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Shared burdens

CHAPTER TWO: PART 1, WHAT FRIENDS DO

synopsis🐴: winter is over, and the memories of destruction and lost is all left. Everyone is dealing with the absence of joel miller, and some very differently than others.

masterlist here

IMPORTANT INFOS: as usual, this story flows between flashbacks and the present, and italic scenes stands for the past. game timeline reguarding the outbreak, the rest being a mix of the two medias. PS.:⚠️⚠️this chapter specifically is split in two parts due the lenght, the link of part2 of this chapter is at the end of this one

chapter warnings: loss of joel and mentions of other deaths, grief. author's main language isn't english, so you might find mistakes, no beta reader.

The first time she heard about Sarah Miller, she was nine.

It was a little while after she joined Jackson with Grandma. She was still getting used to how nice everything surrounding Jackson was, even the sky, that seemed far more vivid than the sky of the Quarentine Zone that looked polluted most of the time. Her new room, who she was still trying to get used to call it hers, was on the second floor of their house, so some mornings she woke up a little earlier and witnessed the sun stretching from behind the mountains. It's one of the reasons she's glad that the curtains on her windows are pink, because the space of her room lit up in a warm peach color was a good vision before she would drift back to sleep. It was the last vision she saw before she would wake up later again, when Grandma would wake her up to start the day.

Lucky her, Grandma hadn’t started pressuring her to attend the little school in town—yet. Even though Lupita knew she’d only been hearing good things about it. Some moms who’d introduced themselves before kept saying how nice the school was, how sweet the teacher was, and how happy their kids were. She even oveheard what she told Mrs. Mill— Maria Miller when they were talking on the porch some days ago, when Tommy's wife asked Grandma if her granddaughter (who was supposed to be brushing her teeth upstairs instead of sneaking a snack before bed) wasn't excited to go to school.

'She's intimidated by the idea of going to school, of other kids...' It's what she answered 'I'm not gonna pressure her.'

And it was almost funny how different she would sound when they were alone:

'But it would be good for you, you know' Grandma would say —either before bed when she's being tucked in her bed or when they're having dinner and Lupita tries to shrug the topic off, 'We spent a whole life In QZ, baby, we can't keep hiding here too.'

And deep down, Lupita knew she was right. A little bit.

But school meant rooms full of eyes and routines she didn’t understand yet. Back in the QZ, school had just been Grandma at the kitchen table with old books and worksheets, warm tea on the stove when they had any. Quiet. Not perfect, but good. And even though grandma insisted the teacher in here could teach her far more stuff than the limited science knowledge grandma has, the idea of doing it differently made her tummy twist.

That's probably why Grandma has embraced Tommy's idea and has been encouraging her to keep working with him every morning, when he wasn't on patrol. It wasn't school, no—more like a way to 'help out' as used to she put it.

To be honest, she wasn't sure what she was supposed to be helping with, exatcly. At first, she thought she'd have to hammer things and carry big stuff, but most mornings, Tommy would just walk around. Talk to people, fixed pipes here, checked a fence there. She would follow him like a loyal shadow —nodding when he told stories about who lived here or who did what, handed him tools he asked for and tried not to distract him that much with their engaging conversations.

She didn't mind seeing him every morning, and she actually liked Tommy. He could be a chatterbox sometimes but at least he wasn't pushy like some grown-ups are, and neither wanted to pinch her cheeks. He always waited for her to walk beside him instead of behind, and he never asked her why she wasn't in their school yet. He didn't talk about classrooms and kids. She liked Tommy.

And that's where she was that morning, adjusting her overalls in front of the mirror to meet him again. Still a little full from breakfast.

"Baby, you ready yet?" Grandma's voice speaks from downstairs.

"Coming!"

She checks her nice apple-shaped clock on the nightstand while she grabs her headband, deciding to just ask for grandma to put it on her before she left. She glances at her reflection one last time, before she gets her out of her room.

There was these moments, she hasn't told grandma, where she's here and her mind suddently jumps to Denver. She knows it’s not the same. Their old apartment had been tiny and worn out, while this house was pretty—with a room just for her. But still. She liked to think It were the small things. Like sometimes she would walk around the house and hear grandma humming while she stirred a pan on the stove, or when she closed her eyes to sleep at night and have the weird sensation she's in her old bed.

Like now, for example. At the top of the stairs, the smell of fried eggs still lingered the air hot and buttery, and she lets her eyes close just for a second and inhale.

Then a voice comes from downstairs.

"Im not a big fan of pancakes, but this is damn good"

She blinked.

Tommy?

She didn't know he was coming this early.

Normally, she met him outside in the place he said the day before. Today, it would've been the barn. Has the plans changed?

She smiles either way at the sound of laugh sounding closer, stepping down. Her feet made no sound in her socks.

"—No, she ain't giving me any trouble. That grandbaby of yours picks up things quicker than I did at her age."

Her socked feet stops on the last step.

She's pretty sure 'don't eavesdrop' was one of the new rules Grandma taught her since they came to Jackson —along with no running the stairs and always let her know when she's leaving the house. And Lupita doesn't mean to eavesdrop, not really, specially boring conversations grown ups have that is none of her business

But this isn't just any conversation. They were talking about her, and that interested her. And besides, she would be lying if his words didn't make her tummy do that flipy thing it does sometimes now. She's still getting used to not only having grandma's attention.

"Well, she's been telling me you're a great teacher. That 'you know everything'. " She recognizes her grandma's melodic tone. They both laugh at that, and her neck stretches to hear better.

"Nah... She's blowin' smoke." His funny accent rolls between his words, and when he speaks again, his tone is more relaxed and less humorous "The truth is... I ain't got a clue what she sees in me. You might not believe it, ma’am, but I never been much good with young'uns in general."

"Well, it took many years for us to leave Denver" She hears the sound of a cup being filled. "The house, the people, the space around... It's all news to her, I guess. Including you." Grandma interrupts herself, and she imagines her taking a slow sip of her coffee.

Tommy's voice perks at that, serene but curious "How so?"

"Well..." The words came more accentuated than the rest of what she says. She always liked when Grandma read to her when she was little, because of how beautiful and comforting her voice is. "Is that Lupita never really had anyone besides me, much less a male figure around, so nearby. No relatives, a neighbor, not even a friend— you see, I think she's just... enjoying having you around, your company. I know she likes spending time with me, but I guess it's not the same."

Her thumb smooth the fabric of the headband hanging between her fingers as her ears absorb her grandma's words and the gears inside her head pond them. Tommy's probably doing the same, because she can't hear his voice for some brief seconds.

When the answer comes, his tone is low and gentle.

"You think so?"

Silence again.

"Lupita is a cool little girl" Tommy finally says "If anything, I'm the lucky bastard hoping she don't get bored of me too soon."

Curling her socked toes, it's like her own heart warms all over at his words. Like those fresh baked breads she and Grandma ate on the mess hall last week. She inhales the innocent feeling down, deciding to step over, before her feet continue her route to the kitchen:

"Tommy!" She tries feighning surprise, although her curiosity is genuine. She hears a 'oh, there she is' be muttered over a breath "You're here"

Tommy is sitting two chairs from Grandma, back relaxed in the chair and sipping from a glass of the same orange juice she drank earlier this morning. When his eyes find hers, he tips an imaginary hat on his head.

"Mornin', doll"

Grandma smiles proudly "Tommy was saying how helpful you've been around town, missy"

She frowns"I thought... the barn—""

"Oh, 'bout that—" He clicks his tongue "Earl got mixed up earlier this mornin' and ended up cleaning out the barn already. M' sorry kid, change of plans"

Lupita didn't like to think of herself as someone you would.. what's that expression Grandma uses? Walking on eggshells, with. She always had a hard time with changes, but she knew things don't always go the way we plan — and sometimes that was even for the better. Grandma said herself, that she was surprisingly comprehensive for a kid her age.

And yet something very little inside her shrinks slightly like a flower —she doesn't mean to, and it's not a big deal, but is still there.

She glances between the two adults without coordination "Oh..."

"Oh ..." Tommy mimics her, raising his thick eyebrows then "—So I came here to pick you up for our new spot since you had no way of knowin' where to find me." He smirks, seeming amused at whatever change he sees in her face "Didn't think I'd leave you waiting, didn't ya?"

"Oh man, If I knew you were here waiting for me I wouldn't have taken so long!"

Tommy waves her off before he chugs the rest of his juice "Nah I get it, girls take forever to get ready, it's fine."

Grandma calls her when she opens her mouth to retort. "Lu, baby, let me help you with your headband"

She let's her, trying to ignore Tommy staring her across the table. And the moment she feels Grandma's fingers leave her hair, her shoulders are grabbed without force and turned over. The woman straightens the straps of her overalls. "Be careful, be nice and lis—"

"—listen to Tommy, I know, I know" She rushes, trying to pass a message with her eyes — a silent beg for her to cut off the usual talking now that they're not alone.

Either doesn't work or Grandma ignores "But you heard me, right?"

