#gally x joan

[anniesocsandgeneralstore]

OC Edits - Joan x Gally spying on WCKD

[arplis]

Arplis - News: Gloriously Over The Door Hanging Mirror

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Arplis - News source https://arplis.com/blogs/news/gloriously-over-the-door-hanging-mirror

[h0pp3r]

TOTALLY FUCKING AWESOME MINI-SERIES PITCH

Pitch idea: This TV show may not even be a TV show, it may just be a mini-series. It is about a teenage boy named Gally Grimes who loves music and playing the bass but everyone in his school doesn't think he has the talent to be what he dreams of. One day, he gets sucked into another dimension via a portal.  In this dimension, it's a mad max-esque apocalyptic world, and all of his musician heroes are his age and they are all different dimension versions than their earth version, they are all themed with the mad max type world and they are all exaggerated and more awesome. They then accompany him because they need his help to defeat the villains of the series, which are the alternate dimension versions of the band New Order(the band that composed blue monday). They caused the apocalypse, by using their magical cosmic instruments to draw all of the world's power and water to them, which is why everything is mad max-esque. They are miles away from where Gally Grimes and his gang are, so they have to ride a monster truck there to stop them. I think it can run for 8 episodes. Music is an essential part in this series, each episode has a different song and each song played is one of the 8 songs on Gally Grimes’s mixtape

Characters:

Gally Grimes: Gally Grimes who is the main character, hes 17 years old. I don’t know why I didn’t mention him buy name. He has a thing for the bass. He is extremely energetic and happy, but he is very naive when it comes to the dangers they find on he has his famous musician accomplices. He usually relies on them to get him out of danger, because they are experienced and he is not. He has brown hair and wears a gray hoodie over a white t shirt and jeans. He wears a bass on his shoulder and he thinks it is weird to have his musician idols, people he has looked up to for years, be his age and become his friends.

Joan Jett: The first one he meets in the alternate dimension. She is less kind and much more ruthless than her earth counterpart. She has big fluffy greasy hair that goes over one eye, a leather jacket, and a ton of braclets and scars. She’s a lot younger than her earth counterpart, the same age as Gally. She is the owner of the monster truck the gang rides on. She has a thick western accent and is a total badass an unkind. She usually shields Gally from the dangers(like mutated monsters, cyborgs, and gangs) they find on their voyage to defeat New Order, and Gally hides behind her because of his naivety.

Robert Smith: On earth, he is the lead singer of the cure. In this dimension, he is shirtless and wears nothing but jeans. He has a mohawk and a laser shooting visor, like cyclops from the x-men. He is the least like his earth counterpart. He and Joan Jett met years ago, before New Order sucked the last of earth’s resources to themselves with their magic instruments. The only common trait he shares with his earth counterpart is that iconic accent he sings with. He is a tag-along with the rest of the group.

Freddie Mercury: Freddie Mercury in this dimension is the most like his earth counterpart. He has hair that is gelled back, and he is the manliest in the group. For most of the show, he is mysterious and barely talks. He does none of the work when fighting off the bloodthirsty monsters and gangs on their voyage, much to Joan Jett’s annoyance. In the last episode, everyone is getting their asses kicked by new order, but for the first time in the series, he makes himself useful and sings ‘Love me like there’s no tomorrow’ and gally joins him, because it’s his favorite song of freddie mercury and they beat new order with their song being more powerful than theirs, which will obviously be new monday. Gally is largely disappointed by freddie in this dimension, because freddie mercury was his greatest idol on earth, and when gally finally meets him, he’s a total douche, until the end of the series, where he redeems himself by singing ‘love me like theres no tomorrow’

New Order: The antagonists of the series. Their song: blue monday, is so powerful that it can annihilate anything. They all look largely similar, black hair, and they’re all caucasian. They somewhat resemble their earth versions. When they play blue monday together, their eyes all glow with blue-white energy shooting out of them. And white hot blue(because of blue monday) plasma waves erupt from them and their instruments, obliterating anything in their path.

EDIT: I MADE THIS IN A GOOGLE DOC AND COPY PASTED YES ITS VERY LONG

[anniesocsandgeneralstore]

OC Edits - Joan x Gally at the Right Arm base

[anniesocsandgeneralstore]

OC Edits - Joan x Gally (this is probably my favorite one!)

[anniesocsandgeneralstore]

The Power of Suffering - Part 1 (Gally x OC)

Summary: Joan was the only survivor from her own maze, rescued by the Right Arm nearly a year ago. But now she was going out with them to try and save some other kids just like her. Only what they find is a boy barely clinging to life - and she is determined to save him.

Pairing: Gally x OC (Joan)

Word Count: 3675

Warnings: blood, death mention, canon typical violence, sloppy medical procedures, canon divergence, background original characters

ONE | TWO | THREE

“Do you trust me?” Nellie had asked her, holding up the tracking device they had pulled from the Griever's corpse. 

Joan looked up at her, her hands still covered in the blood of her friends that she had tried to save but couldn’t, and nodded her head. Whatever was out there had to be better than staying in here. 

“I trust you,” she had whispered in return, taking her friend’s other hand and making a break for possible freedom. Only a handful of their group was left, and they all followed them into the labyrinth.  

