Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Almost everyone in the Jackson community were in attendance at the barn dance tonight. Children of all ages were playing and running around the town hall and the streets of Jackson, the crisp autumn air filled with their laughter and the sound of country music playing. The adults danced in pairs on the hardwood floor space of the town hall as a small group of community members with different musical instruments played country tunes. Others stood around the floor drinking cider and beer and talking about the upcoming harvest, how mild the weather had been lately, and how Jackson needed more reasons to celebrate like this more often. It was 8pm and the festive spirit of the night had just begun.

You sat at one of the round tables dotted around the town hall with a glass of punch in your hand, your eyes following the couples gliding around the dance floor. The men and women looked so cheerful as they moved in sync to the music, their actions appearing automatic and effortless, the joy in their smiles and laughs undeniably infectious to the other town folk who were watching from the sidelines. Most of them were married couples but some of them were domestic partners, ranging in age from late teenagers right up to the most senior members of the community.

The courtship and reproductive aspects of the circle of life were crucial points of interest for many people in Jackson. Despite the hardships of the reality of the end of the world, life within the walls of the Jackson commune were quite simple; everyone was assigned jobs to ensure the town functioned successfully, people dated and married and had children, and everyone had a role to fulfil regardless of their skill level. As a young woman, your own dreams and hopes for the future were quite traditional; you wanted a life partner who would compliment you perfectly, someone to have children with and grow old with. Your desires were modelled on your own parents relationship and deep down in your heart, losing them at 12 years of age left you with a fear of abandonment and the need for the security of a family of your own. The yearning for this had grown vehemently recently, perhaps punctuated by some of the milestones achieved within your friendship circle - an engagement, a wedding, a new baby.

Your smile, small and sad, curls against the lip of the glass as you take a sip of punch. You had been asked to dance a few times and you enjoyed the company of your girlfriends, but there was only one person you wanted to dance with, and he was never going to indulge you in that desire.

He wasn't at the dance tonight. He hated going to events like the barn dances. He hated socialising any more than he had to, evident in the way he carried himself during day to day life living in Jackson; stalking wordlessly to and from his patrolling shifts and eating times at the mess hall, a scowl permanently etched on his face. Joel Miller arrived in Jackson several years ago and had never made any close friends or spoke much to anyone. His brother Tommy and his daughter, Ellie, seemed to be the only people who knew Joel well. You did, too, although you knew a different Joel to the one anyone else did. And you knew Joel wouldn't be at the dance tonight, nor would he be overly happy that you were there.

Noting the time on the large clock perched on the hall wall, you finished the rest of your punch and stood up to leave the dance. It really was so much fun to chat with other towns people and so entertaining to watch the others dance, but Joel would be waiting for you. Mumbling apologies and half hearted excuses of feeling tired to your friends, you slipped out of the town hall and trekked to Joel's house under the cloak of the night sky, making sure to avoid the main street and weave through the back yards lest someone see you.

When you approached the side door of his house, your heart was thumping with anticipation in your chest, just as it always did when you met up with him in the clandestine meetings that had been happening now for the past 8 months. It was a secret and always had been. You did not want it to be, though - your feelings for him ran deep in your heart and soul, and truthfully you had been in love with him for since the first night you stumbled into his home and and allowed him to devour you. You never voiced these feelings because you knew Joel never wanted a relationship, never wanted anything official, although your affection for him was clear. Clear in the way you cuddled up to him after sex, how you baked muffins and banana bread for he and Ellie, how you buried your face in his chest after he returned from a rough patrol shift, the mesmerised, pained look in your eyes when he pounded into you. You wore your heart on your sleeve and Joel did not acknowledge it, somehow ignoring the depth of your affection with mumbles and pats on the head and gruff cuddles. Your heart was constantly on the verge of breaking, but you couldn't help being tied to him, your body and brain both addicted to him in the alluring and unexplainable haze of chemical, animalistic attraction, the innate need to be protected and fucked and owned by an older, domineering man. If only you could've chosen one more kinder than Joel Miller.

Just a few days earlier you had made the decision that tonight would be the night you confess your feelings to him. Tonight would be when you laid all your cards on the table and ask Joel to be with you, officially. Doing your best to swallow the anxiety rising in your chest, you stood infront of his door and paused for a minute to take some deep breaths, then you rapped on his door lightly. You only waited a few moments before he cracked it open for you to slip inside. You shut the door behind you and followed him into the living room, the space dark except for the glow of dull light emanating from a lamp beside his armchair, a glass of whiskey sitting on-top of a small table beside it. You stood in the middle of the living room and waited for Joel to face you, your hands clasped infront of you shyly, secretly hoping he would compliment your dress and the flower tied in your hair.

Joel picked up his glass and took a shot of the whiskey, placed it back down and then turned to look at you. He was in his usual attire of jeans and a flannel shirt, and from the small distance between you, you could already smell the faint scent of mahogany and sandalwood mixed with his natural smell. The curls of his dark salt and pepper hair sat atop his head like a crown, the expression on his tanned face not betraying any hint of emotion, the steady gaze of dark brown eyes travelling up and down your body making you shiver.

"Hi," you smiled at him. Joel's eyes met yours and he took a few steps forward to close the gap between you, his figure towering over you. You bit your lip as you studied his handsome face, admiring the patchy growth of his beard and the masculine square of his jaw. He really was so handsome.

"Hey, babydoll," Joel murmured in his Texan drawl, a smirk forming on his lips as his large hands reached out to grab ahold of your hips. They moved up your waist and back down again as he stared into your eyes, the spark of lust already evident in his orbs.

"I went to the dance," you said quietly, your arms moved upward to wrap around his neck. He hummed in response and you felt his hands trail up to your breasts, the callouses on his palms rough against the lace trimming of your dress. They settled on the plush of your cleavage and began kneading there, making you moan lowly. Joel leaned down and kissed your lips softly for a moment, the taste of whiskey and an underlying sweetness meeting your tongue as his slipped into your mouth. You stood on your tiptoes and tightened your hold around his neck, encouraging the kiss to deepen. One of Joel's hands shifted around to your back and down to your ass, giving it a firm squeeze and pulling you closer to his body. You could feel his hardness against you.

"Joel," you gasped as you pulled away from the kiss. "I missed you." Joel didn't respond, instead he just roughly pulled one of the straps of your dress off your shoulder, grabbing your bare breast in his big hand and groaning at the softness of your skin. His other hand kept a firm hold of your ass cheek, his grip leaving you without any strength to move. "I...I missed you there, at the dance." You moaned as he bent down to kiss your neck, tilting your head to the side to allow him better access. You ran your fingers through his hair and let yourself be enveloped in his arms, your body surrendering to the familiar dance of seduction that Joel would tangle you in, close to feeling totally helpless to the carnal rapture of attraction between you both. When he still remained silent, his mouth working gentle bites all over your neck, you tried to engage him again. "Joel, I said I missed you."

"Missed you too, sugar," Joel mumbled against your throat. He began to carefully move backwards toward the armchair, his hands still gripping your breast and ass possessively, shifting you with him. He sat down on the chair with an unceremonious thud that pulled you onto his lap to straddle him, making you squeak in surprise. Joel pushed you down to grind his erection against your crotch, his mouth still attached to your neck but now sucking on your delicate skin. You found yourself rocking against him, your fingers still tangled in his curls, now faintly aware of the wetness beginning to pool in your underwear. The skirt of your dress had bunched up to your thighs and had made it easy for Joel's hand to slip under the material and find the bare flesh of your ass. He squeezed it before giving it a firm smack.

"Joel," you whimpered. "Please stop for a moment." He detached from your neck and leaned back in the chair so you could see the drunk look of lust hooding his brown eyes. You wanted to initiate the discussion before becoming entwined in his web, before you were too distracted by his skilled fingers and warm mouth and the deliciousness of his cock. It was so difficult to shift your focus from just how handsome he looked, but you had to do this now. You couldn't wait any longer. You sat up straight in his lap, one leg kneeling on either side of Joel's thighs, your core nestled directly over the erection straining behind his jeans. Joel brushed your nipple gently with the pad of his thumb as he stared at you.

"What is it?" He murmured without a trace of concern in his tone. Taking a breath, you sighed and idly toyed with the curls on the nape of his neck, working up the courage to formulate an opening dialogue.

"Okay, so...." You started softly, making a point to keep your eyes fixed on his. "Uhm, so...Cassie is getting married soon, right?"

Cassie was one of your best friends. Joel gave a small nod to indicate he was listening. His hand was still caressing your ass, the other was still cupping your breast.

"Yeah, well, I just...really I was wanting...," you stumbled over your words, the beating of your heart thudding in your ears now. "I wanted to ask you to go to the wedding with me. As my date." You blurted out the last part and pressed your lips shut tightly, eyebrows knitting together worriedly in anticipation of his reaction. Joel rolled his eyes and let out a heavy sigh.

"I never go to those kinda things, you know that." Joel muttered, pulling his hands away from your body.

"I know, but--"

"They're your friends, not mine." He argued. "Why would I go?"

"Because the guests bring a date with them, to enjoy the occasion," you tried to speak confidently but there was a faint warble in your voice. "Like their boyfriend or girlfriend, or whatever....so I wanted to ask you."

Joel ran a hand over his beard, sighing once more. "Sugar, I hate that shit, dressin' up and bein' around a buncha people I don't give a fuck about," he grumbled.

"But they are my friends," you frowned. "And they mean so much to me. And well, I want you to meet them. I want you to come with me."

Joel looked at you and shook his head a little. Tears began to well in your eyes.

"Joel, I...I really like you," you whispered.

"I like you too, sugar," he said smoothly. His hands slid under your dress and up to the top of your thighs, his thumbs sitting at the edge of your panty line. "Like these sexy legs, your sweet little pussy."

He wasn't paying attention. He was distracting you. No, you have to do this now, no more sex, no more anything until you get it out. You retracted your arms and pushed away from him to stand up off his lap. You hurriedly fixed the strap of your dress back up over your shoulder and took a few steps back, needing distance between you in order to collect your thoughts. Joel watched you from his relaxed position on the armchair, a slight scowl etched on his face now.

"Joel," you sighed, looking at him with imploring eyes. Your fingers twisted together nervously. "I don't just like you. I...I love you. I want to be with you. For real. Like partners." You chewed your bottom lip while desperately awaiting his response.

Joel raised his eyebrows as if your confession were totally unexpected. And then, in a way that felt like a knife slicing into your heart, he slowly shook his head and exhaled a mirthless chuckle. "Partner? Babydoll, I think you're confused about what this is."

Tears began to well in your eyes and slowly trickle down your cheeks.

"You are mine." Joel said in an eerily calm voice as he leaned forward in his chair. "Mine for me to fuck whenever I want and however I want. But I ain't ever gonna walk down the fuckin' street holdin' your hand. I ain't soft like these boys runnin' around after you and your little slut friends."

You can't help the small, pitiful sob that escapes your lips, or the tears that pour from your eyes and blur your vision. Joel stood up and stepped over to you, reaching out to seize your upper arm tightly. The sudden contact makes you gasp.

He gazed down at you with steely dark brown eyes. "You knew the deal from the get go, baby. Always knew I ain't that type'a man. But you just kept comin' back to get fucked again and again."

"Let me go," you sobbed and tried to squirm out of Joel's bruising grip. "You're hurting me."

"Don't you like that, baby? Thought you liked it when I hurt ya," Joel snarled, momentarily squeezing your arm before releasing you with a force that makes you stumble backwards.

"Why-why do you have to be so...so mean?" You spit out, voice choked with emotion. Joel turned back to pick up his whiskey glass and finish the remaining alcohol. You wiped away your tears with the back of your shaky hand, feeling pathetic and small as you sniffle.

"Thought you said you love me," Joel said gruffly. He slammed the glass on the table and turned back to you, his eyes firey as they bore into you. You instantly recognised the cruel passion shining in them, a look you have seen many times, one that sends shivers up your spine with both excitement and fear, one that makes you wet yet causes a knot of apprehension in your stomach at the same time.

"I do," you replied in a small voice. You shrink back as Joel stepped closer, his hands balling into fists by his sides.

"Get on your knees," Joel said lowly. His penetrating gaze was intimidating and the tick in his jaw told you he was holding back on unleashing the rage of emotion that swirled inside of him.

"What?" You whispered back, your mind too muddled to comprehend what exactly he was asking for.

"You heard me." Joel whispered back bitterly. "If you love me, you'll do as I say. So get on your fuckin' knees. Now."

You bowed your head and let more tears fall. You do love Joel, and while you had no idea what reaction you were expecting from him, his words were breaking your heart. You knew Joel could be harsh, seemingly heartless at times, and he could be downright sadistic during sex. But the level of Joel's ruthlessness in this moment wounded you deeply, in such a way that was profound and unprecedented in your relationship. You suddenly felt a weariness pass over you, the frustration and dejection beginning to dissolve. You loved him but you were so tired; of the aching left inside your soul after your nights together, of pretending the unrequited affection didn't sting, of allowing your body to be devoured, manipulated and abused in exchange for meagre crumbs of attention.

"No," you said, voice thick from your tears, your head still down. "I won't."

"What'd you say?" Joel grabbed your wrist and gave you a sharp tug toward him. "Fuckin' look at me when I'm talkin' to you." You peered up at him from under your long lashes, feeling a renewed determination stir inside your chest. You lifted your chin and dated to stare back at him, swallowing the lump that had formed in your throat.

"I said no, Joel."

Joel's brows furrowed at the audacity of your refusal, a flash of confusion passing over his features before being replaced with his usual scowl of displeasure. You both gazed into each other's eyes in tense silence for a few moments, as if challenging the other to initiate the next move. Joel's thick fingers remained wrapped around your wrist as you both stood still. The beat of your heart seemed distractingly loud in your ears and you hoped he couldn't hear it. You began to open your mouth but Joel cut you off.

"Go." He whispered through gritted teeth.

"What?" You asked quietly.

"Get outta here," he muttered, dropping your wrist and taking a step back from you. He jammed his hands into his pockets and gave a minute shake of his head. You looked at him sadly, uncertain of whether to obey him or stay and try to resolve this, salvage whatever was left of the ruins between you, this absolute wreck of dysfunctional intimacy. But for the first time ever, you chose not to beseech Joel. Instead, you took a deep breath, exhaled, and turned to leave.

You didn't look back as you walked out his door and began the walk to your own house two streets away, wrapping your arms around your waist in an effort to stop yourself shivering from the panic coursing through your body. Your breaths came out ragged and unsteady as fresh tears pooled in your eyes. You promised yourself you'd never let Joel Miller hurt you again.

Chapter Text

Your home was one of the smaller houses in Jackson. A two bedroom weatherboard cottage that, despite desperately needing a new coat of paint, was quaint and perfectly suited to you. It's cosiness was comfortable and the unpretentious simplicity of its appearance felt safe. You had the comforts of a couch in your living room along with a small bookshelf full of books, a bed in your room complete with a dresser and mirror, and hot running water. Although you didn't have many furnishings and your most cherish possessions were sparse, you were proud to call the cottage your home, your sanctuary.

The morning daylight streamed through the lace curtains of your bedroom window, its warm touch rousing you from your slumber. You managed to find sleep sometime after midnight, after replaying the scene of the break up in your mind over and over, crying into your pillow until you were too exhausted to stay awake. This morning your head was aching and your eyes felt swollen. The memory of the previous night came flooding back to you and you groaned. You threw the blanket over your head and buried your face into your pillow, wishing you didn't have to work today.

Three days a week you worked as a teacher at the school and the other two days you were scheduled to cleaning work in the mess hall. You realised you had to talk to Maria about the possibility of switching jobs; if you remained working in the mess hall then you were bound to run into Joel, something you now wanted to avoid. Thankfully, today was a teaching shift and one you had been looking forward to - your class today was with the younger children and you had planned to teach them about the difference between insects with exoskeletons and endoskeletons. Suddenly you remembered the library book you forgot to pick up last week, a children's science book with illustrations that you needed for today's lesson. Shit. Looking at your clock you saw that you had enough time to shower, have breakfast and quickly pop into the library before the start of your lesson.

Begrudgingly you hauled yourself out of bed and shuffled to the bathroom, stepping over the dress you wore last night that you had left discarded on the floor. You didn't want to see it. In the bathroom you turned on the shower then stood before the bathroom mirror and stripped off your sleep shorts and tank top. You sighed at the puffiness of your eyes and hoped the warm water of the shower would lessen the pink swelling. Your eyes wandered over your naked form and you spied the fading hickey Joel had given you on one of your hips last week. He often marked you with bites and hickies as a way of claiming ownership of your body, hidden underneath your clothes for only you and him to see, your own personal reminder it was Joel that you belonged to. You had never denied him this liberty, only protesting when the drag of his teeth or his sucks became too painful. A memory flashed in your mind then to a night when Joel had been especially rough with you and had bitten the flesh of your ass too hard, causing you to squeal in pain. The bruise had lasted more than a week. You remembered the way he had massaged and kissed the area with a kind of gentle reverence, the touch of his large hands and the plush of his lips both soothing and arousing you at the same time.

The realisation that he would never mark you like this again made your heart sink, however, any sadness you felt disappeared when you saw the bruise on your upper arm from where he held you last night, the purple marks outlining the way his fingers wrapped around you. The sight conjured a different memory now; the way Joel's lips had curled into a cruel snarl as his words cut through you, the savage grip of his hand, the sheer contempt that had shone in his eyes. It sent a shiver down your spine and made you quickly turn away from your reflection and step into the shower.

******

You shut the front door of your cottage and began the walk to the town library a few streets away. The shower had refreshed you and after getting dressed and groomed, you were pleased at your reflection in the mirror; you had managed to look quite good. The morning sunshine warmed your skin as you strolled and you took a deep breath of fresh air. Today would be a new beginning. A fresh start. No more arranging your schedule around Joel's demands, no more sneaking around the backstreets of Jackson, no more being at his beck and call whenever he wanted you.

You had your day planned out. After your teaching shift you would spend some time preparing for tomorrow's lesson, then you would find Maria and talk to her about changing jobs. You knew you would still have to see Joel around town occasionally, but you wanted to limit the possibility of running into him or having any potential chance encounters. You needed the distance in order to heal and forget everything you had shared.

The town was already bustling with community members going about their daily business, children playing games in the street, men and women on their way to their jobs, shopkeepers opening their stores. As you walked through the town, people greeted you with friendly smiles and some of the children called out to you and waved. You felt grateful for their affection and the sense of community around you, and deep down you hoped that this comraderie and the sense of purpose your job gave you was enough to soothe the ache of your broken heart.

The library was a small building tucked away in a nook on the main street. It was a relatively small space comprised of several rows of neatly arranged shelves, two couches, and a very worn arm chair. Over the years the patrols had managed to collect an impressive catalogue of books from their raiding missions. Maude, the elderly librarian, managed the library three days a week and took her role quite seriously. You had always loved to read, the appreciation for literature having been instilled in you at a young age by your parents. The library was a peaceful niche of Jackson that you enjoyed delving into, often curling up on one of the couches to read a novel in your spare time, Maude's quiet nature being the perfect company for your visits.

You entered the library and smiled at the little jingle of the bell that sits above the entrance. You expect to see Maude standing at her usual spot at the counter, writing something down while muttering to herself. But this morning she isn't there. Instead, there is a man.

The unexpected presence makes you freeze still by the door. At the sound of the chime he looks up from the book laid out infront of him on the counter. You recognised his face as someone you've seen around Jackson before, but have never spoken to. He is of average height and has short curly black hair. His short facial hair is thick, unlike Joel's patchy beard, you randomly think. His skin is very lightly tanned olive. The small round glasses he wears give him a studious quality, and his large dark brown eyes seem kind and welcoming. He is older than you but not as old as Joel. He wears a dark knitted sweater and his overall appearance is bookish, academic. He is gorgeous.

"Good morning," he greeted you, smiling softly.

"Good morning," you replied, a little stiff. You cautiously stepped up to the counter, uncertain if you should be suspicious of Maude's absence. He pushed the glasses up the bridge of his nose.

"How can I help you?"

"Oh," you frowned and shook your head slightly, as if trying to shake off the awkwardness you felt. "Uhm, there was a book that I was supposed to borrow the other day. Maude put it aside for me."

"Oh, yes," he clicked his fingers and nodded eagerly. "You're the teacher, right? Maude told me you'd be in. She put it under the counter. Something about bugs."

"Yes, that's right." You eyed him cautiously. "I'm sorry, but who are you?"

The man bent down behind the counter and retrieved a hardcover book with the title Kids Bug Science Volume II in large letters on the front, the one Maude had told you about last week. He put it on the counter and gave a small chuckle. "I'm sorry, I should've introduced myself by now. I'm Oscar," he held out his hand to you. You accepted it in your own and gave it a light shake, giving him your own name. His hand was warm and soft but strong, masculine. You hadn't had another man touch you, even formally like this, since before you gave yourself to Joel. The contact made you blush and you averted your eyes to look down at the book instead of his gaze.

"Maude hasn't been feeling well, so Maria assigned me to help out in the library," Oscar explained as he braced himself against the counter, his tanned hands splaying on-top of the wood. "One of the patrols brought a load of books in just the other day, so there's some work to do."

"Oh," your eyes flickered back up to look at him, your interest piqued. "What do you usually do?"

"I work in the stables and sometimes on patrol," Oscar replied. "But I injured my ankle and I'm not really of any use at either job at the moment." He smiled ruefully. There is a benevolent air about him, a gentle humility that shines through as he speaks. You begin to relax, no longer wary of him.

"I'm sorry to hear about your injury," you said shyly, "but this job must be great. It's quiet, you don't have to talk to many people, you can read as much as you like..."

Oscar grinned at you and pushed himself away from the counter to stand up straight. "Yes, it's a nice change of pace," he agreed with a nod, "I like the peace, and reading, too. Do you like to read?"

"Yes, I do," you replied. You looked down and shifted on your feet awkwardly, inwardly hating the curse of your shyness.

"What do you like to read?" Oscar asked. "I can keep an eye out while I sort through the new books we got. So, if I find something I think you might like, I could keep it behind the counter for you."

His voice was gentle with sincerity but there was an edge of eagerness in his tone, as if he yearned for conversation, as if he needed to prove his usefulness. You realised that no one had shown interest in you like this for a very long time, if ever, and it made you feel nervous. You picked up the science book and hugged it to your chest, comforted by its weight against you.

"That would be really nice," you responded quietly. You gathered the courage to look up at Oscar and found his cheeks blushed pink, the corners of his mouth curled into a tender smile. You smiled back at him before your eye caught sight of the clock hanging on the wall behind him, making you gasp - your class was due to start in 5 minutes.

