BubbleSoapGirl

He hadn’t kissed your forehead like usual. He hadn’t lingered there. As if he couldn't face saying goodbye. And when you finally did get up, your gut twisted when you saw the empty space in the stable, the horse meeting, and snow falling hard over Jackson.

The truth was, Joel was out there with Dina; you had no idea under what circumstances.

The sky had turned more gray; it seemed angry, furious, waiting to hit someone else.

You shook your head, trying to focus on Jesse’s voice. Tried not to feed the panic unraveling in your chest like a pulled thread. But the cold in your mind spread, and no matter how tightly you gripped the reins, no matter how fast your horse moved, the feeling remained.

Something was definitely wrong; you could feel your heart beating harder.

You finally found a rundown outpost, an old hunting cabin half-buried in snow and swallowed by pine trees. The roof sagged, one of the windows was kind of cracked, and the door barely held on its hinges, but it was a shelter that would serve its purpose. You and Jesse pulled your horses inside the narrow lean-to out back, while Ellie stomped snow off her shoes and kicked the door open with force.

Inside, it was cold and smelled like old weed and damp rot, but you didn’t care; you needed to sit and think.

Inside, there was a radio.

You didn’t hesitate. You took your gloves off before Jesse could even notice. Your fingers moved over the knobs, turning dials, trying to find the frequency Jackson always used for patrol.

A burst of static. Then another, and finally, a signal.

Your breath caught. “Jackson patrol, do you copy?”

Ellie moved closer. Jesse pulled his scarf down, suddenly silent.

“Joel? Dina? Come in.”

Only static.

“Come on,” you muttered, heart hammering, twisting the dial again. “Joel, please, answer.”

There was nothing. This type of silence wasn’t normal or ordinary. You knew silence. This wasn’t a delay. It was an absence.

Your body went rigid, every instinct screaming louder than your racing thoughts. Your limbs moved before you made the decision. You were out the door and into the snow again before Jesse or Ellie could stop you.

He called after you still. But Ellie was already grabbing her rifle.

“Where are you going?” Jesse yelled, chasing behind.

“Something’s wrong!” you snapped, swinging onto your horse. “I just know it!”

Ellie mounted up beside you, voice louder within the storm, “Then we’re not wasting time.”

Jesse hesitated, glancing between you both and the radio inside.

“You don’t even know if that’s where they went—”

“I know,” you growled, already riding. “I feel it.”

Ellie followed you without a word. She trusted you, you were her family, and she would follow you wherever you went.

The snow clawed at your skin like it wanted to peel the truth away. The wind howled as if it knew what was waiting ahead. But you didn’t stop.

Because something had happened to Joel, and Dina was out there.

You and Ellie rode as fast as you could, the snow whipping across your faces like needles piercing your skin, the hooves of your horses lost beneath the storm. You could barely see five feet ahead, but then, in the distance, a glow that you could see anyway.

“Shit,” Ellie hissed beside you, pulling her hood lower.

You followed her gaze. Through the trees, past the slope of the hill, firelight. Orange, flickering, wrong. Was this your bad feeling creeping?

Fire was catching, rising in a bloom, too wild to be controlled. You slowed your horse as your stomach dropped.

“That's Jackson,” you whispered, more to yourself than to Ellie.

It wasn’t the whole town, not yet. But something was burning. And it was enough to send a coil of panic twisting through your gut, feeding that same deep certainty that had been clawing at you all day.

“Come on,” you growled, spurring your horse harder, cutting off the cold fear before it could settle. “We are way too far.”

And it wasn’t long before you saw it, the lodge over the hills.

It sat crooked and hunched near a clearing, like it had been dropped there by accident. Too nice to have survived years into the end of the world. One of the side windows was shattered. Smoke was seeping through cracks in the boarded upper floor. The front door hung ajar, barely moving in the wind.

You pulled hard on the reins. Your horse bucked a little, skidding in the snow. Ellie drew her rifle and slid off hers.

Your eyes locked on two shapes near the side of the lodge.

Horses.

Your heart stopped because those were Joel’s and Dina’s.