"Yes, Granny"

Grandma turns up her nose, eticing a snort from her. She always forbade her from calling her that, saying it made her feel like an old fart. "Hm,'kay... You can go."

The chair scrapes as Tommy stands, and she turns to him "It was all tasty, Ina, thanks again!" His attention turns to her "You comin', Lupita Dean?" She nods, walking past him to the front door to put on her shoes on.

She wobbles a little when she lifts on her right foot, and Tommy holds her hand to steady her "Ain't gonna ask me where we're going?"

"Where?"

"Well, you'll never guess. It starts and ends with the same letter—"

Her head snaps up "Stables?"

A silence makes itself present for some brief seconds, and Tommy's voice is less smug when he breaks it "...Yeah."

She's already beaming at him when he catches a glimpse of her again, and there's definitely a smirk tugging the corners of his mouth before he looks foward "Yeah, keep thrilled —let’s see if a sniff of horse shit kills the mood."

She wonders if he notices his hand is still enveloping hers when they walk off her grandmother's porch and start heading towards the main street.

Several people pass by waving to Tommy all the way, which she's already's getting used to, and even some people smile at her direction and say "hi", which she's still getting familiar with. Back in the QZ streets of Denver, when she used to accompany Grandma, Lupita couldn’t recall a single stranger who looked relaxed enough to smile at her. And the few glances she did catch back then never felt even remotely friendly. But here, a pot-bellied man she's sure she has seen before, waves to them as he leaves Tipsy Bison: 'Bob the Builder and his assistant again, huh!' he says, making Tommy snort while she thinks twice about whether is really them he's talking to.

Her hand was already free by the time they reach the stables, Tommy making a motion to one of the big open doors and muttering 'ladies first', as she refrains from hopping inside instead of walking.

Since sometime now, she has already made a mental list of the animals they have in here and erasing from it the ones she got to visit. The sheep and the cows were the ones she got to know on her first week in here, and they probably were her best first choice — their quiet company didn't demand much energy of her when her mind was still overwhelmed by the changes she got through from Denver to here. Then, she went to the chicken coops (which wasn't that exciting as she thought it would be. It's chickens.), and she still visited the dogs in the kennel almost every afternoon now, and some of them had even started to greet her with waggy tails lately. She had been thinking about asking Grandma or Tommy to have some permanent task there if they allow, like feeding them or playing...

"So, was it what you were hopin' for?" Tommy asks by her side, and she doesn't even return his gaze on her when she nods and starts to walk foward, studying the place.

It's definetly bigger than she would imagine what a stable would be like, with a wide passage that goes between the stalls —wood stalls that are much taller and large inside than she expected, when she imagined passing through each one and smoothing the heads of all the horses. But now, finally here, she realizes she doesn't even reach them not even on her tiptoes.

Her feet follow her attention to a particular tall head popping from one of the stalls, silent among the others that snort and sigh. This horse's face is serene and blinks slowly, but disappears from her vision almost completely when she's close enough. She stretches one arm, and her fingertips brush the brown neck.

Tommy appears by her side, de raspy voice soft as the skin she barely touches "This one's name's Jolie"

"So it's a girl?"

"Yes, It's a Mare" He crouches slighty, head tilting up indicating the animal "want a hand?"

Her eyes find his, nodding. The next thing she feels are big hands holding her waist and bringing her up effortlessly like she waits nothing. The whole picture before her eyes catches her attention so good she doesn't even yelp when Tommy tilts her up to scoop her better against his chest, her right arm hooking his neck.

"There you are" he mutters, half groaning.

Jolie is beautiful. Her coat is a mix between brown and yellow like caramel, with white spots speckled like a cow from the face to the rest of the body where she can see. Her mane is long and almost matches the light parts of her body, a shade so bright of blond it reminds her of the sunlight. The mare doesn't flinch when she brings her left arm foward, shiny black eyes staring at her back like they're both studying eachother.

She can't help but smile at the soft sensation against her fingers.

Tommy's patient beside her, not once bothered by her weight on his arms, and she thinks she can feel his eyes on her face.

After a minute or two admiring Jolie's docile response to her caress, they both decide to get to work already —or "get their hands dirty", as Tommy puts it. He says someone already swung by and cleaned the stalls (which explains the lack of poop smell) and filled the haynets, so all the tasks they had was feed and groom the horses. Tommy jumped in to the latest before she could even choose, saying the horses 'didn't had the time to warm up with her yet' and could get all jumpy and aggresive. That's enough for her not to argue.

Feeding is not even close to boring, after all. Tommy takes each horse at a time out of their stalls to groom their bodies and manes, and in the meanwhile, she fills their empty buckets from the grain sack and put it inside their empty stalls.

It's when Tommy's brushing his own horse, Bandit, while she cleans his bucket with water, he changes the topic of their conversation: "You know what I wanna do?" He says, without taking his eyes off the black horse "Ask and Answer"

'Ask and answer' was the unofficial name of the thing Tommy and her had been doing since she arrived Jackson, when she had a hard time making conversation but still wanted to know him better. She still had a hard time to believe she's interesting enough to play: she's nine and didn't had any impressive thing to tell about herself other than she came from Denver walking.

But she still pretty much liked this game, because it was through it she found out more stuff about Tommy: That he was born and raised in Texas, that he has already fought in a real war with guns and bombs when he was younger, and he knows how to play guitar. And he also met some dude named Keanu Reeves on a gas station once before the Outbreak, which she didn't really get the importance of.

So she smiled, and he doesn't waste time: "If you had a horse, what would you name it?"

"Hmm... man, I don't know, never thought about it." She shrugs, but remembers the movie night from two days ago "Okay, maybe Galadriel if it was a white mare."

"Galadriel... hm." he tastes the name in his mouth, before he nods to himself "Mighty unique. Fancier than Bandit." He lets a short laugh, recalling their conversation some minutes ago where she questioned the name of his horse. "Your turn."

She ponders for some good seconds, hands and feet occupied. The nickname he has given to her for the past weeks pops into her mind "Why doll?"

Tommy seems to wonder what exactly she is referring to, then he clicks his tongue with an 'Ah'. "When I was a boy, my mama used to know how to make rag dolls — I don't know if you've seen, those with little dresses and matching hats? Anyway, she used to sell it whenever money at home was tight. And I remember every single one had itty bitty noses on 'em." He gestures his own nose, then points at her and winks "Just like yours."

She returns the smile, feeling her cheeks get warm with the kindness she still wasn't used to get from him. She frowns "I thought you said you had a dad..."

"I did. Both of them." He answers back, not minding her brief confusion. It's a bit weird, she thinks, hearing Tommy say he had a mom and dad. Most kids she observed here only have either one of them or none. Lupita doesn't exactly remember her own mom, much less her dad, if she ever met him. "—for a while, that is. But I was always closer to my mama. Looked like her, talked like her... She loved me real good, kid." He smirks to himself, like he was seeing something she couldn't see. "Even my friends from middle school gave me shit about it one time."

She smiles. Tommy's mom reminds her of Grandma. "Was your dad like her?"

"Things between my old man and me was uh... Less simple. Nothing deep, tho." He seems to choose his words carefully, taking Bandit back to his stall. "I loved him, and he was a good dad in general. But sometimes he was more on my case when I was a kid, it's like he was always lookin' for a reason to get pissed or disappointed at me. He loved me in his own way, I never doubted it, it's just..." She tries to think of Tommy as a kid her age, failing miserably when the most her mind can conjure is a boy with a mustache. She also can't imagine someone making Tommy feel sad, much less his own dad. Were all dads like that? "Some bad memories get stuck with us, I reckon."

"Is that why you don't have kids?"

Stupid girl. She should have known she asked something too personal the moment the words left her mouth.

Instead, she still calls for him a second time when the answer doesn't come right away, probably thinking he haven't heard her "Tommy?" she turns, and just then she notices something's different.

He wasn't looking at her, but he also didn't seem to look anywhere in particular. Like his head traveled to somewhere else from a second to another. He sighs, wipes some sweat from his forehead with his forearm and sits by the wooden bench near. At first, she thinks he really hasn't listened because he has seen him like that when he was getting tired or his back started to hurt as he complained something about 'the age already coming for him'. But one of his arms rest on his tight and the other raises, fingers covering and rubbing his eyes like he's stressed, and she just knows she messed up something.

Has she overstepped? Has she stung something that still hurt? Goddannit, what if he did had kids?

All these possibilities had run in her mind, she remembers, as she took small steps towards his direction like she was a scared cat trying to approach some strange object. Scared of what? Tommy crying or snapping at her, or what would she say to Maria and Grandma if he decided to do either of those? She didn't even know.

"Tommy?" She stutters unsure, his back was hunched over on the bench now a feet from her. "Forget what I said, okay? It wasn't even my turn to ask so it didn't count anyways—"

"Uh?" He looks up at her, like he came back to himself, before shaking his head and avoiding her eyes again "Oh, sorry, kid—"

She frowns "No, I am sorry. Me" She explains like he wasn't completely on his senses, then her voice comes smaller. "...you okay?"