The Maze twisted and turned in seemingly random directions, but Nellie appeared to know exactly where she was going, her eyes focused and her tired face lifted in hope. They came to a bridge, the doors on the other side already opening to reveal a path that lead away from the Maze. The group of girls, Joan included, dared to smile as they jogged across the bridge. 

But the smiles all dropped and screams filled the air when Grievers started crawling up the sides of the bridge, grabbing anyone they could get their mechanical claws around. Including Nellie. Joan screamed, pulled with all her might to keep her friend at her side, but she wasn’t strong enough. Nellie was ripped from her and thrown over the side of the bridge, just as the Grievers began to shut down and fall from the bridge themselves. 

Through the doors came a group of masked men, wearing dark clothes and carrying guns held aloft and ready to fire, but their guns immediately lowered when they saw Joan trembling alone on the bridge. Tears streamed down her red cheeks, green eyes large and terrified as they approached her. 

“We’re with the Right Arm — you’re safe now. Safe from WCKD.” 

The truck went over a bump in the desert, stirring Joan from her revery and forcing her back into the present. They were going to another Maze facility, the Right Arm chapter based near the Last City, and as their resident Combat Medic, she had been ordered to go along. Ever since she had been given the order her mind had been wandering back to that day she was saved from her own Maze. All she knew was that she was thankful that they had saved her from that hell, but they had been too late to save any of her friends. To save Nellie. 

Joan took those thoughts and crumpled them into a ball, forcing them down into her throat and into a dark place within herself where they would let her focus on the job that needed to be done. It had been nearly a year. She had hoped that the memories would have faded by now. Instead, they were still sharp and dangerous and painful. 

Beckett, the man in charge of the mission, turned back from talking to the driver, “Alright, we’re almost there gentleman — and Joan. Remember, we’re here to rescue the kids, not destroy the place.” 

“But if it happens along the way?” Farley asked from beside Joan, making the other men in the unit chuckle beneath their breath. 

“Two birds with one stone I suppose.” Beckett cracked a smile, causing the other men to stomp their feet and holler in excitement. 

Joan only betrayed a small smile before she ducked down and did her triple check of her medical bag. IV fluids. Tourniquets. Bandages. Morphine. Gloves. Antiseptic. She hoped that she didn’t have to use any of it. That her role was only a precaution instead of a necessity. But she had a feeling that wasn’t going to be the case on this mission. 

The truck came to a sudden halt, and before she knew it Beckett was leading the unit inside the massive WCKD Maze facility. Memories tried to uncrumple themselves and come back into the light, but she forced them back into their corner where they belonged as she ran in through the doors that Farley held open. 

All the monitors had been turned off. There was broken glass all over the place. And two bodies lay on the floor. 

“Farley, stay with Joan in here, we’re going into the Maze to look for more kids.” Beckett signaled the rest of the unit to follow him further into the darkness. 

Joan went into autopilot as she dropped down onto her knees beside the first body she came across. It was a boy no older than thirteen, his eyes still open and a massive red stain covering his shirt. She reached up to check his pulse and wasn’t surprised when she didn’t feel that familiar beat beneath her fingers. Farley looked at her expectantly, only to grimace when she shook her head solemnly. She closed the young boy's eyes before moving onto the next body. 

Another boy, with a spear sticking out of his chest. God, what happened here? Joan had to wonder as she rolled him onto his back so she could check his pulse. He was around her age, maybe a little older, with sandy blonde hair and built like a tree. He was handsome in a way she couldn’t quite put her finger on. 

Two fingers on his carotid artery she prayed for a pulse, and she gasped when she felt a faint and slow throb where she assumed there would be nothing. 

“He’s alive!” she shouted, quickly grabbing her medical kit and taking a further assessment of the damage that had been done to his body as she cut away his shirt with her pair of medical shears. 

In the Maze, she had been the medic because somebody had to be, because she was the one unlucky enough to step in when someone hurt themselves the first time. Now it was a choice. A choice to help people in need every day that she loved to make. 

He had already bled out quite a bit, but the spear stopped the majority of the blood that was probably building up inside his chest cavity from escaping. He was going to need surgery if he was going to live, but she couldn’t just open him up right there, she didn’t have the equipment for that or the knowledge. From the discoloration of his face and the sweat on his brow, she could assume that he had been stung by one of the Grievers, so he was going to need serum as well. 

As she pulled on her gloves she ordered, “Farley, put pressure around the wound.” 

“You mean the spear?” The man built akin to a bear dropped down to the floor immediately, and put his hands on the boy’s chest. 

“He’ll live — “ she said, more to herself than anything else as she pulled out the one vile of serum she had brought with her, “As long as we get him back to base. He’ll live.” 

“Joanie,” Farley said softly, “We’re three days from base.” 

She had nearly forgotten. 

“Well, we’ll have to make due here then.” She looked up at Farley as she administered the serum, “Are you with me?” 

He looked at the young girl, unsure if he really wanted this total stranger’s life in his hands. He was a soldier, not a medic. But Joan couldn’t do this alone, and he didn’t want the kid to die either. So he agreed with a nod of his head. 

Joan, on the other hand, hadn’t even stopped to confirm with Farley. She knew she needed to act fast if this was going to work. After injecting him with a dose of morphine for the pain, though she highly doubted he would wake up for at least a few days, she pulled from her bag a scalpel, a ton of bandages, a chest tube, stitching needle, and fishing wire. 