"It was really nice to meet you Oscar, but I've gotta go, my class is about to start." You smiled apologetically at him. "Thank you for the book."

"Oh, no problem," Oscar waved his hand. "How about you write down a list of any books you might be after?" He suggested, holding his hand out palm up. "I mean, whenever you're free, or if you even want to. No pressure." He stumbled over his words as if he were nervous and it made you giggle.

"That's a good idea, I'll do that. Thanks Oscar." You nodded toward him one last time before turning to walk out of the door.

"It was nice to meet you, too!" he called out to you as you passed through the threshold. You stepped back into the sunshine and smiled to yourself as you walked to the school. I can do this, you thought, there are other people in Jackson besides Joel, more friends to make. Life can be exciting without him, I can be happy without him.

You hoped that if you repeated these things inside your mind enough times that you would eventually believe it.

******

The next three days pass by uneventfully. You teach your class, make notes for the next lesson, have dinner in the cafeteria with your friends and spend some time hanging out with them, then go home for the evening. You know Joel's patrolling schedule like the back of your hand, so you're able to avoid the main street and the cafeteria hall and the local bar, The Tipsy Bison, when he's likely to be around. You talked to Maria about switching jobs and she said she needed to check the rosters to see what was available, but ultimately she granted you the relief of no longer working in the mess hall. When Maria questioned your decision to quit, you gave a mumbled, noncommittal response about needing a change. She didn't need to know your real reason, although the answer you offered wasn't necessarily a lie; you truly were determined to rebuild yourself, to start living your life how you wanted, and you really did need a change.

Tonight you sat with three of your friends at a table in the hall to eat dinner. You ate dinner together most evenings, catching up on gossip and discussing the events of the day, the plans for the next town event, what men your friends had their eye on. You were fortunate enough to have some friends the same age as you in Jackson and over the years your small circle of girlfriends had proved to be one of the main sources of happiness and comfort in life.

Kate, your closest friend, sat beside you at the table, scraping her spoon around her tray as she listened to the conversation happening infront of you. Your friends Jess and Rhi sat opposite you, engaged in a debate about some subject you weren't paying attention to. You were deep in thought about your lesson plan and what research you needed to finish before next week's class.

"Are we going to the Bison tonight?" Kate interjected.

"Yes!" Jess cheered, immediately abandoning the argument. "After the week I had, I need a drink."

"Ugh, same," Rhi groaned. "Let's get drunk and dance "

They all looked at you expectantly for confirmation but you were quiet, lost in your thoughts. Kate nudged you out of your trance.

"Hmm?" You hummed, head snapping up to look around the table."What?"

"The Bison tonight, you coming?" Jess asked eagerly.

It was the last place you wanted to be tonight. You had always enjoyed the occasional nights spent at the bar dancing and drinking with your friends. You would laugh with them as you danced and drank beer and tried to play darts, all the while secretly being watched by Joel across the bar, both of you pretending to ignore each other until the end of the night when you would rendezvous somewhere and Joel would fuck you senseless. It had always been so fun and exciting. But now, the thought of the mere probability of seeing Joel at his favourite hang out caused a knot of dread in your stomach.

"I'm pretty tired." You mumbled. ""Just going to have a quiet night at home."

"Boring!" Rhi declared. "Come on, we haven't been out in forever!"

"The barn dance was just a few nights ago," Kate laughed.

"But we didn't get drunk," Rhi corrected her. "And I didn't go home with the blonde ranger, either. So that doesn't count."

Your group continued talking about the plans for the night and what everyone was going to wear when you felt a hand on your shoulder. You turned to see Maria standing beside you.

"Hey Maria." You greeted her.

"Hey. Just letting you know that I took a look at the job rosters and all I've really got are patrol shifts."

"Oh," you mumbled, deflated. "Sorry Maria, I don't think I'd be very good at patrolling. I can't even shoot a tin can to save my life."

Maria laughed a little, nodding in agreement. "I know. Well, the only other option is the library. Maude isn't sure she will be up to working anytime soon, and Oscar might need some help. He was talking about doing some painting in the interior. Is that something you'd be willing to do?"

You couldn't help the broad smile of relief that broke out on your face. "That would be perfect, actually. Yes please, Maria."

"All sorted then," she nodded. "You can start tomorrow."

"Whose Oscar?" Jess asked in a whisper as Maria left the table. The girls look at you with raised eyebrows.

"Oh, he's looking after the library while Maude is sick," you picked up the bread roll on your tray. "He used to do patrolling and some other stuff, but he got hurt."

"Ooooh, I know him," Kate chirped. "He sometimes patrolled with Matt." Matt was Kate's older brother. "Kinda nerdy but cute, right?"

You pursed your lips together bashfully, unsure what to say in response. Oscar certainly was cute, infact he was quite attractive, but you didn't want to admit that to anyone. To your relief, Rhi suddenly squealed and leaned against the table to hiss excitedly about the blonde ranger who just strolled into the hall. Kate rolled her eyes.

"Could you be any more obvious?" Jess chuckled.

"By the way, I have a great idea for Cassie's wedding gift," Kate leaned against you affectionately. "You're gonna love it."

"Fantastic," you smiled. "I'll walk with you when we're done, and you can tell me all about it."

******

After dinner Rhi and Jess went back to the house they shared to get ready for drinks at the bar. You walked Kate across town to the house she lived in with her brother and his wife, chatting along the way. The sun had already set and the sky had faded into twilight. The streetlights would alight soon. Not many people lingered on the streets of Jackson at this time; they were either eating a late dinner in the mess hall, or already settled into their homes for the night, or at the bar. A few teenagers stalked around the streets in small groups, presumably on the hunt for mischief.

"Are you sure you won't come out tonight?" Kate asked you gently as you both approached her house. "Are you alright?"

"Yeah," you flashed her a small smile. "I'm fine. Just tired. You guys go have a good time."

"Okay, well, get some rest." She embraced you and you hugged her back. "Let's do some more gift planning tomorrow, yeah?"

You agreed to meet Kate after your first shift at the library, then said goodnight and turned to walk in the direction of your own home. You leisurely strolled through one of the residential streets with your hands in your jeans pockets, marvelling at the first twinkle of stars appearing in the black night sky above you. You turned a corner into another quiet street and continued walking, occupied by your thoughts as you sifted through the events of the day in your mind. You were enthusiastic at the prospect of starting work at the library, although you felt bad that Maude was so unwell; you made a mental note to visit her sometime in the next few days to check in on her health. You decided you would try your best to gather a small arrangement of flowers to give her, thinking that it may help to cheer her up a bit.

Halfway down the street you diverted from the sidewalk to cut through a bunch of shrubs inbetween two houses, taking a short cut to lead into your own street. You were only a few houses away from your home when suddenly a hand clamped down over your mouth and nose, stifling your shocked squeal. An arm snaked around your waist and hauled you into the dark shadows between the neighbouring houses. The air left your lungs as you were shoved hard against the side of one of the buildings. You recognised the scent of Joel's skin and the callous palm of his hand straight away but the rush of fear continued to course through your whole body.

He had your back against the wall, his hand still covering your mouth and his arm around your waist, his body pressed flush against yours. Your eyes widened at how close he was, his warm breath fanning against your cheeks, his belly and hips digging against your lower half. The clear discrepancy between your height and size made you feel like trapped prey, helpless and weak in his grasp with no hope of escape. You felt suffocated and frightened.

"Where you been?" Joel murmured. He nuzzled his nose against your cheek and inhaled your smell. "Waited for you to come 'round last night."

He removed his hand from your mouth and you immediately sucked in a deep breath of air that made you cough.

"Well, where were you?" Joel growled impatiently. The disorientating fog of shock had momentarily slowed your thought process but you were still able to register the feeling of his erection pressing into your thigh. In that instant you knew that Joel wasn't going to be gentle with you.

"W-w-we aren't together, Joel. I'm not...I won't be doing that with you anymore."

"Don't be fuckin' stupid," he muttered scornfully.

"I-I'm not," you stammered. You tried to remain composed and assertive but the unsteady tone of your voice betrayed you. Your heart pounded in your chest and your mouth felt dry. "We...we're over."

Joel scoffed. "That ain't your choice to make. You are mine."

He kept you pinned against the wall with one hand gripping your hip possesively. "We ain't over til I say we are." His other arm uncoiled itself from your waist and you felt his hand roam over your stomach and down to your jeans. Humiliation washed over you as he began to unbutton your jeans, his breathing now becoming ragged.

"Little bitch," Joel snarled. His hand dipped into your underwear and he pushed two of his thick fingers directly onto your clit. Your mouth fell open in a silent gasp. He began to rub light circles over your clit, forcing your eyes to roll back in pleasure.

"Your pussy belongs to me." Joel whispered huskily. "Feel that, baby? Yeah, you fuckin' love it. 'Soon as I touch ya, you turn into a whore."

Tears began to stream down your cheeks. He continued massaging the pads of his fingers on your clit and leaned in to press a soft kiss against your lips. You sobbed helplessly, hating yourself for the wetness that was gathering in your panties despite the depravity of what was happening to you, despising the fact that Joel knew your body so intimately and was so adept at making you come undone. His fingers inched further to brush over the entrance of your pussy and instantly became coated in your slick.

"See?" He purred, his Southern accent rich with his own desire. He pulled his head back to look into your eyes and you saw there was now a kind of solemn tenderness in his dark brown orbs. "No one knows you better than I do, baby." Joel slowly pushed his two fingers inside you, your wetness allowing his thick digits to stretch you open in a way that was exhilarating.

"Fuck," you moaned, your mouth falling open and your eyebrows knitting together from the pleasure. Joel began to fuck you with his fingers, pumping in and out at a steady pace. Without thinking, you instinctively parted your legs and grabbed onto his shoulders to steady yourself. He relinquished his hold on your neck and moved his hand up to loosely cup your chin, and stroked his thumb along your jaw. You shut your eyes and allowed yourself to be consumed by his touch.

"That's it, baby," Joel drawled. His fingers sheathed all the way inside you and expertly curled against your g-spot. You bit your lip in an effort to suppress your moans and dug your fingers into the rounded muscles of his shoulders. Your legs trembled and your head began to swim as the familiar intoxicating swirl of ecstasy coiled in your belly.

"Joel," you whimpered. With his fingers deep inside you stimulating the spongy ridge of your sweet spot, Joel started to rub your clit with his thumb. The intense pleasure he was giving you was starting to break your resolve, tempting you to forgive him and succumb once more to his control. His eyes were focused on your features, darting over your mouth and eyes, drinking in every mirco expression that passed over your face.

"My little slut," he groaned. Your eyes flickered open to see the warmth had left his eyes. It had been replaced with a fiery glare that you knew well, a dangerous look that made you anxious with the apprehension of what he would do next. The recognition of the shift in his demeanour snapped you out of the haze of euphoria and engulfed you with panic.

"Stop," you whined. You pushed your palms flat against his chest and tried to shove him back, even though you knew it was pointless. "I said stop, Joel."

"Ain't goin' anywhere," Joel grunted. "Needa reminder of who owns you, girl." His thumb continued circling your clit as his fingers resumed pushing in and out of your wetness. You randomly contemplated screaming for help, to slap him, kick him, to fight back somehow, but realistically you knew it would only enrage Joel and make things a whole lot worse for you.

Without warning, the loud sounds of glass shattering and nearby teenage voices laughing rang through the quiet street. Both your heads whipped around towards the direction the noise had come from. He clapped his palm over your mouth and stopped fucking you with his fingers, poised to see if anyone was approaching. The voices grew louder and you guessed there were atleast three teenagers close by. When Ellie's distinct voice sang out to tease one of her friends, Joel quickly slid his hand out from your underwear and stepped back from you to adjust his hard cock in his pants. You hurriedly buttoned up your jeans and glanced at Joel. He was already staring at you, scowling, his eyes dark with warning.

"I meant what I said. Ain't over til I say it is." He said bitterly.

The voices were closer now, Ellie's lilt loud and unmistakable in the chorus. You knew the possibility of Ellie discovering you and Joel in such a compromising situation would force him to abandon his pursuit of you. Without saying another word, Joel turned his back on you and stalked away, the leaves and gravel crunching underneath his heavy work boots.

You stayed in the shadows as you raced home to your cottage. You were in desperate need of the quiet haven of solitude that your cottage was. Once inside the cottage you curled up under your blanket on your bed and cried. You wept at the overwhelming mixture of disgust and sadness that twisted in your gut. However, perhaps the most painful thing of all was the self hatred you felt at the way your body still ached for Joel.

Chapter Text

That night sleep alluded you. You tossed and turned in your bed, unable to silence your racing mind or quell the niggling tension that made your palms itch and your legs restless. You willed yourself not to think of Joel or the sensation of his fingers inside you or the roughness of his whiskey soaked voice growling in your ear. You were frustrated and annoyed that he had managed to uncover the bottled up emotions and desires you had buried inside yourself. You were even more irritated that he did it so easily. Why did he still have such a hold on you? How could he make you surrender to his touch and words, how could he totally destroy your prerogative with such little effort? Maybe he was right; maybe he did know you better than anyone else. The conviction of his spiteful words reverberated in your mind and you had to physically shake your head to rid yourself of the taunting thought.

You eventually found sleep but when you woke up the next morning there was an anxious gnawing in your belly and a heavy weight inside your chest cavity where your heart sat. Your whole being felt depleted and drained while simultaneously on edge. You fucked yourself with your fingers to relief the pressure, to chase the unfulfilled high Joel had left you with last night. You came while imagining his broad body pressing heavily on-top of you as he jackhammered in and out of your pussy; an explosive orgasm that left you panting and your thighs trembling. Afterwards you stood in the shower scrubbing yourself clean and cursing yourself for still feeling so attracted to Joel.

Today you were beginning your first shift at the library alongside Oscar. You were excited for the change in your schedule and a different work environment. You couldn't disappear from Jackson but you could make your presence scarce, totally alter the predictability of your routine. The quiet library would be the perfect place for you to continue working while you obscured yourself from Joel's sight. Judging from your first meeting Oscar seemed to be a nice person, and hopefully he would enjoy your company and you two would work together well.

You dressed in your prettiest blouse and your clean pair of jeans and combed your hair. You didn't linger to look in the mirror for too long, fearful of the shame that you were sure would be reflecting in your eyes. You weren't feeling hungry but forced yourself to eat a banana for breakfast along with a cup of peppermint tea. Since that night at Joel's you hadn't felt true hunger at all. Your body hadn't craved the need for food, atleast your mind hadn't registered any craving, too occupied with repressing the pain of your break up from Joel to acknowledge anything other than emotional suffering. When you stepped out of your front door you took in a deep breath of the fresh morning air before securing the door shut and heading off toward the centre of town.

••••••

You slipped through the library door, the bell above it giving a soft tinkle, and peered around for any sign of Oscar. You saw that the counter stood unattended and there were stacks and stacks of books piled on the floor beside it, probably from the most recent expedition, you guessed. It felt strange to not see Maude in her usual place and in that instant you missed her greatly. But things change, you reminded yourself. And you need to accept change right now. You swallowed the lump of sadness and dubiety that tangled in your throat and stepped towards the rows of book shelves, bobbing your head to peek over them.

"Oscar?" You called out timidly.

"I'm here, just give me a sec," his voice chimed from the storeroom behind the counter. You turned back toward where the soft trill of his voice had called from and stood still, waiting for his appearance. Oscar promptly emerged from the storeroom and wandered out from behind the counter, his head bowed in concentration at something in his hands. It was evident from his gait that one of his ankles were injured, one of his legs limping slightly with each step. When his head tilted up and he spotted you standing awkwardly by the book shelves, a smiled spread across his face. The warmth in his expression was so genuine, like he was actually happy to see you, and it made your stomach clinch momentarily. You gave him a small shy smile in return and lowered your gaze. He was carrying a tin of paint by a handle with one hand and a painting brush in the other.

"Good morning," Oscar greeted you. "When Maria told me I'd have someone working with me, I thought it might be you."

He wandered over to you and stooped down to set the pail on the ground. He stood up to his full height and for the first time, you were consciously able to see him whole, not half hidden behind a counter. He was considerably shorter than Joel but taller than you. He was not broad or discernibly muscular, but you could sense he was strong from the way his sweater clung to his upper arms. His black hair was combed neatly in place except for a lone corkscrew curl that fell onto his forehead endearingly. You recalled Kate's description in your head randomly, nerdy but cute. "How are you today?"

Oscar gazed at you and you realised that his eyes were so dark brown that they almost appeared black. You're sure this would be unsettling on anyone else, but with Oscar it was not. There was nothing dangerous or malicious within them, only a curious twinkle that allowed you to meet his gaze without feeling self conscious; a huge contrast to Joel's cold stare that could make you tremble on the spot and want to look away. You inwardly chided yourself for comparing the two men, a habit you did not want to indulge in. You cleared your throat.

"I'm okay," you answered with a shrug and half a smile. "How about you?"

Oscar bunched the sleeves of his navy sweater to his elbows and then put his hands on his hips. "I'm okay, too." He said with a little nod. "I was planning on doing some painting today." He indicated to the brush in his hand. "Would you like to help me with that? Or you could sort the books? You can choose what you wanna do."

Oscar was so accommodating, so considerate, qualities you hadn't really witnessed in any man in your life but Tommy, Joel's younger brother. Truthfully you avoided interaction with too many people, especially men, so you didn't have much experience being alone with a man. But you had witnessed the savagery of men in the outside world in your younger years, before you were found and rescued by Jackson residents, and that barbarity that scarred something inside your heart and soul. It had conditioned you to be docile and compliant around others, to crave feeling protected and secure and wanted. You had learned to crush your opinions and needs in favour of self preservation, mechanisms that you still did regardless of the lack of threat and harm in Jackson. To have Oscar ask something as simple as your choice in a task at your workplace startled you.

"Oh," you squeaked. You looked over at the stacks of books by the counter and mumbled. "Uhm, well...I'm really curious to see what new books we have."

Oscar gave a small laugh. "Yes, I thought as much. Well, I'll get started on painting and you can do the cataloguing. Sound good?"

You nodded and couldn't help the smile that spread on your face. "Yes. Where are you gonna start painting?"

"Well, I think that front door needs a new coat of lacquer," he said while he scratched his chin, his fingers on his beard making a rasping sound. "But all I have today is the paint, so I'm going to do the walls here out the front." He motioned to the walls along the back of the front counter.

"That would be nice," you nodded. Oscar bent down, picked up the paint tin and held it at eye level to study the label.

"What'd you think of this? 'Light Summer Blue'," he announced with a grin. He looked at you and raised his eyebrows playfully.

You chuckled. "Lovely. It will surely lighten up the place. Maude kept the library pretty...."

"Dull?" Oscar offered. His head turned around, surveying your surroundings. "Depressing?"

"Orderly." You finished. "Functional. She wasn't really concerned with creating a bright atmosphere."

Oscar hummed and faced back to you. "Well, I reckon once you and I get started on this place, it'll look like a whole new library."

"Okay, then, let's do it."

••••••

You and Oscar spent the next three hours working diligently on your individual tasks while talking together, asking each other questions and learning bits and pieces of your journeys in this world. You discovered that Oscar was in his early 40s and had lost his wife in the beginning of the apocalypse. He had survived in a QZ for a few years, then in the wild with different groups of survivors, until eventually stumbling into Jackson. He had now been in commune for five years.

It was so easy to converse with him. Conversation flowed between you without awkward pauses or uncomfortable silences. You still felt nervous at times, self conscious of appearing too sensitive or emotional, only offering details to trivial topics that didn't require you to discuss any kind of trauma. It was light. Oscar was respectful and did not press for more information than you gave, instead asking you general questions about yourself. Occasionally some of them stumped you. It was foreign to you that someone cared enough to want to get to know you, to ask you so much about your likes and dislikes.

"My favourite time of year?" You repeated Oscar's question with a shy smile. "Well, that has to be spring. I love seeing the flowers blossom. Jackson looks really pretty in springtime."

You finished scrawling the name of the book laid out in front of you on the counter on a scrap of paper. You had recorded the details of more than twenty five books, and had categorised them according to their subjects. You dropped the pencil on the paper and flexed your fingers to ease the cramp that had began to ache your hand. You looked up at Oscar. He stood on the opposite side of the counter, his back to you while he moved the paint brush in long strokes over the wall. The blue paint was a beautiful contrast to the ugly, dull brown colour that had covered the library interior for as long as you knew. It was almost hypnotic to watch the way Oscar's brush coated over the wall with the pretty new shade, as if cleansing the place. "How about you?"

"I always liked Christmas time," he said quietly. You thought the soft inflection in his voice almost sounded sad. You stilled, silent as you watched him, wishing you could see his face in that instant and perhaps gauge some sort of reading on him in that moment. Your mind was scrambling to think of another question to ask, but before you could say anything Oscar sighed and took a step back from the wall to survey his handiwork. "Well, it's getting there. I tell you what, all this work has made me hungry."

You glanced at the clock on the wall and saw it was just after noon. Lunch would be being served in the cafeteria now. Oscar laid the paint brush on-top of the lid of the paint can and finally turned around to face you. Your eyes flicked to his face and you were briefly surprised by the hopeful, shy twinkle in his dark brown eyes. He cleared his throat. "Uh...I was thinking...Would you like to go...to the mess hall and get some lunch with me?"

You weren't hungry at all, but you were enjoying your time with Oscar and didn't want it to end. "That would be nice," you responded softly. Oscar exhaled a small breathy chuckle, as if he were relieved by your answer. You noticed the flash of his straight teeth and the crinkling at the corners of his eyes whenever he laughed, attributes that you found highlighted his already striking appearance.

"Great, let's go," Oscar grinned.

••••••

Oscar locked the library door behind you and tucked the key in his pants pocket before you began the leisurely walk side by side up the mainstreet towards the mess hall. You were conscious not to walk too quickly out of consideration for his injured ankle, but you could tell Oscar was trying his best to maintain a steady pace.

"Sorry, I'm still a bit slow," he mumbled apologetically. "It's almost all healed up."

"There's no need to apologise." You gave a little wave of dismissal. "It's nice not rushing. Especially on such a beautiful day."

