Missladym

If anything, he moved with the same steady pace he had before when catching you in the woods - unbothered, unaffected - as if the weight of you and the noise you made were nothing more than background to his thoughts.

Shapes shifted around you as he passed through the settlement - figures pausing in their work, glancing up at the commotion. You caught glimpses of them in fragments.

But no one stepped in.

No one said a word.

They watched.

And then they looked away.

“Joel - Joel, listen -” Your voice cracked hard enough to hurt, the words tumbling over each other in your rush to get them out. You twisted against him as you tried to catch his attention, tried to make him hear you. “I won’t - I won’t do it again, I swear, I’ll behave, I’ll -”

Your breath hitched, then broke.

“Just tell me what you want me to do,” you forced out, desperation bleeding into every syllable. “I’ll do it. Anything. I’ll stay, I’ll work, I won’t try to run again - just -”

His hand tightened where it held you in place.

The rest of your plea dissolved into a choking inhale as he mounted the small set of steps to his cabin, his boot coming up hard against the door. The wood gave with a dull crack, swinging inward before slamming shut again behind you just as fast.

Inside, it suddenly felt too still.

“Told you already,” he said, voice low and even as he crossed the room. “Got a task for you.”

Your stomach dropped.

You knew this place - at least, the parts of it he’d allowed you to see. The front room was bare, almost stripped down to the bones. A worn couch that had seen better years, a rough wooden desk littered with maps and scraps, a stool with peeling paint that flaked under the slightest touch.

You’d been here twice.

Once when they’d brought you in, dirt-streaked and shaking, shoved forward for him to look over like something newly acquired.

And once after that - when you’d carried food in, careful and quiet, pretending your eyes weren’t cataloguing every detail they could reach.

That had felt like control, then.

It felt like a joke now.

You barely had time to register the shift in direction before he pushed into the back room, the door creaking faintly as it opened and shut behind you. The scent of old wood and something worn into the bed that sat against the far wall.

“I don’t -” Your voice broke completely now, the words collapsing under the weight of everything pressing in on you. “Please -”

“As I said,” he cut in, and then his hands were on you - firm at your hips as he pulled you down from his shoulder.

For a fraction of a second, there was weightlessness, then he dropped you. The mattress dipped beneath you with a creak, old springs protesting as you landed awkwardly, breath knocked out of you in a soft, startled sound.

The moment you hit, instinct took over.

You scrambled back - clumsy, unbalanced with your hands still bound - until your spine met the cold metal of the bedframe. As far away from him as you could get without falling off entirely.

Joel just stood there at the foot of the bed, arms crossing over his broad chest as he watched you. That same expression sitting easy on his face - something dark and faintly amused that made your skin crawl.

“Joel,” you tried again, your pulse hammering so hard it blurred the edges of your vision. “You don’t mean - you can’t -”

“Oh, I can,” he said, almost casually. A small nod, like he was agreeing with something simple and obvious. “Can do just about whatever I want.” A slight shrug lifted one shoulder. “Perks of the job.”

Another sob forced its way out of you, your balance slipping as you tried to wipe at your face - only to remember too late that your hands were still tied. You caught yourself awkwardly, breath stuttering.

“Look at you,” he murmured, something almost like a chuckle threading through it as he shifted his weight, leaning back against the door. One boot crossed over the other. “Already fallin’ apart.” His gaze dragged over you. “Haven’t even touched you yet.”

The air in the room tightened.

You felt it in your throat, your chest, the way your lungs refused to take in a full breath no matter how hard you tried.

For a second, you almost did it - almost broke completely, let yourself collapse into it, into the fear and the pleading and the uselessness of it all.

And then - 

You stopped.

Because something in his face told you it wouldn’t matter.

Worse - it might even be to his liking.

So you swallowed it down and forced your breathing to slow, even as it shook. Forced your shoulders back just a fraction, your spine straightening against the frame behind you.

“Joel…” Your voice trembled anyway. You couldn’t stop that. “I’m - I’m sorry.” The words tasted like ash. “I won’t try again.” A beat. “I’ll do what you say.”

Silence stretched for half a second too long.

“I bet you are.” The grin that followed wasn’t kind. “Thing is, you’re only sorry ‘cause I caught you,” he added, pushing off the door at last.

You moved without thinking - one leg sliding down off the bed, your weight shifting like maybe you could - 

“Ah -”

That was all it took. Just that low, warning sound.

You froze.

“Let’s not start that again,” he said, almost gently, as he stepped closer. “Wouldn’t be smart.”

You scrambled back instantly, your movement jerky and uncoordinated as you retreated fully onto the mattress again, making yourself smaller without meaning to.

His hand closed around your wrists before you could react.

The force of it dragged you backward with a sharp jolt, your breath caught as your body followed whether you wanted it to or not. Your shoulder hit his thigh, your head knocking lightly against him as he pulled your arms up higher behind your back.

Pain flared - sharp, stretching too far, too fast - and a broken sound tore from your throat.

And then - 

It stopped.

The restraint was gone.

For a second, your brain didn’t catch up. Didn’t understand why the tension was gone - why your wrists weren’t held tight together anymore. You yanked your hands forward on instinct anyway, staring down at them as you flexed your fingers, rubbing at the reddened skin where the binding had been.

Your gaze snapped up and confusion flickered in your eyes - because he was still right there, still too close.

And then you saw the knife, resting easy in his hand like it belonged there.

Your breath hitched as he reached out, cold metal kissing skin, the blade catching lightly against your jaw and tilting your face up with a touch that was almost - almost - careful.

You went still.

“Don’t get any ideas,” he said quietly. “This is only temporary.”

Swallowing felt like dragging glass down your throat, but you tried anyway, your body betraying you in the way it tensed, the way your pulse jumped beneath the edge of the blade.

“Turn around,” he then added. The knife traced a faint line beneath your chin before pulling away, the pressure gone but the threat lingering heavy in the air.

Do as I tell you or suffer the consequences.

You didn’t argue nor did you hesitate.

You shifted clumsily, moving onto your knees, turning until you faced him properly. Your hands came to rest in your lap - open, empty, visible as a silent surrender.

You hated how it felt. Hated the way it put you beneath him.

Joel stood over you, the knife flipping idly between his fingers now, his gaze slow as it moved over you. Taking you in with an amusement that made you sick to your stomach.

That same dark, quiet satisfaction settling into the lines of his face.

“See?” he murmured, satisfaction threading through the word as he took a step back. “You can listen. Just needed the right… motivation.”

The space he created should have felt like relief. Instead, it left you unsteady. Your lungs dragged in air too fast, too shallow, as if he’d taken all the oxygen with him when he moved.

For a fraction of a second, you thought - hoped - that maybe this was it. That he would stop here. That whatever line had been approaching would remain uncrossed.

Then - 

“Undress.”

The word didn’t land.

Not at first anyway.

It hung in the air between you, too flat, too casual, like you had misheard it - like your mind had twisted something else into something far worse.

You just stared at him and your vision blurred at the edges, tears gathering without your permission, your chest tightening around a breath that wouldn’t come.

“Joel…” It barely made it out, more whisper than anything else.

“Don’t ‘Joel’ me, sweetheart.” His voice stayed even, grounded in that authority he carried with him. “You heard me just fine.” A small tilt of his head toward the edge of the bed. “Up. Off. And get out of those clothes.”

Your body didn’t move.

It wasn’t defiance - not really. There was no strength behind it or resistance you could follow through on. It was more like a full-body refusal that locked every muscle in place and turned your limbs heavy and unresponsive.

You could only look at him and could only hope - irrationally, desperately - that he would see it. That he would read the fear sitting plain in your eyes and understand what he was asking of you.

That something in him would stop this.

It didn’t.

A tired breath left Joel instead, the faintest flicker of impatience crossing his face.

“Listen, darlin’,” he said, quieter now, but no less firm. “I don’t like repeatin’ myself.”

The knife flipped once in his hand with ease - until the blade pointed your way.

“So you got about a second,” he continued, almost conversational, “to get down here and start movin’… before I decide to help you along.”

Your pulse slammed hard against your ribs.

Still - nothing.

Your body refused you.

His shift was quick enough to steal the breath from your lungs before you could react. His hand closed around your arm, fingers digging in firm and unyielding as he yanked you forward off the bed.

Your feet hit the ground awkwardly, balance faltering as you stumbled, barely catching yourself before your knees gave out.

“No - please, I -”

Too late.

In one smooth motion, he turned you, your back colliding with his chest as he pulled you flush against him. The sudden contact knocked the air from your lungs again, your body going rigid as his arm slid across your upper chest, locking you in place.

Your hands came up instinctively, clawing at his forearm, your nails bit into his skin and the fabric of his flannel where it was rolled at the sleeves. But it didn’t even seem to reach him.

The panic that followed came instantly and broke through whatever control you’d tried to hold onto. Your breaths turned ragged, uneven, sobs spilling out without words as hysteria crept in at the edges.

And then - 

Cold metal pressed lightly against your throat again, making you freeze all over.

“There we go,” he murmured, his voice right against your ear. “That’s better.”

His cheek brushed your temple as he leaned in, his presence wrapping around you from behind.

“Easy,” he went on like he was talking you down from a atupidity. “Ain’t done nothin’ yet.” The contrast made it worse. That calm. That control. It make you shudder and break another whimper.

“Shhh…” The knife shifted, gliding from your throat down along the line of your collarbone. “Just gonna help you outta this,” he added absently, as the blade traced over the front of your tanktop, following the damp, dirt-streaked fabric. “Don’t want you catchin’ a cold now, do we?”

His beard brushed faintly against your skin. The scent of him pressed in inescapably.

Your eyes squeezed shut and you tried to block everything out. The proximity. The strength behind you. The way his chest rose and fell steady against your back, like none of this was anything out of the ordinary.

“Now,” he said, the edge in his voice returning just enough to cut through the haze, “be a good fuckin’ girl...” The knife lingered, hovering just enough to remind you it was there. “... and take it off, before I slip.”

Your grip on him faltered just a fraction. Your fingers, which had been digging into his arm hard enough to leave marks, loosened as something in you shifted - not giving in, not accepting, but… adjusting. Surviving.

At the same time, his hold eased just enough to allow movement.

Your hands trembled as you lowered them, your breath still coming in uneven pulls as you forced yourself to focus.

Slowly, carefully, you reached for the hem of your top.

Your fingers fumbled at first, uncoordinated, numb from the rush of everything flooding through you. It took effort - more than it should have - to get a proper hold.

The fabric dragged upward, catching briefly before sliding over your ribs, your chest, your shoulders - until it came free, leaving your skin exposed to the cold air of the room.

Your arms dropped again, the shirt clutched loosely in your hands.

And for a moment - 

Everything went very, very still.

“There we go.” His voice came low behind you, threaded with sick satisfaction. “Not so hard, was it?”

Your arms came up instinctively, folding across your chest and bra, a poor attempt at shielding yourself.

Joel didn’t seem to care. You felt the shift of him behind you, close enough that the heat of his body still lingered, and then the faint brush of his hand as he took the discarded top from your grip. It slipped from his fingers a moment later, landing somewhere on the floor with a soft, final sound.

You squeezed your eyes shut.

Because you already knew what would follow.

“Those jeans next, darlin’,” he said, tone easy, like he was giving instructions for something mundane. “Don’t need more mud in my bed.”

Something in you wanted to hesitate again. To stall. To cling to what little control you had left. But that had already been taken from you the moment he decided it would be.

So this time, you didn’t fight it.

Your shoes came off first, kicked away clumsily, landing somewhere in front of you. Then your fingers found the button of your jeans - fumbling at first, shaking too much to get a proper grip.

The zipper followed, the sound unnervingly loud in the quiet room, and you pushed the damp fabric down your legs, shifting awkwardly to step out of it. The cold hit harder without it, your thighs pressing together as if that could make any difference.

“I’ll be damned.” The low huff behind you made your stomach twist, followed by a soft whistle that carried just enough weight to make your skin crawl. “Didn’t figure you’d get cooperative this quick.”

You swallowed hard, keeping your gaze fixed somewhere ahead - anywhere but on him.

“Want me to fight back again?” The words slipped out before you could stop them, sharp-edged and brittle, your voice carrying more bite than you had any right to show.

You regretted it instantly.

A short laugh left him and he stepped closer again.

“Now that,” he murmured, “sounds like a fun way to spend the evenin’.”

You flinched before you could stop yourself as the tip of the knife found your back and dragged slowly along the line of your spine. 

“Wouldn’t mind puttin’ you back in your place just now,” he went on, voice dipping lower. “Wipe that attitude clean until there’s nothin’ left but sense.”

The blade shifted, catching lightly at the back of your bra, and your breath hitched, a sob threatening to break free before you forced it down.

You felt him lean in, the rough brush of his beard against the back of your head, his breath warm where it ghosted over your hair as he inhaled.

Your eyes squeezed shut tighter.

“But,” he added after a moment, and the word alone carried enough weight to still you, “that ain’t what this is.” The knife lifted and the pressure vanished. “This here’s about patience.” His voice softened for a torturous fraction. “Need you to understand somethin’. Not fear, it’s about realizin’ what your new life will be.”

Before you could make sense of it, he stepped away.

The loss of him - of the heat, the presence - felt just as abrupt as when he’d first created distance, leaving you standing there, exposed and unsteady.

And then his hands were on you again.

He pushed you forward without warning, and you stumbled, catching yourself only barely as your knees hit the mattress, your hands coming down hard against the worn fabric of the bed.

“Just -” The words tore out of you, sharp with something that felt dangerously close to anger now, rising where only panic had been before. “Just get it over with.”

You turned slightly, enough to look at him over your shoulder, your jaw tight, your eyes burning.

Joel didn’t answer right away.

His gaze moved over your body instead - taking in every detail you wished he wouldn’t see. The way your shoulders tensed, the way your body tried to fold in on itself despite your attempt to hold steady.

“Oh,” he clicked his tongue. “So impatient now? Don’t get me wrong, costin’ me a lot not to fuck you right away. But… When that time comes, you will want it just as much as I do, I promise.”

A faint tilt of his head.

“For now -”

His hand moved fast.

It caught your ankle before you could pull away, his grip locking around it with an ease that sent a jolt of panic straight through you.

For a split second, your mind went somewhere worse - anticipating him spreading your legs, forcing himself over you and pining you down with his body.

But that wasn’t what he did.

Instead, he pulled you - just enough to shift you closer to the foot of the bed, toward the iron frame.

And then you saw it.

The metal glint caught your eye too late.

“No -” The word barely formed before the cold bite of a handcuff closed around your ankle with a sharp, final click.

You jerked instinctively, pulling back, trying to wrench yourself free - but the chain held fast, short enough to keep you close, strong enough to make resistance pointless.

“No more runnin’, sweetheart.”

Your hands scrambled at it, fingers fumbling over the cuff, searching for anything that might give.

But it didn’t budge.

Your gaze snapped back up to him, panic surging all over again.

“What are you - what will you -”

“As I said.” He cut you off with a shrug. “Patience.” There was something unsettling in the way he said it. “You’ll see,” he added, giving you one last look over. “Soon you’ll beg for very different things.”

His expression shifted again, that same dark edge curling at the corner of his mouth.

“Gotta admit,” he went on, almost idly, “takes some patience on my end too. But I want you to understand,” he said as he reached the door, his back half-turned to you now. “Where you are. What this is.” His hand rested briefly on the frame. “This is your place now.” The door creaked open. “And you’ll learn how to be fuckin’ grateful for it.” Joel clicked his tongue, lips splitting into a darker grin. “And next time you’re beggin’, you’re beggin’ that I take you, ‘cause it’s the only thing that’ll make you feel safe.” 

Then he stepped out.

The door shut behind him with a dull, solid thud.

And just like that - 

He was gone.

For a second, you didn’t move.

Didn’t breathe.

Then it all rushed back in at once.

You lunged for the chain, pulling hard enough to rattle the frame, the metal biting against your skin as you tried - again and again - to force it loose.

“Joel?”

Your voice cracked, louder now, sharper.

Nothing.

“Joel!” The name tore out of you, echoing off the walls. “JOEL!”

Silence answered.

And no matter how hard you pulled - 

Nothing gave.

Time lost its edges somewhere along the way.

At first, you had tried to keep track of it - counting the hours by the thin sliver of light that crept through the small, covered window, marking the slow crawl from dim gray to daylight, then back again to night. You had clung to it like it mattered, like knowing how long you had been here could somehow anchor you to something real.

But it slipped.

Blurred.

Days bled into nights into something in between, until the difference stopped meaning anything at all. The rhythm of it dissolved, replaced by a dull endlessness that stretched on without shape or structure.

You barely moved anymore.

Your body had learned quickly what it could and couldn’t afford, and movement had become something costly. The chain at your ankle dictated most of it anyway - its short length forcing you into a small radius that had long since become your entire world. The bed beneath you had molded itself around that limitation, the only position that didn’t pull or strain or send a sharp reminder through your leg being the one you’d settled into days ago.

Curled. Small. Still.

You remembered being different.

At the beginning, there had been anger. Sharp and biting, it had cut through the fear like a drive that could keep you standing. You had argued - God, you had argued. Thrown words at the walls, at the silence, at him whenever he had stepped through that door. You had tried to bargain, to reason, to push back in whatever ways you could manage.

And you had listened, too.

Every sound outside that room had mattered. Voices drifting in from the camp, footsteps passing by, the occasional shift in routine that you tried to piece together into useful information.

An opening.

A mistake.

Anything.

Now - 

Now all of it felt far away. Like something that had belonged to someone else in another life.

Your body lay curled on its side, knees drawn in just enough to ease the pull on the cuff around your ankle, your arms tucked close in a weak attempt to preserve warmth that never quite came. The blanket beneath your fingers was rough, worn thin in places, but it was the only constant you had left.

Your tears had stopped days ago.

