Chapter 1: (Prologue) The General
Chapter Text
8 months ago….
It was storming in Seattle.
Lighting cracked, and thunder rattled the windows of the hospital. Even though it was almost dawn, the light from the rising sun did little to overcast the darkness.
Heavy rain pelted down on the roof, and you could hear it even being three floors down. Humidity thick and clammy laced your skin, and along your uniform, causing discomfort. No more so as you stepped over a fallen soldier. One of your own. You had your weapon raised and at the ready as you swept the floor for any signs of life.
Nothing.
All Dead.
Fifty in total.
Despite the rain's effort to seemingly wash away the blood and death. It couldn’t wash away the day’s events. You had counted the fallen on your way up the hospital floors. Twenty total had fallen inside, those bodies mostly consisted of medical staff.
You had counted thirty others on the ground outside.
The hospital grounds had turned into a battlefield. What once was meant to help and aid others, now reaped the souls defending it. So violent was this attack that even you shivered, you, high high-ranking four-star general within the foundation. The one responsible for hundreds, if not thousands, of deaths. You moved through the rooms one by one, Glass shattering under the crunch of your boot.
You had done a lot of fucked up things during your time in service-but this?
Whoever had done this was now on the W.L.F.’s most-wanted list. The medical staff who had fallen were amongst the best in their field. On top of being some of the last numbers of people who possessed medical knowledge.
This was a huge blow to the foundation. These doctors, nurses, and aids all brought hope for a better future. One that was now gone completely.
Anger coursed through your veins, especially when earlier you had passed a soldier who was taking his last breaths. He had informed you that this had been a one-man job. You weren’t angry because of the deaths, or the blow the world would take because of the medical staff's death.
No you were pissed at yourself. Their blood and your own soldier’s blood were on your hands.
This was your fault.
You then entered what appeared to be an exam room, your eyes spotted a male doctor lying on the floor. A gunshot wound to the head and a scalpel embedded deep into his neck. A female nurse was dead on the ground next to him. Apparently, one had escaped and had made her way to the head of the wolves. She had been the one to alarm the foundation about what happened.
A rogue man, set on destroying the foundation's precious research, had come in and had killed the medical staff. Or, so you had been told anyway.
The whole scene in the exam room had you shaken. You pulled your weapon down finally, as you grabbed for a medical cabinet door just past their bodies.
Empty.
You moved from the room. Moving down the hallway to the Doctor’s office, despite the sins of your past, you had learned a few things;
- The fireflies kept records of all of their research
- They always had backups
The key to whatever had happened here was surely documented in that room. The doctor who was dead on the floor would have been assigned an office to keep his records. So you swiftly made your way back down the hallway. Walking into the lead doctor's office, you made quick work of whatever time you had left alone.
You began your search, looking through cabinets, drawers. Again, you found nothing of value. Then, in the corner of your eye, you spotted a tall grey box. Turning your head to examine it fully, you smiled.
Bingo.
The gray rusted filing cabinet was shut, the lock still in tack. Raising your gun, you fired once. Breaking the lock.
You peered inside the first drawer, and sure enough. A small cassette tape was lying inside. You grabbed it, frowning slightly, tucking it away into a pocket at your side. Your uniform had been tailored to you, fitting around your body comfortably. It allowed for quick movements, along with ample hiding spots for weapons and hiding things discreetly. Being a higher rank had its advantages, normal soldiers didn’t have military grade gear- they had things tailored by the W.L.F. Materials that were designed for the quickness of which people came into the foundation needed to waste good gear when the newer members were more likely to get killed within a week. They were just numbers, place holders. Or so you told yourself.
However, none of this concerned you at the moment. What did, was the lack of what you had found. Only one cassette tape? Had it been a new addition? Had that dead doctor given the other tapes to the foundation already?
You weren’t sure.
Your eternal clock went off by the sound of the approaching trucks, you could hear from outside the window. You would have to figure out what was on the tape later.
Minutes later, you were outside, a small group of soldiers stood in front of you, the last of their ranks. Though you knew there would be more coming in to fill the spots the ones fallen had left behind.
“Report.” Your voice echoed in the street. Cutting through the haunted silence of the streets. You wondered if your soldier could feel it too, the implications and consequences this would have.
Something told you that they did by the way they shifted in ranks. Normally you would punish them for squirming, but given the circumstances, you allowed it this once.
A young male soldier stepped forward. Unaddressed to do so, another thing you overlooked.
“General,” He began, his young voice shaking with uncertainty and the lack of confidence speaking to a superior. You nodded once, allowing the man to continue.
“We searched the area as requested, and there were no other signs of survivors. Along with no signs of the strange man, the one surviving nurse warned us about.” He finished his statement and stepped back into ranks.
You had expected as much, but still you swore under your breath. It had been three days since the breach, so who knew how far the man had gotten. Part of you wanted to rub at your eyes from the stress. But you had to keep the image of a stress-free higher ranking that saw no immediate threat. It was your job to keep your soldiers calm, and most importantly-uninformed.
The only indication of your anxiousness was a long exhale as you placed yourself in front of your troops. Then you made a circling movement with your wrist.
“Mount up, we will report this to the base.” They needed no other direction, they obeyed without question. Good thing too, you were all out of mercy for the day. You had spared them enough.
The soldiers did as they were told, turning in ranks in perfect unison as you had taught them to do. Despite being a woman, you did not go easy on them. You had fought a few of them that had gotten out of line. Even killed a few. On accident, of course, and definitely not because you had heard rumors about those certain ones harming the women under your command.
The weight of the cassette tape seemed to burn your leg as you piled into a lead truck of the convoy. Buckling in, you talked through the events in your head and how you were going to break this to command.
“Oh yeah, sir-um so, your entire research division is gone, and we have no idea who did it!” That thought alone almost had you laughing. Yeah, you were fucked. You were going to be punished, this hospital had been under your command after all. You were in charge of the patrols, the rotations, and had failed.
It took only a few hours to reach the W.L.F. headquarters. Stepping out of the vehicle, you abandoned your troops with only a few clipped words pointed in their direction. You knew they would obey.
In a matter of minutes you were standing in front of General Azrael. He had earned his name during the start of the outbreak when he was younger. His countless death tally had earned him the honor of receiving the name from an ancient language. Unironically, it had a meaning: Angel of Death .
That was the image the man before you carried. You knew his wrath and merciless first-hand. To be in his presence meant one thing, you were screwed.Lucky for you, the five-star General had made you his right hand. Which meant that there was a chance that this wouldn't end up being an execution. It had never escaped you, the fact that he had given you the code name Reaper. Because that was what you were for him.
If he were the Angel of Death, you were his lackey. The one he would send to do all of his dirty work.
Eerie quiet filled the room as you stood before him. Your eyes studied him, then the rank in the middle of his jacket, five solid stars circling each other. They only indicated that this man was a threat.
“How.The.Fuck.” Slow, clipped words came from the old man. His once brown-blackish hair was almost completely gray now. It was cut closely to his head, according to the W.L.F regulation. You didn’t dare say a word. Not as his all too familiar hazel colored eyes pinning you down with a glare.
“Did.This.Happen.” It wasn’t a question. You waited for a heartbeat before responding. Normally you had to wait for permission to speak, but fuck it. This day had already turned to shit anyway, so you would take your chances.
“According to the only nurse that survived- a lone man. Who, I don’t know that information.” You treaded carefully, you knew that he probably already had a name. If there was one person the General kept an eye on more than yourself, it was Abby Anderson.
A soldier had informed you on the ride here that the doctor, the one that you had found in the exam room? Yeah, that had been her father. You hadn’t recognized him due to his brain being outside of his skull. The realization of that reality had you wanting to put a bullet in your own head. If only to end the bullshit of what was going to happen next.
In not even three seconds, you had decided death was better than dealing with Abby’s rage. You pitied the poor soul who had done this. Abby wouldn’t make it painless. Though you only had yourself to blame for that reality. You were bad, had earned a nickname amongst the community, even. But Abby was a different beast.
Of course, it was Abby’s dad. Because when was anything simple in your life? You decided if there was a God, he hated your guts and wanted you dead.
If the general hadn’t gotten a name out of the nurse, Abby would. It was only a matter of time before she found out on her own.
“We have a lead. A witness spotted the truck, reported stolen, headed towards Jackson.” The man’s gruff voice echoed in the small room.
“And you-” He continued, pointing a finger towards your face.
“We're going to hunt this man down on foot and bring him in before Abby gets to him. He killed the leader of the fireflies and their research team, the one YOU were overprotecting.” He said with lethal calm. Of course, he would assign this to you. Even if you hadn’t been assigned to the hospital, he still would have assigned you with this order.
Yeah, you officially hated your life.
“Do we have a description of him? A Name?” You asked, you were a tracker, but you needed information. Asking this wasn’t out of the ordinary. Though as the General raised his hand towards your face, you prepared yourself for the strike. But it never landed, instead, he had something in his hand, you piece of paper. You eyed him hesitantly, but took it.
Opening the page, you found a brief description of the man the nurse had reported. What was lacking was a name, as you raised your head to ask about it, but the General was already speaking.
“As of now, his name is classified. We have to keep Abby off your tail; if she knew this information, she would already be in Jackson.” You bit your tongue to hold back a retort. The bastard was keeping information from you, but what else was new?
Shaking your head in disbelief, you had the nerve to say, “But sir-” He raised a hand, your only warning. You couldn’t believe what you were hearing. Mainly because that meant you were going undercover, traveling on foot- it would take weeks to reach the Settlement. Longer taking in the fact of the infected in your path. But there was no argument to be made.
“DISMISSED, General.” He practically yelled the word, and the weight of all of this bullshit settled into your very core. Nothing else needed to be said by the old bastard. He had gotten the last word in as he always did, and you were dismissed.
A million questions still lingered in your mind, but you had been given an order, and there was nothing to be done about it now.
After leaving the command office, you made your way to your room. Slamming the door behind you as you collapsed to the floor. Even in your gear, the coldness of the floor beneath seeped through the fabric, right to your bones. It grounded you, albeit briefly. Resting your head back against your door, you hugged your knees into your chest.
For being as young as you were, you were exhausted. Now this shit show just had to get worse. Sighing through the thoughts rushing through your head, you pushed yourself off the floor.
Numbness was all you felt, even peeling off your clothes had you feeling nothing. Days like today often ended like that for you. Even despite your shitty situation, it still took a mental toll after all of these years. You had no other choice but to move onward, however. Stepping into the shower, you did your best to drag your beaten soul back into your body. This is why you preferred fighting after a mission. Taking hits and giving them was better than not feeling anything at all.
Fighting, fucking, taking herbs to ease the pain, anything.
You turned, allowing the water to wash the blood and sweat off your back and hair.
You don’t remember washing yourself or stepping out of the shower. Your body had known what it needed even when your mind was gone. It was nice to disconnect at times, but you must have cleaned your body because you didn’t smell anymore. Walking back into your main room, bare walls greeted you. Grey and old-looking wood furniture. You couldn’t stand being in this box much longer, you needed to move to fight or run.
However, you had other matters to attend to at the moment. Dressed in your normal clothes, or ‘Civilian’s', you moved to your uniform that you had discarded on the floor.
You rummaged through your pockets, pulling the piece of paper the five-star had given you, and then the cassette tape. Palming the piece of plastic in your hand, you studied it further. It had a piece of paper on the front which read;
“Study of Cure, Part 1”
Standing, you made your way over to your closet, clicking on the light, you studied the small space. You scanned and scanned before you decided on a hiding space. The tape was small enough, not a large version of a cassette tape, so you pulled the bar off your clothing rack and placed it down the tube.
Then you pushed the rod back into place.
It would do for now, until morning room inspections. The last thing you needed was for someone to find it before you could find the device you needed to listen to it. You had found that little hiding spot during boot camp to hide contraband. Even you, a highly decorated member of the W.L.F., were far from the picture-perfect soldier.
After dealing with the tape, you put away your uniform. Hanging your jacket up, the faded camo coloring dimmed even more in the yellowish light of the closet. You stared a bit too long at the small patch that held your ranking. Four small stars in a circle. The rank of a four-star general, second only to the five-star and the president of the W.L.F. Then you studied the patch next to it, the one bearing your code name.
Reaper
One simple word, but the name carried weight. The W.L.F never used actual names, especially for those in the higher-ups. Code names were earned after years of service, and often given to take after the reputation the person upheld.
Quickly, you made your way out of the closet before you started remembering how you had earned your code name. That day would stick with you for the rest of your life, the screams still haunted your nightmares at times. During those nights, you woke up screaming and shaking. Definitely not something a great General should be seen doing. Breaking down was a weakness that you could not afford.
Suddenly, the room around you was closing in, and you needed to move. To escape, and lucky for you, you had a certain device to get your hands on.
Twenty minutes later, you were standing in the W.L.F.’s technology hub. All sorts of old radios, DVD players, CDs, and other various devices lay around in the room.
If what you were looking for was going to be anywhere, it would be here. After an hour of searching, sweat beaded your brow, but it was worth it as you found what you were looking for.
A Cassette player.
Grabbing the device, you shoved it into the small duffel bag you had grabbed before leaving your room. You would have to listen to the tape two days from now; the only good thing about your travels was that it would give you the opportunity to truly analyze the tape.
You weren’t sure why you had kept the information from the five-star; it would be a matter of time before he discovered that the tape was missing. However, you had banked on the hope that he would simply think that the man had taken it and not you.
You shivered at the thought of him somehow finding out that you had it. It would mean the ultimate betrayal to your superiors; withholding information was a death sentence. You had your reasons for not turning it in right away, though.
Your sister had been captured by an outlet of the fireflies. One that disregarded the W.L.F.’s new hold on their foundation.
You blinked the memory away. It still sent your skin rising in anger after nearly 2 years. If you hated the W.L.F. foundation before then, that night had made you question your allegiance. The only group you hated more was the Fireflies. But that night had changed everything, and now both foundations did their best not to piss you off, or question you.
However, since that night, you hadn’t found any information you would need to drag the foundation under. The group that had been involved in experimentation had destroyed the information regarding your sister. You had spent the last two years hunting the ones you had found to be involved down.
Typically, by unethical means on your part.
Finally, you made your way back to your room without running into anyone. Thank God. While you were unsure of what would happen in the next few months of travel, you knew one thing as you slipped into your bed.
Sleep would not find you.
Two days later and you had finally packed everything.
Most of the supplies you would need would have to be found on the road, but everything you needed for now was covered. Extra clothes, a pair of civilian clothes, and your uniform and the outfit you were currently wearing. All black to keep a low profile. As low as one that you could anyway, what with your sidearm and knives stripped to your waist.
Your pack was full, but as light as you physically could make it.
Before heading out, you had grabbed the tape from its hiding place and the cassette player. Along with a map, you had your route planned out for the next 3 months, a direct route to the Jackson settlement.
As the gates to the W.L.F base yawned open, creaking as they did so. The sound grated against your already frazzled nerves.
A few hours later, you snapped back to your thoughts. You had decided that the path onward would be safe for a little while longer. You had stayed away from small towns you had passed, taking the woodline, keeping an eye out for infected on both sides, at least up against the woods, you would hear the snap of twigs, then off to your side the opening would give you enough notice to react.
You were being as safe as possible, so you fumbled into your back pocket for the cassette player and then reached into your front pocket for the tape. Setting the tape inside, you then plugged a set of wired headphones into the jacket before hitting play. Hooking the small white bud of the earphone into your ear.
A male voice sounded, softly in your ear, “It’s currently six in the afternoon, and my research has failed again.” You recognized the voice of Abby’s father almost immediately. You listened intently as his voice continued.
“A female test subject was admitted to the hospital last night. Upon examination, she had several bites on her arm. The hope was that she would have survived the night, my other research on prior subjects indicated that some people could withstand the infection longer than others.” None of this information came as a surprise to you. After all, you had been in charge of protecting one of the hospitals where they would do these experiments. Along with being the one roping in some recently infected subjects.
“I am breaking this into separate parts. I have hidden them around the different hospitals along my journey. Supposedly, the fireflies have a lead, one that could change everything-but I don’t trust them with certain information.” Great, a scavenger hunt was what this was turning into. One more thing to deal with.
“The longest known subject to outlast the outbreak was two years ago. Another female.” You froze again, your blood rising. She withstood the infection for a total of twenty-four hours. Not significant, but the longest anyone has ever shown-” You clicked the tape off. You ripped the headphones off. Memories flooding your mind, from that night.
Your sister had been captured by the fireflies for stealing part of their research. They had hunted her down, but they had chased her right into a hive of infected. She didn’t stand a chance, she got bitten eight times before the fireflies had gotten to her.
You couldn’t stop the rage building inside of you, it had taken you three days to find her, and all of that time those fuckers had experimented on her. Had watched her slowly losing her mind and not putting her out of her misery. You had figured they had done something to her during that time based on the wounds you had found on her body.
They had tossed her outside once she got too risky to handle, and a few hours later, you had found her.
Alive and infected.
Nothing was left of the only person you cared about. Putting a bullet in her head was the only mercy left you could afford her.
You gripped the player in your hand, plastic and metal groaning against your grip. Those fuckers had lied to you. You had known that, of course, but Abby’s dad had been there? A new sort of rage rose up, did fucking Abby know, what her dad had done to your sister?
Was that why she had been reassigned?
Not because of her violent nature, but because she was somehow involved in what happened to your sibling?
You didn’t fucking care about the mission anymore. Abby might be hunting the man who killed her father, but now you would be the one using the information against her.
You managed not to break the device in your hand, as you placed the earbud back into place in your ear, forcing yourself to listen further.
“-Shown,” That tape picked back up. “This will be the end of part one, the W.L.F. will be arriving shortly to discard the botched experiment. I am glad, I long to see Abby again.” The tape finished with Abby’s dad giving directions to the next location, a hospital, almost another few months out of your way on your current route.
Later that night, you re-adjusted your route according to the description Abby’s dad left behind.
The only thing you were certain of now?
Abby fucking Anderson had just found her way onto your hit list.
Chapter 2: The Soldier
Summary:
Summary
In this Chapter, you spend much of the screen time getting to Jackson. In pursuit of the next tape, your time spent traveling has doubled, along with you having to take down small swarms of infected and dogging your way past crazed groups of people.
Finally reaching the hospital, you find the next tape. Now, you are only three days' worth of traveling away from Jackson. With a link inside, you have to set your plan in motion, but first and foremost, you need to get inside.
Warning: This Chapter has excessive gore and death, along with your character's crude mention of SA suggestion. If any of these topics cause discomfort, I suggest skipping this Chapter.
Disclaimer: At no point in this series do I intend to offend any demographic of people, their practices, or beliefs, or create harmful stereotypes. All depictions of characters outside of the main canon and your self-insert are meant to enhance the story and how I personally envision them and their personalities.
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Notes:
Authors Note:
I hope you guys enjoyed the prologue. I know you have a lot of questions. It was a lot of information to digest!Don't worry; however, with time, all will be revealed! I promise, everything has a purpose. You won't receive a whole lot of information on your past until later, so be patient with me and let me cook.
As of now, I have no new information to share about the W.L.F. and their dealings, but again, all of that will be discussed throughout the series.
I will say that this Chapter is set 8 months after the events of the prologue. I cut a lot of scenes out that I could have done. In the end, your journey to the hospital isn't fully vital to the story. So I didn't want to waste your time going through filler. After all, our goal is to get to Jackson.
(There will be one more Chapter posted for this week's upload!)To recap: The prologue ended with you headed on your way to Jackson and listening to the tape recorded by Abby's dad. Leaving off with you going to the next location of tape two.
Playlist
Sticky- Tyler the Creator
Killer Queen- Queen
Vigilante Shit- Taylor Swift
American Soldier- Toby Keith
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Chapter Text
Present Day ….
Getting into the hospital would be a task in itself, especially considering it had been taken over by the foundation. Thankfully, this place had been almost picked clean, so there wasn't a large patrol. You knew this because you had been surveilling the place for the past few days and had spotted only a few soldiers coming in and out. It also helped that the hospital was on a less popular travel route, which was why there were so few soldiers guarding it currently.
You had managed to find a rifle from a fallen soldier at your place on the opposing building, on which you had a perfect shot into the clearing below. Looking into your weapon's scope, you breathed in against the bitter mountain air. You had spotted five men in an armed vehicle patrolling the grounds around the hospital. Then, five more inside patrolling the hospital floors.
"A small patrol indeed. " You thought to yourself.
Getting here has taken you off your travel route. In truth, you should have been in Jackson months ago, but the travel had taken longer between fighting infected and other small groups you ran across. Not to mention being forced to travel on foot to keep a low profile.
Luckily for you, you had found radios over the two years of traveling to keep your highers off your ass. They didn't question your motives or why you had wanted to come to this hospital. The five-star had only told you to hurry it up. But fuck the foundation. They had lied to you; another piece of the truth was in this hospital.
For being a supposed doctor, Abby's father was a little daft in leaving a trail behind. He hadn't trusted the W.L.F. with everything either. He was smart in that regard at least, a fool for thinking he could make a cure in the first place.
The shot from your gun was as silent as it could be, what with the silencer you had picked off from another gun and the distance you were at currently. The first body dropped, the person's head popping to the side as they fell to the ground.
You shifted quickly, aiming at the next person. Soon, five bodies lay out in the field beside the hospital. You moved from your position, cocking the gun once causing the last round to discharge from the weapon. You then discarded the gun on the ground as you moved out of the building.
Moving into Main Street, you grabbed the knife at your side and removed it from its holster. Palming it as you strode down the street, and what was sure to be a wild-looking smile plastered on your face.
This was going to be fun.
Too bad for the poor soldiers, though. It was their fault, however. A mission was a mission, even if it wasn't one from command.
Sauntering your way directly through the front door of the small hospital. Which was a bit cocky, but you had dressed into your military gear before starting this whole thing. Newer soldiers weren't brilliant, and you knew that once they saw your rank, their guard would be let down.
Which was exactly what happened when you approached the first two soldiers; they immediately turned their heads to you. They both snapped to attention once they beheld your rank.
"Gen-" A younger man began to say. His words were cut short as you flung your blade into his throat. The boy crumpled, gagging on his blood, his comrade turned shocked, frozen. Unsure of what to do, you had expected this. The other man hesitated as he raised his gun, but you were faster.
Grabbing the barrel, you yanked the gun from his already weak and untrained hold. You had no time to grab for a weapon, so you grabbed his neck instead. Turning his head to a sickening angle, a soft crack sounded.
Two down.
Three to go.
It often worried you how easily you could kill, even your own people. Though you had learned quickly, that is this world, you either survived or you were someone's bitch.
Especially being a woman. You had read articles from the past, and it seemed that even women then had it bad.
So you found it hard to have sympathy towards a majority group who would rather force their way in between your legs than help you. It was harsh to think such things, but that didn't stop those things from happening.
You climbed the second set of stairs. The hospital had only four floors, and thanks to the cassette tape you had, you knew which floor the next tape was on—the top floor.
Two had been guarding the first floor; the other three were each assigned their own floor. So they posed no threat. Grabbing your sidearm from the holster on your belt, you rounded the corner of the first floor. The soldier guarding it immediately saw you; however, unlike the first two, he raised his weapon immediately.
You fired first. A shot rang out, and the person dropped. Footsteps above you indicated that the others had heard. You slipped into an exam room just behind you and waited. A few minutes passed, and another soldier came flying past you. He hadn't seen you; it was a rookie mistake. Stepping from your place, you fired one shot into the back of his head.
The other soldier had been right behind him; a shot rang out from his gun. The bullet grazed the side of your cheek, enough to break the skin but not enough to cause much damage. Spinning, you raised your weapon again, this one you didn't make quick.
You fired a round into the soldier's knee cap, and he cried out. Dropping his weapon on the ground in an attempt to stop the blood from flowing. It would be in vain.
Grabbing another knife off the soldier you had just killed behind you, you turned and made your way to the one still alive.
His pleas for his life fell on deaf ears as you slit his throat. He struggled for only a few minutes.
Then silence filled the air.
Part of you felt bad. These soldiers had no idea what they had truly signed up for, but that didn't matter. They knew the risk that they might not walk away with their lives. They probably didn't even know what they were guarding; you doubted that the command even knew. If they had, there would have been more soldiers here.
Whatever, it would be weeks before more soldiers would come and check on this hospital, and by then they wouldn't be able to tie their deaths to you. Even if they did, you would be able to say they attacked a high-ranking officer, and that would be that.
All higher-ranking words were law. No matter how suspicious and nonsensical they appeared. You could say the sky was green, and your soldiers would be forced to agree with you.
You walked the rest of the way to the top floor. Scanning the rooms, raiding cabinets, and the tape weren't the only reasons you wanted to come to this particular hospital. Libraries are rare nowadays, and the W.L.F keeps most of the world's knowledge under lock and key. A key, you gratefully had access to. You had researched hospitals before leaving, which would be roughly within a certain radius, just in case. Even more conveniently, you had written their names down and briefly described what was being guarded there.
According to the W.L.F. records, this hospital had been a women's health research lab before the outbreak. You had also found records of a certain type of medicine for women being abundant here. So even despite it taking you longer to reach Jackson, it would be worthwhile—one less thing to worry about.
It was indeed worth it as you opened the next few medical cabinets—boxes and boxes of birth control patches. The pills were all but extinct now, and technology for the implants was all but gone.
Patches were a rare item, but more of the commonly found means of contraceptives, one that you knew would work. Again, being a higher rank was nice. You had medical superiority over others, and even though the patches you took from the foundation were outdated, they still worked.
You had run out of them a few months ago, and now, looking at what was sure to be a 10-year supply, you knew the soldiers' deaths had been worth it even for this stockpile alone.
You grabbed what you could, taking the patches out of the boxes and shoving as many as you could into your sack. A good three-year supply. More than what you needed for now, but you were unsure of the next time you would be able to come here and get the rest. For now, this would have to do.
Finally, you went to the last room with the second tape. Similar to the one you found a few years ago, a tall metal cabinet locked up tight stood in the back corner. Pulling your sidearm from your place again, you shot the lock.
Walking up to the drawer, you pried all of the drawers open. The tape was in the bottom drawer this time, another piece of paper taped to the front;
"Study of Cure, Part 2"
Thank God.
You placed it in your pack, in a hidden section of fabric. You would have to listen to it later, once you got to Jackson, which, thankfully, was only three more days' worth of travel. You began changing out of your uniform and back into civilian clothes, shoving your gear into your pack.
That would be another thing to deal with once you got to Jackson, too, finding a hiding place for your gear. All hell would break loose if the Council of Jackson discovered that a W.L.F. member had entered their ranks.
Even more so when they discover that they already have a rat in their walls. Your link for getting past the gates unchallenged.
Scavenger, a male, had entered Jackson over five years ago. The code name deriving from how he scavenged parts to hack into more advanced radio systems and used parts to create weapons for the W.L.F. He was the link you needed, a friend and ally.
You had worked with the middle-aged dark-skinned man in the past, but that didn't make you fully trust him. However, General Azrael ordered him to get you inside safely, then told him to get out of Dodge once you've been established.
A few minutes later, you left the hospital, continuing the final leg of your journey.
Three days later, you hadn't run into any issues. No cannibalistic groups, or religious zealots, and very few infected. This was probably due to Jackson's wide range of patrols and picking off infected in the surrounding towns.
After two grueling months on the road, the past few weeks have been the easiest on you. Which you were grateful for, but that didn't mean you had dropped your guard. Despite the Jackson patrols, infected still lurked in the woods, the ones that the patrols couldn't take down, such as bloaters, big smelly bastards. They were the tanks of the infected, and hard as hell to take down. It had taken you and five of your soldiers to bring one of them down, and the thing only fell because of a flame thrower.
Who knew how many lurked in the woods along with small hives. You didn't want to find out, so when you could, you stuck to the main roads, which was easier now as you grew closer to the Settlement. The last leg of the trip that worried you the most was going into those woods.
Your worry grew as the road you were on transitioned into gravel, then grass. Your heart raced from fear, but you steeled yourself. This was bigger than the foundation now.
Taking a breath, you stepped into the grass and began your trek into the woods.
Leaves crunched under your shoes as you crossed over a fallen tree. Spider webs clung to the sleeves of your T-shirt. You dusted them off quickly; the last thing you wanted was a creepy crawly in your hair.
Blood didn't bother you, infected didn't even bother you, but those creepy crawlies with eight legs? Yeah, no, you would rather face a horde of infected than have a spider crawling on you, which made you even more worried about your priorities and sanity.
Not that you had any left, but it was good to know that even you had a line.
After crossing the log, you traveled up and down the vast terrain of the woods. The excretion had slowed your movements. Months of traveling and little sleep would do that to a person. Your whole body throbbed with pain, but you were too close now to spend another night outside of Jackson.
Again, not to mention the small hives that were infected and migrated during the dark. Clickers, being the worst, thrived in the dark. They heard better in the environment, being able to register the different noises. You had seen the difference in person, coming across a Clicker in broad daylight was better than meeting one in the middle of the night. Daylight provided all sorts of different noises that made it easy to slip by them.
The only thing that motivated you was the setting sun; you needed to get to the Settlement now. More importantly, you needed to find the rotation Scavenger had been volunteering for the last few months. He had the trust of the Settlement, so they didn't question him when he had volunteered for almost every shift.
You knew this because when you did find a radio, the General relayed information you needed to get in. Go to the south gate in the evening. Scavenger would be watching the gate there and slip you in as night fell.
Simple. Right?
Well, once you got there, looking at the position of the sun and having studied the positioning of the base, you would be off course.
But finally, you broke through the woodline, the wooden gates of Jackson beckoning you with soft lights and glorious open arms. You made a small squeak of relief.
At last.
Taking a second to catch your breath, you examined the open vastness in front of you—the large city, the only thing within miles of view. You took in an angle from which you stood, eyeing the back corner of the south gate—another 10 miles of walking if you had to guess.
Your small victory of relief turned into a groan as you began moving again. You could have sworn your backpack weighed more than it had a few hours ago. Your eyes fluttered with exhaustion, but your legs and feet moved onward. The sun seemed to be moving quickly below the horizon. You were running out of time.
You were halfway to the gate when a small click had you freezing. You slowed your breathing, and the tiredness washed away, replaced by fast-acting adrenaline. But you remained calm, making painfully slow movements to the knife sheath clipped to the side of your belt.
Careful not to shift your pack at all, your back was turned, so you couldn't see how close the Clicker was. You pulled your knife out quietly; sure enough, another small click sounded. Grasping onto its brittle, cold handle as if it were a lifeline.
You hadn't dared grab for your sidearm. The loud noise would not only alert any other patrols but also any other infected in the area.
Your leg shifted, the new layer of snow crunched, and you winced. Several clicks sounded, getting closer.
Fuck .
You swiftly threw your pack off your back, spinning to face the infected. You didn't need the weight, and you weren't in your uniform either, so there would be no arm guards to protect you if it went to bite.
The ugly form rushed after you, and you dodged. It tripped, having moved too quickly for its own good. It hadn't been expected that you would move as swiftly as you had either. You acted, leaping onto its back, sending your blade crashing into its neck over and over again. Before you, it fell to the ground. Pushing yourself off the infected, you were panting. You had used the last bit of energy you had killing it.
As you turned to grab your sack from the ground, something slammed into you from the side. You raise your hand, your grasp keeping the snapping and snarling infected away from your face.
You hadn't heard it coming; it had snuck up on you, and you blamed it on your carelessness. But your strength was already failing again. You searched for your knife around you, but the fucker must have knocked it out of your hand when it tackled you. On top of that, your gun was still in its holster, and on the side of your belt that you couldn't reach. You were dependent on a certain arm to fire and pull out the weapon quickly, and it was that arm that currently held the infected neck away from your body. It's inching closer to your head.
You were sure this was it, this was how you were going to die, the same way as your sister-
A distinct sound of a bullet leaving a gun filled the valley. The infected's head exploded over you, its blood spewing onto your face, and you shoved it off before anyone could get on you. You recovered quickly, reaching for your knife a couple of feet away, you had reached for your sidearm as a male voice said,
"Woah-woah." The man was on the back of a horse, and in the dying light, it was hard to make out any features. Your vision swam. Purple and black fought over dominance; your mind was shutting down. You blinked repeatedly to keep from blacking out. It was only a matter of minutes before you knew you would succumb, but the man's voice was not Scavenger's.
You didn't have much time to look at him as your vision faded in and out again, another Clicker sounded just behind the man's horse. He didn't have time to react before you did.
You acted on instinct, you threw your knife, and you could have heard the man yell. Probably thinking you were aiming for him. But your blade sailed past him and into the neck of the approaching infected.
You didn't see it land as your eyes rolled into the back of your head. The darkness that you had struggled against, finally claiming you.
Chapter 3: Arrival in Jackson
Summary:
Summary
(The vibe of this Chapter is like the one Tik-Tok audio of Trap Caleb saying, “I might be a little…..delusional, but I think I see someone looking at me through that window” Just a fun little insight into what I thinking as I was writing this chapter lol)You wake up in Tommy Miller's house. Lucky for you, he didn’t check your bag. So your identity remains intact. You need to find Gileon to have a secure place to operate out off.