She handed Farley a few of the bandages and picked up the scalpel. 

“On three you’re gonna take the spear out.” 

“I’m gonna what?” 

“One — “

“Wait, Joanie, I don’t think — “ 

“Two — “ 

“Oh, my God.” 

“Three.” 

Farley pulled the spear out of the boy’s chest with a grunt and threw it to the side as Joan quickly covered the gaping hole with bandages. 

“Put pressure on that. Pressure,” she said as she picked up the scalpel and the chest tube, “Now I have to make an incision between his fourth and fifth ribs in order to get the blood and extra air out of his lungs.” 

“What about his heart?” Farley asked, eyes trained on Joan’s steady hands as they drove the scalpel into the boy’s side. 

“If the spear had hit his heart he’d be dead.” She inserted the chest tube into the cut she had made and blood began to trickle out of it and onto the floor. 

“Now what do we do?” Farley asked. 

“We wait for the blood to stop. Then I can close the wound.” 

She was finishing the last stitch when the rest of the unit returned from the Maze without any newcomers in tow. 

“They’re all gone. Must have been taken to some other facility before we got here,” Beckett explained, his eyes locked on Joan at work, “What about the other one?” 

“Didn’t make it,” she replied as she tied off the last stitch on the cut she had made on his side. 

“Walter, Jameson — take him outside and bury him. He deserves at least that,” Beckett sighed, “What about this one?” 

“He might still live,” she answered as she began packing up her kit, looking up at Beckett with a near pleading look, “As long as we get him back to base as fast as we can so he can get some real treatment. This is a patch job at best. He needs to be opened up and I can’t — can’t do that.” 

“Right. Johnson, get the rescue board and load him into the truck. Joan, stay with him.” 

The three-day ride back to base was torturous, slow, and touch and go at best. Joan had to constantly monitor his heart rate and breathing, his bandages had to be replaced every few hours, and she was so terrified that he was going to die that she didn’t sleep the entire time. He had to live. She needed him to live. They had been through the same thing, had lived through the Maze and were free, and she wanted him to have that same chance she did. That same chance to finally live instead of survive. 

So she held his hand for three days straight, willing him to last just a little bit longer. 

As soon as they arrived back at base, the Last City looming over their heads, the boy from the Maze was rushed to the medical wing where an actual doctor could treat his wound. Joan followed dutifully behind him, her eyes blurred from lack of sleep and her hands shaky. The doctor told her to go get some rest as soon as he saw her, but she refused, saying that she needed to see this through to the very end. And so she sat in on the procedure to seal the wound on his lung and remove the rest of the fluids from his chest cavity. It was only when he was resting on a cot in the medical wing that she finally fell asleep. Laying in the spare cot she had pulled up next to his bed. 

He didn’t wake up for another four days. And all that time she stayed by his side. Checking his vitals, renewing his IV, replacing his bandages. She only left to eat and help with other patients. Everyone around base knew that it was not her sense of medical duty that kept her with the boy from the Maze, it was far more personal than that. It was the fact that they were one and the same, Joan and this stranger. They both were survivors, they were both immunes. There was no one else in the Right Arm who Joan could relate to, except the boy lying unconscious in the medical wing. 

It was bright and early on his fourth day after being brought to base that his eyes slowly peeled open, revealing blue eyes like the sky above. He, of course, immediately tried to sit up and possibly leave where he was lying, but Joan was there to force him back down with a gentle smile. 

“Hey, hey, hey, its okay! It’s okay! You’re safe now!” she assured him. Even in his weakened state, she had a hard time fighting back against his strength. 

“Safe? What the hell does that mean?” His voice was rough and harsh, it nearly made her flinch. 

“You’re out of the Maze — for one thing.” He finally stopped resisting her hands as he finally let her ease him back onto the cot, “And you’re no longer in WCKD’s hands. You’re with the Right Arm — you’re really free.” 

“Where’s the others?” 

“We don’t know.” She didn’t see the point in lying to him, he seemed like the kind that could tell that she was and would get the truth out of her one way or another, “You were the only one left when we got there.” 

“They left me there,” He whispered, his face contorting in pain as he rested his head back on the pillows. 

“What’s your name?” she asked. 

He glared at her for a moment, wondering if he could really trust her, but he seemed to resolve something to himself before he answered, “Gally.” 

“Nice to meet you, Gally. I’m Joan. Are you in pain?” Joan quickly stood up straight and rushed over to the medical supply cabinet by his cot, “I’ll give you a dose of morphine then we can check your vitals.” 

He didn’t say anything in return, only continued to stare up at the vaulted church ceilings of the Right Arm base. She gave him the dose through his IV line then grabbed her stethoscope to test his heart and lung function. Pressing the stethoscope to his still shirtless chest, she listened to his heart for a moment, the beat of it strong and healthy in her ears. 

“Your heart sounds good.” After helping him sit up against his pillow she moved the instrument to where his lungs would be in his chest cavity and instructed, “I need you to take a deep breath for me.” 

He complied after a moment, but seemed to struggle to take in as much air as he used to, his eyes going blurry for a moment before he let out the breath with a huff. He stared up at her calm face for a moment, taking in her soft features and the even softer look in her eyes before mumbling, “Why can’t I breathe?” 