Not because you didn’t want to cry - God, you did - but because your body had simply… run out. There was nothing left to give. No moisture to spare, no energy to waste on something that didn’t change anything.

Everything felt dulled.

The hunger had faded first, gnawing and sharp until it wasn’t, until it slipped into the background like a distant.

The thirst stayed though.

Relentless and consuming it turned your throat dry, every swallow a small, painful effort that gave you nothing in return. Your lips felt cracked, your tongue heavy in your mouth, your head pounding with a dull, persistent ache that never quite lifted.

When had he last come in?

You couldn’t remember.

The thought drifted through your mind without finding anything solid to hold onto. His visits had become… brief and infrequent. A presence that came and went so quickly it almost felt imagined, if not for the small, undeniable traces he left behind.

A shift in the air. A sound at the door. Proof that you hadn’t been abandoned entirely.

Because that - somehow - felt worse.

The idea of being left here, alone, with nothing but the forest outside and whatever might wander through it… that still sent a flicker of panic through you, even now. Even in this dulled, distant state. Raiders. Strangers. Infected. You had nothing left to fight them with. No strength, no weapon, no chance.

At least here - at least with him - 

There was… something.

A boundary.

A cruel kind of safety.

Sometimes, in the long stretches of night, when the dark pressed in too close and the silence grew too loud, your thoughts drifted somewhere you didn’t want them to go. To places that whispered of an easier end.

But a stubborn force in you refused to let that thought settle. Refused to let go completely.

It kept you here, kept you breathing.

Even when every part of you felt like it was slipping further and further away.

You hovered there now, on the edge of sleep - not true rest, just the empty kind that came when your body had nothing left to give - when the sound reached you.

The click of the door.

You didn’t move or lift your head, didn’t even open your eyes. It took too much.

It was always him anyway.

The slow, measured sound of Joel’s boots crossing the room followed, each step unhurried. You could track him without looking, could feel the shift in the air as he moved closer, closer - 

Until the broad shadow fell over you.

“Not lookin’ too energetic, sweetheart.”

The words settled over you, carrying that same steady calm that had never once faltered. Not at the beginning. Not now.

You tried to swallow.

Your throat protested immediately, the motion dry and painful, leaving you with nothing but the faintest rasp when you attempted to answer. No words came. Only a weak shift of your fingers against the blanket, a reflex more than anything.

The mattress dipped beside you.

Your eyes fluttered open and for a second the world didn’t quite come into focus. Shapes blurred together, light and shadow bleeding into each other until they settled enough for you to see Joel’s broad figure.

And the glass in his hand.

Your entire focus snapped to it, your head lifting just slightly, barely enough to track the way the light caught against the surface.

Joel let out a quiet, humorless huff.

“Yeah,” he muttered. “Figured as much.” His gaze flicked back to you, something unreadable sitting behind it. “You thirsty, darlin’?”

You managed the smallest nod and a faint, broken sound escaped your throat with it, barely there.

“Shh.” His voice softened even though it lacked real gentleness.

His hand came up, sliding beneath your head, lifting you with surprising care until you were more upright, your body swaying slightly with the movement.

“C’mon,” he murmured. “Stay with me.”

The glass hovered close enough now that you could almost feel the coolness of it against your skin. Your eyes tracked it, slipping in and out of focus, your entire body leaning toward it without thinking.

“You want some?” he asked, like it wasn’t already obvious.

You nodded again.

Weak.

Desperate.

“Didn’t quite catch that.”

The calm in his voice made something twist in your chest.

“P-please…” The word scraped out of you, so thinned out…

His mouth curved faintly.

“That’s my girl.” His hand shifted, cupping your cheek to steady you, his thumb brushing lightly over your cheekbone. “Open up for me.”

You did.

Instantly.

The moment the glass tipped and the water touched your lips, everything else disappeared. The restraint you’d been clinging to - what little of it remained - shattered under the sheer need of it. You drank greedily, swallowing too fast, too much, the liquid spilling at the corners of your mouth as you tried to take in as much as you could.

A small cough broke through, choking you briefly, forcing you to pull back just enough to catch your breath.

Joel let out a low chuckle, his thumb brushing away the water that had run down your cheek.

“Easy,” he said. “Ain’t goin’ anywhere.”

He gave you a moment, then brought the glass back.

“That better?” he asked, watching you as you drank again, slower this time, your body still trembling slightly with the effort.

You nodded faintly against his hand.

“Yeah,” he murmured, almost to himself. “Thought so.”

When the glass finally emptied, he set it aside, his hand still steady at your jaw as he adjusted you, lifting you just a little more.

Your gaze followed the glass as far as it could.

Then snapped back to him.

“M-more…” The word came easier this time, but only just. “Please.”

It was instinct now. Need overriding everything else.

He watched you for a moment.

Long enough to make your stomach tighten.

“Maybe,” he said slowly, like he was considering it.

His fingers tilted your chin slightly, guiding your face up toward him, while his other hand brushed through your hair, pushing the tangled strands back from your face. You knew how it must look - greasy, unkempt, clinging in uneven pieces - but you couldn’t bring yourself to care.

Not when the dryness in your throat screamed louder than anything else.

“Tell you what,” he went on, his tone shifting again into something almost casual. “We’ll get you a bit more.”

A pause.

“But first -” His thumb dragged lightly along your jaw. “We clean you up some.”

How you were supposed to manage that, you had no idea.

Holding your own weight upright for more than a few seconds already felt like too much, your head swimming with the effort, your body barely responding the way it should. The thought of moving - of doing anything beyond the small, careful shifts you’d limited yourself to - felt almost impossible.

Luckily, Joel didn’t leave it to you.

His hands steadied you first, lowering you back against the mattress with a care that felt almost out of place after everything else. Then you felt him at your ankle - fingers brushing over the cold metal there - and a second later, the distinct click of it releasing.

For a moment, your mind didn’t catch up.

Didn’t process what that meant.

Because before you could, he was already moving again, one arm sliding beneath your knees, the other bracing your back as he lifted you up with ease.

Your body reacted before your thoughts could catch up, your head lolling against his chest as your arms curled in close, instinctively seeking stability.

You hated the way it felt. Because it was good somehow.

The steady rise and fall of his breathing beneath your cheek, the solid warmth of him holding you close - it pulled at something deep and desperate inside you, something that had been starved of contact, of anything resembling care.

You curled in without meaning to.

You didn’t need to see his face to know that he noticed it - the slight shift in his hold, the way his grip settled more comfortably around you, like he was exactly where he wanted to be.

“When was the last time you had a real bath, hm?”

His voice was close to thoughtful as he carried you out of the room, the place that had become your entire world fading behind you with each step he took.

The room he brought you to was small.

A bathroom that had long since lost whatever comfort it once held, but the sight of the tub - actual water filling it, faintly steaming in the low, flickering light of a worn out camping lamp - felt almost surreal.

Joel crouched slightly as he approached it, adjusting his hold on you.

“Gonna get you outta the rest of this, alright?”

The question wasn’t really one.

You both knew that.

Still - your head shifted faintly against his chest.

A weak nod.

“Yes.”

The word came easier now and with a quiet compliance.

He set you down on the edge of the tub, the cold porcelain biting into your skin as your body slumped forward slightly before you forced yourself upright again, your balance wavering but holding - for now.

Joel crouched in front of you but even like this, he felt larger than you by far.

“Gonna have you feelin’ brand new,” he murmured, his hand brushing slowly along your arm.

Your body reacted immediately. A small shift toward him before you could stop it. The need for contact overriding your better judgment for just a second too long.

It vanished though the moment his fingers moved higher, finding the clasp at your back, undoing it with practiced ease before sliding the straps of your bra from you.

Your shoulders pulled inward automatically, a weak attempt at covering yourself that you didn’t have the strength to fully follow through on.

“Now, now,” he muttered amused. “No need for that. Nothin’ I haven’t seen somewhere already.”

His grin wasn’t kind.

“Now help me out here.”

His hand moved lower, fingers grazing your side before hooking lightly at the edge of your panties, tugging just enough to guide you.

And again - 

You followed.

Your body shifting with his touch, hips lifting just slightly as he pulled the fabric down, over your skin, over your thighs, your knees - until it caught briefly at your ankles.

He took his time then.

Lifting one foot free.

Then the other.

His fingers brushing lightly over your skin in a way that lingered just a second longer than necessary.

“You’re doin’ real good,” he praised and it washed over you. “See? Ain’t so hard.”

You nodded again in automation. You weren’t even sure what you were agreeing to anymore - only that going along with it seemed to make things… easier.

“C’mon.” His hands guided you gently, lifting your legs over the edge of the tub and lowering you into the water.

The warmth hit instantly.

A shock at first - then relief.

Your body sank into it and tension unraveled in a way you hadn’t realized it could, every muscle loosening as the heat seeped in, easing the stiffness, the ache, the constant strain you had been carrying for days. The water bit only at the skin where the cuffs had scraped over the past few days.

“There you go,” he murmured, watching you as you settled, his voice carrying that same quiet approval. “That better?”

You nodded again, slower this time.

His hand hovered in the water near you - not touching, but close enough that you were aware of it.

“Yeah,” he said, almost to himself. “Figured. C’mon,” he added after a moment. “Lean back.”

His hand slid beneath your neck, supporting you as he guided you down, your head tilting back into his palm as your hair sank beneath the surface. The water closed around you and muffled everything for a bit.

His other hand moved then, scooping water, letting it run slowly over your scalp, careful and controlled, keeping it from your eyes.

You let them close.

Let yourself drift in it.

For a moment, it felt like actual safety. Like care or something you could almost trust.

That was because you didn’t see the way his gaze shifted.

Didn’t catch the way it moved over your naked body - taking in every detail with a quiet intensity that bordered on predatory.

Instead, you only felt his hand again, moving from your hair to your arm, fingers tracing slowly along your skin.

Up.

Down.

Your breath caught faintly, your body tensing just a fraction before it eased again, caught between instinct and the overwhelming relief of the warmth around you.

His hand moved further.

Your side this time, following the curve there, slow and unhurried.

Your eyes only snapped open when his fingers suddenly found your nipple, softly tweezing it as if testing.

“J-Joel…” You searched his eyes but he only looked at you with the same unraveling calm. His fingers retreated slightly, the pressure easing as if nothing had happened, as if it had meant nothing at all.

“Easy,” he said, that same quiet tone slipping back into place. “Just helpin’ you out.”

Your pulse picked up.

But you didn’t pull away.

Instead, you let your head fall back into his hand again, your body sinking deeper into the water, your mind too tired, too worn down to hold onto a sane reaction.

“See?” Joel’s voice dropped low next to you. “Whole lot better when you just let go, darlin’.”

The words drifted over you, wrapping around the warmth of the water, around the heaviness in your limbs that made it easier to sink into it. His touch followed soon after, returning without hesitation nor rush. His fingers brushed along your collarbone, traced the line of your neck before moving over your shoulder like he had all the time in the world.

The path of his hand as it cupped your breast, slid further, over the softened curve of your stomach beneath the water. A faint, involuntary flinch slipped through you when the touch tickled just slightly, your breath catching on it.

A low chuckle answered it.

“That feelin’ alright?” he murmured, close enough that you could feel the vibration of it through the water. “Me takin’ care of you?”

Your head tilted back just slightly in his hold.

You nodded.

Because somewhere beneath the exhaustion, beneath the haze of everything you had been through, there was a pull - a need - that reached for exactly this. For steadiness. For something that felt like being held together instead of pulled apart.

Joel’s voice shifted again, something deeper threading through it now.

“Want me to take real good care of ya?”

There was something in it.

An edge you should have caught.

But your mind… lagged. Sluggish, dulled by days of deprivation, by the overwhelming relief of warmth and water and touch that didn’t hurt.

So you nodded again.

“Yes, Joel.”

Your eyes had already slipped closed again, your body settling further into the water, into him - so you didn’t see the change in his expression. Didn’t see the way a darkness settled behind his gaze, paired with that faint, unsettling curve of his mouth.

His hand moved further from your stomach until he dipped between your legs, cupping your mound. He kept still then, letting you feel the warmth of his hand in contrast to the warmth of the water. It blurred together, your body too slow to react the way your mind tried to. There was a disconnect there, you should scream, object, push away. 

Instead your hips shifted against him - just slightly, barely there - but enough for him to notice.

“Look at you,” Joel murmured, shifting beside the tub as he sat at the edge, his focus fully on you. “Real pretty like this.”

His voice dropped lower.

“Soft… open…”

His middle finger traced lazily along your slit and your mouth opened without meaning to, a faint, unsteady breath slipping free.

“...vulnerable.”

He shifted closer as he applied more pressure with his finger, parting you and sliding once up and down before giving your clit a small, testing flick. There was a subtle increase in pressure and your body answered before your mind could catch up.

Joel made a low, almost soothing sound, meant to calm, to steady, as if he could feel that split inside you.

“That’s it,” he murmured. “Ain’t nothin’ to fight here.” His touch slowed, drawing rhythmic circles around your sensitive spot. “That’s what you needed?” he went on. “Someone takin’ proper care of you?”

Part of you recoiled.

The contradiction sat heavy in your chest, tightening your breath, even as your hand moved on its own accord, finding his arm beneath the water. Your fingers curled there, seeking something to hold onto as the surface shifted in soft ripples around you, each small movement of his hand sending them outward in quiet, overlapping waves.

“That’s it,” Joel murmured and the approval in his voice was coaxing. “Sweet girl… I got ya.”

His finger pressed at your entrance, and when it nudged at you more firmly, your body reacted instantly. A sharp inhale broke from you, uncontained, your back arching just slightly before the strength left you again, leaving only that trembling, uncertain tension behind.

“Shhh… shh…” he soothed, the sound close to your ear, his hand at your neck tightening just enough to steady you when you wavered, his thumb brushing slow, grounding strokes along the sensitive line there. “Easy now. Just relax.”

It shouldn’t have worked.

And yet -

Somehow, it did.

The tension softened at the edges as you let out a long, shaky breath. Your body followed it, sinking just a fraction deeper into the warmth, into his hold.

He didn’t hesitate.

The moment you gave him that inch, he took it.

His finger moved and pressed in, and the sensation made you jolt weakly, a broken sound catching in your throat as your grip on his arm tightened without strength behind it.

“There we go,” he smiled, satisfaction threading through the words. “That’s it, baby girl… gonna do you some good.”

His movements stayed steady, controlled in a way that gave you no choice but to adjust and to follow along, your body slowly giving way to the rhythm he set with his finger pumping in and out of you even though it felt too much already.

Your eyes stayed shut though.

Like that alone could block it out, could distance you from the reality of Joel fingerfucking you in a state of haze and hallucination.

Because if you had opened them - if you had forced yourself to look - you would have seen it. The way his gaze lingered on you, tracking every reaction you couldn’t hide. The slight shifts in your expression, the way your lips parted without sound, the way your brows pulled together when he hit deeper than before, burying his finger to the last knuckle.

You would have seen how closely he watched.

How much he noticed.

And you would have caught the way something darker settled into his expression. The quiet satisfaction. The intent behind it. Maybe even how his body responded in turn, the bulge in his jeans growing.

But you didn’t.

You stayed in the dark.

And in that darkness, everything blurred together - the warmth of the water, the weight of his touch, the exhaustion that dulled your thoughts and softened your edges until all that remained was sensation.

Because all there was with Joel was darkness, sweet, coating, everlasting.

His movements shifted - firmer now, more insistent - though they never lost that same controlled rhythm. It pulled small sounds from you before you could stop them, caught somewhere between resistance and a plea for more.

“What’s that, sweetie?” Joel’s voice carried that low, knowing edge again. “You need a little more?”

He didn’t wait for an answer. Didn’t give you the space to form one. Instead, he added his index finger, splitting you further open and giving you little to no time to adjust as his palm pressed against your clit.

A broken sound slipped out of you and your body betrayed you once more - leaning into him, seeking the steadiness of his arm, your hips shifting just enough to meet the motion rather than escape it.

Joel huffed a quiet laugh at that.

“So eager, darlin’,” he smirked. “Can’t wait to get that sweet release, do you?”

The water moved around you in uneven ripples, echoing every subtle shift, every reaction you couldn’t fully control. Your legs tried to draw in, instinctively, but his arm kept you where he wanted you - open and surrendered.

His fingers pushed harder and it forced another breath from you - sharper this time, breaking unevenly as your head dipped slightly, the water brushing higher along your skin.

“You’re doin’ so good,” he muttered, though there was no real softness in it - only control. “Want me to give it to you, sweetheart?”

Your body tried to keep up, tried to ground itself, but everything felt blurred - too much and not enough all at once. The warmth, the exhaustion, the constant pull between pushing away and leaning in - it tangled together until it was impossible to separate one from the other.

“C’mon,” Joel pressed, his voice dropping lower and his hand pumping unrelenting. “Use your words.”

His grip at your neck tightened just slightly, to keep you from slipping further under the surface when your balance wavered.

“Speak.”

Your eyes fluttered open then, barely, your gaze catching on his through the haze - unsteady, unfocused, something pleading sitting behind it without form or clarity.

“P-please…”

The word came out thin.

He tilted his head slightly.

“Please what, darlin’?”

You didn’t know.

Part of you wanted it to stop - to end, to pull away, to reclaim something of yourself that felt like it was slipping too far out of reach. But another part clung to it instead. To the way it filled the silence, the emptiness.

A tear slipped free, tracing down your temple.

A faint smile touched Joel’s mouth.

“‘Please continue’?,” he murmured, almost to himself. “‘Please go harder’? ‘Please more’? Want me to fill you up real good?”

That made you shake your head immediately. You were more than certain that your body would not be in a state to take him fully. Not now. Not ever.

Joel answered with a condescending laugh. “Yeah, no, that time will come. But we have to prepare you for it, don’t we? For now”, he pulled from you nearly completely only to drive in even deeper than before, making you gasp and your insides twist, “for now, I just need you to come for me, baby girl.” 