But when Joel shows up to Tommy’s house, fuming that he took in yet another person, it throws your movements off. Joel doesn’t trust you, and you him. Starting your transition into the settlement lifestyle unnoticed, harder than you expected.
Notes:
Authors Note:
I hope you have enjoyed this week's drop!
As expected, it took me over two weeks to write 3 chapters. These last few days I have been grinding out Chapter one and two. I listened to “Non-Stop” from Hamilton. This chapter was the last thing I tackled, and I almost didn’t finish it in time. (lol) Writing from a reader's perspective was a lot harder than I thought it would be.
However, I had a lot of fun figuring it out, and have become more comfortable with it over the last few weeks. I also had a lot of fun figuring out plot changes .A lot of my ideas and plans changed towards the end of this week. Which was not what I was expecting, so I had to re-hash Chapter two from my original draft.
Now that I have a rough idea of how I want this to go, the next few chapters should come relatively easy. More so now that I have the intentional world and character building done for now.
The next chapter releases will be your time spent in Jackson and working with Joel. A lot of it will be filler, but I want to build up your dynamic with this character. Joel seems to be a very closed off character, so you developing a romantic relationship is not something that would happen right away. Especially within this plot-line. (It will also take you time to piece together that Joel is even the person you are looking for. But we will cross that bridge when we get there)
Last thing I have to say is, I would love to hear your feedback! I would love to know how you thought about what I wrote and if you are enjoying the story so far. So if you wish, please comment on this chapter, or all of them! Any critiques or pointers would be appreciated!
Schedule: Expect the next drop by 5/30/25
Disclaimer: At no point in this series do I intend to offend any demographic of people, their practices or beliefs. Or create harmful stereotypes. All depictions of characters outside of the main canon and your self insert, are meant to enhance the story, and how I personally envision them and their personality.
~~~~~~~~~~~Playlist
Enter Sandman- Metallica
Welcome to the Jungle- Guns N’ Roses
Anxiety- Doechii
Somebody’s Watching Me- Rockwell
Who’s Afraid of Little Ol’ Me- Taylor Swift
Chapter Text
Day 1
Jolting awake, you looked around you frantically. You were lying in a bed, dressed in clothes that were not yours. You moved your head, looking over either side of the bed, searching for your bag.
You had remembered encountering a man, and you hadn't seen his face before blacking out. Your uniform was still in your bag, and if anyone looked in there, they would find it. But surely if that were the case, you wouldn't have woken back up.
Your eyes fell on the black sack of your bag sitting by what had to be a closet door. You surged for it, unzipping the main pocket and digging a little for that familiar camo and sighing as you spotted the triangle patch that read W.L.F with a picture of a wolf. After shoving it back down, you stayed on the floor and leaned up against the wall next to your pack.
Your uniform was still there, and you were still alive. You had to be inside Jackson, which meant it had to have been Scavenger that found you. Swearing as you realized you now owed the man your life for saving you from the infected that had tackled you off guard.
Not even one day in, and you owed a life debt to a lower-ranking soldier. Though to be fair, you had been so exhausted from traveling, your feet had blistered, and some of the wounds had opened, causing pain. But you had completed phase one of your order.
General Azrael wouldn't expect an update for some months now. You could take your time resting and building the reputation you needed. All thoughts of planning and plotting went out the window as your stomach growled.
Right, food.
Your stomach could wait a few more minutes; you desperately needed a shower. So you grabbed your spare set of clothes from your sack. Looking down at the oversized clothes that you were wearing.
Clearly mens clothing.
Your skin was still dirty, so you took that as an indication that whoever this man had been hadn't washed you. You were thankful for it, it was rare for men not to take advantage of a situation like that. Another thing you owed to Scavenger.
You made fast work of cleaning your skin and hair. Then, swiftly got out and dried off.
Dressing in your own clothes that you had saved especially for your arrival in Jackson. The simple shirt and jeans were better suited to you. Allowing you to be comfortable. Walking out of the bathroom, you went to the bedroom closet, eyeing warm jackets inside. You hadn't expected Jackson to be so cold, so you hadn't fully prepared, nor could you carry the extra weight.
You were sure that Scavenger would understand, so you took a thick-looking jacket off the hanger and draped it over your bag for the time being.
You spotted your knife not before, and Scavenger must have retrieved it for you. So you took it and its holster and clipped it to your jeans, just in case.
You would explore Jackson later on in the day. It had also just occurred to you that you had no idea how long you had been asleep. Only one way to find out, opening the door to the room you were in and walking out. You noticed you were on the top floor, a small hallway led you to a set of stairs leading down to the main floor.
Heading down you smelled the beautiful scent of bacon. Mouth watering you followed the scent into the kitchen. Upon seeing the back side of the man you fought the urge to pull your knife out.
That wasn't fucking Scavenger.
Your hand hovered over your knife, as a tall man with olive skin- darkened only by long days spent in the sun turned to face you. His dark hair glinted in the soft lights of the kitchen. A mustache graced his upper lip; he wore a dark blue long-sleeved shirt and blue jeans. A plate of food in your hand as you eyed him warily.
"It's okay, kid, I ain't gonna hurt ya." He said, taking in your unease. His voice was marked by a southern drawl you had rarely come across.
"Must have had quite a time traveling, found you outside the gate. Be glad I did, you were almost food." He grinned a little at his own morbid joke. You didn't speak as you watched him place the plate of food on the island between you.
"Name's Tommy, Tommy Miller.." His raspy voice filled the awkward space between you. He shifted under your gaze, clearly, this was awkward for him too.
"You…uh…..got a name or some 'em?" His words slurred together due to his southern accent.
"None that concerns you." You snapped quickly. It was a bit rude, but you had all but forgotten your real name. Reaper was all you knew anymore.
Tommy nodded, "Suppose that's fair, you don't know me after all." It sounded like he was convincing himself. You weren't sure why you didn't come up with some made-up name.
Maybe because you could read people pretty easily, and you got the vibe that Tommy could detect a lie from a mile away. Better to start off saying nothing then starting with a lie that you couldn't keep up with.
"Recon, not knowing your name, will have to do it for now, but why the hell are you traveling alone?" His face seemed to say that he knew that wasn't that business either. You supposed you owed him some answer.
"I had a friend here who said they had an extra room." Was the only explanation you gave. It wasn't a lie, but it wasn't the full truth. Gileon, aka Scavenger, wasn't a friend. Not fully. Just a means to an end.
"Very well, who is this friend?" He asked, and you gave him Gileons real name. The one he used as an alias here in Jackson.
"Oh yeah, handy guy that one." Tommy said, trying to make conversation, the last thing you wanted. You offered Tommy a small nod, but you needed to get out of here to get to Gileon. Just as you were about to explain that to Tommy, a loud banging sounded at the door. Making even Tommy jump. Whoever was at the door was not an expected guest.
"Pardon," Tommy said as a way of excusing himself to answer the door. You peered over your shoulder, watching him from the corner of your eye. When a tall man pushed past Tommy, causing a brief scuffle between the two men. You spun your attention to the debacle, your hand once again finding its way to the knife along your belt.
"Fuck Joel!" Tommy exclaimed, pushing the strange man against the wall to stop his pursuit inside. You took in the man's appearance, dark brown hair a shade darker than Tommy's. The man was taller than him too, and more muscular, your body buzzed at the energy of the man.
Your mind and blood singing, Threat. Enemy.
The man Tommy had called Joel eyes met yours. "What the hell Tommy?!' Joel said snapping back at Tommy, "You agreed not to let anyone in." Joel gestured to you, a look of disgust on his face.
Rude.
"Dammit Joel, I didn't have any other choice. I found her outside the gate; Clickers had attacked her. What was I supposed to do? Let her get infected?" Tommy questioned him, and the look Joel gave him was one that clearly read, "Yeah, that is exactly what you were supposed to do."
Tommy grumbled something towards the man that you didn't hear, and the man seemed to have a heated, silent argument. Their shared, angered looks had you glancing between the two.
You knew that look, one between siblings. It had taken a minute to figure out why this man cared little about barging through the door. Tommy and Joel were brothers.
The realization had your hand backing away from your knife. You might not know Joel, but you owe your life to Tommy. He had saved you; he had earned at least basic respect from you. You couldn't offer him trust; no one in Jackson would get that from you. But you would get it from them, you just had to play the game.
"She knows Gileon," Tommy said to his brother. Which Joel didn't seem to hear, or care about.
"He invited her here, Joel." Tommy was trying to convince his brother that you weren't a threat. You would have been offended, but Joel had a right to be suspicious. Joel's gaze switched from his brother to you again. His dark brown eyes were raking against your body, assessing gaze.
You didn't like how you felt as if Joel could see right through you. Didn't like the small pebbles of skin rising in that silent warning again.
Great, not even twenty-four hours in, and you had already made an enemy.
"Have you told Marie yet?" Joel hissed at his brother. Tommy shook his head no in answer. You wondered why that name was important, but you figured you would know who they were soon enough.
"She has only been out for a few hours," Tommy said. "I brought her here, ensuring the infected hadn't bitten her." Your brows shot up at his words. That was a risky move, one that you wouldn't have made if you were in Tommy's shoes.
Now it made sense why he had changed you, he had looked you over for bite marks. Along with that, he had also confirmed that you hadn't been out very long. It must be early dawn by now.
"You gonna speak or some 'em?" Joel shot at you, and now it was your turn to examine him fully. A strong jaw, skin also marked by the recent summer. He was stunningly handsome for his age, having gruffer features compared to Tommy, along with a deeper southern drawl. It was clear Joel was a fighter, and probably had fought his fair share of infected. If the gray hair starting to peek through his beard was any indication. To be fair, though, even you had gray hair at your age.High levels of constant stress do that to a person. However, Joel was clearly up there in age, and Tommy seemed to be a few years younger than him.
"I was just leaving." You told him, "It's as Tommy said, I was invited here." The lie came quickly, and smoothly to you. "Gileon can vogue for me." Not that he had any other choice but too now. Joel still eyed you though, his unease of you coming here was evident.
How right you are, old man, your brother just let a wolf slip into his gates. Unchallenged.
Tommy was an easy target, too trusting. You tucked that piece of information away for later.
"Then call him Tommy, I need to hear it from him." It was clear Gileon had established trust and respect with this man. More than likely from all his volunteering during patrols. Thank you Gileon.
A few minutes later, you, Joel, and Tommy were outside standing on Tommy's porch. When Gileon finally showed up, dressed in surprisingly stylish clothes. He was wearing a dress jacket and a dark colored shirt underneath. Matched with a pair of dark jeans, you wondered where he had found clothes like that, or if the W.L.F. was sending him added benefits for taking you under his wing.
Hell, knowing Scavenger like you had in the past, the man probably made them himself. He was known to make uniforms for the W.L.F. from time to time. You had to give it to him; the outfit paired well with his chocolate skin. His hair was done in tight bundles that fell down to his shoulders, metal wrapped around some of the strands. An added detail that brought everything together. Despite it being something normal people might not have access to, he wore it normally. The fabric was far from new or perfect, but it was as close as it could be.
At least now you knew who to go to for new clothes.
Gileon dipped his head towards you in greeting, "Good evening." His voice matched his style, cool, yet tinted with a bit of roughness. One that you remembered well.
Joel spared no time as he said, "This one-" He jerked his head towards you,
"Claims to know you, is that true?" His question hung in the air between the small group that had now formed. It was awkward for a moment.
Then Gileon cleared his throat and nodded, "It's true, Joel. She is uh….my niece." You raised a brow at him, niece? That's all he came up with? You rolled your eyes, so Gileon wasn't that smart. Now you had another lie to keep up with. But he had done his job, you supposed.
"See, Joel, there is nothing to worry about." Tommy raised a hand up slightly in a means of surrender. Tommy accepted the explanation without question. You looked at Joel, a look on his face you couldn't quite read.
Though you had determined that shortly into you meeting him. Joel was not an open book. Not someone that you would be able to read or manipulate, he would be a problem. You would have to be careful around him. You would make a point of avoiding him entirely if you could.
"Fine," Joel muttered under his breath. He wasn't happy about this. Tommy shook his head at his brother. Clearly out of his league, trying to control Joel. You glanced between the brothers. Heartache slammed into you. You and your own sister had been like that, always at each other's throats. You missed the banter. Missed her.
The memory of her had you remembering your goal. You needed to find the man who broke into the hospital. So you could use him to lore Abby to Jackson. You need to know the truth. Her father was dead, but maybe she could tell you more about the night you lost your sister.
Then you would kill her.
If only for not telling you sooner. You had killed people for less than that. Some hadn't even been involved in her experimentation, but they had allowed it to happen. They were just as guilty.
Blinking, you realized someone had spoken to you, "Sorry, what?" You asked, shaking your head from your thoughts.
"Get your things," Gileon said, shooting you a look. You shot one back. You might be out of your element here, but you still outranked him. You had the ultimate say, but he was giving you an order. One that you couldn't say no to with that lie of his.
Bastard.
Turning on your heel, you headed back into Tommy's house.
A few minutes later, you were outside again. All three men were still there. Joel's eyes tracking your every movement.
"Thank you, Tommy." You said, and you meant it. I owe you my life." You offered him a smile—a fake one, a one that would lower his guard. Tommy offered a closed-lip one in return.
"No problem, kiddo." He said the name was one of endearment. It made you want to vomit. You hated pet names and had Tommy been anyone else, he would be knocked on his ass right now.
Gileon snickered under his breath. Your blood boiled, this asshole was enjoying every minute of this. Seeing a superior put into a lesser position you had been thrusted into had to be gratifying.
Laugh it up dick, but when we get back you are getting it.
Joel said nothing; you offered him only a nod in goodbye.
Once you were a reasonable distance away from the men, you turned your focus to Gileon. "Your fucking dead."
He snorted, "The way I see it, you need me. I saved you back there, and I get no thank you? For someone of your….stature that isn't very leader worthy."
He said carefully. Knowing that your conversation could be heard as you walked on one of the main streets of the city. You got his message.
You were out of your element, General or not. You needed him.
"Just watch yourself, Gileon. We might have worked together before, but that doesn't mean anything now." You told him. Gileon knew better than to say your real name; it was classified after all. You never even allowed yourself to repeat it. You were just Reaper.
Tracker, dog to the W.L.F, bounty hunter, whatever the foundation needed you to be. Most of the time, the goal was the same. Gather the dead, eliminate threats. Reap.
Another few minutes into your walk, you felt like you were being watched. You peeked over your shoulder, and sure enough, it was Joel. His hands were in his pockets, dark hair shifting in the wind as he trailed behind you and Gileon.
That fucker was stalking you.
"We are being followed." You informed Gileon. He didn't look back, though, as if he had expected as much.
"Yeah, that's just Joel. Give him a few days. He will get bored eventually." The dark skinned man beside you shrugged. He seemed not to be worried. You scanned Gileons face, he had gotten comfortable here in Jackson. Lowered his own guard. Or maybe it was just because he knew the people here.
Part of you wondered how he felt about doing this. Lying to everyone around him. He had to be somewhat okay with it if he was still giving information to the foundation. To you.
Finally you arrived at Gileons house. Located roughly towards the edge of the city. Tucked away from the main bustle of the city's life. The house was small, but would accommodate two comfortably. The white paint on the brick had all but flaked off. Exposing the red brick underneath. A small porch welcomed you to the front door. Dead bushes lined the edges of the front end of the porch.
Chapter 4: Jackson
Summary:
Summary
After your first day in Jackson, you go start your first official day in Jackson. This means you need to report to the community center to be assigned a job position.
More things keep getting thrown into your path, making it impossible to make a clear plan. Especially when you get assigned to Joel’s new patrol partner.
~~~~~~~~~~Warning: This chapter contains mentions of torture and abuse. Resulting in scarring both mentally and physically. Along with family death.
If you or someone you know has experienced abuse please call your local authorities.Disclaimer: At no point in this series do I intend to offend any demographic of people, their practices, or beliefs. Or create harmful stereotypes. All depictions of characters outside of the main canon and your self-insert are meant to enhance the story, and how I envision them and their personality.
Playlist
Who is She- I Monster
Girl with one eye- Florencemachine
Far From Home- Sam Tinnesz
Notes:
Author’s Note:
I appreciate your support! I was surprised at the group of people who had already read the first few chapters.
Hopefully switching between character code names doesn’t become confusing. For this chapter, I do give the reader a name. However, I plan to use it as little as I can throughout the series!
Originally I had planned on splitting up your and Joel’s perspectives into separate chapters. However, doing so made both chapters entirely too short on their own. So I decided to combine them. If only to give you one more full chapter instead of being cruel so early on and leaving you on a cliffhanger.
As far as adding in Joel’s pov, I wanted to play around with Joel a little. I wanted to show how his grief for his daughter's passing still affected him. How it drives him to correct his mistakes with Ellie.
I also think Joel knew he was living on borrowed time in the show. He knew his actions would not go unpunished. So I wanted to explore those feelings he would have probably had. But in a way that spoke to how he didn’t care. He would accept his fate so long as Ellie was alive.
But you can’t tell me this man didn’t feel like his time was running out in the show. Especially of how easily he accepted his brutal end.
I wanted to mirror his own story to that of the readers. Ellie and Joel are mirrors, but so are you and Joel. You and Joel are not good people. You are both a necessary evil bread out of the need for survival. So I want there to be a lot of parallels to that.
I hope you continue to enjoy the series!
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Chapter Text
Day two
The following morning you arose to Scavenger hammering away in his shop in the backyard. The loud clanking of metal on metal filled the valley. Birds squawked and cooed outside the window, and the bustle of early morning life filled the streets. None of these were unpleasant sounds, though slightly annoying as you rubbed your eyes. Your eyes cleared as they blinked the hazy fuzz of sleep away.
You stretched under the plain colored sheets of your bed. You were surprised that you had slept on a bed at all. Most times you found them uncomfortable, sleeping in trucks and floors made beds seem too soft. But as soon as your head hit the pillow you fell asleep. Yawning you finally rose.
You strode to the closet and were surprised to find a set of new clothes there. Warmer than the ones you had packed. Scavenger was a brute at times, but deep down, he was a tolerable man. He must have slipped them in before you had gone to bed.
You slipped on the warm clothes, leggings with fur lining the inside, and a long-sleeve shirt. The leggings fit your form perfectly, the shirt however did little for your assets. However, these clothes were not meant for flattery. Often you would tend to stick to ones that would allow for fluid movement, and give the eye ample to look at.
You had realized over the years that knives and guns weren’t the only things that could be weapons. Your body was one too, and not just in movement, but in looks as well. If a person could be distracted by your body, then well….they were distracted. Even if it made your skin crawl. Even if you hated your body at times, what with all the scars marking your skin. Most of them weren’t from in-field battles. No, these were due to training in the foundation. Well, most of them.
They were a testament and a warning.
“Leave the knife in her longer.” General Azrael commanded.
A small knife stuck out wickedly from your side. You could taste blood, but you made no sounds of pain. Not even as small trickles of blood seeped from the wound. The soldier that the General had commanded to stab you was one of your own. You could tell from the look on their face that they hadn’t wanted to. Whether it be fear of retaliation from you or fear towards the commander. Neither mattered.
You had been forced to walk a mile with the knife cutting tendons and blood vessels. The blade was placed well enough that it wouldn’t kill you, or damage you so much that you couldn’t remain in the foundation. But it hurt like hell. All because the soldier before you had stepped out of line. The blade was truly meant for them.
It was meant to be a death blow. But you had taken their place, saving their life in the process. Not that they knew that of course. The General had accepted your offering. He had planned on a worse punishment for the insubordination, which was why he was drawing it out. To punish you.
You held your hand around the edge of the knife where it stuck out. The sensation of the cool metal lodged inside of you had you almost doubling over and puking. You didn’t of course. You wouldn’t give this fucker the satisfaction.
It had taken two hours before they finally removed the blade.
You brushed your finger over the scar through your shirt. This particular scar lying just below your lungs, the blade had been short enough that it hadn’t pierced any vital organs. The scar seemed to ache from the memory. They all did. You had never counted them all, couldn’t bring yourself to.
It had you wondering why Tommy hadn’t said anything to you about them. Maybe he would have had Joel not interrupted. Because if anyone saw them they would surely wonder how the hell you were still alive. You didn’t want to think about that as you threw on a thick coat.
Once out of the house, you made your way to the backyard. Thankful for the thick clothes Scavenger had left you. It had gotten colder since you had arrived here. You opened the door to his workshop. The smell of old gas and oil hit your nose.
Gileon was hammering away at something on the table in front of him. His movements and his swings were precise. Though the noise had you wanting to hit him upside the head. As you walked up to his side, he stopped his work. He had noticed your presence rather slowly. Or maybe it was just because he appeared to be hyper-focused on his work.
The dark-skinned man turned. Gone was his nice attire from the day before, now his long tightly done tendrils of hair were tied up. Wearing what once had been a white shirt, smudged and black-stained from years of wearing it. His blue jeans were no better. Bead sweated his brow as he nodded to you in greeting.
“Morning commander. ” The word had a small tinge of sarcasm behind it, and you elected to ignore it.
“Gileon,” You said in return, voice emotionless. “What are you making?” You asked curiosity rose in your mind. You weren’t crafty with these sorts of things. You knew your way around a shop, but just enough to know how to fix a car.
Scavenger had a way of sculpting metal to do what he needed. Making weapons, and even the arm guards that lined your uniform hidden away upstairs. All genius inventions that had saved hundreds of people in the W.L.F from getting infected. Even your own. The foundation had thrived under the things the man before you had done.
It was a surprise to you that he hadn’t risen in ranks further. He did seem the type of person to decline those kinds of things if offered. A luxury that not everyone received in the foundation. Including yourself.
Gileon turned back towards his bench, grabbing what he was working on. It looked like another version of the arm guards he made.
“I figured after the other day, you might need something to go under your regular clothes. Lighter. Your layers will provide enough extra support.” He said, grinning a bit awkwardly as he handed them to you. You offered one in return. You turned your gaze to examine the crescent-shaped pieces of metal. The materials he had used were indeed lighter. Maybe enough to sustain a few bites.
They weren’t the ones in your uniform, the ones made out of such good metal that nothing could bite through them. But they would undoubtedly save your life. You rolled your sleeves up and fastened the pieces of metal over your long-sleeved shirt.
“Thank you Gileon.” You meant it, he didn’t need to do that for you. But he had.
“I might not know why command brought you here, but I am not going to have your death put on my hands. So don’t get the idea that I am doing you a favor.” He said, his voice darkened by his need for sleep. He must have been up for a while making these for you.
“Right.” You nodded in understanding. Because he was right, the higher-ups would blame him if anything happened to you. Even if it was your fault. Gileon was just covering his ass. This wasn’t an act of friendship. It was one of prevention.
“I do have one more thing for you,” He said head to a wall lined with all sorts of different tools and blades. He picked a knife out of the lineup and handed it to you. It weighed more than the one you had strapped to your belt, and it had been recently sharpened. You took it from him carefully.
“I have seen what you can do with a blade, best to keep an extra on you.” He said, giving you a knowing look. He then handed you a few extra rounds for your sidearm. Your arsenal of small weapons was now fully restocked.
“I owe you dinner after this Gileon.” You told him, huffing a laugh. But you were serious. His supplies would all be put to use.
“I’ll hold you to that Reaper.” He wiped at his brow. You could forgive him for not attaching a General to the front of that name, this time anyway, “Well, I’m going to get some shut-eye. Don’t do anything stupid.” He didn’t allow you to say anything else as he exited the shop.
You stood there for another minute or two. If only to delay not leaving the warmth of the space.
A little over an hour later you had made your way to the community center. You needed to report there no later than noon. Gileon informed you yesterday that new members of the settlement had to go there to get registered for work.
“All members need to pull their weight, and you are no exception.”
Gileon claimed the only reason he wasn’t needed was because he was needed in his shop making things to advance the settlement's protection. You rolled your eyes already silently cursing him for his skills. Especially as you pulled the door open to the building to be met with a long line of people.
Great.
You couldn’t afford to waste time doing this, but you had no other option. You needed the community's trust and needed to be exposed to as many people as possible in the hopes you would find the man you needed. In all truth, you hadn’t even formed a plan yet. Had no clue how you would lore this person away, and more importantly lead Abby right to him. All without raising suspicion. None of this could come back to you.
But first, you needed to find him and gain his trust.
The line moved forward slightly, and you sighed. This was going to be a long day.
An eternity later you were standing at the front desk. An older woman sat behind a plastic screen. At least the elders were spared from fighting the infected.
“Name?” She asked, not sparing room for small talk like some elders did.
Fuck
You hadn’t thought you would need a legit name to register for patrols. It made sense though, if you were to fall they would need to identify you.
“Lily.” You named the first thing that came to mind. You weren’t sure why it was a flower.
“Lily…..” The older woman trailed off, clearly indicating the need for a last name as well. You came up with another name, though this one was a little nonsensical. The woman eyed you as if she could tell you had made it up on the spot, but said nothing as she jotted your information down.
The first official documented lies you had told. One that you would now have to keep up with.
The woman looked you up and down, clearly looking at features that would fit certain positions. Despite your training, your body didn’t show any prominent muscles. The only muscles that truly showed were those in your thighs and legs. Another thing you were grateful for, no one would mark you as a threat. They would see a sweet innocent face, unmarked by wounds or hardship. Only to have their throat slit in their sleep.
It was purposeful how the General’s punishment never included your face. Only areas that could be hidden by your uniform. Mainly your torso and upper leg area. He stayed away from your chest as much as he could.
A few seconds later the woman handed you your information packet.
“You would need to qualify first but should you pass training, then you will be added to patrol. Three days on Three days off. Then one day of gate patrol. Your patrol training is this evening.” The women had taken one look at your youth and decided to make use of it. Not that you had a problem with being added on an extra duty. The gate patrol would give you access to where they held radios. Your link for contacting the W.L.F.
But the training aspect caught your attention.
“Training?” You questioned.
“Yup, yours is later this evening. Should you pass you will be added to the list for patrols in a matter of a few days.” You nodded at her explanation, “Everything from your training time to your future partner is detailed on the list.” She offered a tight smile. You thanked her and grabbed the information.
You looked at the list as you made your way to the door. Training be damned, the name on the list had you storming out of the building. Like hell would you pull shifts with Joel fucking Miller as your permanent partner.
Chapter 5: Training
Summary:
Summary
After receiving your schedule you prepare for training. You use your time wisely and you begin scoping out the terrain. When Joel makes his second appearance. Still holding a grudge for what happened at Tommy’s you act a bit hostile towards him.
You have to push your anger aside as your training starts. However, things go downhill. Becoming wounded and outnumbered by infected you find new strength. Determined that Jackson will not fall, you become the divide between your partner and certain death. Risking everything for their survival you put your own on the line.
Until Joel does something unexpected.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~Disclaimer: At no point in this series do I intend to offend any demographic of people, their practices or beliefs. Or create harmful stereotypes. All depictions of characters outside of the main canon and your self insert, are meant to enhance the story, and how I personally in-vision them and their personality
Playlist
Bye Bye- NSYNC
Dangerous Woman- Ariana Grande
What’s up Danger- Black Caviar and Blackway
Maneater- Nelly Furtado
Notes:
Author’s note:
For this note I just wanted to say that I do plan on giving Joel his own chapters later on in the series. But I really needed to play on his character a bit. So for now his pov will be in most chapters as a part two of sorts. If simply because his pov’s as their own solo chapter would be way too short for the time being.
Now I know none of what is about to happen is realistic. One person would definitely not be able to take down a small hord of infected alone in the way I depicted. (Look if Joel can take down 50 people you can take down 20 infected)
But you are a General for a reason. General’s in the military are the best of the best. The way they have to form a plan on the spot, and be the one willing to make a sacrifice play. Even more so if in an apocalyptic setting.
However, as much as I wanted us to be a girl boss and come out without a scratch, that definitely wouldn’t be realistic. So yeah your character is going to suffer and take blows that would kill a normal person. Which is why I depicted the W.L.F torturing you in Chapter 4.
I needed a logical reason as to why you are different.
Just like people can become immune to poison after dosing themselves over a course of years. I believe the same applies to torture. Not that you don’t feel pain, but your body is so used to being injured severely enough the brain adapts. Meaning it overrides your pain receptors. Along with slowing down your heart-rate to slow blood loss when injured. (This doesn’t mean that you can’t lose a good amount of blood, just less than an average person would)
You are also still human. You have limits and when those are pushed your body gives out. Regardless of how many painful torture methods you can be subject to. The body and mind draw the line after being biologically altered in an environment such as this. It isn’t something we can control.
Obviously this is all shaky logic, but this is also a fictional story.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Chapter Text
Part one
A few hours later you were standing on top of the gate wall. The small alleyway for people to move along the wall giving you purchase. According to the paper you had gotten you had relatively picked out where the training would take place. So you had taken it up yourself to scan the territory. You hadn’t expected to be thrown into this training and truly would rather just skip over it.
You had no other choice but to do it though. To refuse was to be kicked out of the base, but you definitely hadn’t planned on showing your fighting skills so soon. You knew you would have to hold back against whoever you went against. Along with whatever infected would come along from the sounds of fighting.
Jackson was brutal that way, they would throw people just outside the Settlements perimeter. Far enough to keep the infected at a distance, and close enough to watch from the walls towers to the people training. It was the only way they could know for sure if you could survive. Because outside the gates you would be unprotected. You would have to fight people, have to fight infected drawn in by the noise AND defend the person you were with. If you came back alive, then you were good to pull patrol, failure meant death.
Hopefully whoever they had picked to fight you would be slow. You needed an easy win, a weak opponent, and an even stronger fake patrol partner for the training. Thankfully the universe was on your side, the test was not for some minutes yet. Which was why you were perched on top of the gates. A set of binoculars in hand.
You scanned the space, a few hundred yards away from the base. The council had cleared a small space just enough for movement. You could see obstacles and purposely mudded areas. Logs laid in the small space as well, to deliberate to have fallen from natural causes. You nodded softly taking in the fact that Jackson even had something like that. It was information that you could pass on with given time. Gileon gave them as much information he deemed necessary regarding their interior defense, but he always would come up with excuses as to his lack of knowledge for the outside defense.
Now that you were here you were sure it was just because Gileon never went outside the base. A fact that couldn’t make it back to General Azrael. Laziness was also a punishable offense. But you owed Gileon, you could keep quiet about his failings so long as he kept giving you the gear you needed.
Gear of which you were still wearing on top of your long sleeve. You were glad for its presence, because you were surely going to need them. You had pulled on the thick coat he had given you as well. Everything placed purposely, if you did somehow get bitten, at least the metal wouldn’t dig into your skin directly. The shirt would serve as a guard between the metal and any vital veins in your arm. Your gloved fingers twisted the knob in-between the binoculars, zooming in.
When you felt a blast of warmth come up beside you. You kept your position, unalarmed by the presence of someone beside you. Mainly because you didn’t need to see them to know who it was. His energy alone gave him away.
“What are you doing?” Joel’s gruff voice filled the space, his southern drawl seemed to warm his condescending tone. Of course he had tracked you down. He had surely found out by now that you were to be his patrol partner if you passed this little test. You didn’t answer for a heart-beat, finally putting down the binoculars. You fiddled with the straps debating on whether to tell him the truth, but if he was here then chance where he knew what you were doing.
“Scoping out the training ground.” The warmth of your breath creating a puff of fog in the cool afternoon sun. Surely Joel had figured as much, but he nodded anyway. You finally turned your attention to him fully, he had a bruise just under his cheek. You looked away swiftly, Joel had probably fought whoever had put him on rotation with you. You weren’t sure why that bothered you so much.
Maybe it was because people in the W.L.F would fight for the chance to just be under your command. It was different to have someone fight to not be by your side. A hit that oddly bruised an ego that you didn’t hold here. You weren’t sure how to sort through that feeling.
“Are you ready?” Joel asked, and another odd thought occurred to you. Was this his way of apologizing to you? You turned your face back to his, arching an icy brow at him.
“Do I have any other choice but to be?” You countered. Yeah this was definitely his way of trying to approach the subject. You had gone through enough soldiers making mistakes to smell a suck-up speech a mile away. Joel was pulling the same tactic now, attempting a normal conversation. Ignoring the events that had soured your arrival.
“Spose’ not.” His voice was quiet. A simple answer from a simple man. At least one pretending to be simple.
You rubbed an itch at your eyebrow. “Did you come all the way up here just to ask that?” Irritation laced your words. This was not a game you had time to play right now. You only had a few more minutes to plan before you would need to leave for training.
“No. I came to say that I’m sorry about yesterday.” There it was. At least he didn’t tip-toe around it.