And you were right. Rays of sunshine poured through clusters of dull white clouds while a gentle breeze caused the yellowing leaves on the ground to dance along the street. Birds tweeted sweet symphonies from the tops of the trees and the aroma of baked goods floated in the air. The town centre was always vibrant with a flurry of activity. As you walked, you and Oscar watched the various community members going about their day; children kicking a worn ball around the street, some women on their way to the market with woven baskets tucked under their arms, a group of patrolmen stalking towards the stables, others milling around the shop fronts that lined the street. Witnessing the daily adventures of the residents of Jackson filled you with a sense of belonging and affection for the town you called home.

When you reached the mess hall Oscar hurried to grab the door handle and open the door for you to step through first. The gesture made you smile, and you thanked him before you entered the cafeteria. Oscar followed behind you and leaned over your shoulder to speak closer to your ear. "Judging from the smell coming from the kitchen, I bet today's lunch is pumpkin soup. Smells a hell of alot better than the tuna casserole last week."

You giggled at him and weaved inbetween the tables toward the bench you usually sat at with your friends. The hall was a little less than half full and primarily occupied by small groups of workers taking their lunch break. You sat down but Oscar stayed standing.

"I'll go get some lunch for us," he said with a smile. "You want some juice or something?"

"Oh, I'm actually not really hungry," you mumbled sheepishly, feeling your cheeks blush. Oscar's eyebrows creased into a frown at your confession. "I just...I didn't want to stop hanging out..."

"Oh, no, that won't do," Oscar shook his head. "You can't just sit there while I eat. Come on. Just have a little bit with me. Please?"

It was difficult to deny Oscar's request when his tone of voice was so tender, when the orbs of his eyes looked at you pleadingly behind the delicate rims of his round glasses. Without saying anything, you let out a small sigh of defeat and Oscar's face lit up in triumph.

"Attagirl," he grinned. "Okay, be right back." Oscar made his way through the clusters of tables towards the kitchen area. You watched him walk away, unable to suppress the shy smile that had curled on your lips. You hadn't made a new friend for a very long time but the warmth between you and Oscar inspired a joyful hope inside your heart, a desire for more experiences and different opportunities, including new friendships.

A minute later Oscar returned from the lunch line carrying a tray with two bowls of pumpkin soup, two spoons, two rolls of bread, and a cup of orange juice. He walked slowly back to your table, concentrating on balancing the tray in his hands. You found the small crease of his eyebrows and the way he bit his bottom lip as he focused to be adorable. When he approached the table and set the tray down carefully infront of you he sighed with relief.

"Here we go. Sorry it isn't tuna casserole." Oscar said with feigned disappointment.

You snickered and looked at the bowls of soup on the tray, little swirls of steam rising from the surface of the warm liquid. It smelt delicious. "Looks like you were right - pumpkin soup."

You sat opposite each other and made small conversation, words flowing between you easily, just like at the library. You found yourself unconsciously dipping your bread roll in the rich soup and biting into it, mirroring Oscar's actions. The soup was nourishing and tasty and you savoured it's flavour and texture unabashed, humming in appreciation every so often. You couldn't recall the last time you savoured a meal like this. You knew Oscar was pleased to see your pleasure, to see you relishing the food together, but he didn't mention it. You were thankful for that.

Suddenly a voice was calling out Oscar's name from across the cafeteria, interrupting a story he was telling you mid sentence. You both looked up to the man who was trying to get Oscar's attention and saw it was Troy, one of Jackson's main patrolmen. He had just entered into the mess hall and stood there grinning at Oscar.

"When are you comin' back to work, Baryshnikov?" Troy said good naturedly before heaving out a booming laugh. Oscar chuckled and shook his head.

"Not until Tommy takes that damn rifle off your hands, you maniac!" Oscar shouted back. The lighthearted teasing made you giggle. You watched the interaction with amusement, enjoying the chance to see what Oscar was like when he socialised with others. However your relaxed demeanour was completely shattered when Joel swaggered in through the door and came to stand next to Troy, his features arranged into his usual scowl. Your breath caught in your throat and you froze, unable to look away. Unexpectedly running into Joel was now something you dreaded, especially after he ambushed you last night. And here in this moment you were in the company of another man, a scenario you had never been in before. What would Joel think?

Joel's dark puppy dog eyes swept over the cafeteria stoically. Then he spotted you. You chewed your bottom lip as his eyes then flickered over to Oscar. You could immediately recognise the moment when realisation hit him, the reality that you were sitting alone with Oscar, another man, and eating lunch together. You noticed Joel's body language shift immediately, signs that were perhaps imperceptible to anyone but you; the subtle intense shift in his eyes, the irritated tick of his jaw, his fists clenching and unclenching at his sides. Oscar greeted Joel with a smile, oblivious to the rage stirring inside him. Joel gave him a nod of acknowledgement in return. Troy slapped a hand on Joel's shoulder and jerked his head towards the kitchen.

"Let's get some grub before patrol," you could see Troy saying. Joel turned to him and said something in return, then spun around and stalked back to the hall door. You watched him silently, your hands now shaking in your lap. Before pushing the door open and leaving, Joel paused and stared at you for a few seconds, a piercing coldness swimming in his orbs. You felt the panic pool in your stomach. Then he walked out.

••••••

When Joel saw you sitting with Oscar in the cafeteria at lunch time he couldn't automatically decipher just what was happening before his eyes. In the time Joel had known you, you never socialised so openly with men, and certainly not with any men like Oscar. To witness you sitting and eating lunch with an older patrolman - one of his colleagues, no less - had bewildered Joel. It took a few seconds for the shock to dissipate.

Then the heat of anger ignited in his stomach and instantly engulfed his whole being. It travelled up his spine and licked at his neck, causing his skin to prickle in agitation. It surged through his arms and into his fists. It took a great deal of restraint for Joel not to stride over to the table and punch Oscar in the face, then drag you out of the place by your hair.

He knew you wanted more from him. Things he just wasn't capable of giving you. Joel figured your little tantrum would pass - you'd realised how dramatic and ridiculous you were being and nestle right back underneath him, where you belonged. But this was completely unexpected. Joel had never really believed you would have the confidence or desire to actually leave him, or find someone else.

Joel was good at hiding his feelings. He had been practicing it for many years now. His patrol partner had no inkling of the storm raging inside Joel when he said he'd wait outside. No one could've guessed. Except perhaps you.

You'd known Joel well enough by now to know when he was displeased. You also knew that your actions would have consequences. But your audacity was what shocked and angered him right now. What the fuck did you think you were doing? How dare you sit with a man in public like that, let alone someone older than you? And another fucking patrolman, at that.

When he walked outside and eventually regulated his breathing, when he successfully constrained the rage threatening to spill from his mouth and hands, and he could think clearly once again, he knew what he needed to do. You just needed a little punishment, some kind of reminder of who you belonged to. Who owned you.

••••••

After lunch you and Oscar returned to the library and resumed working on your individual tasks, although the fullness in your belly had dulled your productivity and gusto. Oscar continued to paint the wall beside the front door, humming quietly to himself whenever conversation between you lulled. There were gaps of comfortable silence as you both worked, neither of you finding it necessary to fill the quiet, instead just basking in the peaceful afternoon of the library.

You tried not to let your mind wander back to Joel and the way he looked at you and Oscar. You could never be completely sure of exactly what he was thinking or feeling, although it was safe to say he was not pleased. Not pleased at all.

But that shouldn't matter, you told yourself, we aren't together. I shouldn't care what he thinks.

Anyway, Joel was on the late patrol today so he would just have to deal with it. For now.

It was just after 3.30pm when you finished the last of the cataloguing and shelving. You leaned against a book shelf and tried to stifle a yawn unsuccessfully. You heard Oscar chuckle.

You looked over to see him watching you from his position by the wall, his hands on his hips. He had taken off his sweater and was now wearing a crumpled grey tshirt with daubs of paint here and there. You could see the curve of his biceps peeking out from under the sleeves of his shirt, displaying his smooth olive skin.

"Bit sleepy over there?" He grinned.

You smiled bashfully and just nodded, then stretched your arms out to your sides and sighed wearily. Oscar turned back to the wall and looked it up and down.

"Well, I think that's enough for today. Gotta let these walls dry."

He packed up the tin of paint and went to the small sink in the storeroom to wash the paintbrush. You walked over to the freshly painted walls by the counter and appraised Oscar's work. He had done very well considering he had no paint roller and only a simple large wooden handled paint brush. Such a task required quite a bit of patience and dedication, you mused.

"What do ya think?" Oscar asked when he reappeared from the storeroom, wiping his hands clean with a rag.

"It looks great," you said with sincerity. "It already makes the library look so much brighter."

Oscar tossed the rag onto the counter and came to stand beside you. He was so close you could smell the natural scent of his skin intermingled with his sweat and a faint hint of something you thought was like cinnamon.

"Mm," he murmured softly, his eyes wandering over the expanse of the wall. "It does. You don't think the colour is too much, do you?"

You studied his face for a brief moment, taking in his features; the prominent shape of his nose, the distinct thickness of his eyebrows, the pensive downturn of his lips. He was so unassumingly beautiful. The sober expression of his face coupled with the tone of genuine concern in his voice was quite endearing.

"I think Light Summer Blue is perfect," you replied with a playful little smile.

Oscar glanced at you and huffed a breathless chuckle of mirth. You and Oscar surveyed his handiwork for a few more moments before he gave a soft sigh.

"Ready to call it a day?" He asked gently.

"Yep," you replied quietly.

Oscar gestured to the front door with his hand and you both ambled toward it. There was a palpable shift of energy in the air now, a reserved shyness between you two, as if you both wanted to linger yet neither knew what to say. Neither of you spoke as you and Oscar stepped outside, or as he shut the door closed behind him and locked it with the key. He pocketed the key, turned to face you, and then cleared his throat.

"Thank you." Oscar said quietly. His eyes wandered from the ground up to your face. "For today. For being such good company, I mean. I haven't...I hope you had a good day."

"I did," you replied truthfully. "Thank you, Oscar. I'm glad we could work together."

Oscar gave you a small smile and you were sure you could detect a slight glimmer of hope in his expression. It was a kind of yearning you were sure mirrored the one you kept locked in your own heart - a desire for friendship, for understanding and companionship, for affection.

When you said farewell for the day and parted ways, turning to walk in the opposite directions of your homes, you wondered what was going through Oscar's mind at that moment.

••••••

From the beginning of the end of the world, after Sarah had died, Joel was a broken man. The agony of losing his only child, the only shining light of happiness in his life, had planted a seed of hate inside his soul that rooted itself and festered. The sorrow never eased, not even with time to dull the sharpness of memories. Instead, the deeply entrenched hatred spurred him to tear things and people apart, to destroy them. He wanted everyone left in this fucked up world to hurt just as he did - irrevocably. Simply, Joel lost his sense of humanity.

He survived through the years by using brutality and violence, carving out a widespread infamy as a raider that incited fear in the neighbouring settlements and QZs. Joel repressed any emotion he felt would make him weak or unfocused. He abused pills and alcohol to quell the nightmares of Sarah and help numb himself from the hellish reality of surviving the end of the world.

Ellie had been the only person to penetrate Joel's exterior and piece back together some of the shattered remains of his heart. She had been the only person Joel showed any kind of vulnerability to and the depth of his love for her was immeasurable. It was partly this relationship that had convinced the townsfolk of Jackson that they could accept and trust Joel. The fact that he was a caring and attentive father to Ellie, in addition to Tommy Miller's older brother, made his entry into Jackson relatively smooth.

Joel was not a good man. He knew that. He never pretended to be anything otherwise, but he did keep his true nature just barely hidden under a facade; one that allowed him to assimilate without being asked too many questions. In a very short time he had proved himself as a valuable asset with his intellect and exemplary hunting and survival skills. He quickly became one of the lead patrolmen, alongside Tommy and two other men.

The boys and men in the town aspired to be like Joel and he effortlessly commanded respect from them. Tommy had begged him to accept the role as a sort of teacher to the younger men and boys, which Joel agreed to after much grumbling and complaining. He taught them self defence tactics, helped them perfect their shooting skills, and trained them how to properly skin a deer.

The women admired Joel's good looks and the doting father role he played to Ellie. When he first came to Jackson some of the women asked Tommy and Maria to play matchmaker and set them up on dates with Joel, but he wasn't interested. Some of them still flirted with him unashamedly, despite his lack of interest or reciprocation. He was never rude to any of them though, always the polite Southern gentleman who just didn't talk much or socialise with anyone (except occasionally his patrol buddies). Tommy would just shrug his shoulders in bewilderment.

Joel could admit to himself that there were several attractive women in the town, some pretty faces who would giggle and wave to him across the bar, some shapely bodies that sashayed around the town centre begging for the attention of a rugged macho patrolman. However, none of them sparked anything more than a sexual desire in him, a need that he could easily fulfill by jerking himself off in the privacy of his own home.

At the QZ Joel had semi frequent encounters with sex workers. Most of them were desperate women addicted to the pills he smuggled, something he used to his advantage. He enjoyed seeing them fall on their knees begging for a fix in exchange for a blowjob or a fuck. The power and control he yielded over them was thrilling to Joel. He did not mistreat the women but he felt nothing for them, only viewing them as warm holes he could fuck his frustrations into.

He still retained this mentality towards women to some degree when he arrived in Jackson. He had given up on the idea of having a woman in his life, even just as a sexual partner.

Until he met you.

The first time he saw you, he and Ellie had only arrived in Jackson two days prior. He was standing with Tommy, Maria and Ellie in the main street near the cafeteria, only half listening to them discuss the layout of the town and the movie screening that night in the town hall.

You were walking down the street with one of your girlfriends, chatting and laughing with a carefree kind of joy that Joel had thought no longer existed in this world. You wore a yellow sundress and a matching ribbon in your hair, a baby blue cardigan pulled modestly around your chest. Your smile was so beautiful, so pure. When he saw your face he felt his breath catch in his throat and the coil of primal hunger twist in his stomach. It hit him like a thunderbolt. Joel was so caught off guard by his own reaction that he froze in place and continued to stare at you as you passed by.

You had glimpsed at him as you and your girlfriend pranced past, and locked eyes on his briefly. He knew you felt something too when your cheeks blushed pink immediately and you lowered your gaze bashfully, that smile never leaving your face. Joel felt his dick hardened in his jeans as he watched the swell of your ass and the curve of your hips while you walked away.

Joel was thankful that Ellie and Maria were too preoccupied with their conversation and had not noticed the interaction between you two. But when he finally tore his eyes away from you Tommy was already watching him, his expression unreadable.

In the following months he spied you around town when he was out with Ellie or Tommy. You were either alone or with your girlfriends, never with any boys (an observation that satisfied him greatly). He noted how well liked you were by others, particularly the children and elderly ladies. He collected bits and pieces of information about you from Ellie and conversations he overheard on patrol and at the Tipsy Bison or the mess hall. You were not outspoken or loud like some of your friends, you helped out at the school as a teacher's assistant, you had no family with you in Jackson.

He never allowed himself to really analyse just why he was so attracted to you. You were pretty, that's for sure. But there was a vulnerable sweetness about you that he found tantalising, a softness that made him want to consume you while and break you down until you were nothing. Nothing without him to rebuild you, to take you in his hands, so pliant and docile, and mould you however he wished.

But Joel had no reason to approach you or talk to you. You were so much younger than he, after all. So for the next four years he repressed his hunger for you, the quiet but obsessive infatuation he felt. Until one day Ellie came bounding over to him, a grin plastered on her face. She was so excited to tell him about a comic she scored from the teacher at the school. When she said your name his heart skipped a beat, but he kept his face as impassive as ever. Ellie wanted to introduce you to Joel, and although he protested, she managed to drag him to the school to formally meet you.

Ellie was enthralled by your knowledge of books and comics, and your passion for baking and the random bits of animals facts you'd accumulated over the years. She quickly developed an affection for you, Joel suspecting she viewed you as a sort of surrogate older sister.

You were so shy you could hardly make eye contact with him when you talked. His cock twitched in his pants when you said his name for the first time. Joel was never a big talker and inwardly he was so nervous to finally be in your presence, but he attempted conversation with you for Ellie's sake.

After that initial meeting you began to visit their home occasionally, always with one of your home made cakes or biscuits or banana bread. You were so generous and sweet and fucking domesticated, already a little housewife in the making. It was so fucking difficult for Joel to remain calm and casual during these visits. If not for Ellie's presence, Joel probably would have held you down on the floor and fucked the shit out of you the very first time you showed up on his doorstep. But instead he repressed his true desires under a pretence of polite detachment whenever he saw you, offering a gruff greeting and a few words of conversation while covertly undressing you with his eyes.

After only a handful of these encounters Joel could discern that you had developed feelings for him. He noticed the lingering glances you would give when you thought he wasn't looking, how you'd blush whenever your eyes met his for more than a second, the way you'd stare at his hands as if mesmerised. Joel managed to control his urges for three months after that first meeting.

Then one evening you stopped by when Ellie was out, a basket of muffins on your hip, your dress clinging to your body from the sticky summer humidity, a hopeful and hungry look in your eyes. Joel had seduced you in his kitchen that night, and ever since you had both been addicted to each other.

It all started out as passionate but soft. You were both insatiable but Joel needed to be somewhat gentle, atleast in the beginning. He had to be charming enough that you'd fall for him and become too invested in whatever it was you shared together to leave. The mere thought of him losing you made his pulse quicken and his head buzz with panic. But he couldn't let you know. Admitting feelings for you would be acknowledging he was capable of emotions, and therefore of weakness. It would also be tempting fate - surely something would go wrong, like you dying somehow.

Little by little, Joel sunk his teeth deeper into your flesh and tightened his hold on your heart. He would make excuses as to why he wasn't ready to make your relationship public, relishing the crestfallen expression on your face before fucking you senseless. Joel would placate you with a mind blowing orgasm and then you wouldn't mind so much that your heart was slowly being chipped away. It worked. Until recently.

Joel knew your body so well. How you would feel so eager and needy and overcome with yearning to be full of him. Joel himself was so intoxicated by your own body and the control you allowed him that he was often overzealous in his actions. He would be so consumed by lust and the need to dominate you that the movement of his hips quickly became punishing, and the grip of his large hands became rougher and more careless. He pushed through your boundaries with no remorse or care for your comfort. He forced you to forfeit your autonomy again and again. But it didn't matter. He always made you come, always assuaged the hurt with intense pleasure. The exchange of pleasure and pain was what you craved; you would have let him do just about anything to you.

The thought of you allowing anyone else that privilege made him feel demented with jealousy and rage. He shook his head, clearing away the thought. You just needed a reminder, that's all.

••••••

After having dinner at Kate's house and spending some time with her and her brother, you went home to do some reading and get a good night's sleep. You had a shower and got dressed into a sweater and a skimpy pair of sleep shorts. You walked into your room and were about to slip under your blanket when you heard a creaking sound behind you.

When you turned around you were shocked to find Joel standing at your bedroom door.

"Joel," you squeaked in surprise. "What are you doing here?"

The glow from your bedside lamp highlighted his hawkish scowl amongst the shadows of the room. He advanced toward you with slow deliberate strides, his eyes piercing into you with a dark intensity that caused your stomach to flutter with dread. You shuffled backwards blindly, unable to tear your eyes away from him. His hands were clenched by his sides and his broad chest expanded with each deep breath he took.

"Why aren't you on patrol?" You asked in a small, shaky voice.

Joel scoffed and shook his head. "You expectin' someone else?"

"No," you mumbled breathlessly. You retreated back until your legs hit your bedframe and you plopped down on the mattress. You suddenly felt very small and naked in your skimpy pyjama bottoms and your legs bare. You shrunk away from his intimidating figure and scrambled against the wall that your bed rested against.

"What the fuck were you doin' with Estrada?" Joel growled. You knew who he meant.

You pursed your lips in fearful silence as your wide eyes stared up at him. When you didn't respond, Joel's large hand shot out and grabbed onto one of your ankles and roughly dragged you across the bed towards him. You gasped.

"Answer me when I ask you a goddamn question!" Joel barked loudly.

He leaned down and grasped a handful of your hair close to your scalp and used his grip to pull you up on your knees. You winced at the searing pain, your own hand reaching up to futilely try wrench his grip away, tears pricking your eyes. He glared at you now kneeling on the bed before him, not a trance of mercy on his face.

"He...we-we work together," you whined, "we just got lunch on our b-break."

Joel's eyebrows knitted together in a confused frown. "Workin' together?" He spat. "At the school?"

You didn't want to tell Joel about your new work assignment. You didn't want him to know any details about what you were up to or any changes in your life. But his imposing stance above you and the menacing glint in his eyes were terrifying enough to compel you to surrender to him.

"Nuh. At the library."

Joel was silent for a few seconds as the information sunk in. Then his lips curled into a snarl.

"Alone?" He gave your head a rough shake. "You alone with him in that fuckin' library?"

A small, strangled sob escaped your throat and you stared at him, the tears now falling from your eyes. "Joel, please, you're hurting m-me," you whimpered pathetically.

"Why the fuck you workin' there with him?" Joel growled, ignoring your plea. His other hand landed a sharp slap across your face, making you cry out. "He your new daddy? You let him fuck you?"

"No," you croaked, tears streaming down your cheeks freely as you stared up at Joel. "J-just friends. That's it. I swear."

Joel's dark gaze flickered back and forth to each of your eyes, as if searching for the truth in your words. His jaw ticked. You hiccuped, your chest heaving shallowly, your eyes willing him to believe you. He relinquished his hold on your hair with an uncaring shove, knocking you onto your ass. You wiped the tears from your cheeks with the back of your hand, sniffing. Joel crouched down and picked something up from the ground beside the bed. When he stood up straight you saw a length of thin rope in his hand. Your stomach began to swirl with panic.

"Joel, what are you--"

"Hold out your hands." Joel commanded you, his tone calm and firm. You quickly shook your head, simultaneously frightened of refusing him yet so desperate to avoid whatever it was he had planned.

Then Joel suddenly backhanded you. The force of the smack made your ear ring and the face of your face go numb instantly. While you were stunned by the impact Joel kneeled on the bed beside you and then grabbed your wrists. He hurriedly began to bind them with the rope.

"Sayin' no to me?" He growled as his hands worked expertly. "Stupid little bitch, who the fuck you think you are?"

All you could do was sob in response, a fresh wave of tears falling from your eyes. Joel could be rough at times, but never this cruel. The anxiety of not knowing what he was going to do next made your skin break out in goosebumps and your legs tremble.

When Joel had finished winding the rope tightly around your wrists he shifted up the bed to secure the remaining length to the frame of the bed head. You could hear his heavy breathing.

"J-j-joel?" You stammered weakly.