Your breath stuttered, your grip tightening weakly against him as your body tensed, that unfamiliar pressure coiling tighter and tighter beneath your ribs.

“Almost there,” he guided you through it. “Just let it happen.”

You didn’t fight it.

Not anymore.

There wasn’t anything left in you to hold it back.

The tension snapped suddenly, pulling you under in a way that stole what little breath you had left. The water rose around you, covering your ears and dulling everything for a moment - your own moans, his voice - the world narrowing to that single, overwhelming sensation that ran through you in sharp, unsteady waves.

Joel stayed buried deep in you, feeling your spasms pulling his digits deeper.

“Oh, darlin,” he cooed, “I can only imagine what you must feel like around my cock. Can’t wait for you to be ready for me.” His muffled words carried you through it, stars bursting before your inner eye and the sensation rippling through your weakened body. 

You barely registered the way he shifted, the low sound he made under his breath as your body tightened and then slowly, slowly began to ease again.

It took time.

Your breathing came back first - shallow, uneven - your body following in slow increments, the tension draining out of your limbs until you felt heavy again, spent in a way that left no room for anything else.

“Well done,” he spoke after a moment. “That must have cost you.”

He curled his fingers once more and made sure to collect every spasm and after effect his touch had on you before he slipped his fingers from you and gave your pussy a last affirmative pat.

Then his hand moved upward through the water, cupping your face this time, steadying you as he leaned in just enough to press a hard long kiss to the top of your head.

“Did so good for me,” he said softly. “Ain’t so bad when you listen, is it?”

You shook your head slightly, the movement weak, your eyes already drifting shut again as the exhaustion settled back in fully.

He adjusted his hold, his arms sliding beneath you once more as he lifted you from the tub, water splashing everywhere. The warmth left you too quickly this time, replaced by the cooler air that made you shiver faintly.

So, again, your body leaned into him, seeking what little warmth remained, what little steadiness he provided.

“Let’s get you back,” he muttered, already moving. “You’ve had enough for tonight. Think you owned a real blanket now, right?”

The thought alone nearly made you beg for it even though you knew deep down this was exactly what he intended with this. Making you compliant. Docile. 

It didn’t matter though as he set you down on the bed because when he returned shortly with the blanket, wrapping you up, that was all that you could ask or really.

Because humiliation was a small price to pay for safety.

You did not even register him leaving. But you knew he’d return. And he would continue to mold to into his world of darkness.

My Masterlist

Part 2 (coming soon)

Series Masterpost

Taglist:

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The following days passed without any special happenings, except for a dog they encountered behind an old, bereft pub.

Olivia had been smitten with the animal and poured some of her water into a bowl without hesitation, which it had quickly lapped up. Normally, Joel would have asked her to please not go near the dog – let alone give it her precious water – but he had been too busy figuring out why they hadn't crossed paths with that old building on their way to Kansas City.

In the end, everything turned out well, though. After an intense request by Joel, Olivia had abandoned the dog and refrained from feeding the animal again, and he had finally found out where they had taken the wrong turn. A few hours later, they were back on track, and due to their fast pace, they had left behind approximately the first half of their way to Sedalia within three days.

On the fifth morning, Joel accidentally spilled a glass of Olivia's new favorite drink, an unidentified faint pink powder that you had to mix with water to get something that reminded him of lemonade. Olivia had found it in that very same pub and insisted on taking it with her even though Joel had warned her that the stuff might have gone bad over the years. Now, she drank it every morning and every night because she claimed it had the same effect as coffee but didn't give her that numb feeling in her mouth. Both parts of her statement were a mystery to him. He was 99% sure that whatever that powder was, it didn't have any caffeine, and secondly, he had no clue what numbness she was talking about. Coffee surely didn't leave his mouth feeling like fur afterward.

One morning, he observed her suspiciously out of the corner of his eye, his lips puckered.

"What?" Olivia asked and licked her lips clean of the remaining liquid.

"You're tellin' me the truth? You ain't got any stomach issues from that weird stuff?"

She let out uncontrolled laughter, dipping her head forward, which nearly made her drink spill. "You think I'm lying to you? No, Joel, I'm not sick and I also don't have fucking diarrhea if that's what you're implying."

"Jesus…" Joel murmured and scratched his temple thoughtfully. "I just don't think it's a good idea, you know? We should stick to water and things that we can heat up. We don't know what exactly that is…"

"Well, it hasn't killed me yet, has it?"

"I don't wanna wait until then," he mumbled through gritted teeth, his gaze lowered.

"Aww… Darling," she cooed and briefly ran her thumb along his chin like he was some pet that had done a good job. "Don't you worry about me. If there is one thing that isn't gonna kill me, it's this drink. You should focus on not stabbing me in your sleep with your elbows instead."

"How am I supposed to defend myself if you roll over to my side all the damn time?" Joel chuckled and dramatically threw his hands in the air. The look from her that followed was innocent and angelic, like a puppy that couldn't do any harm.

"You should take me into your arms."

"Jesus Christ…" he huffed, rolling his eyes at her sniggering. "Next time, I'm just gonna roll away from you. S'that what you want?"

Her expression altered at once, amusement replaced by indignation. "You wouldn't dare, Joel Miller."

Hell yeah, he wouldn't. And for god's sake, she knew that he was utterly and completely dependent on her like a fish was on water.

It was two days later that Joel first heard a signal from his brother through the radio he was still carrying with him.

He had tried to reach Tommy twice, but each time he had been sure that he hadn't even been coming through to him, so a technical issue must have been at fault. But one morning, as he was still lying next to Olivia who had her arms and legs wrapped around his body like she was some sort of koala bear, the radio suddenly rustled and his heart dropped.

"Oh shit," Joel cursed, quickly freed himself from her clamping limbs and crawled toward the device. It seemed as though Olivia was still too tired to register the success and significance of the quiet noise, but the situation required haste, so he had yet to properly wake her up. She would find out soon, though, with the way he barked his brother's name into the microphone.

"Joel! Joel, can you hear me?"

The muscles in his face slackened, his lips forming a quiet prayer of gratitude as he gripped the object more tightly, as though its newfound worth was so great that he would keep it close under any circumstances.

"Yes. I can hear you, can you hear me too?"

"Yeah," his little brother laughed loudly. "Are you okay? Where are you, did everything go well? Are you two alright?"

Joel paused briefly as he felt a hand on his shoulder. He turned his head slowly, returning the warm smile that Olivia, who was kneeling next to him, gave him.

"Yeah. Yes, we're good." For now, he left out the part where he had traveled across the state for a mission he hadn't accomplished in the end due to his own preferences, but he would explain it to Tommy bit by bit. If he would even be capable of making his decisions make any sense.

"What about you? Where are you?"

There was some swooshing on the other end of the line, his brother's voice distorted, yet not very difficult to understand.

"We're in Sedalia. We found 'im, Joel. Zion. We found 'im an' we brought 'im back. We're waitin' for you now."

Joel felt like his heart might actually burst with joy just because of those few, simple words. Tommy was fine. Everyone else was as well. They had found Zion, which meant there was a chance that things between him and Tess would become better again. And Olivia, his biggest and most important support throughout it all, was by his side.

"We're close, Tommy. It's maybe one more day of hikin'. Two days, tops."

The other end of the line was silent for a moment, which made him lean his head down. "Tommy?"

"Yeah, sorry. I'm 'ere. That's good, meet us in the city."

"Where exactly are you?" Joel wanted to know as Olivia trailed her fingers along the back of his neck.

"We're outside the QZ in the forest east of the city. Maybe… like three miles away. Just make sure you get around the city clockwise. FEDRA's got a lot of trucks deliverin' stuff out of the city to the South. So you better go north."

"Yeah. Yeah, we're gonna – we'll do that," Joel whispered, still a little bit in awe of how easy all of this sounded.

Everyone was well. That was a sentence he repeated to himself over and over. This wasn't some nightmare horror story about one of his friends getting bit or them getting lost in the forest, never seeing each other again. All the things he had pictured in his lowest moments hadn't come to pass, and a single, wholly unexpected conversation with his brother had just shoved all his worries out of the way. Maybe not all, since Olivia and he still had a few miles ahead of them, but goddamnit, it seemed manageable. It had to be manageable.

The following day was a warm one. Or maybe it wasn't that warm and it was just the comparison to the past weeks, or rather months, that made the sunrays feel like they were blazing through the layers of skin on his arms.

"Wow…" Olivia breathed while the two of them were hiking through the woods, the Sedalia QZ to their right. They had decided to make a generous circle around the city, so that their chances of encountering any FEDRA soldiers were close to zero. The same went for raiders or other criminals.

"We should fuck again tonight to really make use of the weather," she then added, the directness of her words making his head spin and his breath hitch.

"For god's sake… You really always say whatever's on your mind, right?"

"Ohhh no," Olivia quickly protested and hooked her arm under his. "I don't do that, because I know you'd be disturbed. I only say what I know you can take."

"Maybe you should reconsider that…"

She grinned widely from ear to ear, her nails dancing across his forearm. "No. I know that you can take it…"

With a mysterious last glance in his direction, something within him snapped and he roughly pulled Olivia toward him the same moment he lowered his head so that his lips could reach hers. In the end, the two of them made great use of the unusual warmth and didn't even wait until the night. Holding her up against a tree posed some difficulties comfort and stability wise, but just like any other task, they managed.

Besides that, there was something thrilling and rousing about having sex in the forest in daylight, since a stranger's arrival seemed a lot more likely now than at midnight. And although neither Joel nor Olivia talked about the excitement that the slightly dangerous air around their actions brought, he was able to notice just a little more of her usual clinginess and eagerness as she rubbed herself against him and eventually moaned his name.

The only issue they triggered by their spontaneous break – that hadn't really been a break – was that they had lost time.

Joel and Olivia had calculated that they would be east of the QZ by the evening, but with them spending about an hour and a half pleasuring each other and really taking their time with it, they surely wouldn't make it to them by midnight. So, they discussed the options they had.

"It ain't gonna be more than three hours. Maybe four. We should do it tonight and sleep tomorrow all day," Joel suggested, his flat palms pressed onto his thighs. Shit, he was still feeling weak in the knees after the breathtaking orgasm he had just experienced. The more sensible option was definitely to take a small break and finish the last miles once they were properly rested, but the thought of going to sleep while they were so close to their friends wasn't a very appealing one.

"Are you sure? I mean, we're not really in a hurry, are we?" Olivia threw in and laced her fingers with his, just like she always initiated and upheld physical contact after being intimate with him. He didn't mind it at all, even though he was too timid to initiate it most of the time.

"No, we're not… But wouldn't ya like to sleep in a tent tonight?"

"I don't mind sleeping outside… It's nice."

Joel grinned and squeezed her hand. "Oh yeah? Even when we get jumped by an infected at night?"

"It happened once."

Yeah, it had happened once, yet Joel was reluctant to spend another night so exposed to the outside world. Sure, the infected that had sneaked up on them at night probably would have attacked them even if they had been in a tent, but there was something dangerous, something perilous about having nothing between them and the icy, hazardous darkness. Fortunately, though, Olivia had woken up before the infected could sink their teeth into either of them, so after she had quickly shot it twice in the head and once in the chest, the creature had dropped dead on the ground with a low thud. All Joel had been able to pant was a breathy "I'm sorry" after he had been startled awake by the noise of the gun.

The following night, he hadn't slept at all, his thoughts controlled by scenarios. What if she hadn't woken up? What if the infected – that surely would have attacked Olivia first – had bitten her while Joel was fast asleep. He had sworn to protect her, but he had been nothing but a useless body, not even a single muscle twitching while she had had to defend herself. He should have woken up, shot the monster and not made Olivia lift so much as a finger. The whole thing was gnawing at him and had led to him rolling from one side to the other all through the night to the very first sunrays dipping the horizon in a golden sheen.

The following morning, Olivia had crawled on top of him, buried her face in the side of his neck and spoken so quietly that his languid mind had had to concentrate in order to hear her.

"You didn't sleep…" she had murmured.

"I'm sorry." Joel didn't know why he had said it. Whether it was a conscious repetition of his apologies from the night before. Maybe not. Maybe it was rather the fact that he had not only messed up a few hours ago by not being there, not protecting her when she had needed it, but had also put another burden on her now: being unable to fall asleep at night.

"Why?"

"Everything."

Olivia had slowly lifted her head, sensing his coiled muscles pulsing beneath her hands. "No. I don't want you to say that."

"But I messed up and I'm sorry. I should've been there but I just slept like a – like a…" He didn't finish the sentence, just helplessly staring up at her like a startled animal.

"It's okay," Olivia had breathed and affectionately brushed along his cheek like she had just seen him for the very first time. She had smiled, that he remembered quite clearly. She had smiled in a way that could have made one think she had been blessed with the presence of Jesus himself. Even though it was just him watching her with a tight jaw.

"I was there, wasn't I?"

"Yeah, but – but I need – " he stammered. It was a thin line ensuring that Olivia was aware of the fact that he thought of it as his duty to be by her side and shield her from any harm while not downplaying her own capabilities, which he knew she had. Olivia didn't need him, that much was for sure. But she had chosen him, so he wanted to be there.

"I need to wake up when danger comes," he pressed and almost possessively put his hands on her hips.

"Yeah. Would be good. But is there any good reason why you should beat yourself up for it now?"

The discussions that had followed hadn't shifted something world-changing within him, yet over the next hours, Joel somehow made his peace with it, although he consciously insisted on sleeping to Olivia's right the following night. That way, he could face her while lying on his left ear, which he couldn't hear out of very well ever since his suicide attempt four years ago.

But now, Joel swayed his head to the side, jutting his jaw forward.

"Yeah. It happened once. But we don't want it to happen again."

She bit down on her bottom lip thoughtfully, then examined him from his temples to his mouth. "You really wanna go tonight."

It wasn't a question, yet Joel treated it like one.

"Yeah. I guess. I just… I don't know, I promise, you're gonna get as much sleep as you want once we're with them."

Olivia chuckled, and it was a high, clear sound, very much to his pleasure. "Alright… If you insist. But only if you carry my sleeping bag."

She innocently tapped her fingertips together, giving him her widest puppy eyes.

"Whatever you want, princess."

The last miles around the city turned out to be a lot more exciting than Olivia, who had dreaded not being capable of putting one foot in front of the other once the clock struck 10 pm, had believed it would be.

Joel and she spent some time whistling songs that the other had to guess, which also made the darkness of the deserted forest more bearable. The last hour was a bit of a struggle as they weren't certain where exactly their friends' camp was located, but it was their shared excitement about seeing the others again that made them search determinedly until Joel saw a distant glow between some dense trees.

They were smart to leave a small fire on.

He placed a hand on Olivia's shoulder and gestured toward the faint shimmer while his face gleamed with happiness.

"There. Found 'em."

They approached the tents quietly so that they wouldn't wake anyone if not absolutely necessary, but not too slowly either. Otherwise, one of them might mistake them for raiders creeping up in the shadow of the night. But as Joel and Olivia drew closer, they began to realize that it was not at all as quiet and peaceful as they had expected.

At first, Joel felt his heart flutter and his throat tighten at the thought of all of them – first and foremost, his brother – staying up to exchange the stories of their past two weeks, but suddenly it hit him all at once. Joel and Olivia were just passing the first tent when they identified the chaotic voices as panicked exclamations rather than joyful laughter.

The two of them shared a worried glance but then flinched as they noticed a person kneeling by the tent, hidden until now in its shadow.

Tommy.

His posture was hunched over, his forehead resting on his palm and the hem of his jacket touching the dirty ground, which alone was an indicator that something was seriously wrong.

"Tommy!" Joel called out and hurried toward his younger brother, the voices talking over one another momentarily fading out. Still, his relief at seeing him was overshadowed by concern as Tommy merely jumped to his feet and fixed Olivia with a piercing stare.

"Olivia. We need you."

Joel's mind needed more than two seconds to process what he could possibly mean by that. Then, the air was driven out of his lungs as his gaze dropped to the blood on Tommy's hands.

"Tommy," he panted, but his brother was faster, grabbed Olivia by her arm and shoved her toward the tent. He followed without looking at the ground in front of him and nearly stumbled over a rope connecting one of the tent pegs to the structure of the tent. He managed to save himself at the last moment, though, and peered through the opening of the tent.

The first thing he registered was blood. A lot of blood. Which was all over Harper. Hell, it was so much blood he didn't even know where it was coming from.

Joel's ears were ringing, his stomach twisting and the contents of his stomach shooting up his throat at once. Then there was the scent, metallic and deadly.

He only noticed Olivia dropping to her knees with half his mind, since the other half was busy comprehending what was happening right in front of him. Tess and Luke were there as well, talking loudly either to each other or to Harper or Olivia. He didn't know. Joel clutched his fist around the zip of the tent, but after realizing that his knees felt like jelly, he lowered himself too.

"What the fuck happened?" he heard the sound of his own voice, even though he was definitely not responsible for forming the words in his head. There must have been something else living inside him that had moved his tongue and parted his lips.

"She was shot," Tess whispered, which shifted his attention to her. She was crying. Shit, why was she crying? She wasn't supposed to be crying while Olivia took care of her. She had cleaned wounds like this before, so why was Tess crying?

"Where? Why?" Joel uttered with forced clinical precision, although he felt like he was about to hyperventilate. Which was mostly due to the fact that Luke looked pale as a corpse, Tess's tears spilled onto her lap and Olivia's hands were covered in blood.

"I-In her thigh. We – We don't know wh-why."

In her thigh. Well, that confused him even more. So not even a highly sensitive and vital organ had been hit by the shot. Why the hell was she crying then?

"You don't know why? Harper, you – why? What happened, you're – you're gonna be alright," Joel said, finally looking at the young woman again. She was on her back, her head slightly raised while a thick layer of sweat covered her forehead. She was shivering, her teeth chattering and her pupils aimlessly flickering.