"Have I mentioned I have a brother?" He asks suddenly, looking back at her. His eyes look dry, which instantly makes her shoulders relax more.

She nods with no rush, unsure of where was this sudden conversation heading to but willing to try to understand. She remembers vaguely Tommy mentioning him once briefly, when they were talking about something random, and he hasn't even said what was his name. He nods, eyes straying to nowhere specific on the ground like he's trying to process whatever few informations about it he told her.

"And I reckon I never slipped anythin' about his daughter" He then assumes, yet he's looking at her like he's expecting for a confirmation. Waiting for a shake of her head, or maybe a word pass between her spread lips.

But she doesn't. Instead, the only thing buzzing in her mind is the reflection of where her curiosity lead her to.

Tommy had a niece?

"The three of us were very close, kid. Like your nana and you are." He begins, eyes turning away from her to the comb he used with the horses on his hand. For an instant, she could feel something inside of her behave weirdly. Like she almost could sense of what would he say even tho he barely began "For a long time my life was basically just the two of them— my brotha, and..." he hesitates, clearing his throat "my niece. I loved her lots, doll." His attention comes back to her again, and his expressions are so serene she somehow feels herself get slighty comfortable.

"How was she?" She tries, voice soft.

Tommy seems reflective, before his lips curled in a melancholic smile and he closed his eyes for a second, amused by something. She wonders if what she asked wasn't exatcly what he expected to hear.

"Amazing." He starts, look on his face like his mind was visiting somewhere else. Somewhere good. "My brother, her daddy, he used to see her as a baby like all parents do but... but actually, she was very independent. Not in a bad way, just—" he ponders "She could make things right. She knew what was better for her, knew how to make things better for everyone, because she was kind and—and a blessin'." There's an edge in his voice that gets thick, and the Adam's apple moving in his throat didn't match the peace in his face that reminded her of a sweet melody she has heard before. "She was an awesome kid. A great niece. She was just a bit older than you when she..."

He lets his words fly away without conclusion, like one of those songs where it doesn't finish but rather fades away as an end.

"And, healing..." he explains carefully "this pain, kid, was already hard enough to heal. Took a long time, you know. I uh" he scratches his beard thoughtfully "Honestly I don't know if I'm the right person to love... greater, than this. Of having kids of my own, I mean. To love a lot, with the possibility of..." He shakes his head in short motions "I don't know, I reckon it just scares me, that's all."

Obviously, nowdays, she knows know that middle part haven't really aged— Benji would be born two years later and be the center of this his and Maria's world.

But Tommy wasn't a father yet, at that moment. And the only version of that man she was meeting, back then, was more simple, yet calloused all the same. And that was the same man who saved her and brought her to the safety he knew, and had been making her first weeks in Jackson easier just by being nearby. And that younger version of herself couldn't stop but sitting beside him by the bench, head turned to face him.

He doesn't give her any hint of what the girl, his niece, looked like— doesn't say if she was a blonde or had brown eyes, neither if she had the same small freckles spread through her nose. Doesn't sketch a face to the girl that has.

And yet, that doesn't stop her imagination of doing it itself, even without source. Doesn't stop her from conjuring brief thoughts, an idea of a past it wasn't hers. Of a person she hasn't seen.

Like maybe soft grass, bathed with sun as her backyard in the background of her little made up scenario. She thinks of ends of a braided hair, pink ribbon hanging in a loose bow behind like a girl is running. She doesn't think of a face, no, but she thinks of a blurry family picture, standing of a prettier, vivid version of what she always imagined how the Before looked: tommy, a brother with any random face she had seen before in old magazines or books, and a blurry figure between them. Less tall, less present. Barely there, barely colored as the rest. Like a ghost spotted in a photo, rather than purposely captured. In a picture she no longer belongs, with a tale already written. And the way she's talked about with such a palpable longing, being brought up to the surface with such a sacred affection and loved to the point of leaving a scar on someone's heart even after her passing...

Tommy snaps his head to her, seeming to sense her energy shifting. His eyes, so calm and lost in his own memories, now just admire hers with empathy. His voice is painfully gentle as he says "Hey now, I didn't mean to make you cry..."

Lupita shakes her head frantically for no particular reason or question to answer, closing her eyes while bringing her own chubby hands to the tears that already fall without ceremony. Giving in to the weight her pout wobbling even if just for a brief moment fo weakness. Her heart tightens up inside her chest. A voiceless, single sob comes breathy out of her lips.

Gladly, Tommy doesn't try to coo at her or do anything alarming that could increase the shyness that already burns on her damp face. He just sits there, witnessing her get suddenly overwhelmed. silent and patiently waiting her pull herself together, like he's letting her feel for both of them. Her quiet sniffs are the only thing she hears.

When she gulps her tears, stroking her fingers a bit too violently under her eyes, her voice is closer to collected " 'M, sorry..."

"It's okay, doll." He tries "It touches you. That's nothin' to be sorry of."

"what was her name?"

"Sarah" He answers, nodding, looking at the horse not far from them. "Her name was Sarah."

"Sarah..." The whisper comes softly from her voice, and she only notices her eyes have drifted away into nothing when she looks at him again. She sniffs. "I had a doll named Sarah" she addmits "Back in Denver."

She's not even sure why she's thinking specifically from this old memory, much less why she's taking it out of the trunk out loud now.

But Tommy's attention goes back to her, tone low and casual "yeah?" She nods.

"Yeah... except it wasn't really a doll, it was a plastic dinosaur, and uh " she says "I called her tyrannosarah." She shrugs "But I had to leave her behind in the apartment when we left, so..."

A little wrinkle appears on his forehead as his brows furrow a little, as if he's genuinely interested on what she' saying "damn kiddo, I'm sorry for that"

"It's okay...I guess we both miss our Sarahs" she attempts a sympathetic smile, which immediately melts into a grimace when she realizes the words didn't sound that rude in her head.

But Tommy snorts. Breath scaping wetly through his nostrils as his eyes bore to hers with amusement, and that was enough to make her smile back. An akward, yet not quite uncomfortable silence makes itself present when they just stare each other, listening to the horses breathe around them.

He's the one who breaks it first, finally sighing and palming his thighs over his jeans "Okay—" His knees pop when he gets up, and she wipes her already drying face "I guess is time for us to go back to work— and let's try to hurry up. Heard they're serving apple pie in the kitchen today, If we get there in time, maybe there's some left for us."

"Will they let you in, stinking like that?" She asks, already standing and patting the back of her overalls. Somehow, the atmosphere feels lighter. Fresher.

"Ha-Ha. little shit." he mutters, eiticing a giggle from her as she goes back to her task, picking up one or two single hays from Ranger's bowl. An Appaloosa (acording to Tommy) that had side bangs around his ears and reminded her a bit too much of Jennet, the girl that has been saving a place by her side for Lupita on movie nights. She dares to say Jennet has been the first kid here who's friends with her.

And she would either laugh or give her the finger if she knew Lupita was comparing her to a horse.

"Hey, kid"

She turns her head around, hand mid-stopping scooping more grains.

Tommy is wipping his hands, turned to her and standing close to the stall next to Bandit's, like he stopped in his tracks. His posture and tone still light and casual, but the expression he had on his face was more serious. It looked at her with an unreadable thing.

"I know some things we usually keep to ourselves, but" He gestures briefly with his hand, as if he's trying to find words. When he seems to choose them, he raises his thick brows "If you ever need to talk, need a help with somethin'... you know I'm here too, right?"

She frowns at the sudden start of topic. Tries to remember if she unintentionally made appear, at some point between the their coming to here until two minutes ago, that she needed a hand.

Her gaze find his again, and she wonders if he's also thinking of the talk he had with Grandma in her house. The one she was ovearhearing and now wonders if it had something to do with this.

"I mean it" He repeats softly, but she recognizes the discreet spark of demand in his tone. The same he uses when he tells her to not touch his chainsaw "If you ever feel like you need anythin', you can ask. got it?"

He waits, eyes on hers for a brief time.

She nods without any word, before they both turn back to work.

Two months and a half passed since the horde.

Technically, It was too early to say winter was oficially over, even when the sun already had started rise with more warmth until only some snow puddles were left around. The coldest season of the year disagreed with the calendar and was gone sooner than normal, almost like it understood the Jackson community. Like it knew they needed to move on.

Folks were scattered throughout the town, working around and together like ants while they let their bodies be bathed with sunlight. The part of the wall the infected broke that day was already fixed like it never been destroyed, and lots of men and women were in the streets repairing what was left.

For a moment, it's like it all was back to normality again after those weeks. Not only to her, but to everyone else.

And yet, if you squinted a bit hard at it all, the vestiges were there — the silent weight of grief present on some of them, the grip a kid or another had on their parents shirt even at the mess hall. The unnease present in the ones who still looked at the Walls when they passed by.