Joel remained silent as he finished restraining you to the bedframe. You were now trapped. He stood up off the bed and then grabbed your sleep shorts with both hands. He ripped them down and off your legs in one swift motion, then threw them onto the floor. Your bottom half was now exposed to Joel. You felt shame burn your cheeks as his eyes wandered up your legs and settled on your naked cunt. You clamped your thighs shut. His eyes flickered up to your face.

"With the shit you pulled today, seems to me you need a little reminder of who you belong to." Joel murmured. He took hold of your thigh and effortlessly flipped you over onto your stomach.

"Joel!" You cried. "Stop!"

You knew it was hopeless. You dared to look back to Joel. His dark eyes were fixed on your face as his large hands unbuckled and unlooped his belt from his jeans. His jaw ticked. He folded his thick leather belt in half and held the ends together in one hand. Your eyes went wide in understanding.

"Please, no!" Your legs writhed in a futile effort to escape. The rope pulled taut on your wrists.

Joel pulled his arm back and threw it forward to land a blow onto your bare buttocks with the strap. The blinding sting made your skin sizzle. You screamed in pain.

"Shut up and hold still now," Joel commanded gruffly. He thrashed you again, the leather cracking loud on your flesh and filling the room along with your unrestrained cries. Joel repeated the action again. And again. And again. Stars flashed in your eyes as the pain electrified your whole body. Hot tears leaked from the corners of your eyes. Your legs shook and your hips rocked. You were sure the belt had broken through your skin and was making you bleed.

You were too consumed by the agony to realise Joel had stopped beating you and discarded his belt on the floor. His chest expanded with his heaving breathes, his nostrils flared. You buried your face into the mattress and your body wracked with sobs. Your flesh throbbed unbearably.

A few moments later the bed creaked under Joel's weight and you vaguely registered that he had settled behind you on his knees. His calloused hands dug into your hips as he lifted your bottom half up so you were positioned on your knees. Then you felt the warm, wet head of his cock pressing against your pussy. All you could muster was a whine when he started to push his cock into your entrance, his grip on your hips pulling you back at the same time. The pleasurable stretch made you moan.

"That's it, babydoll," Joel drawled, his voice dripping with lust. "Take it."

His fingertips squeezed into your flesh as he buried his entire cock into you. He only allowed you a moment to adjust before he pulled out then rocked back into you. You moaned again at the sensation of his fat cock parting your insides.

Despite wanting so much more than this game of submission and dominance, you couldn't deny the animalistic arousal beginning to stir in your belly. Your body had become conditioned to crave his fingers and his cock and his mouth. You were becoming wet now.

God you're so fucked up.

Joel's pace increased and he was soon pummeling into your pussy. The thickness of his thighs had your legs spread wide. One of his hands grasped a handful of your hair and yanked your head back, making your back bow, letting him hit that sweet soft deep inside you. Your moans became guttural. His other hand reached down infront and rubbed your clit in circles.

"Oh my god," you whimpered.

He maintained the brutal pace, snapping his hips into yours from behind, still massaging your clit. Your walls constricted around his cock. Your orgasm was building. Fuck, you hated yourself.

"Come for me, bitch," Joel groaned.

It took less than a minute for your climax to hit. You moaned loudly as the warm pleasure exploded inside you, blackness momentarily clouding your vision. Joel fucked you through your orgasm, your muscles clenching and milking his cock. When you were gasping and recovering from your high he pulled out and shot thick ropes of cum over your ass, growling and panting with exertion.

You flopped down on your stomach, weak with exhaustion. You shut your eyes, silent while the adrenaline rush began to slowly fade from your sense. Joel said nothing as he tucked himself back into his jeans and retrieved his belt. He sliced through the rope tied to the bed efficiently with his jagged pocket knife. Your hands fell onto the mattress.

"Do anything like that again, little girl, and I'll fuckin' ruin you." Joel said. The next thing you heard was your bedroom door slamming shut behind him.

Chapter Text

You stared at the drain, watching the swirls of water and soap suds circle around its rim before disappearing down into darkness. You stood under the shower head and let the warm water cascade over your back. It was soothing, comforting. Until the water hit the throbbing and raw skin of your ass and your wrists.

You bit your lip and grimaced in pain. You had to endure it if you wanted to be clean, to wash away the physical evidence of the shame and degradation of what Joel forced upon you. Using a washcloth you gingerly wiped away the cum that had dried on your backside. You had not been brave enough to assess the damage in the mirror just yet, but when you grazed your fingertips over the area you had an idea of just how bad it was.

Your body felt so weak, so tired. When you were finished washing away Joel's cum you moved the washcloth down to your vulva. You whimpered as you carefully cleaned yourself, the minute tears at the entrance of your vagina stinging. Your walls ached.

When you were done you leaned your forehead against the tiled wall with your eyes closed. You were sure you could fall asleep standing where you were - and you probably would - if not for the shower gradually turning more and more cold. You turned off the taps and stepped out of the shower to dry yourself with a towel, mindful of the angry raised welts on the cheeks of your ass.

Instead of dressing into a new set of pyjamas, you slipped naked into your bed and under the blanket. You positioned yourself on your side so that nothing was touching your back, scared to aggravate your injuries. You pulled your pillow into your stomach and curled up like a ball around it and cried. Eventually you succumbed to the fatigue and fell into a heavy sleep.

******

The following morning you somehow managed to wake up on time, get dressed, eat an apple for breakfast, and then arrive for your teaching lesson five minutes early. You appeared fresh faced and energetic, but inwardly you felt as though you were close to dissociating, teetering between numbness and hysteria.

In the classroom you avoided sitting down. You stood for the whole lesson as you taught the children about the lifecycles of insects, utilising the chalkboard and the book Maude had found you at the library. And even though the cuffs of your blouse were rubbing against your hidden wrists and irritating the skin there, you tried hard to focus on the lesson and be present, to adopt the calm, nurturing persona that the children knew you by. It wouldn't be fair to them if you cracked now, if you showed them a chink in the amour, not when they trusted you and loved you as their caretaker and teacher. This job gave you a purpose and sense of stability and you were adamant not to let Joel ruin that for you now.

When it was time for lunch and the school bell rang in the corridor, the children all scrambled out of the classroom to go eat their lunches and play outside. As soon as you were alone in the room you let out a heavy sigh of relief, grateful for the opportunity to unmask.

You tried to sit down in the chair at your desk, gingerly positioning yourself on the edge, half off the seat. You hissed at the dull pain thrumming in the meat of your ass and gripped onto the desk for support. Fuck, you wouldn't be surprised if you were bleeding right now.

You hesitantly leaned forward to rest your elbows on the desk, then cradled your head in your hands. You sighed again and let the muscles in your body sag a little.

You were unable to fully relax as your mind began to project flashbacks of last night; images of Joel's face, the sensations of his body, the sounds of the whip cracking your flash, of his hips smacking against yours, all burned into your memory.

The depth of pain you felt, both physically and emotionally, was unprecedented in your relationship with Joel. Yes, he had always been rough, at times uncaring of your comfort, but the hurt he had inflicted upon you last night was the first time he had ever genuinely frightened you.

You were well aware that he could be ruthless, that he was capable of great cruelty - you'd heard the rumours of his past as an infamous raider. And although Joel never talked about his past you quickly surmised that he had committed some acts of unspeakable violence.

You had heard the snippets of gossip about his barbaric pragmatism as a patrolman, too. The ways he would execute raiders and kill infected without a sliver of hesitation, the sniper like precision of his marksmanship, his ability to kill someone with his bare hands.

His violent reputation was justified and had earned him the respect (and even a bit of fear) of every person in Jackson, including yours. Perhaps the foreboding mystique surrounding Joel added to the allure you felt for him. Maybe you were even drawn to the sense of danger he exuded.

But despite this attraction, you couldn't ever have imagined him directing an ounce of rage or hostility towards you. You had never witnessed the extent of his dark side first hand. Not until you were confronted with his icy glare in your bedroom and the subsequent punishment of his belt. The depraved rage you saw in his eyes last night was now seared into your very core. Your splintered heart was wounded and fearful.

Joel had never been overtly considerate or encouraging of your emotions. He never really asked you what you were feeling or what you wanted (unless he was fucking you in that moment). Early on in the relationship, or whatever it was that you and Joel shared, you had accepted that he was not as expressive or emotionally open as you wished. But you understood it was just who he was, either through natural temperament or from the years of struggle and survival in this world, or both.

There were times when Joel had been tender and affectionate, though, especially in the beginning. Sacred moments that you both dare not openly acknowledge. Like in the middle of the night when you were both snuggled under the sheets and he would pull you close to his chest, wrap you in his strong arms, and kiss the top of your head. The blissful pockets of physical affection were enough to placate you for a while, until your heart could no longer repress it's hunger for more. The yearning for unconditional love, a family of your own, someone to share your life with.

You didn't know if he ever loved you or truly cared about you. But if he had not, why was he so possessive?

You had discovered the jealous streak of his personality quite quickly. The subtle displays of displeasure - the flare of his nostrils, the hard set of his jaw, the flash of anger in his eyes, whenever a man even looked your way. You used to find it sort of endearing. It made you feel wanted.

In a public setting no one would guess that Joel would be stealthily watching you and taking note of who you were interacting with and your body language. No one seemed to realise that Joel was an expert at appearing nonchalant while observing and absorbing every thing in his surrounding environment, constantly vigilant. Protecting what was his.

If he saw a man, regardless of age, had struck up conversation with you at the Tipsy Bison or the cafeteria, Joel would be sure to chastise you later on. It didn't matter that you weren't interested in anyone but him. It didn't matter that you only politely responded in a way that indicated you weren't interested. That wasn't enough for Joel.

As you became more attached to Joel and more expressive with your affection, it seemed Joel became more aggressive with your body. What started as light dirty talk during sex progressed into an exercise of control and sacrifice, with Joel fucking you mercilessly and covering your body with hickies and bruises with an almost obsessive need to stake his claim.

He hated anyone being too close to you. He would have preferred you to be completely isolated from everyone else, focused only on tending to he and Ellie. He dislikes your dedication to your duties and your preoccupation with your friends, who he disapproved of. Joel criticised them for being too loud or opinionated, accusing them of being too promiscuous. You knew he genuinely considered a couple of them to be bad influences just because they talked about sex and dating.

But how could Joel be so jealous when he didn't want to make your relationship official? Was it just sex to him? Why did he want to control you so much yet refuse to publicly assert his ownership? His greed only reinforced the validity of that tiny niggling belief that had been buried inside your heart since the day you lost your family. The notion that you would always be alone. That you did not deserve to be happy. That you were worthless.

And what was worse....you still loved Joel. Despite the agony he had inflicted, you still fucking wanted him.

Maybe you were just fucking broken. Irretrievably broken.

The flurry of thoughts and questions circulating in your mind was making you feel dizzy. You groaned and dug your palms into your eye sockets. You willed yourself not to start crying again.

Then a knock at the wooden classroom door suddenly shattered your thoughts. Your head snapped up, startled to find Oscar standing at the door. He was wearing jeans and a slightly tattered dark blue sweater, a hand clutching the strap of a satchel slung over one shoulder. His eyes peered at you behind his round spectacles with a curious concern, his thick eyebrows knitted together.

"Hey," he cooed. "Mind if I come in?"

"Hi," you nodded and cleared your throat. "Yes, ofcourse."

You winced slightly at the croakiness of your voice and hoped Oscar didn't notice how fragile you sounded. You looked away and smoothed your hands over your blouse before sitting up straighter in an attempt to appear more composed. Oscar approached your desk with cautious slow steps, one leg limping slightly, the soles of his boots thudding across the floor.

You braced your hands on the desk and rose up from your chair, your lips pursed with anticipation of the painful sting of your flesh. You saw him open his mouth but you spoke before he could.

"Why are you here? How can I help you?"

"Well," Oscar came to stand at the desk but stayed a few steps away from you, a clear attempt to respect your space. He swung his satchel off of his shoulder and plonked it ontop of your desk. "I found something for you, actually."

You looked at him with an eyebrow raised quizzically. He looked back and grinned, his brown eyes shining with warmth. Your eyes flickered down to the bag as Oscar flipped open the satchel and reached in. From it's confines he retrieved a hard cover book. You instantly recognised the tiny pictures of different insects decorating the spine of the book, and your mouth fell open in surprise.

"Oscar, is that--"

"Kids Bug Science Volume III," Oscar announced proudly with a chuckle, holding up the book with both hands for you to see the cover. It was the next installment of the insect series you had been using to teach with, a resource you hadn't thought you'd ever be lucky enough to find.

"Oh my gosh, no way!" You laughed, a hand shooting up to cover the large smile you were unable to hold back. Your eyes looked from the book to Oscar in wonderment. "Where did you find it?"

"Well, I was rummaging around the storeroom crawl space, trying to fix a wire, and I found a bunch of books up there." Oscar held the book out for you to take. "This was one of 'em."

You accepted the book and held it in your hands, your thumbs tracing over the cover. "I can't believe it,' you whispered.

"I'm sorry I couldn't wait until your next shift at the library," Oscar said, sounding slightly sheepish. "Got excited when I saw it and wanted to give it to you straight away."

You looked up from the book and met his gaze. There was a gentle expression in his beautiful brown eyes now, a mix of shy affection and sadness.

"Thank you," you said softly as you clutched the book to your chest. "Really. I appreciate this so much."

Oscar nodded once and looked down before adjusting his glasses on the bridge of his nose. "You're welcome." He collected his satchel and hitched it back over his shoulder. "I know it means alot to you. And for the kids."

You put the book down on your desk and chewed your bottom lip, unsure what to say next. You were worried that he could somehow detect what had happened with Joel, like there was some visible sign on your face that announced how much of a slut you were, how Joel made you cum so hard after abusing you, how disgusting you were to still have feelings for a man who degraded you. Your cheeks blushed involuntarily.

Suddenly the thought of Joel somehow seeing you right now, alone with Oscar in your classroom, pierced through your mind and filled your stomach with dread. You tried to swallow but your throat felt so dry. Oscar noticed the change in your expression and leaned in closer towards you immediately.

"Hey, are you okay?" He asked, his tone soft but serious.

"Yeah, I'm okay," you replied in a small voice, avoiding his gaze. "I'm just a bit tired."

Oscar placed a tentative hand on your shoulder. The unexpected contact made you stiffen a little and your face turned up to look at him. He was looking down at you, his hooded brown eyes studying your face, both his orbs shifting between yours, as if searching for something. The tender concern in his expression made you feel like lunging into his arms to feel him hold you and comfort you.

"You can tell me anything, like if something's bothering you," he said quietly. "Only if you want to, ofcourse. I'm here, if you would like to talk."

"Okay," you whispered. "Thank you, Oscar."

You remained staring at one another with Oscar's warm hand on your shoulder, the silence between you feeling increasingly intimate as each second passed. You were sure Oscar felt it too; it was evident in the way his eyes bored into yours, how his mouth opened slightly and his tongue darted over his bottom lip.

Without warning a loud knock at the classroom door came crashing through the private bubble surrounding you and Oscar, making you both step back from one another with instinctive haste. It was one of your students, a little boy, who suddenly began to ramble loudly about one of the soccer balls deflating again.

"Whoa, slow down little man. I'll be there in a minute with the pump," you replied.

He nodded enthusiastically and then ran back outside to the yard. You and Oscar glanced back at each other and breathed a small laugh together, the tension relieved between you.

"I better go," he ran a hand through his curly black hair. "Sorry for interrupting your day."

"Why are you saying sorry?" You turned your body to face him and smiled. "Thank you
For thinking of me and coming by and to give me the book. It'll be so useful in my next few lessons."

Oscar returned your smile. "Anytime. Well then...I guess I'll see you at the library sometime?"

His thick eyebrows raised and there was a slight inquisitive lilt to his voice, as if he was wanting confirmation that he would actually see you again.

"Yeah, ofcourse. My next shift is in two days," you replied, reaching up to tuck a stray hair behind your ear.

"Great," Oscar said, his eyes roaming over your face and hair for a brief moment, his own features unreadable to you. "I'll see ya then."

He turned on his heel and you watched him walk back to the door, his limp slightly more prominent now because he stood taller, his posture more straight, prouder. When he disappeared through the threshold you looked down at the book and traced the cover with your fingertips. Although you had only spent a short time with Oscar, you had never known a man to be so considerate, so caring.

It was new. And it felt good.

It was only when he was gone that you realised you could still smell the faint cinnamon scent around you, the smell that you would eventually come to associate with Oscar.

******

After finishing at the school that afternoon you walked across the townships to visit Maude at her cottage. You sunk into the cushion of an armchair in her loungeroom while her housemate, another elderly lady, served you cups of tea. You spent an hour listening to them detail Maude's sickness and the type of medicine the doctor prescribed her, how her housemate tended to her day and night, and how caring Tommy and Maria had been. It was close to dinner time when you said goodbye and left to go home.

You tucked the science book into the crook of your arm as you strolled through the back streets toward your cottage, consciously avoiding the busier sections of the streets in order to reach home quicker.

You weren't in the mood to eat dinner in the mess hall this evening. You did not feel energetic enough to socialise with anyone or to continue masking the force of emotions plaguing your insides. You had no appetite, anyway. The girls would probably wonder where you were but that didn't matter. They knew you were more introverted, more content with retreating into your own world than socialising unnecessarily, especially at meal times.

You could visualise yourself curled up in bed under the comforting weight of your blanket with a favourite book in your hand. It was exactly what you needed.

When you arrived at your home you were surprised to see Ellie sitting on your porch, her legs crossed. She was tossing a pocketknife into the air and catching it in one hand with practiced ease. You always secretly enjoyed seeing her relaxed like this, so carefree and youthful. When her face was pulled into her large, charming smile and her eyes sparkled mischievously. Her heart flooded with great affection for Ellie when you were reminded of just how soft she was inside. She could always make you laugh with some silly joke or her vulgar humour. You were always pleased to see her, except today was different. She reminded you too much of Joel.

"Hey," you greeted her, trying your best to sound upbeat as you trudged up to the porch. "What're you doing on my property, kiddo?"

"Hey!" Ellie grinned at you. She scrambled to stand up and jammed the knife back in her jeans pocket. "Wanted to know if you wanna get dinner together. I needa pick your brain about some comic ideas I got going on."

You pinched your eyes shut and sighed. "Oh El," you murmured quietly. "I'm not really up for hanging out tonight, I'm sorry."

You swallowed the lump that had formed in your throat immediately after the words left your mouth. You should've known this was coming. The inevitable first time you would disappoint Ellie because you couldn't face being reminded of Joel.

"Oh," Ellie mumbled. "You okay? You look kinda pale."

You looked at her and mustered a weak smile. "Yeah, I'm just super tired. Busy day at school."

Ellie puffed her cheeks and exhaled a breath of air then looked down. Her disappointment was evident. "'Kay," she kicked at some sawdust on your porch. "Maybe next time, I guess."

Seeing Ellie look so dejected made you feel even worse. You knew she had struggled for so long - struggled to fit into the community, to adjust to life outside the QZ, to grow into a young woman without the guidance of a mother. You understood that she craved connection and acceptance more than she would ever willingly admit. Ellie had come to trust you and respect you enough to let her vulnerability occasionally peek through. You couldn't let her down like this, not when she wanted to share something or part of herself with you.

You sighed and reached out to grab her hand. Her eyes shifted up to meet yours.

"El," you squeezed her small hand gently. "I'd love to. Just let me put this book inside first."

Ellie's face instantly lit up. "Cool." She glanced at the science book you were holding and scrunched her nose. "The fuck is bug science?"

******

As you walked side by side through the mess hall doors, you were attentively listening to Ellie describe the new character she had created for the comic book she was working on. It was only after collecting a meal tray from the serving counter that you noticed the group of rangers already seated across the hall.

Their loud conversation, which was occasionally punctuated with booming laughter, compelled you and Ellie to turn and look in their direction.

"Geez, who the fuck is being so loud?" She muttered in annoyance.

You spotted the five men sitting at a round table near the back of the hall, their broad shoulders and thick arms occupying the space with You recognised them as being the senior patrolmen of Jackson, including Troy, Tommy and Joel.

Joel.

When your eyes found Joel you saw he was already watching you and Ellie, chewing the inside of his cheek, the expression in his eyes unreadable. He was the only one of them not talking or joking as he absentmindedly poked at his food with a fork.

Your pulse began to race and your cheeks flushed. You gripped your fingers around the dinner tray tightly and quickly lowered your gaze in submissive humility, the depressing mixture of shame and fear once again engulfing you whole. You wanted so badly to run away and hide. But you knew you couldn't. You felt frozen, like a deer in the headlights. You shouldn't have given into Ellie so easily, you should've just run inside the house and--

"Ugh, nevermind, it's just Joel and his girlfriends." Ellie said with a roll of her eyes. She jerked her head towards a free table nearby. "Come on, let's sit."

When you didn't move, Ellie bumped your hip with hers playfully. "Hey, hurry up, before someone steals our table."

You suppressed the panic induced bile rising in your throat and followed Ellie to a table, the cutlery on your tray clanking from the jittery shaking of your hands.

******

Goddamn, you look pretty today.

Joel watched you take a seat at one of the tables with careful deliberation. You were positioned sideways from his line of vision, your face obscured by a section of hair that had fallen loose from the purple ribbon you had tied around it. He could see how your body tensed up, your back stiff, as if bracing for pain.

Well, you must be in pain, after what he did to you last night.

A sense of pride then bloomed in his chest and he wished he could see your face clearly. The memory of you positioned on your knees below him, your wrists bound, your whipped ass jiggling as he assaulted you, flashed through his mind. It made Joel's cock twitch in his jeans.

Fuck, he wanted to have you again, right now.

Troy leaned forward into the table and clicked his fingers quickly to get the attention of the other men. Joel and the others looked at Troy.

"Hey," he hissed, "see that pretty little mouse with Joel's daughter, over there?"

Troy nodded his head toward where you sat with Ellie. The other rangers, including Joel, shifted their gaze over to you. You toyed with your fork, your head nodding at something Ellie was saying. You were totally oblivious to their stares.

Always so innocent.

"Estrada was eatin' with her the other day." Troy murmured slyly. "Ya think he might be screwin' her?"

The lewd question caught Joel off guard, making his breath catch in his throat. Hearing someone talk about you in such a crude way provoked a boiling rage to course through his veins. He clenched his jaw and flexed his fist under the table discreetly. He was ready to punch Troy in his stupid fucking face.

A few of them sniggered before they all turned their attention back to their trays of food.

"Estrada?" One of the patrolmen, Harry, scoffed. "I thought he was gay."