"Shut up!" Luke shouted and grabbed the roots of his hair.

"Why, I – I just…" Joel muttered, his gaze still stuck on Harper's face. She would be fine. It was just a wound in her thigh, and Olivia was here. She had taken care of Luke's head a few weeks ago as well as Tess's wound. So why was Harper trembling like that?

He darted his eyes to Olivia, who was crouching down while pressing a cloth against Harper's thigh where the blood was oozing out. There they had it. It would be only a matter of time until the bleeding stopped, Olivia would apply some disinfectant, and –

"Save the child."

Everyone inside the tent seemed to hold their breath, the air cutting and cold. Joel felt like he could see the haze of his own heavy exhales.

"What?" he gasped without paying attention to Tess and Luke's reactions.

"Save it, Olivia," Harper cried, unbothered by his question, and gripped the woman's sleeve tightly, coating her clothes in that same dark red. Sobbing freely, Olivia curled her fingers while her head dipped forward. No, no, no… There was something going on here, why the hell did no one understand that this was just about a wound in her thigh? There was no need to – to…

"Do it," Harper yelped and brought her hand to the curve of her belly at the same time as Joel stirred and crawled closer.

"What are you talking about. Harper, you're gonna be fine. You're gonna be okay, s'just a little wound. Olivia will take care of it. You're gonna be fine. Just – Maybe you're not gonna be able to walk for a few days, but that's it… You're gonna be fine…" he whimpered, feeling a hand drag him backward again.

Then, a heavy head sank onto his shoulder, and Joel instantly felt wetness seep through the fabric of his jacket and shirt. He didn't move a muscle. His head was utterly empty, the surrounding noises – mostly Tess's, Harper's and Olivia's crying – both incredibly loud and immense and yet like a blurred background noise. Luke was still, though.

"Sh-She lost t-too much blood," Olivia whined weakly, barely able to hold herself up on her knees.

"SAVE THE CHILD," Harper screamed again, her tone shriller now. She even reached for the knife in her belt and threw it onto the ground in front of her.

"I – I don't know i-if I…" Olivia began, crawling toward the weapon on all fours.

"P-Please," the other woman cried, suddenly all feeble and frail as though all life's energy had left her at once. "Please, Olivia. Please, do it."

"I don't know if it – if it will… live."

Harper's hand wrapped around hers, pulling it flush against her chest. "Please. Try… Please… Just try it. Make it live. Make it live, Olivia…" Her voice broke, her lids fluttering as her hand slackened.

"No. No, Harper, stay with me," Olivia sobbed and cupped her face, but she didn't react. Then Olivia felt for her pulse, or at least that was what Joel could sense through the veil hanging over his vision. Joel had no way to determine how much time had passed when Olivia turned around to glance at him, then at Luke.

"I – I'm gonna…" she began, blindly pawing the ground to reach the knife. Her eyes were hollow in a way Joel had never seen before. The only thing resembling the look even slightly was the expression he had seen on her face the night she had attempted to take her own life.

She didn't get a reaction, nor any protests or encouragement. Luke looked like a ghost, an empty shell that had lost all strength. Tess's head rested on Joel's shoulder while her body shook uncontrollably. And Joel, hell, he had no idea what he might have looked like right now. All he knew was how he felt. Like the ground below his body that thousands of feet had stomped on. Or like he always did in the exact moment after someone had just landed a blow on him. His body was numb, and he felt nothing, but at the same time, he was well aware that the pain was about to set in. It was just a brief moment, the fraction of a second before the ache, the humiliation, the bitterness would spread through his body from his toes up to his scalp. His soul was about to shatter into pieces and oxygen had left his lungs a long time ago. It was the quiet before the storm.

Through the whole chaos, a small part of Joel's mind registered Olivia's work on the woman's body. There was more blood, more darkness soaking Harper's clothes and more of that metallic taste on his tongue while she tried to fulfill the dying woman's last wish. Harper's eyes were closed, her hands lying at her sides, fully relaxed.

Joel felt sick.

His shoulders slouched slightly, the distinct throbbing behind his temple intensifying and developing into a high-pitched note that made the hair on his arms bristle. When Olivia's crying increased in volume, Joel opened his eyes again without realizing he had closed them.

"I – I can't," she wept, her shaking hands loosening around the handle of the knife, which made it drop to the ground with a low thud.

"I can't… I can't – " she repeated over and over, the strands of her brown hair hanging over her shoulders and dipping into the bloody mess in front of her.

None of them paid her any attention. Joel's eyes might have been on her damp cheeks, yet he didn't drink in her presence the way he usually did whenever he looked at her.

When her elbows buckled and her head nearly dropped onto the unconscious woman, the thought crossed his mind for the first time.

He should go to her. Crawl to her. If it was the last thing he would do. He should hold her and let her color all of his clothes in that deep scarlet. But he couldn't, which was why Olivia remained on the floor of the tent, sobbing into her own hands that painted her face red.

None of them understood how they made it out of the tent that night, let alone how they managed to tell Tommy what had happened. Joel assumed that his brother had witnessed everything by sitting inches away from the open tent, but he didn't stop Olivia either as her fragile, raspy voice told fragments of how she had been unable to save her unborn child.

"I – I'm sorry," she sobbed in the end, her fingers tightening around a few leaves on the ground.

All of them were on their knees, despite the cold. No one had put in the effort to drag themselves to the camping chairs that were scarcely more than three steps away from them. Luke was crying by now, too. Only he did it quietly, with no sound spilling past his lips. Hell, if Joel hadn't known better, he might have thought he wasn't even breathing.

"She fought like a warrior…" Tommy whispered hollowly and rubbed his hand over his jeans. "She was a warrior."

Fought. Was. He could swear he heard Olivia's crying increase at his brother's choice of words, and there was even a faint gasp escaping Luke's throat.

"I'm sorry," Olivia hiccupped again, and this time, Joel finally blindly thrust his arms out to grasp her by her shoulders. Olivia threw herself against his chest the same moment he yanked her against him, clutching her tightly after snaking both his arms around her body. He was seeking comfort the same way he was trying to provide it.

Through all the pain and anguish Joel wasn't able to fully grasp just yet, there was also the infinite and all-consuming need to always, at any moment, fight whatever it was that was making Olivia cry. To guard her and personally wipe away her tears if need be. His body was trembling, but there were no drops of salty liquid rolling down his face just yet. He was petrified. He just held Olivia, didn't pay a single thought to the blood she was smearing all over his clothes and listened to her erratic panting with something that resembled vacancy inside him. Yes, that was it. Where his heart had pounded before, there was now a hollow, dark vault.

"What happened?" Tess whispered after a while, swiping the area around her eyes with the back of her hand. "Why – How was she…"

The end of the sentence lingered in the air until Tommy picked up the question and leaned his head back against a tree.

"I don't know. She… We split. She insisted. Wanted to check out some old gas station. I know I – I shouldn't've agreed. But she – she said it'd be just a s-second. I swear to god, I wouldn't – I wouldn't've done it if I – I thought she'd be right back."

Joel didn't exactly know the context of what had happened, but he could deduce the rest. Some patrol or outing had gone wrong and Tommy had probably found her like that. Shot in her thigh.

Suddenly, with some delay to Tommy's words, Luke rose to his feet, nearly tripping over. He grabbed a tree for stability, waited two seconds and then walked away without turning around. None of them held him back or questioned where he might be going. Joel's brother just covered his whole face with his palm and whispered into his hand: "I messed up. I'm s-sorry. It's my fault, I – I was…"

No one protested. Of course, and Joel knew that for a fact, someone should have told him no, and that there was no way any of them would have expected something so terrible to happen, but for some reason, none of them had the strength or energy to form the words Tommy so desperately needed. How could they? Olivia was crying, Tess was fighting back tears and Joel… Maybe he should have been the one to speak up. Maybe it fell to him.

Suddenly, his gaze caught on Tommy's jacket and stuck right there as a realization hit him hard. Zion. Where was he? He had been so distracted and overwhelmed by emotions that he hadn't even noticed the absence of the seventh group member.

"Where is Zion?" Joel spoke quietly, addressing no one in particular. It was Tommy who answered, though, his hand making a vague gesture behind him.

"He's meetin' someone… A friend. Who – lives in the city."

His little brother was clearly absent-minded, his pupils scurrying across the ground and the little spots in his irises looking a trifle greyer than usual.

"He should b-be here," Tess breathed and clenched her fist around a bunch of leaves spread across the forest soil. There was no way to tell what insects and earthworms she might be squeezing in her palm at that moment, but the firmness with which she clutched the mud left no room for doubt about the state she was in.

Tommy nodded slowly, his mouth a thin line with almost no lower lip.

"What are we gonna do?" Tess whispered next, leaving the rest in the dark about whether she was talking about Luke's state of mind or the general future of the group.

Olivia finally lifted her head a little, and on top of all the accumulated ache in his own chest, the sight of her blotchy, tear-stained face only added to his distress. Bringing a hand to her cheek, he gently brushed his thumb against her skin. Then he bit down on his lower lip as he felt it begin to tremble.

"I don't know," Joel finally replied to Tess's question, though he didn't avert his gaze from Olivia. She, on the other hand, put her own blood-covered palms on top of his, both urging him closer and pressing her flesh against his. She used such force on him that the veins in his hands began to pulse, yet the thought of withdrawing didn't occur to him even once.

A few hours later – Joel couldn't tell the exact time – he lay in one of the tents with Olivia by his side. The group had sat outside for a long time, but when the first orange splashes had painted the night sky more colorful on the horizon, everyone had silently agreed on getting at least a few hours of rest.

They were still unaware of Luke's whereabouts, but none of them brought the issue up. What was there to say, really? Were they supposed to force a man to sleep on a mat he had shared with his girlfriend and the mother of his unborn child? Were they supposed to oblige him to grieve in a way that was most tolerable for them?

Although Joel had genuinely retreated to the tent with the intention to close his tired eyes for a couple of hours, he now felt more awake than ever, his senses sharp in spite of the light-headedness clouding his brain. Olivia, next to him, had buried her face into his shoulder, probably either sobbing or awaiting the next wave of tears. Jesus. She hadn't just experienced all of it like everyone else, no, she had actually been right there, pressed a cloth against Harper's open wound and… Joel couldn't even think about it without feeling an uncomfortable bubbling in his stomach.

The events of the past hours were all a little blurry, and that was first and foremost the case with the period of time from entering the tent to leaving it. He couldn't recall everything that had happened, since his mind had seemed to make it its task to protect him from the ugly memories. Then again, one thing was for sure: Olivia had tried to save Harper's child. The large amounts of blood on her clothes as well as the remains on the knife were evidence enough. He couldn't even imagine how horrible it must have been for her. He could only guess based on her reactions.

"I'm sorry…" Joel groaned and pulled her closer to him even though it was physically impossible. That was how she had spent most of the past hours, flush against his chest or his shoulder. It was all he could do for her for now. Hold her the way she needed, catch her before she fell and whisper quiet sorrys that were quite limited in their effects, but it was better than staying silent.

"I-I'm sorry," Olivia stuttered and dug her nails into the skin over his collarbones.

"No… You – Don't say that," Joel uttered, his hoarse voice breaking toward the end of the sentence.

"I thought I could – I wanted to – I really – " She left all those beginnings unfinished, yet for the most part, Joel could guess what she was trying to tell him.

"I know," he whimpered, kissing the top of her head. His own lips were still trembling, which was why he didn't quite meet her skin where he had planned to, but he was sure Olivia hadn't even registered his poor efforts.

"I wanted to save her," she murmured hollowly, her dead, empty eyes staring holes into his stained shirt. "A-And her – her… I wanted to. I just – I wanted her to – to be happy, Joel."

Blinking relentlessly, Joel pressed his lips to her brow again, and this time they stayed right there for more than just the split of a second.

"I wanted her to know that – her child was safe."

"I know, Olivia. I know you did."

"Do you – Does she know?"

Joel's forehead wrinkled as he finally realized what she was talking about, his body faintly shuddering.

"Yeah, I – I think – so," he stuttered. "She knows that you tried."

"But does she know that I – that I couldn't do it?" Olivia choked, her tone panicky and frantic now, like something terrible would happen if his answer didn't please her, or rather destroyed her even more.

"I don't know… Maybe she doesn't. She was hopeful, s'why – s'why she asked you to – do it…" The rational side of him didn't know if any of the words he was saying made sense, but Joel was too tired and too worn-out to even remember what he had said a fraction of a moment later.

How exactly Joel and Olivia had drifted off to sleep was a mystery to them the next morning. The most likely possibility was that they had simply closed their eyes after a while and drifted away without even being aware of it.

Joel's dreams were chaotic, his brain upset and agitated even in his sleep. He still couldn't remember them the next morning, though, when he woke with a pounding heart. His unawareness of the previous night's tragedy lasted about a second, maybe two, before his body caved like a punctured doll. What was even the point of waking up properly, tearing poor Olivia from her sleep and going outside where nothing but countless reminders of what had happened to Harper waited? Maybe he could spend the rest of the night sound asleep and hope that the terror wouldn't beset him in his dreams. Though the other half would surely be filled by other memories of his past.

"Joel," a voice next to him suddenly rasped the moment he had been about to lie back down.

"Hey…" he mumbled and ran a concerned gaze over the dark circles under Olivia's eyes, even though his face certainly didn't look any better.

She did not say another word. Sometimes, Joel felt as though the silence that had engulfed them for the last seven hours was worse than anything one of them could have said. The helplessness, the despair and the overwhelming feeling of drowning were the sources of that very silence, Joel believed.

Maybe it was a double bind. The powerlessness both found its outlet in not speaking up and was also a result of that cutting silence between all of them. He even felt it with Olivia, who normally only stayed quiet when she really had to. It was just that the thought of talking felt so ridiculous since whatever he could say would sound insignificantly small and unjust compared to what had happened. At least, it wouldn't properly describe last night. No words could ever describe it in a way that was worthy of Harper.

After a few minutes, Joel and Olivia silently decided to leave the tent, even though there was nothing drawing either of them outside. Tess was the only one there, sitting on a chair, a cup in her hand, her legs crossed and her back rounded like she didn't want to share an inch of herself with her surroundings. The two of them sat down across from her, but not even a morning greeting was exchanged.

"You want coffee?" Tess whispered after an eternity, stretching her arm forward to offer them some of the precious inky liquid.

"No thanks," Olivia murmured while Joel shook his head.

"Did Luke come back?" he wanted to know, searchingly scanning his surroundings as if he was expecting the young man to appear between the trees at any moment.

"Yeah. He slept in the tent with Tommy and me…"

"He slept?" Joel repeated with raised eyebrows.

"I don't know… I don't think so. Did you?"

Her eyes travelled between Olivia and him, lingering on the shadows under their eyes.

"A little," he answered for both of them, a muscle in his brow twitching as Olivia curled closer against him.

"We're gonna – Luke said he wants to – to… b-bury her."

Truth be told, Joel had had to fill in the last two words himself since Tess seemed unable to say them out loud. Which was more than understandable to him. Just the mere thought, the finality and cruel reality of Harper's passing were something Joel couldn't withstand. Saying it out loud would be impossible.

"Where?" Olivia breathed and draped her arms around his left arm, which he allowed without hesitation.

"Near the camp. Just a few feet further from the city. So that… that the – the place stays untouched."

Her gaze dropped, lashes fluttering as Tess suppressed a few quiet tears.

Everything was so hard to fathom that his brain nearly ached from the effort. Twenty-four hours ago, Joel had been looking forward to seeing his brother again while relishing every second he got to spend next to Olivia. His only care had been not to spend all morning in his sleeping bag by her side because he couldn't bring himself to get up. It was absurd. It was utterly preposterous and surreal.

"Yeah," Joel nodded and finally grabbed the mug of coffee Tess was still holding in the air a few inches from his knee. He barely tasted anything as the bitter liquid flooded his dry throat, but his main reason for forcing it down was that his insides felt all dusty and raw somehow.

The next hours passed draggingly slowly, even though by the time the clock struck 3 p.m., Joel found that the morning and noon had felt feverish and unreal. Like someone else had lived through the long moments of sitting in camping chairs in his place, and he had been nothing but a neutral observer. He wondered if Olivia and the others felt that way too.

Joel had only caught a brief glimpse of Luke, whose messy hair hung in his face and whose feet had heavily dragged across the ground as he had walked to the storage tent to get some water, which he drank with a pained expression on his face. Then he had disappeared behind the thin tent walls again.

In the afternoon, Tommy, who had briefly checked on Luke, gave him a vague gesture.

"Yeah?" Joel whispered, rose to his feet slowly and was glad that his brother understood him without any context.

"Yeah," he just murmured. For the next hour, the two of them were busy carrying Harper's lifeless body to a clearing about half a mile away from their camp. It was a beautiful spot with the sunrays painting patterns across the ground, and the dirt was quite loose, so they would be able to dig a hole.

The hardest part was the sight of her frame, sheathed in linen, as well as the blunt realization of her final passing. Every time Joel's eyes caught on the body, he felt a blow delivered to his core. This was real. And she wasn't coming back. It wasn't the first time he had gone through a loss like that, yet nothing about his past trauma made this any easier. If anything, the idea of him poisoning the people around him sprouted in his brain like an infection.

"I'm sorry, Joel," Tommy breathed once they had finished digging the hole. Thus far, everything had happened in ghostly silence.

"For what?"

"It's my fault. I'm so – I shouldn't've – " His voice cracked, brow wrinkled as though he was deeply concentrating.

"Tommy, this is not your fault," it broke out of him, the sight of his brother on the verge of crying causing a thick lump to form in his throat.

"I – I could've saved 'er. I shouldn't've gone away."

"We don't know what happened to her, do we?" Joel spoke, his tone sharper than he had anticipated. He didn't mean to sound harsh and bitter, even while he was trying to lift some of the weight from his brother's heart, but the sickness in his stomach didn't allow for any warmth in his voice or in fact in any part of his body.