Even in Lupita herself, occupying her mind when she was lost in her own thoughts or crawling under her cloths when she wasn't, like a centipede.

She shivers, and then she smiles at the dog beneath her when she realizes she got lost in her own thoughts again.

"Hey Ella... what a fucking grip" a breathy laugh scapes her throat, and she lets her fingers sink into the German Shepherd's soft fur while her other hand holds the other end of the gnawed rope that Ella pulls with her teeth. All these weeks she has been so worried about the dogs, of how that whole chaos last winter could have affected them, and only two days ago she stopped worrying when she figured they were fine. They’d been a little jumpy at first, guarded and twitchy that first week, but they eventually settled back into their old selves. Probably doing better than any of them.

Cam, who bathes the dogs and trains them when she can't, said she had nothing to worry about. That despite everything, they feel useful in protecting their home. He was also the first to say 'see, told ya they just needed some time' when they seemed to get back to their normal. She actually thinks it's because of the dog toys she brought from her patrol two days ago, but she won't get into that discussion with Cam again. Ella growls without real intention, possessive teeth not once giving up as she kept rocking the toy from side to side, his head following "You really won't let go, won't you girl..."

"She'll get spoiled as a house pet with that baby voice."

She turns around at the sound of the melodic voice behind her and finds Maria, standing at the kennel door, holding a book with an amused smile in her face. And now Lupita realizes she didn't even hear her arrive.

"Oh, hey Maria. You looking for me?"

"No, honey, I was actually looking for Cam..." the woman looks around and shakes Parenting with Love and Logic on her hands "Tommy borrowed this from him, asked me to return it"

She raises one eyebrow "Tommy actually read it?"

"Didn't even make it past the third page."

She snorts "Cam just left before you came, said he would be back soon. I could hand him that, if you..."

"Nah, kid, thank you" the older woman smiles and waves her off "I have to talk with him anyway, so I'll just wait."

Lupita nods, switching her attention back to Ella, who wasn't that entertained anymore with the toy and seemed content scratching a loose thread from her jeans. Maybe it's the salty smell of dog skin rising gently to her nose, or perhaps the blueberry muffins she had for breakfast still lingering sweet on her tongue, but for the first time since the last time she thought about it, something felt right. Less heavy to carry, as exciting as calm can be. It's small, but it's what hits her, briefly: a calm she can't quite understand.

And then Maria begins:

"The book I lent you, you finished?"

"Oh...not yet." She says, the memory of reading it before bed one night and falling asleep with it on her chest being a strange sort of comfort. When was this... "Got the part where that girl... forgot the name... she burns Jo's book."

Maria's smile is pearl white, delighted in such a way it makes her wonder if she said something extraordinary "So, I guess you're enjoying it" she prompts

"Yeah, actually, I am" she nods, smiling a bit herself. "Thought it would be all about corsets and tea, for some reason... but I kinda see what all the fuss is about now. It's nice. And there ain't so many hard words this time." She refereneces Pride and Prejudice Maria convinced her to get from Jackson's small library. She never felt so stupid reading a book before, and she didn't even made it to half without letting Maria know that whoever brought that book should get a dictionary too.

"There ain't?" Maria laughs, ammused "You and Tommy spend so much time together you're starting to sound like him."

You're too smart to be hangin' around with that brother of mine.

Lupita frowns, blinking the voice away as she turns her head back to Ella by her knees.

"I guess so" The light, open spark in her own voice falters even to herself. She shakes her head, shrugging "I was going to keep reading— I will, I just haven't really had time. And I've been kind of tired, so"

"And yet, you're here."

The words don't hold accusation, or any fragment of the composed severity she has heard from Maria in town reunions and any other situations that required the leader in her. What reach Lupita ears in an observation, rather.

She doesn't know why the answer has a brief delay before rolling out of her tongue. "Yeah, well" she chuckles under her breath "Tasks need me."

Her head is tilted enough to the side she can see the the muscles in Ella's face relax and her round eyes get small as her fingers stroke the fur around her collar, the pendant with her name engraved making thin noise against the floor. She still remembers the day Ellie knocked on her door to see the lost puppies the patroller men found inside an old restaurant with their mama, how they spent some good hours petting each of their five potato bellies and deciding their names. Bolt and Lady she named the smallest ones after some good minutes of deciding, while Ellie chose Jupiter and Venus without as much overthinking. And after a small argument of deciding about the last puppy (and convincing Ellie there was no way it would be named 'Ankylosaurus' ), they finally thought the blending of their own names had the right flow, somehow. Ella.

(She actually thought about Ellita too, but Ellie said it was too cutesy.)

"How long has it been since you painted something?"

She blinks.

Then she looks back over her shoulder again, because the idea she heard it wrong it's the first thing that goes through her mind. But Maria is standing with her hip leaning om the edge of the table near the wall, looking at her with serenity and interest shinning in her eyes.

And before she can even process the question fully and think about the answer, the woman doesn't wait:

"Or maybe the last time you hang out by the lake with your friends, like ya'll do?"

"Uh, I don't..." She shakes her head, confusion getting her gagged "really remember now, why?"

"I guess you also can't recall the last guitar lesson with Tommy either" She tries, giving Lupita a sympathetic small smile "Yeah, neither do I."

Maria's tone still doesn't hold any disapproval underneath, and for some reason it only makes something in her go rigid.

And whatever Maria senses from her, or perhaps sees on her face, makes her dark brows raise and her head tilt a bit, tentative "I'm not trying to make you unconfortable Lupita, neither upset you..."

She didn't even notice when her jaw started to press her teeth together or the hand scratching Ella stopped moving.

Maria continues, opening her mouth, closing again in a thin line, and sighing "But you know me. I notice... something, on you, and then I can't not check."

The vivid and blurry memories of four years ago, all the silent and unasked visits Maria made to her house when she was going through her first miserable, depressive state goes through her head as Maria speaks. And she has a notion, somehow, that she already knows that. The same way she knows what words like You or Breathe means even though she doesn't remember how she does.

And still, her first instinct is hide every sign of tension it could be showing "...there's nothing to notice about me."

She diverts her attention from Maria to the furry dog sniffing a spot of her jeans, but she still feels a pair of eyes pratically burning her back. Observing. Judging. For some reason, it makes her wonder how long until Cam comes back.

"It's been more than two months since the horde." Maria breaks the brief quietness. "Since..." she pauses, cutting herself short "since Joel died."

She should be used to it by now. To hear things like horde, the attack, Death. Joel Miller. It's pretty much the words that became most popular in the town's vocabulary in those first two months, and that's basically all she hears between whispers here, mentions by the council there. She even heard a three or four kids talking about it on her way to the messing hall, last week. All gathered in the playground and sharing their memories from that day, while they played Uno.

So she doesn't know why hearing about it from Maria's mouth now makes something sit so uncomfortable at the pit of her stomach.

"I can only imagine how hard that must've been for you, kid." Maria continues, voice full of an wise empathy Lupita doesn't understand. "Deal with the stress and the changes around... It's a lot to think if It's been a long time since you've dealt with big stuff like this."

At the moment, her mind mostly ignores the part where she says 'big stuff' like she's talking to Benji, and instead choses to think she did remember the last time she has been stressed with her surroundings, and it was when she left the QZ in Denver. She was only nine by the time, and even thought the trip to Wyoming hadn't been long enough to starve her thin, she still remembers how it cracked something in her. Learning how to live beyond walls. How to breathe in a world that didn't promise anything, because one thing is hear about it and another one is see it.

Compared to that, those last weeks has been rough, sure — but still didn't beat it yet.

And even thought it occurs to her to let Maria know that, there's something else she rushes to tell: "it's been hard for everyone."

"Yeah, you're right, it's been. And all of them are trying to deal with it on their own ways, but a few of them don't seem to be dealing with that... maybe not at all." She pauses, and she knows Maria is getting closer by the sound of soft steps behind her. "And I probably should've been worrying 'bout them too..." She turns around looking up, finally meeting the warmth woman's ebony eyes. "But I happen to care about you more, I guess."

"Maria..." She shakes her head, standing up and suddently feeling the urge to run away. "Look, I'm just- I'm fine, you don't ne-"

"Don't fool me, darling- and I promise I'll get out of you hair but...you won't talk about it, fine. Sometimes I don't wanna talk either, but all you've been doing all these weeks is working, and helping, and being very efficient to us, don't take it the wrong way," She raises one eyebrow "But sometimes I look at you and you... Look so worried. Like there's a million thoughts running over there." She tilts her chin to her forehead.

She doesn't really answer, but Maria doesn't seem to get bothered by her silence. Her gaze, studious and vigilant as usual as she reads Lupita's face, softens then. And Maria nods, taking one step closer:

"Go home, Lupita." she nods, voice gentle, but sure. "Take the day off, do whatever you like." Maria takes the smallest step aside, not quite getting out of her way, but a subtle way of letting her know: you're free to go, if you want. You're not caged.

It's weird how it feels the opposite.

