.”

“Sure, babe—“ You lightly pat his cheek “—just some sleep, and we can go all night like we’re twenty years younger.”

“That’s what I said, and I know I’m right.”

“You’re cute,” you say, moving to kiss his jaw. “I gotta get up and go to the bathroom—I’ll grab us some water.”

“Mmkay.”

Unwrapping his arms, you carefully got up with a groan, the bed squeaking as you maneuvered off of it.

Your first stop was the en suite to take care of your needs and clean yourself up, relishing in the delicious ache between your legs at being thoroughly fucked. Next was doing the same walk of shame that Joel had taken earlier, not bothering to put on any clothes as you padded down to the first floor to refill your cups, returning with them full of water.

Your eyebrows dip together when you get back into the bedroom, finding Joel in the same spot you left him—his head is cushioned on a pillow, his eyes closed, completely still, seeing his chest's steady rise and fall.

Normally, he would’ve gotten up to clean himself up and use the bathroom.

Did he pass out?

You set the glasses on the bedside table next to him. “Joel?” you whisper. “Did you fall asleep?”

You’re afraid that if you touch him, you might startle him.

“No.” He says the word clearly.

Stepping closer to the bed, you push his messy hair away from his face.

“You just comfortable?” you ask.

“...no.”

Well, the slight pause has alarm bells ringing in your head.

“What do you mean?” You stroke your hand over his cheek. “Are you okay? What’s wrong?”

He lets out a really long breath, finally blinking open his eyes to look at you, a frown on his lips.

“Don’t make fun of me…”

Oh, god, he’s hurt. Immediately you’re looking over his body for any sign of injury, noting that his breaths are even, your fingers moving against his neck to feel the steady thump of his pulse.

“What’s wrong?” you ask again.

“I… can’t move,” he answers, grimacing.

That narrows things down. “Jesus Christ, Joel. Hips or back?”

“Back—pulled somethin’. Fuckin’ hurts to move.”

Your brain is making quick work on how you will treat him, remembering you saw some ice in the freezer.

“Well, at least you didn’t break a hip,” you murmur. “Tommy and Ellie would’ve never let you live it down.”

That grumpy expression comes over his face.

“My hips are fuckin’ fine,” he grouses. “Just gotta lay here for a bit, and I’ll be okay.”

“Um, no,” you reply. “You’re not laying here and suffering.” Grabbing a glass of water, you ask, “First, I need you to drink something. Does it hurt to lift your neck?”

His frown becomes more pronounced, him lifting up as much as he can, and your hand immediately going behind his head to help him up, the other bringing the cup to his lips and tilting it for him to drink. Once he’d drunk the whole thing, he laid back against the pillow again.

“Thank you, baby.” He looks so sad, and it has you putting the glass back onto the table before cupping his cheeks and leaning down to kiss him softly.

Breaking it, you look him in the eyes, smiling. “You’re welcome, and don’t be upset. I believe you said it was sexy that I could treat your sex injuries, and I’ll have you feeling better in no time.”

His eyes are big. “I know you will,” he says softly. “I love you.”

“I love you, too. Now, I gotta flip you over to make sure it is a pulled muscle and you didn’t slip a disk or something worse.”

“Okay,” he sighs.

Helping him get onto his stomach involves him making a lot of pained sounds and muttering ‘fuck,’ repeatedly. Luckily, after a quick exam, you confirmed it was just lower back strain.

Earlier in the evening, Tommy had dropped off a bag filled with clothes. Rummaging through it, you found a white t-shirt that was clearly meant for Joel that you put on before going downstairs to grab some ice that you wrapped in a small towel.

When you got back to your injured fiancé, you applied the cold compress to help reduce the pain and swelling.

You’re lying beside him, your hand holding the ice to where his pain is, his head turned toward you.

“I refilled the ice tray,” you say. “We just need to do this every three or four hours over the next couple of days, and you’ll have to take it easy. No strenuous activity.”

“Yes, Doc,” he whispers. “I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

“You wanted to fuck for a couple of days.”

“Oh, don’t be sorry,” you reassure. “I was dreaming big and did not account for the fact that I am no longer an energetic twenty-something. Honestly, I am so fucking exhausted. I think everything is catching up to me—saving Ellie, finding you, us walking here to Jackson. I want to sleep for days. Then there’s the fact you fucked me so good, I’m gonna need some time to recover—I’m sore.”

“We overdid it.” He lets out a breath.

“We overdid it.” You nodded.

“But it was good..?” He looks hopeful.

You smile. “So fucking good—worth the pain.”

“Yeah?” He smirks.

“Yeah.”

“I reckon it was worth the pain.”

Once his back is iced, he’s able to get up, and you both take a quick shower together, deciding to call it a night. Joel’s protective instincts have him sleeping closest to the door with a gun and knife on the bedside table, you nestled into his left side, your leg hitched up on his thigh, resting your head over his heart, the strong beats so calming that it has you relaxing. There’s no doubt that you’ll sleep more than a few hours—you’re beyond tired and sated, so comfortable and happy that your mind is already beginning to drift. Add in Joel’s fingers sliding along the bare skin over your ribs, the shirt you’re wearing pushed up under your breasts, and you’re in heaven.

It’s the early hours of the morning, the room is dark and quiet, save for your even breaths filling the air.

His voice is gentle and barely above a whisper, “Baby?”

“Hmmm?”

“In the shower, you asked about my scar?”

“Yeah?”

“There’s one below your belly button that I don’t think is from bein’ stabbed. How’d you get it?”

His question has your eyes flying open, the sleepiness now replaced with panic as your mind races and heart pounds, knowing exactly what scar he’s talking about—it’s surgical, a cut made by a scalpel that’d been hurriedly stitched up after the doctor sterilized you.

It’s an easy enough answer to give him since he’s aware you can’t get pregnant. But it feels like a lie; it’s not the whole truth that you’ve buried so deep down inside your conscious because of the pain of remembering.

You’d been adamant about wanting to protect Joel from the anguish of discovering the extent of all he lost twenty years ago. You didn’t see the point in upsetting him and knew without a doubt he’d blame himself. Yet, there’s a part of you that feels he deserves to know, that he needs to know, and that this isn’t something you should have to carry by yourself. He’s the love of your life, the man you’re going to spend whatever days you have left on this earth with, and it feels wrong to keep a secret like this from him. If he found out later, he’d be even more devastated, and you don’t want to betray his trust like that—you don’t want to keep anything from him, like how you hope he doesn’t keep anything from you. You’re partners, you’ve always shared everything, and this is no different.

The resolve hits you that you’re going to tell him the truth, the whole truth.

“We don’t have to talk about it…” he says when you’re silent for too long. “It’s late anyway.” The last word turns into a yawn.

“No, I’ll tell you,” you reply. Moving, you get on top of him, your thighs bracketing his naked hips, leaning over to turn on the lamp. His eyes squint from the light, looking uneasy, your body pressing into his to hover your face over his, holding yourself up on your elbows beside his head, stroking your fingers through his damp grey hair. His arms automatically wrap around your back to rub his hands along your shirt-covered spine.

“I’m not gonna like what you’re about to tell me, am I?” he asks with a frown.

“No, Joel,” you answer softly. “It’s gonna hurt like a bitch, so take a deep breath for me.”

The expression on his face turns serious, clenching his jaw, his hands stopping their movements.

His voice is low, “How’d you get the scar?”

“We’ll get to that in a second. First, I need you to understand that everything that happened to me is not your fault, okay?”

“Just fuckin’ tell me.”

“You tell me first that you understand what I just said.”

“Yes—not my fault,” he says impatiently. “Tell me.”

One of the things they teach you in medical school is how to give a person bad news. There are times when you have to tell someone they’re dying or have an incurable illness; a patient dies in surgery, and you’re having to inform the next of kin. It’s a step-by-step process, starting with finding out the person's understanding of the situation for a place to begin and build upon. Next is the warning shot, which you delivered by telling Joel that what you’re about to tell him is going to hurt. Then you present the news in plain words to avoid any misunderstandings. It’s common for there to be silence, so you wait for them to make the next move and validate any emotional responses. It’s a little fucked up that this is the process you’re going to use to tell him, but it’s the best way to ease him into it and not cause too much emotional distress all at once.

“Good,” you reply. “Remember in the truck when I told you I took measures to ensure I couldn’t have children?”

“Yes. The scar’s from that? Surgery?”

“Yes.”

“Okay… what aren’t you tellin’ me?”

Taking a deep breath, you answer, “The reason I had it done.”

His eyebrows crease together, eyes narrowing in confusion.

“But you said—”

That you had a fellow doctor help you out.

“Yes,” you cut him off, “except after the Outbreak, especially right at the beginning, doctors weren’t doing elective surgeries, and still aren’t with the lack of supplies. They only do sterilization at the time of childbirth or in conjunction with another abdominal surgery.”

“Please, for the love of God, say surgery,” he says desperately, and it makes your chest ache, hating that you’re putting him through this.

Cupping his cheeks, you give another warning shot, saying as gently as possible, “Joel, I’m sorry I have to tell you this, but I was pregnant.”

His eyes go wide. “When?” he breathes, but you can tell he already knows the answer.

“2003.”

He looks like he’s just been punched, his face pinching in pain, squeezing his eyes shut as he absorbs the blow and processes what you said.

There’s a roughness to his voice when he speaks again, hearing the hurt when he whispers, “The baby?”

“Didn’t survive the pregnancy.” Swallowing hard, your eyes are burning at remembering all that’d happened, knowing something was wrong, and discovering the worse when an ultrasound was done. “I, uh, lost her in December of that year. I was a little over five months along.”

The devastation is clear on his face when his gaze meets yours, seeing how hard he’s trying not to cry with the tears brimming his eyes and his bottom lip trembling.

His throat bobs, the word cracking when it leaves his mouth, “Her?”

“Yes.”

“Five months? Five? You were… you were…” He can’t even say the whole sentence. “Before? On my, my… On my birthday?” Tears start falling down his cheeks.

Your throat is so tight that it’s hard to speak, answering morosely, “Yes.” Wiping at the wetness on his face, continuing, “I found out a few days before.” The next part, you say so quietly, “I was going to surprise you—it was your gift.”

You can see his heart break, and it makes your own squeeze so tight it steals your breath. It was the right thing to tell him—he deserved to know, but it comes at such a great cost, feeling terrible that you’re causing him so much distress. A pained noise comes from him as he crushes you in a hug, pressing your face into his neck, his body shaking as he cries hard, giving in to your own sadness.

“I’m so sorry, Joel,” you sob.

He’s in agony. It hurts. The pain is gut-wrenching, the sadness so deep inside of him he can feel it twisting him in knots, his heart shattering into a thousand pieces. It’s like someone is trying to skin him from the inside out. What he’s feeling is unbearable, and he is unsure if he will survive.

Getting stabbed felt better than this. He’d rather get stabbed because that’s something that heals and scars over, but this? It’s a gaping wound that’s going to stick with him just like Sarah’s death had.

There was nothing he’d wanted more than to have a baby with you all those years ago, and now knowing how close he got to his dream—that he lost two daughters without even knowing, he’s at an utter loss, the anguish consuming him, and overflowing into the tears he can’t hold back, letting it all out as he holds you close, needing your comfort.

His body is trembling uncontrollably, wracking with sobs. “We lost our baby,” he chokes out. “Our baby girl—I lost my babies.”

It feels like his chest is caving in, his heart getting crushed under the weight of his sadness, and he’s thankful you’re here with him—you’re keeping him grounded, your presence stopping him from simply checking out, and he’s allowing himself to feel the emotions, and grieve, something he couldn’t do with Sarah.