"You can't take responsibility for everythin'."

"Maybe she – wouldn't've died…" Tommy continued despite his urgent words, looking tortured and like he was suffering from a wound most deeply hidden inside him. Somewhere Joel might just not be able to reach.

"I'm sorry…" Tommy whispered again, only now making him realize that he hadn't responded before. "Luke, he – I messed up so bad, Joel, and I – I just don't know – how to make it right."

Joel grabbed his brother's shoulder tightly, causing the two of them to stumble backward a little.

"You make it right by keepin' goin'. You're gonna be better than me. You're not gonna let it consume you, Tommy."

A broken sob left Tommy's mouth, his body looking more fragile and thinner than ever before, his skin pale and sallow.

"I can't – "

"Yeah, you can. Look at me."

Tommy blinked a few times, and Joel had already expected him not to be able to meet his gaze when he finally raised his eyes. There were lines around his eyes, his lashes twitching like it took him great effort to keep his lids open.

"Tommy. I know it sounds impossible right now, and you're probably not gonna be happy with what I'm about to say to ya. But you gotta do it. You can't change what happened, and you can't go back. I was there and you know it. You know what it was like after – she died."

His brother let out something that reminded him of the harrowing mewl of a cat. "T'was different…"

"Maybe. But I know how you're feelin'. And I know that you won't make anythin' better by holding onto all those thoughts. S'not better for you or for anyone."

"So what do I do?" Tommy panted, eyes welling with tears.

"You don't let 'em win. An' you believe me when I tell you that it doesn't matter what would've happened, or what might've happened. It happened and we gotta deal with it. So deal with it." Joel squeezed his brother's shoulder, the words shooting out between his lips like the hiss of a snake.

"How?"

"By bein' what Luke needs ya to be. And showin' up for him."

Tommy dropped his gaze to his tangled fingers, seemingly thinking over his brother's advice before he slowly thrust his chin forward.

"You haven't been doin' that at all. After Sarah died. You did the exact opposite."

The words had sounded accusatory, even though they certainly weren't intended to make Joel's knees feel like jelly.

"S'why I told you to be better than me. I went over every single detail over and over until I – until I couldn't take it anymore. 'Cause I thought I would find somethin' that would make me understand and connect all the dots. I thought all I had to do to make peace with it was analyze every moment. But it didn't give me any peace. And I still don't know how to make peace with something like that, but I know you ain't gonna achieve it by doin' it that way."

The moment the last word had spilled from his mouth, the noise still vibrating in the air, Tommy wrapped his arms around his older brother and nestled his face against the side of his neck. Joel let it happen and returned the hug, thinking that it had been an eternity since he had last shared an embrace like that with him.

"Is he ever gonna forgive me?" Tommy then whispered in his ear, causing Joel to lightly pull him back by his elbows.

"Yeah. 'Cause he will realize the same thing. That it won't give him any peace or relief to blame you."

"And what if not?"

Joel pushed Tommy's head against his shoulder one last time and patted his back. "Then you still got me… And I can't control what's going on in your brain, but I can try and warn you before it eats you alive."

His little brother withdrew suddenly, sniffling briefly while his eyes wandered over the hole they had dug.

"I hate this," Tommy huffed, rubbing his palm over the lower part of his face.

"What?"

"Tossin' 'er body away like this."

Joel wasn't inattentive enough to remind him of the very necessary reasons for burying her, so he just followed his brother's gaze until Tommy cleared his throat and bravely raised his chin.

"Should we get 'em?"

Joel gave a small nod, then touched his shoulder. "You stay here. Or you – I mean if you don't wanna be there while – "

"Of course I wanna be there," Tommy breathed through his clenched teeth. After one last searching look at his face and most importantly the suspicious glint around his irises, Joel swallowed, though it didn't reduce the size of the lump in his throat at all.

"Alright. You're gonna wait 'ere? Make sure… you know, the body…" The end of the sentence lingered in the air, but Tommy understood nevertheless.

Joel was about to turn around and head back to the camp to get the others, to join them for the saddest and most devastating occasion one could imagine, but then his feet froze. Something was holding him back, making him feel like there were too many things left unsaid before he could call this conversation finished.

"Tommy." His voice was airy, thin, and lacking its usual gruffness.

"What?"

"You know that I really care about you. And for the past years I – most of what I did was to protect ya. And I know that I haven't always done a good job, but I tried."

A muscle in his chin twitched, his heart clenching as he took a step toward him.

"And I just – I just can't – I want you to be safe and well. I don't want you to feel like I did after – after everything. After all the guilt and pain. I didn't do all that to watch you get destroyed by it. Please. Please do better than me."

Amy slid back into Kazeem’s waiting arms as Harry slid from his, the grip turning into another of those rough, affectionate embraces that made your chest ache. There was warmth in it, the kind of long friendship that didn’t falter with years.

Then coats were on, doors locked, and the cold air of the stairwell bit your cheeks. Harry’s hand found the small of your back as he guided you down the steps. It was almost enough to make you stumble, your knees threatening to give in.

Your Uber was already waiting at the curb, headlights bright against icy pavement.

“Ladies first,” Harry murmured, opening the door with a bow of mock chivalry.

You rolled your eyes but slid in, heart thumping as he followed, the space in the backseat suddenly too small when he settled closer than necessary. Your thighs brushed. He didn’t move away. Neither did you.

You gave the driver your address, voice a touch too light. “I really didn’t tidy my flat,” you blurted as the car pulled off, as though that might anchor your nerves.

Harry chuckled. “I really don’t give a fuck.” His arm came around your shoulders, pulling you into his chest.

The city streaked by outside - blurred neon, slick asphalt, strangers crossing streets under yellow lights and some late fireworks - but you didn’t see any of it. All you felt was the steady beat of his heart against your cheek, the rise and fall of his chest, the warmth that seeped into your bones. You were drunk, yes, but this wasn’t just alcohol.

Your laugh came breathy. “I don’t even have coffee in the morning. And maybe we’ll have to share a toothbrush.”

His lips brushed your hair as he leaned down, words smug. “You want me to go home, just say so.”

He knew. He knew you wouldn’t. The curve of his smile told you so.

“I’m just lowering your expectations,” you muttered, though the excuse sounded thin even to you.

His hand slid lower, settling on your thigh like it belonged there.

You inhaled sharply, tried to focus on the road lights flashing red, yellow, green. Your voice wavered. “That’s all I’m saying. Don’t expect much.”

“Oh, baby,” he murmured, so soft it wrapped around you, “expectations are high. I know exactly what I can look forward to.”

His fingers pressed lightly, not moving up yet, but the heat of his touch bled straight through your tights. You shifted instinctively, pressing your thighs together - not to stop him, but to stop yourself from melting.

The driver’s silhouette remained steady, eyes on the road. Maybe he didn’t notice. Maybe he’d learned to ignore what happened in backseats.

Harry’s mouth brushed your ear, his words low and wicked. “I’ve dreamed of this. Claiming you again and again until you’re hoarse from screaming my name.”

Your breath punched out of you raggedly. “Fuck, Harry.”

“Yeah,” he breathed, fingers sliding higher, grazing the hem of your dress. “Practice already.”

You didn’t even make it to your floor without losing yourselves.

Mouths clashed, breath hot and frantic, coats tangled between you. Harry pressed you back against the cool wall of the stairwell, his weight pinning you as if he had been waiting years for this. His hands were everywhere: tugging at your coat, catching in your hair, skimming the hem of your dress as if he couldn’t decide which piece of you to claim first.

Your fingers fumbled with the keys, clutching them in your palm like a lifeline. You tried blindly to slot the right one into the lock while Harry’s mouth stole every scrap of concentration you had left. He kissed you like oxygen was overrated, like air itself was secondary to the taste of your lips.

You crashed against the wall beside your door, laughter breaking between heated kisses when the keys slipped from your grip and clattered to the floor.

“Harry -” you gasped through a laugh, crouching to grab them, your hands unsteady.

“Don’t mind me,” he murmured against your neck, already pressing in from behind, lips trailing along your skin. His voice vibrated into you. His palms slid up your thighs, his fingers pushing the fabric of your skirt higher and higher until you could barely stand still long enough to find the lock.

Your keys slipped once more, then finally - miraculously - the door gave way. You stumbled inside together, coats half-on, half-off, your mouths colliding again. You tossed your keys toward the bowl on the entry table. For the first time in weeks, they landed perfectly with a satisfying clink. You almost wanted to laugh at the small victory, but Harry didn’t give you room.

He pulled back just enough to flash a grin, his dark eyes glinting in the dim light. “Shoes?” he asked, mocking you gently, a callback to that first morning in his apartment.

You laughed breathlessly, already tugging yours off while he kicked his sneakers aside without ceremony. He grabbed your coat as you shrugged it off, tossed it carelessly to the floor, and shook his head.

“Really no need for formalities, I see” he scoffed with mock solemnity, then closed the space again in a heartbeat, his lips pressing back to yours.

Both of you stumbled toward the sofa, laughter muffled between kisses. You landed against the armrest first, teetering for balance before Harry pushed you down gently but firmly, following you like a tide crashing over the shore.

Your dress rode up your hips under the force of his hands, his body pressing hot and heavy against yours, leaving you pulsing and restless. You arched beneath him, desperate, every nerve ending lit. His hands skimmed your waist, your thighs, mapping you.

Then - he pulled back, just slightly, eyes locking onto yours with intent that made you shiver.

“Those tights,” he said, breath rough. “Got any sentimental value?”

You blinked, then let out a breathy laugh, forehead creasing in disbelief. You shook your head slowly, already knowing what was coming.

In one swift motion, Harry grinned wickedly and tore the thin fabric. You gasped and threw your head back against the cushions, laughter bursting free as the rip echoed in the room.

“You’re insane,” you managed, your voice dissolving into a laugh that turned quickly into a moan as his fingers slipped over bare skin.

Harry kissed his way down, trailing soft kisses along your thigh, your hip, your inner leg. The brush of his lips burned. His mouth lingered just above the edge of your panties, his eyes never leaving yours - dark, hungry, and amused at the way your breath hitched.

“Harry -” your voice broke, half-laugh, half-plea.

His hands were steady on your thighs, spreading you just enough, teasingly making you wait. Then he shifted, pulling the fabric of your panties aside with practiced ease, and his breath warmed your core.

“I want to taste you,” he whispered, his words vibrating against you in a way that made your whole body clench.

Your giggles were gone in an instant, replaced with a soft, unguarded moan as his tongue flicked over your folds, gentle at first. Just a tease - barely there, light as a brush of silk - but enough to make your toes curl and your breath stutter. He lingered in that tenderness, slow licks that sent sparks up your spine, tasting you with quiet reverence as if he had all night to memorize you.

Then he deepened. One long stroke, the pressure firmer, his tongue flattening and circling until your thighs trembled around his shoulders. Every motion felt calculated to unravel you inch by inch.

Your fingers clutched the sofa cushions tight, and your nuckles whitened, as your body gave itself over to the steady tease of his tongue. Your carefully knotted bun loosened strand by strand, falling into wild disarray as you writhed beneath him.

“God -” you breathed, your voice already shaking.

Harry hummed low against you, the vibration sending another ripple of pleasure through your core. He was indulgent, greedy, but never careless - taking you apart with precision, worship woven into every flick of his tongue.

When his fingers joined, you nearly jolted off the cushions. The first slid in easily, probing and moving in perfect rhythm with his mouth. He set a pace that was steady, letting your body adjust to the stretch. Every slow curl made you arch, every press drew another broken sound from your throat.

Then came the second finger, sliding alongside the first, filling you further. Your gasp broke into a moan. He didn’t rush but pulled you higher while keeping you grounded with the weight of his other hand pressed firmly to your lower stomach. Each time your hips tried to buck into him, he pinned you steady, holding you there so he could dictate the rhythm and you could only take exactly what he gave.

The pace grew steadier, then spiked - faster, harder - whenever your hips twitched or your breath hitched too sharply. He read your body like a score, and you were the music spilling out between his lips and fingers. Pleasure coiled tighter and tighter in your belly, a rush you couldn’t hold back even if you tried.

You were undone. The room blurred at the edges, your vision swimming, every sound muffled by the relentless pulse in your ears. Your thighs shook around his head, desperate to both close around him and push him away, though you could do neither under his hold. Your breath came in sharp, uneven gasps, your body straining against his control as he pushed you closer to your climax.

Every nerve ending was alight, every second stretched unbearably until you were no longer sure if you were begging him to stop or to never stop at all.

When release hit, it was overwhelming. You cried out, voice raw, as pleasure swept through you like a tidal wave. He didn’t stop, not until you were slack against the cushions, your chest heaving, your body humming in the aftermath. His mouth slowed, then softened, and with that easing you down gently, guiding you through the storm he had created.

Your hands were still buried in the sofa, clutching tight like you’d fall away otherwise. Your head tipped back, your hair finally collapsing from the bun into a wild halo across the cushions. You were breathless, undone, glowing and trembling under his hands.

Harry pulled back just enough to look up at you, lips glistening with your arousal, expression equal parts smug and tender. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand almost lazily before leaning over you, pressing his lips to yours, giving you a faint, heady taste of yourself. You shivered at the intimacy of it.

“You are divine,” he murmured, his fingers already sliding back between your thighs. He teased you, dipping in just enough to make you clench around him, not enough to let you chase the crest again. The motion was infuriating and delicious, and your legs still trembled against the arm rest.

“I look like a mess,” you managed between breathless laughter, lifting your hands to tear the pins and elastics from your hair. It tumbled down in a tangle, falling in wild waves around your face and shoulders.

“Not nearly enough,” he countered, grinning against your cheek. “Wait until I’m done with you.” The promise was a spark straight to your core. Your body tightened in anticipation, heat gathering low and fast. “Will you let me lead you tonight, darling?”

The word darling alone melted your resolve, made you ready to agree to anything he asked of you. You nodded before you could even think.

He tsked softly, shaking his head. “Not enough, Emily. Use your words. Tell me.”

You swallowed, throat suddenly dry, your body betraying you with how much you craved giving him that answer. “Yes,” you whispered, your voice hoarse. “Lead me.”

Satisfaction carved across his face. “Very good.”

He rose, pulling away from your body. You blinked at the sudden absence, until he offered his hand and drew you up with him. His palm engulfed yours, steadying you when your legs threatened to give. He turned you gently, his touch gliding down your bare arms in a fleeting brush that was as reassuring as it was commanding. Then, without a word, he swept your hair over one shoulder, exposing the line of your back.

His fingers found the zipper at your spine. He drew it down achingly slow. The fabric fell away from your shoulders in a whisper, sliding down your body until it pooled at your feet. Instinct tugged you to turn toward him, to meet his gaze, but his hand was already on your shoulder, pressing you forward, holding you in place.

“Tsk, tsk,” he breathed behind you. “Didn’t say you could move, did I?”

Your skin prickled at his words. You had been naked before him already, had given yourself fully, but this was different. This was deliberate surrender, your body arranged for him, waiting for his next move. The air seemed cooler against you, your bra still strapped across your chest, your panties torn askew beneath the shredded tights. Somehow it made you feel more bare than actual nudity. Exposed. Offered.

And God, you craved it.

His hands traced the line of your spine, before unclasping your bra in one fluid motion. You froze, unsure whether to shrug it off or wait. He chuckled low against your neck, seeing your hesitation, and stepped closer until his chest warmed your back. His fingers nudged the straps from your shoulders, letting the fabric slide down your arms until it joined the heap at your feet. He was savoring this - the power in peeling you open so slowly.

Then he knelt, lips brushing fleeting kisses along the curve of your hip, your thigh, while his hands worked at the ruined tights. He tugged at the torn fabric until it slipped from your legs, lifting each of your feet carefully to free you.

You barely had a chance to ground yourself before his touch changed again. A brush of lips against the swell of your ass, a palm dragging down the back of your thigh, then a sharp tug. Your panties slid down fast, yanked with such force you stumbled forward a step, your gasp breaking into the charged air.

His laugh was darker now, edged and unyielding, vibrating against your skin as he stood. You felt him behind you, his height, his heat, before his arm looped suddenly around your throat. Not choking, but firm, his forearm resting like an iron bar across your collarbones as he pulled you back flush against his chest. Your body locked in his grasp, naked against him.

His lips found your ear, breath hot, voice low. “You tell me to stop, I stop immediately. Do you understand?”

Relief and hunger hit you at once. You nodded automatically, the instinct to yield immediate, but his voice was already there again, correcting.

“Words, Emily.”

You swallowed, heart hammering, and forced them out. “Yes.” Your voice cracked, but then you added, almost without thinking, “Yes… sir.”

The word had meant to come out sharp, playful, a teasing jab - but it didn’t. It left your mouth weighted and real.

You felt him grin against your skin, a satisfied, almost feral smile. And you knew you had just handed him more than permission. You had given him the reins.

Next Chapter

Masterlist

Taglist:

“10-4.” He was more awake than you were but you vaguely wondered if he was used to that. He would sleep then pop up and have to be ready. You’d never had quite this schedule. 

“Shh, shhh–” You were bouncing J.D. on your hip as the bottle warmed and then Leon held up a diaper bag in the entrance to your kitchen.

“Where do you want it?”

“Couch or, uh, floor? I don’t want him to roll off because I’m tired–”

“I won’t let him roll.” Leon put the diaper bag on the couch and indicated the screaming baby, “Do you want me to change him?”

“I forget, have you done that yet?”

“I’m great at learning on the job.” He smirked and you let him walk over and take the baby while you fiddled with the bottle warmer. You watched over your shoulder– it was hard to not watch when you didn’t know if someone had any experience whatsoever. 

Leon settled the baby against his chest and said, “Chill, man, chill– I’m working on it. You’re whining like you’re a baby or something.”