“Do you want the long version or the short version?” she asked, but when he didn’t respond she rolled her eyes, “Long version it is then. You were stabbed with a spear. It missed your heart but tore up your left lung pretty bad. When we found you I patched you up as best I could — but it wasn’t till we got back here that the damage to your lung could be addressed.” 

“Can we switch to the short version now?” 

Joan grinned as she sat back down on the cot beside him, “Fine. In short, you only have one good lung.” 

“Joanie!” Beckett’s loud voice suddenly rang out through the nearly empty medical wing, “You were supposed to radio when the kid woke up!” 

“Sorry! Sorry! I just wanted to check his vitals first.” She scrambled from the cot, appearing nervous for the first time as she fiddled with the buttons on her long jacket, “Everything looks good. The wounds are healing nicely and his heart is strong.” 

“Thank you, Joanie, but I think the kid can speak for himself now. Go check on the other patients while I talk to him — alone.” Beckett rested his hands on the collar of his kevlar vest and watched in bemusement as Joan bristled before turning on her heel and heading across the room. He then looked down at the boy from the Maze, whose eyes remained focused on Joan even from across the room, “Name’s Beckett, second in command around here. What can we call you?” 

“Who’s she?” He ignored Beckett’s question, much to his annoyance. 

“She’s the girl who saved your life,” Beckett sighed, looking over his shoulder at Joan as she changed another patient’s bandages with a smile, “Didn’t sleep for three days to make sure you didn’t die.” 

“Why?” 

Beckett scooted the cot closer and took a seat before answering, “She’s like you. We saved her from a Maze nearly a year ago.” 

“What do you want with me?” 

“How ‘bout you answer one of my questions first,” Beckett said, “What’s your name, kid?” 

“Gally.” 

“Okay, Gally, you’re here because you have something that Lawrence wants. It’s why Joan’s here too, actually.” 

Gally glanced back over at Joan across the room. She had moved on to another patient. One she was talking animatedly with about something as she took their blood pressure. Why had he felt the need to look at her? He knew the answer but hated it just the same. He felt comfortable in her presence. The simple sight of her was familiar and kind in this place where he knew no one. He was left behind by everyone he could ever remember, yet she, a total stranger, stayed awake for three days straight so he wouldn’t die. As far as he was concerned, she was the only one he could trust in this place. 

“Who’s Lawrence? And what could we have that he could possibly want?” Gally looked back to Beckett with cold, hard eyes that even made the grown man feel a bit intimidated. 

“Lawrence is in charge around here — and you two have what a lot of people around here want. Immunity.” Beckett’s eyes turned dark, “Once you’re fit to move Lawrence wants to meet you.” 

Gally swallowed thickly, “The hell’s that supposed to mean?” 

“Listen, we’re not the bad guys, kid,” Beckett sighed, gaze back to normal as he stood from the cot, “The bad guys are the ones who kept you in that maze. We’re only trying to help.” 

“Sounds like you’re only trying to use me.” 

“You’ll feel differently when you meet him.” Beckett smirked as he gave Gally’s shoulder a pat, “See you when you’re better, kid. Bye, Joanie!” 

The blonde looked up from where she was cleaning a mess from the floor with a smile and wave to Beckett as he left. Once the mess was clean she went back to Gally with a clean shirt for him to put on. 

“Beckett’s a good guy, I promise.” She smiled nervously as she bunched the shirt at the collar to slip it over his head, “Once you get to know him, anyway.” 

“I don’t think I wanna get to know him.” Gally winced as he lent forward. 

Brows furrowed in contemplation, Joan sat down on the edge of his cot and gently put the shirt over his head and helped him to get his arms through the holes. He was strong, that much was for sure. But his body was also littered with scars. Most were old and faded to white, others were more recent and still pink. He was a boy torn apart and put back together again and again. And she could see that same tearing and breaking clouding his blue eyes. 

“Look. No one’s gonna make you stay here against your will. Not Beckett. Not even Lawrence. If you wanna leave, you have every right to. But I will say this about the Right Arm — they give you a chance to be a better person than you were in the Maze. A chance to make up for lost time. A chance to help. WCKD needs to be stopped — and the Right Arm are the only ones doing anything about it.” 

“Is that why you stayed? For a second chance?” 

Joan looked down at his hand thoughtfully before she took it. His hands were much larger than her own. And even though her hands were not Lilly soft, his were infinitely rougher. Fighter’s hands, maybe even builder’s hands. She could feel him tense when she touched him, but she refused to let go. Knowing just how important touch could be after the Maze. 

“I couldn’t save anyone in my Maze. Any of my friends. But here I’ve saved hundreds of people. Helped even more than that. Makes me feel like a human instead of…” 

“An animal?” Gally suggested with a tone of understanding he couldn’t fully comprehend. 

“Yeah. Exactly.” Joan smiled as she stood from his cot, “Now, get some rest, Gally. Big day tomorrow.” 

After helping him lay back down she turned to the cot she’d been sleeping on for the past four nights and gathered her things. A blanket she knitted herself. Her pillow. And a worn hardcover book. 

“You read?” Gally asked when he noticed the book held delicately in her hands. Almost like it was sacred. Almost as if he didn’t want her to leave him. 