“What, did you lose?” You said jerking your head slightly to the light colored bruise on his cheek. You huffed a disbelieving laugh, “Honestly Joel, I don’t fucking care.” You said waving your hands in agitation. “Look-I don’t want to be paired with you either. But we will be.” You said with certainty. Jackson’s training might have seemed cruel, but you had faced worse.
Much worse.
“You sure bout’ that kid?” He asked, his lips forming a grim line. “You took down one infected, but nothing like you’re about to face.” You just stared him down.
“Fuck you old man.” You stated, raising your middle finger to his face. You heard him starting to protest, but you were already down the ladder and headed towards the gate. Anger raising your adrenaline. You needed to calm down. The last thing you needed was to get so lost in your anger that you grew reckless. But you couldn’t help it. Joel Miller had gotten under your skin.
Your training partner and the one you would be fighting would be waiting out in the woods for you. Tommy was at the entrance of the gate when you approached him. You were right on time, as always.
“Good luck.” He said as the wooden doors groaned opened. On your person you had at least four blades, hidden over and under your clothes. Easily accessible to you, on the right side your side arm was strapped. Loaded and ready, and extra mag lined your pocket. You had been informed by someone that in the training arena they had more weapons hidden. A bow and arrow, a rifle, knives, and other small things. So you saw no need to bring your pack.
It would only add extra weight that you couldn’t afford. But you knew in a real scenario you would more than likely be carrying one. The council didn’t seem to care that you weren’t carrying one as they stood at the top of the wall. Tommy’s figure joining them as you slipped out of the Settlement.
Ah .
Another piece of the puzzle clicked in place. You hadn’t seen the full assembly of the council so far. Tommy was apparently a part of it as fellow members greeted him. You stood at the base of the wall just below them. Waiting for their signal to begin.
A bright red flag raised in the air. The quietest symbol they could give, one that the others would be looking for.
You had all but forgotten your anger as you turned on your heel and began your journey to the training area. Only the soft sound of snow fall and the crunch of your own boots followed you. Your head stayed on a swivel as you walked the distance to the arena. You grabbed at one of your blades, your goal wasn’t to kill the person attacking you. Meaning you would need to find a way to render them unconscious, doing so quietly. Their goal was to render your partner unconscious, if they managed to do so and escaped they won.
You stopped in the middle of the field, listening intently. Nothing yet, but your sense remained on guard as you explored the small space. Finally crossing into the lines of the small arena. You spotted the bow and arrow, marking its position just in case you needed it. Carrying it would restrict your movements for a few vital seconds. Just as you approached the weapon to get a better look, a scream echoed.
Game on.
Wasting no time you sprinted towards the sound. Time was racing against you as you ran back towards the way you came, away from the weapons. Just outside of the smaller clearing was your goal, a tall male was attacking what you had to assume was your partner. A smaller woman. Another deliberate ploy to lure you away from what leverage that could aid you.
You suddenly regretted not grabbing the bow and arrow while you had the chance. You were also aware of the fact that the council was watching you. Joel was most definitely examining your every move, probably already judging you for acting too slow. That and the memory of the interaction early fueled your anger again.
You picked back up your pace, racing towards the two figures just ahead of you. That’s when all hell broke loose.
Two infected sprung out of the woods, right in the way of your objective. They were racing right towards the couple. Shit. Your blade left your hand before you could think. It met its mark into the furthest infecteds head. It stumbled and fell. The other still advancing, you were right on its tail as you grabbed for another blade, sparing the rounds in your gun. The quieter you were the better. Finally catching up to it, just before it reached the others, you tackled it to the ground. Slicing its neck open so deeply you had nearly decapitated it. Greenish blood spilled on the ground as choking sounds continued to echo from the girl.
No other infected appeared for the moment, a blessed relief, as you ripped the man off the girl. You grabbed his neck, looping your arms around his neck, and then restricting. He bucked, your hold breaking slightly before regaining purchase.
“Run! Go! Get to the Arena! Go for the bow!” You shouted at the girl. You needed her help if you were to make it back to base alive. She listened immediately, darting off back towards the training arena. The man took this chance to break your hold just enough to launch his head backwards.
Cracking the back of his head to the front of yours. You heard a crunch, the sound of your nose breaking under the force. Searing pain following the blow, stars lacing your vision. The man broke your hold completely then. Using your dazed state to run back after the girl.
You shook your head to clear your vision. Ignoring the blood oozing from your nostrils and you stumbled after the man. Shock coursed through your mind, it was rare anyone could break your hold, but this man was stronger than expected. Despite your training and your purposeful mis-haps, that hadn’t been orchestrated by you. As you passed by the infected you had killed just moments ago, you retrieved your fallen blades. Keeping both in either hand now. Your ears rung as you caught movement out of the corner of your eye.
Spinning towards the fast approaching infected, you raised your arm to guard your face as it bit down. The piece of metal lining your arm clamped down, digging into the shirt and skin under it. You cried out as the piece of metal embedded into your skin, blood now flowing down your arm and fingers. You sent your blade crashing into its neck. Doing your best as you ignored the pain.
After it fell, you turned back towards the man who was swiftly catching up to the girl who was growing closer to the weapon you desperately needed. You pocketed your blades, switching them out for your side arm. Good thing too as three more infected slipped out of the woods. You were doing your best to pace your breathing as your legs carried your run. You raised your arm, wincing in pain as the metal dug further into your arm. There was no room for hesitation. You needed both people alive in order to succeed.
Your finger pulled the trigger once, twice, then a third. The sounds of the gun echoing in the valley. Another reason you wished you had that damned bow. But each bullet found their mark, even with you running your aim was true. Allowing you to close in behind the man as the three of you entered the much smaller space. The girl had mercifully reached the bow, but as your luck had it the man reached her at the same time. This time he went to swing at her. Not allowing you time anymore, one well placed hit and the girl would be knocked out.
He was trying to speed this up. Not that you could blame him.
The girl dodged his blows, allowing you time to gather more strength. You shouldered off your coat, the one crumpled piece of metal around your arm the infected had bitten into glinting in the light. The other was still in good condition. You held back your scream of pain as you ripped the now useless piece of metal off your arm. They had both stopped their fight to watch, surely examining for a sign that it had bitten you. You rolled up your sleeve and no sign of a bite present. It was only to ease their worry, the man nodded at you once. Then turned back towards the girl.
Taking in a deep breath, you allowed the cold air to numb your pain. Your blood reddened the snow beneath you. It was only a matter of time before you bled out too much. You had to speed this up, so you approached the man swiftly standing now in front of the girl. Taking a blow that surely would have taken her out. Your cheek swelled rapidly. You ignored it. If only because the man had paused, finally a fucking opening.
You swung out a single leg,swiping out his legs and the man toppled to the ground. You were immediately on top of him, hands finding their way to his neck. You squeezed and the man bucked under you. You kept your legs and body tight, restricting his movements as he choked.
Your nails dug into his neck, marking it red. You raised your fist and landed four hits to his face before he stopped moving. Still breathing. You toppled off of him landing on the ground next to him on your back, your breath racing into your lungs. But it wasn’t time for rest. You forced yourself up, frantically searching for the girl. She was in front of you just gawking. Now that you got a good look at her she looked way too young to be put into this position.
She said nothing as she grabbed the discarded bow and arrow a few feet away. Then handed the weapon to you as she started towards the man's body ready to transport back to jackson. She brought out a hidden horse and body sled. Thank god you wouldn’t have to carry him all the way back. You were sure you looked like hell from the way she kept eyeing you.
You were too tired to ask any questions. You almost rolled your eyes as you heard the clicking of another small swarm approaching.
“Go!” you yelled at her as she finished loading the man onto the gurney. She hesitated for a moment until she saw what was holding you back. A good ten infected coming into view. You raised your bow arm aching from pain as you did so,“GO!” You repeated at the shocked woman, snapping her out of trance.
The girl had taken off just as the swarm broke through the trees. A good ten appeared in rapid succession. You were outnumbered, injured and bleeding out.
Time seemed to slow, allowing for a few precious seconds. You closed your eyes, the one swollen throbbing in protest. Stealing yourself, you took in the feel of your bow in your hands. The sounds of screaming coming from the infected running towards you. You took a breath then another.
You were now suddenly all that stood between the swarm and the settlement. Even if it meant your death. Jackson could not fall. Not without you causing it.
Eyes snapping open, you loaded your bow with an arrow and began firing.
~~~~~~~
Joel
He couldn’t do a fucking thing to help you. He wasn’t allowed to intervene. He might not like you, but you were fighting like hell to not kill the man attacking your partner. You had taken down five infected in the matter of a few minutes. Then he watched as you rendered the man unconscious with a few well placed blows. You were strategic and planned. Having spent your time wisely mapping out the area through binoculars before the event.
Safe to say he was impressed.
But now you were cornered. Giving your partner time to escape with the man that had landed a good blow to your face. Even without binoculars he could see an infected fall to one of your arrows. Despite your vast wounds you were still up and fighting.The blood loss surely causing your stamina to slow, but you didn’t fall. Like you knew the consequences if you did. You knew the risk the loss of your life meant.
It oddly, and regrettably made him respect the hell out of you.
He gripped the railing of the watch tower hard, silently chanting you on as you backed away from the woodline. Doing your best to keep your distance from the gathering infected. More were flooding you now, no longer ten but a good fifteen.
Arrows flew, each landing their blows, none wasted. None missing and just with that he knew you were trained. Too many well placed blows, too much planning on your part, to many injuries for a normal person to still be standing. His heart pounded as an infected lurched towards you on your blind side. Your arm with the remaining guard on it snapped up. Blocking yet another bite that would have sentenced you to death.
The girl you had risked everything for galloped on her horse towards the opening gates. The unconscious man’s body flinging far as she untied him from his place when she passed through the doors. Then she rounded her horse back towards the gates.
He was already climbing down from his place. He knew she was going back, and that she wouldn’t be of any use. She had allowed that man to catch her off guard. He had watched it happen, she was careless. She would get you killed and you were out there being the one force from stopping those infected from reaching Jackson.
Fuck the rules, fuck Tommy who was yelling at him not to leave, fuck the consequences. If he didn’t step in now you were going to die, and those infected would gain a new number. He halted the girl's horse, tossing her off as he lurched onto the saddle in one quick movement. Wasting no time as he charged out the gates.
~~~~~~~~~
You needed to find a tree to climb, but as more infected gathered in the space the hope of that faded. There was only one option now. Ripping off the other sheet of metal off your arm, you turned. Never had you been more thankful for your harsh training than you were right now.
Bleeding and exhausted, your training and adrenaline filled in the sloppy gaps your body made. You were relaying slowly on instincts and muscle memory. The infected chased after you as you began your desperate sprint back towards Jackson. Your legs pumped, your arms worked, still desperately grasping onto the bow in your hand.
It felt like an eternity before you saw a dark galloping figure headed towards you at record breaking speed. You half sobbed and laughed at the relief that flooded over you. Your partner had come back for you, which meant the man you had knocked unconscious was alive.
You had been fighting for your life for over an hour. The desire to live was the only thing driving you as far as physically possible.
The figure closed in fast, almost colliding with you. It wasn’t the girl though, in fact it was the last person you expected.
Joel.
You didn’ care as you grasped at his outreached hand frantically. Your hands forming the grip he needed to haul you upward. You screamed in pain as he did so. Landing on the back of his horse safely.
“Keep them off our ass!” Joel barked as he reigned the horse to turn around. The horse wasted no time to start racing towards the Settlement, towards help.
Legs protesting as you spun yourself in the saddle. Facing the advancing infected, you grabbed at another arrow. Your supply of them dwindling, you placed an arrow on the string. You drew the string hissing in pain as you did. You needed just a few seconds to adjust to the horse's rocky movements. Infected snapped at the horses heels and Joel barked at you again.
You released your grip, the arrow went flying. Tearing into one infecteds head, clear through into the one behind its throat. A once in a lifetime shot. Both collapsed. You fired your last few arrows before you were out. Only a few more remained. So you reached to your side, grabbing your gun.
You fired shots at the last of the infected. Just as you and Joel closed in the remaining distance into the settlement.The last body landed just in front of the gate. You finally allowed your back to rest against Joel’s. Too exhausted to do anything else, or care.
All that did was that you had succeeded and that everyone was safe.
Chapter 6: Bonus Chapter
Summary:
Author’s Note:
I know I have said this a lot but thank you so much for your support!
So to show my appreciation here is a surprise chapter! This takes place in the coming days before you listen to the tape. (Consider it a bonus Chapter) This isn’t to be taken all too seriously story wise, it’s just an interaction that you and Joel have.
I just felt after having a lot of black-out time frames, that I would provide more to makeup for that. (This chapter will be short, but hopefully it gives you a little angst for now. lol)
So thank you and enjoy.
Playlist
Gimme More-Brittany Spears
Denial is a River-Doechii
I See Red-Everybody Loves an Outlaw
Chapter Text
Joel
“Where is she?” His tone was calm. The nurse fiddled with her tag that was pinned to her shirt. A nervous little tick that he picked up on in the four days he had been coming here. The woman flicked her hair over her shoulder.
“She just left.” She responded, her eyes seemed to scan him. In a gaze he had gotten used to. He knew he was an attractive man, but he wasn’t vain. He often hated how the women pinned after him in this town. So, he ignored it. Even if it did annoy him. The muscles in his jaw tightened. She seemed to notice as her hazy eyes traced the movement.
He tugged at his fennel shirt and cleared his throat, “Thanks for the heads up.” The words were laced with such sarcasm that the nurse's face fell slightly.
He had more important dealings like tracking you down, not that it would be hard to do so. He knew where you lived after all. The afternoon sun did nothing to soothe the brittle air. As he walked, he ran his hand through his hair. His stride was sure and determined. Maybe a bit too confident.
Especially as he stalled just outside Gileon’s house.
He argued with himself slightly. He had no reason to be doing this. Should have never checked on you while Ellie was off doing her task. He rationalized that it was just because you had been injured. That he had been the only one concerned enough to help.
Ellie was to blame for this. Making him soft towards other people. Though after years of distrusting others, he had to admit it was a nice change.
Just as he was about to talk himself out of it, even to the point of turning around he heard the door behind him slam close.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“Maybe next time you should design the guards, so I don’t know…. not bend into my arm?!” You practically yelled the words at Gileon as he opened the door. Another fact that annoyed you. Due to the returning pain in your cut arms, you could no longer move them more than a few inches upward. It would take a good week to get back full mobility.
“It was last-minute work, alright! Besides, it was your dumbass who went and got bit!” Gileon shouted back. The bastard had a point; silence filled the air as the door slammed behind both of you. The awkwardness only grew as Joel stood just in the street. Just inches from the slightly raised porch.
Your brows scrunched in confusion, and you glanced towards Gileon who only shrugged. Who quickly made his way off the porch, seeing his moment to escape.
“Catch you later, gotta go!” Gileon called over his shoulder as he was brushed by Joel. Tossing a hectic hand over his shoulder in means of goodbye. Joel turned around back towards the porch.
If you could have lifted your hands to rest them on your hips, you would have. You were already annoyed, and Joel’s presence just made that feeling worse.
“What the hell do you want?” You snipped at him. You owed Joel nothing, especially since the nurse had told you he had pinned you down. Even if it had been for medical purposes.
“Well good afternoon to you too.” He half-grumbled. Rolling your eyes you made your way to pass him. You were just going to ignore him. Maybe if you did he would get the hint. Why was he even here? He had a lot of nerve-a large hand met your shoulder. Purposely avoiding your still bandaged arms.
You froze. Going utterly still at the touch as you glared up at him. Hate laced your eyes, of course he had to be fucking taller than you. By a good foot or so. His hand quickly moved from its place. You didn’t miss the warmth of it. Your heart thundered as a weirdly tense and awkward moment passed.
“Look, I was just comin’ to check on you.” He said, his southern accent drawing out his words. He seemed defensive and not at all like he meant it. What he really meant was that he was coming to surveil you.
You huffed a laugh, “Yeah, like how you ‘checked’ on me through my window the other night?” His face went pale, and you smirked. So he had thought he had been sneaky. You faced him fully now.
“I don’t believe you.” You said plainly. “I have done nothing to you to make you act the way you have.” He opened his mouth as if he was about to say something. You held up a hand, pain be damned. Even if your face twitched slightly from the pain.
“I don’t fucking know you, and I damn sure don’t owe you anything. I did what I had to. My partner lived.” You were fuming now as you approached him. The tip of your boots meeting his own. “And if you ever fucking hold me down again, I swear to God, Joel Miller, I will fucking kill you.” Red was rising into your vision as you pushed a finger into his chest. It was a threat you meant.
Joel seemed to mirror your anger, though. Not in an outburst but silently, in the way those dark eyes of his shifted. A sight that if it had been given by someone else, would have had your toes curling. You knew that look, that shift. Because you often gave it to your soldiers. It radiated anger. A shift so sudden it took you off guard slightly.
It was a look that was rarely turned back your way. One that you hadn’t known you had been into until he had just given it.
Nope, not fucking going down whatever the hell road that was. You scolded yourself.
But in one split second, your slight arousal turned to uncertainty. You weren’t sure where it came from, but something unsettled you about Joel. Whether it had been the mix of emotions you had just experienced, or something deeper. Your gaze shifted to one of uncertainty.
Something he took note of it was his turn to smirk back at you. The hate in your eyes returned. Fuck him. Another heated second passed, glances and body language speaking more than words.
“Mind your tongue little wolf. Or else you might bite it off.” Was all Joel said as he stalked away. The nickname sending chills down your spine. That unsettling feeling curled further into your chest. Something wasn’t right with him. You kept eyeing him as he rounded a corner. Still frozen in place.
Maybe he felt the same way regarding you. A different feeling of unease settled in you at the thought. Because it would be a cold day in hell before you and Joel had something in common.
Chapter 7: Study of a Cure; Tape 2
Summary:
Summary
After you come back from the hospital, you battle with your recovery. Taking the time to listen to the second tape you had found, but as you analyze it more questions formed. Nothing is adding up, unsure of how to proceed, you turn your attention back towards your connections in Jackson.
So when Gileon sends you to fetch his supplies with Joel, you have no other option but to say yes.Will you and Joel be able to come to a common ground before patrols?
Playlist
Anti-Hero -Taylor Swift
Don’t want to think about you- Simple plan
Notes:
Author’s note:
Hope you enjoyed the bonus chapter!
I should clarify that our self insert IS NOT IMMUNE.
Ellie is a freak unicorn of total immunity. Meaning if she ate anything infected, got exposed to spores, blood, bites, etc. She would not be affected.
But I DO believe that there would be people immune to certain aspects of cordyceps. Though not immune to others.
Like how some people are allergic to everything under the sun, and ones who aren’t. It doesn’t mean that those people aren’t allergic, they just haven’t found anything they react to. Or how gluten affects people differently.
An example of this might be, one not being allergic to gluten eating an infected bit of bread might not react to the fungus. (If it was one bite and they didn’t keep eating it obviously)
Or if someone was exposed to infected blood before the cordyceps adapted then they might not react if they got exposed again. Because their body already had that pathogen introduced before it altered.
(Think of it like a cold, if you get exposed to a certain strand the next time you get one it wouldn’t be the same strand. Or it would need to be a stronger form of the same strand in order for it to affect you.)
This doesn’t mean if they got bitten, or got exposed to blood,etc. that they wouldn't get infected. They are immune to ONE strand versus someone like Ellie. Who has complete immunity.
Immune to a small weaker strand, not to all.
Just to make that clear.
Just like how I think that not every food crop got infected. Or at the very least they would come across barn supplies that were sealed properly. It would give them access to clean supplies of wheat for bread. (This isn’t something that is addressed that I think bothers people. ‘How are they eating cake in the show? I thought crops was how it all started.’ Yeah because it came from a supply that was infected. They know that now and probably came up with new farming systems and ways to keep their crops clean.)
Chapter Text
One Week later
“ For obvious reasons, I can’t divulge the name of this person. ” Gerald’s voice rang into your ear.
He was talking about the person in the last tape you had listened to. The one that was supposedly immune.
Your legs were crossed in front of you. Sporting loose pants and t-shirt you were once again making use of your recovery time. It had been a few days since you had been out of the hospital. In the time since you had listened to this tape a handful of times.
“But our lead indicates that this person is immune to all of the infected pathogens. ”
You listened intently just like you had the past few days. You wondered if Abby’s father had been on some sort of psychedelic drug. Even though he hid these tapes, that was a bit out there. No one was immune. There was no cure to be made.
From your own research you knew that. You had found books on the fungus that had caused the outbreak. Then you studied them until you knew the old college textbooks by heart.
Ophiocordyceps Unilateralis was the scientific name of the fungus, known for infecting ants and other small organisms. It primarily targeted creature's incapable of regulating their body temperature or those that accidentally ingested it. The fungus would commandeer their minds and bodies, consuming them from within. Much like the infected now once it took over, it would sprout from the host. Creating a new source of fungus growth.
The book had also stated that once the fungus invades the host, there is no cure. There was certainly no way to biologically engineer the animals so they could have a warmer body temperature.
Cordyceps as they were now called, had grown too powerful since then. With climate change and the human body cooling down to adapt, the fungus had found its ultimate target.
If there was no cure to be developed then, there was definitely no hope now.
Because the fungus had altered itself biologically since infecting humans.
Something you hadn’t seen until recently.
A few weeks before the Seattle hospital ambush, a soldier of yours had been wounded in a fight. Then had been exposed to the blood of a fallen infected in his wound directly.
He turned a few seconds later.
It was why you had stayed as far away as you could from them during training. Careful to not be exposed to their blood.
Even being near the plant could cause infection. The fungus was like poison ivy, an allergic reaction. But a much larger and much more catastrophic scale. One that no one was safe from.
“ I obviously didn’t believe it at first until the leader of the fireflies came to me. Along with a General from the W.L.F with proof .”
If you were someone who liked to bet, you would place good money on that General being General Az.
Sly fucker. Lying piece of shit-
“ I’m still skeptical of course. Even before the outbreak, fungus could cause hallucinations in humans when ingested. Cordyceps infections in ants were not curable.”
It was probably the only smart thing the man had said this whole time.
Your stomach twisted at his words. The whole point of the experiments on people was to one day make a cure.
You grabbed a pillow next to you on the bed. Wrapping your still tender arms around the soft marshmallow-like fabric.
You visited the hospital yesterday. The nurse unwrapped your arms to reveal long slice marks on the tender side of your arm.If one didn’t know better it looked like you had made an attempt on your life. Crude, harsh stitches marked up and down the jagged bits of skin. Doing their best to connect the torn bits so your body could heal. You had gotten a scolding from her when she realized you had popped a few.
Not that it could be helped. You then propped your legs up to your chest. Leaning your head forward as you cuddled into the pillow.
At this rate it would take a month to heal fully. Time that you didn’t have. Which was why you had locked yourself inside of the house. You missed being active and snooping around. You couldn’t help but feel like you were wasting time. You only had a few months to report back to the W.L.F . General Az would not be pleased if you turned up with nothing. He personally might not be able to do anything, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t send one of his cronies to do it for him.
You were sure that he would even ask Gileon to do something if it came down to it.
A long cold chill lingered on your skin at the thought as the tape continued.
“ But it’s the best lead we have ever had. So many failed experiments. I often wondered if it was possible. For years we worked towards creating a human capable of making a source for a cure. ”
His voice sounded disappointed and anger rose in your chest. The foundation had been experimenting on people for a chance of a cure. Dread filled your stomach mixing with the anger.
So many wasted lives.
Your sister had been one of these failed experiments. You had been one.
You had just been the only experiment to walk away alive. As far as you knew anyway.
So what made yours any different?
Was it because of your Rank?
Your inheritance?
Your skills?
You weren’t all that important. You were replaceable.
Not special.
Guilt found its purchase. You knew none of it was logical. It wasn’t your fault, but the guilt twisted like a knife.
Fuck, how many soldiers had lost their lives?
Was that why so many needed to be replaced?
Why had you lived?
Why weren’t you infected?
When was the last time they injected you?
What had they injected?
Were you running out of time?
You had so many questions that you weren’t sure you’d ever find the answer too.
Numbness replaced the guilt. A type with such droning silence that it even sliced through the audio of the tape. Staring absentmindedly, you moved your head to the side. The light from the early morning sun pierced through the glass of the window. Casting vague little rainbow swirls on the white sheets.
You clicked pause on the cassette player. Removing the buds from your ears. You allowed that numbness to settle deeper. Allowing your vision to refocus you drank in the sight before you. Allowed the quiet to finally settle. Blinking the still lingering tiredness from your eyes.
You rarely had mornings like this.
Where you could take your time.
Often they passed by in a blur. Lost within the bustle of fast paced morning formations and training. You never really took time during those moments to just take it all in. Gazing out the window shifted your view. You had a side view of the street from your spot. The sun peaking over the far out mountain and illuminating the settlement.
Gentle snow fell, and people were already out moving. Shoveling the roads and driveways. Birds chirped off in the distance, making an already bright morning song filled. For a split second you caught the world as it might have been before the outbreak. Frozen in time for the next few as you memorized the image.
You wondered what your life would have been like in a normal world. One where you didn’t need to fight.
Would you have normal parents? Normal relationships with others like in the books you read? You couldn’t help but feel robbed. Angry. Vengeful.
Hopeless.
Empty.
Not at all the trained weapon you were.
Though the world outside buzzed with life, yours seemed to drown in the undertow of reality. You felt small against the weight you were carrying. You felt it in your bones. In your mind.
You allowed the current of it to drag you further into your derealization.
You knew that this was a coping mechanism, this derealization you were having. Forcing yourself into this numbness was all that you could do from being caged by your thoughts. You hated being stuck in your head. Hated the massive missing gaps and the screams. Screams that you remembered causing, and those that you didn’t. Some of them belonged to you.
Often you wondered what you had done, or had been done to you to warrant them.
Even now the echoes of them seemed to haunt the ringing that clouded your ears. The dull, static sound turning higher pitched. Taking the form of all of those voices.
You allowed your vision to defocus again. Slipping back into that numb vail. It was a relief, if only for a moment. You weren’t sure how long you sat like that for.
Time slowed. The voices outside in the street were the only indication that it was moving forward.
A few minutes passed. Or hours, you weren’t sure.
Your steady breathing and heartbeat, the only things connecting you to the world. Even the ringing in your ears had stopped.
For a moment you knew peace.
Then Silence. Merciful, wonderful silence .
The smell of coffee being brewed from downstairs had you blinking again. Snapping you out of your limbo. The smell of bacon followed with it under the crack of your door.
Reality became real again. Time had a meaning. Bodily functions found their way back too, causing your stomach to grumble.
You took one last look outside of the window. The sun was now fully above the mountains. Shattering the reality you had formed.
You moved quietly through your room. Much like a ghost haunting a space would.
You hid the tapes back into their place.
You showered.
Washed and dried your hair the best you could.
Then fumbled with your pack that housed the birth control patches and placed the cool gel pad onto your skin. Here, underneath your panty line would it be hidden.
You slipped on a short sleeve shirt, black in color with some strange character on it. The colors faded and bits of the print were missing from wear. Something you definitely wouldn’t be caught dead in normally. But, this was once again Gileon’s doing. He had gifted you a few clothes after your return from the hospital.
You had a feeling that this had been his shirt, and the character that was on it being something he was fond of. Or it could have been something he just ran across. Either way, you found the print a bit ridiculous. But a shirt was a shirt, and you couldn’t afford to be picky. You made for the black sweatpants that had been next to the shirt. Shrugging them up your legs then tying the string in place.
Despite the shirt being a bit too large, the pants surprisingly fit you well. The warm fleece on the inside providing a barrier for your legs.
It was warm enough inside the house to not be bundled up in layers. Even if some of the cold from outside was seeping in through the windows. Setting your skin to prickle.
You left your hair down to dry out fully as you made your way to your door. Taking one last look into the room. Already wishing you could go back in time to a few minutes ago. To allow that numbness to take over again.
You shifted your eyes back forward. Turning the bronze knob and pushing your door open. Warmth mixed with the smell of food and strong cologne filled the space of the second floor. The smells mixing together to make for a lovely scent. Even if the cologne was the odd factor, perfumes weren’t all that rare. Closing the door behind you made your way down stairs.
You could figure out the coordinates to the next tape location later.
Finally cresting the last step, you moved past the living room directly into the kitchen. The house had an open floor plan for the most part. An aspect you liked. No weaving through doorways or awkward spaces.
Gileon was standing over the stove. Dressed in his own comfortable clothes. Hair pinned back into a ponytail, creating a bundled mass of hair. You weren’t sure who braided it for him but it was experienced work.
His muscled arms worked as he stirred something in the pot before him. He truly was an attractive man. Not exactly your type, but you could understand the attraction.
The sound of bacon crackled and snapped. You could also pick up on the smell of eggs and the spices he was using. All of it made your mouth water.
If Gileon ever dated, the woman would be lucky to have him. Crafty and a cook?
Not that you would ever tell him that. It would boost his ego.
He moved the strips of bacon onto a plate with a small towel to collect the grease. He plated the eggs and popped bread into the toaster next to the stove. Not once did he turn his attention towards you. Ever the works man, he focused on his task.
Bacon was a rarity, along with eggs. You didn’t have to wonder how he might have gotten them. People often traded in food for supplies.
Clothes, small appliances and most importantly bullets were all fair trading elements. So knowing Gileon, he had probably traded a weapon or supply of his for them. Or they had been a payment.
Thank the heavens above, because he had seemed to have purposely made more.
He finally finished up the meal and turned. Jumping slightly as you watched him from your place against a wall. Your eyes glinted in amusement. You had scared him.
“Damnit, Reaper!” Gileon exclaimed as he tossed a towel over his shoulder.
“You can’t go spooking people like that at my age. You almost gave me a damn heart attack.” He rubbed his fingers over his eyes. A movement done out of the need to ease his startled nerves.
You examined your nails on one hand, worn and broken from the fight last week. You slipped your other hand into the pocket of your pants. A mask of indifference settled on your features, “If I wanted you dead Scavenger you would have been the day I got here.” You offered him a tight smile.
He mumbled something under his breath. “I made breakfast, eat or don’t. I don’t care.” He threw his hands up. Clearly aggravated at you. Guilt punched you in the stomach. You hadn’t meant to be ungrateful. After all, he had gone out of his way to do this.
“I’m-” You almost apologized. But you stopped yourself, he truly would have a heart-attack if someone like you apologized. “Thank you Gileon. For breakfast, and the arm guards you gave me.” You meant it and Gileon flinched like someone had hit him. Shock lacing his eyes slightly as if he thought he had misheard.
“So the soulless can be grateful.” You rolled your eyes at him.
“Don’t let it go to your head.” You told him as you padded your way to the island. Your bare feet warm against the hardwood. You picked out what you wanted. Then you poured a cup of coffee. Throwing so much sugar into it that Gileon lifted a brow.
You shrugged. “Don’t judge my taste in coffee.” He shook his head as if to say, ‘I didn’t say anything.’
You found a place beside him behind the island. The sounds of your eating, the only conversation to be had. You almost hugged him as you bit into your bacon.
Eyeing him from the corner of your eye, you took a sip of your coffee. “Are you some sort of god?” You asked.
His fork clattered against his plate as he turned towards you. Making such a face that you held back a laugh.
“What the hell sort of question is that?” He returned.
“No-I am serious. You have to be some sort of immortal. Because this food tastes waaay too damn good to have been man made.” You took another bite of bacon and eggs.
Gileon just stared at you like you had lost your mind. He wasn’t used to seeing you out of your element at all. So it probably was a culture shock.
“Did you just try to make a joke?” He backed his stool away a few inches. Like it would save him from whatever tactic you were pulling.
“You really need some lessons R.” He chuckled, the sound deep and rich. You half smiled. So maybe all of your relationships weren’t bad.
“Asshole.” You chirped and Gileon was laughing again. You envied the way he could do so. Not that you never did, it was just rare. Rare for you to show any type of emotion. Most of the time when you came across a mirror you would just see a blank canvas. A void. A weapon, something to be feared.
Your heart seemed to tighten. This wasn’t a friendship, but maybe it was more now than a forced alliance.
“Remember that one time when you and I were on patrol together, and you made me run a mile because I burnt your toast.” He said, amusement marking his words.
Dread filled your stomach, because no you didn’t. “You deserved it. Burning toast should be a crime.” You fained remembrance. “How often were we on patrol together?” You asked the question before you could stop and think about it.
Gileon gave you a questioning look for a second, before tilting his head side to side. Calculating the number.
“I don’t know. Not often. Maybe twenty or so times. Why?” He asked curiously. Suddenly you did feel like eating anymore. Because you only remembered one.
“Why are we here again?” Gileon’s voice was quiet next to you. General Azrael positioned next to him.
“Because I ordered it.” General Azrael’s voice was cold.
He had been much younger then, and so had you. Having been roped in around your tender teenage years. Gileon had been there the night you had earned your code name. The youngest to do so in the foundation's short history. So he knew what you were capable of, what you had been forced to do. Maybe that was why he was going out of his way. You just hated the way he seemed to not be haunted by that night.