He chuckled at his own joke but J.D. squawked in that deep guttural cry of a newborn and Leon startled, “Woah, man, come on, that’s not cool….let’s see what sort of diaper we’re working with. Please let it be pee, I’m still learning.”

He laid the baby down gently, eyed the onesie for a moment before pulling at the snaps, and then watching how it went together before pulling the baby’s leg free, “Who designed this? Why is one leg so high and the other is so low? That’s stupid, this is not easy.” 

“They make some that go down both legs. Personally, the snaps are not my favorite, I like the zipper but none of the zippers are two legged.”

“None of that made sense to me yet, but I’m sure it will–oh! What the…” 

“Everything ok?” You called out.

“Uh, yeah…mustard. You were right. It’s like mustard.”

“Yeah, they don’t smell as much in this stage, but they can get rank.”

“Wait this is low odor?” Leon scoffed, “Uh, hang on bud, hang on, don’t roll.”

“He can’t roll on purpose but he can on accident–”

“I got one hand on him.”

You emerged with a bottle and saw Leon did have the situation handled– one hand on a baby that was naked and becoming progressively more upset. One hand digging through a diaper bag and then triumphantly pulling out a diaper. As he turned to put it back on J.D. the baby shrieked and a stream of pee flew into Leon’s face.

“What the fuck?!”

“Oh shit! I should’ve…” You were giggling, what else was there to do as a response? “I should’ve warned you, they…boys can really pee.”

“It’s in my eyes!”

“If it makes you feel better it’s much cleaner than getting poo in your eye which would almost certainly give you pink eye.”

“Can I get a towel?”

“Wet wipe first–” You reached out and took a wipe, wiping down Leon’s face. It was the first time you were this close to him and you suddenly realized you were in pajamas, no make up, nothing to hide behind. Even now? The man was gorgeous.

He blinked, “Thanks–” His eyes settled on you and he smiled, warmly, “Uh, I might need a hand–”

You put the bottle in the baby’s mouth to soothe them, “No you’re doing fine, he just needs to stop fighting you.”

Leon waited and saw the baby calm and when he did Leon got to the task of putting the clean diaper on and getting the onesie buttoned back up. At that point you nodded, “Want a turn feeding him?”

“How do I–?”

“Scoop up–” You nodded to the baby and waited for Leon to do it before handing him the bottle, “--and just angle it into his mouth. Then hold position until he’s done. Then burp.”

“Easy-peasy.” 

You watched Leon effortlessly walk around your little living room holding that baby and felt the same squeeze deep inside that all the nurses had gone through. It was a sight. It was a good sight. And what’s more? You weren’t alone on this first night, and the first night was the scariest.

“Hey?” You said and he looked over at you, so you cleared your throat, “Thanks. For, uh, staying. It’s…it’s been an overwhelming day. I’m happy to have company.”

A smile erupted on his face, “Thanks for not kicking me out…let me know if I overstay my welcome.”

You checked your watch, “It’s 2 am, which means–”

“You don’t have to go home but you can’t stay here?” Leon tried and you snorted.

“It means I can’t get bagels until 5am. So we have another stretch of sleep, then food’s a possibility…can I convince you to stay for food? I don’t want to keep you from anything…”

“Eh, my fish’ll be fine. They got those little food bombs, they’re going to be set for another few days. Where are you getting bagels? I only like Nadine’s even if that makes me a snob.”

“I can arrange Nadine’s…”

He fed and burped a baby and tucked him back in your room before he put his thumb behind him, “I’ll stop sleeping in your bedroom, if it’s cool I’ll take the couch?”

You were overtired and nearly invited him to just share the bed but held back at the last minute, “I’ll get the air mattress up next time.”

“You have nice couches, they’ll be golden.” 

When he was gone you looked at the baby and sighed, “Oh my…that’s…well…just as unexpected as you, little man.”

Leon was many things and you came to learn a lot of them. Those first few days you became acquainted with his efficiency. You got up with the baby at 4:15am and Leon was up too.

“I have a hair trigger for a few days after a job. It’s truly fine.” He offered to get the bagels and you protested.

“You bought dinner–”

“You have your hands full–” He winked, “Tell me your order.”

He took it and got it precisely right. When he came back in he had a bag in hand, a small duffle, and he said, “Can I impose and use your shower or is that too much?”

J.D. was sound asleep on your chest and you were flipping through the channels, “No problem. I have to go to work by 10 and–”

“You have a baby!” Leon protested.

You shrugged, “You heard Richter. I didn’t see sympathy or a side of maternity leave. Let’s just see if we can get that pack and play into my office.”

“I’m off– I don’t mind keeping him.”

“I don’t mind you keeping him but—” You hesitated and didn’t want to be rude, “and please– I appreciate everything you’ve done. You are amazing. But if you were here, alone with him and he choked or needed a hospital…do you have a carseat?”

Leon nodded, “I get what you’re saying…at least I had some practice getting yours in. I can pick one up.”

You were blown over, “Has anyone mentioned that you are…”

“Handsome? Charming? A terrible poker player?”

You shook your head, “You don’t know him or me but you are being just…incredibly generous with the help. It’s humbling. Truly. I don’t know that I’ve ever met someone that willing to just put boots to the ground to get the help done.”

He fucking blushed, “It’s no trouble.”

He said that a lot but you imagined none of this was as easy for him as he played it.

He was out of the shower, at a store by 9am and had a carseat fully installed and was back to your house before 9:45am meaning you were only about 5 minutes late to work.

“You really made it.” You were impressed. You pointed to the fridge, “There’s liquid formula and the empty bottles are just here on the counter next to the bottle warmer. Warm not hot. He is just a baby. You give it to him too hot and it will just burn him.” Leon nodded, “And those pre-made ones?”

“More should be coming, I was doomscrolling and filled out a bunch of sample requests so brace for impact. They love sending samples hoping people get hooked.”

“You make them sound like drug dealers.”

“I mean—” You shrugged, “I worked with a lot of babies and a lot of first time parents. First time parents are panicky. They’re being tasked with keeping a baby alive and it’s scary. They are easily persuaded that only this specific thing will do. You can use those premade bottles, just warm them. It’s simple now– milk, diaper, sleep, repeat.”

“It is a little scary. He cries.”

“He does.” You consented, “I’ll be back on lunch…what do you like for lunch?”

“I’m easy. Food is food.”

“Just not with bagels?”

“Those other things aren’t bagels.” He shook his head, “Rolls with holes.”

“A perfect name for a punk band.” You clapped your hand over your mouth, “Sorry, sometimes– sometimes things pop out.”

He was laughing, “That’s right though– perfect name for a punk band. Uh…say bye J.D.”

J.D. was awake and not crying and not eating– a combo that was new and didn’t tend to last long. Leon was holding him and even so you leaned down to kiss the baby’s head putting you inches from Leon’s chest.

You tried valiantly not to think about the chest, but you couldn’t help thinking about the baby. You were distracted the whole way to work and when you got there Rebecca didn’t help. She was waiting for you at your office door with a coffee, “How’s the little guy?”

“J.D. or Leon?”

“J.D.?”

“The, uh, baby. We thought calling him the baby wasn’t…great. And–”

“John Doe sounds weird.” Rebecca nodding, catching on. “J.D. is cute. Like J.T.T., remember him?”

“Don’t we all?” You accepted the coffee and Rebecca persisted.

“Nothing weird happened? No…like weird things?”

“He’s a newborn, it’s all weird. He pooped? Which is good. He’s eating and crying. Might need to try a little more gentle cleaning of the umbilical area because he had that late–”

“But nothing weirder, right?”

You narrowed your eyes, “Like what?”

Rebecca had worked the field and new what sorts of horrible things could await you, but she didn’t want to scare you. Not yet, “Where’s the baby now? We’ve never had a baby…is he ok?”

“He’s with Leon.”

Rebecca let go of a breath, “Perfect. He’ll be safe with Leon.”

That part you absolutely agreed with.

It took you a moment to realize Rebecca wasn’t worried about you taking care of the baby, or Leon taking care of the baby, but some other ominous thing. You swallowed, “You…were you worried? About…” You circled your finger around the office and Rebecca did put her finger to her lips for silence.

“Let’s take a walk, shall we? Come on Flossy.”

“I hate that name.”

“It’s adorable. You sound like a collie.”

“I don’t think that helps.”

“OK what are you more– Back to the Future? Come on Marty, we gotta get back to the future—” Rebecca pulled at your arm until you were both in a breezeway. It connected the two buildings of your DSO department and was for outdoor breaks, eating, etc. Once there Rebecca sighed, “They can’t hear as well out here, the ambient noise.”

“You think…who, Richter? Was spying on us?”

“Probably not before yesterday but we caught her with her pants down, sort to speak. We surprised her, and I bet it was bad for business. That is definitely bugged, I’m going to run a sweep covertly later.” 

“How do you–”

“Don’t worry.” Rebecca nodded, “I know how to, nothing will get broken.”

You smiled and shook your head, “You know what? I trust you. I never did any of the other kind of work….but you really think she’s done that?”

“Oh yeah.” 

“Jeez…he’s just a baby.”

“He’s been exposed. They destroyed a town. It makes for super bad press. It shows they never really did get a handle on bioweapons? Worse– makes kids look like they’re in danger.” Rebecca ticked off each reason on her finger, “We’ve all…seen that side of the bureaucracy. Sherry and Leon and Claire and Chris and Jill and….they keep us alive because we’re useful. We are some of the only people who get out of those situations. We also just…we’ve seen too much. We know too much. It’s here or dead– I think we all know that.”

You felt cold just run down your spine.

It was a hard day to focus while you worked and Rebecca was a goddamn champion in the process – she was acting like nothing was wrong and she was sympathetic with you.

“It’s…a balancing act. The stress and the fear and the getting shit done anyway. It’ll make sense to you. It’s like residency in that way.” Rebecca tried to bridge that gap for you but the space between your experience and theirs was wider than a canyon. All you knew was that you’d volunteered to protect this baby and you were in it now– you’d have to learn and adjust.

“Will you, uh…tell me when you…what? Swept the office?”

“Yeah no worries.” Rebecca confirmed, “And just…if Leon needs to go and you need hands you have my number, and I’ll text you Sherry’s. We are in this together–you need someone watching out for him. You were tough with Richter but if they send someone in who is big and muscly and intimidating? I want you to have back up. Not that I don’t trust you, but you deserve back up and we will provide it. We already talked about it.”

For some reason that hurt your feelings.

Why had you let yourself believe that Leon S. Kennedy would simply volunteer to help you just because he liked you? 

It’s just about the baby and this other nonsense and that’s completely fine… 

Still, though, it stung.

It stung when you went back to work

It stung when you picked up subs for lunch.

It stung when you got home and he started awake on the couch with the baby sleeping on his chest, one hand securing the baby and the other patting the cushion next to him as if he expected a gun and a worse person in the room.

They really are scared the higher-ups will do something crazy…

“Hey! Sorry to scare you–” You held up the bag, “I brought sandwiches?”

It made him smile at you, “Amazing. I was just resting my eyes.”

It wouldn’t kill him to be less charming, but it might break a little piece of you if he couldn’t bring the general level of charm down to a safer region. It was like radiation at this point– and you were in danger of getting poisoned. 

A/N: Also it should be repeated-- it will be made clearer later but J.D. is not white-- I think of him as Latino. Not only will Leon be raising a baby that is not his, but it doesn't remotely look like him and he couldn't care less, that's his boy.

Not Beta Read. We edit 6 months later at 2am.

Resident Evil regulars, I'm new here! I don't know your tags well, help a girl out and RB please. I see several RE communities but have no idea who takes fanfiction-- help a girl out.

So I updated with speed like I was being stalked by Mr. X and have done nearly 100k on Leon in a month. I don't know. There are other stories on the Leon Masterlist (it's linked up top)

First, Do No Harm (complete) Leon x Reader (slowburn, wife)

Resident Evil Miami: A DLC style fic where Leon meets his wife (an OC but very reader adjacent)

There was something deeply unsettling about how someone capable of tearing a man apart with his bare hands could touch you with such impossible care. Every movement of his was so patient, almost reverent, as though he feared you might crack apart beneath too much pressure.

Part of you suspected you already had.

The warmth of the water only made the coldness beneath your skin more noticeable. You could feel it now in quiet moments, the subtle wrongness of your body - your heartbeat absent, your breathing optional and your senses stretched too far beyond what should have been natural.

“When does it stop feeling strange?” your voice was barely audible beneath the water.

Max’s hand slowed instantly where the cloth moved over your shoulder. He dragged it lightly along your collarbone before lowering it entirely, his gaze lifting to yours.

“When do I feel like myself again?” you clarified quietly.

For a moment something painfully tender crossed his expression. Not pity exactly. Something sadder than that.

“You don’t,” he admitted softly. “Not completely. It changes eventually, though. Becomes... something else. Something you learn to live as.”

You lowered your gaze, absorbing the answer without really knowing what to do with it. Then, after a second, you reached for the cloth in his hand. Your fingers brushed, and Max’s expression softened further as you carefully began wiping the remaining blood from his face instead.

“If it helps,” he murmured, leaning almost unconsciously into your touch, “you still feel like you to me.”

To your own surprise, the words eased something inside you.

You decided not to linger there emotionally before you drowned in it entirely.

“Here,” you muttered instead, tugging lightly at the soaked fabric plastered to his chest. “Help me with that.”

A grin immediately tugged at the corner of his mouth. “Second time tonight you are trying to undress me.”

You flicked water at him in response. “Just trying to keep things fair.”

His laugh rumbled low in his chest as he peeled the shirt over his head and tossed it carelessly onto the floor outside the shower. Water rolled over bare skin and the fading marks where bullets had nearly ended him only hours ago. Your gaze dropped there instinctively while you ran the cloth carefully across the healed wounds, fingertips trailing after the movement.

“Better?” he asked knowingly, one arm braced against the tile beside your head.

“Much,” you admitted, entirely unapologetic.

The cloth drifted lower toward the waistband of his pants more out of instinct than intention.

Max’s eyes darkened with amusement. “Say no more, sweetheart.”

The nickname settled warmly beneath your ribs, familiar enough to make you smile despite yourself. He pushed away from the wall long enough to undo the button and zipper before stepping out of the drenched fabric, leaving it abandoned beside the rest of your ruined clothes.

You barely had time to properly look at him before he crowded close again, pressing you gently back against the cool tile. You remembered him perfectly from the night you had spent together before everything shattered apart, but now every sensation arrived heightened, sharpened nearly unbearably by what you had become. His warmth. His scent. The solid weight of him against you.

When he finally kissed you, it hit like drowning.

Your arms slid instinctively around his neck, fingers disappearing into wet curls as you pulled him closer. The restraint dissolved quickly, mouths parting, breaths mingling even though neither of you truly needed them anymore.

“We should sleep,” he managed eventually between kisses, voice rough and low against your mouth. “We’re exhausted.”

You laughed breathlessly against his lips. “Who says I’m staying here?”

You felt his smirk before you saw it. “Good luck finding sleep in your own bedroom without blackout curtains then.”

Before you could answer, he reached behind you to shut off the water entirely. The sudden absence of sound left only the quiet drip of water and your uneven breathing filling the bathroom. Then, without warning, Max lifted you effortlessly from the tub.

You instinctively wrapped your legs around his waist, looking down at him through damp strands of your hair.

“Then at least -” you started.

Max cut you off with another kiss, deeper this time, his forehead briefly resting against yours afterward while his voice dropped into something almost wrecked.

“For the love of God, Ashley,” he murmured against your mouth, “stop talking and let me fuck you.”

Their first time together had been born from tension sharp enough to cut through skin, from suspicion and adrenaline and weeks of resisting.

This felt entirely different.

The apartment remained wrapped in darkness, every curtain drawn tight against the full morning while the city beyond the windows slowly drifted toward another ordinary day. Max carried you through the quiet flat without hurry, his hands steady beneath you as though he feared rushing even this. When he lowered you onto the sheets of his bed, you barely had time to settle before your fingers curled into him again, pulling him down into another lingering kiss.

And for once, Max let the moment breathe.

There was no urgency in the way he touched you now. No frantic edge beneath it. Instead he moved with impossible patience, as though relearning you slowly mattered more than anything else in the world.

You lay back against the pillows while he kissed his way across your skin with deliberate care, starting at your mouth before wandering over your jaw.

When his lips brushed the thin pink line along your throat where Torres had slit it open only hours ago, something in his expression softened almost painfully. He lingered there longer than anywhere else, pressing slow kisses over the scar as if affection alone could somehow erase the memory carved into your body.

Then he continued downward.

His mouth trailed across your collarbones, over the curve of your chest, the faint scrape of his beard against sensitive skin making you shiver beneath him. Warmth pooled low in your stomach while his kisses traveled lower still with maddening slowness until he reached your side and you jerked with sudden laughter.

“Good to know,” you gasped between giggles, twisting slightly beneath him, “that being ticklish is still a thing.”

Max grinned against your skin, the expression warm and entirely too pleased with himself. “Oh yes, heightened senses are definitely an upgrade for your sexlife.”

His mouth wandered lower again, lingering at your hipbones while his hands slid beneath your legs, drawing you closer to him inch by inch. You propped yourself slightly on your elbows to look down at him, damp hair spilling around your shoulders while anticipation flickered openly across your face now.

“You’re making some very ambitious promises,” you warned lightly.

Max answered with that familiar boyish grin that always looked dangerously out of place on someone capable of so much violence.

“Sweetheart,” he murmured against the inside of your thigh, voice roughened by amusement and want alike, “trying to work on the promises I make.”

You snorted softly at that, though the sound dissolved quickly into a shaky exhale when his tongue wandered over your center and gave your clit a teasing flick.

“You’re ridiculous,” you breathed.

“Mm.” His eyes lifted briefly to yours, gold catching gold in the dim room. “But rarely disappointing.”