“Yes. I love to read. Aren’t many books around anymore though. Most of them burnt up in the Scorch.” Joan looked down to the cover fondly, tracing her fingers over where the title used to be written in gold, “It’s the only one I’ve got. Bought it from a shady man closer to the city.” 

“What book is it?” 

“Little Women. I read from it every day.” 

Gally hesitated for a moment, questioning his motives as to why he wanted her to stay with him for just a little bit longer, but then he gave in and asked quietly, almost sheepishly, “Would you read it to me?” 

“Of course!” Joan immediately dropped back down to the cot and cracked open the book, “I was about halfway through — but I’ll start at the beginning.” 

“Christmas won’t be Christmas without any presents,” grumbled Jo, lying on the rug …

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[anniesocsandgeneralstore]

The Power of Suffering - Part 2 (Gally x OC)

Summary: 5 years have past since Gally was rescued from the Maze. He is an integral leader in the Right Arm and Joan is lead medic at their home base. When he's not out on patrol or on mission, he can be found with her.

Pairing: Gally x OC (Joan)

Word Count: 4148

Warnings: canon typical violence, cranks, background original characters, death mention, grief, gally being so soft it hurts

ONE | TWO | THREE

Gally, after many talks with Lawrence and many nights spent with Joan reading to him, decided to stay with the Right Arm. And five years later he was right behind Beckett in the pecking order, leading missions and giving out orders. Joan was right when she saw that he was a fighter. WCKD couldn’t hide behind their walls forever, and Gally was more than willing to help take them down after what they did to him. What they did to Joan. What they continued to do every day to the less fortunate who lived outside the city. 

Today, Gally and his unit were assigned to go to the outer reaches of the city in search of supplies. Weapons. Ammo. Blankets to be passed out to the people. Medical supplies. Batteries. Equipment they could easily repair. Anything that could even have the potential to be useful was gathered and brought back to base. The only problem was that the outer reaches were crawling with Cranks hunting for anyone foolish enough to roam too close. 

“Alright, boys, we got three teams of two. Jameson and Stormes. Farley and Crouch. And me and Vince,” Gally barked his orders as the van slowed to a stop, “Nelson’ll stay in the van waiting. We only got thirty minutes to get what we can and go — and we won’t hesitate to leave your ass if you’re not back in time.” 

“Masks!” Farley yelled as he opened the doors, all of them pulling down their respirators over their faces. 

Gally emerged from the van first, gun held aloft and eyes vigilant for any danger. 

“Jameson, you and Stormes to the west. Farley, you and Crouch to the east. Vince and I’ll head south.” The unit started to split up cautiously, “And watch your six, boys. Crank territory.” 

“Yes, sir.” 

Vince and Gally crept along in silence, heading south and away from the van until they found what remained of some form of shop. The walls were all but caved in, the sign that used to hang above the door dangling from one corner and half-melted. Vince pointed the location out to Gally who nodded his head in agreement. They would check it for supplies. 

Gally entered through the door first, gun held up and ready to fire at anything that moved. 

“Clear,” he announced when he’d walked the entire right side of the building, Vince repeating the statement for the left. 

The place looked like it had been ransacked a couple of times over, but there still might have been something of value hidden beneath the rubble. 

“Stay here — start searching. I’ll go check the back.” 

“Yes, sir,” Vince replied, slinging his gun over his shoulder and crouching down on the ground. 

The small room at the back of the store, which was probably once an office of some kind, was bathed in darkness. Debris and other fallen buildings had covered the windows from the outside. With a click, Gally’s hand-held flashlight came on, revealing nothing but an empty room and a pile of bones propped up in a chair. 

“Jesus!” Gally whispered under his breath at the sight. 

“You found the Lord in there, sir?” Vince called from the other room, his impeccable hearing once again making him grin. 

“Shut up, Vince,” Gally chuckled, slinging his gun over his shoulder, “We’re all clear.” 

Vince was only eighteen, three years younger than Gally and only about half his size. He’d only been with the Right Arm for a few months but had already proven himself to be an excellent fighter and an even better scout. His eyes were keen and his ears were even more so. He could hear a Crank coming from a mile off. And Gally always made sure to bring him on all of his missions. But of course, it was more than his usefulness. Vince was Gally’s friend. Though the other men in the unit found that hard to believe when Vince told them that - and Gally would never admit it either. But Vince knew. He knew in the way Gally would slap him on the back when they finished a mission or the way they always sat together at meals. 

Gally was like an older brother to Vince. He looked up to him like the Evening Star. And Gally almost wished he wouldn’t. 

Next to the chair full of bones was a table covered in random junk it seemed, sprinkled with a heavy layer of dust. Gally quickly sifted through the items just in case. An old mug. A jewelry box full of useless trinkets. And a little paperback book that he easily stuffed into the largest pocket of his kevlar vest. 

“You find anything in there, boss?” Vince called. 

“No. Nothing.” Gally did another quick glance around the room to make sure. 

“You’re spending a lot of time in there for nothing.” Gally opened his mouth to give an equally snarky reply, but the words died on his tongue when Vince went on, “Come take a look at this.” 

In the corner of the shop, Vince was sitting on the floor, a neat stack of wood and a pile of dirt next to him. 