He can’t even imagine what you went through alone—losing the baby, him, and Sarah. At least he still had Tommy, but you had no one, having to deal with it all by yourself. Joel feels like shit that he wasn’t there for you in your time of need, wondering if he had been, would the baby have survived? Did another of his kids die because he failed to protect them again? Maybe he wasn’t meant to be a father—he’s not supposed to outlive his children, and he has with two of them, fucking delivering the third to people who wanted to take her from him, too, and barely saving her. He’s a failure as a father, unable to keep his kids safe, and now he’s very aware of how much stronger you are than him. After all the loss you went through alone, and you kept going? He’s weak in comparison, a coward; he barely survived—a failure of a father, partner, and human.

Your words are muffled, your tears hot on his skin, “I’m sorry,” you cry. “I did everything I could to give her the best chance, and it wasn’t enough.”

It’s not right that you’re blaming yourself, and he’s so angry at himself that he’s stopped crying, needing to make you understand it wasn’t your fault—if anyone’s to blame, it’s him.

He pulls you up to look you in the eyes, seeing your face is wet, his large palms caressing your cheeks. “I know you did all you could.” He speaks the words clearly, making sure you can hear the truth. “It’s not your fault, and I’m sorry I wasn’t there. I… I,” he stutters, “failed you both.”

Your eyebrows dip down, going serious. “I told you everything that happened to me isn’t your fault, Joel. You can’t blame yourself for what happened to the baby, or Sarah, for that matter. I’m the one who fucked up and got a flat tire. I’m the one who became a doctor for the army and had to deal with the stress of treating people caught in the blasts when they tried to stop the spread of infection by bombing Alberquerque, which didn’t even work. The city was lost, the army cut their losses and sent us to Phoenix, we just…” You pause, sounding ashamed when you say, “We abandoned the survivors—left people in the medical camp who’d die without treatment, and as a doctor, I was horrified, but as an expectant mother? I was one of the first people on the truck because the baby was all I cared about.” Taking a deep breath, you continue, “I figured having the protection of the military and access to medical supplies was the best option I had to safely bring her into the world, even at the cost of my morals—she was all I had left of you, and I was willing to do anything to protect her, and in the end, she didn’t make it, and none of it was your fault.”

“There’s a chance she would’ve survived if I was with you.” Pain cuts through him like a hot knife, the regret stinging. “They both might’ve survived if I’d been with you.”

It’s weighing on him how things could’ve been different, feeling like it was all his fault for not finding you sooner. After Sarah’s death, he doesn’t remember much about the days or weeks that followed—he’d completely disconnected from everything and wasn’t himself, simply an emotionless shell of a person that did whatever he needed to keep Tommy safe, looking for you in every QZ, settlement, or army camp they entered. That night everything went down, they should’ve checked the route you took, they should’ve tried harder to find you. His mind is whirling with all of the different choices he could’ve made.

Your hand cups his cheek. “Hey,” you say softly. “Don’t think about the what ifs. I know it’s hard, but all it will do is drive you crazy. What happened, happened, and you don’t need to torture yourself over it by thinking of how you could’ve changed things. So, stop blaming yourself. I don’t blame you. I’ve never blamed you. It gave me the strength to keep searching for you, thinking that you and Sarah were out there looking for me, too. We can’t go back in time, so we focus on the present and the fact that after everything we’ve been through, we still managed to find each other again.”

Hearing that your grief spurred you on to keep looking for him makes guilt roil in his stomach over how weak he’d been and that, by his own hand, he’d almost made your search pointless.

There’s no sugarcoating it, and you should know after all you’ve revealed to him, so he just says it, “I tried to kill myself.”

It makes you flinch, shock coming over your face. “What?” you whisper. “Joel, when? Why?”

Taking a deep breath, he lets it out slowly, his eyes darting away because he feels so much shame.

“Second day,” he answers. Swallowing thickly, he continues, the emotion making his voice rough, “Sarah died in my arms, and after all the shit I saw, I thought you were gone, too, and that was why you never made it to my house. I lost you both and couldn’t see the point anymore.” He takes a second to figure out his next words. “I’m, uh, not as strong as you are. The two people I love most were taken from me, and I didn’t want to keep living. Simple as that. Wasn’t even scared,” he admits. “I was ready—more than ready.” He pauses, his jaw flexing as the memory of holding the gun and feeling so calm comes back to him. “When I…” He has to swallow again, a lump forming in his throat, it just as hard telling you as it was with Ellie. “When I went to pull the trigger, I flinched.” His gaze meets yours, seeing the sadness in your eyes. “I, uh, told Ellie this story the other day, and I said I don’t know why I flinched, but some part of me likes to think it was Sarah tellin’ me to keep goin’ and not give up.” A sad smile turns up on his lips. “You know how she was always bossin’ me around.”

You sniffle, sharing the same look as him, both thinking fond memories about his daughter. “Because you’re a fucking disaster, Joel,” you reply. “You need someone bossing you around.”

He’s not going to deny the truth. “That I do, and I’m so fuckin’ happy I did keep goin’ ‘cause I found you, and there’s Ellie.”

The only kid he has left.

If he was protective of her before, he doesn’t know what he is now, a little afraid he might become one of those annoying helicopter parents. He can’t risk anything happening to her. He needs to keep her safe, ignoring the sudden urge to jump out of bed to go over to Tommy’s to check up on her.

After the resort town, and what she’d gone through, he’d been so worried about her change in demeanor—how quiet she became, closed off, distracted, aloof. She wouldn’t talk about it, but from the look in her eyes and the blood that’d been on her clothes when he found her, she’d had to kill a person or people, and Joel felt like he’d let her down by not being able to keep her safe.

He hated when she had to shoot the guy in Kansas City to save him, and he hated even more that she had to kill when he wasn’t there to do it for her—she’s still just a kid, his kid, and he knew it’d be traumatic for her, even if she tried to put on a brave face, and sure enough, it’d fucked her up, Joel worried sick that he’d lost his upbeat, chatterbox, bad pun telling Ellie forever.

He’d done everything he could think of to cheer her up and get her out of her head as she’d always done to him, pretty sure he said more words to her on their trip to Salt Lake City than he’d said in the past twenty years combined.

Then she met you, and he knows it was you who brought her back to him—you’d literally taken him to her, helped save her life, and given her hope that everything she’d been through, the good and bad, all meant something, freeing her conscious of the guilt she’s held over those who’d died for her.

And since Joel and Ellie are cut from the same cloth and terrible with emotional shit, now that she’s better, they’re pretending like it hadn’t happened.

Thank Christ you were there to call him out on his lie about the Fireflies finding someone else and telling her the truth—she never would’ve forgiven him.

“I’m happy you kept going, too,” you say, “so you could be there for her. Ellie needs a parent, someone to love her unconditionally, and I know you love her like she’s your own kid.”

“I do.”

“Have you told her?”

He looks away. “...no. We’re, uh, not very good at that kinda thing.”

“I figured as much. You’ll have to tell her one day. I think it’d make her happy.”

“Maybe…” He looks at you again, frowning. “That little girl has been alone her whole life. No parents—abandoned with FEDRA when she was born. I reckon she’s never been loved or cared about, and she isn’t quite sure what to do now that she’s got a… a…”

What is he to her?

“Dad,” you finish for him. “You’re her father, and she’s your daughter. You’re still a dad, Joel. You’ve got another teenager to raise or at least guide. She’s no longer alone and now has people to love and care about her, all thanks to you.” You poke his nose.

“She’d hate me sayin’ I’m her dad…”

“Because it’s so foreign to her. She doesn’t know what it’s like to have one, and I think she’ll warm up to the idea after some time.”

He couldn’t help feeling hopeful. “It’d be nice,” he replies. “Easier way to explain our relationship, and I do know she loves me.”

She’d never had to say it. Her actions and how she said she’d follow him anywhere were enough for him to know. That’s how their relationship has always been—doing their damnedest to talk around their feelings because they’re both just so fucking awkward. He told Ellie it wasn’t time that healed him, and she’d understood what he meant: I love you, and you’re the reason I’m better. When she responded that she was glad the attempt on his life didn’t work out, he heard: I love you, too.

They get each other.

“Good,” you say. “I know she loves you, too.”

It’s an understatement to say life has been unkind to him. Frankly, it feels like all he’s gone through was some kind of sadistic test of his resolve to live, it getting harder and harder with every passing year.

Joel thinks he’s finally catching a break or at least hopes.

He’s got you, Ellie, and Tommy all together someplace safe.

It still hurts like hell everything he lost to get here, unable to stop himself from imagining what it’d be like if his other two daughters had survived—all of you settling in Jackson, him and you taking care of Ellie, Sarah in her thirties with her own home and a family, and then there’s the girl who would’ve recently turned twenty that looks like a mix of you both; he pictures a face with your gorgeous eyes, his mouth, your chin, and he’d feel awful that she got his nose, but she’s beautiful just like her mom.

What would she have been like? Would she have looked how he’s imagining? The thoughts have his chest squeezing so tight, feeling like he’s lost another piece of his heart after he just put it back together again.

His eyes are watery, his voice wobbly when he asks, “Did she have a name?”

Your face goes soft, sadness gleaming in your eyes, your fingers sliding through the hair above his ear. “Yes,” you answer.

“I’d like to know it,” he says softly.

“When I first found out, she was Jellybean.” There’s a fond expression on your face. “Then, after everything, I started calling her Hope? Didn’t even know if she was a girl, but to steal from Star Wars, she was my only hope and kept me going, so that’s what I referred to her as. If she’d ended up being a boy, I would’ve named her Joel.” That makes his breath catch in his throat. “Then I found out the gender, and Hope just stuck.”

“Hope was perfect.”

“Hope Miller.”

Tears are rolling down his cheeks. “Hope Miller,” he says, the name ending on a sob, Joel crying once more.

He hugs you close to him, breathing in your hair while he breaks down, your body shaking as you let go, too, needing each other at this moment, mourning together, sharing in the sadness.

It could’ve been minutes or hours later that there were no more tears to shed, both of you overly exhausted, feeling like your bodies had been wrung out of everything inside of them.

You lean over him to turn off the lamp on the bedside table, and with a hand on the back of your head, he brings you down for a tender kiss.

“Thank you for tellin’ me,” he murmurs into your lips.

“Thank you for telling me,” you reply.

“I love you.”

“I love you, too, no matter what.”

“No matter what,” he agrees.

It’s comforting when you end up half on top of him, your leg thrown over his waist, your head on his chest, your arm across his belly. He holds you, everything that happened tonight, making him fall into a deep, dreamless sleep.

He turned onto his left side as he slept, and It’s the bed jostling, you sitting up quickly beside him, that has him waking abruptly, adrenaline pumping in his veins over not hearing the intruder enter the room. You’re in danger, his heart pounding, breathing hard, and he’s out of the bed immediately, needing to neutralize the threat, not seeing any weapons, his hand grabbing the unarmed man by the throat.

He’s being shouted at by you, it finally registering in his brain, “Joel, it’s Tommy!”

His brother’s eyes are wide, his hands clawing at Joel’s arm, using what little air he has to repeat, “It’s me, it’s me…”

It breaks him from the spell, letting go of the other man, who starts coughing.

“Jesus Christ, Tommy,” Joel growls. “I coulda fuckin’ killed you!”

“I’m sorry,” he wheezes. “I knocked, and nobody answered.”

“So, you broke in while we were sleepin’? You got a fuckin’ death wish?”

Tommy catches his breath. “I wasn’t thinkin’.” He looks sheepish. “Doc’s here, and I thought it’d be funny, like back in the day when I’d barge into your room when she was at the house.”

Joel’s hand is on his naked hip, the other pressing to his face.

One of Tommy’s favorite past times, back in Austin, was showing up at his house on Saturday mornings when he knew you’d be staying over and annoying the fuck out of you both until you got out of bed to go have breakfast at the diner with Sarah—after the first time, you started sleeping in a shirt much to Joel’s chagrin.