While you didn’t remember all of it, you remembered enough.
You might not remember the man’s face, but you had remembered his scream above all the others. A type of breaking that no one could recover from,pain you had caused him.
Gileon said nothing further as he moved from his place. Noticing the mood shift.
You hadn’t meant to sour it.
After finishing your plate, you moved to the sink. Washing the plate and silverware, then helping Gileon wipe off the counters. The only way you could offer to pay him for feeding you.
You both made quick work of the chore. After drying off the last plate and tucking it away Gileon spoke again, “Well, I have more armor to make for you, better this time. Along with keeping up with Jackson’s supplies.”
He stood in the small alley way of the kitchen, muscled arms crossed. You nodded in understanding. “Alright, I wish I could be of some use.” You said raising your arms slightly. You had gained a lot of mobility back, but they still weren’t at full capacity. You did exercises with them as instructed to make the healing process faster.
It didn’t help with the excessive itching though.
Gileon made for a discharged piece of paper on the counter.
“Actually, you can be. I already traded for them, but since I can’t make time to get the supplies I need then you can fetch them for me.” He handed you the bit of paper. On it listed a local shop you had spotted on the way back from the hospital. Then the items, mainly metal sheeting listed.
Before you could protest Gileon was throwing up a hand. “You don’t need to load anything. Take my truck, Joel will meet you there. He and someone at the shop will load up the scraps. Then you will drive Joel here then he and I will unload it from there.”
Your plans for a peaceful day had just gone out the proverbial window.
“I am not seeing Joel if I don’t have to.” You gripped, hating how pathetic it sounded. The last person you wanted to deal with on recovery was him.
The insufferable prick.
“Sorry General, you are out of commission. Besides, you passed training. Joel is your full time partner now. Best get used to it.” Gileon left you gawking in the kitchen as he headed back upstairs to get dressed for the day.
“And here I was thinking we were becoming friends!” You yelled after him. You could have sworn you heard him belly laugh as his door closed behind him.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Joel
He wasn’t sure why he had agreed to this.
He had been here since dawn. Fortunately for him, the owner had allowed him inside. Gileon should have sent you here over an hour ago now. Looking at a wall clock next to him it chimed as the hand ticked on the 10 o’clock hour.
His lips tightened in frustration.
You were late on purpose.
Rubbing his hands together slightly to warm them, he decided to wait a few more minutes. Regardless of what had happened this was low.
Petty young behavior of someone your age. Something that grated his nerves. He was a man that liked a routine. Being on time and punctual was something he prided himself in.
A value you clearly didn’t possess.
Anger rose as he finally saw Gileon’s truck rounding the corner. Seemingly going at a snail's pace. He just stared it down, as if he could somehow speed you up. He had places to be too. Trades he needed to make happen to get Ellie’s cake in time. A good few months away, but in order to get something like that he would need to revert back to smuggling.
He just wanted to give her a normal life. A normal childhood for as long as he could. So yeah he would work his ass off. Anything to do the one thing he had always forgotten with Sarah. Every damn year he had forgotten her cake. For the twelve years of her life he had failed. When he should have been doing more.
The truck's red tail-lights lit up the shop as you backed up the truck.
“Let’s load up.” Joel said, grabbing his gloves. The shop owner pulled the metal sheets to the front. They were good quality, and fucking heavy as Joel helped drag them.
It took a few minutes to work around opening the door, as they struggled you hopped out of the truck.
Hair still damp, and in what appeared to be pajamas. You wore Gileon’s thick coat and gloves.
Good to know that you were enjoying your time lazing about.
You made your way to the tail bed just as they pushed the first sheet through the door. You opened the gate for them. He said nothing as he and the shop owner loaded the first piece. Only small directional conversation occurred. Mainly between him and the owner.
“Move it over, yeah like that.” He said. The first piece falling neatly into place on the raised truck.
He watched as you climbed back inside the warmth of the truck.
A vein in his temple twitched. His gaze lingered a little too long to the back of your head. One that you must have felt as you raised a hand, then your middle finger.
He fought the urge to grind his teeth. He just wanted to get this done.
A couple of minutes later, the sheets of metal and other small items were loaded into the back of the truck.
He took his time gathering his patients for a few moments.
Lord spare him.
Joel was not an honorable man. He didn’t like fighting women, but he would do it. It wasn’t right, and not the way he thought a man should act.
But nothing was right regarding you. You weren’t the kind of woman he would pull his punches in a fight with. If only because he had seen just what you’d be willing to do to survive. You didn’t play fair or by a rule book. Neither did he.
Taking a breath he approached the door to the truck. As he did so, the warmth from the vents blasted into him. The heat was so intense he thought his beard was catching on fire.
What was it with women needing to be in a sauna at any given point during the winter?
Even Gail, his recent therapist, was like that. Which was another reason he hated going to see her.
Not only was talking to her hell, but so was her home. The thought did nothing to lift his spirits. He said nothing as he climbed onto the black cloth seats, ripped and torn from age. It wasn’t all that rare to keep trucks, but rarely did they make it back to base. Gileon was one of the only ones allowed to keep one inside of Jackson. Even Joel had no need for one. He would normally rely on Gileon’s truck for his own transportation of lumber for his crafts.
Joel not only owed him for that, but for countless other things.
Which was why he had no other option to endure the Sahra desert climate of the cabin. You had kept your fur coat on, which he didn't know how you did. He hadn’t been here for more than a millisecond and sweat was already forming on his temple.
You kept your face forward, saying nothing as he had. Taking the tense moment, he shouldered off his jacket.
“Are you trying to kill me?” He half grumbled, he heard your jacket ruffle as you shifted in your seat. Turning your body towards him so you could face him.
“Having you drop dead would solve a lot of my problems right now.” Your voice sounded unamused. He peered at you for a moment, took in your one hand on the steering wheel. How your fingers picked at the flaking leather.
He managed to ignore the gab. A lot of people wanted him dead.
Including the W.L.F and the last of the Fireflies. With good reason of course.
His lips thinned into a firm line, the muscles in his jaw tensing as he turned his gaze down to the floor. He couldn’t help feeling that he had stolen borrowed time. Because he had, he knew he wasn’t safe. One day the sins of his past would catch up to him.
He had doomed them all, and nothing like that went unanswered.
But Ellie’s smile replaced his guilt. Her laugh and shitty jokes filled his mind.
She was alive and breathing. She was alive , and that was all that fucking mattered to him. Even if there had been a hundred people at that hospital, he would have still killed them all to save her. If the day ever did come to where he had to pay for everything he had done, then, well he would. He would do it all over again for her. Would kill thousands if it meant she had a shot at living the life she deserved.
Maybe that made him a shitty person.
Or maybe it just made him a dad to a girl who would never be his daughter.
A girl that one day might hate him for what he had done.
He would take that too. So long as he got to see her face, hear her laugh, and talk to her.
He sunk back into his seat. Allowing the heat to penetrate his skin. He could feel your eyes on him, studying him. He had enough going on in his life. Though oddly he liked the challenge. The distraction you were providing, something he could turn his anger on instead of himself.
You were a needed distraction, a necessary evil.
Another moment passed before you clicked the truck into drive. The engine shifting in tone with the change of gear. Tires rotating as you pressed on the gas.
Lucky for both of you, Gileon didn’t live far from the sop. Maybe ten minutes at best.
Quiet fell inside the cabin.
Music from the radio softly played. While radio frequencies no longer existed from the lack of access to the satellites. But cds still did, thankfully they were more common to find. Nobody had a reason to cause purposeful noise.
He glanced at you from his peripherals, the image fuzzy, but one he knew well. Your face was soft in certain ways, then sharp and aged in others. He knew you were younger than him-but the gray streaks in your hair had you looking closer to someone Tommy’s age. He wondered what you had been through, what was your story?
Without looking at you fully he asked, “Will you be ready to start patrol in a few weeks?” A simple question.
He saw you nod from his view, his head still forward.
“Yeah, I think so.” It was a bland answer. Not that he expected any different. Though he had only known you for a week, it hadn’t taken long to sort you out.
It was his turn to nod.
“Does it hurt?” He asked. Another olive branch.
“No.” You shook your head, “They itch like hell, popped a few stitches itching at them.” Your tone annoyed, more directed at yourself. He was scolding himself again for not acting sooner than he had. Maybe he had been frozen, why, he wasn’t sure.
Joel Miller did not freeze, he acted first, thought later. But yet,he had frozen. It had cost both you and him time. Without you Joel could’t join patrol, and the shifts were hurting from his absence.
He was needed there. Just like he needed the patrol, it gave him something to do. Allowed him outside, allowed him to scan and search for any signs that people had found him. He had been careful though. As careful as he could have been.
“I should be healed sooner rather than later.” You said, voice now hopeful. You seemed to be wanting to get out of the base just as much as he was. He couldn’t help but notice that this was probably the first conversation the both of you had since you arrived.
It was weird, but in the coming weeks he would need to get used to interacting with you. Hopefully this was a step towards that, even if he was already missing your quipped remarks. It was easier to argue for him. Something he was familiar with.
He did it with Ellie, Tommy, Gail, it only made sense that he would with you too.
Then he asked the all important question as you rounded the last corner.
“Can I trust you?”
Chapter 8: First Patrol
Summary:
Summary:
You and Joel head out on your first patrol. Will you be able to set aside your task to deal with him? More importantly, will his presence get in your way?
Notes:
Author’s Note:
I apologise for the late drop; I got off work and fell asleep. I also had to finish the chapter. lol
Ngl that took me longer than expected to come up with. Establishing a logical foundation for friendship is harder than it looks, mmmk.
To show my dedication, I even resorted to finding new roleplay partners and character ai for Joel’s interactions. Just to get a better perspective on how he interacts.
But alias-character ai has disappointed me. Having a certain way you want a story to go and only getting like 4 lines of dialogue is useless to me.
Why? Because I have learned A LOT about how I want to betray Joel’s character and how I don’t. He is such a complex yet simple person. He clings to grief, and anger like a shield.
He yearns to get to know Ellie like he didn't get to know Sarah. He is fighting against fate itself to keep her alive. Because of his own failures as a father. He didn’t get a chance to sort through that in the show or game.
He didn't get a chance to watch Ellie grow old, to see Tommy with his own family. Everyone around Joel got what he always wanted. Was it fair?
No. Both the show and the game are not fair worlds. Much like our own. While I have come to terms with that, Joel deserved that time. He sacrificed everyone to see Ellie grow old. He was robbed of that.
But Joel didn’t care if his actions ended up with his death. He did what all good dads who have lost would have done. He fought against the world to save his baby. He wasn’t trying to redeem himself for Sarah. His love for Ellie outweighed his own life.
He just wanted the chance to be a father. Her father.
So to honor that, I found it fitting to have delved into his perspective in the last chapter. As a sort of Father’s Day gift.
Because above all else, that was what Joel was and wanted to be.
You only get two chapters this week, I tried to push for 3 but it just didn't work out. I have some of chapter 9 wrote out, but it's not ready. So I apologize for not giving you more patrol scenes this week, but they are coming!
Next expected drop: 6/27/25
Playlist
Tennessee Whiskey- Chris Stapelton
Chapter Text
3 weeks into being in Jackson……
“Can I trust you?”
Joel’s words echoed in your head. Even after 2 weeks.
You hadn’t gotten the chance to answer him before he had gotten out of the truck to help Gileon unload. As if he didn’t want to know the answer either.
But if he had asked that, then maybe you had done your job. You needed Joel’s trust now above anyone else’s. You would be spending a lot of time with him after all.
Your recovery had gone smoothly, the stitches disappearing as the wounds healed. They weren’t completely set, but you no longer risked getting an infection. You had spent the last few days plotting. Finding a map, you located the next tape location. Your luck had run out, because the next one was several weeks of travel away from Jackson.
Something you couldn’t afford pursuing for the time being. Which you supposed was a good thing. The tapes were your agenda, not the foundations. In truth you had been slacking, in your defense though, a lot of shit had been thrown in your way.
The fucked training, your wounds. Joel.
But now with no other choice to prioritize it, you grabbed for your pack just beside your bed. Already packed and ready for your departure with Joel in a few hours.
Unzipping the pouch, you found the hidden compartment, felt the plastic of the patches of birth control you were taking with you. You had just ripped off the one you had placed on 2 weeks ago. According to the boxes instructions you had read, it wasn’t advised to leave them on that long.
So you would need to skip them this week, you knew your cycle well enough that you knew you wouldn’t bleed. You still needed the medication though, just in case you were wrong and needed them for an emergency situation.You even packed some old dark rags of Gileon’s just in case.
Your fingers then brushed up against a piece of paper. Just the thing you were digging for. Grabbing the sheet you pulled your hand out of your pack. Unfolding the paper as gently as you could.
You had been studying this too over the past 2 weeks. The ink from General Azrael’s pen had nearly faded after almost 9 months. But it was still readable. You had practically memorized the few short descriptions of the man from Seattle.
You would often forget you even had it, had a hard time remembering the events that had led you to Jackson. The hospital had been a brutal and senseless attack for sure.
Well, not completely.
You knew the soldiers that had fallen, because you had trained them. They were far from innocent, and knew what they had signed up for.
Abby’s dad was the least innocent. But he had just been a puppet. A knife for your father to wield.
That didn’t mean he didn’t share in the blame. He was just as guilty as your soldiers and the fireflies.
All just pieces willing or no, to game you were still learning the rules too. Having to bend to General Az’s advances and schemes. You worried for what was happening back at command, if your tropes were being tortured for your failure.
It wasn’t just your life at stake. It was theirs too.
You tore the note into small pieces. Imagining the General’s face with each rip of the sheet. It brought you some small satisfaction to destroy something of his. It was only fair.
He had taken everything away from you, only to build you up to be his second, to just tear you down again.
The constant rate at which he could change terrified you, keeping you in line.
6’1ft olive skinned man, dark hair, beard. A faint scar on his nose and upper forehead, early to mid 40’s.
You repeated the description in your mind. Jackson had a lot of men matching that description. You had been on the lookout, but the man’s features had been so fague, that at this point half of Jackson was on your list.
Tommy seemed to be a good match, but you hadn’t noticed any scars on his nose. Tommy also happened to appear younger than what had been described.
Throwing the ripped up paper in the bin next to your bed, you stared after it. As if it would form a clear image of who the hell you were supposed to be tracking down.
Fuck General Az for thining you could form any sort of profile from his redacted information. Unfortunately this time he had a good reason, keeping Abby on a leash wouldn’t be possible forever.
Hello knowing her she was doing her own training, and if she got her hands on what you knew, then she would have already been here. A factor you planned to use against her once you found this man.
Because you would, even if it took you years. He was here, you weren’t sure how you knew that but you did. You just needed to find him, and then lore Abby right to him.
You would use her need for vengeance as a weapon against her.
The irony of it all didn’t escape you though. You understood Abby’s pain. The hole of losing a person that close to you could cause. Abby truly was your mirror, but the difference was you knew were to draw the line.
Even though it killed you to stop your pursuit of the third tape, you knew you had to set it aside. Abby wouldn’t do that, she would use the image of her dead father as fuel for her hate.
Maybe you were more like Abby than you wanted to admit. But you knew she had information. So what were the chance you had been sent here? To Jackson, because Abby would find out, and when she did regardless of you loring her or not, she would come.
It almost seemed like fate.
Sighing, you zipped your bag back up. Tossing it to the floor with a resounding thud. Walking over to your small dresser you open the drawer where your uniform hid. You patted at the fabric before hitting a small hard object. Sifting through the small pocket you pulled out your small journal, grabbed a pin and jotted down a few notes.
The small booklet was brown in color, with nothing on the cover. Making for a discrete journal rather than a blueprint holder for Jackson’s downfall. Holding it up you wrote down your findings, your questions and a vague plan. Making your way over to your bed, you sat down.
Nothing you were writing down was anything earth shattering. Or something you hadn’t already thought about a million times over. But you often did this, writing things down made you feel in control. It made you feel like you were going somewhere, when at this point you were just going in circles.
But missions such like this took time. Sometimes even a few years, for those who hide their tracks well as this man had. But in the end you always found them, mainly because you saw it as a challenge. As some sort of impossible code to decipher.
Looking at your small printed words, you look at all the information you knew to be true. Then you wrote down a profile of the man, a method you had learned from a Criminal Law book from the foundation.
Breaking someone down into a profile gave them habits, routines, it made them human and not an invisible figure. Of course all of this was predicted based on what you remembered happening in Seattle.
Your findings were too vague. You needed more information, this at least gave you a baseline to work with.
Frowning, you tossed the small book into the mesh cup holder of the sack. Moving away from your pack you glanced around your room. It would be a few weeks until you came back, and this time you were more prepared. Having smaller saddle pouches packed with essentials to strap to your horse.
You thanked whatever higher power was out there that Jackson had a good supply of the animal. Trucks were too nosy and impractical for patrols or short term travel.
At least with a horse you could carry more, and have a means of moving quickly if needed.
They weren’t a perfect solution, often made people easy targets. A good sniper could knock a person off a horse. A fact you were well aware of, and would be certain to be conscious about.
The hours ticked by and darkness fell at last.
Grabbing your things you left the safety of your room. Gileon was perched just on the verge of his room doorway.
“Have everything?” He asked, nodding as you shifted the strip of your bag further onto your shoulder.
“Yup. The new guards are a lot better.” You said, feeling the newly modded pieces of metal through your long sleeve. They didn’t nearly encapsulate your arms as the others had, and better yet they were reinforced with carbon fiber.
Gileon might be a library of supplies, but you had no idea how the hell he had managed to smooth talk the shop owner into getting them. Or how the shop owner had gotten them, perhaps you needed to spend more time outside in the trading realm.
Because not knowing how something worked was a good way to get killed. Better yet, you might need to know how to use it one day. Science, biology, history all made sense to you. People did too, psychology was something you excelled at. The human mind fascinated you as much as it did terrify you.
Implementing the methods of psychology you knew about onto people in the real world was another beast. Though the science was sound, people often weren’t. Not everyone responds to things the same, one person might be manipulated by one method, while that same method wouldn’t work on the next.
People reminded you of math, a subject you despised and yet was necessary.
“Good to hear. They should be as good as the ones built into your uniform.” He said slipping into his room, you heard him rummaging about before he returned a second or so later. Holding another set of guards in his hands. You lifted a brow, a second pair?
Why had he-oh right.
Joel.
You kept forgetting that factor.
Gileon had made them for Joel, gazing down to the pieces of metal you could tell. The pieces formed more widely than your own set. You took them from him.
Palming the material, you bite the inside of your lip nervously. You hadn't really noticed how large Joel’s arms must be. You often spent your time arguing with him, never having taken much time or notice his features.
He was attractive, sure, generically. Aggravatingly, insufferable, consequently, and every other dictionary word for the ways in which his features annoyed you.
You would rather have sat yourself on fire than to admit that you found Joel attractive. Again, in a generic and not, ‘If he so much as looked at me in a certain way, you’d fall your knees and show him-’
Blinking you fought the blush creeping on your face. You pivoted your feet before Gileon could see it, your body instinctively following the strict movement. You didn’t always walk within regulation, and often you would do it when you were mad. Following after any sort of control your mind could find.
Restoring to your initial basic maneuvers was apparently how your body pulled the reins of your mind. Again only appearing when you felt out of sorts.
If Gileon had spent more time with you during your time of service, he would have noticed it. But he didn’t.
You weren’t sure if anyone took in the small details that would slip out. The way you would pick at things, your skin, how you would zone out when you were in deep thought. The way your body reacted first, your mind struggling to keep up.
Even now you were thinking about all of this to distract yourself. You weren’t going to acknowledge that you found Joel attractive. Many women probably did. So that didn’t make you any different.
Just because you did find him mildly handsome, didn’t mean that your hate for him had changed. You found some of your fellow leaders within the foundation attractive, while in the same breath staying far away from them.
Joel would be no different.
Mad at yourself for your spiraling thoughts you practically stomped down the stairs and out the door. Not thanking Gileon or saying bye.
The last thing you needed was another thing to sort through, so you amounted it to your stress. Because you had to be crossing some sort of border into madness.
You practically skipped to it as Joel stood outside. Your gaze darted quickly to his arms, the broad, muscled limbs covered in dark plaid. He was facing the house and to you, a look of indifference marking his tanned skin.
The patterned clothing seemed to be his main go to. And you decided that whoever had created it had made it specifically for this man.
He wore it like a dress suit, the image of which had you walking right past him. Saying nothing as you grabbed the reins to your horse just in the street. Knowing it was your based on the lack of things on it. You decided to focus on the horse instead of Joel. His energy all from behind you radiated like a beacon.
Your horse was a beautiful color, a deep chestnut, almost matching the other just beside it.
You felt his presence closing in, and the short hairs on your arms straight a bit. An odd sort of chill skittering down them. You had never been this hyper-aware of anyone before. Tying your supplies down you grasped the leather saddle. Sensing Joel yet again as he followed soot.
You watched after him, watched as he leg swiped up, hauling his weight with it. Landing on the saddle with a soft thud.
Your own legs shafted beneath you.
Fuck that was sort of hot.
What.The.Actual.Fuck.
Were you losing it?
Did you need to get committed to confinement?
Your hand slumped to your hand resting on the horse. Heart pounding you realized why.
You weren’t crazy.
It wasn't a bleeding week, at this point you would have taken that.
No this was much, much worse.
It was ovulation week.
You swore under your breath. Of course it fucking was.
But relief still flooded your mind. Huffing laugh, you followed Joel’s lead. Allowing your rising senses to cool as you settled on the horse's back. Nodding to Joel as indication you were ready.
You weren’t losing it.
Your body was just reacting to Joel.
Heightening the senses you already had towards him almost tenfold.
You noticed him glancing back over his shoulder to you. Being just a few inches in front of your horse as they began to move forward.
“Can I help you?” You asked montonly, snapping the reins a tad so your horse matched his pace. Your horse obeyed, closing in the difference so you could hear him better.
Tinnitus was a real bitch sometimes. Your body was already overstimulated, and your eardrums decided that this was now a great time to sing the song of its people. The annoying and slightly painful twinge of ringing sounded into your right ear. Making your temples pulse.
You felt Joel glance at you, a look of actual concern marking his face. “You alright? Seem off.”
His drawl made his words smooth as whiskey. Grating the last of your restrained nerves as both of your horses trotted along the streets towards the gates.
“It’s late and I am still healing from almost being infected dog chow.” You began rattling, “I should be in bed warm and asleep and I am out here with you. So no Joel, I am not in fact alright.” The release of your snapping remark had you taking in a breath.
“These are from Gileon.” You snipped.
You had all but forgotten the metal pieces in your hand that wasn’t on the reins. You jolted your arm out, pressing the guards into his chest. He grasped at them, saying nothing as his calloused hand met the back of yours. Not on purpose of course.
You snatched your hand away at the contact.
Joel placed them on his arms. You watched from the corner of your eye sight. They fit him perfectly, all to sudden were you aware just how close he was. You shifted forward into your seat. Trying to alleviate your discomfort.
It only made it worse. You tilted your head back, gazing up at the sky. Ear still ringing.
This was going to be a long week.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Joel
At least you seemed back to normal. Snappy comments and all. Yet something was still off. He couldn’t seem to piece what it was.
Had Gileon said something to you?
Or perhaps you were just in a shitty mood.
His smirk was hidden as he decided to poke the bull a bit. Choosing to respond to your venom, “Infected dog chow? So you're saying you're a bitch?”
It took everything in him to keep a straight as he watched your head snap to the side. Towards him.
Red flooded your face as clear anger rose, “You are a dick.” A weak comeback.
“I mean really how the fuck does anyone stand you?!” He was having too much fun with this as you faced back forward.
“How the hell did you connect infected dog chow to me being a bitch?” Annoyance laced your tone, obviously he had poked too hard.
He couldn’t help the laugh that left his chest. One that he needed, it had been almost a month since he had laughed with Ellie. Not that she was questioning anything verbally. But he saw the silent moments he caught her in. Saw how her mind worked through what he had told her.
Guilt, and grief slammed into him. Whipping the humor from the moment.
“I fucking hate you.” He heard you say, and his mind warped it into Ellie’s voice. He dreaded the day he knew was coming. Dreaded have to look her in the face and tell her that he had lied.
About everything.
The clicking of the horses' shoes echoed in the narrow street as the two of you arrived at the gate. Watching the gate open, he caught you straightening in your saddle. Gone was the anger and sharp words. He watched as a mask of determination slipped on your face.
He admired it. Understood it. His eyes darted as he took you in. Maybe he had sized you up too quickly. You weren’t as you seemed, he could see the different faces you slipped on.
He wondered how many you had, and which one was actually you.
Part of him wanted to find out, to solve the mystery of Jackson’s stranger. But that feeling was gone as soon as it showed itself. Not just because of your age compared to his, but he found that he didn’t care all that much.
You were his patrol partner, Gileon’s niece.
Even if he wanted to entertain the idea he wouldn’t. Because there was still something not setting right with him. He still didn't fully trust you. He remembered how well you had fought three weeks ago. How you had seemed to pull your punches.
Normally that wouldn’t scare him. But it did with you, because without you holding yourself back, what were you capable of? He had trained countless people, made them into killing machines fit for survival.
But you were calculated. Careful.
Traits that made his radar go off.
Yet he had no true grounds for them. You had done nothing to gain his distrust. He should be trusting you more after he saw you fight. It should ease his worries but it didn’t.
As the horse walked out of Jackson he turned to wave at Tommy, who he knew sat at the top of the gates. Watching him leave.
Ever the worried brother.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
A few hours passed. Darkness had settled, and your eyes had adjusted enough to where you could make out the terrain around you.
The landscape had only changed slightly, after clearing the woods, you and Joel found the main road easily. You were familiar with the landscape, remembered it anyway from your journey here. Catching the shapes of the trucks and cars that you had searched.
You glanced back at Joel next. His horse a few paces behind with a map in his lap. His soft head lamp shining a light on it.
Thankfully the ringing in your ear had stopped. Along with the passing of your sexual frustration. It wouldn’t be very productive of you to be a whimpering mess.
You turned your attention from him and back forward. Depending on your hearing to guide you. You repositioned your own headland on your forehead. The piece of plastic digging into your skin, you lifted it. Allowing blood to flow before sitting it back.
You hated the cold.
Hated the way you could feel it through your thick gloves. The way it swelled your hand, making them feel as if they had needled in them. You allowed yourself to slump further into your large coat. Allowing the warmth of your own body heat to warm your reddened face.
But you would take that feeling over humidity.
Your eyes still scanned the darkness, searching for any odd movements. You shifted the rifle behind your back, making it more comfortable. Joel had given it to you just after you left Jackson.
You patted at the side of your pants, making sure your small knives were still secure. Taking in their weight as your fingers ran over them gave you comfort. You wished you were wearing your uniform and not these loose clothes. At least the boots fit you well enough to where blisters weren’t much of a worry.
You could hear the rustle of paper as Joel folded the map. Then the click of his lamp.
“We will go to a trail just a day south of here.” You heard him say, he had no reason to come closer. It was quiet enough that his voice carried.
Beating of wings as birds scattered, had you both stopping. Sitting straighter you became more alert. A heartbeat passed and nothing happened.
“Let’s go.” Joel muttered.
Nudging your horse forward, the beast were now matching pace with each other. Joel and and finally next to each other. Joel watching the right and you the left.
You relished in the silence between you. It allowed your thoughts to flow uninterrupted.
Did you remember everything?
Did you hide the tapes well enough at Gileon’s?
Your teeth played at your lip as your mind wondered. Going through a mental list. Your fingers began picking at the reins. The sensation giving you an outlet of comfort.
Your legs were already throbbing and going numb at the toes. You wiggled them, sharp pain making your station uncomfortable.
Joel spoke first, “When we get there we will set up shop. Work out rotations.” You nodded, your thoughts vanishing as he prepared you for what to expect.
“How long will we be out here?” You asked. A valid question, it wasn’t your first rodeo staying overnight in the woods. But the last week in Jackson and all of the adminities had spoiled you.
“A few days.” He responded.
You were already missing your bed.
“Great. That means I’ll have to listen to you snore.” You chidded.
“I don’t snore.” He grumbled, voice marked with growing tiredness. Only making his drawl more noticeable.
You looked over, seeing his figure next to you.
The clouds had moved past the moon, allowing the dull light to finally cast. It was bright enough now that you could vaguely see his face. You took a moment to admire it.
His jaw square, but not harsh, rounded slightly in the places it should be. Rounded by the hair of his short beard. The way his chest rose and fell with his soft breathing. How you could barely see the veins in his neck…
Your toes curled for a different reason.
“You so do. If you get me killed because you sound like a chainsaw, I will come back to haunt you.” He couldn’t see the soft smile that formed on your lips.
“Again, I don’t snore. If you haunt me, then I’ll just get one of your fellow witches to banish you.” You half gapped at that.
“Did you just call me a witch?” You mocked a hurt tone.
You could feel his shrug. Once again you were grateful for the darkness. Because a true small smile formed.
Maybe you and Joel being partners wasn’t going to be as much of a shit show you thought it would be.
Chapter 9: Patrol
Summary:
Summary
You and Joel set out on your first patrol.
Surprisingly you are getting along. More importantly you start to learn more about Jackson and their defenses. With Joel unknowingly giving you the information that you seek.
But as night falls and you take the first watch, unexpected guests show up.
Notes:
Author’s Note:
I had a lot of fun writing this one! I also plan to do future patrol chapters. My initial plan was to draw this story out spanning the five years after Joel and Ellie escaped the hospital. Which I would still like to do, but I don’t think that is a realistic thing for me to achieve. Mainly because that is a lot of small interactions that might not be important to the actual story.
So just expect a lot of time gaps in the near future.
That is all for now.
(Also your father is important if that wasn’t already apparent. I just know I haven’t addressed it yet.)
Chapter Text
Part Two
You and Joel had traveled the entire twenty-four hours without sleep. You had all but lost hope that you would ever reach your station. But at last Joel tugged his horse to the side. Directing it off the main road and onto a side road lined with gravel.
“This is the trail.” His first words to you after hours traveling in silence. You could hear in his voice that sleep was beckoning him too.
Traveling a bit down the trail, and off into the cover of the wood lined the two of you tied off your horses. You scanned the area briefly, the spot Joel had chosen was wooden enough that you wouldn't be spotted from the trail. Even with the dead woods, and the rare fern that brought bright green contrast.
It was as safe as you could get.
Unfortunately a tent was out of the question. So you had brought extra blankets along with your sleeping bag. Working in silence once again, you and Joel unpacked your sleeping items.
You watched as Joel placed his things a few feet away from your own. A good, healthy distance.
Patting down the silky fabric of your sleeping bag, you straightened it out. Laying over top and bottom the blankets you had ‘borrowed’ from Gileon. In your defense, they looked like they hadn't been used in forever. So you had taken the chance at snagging them.
A few seconds later and you were satisfied with your work.
“I’ll take first watch.” Joel’s voice sounded like gravel as he straightened the rifle on his shoulder.
A small piece of you wanted to do the honorable thing, to respect the elderly and let him get rest first.
But you weren’t an honorable person, more so you hadn’t seen Joel fight. You had no doubt he could based on his looks alone. But you had taken down men much larger than him with ease. Just because he had muscles didn’t mean he knew how to use them.
Though something was telling you Joel knew exactly how to use them.
You managed to not argue with him. Taking his offer you shrugged off your jacket. Walking the short distance to your horse, draping the thick fabric over its back. Then petting its main, the beast making soft noises of approval.
You walked back over to your place, kneeling down to the ground into a criss-cross position. Tugging at the laces on your boots, untying the knots and nudging the heavy things off your feet. Blood rushed to your toes, feet finally regaining feeling after the tight constraints. Then you unbuckled your knives and side arm.
You placed them right next to your bag. Just in case.
You then shrugged under your sheets, sleep finding you quickly.
What felt like seconds later, Joel was shaking you awake. Yawning, you cracked your eyes open. The light of early morning greeting you. Causing you to straight up. How long had Joel let you sleep? It had just gotten dark when you had fallen asleep.
Running your fingers through your hair, doing your best to comb it out. You looked at Joel, squinting as your eyes adjusted. His back was turned to you, as he started shrugging his own gear.
The haze of sleep snapped out of you as you scrambled to get your boots on. Chills skittering across your chest,as the early morning dawn lingered with the coldness of the night.
“You should have woken me sooner.” You chidded at him, voice murky from rest. You made your way to your horse, grabbing your jacket and putting it on.
“I wasn’t tired.” He said as he climbed under his covers.
You knew that was bullshit. He had let you sleep longer on purpose. Why, you weren’t sure. You stared down at him, more of a glare really. His eyes were closed though, sheets raised up high almost to his eyes. You shook your head in disbelief. Grabbing your weapons that were still discharged by your bag.
You buckled them back into place, “Next time wake me up.” Only his deep breathing answered. He seemed to have fallen asleep as soon as his head hit the ground.