When the round tip of her nose starts to get that familiar burn, she breaks the pressure of eye contact and turns back to crouch on Ella's level. Her pointy dog ears perk at the mere sign of attention, and her head lifts from the ground just enough to meet her hand halfway. The fur tickles her palm as Lupita mutters some half-hearted goodbyes.

She already half made to the door of kennel in long steps and pathetically out of place, Maria calls her name again the woman suddenly remembers something. She hadn't realized how she's been avoiding Maria's eyes until she finally looks back now.

The woman's expression is still mostly neutral and pensative, but one of the corners of her mouth lift "About the book," She thinks of her next words before completing "Try not to... crash out, at Beth's part."

Either what Maria's says doesn't make any sense, or her mind is starting to get so clouded in overwhelmment she just frowns and nods like she got it, even tho she didn't get shit.

So she just attempts a small smile that feels more like a grimace before she walks out of the kennel, the lump on her throat getting tighter the whole way.

She doesn't really know when she decided to change her route, exactly— her sense of notion was almost a balanced split between quick hi's and waves to the folks on the way she haven't seen earlier this morning, and trying to avoid the spots with remnants of the last season still melting, remembering she didn't need another slip when the red on her butt was still fading. But at some point, her feet were strolling to the opposite direction of her house; where the grass behind the fences met the the tiny stones of the asphalt that lead to the horse stable.

To her brief joy, no sound of buckets, busy steps or voices greet her when she comes close enough to the doors left open. tiny spores of dust float in the air the sun touches, and the familiar smell of hay and subtle ammonia follow her nose when she walks to Passenger in the nearest stall, standing tall and intimidating as usual, but looking at her with eyes so expressive that makes him look like a puppy. He accepts her caress when she comes close, sniffing her hand where Ella's smell probably lingers and lowering his head with grace when she can't reach the space between his ears.

A gentleman, just like his human.

"Morning, buddy... Jesse gave you some love today already?" She asks softly, sniffling down the fluid built up in her nostrils as she notices the smell of horse food coming from the stall. His white coat exudes the distinct scent of sweat and grass where her fingers brush, and her bangs dance on her forehead when he sighs. "...no?"

She doesn't really count the minutes, as she keeps enjoying the simple company of the horses and having a strange feeling of being small again. Since she was younger, she could say that this was one of her safe places when she needed to hide from nothing specific. Now looking back in the first years, it's not like she needed a reason that relatively mattered — some days at school that suck, a task she failed to do, some irrelevant misunderstanding with grandma, or even some mornings that felt dispirited for no reason in particular and left her gloomy and pensive all day, most of it always lead her to the same quiet place that smelled like hay and sweat: either walking between stalls to share random talks like the horses could understand, or pour her feelings in teary eyes and whispers. maybe both. or neither, since she always could do silence pretty much. Just knowing the relief of being hidden from the world for a little bit was enough for her.

"Didn't know I had company today."

Her head snaps back when Tommy's light voice reach her, catching a glimpse of his raised brows and light expression on his face getting caught in the sun, before turning her face away from his vision again.

She wipes the corners of her eye in quick motions "uh, hey, Tommy"

"Howdy. My bad to scare you, kid."

"No, you didn't scare me." she shakes her head, finally really facing him. He's holding a shovel and a bucket in each hand "What you're doing?"

"Got wrangled into helping with mucking again" He says, shrugging, before taking a look down and sighing, looking at the remains of straws with a defeated look "—and sweeping the ground, apparently"

Her shoulders shrink, just slightly. But to not male it obvious, she wrinkles her nose, watching him put the tools aside to get the broom resting the by the wall corner "You volunteering for fun or punishment?"

"With Maria? Who can tell?"

a faint smirk pulls at her lips, shrugging "Wanna' hand? Your wife just gave me a day off."

Tommy stops suddenly on his tracks, looking at her face carefully over his shoulder and studying her face "... Ain't your birthday today, is it?"

For a moment she almost snorts with the ccoment, at the clueless and ridiculous guess. But her eyes linger a second longer at Tommy, whose mustache seems to shift with his upper lip like it always does when he's stressing— and she realizes, just like that.

He has been so overloaded this past few weeks he's actually worried he might have forgot something like this.

She licks her own lips, nodding "In two months, actually, but you got the spirit." and she can see the way his shoulders relax under the fabric of his shirt.

"So just be there enjoying your break. But thanks, Lu."

She nods, leaning his back against the stable wood and feeling Passenger smell her hair behind her.

"If I didn't know better, I'd say I pissed someone off to get this job today." Tommy chuckles over his breath, sweeping the dry straws and and single heys in quick motions. It floats in dusty clouds just above his boots.

Her fingers twitch at her sides, not helping the brief sense of nervousness that pass through her. She looks at him, then, not really knowing how to respond.

"You know" he begins, wiping sweat from his brow "Shit smell aside and all— it's mighty nice here, ain't it?" she hums. Tommy leans on the shovel handle, glancing toward her. “remember that one time you were little, playing hide 'nd seek with the others and you hid up there?"

He doesn't even elaborate and she roll her eyes "Yes, thanks for the shitty reminder" she shakes her head when he snorts "That was so embarrassing—"

"It was funny."

"For you. You mean for you. Mrs. Cooper almost got bald from her porch when she saw me on the roof. Snitch..." In fact, she doesn't even remember now how she got on the stable roof, to begin with. Only thing she recalls, after people helped her back down even tho she didn't needed and getting a lecture at home, was thinking she made a mistake. And that she would've won. "I don't think I ever thanked you for convincing my grandma not to ground me, did I?"

"You did. Babysitting Benji in the following years." He waves her off, and she rolls her eyes again while letting out a yawn. He turns to her, hands still in task. "You're tired?"

"Hm. A bit."

"You been sleeping well, lately?"

She doesn't really think before answering. "Yeah"

"Eating properly?"

"Guess so."

A beat. "You okay?"

"Urgh don't Maria me too."

He smirks in amusement the same time his brows narrow, and maybe in any different circumstances he would've probably laughed "Should I ask when did we start using my wife as a verb?"

"I don't know..." she switches the weight of one foot to the other "Maybe since she started to" She thinks, realizing that not a word pops to mind. What exatcly Maria did? Besides incite a certain churning in her stomach, or make her feel cared about and somehow worse altogueter? "...Pressure? Me."

"Pressure?" He raises an eyebrow "Didn't she just give you a day off, girl?"

And she even surprises herself with the sudden urge she has to scream, because yes, she did!

And she opens her mouth to either argue or agree, she doesn't know, because her voice catches on her throat with such a such a sudden strain...

"Darling?" She has turned her back to Tommy, caressing Passenger like suddenly her hands found the texture of his skin between her fingers very interesting. Her eyes burn against her will, as she only let's out an 'Hm?'. The sound of his work go silent behind her "Has Maria... been thinking she has, maybe a reason to worry about you? Is that what this is about?"

He glances at him over his shoulder, just enough to nod before she turns her attention to the white horse in front of her again.

"Okay..." He ponders "Does she have a reason to worry about?"

Lupita shrugs "I'm fine."

She hears the shifting, of his feet moving on the same spot. The eyes lingering longer on her back, less meticulous— but there. Finally, he seems satisfied with her answer "Alright." And he goes back to sweeping.

For some minutes, it's just that— the sound of scraping floor, the quiet sensation of the morning breeze blowing the wisps of hair around her face. When he speaks again, his voice is light behind her:

"Bob has been talking about that jukebox— you know, that one in the Church basement?" Her mind tries to serach a fragment of any Jukebox in her memory, and she still nods like she knows it even though none come to mind. "Dust it off, fix it sometime. I didn't pay much attention to it at the time, I'll be honest, but I didn't tell him it was a bad idea or something."

She looks back, eyes hovering him a little longer "You think so?"

"Think isn't a bad idea? I don't know..." She watch him say it, maybe a little too fast in impulse, and the way he seems to think better before concluding "Maybe. He thinks it's a good plan, give folks something to dance to when they want."

She has her doubts that anyone will want to dance anytime soon, much less muster up the courage to be the first to suggest it to others, but she doesn't voice that. Not to spare Tommy, but because she has a vague sensing that he already knows that.

"And hey, by the way—" He clicks his tongue like he suddenly just remembers something, and that's enough to catch her attention back. "I sewed your cap today, that cool one with a deer?"

She frowns immediately "what?"

"Oh, sorry." He meets her eyes halfway, scratching his mustache when he catches her delay "Maria made some pancakes, you know, so I went to your house earlier to give you some but didn't find you. Found your cap, though, on the coat rack." His lips press in sympathy and nods his head down. "Hope you don't mind, I can give ya later."

"Oh" she shakes her head, mind getting refreshed "No I don't, not at all! That's... Thanks Tommy. You're the best."

He waves her off not once stopping work, but she watches as the corners of his lips turn up behind his facial hair at her words "Notta' problem, kid, just say earlier next time you need a fix and I'll solve it." Or I could've, she thinks with think without ingratitude, trying to remember how long has it been since she last time she put off picking up the needle and thread for that thing.