"He ain't gay," Tommy interjected, rolling his eyes. "Fuck sake, man."

"Since when does Estrada get pussy like that?" Harry grumbled.

Joel listened closely to what was being said while stabbing his food with his fork, feigning disinterest. The muscle in his jaw ticked. Tommy glanced at him.

"Since he stopped workin' patrol, I guess. He must have more time to waste chasin' tail now," another of them guffawed.

"Hey now, enough of that talk," Tommy ordered firmly. "They just work together, is all. So give it a rest."

Troy held up his hands in front of him in a pose of surrender. "Alright, alright, el capitan, just shootin' the shit is all."

Joel couldn't take it anymore. He dropped his fork down onto the tray with a clang, then pushed his chair away from the table and stood up unceremoniously.

"Hey, where you--" Tommy began.

"Finished," Joel grunted.

He stalked out of the mess hall without another word, shoving the door open and stepping out into the starry night. Joel shoved his hands into his jacket pockets and trudged down the street away from the mess hall. His senses felt heightened, as if he were close to imploding, as the fury seethed throughout his body.

He fucking hated anyone talking about you like they did. Like you were some piece of meat. Like you could ever belong to anyone but him. It pissed Joel off so much that he had to leave; he couldn't trust himself not to beat the shit out of Troy or Harry or any of the others. Tommy would kill him. Joel stormed on towards his house with his chest heaving from impotent rage.

Fuck what anyone else thought. You were his. He knew it, and you knew it. He had made sure of that. That's all that mattered.

And he was giving you time to come back to him on your own accord, to get over this little phase of insolence. You would learn your lesson and realise where your rightful place was. You would come crawling back to him - willingly.

Wouldn't you?

Yes. Ofcourse. You needed him. Just as you needed Ellie and she needed you.

You couldn't just leave. No fucking way.

He was almost home when Joel became aware that his heart was pounding and his breathing was becoming more rapid. His throat felt dry and his chest felt constricted. He managed to make it to his house in time to lurch against his front door and let his weight stabilise against it. His eyes screwed shut and he pressed his forehead against the wood. He inhaled a deep breath, then exhaled, then repeated the step, all the while waiting for the panic to dissipate. He was grateful for the dark of the night, the privacy it allowed.

After a few minutes Joel was able to regulate his breathing and calm down. The tightness in his chest loosened. He calmly unlocked the door and ambled inside the living room. He had already decided he was getting drunk tonight. And he would pay you another visit.

••••••

Ellie had spent a solid 15 minutes during dinner detailing the new comic she was in the process of illustrating. Her eyes were bright with excitement as she babbled on and gestured animatedly with her small hands. You listened dutifully, adding comments and asking questions where appropriate, trying to appear sincere in your interest. It was difficult to focus when the anxiety was still churning in her stomach and the welts on your flesh were throbbing.

Seeing Joel in the mess hall had rattled you. The pressure from Ellie, as well as the fact that your thoughts had been so convoluted all day, meant you hadn't even considered the possibility of Joel being there at the same time. The way he had stomped out of the mess hall soon after your arrival made you even more uneasy. You wondered where he was going, what he was thinking. You were too consumed with thoughts of Joel to notice Ellie's eyes narrow on you like a snake watching it's prey.

"What's this?" Ellie suddenly blurted.

She grabbed hold of one of your hands and yanked your blouse sleeve up your arm. You squeaked and pulled away from her but it was too late - Ellie had already seen the faint red rope marks on your wrist. You batted her away gently and she let go of your hand.

"The fuck happened to your wrist?" She frowned, her big eyes flickering from your hand to your face.

"Nothing, El," you lied cooly, tugging your sleeves down to properly cover the marks. "The cuffs on this shirt are a bit too tight, I think."

You would never hurt Ellie by telling her the truth. You cared about her far too much to purposely expose her to Joel's darker side and jeopardise her happiness. Or Joel's.

She searched your face for a moment, scrutinising your features for some indication of dishonesty. You mirrored her sober glower playfully, then stuck out your tongue. It was an attempt to break the tension and distract her, and it seemed to work. Ellie giggled a little, uncertainty still evident in the crease of her brows, but she let the moment pass without any more dispute. She changed the subject back to her comic idea, fortunately for you.

"Anyway, so the main character of this story is going to be like, really fuckin' smart..." Ellie continued rambling.

After another ten minutes, Ellie had only eaten half her plate of vegetables and venison before abandoning you in favour of a party she had been invited to. You didn't mind. Infact, you were relieved. It was the perfect opportunity for you to bolt back home and retreat under the covers of your bed. But just as Ellie was walking out the door, Kate, Rhi and Jess almost collided with her as they came strolling in.

Kate spotted you instantly and called out your name, waving to you enthusiastically. You sighed to yourself and waved back half heartedly. It looks like your plans would have to wait.

******

Joel was dozing on the couch later that evening when there came a succession of loud knocks on his front door. He groaned as he got up, his back stiff and aching, and made his way to the door in a only a few large strides. He thought it must be Ellie coming home early from the party - but deep down he hoped it was you coming over to collapse into his arms and beg for his touch.

When he opened up the door he was greeted by Tommy. Tommy stood on the doorstep with his hands on his hips, his mouth downturned in grim sobriety. His expression made Joel stand to attention instantly.

"Tommy? Whatsa matter?" Joel asked straight away. "Ellie alright?"

"Ellie's fine. But Carl spotted raiders North West of the mountain this evenin'," Tommy explained with calm urgency, his voice low despite no one else being nearby. "We need to get a group out there and scoutin' by day break at the latest."

"Fuck," Joel muttered, shifting his eyes up and sighing.

Raiders were not a common threat but they posed a serious danger to the safety of the community. They usually consisted of groups of more than a dozen men, all of them armed somehow, searching for any place or any people to strip of supplies. With its agricultural vitality, amenities and abundance of resources, Jackson would be a prime target for raiders.

They had to gather some patrolmen and venture outside to find them.

Joel and Tommy knew first hand how ruthless raiders could be. It pissed Joel off to think of a bunch of strangers trying to bust their way into his town, wanting to steal what did not belong to them, thinking they were some big bad gang. Joel would gladly execute them all on the spot.

Joel's eyes flickered back to Tommy, who was staring back at him with a steely resolve that signalled he was ready to hunt and slaughter these assholes right this minute. Joel's jaw ticked.

He had to do it. He had to go. There was no way he wouldn't.

Joel gave his brother a decisive nod, indicating he was prepared to join him.

"Round up Harry and Troy, meet me at the gate at 4o'clock," Joel ordered in a low voice. "Don't tell no one what's goin' on. Only Maria."

Tommy nodded in agreement then spun around on his heel, stalking away from the house and into the darkness of the night.

Joel ran a hand over his face and sighed heavily. There would be a slight change of plans tonight, but it would still work out. He had been on a few of these missions before, special patrols where the more experienced men tracked and hunted groups of raiders and infected and eliminated them. Such operations could take anywhere from a couple of days to a month, depending on the weather conditions and the expanse of area that was being compromised.

It was impossible to tell how long Joel would be away for this time. He couldn't risk leaving without seeing you first. He needed to be certain that you wouldn't forget that it was he who took care of you, his hands your heart was cradled in, he who owned you. You were definitely frightened of him right now, so he planned to assuage that fear with something more pleasurable.

Joel glanced at the clock hanging in the loungeroom wall and took note of the time. 9.20pm. There was still time to have a drink and visit you before he had to leave for this expedition.

Joel started up the stairs to begin packing his bag.

******

You pushed the peas and mashed potato around your plate with your fork, only partly paying attention to the conversation happening around you.

You randomly wondered if any of them had been in a situation like yours before, if they too had loved someone who hurt them but were too ashamed to confine in anyone. Probably not, you deduced. They were so much braver and stronger than you. They weren't fucked up like you were.

"Are we having a party at the Bison for Cassie, a big final hurrah before she gets married to one dick for the rest of her life?" Rhi asked, earning a round of giggles from your friends. You were too preoccupied with your thoughts to join in.

Jess snapped her fingers infront of your face. "Hello? We need your input here!"

You jolted upright, accidentally irritating the marks on your backside and briefly wincing from the pain. You looked around at your friends' amused faces. "Yeah, sure, sounds fun."

"You okay?" Kate asked tentatively. She wasn't entirely oblivious to your mood, it seemed.

"Yeah," you replied casually, forcing a tight smile. "Just thinking of Cassie's gift and the design for her glory box."

Rhi clapped her hands together and squealed. "Oh! I forgot to tell you guys! I spoke to Sheila at the haberdashery and she said she has a panel of satin that would be perfect for Cassie's present. It looks alot like her dress, too."

You made a more conscious effort to engage in the conversation, not wanting any more attention on you.

"The wedding is in a month, so we better get working on it," you said confidently.

"How about tomorrow night?" Jess suggested.

You and your friends remained in the dining hall for the next half an hour going over your plans for Cassie's gift and the preparations for her hens night. It ended up being a welcome distraction for you and by the time you all finished dinner and agreed to go hang out at Kate's house, you felt a little less on edge.

******

By the time dusk crept over the town and the specks of stars appeared across the canvas of the evening sky, Oscar knew he was going to have a difficult time falling asleep that night.

His day hadn't been particularly stressful or challenging - infact it had been quite easy going - but from time to time he would wake up with a heaviness in his chest, and today was one of those days.

From this morning up until now, he felt an underlying anxiety inside him, a sorrowful clawing at his heart that he hadn't wanted to acknowledge. Unconsciously he knew why it was there. He had sort of been expecting it. But despite the years of enduring this burden of melancholy, Oscar had never quite gotten used to it.

And so instead of wallowing in his room with only the dark shadows of his memory for company, he decided to go to the Tipsy Bison and have a drink. He rarely drank to get drunk, but just enough to feel something close to happiness, a balm to soothe his unspoken hurt and make him forget for a little while. It helped with the nightmares.

When Oscar stepped out onto the street to begin the walk to the bar, he was struck by how beautiful and clear the night sky was, how the stars twinkled so prettily against the backdrop of black and deep blue. He marvelled at the heavens above him as he walked, welcoming the distraction from the dull ache in his ankle.

It was almost healed now. He would be back to patrolling soon. But right now he was enjoying the library shifts alot. It was different. It was new. And you were there.

The atmosphere of the main street was quiet and lonesome at this time of night. The cool air nipped at the nape of his neck, a timely reminder of the impending change of season, he thought to himself.

Oscar wished he could see you right now. Just to say hello. Ask if you were really alright. You looked sad today at the school and it worried him. Although he hadn't known you for very long, he found himself caring about you quite alot. There was something about you that attracted him. Not necessarily physically - although you were certainly beautiful - but emotionally and intellectually. He enjoyed the way you spoke and described things, how you listened to what he said with genuine interest, how your quiet company relaxed him and soothed the unrest in his heart.

But you were probably busy with your friends. Oscar supposed you must be popular in the community. How could you not be? You probably had a boyfriend, too; but he hadn't been daring enough to ask you about that. It didn't matter, though. He was content to be your friend. He just hoped you wanted his friendship, too.

When Oscar reached the Tipsy Bison he pushed open the saloon style doors and relished the hallmark ambience of the bar rush over him; the twang of the country music coming from the battered jukebox in the corner, the voices of the patrons talking and arguing, the yellowing glow of the lights pouring through the light haze of cigarette smoke. The Tipsy Bison was a little less than half full but was by no means subdued.

Oscar didn't stop to survey his surroundings before approaching the bar and ordering a beer. He took a seat on one of the stools and leaned his elbows on the counter, then ran a hand through his black curls. The anxiety was slowly consuming his thoughts, to the point that he hadn't even realised that Joel was sitting two spaces away from him.

Always vigilant of what was going on around him, Joel had noticed Oscar as soon as he sat down. He watched Oscar through his periphery, noting the defeated sag of his shoulders and the nervous way he raked his hand through his hair. Joel, being no stranger to self hatred and internal conflict, was adept at recognising when someone was struggling with something personal, and he could see something was bothering Oscar. Admittedly, he was curious. Especially now he knew you were working together at the library.

Joel had spent many hours patrolling with Oscar over the last few years and they shared a mutual respect of one another, not a friendship as such but a kind of comradery that only the patrolmen of Jackson shared. While Joel didn't care for cultivating friendships, he was comfortable enough initiating conversation with people when he was interested enough. And right now his interest was piqued.

"Somethin' on your mind, Estrada?" Joel asked without turning to face Oscar.

His question startled Oscar out of his thoughts, forcing him to straighten his back and look over to Joel.

"Oh, hey Miller," Oscar offered Joel a small grin, then shifted off the stool and onto the next one to sit beside Joel.

"Just the usual shit," he mumbled before taking a a swig of his beer. He let out a noise of satisfaction after swallowing it. "Goddamn, that hits the spot."

Joel hummed in response and toyed with the neck of his bottle, his thumb smoothing over the condensation that had formed over the glass. A comfortable minute of silence passed as they both savoured the beer Tommy had spent countless hours crafting and perfecting.

Oscar was a good man. He was friendly, talkative, and well liked by everyone. He didn't indulge in crude jokes or talk about sex, which Joel was grateful for (he fucking hated listening to crass banter almost as much as he hated someone talking unnecessarily). Oscar was never disrespectful towards anyone and he was a responsible patrolman.

But he didn't exude overtly masculine energy. He wasn't argumentative or had a bad temper, like alot of the other guys. He wasn't bloodthirsty or quick to prove his capabilities. To Joel, these traits automatically made Oscar weaker than him. And a little bit of a pussy.

It was because of these attributes that Joel did not perceive Oscar to be much of a threat regarding you. He had believed you when you said there was nothing going on with Oscar. Joel knew you well enough to know you were telling the truth. You were never good at lying, anyway. And you were always so open for him, so willing to please - you were such a good girl.

Joel recognised that a large part of your attraction to him was his own strength, his protective virility complimenting your soft, feminine nature so well. He too found it very appealing. So ofcourse you wouldn't be attracted to Oscar. You needed someone who could take care of you properly, and Joel was that man.

But Joel had to be honest with himself; witnessing the fear in your eyes had aroused him with such an unexpected ferocity that it was all he could think about tonight. Your innocent doe eyes wide with panic as you pleaded and begged, fuck, it filled Joel with a primal desire to devour you completely, body and soul. He couldn't wait to extract that reaction from you again.

But he knew he had to be careful with you. Scare you or hurt you too much and too quickly and you might tell Tommy or Maria on him, get him kicked out of Jackson, make Ellie hate him forever.

No, Joel had to be a little bit tender, especially now. You'd learnt your lesson after he punished you, solidifying the fact that you only belonged to him. Joel could afford to be gentle right now and coax you back to feeling safe and satisfied with what you two had. Show you how kind and caring he could be if you stayed a good girl. Without the sappy relationship bullshit that your bitch girlfriends no doubt planted in your head.

"Look like somethin's eatin' ya," Joel said casually, finally turning his head to look directly at Oscar. "Bad dreams again?"

Oscar gave a small shrug of his shoulders and sighed. "Most nights. Some are worse than others."

Joel nodded knowingly. He was no stranger to being startled awake, gasping for air, disturbed by the horrors projected in his mind in nightmares of the past. They still plagued Joel often enough for him to want to get drunk or fuck away his feelings every night. He wondered if Oscar had any secret vices.

Joel cleared his throat and rubbed the back of his neck, unable to hide the awkwardness he was feeling.

"Ya got no family here," Joel stated matter of factly. "That's part of your problem. You need somethin' to live for, needa have some roots."

Oscar chewed his bottom lip, listening reverently to what Joel was saying. Joel was uncomfortable speaking so candidly but it was necessary. He needed to in order to gain some insight into Oscar's intentions.

"Me...I got my kid and my brother," Joel said with an offhanded shrug. He sounded gruff but earnest. "They keep me goin'."

Oscar was silent. Joel glanced back up at him.

"You been in Jackson a while now. You got yourself a woman?" Joel asked, trying to come across as casual rather than inquisitive.

Oscar looked down and gave a tight shake of his head, then took a long chug of his beer. Joel raised an eyebrow.

"Nothin'? No girlfriend?"

"Nah, man." Oscar wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

Joel looked over both of his shoulders before lowering his voice into a hushed tone. "Not even just a once in a while fuck?"

Oscar barked a short laugh. "No, definitely not."

Joel's nostrils flared as he inhaled, a mixture of relief and pride surging inside his chest. He knew you were telling the truth. Now Oscar just confirmed it. There's no way you would go behind his back. Especially not with this pussy Estrada.

Joel hid the smug satisfaction threatening to spill across his face. Instead, he scratched the side of his face nonchalantly. "Fuck it, women ain't nothin' but trouble anyways."

Oscar exhaled a partly suppressed chuckle. Joel finished the last mouthful of his drink and set the bottle down on the countertop with a thud.

"Gotta good way to get rid of those bad dreams, ya know," Joel smirked at him.

"Yeah?" Oscar gave him a curious half smile in return. "What's your remedy, Miller?

"Let's get you hammered," Joel grinned wolfishly. "Won't be thinkin' too much about anythin' then."

Oscar chuckled and shook his head. "Nah, Miller, I don't think--"

"Hey Clyde!" Joel cut off Oscar to call out to the bartender down the other end of the bar. "Another couple of beers and some shots of whiskey this way."

Joel smacked his hand over Oscar's shoulder in a brotherly gesture of affection.

"Trust me, you'll be feelin' alot better after this."

"Okay okay, just a couple more," Oscar acquiesced genially. "Thanks, Miller."

"Anytime, buddy."

This is too fuckin' easy, Joel thought.

******

Kate had walked you back to your cottage after dinnertime and stayed for an hour curled up on your couch drinking a cup of herbal tea. When she left you tried to read through the book Oscar had given you and create notes for upcoming lessons for your class, but you were so tired that you fell asleep in bed by 10pm.

It was sometime after midnight when you sensed the dip of the mattress under your body and then the warm caresses underneath your tank top.

The scruff of his beard tickled your face as he peppered warm kisses over you cheeks. His rough hand roamed over your body with greedy hunger, only stopping to squeeze your breasts and the soft skin of your stomach. Your brows creased as you began to rouse from slumber. Even through the drowsy haze of sleepiness you could still identify the familiarity of Joel's touch and scent.

"Joel?" You murmured groggily, your voice thick with sleep.

"Yeah, babygirl, it's me," Joel whispered.

He gave you a sloppy wet kiss on your mouth, pushing his tongue past your lips. Your body was unmoving underneath his touch, still heavy with the sedative remnants of sleep. It took some time for your muddled brain to fully register the taste and smell of alcohol that enveloped your senses.

He has been drinking. Possibly drunk. And now he is in your bedroom, on-top of you.

The realisation made your body snap to attention with panic. Your eyes fluttered open and you brought your hands up to press against his chest and break away from his plush, hungry lips. Joel relented and pulled back, bracing himself on one hand above your head.

How the fuck did he get in?

You could feel the heat of his erection pressing against your thigh and you exhaled a small gasp when you realised his lower half was naked.

"What-you," you mumbled, "what're you doing?"

You shrunk back into your pillow and dared to stare up at his face to try gauge his mood. Joel's gaze met yours, his pupils blown wide with desire, the curls of his hair dishevelled as if he had been running his hands through them. There was no cruelty in his expression this time, no anger. It was such a huge contrast to his demeanour the last time he was in your bedroom and it made you feel even more disorientated.

And fuck, he looked so sexy.

"It's jus' me, baby," he whispered, his voice soft and slurred with lust. "Needed to see you."

His fingers dipped underneath the band of your sleep shorts and a lustful groan rumbled in his throat when he cupped your naked sex. You shifted your hips slightly and Joel moved his hand further down, his fingertips gliding across your lips. He found your entrance and slowly pushed one of his thick digits inside your pussy. You moaned softly at the intrusion and involuntarily parted your legs when his whole finger slid inside.

"Joel," you whispered breathlessly, your eyes still locked.

"Pussy missed me, ain't that right, sugar?" Joel purred.

He lowered his face and kissed you once again and this time you allowed him to, accepting his tongue to roll lazily into your mouth. His thumb pressed against your clit gently and began to move to in slow circles as his finger slid out of your pussy, then back in again. Joel continued fingering you and your body slowly began responding to his touch, your pussy becoming wet with arousal. He pushed his finger all the way inside you and curled it against your g spot. The intense pleasure made your eyes roll back and pull yourself away from his lips.

His fingers felt so fucking good.

"Fuck," you panted, "J-Joel."

"So wet," Joel groaned. "See how your body wants me, babydoll?"

He was right. Your body was betraying you - your dignity, your honour. You shouldn't want this, not with Joel. Not after how he treated you these past few months, and definitely not after what he did to you with his belt.

Fuck fuck fuck, what if he is back to hurt you again?

You reached down and grabbed onto his thick wrist with your small hand.

"Joel, no," your voice cracked. "You hurt me. I don't want to do this."

"Ssssh," he cooed in a soothing tone. "I ain't here to hurt you, darlin'. I wanna make you feel good. Lemme show you that I care about ya."

Joel nuzzled his nose against your cheek tenderly then licked at the corner of your mouth. You couldn't help but let out a tiny moan.

Why was he acting so different? Why was he being so tender now? Did he really want to show you that he cared?

The logical, rational part of your brain was being overruled by the naive softness of your heart and the yearning between your legs. Some small part of you knew that you should be wary and not trust Joel at all. But it was hopeless - you loved him. Still.

Your hand unwrapped from his wrist. A silent sign of permission. Joel removed his same hand from inside your shorts. Despite yourself, you whined at the loss of his touch at your core.

Joel sat back on his splayed knees inbetween your legs, the upper half of his body still covered by his flannel shirt. You bit your bottom lip and watched him, nervous to be so vulnerable underneath him yet excited, the arousal in your belly growing. He looked so broad and powerful.

While gazing down at you Joel began unbuttoning the buttons of his flannel with enticing dexterity. In only a few seconds he had stripped it from himself and discarded it on the floor. You drank in the sight of him naked, his bare torso dotted with scars, the muscles of his biceps flexing, how his thick cock bobbed up against his soft stomach. Saliva was pooling on-top of your tongue inside your mouth.

Joel took hold of the bottom of your shorts and tugged them down your legs. You hissed at the sting when it passed over your ass, but Joel didn't seem to notice. He slipped the shorts down your legs and threw them to the floor. You were now naked except for the thin tank top you fell asleep in.

"Pull your legs up," Joel rasped. "Wanna see that sweet pussy spread open for me. Come on, honey, show me."