Your fingers tightened in his curls the moment he shifted against you, but instead of letting him disappear between your thighs again, you tugged him insistently upward. He gave you two more slow strokes with his tongue, enough to make your breath hitch and your stomach tighten around the anticipation already coiling there, before he finally surrendered to the pull of your hands.

You wriggled beneath him, sliding lower against the sheets until you could cup both of his shoulders properly, your palms warm against damp skin as you drew him back over your body.

“Kiss me,” you breathed, the plea leaving your lips with such fragile urgency that it almost sounded painful. “Please.”

Max did not smirk this time or tease you for begging. Something in your voice stripped the humor clean out of him. He simply came back to you instantly, bracing himself above you as his body pressed fully against yours, all heat and muscle and the lingering scent of soap, water and blood still trapped faintly in his curls.

One hand slid beneath your neck while the other cupped the side of your face, thumb brushing along your cheek as he kissed you with a slowness that captivated you more effectively than anything rough ever could have.

Your hands wandered restlessly across his shoulders, down the broad line of his back. Your fingernails dragged lightly over him and a low rumble vibrated through Max’s chest at the sensation, swallowed between your mouths as the kiss deepened. You could feel the hard length of his cock pressing against your pelvis and every slow roll of his hips against you sent another pulse of need spiraling low through your stomach.

“I need you, Max,” you whispered.

The words surprised even you. It was not simply lust clawing through your body, although there was plenty of that too. It was deeper, rawer, as if something fundamental inside you had cracked open the moment you died and only now, here beneath him, it began stitching itself together again. The hunger, the rage, the grief, the disorientation of becoming something new - it all quieted when he touched you like this.

“I got you,” he murmured against your lips.

The words were quiet, but you felt the weight behind them. Felt it in the way he kissed you again like he was trying to pour every unspoken thing into your mouth instead. Your legs parted instinctively beneath him as his hand drifted lower between you. He stroked through your slickness once, twice, and the small sound that escaped you at the sensation made something heated flash across his face.

Then he guided himself into you.

No rough thrust, no sudden claiming. Just a steady push that stole the breath from both of you. You arched beneath him immediately, welcoming him with a softness that made Max’s eyes close briefly as he bottomed out inside you inch by inch. Your warmth surrounded him completely, tight and impossibly addictive, and for one suspended moment neither of you moved at all.

Max opened his eyes again only to find you staring back at him with an expression so open it nearly hurt to look at.

“This is…” you exhaled shakily, your brows knitting together in disbelief as one leg wrapped tighter around his hip, drawing him impossibly closer. “…something else.”

A quiet laugh escaped him, rough around the edges. “Told you.”

He rolled his hips once, slow enough to make your mouth fall open against his shoulder. Your fingers dug into his back immediately, your entire body reacting before your mind could catch up.

“Holy fu-”

“There’s nothing holy about this, love,” Max murmured against your jaw before kissing his way down your throat again.

Then he began to move properly, setting a rhythm that was neither hurried nor gentle enough to spare you, and you could only cling to him as the world narrowed entirely to the feeling of him inside you.

Max felt the shudder move through you the instant he pressed deeper, your muscles tightening around him in uneven pulses that made restraint suddenly feel like the hardest thing he had ever attempted.

You buried your face against the curve of his throat as though grounding yourself there, your breath hot against his skin, little broken sounds slipping from your lips every time his hips rolled into yours again.

He had spent decades existing with heightened senses, decades learning how overwhelming pleasure could become for his kind, but this was different. Nothing in all those years compared to the way you felt beneath him now, every reaction amplified until it nearly drowned him in it.

He forced himself to keep the pace steady despite the instinct clawing at him to lose control completely. It was too intoxicating watching you come apart like this, watching tension melt from your body. Your fingers dragged helplessly over his shoulders and back while your thighs tightened around his waist as if you physically could not pull him close enough.

“Max…” His name left you in a breathless wreck of a sound, barely coherent, but he already knew. He could feel it in the way your body clenched around him, in the sharp hitch of your movements whenever he drove into you just right.

His hand slid into your hair, easing your head back enough so he could look at you properly. Your pupils were blown wide open in the darkness, lips parted, cheeks flushed despite the coldness that now lived beneath your skin.

“That’s it, sweetheart,” he murmured, his voice rougher than before. “Don’t hold back. Let me feel you.”

He pressed into you again, deeper this time, his chest slick against yours from the steam and lingering heat still clinging to both of you. For one irrational second he wanted to taste every inch of you all over again, wanted to chase the salt on your skin with his tongue just because he could. Instead he kept his gaze locked onto yours, completely consumed by the sight of you unraveling beneath him.

You could no longer separate sensation from thought. Everything blurred together into overwhelming warmth and motion and him. Since waking into this new existence, every emotion had been too sharp, every sound too loud, every instinct too violent, but this eclipsed all of it entirely.

It flooded through you like light breaking through deep water, burning away the cold that had settled inside you since the moment you died. Your hips rocked against his instinctively and when his lips crashed against yours again, the moan caught in your throat dissolved into the kiss as the orgasm finally tore through you.

The force of it nearly dragged Max under with you.

A breathless laugh escaped him, half disbelief and half pure overwhelm, because seeing you like this - open, trusting, completely lost in him - felt dangerously close to happiness.

The devotion in the way you clung to him shattered whatever restraint he had left. He buried himself deeper inside you as his own release hit moments later, his forehead pressed against yours while both of you struggled to catch breaths neither technically needed.

For a long moment neither of you moved. The city outside remained distant and muted beyond the blackout curtains while the room settled into silence broken only by the occasional creak of the old building and the soft drag of your skin against tangled sheets.

Max stayed above you until your trembling eased, brushing his thumb lazily across your cheek as your eyes fluttered open again.

You blinked up at him dazedly before a slow grin tugged at your mouth.

“Okay,” you murmured hoarsely, “that definitely belongs on the pro side of becoming a vampire.”

Max laughed softly against your lips, relief loosening something tight in his chest at the sound of you joking about any of this. “Yeah, that was a first for me, too.”

He rolled onto his side then, immediately pulling you with him so you stayed tucked against his body. One arm wrapped securely around your waist while he scattered absentminded kisses along your shoulder and the back of your neck, unwilling to stop touching you now that he finally could again.

You caught his forearm and tugged it tighter around yourself before twisting slightly to look back at him, amusement glittering in your tired expression.

“So,” you said lightly, “does this mean I’ve popped your vampire-sex cherry?”

Max buried his grin briefly against your shoulder. “Yeah,” he admitted. “Turns out I’ve been seriously missing out.”

Your laugh came softer this time, heavy with exhaustion finally creeping in now that the adrenaline and hunger had faded. You settled back against him fully, eyes drifting closed as you relaxed into the mattress and his warmth behind you.

“Well,” you mumbled sleepily, “good thing we’ve apparently got eternity to practice.”

A quiet chuckle vibrated through his chest. “Something tells me my nights are about to get a lot busier.”

“Obviously,” you murmured. “You’re the one stuck teaching me vampire survival now.”

The teasing faded slightly from his expression at that. His fingers brushed slowly over your arm before he spoke again, quieter this time.

“Would you actually let me do that?” he asked. “Help you through all of this?”

You gave a tired hum that bordered on a laugh. “Considering you dragged me into this mess?” Your hand found his beneath the blanket, squeezing lightly. “Yeah, Max. Least you can do.”

His eyes closed at that, forehead resting briefly against the back of your shoulder. “Careful,” he murmured. “You keep sounding forgiving and I might start believing I deserve it.”

Outside, day slowly overtook the city in brightening light, while inside the darkened apartment two exhausted vampires finally allowed themselves the first real rest either of them had found in a very long time.

Next Chapter

Masterlist

Taglist:

MASTER LIST

Part 2

“Ellie… work with me here sweetie,” you pleaded, frustrated that your little girl was not cooperating.

She behaved in the car, talking endlessly about Sarah, excited to have a new friend. She behaved at the store when you plopped her in the staff lounge, taking out a colouring book to fill her time. She behaved when the two of you went around the store after you clocked out and got stuff for dinner. She behaved on her way home.

There was something odd, though. Well, two, really.

For one, she was hungry. So hungry that you could hear her stomach rumble in the car on the way to the store. Her lunch pack was empty. She even ate the crusts off the French toasts. You don’t usually take the crusts off her French toast, just so the bread was easier to pan fry. She would take them off herself, and you would pick at them before doing the dishes. But the crusts were gone. She must have been very hungry. You knew growing children needed more nourishment, but a stomach rumble after emptying her lunch pack?

Okay, maybe two pieces of toast for breakfast and some French toasts with an apple and a yoghurt wasn’t enough for her. Note to self. Send more food the next day. You wanted to kick yourself for not making her extra food. Maybe a main course along with a sandwich, then? You wanted to kick yourself for not buying groceries earlier. You did go shopping before you moved in, but you were distracted by the things you needed to make the house liveable. You hadn’t bought much, just the basics, and you were planning to shop after work.

Despite the hunger, she didn’t ask for food. You had no idea why she wouldn’t tell you. If you hadn’t heard her stomach rumble she wouldn’t have told you she was hungry. But when you gave her some Chef Boyardee she ate all of it in silence without protest. She even licked the bowl.

This was not like her. You had had to bribe her to eat in the past. The girl would rather starve than stop watching Peppa Pig. But if she was hungry, she would tell you. She would ask for food.

So why wouldn’t she tell you this time? What changed?

You got more of those raviolis. They can be one of her lunches for next time. Pasta. Rice. So many eggs. Yoghurts. Crackers. Fruits.

And one of those thermal containers for her main meal. They can be kinda pricey, but it’s okay. As long as your child doesn’t go hungry.

Lesson learned.

The other odd thing was the fact that she refused to take her jacket off. Wouldn’t let you take it off. Not in the car, not at the store, not at home. Wouldn’t let you help her shower. Took her pyjamas with her into the bathroom. Came back outside with her towel around her neck.

You saw all these weirdness from the corner of your eyes as you were making dinner, but you decided not to say anything about it. But then, she sat down for dinner with a scarf around her neck.

When asked, she claimed she was cold. It sort of made sense – the weather had been getting colder. Your ‘single mom starting over in a new place’ mindset responded by putting so much wood in the stove the cottage was basically a furnace. You could literally see her got all red and sweaty, her pyjama wet and sticking to her body from the hear but she refused to take the scarf off. You almost choked her trying to wrestle the scarf off her. You never knew she was that strong.

“Ellie, come on sweetie. You’re hot. You’re sweating. This is not good. Take the scarf off.”

“No.”

“Ellie…”

“No Mama,” she squealed, running into her room, the door shut behind her.

You let her be for a while, spending that time cleaning up and getting your bed ready. When you finally went in to check on her, she had fallen asleep, scarf still on.

You gently took the scarf off and immediately saw what she was trying to hide.

Just above her collar bone, an area easily covered by her jacket before the scarf came into play, was a deep, long scratch.

You bristled. What the actual fuck?

You inspected the scratch mark. This was not a cat. The scratch was too big. Could she have caught herself on something? What could she have possibly caught herself on in a kindy classroom that would have gotten herself scratched there? It wasn’t even an exposed area.

Did someone scratch your daughter? Did someone do this to her?

You looked at the clothes she was wearing, seeing of there were tears or anything around that area. Nope, nothing. If it was a nail or something the clothes would have torn, right? Even if it was a cat?

You fell asleep on her bed that night, your mind wondering what you were going to do. Do you ask her straight on? She obviously didn’t want you to know about the scratch, having gone through such uncomfortable lengths to hide it from you.

It wasn’t as if things were easier when Eric was around, he was always working, and he preferred to be the fun parent when he was home. He wanted a boy, and treated Ellie as if she was one. He wouldn’t have batted an eyelash at this scratch. Boys are scrappy, he used to say.

And correcting him was never an option. Not since he started at hie new precinct anyway.

God, you woke up every few minutes that night, worried that some new scratch might appear somewhere else on her little person somehow.

“Sweetie,” you finally braved that morning while she was eating her beans and toast, the crusts cut off, obviously, with two boiled eggs. You busied yourself with packing her lunch to make your line of questioning less obvious. You placed a few scoops of last night’s rice and stir fry into two disposable containers before moving on to her PB&J, cutting the crusts off the bread after. “Did you have fun playing with Sarah yesterday? During break?”

She nodded, picking at the boiled eggs, taking the yolks out and putting them aside, eating just the whites.

“What did you do? What did you play?”

“We played on the swings.”

You nodded… trying to figure out how to bring up the scratch.

“And… everything is okay? Did you hurt yourself? Did you fall?”

She stopped eating. You heard her chair scrape as she turned to face you.

“Why?”

“It’s just… I saw the scratch. Did you fall?”

Even with your back turned, you could hear the wheels in her head turn.

“No. I hit the wall in the classroom. I got a scratch. See?” she said. You turned to see her showing the scratch to you.

“Did you tear your clothes?”

She was quiet for a beat, “Nope.”

“Sweetie,” you coaxed, sitting down next to her. “You know you can just tell me, right? If someone hurt you?”

She didn’t respond, simply continued eating her breakfast.

“Ellie? You would tell me if someone hurt you, right?”

She became very interested in one particularly wonky bean and picked it up, nibbling on it as if it was the most important thing she had to do in her life.

It was like talking to a wall.

You sighed, taking another disposable container to put her snacks. “Do you want goldfish or cheese crackers? Raisins or gummy bears?”

That got her attention. “No Mama, no Tupperware. Zippy bag,” she said, getting up and getting the Ziploc bags, handing them to you. “I want goldfish and raisins please,” she sweetly cooed, making you smile. “Can I have an apple and an orange please?” she asked, taking them from the bowl.

“Sure, sweet talker,” you took them from her. “You want me to slice them for you?”

“Yes please,” she smiled her sweet smile. God, she really was her Papa. You could never resist his charms.

“These go in zippy bag too?” She nodded rigorously, kissing your hip before sitting back down to finish her breakfast.

You finished packing her lunch, adding yoghurt and juice boxes to her lunch bag, confident that she wouldn’t starve this time. You filled in her water bottle and placed them along with her bag by the door. You sat in front of her and ate your own breakfast, eyeing her, still not satisfied with her answer regarding the scratch.

As you were washing the dishes before leaving, you saw her grab an extra apple and a muffin, hiding them in her jacket pocket before going to put her shoes on.

Okay, better extra than have her go hungry again.

“So, you’re really not gonna tell me how you really got that scratch?”

She stopped eating, closed her eyes and dramatically took a deep breath. “I love you Mama, you’re the best Mama ever!” she squealed, grinning at you.

Yeah, she’s not telling you.

“Come on, Baby Girl, work with me here,” Joel groaned as Sarah took some snacks he had prepped for her out of the paper bag. “You were hungry yesterday, you sure you don’t want extra snacks?”

“No Daddy. Too many. Is okay,” she said, patting him on his hip as if he was some child that needed consoling.

“Okay, okay,” he conceded, taking the mac and cheese container out from the microwave and placing them in the bag, eyeing the stuff she took out. The fruits and muffin, and the pretzels.

As much as he wanted to focus on that, he couldn’t stop his mind from wondering how to bring the bruise up to her. He couldn’t really sleep last night. Someone put a bruise on his precious daughter, and he needed to know who. But the lengths Sarah went to in order to hide the bruise from him… he needed to tread lightly here. He couldn’t just ask. She would never tell. He didn’t. Tommy didn’t. And Sarah wouldn’t.

He remembered Tommy coming out to meet him at the school gate with a cut lip. Wouldn’t tell him who gave it to him. But Joel knew. It was always that same guy. So Joel took care of it for Tommy, like he always did. But when he himself came home with a cut lip or a bruise, he would never tell his Mama who gave it to him. Tommy didn’t either. His Mama would stew all week wondering who hurt her boys and never got an answer.

Sarah wouldn’t tell either. He knew she wouldn’t.

And her taking food out was distracting him as well, not giving him the time to ask about that bruise this morning. She did eat a bowl of cereals along with her toast and eggs, though, so he knew she was a bit more nourished this morning than she was yesterday.

When he turned around from putting the dirty dishes in the dishwasher, all the extra food Sarah had taken out of the paper bag were gone from the counter. So was she and her school bag. He found her outside, all ready to go.

“Sarah, sweetheart, you know I love you, right?” he cautiously asked as he drove her to school.

She nodded. “I love you too Daddy.”

He smiled. No matter how many times she said that over the years, his heart wouldn’t stop expanding every time he heard he tell him that.

“Thank you Baby Girl. You know you can tell me anything, right?”  

“Uhuh.”

“So… if someone hurt you at school, or anywhere else, you would tell me, right?”

“Mm hmm…”

“Baby Girl?”

“Hmm?”

“You would tell me if someone hurt you, right?”

She nodded, eyes directly on his in the rear view mirror.

“So, you have something to tell me?”

“Nu’uh.”

“You sure?”

She nodded.

“Did something happen yesterday at school?”

She pondered for a bit, eyes no longer on his, “I hit my hand on the table.”

“Is that why there’s a bruise?”

“Uhuh.”

Something was wrong. She was lying. He could tell. He knew everything there was to know about this girl, and she was not telling him the truth.

“Sarah, are you lying to me?”

“Nope. I hit my table. The corner. It hurt at first but it doesn’t hurt anymore.”

He kept eyeing her in the mirror, but she avoided eye contact with him the rest of the journey.

“So why did you hide it from me?”

“You ask to many questions.”

Okay, she’d got him there.

He parked in the parking lot and helped her get out of her car seat, noticing that her school bag was a bit fuller than it was when he packed it that morning. He tried to unzip it to check, in case she decided to sneak her butterfly plushie in it, but she started squealing when a car parked next to his truck.

“Ellie! Hi Ellie!” she called out, waving her hands like crazy, practically snatching the bag out of his hands.

“Someone’s excited to see her new friend,” he laughed when you exited your car.

“Oh, someone here is, as well,” you smiled, opening the door for Ellie. The two immediately went to each other, whispering together as if concocting some secret plan they didn’t want the two of you to know. They walked ahead, hand in hand, whispering and giggling together as you and Joel followed, their lunches in your hands.