“You’re fuckin’ stupid, Tommy,” Joel sighs. “You can’t be doin’ that anymore. There’s a real chance I’d end up murderin’ ya, and I don’t need Maria hatin’ me more than she already does.”

“Maria doesn’t hate you.”

He moves his hand from his face to narrow his eyes at his brother. “Maria hates my fuckin’ guts,” he replies.

“Wait,” you say, Joel stepping to turn his body toward you, confusion on your face. “Why does Tommy’s wife hate you?”

There’s a thrill running through him because he knows that as soon as you find out, you’re gonna rip into his brother. He looks at the younger man, nodding his head toward you, “Tell her why Maria hates me.”

Tommy looks uneasy. “Well, like I said, she doesn’t hate you. She’s just gotta warm up to you, is all,” his brother says.

“Uh-huh.” Joel doesn’t sound convinced. “Stop beatin’ around the bush, and tell her.”

“I told her the truth of all we did in order to survive,” Tommy says quickly. “How we fuckin’ murdered innocent people and all that fucked up shit. I didn’t leave out anythin’ ‘cause she’s my wife, and I tell her everythin’.”

“Tommy,” your voice has gone low and serious, and Joel can’t help his smirk. “Did you blame everything you did on Joel and make him sound like a fucking monster?”

Tommy looks mad. “You don’t know what we did—all the people we killed. We could’ve done things differently. It was Joel’s fault.”

“For keeping you alive, Tommy?” she asks, Joel glancing her way to see her looking just as angry. “His daughter died in his arms. His daughter. He lost me that night, too, thinking I was dead, and you’re fucking blaming him for doing fucked up shit to keep the only person he had left alive? Are you fucking kidding me, Tommy? If anyone has survived to today, they’ve had to do horrible shit to get here—I’ve done horrible shit that I’m not proud of, but I’m still breathing, and that’s all that fucking matters.”

“There were other ways we could’ve survived,” Tommy says. “Maria—”

“Maria,” you interrupt, “wasn’t in the same situation as you and Joel. You make her sound like a goddamn saint, but I have no doubts she’s had to do fucked up shit, too. Get off your fucking high horse, Thomas. You were the last person Joel had, and after the shit that happened to him, you’re gonna bet your ass that he would do anything, no matter how shitty, to keep you alive. Frankly, you should be thanking him that you survived long enough to make it here.”

The other man breathes in deeply before replying, “Look, it’s in the past, and I get it now that he was just desperate to keep me livin’. I still feel pretty fuckin’ guilty about the shit that went down, but I understand why he did it. I’ll, uh, talk to Maria.”

“Yeah,” you say. “You better.”

“I will.” He nods.

“Did ya come over just to annoy us?” Joel asks his brother.

“No,” Tommy replies. “Brought y’all breakfast, like I said I would. It’s in the kitchen, and I’m also here to find out what the fuck happened ‘cause Ellie is a goddamn liar.”

Joel’s stomach twists. “What’d she say?”

“I know I said I tell everythin’ to Maria, but I kept my word to you and didn’t mention Ellie’s… condition. She thought you were takin’ the girl to find her family.”

“Thank you.”

“Ellie said y’all found the campus in Colorado abandoned and that you ended up in Utah at a hospital the Fireflies were usin’, and that’s where you found Doc. She said the place got hit by raiders, and you had to fight your way out.”

“I did find Doc at the hospital in Salt Lake City, and Colorado was abandoned,” he says. Scratching at the back of his neck, he looks away. “We got to Utah, found the Fireflies, but they’d wanted to kill Ellie in order to try and make a cure��”

“What the fuck did you do, Joel?” his brother asks through his teeth.

“Joel and I killed them all,” you answer for him, Tommy’s attention moving to you. “I was a doctor there and have been researching a cure for the last five years. Ellie was our key, but Marlene and the head of the facility wanted to murder her instead of doing a procedure that she would’ve survived. It was fucked up, so I helped Joel save the girl, and we took out the Fireflies in the process.” You shrug.

“You saved her instead of everyone else on the entire fuckin’ planet?” Tommy sounds like he can’t believe what he’s saying.

“I couldn’t let her die,” Joel replies, his eyes meeting his brother’s. “Not after Sarah—she’s my kid, Tommy.”

His brother sighs. “Yeah,” he replies. “I get why you’d do it. It’s just fucked that there coulda been a cure, and now what the fuck are we gonna do?”

“Well,” you start. “If I can get my hands on the right equipment, I can do the biopsy and work on developing it myself, but I’d basically need a lab.”

“You could do it?” Surprise is in Tommy’s tone.

“Yeah? The assumption is that Ellie has had Cordyceps growing inside her since she was born—my theory is that her mom was bit while pregnant and somehow gave birth before turning.” That has Joel’s stomach falling through the floor at the thought of Ellie’s mother making sure her baby survived even after being handed a death sentence, not knowing if the child was infected, too. He understands, though, if he’d been in her shoes, he would’ve done the same thing to ensure his kid was safe—hell, he murdered an entire hospital, risking the lives of millions for Ellie, and he thinks her mother would’ve approved. “Anyways,” you continue, “what we think happens is when Ellie gets bit, the normal Cordyceps think she’s Cordyceps or that she’s already turned, making her immune. If I biopsy some of her mutated Cordyceps, I can multiply the cells to make a vaccine to give people that will cause the same immunity, or at least that’s what I’m hoping. There’s no guarantee it will work.”

“Fuckin’ A, Doc!” Tommy’s grinning. “I always said you were too fuckin’ smart to be with this fucker.” He points his thumb at Joel. “We got a clinic, nothin’ fancy, but I’m thinkin’ I could probably convince Maria that we need more medical shit. The town’s gettin’ bigger, anyway. It’d make sense. We can send raiding parties to nearby towns and cities to gather whatever they can find—you give me a list, and I’ll see what I can do.”

“I can do that,” you reply. “Does Jackson have a doctor?”

“Yeah, Dr. Jones is an old, ornery motherfucker. We could use some new blood if you’re up for it.”

You smile. “I’d love to.”

“Great! The other reason I’m here—” he focuses back on Joel “—is findin’ out when you wanted to get hitched.”

Joel looks at you. “You got a preference, baby?”

“The sooner, the better?” You shrug.

He smiles, thinking the same thing as he nods his head, facing Tommy again. “You heard the lady. The sooner, the better.”

His brother’s smiling big, looking delighted. “In that case, be at the House of Worship in two hours.” He holds up two fingers.

“Will do. How’d Ellie sleep?” Joel asks. “You fed her, right? Let her take a shower?”

The younger man’s eyebrows are up to his hairline. “Jesus, you really care about this kid.”

“Congratulations, Tommy,” you say with a smile. “You’re an uncle again.”

“I guess I am—missed it.” He’s smiling softly. “She had no complaints when she woke this mornin’, and, of course, I fuckin’ fed her. Couldn’t believe how much food she scarfed down. I should be askin’ if you’ve been feedin’ her,” Tommy tells Joel as he pokes him in his bare chest. “She showered first thing at the house, and Maria got her more clothes.”

“Thank you for takin’ care of her. You didn’t have to,” Joel replies.

Tommy smirks, saying, “Based on all those fuckin’ hickies coverin’ your naked ass—” He points at Joel’s torso “—it’s safe to say it was better she stayed at mine last night.”

Joel’s cheeks heat, having not realized that he is, in fact, completely nude. Walking over to the bed, he groans as he sits down on the edge, pulling a blanket over his thighs to cover himself up, his back twinging in pain.

He sighs. “Yeah, yeah,” Joel says. “Thanks again for watchin’ her. Can you make sure she’s at the weddin’? You, too.”

“We’d really like you both there,” you add. “It’s important to us.”

“What about Maria?” Tommy asks, looking unsure.

“Like you said last time I was here,” Joel starts. “She’s family and allowin’ us to stay here, so she can come.”

You speak behind him, “But, if she isn’t civil and ruins my wedding, I get to kick her ass.”

Joel snorts, and Tommy puts his hands up in a placating gesture. “Woah, Doc,” his brother says. “Maria isn’t gonna start shit—she’s seven months pregnant, for Christ’s sake, she’s got enough on her plate.”

The blood leaves Joel’s face, feeling like he’s been kicked in the gut with all the air leaving his lungs.

He’d forgotten about his brother having a baby, or maybe he’d pushed the thought away because he didn’t like to think about it. It wasn’t his proudest moment how he acted when Tommy first told him the news. He’d been jealous and resented his brother for living his dream of being married with a kid on the way. Tommy was getting to live this happy, idyllic life, and Joel, at the time, was struggling with his fears of failing Ellie and getting her killed. It’d been too much to hear his brother had a kid on the way, making Joel dwell on the fact that Tommy had been right, his life had stopped all those years ago, and he couldn’t stand how his brother and everyone else in this town were living like the world hadn’t ended.

It didn’t feel fair to him, not with all he’d been through.

Of course, he wants to be happy for Tommy. He really does. He wants to be able to share in his joy, but it hurts so fucking bad being reminded of how close he’d gotten to having what his brother has now.

He lets air fill his lungs and slowly lets it out.

At least he’s got you back. And Ellie.

He’d started living again the moment Ellie had forgiven him, shoving her bag into his arms the last time they were in Jackson and telling him, ‘Let’s go.’ They went, and the journey wasn’t easy, both coming far too close to death to be comfortable. He found you, or you found him as it were, and now he’s getting his chance to live a happy, idyllic life married to you, and together, you’ll care for Ellie.

That sounds pretty fucking perfect to him.

A wife and a kid. Wouldn't have even crossed his mind a year ago—a fever dream.

“Someone married you,” you say in disbelief, taking Joel from his thoughts, “and is having your baby? I know the apocalypse happened, but did hell freeze over, too?”

“I forgot how fuckin’ mean you are, Doc,” Tommy chuckles.

“You’re tellin’ me,” Joel whispers, receiving a playful swat to his shoulder from you.

“I’m not mean,” you grumble.

He has to hold in his groan as he twists his body to pat your thigh. “No, you’re not,” he tells you. “You’re perfect.”

“Stop lyin’ to her,” Tommy says. “And I’ll have you know that I’ve matured, Doc, now that I’m older.”

Joel turns back, squinting his eyes at the other man. “You almost got yourself killed by bein’ dumb…” Joel replies.

“It was for old time’s sake.”

“Well, congrats, Tommy,” you tell him. “You were always so good with Sarah. I know you’ll be a great dad.”

Tommy smiles. “Thanks, Doc. I’m nervous but excited. Put together the nursery myself.”

“That’s so sweet.”

“Well, I’ll get out of your hair and see y’all in a bit. Joel?”

Their eyes meet. “Yeah?”

“For all that’s holy, put on some fuckin’ clothes. We don’t need you bein’ our first prisoner in the town jail for public indecency.”

Joel glares at his brother. “You’re right,” Joel replies. “It’s time for you to get the fuck out. We’ll see you at the church.

Tommy laughs as he leaves, hearing his footsteps thudding down the stairs and the slam of the front door.

He presses his hands to his face, “Fuckin’ asshole,” he mumbles into them.

There’s movement as you crawl up behind him, wrapping your arms around his front and resting your chin on his shoulder.

“You okay, babe?”

His arms go over yours to keep you in place, turning his head to look at you. “Yeah,” he answers. “I’m fine. Had a rude awakenin’, is all.”

“Do you wanna talk about becoming an uncle?”

He lets out a long sigh. “There’s nothin’ to talk about—I’m happy for Tommy.”

“Joel, you don’t have to lie to me. It would be reasonable if you were feeling hurt that your brother is living such a great life and having a baby. I’m…” you pause, chewing on your lip. Your voice is small when you keep speaking, “I’m sorry I can’t give you children, and I’d understand if you wanted to find someone else you could have a family with.”