“What’d you find?” Gally asked as he approached. 

“Medicine.” Vince threw an orange bottle at Gally who caught it with ease, “Antibiotics, steroids, allergy pills. The works.” 

“Huh.” Gally turned the bottle over in his hand, “Place must’ve been a pharmacy or something.” 

“Joanie’s gonna love us when we get back,” Vince smiled as he began to gather the medicine bottles together. 

Gally’s mouth involuntarily twitched at the girl’s name, his hand instinctively touching the book in his pocket. He had been finding them for her for years. Always keeping his eyes open for worn pages amongst the rubble. Of course, he never told anyone he was looking, but people noticed anyway. Whenever he would sneak off after a mission to the medical wing, the other men in his unit would give each other knowing grins and playful shoves not to say anything. 

“I’ll find something to put those in,” Gally said dismissively, ignoring the comment about Joan all together. 

Once a sturdy enough crate had been found the two of them started to load the medicine into it. But as the last few bottles slid into place, Vince cocked his head towards the door.

“What is it?” Gally asked quietly, trying to attune his own ears to noises in the distance. 

And after a moment, he heard it. The distinct growl of a Crank a ways off. 

“Cranks,” Vince confirmed. 

“Alright. Let’s head back. This is a good haul.” Gally pulled his walkie-talkie from his vest and spoke to the rest of the unit, “Gally and Vince heading back to the van. Cranks to the south.” 

“Shanks!” Farley’s distinctive gruff voice crackled back. 

Over the years, nearly everyone had picked up on Gally’s Glade terms. At first, they said it to make fun of him, but now it was a part of their vernacular altogether.

“Thirty minutes is almost up anyway,” Jameson replied next, “Jameson and Stormes heading back to the van.” 

“Fine,” Farley sighed, “Farley and Crouch heading back to the van.” 

“Shuckface,” Gally said with a satisfied grin before switching the walkie off. 

Vince cackled at the exchange as Gally lifted the crate with both hands. The two of them exited the shop and started heading back towards the van with smiles on their faces. It was unusual for a supply run to be this successful. 

“Waddaya think’s for dinner tonight?” Vince asked as they walked. 

“Something terrible — as per usual,” Gally snorted. 

“Will you wait to give Joanie the book before or after?” 

“What?” Gally looked like he could’ve snapped his neck, even with the respirator covering his face, the only thing giving his embarrassment away being the patches of red on his neck. 

“I noticed you always searching for ‘em. And Joanie’s the only one who reads at base. I’m not stupid.” Vince shrugged, knowing from experience that being on Gally’s bad side was not ideal. “I won’t tell anyone. Promise.” 

Sometimes that kid was too observant for his own good. 

“You better not. Or I’ll beat your ass.” Gally looked over at him pointedly, trying to gain control over the sudden heat he felt in his face. 

“Yeah, yeah — I know.” Vince rolled his eyes with a knowing grin as they walked past a towering pile of the remains of a skyscraper. 

The two men turned towards the hill at the sound of debris tumbling down the side, the echoes of it rebounding in their ears. They both knew rocks don’t fall on their own, so they looked up, only to see a Crank coming over the top of the hill. 

“Closer than I thought,” Vince commented off-handedly. 

Before their eyes, the one Crank turned into a host. All of them crawling their way over the ridge and screeching when they spotted Gally and Vince at the bottom. They all stumbled down the hill at break-neck speeds. Cranks killed themselves to fill their insatiable need to attack anything that moved, and that was perfectly exampled in the way they tripped over each other coming down the hill. Some of them crashed completely and landed with the remains of their bones sitting at odd angles, still crying out in archaic rage. 

Gally grabbed Vince by the vest and yanked him ahead of himself, “Go! Go!” 

They might have had guns and training, but that meant absolutely nothing when face to face with that many Cranks. So they took off at a run towards the van, the growls and screams of Cranks hot on their tails. 

“Shit!” Vince yelled as Gally ran ahead of him, his shorter frame giving him a disadvantage. 

Gally looked back to see his partner falling behind, his respirator fogging with his panting breath, “Come on, Vince! We’re almost there!” 

With the crate still held tightly in his hands, Gally pushed forward, narrowly avoiding the obstacles of rock and stone in his path. He rounded a corner and there it was: The van. Safety. Promise of a future. Hope that they would make it out alive. Gally looked back over his shoulder, to make sure Vince was still behind him, only to see a Crank grab the younger man by the shoulder and pull him back. 

“No! No! Get off!” Vince screamed as the Cranks started to claw at him, to tear him apart. He pulled his gun in front of him as best he could and started to fire, but there were too many of them. 

“Vince!” Gally cried. 

Everything was in slow motion. Gally could see through the horde of Cranks. Vince’s terrified face through his mask as he accepted his fate, teeth sunken into his neck and claws tearing his clothes. Gally saw Vince’s childhood on the street, begging for scraps and just wanting to belong. His first day in the Right Arm, scared and wandering off when he wasn’t supposed to. He saw Vince coming to him with every problem, in every circumstance, he finally saw himself the way Vince saw him. A friend. A brother. Someone to protect him. Then a look passed over Vince’s face, a look that said not today, as he pulled a grenade from his vest and pulled the pin. 