“I might go over to the store later,” Joel found himself saying. “I need to get lunchboxes for Sarah. One of those thermal ones? You sell those, right?”

“Think so, I need to get one too,” you said, “Gave her a sandwich and a few snacks yesterday, and she came home hungry. Thought of giving her something more filling instead. She’s never been to school before, I’m still learning.”

“Me too,” Joel nodded, “Sarah came home looking for food as if she hadn’t eaten at all. And that girl is picky. This needs to be cold, this needs to be warm, so I thought, thermal containers, right?”

You nodded your agreement, calling Ellie who was almost at the door. The girls came back for their lunches, each daughter squirming out of emotional hugs and running inside hand in hand. You and Joel were left looking on longingly at the door as they ran off without looking back.

“They didn’t even kiss us goodbye,” Joel complained.

“Next thing you know they’ll wipe our kisses off their cheeks!” you concurred.

“God, don’t even say that! Why would you say that?” Joel looked at you in horror, as if you’d just insulted him.

“I’m sorry! Sorry!”

“But they will, won’t they?”

You nodded.

“And then they’ll go to big girl school and need us less,” he continued.

You nodded, tears starting to prickle in your eyes.

“And then they’ll become teenagers and hate us,” you added.

“And then they’ll go to college and become smarter than us and think we’re stupid.”

“And then they’ll graduate and meet someone and get married and leave us!”

He looked at you as if you’d betrayed him, as if you’d just blasphemed so badly you should wash your mouth with soap.

“Oh, the drama,” Tess popped out of nowhere, giving Joel a peck on the cheek. “Relax, there’s plenty of time, Mom, Dad, don’t go planning their weddings just yet,” she joked. “Hi Annie,” she greeted, giving you a small hug. “How was yesterday? They talk your ears off about school?”

“About Ellie, yes,” Joel admitted.

You nodded, “Sarah, for me,” you told her.

“Ah… such good friends already! That’s good! they’re comfortable, they made friends, it’s a good thing. Makes the whole process easier,” Tess encouraged, still seeing reluctance to leave in both parents.

You nodded, feeling a bit relieved and less woe begone. “Hey, Tess,” you suddenly remembered, “Ellie caught herself on some nails or something yesterday? She had a scratch on her collarbone. She said she brushed against it on a wall?”

“Really?” Tess looked worried, “Well that’s not good, I’ll tell the super to check the walls in her class and the bathrooms. That could be dangerous. We don’t want other children getting injured like that. If a child got poked in the eye or something… Don’t worry, I’ll make sure he knows,” she assured you.

“Thank you. Well, I should get going, I’ll see you at the store?” you said to Joel, who nodded, rubbing the back of his neck. You smiled at Tess and left, saying goodbye one last time.  

Tess waited until you were out of the gate before grinning at her blushing brother in law whose eyes were now following you out of the gates, a stupid smile on his lips. She popped her head in front of his, making him jump a little. “You’ll see her at the store, huh? Someone’s got a plan to see a lady,” she teased, bumping him with her shoulder. “About time,” she joked.

“She works at the store, I need to get some thermal containers for Sarah,” he answered, rolling his eyes, his hand rubbing the back of his head, a grin he couldn’t help forming, his head red he got caught.

“Ah, that girl does hate cold food, unless it’s fruits and ice cream!” she nodded understandingly, still with a smirk. “But, there are other stores that sell those containers, you know? Heck, you can even buy them online these days. But uh… it’s nice to see someone finally got your attention!”

Joel rolled his eyes, “Shut up.”

Tess laughed, giving his arm tiny little punches in excitement. “Well I never though I’d see the day!” she exclaimed, “Good for you, brother in law dear! Happy for you!”

Joel rolled his eyes yet again.

“Well, I should go in, I need another cup of coffee before dealing with my class,” she said, moving towards him to hug him goodbye.

“Tess,” he said before she could. He looked around, making sure Sarah was nowhere near them, “Sarah has a bruise on her arm. She said she hit her hand on the corner of her table, but I don’t know, I think she’s lying. Also, you know how much food I got her yesterday?”

Tess nodded, frowning.

“She came home hungry. How could she still be hungry after all that food?”

She looked confused. Worried, too. “I’ll ask around, let you know later?”

Joel nodded, giving Tess a quick hug.

“Hey Joel?”

He turned around.

“I know what you’re thinking, about Sarah. All the theories forming in your head. I feel like I have to tell you, don’t go there. Don’t worry unnecessarily like that, it’s useless. Don’t jump to conclusion. You’re only gonna go crazy if Sarah is being secretive. Children will do that every now and again. They grow up. They change. Let me ask around first. Don’t be that parent,” she pleaded.

Joel shuffled his feet a little before reluctantly agreeing when Tess gave her one of those looks, nodding his head, raising his hands in surrender.

“Say hi to your girlfriend!” she cooed, laughing her head off when he threw her a dagger like stare, a blush still prominent on his cheeks.

Joel jogged across the parking lot. He was late. It was almost lunch time. He had planned to get to the store as soon as it opened, but a call came in about a leak, and now he was late. He grumbled as his knees started creaking as he took a step up to the store entrance, walking around to find you.

Please still be here, he had another appointment before picking Sarah up. he would hate to miss you. He really wanted to see you. He’d been thinking about seeing you again since you disappeared from his sight almost four hours ago.

Well, only for advise on the thermal containers, you understand.

“Oof!” you exclaimed as he ran straight into you, almost knocking you off your feet.

“Oh God, I’m so sorry!” he pleaded, catching you by the arms.

“No, it’s my fault. I was too busy looking at my phone,” you countered, waving your hands at him.

Your eyes caught his, and suddenly something shifted.

You’d seen his eyes, obviously, but seeing it up close like this…

You suddenly felt like you were looking at something forbidden.

You gently pulled away from him, thanking him for catching you, the man profusely apologizing for running into you like that. You avoided his eyes, feeling like you did something wrong by noticing how kind they were, noticing the little specks of gold and amber in the brown, the tiny little freckles around them.  

The way he smelled, his warm, solid body against yours, his hands on your arms – strong enough to hold you steady, yet gentle and kind, in a manner of speaking.

Your husband just died. Not even a year ago. You really shouldn’t be looking at this man more than you needed to. Regardless of how your marriage was, regardless of what happened at the end, you were a widower for less than a year. It’s not right.

He let you go when you pulled back, his hands immediately going into his pockets.

“Are you leaving?” he asked. Please say no.

“I’m just going on my lunch,” you said, lifting your lunch bag.  

“Oh,” he responded, looking around as if the response to your statement would be written somewhere on the walls. “I don’t mean to be forward or anything, I just… uh, may I join you?”

You hesitated.

“It’s okay if you don’t want me to, I just… it’s nice to have someone to talk to about the kids, you know? I’m grasping at anything I can get my hands on here. One day of school and I feel like I’m lost,” he quickly said, noticing your reluctance. “Unless, your husband or boyfriend would have a prob…”

“I’m a single mother,” you quickly said.

Too quickly.

Far too quickly.

What the fuck?

Joel found himself releasing a huge breath. Was he relieved to hear that?

“Oh, that’s great,” he said before he could stop himself.

“Huh?”

“No, not that it’s great you’re a single mom, just… great that I don’t have to worry about a man coming after me for talking to his wife or girlfriend, you know?”

You gave him a small laugh, and his heart expanded.

“Okay, come on. Let’s sit at the special restaurant. I only have 45 minutes. Usual seating,” you joked.

He laughed. “Okay, let me get a sandwich and I’ll meet you there?”

He sat across from you at the table next to the playground with his sandwich and bottle of water, asking you questions. How long you’ve been here, how Ellie was dealing with the change. You answered, asked him some questions yourself.

“So, where did you move from?” he asked, taking a bite from his sandwich.

A piece of lettuce lodged itself on your throat and you started coughing, taking your water for a drink.

“You okay?” he asked, getting up and sitting next to you, rubbing your back.

Your body automatically slid away from him, raising your hand.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to…”

“No, no, it’s okay, I just… I’m not very comfortable being that close with someone. It’s not you… it’s me,” you placated him.

He nodded, albeit reluctantly, but he moved back to his seat across from you.

“So, you were worried about having some man go after you for sitting with me, should I worry about a woman coming after you for the same reason?” you asked once your coughing fit was over.

“Ah, no, my wife died giving birth to Sarah. I’m a single dad.”

“Oh God, I’m so sorry,” you said, you hand itching to hold his in comfort. But you didn’t.

“It’s okay, it’s been a while.”

You couldn’t stop looking at him in sadness.

“Really, it’s okay. I’m used to it.”

Silence.

“What about you? Ellie’s dad? If you don’t mind my asking, that is,” he cautiously asked, trying to distract you.

“Uh, actually, my husband died about 11 months ago. Work accident.”

Joel’s head went cold.

“God, I’m so sorry, so recent, and you’re worried for me? Are you okay? Is that why you moved?”

You mouthed a thank you, nodding as you put the Tupperware that used to contain your eaten sandwich and opening your other Tupperware, taking a bread crust out and began eating it.

“Is that a crust?”

You huffed a laugh, offering him the sad content of your Tupperware. He took one and started nibbling on it too.

“Ellie hates them, so I cut them off, but it’s still food, you know? Such a waste to throw them away. So I snack on them after I eat my lunch,” you explained.

“And the yolk?” he asked, pointing at the two yellow balls among the crusts.

“Same, loves boiled eggs, hates the yolk. So they’re Mama’s snacks.”

“You know, I might have to do the same now, I got the fancy knife to cut off the crusts and all, and Sarah definitely hates egg yolks too. New snack for Daddy, I guess?”

You laughed, nodding. “And you know what?” you took out a packet of ketchup from your last trip to McDonalds and drizzled it all over the yolks, squishing them together to make a paste. You picked up a crust and dipped it in the mixture before popping it in your mouth. “You learn to make the best of it,” you joked.

He followed suit, cringing a little as he popped the mixture in his mouth, but as he chewed, his eyes widened a bit. “Hey that’s not bad!”

“Isn’t it? See? Our lives are not so sad!”

He laughed.

He shook his head after a while, his laughter receding.

“I have to admit, I’m not having the easiest time. Sarah… she came home hungry last night,” he admitted.

“So did Ellie!” you shared. “Her lunch box was empty, but she was starving. So hungry I could hear her tummy growl!”

“Oh my God, Sarah came back with an empty bag of lunch. I gave so much food you wouldn’t believe it but she was so hungry she kept asking for snacks. I can’t stop thinking about it. And then…” he paused, gathering himself, “She has a bruise on her arm. She said she banged her hand, but the way she said it… I think she was lying. She hid the bruise from me.”

“Ellie hid the scratch from me!”

The two of you stared at each other.

What are the odds that two girls who sat next to each other both finished their lunches, a lot of food by the sounds of it, and still came home starving, both injured in one way or another?

“Ellie told me the scratch was an accident and Sarah said the same with her bruise,” you said, more to yourself than to him. He nodded, remembering your conversation with Tess that morning.

“But if those injuries were really accidents, why would they hide it from us? Ellie wore a scarf to bed despite sweating like crazy.”

You sighed, your head in your hands. “I feel like I’m failing already. And I’ve only been doing this alone less than a year. I can’t even imagine how you did this alone for five years.”

“I have help. My brother, Tess, her late husband, until recently, my neighbour, these kids who work for me. Takes a village,” he coaxed. He reached across the table and touched your hand, “We can be your village too,” he said. “Here,” he pulled out his phone, “What’s your number? Take mine, anytime you need me to take Ellie for a while, it’ll be at the shop, but Sarah is there all the time, I have staff who can help keep an eye on them.”

You told him, and he typed it in, calling you. You saved his number, asking him what his last name was.

“Miller, Joel Miller. And yours? I have two Annas and at least three Annies on here,” he said.

“Uh, Stevens. Anna Stevens.”

He typed your name in and clicked ‘save’.

“Thank you for this,” you said, feeling so grateful. “And you know, if you need me to watch Sarah, or pick her up, just let me know. I mean, she’ll be here, but Ellie will be here too. You said you would be at the store?”

“Yeah, I run a hardware store, just a few miles from here. I take the odd jobs here and there too. Fixing stuff, building furniture, stuff like that,” he said, clearing the table.

The two of you kept talking as you walked back inside, all the way to the kitchen aisle where you helped him choose a thermal container for Sarah. He kept talking about Sarah’s picky attitude when it comes to food, so you suggested ice packs and an insulated lunch bag as well, so she could keep her fruits cold.

Joel went back to his store with his pockets considerably lighter and his heart a lot fuller. He was in a good mood for the rest of the day, so much so Jesse commented on it. He tried to get back to his grumpy demeanour but he couldn’t, earning him another round of teasing, this time from Dina.

He was still trying not to smile when his brother walked in, announcing his arrival loudly by yelling his name out.

“Joel! Where is he? I heard he has a reason to be smiling!”

Joel cursed out loud. Can Tess not keep a secret at all? He was suddenly hugged from behind, Tommy’s arms wrapped around his neck so tightly he almost choked.

But even that couldn’t sour his mood, the taste of breadcrust and mashed egg yolk with ketchup still lingering on his tongue.

God he liked you. He really liked you.

“So, this woman you couldn’t stop smiling about, she’s gonna be there? I need to meet this woman!” Tommy crooned, grinning so widely it must’ve hurt. He followed Joel out and got into the truck with his brother.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Joel asked, annoyed.

“I’m going with you to pick up Sarah from school. I miss her. I missed her first day of school. I’m not missing the second!”

“Nope, get out.”

“Oh come on! I miss my niece!”

“You’re just gonna make fun of me!”

Tommy looked shocked, hand on his chest.

“I would never! Why would I make fun of my brother, who had been steadfastly single for the past five years when I heard he finally showed some interest in a woman? What kind of brother do you think I am?”

Joel rolled his eyes, but damn it, he couldn’t keep the smile off his face.

Tommy shook his head, laughing, “Man, you have it bad!” he teased. “She hot?”

“Shut up.”

“Oh come on! What’s her name? Her daughter sits next to Sarah huh? Aww…” he cooed, grasping his hands in front of his chest, his voice all high and sweet, his body wriggling in his efforts to embarrass his brother. “It’s so perfect! So romantic! The girls got the two of you together…” he batted his eyelashes at his brother. “You two gonna have a playdate while the girls have a playdate?”

“Oh my God Tommy,” Joel exclaimed, his face beet red.

The teasing went on and on as Joel drove to school, not answering any of Tommy’s incessant questions. What’s her name? Where is she from? How old is she? Does she have a friend for him?

Joel kept quiet and just got out of his truck, leaving Tommy inside, still asking questions, locking the doors to shut his annoying brother up.

Tommy caught up, still grinning, a pep to his step so prominent he was practically bouncing, so excited to see Sarah and the lady his brother seemed to be besotted with. After all these years. After so many attempts to fix him up with woman after woman, he went ahead and found one himself. He needed to see this woman.

He could see Joel’s head looking left and right, obviously looking for the woman Tess told him about. Tess’s text was so simple, yet it told him so much.

His brother changed the day Sarah was born. He became a shell of his former self, giving his true self only to Sarah. Nothing anyone said left a mark. In fact, he got grumpier and grumpier. Heck, one would have thought him to be a middle aged man the way he was so grumpy. Anything could set him off. He was a grumpy old man at 25.

And then he got that text from Tess, and it was like the sun came out. Walking into that store this evening, he could just feel his brother’s aura shift. He could feel his brother smile from outside.

He hadn’t met you yet, but seeing his brother smiling so much, even if just for a few hours, he had a good feeling. Joel hadn’t smiled this much since Daisy passed, unless it was for Sarah. This was good. Wonderful news. And if this lady could bring this much change in Joel after a couple of days, he couldn’t wait for the coming days when his older brother finally found his balls to ask this lady out. Maybe he’ll get his big brother back, and not just when Sarah was around.

The moms were milling around waiting for their kids to come out. When they noticed Joel coming they all started whispering and giggling with each other, some even said hi out loud, a singsong in their voice, their body language all flirty and girly.

And Joel? He just walked past. Like these throngs of adoring fans of his didn’t exist.

Tommy didn’t get it. All these women fangirling over him and the man didn’t care. Didn’t even notice, in fact. The man seemed completely oblivious, his eyes searching for Sarah, or maybe the new lady he had been smiling for.

“Joel, Tommy!” Tess called out, coming towards them, her arms around her jacketless body. She looked worried.

“What’s wrong? Is Sarah okay?” Joel was clearly panicking.

“She’s fine, she’s fine,” Tess coaxed, putting her hand out to calm her brother in law. “It’s about that thing you asked me to check out? The bruise on Sarah’s arm?”

“Yeah, did you find out who did it?”

“Sarah’s arm was bruised?” Tommy asked, not knowing about this at all.

Joel shushed him.

“Well, I asked around, and apparently Sarah did get in a fight yesterday. She must have gotten the bruise then.”

“What?” Joel was perplexed. That didn’t sound like Sarah at all. Sarah would never be in a fight.

“They made up, apparently, just a little confusion over some French toasts or something. But everything is resolved, I guess, and they’re all good now.”

Joel’s body tensed up. Another child did this to his Sarah? Another child hurt his Baby Girl?

“Who?” he bristled. “Which child hurt my baby?”

“Joel, it’s just a silly fight among children. Children fight. It’s normal,” Tess said, reaching out to rub Joel’s arm. The man pulled back, his body all rigid.

“Who was it?” he asked again, his neck taut.

“Joel, they’re children!” Tommy chimed in.

“They forgot about it minutes later Joel. It’s fine,” Tess tried again.

“Who is it?” he asked again, his voice starting to rise.

“Joel, don’t…”

“Tess, who hurt my baby?”

Tess sighed.

“Ellie Stevens.”

Part 4

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