Hissing in pain, he’s standing quickly and turning around to face you, getting back onto the bed on his knees, not understanding why you’d even say such a thing—not after everything you’ve both been through to find each other again.

Is this you getting cold feet? Do you not want to marry him? Did he rush things?

His hands cup your face, making sure you’re looking him in the eyes.

“What?” he asks. “Are you second guessin’ marryin’ me? Was it ‘cause of how I woke up?”

He’s scared.

“What?” You look confused, your hands rubbing up his bare chest. “I want to marry you. Your reaction this morning was warranted.” Letting out a slow sigh, you continue, “Just, I know how much you’d wanted kids, how we wanted kids, and I wouldn’t blame you, now that you’re in a place like this, if you wanted to settle down and start a family.”

His face pinches in confusion, saying slowly, “Baby, we have a family… You, me, Ellie, we’re a family, and you’re all I need. You’re the only woman I want to be with.” He swallows hard. “I can’t stomach bringin’ any more children into this world—I’ve lost too many.” He inhales deeply, letting it out slowly. “I… uh, struggle with my need to keep Ellie safe. It’s always on my mind, and it scares me that I’ll end up gettin’ her killed like… like…”

“Sarah?”

“Yeah,” he sighs. “Like Sarah. I know Ellie isn’t her. I’m very aware. They’re so… different.”

You smile softly. “But they would’ve loved each other.”

He smiles, “Yeah. I reckon they would. Sarah would’ve found Ellie funny.”

“Oh, yeah.” You grin. “Would’ve loved Ellie’s terrible puns.”

He’s fondly thinking about it as he says, “She had a book full of ‘em. They were fuckin’ awful—if you think my jokes are bad, these were worse.”

Laughing, you reply, “I love your dad jokes. They would’ve enjoyed music together, too.”

“That they would. Both would’ve given me shit if I played guitar for them.”

“Affectionately, because they can’t reveal how much they actually love it to avoid seeming uncool. I miss your singing. Remember the first time you played for me?”

“Sarah’s thirteenth birthday party.” He nods. “We were hidin’ away in my bedroom while the livin’ room was overrun with teen girls, and I was tryin’ my damndest to woo you by playin’ some Ben E. King.”

“Oh, you wooed me.” You smirk. “Stand by Me was always my favorite.”

“I know.” He smiles. “I’ll have to see about findin’ a guitar.” He’s gotta play for Ellie and you. “What we were discussion’,” he says. “Ellie’s different, and I know it. She can shoot a gun and protect herself—has protected herself when I wasn’t there.” He frowns. ”I worry about her constantly. Somethin’ inside me needs to know she’s okay. If I’m like this with a girl capable of killin’, how would I be with a baby? It honest to god frightens me, and I’m sure I’d end up worryin’ myself to death.”

Your arms loop around his neck, a tender expression on your face. “As a doctor, I can tell you it makes sense that you’re overprotective of your living child. Hopefully, being here in Jackson and not constantly on guard will ease some of the worries. Just know I’m here if you ever wanna talk.”

“Thank you, baby,” he replies, leaning in to kiss you. When he pulls back, he looks you in the eyes. “I’m happy with all we have,” he says truthfully, “and there’s nothin’ for you to be sorry about—Ellie is more than plenty.”

“Are you sure?”

“Positive.” There’s something he can tell you to ease your mind, and it makes him smile crookedly. “As a matter of fact, me bein’ able to fuck you full of my come with no risk of knockin’ you up really riles me up—gets me harder than a fuckin’ rock. I’m happy as a fuckin’ clam, baby.”

Your eyes go a little wide. “Oh my god,” you breathe. “You’ve got whatever the opposite of a breeding kink is.” You looked away, eyebrows creasing as you thought aloud, “Would it just be a creampie kink? No, ‘cause it turns you on that, there’s no risk of pregnancy. Wait, a birth control kink. You’ve got a birth control kink.” Your gazes meet, a grin on your face looking beyond delighted, as you playfully slap his chest. “I thought I knew all your kinks and fetishes, and look at you keeping me on my toes.” Leaning forward, you kiss him, Joel moaning when you shove your tongue into his mouth to tangle with his own, his hands holding your face, meeting your energy until you both need to breathe and separate. “I feel better knowing you’re happy with what we have because I’m happy, too,” you pant.

“Good,” he replies, smiling. Joel kisses you quickly. “We better get ready,” he says when he pulls back, a grin on his lips. “We got a date with an officiant.”

You’re smiling just as brightly, and it has butterflies fluttering in his stomach. He almost can’t believe this is happening, that you’re here, and in—he looks over at the clock on the bedside table—an hour and a half, you’ll be his wife, something you should’ve been twenty years ago. He’s missed too much time with you and won’t waste any more.

“It’s about damn time,” you reply.

“Don’t I know it.”

It’s obvious you’re both excited with how quickly you’re getting off the bed. Turns are taken in the bathroom, then it’s going through the bag of clothes Tommy had brought over. Neither of you expected to look like a traditional bride and groom; wedding dress stores no longer existed, and there definitely weren’t places to buy a suit. He asked your opinion on what he should wear, settling on a black and charcoal-colored plaid shirt with some dark wash jeans that were a tad tighter than he was used to. You did the same, showing him potential outfits and trying things on before you went with a cream-colored cable knit sweater over a white tank top and some light blue jeans that hugged your hips perfectly, but were too long in the legs, having to bunch them over the top of your boots.

Once dressed, you’d made your way down to the kitchen to eat the breakfast Tommy had left. Sitting at the kitchen table, you’re across from each other, barely coming up for air as the two of you eat your plates of eggs and bacon, the best fucking thing Joel has eaten since the last time he was in Jackson. You’re setting your water down after taking a gulp, a thoughtful expression on your face.

“You know what would’ve made today perfect?” you ask him.

“Hmm?” Joel hums around a bite, his eyes on yours.

“If Sarah were here.”

The sadness hits him like a truck, taking him off balance with how it slams into him.

He swallows his food, setting down his fork, frowning as he looks at you. “I wish she were here, too,” he says sadly.

A small smile appears on your lips. “I’d been so nervous the first time I met her because I didn’t want her to hate me.”

“There’s no way in hell she would’ve hated you.”

“Kids are really protective of their parents, and you’re the only one she had since birth,” you point out. “Then, for the first time in her life, you started dating. The cards were stacked against me—there were a ton of reasons for her to hate me.”

“She, uh—” he scratched at the back of his neck “—was always tellin’ me I needed to find someone, and then I met you and told her about meetin’ you. When our first date went so well, she was beggin’ me to meet you. I’d tell her about you, and she approved. You had nothin’ to worry about.”

“That makes me happy. You know, almost a year in, she said she hoped you’d marry me.”

He smiles. “Oh, she was tryin’ real hard to get me to pop the question—kept suggestin’ romantic places, she even said I should take you to Paris,” he chuckles, “and I’d have to remind her that I was waitin’ for the first year of your residency to end so you wouldn’t be stressed about a weddin’. Then there was the hiccup with you gettin’ fired—”

“Forcibly relocated,” you interrupt.

“Right.” He smiles. “There was the hiccup of you bein’ forcibly relocated and out of work for those few months, just didn’t seem right at the time, which was dumb, I know. So, by the time you’d started makin’ up your time at the clinic, I was done waitin’. I asked Sarah’s permission a week before my birthday, and she’d wanted to help me pick out a ring.” He frowns. “I’d been busy with that job, and well...” He sighs, rubbing a hand through his hair, leaving it unsaid because you two were very aware of what happened. “What I’m tryin’ to say is—” your eyes were on his “—Sarah loved you from the very beginnin’, and she would be so fuckin’ happy that we’re finally gettin’ married.”

You sniffle, your eyes shining with unshed tears. “I miss her so fucking much, Joel.”

His throat was closing up, having to clear it before he could speak. “I miss her, too, baby—every fuckin’ day.” He has to wipe at his eyes, something coming to him suddenly. “Last time I was here in Jackson, Tommy tried givin’ me a picture of her and me—one of the Polaroids that’d been on the fridge.” Sarah had been obsessed with the Polaroid camera you got her for her thirteenth birthday, the refrigerator littered with pictures of her with Joel, you, and Tommy, some a combination of the four of you. “I didn’t take it, couldn’t, not when I was thinkin’ if Ellie stayed with me, she’d end up like her. I didn’t want the reminder.”

There’s sadness on your face. “Oh, babe,” you say, “we’ll have to get it from him. Maybe put together a little memorial for her somewhere in the house.”

“I’d like that.” He nodded. “We could do somthin’ for Hope, too.”

“I’d like that,” you reply softly.

He nods. “We better finish eatin’” He points at your plate. “They’ll be expectin’ us.”

You smile. “Yes, they will.”

It’s a beautiful spring day, the sun shining high above in the clear sky.

It caught him off guard when you took his hand as you exited the house. Normally he wouldn’t want to be without his dominant hand in case he needed to use a weapon, but then your fingers intertwined with his, reminding him of times spent walking around the mall or the park, and the little smile on his face said that he didn’t mind, he actually quite liked it. Hand in hand, the stroll to the House of Worship has you taking in more of the town. It throws him a bit how people smile as they pass or offer quick greetings, it feeling foreign when Joel tries to politely smile back.

“I can’t believe it’s an actual functioning town,” you marvel beside him. “Electricity, water, sewer. I wonder how they found people to get things working again. They’d need engineers, electricians, and plumbers, too. Add in the fact they’re producing enough food to feed hundreds of people, and that’d require people with ample husbandry knowledge. They really got lucky.”

“Probably found people with backgrounds,” he replies. “I did construction, but I know my way around some electrical and plumbin’. Don’t know if I could get a dam workin’—if I had a manual, I’m sure I could figure it out.” He shrugs.

You glance at him. “It’s true you can learn a lot just from reading—don’t need fancy degrees anymore.”

“I reckon you’re a much better doctor than anyone who learned after the outbreak. Your fancy degree still means somthin’.”

“I guess.”

“I know it does, baby,” he says, leaning over to kiss the top of your head.

The House of Worship is an old church along the main street, the wooden siding of the building painted a deep red, with the entrance coated in white. It’s traditional looking, with the tall steeple containing a bell and its gabled roof that made the front look like an ‘A.’ The inside had the vaulted ceilings that you’d expect and rows of pews that led to the front where a plain podium stood, no holy symbols anywhere since it was multifaith. The place was empty, the tall windows along the walls letting in light from outside and illuminating everything.

“Five bucks says Tommy’s late,” your voice echoes in the large room, turning your head to look at Joel, his hand still engulfing your own.

“That’s easy money, baby.” He meets your eyes, looking amused.

“Wanna walk me down the aisle?” you ask.

Letting go of your hand, he straightens his back, it aching a little as he offers you his arm with a grin, answering, “Gladly.”

You hook your arm through his. “Ready?” you ask.

“Born ready,” he responds.

It doesn’t feel right that there’s no music, imagining that if this was before the outbreak, you probably would’ve walked down the aisle to the “Bridal Chorus.” Now, though, you’re thinking it needs to be something different, wracking your brain for the perfect song when it hits you, your lips turning up when you both face forward.

As you slowly start walking, you start humming loud enough for Joel to hear. He’s silent for a second, and you know with how much he loves music, he’ll recognize it.

“Etta James?” he asks, glancing at you with a curious expression.

“It felt fitting,” you reply, not feeling any embarrassment when you do your best impression of the singer, singing the opening line of “At Last.”

He huffs out an amused breath.