Quietly making your way a few paces away, you began your watch.
Several dragged out hours later, you walked back to the small camp. Rousing Joel from sleep.
Which was trying to wake a hibernating bear. He groaned, and it took a few extra pushes of your foot against his rib cage to have him finally rising.
“Come on,” You said as he sat up onto his hands. “Time to move.” He rubbed his eyes. It took well over an hour for the both of you to get ready. Between Joel's slow movements, and you folding all of the extra blankets you brought.
Of which you were still trying to cram into the side sack on your horse. Pushing the fabric and then pulling the top of the sack down, struggling to buckle the clasp. Behind you hear Joel climbing onto his own horse.
Finally buckling the sack you followed Joel's example. You tucked your foot into the stirrup. You pushed down hard, halling your weight up with you as you did so.
“Were all of those blankets necessary?” You heard Joel say as you settled into place. Turning your horse's head you faced towards him. Now looking at him directly, offering him a small shrug.
You couldn’t help but notice his tousled hair and slightly wired beard. How his olive skin seemed stark in the now early morning light. His eyes, no longer heavy from sleep. You eyes left his face, trailing down to his hands as you watched him wrap the rein around his fist. His veins popped out slightly as he did so. Your treacherous heart kicked up its pace. Heat rising with it.
You felt like a dog going mad. You needed therapy.
Or to be medicated. Or maybe you needed to sort out this whole ovulation thing when you got back into town. It had been a while since you had welcomed someone into your bed. You would need to fix that, and perhaps once you did, you would go back to normal.
All hopes of which summer-salted out the door as you watched Joel tighten his grip. You looked back to his face, only to see him staring back. Gone was his smirk. Replaced by such a blank and unamused expression that you couldn’t read it. You never liked the fact that you couldn’t read Joel like a book.
One minute he was risking his life to save you, the next he was calling you a bitch. Making him wishy-washy at best. But when he would look at you as he was now, was what you hated the most.
Blank.
Unreadable.
His eyes shifted. In some sort of alternate world Joel had to have had the super power of wielding shadows. Because the way the light around his eyes seemed to change was otherworldly.
You remained still. Fearing any sort of movement.
You couldn’t shake the feeling that the split second change was the real Joel. His eyes shifted back, as if whatever he had been feeling was gone. Your own feeling of fear rose. Joel’s mask had slipped, just for a second.
The startle realization hit you.
Joel was very much the predator you had registered the day he had barged into Tommy’s. He was just hiding it. Seemingly controlling that side of him.
You reviled in the fact that he was on your side. Sort of.
Suddenly this whole plan of coming into Jackson, turning them against each other, and finding the strange man. All now seemed like a very bad idea. Because if Joel ever found out your true intentions, you were as good as dead.
The heated moment passed and the two of you ventured back onto the trial. Your mind trailing off to once again make a plan.
One that would avoid having that look from Joel casted in a different light.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Joel
He never thought you were one to ogle. But he had been wrong.
By now he was used to people looking at him like that. It was rare however that it was ever casted so directly. Most women would take one look at him, look awkwardly, and then look away. Whether it be from embarrassment that he had caught them, or shyness.
So it had caught him a bit off guard. Everything about you did.
He didn’t make friends easily, and if he did they were often killed. Or betrayed him in some way. But with you it was easy to flip the switch. Not exactly friends, but not exactly enemies either.
For some reason he liked it better that way. How in one moment he could joke with you, then the next make snide remarks. He had found a middle ground with you now at least. One that he rarely found in the people of Jackson. Other than Ellie.
Who was nearing four-teen now. Packed full of emotions and situations he wasn’t sure how to deal with. Guiding her was his purpose. His reason for breathing and surviving.
He felt like he was failing when he couldn’t teach her a lesson. Or how closed off his answers and conveyors of love were often misconstrued.
Lest to say, he didn’t wear his heart on his sleeve. It was hard to express things, and maybe it was his own fathers doing’s showing through. Or how he watched his shot of a perfectly normal life go down in flames the night Sarah had died.
Any number of things could have contributed. All worse than the last.
But Ellie never held any of that against him. She was just as shut off as he was. Maybe he had failed in that too. Maybe Ellie had watched him more closely than he had realized. Which did nothing to bring him comfort.
At least he had taught her to fight, and how to survive.
He allowed his gaze to find its way to the back of your head. Well, more so at the black hood of your jacket that was covering it. As if he could somehow read your mind. It would make his job and life a lot easier.
But in all, this trip hadn’t gone so bad. So far anyway, there were still a good two days left.
He tilted his head to either side, the soft cracking of his neck at the movement only legible to him. He was getting too old for these early morning shifts. Not that he was ancient the way you had deemed him. Stress had aged and grayed him similar to yourself. In truth, he was barely 40. Having just turned 38 a few weeks ago.
He only looked older than 40 because he couldn’t care less to up-keep his beard all of the time. But he still took the gabs you made. He wondered if telling you his true age would change the way you saw him. If it would stop the banter.
He doubted it.
The day passed by fairly quickly without major incident. Having only come across a few infected stragglers. Most patrols were like that, consisting of picking off the infected that laid in the small towns surrounding Jackson. This trail being one of the farthest out-reaches, mainly due to the supply of fuel left.
It was only a matter of time before the well dried up, enough to where the council would order groups to go out and gather more supplies. Trips that would last weeks, sometimes months.
And Jackson was beyond over due on a restock.
A few more hours passed, and together the two of you made a route for the coming days. One that would have you venturing into the closet town, and then looping back towards Jackson.
“No-if we go just into town, spend twenty-four to thirty hours there, it will give us enough time to re-secure it.” Your words were a bit chopped, as if you were working it out as you went. He watched you closely as you leaned over the map on the ground in front of the two of you.
With the setting sun, and being just a few minutes outside of the town. He had made the call of bunkering down here. A small supply shack, one that he knew had a source of power. How that was, he didn’t know.
He watched as you pointed and marked down something with the pencil he had brought. Turning his attention from you, he made his own way to peer over the map. Lighted by the soft glow of the overhead bulbs. Looking at the route you had drawn out, he couldn’t help but agree.
He was a bit surprised that it had taken only a few minutes to come up with it. He took the pencil from you, his fingers grazing your still gloved hand.
“We really need to scout the whole town. Which means we need to spend those hours awake.” He traced the shape of the town. “Even with that time, I doubt it would be enough.” He felt you nodding beside him.
“I know. It’s not the best option, but we only have two days left. Then an extra for travel back. Are there any other groups coming this way in the coming days?” You asked, eyes still focused intentionally on the map. Busy spotting any thing you could do differently.
He did his best to shove away his unease. “Yes, another group is out now. Their route should overlap ours. But they won’t be here until another week.” He anticipated the question he saw marking your face. ‘Why were they so far away?’
“They were sent over a month ago to gather supplies.” He said, careful to not give any other details away. Even scolding himself for letting you in on the fact that Jackson’s resources were dwindling.
“Well, we will have to make it as clear for them as we can. Do you think the council would send a group out for us if we are late coming back?” You pushed back from the map. Settling back on the ground in a crisscross position. Tossing the pencil haphazardly to your side.
“Hard to say.”
“Great insight.” He heard you mumble.
“They could, but the council could decide that they can’t afford it.” He had no other option but to reveal that. It was a hard realization, but a true one. He watched as you tapped your finger on your leather boot. Obviously puzzling out something. He didn’t like how you always seemed to be plotting.
“If that’s the case, we can risk staying another night.” You took a pause. “Why doesn’t the council just station us here until the group reaches us?” He just gave you a look.
“Oh. You are low on groups for patrols. They need us to return quickly so they can use us elsewhere.” You looked back at the map. Resting your check on your hand. At least you had solved that one on your own. He understood the defeat in your eyes, the disappointment. It was a risk to leave before the others reached the town. But they had numbers, the two of you were here just to make their job a bit easier.
“So staying an extra day is not in the question then. I am assuming they have numbers, so it would make no sense to add to them.” You weren’t asking this time. He heard the frustration in your sigh.
“How do you deal with Tommy being on the council?”
He wasn’t expecting that.
“I mean, having your brother opposing you and doing things you don’t agree with?” Your questions were all things he had asked himself. It didn’t bother him that Tommy was a leader. He was happy for his brother for finding his own way. Even if he didn’t agree with it sometimes.
“Tommy is good at his job.” He shrugged, not allowing anything to show. “I might not agree with him sometimes, but in the end he is often right.”
“My sister was the same.” A soft sort of amusement marked your tone. One he knew all too well.
“I’m sorry for your loss.” He didn’t push for information like he knew he should have. A weakness of his. He knew grief all too well, it was still something that he was working through. It didn’t feel right to push.
Silence fell for a moment as you rose from your place. Walking to your horse that was tied to the post in the corner of the shack. He heard the unbuckling of straps and the tug of fabric.
A second passed and the rustle of fabric wisped passed him as you laid your items down. Your jacket had long since been discarded, hair now falling freely from its pinned place. Falling just past your shoulder blades. He had only seen you with your hair down a few times in the weeks you had been here. His eyes trailed to your pants and the weapons he could see strapped in their places.
It oddly reminded him of Tess.
A different sort of grief hit him. Yet another thing stripped from him. She should be here, should be doing patrols and helping him with Ellie. It was her that put him in this mess after all. But one that he now owed her for. A debt he couldn’t repay, and though he had never told her about Sarah, it was like she had known.
There had never been another woman after her. Even though several had tried and failed. He would dabble in a few of them for his own needs, but it never got past a one night stand. Of course that made him feel even more like shit.
But really he had done it for their own safety. Things he loved were often stolen from him. Were as Tommy had found and kept his. He did his best not to resent his brother. But he selfishly did.
“You took the first watch last time, I’ll go first this go round.” You took your jacket from the pile of blankets. He hadn’t even seen the item, a soft grin played at his mouth.
One that you didn’t see as you shrugged the jacket on and slipped out the large door. Rifle having seemingly just appeared in your hand.
He watched the door you had closed behind you, for too long of a moment.
Moving from his place he gathered his own sleeping materials and sat them down. Then he moved to the light switch beside the door frame, clicking it off.
Allowing the darkness to sooth him into sleep.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
You walked a few paces away, glancing behind you, you watched as the light that was seeping through the wood switched off. Letting you know that Joel wasn’t being stubborn and was actually going to sleep.
The soft light from the faded sun still casted shadows in the hidden area of the shack.
You weren’t so alarmed that Jackson’s patrols were limited. It was to be expected, they had too vast of an area to cover, and too few who could execute it. But to hear it from Joel must mean it was worse than you had expected.
Which was good for your cause, bad news for Jackson. You could work that against them when the time came. If they had low patrols, then loring them out with the threat of w.l.f’s movements would be easy.
Now was handling the fact of handling interior defensense. What Jackson lacked in numbers, they had in defense. They had fuel, energy, and most important Gileon. With him making bullets, Jackson had a small armmoda at their command. Jackson would put up a fight that would last for days.
Even with the w.l.f’s numbers and resources. General Azrael would send only enough so Jackson could fall, and to siege it. Which was his ultimate underlying goal. Az wanted Jackson more than he wanted to bring the strange man from Seattle to ‘justice’.
It wouldn’t come as a chock if this was all some fucked up goose chase. To punish you, to torture you. All the more way to leash you, to show you that you still had things to lose. Joke was on him though. You weren’t here to make friends.
You were here for your sister. Carrying out what she should have done. The hunt for the truth. You just weren’t sure what you would do when you found it. It wouldn’t free you. You would still be trapped so long as the General was in power.
But at least you would know what your sister died for. That had to be enough.
An hour or so passed, when a swift movement caught your eye. You had shoulder your rifle, once again resorting to a gun as a last resort. So your hand moved automatically to the knife at your side. No need to wake Joel if it was infected.
Your pulse raced, as branches cracked, and in the growing darkness that your eyes hadn’t adjusted to, you depended now on only your hearing. There were no sounds of clicking, or soft groans that often came from infected. Your eyes finally adjusted.
Locking onto the small figure now at your feet. Lowering your knife, your laugh sent a signal to your body to relax. Because it wasn’t an infected or anything of the sort.
Only a bunny.
You watched in disbelief as the creature hooped away. Shaking your head slightly. At least you were now paying more attention to your surroundings.
Something you quickly became grateful for as the sound of hushed voices approached.
Panic rose again.
You ducked quickly, finding refuge in the brush the bunny had just come from. You could see their lights, at least two. Maybe a good 50 feet away. How they had gotten this far in without you hearing you weren’t sure. You scolded yourself because Joel was still sleeping, and you were currently outnumbered.
Twenty infected with no weapons, and no brain function besides ‘kill’ was much easier to handle than two coherent humans. Two that you knew nothing about, and had no reason to hold back. This wasn’t training, or one of your well planned attacks.
From their position you could only assume that they could see the shack. Thank god Joel wasn’t a loud snorer.
“I could have sworn I heard something.” A man’s hushed tone sounded. His voice was deep, and rough. One that you obviously don’t recognize.
Another man’s voice followed. “No, didn’t hear nothin’.” His voice had a slight accent. Not like Joel’s southern drawl, this was harsh. “But there were horse tracks back there. So keep your eyes out.”
Fuck
Neither you or Joel had considered covering your tracks. There had been no need to. Even though this area was the least kept by Jackson, patrols still came by every few weeks. So whoever these people had probably been watching the town during patrol gaps.
“If you see anyone, shoot n’ ask questions later.” The man with the accent quipped.
Pain laced your knees as you kneeled. The weight of keeping your body still, causing your legs to grow stiff. You held your breath as the men grew closer to your place. Luck was on your side though, neither one of them panned their lights into the woods.
“You don’t think it’s the patrol?” The other man spoke.
“No they aren’t suppose’ to be here till morin’.” So they had been watching, and how he knew the patrol routine meant he had been watching the area for sometime. To know when Jackson came by and what time. But that information told you at the very least that they weren’t trying to kill anyone. They were avoiding people, most likely targeting the town's supplies.
“Now go into town, boy. I'll take a look in the shack.” No other words were said as one orb of light faded away. The other pointed back to the shack. You ducked lower as slow as you could. At least they had divided up. You were still holding your knife. Waiting, watching for an opening.
Why couldn’t he have just moved on? Moved past the shack and into town? You might have let them go if they had. But as the man closed in on the shack, you knew that wasn’t possible.
Fuck this was bad.
But now his back was turned to you. This was your chance.
Waking Joel would do nothing for you now. It would only bring the other man running and possibly any hidden infected.
Rising slowly, you knew the fresh snow would give you away. You took a second, one you didn’t have, to think. You would need to close the space quickly, which would tell him that there was something in that shack. You needed to move him away from Joel.
So you did the only thing you could think of.
You ran.
Not towards the man, but away from him. Making as much noise as you could. You didn’t need to turn your head to know he was now bolting after you.
You raced towards the town. Legs pumping, feet stomping and crunching as the man was closing in. Your lungs started to burn as you darted towards the main road. Buildings and houses greeted you. The man’s head light, lighting your way.
“Hey!” He shouted after you. But you didn’t care, he was away from Joel. You stopped your run, your body jumping slightly to keep up your momentum, your frantically searched for a way to lose him. His foot steps closed in, and you took off. Weaving your way through the close alleys. Before spotting an opening to where you could hide. Calming your breath, and doing your best to not make noise, you slunk against the wall as the man blew by you.
You watched from your place as he turned his head in confusion.
“What the fuck?!” You him say, and then another set of footsteps approached.
“What the hell was that about?” The second man said, the one you had heard earlier.
“I don’t know.” The one who cased you said. “But someone is here.” You watched the man start scanning his surroundings. If he angled his light behind him, and up the building you had scaled, he would spot you easily.
Thankfully he didn’t. He turned back towards your line of view, and the other man's light shined in his face. A sinking feeling hit your stomach as you got a good look at his rough face.
You knew this man, well you had seen him before. Though it was dark, you didn’t need to see to know what he was wearing, and his code name.
You knew he was wearing w.l.f gear. You had never spoken to him because he was lower ranking than you, and was someone you rarely worked with. Captain NightShade. Known was better known as an assassin. Second only to you. The only difference was he killed mainly with poisons. Rarely did you ever come across him, but since you had earned the spot as General Azrael's second hand, he had it out for you.
In his mind you had stolen what should have been his. It didn’t matter that you had handed him his ass for dinner on the sparring mat. Along with the fact that his skills were average at best. In all, you knew he posed no real threat.
But what the fuck was he doing all the way out here?
Had Az sent him after you?
No, it was too early for that. And of all people he would have never sent this idiot. The other man must have been one of his soldiers. Chances were he not a threat either.
Which made you even more uneasy. If NightShade knew it was you here, he would do everything in his power to kill you. Well, he would try anyway. You watched as both men vanished around the corner.
But just as you took a step a large hand wrapped around your mouth. Pulling you harshly back into a brick wall of a chest. The smell of oak wood and whiskey hit your nose. Your only reason for not flipping your body and pinning them to the floor.
Because that was Joel's scent that swarmed your nose, and his hand that wrapped around your mouth. His other hand rested on your hip. Despite the linen dividing his direct touch, just where he rested it caused your body to react.
You rolled your hips back, and further into his touch. But his grip grew harder, causing you to stop. “What the fuck do you think you are doing.” He whispered, the stale smell of old whiskey marked his breath.
You hadn’t even realised that your body had reacted on its own. Since your back was against him, and he couldn’t see your face, you rolled your eyes back at the sound of that southern drawl.
It was embarrassing the things you were imagining to have him calling out your name, how your were now imagining how he would talk you through it as he dug his finger deep into-
“Little wolf.” He half purred, “I asked you a question.” He snapped out of your thoughts. Good thing too, because this was not the time to become a melting mess. Any other time you would have lowered your own standards, and would have been grinding your hips back into his dick.
But fuck, the way his was whispering into your ear had you dangerously close to doing just that.
You didn’t care that it was Joel. You told yourself it could have been anyone, and you would have the same reaction. He kept you pinned. Hand still at your mouth, you finally registered his question. You waved a hand towards his own.
As if to say, ‘ I can’t answer you dick.’
The loss of his touch felt like an ice bucket over your head. The cold of the night swooped in. Thanking again that the dark shielded your reddened face. Touch starved was not a good look on you.
“There are people here.” You hissed at him, “And why the fuck aren’t you alseep?” You waved your hand at him in frustration. You could barely make out his face in the moonlight. Only really seeing as his chest rose and fell.
He seemed calm and unalarmed to the fact people were here. “I figured, I heard someone yelling. So I took a peek outside. Only to find you not in your station.” He said softly, and a bit accusing. “You didn’t abandon your post did you?”
Even though you couldn’t see him, you sent a glare his way. “No, I am not a deserter.” Which was true. Loyalty was practically beaten into you.
“I heard them, and decided to follow them.” No need to mention that you had lured them into town on purpose. Had lured NightShade away from Joel so he could rest. You definitely did not mention how you knew this person. You would now need to avoid revealing your face to Nightshade.
Though doing that with Joel around was going to be difficult. “Go back to sleep Joel. I have this handled. You are letting them getaway having this conversation.” You chidded to him. Turning away to begin your hunt, but as you stalked away, Joel grabbed your wrist.
“I ain’t letting you handle this on your own.” You turned your head over your shoulder.
You frowned at him. “The only reason I am agreeing to this is because we are wasting time. But fine.” You pulled your scarf over your face, concealing your most identifying features.
“I have the tall one. Find the boy.” You instructed him, you yanked your hand away from his. The contact snapping instantly, your cursed body crying once again at the lack of contact.
“Keep up old man.” You said as you leapt off the small structure and towards the direction Nightshade had gone.
Bluntly ignoring the slickness between your legs.
The cast of the soft moonlight revealed the indentations of Nightshade’s path. Crouching low, blade up and ready you scanned the alley as you followed it into the main square of the village. A few yards a head you could see his figure. His head was also keeping an eye out based on how his light was bouncing around.
He had always been like that. Going about missions aimlessly. Normally driven by his ambition and need to prove himself to the general. He rarely succeeded in impressing him. The only thing that really saved him was how he laced his weapons with poison.
Poison from some excotic animal, or plant.
You could remember one training session with him to where he had laced his dagger with the oil of poison ivy. How he had learned that you were allergic, you weren’t sure. It hadn’t been meant to kill you, but to make you suffer. You had spent a week itching your brains out when he had managed to land a well placed mark. It had just been a surface scratch, so it had never left a scar.
So chances were that his blades, and bullets were laced with some sort of fucked up torture method. Meaning he had picked out whatever poison to kill quickly. Another reason you made Joel go after the other man. Not that Joel needed such defending. You knew he could handle himself. The fact still remained that due to Joel’s stature, he was more than likely slow. Those with muscles like he had tended to fall like giants.
Your training gave you an advantage. You were quick, placing your blows one after another. Allowing no time for someone to find a blind spot. Yet if they ever paid attention, they would see how you were a bit slower attacking with one specific arm. Your non-dominant hand was your weak spot. Your swiftness only covered up that fact, because very rarely did you use that arm for throwing. Normally only slashing, and blocking.
It was typically only when your body started to slow that any sign of that weakness showed.
The general had even gone as far as dislocating your dominant shoulder out of place until the other side grew stronger. Making you train around the clock with a numb dominant arm. Relocating it every few days to keep blood flowing.
He would humiliate you around the newcomers. Using you as an example.
“How do you expect to command, to take my place one day if you can’t fight with one arm? You're pathetic.” You could still remember his voice clearly. How much you wanted to take your hand and launch it through his trachea. To rip out his stupid windpipe.
For two years he had done that until he had been satisfied enough to stop his torture. Until you were just as competent with your nondominant as you were with your main arm.
Though due to the continuous dislocating and relocation of your good arm you now had shoulder issues. Too often did your shoulder ache and catch. You oddly wondered if that was how Joel felt at his old age.
Ultimately, Az’s plan had worked. You could now throw a punch and deal a death blow if it came down to it. However, that would be a last resort.
You stalked your way forward.
Keeping to the shadows you closed the distance between you and Nightshade quickly.
Approaching behind him, you made to slash out with your blade. The knife aiming for the back of his throat, the other aiming towards the strap of the headlamp he wore.Meaning to catch him off guard. But he spotted your movements, and dodged swiftly. His outspread hand met your side, shoving you into the ground. You rolled, recovering as soon as your back touched the cold surface.
You swiveled to face him. But you won a small victory as you discharged his head lamp to the side. Casting you both now in its light.
You masked your shock though. Nightshade was a scrawny man. Never learning how to gain muscle, his deadliness came from knowledge. He was more likely to wield a knife or a gun than he was a fist. If only because of his knowledge of botany.
He depended too much on facts. On things he could see and understand.
Another reason he wasn’t picked to be Az’s second. He was too nearsighted. Only looking at the path in front of him. He wasn’t moldable. Once he had a plan, that was how it was going to be. No room for growth or adaptation.
So the fact he had dodged you was interesting. His ego was often the reason for his failure. You had assumed he had been so busy looking for you, that he wouldn’t be paying attention.
You twisted, bringing yourself into a twirl and slashed out ward. Reacting before Nightshade could. His hand blocked your hand that held your blade. Pushing it away he stepped back.
A series of slashes and blocks ensued.
He caught you off guard with a punch to the face, but you ignored it. Ducking low and slashing out again towards his legs. The bastard leapt upwards to avoid the blow.
Your knife grazed his boot as he came crashing down. Causing the blade to fling from your hand. You swore at yourself, drawing your next blade out, just as Nightshade brought out his own.
You took a chance to glance down at it as the two of you circled each other. Waiting for each other to strike. You could not let that blade touch your skin. Especially as he lifted it. The lamp discharged on the ground illuminated the blade. A sickly greenish red color splotched the metal.
You knew that blood.
Had seen it come from thousands of fallen infected.
Nightshade had poisoned his blade with infected blood
Chapter 10: Patrol
Summary:
Summary
After dealing with Nightshade you find Joel, but his trust is weaving again. How much longer will this push and pull last between you?
With you discovering that the foundation was possibly creating a bio-weapon instead of a cure, more questions began to rise.
It seems that you and Joel are both keeping secrets.
Notes:
Authors Note:
To quote Cronk, “Oh yeah everything is coming together.”
Chapter Text
Part Three
It didn’t make any sense.
Why had he poisoned his blade with infected blood?
It was the one aspect of the infected that had no effect on anyone. Blood couldn’t cause an outbreak. So maybe he had just killed an infected and hadn’t wiped his blade?
That seemed more likely.
Yet something about this whole thing unsettled you. You knew Captain Nightshade, knew how much he prized his blades and laced bullets.
He was an intentional man.
Not someone who would use a poisoned blade against an infected. It would be a waste. Infected people couldn't be poisoned, they already were.
So why-
You didn’t have time to continue your thought as he slashed out this time. Fists and blades clashing with your own.
He grabbed you open hand. Using his strength, and gravity, he crouched down. Pulling you towards him as he hauled you over his back. Pushing upward as you tumbled off of him and back onto the ground.
You rolled to the side just as his blade crashed into the earth.
He let out a sound of frustration. “If you could be still, I’ll make this quick.” He said in that accent of his.
Saying nothing, you pushed to your feet. You might not have recognized his voice, but you knew he would recognize yours if you spoke.
He was moving again. He punched out, you crouched, dodging his blow. Landing a solid blow into his stomach causing him to heave. He stepped backwards, clutching his stomach.
You swung out your leg. Pure muscle meeting his crooked face as he took the impact. His head snapped to the side with the force. A move that had once worked in knocking him out years ago.
One that you learned rapidly no longer worked, as he lashed out his arm. Trying and failing to knock you down again.
That pattern of his at least hadn’t changed.
Sadistic bastard .
He had an m.o of pinning people down and taking his time scraping them with his dagger. Watching them slowly being taken over by his concoctions as he tortured them.
Az had made him a Captain because of it.
You hadn’t noticed that your scarf and hood were now both gone. Your hood, fallen back, and your scarf laying in a clump on the ground a few inches away.
Hadn’t noticed as Nightshade went utter still, and even in the dull light you could see his skin grow ashen.
“General Reaper?” His voice shook with fear, or excitement. It was hard to tell with him.
You patted at your neck, swearing at yourself for not securing your scarf in place. Luck was a constant companion today, as your eyes darted behind NightShade.
No Joel in sight.
A second passed, and your gaze went back to Nightshade as you watched him tip his head back. Eyes now looking at the sky, as he let out a long wicked laugh.
Fuck.
None of this was going to plan anymore. With your disguise gone you just looked at him as he laughed.
Unamusement marking your face as you examined your blade. It was clear he was enjoying this too much in order to attack you. You should have taken the chance and disarmed him.
But you didn’t.
Truth be told, he had become a good fighter since you had sparred with him last. You weren’t sure how long it had been. Probably a year at this point.
You had always wondered when he would get his head out of his ass and start training.
Now he was an equal opponent.
A challenge, and after that rooftop interaction with Joel, you were glad for it.
This was all a cat and mouse game to you now. Sure he had just had some well placed blow’s. But he hadn’t even winded you, despite knocking you on your ass a few times.
You tsked at him, and his laughing stopped. His head slowly lowered back down.
Shaking your head, you began chastising him, “Captain Nightshade. You haven’t changed a bit.” To piss him off even more, your hands moved behind your back. Linking one hand around the other wrist. A relaxed position for you.
His gaze shifted and anger replaced his amusement.
“Finally decide to start training after all these years?” He remained silent. You tsked again.
“About time really. I mean, you can’t always poison your blade. That really is just sloppy work.” You made a mock face of disappointment.
“Pity how that won’t matter now.” You pursed your lips. You began circling him. A good distance away of course. He just stood still, as you made it a bit theatrical looking him up and down. A movement you had basically studied from General Azrael. One that you could imitate a little too well, from the way the Captain straightened.
“Did Az finally grow tired of you trying to suck his dick all of the time.” The comment from you had him spinning. Slipping your hand away from each other and back in front of you. His blade cutting into your jacket. Slicing the fabric open. The steel blade hitting the metal below it. Gileon’s guards.
His other arm reached out in a fist. In a frantic motion, leaving him open. Your elbow shot out, jamming into the side of his ribs so harshly you could have sworn you heard them cracking.
He coughed, causing him to stagger.
“General Azrael will love it when I bring your head back on a stick.” He hissed aiming for you again. You ducked and blocked his hits, not that any of them were impressive to begin with.
Despite his advancements in speed, he still lacked muscle.
“Too bad that’s not happening.” Your breath caused your words to break up. Your lungs doing their best to pump rushing air into your system, and keep up with a conversation.
He came slashing again, unplanned and without reason. His method’s still sloppy.
You landed a punch again. This time you were done playing around, you swiped out your leg. Causing the fumbling oaf to fall to his ass.
“Face it night. You are my second best and always will be.” You made your way to sit on his chest, as he tried to recover. Pinning his arms below your legs. Then you forced his fingers open as you grabbed for his poisoned knife.
He bucked and tried to move you off of him, and it was a bit of an effort to not go flying. Yet you kept your hold. Putting his own steel against his cheek.
The man went still again.
“Now what I am interested in, is why you thought dipping your blade into infected blood was going to do.” You didn’t give him a chance to respond as you continued, “And why the hell you strayed away so far from Az’s leash.”
“I could ask the same of you Reaper.” He choked out. Choosing to ignore both questions. Fear now laid in his blue eyes as you turned his blade closer to his cheek.
“W-wait!” He stammered. You stopped just before you drew blood.
“I’m listening.” You purred.
“Az-General Azrael gave me the weapon.” Your brow lifted. Surprise catching you a bit of guard. Az never gave anyone anything. Not if it benefited him.
You let more of your weight go to your knees. Cutting off circulation to his hands. He should be feeling numbness right about now. From the way his fingers waggle you knew you were right.
“Why the hell would the general give you a weapon?” Your eyes narrowed on him suspiciously.
“H-he said it was a new weapon. One that could change everything, he didn’t tell me anything else!” The man was practically begging now. Implying that he was telling the truth.
Confusion swarmed your mind.
A new weapon?
What was his angle here? The infection gets spread by spores, consumption and bites.
Not by blood pathogens.
An odd chill ran down your spine.
“Did he send you here?” You asked again, but you didn’t need to see his nod of yes to know that.
“He sent me and one of my soldiers. Said to come by here and stop the group coming into Jackson with supplies.” That sounded more like the general. Cutting off Jackson’s supply chain was his number one goal. Not like he could have relayed that information to you in order to save on men.
You looked beyond the man again, still not seeing any sign of Joel.
It wasn’t like you could have stopped the group anyway. Even though it wasn’t your mission, you still felt slighted. More so because Az had sent this excuse of a leader here to deal with it.
You drew the blade away from his cheek a little.
“Are you going to kill me? Because if you do, you know Abby will hunt you down.” He asked, voice shaking.
It was your turn to laugh. “Abby doesn’t give a fuck about you shade. You might be her little play thing, but your life means nothing to her. Just like it means nothing to Az, and nothing to me.”
“Now as much fun this has been, I sorta have some other things to get to. Tell the devil I said hi.” His eyes went wide as a blade appeared in your hand, and you slit his throat to the bone.
A loose end tied at last.
Spinning your knife once, wiping his blood on your sleeve, you sheathed it.
Looking around the street again. Still not seeing Joel. Where was he?
He should have been back by now.
A single shot fired in the distance.
You walked over to where you heard it, the woods rustling with Joel’s large movements.
“Dead?” You asked. Obviously not telling anything had occurred. Joel glanced behind him, rubbing at his forearm.
“Yeah.” The way he said it didn’t give you much confidence. But the boy was of no consequence. “Your’s?” He asked, you nodded.
“Well.” You rubbed your hands together. Dusting them off. “That was fun.” You sounded a bit enthusiastic, you blamed it on the adrenaline.
It definitely wasn’t because killing nightshade brought you some level of joy. Joel looked at you as you placed your hands on your hips. The way he was scanning has you saying, “What?”
“What happened?” He implored. His tone shifting it into a deep drone. It was too dark for him to see the blood on your jacket. Or your hands.
“Nothing.” You said a bit too quickly.
He huffed as if he didn’t believe you. “You're such a bad lair.”
You said nothing. “Nothing happened.”
“Then why were you hesitating on the roof?”
“I wasn’t hesitating. You stopped me Joel.” You reminded him.
“You acted like you knew one of them.”
“And so what if I did? He is dead now. So what does it matter?” You pinned him down with a glare. The one you often used on soldiers to remind them of their place in line.
“It matters to me. Because I don’t fucking trust you.” He brushed by you, his shoulder crashing into yours. Knocking you to the side a bit, you caught yourself from falling and rushed after him.
You blinked as snow started falling again. “What gives Joel? It seemed like we were getting along just fine earlier, and now you're back to not trusting me.” You grabbed his shoulder. Stopping him. The direction he was heading would lead him right to Nightshade's body.
He turned.
