her hands aren’t lithe in their movement;   agile and deftly perhaps,   but not lithe.   tess is anything   but   graceful.   she works efficiently to clean and wrap the fresh wound.   it’s a damn good thing she’s well practised.   if it isn’t herself she’s fixing up in a blurry,   grime covered mirror——or broken bottle because these days a reflection is a reflection——than it’s joel,   or it’s someone else.   there’s   always   something,   like one thing after the other.   but hey,   entertainment is few and fair.   at least   it keeps the day interesting. 

❝    you’re a comedian now huh ?    ❞      eyes threaten to roll,   but instead she grips his hand tighter,   adding   more   pressure than they both know is necessary to finish wrapping up his hand.   then,   her heads tilts just slightly.   it’s as if she’s asking him whether he   still   thinks correcting her was funny.   better yet,   correcting her while she’s the one cleaning him up.   neither of them are strangers to smartass remarks.       ❝    you wake up with this idea or did the window do somethin’ to ya?   don’t leave me hangin’ now,   texas.    ❞

he goes for the safe choice, and scoffs at tess’ comment, brushing her off as he usually does when there’s a shortage in clever comebacks on his part — which, to be fair to her, happens a lot, but the sound quickly transforms into a groan, retrieving his hand abruptly, like a wounded animal.    he had become more primal throughout the years, challenging the theory of evolution  [  this is what survival of the fittest looked like  ].

rosita’s eyes go from him to coco,  watching as she points up at joel lazily when he smiles down at her.  she grins,  nodding her head as joel speaks.  she does notice,  and she understands it,  too.  there are a lot of people like him,  who seem to thrive more outside of this place,  though she’s curious where he really stands on it all  (  and just as hesitant to ask,  because she knows that with her current responsibilities,  sharing those kinds of thoughts may not be easy with her.  )   ❝  for the best.  sounded pretty dull.  ❞  the opposite, probably, but not with the kind of company either of them would prefer.  ❝  ah.  guess it’s good that i’m off now, huh?  would hate to be the one to arrest her,  ❞  she teases  —  only because he doesn’t seem to worried,  and she doesn’t want him to be,  either.  ellie reminds her a lot of herself,  and rosita would probably be doing the same thing if she were her age here.  ❝  she making friends?  ❞    

a warm smile spreads over his features,  his hand coming up to lightly rest on joel’s shoulder to show his gratitude.  it’s not just about helping him, though, it’s about knowing there are people here other than him that still believe that they can get back to what they used to have  —-  or at least, somewhere close.  ❝  no,  i didn’t.  but i’ve seen people lose faith, and  .  .  .  i can’t blame them for it.  i wouldn’t blame you,  either.  i’m just glad to hear that you’re sticking around.  i need you for more than just the muscle, you know.  ❞   his smile grows and he nods back at him.  it’s his friendship he needs,  too.  his support.  it’s knowing he’s got someone who has his back in more ways than one,  and right now,  that’s what he’s relying on.

his chuckle sounds like that of someone who’s got caught off guard, the undertone of embarrassment, usually being ‘  subtle  ’ enough to be ignored, now on a more obvious note, even though there was enough familiarity between the two and there was hardly any place for it  [ there laid the truth, no amount of kinship could make joel any less awkward  ].    he was glad, though. glad and relieved to find aaron's faith in the community as unwavering as ever.    what he'd said were no less than facts, and joel knew that; he knew that some people would see the state of the community and choose a more secure route  —  hell, he would've been gone with them, too, if it weren't for the people who made that place his home, ellie's home.    same people who made it impossible for him to hide behind the mindless violence that he could bring into the table  —  he'd never forgotten how to kill, but that’s not all these people saw in him.    joel often wondered about it; wondered if aaron ever saw him like that or if he’d chosen to believe in him first, it did feel like the latter for him which was in itself reassuring.