“No!” Gally screamed just before he was forced onto his back by the explosion. 

Pieces and parts flew everywhere, the dark blood of a Crank mixing with the bright red of the living. A high pitched whine rang through Gally’s ears as he sat up slowly, watching with bleary eyes as a few Cranks started hauling what was left of themselves towards him. He felt two people grab him by the arms and yank him to his feet, practically dragging him towards the van at a run. He was thrown into the back and the van lurched forward, speeding away from the outer reaches and back towards base. 

“What the hell happened?” 

“What happened to Vince?” 

“Where did all those Cranks come from?”

The rest of the men in his unit kept asking as they drove, but Gally didn’t have answers, he didn’t want to answer. All he could do was stare at the back of the van blankly and feel the way the engine rumbled at his skin. 

All he ever wanted to do was protect the people he cared about. And he had failed. 

No one said anything when they arrived back to base and Gally immediately took off towards the medical wing. The other men in his unit usually joked about it, even daring to make fun of their commander for it, but not this time. This time they all silently got out of the van and allowed Gally to stalk off, unloading their haul numbly. 

The entrance to base was underneath what used to be a parking garage for a shopping mall, the shopping mall was where the Right Arm offered shelter for those living outside the Last City and where meals were served every day. And right next to the mall was a church. The church was where the medical wing was, and where the majority of the Right Arm stayed. Gally made a beeline for the church, narrowly avoiding bumping into people in the bustling complex as he finally ripped his respirator from his face. He could hardly breathe with it on. 

“Hey, Joanie, you in here?” he called out upon entering the medical wing. It took everything in him for his voice not to crack. 

“Yep! I’m here!” He heard her gentle voice from the supply closet at the back of the room. His jaw clenched at the sound. 

She was crouched on the floor taking inventory, clipboard on her knees and her fingers dancing over boxes of bandages she counted silently. 

“You better have some bandages from that supply run. We’re running lower than I would like.” She looked up at Gally as he stood in the doorway, the usual smile tugging at the corners of her lips falling at the sight of him. 

His characteristically mischievous eyes were vacant and red. His hands, always prepared to fight and rough with callouses but always soft with her, were balled into fists at his sides. His clothes were spattered with red and black, the true signs of a fight with a Crank. And his usually relaxed and nearly playful stature was rigid and tense. 

Joan stood from her spot on the ground, her eyebrows pulled together in worry. “What happened?” 

Gally swallowed thickly, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down as he continued to stare at the pocket of her loose cotton overalls. “I lost Vince.” 

“Lost him? What do you mean — lost him?” She knew exactly what it meant, but she refused to believe it as the tears built in her green eyes. 

Vince was her friend too. He was just a kid. A goofy kid that always tried to make her smile, even on the worst days when he was exhausted and could barely move. 

“Cranks. There were so many of them, Joanie.” He looked into her face for the first time, and she could see the tearing happening behind his blue eyes. She knew how much Vince looked up to him, how much Gally saw himself in him. “We couldn’t fight them off — I couldn’t fight them off. I couldn’t — I couldn’t — “ 

“Hey — hey,” Joan shushed him, taking hold of his hand and pulling him closer, “There wasn’t anything you could do.” 

She tried to stay strong for him, tried to be comforting instead of breaking down in tears like she so desperately needed to. But she could not help the few tears that ran down her cheeks. They ran trails through her freckles and dripped down her chin. Tiny testaments to how much she would miss him, how much she hurt for him, for Gally. 

“There’s always something I can do.” He looked down to her smaller hands enclosing his, his jaw muscle twitching as he focused on the feeling of her gentle fingers rubbing comfort into him, “But I’m always too late.” 

Joan shook her head as she looked down to their hands as well, his much larger ones still hidden by gloves. Sniffing back her tears she focused on undoing the velcro of his glove and slowly slipping it from his hand. She performed the same task on his other hand, still steady even though he was about to fall apart. Taking his now bare hands in hers she pulled him even closer, his face merely inches from her’s as she rubbed soothing circles into the backs of his hands. 

“You try and save everyone else, Gally.” Her voice came out as a whisper through her tears, and when she looked up at him with her still comforting gaze even though she was utterly broken, he was suddenly overcome with the urge to pull her closer. To wrap her in his arms and breathe in her familiar scent of antiseptic and lilac. Not necessarily a pleasant smell, but one that was so distinctly Joan that it was comforting all the same. “But who gets to save you?” 

Eyes closed, he pulled her in and pressed his forehead to hers. Over the years, a lot of things had changed. Not only was Gally in a position of authority, but Joan had also taken over as head medic. All of her time was spent at base, treating casualties from missions and offering services to the people taking up residence at the Last City. A lot had changed. They were both older, far removed from the traumas of their youth yet bombarded with new ones daily. One thing always remained the same. No matter how busy or important the two of them became, they always found time to spend with each other. That common thread of the Maze pulling them together across vast distances. Or it could be a bond much deeper still.

After a moment he pulled the book he had found from his vest and slipped it into her overall’s pocket. She opened her mouth to say something — 

“Gally! Thought I’d find you in here!” The pair stiffened as Beckett’s booming voice echoed throughout the medical wing, Gally immediately dropped Joan’s hands and turned to face the older man. “Lawrence wants a full report on what happened on the supply run.” 