There’s a reason you studied sciences instead of the arts, and it’s because you’re not very talented in any of them; your singing voice is pretty lousy. Warmth spreads through your body when Joel jumps in on the second verse, sounding a bit rusty as he softly sings with you, making your way down the aisle.

The song isn’t finished when you get to the front of the church, both of you stopping on the same line. There’s a pause where you’re standing in silence, a circular window high above behind the podium showing the blue sky.

There are nerves swirling in your belly, even though you know you have nothing to worry about. Marrying Joel felt so right and was always what you’d wanted, now getting to make your dream come true. You’ve been alone for so long and lost so much in the past that you’re nervous about having people in your life to love and care about again, knowing they could be taken from you in the blink of an eye. You’re not sure how you’d survive if you lost Joel again; hell, it’d fuck you up if something happened to Ellie or even Tommy. These are your people, they’re all you have left, and you can’t worry about the morbid possibilities. You just need to focus on the right now and enjoy what you have, living every day to the fullest.

There’s something else you know without a doubt that Joel is feeling, too, and it’s the sadness weighing on your chest that Sarah is missing today.

Joel clears his throat beside you, his voice rough with emotion when he says, “You know, she’s here with us.”

“I know,” you reply truthfully.

Unhooking his arm from yours, he undoes the button on his left cuff, carefully rolling up the sleeve to his forearm, doing the same with his right. He turns to face you, and you do the same to look him in the eyes, seeing that sadness in the dark depths.

Gently, he grabs your left hand, bringing it up to softly kiss each knuckle, lowering it after a moment, his thumb rubbing over what he kissed. “It’s silly,” he says, looking a little sheepish. “She, uh, fixed this watch and gave it to me as a gift?” He holds up his left arm to show you his favorite watch that had broken, the glass now splintered. “It broke again when she died. The time it stopped on, well…” Your heart squeezes, feeling your eyes burn. “It’s,” the word cracks. He takes a deep breath, trying again, “It’s all I’ve had left of her. I keep it to keep her with me. She’s here.”

You cradle his cheek with your right hand, replying, “She is.” You nod. “She’ll always be with us, Joel.”

The door at the back of the church opens, both of you tensing, and looking toward it, the emotions dispersing as you go on high alert.

“It’s so much bigger than it looks outside,” Ellie’s voice echoes while walking quickly down the center aisle, looking around at everything, a visibly pregnant woman waddling slowly behind her. Ellie’s nose crinkles. “Smells fucking weird.”

“It’s an old buildin’,” the woman replies. “Old buildin’s smell.”

“Ain’t that the truth.” Ellie’s finally made it to you, her attention on Joel as you both turn toward her. “Well, you’re not in a wheelchair, so your hips—”

“Are fuckin’ fine,” he grumbles.

The amusement is clear on the young girl’s face.

“Thank god for that,” she says. “Imagine traveling across the fucking country and almost dying multiple times, only to get to your destination where you cripple yourself from not being able to keep it in your pants. That’d be so fucking embarrassing,” she laughs.

“Well, that didn’t happen, so there’s nothin’ for me to be embarrassed about,” he retorts.

“Oh, there’s plenty for your old ass to be embarrassed about, Joel,” she replies. “You couldn’t even make it to the top floor of that building in KC. There was that time you couldn’t find the shit you stashed or, oh my god, how fucking smelly you get—which good on you, cleaning up for Doc.”

He lets out a long sigh, his hands on his hips. “You done?” he asks.

“I’m sure I’ll think of other shit, but for now? Yeah.” She nods.

“Thank you for bein’ here,” he tells her.

“Like I’d fucking miss you assholes getting your happily ever after, or whatever. Plus, I’ve never been to a wedding. Read about them, though. Wanna see what the fuss is all about, you know?”

“This should be pretty straightforward,” you respond, Joel and Ellie looking at you. “Just someone leading the ceremony and us saying vows to each other. Back in ye olden times, some people had crazy long ceremonies with a lot of speeches, but that’s not really us. We’re doing this more traditionally.”

“Yeah,” Joel agrees. “We’re not needin’ no sermons or someone waxin’ poetic about the sanctity of marriage.”

“Weddings sound exhausting,” Ellie replies.

“Oh, they could be,” you say. “Super boring, too.”

The woman spoke up, standing beside Ellie, “Tommy and I just did a small ceremony, like what y’all are doin’ with some close friends, and we exchanged our rings.”

“You must be Maria,” you say, sticking out your hand and introducing yourself, wanting to be cordial. “Most people call me Doc, and it’s kinda stuck.” You shrug as she shakes your hand.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” she replies, letting go of your hand.

“Are you guys gonna get rings?” Ellie asks, pointing between you and Joel.

“Rings are hard to find…” you answer.

“Not when you live here,” Maria responds, smiling. “We’ve got a smith in town who can make you some—she does it for all newlyweds as a gift.”

Your eyes widen.

“Oh, I’d love a ring,” you say. Looking at Joel, you ask, “Joel?”

“Yeah,” he replies. “I’d like one, too. Thank you, ma’am.”

“You can call me Maria, Joel, and there’s no need to thank me,” she says. “It’s Valerie who makes ‘em, and I’ll let her know you’ll be stoppin’ by to get sized.”

“Well, thank you for doin’ that,” he responds.

“You’re welcome, Joel.” She nods.

You can tell Maria doesn’t particularly love Joel, but there’s nothing about how she’s looking at him, speaking to him, or her body language that says she hates him. If anything, it’s more indifference, her coming to terms with him being her brother-in-law and now a part of her life, so she has to make some kind of effort for things not to be awkward. Joel’s doing the same thing. It's almost like they’ve silently agreed that this is how things will be—civil and nothing more.

“Thank you for giving us a place to stay, Maria,” you tell her. “The house is lovely, and Jackson is so wonderful.”

“Y’all are more than welcome to stay as long as you’d like,” she says. “Joel’s family, and you’re about to be family, too. I know Tommy’s excited to have all of you here.”

“Speakin’ of my brother,” Joel cuts in. “Where is he…? And whoever's officiating, for that matter.”

As if on cue, the door to the church opens, and Tommy comes striding in. He’s in jeans, a light blue button-up tucked into them, with the ugliest brown and mustard yellow striped tie around his neck, and a navy blue suit jacket about a size too big for him—he even slicked back his hair. “Sorry, I’m late,” he announces. “Had the worst fuckin’ time findin’ a goddamn tie.”

“Going without one would look better than whatever that abomination is,” you reply, pointing.

He frowns. “This is a tie-wearin’ occasion, so I’m wearin’ one.”

“You didn’t wear a tie when we got married…” Maria says slowly.

“‘Cause I love ya and wouldn’t want you havin’ to look at this eyesore.” He replies, holding up the tie.

“So, you don’t love us?” you ask him. “What are we, chopped liver?”

“Liver and onions ain’t too bad,” he answers. “And, of course, I fuckin’ love y’all, too.”

He makes it to your group, going over to Maria, his hand on her swollen stomach as he kisses her sweetly. “Hey, honey.” He smiles at her, and she grins back. He looks toward you and Joel. “I’ll take it introductions were made? Doc, you met my wife—” He’s rubbing her belly. “—and mother of my kid?”

“Yep,” you answer. “We met.”

“Good. Well, everybody’s here, so we can start.”

“What are you talkin’ about?” Joel asks. “Where’s the minister or whoever the fuck you got to do the ceremony?” His arms cross over his chest.

A shit-eating grin appears on Tommy’s face, the one that means he’s up to no good and is about to say something that is going to aggravate Joel. “You’re lookin’ at him.”

Joel’s eyes squint. “Are you fuckin’ kiddin’ me?” he grits out. “You’re not marryin’ us—the towns gotta have someone ordained or somethin’.”

“It just so happens Jackson does: Me.”

“This ain’t funny, Tommy.”

“Remember when you told me you were gonna marry her?” Tommy nods his head toward you.

“Yeah..?”

“Well, I went ahead and got myself ordained to do your weddin’—ain’t no skin off my back. I did it on the computer.” He looks proud of himself.

“What?” Joel sounds like he can’t believe what he’s hearing. “Why on God’s green earth would you think we’d have you do our weddin’? We probably would’ve had the minister at the church ma, and pop went to do it.”

“That man was older than sin and long dead now.”

“You’re not marryin’ us.”

Tommy matched Joel’s pose, crossing his arms over his own chest and staring his brother down.

“Then I guess you’re not gettin’ married.”

Joel scoffed. “We’re gettin’ married. We can do it ourselves.”

“Joel?” you said, putting your hand on his arm.

He met your eyes, the angry look on his face immediately disappearing. “Yeah, baby?”

“I don’t have a problem with Tommy marrying us. I think it’s sweet he got ordained.” You pointedly look at Tommy, saying in a tone that brokers no argument. “And I know Tommy would be very serious about the whole thing because he knows how important this is to us.”

Tommy’s hands go up in defense. “Hey, now, I’m not takin’ this job lightly,” he says.

Looking back at Joel, you say, “See, he means well, and I kinda like the idea of him doing it. We’ve got our whole family here—him, Ellie, Maria. Why not let him be involved?” You shrug.

He’s frowning, sighing out, “Fine.” He glares at his brother. “Don’t say anythin’ stupid—this is a big day for us. Keep it simple.”

“I can do that.”

“Okay.” Joel nods. His face softens when he looks over at Ellie. “Would you, uh, care to be my best man or woman, as it were?”

Surprise is on her face. “You want me to be your best man?” She points at herself.

“Well, yeah?” He sounds unsure as he keeps talking, eyes darting away, “Or, if you’d rather be the maid of honor, I’m sure Doc would be happy to have ya by her side.”

Ellie makes a face, meeting your eyes. “No offense, Doc, but I’m not feeling, ‘maid of honor.’” Her attention moves back to Joel, grinning. “But best man sounds fucking cool. What do I do?”

Joel’s smiling, his eyes crinkling at the edges. “Just gotta stand next to me and be my moral support. Unfortunately, I don’t have a ring for you to hold.”

“That’s fine,” she replies. “I can stand beside you—catch you if you faint, make sure you say your lines, oh! Offer you a handkerchief when you start crying like a baby.”

“You don’t have a handkerchief…”

“Or do I?”

“Do you?”

“Of course not. Where the fuck would I get a handkerchief? My plan if you become a blubbering mess is to just, like, wipe at your face with the sleeves of my sweater.” She holds up her arms to show her maroon zip-up hoodie that’s a little baggy on her.

“I’m not gonna cry…”

There’s a shift, her playful expression melting away, replaced with a soft look showing earnestness and trust, her voice a little quieter like she’s trying not to scare him away, “You know it’s okay if you do, right?” she asks. “I won’t think any less of you, Joel. This whole thing is really fucking exciting, and I’d expect some tears, so don’t worry about me, okay?”

“Okay,” he replies, the word coming out rougher.

“So,” she starts, looking around at the adults. “How is this going down? In the books I’ve read, there’s music and people walking down the aisle and shit.”

Tommy walks around everyone to stand in front of the podium, everyone turning to look at him. “They’ll be over here and stand in front of me, you next to Joel, and I’ll get this show on the road.”

“I’m sitting,” Maria says, taking a seat in the first pew, her hand resting on her belly.

Your head turns toward Joel, him meeting your eyes. “You ready?” he asks.

The nerves you felt earlier had disappeared, and now you’re just excited. Sure, you hadn’t envisioned Tommy Miller doing your wedding ceremony, but you know, without a doubt, he’ll do his best. Even with him being a pain in the ass sometimes, he’s always been a sweetheart who loves his brother dearly—loved his niece a whole lot, too—and he’ll go out of his way to make this special.

You smile, taking his hand. “Let’s get married,” you answer.

He gives you a beaming smile, and quickly you’re moving to where Tommy had indicated, you on his left and Joel on his right.