“The boy was wearing a w.l.f uniform. How the fuck would you know w.l.f members?” Your head tilted back in shock. You didn’t think Joel would have gotten that close to have seen the uniform. Your head spun up a lie, but came up empty.
“How would you know a w.l.f member?” His voice was calm. His anger remaining under a to thin line that you had to travel along.
“How does anyone Joel?” You snapped back. “They killed my sister.” It was the only truth you could tell him. “The soldier I killed as a part of it.” Joel’s hardened figure softened.
“So if I was hesitating, maybe it was because seeing him brought all of that rage back.” You couldn’t stop yourself, “So next time you question me make sure you stop to think before you accuse me of something I didn’t do.” Your words sounded like the venom that was on the blade at your side.
It was foolish to keep it.
But if the foundation had somehow crafted a bio-weapon, then you need to know why. Especially after they wasted so many lives trying to find a cure.
What was Az’s game here?
How deep did this go?
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Joel
You didn’t stop him as he turned away. He made for the streets, and it took him a few to find the man's discarded body.
Glancing back he made sure you hadn’t followed him.
He took in the sight. How personal this had looked. Bile rose in his throat at the smell already forming.
Jesus.
The man’s head was almost decapitated. Hanging on by a literal thread.
Joel reached into his pocket. Grabbing for a small towel he kept there. Holding it to his nose, as he patted the body down. He wasn’t sure if you had bothered to search him. Knowing you it seemed like you would do such a thing.
But as his hand hit a small hard piece of plastic he knew you hadn’t.
He slipped the tape out of the dead man's pocket. He often found tapes on soldiers' bodies. It was a wonder you were so sloppy.
He read the inscription.
One word. A name.
The one that haunted his dreams. The young soldier's face he had never seen. The one that had taken everything from him.
“Reaper”
Chapter 11: A moment in the snow
Summary:
After your patrol with Joel, you set out to make the community trust you. You begin helping out elders, and training the younger members. All of whom readily accept the help.
Learning along the way that Joel is on a mission of his own. His absences giving you an opening to further embed yourself into Jackson.
However as the days pass you by you can’t help but feel your own doom approaching. Your own unaddressed guilt finding it’s way back into the picture.
As the walls of your mind come crashing down, an unexpected foe returns from his mission.
Playlist:
What Was I Made For- Billie Ellish
The Archer- Taylor Swift
Somewhere Only We Know- Keane
Notes:
This ao3 curse is kicking my ass. The past 72 hrs have been rough. I have been to the er and got fired. Lol.
But I am okay, and taking it easy.
I don’t plan on dying until I complete this fanfic. I am determined.
So unfortunately I was only able to write one chapter this week. I plan to realise Chapter 11 sometime around Wednesday of this week.
Chapter Text
A Month later
You hadn’t spoken to Joel since the two of you had returned.
Things hadn’t gone well on your first patrol. You had hoped to gain his trust fully. The opposite seemed to have happened.
In the month since your last major outing, you had made rounds in Jackson. Pitching in volunteer hours, and helping Gileon with his orders.
All of it was pr, but it helped your image. So much so that most knew your name. Your fake one you had used upon signing upon for patrols. Obviously your real name was still out of the question.
Not that it meant anything to anyone. Your name had long been forgotten in the public eye. But records of it still existed, and if anyone started digging they would be able to connect the dots.
Despite that advancement you had made any new developments.
You had spent your nights studying the dagger you had gotten from nightshade. The blood from the infected was dried now, but still clung to metal.
No amount of staring at it revealed anything. You needed someone who dealt with things like this. Your knowledge of poisons was limited. The one person who would know anything about the development of bioweapons was dead.
Abby’s dad just so happened to have been that person.
So why did Az give it to Nightshade? The one person he never put any trust in.
This along with not managing to find any time to go after the third tape, was leaving you spinning. There were just too many pieces missing.
The man from Seattle
The Blade
The research tapes
Your sister’s death
Joel
How did all of those events fit together?
You rubbed at the bridge of your nose. The crisp air entering through your nostrils soothing you. None of it was making sense.
Part of you wanted to let Gileon in. Just to have some sort of help hashing this out. But you couldn’t trust him. Even despite his unreasonable kindness towards you. Maybe that was what he was hoping for, that he would lower your guard enough to let him in.
This was starting to get big for you to handle.
“Excuse me?” A young woman's voice behind you inquired. Blinking you glanced at the room around you.
You were standing just outside of the local trading post. The one used to receive ration tickets, clothes and other various items that made it through at Jackson.
You were here because you heard a rumor that you could bribe the man at the desk for extra ration tickets if you gave him ammo. Normally you wouldn’t have listened to the pieces of information you gathered. But this was one that you wanted to try out.
All of your activities lately had been drawing your energy, and right now a second helping sounded like heaven. You didn’t really care if it was greedy.
Turning your attention to the girl you immediately recognized her. She was the girl from your training over a month ago. You hadn’t seen her since then, and it was good to know that she seemed to be doing well.
“Oh, hey!” You faked the delight in your voice. As small as Jackson was, you were surprised that you hadn't seen her sooner. But you kept yourself busy. From winning over Jackson, to pointedly avoiding Joel’s street.
Only finding out that he lived there when you had returned from your first mission. Even if it was purposeful that you had avoided him, you were a bit shocked you hadn’t seen him.
You had heard rumors from his multitude of secret admirers that he had gone out of town to smuggle something. You could have sworn they said the name ‘Ellie’ who that pertained to you weren’t sure yet.
But obviously it was someone Joel considered important.
“I was hoping I would get a chance to thank you.” The girl was young, probably just having become an older teen. If not already eighteen. She messed with her hands nervously as you lifted a brow.
“So-um, thank you.” She cleared her throat.
“I did what was expected of me. You don’t need me to thank me for saving you. It was a bit barbaric that Jackson even had you out there in the first place.” You couldn’t keep the judgment out of your voice.
“I volunteered, things weren’t supposed to get that out of hand.” She said as if that was any excuse for what the council had done.
“I was also hoping that maybe you could train me?” Her sudden question had you doing a double take from your place in line.
“Aren’t you a little too young for that?” You asked, and the girl shook her head.
“My patrol training is next year, and well a lot of people in Jackson saw you fight. I want to be a useful partner.” Her voice was soft yet desperate.
“There are others my age, a small group of us that need better training. I mean we have Tommy-”
You cut her off, “Tommy Miller?”
She nodded again.
You weren’t really entertaining this idea. Training Jackson’s youngest with your knowledge would be counterproductive.
It just alarmed you that Tommy was training them. He didn’t really seem like the fighting type. You took a second to think about it.
Sure it might be counterproductive to take on training. You needed to pull a good two months of patrolling with Joel before you could travel outside of Jackson alone. You also still had no leads on anything.
You didn’t have to teach them anything major. Only enough to fight the weakest w.l.f member. Obviously they were desperate enough to seek outside help. Fortuntute for them, with your next patrol in a few weeks you had nothing but time.
“What’s your name again?” You disregarded the trading post completely. Extra rations would have to wait.
“I’m Mia.” She offered you her hand in greeting. Her long blonde hair scraped against her jacket.
You obliged and took her hand and shook it. “Nice to meet you formally Mia. I’m-”
“I know your name. Sort of hard not to.” She giggled a little.
“How old are you again?” Her laugh seemed a bit immature, maybe she was younger than you had previously thought.
“Seventeen.” You had only been a year off.
The fact that the council sent such young ages to fight wasn’t out of the ordinary. Some of the small groups of survivors that you ran across had children as young as fourteen defending their post. Those towns you never raided, suddenly those towns were always blown to bits. No longer existent. If the soldiers under your command ever picked up on it, they never dared to say anything about it.
You went after towns that had few children. Ones not using them as a shield, and on the odd chance you did raid them. You never killed them, instead sparing them and enlisting them into the foundation.
Az never cared if they were there by force or voluntarily. Most of those children were under your command. Not that you had minded. Better yours than another’s.
You looked at the clock tower in the center of town. You had a clear view from where you were standing. It was high noon. Giving you enough time to grab your rations and make time for this side quest of yours.
“Fine. Gather your group and meet me at the open field next to the south gate. 5pm don’t be late.” It was the one spot in Jackson that was fenced in that didn’t have a building occupying it. The large field would be plenty enough for training. Unfortunately it wasn’t very hidden.
So you would need to be cautious of that too.
Gileon could report back to the general that you were training future patrols. You had a plan to counteract that though.
This is all a ploy to get the settlement to trust you. What better way than its youth?
Four and a half hours later you regretted eating your second helping. At least you hadn’t spent too much ammo trading for it. The guy at the trading post was too busy looking at your chest that peaked through your jacket to count.
You had practically stuffed your face back at Gileons. So much so that he had excused himself to his shop.
It wasn’t one of your best looks.
You were just grateful that Joel hadn’t been there to witness it.
A small mercy.
The way your food was starting to weigh down your stomach had you almost turning away and ghosting these kids. Sure it had been calculated on your part. Your fullness would slow you down.
Not a lot. But enough.
You looked at the setting sun, and estimated how early you were. They had a few more minutes to show before you really did leave.
After all, you had more important things to do. Like sleeping.
Another few minutes passed before a dozen kids came stalking up the worn down grass. More than you had expected.
They formed a circle in the open field. Settling in their own spaces, you spotted Mia. Who gave you a soft wave. She really could have informed you better on how many would show. Your face must have marked your anger as the young girl winced.
Taking a breath, you stepped in the middle of their cult-like circle. It was eerie and another reason you didn’t like training younger people. Truth be told, they sort of freaked you out.
How swift and flexible their age made them. You weren’t ancient by any means, but to them you probably were.
You heard a young boy snicker to your side. “Nice going Mia. She looks much more capable than Tommy.” His tone was marked with sick sarcasm. But you said nothing as you tugged off your jacket.
Tossing it to the ground beside you. Revealing your loose long sleeve white shirt, and dark set pants. Then the weapons buckled at your belt and thighs.
You took your time stretching in front of them. Then you looked at the boy who had broken the silence. His dark hair shining from his lack of washing it. His skin a ghostly pale color.
He looked sickly. Someone not built for fights or patrols. Though you knew better to judge someone off the way they looked. Even if you were judging harshly in your mind. Your attention on him, causing laughter and chatter amongst the group.
“All of you came here for a reason.” You averted your eyes from the young boy. The children silenced around you. Clinging to your every word.
“Why? I don’t know, and frankly don’t care.” You looked back at the dark haired boy. “Well I do know why.” The group huffed a laugh. “Your comrade Mia recruited me to help you sorry lot. For the next two weeks we will meet here.” Whispers picked back-up again.
“Those who want to leave can. But for those two weeks you are expected to be here twice daily. Bright and early in the morning for runs and basic workout routines.” Whispers turned into groans but you continued.
“Then in the afternoon for combat training.” It was hard not to slip into the foundations termanology. The kids didn’t pick up on it though, and none stepped out of the circle. Not even the boy.
“I will divide you into two groups. Group A will meet from 5-6am to 5-7pm. Group B will be expected to meet from 6-7am and from 7-8p. This is to ensure all of you get a chance of one-on-one training with me.” To this the group nodded in approval.
For the next few minutes you divided them up. So that an equal number of girls and boys were in each group. Mainly to keep them from fighting that the girls were getting better treatment or vice versa. In a fair world you would have divided them up by weaker qualities.
However this wasn’t that reality.
No one was ever spared in this world. Those who were weak were picked off. The strong are forced to pick up their slack.
“Group A stay behind. Group B you are dismissed until 7 tonight.” Ordering them around came easily to you. Suddenly you were glad to have said yes to this. This was your element. Your purpose amongst the unknown and missions.
They did as they were told. The first five stayed behind. Three girls, two boys. Mia was one of them. Since she had started all of this she was in the first group to suffer.
You now stood in front of them, hands on your hips. Your fingers resting in the loops of your belt. Mia was practically bouncing with joy. The other two girls seemed a bit nervous, unsure. The two boys had their chests puffed out like peacocks.
“I won’t spare any formalities. You must all know my name, and I really don’t care to learn yours.” Your braid slipped over your shoulder and you brushed it back.
“But you know Mia’s.” A brown hair girl said, based on her looks it seemed as if she was Jewish in descent.
“I do.” You told her. Eyes finding each and every one of theirs.
“But as of now, I do not.” They looked at each other in confusion.
You began pacing, “The people you will be fighting against won’t care for your name. Only that you are standing in their way, infected give less of a fuck about you.”
They all stilled at that. At least you had caught their attention.
“Tonight’s training consists of me understanding your baseline fighting skills. Normally, I would start off with running and muscle training drills, but those will begin in the morning.” You stopped your pacing, spinning on your heel a bit too precisely.
“My goal for you all, is by the end of these two-weeks that you will be able to fight an infected blindfolded. Along with firing your weapon as your body fails you.” You looked at Mia, who hadn’t stopped smiling. That part was pointed more towards her.
“In order to do so, you must exert yourselves to the point of tiredness. Then training will begin. You have five minutes to stretch.” You said nothing farther as you walked away from them. Setting a timer on the stop watch you had found laying on the ground. You made use of this time setting up targets and going to your sack on the ground. Pulling out magazine after magazine worth of ammo.
Five minutes later and the first group was done stretching.
“Fall in!” The words came out before you could stop them, but the children obeyed. Swarming around you in a tight circle.
“You are to run laps for 15 minutes. Then push ups for 10.” They all blinked.
“But you said-”
You raised a hand cutting Mia off.
“This is finding your baseline.” You fiddled with the red timer around your neck.
“Your time starts now.”
Minutes passed and you began doubting yourself.
That two-week goal you had set was slipping as you watched them run in circles. They were all falling way behind to what you had imagined. Sure they could escape realistically speaking, against an elder.
Honestly, what was Tommy teaching them? You had expected him to at least give them a fighting chance. Mia and the brown haired girl lead their pack.
Their slender frames allowing them an advantage on this obstacle.
Yet their forms were sloppy, to open.
Their arms weren’t pumping and their stride varied between long strokes to tight knit ones. Never staying constant. The others were even worse. Falling several paces behind the two girls.
The timer went off against your shirt. Blaring an alarm that had them slowing.
Shaking your head they were all gasping for air.
“Arms above your head, deep breaths.” Your voice was incapable of hiding your disappointment.
“How are you guys this out of shape?” You shook your head at them. “I’ll have to have a word with Tommy.” You mumbled.
“Alright, push-ups. Down. Now.” You pointed at the dirt at your feet. Watching as they eagerly hit their knees, they all assumed the improper form. The bottom half of their bodies bent practically at a 90 degree angle.
The palm of your hand met your face as you started your timer again.
Three agonizing hours later and training was done. In all, it had been a nightmare.
They did all however possess one redeeming skill. Tommy had only spent time teaching them to shoot. You had found out that he took the time training them in his off hours. But with his duty to the council he couldn’t spend much time with them.
No wonder Mia had asked you to help.
You would need to spend years with them, just to get them to be a contributing partner to patrol with.You had that time with some of them, but not with Mia.
She was the eldest of the group, and it wasn’t hard to see why the younger ones followed her lead. She was charismatic to a fault. She was probably the only beacon of hope and light they had.
At seventeen she was already twice the leader you had been to your soldiers. Mia was the person who would make the sacrifice play. Who would give her life willingly to protect those around her.
You hadn’t gotten to see that side of her during your training event. You were too busy trying to not die to have really spoken to her.
With the early night, the settlement was still busy. People stood at the trading post. Some stumbling out of the local pub, hoping their drunkenness would drown them from reality.
All of it became normal to you this last month. Even though some of the patrons from some of the shops waved at you. Having grown used to your routine and the path you took to Gileon. If you had to wager, there wasn’t a shop in town that you hadn’t assisted. It had been annoying to go out of your way at first. Now it came as second nature.
Jackson should be embarrassed of how easily their people could be won over. All it took was a soft lilt in your voice, and relaxing your face, allowing for a smile to show every so often. And you had caught them all hook, line and sinker. You had expected a bit of a push back. Only to have been met with none.
You made your way through the common streets, following the yellowed lights of the lamps lining the crosswalks. Even going so far as to take the time to glance up at the slightly faded stars.
When was the last time you had done that?
Or had taken the time to help anyone but yourself?
You weren’t sure you liked the way Jackson was already changing you. No one else besides Gileon might have been able to see the shift.
It was….odd.
It felt nice, but in the same breath odd in the way that made your skin itchy.
The way that some of your smiles had become genuine when helping the elderly women get around. Or how you had greeted Gileon every morning, and didn’t roll your eyes as you did so. Not massive changes by any means.
Though for you it was.
Very rarely did you throw yourself into your soldiers' lives. Or put any effort into the foundation besides what was expected of you. It was easier to just shut everything and everyone off. The less you had connections to the less you had to lose.
Pausing your walk you inhaled the mountain air. Somehow you always ended up in your head. Trapped within your own bouncing thoughts. Never pinning a singular one to the floor of your mind.
You often kept yourself company in your barracks room. Having a one sided conversation with your inner monologue. You weren’t sure how you hadn’t gone insane from your lack of social interaction.
Not one that you had falsified for the w.l.f’s gain.
The more you thought about it from your place on the street the more alone you felt.
How long did you expect to go in like this?
Wasting your life being everyone but yourself?
A cruel sharp laugh escaped your throat. You weren’t sure who that was anymore. Too many years of wearing other people’s faces came at a cost after all.
You just never expected them to catch up to you now. The ghost of the past always had a way of doing that.
Snow was falling again. The gentle flakes stitching and melting against your hair and jacket. Their soft attack felt like an attempt to scrub your sins away. If such a thing was possible.
Spring would be coming in another month or so. The fading appearance of snow on the roads and small patches of green grass poking out of the ground, were all evidence of its coming arrival.
You never were a fan of winter, the way it clung to your bones. Truly it was only due to that. You loved watching falling snow and all of the lights still marking some houses. You wonder what it would be like to see all of them dressed up for the holiday. You had just missed the festivities when you got to Jackson.
Having arrived in early January. Time had slipped so far out of your grasp that it was hard to believe you had been here over two months already. Only one more remained before your own leash tightened.
Helping out the children would give you some slack at least. Your information gathering might be at a stand still, but you had prevailed in other areas.
A shallow shot at soothing your nerves for what you knew was coming if you didn’t deliver. In your defense, this was probably one of the hardest missions you had been on. Most people left a trail. One being their own sloppy mishaps.
But this man had left not even a crumb behind him. Your only hope was finding the truck he had taken. Once again you were met with a waiting game. It was either stay on patrol for another two months to gain outside access Or live here for as long as Gileon had.
You would rather spend two months with Joel then spending another five years around him. At the worst you would be here for another two to three. So long as you kept playing nice and did things by the council's book. Then everything would be fine.
It had to be.
Your hands dug further into your pockets. Burrowing into the plush fleece. Fingernails digging into your palm. One of the rare times you allowed your body to actually feel anything. Due to the scarring on your stomach you had little feeling left there.
Tonight was one of the nights you were grateful you didn’t remember how they had gotten there. How odd was it to be grateful for the nothingness that haunted those empty gaps.
Your breath quickened as your mind tried piecing those gaps together. The half memories you did have, the smell of the sterile hospital room, the men’s hungry black eyes as they stared down at you. Forcing you under that veil of unconsciousness.
Suddenly the shirt at your throat felt like a noose. Your jacket, like those invisible constraints. You ripped it off, cold air meeting your heady embrace. You clawed at the collar of your shirt. Yanking at the flimsy creamy colored fabric. You vaguely heard it ripping as it tore at your neck.
You couldn’t breath, and every time you did you smelled that room.
Saw those eyes.
The smell, the eyes.
The few words echoed in your mind. You clawed at your hair, its sudden presences like a boulder pressing down.
How could such an insignificant memory have such a grasp on your psychic?
But now in the empty street it was all that existed. Your sight was fixed on one thing, yet on nothing as they lost focus.
Further trapping you in your own illusion.
You fell to your knees. Ignoring the sting of the frozen asphalt. Ignoring the jabs of pain from its worn use.
It felt like you were screaming at the top of your lungs. Your hand found your throat, but no reverberation came from it.
Your hand began moving in soothing strokes.
You were having another attack.
They had no rhyme or reason to them. They just came and took.
And took
And took
Until you became pain itself.
Became those smells so pungent they seeped into the reality around you. Then became those eyes peering down on yourself.
You breathed and so did all of those things.
Because you were alive, so were they.
You knew this was an attack.
You knew that. This would pass.
But how you craved the darkness that would swarm as those eyes and smells faded. Too often did you imagine turning your blade on yourself to bring you back.
To reel your broken and shattered soul back into your body.
You just never had the courage.
In your sane state you convinced yourself that it was because you refused to let those people win. Refused to add to their tally. But you knew the truth.
The real you was just afraid, and a coward.
Your hand fell to your rising chest. With the shirt away from your throat you could finally breathe. So you drank in the air around you as if it were water. Greedy, deep breaths that cleared your nose of that smell.
But you could still see those eyes.
Black and soulless, god’s you were pathetic.
A broken, useless mess that needed scraping off the floor. As always no one was around to help you do that. So you did the only thing you knew to do every time this happened. You gathered your pieces off the ground and shoved them together.
You grabbed your jacket off of the ground. Shoving your arms into the openings and sliding the large item up your arms until it rested on your shoulders. The warmth swarming against your skin once more.
Doing everything to focus on the feel of the fabric. On the crisp air and smell the outdoors brought.
Ever so slowly you clawed your way out of your own despair. Piece by shattered piece.
Lamps still glowing overhead, all but forgotten. Bringing light back into those pieces, into your soul. The world around you was no longer that room, or those smells.
Just as quickly as the attack had come, it vanished just as instantly.
Numbness fell over you again. Not the quiet kind you embraced, the one that lulled you into its arms. This was the kind that had you wanting to crawl into bed and not get up for weeks at a time.
You just kept chanting in your mind, ‘I’m safe. I’m not there anymore. I’m here, I’m safe.’
The words became a comfort, an anchor. Yet they didn’t help.
Because you knew your time here was limited. Your only comfort was the fact that Abby’s dad was dead. The foundation couldn’t continue their research. Meaning the experiments would stop.
No more unexplained scars. No more memory gaps.
You alone held the key to your mind.
You were in control.
‘That doesn’t mean your father won’t continue his tactics’ That voice crept in. The doubting one that spoke above all the others in your swirling mind. Your body twitched at the thought.
You knew that too.
Suddenly the aspect of two years felt like mere weeks.
Wind blew, chilling your soaked front of your pants. You hadn’t even felt the melted water or how cold your legs were. The last thing to snap back into place was your vision.
With its return those black eyes faded away.
Exhaustion mixed with the numbness. Weighing you down more than the memories could.
Clicking hooves filled your world with sound. You looked over your shoulder, at the massive creature slowly advancing towards you. You turned your body towards the horse. To the person sitting on top of it.
The beast passed under a lamp, allowing you to get a good view of the large white mark on its nose. Followed by the milky brown that made up the rest of her body. You watched the horse in admiration, muscles flexing and releasing as her legs moved forward.
Then you looked at her handler. Shoulders slumping as you rolled your eyes.
“Do you have some sort of tracker on me?” There was no need to fake the agitation in your voice.
“No. But thank you for the idea.” Joel’s tone was mocking.
“You're such an asshole.” You really didn’t have the energy to argue with him right now. All you wanted to do was sink into your bed and sleep.
Any other time you could match him. But not right now.
“Is that anyway to greet your partner after a month of not seeing him?” His brow lifted.
Only Joel Miller could make that simple motion hot.
You huffed a laugh, “You mean avoiding him? Or was it the other way around?” You looked up at him, hating the fact that you had to do so.
“At least you can tell the truth about that.” Another thing you didn’t need right now.
A fucking guilt trip.
“Fuck off.” So maybe you could argue with him a little bit. You couldn’t help yourself with Joel. He just made it easy. Easy to turn your rage at the world, at yourself onto him.
He chuckled.
Fury replaced the numbness. Something you were silently grateful for.
“I fucking hate you.” You said it with such conviction. The words you couldn’t say to yourself.
“Such harsh words. But good to know you kept track of me. I should be touched.” Your eyes flickered to his hand as he shifted the reins. Keeping the horse at a stop now. You had been too busy arguing with him to even notice that he had stopped his horse.
“I didn’t.” You snapped your eyes away. A half truth.
“And there for a moment I had hope.”
Your fingers curled into a fist. All it would take was one swift movement and you could dismount him from his place. Somehow you managed to keep our resolve.
“Did you track me down just to mock me Joel? Because I really am not in the mood.” You managed to contain your rage. Even backing away from his horse to keep from knocking him off. Rather than on the ground at eye level.
“You think too much of yourself.” Your eyes snapped back to his. Only to be greeted with amusement in his gaze.
“But no. I just got back into town, and had a great trip by the way. Thanks for asking. Surely you haven’t forgotten that this is the way to my home as well?” You made your way to look at your surroundings. Realizing that you were on the corner of his block.
Yeah, you hadn’t realized and his shit eating look had crescent moons forming on your palms.
You grumbled to yourself. Before you began marching off.
But Joel didn’t turn down his street.
No, he began following you with his horse. Something you noticed right away. Causing you to pause, boots sloshing in melted snow below you.
You reached down grabbing a still solid piece of snow.
Joel didn’t have time to react as you spun around and launched the icy cold waud right into his face. His horse backing away spooked by the movement.
The sound it made as it connected with his face had you busting out in laughter. True, from the belly laughter. Something that caught even you off guard.
A different feeling settled in your stomach as Joel wiped the icy bits from his eyes and dismounted his horse.
With a smile still splitting your face, you began to run. Knowing that he would be on your trail. You didn’t get far due to the slug of the snow.
You felt a pelt of Joel throwing his own sloshy ball into your back. Hitting you with such force that you stumbled. Losing your footing you crashed into the ground.
You stayed in place, faking being injured. You heard Joel approaching.
“You okay?” It took everything in you to not laugh again. Your next bundle of snow, ready in your hand. Joel closed in the space so much that you could feel the warmth from his body as he leaned over.
Spinning on your knees, you reached for his shirt. He tried to back away, only to fail again. You shoved the ice down the small crack of his shirt.
Causing him to gasp and back away. He padded frantically at the bottom of his shirt. The part that was tucked under his belt, finally freeing it and emptying the ice under it.
You were still sitting on your ass. Unable to stop the laughter, your hands and arms helping in keeping you upright.
You allowed the unwelcomed joy in as you looked at his face. It took the place of your numbness, and you welcomed it. Your clothes were soaked, and the ends of your pants were practically frozen.
Your laughter overwhelmed even the creeping coldness.
Joel had somehow managed to replace that weighing numbness into a feather like weight.
It had been years since you had laughed like this. Years since your last good memory of your sister.
Who’s presence now didn’t come as a debt to be paid. But as a reminder of the joy and absence she had left behind.
Your laughter slowly died down as Joel made a sign of surrender.
“You win.” His breathing was a bit fast from him running after you. Causing his drawl to disappear.
“You win.” He repeated. Then he reached out a hand. Offering to help you up.
Still drunk with laughter and the feeling besides numbness, you took it.
His hand linked around yours. Making you notice the stark difference of temperature between the two of you.
Joel’s warmth made your hand feel like a dead body. Looking at your fingers you could feel how swollen they were. Twinging pain coursing through them.
Only relieved by Joel’s cruel warmth.
The shaking came next. Your body now all to aware that it was slowly freezing. You needed to get out of these clothes.
Needed to get back to Gileon’s.
Your body wasn’t obeying you. Your hand seemed to be locked onto Joel’s.
For some reason you could move it.
Didn’t want to move it.
‘Of course you don’t. Joel is warm, and your body is craving that feeling.’ You told yourself.
Then why wasn’t he letting go? Your hand shifted in his. Stiff fingers meeting harden calluses. Hard, yet gentle in a way you hadn’t expected.
“I-should get going.” You managed to say between your teeth chattering. Hand still in his.
“That’s a long way to walk soaking wet and freezing.” The way he said it had your stomach doing a flip.
“Sides’ my house is closer anyway. I’m sure Gileon won’t miss you for a few hours until you can warm up.” His drawl brought warmth to a place that did nothing productive.
You broke your hold then. Your body missed the immediate heat his hand brought.
Your body shook again. Chills lining every part of your body. You knew he was right, it would only be a few more minutes until your fingers started to turn purple.
“B-but my clothes.” You struggled to form the words between frigid lips. Going to Joel’s house was not a good idea. It would give you the warmth you would need, sure. With no dry clothes to change into it would be pointless.
More importantly, it meant you would have to spend more time with him.
Alone.
In his home.
You would slaughter each other. Neither one of you could stand being around the other.
You had half the mind just to tough it out and head back to Gileon’s. Which was still a few minutes away. You could make it, you didn’t need to go with Joel. Hell he could even drop you off there.
“You can j-just drop me by Gileon’s.” Words breaking again as your body shivered. Still standing in the wet snow, unsure of what to do.
“Your clothes are wet.” He gave you a look. “They will freeze by the time we get there.” He pointed to the house one down from where you were on the street. “We are right here.” His voice was soft.
Almost comforting.
“Don’t worry about your clothes. I’ll figure that out.” His words did nothing to turn off the ‘bad idea’ alarms blaring in your head.
They were right next to the other alarms of survival. ‘You’re freezing idiot. Warmth. Warmth.’ Your body chanted.
Still rooted in your spot, Joel grabbed your wrist. Gently urging you towards his horse. Your body obeyed, moving slowly. Finally reaching the animal, Joel placed both of his hands on either side of your hips.
Beautiful body heat slammed into you along with his signature smell. The smell of faded whiskey on his breath hit your nose as you faced each other. It took him only one try to pick you up.
Suddenly you felt like a paperweight with how easily he lifted you. Then you were on the horse. Arms crossing tightly into your soaked shirt. Trying your best to generate your own body heat.
Joel made for a satchel tied to the horse's other side. Fabric rushed and you couldn't be bothered to look and see what he was doing.
A blanket wrapped around your shoulders. You took the corners eagerly. It did little, but it helped.
You looked for Joel, having expected him to have joined you by now. He was a few paces away from the horse. Having spotted your backpack, which was now just as water logged as you were.
He picked it up and threw one strap on his right shoulder.
You scouted over on the horses rear as far as you could. Allowing Joel the space he needed to mount onto the saddle.
He snapped the reigns and clicked his tongue. Signing the horse forward.
It took but seconds to arrive at his front door.
He helped you down, and practically drug you onto his decently sized porch.
You bounced your weight on both legs. Transferring your weight to one side then the next as he unlocked the door.
As he pushed it open, he didn’t need to push you inside. Because as soon as it had creaked open you were pushing past him, darting inside.
The rush of heat had your skin on fire. Frost and slush trailing behind you.
Immediately spotting the fireplace, you made your way to it.
Throwing your hands up to meet the heat it was giving off.
You sighed contemptly.
Despite the small pool of water that formed on Joel’s wooden floor.
You heard rather than saw Joel as he moved behind you. Saying nothing as you heard the sound of stairs creaking.
Taking a chance to look at where he had vanished to. Your eyes roamed the space. The living space was much larger than Gileons.
But roughly the same open style layout. It was more well organized then you had thought it would be.
Every pillow and nick nack had its place. Of course Joel was just as much of a control freak in his personal life as the person he presented to others.
It smelled different than you had imagined. You pictured it smelling like a wood shop and a bar. More like Joel.
His house was anything but. It smelled pleasant. Sweet almost. What the scent was, you weren’t sure.
Cinnamon maybe? Vanilla?
Regardless they were all a deep set in tone.
It smelled more like a bread shop than a home.
The stairs creaked again under Joel’s returning weight. He had something in his arms.
A bunch of something’s.
Closing in the space you decided to meet him half way once he left the stairs.
He came baring a towel, an large shirt that would look more like a dress on you.
You took stock of everything he handed you. Making a barrier with the ever damp growing blanket around you. Holding your arms out to keep the items from get to drenched.
Towel.
Check.
Shirt.
Check.
But no pants, and no underwear.
You casted him a look.
“I didn’t have any pants that would fit you.” He seemed honest about it.
A grin formed on your face. Your shivering had slowed but waves still came and went.
“The same goes for underwear I assume.” He nodded. You saw an opening.
“What? Does Joel Miller not keep trophies of the women he brings to his bed?” He took a step closer. Causing you to take one back. Your heart stalled.
You actually felt it skip a beat, before it kicked up pace.
“No. Because that is something a boy who can’t keep his dick in his pants would do.” The admission had you locking eyes with him. His cruel words aiding in your mission for warmth.
“Just like how a boy would have left you out in the cold to find your own way home.” Your breath hitched as he leaned in closer.
“And I am no boy.” Your cheeks heated. Your whole body did.
“Are you claiming to be an honorable man?” You sniffed, nose beginning to run. Thankfully it wasn’t too embarrassing for the time being.
Joel just kept his brown eyes on you. His hair brushing up against his forehead. You took the opportunity to look at him.
Really look at him.
He had a scar on the bridge of his nose. One that looked recently opened from the way it was reddened.