sasha doesn’t usually ask — it’s much easier to act than it is to speak,  and that’s how they’ve always been most comfortable with anything and everyone.  joel’s the only one who can truly read them;  the only one they’ve allowed the chance,  and sasha knows that it would be just as easy to slide their body into his in silence and without explanation,  knowing he would understand what they need without them having to expose themself to that vulnerability entirely.  yet there’s something about being with joel that’s always made that vulnerability so much easier to digest  —  and they’re willing to let him see all of them,  even when they don’t feel as strong as they wish to carry themself.

he starts to speak,  and they close their eyes,  head tilting down and simply waiting to feel his arms around them to finally feel any sort of relief.  and when they do feel it  —  when they hear those two simple words that say so much more,  they allow their body to melt into his.  there’s no hesitation here,  no walls built around them when they’re in the presence of him and only him.  it’s easy,  it’s natural  —  and they’ve waited so long to find this kind of peace,  to be with someone without feeling like they have to hold so much of themself back out of fear or protection.  they’re safe with him,  and that’s all that matters.  

their face presses into his chest,   hands made into fists as their arms run up his back.  they reach his shoulders and their fingers lightly grasp the material of his shirt,  holding him tightly against themself.  this is as much for him as it is for them too  —  because they notice things, too.  and they know that he deserves  (  and likely needs  )  to be held just as much.  they breathe him in,  letting the silence linger between them for a moment  —  because with him,  it’s never too long.  ❝  you always are,  ❞  they speaks softly;  because they recognize it,  they’re grateful for it.  ❝  don’t know what i’d do, who i’d be —  if you weren’t,  ❞  they whisper against his chest,  barely loud enough to hear.

they press their body into his, always reacting to his touch, so clearly knowing that joel needed to be touched to feel grounded, even now, when it wasn’t about him, and it makes him pace his breathing, nuzzling the top of their head.    his arms already wrapped around their frame react to them pulling him closer with the same urgency;  sasha has given him the chance to not hold back, not with actions, not with words  —  silence had always been a common ground for the two of them; they understood every pause, every hesitation, every sigh, every silent  thought, and yet, whenever joel chose to speak, to materialize what they already knew, it was because he wanted to, because he had this chance to let them hear him say everything, because there was nothing he wanted to keep from them, good or bad.    

❝    i’ma do my damn best so ya don’t have t’ find that out,    ❞    he whispers near their ear, his hold on them just barely loosening up, if only to run a hand in small circles up their shoulder blade.    it’s not a promise if it’s what he’s already been doing; whenever they faced something scary and new, or had to go outside and face the dead for uncertain periods of time, he left knowing that he would come back, that no matter what, he had to come back to his people in one piece, even if said piece was holding itself together with duct tape.    joel knows his limitations, and that death is something everyone would have to face eventually, and it didn’t mean he wouldn’t try his hardest to make that visit further along the road.    so this isn’t a promise, it isn’t something he’ll inevitably break some day, it’s just his truth.

in  the  uneasy  stillness  of  this  deteriorating  town ,     where  brick  and  metal  have  errored  by  time .     where  life  begins  a  new ,     in  between  the  large  crack  in  the  cement  street ,     and  vines  serpentine  along  a  light  post .     they  walk  among  ruins :     where  once  there  was  movement  and  a  collective  heartbeat .     now  the  buildings  creak  against  the  wind ,     the  occasional  sound  of  bricks  crumbling  -     eyes  shoot  towards  the  sound  and   …     there’s  nothing .     mia’s  lips  pucker  slightly  as  she  pouts .     his  response  was  predictable ,     joel  was  never  one  to  rest  while  out  on  the  job .     even  if  his  bones  ache ,     his  spirit  running  low ,     he  always  wants  to  press  on .     “  whatever  you  say  captain ,  ”     she  hesitates  and  waits  for  a  moment .     watching  him  get  a  few  steps  ahead  of  her .     then  a  deep ,     yet  quiet  sigh  escapes -     indicating  her  own  exhaustion .     “   i  am  but  your  humble  skipper ,     and  i  won’t  argue .   ”     shockingly   …     wouldn’t  that  be  a  first  ?