“Yes, sir,” Gally replied before exiting the medical wing at a brisk walk, passing Beckett with the crate full of medicine in his hands. 

“And these — “ Beckett set the crate down on an empty cot as Joan came out of the supply closet, wiping her eyes as best she could as her tears continued to fall. “Are for you.” 

She sniffed, “Thank you.” 

Her hands had been steady and strong held in his. But now that they were gone and she was alone, her hands shook unsteadily as they wrapped around each medicine bottle and inspected their contents. Grief pulled people down differently. Some stood tall and dove into their work, seeking distraction from tasks or from others. That was Gally. While others could barely stand, could barely do anything without feeling wave after wave of sadness. It was all-consuming. This was Joan. She tried to stay poised, but Beckett still noticed the tremble of her lips and the steady stream of tears down her cheeks. 

“So, what were you two doing in the closet?” Beckett asked. 

“What?” Joan looked up from the crate with puffy and genuinely innocent eyes. “Oh — we weren’t doing anything wrong if that’s what you mean.” 

“No, Joanie, you’re not in trouble.” 

“Oh, uh — “ She touched the small paperback he had slipped into her pocket without a word before she picked up the crate and started carrying it to the closet. “Gally just had something to give me from the supply run.” 

She knew Gally wasn’t embarrassed by anything, especially when it came to how much time he spent with her. But she was also aware that he didn’t want the rest of the Right Arm to know that he always kept an eye out for books on missions. That he would sneak into her room nearly every night for her to read to him. That she would run her fingers over his short locks when he fell asleep with his head in her lap. That he could be anything other than the hard, battle-worn leader he had been raised to be. 

“Something that wasn’t with the rest of the supplies?” 

Apparently, her attempts to avoid this conversation with Beckett were futile. 

She put the crate down on the floor harder than she intended and turned to face Beckett, who’s face only read concern as she wiped furiously at her eyes, “Look, I’m really not in the mood for another one of your fatherly lectures. Gally gave me something. End of story.” 

“No — not end of story. We lost Vince. I know why he really came here.” Beckett watched as Joan turned back to the crate and began to place the medicine bottles on an empty shelf. 

She paused. “If you know why then why are you so bothered by it?” 

“Because he’s only using you, Joanie,” Beckett sighed, “You’re too kind to him. He’ll only hurt you.” 

“Kindness is a strength, I think.” She turned to face him now, arms crossed and tears forgotten. “One that you’ve apparently forgotten.” 

“All I’m saying is that I’m seeing a whole lot of receiving and not a lot of giving.” 

The sigh Joan released sounded nearly defeated, her back to him as she went back to sorting. “Don’t you have somewhere else to be, Beckett?” 

“Yeah. Guess so.” He finally accepted defeat as he turned from the door of the supply closet. “See ya later, Joanie.” 

His footsteps echoed through the medical wing as he left. Joan listened until they disappeared before she pulled the book back out of her pocket. A hand passed over the cover revealed the title: Till We Have Faces. Gally didn’t have a soft spot for anyone. He was a great leader. Tough as nails. But when he was with Joan he melted. And he gave so much more than anyone could ever know. 

After dinner was finished Joan made sure the night medic was all set to go before heading to her room for the night. Abnormally, her door was shut when she arrived. When she pushed it open with a creak, she saw Gally standing by her bed with his hands in his sweater pockets. 

“Joanie,” he spoke her name softly, too softly, as she shut the door behind herself. 

The grief, like a wave, pulled her back under and she was a sobbing mess. Her face pinched in anguish as fresh tears rolled from her eyes and her shoulders shook. Her fists curled her sleeves over her hands as Gally crossed the room in only a few strides. Circling his arms around her shoulders he drew her into his chest, her mournful cries muffled against him. After a minute he easily picked her up and carried her to the bed, sitting down with her in his lap. 

Joan screamed in agony for her friend and Gally let her, let her do whatever she needed to. And all the while he was running his fingers through her hair and rubbing soothing circles into her thigh. Vince was a big part of their lives. He always had been. And now he was gone. 

Once she had quieted down, Gally spoke in a hoarse whisper, “I’m gonna miss him.” 

“Me too.” Fresh tears bubbled up to the surface of Joan’s eyes. 

“Remember when we caught him sneaking biscuits out of the kitchen?” 

“Yeah.” Joan wiped at her face, “I remember you were so mad at him. But then he tried to bribe us with biscuits to keep quiet.” 

“I still can’t believe you took the bribe,” Gally chuckled. 

“I can never turn down a biscuit. And — and Vince was always so sweet.” She tilted her head up to look him in the face for a moment, studying the freckles on his nose and the curve of his mouth before whispering, “Will you read to me?” 

Gally looked over to the small stack of books on the table by her bed, nine in total in varying shapes and conditions, “Which one would you like?” 

“The one about marriage.” She laid her head back down on his chest when he pulled the correct book from the pile. “About being happy.” 

And so he began to read: 

“Emma Woodhouse, handsome, clever, and rich, with a comfortable home and happy disposition, seemed to unite some of the best blessings of existence; and had lived nearly twenty-one years in the world with very little to distress or vex her … “

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[anniesocsandgeneralstore]

OC Edits - Joan x Gally walking through the Last City