Ellie pats Joel on the back, hearing her whisper, ‘You got this,’ him twisting a little to say back, ‘Thanks, Ellie.

Tommy pulls out a piece of notebook paper from his back pocket with writing on both sides, unfolding it to read from, and you’re impressed that he put in so much thought. Your hands are in front of you, Joel holding them, his thumbs rubbing over your knuckles, him smiling softly.

“Welcome, everyone,” Tommy starts, looking between you all and glancing at his notes. “Now, I’ve been to my fair share of weddings. They were all before everythin’ went to hell, and a lotta them started with how gettin’ married was the beginnin’ of some remarkable journey, yadda yadda yadda, you get the picture. That don’t quite work for Joel and Doc. No, their remarkable journey started in the summer of 2002, and I remember the day they met ‘cause Joel called me askin’ if I could come over the next day to hang out with Sarah since he asked his doctor out on a date—let me just tell y'all, I was confused as all get out ‘cause our doctor was a man in his 60s, with a bad combover, that was happily married, and I was under the impression, Joel was only attracted to women. My brother and I were raised that you love who you love—skin color, gender, none of that shit matters, which was pretty progressive for Texas. So, Joel tellin’ me he was goin’ on a date with his doctor, I thought he was comin’ out to me, and Joel, do you remember what I said?”

Joel snorts, replying, “‘Dr. Carlson’s a great guy. Where ya fellas goin’?”

You remember what Dr. Carlson looked like, which has you laughing hard with everyone else.

“That’s what I said,” Tommy continues, amused. “I was just happy my brother was goin’ on a date, didn’t care who with. He’d corrected me that it was a new doctor, and I’m not jokin’ when I say that Joel jabbered on and on about her for a solid hour, and I knew he had it bad. That was only the beginnin’ and after their first date? I knew he’d found the one.” Tommy looks at Joel. “I apologize for airin’ your personal business—” he went back to addressing everyone “—but Joel had bad luck with women, mostly ‘cause he went out with the wrong ones who didn’t much care for him havin’ a kid. But then he met Doc, who loved him, and his daughter, and I can tell y’all that Sarah—” Emotion is thick in his voice, already feeling tears starting to form in your eyes. “—woulda been happier than a hog in mud that they’re finally gettin’ hitched.” He’s fondly smiling. “I think her exact words would be, ‘Oh, thank god, took ya long enough.’” You and Joel chuckle, a tear falling down your cheek, his eyes watery, knowing he was hearing in his mind her saying those exact words just as you were. “Seein’ these two together,” Tommy kept speaking, “they just make sense. Aside from my wife, and I, I’ve never seen a more perfect couple—they complement and balance each other, and honestly, couldn’t have picked better partners. I only saw their relationship from the outside, but boy, could I feel their love; I can still feel it, and that love is what’s brought them here today. I don’t know that remarkable is the right word to describe their journey to get here—impossible seems more fittin’, and if there’s one thing they’ve shown me, it’s that soulmates exist.” Ellie scoffs, Tommy looking at her with a smile. “I know it’s cheesy, but hear me out. You familiar with Greek mythology?”

“No…?” she answers, and you’re wondering where he’s going with this.

“Myths are stories passed on by people that explain things about the world, like how it was created and such. Pretty much just people makin’ shit up and tellin’ each other until they thought it was true, but there’s this one I heard once about soulmates. It goes that when humans were created by Gods—the Greeks had more than one,” he clarifies, “they had four arms, four legs, and a head with two faces. They weren’t fragile like we are now, they were pretty freakin’ powerful, and it made them fearless enough to challenge the Gods, and they sure didn’t care for that, so to take the humans down a peg, they were split into two, and were forced to spend their lives searchin’ for their other half. Sounds kinda familiar, right?” he asks her.

“Holy shit,” she breathes.

“Right? You’ve got these two who had a happy life together and were torn apart. I, uh—” Tommy audibly gulps “—didn’t know if Joel could live without her if I’m honest. They kept searchin’, ‘cause that’s how deep their love goes, just never stoppin’, and it took twenty goddamn years for them to find each other again, but they did—found their other halves, ‘cause they're meant to be together. So, us bein’ in this church today? It’s been a long time comin’ and marks the beginnin’ of a new chapter in their lives—one where they’re back together and finally gettin’ to live as husband and wife.” Tommy looks between you and Joel. “Before we get into it, I gotta thank you both. Even though I was jealous of what you have, it gave me a blueprint for what I wanted in a relationship.” He smiles softly. “Our story isn’t as crazy as yours, but I found it with Maria—she’s my soulmate.”

His wife starts booing from her seat, and everyone erupts in laughter. “This ain’t about us,” Maria teases. “You’re embarrassin’ me.”

“Sorry, honey, was just tellin’ the truth.”

“You can tell it later. Keep goin’.”

“Gotta listen to my wife,” he chuckles, looking at his paper quickly. “Does anyone object to this union? Speak now or forever hold your peace.”

“Do people actually object?” Ellie asks. “What happens if they do?”

“Nothin’,” Joel answers, looking over his shoulder at her. “The person gets kicked out.”

You lean to the side to meet her eyes. “The objection part was for back before there were public records, so if there was a legitimate reason for the couple not to wed, like one of them was already married, someone with the knowledge would object, and the wedding would stop. In modern days, people who objected usually wanted to proclaim their love to the bride or groom.”

“That sounds really fucking awkward.”

“It was.”

You straighten, your attention back on Tommy as he starts speaking, “We are gathered here today to join these two in the union of marriage and celebrate their love. We all know the seriousness of the commitment bein’ entered and recognize that they have a truly special bond. Go ahead and look at each other; you’re gonna wanna remember this.”

Looking into Joel’s eyes, you take in the rich chocolate color and how they’re gleaming with unshed tears. There’s a pink tint to his cheeks, those grey waves of his combed back from his face, and his pouty lips turned up in a happy little smile, him looking so unbelievably handsome. There may be more lines on his face, signs that he’s aged, but staring at him in this moment, he still looks like the man you fell in love with all of those years ago, and you can see him, can perfectly picture that Joel having this same expression on his face.

“And now,” Tommy begins reading from what he’d written, “Joel, do you take this woman to be your wife, to live together in matrimony, to love her, to honor her, to protect her, to comfort her, to share in the good times and the bad, in sickness and in health, and whatever life might throw your way?”

“I do,” he answers so clearly, hearing how much he means the two words, and it makes you sniffle.

Tommy says your name, addressing you, “Do you take this man to be your husband, to live together in matrimony, to love him, to honor him, to protect him, to comfort him, to share in the good times and the bad, in sickness and in health, and whatever life might throw your way?”

“I do,” you reply with the same conviction as Joel, and he smiles, a tear falling down his face.

The other man’s attention is on Joel, “Joel, repeat after me, I, Joel Miller, take you—” He says your full name, “—to be my wife, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better, for worse, in sickness and in health, to love, cherish, and protect always, holdin’ unto you forevermore.”

Joel’s gaze is locked on yours, his voice thick as he repeats what Tommy told him to. Your lip is trembling, feeling so happy you want to cry.

“Doc, repeat after me,” Tommy starts, “I—” He uses your full name, “—take you, Joel Miller, to be my husband, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better, for worse, in sickness and in health, to love, cherish, and protect always, holdin’ unto you forevermore.”

“—take you, Joel Miller, to be my husband, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better, for worse, in sickness and in health, to love, cherish, and protect always, holding unto you forevermore.” He can hear the truth in every word you speak, knowing you mean them all, and it has warmth spreading through his veins, feeling like he might be floating with how happy he is.

You’re on the verge of tears, smiling at him, and looking so beautiful that he’s saving it to memory how you look at this very second, wanting to remember it always.

Tommy’s grinning. “By the power vested in me by some online church, I forgot the name of and the town of Jackson, I now pronounce you husband and wife!” He looks at Joel, clapping his hand on his shoulder. “You may now kiss the bride.”

Joel doesn’t need to be told twice, his hands moving up to cradle your jaw while he moves in, fusing his lips to yours in a searing kiss, ignoring the tears falling down both your cheeks. It’s a little wet, but he puts everything he’s got into kissing his wife for the first time.

His wife. He got you back, and now he’s married to you, and nothing else has felt more right in the world. You’re his wife.

He’s deepening the kiss, wanting you to feel his love, his happiness, his devotion, that the vows you made to each other are the real deal, and he meant every single one—he will live as your husband until the end of his days, following you even in death, loving you forever, doing everything he can to honor you, protecting you with his life, being there when you need comfort, happy to share whatever good times await you and be with you through the bad, knowing he’ll never leave your side in sickness and in health, and that you’re stuck with him no matter what life throws in your way, because like Tommy said, you’re meant to be together—went through literal hell to find each other, and he never wants to lose you again.

There might be some credence to the stuff his brother said about soulmates. When Joel lost you, it felt like he’d lost a chunk of himself, and having you back has filled that void.

“Is the kiss supposed last this long?” Ellie whispers to Tommy. “It’s like he’s eating her face.”

You must hear her with how you snort, breaking the kiss so you can giggle, Joel sighing, Tommy and Maria laughing.

“Sorry,” you apologize to him.

“Nothin’ to be sorry about,” he replies, leaning in to give you a quick kiss.

“Let’s all hit the bar to celebrate,” Tommy says.

Joel nods at his brother, who starts walking over to his pregnant wife to help her up from her seat.

It just seems like the natural thing, Joel taking your hand as you both turn around toward the door, his attention moving to Ellie beside him.

“What’d ya think?” he asks her.

She smiles. “Disgustingly sappy, but I liked it. That soulmate shit was cool. I gotta do my best man duties—can you get down a little? You’re too fucking tall.”

Confused by her request, his eyebrows crease, but he slightly bends his knees. Ellie covers her hand with her maroon sleeve, pressing it to his left cheek, and it feels like his throat is going to close up that she’s wiping away the tear tracks. Her tongue is peeking out in concentration as she gets one cheek, then the other, giving him a once over and moving her head to get different angles, ensuring she gets all the wetness.

“Done!” she says, her arm dropping to her side. “How’s Doc’s face? Does she need me to help her out, too?”

He stands to his full height, his head swiveling your way and finding you’ve used your own sleeve to clean your face.

You lean past him to look at her. “I’m good, Ellie,” you reply with a smile. “Thank you, though.”

“No problem.”

The young girl is next to him as you leave the church, Tommy and Maria leading. His brother has an arm around his wife’s waist as they walk, and Joel’s holding your hand.

“So,” Ellie begins. “If we’re going to the bar, does that mean I get to have a celebratory drink, too..?”

“No,” all four of the adults say simultaneously.

“Geez, you guys are no fun.”

“There’s juice for you and me,” Maria replies, looking over her shoulder at the teen.

“Great,” Ellie grumbles, and it makes Joel smile.

The bar is how he remembers it from the last time he was here, except the mood is lighter this go around, and the place is just as empty as before.

“Holy shit!” Ellie exclaims, beelining for a corner. “Mortal Kombat?!”

He remembers how excited she’d been seeing the old arcade game when they’d stopped on their way to Bill and Frank’s. She said her friend knew everything about it, and Ellie seemed to love the character Mileena. She’s pressing the buttons and jerking the joystick. “Does it work?” she twists her body to ask.

You and Joel are standing with her while Tommy goes behind the bar, Maria taking a seat at a table near her husband.

“No,” Tommy replies, frowning. “Sorry, kid. We tried gettin’ it to run, but somethin’ in its fried. The jukebox works, though.” He points to the opposite corner where the machine sits. It was one from the 80s modeled after jukeboxes from the forties and fifties but updated to play CDs, with colorful lights glowing on the front. “There should be quarters in the bucket on that table by it.”