Both were tied loosely, hooves pawing nervously at the ground. Alone. No movement near the front entrance. No voices. No sounds but the wind and the creak of the old building groaning under the weight it wasn’t meant to bear.

You slid off your horse.

“Ellie,” you whispered, your voice barely audible, breath clouding in front of you.

She already had her knife out.

“Oh shit.”

You didn’t wait for backup. Couldn’t. There was something wrong.

Because Joel’s horse was here. And he wasn’t.

And whatever was inside that building, you felt it. It was about to break your heart open.

The sound of screams of agony and a body hitting the ground echoed down the hallway like a gunshot.

You knew that sound. It was torture. It was pain.

Your boots thundered down the corridor of the lodge, Ellie at your side, a worry and desperate look in her eyes. She’d followed the path like a wolf hunting its prey, her eyes screaming Please don’t let it be too late.

You didn’t say a word. Your heart was stuck in your throat, and the only thing that moved was your body, in fast motion, furious, drawn to the man who should have never left your side this morning in the first place.

Then you saw it. The door, a form from inside, screaming slipping from the lips you used to kiss every day. Those were Joel’s screams. In agony, in pain.

You didn’t wait. You didn’t breathe. You kicked the door open, and your world shattered.

Joel was on the floor, a mess of blood surrounding him and something worse. His legs bent at sort of unnatural angles. One hand barely raised in instinct. His face, bruised, bleeding, and one eye was swollen shut. His body twitched like it wasn’t sure if it should keep trying to fight life.

And above him, a woman. Blonde, her hair braided. Rage carved into her face like she’d waited for this moment. Her arms raised again, a golf club in her grip, stained in red.

She didn’t see you at first. Her eyes were solely focused on Joel, but you weren’t having that.

You roared, not screamed, roared, and tackled her with all the force you had, all your weight, all your fury into actions. You slammed her into the wall with a force that cracked wood. The golf club dropped from her hand and hit the ground.

“No more," you growled, your hand tightening around her throat.

Her group came fast, like shadows over you. One tackled Ellie to the ground. Another raised a knife at her. But they hadn’t counted on you.

You were already moving, eyes wild, mind gone. Every compassion you could have left in your body left, gone, you fought like someone who had nothing left in this life but him.

You weren’t skilled like Joel. You didn’t need to be. You were desperate. Right now, you were desperate.

Fists cracked bone. You took hits but didn’t stop. Didn’t feel them on you. You were pulling someone off Ellie, dragging them by their collar, throwing them into a chair that splintered on impact. You used what you had, a piece of wood, the same club the woman wore, your fists, and the most important thing, your fury.

And they couldn’t stop you. Because you couldn’t be stopped.

The blonde tried to rise again. You met her halfway and slammed her back to the floor. She spat blood. You didn’t flinch.

“Get away from him!” you shouted.

“Who the fuck—?!” Abby turned, fury and shock colliding on her face.

You dropped the shotgun, drew your blade, and charged.

The first one that tried to reach for you got a knife in his chest. You shoved him off like he was made of paper. The next came at you with a bat, you caught the swing and used his momentum to slam him face-first into the fireplace bricks.

“You don’t get to touch him,” you hissed. “Not him.”

The blonde took the club again, swinging it toward your face. You ducked.

Then you hit her. Right in the gut. The force of it sent her staggering back, wind knocked from her lungs.

“Do you wanna kill him?” you growled. “Try me first, then."

She looked at you like she wanted to, but she hesitated.

And that was her mistake. The moment she let her guard down, you shot her.

"It's over." You said, pointing your gun right between her brows, and the shot echoed in the stillness of the room.

She hit the floor, eyes wide. No final words. No redemption. Just silence.

Ellie flinched.

You stood over Abby’s body, breath hitching, heart pounding in your ears. The room reeked of blood, and then there was silence, except for Joel’s ragged breath.

The ringing in your ears stopped, and your breathing steadied as you took a look at the mess you had made.

Your eyes finally dropped back to Joel. You dropped yourself beside him as your knees had finally given out.

“Hey,” you whispered, your voice cracking into pieces. “Joel, look at me. I’m here. I got you.”

His one good eye fluttered open, dazed, unfocused. There was blood crusted at his brow, dried and fresh, a cruel mask across the face you’d kissed so many times before, now dripping blood.