even  with  her  body  screaming  for  rest ,     even  though  she  wishes  to  protest .     she  won’t  and  will  simply  focus  on  pressing  forward .     a  second  later  and  her  feet  begin  walking  again .     taking  larger  steps  to  return  to  joel’s  side ,     pulling  at  the  strap  of  her  backpack  to  readjust  herself .     a futile  attempt  to  cease  the  back  pain  she  was  currently  feeling .     it’s  hard  not  to  fear  the  unknown ,     it  giving  a  reason  for  uncertainty .     in  this  environment ,     it’s  hard  not  to  be  paranoid .     “  but  i  got  some  nuts  ‘nd  fruit  to  nibble  on  if  you’re  hungry .  ”     statement  comes  as  an  offer ,     even  though  it  could  be  disguised  as  her  way  of  encouraging  him  to  eat  something .     sure  he  wears  tiredness  like  a  signature  color .     that  doesn’t  mean  he  should  burn  himself  out  completely .     at  the  very  least ,     it’d  give  him  an  extra  boost  to  his  energy  levels .     “  you  also  didn’t  answer  my  first  question .     we  close  to  that   check  point  yet  ?  ”

he huffs loud enough for it to echo  —  the acoustic of deserted concrete jungle better than any stadium joel had ever been to in the old world.    he doesn’t really let himself get lost in the memories of what had once been, but sometimes a single thought would be triggered strong enough for it to peak into surface.    he still had an acute ear;  there wasn’t much to hear inside the zone, other than sirens and soldiers giving orders, and it wasn’t all that different outside either, though it did feel .    .    .    less hostile  —  which was twice as dangerous  [  it meant being out in the open, exposed in every way.    a risk to say it lightly  ].

blonde  locks  are  pushed  from  masking  tired  features  ,  a  small  smile  upon  the  older  womans’  lips.  her  ill-will  towards  joel  had  quickly  diminished  once  her  husband  had  returned  home  safe   ,  despite  her  stubbornness.  and  now  ,  with  them  being  apart  of  the  growing  community  of  jackson  ,   there  was  a  sense  of  friendship  blossoming  there.  

although  ,  worry  grew  at  his  pacing  &  a  frown  replaced  the  smile  upon  her  features.  it  only  grows  further  as  her  concerned  ‘  joel  ,  come  sit  down.  ‘  meets  deaf  ears  .  .  .  until  he  finally  speaks  up.  she  gives  an  understanding  nod  ,  trying  to  recover  the  smile  she  once  had.  ❛  maybe  just  give  her  time.  she’ll  come  around  .  .  .  ❜  her  words  are  gentle  ,  careful.  ❛  she’s  a  growing  young  girl  ,  don’t  overthink  it.  she  might  just  want  her  own  space.  ❜

his hands run up and down his sides; one, two, maybe three times until they find a place to settle inside the pockets of worn out jeans.    he looks at maria, her nodding sending out some sense of ease into his mind;    he’s grateful for her, for what she means to his brother, for being the family tommy needed when joel failed him  [  and for what? survival? it all seems so brutally futile now  ].    there’s so much mending to do from his side, and . . .    he doesn’t really know from where to start.

i’m sure that in the hours prior to sarah waking up and tommy going to pick them up, when he first started hearing noises at the cooper’s and after getting back from their house and seeing what had happened with them, and seeing jimmy turned — i’m sure he at one point thought about his parents. i think he would’ve tried to contact them even if it was to send them a ‘you guys ok?’ text, or whatever. and that’s only funny to me because joel is a father and a man first and absolutely fucking stupid second, and as such he didn’t have his phone with him so he also missed all the calls and texts from tommy. and then after that first encounter with the new reality, he grabbed sarah and the gun and nothing else. so even if he would’ve wanted to contact them then <3 he wouldn’t have his phone with him either <3 but that’s fine because there was no signal anywhere so he’s excused.

i do believe that as the years went by, he pushed back the thought of them even if it had been merely a whisper to begin with, so when we see him in boston twenty years later, he hardly thinks about tommy unless it’s prompted at him and even then, it’s never a recurring thought ?? but i think he’s always rooted for his mom to make it. like in the very deep core of him, he thinks of her in present tense if that makes any sense at all.