Ellie immediately went to it, the arcade game forgotten, hearing her clicking the button to flip through the track listings. The two of you headed for the bar, Tommy having set five glasses onto the bartop and was currently using an ice pick to break ice from a block.

“Tommy?” Maria calls.

“Yes, dear?” he answers, putting ice into each cup.

“Can you show ‘em what we got?��

“Yeah.” Tommy moves a few steps away to grab something, then sets it up next to the glasses.

On a plate sits a small round cake covered in white icing.

His brother is smiling. “She says ‘we,’ but it was really her,” Tommy confides in you both. “An olive branch, if you will.”

You’re turning to tell Maria, “Thank you. This was very thoughtful of you.”

The other woman waves away your words, replying, “It was nothin’. Can’t have a weddin’ without cake.”

“Well, thank you. We appreciate it.” You’re hugging Joel’s arm, looking up at him. “Right, Joel? We appreciate it very much.”

“That we do,” he responds, his head moving to look at the other woman. “Thank you, Maria.”

“You’re welcome, Joel.” She nods.

He doesn’t think they’ll ever be best friends, but she’s been friendlier this time around.

“I’ve never heard this song,” Ellie’s voice is loud as she speaks. “But based on the title, I’m pretty sure it’s how Joel feels about Doc.”

“What song?” he asks, both of you turning in place, looking in her direction.

“Gimme a second. I’m trying to figure out how to work this fuckin’ thing.” There’s the sound of her struggling, and before he can go help her, you’re already heading her way.

There’s a pull for him to walk over there, too, and he has to fight it to stay back, resting his side against the bartop with his arms crossed, watching from afar.

He glances at his brother to see him pouring drinks, putting what looks to be apple juice in two of them.

His attention goes back to you and Ellie, her pointing at what he assumes is a song, which makes you laugh, and him frown because he’s dying to know which one it is.

“You’re right on the money, squirt,” you tell Ellie as you show her how to use the jukebox.

A second later, the opening to “Every Little Thing She Does Is Magic” by The Police starts playing, Joel snorting and shaking his head as the lyrics run through his head, seeing how they are pretty accurate—every little thing you do is magic, and you’re always turning him on.

Something inside him soothes when you beckon him over, Joel quickly walking across the bar.

He’s in front of you, and you lean in so your lips are close to his ear, asking in a whisper for only him to hear, “Is your back okay?”

You’re pulling back, searching his face. His back isn’t bothering him at the moment, and he’s able to move around fine. “Yeah,” he answers.

A toothy smile appears on your face. “Dance with me, then,” you say. “Please.”

There’s an empty space in front of the jukebox that you’re standing in that must’ve been used as a small dancefloor. He feels heat licking up his neck because he hasn’t danced in years, and there’s an audience—Ellie watching off to the side with an amused look, Tommy with a matching expression over at the bar.

“Yeah, Joel,” Ellie ribs. “Dance with her.”

“Remember, Joel,” Tommy yells. “Happy wife, happy life!”

He sighs, gulping at your hopeful expression, not wanting to disappoint you. “Apologies in advance if I step on your toes, ma’am,” he says as he pulls you into his arms—a hand around your waist, the other holding your hand, while you’re grabbing his shoulder. He goes the safe route, starting to move you both in a swaying shuffle, you grinning at him with stars in your eyes that make his heart pick up in speed.

It’s not really a slow-dancing song. It’s too upbeat and moves too quickly. His heart is in his throat when the steps come back to him as if he’s riding a bicycle, you laughing softly when he begins leading you in quicker movements around the small space. He’s smiling at your glee when he throws in a spin here and there, knowing it amuses you, always pulling you back into his arms.

Ellie is standing by the jukebox with an expression on her face like she can’t believe what she’s seeing but is delighted by it anyway.

It’s reminding him of going out with you to the bar in Austin that did live music, having a few drinks, and you pulling him onto the dancefloor with the rest of the couples. With how happy you look, he thinks you’re remembering the same thing, the both of you just letting loose and having fun.

Fun.

When was the last time he got to have carefree fun like this? Sure, he and Ellie had some fun on the road, but he was always on alert and couldn’t let his guard down. Christ, he sure as hell wasn’t having any fun before the teenager came into his life.

That means the last time he got to enjoy himself like this was on his birthday, watching his favorite movie with Sarah while waiting for you to get off work. He hadn’t found it odd you were working at such a late hour that night since your clinic in the big city was open twenty-four hours, and there were times it was so busy you couldn’t call him until the end of your shift.

And here he is, having the best time dancing with you.

He’s taken aback by how normal this all feels. He woke up that morning with you beside him, in the new house you share, got married in a church, and is now celebrating in a bar with a cake, having drinks, and dancing to music as if outside the town walls, there isn’t desolation and unimaginable horrors.

How long can Jackson remain being this little oasis amongst the apocalyptic hellscape? How much time will he get in this bliss? Too many things have happened to him to think this will last—it’s too good to be true.

The song comes to an end, and he lowers you in a dip, causing you to giggle while Ellie claps.

Pulling you back up, you grab his face and kiss him, Joel losing himself in the sensation of your lips on his, feeling you smiling.

He focuses on you in his arms and your mouth on his, grounding him and pulling him from the darkness of his thoughts, giving him hope.

Joel will do whatever he can to help keep this town safe. It’s a new beginning for the three of you; Ellie can have a somewhat normal life and get to be a kid, you can relax, and the two of you can settle down together, hopefully living out the rest of your many years here.

“Thank you for dancing with me,” you say when you pull back, taking him from his thoughts.

“Any time,” he replies, smiling.

There’s a possibility you might explode from how happy you are.

You’re married to Joel. He’s your husband.

Staring into those big brown eyes of his, a sweet smile on his lips, you start speaking, “I need you to do something for me.”

His eyebrows dip together. “Anythin’,” he responds, rubbing his big hands over your arms.

“I need you to pinch me—I’ve gotta make sure I’m not dreaming and you’re really here with me.”

The expression on his face melts into something soft. His hand dips down to pinch your hip, his other one caressing the side of your face. “There,” he says. “Believe I’m here now, baby?”

Tears spring to your eyes, grinning as you crash your mouth to his, kissing him desperately, your hands wrapping around his neck.

“I suddenly want juice,” Ellie announces to no one in particular. “So, I’m gonna go get some, so I don’t have to see this. Seriously, guys. Gross.”

Her comment has you breaking apart from Joel, giggling as you face her.

“Sorry, Ellie,” you tell her, seeing her face pinched in disgust. “We did warn you about the excessive PDA.”

“Yeah,” she replies. “Still gross. I mean, who wants to see their… their… their.”

“Dad?” you finish for her.

“He’s not my dad.” It’s said almost like a reflex, and you can see fear in her eyes.

She’s like a wounded animal, and you’re going to need to be careful. You close the distance slowly; it’s only a couple of steps.

Joel’s moved beside you, and you’re surprised when he speaks, his voice low so only the three of you can hear. “It’s okay,” he says, her gaze on him. It takes him a second to figure out his next words, and he looks away with his hands perched on his hips. “That shit I said last time we were here? I was lyin’.” He sighs. “Thought if I said it out loud, it’d be true.” He meets her eyes. “You can, uh, call me whatever you’d like—caretaker, guardian, ward, Dad. ‘Cause—” he audibly swallows. “—I think of you as my kid,” he says softly. “You’re not cargo. Never were. You’re family. My family.”

“You’re my family, too.” Her voice is quiet, looking hopeful. “Feels weird calling you, Dad, though—” She points at him “—you’re Joel.”

He smiles. “Then keep callin’ me, Joel,” he reassures. “If people ask, can I say you’re my…?”

“Daughter?” she finishes for him, smiling. “Sure.” Ellie shrugs. “And you’re my father, but—” She looks around like she’s making sure no one is listening, saying conspiratorially, “—I’m pretty sure I’m adopted.”

He snorts. “That was stupid.”

She grins. “I thought it was pretty funny, Dad.” She makes a face. “Oh, yeah, that’s fucking weird—no offense,” she adds quickly.

“None taken.”

Her eyes dart away. “I’m glad you brought me here,” she says. “And that I’ve got you—both of you now.”

“Yeah, I’m happy you’re here, too, and Ellie?”

“Yeah, Joel?” They look at each other.

“I’m not goin’ anywhere. Okay?”

“Okay.” She nods. “That juice sure sounds good,” she says a bit louder, making you smile because Joel hadn’t been lying that they’re both terrible at expressing their feelings to one another.

“Let’s go, kid,” he replies.

She’s already moving toward the bar, and you take his hand, both of you mosying your way over.

“Congratulations, Joel,” you whisper.

“For what?”

“It’s a fourteen-year-old girl.”

He chuckles. “What can I say?” he whispers back. “I’m a girl Dad.”

“Yes, you are.”

Taking seats at the bartop, Joel is between you and Ellie, Tommy placing drinks in front of each of you before walking out from behind the bar to take Maria her juice, holding his own glass.

“To Mr. and Mrs. Joel Miller!” Tommy toasts.

Everyone raises their glasses before taking a drink.

It’s whiskey—actual facts whiskey, and not moonshine, it sliding down your throat smoothly, relishing the burn. This was quality shit from before the outbreak that was extremely hard to find.

“Holy shit,” you breathe, staring at the glass. “This is the real fucking deal.”

“We save it for special occasions,” Tommy replies. “But we also have shit we’ve made.”

“Thank you for letting us have some,” you say, turning your head to look at him. “I haven’t had a decent drink in years.”

“You’re welcome, Doc.” He holds his cup up to you.

Joel sets his glass down, you taking another drink.

His arm goes around your waist, his other hand scratching at the back of his neck, and you can tell he’s trying to figure out what to say.

He keeps his eyes forward. “I just wanna thank y’all for makin’ today real special for us,” he says loud enough for everyone to hear. “It means a lot to us havin’ ya here.”

“Psh—” Ellie playfully punches his arm. “—like I’d miss my chance at seeing you so happy it makes you cry, and I wasn’t disappointed.”

“Yeah…”

“We ain’t done celebratin’!” Tommy exclaims. “There are gifts.”

You and Joel are turning in your seats to look at his brother.

“What are you talking about?” you ask. “You’ve done more than enough. The house, the beautiful ceremony, the cake, this booze. We can’t accept anything else.”

“Yeah, Tommy,” Joel adds. “We don’t need anythin’ else.”

“Oh, quit it,” he replies, walking back behind the bar. “Let us spoil ya today. You sure as fuck deserve it.” He’s leaning down to grab something behind the bar and coming back up, keeping his hands low so you can’t see what he’s got. “This first gift is from Maria and me.”

“Why are you lyin’ to them?” his wife asks. “That gift is all you—I got the cake.”

“‘Cause we’re married.” He sounds exasperated.

“That one’s too damn special, it’s solely from Tommy, and I had nothin’ to do with it.”

He sighs.

“This first gift is from me,” he says, the last word a little louder. “And only me.”

“We read you loud and clear,” you reply. “I am dying to know what it is.”

He looks a little unsure as he speaks, “Well, now that y’all are here together, I’m hopin’ you’ll want them.” Two Polaroid pictures are placed between you and Joel, both having faded a little over time, your breath catching in your throat, covering your mouth with a hand.

The first one is of Joel and Sarah making silly faces at the camera—him with his hair still brown and his face less worn from age. You’ve worried that over time your memory of what Sarah looks like had decayed, but here she is with her dad’s eyes, her beautiful smile, and her head full of curly hair, just as you remember.

You’re reaching out to touch the second photo of the three of you on her fourteenth birthday at Joel’s house. You’ve got your arms around her, Sarah resting her head on your shoulder, Joel hugging you both from behind, all three of you smiling at the camera.

“I, uh, told Joel this last time I saw him,” Tommy starts. “But I went back to the house some years ago. Place was picked clean—found those, though.” He points at them. “Kept one of her and me—hope that’s alright.”