“Go take a shower before you get more water on my floor.” The tense moment was gone as he brushed by you.
Choosing to not notice that he hadn’t answered the question as you headed for the stairs.
Choosing to ignore the scar.
Chapter 12: Joel's House
Summary:
Summary
You find yourself in Joel’s House.
Wearing his shirt.
Watching his shows.The battle has only just begun.
Notes:
Author’s Note:
Just a warm up chapter evil laugh
Chapter Text
Joel’s house
You had found Joel’s bathroom with surprising ease. Not that there were many open doors on the second floor.
In fact there were only two others. The space was much smaller than you expected given the size of the living room.
Placing the items down on the small sink, you started the struggle of working your clothes off.
The blanket was easily discarded, but your main clothes were a work out.
You tugged and pulled at your jacket. Pushing the fabric down your arms.
Once that was off the real challenge started.
You half looked into the mirror, avoiding connect with your own image. You were now able to get a good look at your torn shirt.
Deciding the item a total loss you began ripping it the rest of the way open. Once it was off you crumbled it up and chunked it on the ground.
The water causing a ‘thawp’ sound.
Next was your pants.
All out war broke out as you struggled against the now finger trap like cloth. The wet cloth didn’t want to unhook itself from your chilled skin.
You won the war at last. With one last buck of your leg your pants gave way.
Unhooking your bra was the easiest of all of it.
Your underwear annoying coiled in on itself as your fingers tugged them off.
Scanning the room you found a floor vent.
Surely the heat from down stairs would reach up here. So you grabbed your bra and underwear, ringing them out over the tub the best you could.
Then laid them over the small vent.
There was no point in trying to dry your other items.
A thought occurred to you then. Maybe Joel kept other items besides underwear from women.
Naked, you sprung to the double cabinet doors under the sink.
Ripping them open and digging through them.
You rugged and searched and…..you smiled as you pulled out a small hair dryer.
It was a small victory.
“Quite the honorable man Joel.” You grumbled as you examined the machine. Now you wouldn’t need to be in here for hours wait for your underwear to dry.
Because there was no way you were going down stairs without them.
Plenty of men and women had seen your body during your training years. You had lost all shame regarding the insecurities of being in your body brought.
That was before the scars started appearing. Before those researchers took everything from you. Before your own flesh and blood threw you into the room with those men. Like he was giving them an unlimited supply of meat to feast on.
You turned towards the tub, clicking the water on. It sputtered from the shower head in fast streams. You placed your hand under the flow to test the temperature.
Then adjusted it according to your liking.
The steam fogging up the mirror. Giving you a reason to not look back into the reflected surface.
Stepping into the slick surface of the tub. Water met your body. Doing what the snow could not. Washing away the day, and the coldness from your chest.
You watched your fingers flow through the net of water jetting out. Then you took around, spotting Joel’s soaps and shampoos.
A singular bar of soap laid on a small shelf. Plain looking based on its shell white color. Then your eyes met the bottle on the lowest shelf. With some strange logo you hadn’t seen before.
You had learned from Gileon over the last month in Joel’s absence, that Joel was a smuggler.
Chances were that Joel had his own stock of goodies to use for trading. The liquid shampoo being one of the many indicators of his occupation. Jackson was a lot like the foundation in that way.
Though Joel seemed to be a part of the small group that held an occupation. One so prominent anyway.
Which had you wandering back to that night over a month ago. Why hadn’t they sent Joel to fetch supplies?
He had to know about good places to loot.
You finished showering.
Then stepped out of the tub, drying off and throwing the shirt Joel had given you.
Two words marked the gray dress-like shirt.
Miller Lumber
The old iron-on letters flaked and cracked that it was almost unreadable.
Odd.
Not fully at the shirt, but of the old life it held in its seams. The fractures and images dancing in your head.
Suddenly you found yourself thinking about Joel as you wrung out your hair.
What had his life looked like before the outbreak?
Was he the same aggravating person you knew?
Or had he been different?
Softer?
Kinder?
You almost laughed.
Joel would never be those things now. If he ever had been.
Using the air dryer you made relatively quick work of drying your things off. Shoving your legs into the holes of your underwear. You then dried your hair. Tying it up into a frizzy mess. Out of your realm of normal ponytail and braid.
Then you tugged the shirt down, it fell easily into place. Just past your knees. It wasn’t perfect but it would have to do until Joel could grab Gileon.
You finished up in the bathroom. Bare feet meeting dark wood floors as you exited. Towels and wet clothes in hand you made for the staircase.
Surely Gileon was here by now.
Though as you made your way into the living room, you were only greeted by Joel lounging on his couch. His legs kicked out and arms tucked behind his head. Above everything else he was in what looked like Joel’s version of pajamas.
The room itself was almost pitch black. Lit up only by the small box like tv on a wooden stand a few feet away. Playing some sort of old film from the sounds of it.
What was happening? He shouldn’t be here practically sleeping on his couch.
“Where’s Gileon?” You asked, Water dripping from the pile of clothes in your arm. Joel’s shirt grazed your knees as you came to a halt.
Joel didn’t even move his head as he said, “Not happening tonight.”
“Like hell.”
He turned his head then. “Snow storm is sweeping in. Council says it’s the last one before spring.”
You raised a brow, not believing him. You dropped your clothes to the floor. Not caring if he scolded you. Because this, this was not happening.
Your disbelieving broken laugh had him pausing his show. He shifted himself upward on the couch.
“Fine. I’ll walk home, asshole. I’ll be back tomorrow for my clothes.” It didn’t matter that you could wear your boots, so you had no shoes. Or that you would be walking home from Joel’s without pants. If you left now with night still on your side then Gileon would never know. Or the town for that matter.
You went toward his front door and flung it open.
Bitter cold wind and large white flurries meet your face. You heard Joel’s amused chuckle as you slammed the door closed. You turned back towards him.
“How can you be so….so….” You were actually at a loss for words.
“Spit it out, lest you choke on your own lies.” His mocking tone had your closing in the space between you before you could think.
“You have to be one of the most aggravating people that have ever walked this planet.” You started, now it was your turn to look down on him.
“I mean honestly I don’t think I have ever wished for someone to be out of my life more than I do you.” The honesty kept coming out, finally finding its way through a crack in your well built wall.
“And that is saying something Joel. Because I have met a lot of people that I wish I could un-meet.” Your glare was as sharp as ice.
The memory from your training day came next. How Joel had risked everything to save you. For reasons you still didn’t understand. Maybe reasons you didn’t want to learn about.
“And here I am. Stuck. With the one person I am supposed to trust. But hate more than anything. In the middle of a random fucking snow storm. With no dry clothes, and no way out.” Your voice grew tired. Tired of fighting and just exhaustion in general. You have in and flopped on the couch beside him.
Only a cushion space separating you. Your index finger and thumb met your temple and began their pursuit of ironing out your growing headache.
Joel said nothing, didn’t even move a hair.
How could someone his size be so still?
“This just keeps getting worse.” You mumbled. Because you had nowhere to sleep, no bed, at least when Joel went to bed you would have the couch to yourself.
Silence fell.
Your hand falling in place next to the other in your lap and you stared at the tv. A frozen image showed.
A man paused mid-sentence dressed in what appeared to be an old sheriff's outfit. The show had no color, only casted in white’s and grays. In front of the man stood a mechanic of sorts.
Goofy looking with his loose worksman outfit. Wrench in hand. The men were standing at a gas station that also seemed to be the mechanics shop. The more you studied, the more the picture captured your interest.
It had been a while since you had caught up on many shows or tv. Surprisingly they weren’t all that rare to come across. What with the lack of people having working power nowadays.
You broke the silence. “What are you watching?”
“Andy Griffith.” He said.
“That’s an odd name.” You sunk further into the couch. The soft pillows catching your body as it lost its battle with gravity.
You heard rather than saw Joel shift his head towards you.
“It was a show I used to watch with my dad. He loved it, it wasn’t til’ I got older that I understood why.” His confession caught you off guard.
“Then when everything happened, I forgot the show even existed.” He sounded mournful. But not in the usual way losing someone now would do. No. This seemed deeper. Sadder.
As if Joel had been given time with his father and hadn’t appreciated it.
It was strange how someone like Joel could mourn a parent. Not because he was a dick, he was. But strange to see the glimpse of the boy Joel might have once been.
One who sought his father’s approval.
Your eyes kept pinned to his. Those dark brown eyes, normally casted with the weight he carried, seemed lighter. Something in your chest easied.
He hadn’t taken your bait earlier. He let you rant, as if he knew you needed it.
No.
He was just tired and probably didn’t want to put up a fight.
Shifting again you shoved your knees into the large shirt. Covering your legs and making yourself into a ball.
“What was he like?” You asked. His eyes flickered. Which almost had you back tracking .
But then he was speaking, “A lot like me.” An answer that spoke for itself.
A dick.
Violent.
A drunkard at times.
Another voice crept in,
Loyal
Hardworking
Trustworthy
Someone who had no regard for his own safety.
You only nodded.
“What about you Mrs. mysterious?” Clearly he was hoping for an in. Why, you weren’t sure, but you wanted to find out. So you humored him.
“My father is….complicated.” You averted your eyes from his.
“He is the one who taught me to fight.” Honesty wasn’t a companion you were expecting tonight.
“But he isn’t a good man. Far from it.” Your voice grew quiet.
“He is still alive?”
You nodded again. “Unfortunately.”
“So why didn’t he come with you here?” Joel was good at asking the right questions. But you could tell now the game he was playing. He was gathering information. This wasn’t a conversation. It was an interrogation.
“We split ways just before I came here. We got into a big argument. He wanted to go to a different camp. But Jackson was the better option. So, he left.” A lie. A total bullshit lie. One that Joel didn’t see through as he shook his head in disappointment.
“So he just left you.” Joel had no idea. Your father though alive and still very much prevalent in your life, he had left you years ago.
Joel grabbed the remote beside him. Moving his wrist to shake the device as he said, “Care to watch?”
The conversation switch was sudden. But you were already here. Might as well make the most of it.
“Do I have any other choice?”
“Not really.”
A small smile played at the corner of your mouth.
For the next few hours you and Joel sat next to one another. You watched in curiosity as the show unfolded. It was dull, sure.
Nothing more than a local sheriff and his deputy going through life together. It had it’s funny moments, and had serious ones.
Mostly due to the Sheriff, the main lead of the show teaching lessons to his son. Or keeping his deputy, and goofy mechanic from getting into trouble.
Though more often than not the content was lost to you. It wasn’t one of the older shows you enjoyed. Yet it wasn’t awful.
Joel paused the show again.
“You know, you never told me your name.” You blinked.
“What?” You said, the sudden question catching you off balance. But as you thought about it Joel was right. You had never given it to him.
“Oh it’s-” You gave him the name you had used at the community center. Stunned that you had forgotten such a detail. Not that you had many well versed conversations with him to give him such information. Even if it was false.
A soft hum was his only answer.
Since you were on the topic of things that never came up you said, “I never thanked you for that day.” He didn’t have to ask to know what you were talking about.
You watched as his brow rose. The light from the tv gives you a clear view of his face. You allowed your legs to pop out of the long shirt at last. You stretched them out a bit. Stiff from their locked place. You smoothed Joel’s shirt out. Fixing it over your bare skin.
“Why did you come and help me?” The real question that had been bothering you. Joel had treated you like shit every day after. So why had he risked everything to get you out of that botched situation?
“Because everyone was content watching you die.” His response was immediate. You shifted again, turning to face him now. A clear encouragement for him to continue. You just knew there had to be a deeper reason.
“Because I couldn’t sit aside and watch as you did everything you could, and still fail.” You wanted to tell yourself that you would have been able to get out. Would have carved a path through the infected to stay alive.
But you knew even with your skills it would have indeed been in vain. You didn’t want to think about what would have happened to you if Joel hadn’t stepped in.
Failure.
For some reason the way he said it made it sound even more depressing.
“Or maybe it was because I wanted you to be indebted to me.” You huffed a laugh.
“We can’t even get along for me to entertain the idea of paying you back.” You ran the pads of your fingers over your rough nails. Feeling the grooves, bumps, and broken bits. Anything to give you something to focus on rather than your first normal conversation with Joel.
“Thanking you should be enough payment. Not many people hear those words from me. You should be honored.” Your eyes flickered up as he placed a hand on his chest. He didn’t say anything, but he didn’t need to.
You shook your head at him.
“Can we call it a truce?” You asked him. Your gaze growing serious. You were just tired of this back and forth. You need Joel’s trust, and tonight might be the only time you would get it.
“Truce.” He nodded in agreement. You moved to pick at your shirt.
Joel’s shirt. You corrected yourself.
“So….friends?” You asked.
“Now I didn’t say that.” Your stomach dropped. This wasn’t the truce you were hoping for.
“It’s that the whole point of a truce?” You couldn’t keep the frustration from your voice. And you were really trying.
“Look, tonight changes nothing. We had a bit of fun, that’s it.” You couldn’t hide your defeat. In truth you hadn’t thrown that snow at him in hope that he would immediately trust you. That wasn’t how this world worked, and yet….
“But,” Joel continued, “Maybe it’s a step towards being true partners. I might not understand what happened between you and that soldier that night.” He was talking about Nightshade.
So Joel hadn’t forgotten that little detail then.
“Though, I think I have been too hard on you.” You nodded in agreement with his statement.
“Are you apologizing to me Joel?” You raised a brow, unable to keep from picking at him.
He casted you a look.
“Fine. Partner’s. Not friends.” You could work with that. It was better than nothing. At least partners could trust each other.
It was the foot in the door that you needed.
“So…..how are we going to explain to Gileon how this happened?” You gestured towards his shirt.
He glanced at it, and had a look that seemed a bit shocked. As if he had forgotten that he even had it.
“We?”
“I don’t have to explain anything to him.” You rolled your eyes. Apparently being partner’s didn’t mean he had to help you out all of the time.
“Yeah well, this isn’t my fault.” You grumbled.
“It is actually.”
“Asshole.”
You buried your face into your apprised legs to hide your frustration. There was no way Gileon would ever let you live this down. Especially when you could give him no logical excuse.
Yet it was something you didn’t mind trying to find a story for. Or even if you couldn’t.
You had needed that moment, and silently hoped for more.
Lifting your head you began really looking around at the tv stand. To the small digital clock that read, 3:45 am.
Dawn would be here soon.
“How long did they say the storm would last?”
“They aren’t sure. Best guess is until tomorrow afternoon. Worst case, a few days.” Yeah, there would be no way Jackson would lock down for that long. If they did, raiders would see it as a sign of weakness.
“Don’t worry, the council is having people on rotation.” You perked up at that.
“And why aren’t we out there?” A genuine question. Tommy was on the council. You wouldn’t put it past him if he arranged for Joel to be on less patrols.
“Because I just got back.” Right, Jackson’s stupid policy about returning groups not being allowed on patrol’s or rotations.
“I think I deserve to know where you went, if I am to be stuck here for days with you.”
“I don’t have to tell you shit.” With that he began shoving his way off the couch.
You rose with him.
“What happened to us being partners, Joel?”
He turned, more swiftly than you had judged. You collided into him, recovering quickly you looked up at him. You were almost similar in height, maybe a good few inches off, with you being slightly smaller.
“I am allowed outside the walls for a reason. I was smuggling something.” You watched as he tossed his eyes to the side.
Avoiding eye contact.
He was lying, or at the least not telling the whole truth.
But he was right. Being partner’s didn’t allow you to know everything about him. Or what he did outside of his trips with you.
You weren’t sure why it bothered you so much. It wasn’t like it was an easy fix. You were still in ‘training’ by Jackson’s standards. You couldn’t just follow him outside the gate the next time he went out.
Wait.
That is exactly what you could do.
Gileon knew Jackson inside and out. Maybe you could bribe him to show you one of the smuggling routes.
No.
That was an idiotic plan.
Not one that if Joel found out would have him trusting you.
Besides, what did you care?
His eyes flickered back. Locking onto yours.
Suddenly the living room seemed too small. Joel had a way of making you feel two feet tall. Even as you straightened your spine.
“When you are allowed to leave, you will be able to go out on your own. And I won’t question you about it.” His words were slow, calculated.
You shook your head, not breaking his stare.
“You're such a liar.”
“Bold words.”
“Bold words? Coming from a man who can’t trust his partner with information?” The challenge was clear.
“Careful.” One word, laced with as much poison as Nightshade put onto his blades. A warning to not push it.
“Fuck. You.” You shoved at his chest. He didn't so much as budge. You would have better luck in moving a brick wall. You wanted to push him again, and again.
You didn’t back down from a fight very often. You stuck to fighting those who you knew you could best. It was different in a survival situation. That strength came from anger.
From the shift you pulled with him, Joel was swift. Built. It would take several blows to take him down. You knew if you ever went toe-to-toe, you would be as good as dead.
It was a tough pill to swallow, but Joel wasn’t someone you could defeat. Unless you killed him.
Which oddly wasn’t something you wanted to do.
Despite your frustration, Joel had grown on you tonight.
He could match your steel, and not back away. Not like others would do.
To your surprise Joel backed up a step.
Your chin rose a bit. A small victory won.
In a blink Joel’s Hand was on it. Tilting it up further. Stepping back into place.
Your heart picked up. Not the kind that had your body warming. Quite the polar opposite. Brittle fear gripped you. It wouldn’t take Joel much of an effort to snap your neck.
One quick movement from him, and your head could twist at an odd angle.
Too often you wondered what death would feel like. What would become of you in whatever after life there was. If one existed at all. You didn’t necessarily fear death, more so what came after. Maybe it would be a respite.
True rest.
Or maybe it was like the Seraphite’s preached.
Or maybe it would just be darkness that only you were aware of.
Trapped.
That is what terrified you the most.
Another form of trapment.
It would be what you deserved.
More so.
You killed without regard. You could have let Nightshade go, but he was a loose end.
Unstable. Untrustable.
Just like Joel was now becoming.
“I don’t think you would survive that.” His voice shifted again, his drawl returning. Your face must have shown your confusion, because a shit eating grin now lay on his face.
His fingers wrapped around your throat. Another jolt of fear passed through you.
Fuck.
He was going to do it.
He was going to kill you.
Good.
Your eyes closed. Waiting for the blow, to hear your own neck snapping. But all you felt was the warm palm of his hand. Then the fingers that kept a soft pressure around your neck.
You hadn’t realized how tense your body had been until you relaxed.
Joel wasn’t going to kill you.
Not today anyway.
Then your mind finally connected the dots to what he said.
What?
Fear began mixing with something else. It shifted into a feeling you pushed away quickly.
Your eyes darted around Joel’s face. Searching for something to evaluate. For once you knew you were an open book. To fearful or whatever the hell else written plainly.
His thumb moved towards the base of your chin. Then began caressing the edge of your jaw.
Your body grew stiff again. Stomach warming.
You failed to read his expression, only his eyes gave away a small bit. He was examining you. His eyes slowly trailed down. Lingering a bit too long on the shirt you were wearing.
You felt your cheeks heating.
‘Calm down. He is just fucking with you.’ It was an internal struggle. One part of you wanted to see what happened if you kept poking the bear.
You didn’t have too though.
Joel lowered his face. His mouth moving towards your ear, in that same movement he forced you back. Pushing you up against a nearby wall. You stumbled, but Joel kept you upright with his grip.
“Don’t think I forgot about that night on the roof.” His whispers almost had you shattering right there. If his voice was a river you would gladly drown in it.
God, this man was confusing. One minute he was saying you were partners the next he was pulling a stunt like this.
It was as if whiplash was a person.
He was right again though.
Not that it would never, never happen. But if you and Joel ever slept together you might not survive it. With not even two sentences and a simple touch this man had turned your switch on.
It made you feel weak. Out of Control.
Was that what he wanted you to feel?
He was winning if so.
“I don’t know what you are talking about.” You gritted out.
“Who is the liar now?” He basically purred into your ear.
“But fine.” His hand was gone in a flash. But you stayed up against the wall. Afraid to move, to breathe.
“If you can pretend that didn’t happen, I can pretend that just didn’t.”
Your hand replaced his. Rubbing out the feeling of his touch.
“I fucking hate you.” You mustarded as much hatred as you could. Given your current state, it wasn’t hard. Your voice even cracked with the amount of sudden rage that replaced your fear.
Fuck him for making you feel like this.
You weren’t weak, or out of control.
‘Keep telling yourself that and maybe you will believe it.’ Your hand moved to the side of your other arm.
“Believe me. I hate you more.”
You doubted that.
No one had ever gotten under your skin more than him.
You hated it. Hated him.
You watched as he walked back towards his couch. He tossed a throw pillow towards one end. Then fluffed out a blanket.
Breaking yourself out of your trance, you began moving. Thinking he was making a place for you. Just as you were about to close in on him. He rose back up from fluffing the fleece out.
He turned again.
“What are you doing?”
“I-um.” You stammered. What the fuck was happening. You knew what you were doing, but you couldn’t forget what just happened.
Maybe Joel did give you Whiplash.
“I figured you were going to bed? I was coming to take over. I know how to make a couch comfortable.” You tried to regain your venom back. But it was useless.
“You aren’t sleeping on the couch.”
“Oh.” You blinked.
“Then where-”
“In my bed.” He cut you off, and you began shaking your head no.
“No. I would rather be on the couch.” Sleeping in his bed was not a good idea. It felt like a line.
What line you weren’t sure.
“You almost had frostbite tonight. Upstairs is warmer.” You eyed him. He had another pillow in hand, and he made a gesture to the stairs.
“First door on your right.”
“I am not sleeping in your bed, Joel.”
“It’s either there or out on the porch like any good dog.”
“Is that how to talk to every girl you take home?” You half-sighed the words. He was hopeless.
“If so, no wonder you're so grumpy.”
“What is that supposed to mean?” You shrugged at him.
“Maybe if you weren’t such a dick, maybe you would be able to give your lovers some.” You snickered at your own remark. Which was fastly silenced as his gaze grew cold.
“I’m too tired for this. Get your ass upstairs before I drag it up there.” You waved him off, then made for the stairs. Last thing you needed was for him to just that. So you made your way up the smooth steps. Somehow finding his door in the dark.
You paused at the doorway, your hand on the cold brass knob.
This felt strange.
Invasive.
Your own room was your safe space. Somewhere you could go and just let go. Where you could go and create an identity only you knew. A sacred ground where your pain and secrets could die away.
It also oddly felt intimate. You never crossed into anyone’s room in a situation like this without taking them as well.
You turned the knob. Entering into the medium sized room. To the king bed taking up most of the space. Leaving little option but to sleep on it.
You briefly considered the floor, but you would need your rest to deal with Joel.
You didn’t need a light to see the room. The lights from outside illuminated it enough. Not annoyingly so, but softly. It smelled like Joel.
Wood, Whiskey, and was that a cigarette smell? Joel smoked?
Not shocking.
Yet it wasn’t an unpleasant smell as most people who smoked. In fact it made the dark space inviting.
It was a soothing mixture of Joel and a well lived space.
You just couldn’t let yourself wonder how many people had been in this bed over the years.
Joel didn’t seem like one to sleep around too much. Only sticking to one partner at a time.
You stopped yourself from thinking any further. But you couldn’t help it.
You closed his door behind you. Allowing your legs to close in on each other creating a wonderful friction you needed.
All rational thinking escaped you.
You needed a release, it was far few in between that you took your time. Your schedule was strict in the foundation and often the only time you had was at night.
Now it was no different.
Your non-dominant hand found your breast through the shirt. You began pawing at the beaded nipple under it. You sunk to the floor. Unable to keep yourself up any longer.
Trying to silently crumble with Joel downstairs.
The thought had you grasping at the end of your shirt. Hiking it desperately upwards.
Your movements were rough and quick as your finger found your center.
Sure you had the time to draw this out, but that wasn’t what you needed. This was cold, and anger filled lust.
Often you had to solely focus on the movements. Very rarely did you imagine anything at all in these moments.
But as your fingers sunk into yourself, you remembered Joel’s hand on your throat. The stark fear it brought you.
Then you remembered his fingers digging into your flesh. The sound of his stupid voice against your ear. How in that moment you wanted him to call you a liar again.
Your non-dominant hand closed down harder on your breast as you pumped your other hand faster.
Typically you would start with one finger, but you had skipped that part. Starting off with three.
You bit back a soft whimper as your finger hit that one spot.
His hand.
His voice.
What had happened downstairs played like a broken record in your head.
Each rapid breath you inhaled the smell of his room.
Of him.
Fuck.
You couldn’t help the small noises you made and you shimmied further unto the his bedroom floor.
You just prayed he couldn’t hear you. You doubted it.
But just the thought had you growing closer.
What would he do if he found you like this?
On the verge of coming on his floor, forgoing the bed.
Your fingers pumped harder. Your back began to arch as you grew even closer.
You bite your lip to hold back the moans and soft sounds. Making sure to not shift to much to make much noise.
You felt like you were on fire.
You pumped and gripped, harsh and cruel as you fed your body the food it needed.
It felt starved and craved for touch. Your hips bucked and shifted in rhythm with your fingers.
Higher and higher you climbed as you sought the memory of his phantom touch.
You gasped in quietly, not able to contain the soft moans now.
It was rough, harsh, and exactly what you needed, as one last image sprang into your mind.
It was simple, a stupid and something that after this was over, you would never think of again.
The picture of his soft grin had you shattering on his floor.
His name a soft prayer in your lips.
Chapter 13: Partners
Notes:
Authors Note:
Hello everyone. I apologize for the long wait. A lot of things have been going on in my life.
Since I left you all without an update, I figured I owe you an explanation.
For one I felt a lack of motivation, I was far ahead in the story in my own mind and it got built up to the point that I knew so much and how I wanted things to go that I got bored.
Then, I was fired from my job, (might have stated that before, but not sure)
Then I found out I was pregnant, and then found out a week later that I miscarried. On top of just starting college.
Safe to say I have not been in the best headspace. But lately with me getting motivated from college and all the writing I was doing there, I remembered my story.
The one that I forgot, the one that allowed me the free space to bury my own life between the lines.
I can’t promise a sturdy schedule like I was pushing out. College is taking a lot of my time, along with still dealing with the emotions of losing my pregnancy.
But I hope to continue the series.
I started it and I want to finish it.
So without further wait……I present chapter 12.
Chapter Text
You woke up still on the floor.
Back aching, and shoulder hitched from your twisted position. Arm numb and now tingling from where you had rested your head. You rose up using one arm to prop yourself up as you rubbed at your temples.
You groaned as you twisted to the side, your back popping.
You hadn’t remembered falling asleep.
Pushing yourself off the floor you finally got a better look into Joel’s room. It was bigger than it appeared last night. The dark had warped it into a small space.
Your sight landed on Joel’s bed. The dark navy sheets now seemed inviting. Based on the light coming through the window it was early dawn. Moving around his bed, you peaked through the olive colored curtains.
The wind still snapped at the window and flurries rushed by. Fogging and clinging to the window. You spotted another clock on Joel’s nightstand.
6:00 am. You had only been asleep three hours.
You could only assume that the kids knew training was off until it let up. Which meant you could go back to sleep.
Your attention went back to Joel’s massive bed. Then to the rest of the room. It was well organized, only a few shirts hung on the outside of what you assumed was a closet door. A pair of boots laid just under his bed.
Your body craved more sleep after last night.
But chances were Joel was still asleep. Which meant you had free access to Joel’s room.
You would be an idiot to not take an opportunity to look around. You turned, being immediately greeted by a worn brown wooden dresser. You made a few steps towards it.
Looking at the disarray that laid there.
Reading glasses, faded magazines, more interestingly several discarded and half empty medicine bottles. None had Joel’s name written on them. The once white label’s turned yellow with age. All having different people’s names on them. Some were unreadable.
Others still could be read.
You picked one up. The pills created noises as you tilted the bottle, eyes squinting as you read the names of the medicine.
Sertraline. Otherwise known as zoloft
Your brows furrowed. You put the bottle down. Moving immediately to the next.
Fluoxetine, or prozac
You put that bottle down as well. You picked up another one.
Trazadone.
The other bottles held similar names. Joel took anti-depressants? You fidgetted with the bottle in your hand before placing it back as you had found it. A good other five bottles laid on the small counter.
All empty.
The discovery had you deciding that searching his dresser drawers wasn’t a good idea. So you moved to his nightstand. Sitting on the side of the bed as you scrounged through the one small drawer.
Only being greeted by a packet of almost empty cigarette box, and a lighter.
So Joel was depressed.
Depressed and a smoker.
You finally paid attention to what laid on top of the table. A hard back book with a planet on it.
Joel was into planetary science? You weren’t expecting that.
He didn’t seem the sort of person who took any interest in space. You picked up the book. Feeling the cold, sleek cover. You pushed yourself into his bed. Leaning up against his head board as you crossed your legs.
You opened the cover, then began to flip through the pages. You loved science. Loved how there were whole other worlds out there. It was fascinating, learning about astronomy was a side passion of yours.
Too often did you look at the night sky, to the stars. Imagining what it would be like to go anywhere but here. Maybe there was some other life out there. The idea was outlandish, silly.
Only something a child would have hope for.
You flipped the silk-like page. To the bright clear image of earth, how the different layers worked. The next page talked about clouds, and weather.
You found it strange how precise this world ecosystem was. Everything had once worked together in harmony. Creating the perfect life for life-forms of all sorts. Something that no other planet possessed.
You closed the book with a soft thud. Placing it back on the nightstand. Tilting it back into position, again just as Joel had left it. You let your body fall to the side. Crashing into Joel’s sheets and pillows.
You breathed and his smell welcomed you. Warmth settled into you. A kind you hadn’t experienced before. His smell….comforted you. Like the invisible molecules were a person themselves. Wrapping you in a lullaby of peace.
You felt your lashes fluttering. Fighting sleep again, and losing.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Joel
10:00 am
He had taken the chance of knocking on his own door.
But no answer came.
He turned the knob, to find you had left it unlocked. He took it as an invitation. He pushed his door open.
His eyes immediately landed on you, or rather your figure. Splayed out on his bed. He watched as your chest rose and fell in deep long breaths. The way you were softly snoring.
How your hair was free from its normal ties and restraints. It looked like a halo around your head. You were laying on top of his sheets. One leg was raised impossibly high. It was a shock that you were getting any sort of fitful rest.
You looked like a folded pretzel.
He folded his sheets backwards, opening the folds of fabric. He gently rolled you onto your side. Stopping when he heard your groan in disapproval. Then you stopped moving.
Then he moved you again. Folding his comforter back over and onto your sleeping form.
He tucked a piece of loose hair behind your ear.
He wasn’t sure why he had come up here. He had told himself it was because he wanted to make sure you hadn’t been snooping. From how deeply in sleep you were he doubted you had moved.
He couldn’t help but linger.
“Fine. Partner’s.” Your words still haunted him. More like his own stupid words haunting him. He knew why he had said them.
They were a wall. A way to keep you at a distance. A safety rail.
You hadn’t even been here a month and despite spending little time together, you had managed to turn his whole world upside down. The whole month that he had been gone all he had thought about was you.
Despite his logical senses.
He found himself wondering what you were doing, how much trouble you had gotten into. Or if you locked yourself in Gileon’s house.
He had never thought about any of the women he dabbled in. Worst of all he had even dabbled with you at all.
He should hate you.
He did hate you.
You weren’t trustworthy.
Maybe if you hadn’t given him such a simple bullshit lie things would be different.
Your name wasn’t Lily. You might have used it at registration at the community center, but it wasn’t your real one.
He wasn’t sure how he knew, but he had this sense about people sometimes.
He just couldn’t figure out why you had lied about something so simple. How much weight could your name possibly carry to lie about it?
It only added to your mystery.
He knew he shouldn’t take the bait. Should just leave it alone.
Leave you alone.
So he grabbed his clothes. A pair of dark jeans and a pitch black shirt. But he took his time. Careful to not have you waking up from the noise he would normally make in the morning.
He took one last before looking at your form. One hand on the door handle. He knew he needed to go retrieve Ellie before the storm got any worse. She was still spending time at Dina’s house.
He closed the door, leaving whatever he was feeling in the room with you.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
It was noon before you woke up again. Your internal clock, bolting you upright. Your vision cleared and you could feel Joel’s sheet wrapped around your legs. Your shirt was raised up past your breast. Exposing your scars.
You tugged the fabric down before you could see the raised indentions. You freed yourself from the sheets grasping, swinging your legs to the side of the bed. You didn’t need to run your hand through your hair to know it looked like a rat's nest. Leaving the ravaged bed you went to the window.
Blinding snow still whipped at the window. Still no signs of letting up. It seemed like the worst was happening. Good thing Joel was still on sabbatical. You pitied the poor souls that were stuck out on patrols in this weather.
Your feet padded on the floor as you made Joel’s bed back. You were surprised that he had come to wake you yet. You very rarely slept this late.
It made you feel useless, as if that was the only thing you were capable of doing. Had Joel somehow managed to slip you something?