He wrapped a hand around his cock and watched you obediently bend your knees and reach down to part your lips with your fingers, exposing your sensitive flesh and your hole to him. You lifted your head up off the pillow to see Joel groan and pump his fist over his dick.

"So fuckin' pretty," he murmured. "Just waitin' for me to fuck her." His eyes flickered up to your face. "That what you want? You want me to fuck you?"

You couldn't disguise the thrill of desire pulsing all over your body. You were mesmerised by every inch of the man infront of you, any hint of apprehension or fear having vanished now Joel was naked inbetween your legs.

"Yes, Joel. Please." You practically moaned.

Joel smirked, satisfied with your willingness to submit. "Keep that pussy spread for me, sugar."

Your fingers remained still as he leaned over you and spat out a warm wad of saliva onto your pussy. Joel watched intently as it slid down to your hole. You felt yourself fluttering at the sensation. Joel planted one hand on the mattress near your head to brace himself and hovered over you; his other hand notched himself at your entrance.

You held your breath in anticipation. Then Joel pushed himself into your tight wet heat.

The initial stretch from the head of his dick entering you was uncomfortable and overwhelming. But Joel was mindful tonight. He slowly sheathed himself completely inside and allowed a few moments for your body to adjust to the feeling of fullness. A long soft moan escaped your lips.

"Oh my god, Joel," you breathed. You clenched around his shaft.

"Feels so fuckin' good, babydoll," Joel muttered.

His eyes were downcast, transfixed, while he rocked his hips back to slide his cock out half way, then forward to move back inside you. He did so again and again, creating a slow and steady rhythm of fucking you.

Your hands travelled up to skim over his biceps, fingertips dancing over his muscles. Joel may have been considerably older than you but his stamina and might were impressive regardless of age. You were in awe of just how powerful his body was, how gorgeous his face was.

You wrapped your legs around his waist as his fat cock parted your insides so deliciously. It felt so natural to be underneath him again. You dug your nails into his shoulders and moaned softly with each thrust.

"That's it," Joel growled lowly, voice gravelly with passion. "There's my good girl."

He fucked you with a slow, hard momentum that made your stomach muscles contract and your inner thighs quiver. You could feel the stretch from his veiny thickness in each punch of his cock. Your body and mind were totally intoxicated by the carnal bliss Joel was enrapturing you with.

His actions were passionate but not at all rough. In fact he was being so gentle tonight, almost loving. Was this what making love is?

Joel was breathing heavily above you, his mouth slack, his eyebrows knitted in intense pleasure. Joel's hand snaked down and started rubbing your clit with two thick fingers without disrupting the pace of his hips snapping into yours. The stimulation added a whole new level of intensity. You shut your eyes tightly.

"Oh fuck yes, Joel," you groaned loudly without inhibition.

You no longer felt the sharp burn of the bruised welts on your ass as your body was being pushed into the mattress. You did not feel the tenderness on your red wrists, or the confused sadness of your heartbeat. You only felt Joel.

"You like that?" Joel panted. "Whose this sweet pussy belong to, baby? Whose your daddy?"

He stared down at you as he continued massaging your clit in steady circles. He angled his pelvis in a way that allowed his dick to tap into your g spot, that sweet part of your plush insides that he knew drove you crazy.

You dug your nails into the skin of his shoulders and tilted your head back, a guttural moan rising from your throat. Your head was swimming, unable to formulate a thought or a verbalise an answer except for his name.

Joel's movements still for a moment as he shifted to sit upright on his knees. You whined and opened your eyes. He was watching you, his eyebrows raised.

"P-please," you whispered weakly. "Dont stop."

"Ya didn't answer me," he muttered.

You were too distracted to perceive the hint of danger and annoyance underlying the tone of his voice. His cock was still, resting thick and heavy inside you. You tried to grind yourself against him, desperate for friction to relieve the tension built deep in your core.

"Joooel," you whimpered. "I'm sorry, you just feel so good, so amazing, please, please keep going "

Joel wrapped a hand around your throat and squeezed lightly, causing your pussy to clench around him.

"I'm gonna ask you again," he drawled calmly. He rocked his hips back and forth slowly. "Who owns this fuckin' pussy?"

"You do, Joel," you moaned, arching your back.

"Whose your fuckin' daddy?" Joel snarled, flexing his hand on your throat, a telltale gesture that he was holding back and close to snapping.

"You," you mewled pathetically, running your hands over his chest with fervor. "it's you, Joel."

He suddenly thrust all the way into you until his hips were flush against yours, his pubic bone slamming into yours. You cried out in shock. You were totally full of his girth with his heavy balls resting against your ass. The stretch was actually painful and your muscles contracted around him in response.

"Ow, fuck, fuck! Joel," you whimpered. "T-too much, too deep."

"This is my pussy, I'll go as deep as I fuckin' like."

The hand around your neck squeezed down, cutting off your air supply. Your mouth fell open in a silent cry, your eyes wide, your hands now limp by your sides. Joel started moving once again and was soon fucking you in deep, fast thrusts that hit your g spot each time, the action punctuated by Joel's heavy panting and the sound of the bed frame knocking against the wall.

Your mind was starting to go fuzzy, your vision blurry. The fiery pressure in your belly was growing and when Joel swiped the rough pad of his thumb over your clit, your pelvic muscles contracted.

"You're gonna come on my cock," Joel ordered through ragged breaths. "And you're gonna thank me for it. You hear me, little slut?"

He relinquished his hold on your throat and you choked as your body gasped in a rush of air. You moaned when he then gave your cheek a few light rapid slaps.

"Gonna thank me for splittin' you open," Joel murmured, the drawl of his accent low and rich, pouring over your ears like thick honey. "For givin' this needy pussy what she's been beggin' for."

All you could do was moan as Joel relentlessly pummeled his cock into you, his thumb still rubbing your clit. It didn't take much longer for your orgasm to hit. The feverish climax flooded over your entire body and left you whimpering breathlessly and without any energy to move. Joel fucked you through your orgasm and allowed you a minute to recover before he ripped away from your body. You cried out from the sudden withdrawal.

Joel crawled up the bed so that he was straddling your torso. He grabbed a handful of your hair and lifted your head up from the pillow so that h the fat head of his cock was directly infront of you and was close to touching your lips.

"Thank me," he growled.

Joel began to pump his cock with his other hand. His dark hooded eyes narrowed on you. You licked your lips and stared back up at Joel. You felt desperate to please him.

"Thank you," you purred. "Thank you for letting me come."

Joel groaned. "Keep goin'."

"Thank you for splitting me open."

He fisted his cock faster, his hips rocking slightly as he chased his pleasure. You batted your eyelashes and moaned softly.

"Thank you for fucking my needy pussy."

Joel growled through heaving breaths as he came, thick ropes of cum shooting onto your face. You shut your eyes, his hand tangled in your hair holding you still while he continued to pump his cock and empty his load all over you.

"That's right," he panted, "good fucking girl."

When Joel had finished he let go of your hair and carefully shifted to stand up from the bed. You blindly lifted the bottom of your tank top and gingerly wiped his cum from around your eyes, then the rest of your face. When you were able to open your eyes again you saw Joel already getting dressed.

Your heart sank. Was he really just going to leave straight away?

Joel looked at you as he hitched his jeans up.

"Raiders been spotted near Jackson. We got to get a patrol group out there tonight."

You felt your heart crack. He just fucked you and now he is going away?

You couldn't help the tears pooling in your eyes. "You're going?" You asked in a small voice.

Joel looked away from you as he zipped and buttoned his jeans. To your relief he wasn't wearing a belt.

"I gotta," he replied gruffly. "Don't know how long I'll be."

"Joel," you whispered.

You bowed your head and cried. You knew how dangerous this kind of mission was and despite the hurt you had endured at his hands, the possibility of him being injured or dying was devastating. You felt the warmth of his large hand stroke your head gently.

"Comin' back for you, sugar. Be good for me while I'm gone, ya hear me?"

"Yes Joel," you croaked.

Joel pressed your face into his naked belly, your cheeks still sticky from his cum. You wrapped your arms around his middle and sobbed. He allowed you to cry, smoothing your hair in soothing strokes until you calmed down.

He stayed just long enough for you to fall asleep cuddled into the crook of his arm. Joel checked his watch. It wasn't long now. He managed to extract himself from the bed without waking you. He finished getting dressed and then left to find Ellie.

Joel knew your body craved him just as much as your heart did. You were so easy to placate. Now he could go with Tommy and hunt down those piece of shit raiders without needing to worry about you getting stupid ideas in your head.

Neither of you could have foreseen the significance of events that were to develop during Joel's absence, nor the catastrophic repercussions of his return.

Chapter Text

It was only two weeks after Joel had seduced you at his house for the first time. You were too blinded by the excitement and secrecy of it all, far too naive to recognise the foreboding tone in his voice or the intensity of his hawk like stare. You were already falling in love with him - it was impossible for you to have recognised the first sign of Joel's true nature spilling through his facade.

"Can you believe it?" You had asked Joel, your eyes shining brightly. "Kate's brother found this old sewing box on a scavenger mission yesterday. He knows I wear ribbons in my hair, so he gave me this."

You whirled around to show Joel the pale pink satin ribbon entwined in your braid.

"Isn't it beautiful?" You had asked. "And it's my favourite colour, too."

You couldn't see the way Joel glared, his mouth in a tight line and his eyebrows pulled together in a frown. His jaw ticked.

You had no inkling that Joel had actually been exercising great restraint of his emotions in that moment, although if you looked back now, it would have been clear. He was annoyed, irritated that another man would gift you anything, even something as small as a ribbon. It ignited a flame of jealousy in Joel's skull to see that someone else could make you so happy.

You twirled back around to face him. "Do you like it?"

Joel nodded. His eyes roamed over your face in contemplative silence before staring directly into your eyes.

"He ever try anythin' with you?" He had grunted.

Your brows creased and your lips quirked in amusement. "Matt? Kate's brother? No way."

Joel took a step closer to you and cupped the apple of your cheek in his large, calloused hand. You leaned into his touch and smiled contentedly at him.

"Take out your hair," he murmured, his eyes fixed on you.

"Huh? Why?"

"Like seein' your hair down," Joel said softly. He leaned down to press a chaste kiss on your forehead. "Looks real pretty, babydoll."

You lowered your eyes bashfully and obliged Joel's request. You reached behind you and pulled the hair tie from your braid, then unthreaded the pink ribbon from your locks. Joel stroked your cheek with his thumb and let out a satisfied hum.

"There ya go," Joel whispered. "Perfect."

When he kissed your lips with a deep and sensual yearning, the ribbon fell from your fingers and onto the kitchen floor.

••••••

Oscar was awakened by the sound of rain pelting against the roof of his home sometime around noon. He lay still, teetering between the dream world and consciousness, until the cloud of his dreams fully dissolved. The first thing he actively noticed when he was properly awake was the throbbing heaviness of his head.

Oh, God. What's going on? He wondered, brain muddy and limbs like lead. Am I hungover?

His eyes slowly flickered open. The pounding of history head and the lethargy inside his bones increased instantly. He shut them again tightly.

Yes, a hangover, alright. Fuck me.

Oscar groaned and lazily rolled off his stomach and onto his back, vaguely aware of the softness of his mattress underneath him, thankful that he atleast passed out somewhere comfortable.

He wasn't sure just how much he drank last night. He enjoyed a beer with the guys every once and a while but never got drunk, never crossed the limit of more than a couple drinks in one evening. Alcohol was never a vice Oscar indulged in. Judging by how sick his body felt right in this moment, he would have drank alot last night.

Joel had been the one coaxing Oscar into downing one drink after the other until he was just about falling off the bar stool. Oscar vaguely remembered staggering home sometime last night, Joel firmly gripping his bicep to ensure he wouldn't stumble. He wasn't sure exactly how he got inside the house and into his room.

But atleast Joel was right about one thing - being drunk had made Oscar's brain stop racing and replaying memories of the past over and over, even just for a few hours. The dreams of last night were not ones of screams or bloodshed but a blur of random scenarios all blending into one another. It almost made the hangover worth it. Almost.

He dared to open his bleary eyes again. His gaze wandered over to the small window opposite his bed and he watched the rain pouring down outside.

No library duty today, Oscar randomly thought.

He was grateful that he didn't have to work while nursing a hangover, partly because he didn't want you to see him this way. Oscar didn't want you to think he was a drunkard, a weak man who couldn't hold his liquor. He certainly wasn't an alcoholic - he didn't drink every day like some of the other men did. And he hadn't planned to get hammered last night, either. Oscar screwed his eyes shut and groaned again, then drew the blanket over his body and burrowed underneath it's warmth, where he eventually fell back to sleep.

••••••

Your body instinctively roused from sleep at your usual wake up time, unaided by the tinny clang of the alarm clock you forgot to set the night before. Your internal body clock had adjusted to this time after years of an established daily work routine in Jackson, and even after a fitful nights sleep, you were able to wake up around the same time every morning, sometimes only a minute before the alarm clock rang. You weren't necessarily an orderly person who relied on strict routine, but like many others in the town you found regularity helped instill some kind of purpose and stability in your life. It didn't matter if you weren't working every day of the week. Adhering to even a lose kind of structure and keeping yourself busy was key - this was something Maria and some of the older residents had taught you as you grew up in Jackson.

You yawned and scrubbed the sleep from your eyes. It took a few lazy seconds for your mind to properly wake up but when it did, the first coherent thought it conjured was Joel.

Joel.

Your eyes flew open and you bolted upright in your bed.

"Joel?" You spoke, voice rough from sleep.

Was he still here in your room?

Your head swung around in search of him dumbly, as if his hulking frame could be hiding somewhere in your small bedroom. But it was clear from the stillness and deflated energy of the room that he wasn't. There was no sign of him.

He was gone.

You couldn't help the pitiful way your heart sank inside your chest. Despite knowing just why Joel was absent from your bed this morning, you felt wretchedly alone. You felt used. Like you had been abandoned. You swallowed thickly at the familiar pang of emptiness stabbing into your stomach.

Joel had to go. It was his duty, part of his role in Jackson to protect the town. You knew this. He would return once the mission was over, safe and sound.

Your hands smoothed over the empty expanse of the bedsheets where he had been, as if searching for evidence, some kind of memento proving his earlier presence. Instead you found nothing physical amidst the tangle of the sheets, only the lingering scent of his body, his musk.

You collapsed back onto the mattress with a thud and stared up at the ceiling, blinking away the tears that had begun to well in your eyes.

There had been many times during your time with Joel when he had left your bed before you awoke. Sometimes he snuck out of the cottage in the early morning hours because he had an early patrol. Sometimes it was because Ellie was home and he wanted to be there when she woke up. Whatever the reason for it, Joel's absence always hurt, tearing tiny pinpricks into the soft centre of your soul, leaving you with that ever present gnawing feeling of inadequacy in the root of your being. However, this morning that hurt was greatly exacerbated by the whirlwind of emotions Joel had evoked in you through his recent actions.

His behaviour and attitude over these last few days had left you dazed and disorientated. Joel had rejected you. It was he who refused to be in a proper relationship with you and to evolve into something more meaningful than sex. So why couldn't he let you go?

If he didn't want to give you what you wanted, why was he so obsessed with asserting ownership over you? Was it because Joel did care, did love you, somewhere deep down in his heart? Could it be why last night he showed you more tenderness than he ever had before?

You had so many questions to ask Joel but you knew even if you had the opportunity to ask them he would never answer you. Not sufficiently, not in the way you need them answered. He would probably just brush you off or argue with you or get mad again.

The intensity of his jealousy and rage haunted you. You still couldn't comprehend just how Joel had been so remorseless in his assault of you, how justified he felt in violating your body. The conviction burning in his eyes had scared you the most. Even now, the mere thought of his piercing stare made you want to shrink and hide away.

The juxtaposition of degradation and gentleness was profoundly confusing. The only thing that was clear was that Joel believed you belonged only to him. It made you feel as if you were an object that only he could manipulate at will. A plaything solely for him to fuck, to keep like a dirty secret, to desecrate.

You were ashamed that Joel had proven how weak you were. That despite his cruelty you would still love him. You would even open your legs for him and let him fuck you and make you cum like a pathetic slut. Perhaps that is all you were ever going to be - unworthy of love and only used as a fucktoy.

The convolution of it all made you want to sink your nails into your flesh and scream. You wanted so badly to go back to sleep and give yourself some kind of reprieve from the web of thoughts and emotions, but you had to get ready for work. You had to keep going.

Your thoughts were interrupted by the sound of rain hitting the roof of your cottage. You glanced at the window and saw the pounding torrent coming from the dull overcast morning sky outside. It brought with it a blanket of cold air that quickly enveloped the room and made your bare legs and arms shiver.

"Shit," you whispered with chattering teeth.

You hauled the blanket over your body and curled up underneath it, pulling your knees into your chest. You stared out the window and watched the droplets of rainwater slowly trickle down the windowpane.

You allowed yourself five more minutes under the comfort of your blanket before dragging yourself out of bed to begin your day.

••••••

The sky was cloaked in dark grey clouds and lent a subdued, melancholy quality to the atmosphere of the town that morning. You pulled the hoodie of your coat over your head as you began the walk to the small school building near the centre of town. It was still raining, albeit not as forcefully as it had been in the early morning. The ground was muddy and sludgy, making it necessary for you to wear your gumboots instead of your usual sneakers or boots.

The dreary weather reflected your mood aptly, you thought while you trudged on the path to school. With every step you took your pussy ached with discomfort, reminding you that Joel had been inside you and on-top of you only just last night. And despite washing your body thoroughly under the warm water of the shower this morning, you were sure you could still smell Joel under your fingernails, as if he had stained your skin.

You managed to teach your lesson at the school with some semblance of focus, despite the agonisingly slow ticking of the clock holding you captive. You willed yourself not to think of Joel and to just direct all your attention to the blackboard but it was impossible to do so for a prolonged period, especially when you overheard one of the children telling the others around him that a patrol had left this morning to scout for raiders.

"What are raiders exactly?" One student piped up.

"Bad guys who kill and steal!" The ringleader declared. "My uncle Troy is gonna use his rifle to hunt them away."

How did they know what was going on outside the safe walls of Jackson? You shouldn't be so surprised, you reminded yourself - children were curious and could be quite crafty, most likely acquiring information from spying on their elders or tiptoeing past adult conversations unnoticed.

"Children!" You reprimanded them sternly. You hoped they couldn't detect the slight strain in your voice. "That's enough. I don't want to hear any of you talking about anything other than entomology for the rest of the lesson. Got it?"

They nodded their agreement and were quiet and well behaved for the rest of the lesson. You loved the children and reveled in seeing their youthful faces become animated when learning something fun, when your patience was rewarded by their infectious smiles. The children were a consistent reminder of how precious life was and how important it was for you to help maintain the innocence of the children in the post outbreak world.

Despite your fondness for your students, you were deeply relieved when the school day finished and you could dismiss the children. When they cleared out of the room and left you alone at your desk, you savoured the silence and sighed a deep breath. You rubbed the sides of your temples with your fingertips and groaned. You were sitting on the edge of the chair, still avoiding direct contact with the healing skin of your buttocks.

It was only the first day of Joel's absence and you were struggling to keep yourself together.

"How am I going to do this?" You mumbled to yourself.

"Do what?" A voice spoke up, breaking through the silence of the room.

You gasped and turned towards the door. It was just Kate, watching you with a tilt to her head and a playful grin across her face. You sighed heavily and held your hand to your chest.

"Kate! Don't do that, you know I hate people sneaking up on me." You huffed.

Kate chuckled and strolled through the rows of desks with a drawstring bag slung over her shoulder. "Come on, you love it."

"You creep."

She pulled you in for a hug. "Come on, grouchy. You ready to head to my place?"

You hadn't forgotten the plans to meet at Kate's and work on Cassie's wedding gift. It was an old sewing box that was being restored and upholstered with satin lining, to be filled with some of Cassie's most cherished belongings. One of these items would be her deceased mother's bracelet, another would be a framed photograph, the only surviving picture of her family.

"Yeah, just let me tidy up my desk and lock up," you said.

You stood and picked up the chalk duster and started cleaning the blackboard. Kate stood at your desk and inspected the collection of papers and books sitting on-top of it.

"Bug Science?" Kate giggled, "Bet the kids love that shit."

"Yeah," you smiled to yourself. "Oscar found me one of the next installments so I can actually carry on with a proper lesson plan for once."

"Oooh, Oscar, huh?" Kate murmured. You recognised the teasing lilt of her voice, and when you whipped around to see her she was smirking and wiggling her eyebrows suggestively.

You rolled your eyes. "Can't two people just be friends?"

"Ofcourse," Kate smiled. "It's nice to see you being friends with a guy."

You frown. "What do you mean?"

Kate shrugged. "I swear you barely talk to any dude in town outside your cleaning shifts at the mess hall. You always seem nervous around them."

You look away from her; you suddenly feel conspicuous and full of shame. You remember the anger in Joel's eyes at seeing you with Oscar, the bitterness laced in his accusations when he interrogated you in your bedroom.

"We are just work friends," you mumble, sweeping the chalk duster over the blackboard.

"Yeah, I know," Kate grins at you. "I heard you. I'm just saying that it's good you're making new friends. Now, hurry up and let's get going. Rhi and Jess are gonna be at my house soon."

Once you were done tidying the classroom you gathered your belongings and left the school together with Kate. You did your best to repress the whirlwind of thoughts plaguing your mind, not wanting your friends to suspect that anything was wrong. It was hard to push thoughts and memories of Joel aside entirely, even with being in the company of your girlfriends and focused on a common task. You still enjoyed the evening and rejoiced with them when the sewing box gift for Cassie was completed. And even when dinner time came around and you didn't feel like eating at all, you still went with them to the mess hall, letting yourself bask in the comfort of their laughter and lighthearted conversation.

It was 9pm when you said goodnight to everyone and started the walk back to your home. It had stopped raining but a cold breeze ripped through the muddy streets, whipping at your cheeks and cutting through the layers of your clothes. You tugged your coat tighter around your waist and marched along. You couldn't help but think of Joel, wondering if he was warm enough out in the open tonight. Was he thinking of you at all?

He is probably far too occupied hunting down the raiders, you idiot, you cursed yourself. Is there's anyone he would be thinking of, it would be Ellie.

Shit, Ellie!

You hadn't even considered Ellie and how she was feeling. She must be worried sick about Joel. You immediately decided to go check up on her.