Joel’s voice is thicker from emotion, “Of course it’s alright,” he says. “Thank you.”

“Yes, thank you, Tommy,” you add.

“You’re welcome.”

“Look at her,” you murmur.

“Just like I remember,” he whispers. “God, I miss that smile.”

“I do, too.”

“Can I see this one?” he asks, pointing at the one with the three of you.

“Yeah.” You move your hand to pick up the other, him taking the one he wanted gingerly between his fingers.

He stares at it for a second before showing it to Ellie. “This is Sarah,” he says to her. “My other daughter. I just know she would’ve liked you. Not that I think you’re the same. Definitely different kids, but still mine.”

“How are we different?” she asks.

“Well, she was a lot more, I wanna say girly?” He’s quickly adding, “And I’m not sayin’ that you’re not girly...”

She snorts. “I’m not.”

Joel smiles crookedly, “Yeah, you’re not. So that. She was taller. She had that killer smile.” His eyes widen, worry on his face, speaking fast, “Again, not sayin’ you don’t...”

“Chill out, Joel,” she laughs, him visibly relaxing. “She did have a killer smile. You really think she’d like me?”

“Oh, yeah.” He nods. “You’d get on like a house on fire. She would’ve liked you ‘cause you’re funny. I think you would’ve made her laugh,” he answers thoughtfully. “The two of you love music—she had a small CD collection she would’ve liked showin’ you. And I know together you would’ve had too much fuckin’ fun givin’ me shit. Can picture you gangin’ up on me,” he chuckles. “She would’ve liked you a whole helluva a lot, and I bet you would’ve liked her back.”

“Yeah, I think I would’ve,” she replies. “Sarah sounds really fucking cool.”

He’s softly smiling, looking at the picture. “Yeah, she was the coolest.” His head swivels in her direction, “Not sayin’ you’re not cool—you’re really fuckin’ cool, too. The two of you are way cooler than me.”

She’s laughing. “Jesus Christ, Joel,” she says. “It’s okay, and it doesn’t take much to be cooler than your old ass.”

“Yeah,” Tommy speaks up, Joel and Ellie looking at him, smirking. “Sarah would’ve found you hilarious, and y’all would’ve had a blast terrorizin’ the fuck outta this asshole.” He nods his head toward Joel.

“God, Joel’s right,” you add. “They would’ve ganged up on him, just a constant Joel roast.”

“It’s already a constant Joel roast…” Joel grumbles.

Rubbing his arm, you reply, “But it’s done affectionately.”

“I guess,” he sighs.

“There’s one more gift for ya,” Tommy says.

You’re staring him down, telling him, “Tommy, the pictures are more than enough—way more than enough. We can’t accept anything else. We won’t.” You shake your head.

“She’s right,” Joel cuts in. “You’ve given us too much. There’s no fuckin’ way we can ever repay you.”

“This gift isn’t from me,” Tommy responds with a little smile. “It ain’t from Maria either.”

“Then who’s it from?” Joel asks, confusion on his face.

You’re wondering the same thing. There’s no one else in Jackson you know.

“Ellie.” He points at her, both of you turning your heads to look at her, you having to lean around Joel.

“Hey.” She puts up her hands in defense. “Tommy helped!” She points at him. “Told me I could pick out a gift for you guys, and we went around to a bunch of places last night looking at shit, and I saw something I thought you might like, but it’s probably super fucking lame, so if you wanna trade it, go for it. I have no fucking clue what to get people when they get married.”

“Hey, don’t stress,” you reply, giving her a reassuring smile. “We’re gonna love it.”

“Yeah.” Joel smiles, knocking his shoulder against hers. “We’ll love anythin’ you got us.”

She looks unsure. “I hope so.”

“What’d you get us?” you ask.

Her attention moves to Tommy.

“Is it back there?” she asks him.

“Yep,” he answers.

Ellie jumps off her barstool, walking around the bar, to lean down and grab something that seems big, but you can’t see since it’s so low, her moving back toward you both.

When she’s in sight, your eyes go wide, realizing it’s a black hardshell guitar case.

There’s pink on her cheeks, holding it out to Joel, looking down at her feet. “When, um, we were on our way to Salt Lake City, you, um, said you wanted to find a guitar?” she says it as a question. “Said you hadn’t played in forever and that you’d teach me. Which you don’t have to,” she quickly adds. “But, um, I figured if you used to play, you probably played for Doc and Sarah, and she’d maybe wanna hear you again, so a guitar, for your wedding or whatever.”

“It’s perfect,” he chokes out, and you can see his eyes glistening as he gently takes it from her. “Thank you, Ellie. I, uh, didn’t think you’d remember all that.”

She meets his eyes. “I do. Remember a lot of it. So, there you go.” She’s wringing her hands in front of her, Joel carefully setting the guitar against the bar and getting up from his chair to stand in front of her.

“Would it be alright if I hugged you?” he asks softly.

“Sure.”

He’s slow in his movements, not going too quick as he wraps his arms around her, one behind her back, the other hand cradling the back of her head, resting her cheek on his shoulder. Her own arms go around his middle, his chin nestled atop her hair.

A father holding his last living child, a daughter being held by the only parent she’s known, a comfort they’ve both needed and something to cherish.

“Thank you, baby girl,” he whispers.

This seems like a private moment, averting your eyes, Tommy doing the same.

“I’m happy you’re, uh, better,” he continues.

“Thanks for not giving up on me,” she says just as softly.

“Never in a million years, I… care about you too damn much.”

“I care about you, too.”

“I know. Believe me, I know.”

They stay like that for seconds longer before separating, his hands on her shoulders.

“I think I promised I’d sing for you,” he tells her with a warm smile. “I apologize if I’m a bit rusty.”

“I didn’t save the world.”

“There’s still time, kiddo.” He moves back over to the black case to open it up, pulling out the mahogany acoustic guitar, its sides stained black, him admiring it. “Well, isn’t she a beauty.”

“You gonna play the thing or take it out on a date?” Ellie asks, making you giggle.

Joel’s eyes narrow at her, him moving to sit on the barstool with the guitar resting on his thighs.

“Gimme a second,” he replies, strumming his fingers over the strings, it clearly out of tune. “I gotta fix it.” His eyebrows are creased in concentration as he turns each peg to adjust the pitch of the strings until he’s satisfied, nodding his head when he strums, and it sounds right.

He’s not playing any particular song, just reacquainting himself with the chords, doing little melodies to get back into it.

Tommy walks out from behind the bar to go sit next to Maria at her little table, his arm over the back of her chair, while nursing his drink with his other hand, both of them watching Joel in interest.

Since Joel was a child, he’s been passionate about music. By the time he turned seven, he was playing guitar, and as an adult, he was so good that he only needed to hear a song once to know how to play it.

“Promise me you won’t laugh,” he says to Ellie while still playing.

She’s smiling, replying, “I won’t.”

He gives her a look.

“I won’t, I promise,” she says.

He nods his head.

“I’m trustin’ you.”

It makes sense that only after some minutes, he seems to have the hang of it, things sounding smoother, and you grin when he moves into a familiar tune—the steady rhythm with the twang as he plucks the strings, excitement bubbling in your belly over what was about to happen.

He’s focused on the guitar, his voice a deep, throaty rasp, as he starts crooning the beginning of “Stand by Me” by Ben E. King.

Tears are back in your eyes, feeling emotional that he’s playing your song.

This was the first song he’d ever played for you all those years ago, the song you’d ask him to play again and again because of how much you loved it, the song you thought would play while you shared your first dance after saying ‘I do,’ the song you could imagine him singing to your children.

And here he is, playing the guitar for the first time in over twenty years, and this is the song he’s chosen to sing, knowing how much it’d mean to you.

Joel Miller is the love of your life, has always been the love of your life, and now you get to call him your husband.

She’s honestly surprised that he’s not bad—kind of reminds her of the singer from Pearl Jam, but, like, if he were Texan and his voice was a bit deeper.

God, she misses her Walkman so fucking much, she’d kill to hear “Take on Me” again. Wait, maybe Joel knows it, and he could play it for her. She’ll have to ask him when he finishes with this song.

It’s crazy to her that this time last year, she’d been in FEDRA school, getting up to shit with Riley, and now she’s across the country, in a small town that fucking works with her—Jesus, it’s even fucking weird to think about calling him her Dad—Joel, he’s her Joel, it’ll take some time to ease into the name change. Anyways, she’s now here with Joel and Doc, who’s honestly a great addition to their team.

If anyone deserves to be reunited with their one true love like he’s living a fucking fairytale, it’s Joel, and Ellie is so fucking relieved that Doc is actually pretty great; she’s more than pretty great, actually. Doc is fucking awesome and has always been honest with her, so she knows that when Doc told her she’d try to figure out a cure, she was telling the truth, and that gives Ellie hope that she might actually get a chance at saving the world after all.

Everything she’s gone through, all of the people who’ve died for her, it all needs to fucking mean something. It has to.

Ellie’s happy for Joel and Doc, she really is, and she’ll never admit it out loud, but she’s scared. Not that, like, Joel will forget about her now that he has a wife. No, they care about her too much, and that’s what scares her.

For the first time in her entire fucking life, she has a family—Joel, Doc, even Tommy, and Maria—she has people who give a shit about her and love her. Joel wants her to call him ‘Dad,’ he thinks of himself as her father, and she sees herself as his daughter, and now there’s Doc, too, who’s so warm and comforting, and fuck, what if something happens to them? What if she loses them like she’s lost every other person who’s ever given a fuck about her? This time last year, she had Riley, and now Riley’s dead, and not only that, but Ellie’s the one that had to kill her.

A year and so much has changed.

What if she loses all of this?

She told Sam she’s afraid of ending up alone, but really she’s frightened of outliving the people who care about her, and now there are so many.

She just has to remind herself that Joel is the strongest man on the entire fucking planet. He got her across the country, basically came back from the dead, and took out a hospital full of Fireflies—they’re not in danger here in Jackson, and if they were? Joel will keep her and Doc safe, she’s positive about that, and Ellie will help, she can hold her own, and she’s not going to let anyone else die for her.

They’re safe.

Everything is going to be okay. Joel will make sure of it.

The song finishes, and he sighs, not looking at her as he asks, “Well?”

“Well, that didn’t suck,” she replies, smiling. “I’m honestly impressed ‘cause I figured you’d be fucking terrible, but you weren’t. You were pretty good.”

He looks at her with big eyes and a little smile. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” She nods her head.

“You still got it, babe,” Doc says.

He turns to look at her with a grin. “Yeah?” he asks her.

“Yep.” She smiles back. “You had me swooning—you know how much I love that song.”

“Yeah, I do,” he replies in a different tone that has Ellie making a face.

Jesus, they’re so gross, and now they’re kissing—of course, they are. She’s pretty sure they can’t go five fucking minutes without their lips locked.

Her attention moves to Tommy and Maria, who aren’t much better sitting close together fucking canoodling.

Disgusting.

She’s got the ick.

“Cake sure sounds really fucking good right about now,” she says loud enough for everyone in the room to hear.

“Hell yeah, it does,” Tommy replies, getting up from his chair. “I’ve got plates and shit.” He’s walking back behind the bar.

Joel and Doc have unlocked their lips, thank god.

“Joel?” she asks.

He meets her eyes. “Yeah?”

“This is probably a long fucking shot, but there’s this band I loved called A-ha? Listened to the tape on my Walkman all the time, and they had this song called “Take On Me.” Do you know it?”

He smiles. “As a matter of fact, I do.”

He’s already playing the beginning, the familiar melody making Ellie smile so big she thinks her cheeks are gonna hurt.

Yeah, everything is gonna be okay, and her life has never been better.

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