“Y-you-" he rasped, voice like torn gravel. He had barely made it.

You nodded, cradling his face in your hands, not caring that blood smeared across your palms. “I’m here. You’re safe. Don't you dare to close your eyes now."

His breath stuttered, chest rising too slow, too shallow. His eyes couldn’t stay fixed on you. They wandered, like he weren’t fully in the room anymore. As if he were fighting death and life at the same time.

“I thought I lost you,” you whispered, leaning close. Your forehead rested against his, warm against cold.

Not even the cold of the snowstorm had been so cruel to you.

“Hurts,” he mumbled, eyes slipping closed again.

“No, no,” you said quickly, your hands gently patting his face. “Stay with me. I got you. You’re gonna be okay. Help’s coming, okay? I will make sure of it. Just—just hold on.”

But he didn’t answer. His breathing slowed.

And your heart stammered in panic. “Joel!"

But there was no reaction from him. You pressed your fingers to his pulse, still beating but faintly.

“Don’t you do this,” you choked out. “You fight, dammit. You’ve been through worse, haven’t you? Don’t you leave me now, please.”

You'd already faced your worst nightmare. Now you were living in it, holding it in your arms, seeing the life leave him.

Joel lay limp and broken on the floor, his breath rattled. His face was swollen, almost unrecognizable on one side, purple and black with bruising. One eye was swollen shut. Blood trickled from his nose, his mouth, and the side of his head.

“Hey,” you whispered again, voice hoarse. “Joel. Are you with me?”

A faint groan, barely audible, but it was enough because it meant he was still here.

You pulled off your jacket rapidly, shoving it under his head. Your hands were shaking, but your mind was locked in: every first aid trick you’d learned from scraps of survival guides, emergency manuals, all this time surviving, and anything Joel had ever shown you when he thought you weren’t paying attention. You had paid attention.

You just never thought you’d be using it on him, under these circumstances.

Dina stumbled in, still pale and groggy, her hand gripping the wall. “Ellie?” she rasped. “Wh—what the fuck happened?”

You didn’t look up. “You were drugged. Ellie is moving the bodies. We need the space.”

Dina staggered past, gagging at the sight of blood, but she didn’t hesitate. She knew what had happened.

This was now a war zone. You had blinded yourself, becoming a murderer monster just to save Joel.

You pulled Joel’s shirt open, shredded, stained with red. Purple splotches across his ribs. Swelling. At least two were broken.

Your throat burned, voice cracking. “You’re gonna hate me for this, Joel. But I have to move you.”

“Don’t…” he mumbled, almost unconscious. “Just... leave me—”

“Bullshit" you said, angry at you, at him, at that woman who had left him like this, your tears were splashing onto his collarbone. “Don’t you dare say that. You don’t give up.”

Ellie appeared, face pale, blood on her shirt, Dina behind her with a blanket.

“We cleared the room,” Ellie said, out of breath. “It’s just us now.”

“Good,” you said. “Help me splint his legs. We need to keep him still until we can get him out of here.”

You tore up a curtain and grabbed two broken chair legs. It wasn’t perfect, but nothing about this was. This wasn't something that should have happened.

Ellie held Joel’s leg as steady as she could while you worked the makeshift splint around the worst of the fractures. His left leg, with a shot on his knee.

Joel screamed just as he was being dragged through hell.

You didn’t stop, “I know,” you whispered, pressing your forehead to his as you tied the cloth tight. “I know, I know, I’m sorry. I got you.”

You felt his breath against your skin, shallow and hot, contrasting with the coldness on his hands.

His lips moved. “Why?” he whispered, barely audible.

You leaned back and looked at him. “Because I love you,” you said simply.

His eye fluttered open, just barely. And for one fragile second, the pain slipped away. There was only you and him inside this room. You brushed the hair from Joel’s face. He was burning up. You needed to clean the wounds. Stop the bleeding. Keep him warm and alive.

And somehow, by the grace of whatever broken god still watched over you all, you would.

You pressed a damp cloth to his temple where skin had split open. His blood soaked through instantly. You felt you were about to throw up.