You crossed the street and slipped between two houses to cut through to the adjacent street. Their home was only another block away from where you were, and it only took another couple of minutes for you to get there. Steeling yourself against the wind, you trudged up to the small front steps and knocked your fist against the door.

It didn't take long for Ellie to swing the door wide open. Seeing the solemn expression on her face, her wide brown eyes filled with worry, made your heart crumble.

"Hey," she mumbled.

"Hey, El," you said gently. "I heard Joel went with some of the others for patrol. I just wanted to check on you, see how you were going."

Ellie shrugged and looked down, shuffling her feet awkwardly. "Okay, I guess."

You reached out and gave her upper arm a small squeeze. "I'm here for you anytime, alright? If you need someone to talk to."

Ellie nodded and looked back up at you. "He's been on these kinda missions before," she said. "He's old but he's still a tough motherfucker."

You smiled softly at her candor.

"I just miss him, you know?" Ellie sniffed.

You sighed. Me too, you wanted to say.

"Do you wanna come inside?" She asked.

You nodded and she ushered you through the door and into the warmth of the living room. It didn't feel awkward being in Joel's house again, even with him gone; you had spent enough time here to be familiar with the nooks and crannies of the interior, with the smells and sounds, even with the quirks of the noisy upstairs bathroom pipe and the squeaky spare bedroom door.

"I'm actually gonna go sleep over at Uncle Tommy's to keep Maria company," Ellie explained as she shut the door behind you. "Just gotta pack some stuff before I go over there."

"That's a good idea. I'm sure Joel would agree with that." You state evenly.

Ellie snorts. "He still makes me lock the fuckin' door whenever I leave the house. He'd be pissed if I stayed here alone."

You give a shrug of resignation. "He's always been that way about your safety. You know he's just being protective."

Ellie rolls her eyes. "Yeah yeah."

"Can I help you with packing?" You asked.

"Sure. I gotta get some shirts from the laundry, my tooth brush....," she thought aloud as she counted on her fingers. "Actually, can you go to Joel's room and get me one of his shirts?"

Your body went rigid at the mention of Joel's room. "What? His shirt? Why?"

"He said if I ever miss him I could sleep with one of his shirts," Ellie mumbled sheepishly. "Said it would make me feel better."

Oh. That made sense. If only you had the chance to do that, too.

You swallowed and nodded. "Which one do you want?"

Ellie scrunched up her nose and shrugged. "Doesn't matter." She turned around and grabbed some comic books that were sitting on the couch. "They're all the same anyways."

You were grateful that Ellie was so comfortable with you and trusted you, that she thought nothing of asking you to pick one of Joel's shirts out from his bedroom on her behalf. You made your way up the stairs and creeped to Joel's room. You'd been inside his house many times before, had been naked in his bed more times than you could count, but you still felt a twinge of thrill at venturing into his private space, alone and without anyone around.

The door was already wide open. You slunk into the darkness of Joel's room and fumbled for the light switch. The glow of the ceiling light illuminated the room. It was sparsely furnished with only a dark solid timber dresser and a matching bedframe and mattress. His bed was neatly made. The window was shut and the curtains were drawn closed. The scent of Joel - sandalwood and pine - filled your nostrils and wrapped around your heart like a warm caress.

You entered his closet and trailed your fingertips along the row of flannel sleeves that hung from the shirts on the coat hangers. There were several flannel shirts of dark greens and reds alongside a couple of jackets and long sleeve button up cotton shirts. The material felt so warm and soft under your touch. You selected a green flannel from the middle of the bunch and slipped it from its hanger. You had always liked Joel in the green ones.

You were about the leave the closet when something on the shelf above the shirts caught your eye. A sliver of something white. You frowned and stood up on your tiptoes to see what it was. You spied the edge of a small white shoebox peeking out from around a stack of jeans.

What could it be?

You glanced back over your shoulder to the door outside the closet.

Ellie was still downstairs.

Surely you could just have a little look, right?

You turned back to the box and chewed your bottom lip in deliberation.

You didn't want to invade Joel's privacy. You really didn't want to snoop. But the curiosity was gnawing at you.

Oh, fuck it.

You pushed up as tall as your tiptoes would allow and stretched your arm high above you to reach past the jeans and grab the corner of the box. You were able to just catch ahold of it.

Yes!

You nudged it toward you and pulled it off the shelf. Still holding Joel's shirt, you held the box in one hand and lifted the lid off with your other hand, your heart pounding in your chest.

When you opened it, you frowned at the contents before you.

There was a scrap of lacy white material. It took a moment for you to recognise that it was actually a pair of your underwear. An old Polaroid camera. An envelope stuffed with something. A pink ribbon. A gold necklace with a pendant. A folded piece of lined paper.

Oh. The pink ribbon.

The ribbon Kate's brother gave you.

You hadn't seen it for so long - you had thought it was lost, perhaps coming loose from your hair one day and disappearing forever.

What was it doing in this box? And why was your underwear in there, too?

You were about to sift through the rest of the items but the sound of Ellie's voice calling your name came floating up the stairs. It made you gasp and frantically slam the lid back on the box.

"Coming!" You yelled back.

You stumbled onto your tiptoes again and shoved the box back ontop of the shelf and scurried out of the closet. Ellie was still in the living room shovelling things into a duffel bag when you returned downstairs.

"Got it," you smiled, trying to appear casual and not at all flustered at the discovery you had just made.

"Thanks," Ellie accepted the flannel from you and packed it into the bag. "Ya know, I miss your banana bread. You haven't baked for ages."

You chuckled. "El, it's only been a couple weeks."

"Yeah, that's forever! And that last batch of cookies? They were so good, Joel practically inhaled his share." Ellie laughed.

You couldn't contain the smile that broke out on your lips. "Oh?"

"Uh-huh," she nodded. "So can you make more? Like really soon?"

"Sure," you smiled softly. "Hey, that gives me an idea. How about we bake something special for Joel when he comes back?"

"Yeah, okay." Ellie gave you a little grin. "Sounds good."

When Ellie finished packing you insisted on walking her over to Maria and Tommy's house to ensure she got there safely. You eventually returned home, your cheeks red from the cold wind, and rolled into bed without bothering to change your clothes. You were tired and just wanted to sleep.

••••••

You didn't know what to think about the secret box in Joel's closet. It was perplexing, and it made you feel slightly uneasy. You found yourself trying to rationalise what you discovered; perhaps he found the ribbon and was going to return it to you later, and maybe he kept your underwear as a harmless souvenir, a physical reminder of the intimate tie you two share. Maybe Joel was secretly sentimental.

You didn't allow yourself to really think about it in depth. Instead, you vowed to throw yourself in work at the school and library without dwelling too much on waiting for Joel to return.

The weather was still overcast and miserable the following day when you had the next library shift. Bundled in your coat you were about to open the library door when it swept back, opening wide to reveal Oscar already inside.

"Quick, come in," he urged. "It's terrible out there."

"Thanks," you said as you shuffled into the library.

Oscar shut the door behind you. He was wearing a navy blue turtle neck sweater with jeans. He had removed his shoes and left them by the door, and you saw his sock clad feet peaking out from under the cuff of his jeans. You smiled to yourself at the casual domesticity of it. You peered down at your own feet and groaned.

"Damn, my boots are all muddy! I'm sorry."

You gestured down at your shoes caked in mud and the dirty prints of your soles on the floor.

"No problem, I'll clean the floor later." Oscar waved a hand dismissively.

"Okay," you conceded quietly, feeling a little shy. You shrugged your arms out of your coat.

"Anyway, good morning to you." He tilted his head slightly, a playful smile dancing on his lips. "How are you today?"

You laughed a little. "Good morning to you, too. I'm alright. How are you?"

Oscar scratched his chin and then smoothed his beard with the tips of his fingers. "I'm alright, too. Just thinking about the next steps in our library makeover venture."

"Well, whatever you decide, I'll be here to help." You said as you squatted down and untied the laces of your boots.

"Couldn't do it without you, bookworm," Oscar grinned.

You and Oscar fell into an easy rhythm together, just like on your first shift. He continued painting the walls while you set about cleaning the library space from top to bottom.

Oscar had asked for you to eat lunch with him in the mess hall again but you adamantly refused, making some excuse about not wanting to leave the library. Undeterred, Oscar disappeared to the mess hall and returned balancing a serving tray with two serves of the lunch the cafeteria was serving that day. You laughed with surprise at his kind gesture, which made him grin even more. And from that day onward, whenever you worked at the library, Oscar would fetch lunch for you both and bring it back for you to eat together.

Over the next four weeks the friendship between you and Oscar progressively flourished. The hours you spent together on the library shifts were filled with discussions of extensive topics, ranging from philosophy to food, music and novels. As you got to know each other better, the more evident it was that there was a connection between you, a mutual respect and affection for each other. You had never felt such an affinity with someone before; an intellectual match with reciprocal emotions and ideas.

It was innocent. There was no hint of romance or sexuality in your interactions, none of the flirtatious kind of repartee you often saw your friends exchange with men at the Tipsy Bison. You weren't accustomed to close friendships with the opposite sex but the sincere nature of Oscar's friendship was comfortable. You valued him for his thoughtfulness and wit, his kindness and his humour. Oscar seemed to appreciate your thoughts and ideas, always asking for your opinion on things. It made you feel important, worthwhile, seen.

Sometimes townsfolk came to the library looking for books on a particular topic, and occasionally some of the children would stop in to read the small collection of picture books and comics the Jackson library possessed. They all complimented on how bright and clean the small building looked now.

The library had always been your sanctuary, and now with Oscar's company there, it felt like your second home. Seeing the results of your efforts gave you a sense of accomplishment and pride. You wished Maude could see it. When you verbalised this to Oscar, he suggested you both visit her after work together; and you did, much to her delight.

You didn't see each other outside your library duties. Oscar had returned to the stables for work duty on the days he wasn't at the library, and you were busy teaching the children. You found yourself wishing you could see Oscar to tell him about the funny things that happened during the day, or about some random fact you had learned while reading.

Gradually over the month, you noticed tiny changes within yourself. You were whistling more often. That you wanted to read more. Your appetite improved greatly and you actually felt hungry. You were able to look at your reflection in the mirror without instantly seeking out your flaws.

You still missed Joel. You still dreamed of his handsome face and his hands on your body, still craved the taste of his mouth and the saltiness of his skin. His absence had only made you crave him more, outweighing your sadness and hurt and compartmentalising it into the depths of your mind.

So when Ellie came running up to you one afternoon while you walked home, squealing that Joel and the patrol group had radioed that they were on their way home, you rejoiced.

You wanted to shower him with kisses and slide into his lap and fuck him, feel him inside you once again, show him how much you missed him.

Had he missed you, too?

••••••

The group had radioed that they estimated they would be arriving back within two days. The day before their estimated return, you and Ellie had gathered in your kitchen to bake a welcome home cake for Joel. You were patient and encouraging as you taught Ellie the method of baking a simple honey cake, standing next to her and instructing her on creaming the butter and sugar, beating the eggs, and how to properly fold the flour.

Ellie proved to be a good student; she listened to you carefully and took her time measuring each ingredient and completing each step slowly. She was eager to learn and filled with fascination for the art of baking. When she insisted on staying in the kitchen to watch the cake rise in the oven, you laughed.

The smell of sugar and caramelised honey filled your cottage. At the end of the afternoon, together you had created a round golden brown honey cake topped with a thin layer of icing. With painstaking dedication Ellie had selected some pretty little flowers from your garden and arranged them in a circle ontop of the icing.  You both stood side by side in your small kitchen and admired the finished product.

"Thanks," Ellie said. "For teaching me this stuff."

"You're welcome. I'm sure he will love it. And now you know how to bake, you can do it yourself."

Ellie scoffed. "Nuh-huh, that's your department."

"I thought you liked baking," you elbowed her playfully.

"I do," Ellie confessed. "But I like the eating part more."

You shook your head and laughed. She grinned and tilted her head to rest on your shoulder in a rare gesture of affection.

"But really, thanks alot," she sighed. "I need to learn this stuff for when I move out."

You frowned and pulled away from her to search her face for any sign of jest. There was none but a contented little grin on her young face.

"What do you mean, move out?"

"I gotta be an adult and grow up sometime, right?" Ellie said with a little shrug. "Me and some of my friends wanna get our own place, and I'm not at home that much anymore anyway."

"Oh, Ellie," you breathed out quietly, your eyebrows pinched in worry. "Are you sure? Joel's going to be so sad without you."

You carefully reached out and swiped a finger over the dusting of flour that had gotten on her cheek during your baking session. She smirked and tilted her head to the side.

"He'll be fine. He has you now."

Your mouth dropped open in shock but you quickly composed yourself. "W-what? What do you mean, 'has has me'?"

Ellie rolled her eyes. "As if I didn't know you two were making out on the couch whenever I snuck out of the house."

You clamped your mouth shut in a tight line, cheeks heating up in embarrassment. Ellie cackled and threw her arm around your neck affectionately.

"Relax! I'm happy for you guys. Maybe Joel won't be such a grumpy asshole if you guys have a little privacy."

"Uhm," you stammered, "I, uh, we are just friends right now. I don't know what....I'm not sure what Joel wants. Please don't say anything to anyone about that....idea...right now. Okay?"

You loved Joel and wanted to be with him, but Ellie was always a point of concern. You and Joel had never wanted to involve her in your relationship, didn't want to burden her in any way lest she get hurt. You had been so careful to keep those clandestine night meetings secret but it wasn't realistic to assume Ellie could be too naive to know what was going on, atleast not for so long.

But what would Joel think? Would he be more receptive to being in a real relationship with you now? Even though he had fucked you and told you he was coming back for you, everything was still so undefined. You also had no idea what Joel was comfortable with Ellie knowing. It was safer and easier to let Joel deal with it.

"Yes, sir," Ellie saluted you teasingly. When you didn't laugh and instead shot her a warning glare, she held up her hands in surrender. "Alright, okay, jeez. I won't say a word."

"Thank you."

"On one condition," Ellie grinned mischievously.  "You don't do that gross shit when I'm around, like, atleast wait til I'm out of the house, 'kay?"

You groaned and threw a hand towel at her. "I got it, Ellie. Now be quiet and help me clean up this mess."

••••••

The next day you were working with Oscar in the library when word spread that the men were close to Jackson. A small herd of children had burst into the library cheering and dancing around as they announced the news.

You and Oscar had laughed at their fanfare and watched the boisterous children with amusement. When they ran out of the library and back out into the street your laughter died down, leaving a long silence between you. It was neither uncommon nor uncomfortable. However, today Oscar broke the silence with a question that shocked you.

"Is there someone special to you on the patrol team?" He asked softly.

Your head snapped up from the books you had on the counter infront of you. Oscar was leaning with an elbow propped against the counter beside you, his head cocked to the side slightly, his hooded brown eyes searching over your face. His brows were creased ever so slightly into a frown and the tip of his tongue swiped over his bottom lip. You knew that this was the expression Oscar assumed whenever he was concentrating on something, usually when someone else was speaking. He wasn't scrutinising or teasing you; there was no sign of taunting, just an inquisitive softness in his features and voice. And even though the question could be considered ambiguous, even though it could only be a reference to friendship, you were unsure how to perceive it.

Embarrassed, you realised he had seen your reaction to the news, that the relief and joy you felt must have been evident on your face. You cleared your throat and shook your head.

"Oh," you mumble awkwardly, looking back down at the books. "Not really. I'm just, you know...happy that they are coming back safe. It's good for the community."

Oscar observed you quietly for a moment, then nodded. "Yes, it is good." He conceded.

"So, how's the stables going?" You asked him, hoping it wasn't obvious that you were wanting to change the subject.

"It's okay," he sighed. "Pretty busy restocking the feed, grooming the horses, cleaning the stables. Try not get kicked by Roscoe."

You smiled at his joke. You knew Roscoe was one of the more temperamental horses in the stables and could be unpredictable in mood. Over the past few weeks Oscar had regaled you with anecdotes about Roscoe that made you cackle with laughter - such as the time Roscoe had unknowingly escaped from the paddock and Oscar had found him eating carrots in the vegetable garden. You still giggle to yourself  whenever you eat carrots, remembering the tale.

You relished the way Oscar told stories, how he was able to recreate the entertaining scenarios he had witnessed through his use of words and comical gestures. You found his voice soothing and calming, and sometimes you felt as though you could fall asleep listening to him speak.

"How's your ankle doing?"

"All better, back to normal." Oscar pushed his spectacles up the bridge of his nose. "When the guys return from this mission I'll be going back on duty."

"Oh," you whispered. "I almost forgot you were a patrolman."

Oscar chuckled. "Yeah, it's a been a while since I was on shift. But these guys who went out there - they are heroes. They'll need a break after what they went through."

When silence fell upon you both once again, you found your gaze wandering back to Oscar. His attention was focused on a scrap of paper - a list of supplies he was writing. You secretly studied his profile - the prominence of his nose, the thickness of his unruly hair, the structure of his face that was somehow a perfect balance of masculinity and elegance. You knew Oscar was beautiful but in that very moment you were able to really look at him and appreciate just how alluring he was. You wondered what Oscar looked like without his facial hair - you liked it on him but you guessed he was probably even more attractive without it.

He was older than you and had no partner, no family.

Why is he still single?

"Oscar." You murmured. You found the delicate, almost sensual lilt of your own voice surprising,

"Hmm?" Oscar looked up to meet your gaze. His eyebrows were raised slightly, curious.

"Why don't you have a girlfriend?"

Oscar's eyes momentarily widened in surprise at the question. He then gave you a small smile, one that did not reach his eyes. It was one born of fortitude, a pretense that was hiding something sad buried deep within the vessel of his ribcage where his heart sat. You knew that kind of smile all too well.

"I guess it is difficult to find someone you connect with on an intimate kind of level," he admits quietly. "I'm not sure if I would be so lucky to have that in my lifetime, after the outbreak."

You opened your mouth to speak but found no words to formulate a response. You could never imagine the heartbreak of losing a spouse, but you were sure that it was a similar kind of pain to the one of losing your mother and father. Your parents - the mere thought of them squeezed your heart so tightly that it felt like it would burst. You swallowed the lump that had formed in your throat.

"Oh," was all you could manage lamely.

Another short silence before Oscar spoke.

"And you?" He questioned gently.

You couldn't meet his eyes. The moment was too intense, too intimate. You couldn't speak the truth even if you wanted to. How could you articulate just how lonely your heart had been for so many years, how you fell for a man so much older than you, someone who wanted to dominate your life without giving you what you needed and yearned for the most? You couldn't even admit it to your closest girlfriends. Admitting the reality of your private life to Oscar seemed absurd, impossible.

"Me too, I guess," was all you could mumble in reply.

"I figured you'd have plenty of people around here to choose from," Oscar murmured.

"Why would you figure that?" You laughed half heartedly, both bemused and feeling awkward.

"Come on," Oscar chides you lightheartedly.  "You're beautiful - gorgeous, even. And you're well read, you're kind, you actually care about everyone else around you. You're a dream."

You know you're blushing wildly at his words. No one has ever complimented you or praised you so openly or directly before, not even Joel. You could feel a glowing kind of warmth flow and course throughout your tummy all the way up to your chest.

You were quiet as your brain processed his accolades, but Oscar must have mistake your silence for discomfort, and it was then his turn to be bashful.

"Shit. I'm sorry," Oscar babbled. "I hope that wasn't too much, like I hope I didn't make make you feel uncomfortable. I was just, you know, just--"

"It's okay," you whisper, a hint of a smile playing on your lips. You found his self consciousness endearing. In an uncharacteristic and bold move, you touched his forearm and gave it a small reassuring squeeze. "It's fine Oscar, really. Thank you."

The rest of the afternoon passed by uneventfully with you and Oscar focusing on the tasks you needed to complete. The words of his praise echoed in your head throughout your shift. That swirl of elation continued to swim inside your belly and distract you from finishing your work quicker. Why did his compliments have such an effect on you? You couldn't really understand why, but all you knew was that it felt good.

••••••

After locking up the library and venturing home, Oscar couldn't stop thinking about you and what he said about you being a dream. He sounded like a loser. He felt like a loser. Like a kid with a school yard crush.

And that was the problem. Over the past few weeks of working with you and getting to know you better, he had developed something of a crush on you. Well, to be honest, he had felt something for you since the first day he met you, when he first saw your smile and heard your voice. It was something tiny and fragile flickering like a candle flame. And over time it had developed and strengthened into something more solid.

Oscar had tried to extinguish it quickly though. He told himself there wasn't even a remote chance that you could ever feel the same and so there was no use daydreaming about it. No use in imagining you wrapped in his arms on a cold rainy day, or snuggled up in bed next to him as you both read books.

Even if you would never be his, Oscar wanted you to be happy. He knew you hid something underneath that cute smile of yours, something dark and sorrowful that you couldn't let escape. He recognised it but never pushed to know more. Managing his own trauma throughout the years had taught him to always treat others with respect and compassion, and to grant others patience and privacy. If you were ever ready to talk about your feelings, he would be there for you.

You had ignited a desire inside him to nurture and protect you. And so it was with great satisfaction that Oscar had noticed subtle changes in you since you first started working together. He noticed the light shone on your face more often, how the laughter he provoked from you actually reached your eyes. Your appetite slowly increased and you were actually eating more and with more gusto. It was as if you had been denying yourself comfort and gratification for so long, and now you were finally allowing yourself some kind of joy. And it was being reflected in the way you giggled unabashedly, how you threw sarcastic quips at him, how you initiated conversation so easily now, as if you two had known each other for years.

When you touched his arm, had established that first point of physical contact, Oscar felt like he was floating. He had wanted to brush the strands of hair from your face and kiss your soft lips. He wanted to gather you in his arms and--

No. No. He shouldn't be thinking about it. He couldn't think about it.

Oscar knew it was best that he resign himself to just being a good friend and a good work colleague. Because you deserved to be cared for and respected and loved. And fuck, whoever you ended up falling in love with would be the luckiest bastard in this world, even if you would never believe so.

••••••

It was just after nightfall when the patrol team came trotting through the huge gates of Jackson on their horses. They had been gone for almost four and a half weeks. A month of tracking, stalking and hunting the band of raiders that had been spotted near Jackson. The mission had culminated in several skirmishes between the groups until eventually the raiders were all wounded and killed. All of the patrolmen returned to Jackson safely with only a few injuries between them. The worst of the injuries was endured by Tommy, who had been struck with a bullet in his upper left arm. The group had tended to the wound as best as they could, creating makeshift bandages and changing the dressing every few days.