"You should wear it more often, by the way." He says, and his voice drops in a way he uses when she dares to act her age. To tease her, he says. An embarrassing pain in the ass, she thinks. One time she told him and Maria she would miss their dinner that day to meet some teens around the bonfire and Tommy said 'oohh, catching up with her gang', and she almost wanted to die. "Specially now that's starting to get sunny, let people see you and think you're cool." He adds.

She rools her eyes "You're the one who thinks that hat is cool."

"Nah, pretty much heard Jesse say something..."

She whispers a'what' as she wips her head around—

To meet Tommy's brown eyes staring her with a cynical and knowing gleam on them. She scoffs when she realizes, and turns her attention away again "Asshole..." She mutters, and he hears him sniff out a laugh. "If you like that hat so much you can have it, you know, consider a bribe."

"Bribe for what?"

"To make you forget I ever told you about him." She's sure the pout on her lips grow an inch as he scoffs. Her hand brushes the soft spot above Passenger's nose, and the sudden gratitude that horses can't talk hits her.

"That's...tempting." Tommy says behind her, finally. "But after my brother brutally humbled me the one time he saw me wearing it on patrol? Nah, you better survive more teasing for a lifetime."

And it's faster than her, the impact of those words when they reach her ears. it's small and barely noticeable, like the beat of a butterfly's wing or a gunshot with a silencer— and still, it cracks. It's a bit too rough on something inside of Lupita she didn't know it was made of glass. And it's also fast how not even a second later, she tries to pretend it didn't mean anything. Kept her silence while Tommy was still speaking, oblivious to the little hole he poke on her fragile, pathetic eggshell. "...But I reckon it looks better on you, anyway."

Or she tried, rather.

"It was Joel's."

"Sorry, hon'?"

"The cap, with deer embroidery. It was Joel's." She looks at him over her shoulder, without any particular reason. Tommy's gaze's already on her, the light expression and curious frown deforming his thick brows. She wets her lips "Once I... I was on his patrol team and he was my partner, and we were talking and I complimented his hat. Just once." Tommy's eyes soften, and she looks away "Said deers were pretty... or pretty cute, I don't remember now..." She shakes her head, sighing "And he told me I could borrow it whenever I wanted to wear too." But she recognizes now, how she was probably transparent enough to people like Joel, who were observant enough to probably guess reaching out and asking for people's belongins like that wasn't exactly her thing.

It's strange, she thinks. She haven't realized until now how these old talks and moments she recalls with Joel, even ones that seemed so trivial, could leave such a bitter taste in her mouth, now that her words die on her tongue.

Her fingers are fidgeding with each other when she tilts her head up to meet Tommy's face, were her eyes were on before they got distracted. His eyes are landing on her frame, with something so fond and shattered floating on the small space of his brown irises... Reminds her of the point she was trying to bring up with this whole conversation.

She cleans her throat, sound so muffled she wonders if he hears it, and behaves her hands inside her pockets. "So he wasn't trying to offend you or anything with whatever he said... Or at least, he didn't mean it." She concludes, voice carrying a sudden confidence it "He was just giving you shit so you wouldn't make it a thing, wearing my hat."

Passenger lets out a grumpy sigh that shakes his lips, and Lupita turns back to brush her fingers on his long, soft head again. She thinks his big black eyes seem more and more droopy with each caress he gets.

It's time for Tommy to clean his throat, voice serene as what she imagines his face must be behind her: "That's very like him. Joel." He begins, and the picture — just the two of them, enjoying each other's and the horse's company, feeling the warmth of a fresh morning sun bath their skin while they talked about random things and Joel — it almost makes her thoughts slow down, and her senses get the sweet familiarity of it. "It's been his thing, with people he cared about even if just a tiny bit. He never been much of a talker, sometimes I even had to translate to people behind his back what he meant." He chuckles, voice thick, and she snorts shortly along.

"But in the end he always spoke more with small actions here and there, so we never really had to doubt his consideration—" The younger Miller goes on, and she blinks black the feelings building up on her heart, boiling like water on a stove. "Not when Joel was so attentive. He always was."

She nods, letting his voice soak her heart that now ached while she just agrees with a quiet "Yes."

And suddenly, the spring that seasons the air of the morning and warms their bones after too many weeks of winter doesn't seem that warm anymore. The breeze that before played with the wisps of hair framing her face now just blows a cold, lonely wind through her clothes.

She grimaces at the shiver that runs up her spine, and Tommy's voice cuts the air again: "Kiddo— are you crying?"

Because it's not fair. Things had no business turning upside down when everything was so goddamn fine, and life had no right to make a whole town mourn when everyone already had too little to lose, the thoughts hammer on her head like a reminder of raw reality

And Tommy didn't deserve to be forced to talk about his own brother in past tense, like Joel suddenly just faded in a snap and was nothing more. It wasn't fair, how it all went. It was not fucking fair.

She hears Tommy leave the tool aside and feels his hand already find a spot, heavy and steady on her shoulder. The loud sob slips half strangled from her.

He hears his voice tell something in that low, controlled tone of his, but the words doesn't truly catch her attention enough to actually listen. Instead, she sniffs back the weird buzz leaving her nose and bring her hands to wipe her cheeks, already soaked from the tears that fall persistently. A breeze blows the wet on her face and cool them.

Control yourself, c'mon A stern voice, one that feels like a blending of her own and an older one, speaks over her depressing thoughts. Crying in front of Tommy won't help him, it has his brother.

But Tommy is patient, by her side. Doesn't dare to shush her sudden cry and or tells her to calm down, even tho she didn't think he would. His hand on her left shoulder molds almost into a grip— nothing rough to hurt her, but enough to know he'll still here, so does she.

"So I supposed that was where Maria was coming from, earlier?" He prompts, a cadance that seems like a fine line between his light calm and curious concern. And a flicker, she notices, of something more sad. "Do you wanna talk about it, doll?"

She shakes her head without hesitation, swallowing the moisture accumulated on her throat while she wipes her tear-soaked palms on her shirt. Yet, she still speaks when she feels some of the overwhelmment pass: "It's nothing," She says glancing up when his hand falls from her shoulder, feet hovering a bit on the same space."I just... Got a bit emotional, that's all."

Tommy nods to himself, but his eyes don't move from her figure. She wishes he hasn't got so close. The sensation that she could look more transparent to him like this didn't really help. "Can I know where's this coming from, at least?"

Her sadness almost gives way to a huff for a moment. 'Like you don't have an idea...', she thinks with a half-harted sarcasm.

"You remember when that boy died during patrol last year? Jeff?" Yet, she still gives Tommy something.

"Hm...yeah, the Ahmad kid" He blinks, eyes dancing down around uncomfortably. Yeah, she supposed he does considering he was the one that had to deliver the news to Mr. Ahmad. Tommy now waits, asking carefully "What about him?"

"We weren't friends. Not really that. We had some friends in common, sometimes we talked at the bonfire, nothing really more than that. But it was... Strange tho, the first weeks." Still is, she reflects, now realizing maybe that was the first time she fit a word to it. At that time, Jeff was stuck in her head when she wasn't busy and yet she couldn't put a finger on why except to admitt it messed a bit with her head. How else would she describe the feeling of knowing that the brown-eyed, kinda funny teen she was used to see around almost everyday, had his neck thorn apart by a clicker because he wasn't fast enough to shoot? "It's weird" She continues, voice soft but steady "How a person can be around everyday and one day suddenly..."

"Suddenly they simply ain't?" He tries. She nods.

"It's just... I thought it was just a matter of time for me. You know, to get used to it." She should, at this point. Joel comes to her mind again, then. To the times she talked to him when they would bump to eachother at the Miller's table on Jackson's parties or around town. Everytime he waved from his porch and offered something to eat and she came to hang out with Ellie on her shed (and everytime she did sit on his steps when Ellie wasn't there yet). To summer of 2035, the patrol when...

She sighs: "I don't think I'll ever get used to it."

By the miserable look of understanding on Tommy's face, she doesn't need to ask of who his mind also led him to. She watches him process, for a bit — his tongue move behind his cheek in thought, considering what he's gonna say next.

"And you have been feeling like for almost three months" He says, and his tone is so vague she's not sure if he meant to ask or guess. But still, she hears and sees the true question lying underneath; you've been feeling it and kept to yourself?

"I..." She dares to answer something, maybe to ignore the times she was awake until late thinking about it and say it now that it wasn't the big deal he was probably thinking it was, or perhaps to make a joke about how she owed his wife's intuition an apology — but it falls flat on her even before it reaches her tongue. Probably she should've been honest and point out the big elephant in the room, that she wasn't special; that whatever her heart was holding, the others probably felt it worse. That some part of her didn't really felt confortable sharing with anyone when everything was still so fresh, specially not with Tommy.