Your hands moved on their own now, it felt monotonous. Wash. Compress. Tie. Splint. Whisper to him and beg him to stay alive.

Ellie and Dina had gone quiet. Standing behind you. Watching. Waiting for an order, a word from you that it wouldn't be a sob.

Then your voice broke through the silence. “Go back to Jackson.”

Ellie flinched, like she hadn’t expected you to speak at all. You didn’t look up. You were holding Joel’s hand, limp and calloused in yours. Trying to send him the strength he needed to survive.

“We need help,” you said, barely audible. Your voice was shot. Just whisper. “Tell Tommy, tell him to send help. We need to get Joel back there.”

You met silence. Just the sound of Joel breathing.

“Please,” you added, and that word cracked. “Please. I can’t carry him by myself. He’s...he’s too heavy. He’s—” You swallowed hard. Your fingers curled tighter around Joel’s hand.

Ellie stepped forward. “We’re not leaving you.”

You finally looked up, eyes glassy and red-rimmed. “You have to. We need more people. Horses. Anything. I can keep him alive for a few more hours. But I can’t move him like this.”

Ellie’s jaw clenched. Her knuckles went white. “I don’t want to leave you with him like this.”

You reached out, brushing Joel’s graying hair from his brow with trembling fingers. “I got him.”

A pause. Then Dina touched Ellie’s arm. “I’ll go,” she said gently. “I’ll ride. I’m faster. You stay.”

Ellie nodded, eyes not leaving yours.

You left a loud sob. “No,” you said quietly, lifting your eyes once more to Ellie’s. “Ellie… you go with Dina. I’ll stay here.”

Ellie’s shoulders stiffened. Her brows pulled together like she was bracing for another blow. “What? No. I’m not leaving you and him.”

You sat back on your knees, your hands bloodied, trembling. Joel’s chest rose and fell in shallow breaths.

“You have to,” you said, your voice breaking. “You have to, Ellie. Dina shouldn’t be riding alone.”

Ellie looked at Joel. Looked at you. And shook her head. “I can’t leave him like this. I can’t.”

You grabbed her hand, and that startled her. It startled you, too. But you held on, grounding her, pulling her attention back to your face. Your voice dropped to a whisper.

“Please,” you said. “Please. Help me save him.”

Ellie’s eyes filled. Not with tears, but with everything she couldn’t say. The guilt of the lost time. The fury of what they had done to Joel. The fear that maybe it was too late.

But you looked at her like there was still something worth fighting for.

She swallowed hard. Nodded once. “I’ll go.”

Your chest caved with relief. Joel let out a faint groan beneath you, and you turned back to him, brushing your thumb against his jaw.

“I’m here, baby,” you whispered. “I’m right here.”

Ellie hesitated at the doorway, stopping to look at you once again, “Will he be okay?” she asked before daring to step a foot outside.

You nodded, but it was instinct, automatic, hopeful, desperate. The truth lodged in your throat like a splinter you couldn’t spit out.

“I don’t know,” you said softly, voice trembling. “I don’t know how much damage they did.” Your eyes flicked over Joel’s body again, breath catching at the way his chest rose unevenly. “But he’s breathing. And that’s something.”

Ellie stepped closer to you. “What do you need me to do?”

You looked up at her then, and for a split second, she looked like a kid again. Afraid and shaken.

“Just go back to Jackson and bring help,” you said, your voice barely more than a breath. "That's all we need now."

Ellie’s eyes burned. She nodded once, jaw clenched. “Okay. Okay. Just hold on, please.”

You gave her one last look. “I’ll keep him breathing.”

She was gone the next second, steps pounding out the door, calling for Dina, and you were left in the broken room, just you and Joel and the slow drip of blood on the floorboards. His blood.

You pressed your hands to the worst of the wounds, breath shaking. “Did you hear that, Joel?” you whispered, pressing your forehead to his. “Help’s coming.”

He didn’t speak. But his fingers twitched again, slowly, and curled around your wrist.

It wasn’t much, but it meant he was still here.

That night felt heavy like wet ash. Everything smelled like blood, and outside, the snowstorm had died to a bitter hiss. The wind still screamed through cracks in the lodge, but inside, everything had gone quiet, except for the sound of Joel’s ragged breath and the low creak of floorboards every time you moved.