No, he was a dick, but not someone who would drug someone else. He seemed like someone who fought with his fist and sneak attacks. Not someone who restored to a cowards way out.
You shook your head from the thought of Joel. If only you had some pants, you could go for a run. You needed the sharp air breathing and slicing your lungs. Needed to taste the metal that would rise in your throat from spent lungs.
Speaking of which, you remembered keeping your clothes downstairs. Maybe they dried while you slept.
Only one way to find out.
You didn’t look at Joel’s room as you made your way to his door. There was no way he wasn’t awake by now. You just found it strange that you hadn’t heard him stirring around the house.
The knob clicked as you opened the door, then again as you shut it behind you. You turned being greeted by the small staircase. You made your way down it. You turned your head to the couch.
Expecting Joel to be there on the couch. He wasn't.
Gone were the pillows and blanket he had placed there the night before. Gone was your pile of wet clothes. You swore in your head.
Joel had moved your clothes. Now it was a hunt for those items.
“Joel?” You called, but he didn’t answer. You looked in the kitchen, empty. You made your way down the hallway. To his small mudroom. Looking around you spotted his unfolded laundry, the jackets that hung from the open armoire.
“Joel!” You were practically yelling now. Where the fuck did he go of to? From the living room you made your way to his dining room. Without the darkness hiding the house you found that the house wasn’t as open as you had thought. Inside it was cut off into three main rooms.
From the faded red front door lined with stained glass, the living room was off to your almost immediate right. The walls were divided in both texture and paint in the main hallway. The top half was a flat wall painted in pale blue, the bottom half a black boxed off wood structure.
You transitioned from his dining room right into his kitchen. Being met with bright white cabinets, and gray veined quartz countertops. It was beautiful, with a large island in the middle, and a long L shaped counter off to your left. The stove was on the other side of the island. In its own little area and counter space.
You looked to your left, to the main section of the connected counter. To the metal sink, to the lone drained coffee cup beside it. The rim dipped in a dark brown color, and the main body a tanish tone. Picking it up, you inspected it. Turning it to the other side you were met with a painted image of an owl resting on a dead tree branch.
You sat it back down on the counter. The surfaces creating a soft clink upon meeting. You made your way to the fridge, to the very good drawing placed under magnets. They all seemed drawn from the same person based on the style, and from the name signed at the bottom.
But one piece of paper caught your attention. It was folded, unlike the others and had your name on it. Your fake one anyway.
You took the note down, unfolding the paper you began reading.
‘Had to handle something, be back soon. Your clothes are folded in the bathroom upstairs.’ ~ J
You crumbled the note in your hand. Imagining that it was his stupid face.
Joel didn’t just do things like that for people.
You didn’t have to know him personally to understand Joel’s dislike for people.
Especially his own partner.
The boards creaked as you stomped back upstairs–and sure enough–there in the bathroom sitting on the edge of the sink counter was your folded, dry clothes.
Walking over to them you rubbed the denim of your pants between two of your fingers. Trying to determine if he has simply just dried them, or cleaned them as well.
From how soft the fabric was and lack of stiffness, Joel had in fact washed them as well. He probably threw them in the wash before he fell asleep on the couch.
You shrugged off the shirt he had lent you. Folding it as nicely as you could, but not in a way a soldier would. People could tell by certain folds of clothing whether people had once been, or were still a part of a military force.
Something told you Joel would be able to tell that. So fighting the urge to not do it the way you had been taught, you placed the folded shirt on the opposite side of the sink counter.
Then threw on your own clothes.
Properly dressed now, and with dry socks on, you had no further reason to stay at Joel’s. The only downside was your hair tie.
You weren’t exactly sure where you had put it. You could have sworn that it was on your wrist, and from the indention on your skin, it had been at one point.
Odd.
Normally the suckers stayed on. Which meant you would need to find a replacement. Luckily you had spares back at Gileon’s.
You walked back down the stairs, ankles popping softly as you descended.
Though as soon as your foot left the last stair you could hear a muffled voice coming from the porch outside.
“Ellie-I,” Was all you caught of Joel’s voice before you could move closer to the wall that connected to the outside.
“No Joel. I don’t want to do this right now.” It was a girl’s voice. A girl. Not a woman, you could tell by how soft it sounded. Unmatured.
What was Joel doing talking to a girl?
You scanned for your boots. Finding them by the red painted front door. You cramped your foot into them.
Hap-hazardly tying the laces. But as soon as you reached for the black door knob you froze.
Something didn’t feel right about intruding on their conversation.
But from the sound of angry footsteps fading away and Joel’s silence, it seemed whatever they were talking about was over.
Joel’s footsteps sounded next as he approached his door, you didn't have time to back away as he flung open the door.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Joel
“How long have you been standing here?” He didn’t mask the anger from his voice.
The last thing he fucking needed was you eaves dropping on him.
“I just got to the door. I was heading out.” It sounded true enough. Or maybe he allowed it to sound that way so he wouldn’t care.
Of course you were leaving.
You had no reason to stay, just like Ellie.
After all, he was good at pushing people away. Which is what he wanted.
People got hurt when he got involved in things.
Like all of those fireflies and w.l.f members at the hospital.
He told himself that they didn’t deserve to live.
They didn’t.
They were willing to kill a child, in the hopes that a cure could work.
But Joel had seen those things before.
Pandemics, and plagues of the old world rarely had hardly ever been cured, only ever contained and monitored. Often they would cause the symptoms themselves.
Especially cancer. Cancer was much like the outbreak, and all the doctors of the old world never found anything to stop that either.
Not really.
“Joel?” Your voice sliced through his droning thoughts. It had a way of doing that.
It made you dangerous.
He brushed past you, his shoulder bumping against yours, enough so that it moved you out of the way.
He ignored how different you looked with your hair down, how the dark colored clothing you wore clung to you.
He would be lying if he said if he didn’t find you attractive, but he wasn’t a man that really cared about them. Sure, it was nice, but it was really the way you challenged him.
He continued to say nothing as he made his way into his kitchen. To the coffee ground lying in a glass container right behind his favorite mug.
You followed him, but didn’t dare say anything if you had heard anything.
Which was smart of you. It wasn’t your place.
“Thank you for washing my clothes.” He only nodded once in acknowledgement. He didn’t even remark that you had told him thank you.
He might have spoken to you more than others, but today was a day that he didn’t want to talk to anyone.
He wanted you to leave.
Something you seemed to catch onto as you said, “Well, Gileon is probably worried. I’ll see you on rotation next week.” He nodded again.
You stood there a moment as if you were going to say something, but you only turned away. Hair following in a curtain like-halo as it tracked your movement.
He wanted to grab you, if only to run his hand through it. To embrace you like he wanted to.
He would also never admit that he liked this cat and mouse game. How it would switch from you being the mouse, and him the cat, to the opposite.
The sound of the door closing behind you lingered for far too long. He let his coffee finish brewing and inhaled a deep breath of its sweet aroma. He took a sip, and then rolled up the sleeves of his flannel shirt up to his forearms.
Then he reached into his back pocket. To the audio device he had found on that soldier's body, the one you had killed.
It wasn’t a cassette like he had thought it was. Instead it was an ipod, a device from the old world, one rare to anyone besides research teams.
He had managed to find a cord during one of his smudging trips that was capable of charging it. It had finished charging this morning.
He looked at the screen, to the single file on it.
He pressed the middle button, and the tape began playing.
Chapter 14: The Reaper Tape
Notes:
Author’s Note
I know yall are hungry, so this is my apology. Are yall picking up the breadcrumbs yet? (*Evil Laughs*) I know this one is a bit shorter, but I wanted to address what was on the tape that Joel found on Nightshade. (trying to fill in plot holes.) I know it has been a bit slow, but again I do want to drag this out, I feel like there is a lot I haven’t addressed yet and I want to do so. But truth be told I have no idea how long this will be. I was originally hoping it would be around 30 chapters, which I still hope to aim for, but I also don’t want to drag out the plot.
But I am also trying to be realistic. An undercover situation would take time, so I will do my best to still shoot for 30 plus chapters, but again I don’t promise anything lol. As I do want several slutty chapters with Joel and more interactions, and I am trying to slow down on action and fighting scenes. But again this is a survival situation soooo kinda hard to avoid.
Anyway, enjoy!
Tigger Warning:
This chapter contains explicit non-consensual surgery, anesthesia, and torture. If any of this is triggering I suggest you skip to Joel’s pov.
Chapter Text
(The whole chapter is to be imagined as Jerry Anderson reading it out loud, and yes everything that is happening Joel is listening to. Just wanted to make that clear.)
Reaper
Tape 52 of 100
Recorded by: Jerry Anderson
Date is approximately: 12/6/2031
Subject’s age is around: 18
A blood curdling scream echoed in the lab. It was the girl.
Her back was arched at an unnatural angel as she lifted from her strapped place on the exam table. She convulsed, and bucked.
She looked possessed, foam coming out of her mouth, blood from the injections leaking softly from their spots on her back.
The scene was something we were all used to now.
“The third shot has been administered." My assistant beside me said. The injection was a new product.
Something I had come up with only a few nights ago. It was a chemical. Really the foundation wanted to use it for chemical warfare. But no one knew what it would do to a human body.
One that was stronger than the others anyway, all the new recruits had died when I had given it to them.
But not her. Never her.
She seemed to have the ability to not die. As much as General Azrael commanded it from me. I had stopped asking why several years ago.
So long as it kept Abbie from being in this room.
“Move on to the implant.” The girl was still screaming as a scalpel cut into her flesh of her stomach. I was satisfied that the chemical would work, even on our strongest, by the way the darkwebbing and erosion of skin already starting to form around the injection sights.
General Az had made one thing clear over the years.
‘Keep her sedated enough to where she won’t remember much, but enough to where she feels everything.’
So I had done just that. She wouldn’t remember this, and even if she did, it would only be parts. Truth be told, there are times where I sedated her fully.
To where I would pretend to do things to her, while in truth I would give her a reprieve. Which was what I was planning to do now,
I walked over to the steel medical table with my supplies. I injected her first, making it look like another chemical, when it was something that would knock her out until I could put her properly to sleep.
I waited until she stopped bucking to move on. Ignoring the sweat sticking to her body.
Then I grabbed the small bio-degratable sack of mixed liquid. An extraction from newly formed funguses.
Not the cordyceps that had caused the outbreak, but cousins to it.
Our mission this week was to see if they too could cause an outbreak. We are unsure if it will.
But she is by far our strongest subject. She is the reason we have started to speculate on a cure. For the first time in decades we have hope thanks to this soldier.
She recently got promoted as well, to Major. The youngest ever to do so in any form of military that existed.
She was a skilled killer, and truth be told, we had placed injections in her blood stream to make her stronger. Only then to counter balance them with the experiments.
Sometimes when she would be fully sedated I would do cosmetics on her. Not to change anything to make her more pleasing to the eye, but small things. Like putting botox under some of her older scars to make them less prominent.
Or like how after this was over, and my assistants were gone, I would treat the burning areas so they wouldn’t do too much damage. I also plan to do more injections to help with the dark webbing.
They would still show, but they would look like mild bruising. The last thing this poor girl needed was self-asteem issues.
Though, I am sure that she already had them as I slipped the sack inside her skin and sewed it up.
I looked at all the scars on her stomach, the ones I had caused. I tried my best to enter in through the same scars over the years to keep it to a minimum. My guess was she had around seven–now eight on her stomach.
But again I had re-entered those scars too many times to be safe. The amount of scar tissue she had in those areas almost made it impossible to go anywhere near them.
I had no choice but to make a new one. If I planned it right, I wouldn’t have to make a new one until the end of the month. So long as I focused more on random injections.
Yet I knew I was only buying her time until a new scar appeared with no memory of how it happened. Once the implant was in, I dismissed my assistants.
We had been in here for over five hours. Slowly injecting her, making sure she felt everything. That part had been punishment for talking back to the General in front of his troops earlier that day.
Once my assistants were gone, I grabbed the recording device on the table beside me. The one that had documented everything that had happened.
“Reaper is stable now. I plan to keep her under for a few days.” I took a pause, fighting tears. I said something I could only hope she would hear one day.
“I’m so sorry. G-god forgive me.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Joel
Present day, year 2037
He should feel sorry.
But he didn’t.
He hoped she suffered. Every tape he had come across he reviled in her screams. It had taken years to track down any information about her.
Years more finding the first tape. She had been thirteen in the first one.
Rage took over him as he tossed the recorder on the counter. Gripping his mug so tight he could hear the glass groan as he took another sip.
This tape would have been made years after he had first crossed paths with the now feared assassin. He wasn’t sure how old she had been then, young, but old enough to understand a gun, and what she was capable of doing with one.
He didn’t fucking care, he wanted her dead. Wanted to choke the life out of her. To watch her life drain from her eyes.
Just like he had to do with the life she took from him.
His breathing was heavy and fast as he tried to contain his shakes of angers.
He just had one problem. He hadn’t seen her face that night. I had been dark, and he had only heard the name. At the time he didn’t even know she was a woman at all.
Every day he would beat himself up over the fact that he didn’t kill her that night. But he had been too grief stricken. He had vowed to himself that he would find out who this person was, and he would kill her.
He wanted to listen to this after his fight with Ellie, to redirect his anger, and his grief. He already lost one daughter, and now he felt like he was losing Ellie. She was growing suspicious now. She even wanted to move out and into the garage after her birthday in a few months.
He took a breath, then looked down at the muscle of his right arm. The dark colored elastic band hugging tightly to his wrist. To the small hairs clinging to the burnt connected ends.
Even you couldn’t edge his anger in this moment.
He reached for the recorder again, and hit play.
Allowing Reaper’s screams to lull him into sanity.
Chapter 15: Outside of Jackson
Chapter Text
Two Months Later
Winter came and went, and now it was early spring. A week ago you took on gate duty, without Joel, and managed to find a radio.
You found the station the General had given you, and though he didn’t say anything as you had filled him in on your findings. Which was a big whapping of nothing.
You told him that you had another week before you could go outside of the gates to do any real work. You could feel his disappointment and anger through the walkie talkie. It made you flinch and your face contract.
He never did like it when you turned up empty handed, but truly there was nothing to be done about it. You told him how you had gained the trust of the community over the last few months.
How the patrols shifts worked, and how Jackson was guarded from the inside. You didn’t mention that you were training the younger children.
Or about anything that happened with Joel.
You weren’t sure why, but keeping his name away from the General seemed like the right thing to do. Not to mention, he wasn’t relevant to the General.
Az only wanted information that was relevant, training the teens and Joel didn’t fall into that category.
“And Gileon?” The cold voice of the General had said.
“Doing his job, his inventions have kept me alive, and his connections to the community has been a life-line.” Simple, more than you usually would give, you weren’t trying to inflate Gileon to the General. Just making sure he didn’t get rid of him.
He had given you a new time line of three months to gather information. Saying that it was more than enough time for a failure like me to gather the information he needed.
That was exactly a week ago, and now your new task began.
You were still pulling patrol shifts with Joel, and the two of you had actually managed to cross into the vague border of friendship.
Joel was also helping Gileon with orders and smuggling in supplies over the last month. So the two of you had been put on less rotation. Not that you minded of course.
It gave you more time with the teens, the group having grown since the first week it had started.
You even got to meet the girl Joel had talked to that day.
Ellie was fierce, and definitely knew how to fight and shoot thanks to Joel.
The times she did stop by she gave you a run for your money, but most of the time, up until recently she had trained with Joel. The last few weeks she had shown up every day to training.
Not like she needed it like the others did.
You still didn’t know the full story between the two of them, and doubted you ever would. Joel wasn’t the one to tell anyone about his past, he had given your scraps of the things he had gone through.
But you did know one thing.
Joel loved Ellie.
Not in a weird way.
But in the way you thought a father should love his child. Seeing them together when you did showed you a different side to Joel.
One that wasn’t so dickish. One that you could find yourself relating to.
Not that you would ever tell him that.
You were standing at the Main gate, tugging at the straps of your horse for the millionth time. You had been waiting here for the last hour and half.
Waiting for both Joel and Tommy.
Since it was your first day out, one more was needed, and Tommy volunteered. Despite your sour-meeting almost three months ago, you had come to respect Tommy.
He was a good man, and helped his community with his wife Maria. A woman that was slowly becoming your friend.
She would bring you baked goods sometimes, and the two of you would just chat about things. Mostly about controls, and how to better fortify the settlement.
You had also been able to get a good lay out of the very, very large settlement and how things worked here. You could walk all of main street and the route to Joel’s house blind folded now.
Sighing you took a small brush out of your sack. And walked to the front of your horse. Brushing its dark main, then its brown body. The creature snorted in approval.
Causing you to smile.
Another thing that had been slowly coming back to you.
You knew this was a bad sign. Jackson was changing you.
Not necessarily the settlement itself, but the people.
For the first time in a long time you felt like you belonged, but then you would remember the reason you were here.
That this time was borrowed, that none of this would last, and by the time that you left Jackson, you would have to betray everyone.
You would lead the w.l.f right through these very gates in the future, and everyone in Jackson would be under their authority.
‘That is how it’s meant to be.’ It was the general’s voice that crept into your mind this time.
He was a man that wanted everything, and you were the one supposed to give it to him on a silver plate. You were his sword, his most prized possession.
Even if he was the one who demanded your experimentation. You couldn’t fight him. He taught you to kill, yes, but he was powerful. You would have to plow through his soldiers to get to him. Even with being his right hand.
Too often would you fantasize about killing him. To finally end it, if you killed him, then maybe you could leave.
Freedom.
Killing him would mean freedom.
‘No it wouldn’t. The foundation will never let you leave. You know too much, they would kill you rather than let you go.’ Your own voice brought you back to reality.
It was true.
You were too valuable to lose, their genuine pig, their perfectly designed weapon. Whether you liked it or not, the General in a way kept you safe.
Yes, he validated the experiments, but he also kept you from them. Ever since they started pumping you with things, you had become immune to a vast amount of poisons and chemicals.
The General kept them from killing you outright. He needed his killer to do his dirty work, otherwise who knew the things they would do to you in the lab.
A shiver ran through your body as you thought about the things you did remember. The amount of pain that you remembered but could no longer feel.
The sounds of approaching footsteps had you pausing the brushing of your horse.
“Hey!” Tommy said in greeting, “Long time no see.” The two men held on to the reins of their own horses as they approached.
You offered him a tight smile. “You’re the one always busy now, Gileon cries when he has to work with Joel.” You poked your bottom lip out a little as you fought a smile. Knowing the comment would piss Joel off.
“He does not.” Joel huffed.
You casted a look at Tommy, “See, and I don’t blame him. He is miserable to be around sometimes.”
Tommy chuckled, “Good to see you two finally getting along.”
“Hardly.” Joel quipped.
Mounting your horse, you took the chance to take a peak at Joel over your shoulder. Oddly, it was good to see him, it's been around two weeks since your last patrol together.
You half wished it was just you and him going out. Tommy was great, but Joel tended to say little to you while he was around. Not that he talked much to Tommy either.
He was just quiet around his brother, as if Tommy brought up memories of things long in the past. But Tommy was a talker, so maybe this was a good opportunity to learn more about Joel.
Joel caught your eye, and you quickly looked away as you hauled yourself up, and mounted your horse.
“Eager are we?” Tommy asked.
“I have been in Jackson for three months not being able to leave, so yeah. I’m ready.” You half laughed, though it didn’t meet your true feelings.
Your heart was pounding from excitement. You gathered all the information that you could from Jackson so far. The missing truck from the foundation wasn’t in Jackson, no surprise there.
Which meant it had to be outside somewhere. If the strange man truly did come here, it meant the truck had to be hidden somewhere fairly close. At worst it was a few days to weeks away from the settlement to throw off the scent.
The General had given you the license plate over the radio, so you at least had that.
“How is the training going?” Tommy asked you as he signed for the gate to open. Both him and Tommy were mounted on their horses now as well.
You bobbed your head in a ‘yes’ like motion as you said, “Good, they have all made fair progress. But it will take time.” You glanced at Joel.
“Ellie is the most hopeful, she is actually taking over for me the next couple of weeks while we are gone.” He caught your look, his own laced with a mix of emotions.
Pride, annoyance, but more importantly grief. You turned away again, unable to look at him. You had hoped it would make him feel better,
Yet it seemed only to have hurt him. Things had gotten even stranger between the two of them. They had seemed close at one point, but now Ellie wanted nothing to do with Joel.
And Joel….Joel had grown even more distant from everyone. Only speaking a few words to his neighbors, and tolerating your own antics during patrols.
Which all had thankfully been uneventual since the one with Nightshade. We picked off infected stragglers and a few pods in the local towns.
You still hadn’t told Joel about the blade that you had taken. The one dipped in infected blood. But you always made sure that he had no open wounds around infected blood. He had questioned you at first about it, but when you had given him no answer he eventually gave up.
You still didn’t know much about the poisoned blade. Like if it came from a specific infected, or if it was just generic infected blood, and it wasn’t like you could exactly test it out either.
To do so would mean potentially infecting someone. If it was some sort of bioweapon.
Which is not something you can just do to a person without causing suspension. Or having to answer to Joel.
However, the weight of it still weighed on your calf. Sure, it might be foolish to bring it with you, but leaving it behind at Gileon’s didn’t seem smart either.
Until you could figure out what to do with it, it would remain on your person.
Silence fell as the three of you passed the gate. The first time you had left Jackson since arriving. You breathed the mountain air in deeply.
The cool morning air of spring and the rising sun painted the green growing woods and mountains in the distance. It was beautiful now that the snow was gone. Far more colorful than the grays and blacks of the foundation headquarters.
Morning birds chirped, you could hear creatures yowling in the distance, and the crickets. The way the dew clung to the new growth of grass.
You drank it all in greedily. The thoughts of the labs and pain, long forgotten now.
A few hours passed, you and Tommy had talked most of the time. Mostly small interactions like, “Are you finding it easier to get along with the community.” Or, “I heard you and Maria are getting along.”
You gave simple answers. All true enough, but truth be told you didn’t really want to talk to Tommy.
He was a good guy, easy to get along with. But he wasn’t your partner.
He wasn’t Joel. As much as he tried to be.
Joel was keeping pace behind you, and you thought it would be weird if you were constantly looking behind you. So you had only glanced back once to make sure he was still alive.
Though it seemed he hadn’t even noticed that. You fought the urge to roll your eyes.
Joel had the tendency to get sucked in his own little world.
Something you understood all too well, you just wished you could get into his mind. To see what he had been up to the last few weeks.
To see what happened between him and Ellie. Or to just know what he was thinking about. It bothered you when he got like this. Like he was drowning right next to you, and you couldn’t do anything to pull him out of his own river.
Yeah, you and Joel were VERY much alike.
Your river was the screams, the lab, your twin. A haunting, yet predictable cycle. One that you couldn’t control, and didn’t want to. You wanted to suffer in those moments.
After all the innocent lives you had taken, those brief moments and flashes of memory felt like a small price to pay. Sometimes you would even send yourself into them.
Just to punish yourself.
Was Joel doing the same?
What was he punishing himself for? What had Joel Miller done that was so bad that Ellie, a little girl he loved like a daughter was now turning against him?
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Joel
“You’ll never stop looking for her” That was what he had told Marlene.
Before he shot her in the head. A shot that he would do again and again.
Because he had tapes that showed what would have been done to her.
Reaper was a warning. Maybe they wouldn’t have just straight up killed Ellie.
What if she ended up like Reaper?
He couldn’t live with himself if he ever stumbled across those tapes.
Because what if those screams could have been Ellie’s?
He could let that happen. As far as he knew no one in the fireflies had known about Reaper.
But Joel had.
He just hadn’t expected that the fireflies would be willing to kill Ellie. That Marlene would have been capable of thinking that.
For once he felt bad for Reaper, just for a second. Because she had to have had a father at one point, and mother. People that had cared for her, who had obviously either died, or turned against her.
He often wondered where she was. What she was doing, and all the ways he was going to make her suffer once he found her.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Night came, and we found a checkpoint. A lone house, one of the more frequented areas, so there really was no need for outside patrols.
Still it was decided that we would take shifts sleeping, as always, and that we would stay inside. Since the air was still crisp at night.
That was really the only upside to a third person joining. With an added number, we had more of an advantage. So there was less need for one of us to go outside and stand watch.
You had already made your place beside the fireplace, your sleeping bag and small pillow calling your name, as Tommy had called the first watch.
Taking your boots off, you buried your way into the covers. Wiggling and shifting until you found a comfortable position.
“You sure do wiggle a lot.” You half expected it to be Tommy, but was surprised to see Joel standing over you. Sleeping bag in hand as he laid it on the ground next to you.
Another thing that had changed over the last couple of months. Joel no longer slept as far away as he could from you, instead he had claimed to grow cold during the night and desired the body heat.
You had elected to believe him. Not that you minded, Joel radiated heat, so between that and the fireplace, you were in for some good sleep.
Not to mention being in his presence tended to keep the nightmares away. Something that had been plaquing you again as of late.
Most of the time, they were in the lab. The others were missions. The families that you had torn apart with blades and bullets. The screams of parents losing their children, as you killed them. Screams that would never truly go away.
One more so above the rest…….
“So Ellie is doing good?” He dared ask, and you nodded as much as you could given your place on the floor. You moved your covers closer to your face.
“You trained her very well Joel. You should be proud.”
“I am. I just wish….” He shook his head. “I just wish she would talk to me again.”
You weren’t sure why his confession stung you as much as it did. Maybe because you saw how hard he was trying, and how Ellie was not wanting anything to do with it, or him.
“She is a teenager, well going to be one. She will come to her senses.” It was the only thing you could think to say.
“I am not so sure about that, had it been anyone else, maybe. But not Ellie. She clings on to things.”
You lifted a brow. “Gee, wonder where she got that from.” You saw a small smile breach his face and your heart leapt.
“She is almost as bad as you are.” He retorted.
“Don’t compare me to a teenager, Joel.” You mocked the hurt in your voice. “I am not a child.”
“I didn’t say you were, you just act like one sometimes.” Your jaw fell open at that.
“Says the guy who argues with a teenager, like all of the time.” He laughed, actually laughed at that.
“I don’t want to. But she is stubborn. I just want what is best for her, and I would do anything to protect her.” His voice shook a bit, and you weren’t sure what to make of his confession.
This was the most you had gotten from Joel in a while, and it felt nice to feel like his partner again.
“I know, but she is safe in Jackson, but me and Tommy need you here Joel.” You treaded carefully.
“I need my partner, and so does Tommy. You can worry about Ellie when we get back.” You were shocked when he only nodded, having expected to retort about how it was none of your damn business.
The usual things he would say to you.
“Yeah. You’re right.”
“Holy shit.” You huffed a laugh. “I wish I had recorded that, Joel Miller admitting he was wrong? Gileon would have a heart attack.”
“Shut up.” Was all he said he crawled into his own sheets and rolled over the opposite way.
“I am not going to let you live that one down. I hope you know that.”
“Counting on it.”
A small smile played on your lips as you stared at the small fire Tommy had made earlier.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Tommy
Something had changed in his brother.
He had seen it with Ellie, the way Joel had become calmer. In a way he didn’t think he could be. And he was happy for him that he had Ellie.
More so that he was getting a second chance. He had seen Joel do things with Ellie that Sarah had begged for. Like going on walks, teaching her how to shoot.
But this……this was different as he watched the two of you speak in hushed tones.
He had never seen Joel like that in a long time, and Tommy felt foolish to hold out a bit of hope for that too.
Once you had fallen asleep, he settled a few feet away from his brother.
Tommy propped himself up against the wall, Joel was still laying on the floor as Joel watched him move.
“So are the two of you finally done arguing all that time?” Tommy poked, he couldn’t help it. Him and Joel’s relationship was just now starting to get better.
For the first time in a long time it felt like he had his real brother back. It was all ever Tommy wanted, for Joel to finally find happiness.
Joel shifted slightly in his sleeping bag, “So what if we are?” His brother's tone was flat. But Tommy saw through it.
“Then that would mean you would have a friend.” Tommy said, “Or maybe something more….” Tommy trailed off, giving Joel the opportunity to scoff.
“Ya know Tommy, you are shit at reading things. It ain’t like that. We are partners, that’s all.”
“Could have fooled me Joel. I see the way you look at her, I haven’t seen you like this since-”
“Ease Tommy.” Joel tones shifted, and Tommy got the hint to back off.
“I wasn’t tryin’ to pry Joel.” Guilt slammed into him, he hadn’t meant to push Joel away. But that was an easy thing to achieve with his brother.
“Then stop talkin’.” Joel’s tone lightened.
“Now, where’s the fun in that?” Tommy chuckled, but as he watched Joel drift to sleep, he couldn’t help but hold on to that slim chance of hope.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
You could feel the sweat on your body.
Could feel the way your bones felt like they were breaking as they injected you again.
A scream ripped from your throat, a sound so loud and forceful it shook even your own ear drum.
Tears were flowing down your face, unable to stop them as you screamed again. You had never felt such pain.
It felt like your skin was being flayed open, and then having boiling oil poured on top of it.
You were going to kill the General one day for this.
Another scream sliced at your throat. Though the pain from your fading voice was pale in comparison to everything else.
“Wake up.” You heard someone say.
Which didn’t make sense. You had to be awake with as much pain you were feeling.
Then you felt hands on you, and you thrashed.
They were pinning you down again, and then you would go under, and then you wouldn’t be out of control anything.
You screamed at the person pinning you down.
‘No, no, no, no, no.’ You chanted to yourself. You refused to die on this table.
The hands pushed harder and you kept thrashing, and crying, and screaming.
You woke up being pinned down. You screamed out of confusion, you could feel the tears burning down your cheek.
You didn’t realise who was pinning you down, and the floor at your back still felt like the exam table.
Panic rose.
‘No.’ You chanted in your head again, or maybe you actually said it. You weren’t really sure, and didn’t care.
Your legs kicked out, aiming towards the fuzzy figure above you. This time you were going without a fight.
But the person pressed down harder.
“Wake up!” The person shoved against your shoulders.
Your chest was rising and falling fast as your kicking slowed.
You knew that voice.
Joel’s face came into view.
“J-Joel?” You managed, your voice was shot. Like you had been screaming for a while.
He didn’t answer as he hauled as he held you at arms length. Your arms rested on the top of his and your nails dug into his long sleeve shirt. It was a tight grip, but Joel didn’t budge.
Your connection to his arms grounded you, allowing the fog of sleep to clear fully.
Finally free of your confusion you looked around the small room. Then to the now fading fire in the fireplace. Right. You were on patrol. You were out of Jackson.
You had been dreaming.
Then you remembered Tommy, and you scanned the small house. He was nowhere to be seen.
“You woke up screaming.” Joel’s voice had you looking back to him. “Tommy went out to make sure no infected are coming.”
You could only nod and hold on to his outstretched arms.
Right.
You are safe.
Your breathing returned normal, and you also now realised that you were clinging onto him. So you let go of him, a bit too quickly than you wanted to.
“I’m sorry, I-”
“What the hell-” He added your name to the end of that statement. But he didn’t sound angry. He sounded worried.
You didn’t want to talk about this right now.
Thank god for Tommy who came barreling through the door at that exact moment.
“Sorry to break this up, but we gotta go--like,now. Gotta big hoard coming our way. They will be here in a few minutes.”
You didn’t need to hear anything else as you hopped to action. You threw on your boots, then your sleeping gear.
Joel did the same and the way he looked at you when you glanced at him told you that you would be explaining your outburst to him later.
Seconds passed and the three of you were outside the house. Tugging your into your sacks and hauling on to your horses.
You snapped the reins of your horse before you were properly seated, and you could hear the infected growling and snapping behind you.
Your ass landed on the saddle and your horse was already racing off.
The two brothers galloped on either side of you, keeping up with your horse's fast pace. You located Joel who was on your right side.
“Hold onto my reins Joel!” You didn’t wait as you tossed the leather straps to him. Twisting in your saddle, you spun around. Unclasping the bow and quiver at the side of your horse.
It was a task in itself to not fall off.
You knocked an arrow, and fired it into the closest infected’s head. Then the next, then the next.
Arrow after arrow flew until you reached back to grab another, and you were out.
Spinning back around you grabbed your reins back from Joel. In just enough time too as your horse leapt over a small creek bed.
You commanded your horse to run faster and so did the two men.
For the next hour the three of you said nothing. Finally, you shook the pod's trail, and you slowed your horse.
The beast huffed, and puffed, doing its best to catch its breath. You had pushed the poor thing too hard, but you had studied the route and knew the next checkpoint was only a few hours away.
You also allowed your body to relax, only now realising how tense you had been. Only to have it replaced with slight guilt.
You weren’t sure how long you had been asleep for, but it couldn’t have been for long. You hadn’t even taken your shift for watch. That along with how dark it still was outside, meant that the group would reach the next checkpoint around dawn
Which meant you weren’t sure if Tommy had gotten any sleep.
Shit. That was what this had all turned into.
Complete and utter shit.