She just bites the inside of her lower lip and shrugs then, kind of thinking this could be a good moment for someone to walk in and interrupt whatever was starting to build. But no steps are heard close by the brief seconds left, and Tommy doesn't stop there.

"I... I reckon it hasn't been easy—" he cuts himself short, voice muffled, almost muttering, head shaking. Tommy hesistates, and she waits. "...Has Maria told you I visited Gail, after what happened?" Of course she knows Gail, even tho there are two or three Gails in this town. But the first thing that crosses her mind at the mention of the blond old lady she sees often around is her lazy, half-bothered posture that always kinda reminded her of a cat. That, and the one time Lupita had made a mental note about how everytime she spots Gail somewhere, the woman seems to be drinking.

But in a spam of two seconds, she finally clicks. Because why would she forget that Gail was, and still is, a therapist?

"It was a few days after Joel died, if I ain't mistaken, and I only went because Maria thought I needed," Tommy continues when she shakes her head. He pats one of his palms against his pants like it's dirty, attention darting between her and her shoes "So I did. I met Gail early before my tasks that morning, stomach and hands empty and even spent some time thinking about all the things I would say when I sat on that couch..." He shakes his head, reflective. His eyes then raise to hers under his lashes, voice soft but inquisitive "...And you know what I said when I got there?" He knows she doesn't know. And she knows he knows it. But her head still shakes to both sides, so shortly she wouldn't miss the confession shining in his eyes when he says..."Nothing."

She stays silent, waiting. Tommy must see whatever it shown on her face and barely nods, sighing "Yeah I... I tried, but couldn't. I was just sittin' there like a moron," Her brows narrow at his words "Not gettin' a single thought out of my head— couldn't even answer her questions properly. When I realized I wasn't ready for that yet, just got up and out of there." His hand motions the air.

"And you—" her voice comes in a whisper, and she cleans her throat "You didn't try again?"

"Well, I told myself I would" He prompts, almost like he's trying to ask if it counts. The sunlight around them catches the sides of his eyes and turn them to a pretty gold. "That It was only a matter of time, that I needed more time, and maybe try again when that time comes." His eyes then shift back to hers, eyebrows raised "And what I'm trying to say here is that, all of this you told me... You don't need to figure it out now, maybe it doesn't need to make sense to you right now— Christ, I don't even know if half of death makes sense to me either, and I'm old. All you're feeling, thinking... I bet it's takin' up a lot of space inside your head already, don't pressure yourself even more. Do you... You get what I mean?"

Does she?

Her mind pays attention to every little word her ears catch, and even tho she thinks she understands, the thought of her saying out loud seems like a mistake.

"I think so..." She anwers instead, light-kicking a small rock by her feet, tone vague. Then, it seems like Tommy's line of reasoning might have been starting to marinate in her. Maybe I get in theory, she thinks, the practice will become easier.

"Besides, if it helps—" He adds, reching a hand to the pocket of his jeans and taking it out a clean, but worn hanky. He brings the cloth to wipe his forehead. "Just by the things you told me here, I can tell you're doin' better than me at this." He says, voice raspy and soft as usual, shaking his head and looking down at the piece of fabric between his fingers. Then he scoffs, and says a bit lower, putting it back on his pants: "Far better than any of my progress, t' be honest."

She knows his inttention. Ever since she was just a scrappy kid and Tommy Miller crossed her life as the second adult she admired the most after grandma, his way of being there was never something unoticed for her. She figured she must have learned way fast he just was like that — the type of person that when you're at rock bottom and thinks nobody care if you're doing well, he's right there to ask you just that, along with some uncalled advice that somehow didn't felt pushy and as overwhelming as the Marias in the world could be.

So it could be ironic how his simple words of consolation and praise now, melted in the sweetest tone, makes her smile falter. Along with any fragment of positivity or hope she thought it was starting to spark. Because... That was she was doing all the time, then?

Tommy seems to recognize something small crack on her, because his brows raise in confusion.

She has been masking, pretending through all that so well that that was the impression she gave off? Just to dump some of this weight and already make Tommy think she was a less messed up version of him, when in reality the least she has been doing was "deal well"?

"Kid?"

When in reality it has been nothing but an intentional fraud. When that was the last thing she has being doing.

"I've been sabotaging your patrols."

Lupita knows her brain gained momentum to kick these words out of her. And yet, when her own words leaves her dry mouth, the sensation that swallows her is that she didn't expect that— almost like the information is brand new from someone else to her ears, and not someone that has been stuck on her for some time.

Tommy doesn't seem much faster to absorb it either, as she watches his face, neutral and still blank, blink to morph in genuine confusion. All head tilted and brows half-raised-half-furrowed, like he might've heard another language at first.

For an instant it was just that, she dares say; the sound horse breath and her own saliva being swalowed.

Then she watches as his eyes spark slightly in recognition, but not the one with familiarity or relief you'd get after being finally found or remember something nostalgic, but rather realization. Like she just gave the last puzzle piece for something that finally clicked and made sense to him — and then he shifts his weight to the other feet he places foward, and opens his mouth "What?"

"I... 'm sorry" She rushes, heat threatening to rise up from her throat despite the firmness she tries to mantain to keep her eyes on his. "It started when... All the barn duties, and the stables... I didn't mean any of that, I tried to be discreet, Jen even said you could find out but—"

"Jennet?" He asks, arching an eyebrow. "She helped you in this?"

"Shit, no" She shakes her head, suddenly getting the urge to hit in the nearest wall instead. 'Look, I'll see what I can do' Jen had said 'But if my mom find out and get in trouble if Maria find out, just pray both won't kill me first' . "I mean, yes, but she only did it because I asked her. But Diane—" She mentions Mrs. Hudson, who has been part of the council even before Lupita came to Jackson. Lots of weeks ago, the mere fact that Jennet's mom was responsible by organizing the calendar of everyone's tasks and shifts around town, and that Jennet was used to have access to it by contanstly helping her out, was enough for Lupita to think that her own plan could go well. Risk off some patrols here, anticipate every opportunity Tommy would've have to go outside and replace it with some other task there... She'll have to thank Jannet later for being so goddamn smooth— along with an apology for dragging her into this. "She never knew that, so don't be mad at her. Actually don't even be to Jennet, she was only being my friend, and—"

"Okay hold on, hold on, slow down," Tommy holds a hand up, shaking his head. His voice isn't harsh, but firm in that way he shows he's being serious. His impatience is enough to hold her in place. "Breathe. And let's go back to the beginnin', okay?"

She sighs, noticing she's in fact a bit breathless, and nods.

"Right." He mimics her, pointed look in his face. His voice becomes calmer, but slightly deeper "I reckon you have an explanation for it?"

"I never meant to make your life hard or something, Tommy"

"Yeah, I think got that first part." He answers when she begins. "But why did you do all that, Lupita?"

"Because," She tries, voice cracking against her will making her breath hitch. She opens her mouth again, right fingers pressing against her palm and letting the nails mark flesh, when it washes over her like a waterfall: Shame. That seems to grow hot in her from inside-out, like it was capable of even burning her clothes into nothing — which would explain the vulnerable that seems almost palpable in the discordant air between them. That makes her want to walk away. And she almost considers just that, but then her eyes find Tommy that still hasn't moved an inch.

The look on his voice seems familiar, and yet hard to read enough. But his warm brown eyes seem to pierce through hers, pherhaps taking notice of her hard time, and his gaze seems to send a message between a small nod. C'mon, you can trust me, she recognizes.

"Because everytime I think of you walking out there, for patrol, for..." A dry sob cuts through her, and somehow, her voice becomes so smaller: "I can't stop thinking of the chance that you could come back dead next."

Like him, the unspoken name of Joel seems to wander around transparent.

Tommy's face falls, and air seems to get punched out of him "Kid—"

"And I know this isn't logical, I'm not stupid—" Her tone raises and he begins to shake his head "But—"

And she knows it isn't. She knows because it was the same thing she thought when her sketchy plan went through her head. Of why she hesitated of even telling Jen and ask for her help, and she knows maybe it's probably what Jen also thought by herself. That it was a bit of a pathetic imagination, as real as it seemed, people from the same family dying in the same way by the same strangers when there's so many other people in this town and Joel's killers were long gone, as far as what they knew.

But Tommy didn't wait for her to conclude that, to explain herself further like she probably should. In fact, his arms wrap around her and brings her tense body against his, as her words become barely coherent sounds. When they fall into silence, there's a quiet realization that she feels like a coerced animal, caged in his embrace.

While the rest of her is pressed against him, her nose is a delicate touch, tip leaning on his chest and feeling the fresh scent hit her nostrils through his shirt. Bourbon and Jackson's homemade cedar soap, faintly like Maria's and even Benji's smell when Lupita kisses the boy's head. And a trace of something characteristic and individually Tommy's. More subtle, but always notably there since she could remember. Like a warm, purchased men's fragance he could've used often on the Before, and the scent somehow remained faithful there— weaker, but still balmy on in his skin like an aged memory.