You’d done everything you could.

You had boiled snow over a fire in the next room just to clean the worst of the blood from his side. You weren’t a medic. But you were a woman in love. And that made you terrifying.

He faded in and out of consciousness, his lips murmuring your name between groans, sometimes not even sure it was real. You sat beside him, your back against the wall, holding his hand in both of yours.

But then it went still. You hadn’t realized how quiet it had gotten until the sound stopped completely.

“Joel?” you whispered, leaning close. There was no answer.

You shook his shoulder, gently. Then harder. “Joel.”

Nothing. His head lolled to the side. His skin felt clammy beneath your palm.

Your breath caught in your throat. “No, no—please, no. Joel—” You cupped his cheeks. “You stay with me; do you hear me?”

His brow twitched. His lips parted, barely, and a broken whisper slipped out.

"Sarah?”

The name came out like a breath lost in time. You froze. Your heart cracked open. His eyes fluttered beneath closed lids, a flicker of life.

In his mind, it was Austin all over again.

Sarah was laughing, running ahead of him, calling back over her shoulder, “Dad, come on!”

And he was smiling. Genuinely smiling. He could hear her. Feel her hand in his again. It was so warm and real.

He turned, and they were on the couch. Watching a movie. She was leaning against him, head on his shoulder. He’d just said something stupid, making her roll her eyes. He didn’t want to blink, afraid it’d all vanish.

But then came the gunshot. Her warmth was gone.

Now you were there. In the memory. Not Sarah, but you. Covered in blood and crying out his name.

Joel, please. Please.

Your hands were glowing with firelight, trembling as they pressed against his chest.

He tried to reach for you, but he couldn’t move, and the world was slipping through his fingers.

And then, your voice cut through the haze. “Joel, please. Please don’t do this.”

His heart stuttered once. A sharp inhale tore through his chest as if he’d been drowning.

“Joel!”

He coughed, body shaking, and your hands caught him just in time.

You sobbed, half-laughing as you gripped his cheeks again. “You scared the shit out of me—oh my god” you sobbed, tears streaming down your cheeks.

He looked up at you, dazed and confused. Then his eyes cleared, just a little.

“You were crying,” he mumbled, lips cracked.

“Yeah,” you whispered, brushing your thumb beneath his eye. “Yeah, I was.”

He blinked slowly. “Stop...”

“I can't,” you said.

Joel leaned ever so slightly into your palm, the pain pulling at him, but your voice anchoring him.

The night lingered like a wound that wouldn’t close, that wouldn't take time to heal.

And you didn’t sleep. Your body screamed for rest, but you had stayed next to Joel, watching the way his chest rose and fell, praying it wouldn’t stop again. Every time his breath caught or he groaned too hard, your stomach twisted into knots.

The lodge was cold. Blood had dried into the floorboards. The fire in the next room was too far away to warm either of you, and you didn’t dare move him to get closer.

So you pressed your body to his side gently, just enough to share warmth without causing him pain.

“Still with me?” you whispered.

His eyes fluttered open, sluggish as if they weighed “Yeah…” His voice was more gravel than sound.

You breathed out a shaky laugh, your forehead resting lightly against his temple. “You’re stubborn as hell, you know that?”

Joel let out a faint puff of breath, maybe a laugh, maybe a wince. "Learned from you," he muttered.

Your throat clenched. You reached for his hand again, interlocking your fingers with his, so you wouldn’t brush the torn knuckles.

“I thought I lost you,” you whispered.

His eyes moved slowly, searching, until they landed on you again. Then he mumbled something you barely heard.

Silence settled in. You closed your eyes, listening to the wind groaning against the windows. Time stretched, only broken by Joel’s breath stuttering again.

Then, his fingers twitched around yours.

Then you whispered, “Joel?”

He made a sound.

“I love you.”

He didn’t answer right away. His eyes were glassy with pain. But then he barely squeezed your hand, and his voice came soft, barely a breath.

“I love you, too.”

It felt like the first time he had told you those three words, and that had broken you the most.

You buried your face in his shoulder, careful of the bruises, and let yourself cry, not in panic, not in fear. But in overwhelming, soul-shaking relief.