She only notices the two of them were in silence when Tommy finally seems to break it, voice husky and soft above her head: "it's okay, sweetheart..."

Like her body received permission instead, her nose scrunches against his chest and her eyes fill with fat tears.

They come without effort, washing down her cheeks and running each other over with such a rush that it kind of reminds her for a moment, even at this state, of a scene from the animated Alice in Wonderland she remembers watching as a kid. She's sure if this was an unrealistic movie, perhaps, a sea of her tears would be beneath her feet instead of a ground. And Tommy probably drown and die before the horses.

But she's standing firm on her feet, she's sure, and Tommy is a grounding presence that doesn't seem to be carried away by a current of her sorrow anytime soon. Although, she realizes he has been rocking her in his arms.

Their bodies going back and forth in such a soft swings she barely noticed until now, rhythmic like ocean wetting sand. Not that she has ever been at a beach. The top of her head vibrates beneath his chin when he talks:

"none of us is going to die" Tommy says, voice sounding a bit muffled to her "—I know I don't have any way to prove that, but I'm not going anywhere."

Her breath is shaky, as she finally sniffs and separates enough to wipe a teardrop on her jaw. Almost immediately, Tommy's calloused hands cup her cheeks the same way he always did, usually when she was either upset or hurt.

"You can't know that." Your brother would've probably thought the same thing, she almost adds, caughting herself before the first word even rolls on her tongue completely.

"It's not about knowing, Lupita, is feeling. Intuition. And I'm counting on that." She closes her eyes and lets out a frustrated breath, and he beats her time to argue back "And what was your plan anyway? Tricking my schedule forever, torturing yourself with all these doubts and not even considering any of us to rely on?"

"And what you wanted to hear? After all that happened, what..." She defends herself instinctively, wiping her on cheeks and brushing his habds away from her face."Tommy you're hurting so much you're not even capable to go talk about it to Gail, and you wanted me to fill your ears with that?"

"Yes,'cause that's what family does! they grieve together." He insists, tone impatient and almost desperate. It makes her notice now a wet shine under his left eye. "—And don't ask if you're family, you know you damn are at this point."

She sniffs, averting her gaze to the new scar above his eyebrow.

"Just... You gotta stop acting like you don't have anyone, Lupita, like you're alone in the world. you ain't." Tommy frowns, commanding. Pleading. "And if it's up to us, you'll never need to be, by the way. And I know," He shakes his head, sighing and looking away. "These words won't help you with shit—"

"They do." She says, voice coming in a whisper.

Tommy's shadowed gaze turns back to hers again at that, and his smiles softly. "Okay. Tha—that's good. Your burden..."

"—It's my burden. Yeah." She nods, repeting the familiar words her tongue knew but her ears haven't heard for some time until now. She frowns then, testing the waters: "Tommy?"

"Yeah?"

So no more keeping anymore, yeah? "You think about them?" She asks.

"Them? Who?"

"The ones who did that with Joel."

She sees the moment the casual curiosity falters, like a lamp under weak power, to an invisible shadow that seems to cloud over Tommy's features. It's subtle, and even more so when she sees him considering her words.

"I know you weren't there that day and all." She formulates, wetting her own lips "It's not like you saw them like Dina..."

He raises his eyebrows and guesses "You asking me if I think about going after them?"

She blinks, considering. Then nods.

"What do you think?" He asks back, but there's no real hint of sarcasm or humor behind it. Actually, she could are say it's like he's truly means it.

"That Maria would make you sleep in the doghouse?" She asks, and Tommy laughs despite that not being her intention.

"Yeah... I think I said something pretty similar do Ellie." He says, scratching his beard. "So I guess you're right."

"You talked to Ellie?" She asks.

"Yes, yes. It was uh... the first time she stopped being half-asleep because of the pain meds, the night after she was hospitalized." One day after Joel died, Lupita ponders. "We talked. Pretty much the same we're doing here, except she uh... she jumped directly to it."

He scratches his face again, and she knows it's not because it's itching.

"I... I said what it had to be said." He answers, as if he's reading the question appearing on her forehead. "We've been talking about forming a group, people who would be willing to volunteer and avenge Joel— if there was any hint of where to go, which there aidn't." He bites the inside of his cheek in thought, gesturing "And even if we had, Maria thinks the council won't be exactly would be thrilled to send more of us out there, considering the men we already lost to the horde."

"But Joel was one of us..." She whispers, confused, frowning in what it feels to be the 20th time just this morning. "Who's Council anyway, if people decide to go out on free will?"

She almost hears Tommy mutter a 'right?' under his breath, while he gives some steps way to lean againt one of the wood pillars, but he answers before she's sure "This is a commune, by the end of the way. If we folks did everything we wanted without giving a shit what others thought about it," He crosses his arms "Jackson would be a pandemonium, as Maria says."

"Well, and what Maria thinks?" She tilts her head.

"Of forming groups? She doesn't think is a smart idea, specially since we don't even have any compass."

"And what do you think?"

"I think—" He hesitates for an instant, attention hovering anywhere else before it finally settles back on her "I think the best we can do is take care of each other now and stay. It doesn't seem ideal, but it's safer. And maybe what happened with those walls last winter it's a sign of that." He afirms confidently on his words, but the absence on his dark eyes— almost like he was mentally somewhere else—give an impression words being repeated, rather than... "It's what Joel would've wanted."

"...Yeah." It comes from her almost inaudible, before she nods vaguely and blinks. She cleans her throat. "Yeah. That's right."

He mutters so himself, moving away from the wood he was leaning on and picking up the tool he was using, forgoten near them. He lets a small smirk play in his features, when glances back "You accepted better than Ellie, gotta give you some credit."

"Ellie..." She scoffs and repeats quietly, the return of her name scratching something in her mind..."shit, Ellie gets discharged from the clinic today, right?"

"Uh, yeah." He checks his watch around his wrist, and she groans "Probably two hours ago, why?"

"I totally forgot I wanted to see her when she got home. Except...Tommy, do you think Ellie wanna see me?"

Tommy gives a half-hearted scoff, amused and partially confused "And why the hell she wouldn't wanna see you?"

"Because... I don't know, she barely wanted visits there." She says, recalling the one and only time she had visited the room Ellie was put in, two weeks after Joel died. Lupita hasn't stayed long, since the older girl didn't seemed exactly comfortable talking to someone in an a hospital bed wearing an hospital gown, and also barely answered the question Lupita had of her broken ribs. She seemed more focused looking at the picture hanging on the wall behind Lupita than looking at the girl herself, and the most she did looked at her for more than three seconds was to thank for the Savage Starlight almanac on her hands. A thing Lupita found in the stock of a store not far from Jackson, and what was supposed to be— at least, before the recent events— a birthday gift to the girl.

Lupita heard many 'I'm sorry's' from the nurse, the next visits after that.

"Ellie barely wanted anyone's visits there." He points out gently, not stopping his work "She just saw Jesse once, if I'm not mistaken. Heard even that girl, Cat, wanted to say hi. Poor kid got sent home."

And painfully, Lupita understood Ellie so well she didn't even tought about taking it personally— Because Jesus, how could she? When she still remembers being a wreck herself, rejecting the knocks on her bedroom door like the memory was from last month and not five years ago? That when Lupita looked at her older friend on that hospital bed, that seemed to be at the verge of tears at any second, she actually saw herself. A much smaller, younger than her now seventeen year old self pleading to Maria make up an excuse to her friends that waited with hope outside her front door.

"I just don't know if she's ready to get visits now, yet."

Tommy and gives her a fond stare for some seconds, voice husky "You don't know 'till you show up, but hey, she spent more than a month there, maybe she would appreciate it. A company would be good, show you care..." He pauses then, eyelids dropping slightly to the thought that crosses his mind as his tone drops to a more quiet tone "But— be patient. Ellie must be going through hell. During all these weeks. It ain't easy, and maybe she's not ready to talk yet, or open up,"

"Yes, of course, I won't push, it's ok." She agrees eagerly, giving a one last carress to Passenger behind her and practically marching out of the stables.

When she passes by Tommy, he calls her attention again "Hey, uh, before you go...I won't punish you or Jennet or anything like that, let's just forget all this—but no messing around with my schedule anymore, a'right?"

"Oh yeah, sure" She answers, smiling when she notices the abscence of that knot on her stomach. Like she was suddenly more lighter. Maybe Tommy was right, Lupita thinks, talking was worth it. "I'll let Jennet know. We won't mess any of the them anymore, I promise."

"Okay... Wait, hold on—them?" He stops her mid steps, and she cringes a bit. "How many other's routines you kids have been sticking your noses at?"

"Not much." She shrugs, and he makes a deadpan expression "Our friends." she kicks a small rock at the ground "And one or two more people, but that was Jen."

He quirks one eyebrow "Hm. Not Maria's?"

"Was planning to, but we figured she'd notice right away, she's too smart."

"And I'm not?"

"Ellie's waiting f' me, bye Tommy!" She turns around and walks away.