He was alive.

Joel woke to the soft hum of voices and some old machines. The scent of cleaner stung his nose before the light even reached his eyes.

His body was in pain. He tried to move, but something warm and heavy rested on his side.

Your head was there, leaning on his side.

You were slumped in a chair beside him, your cheek pressed gently to his arm. Your fingers were laced with his, your grip loose with sleep but still holding on.

The light in the room was soft, filtering through the curtained window. Outside, life stirred in Jackson. But here, it was quiet. Just the two of you.

Joel blinked slowly, his throat dry, the taste of cotton still on his tongue. His gaze drifted down to you. There was a crease between your brows even at rest. You looked exhausted and pale.

But you were here. He breathed your name, raw and hoarse.

You stirred at the sound, your head lifting slowly as if from the depths of a dream. Your eyes met his, still sleep-warm but wide with shock. Disbelief flickered, then relief so powerful it made your lips tremble.

“Joel,” you whispered, leaving a sob behind.

His smile was small. Barely there. “You didn’t leave.”

Your hand came up to cup his cheek. “Never,” you said. “You scared me so much."

He swallowed hard, his hand tightening weakly around yours. “How long?”

“Three weeks,” you said, voice shaking with the memory. “You were unconscious the first few days back. The fever wouldn’t break. They weren’t sure if you’d make it through the second night”

He looked at you again, really looked. “And you sat here the whole damn time?”

You gave a soft, broken laugh. “Where else would I be?”

His good eye softened. “Didn’t think I’d ever see you again.”

You leaned closer, resting your forehead to his. “You promised me once you wouldn’t leave me.”

He nodded faintly, his eyes closing for a moment as your breath mingled.

Your fingers brushed his temple, so gently, as if afraid he’d fade again like some half-formed dream that wouldn't last. Joel’s skin was warm beneath your touch, warmer than it had been in days, and that alone nearly broke you all over again.

“It’s going to take time,” you whispered, your voice barely louder than the hum of the machines. “To heal from this.”

Joel didn’t say anything, but you felt the tremor in his breath.

You threaded your fingers more tightly with his. “But I’m not going anywhere. You hear me?” you said, firmer now, voice catching on the tears in your throat. “I’m not leaving your side. You will get sick of me.”

His lips parted like he wanted to argue, maybe even protest, but then he looked at you again. Really looked. The cut on his brow. The bruising on his cheekbone. The pain behind his eye, and beyond that, the softness that only came when it was just you.

“You shouldn’t have had to—”

“I had to,” you cut in, gently “Because I love you. Because I couldn’t lose you. And I won’t ever lose you.” you paused to take a deep breath before continuing, “You and I will grow old together, and we will die peacefully in a farm, just as you wanted."

Joel blinked. His hand tightened slightly in yours again, like the only strength he had left was meant for that one touch.

You leaned in and kissed his forehead, bruised, stitched, healing. “You’re mine, Joel. And I’m yours."

Silence fell, heavy but not suffocating anymore. The kind of silence where you could finally breathe again. Where you knew he was going to live.

Joel let his head rest back into the pillow, the edge of a tear slipping from the corner of his eye.

“Okay,” he whispered, smiling at you.

You smiled through your tears, the kind that burned hot down your cheeks but carried no pain, only relief.

You shifted in the chair, reaching up to brush a bit of hair back from his forehead, careful not to touch where it was most tender. His skin warmed beneath your fingertips. He was alive, and the reality of that still hadn’t fully settled in.

“I’m gonna be here when you wake up,” you promised, voice like a hush of wind through leaves. “Every morning. And every day if I have to. You focus on getting better.”

Joel's smile trembled, worn and crooked. His good eye drifted shut, but not before his fingers gave yours one more squeeze, like he couldn’t bear to let you go in his sleep.

You watched him as his breathing evened out again, slow like the beat of a song you never thought you would hear again. The soft light of the light, caught a golden hue over the bedsheets.

You rested your head by his side again, your cheek brushing his arm, eyes closing just for a moment. Not to sleep, but to hold the feeling. The warmth. The miracle.

He was still here.

And you would be, too. Always.