You had just finished eating dinner with Kate, Rhi and Jess when you heard faint cheers and whistles float through the mess hall doors. A crowd of townsfolk had congregated around the guarded gates of Jackson to welcome the band of fatigued heroes back home.

Not one to miss out of any kind of excitement, Rhi proposed you all go and see the event unfold. Jess and Kate were quick to agree to the idea, but truthfully you didn't share their enthusiasm. An inexplicable feeling of overwhelm and nervousness had suddenly overtaken you.

Yes, you missed Joel and wanted him back. But now that time had come, the thought of seeing Joel after this long made you jittery and on edge. What the fuck is wrong with you?

You let your friends pull you away from the dining table, through the mess hall doors and out into the cool night. Their exuberant voices trilled around you as you all sashayed through the streets towards the Jackson gates. You wrapped your arms around your waist as you walked, regretting the decision not to wear a jacket this evening. The chilly bite of the breeze signified the impending arrival of snowfall, and along with it the association of Christmas, warm fires and hot chocolate.

The atmosphere surrounding the large throng of townspeople was buzzing with energy. Rhi, Jess and Kate were soaking it all in and chatting with eager animation while you surveyed everyone around you. You all agreed to stay a short distance from the edge of the crowd as you were able to see what was happening without being too entrenched in the chaos of the event.

"There, they are there!" Jess squealed. She pointed to the middle of the crowd where a semi circle had been formed around the group of patrolmen.

Standing on your tiptoes you were able to see glimpses of emotional scenes of the return; Tommy and Maria in a tight embrace, Troy's wife and children clutching onto his shirt as he hugged them all, the town doctor examining an injury to one of the men's temple.

But were was Joel?

Your eyes darted around the area in search of him.

Where are you, Joel?

You were started to panic, different possibilities running through your mind in a distressed blur. What if he had an accident? Was he wounded? Did he get left behind? What if an infected got him?

And then your eyes finally landed on him, his head of dishevelled salt and pepper hair identifying him from the rest of the men. You couldn't see his face clearly but it was him.

He was standing by his horse. Ellie was hugging him with her face pressed into his middle. His arms were around her. Thank God, it was him.

You exhaled a silent breath of relief.

He was home and safe.

••••••

The next day was torturous. You were thankful that you had a teaching shift at the school, otherwise you would've probably spent your whole day pacing your home or cleaning obsessively, doing anything to occupy your mind as you waited.

You had finished up teaching your class and returned straight home to clean. Once your cottage had been sufficiently tidied, swept and scrubbed, you showered and washed your hair with a sweet green apple scented shampoo, a luxury item sold at one of the boutiques in town that you allowed yourself to indulge in.

You hadn't even realised that you had not eaten lunch. You ended up forgoing dinner at the mess hall aswell, staying home instead to absentmindedly chew an apple and drink a cup of tea.

You sat on the couch with a book that night, unable to properly focus on the words infront of you and rereading the same lines, when the knock came. You jolted up from the couch and sprang to the front door. When you opened it the light of your living room lamp projected a strip of illumination onto the dark of your porch.

It was him.

Joel was standing at your door, leaning forward with a forearm up against your doorframe. The thumb of his other hand was hooked through the belt loop of his jeans. His stance exuded a thrilling mix of self assurance and bold masculinity that made you feel slightly dazed. His proximity, coupled with his height and posture, felt so imposing; however it was mostly because of his eyes that you felt so caught off guard.

Those large dark brown eyes, like puppy dog eyes, staring down at you intently, something akin to worry reflected in his orbs. Although you had expected his visit eventually, you were unprepared for just how delicious Joel looked.

Appearing as handsome as ever, infront of you once again after so many weeks apart, a fantasy materialised into reality. He looked well rested after having finally slept in a comfortable bed. He was freshly showered and wearing a clean pair of jeans and a green flannel shirt. His hair was combed and slicked back in that way you found so fucking sexy.

"Hi, baby," he murmured, the timber of his Texan drawl causing your inner thighs to clench together.

You realised you had been holding your breath.

"Hi, Joel," you whispered back with a breathy exhale. Your heart was galloping in your chest. You were so intimidated by his towering figure that you were frozen in place, your eyes mesmerised by him.

"Gonna let me in, sugar?" Joel smirked.

You nodded wordlessly and stepped to the side so he could enter into your cottage. You quickly closed the door and fumbled to lock it, the anxiety coursing throughout your body making you feel clumsy and foolish. You followed him into your living room and clasped your hands behind your back to hide their slight shaking.

Joel stood in the middle of your living room and watched you stop just a few feet away from him. He scanned over your body brazenly, drinking in the sight of you in your oversized sweater and short pyjama bottoms, his fists curling and uncurling as they hung a the sides of his body.

"W-welcome home," you managed to say, your voice breathless.

Joel acknowledged your greeting with a curt nod. His eyes flickered from your bare legs up to your face. It was as if you were on display for him, like a dish being served to a starving man, and if you had to be honest to yourself, it made you feel both uneasy and aroused.

"Did-did you see what Ellie and I made for you?" You asked hopefully, desperate to fill the silence that stifled the room. "The cake?"

"I did."

You waited for him to say something more but he didn't. He was still gazing at you with his eyebrows knitted together and his jaw ticking, as if he were deep in contemplation. His eyes betrayed none of what he was thinking.

The air in the room was thick and you felt more and more self conscious as the silence dragged on. After what seemed like forever, you were about to open your mouth and speak when Joel cut you off.

"Told you I'd come back for ya," he stated matter of factly.

"Yes, you did," you agreed in a small whisper.

"Ellie knows about us," Joel stated abruptly. "Said she wants us to be together."

"Oh," you said quietly. And then, a little more louder, "and what did you say back?'

"I told her when the timin's right, we could be a family." Joel answered you, his expression and tone serious and calm.

Your brain took a second to register his words, the significance of what he said not quite sinking in. Your mouth fell open, speechless.

Did Joel really just say you'd all be a family? Was he actually admitting that he wanted you? When you had confessed wanting a relationship with Joel on the night of the town dance, he had rejected you, hadn't he? Your mind had replayed Joel's cruel words so many times since then. Surely you weren't mistaken ?

All you could do was shake your head in confusion. Joel's eyes narrowed at you, a glint of darkness briefly flashing in his brown eyes.

"What you shakin' your head for?" Joel murmured, his voice calm but punctuated with a hint of irritated displeasure.

"Going to be a family, Joel? But, it's just, you said..."

The pain in your voice was evident as tears of shame welled along the rim of your eyes. You took a deep breath and exhaled, gathering the courage to repeat the hurtful words he had spoken to you.

"You said we weren't anything more than...just sex." You mumbled pathetically. "I thought you didn't want me."

"Now darlin', that ain't what I said," Joel corrected you firmly but not unkindly, as if you were a child he was trying to teach something to. "You're mine. I told you so many times. What makes you think I'd ever let you go, let someone else have you?"

You stared at him in puzzlement. "But Joel, you said you didn't want me--"

He held up his hand to signal you to stop talking. "You misunderstood me. Didn't say nothin' about not wantin' you. You didn't let me finish."

"Oh," you mumble meekly. You brushed away your spilled tears with a flick of your fingertips. You felt ridiculous.

"I want you." Joel continued resolutely. "Want all of you."

The admission that you had been yearning for for so long made your stomach flip. It felt so good to hear him say those words, to know he wanted you, to feel wanted. You bit back a smile of relieved elation and willed yourself not to interrupt him again, forcing yourself to stay silent to wait for him to finish explaining.

"But I don't like everybody in town knowin' my business. Just cause I live here don't mean I trust anyone. I didn't survive this far in this godforsaken world because I trust people."

Okay, you could understand his point. Joel had alot more life experience than you, and certainly more experience with surviving the horrors of the apocalypse in the wild. It made sense that he didn't readily trust other people, that he wouldn't want to share his personal life with anyone.

"You understand what I'm sayin'?" Joel asked sternly, narrowing his eyes at you.

You nodded quickly in confirmation. "Yes, Joel."

"Good. I've come to learn that some folk don't like seein' others happy."

You had never seen Joel speak this earnestly before, his voice quiet and soft. His beautiful brown eyes were focused on yours almost hypnotically. It was completely beguiling.

"They see somethin' they don't have and so they wanna spoil it. Seen people do bad things to destroy another's happiness."

"That's horrible," you utter.

"Mmhm," Joel nods in agreement. "And I don't want that to happen to you and me. Don't want noone tryin' to interfere with what we got, and the less people know our business, the better."

You agree. Ofcourse you wanted to be happy with Joel. Ofcourse you didn't want someone else to ruin the special relationship you two had.

Joel approached you with deliberate steps, his boots heavy on the creaky wooden floor of your living room, his eyes still glued to yours. Your skin was prickling with goosebumps in anticipation of being close to him after so long, to finally feel his touch that you had been craving for the last month. You bit your bottom lip and watched him cross the space towards you, the dim lamp light casting dancing shadows along his face that somehow just accentuated his handsome features.

"You wanna be with me then you gotta listen to what I say," he continued. "I wanna protect you, and not just from infected and raiders. Gotta keep you safe from people with bad intentions, too. But you gotta be a good girl."

His words, spoken in that smooth Texan drawl, made your pussy tingle. Joel stood close to you now, so close you could smell his usual sandalwood scent mixed with soap on his skin. You stared at him with doe eyes, completely entranced by him. He took your chin inbetween his thumb and forefinger and leaned down to press a tender kiss onto your lips. Your knees felt weak and your body instantly melted against his chest.

He pulled back just enough so that his lips hovered over yours. "There's gotta be rules, baby. My rules. You wanna be my good girl?"

You nodded eagerly. "Yes, daddy, I do."

Joel snaked his arm around your waist and splayed his hand over your back to press you firmly against his torso. He leaned back in to kiss you once more. Your arms stretched up to wrap around his neck as you let his tongue lick over your bottom lip and slip into your mouth to meet your own tongue.

Joel's large palm cupped your cheek and his breath intermingled with yours. Your tongues rolled together with increasingly passionate strokes. You were quickly becoming consumed by his familiar smell and taste, as if his presence had awakened a primal need in you that had been starved for far too long. Joel must have felt the same because you could feel his hard cock straining under his jeans and press into your belly.

Joel eventually broke away from the kiss to growl breathlessly, "fuck, I missed your lips."

You exhaled a small noise of satisfaction, something between a giggle and a hum. Joel's hand shifted down you back and groped your ass. His thumb stroked your jaw and he nuzzled his nose against the corner of your mouth.

"Me too, Joel," you said softly.

Joel's lips shifted down to press gentle kisses along your jawline, slowly trailing down to your neck. His moustache tickled lightly against your skin and made you giggle. You ran your fingers through the crown of his curls and hummed with contented pleasure.

"I missed this," you sighed. "I missed you, Joel."

Joel licked at your pulse point before softly biting the skin there, eliciting a moan from you.

"Me too, sugar," he whispered into the crook of your neck. "All I thought about when I was away."

"Really?" You whispered back breathlessly.

"Bet your sweet little ass," Joel rasped.

His hand on your ass squeezed and massaged your flesh hungrily. He wedged his thigh inbetween your legs as he sucked on the sensitive skin of your neck, and the friction of material against your clit was making you wet with arousal. You moaned and tilted your head to the side, your body becoming pliant and relaxed as the pleasurable sensations overtook you.

Joel's mouth detached from your neck to growl into the shell of your ear. "Couldn't stop thinkin' about that sweet little cunt and how wet she gets for me, how good she looks wrapped around my cock."

His words inflame a feral desire for him to be inside you, making your pussy clench around nothing and your hips rock against his instinctively. His hand moves down from your face and gropes your breast through your sweatshirt.

"Joel," you moan and tug lightly at his hair. "Want it so bad."

"Yeah?" Joel murmurs in your ear, the timbre of his deep voice causing shivers to run up and down your back. "You want my cock? Want me to fuck you?"

"Mm-hmm," you hum.

Joel straightens up to look at your face. He smacks your ass hard suddenly, the sting of his palm landing with a loud crack. The impact forces a squeal from your lips and makes you squirm.

"Ow, fuck, Joel!" you whine.

"You know to use your words when you're speakin' with me," he warns sternly. "You gotta tell me what you want. I'll give it to you."

You whimper and nod. "Yes sir."

"Now," he says, more gently, his breath fanning against your face. "What do you want?"

"Want you to fuck me." You purr, smoothing your hands over his flannel shirt, desperate to feel the bare skin of his broad chest. "Please, daddy."

Joel hums in approval and licks at the corner of your mouth. "Take off your shorts and get on the couch. Now."

He releases his hold on your breast and your ass and you pout at the loss of contact. He tips his head toward the couch to signal for you to move. You obey, feeling stupefied by Joel's touch already as you totter the few paces to the couch. You hook your fingers on the band of your sleep shorts and look at him coyly as you slowly push them down your thighs. Joel stands in the centre of the living room and watches you with a wolfish stare. The cast of his shadow on the wall behind him is huge and tall.

"Show me that pretty pussy, show me how fuckin' wet she is for me already," he drawls. One of his hands move to loosely hold his hard cock through the crotch of his jeans.

Your eyes lock on Joel's as you let your sleep shorts fall to the ground, revealing your nakedness underneath, leaving you just in your sweater. You sit down on the couch so that you ass is on the edge of the seat and then spread your legs wide. You tug up the bottom of your sweater so that your pussy is exposed. Joel's eyes travel down to the middle of your parted thighs and lets out a low groan.

"Fuck," he growls. "Open her up, baby, I wanna see everything."

You bring your hands to your pussy and spread your lips, the tips of your fingers catching some of your slick. Your lower half is completely exposed and on display for Joel. He watches you intently, his eyes hooded and dark with lust, his large hand flexing to grip the thick outline of his dick.

"That's it," Joel murmurs, "can see how desperate you are for this fuckin' cock. She's soakin' wet already."

Joel steps towards you and crouches down to kneel before you on the hardwood floor, his knees cracking under his weight. He positions himself inbetween your legs and brings his hands to rest on your inner thighs, holding them open so that his face is in line with your bare pussy. Joel's tongue swipes over his plush bottom lip.

"Gotta taste this sweet little pussy first, baby."

Joel leans in and places a wet open kiss onto your clit, his tongue warm against your sensitive flesh. A shiver of pleasure trembles through your body and you moan. He repeats the action several times before licking a thick stripe over your clit with the flat of his tongue. Your hands come up to clutch at the curls on his head and your hips rock forward ever so slightly in pursuit of more. Joel laps at the small bundle of nerves languidly as his thick fingers dig into the meat of your inner thighs.

It feels like fucking heaven.

Your upper body slumps back into the couch and you tilt your head back to let out long, soft moans of ecstasy. Joel continues licking and sucking your clit leisurely; each movement performed with unhurried yet purposeful strokes that slowly build and twist a coil of intense pleasure inside your loins. He continues this for several minutes, gravelly moans rumbling in his throat that you know are an expression of his own pleasure, his own enjoyment. You love Joel fucking you, love how his thick cock pounds into you, but you really fucking love how he eats your pussy. And it's clear that Joel loves it, too.

You can feel Joel prodding at your entrance before sliding two of his thick fingers inside you. The mixture of his saliva and your slick make his digits glide smoothly into your pussy. He expertly curls then against your g spot while he eats you, instantly heightening your pleasure. He looks up to watch your reaction; your hands tighten their grasp on his head and you moan wantonly, your toes curling. It doesn't take long for the pressure to reach close to its peak in your lower belly.

"Gonna cum," you pant out between moans. "Daddy, I'm going to cum."

Joel doesn't stop. His mouth maintains the same tempo and pressure as he licks and sucks your clit, all the while stimulating your g spot with his fingers. He has come to know your body so well, knows what makes you squeal or scream or have you begging for more, knows just how long it will take for a certain action to bring you to orgasm, exactly how tender or hard you need him fucking you from the depths of your moans and keening.
Your body soon tenses and your orgasm reaches a crescendo. When you cum, you throw your head back and let out a long, shuddering moan, your thighs quivering by Joel's ears. He helps you ride out the high by gradually slowing his movements, allowing the sensation to draw out without overstimulation.

It is only once your body relaxes and your orgasm dissipates that Joel stops. Your eyes flutter open and you look down at him. Joel sits back on his haunches and pants. You see that his lips and moustache are glistening with your juice.

"Oh my god, that was amazing," you say with a blissful smile.

Joel stands up from his kneeling position, his knees cracking once again. His gaze is fixated on you as he unbuckles his best and unzips his jeans. You stay half slumped on the couch, reveling in post orgasm exhilaration, the energy sapped from your body.

"What do you say?" Joel asks. His commanding tone is rough and deep with passion.

"Thank you, daddy," you reply breathlessly.

"That's right, babygirl. Now it's time for me to tear that little pussy up." Joel pushes his jeans and underwear down to his meaty thighs. His erection springs out, the head of his cock already wet with precum. "Get up and turn around."

You weakly sit up and turn over to kneel on the couch, somehow managing to obey him despite the sound of blood pounding in your ears and fatigue setting into your body. You shuffle to spread your legs and Joel's hands grab onto your hips to roughly jerk them back so that you are bent forward and your ass sticks out. Once he is satisfied with the position he's manipulated you into, his hands grip your ass cheeks firmly.

"Look at that," he whispers to himself. He pulls them apart, digging his thumbs into the crease of your upper thighs, both your pussy and asshole now lewdly exposed. "Such a dirty little whore, just dyin' to get ruined."

Joel releases one of your ass cheeks to guide the tip of his cock to your wet entrance. He doesn't waste anymore time, quickly sinking it into your hole and thrusting into you smoothly. The stretch has you gasping and moaning loudly, the knock of his hips propelling you forward into the couch. Joel groans as his dick slides deep inside your tight cunt.

"Fuck, that's it," he pants.

He pulls his hips back almost all the way before slamming back into you. You cry out shrilly, the sensation of fullness overwhelming you entirely. Joel does it again and again, holding tightly to your hips while he pounds his cock in and out of you. You're pinned immobile against the couch, trapped by the weight of his strong frame snapping into your body.

"Take it just like that, little bitch." Joel snarls. His fingers dig painfully into your hips.

"F-f-fuuuuck, Joel," you cry loudly.

He increases his pace and begins to fuck you with savage fervour. Your cries and moans intermingle with the filthy sounds of your skin colliding and his heavy balls slapping against your pussy. Joel pants from the exertion, the veins in his neck straining. He stares down at his cock disappearing in and out of your tight heat.

"Who do you belong to?" Joel barks out. "Who fuckin' owns this pussy?"

"You, daddy!" You squeal, your fingers curling tightly over the sofa cushion. "Only you."

"That's right," Joel groans, "no one but me."

You feel his cock throbbing just before he cums. He swiftly pulls out and jerks himself as thick ropes of cum shoot over your ass. He grunts and moans as he fists his dick and empties his balls, marking your skin like a territorial animal. You heave deep breathes inbetween small whines, your thighs quaking.

When Joel's finished he yanks your head back by your hair and engulfs your mouth with his, kissing you passionately. He is greedy as he swirls his tongue around yours, as if he's still hungry, still needs to ravage you and swallow you.

In this moment, this sweetly intoxicating instance of physical and emotional intimacy, you feel utterly euphoric. The tangle of disquiet inside your brain had become static once Joel's hands were on your skin, instantly pacifying you and moulding you into something completely docile, like a doll. It was an all consuming state of rapture.

He breaks the kiss and you stare into one another's eyes. He smirks, then you feel his calloused hand rubbing over your ass, smearing his cum over your skin possessively.

"Welcome home," you whisper.

Chapter Text

When Joel had returned to Jackson and trudged through the door of his house for the first time in weeks, he immediately smelt the sticky sweet scent of honey in the air. Ellie had made him shut his eyes as she tugged him through to the kitchen by the cuff of his sleeve, demanding he not peek or else he would ruin the surprise. And although Joel grumbled about hating surprises and just wanting a hot shower and some rest, he was holding back a smile. He had missed Ellie so much that he would do just about anything if she asked him to.

Then Ellie instructed him to open his eyes, trilling a theatrical "Tada!" She lifted the tea towel that lay on the kitchen counter to unveil the cake she had made with you. "Welcome home!"

Straight away Joel knew that you were involved in the creation of this surprise. Ellie could not have done this alone and you were the only person Ellie would have felt comfortable enough to ask for help with learning to bake something. He also recognised that it looked exactly like one of your honey cakes - his absolute favourite.

Joel felt a twinge inside his chest cavaity upon seeing the pretty cake perched on top of his kitchen counter. It was an overwhelming mix of emotion that he couldn't quite identify; something akin to gratitude and love and pride. All because his adopted daughter cared enough to make him a damn cake to welcome him home. Because it was you who helped teach her.

Joel swallowed the lump in his throat and gave a short laugh of astonishment before gathering Ellie into an embrace.

"Thanks, kid," he whispered into the crown of her head. "Looks good. And ya didn't burn the kitchen down."

"Yeah, ha ha, so funny," Ellie rolled her eyes. "Your lady friend supervised me so I didn't forget to turn off the oven or some bullshit. Which, by the way, happened to Mrs. Myer last year and almost torched her whole house."

Joel and Ellie cut two slices of cake and ate them standing in the kitchen, Ellie rambling about the random mundane happenings that had occurred in Joel's absence. He looked at Ellie as he slowly chewed bites of the delicious spongey cake, only half listening to her. Although Ellie could be exasperating at times, Joel enjoyed seeing her like this - garbling about Maria's houserules around a mouth full of sticky cake, animated facial expressions embellishing her story.

When they finished eating, Joel went upstairs to shower before going to sleep. He stood infront of the mirror to undress, his limbs feeling progressively more leaden with each passing minute. Despite his body aching with fatigue, his mind was overrun with ceaseless ruminating.

With sadness in his heart, Joel thought about how quickly Ellie was growing up, how time was slipping through his fingers and stealing away more moments of their life lived together. Ellie was still the same sarcastic, witty girl she had always been, but living in a safe and equitable community had given her the opportunity to grow and thrive in ways that would have never been possible in the QZ. She had blossomed into an optimistic and confident young woman with goals and aspirations, a daughter Joel was incredibly proud of.

But with Ellie's advancement in age and maturity came fear and dread that seeped into the marrow of his bones.

The fear of his own ageing, of his own inevitable demise slowly approaching. Joel was acutely aware of his age and the increasing limitations that it came with. His joints and muscles ached from a lot less physical strain these days. He was self conscious of the hearing loss in his right ear and worried that it would worsen. Joel dreaded becoming an old man without family surrounding him, with nothing to live for. He dreaded the possibility of experiencing the devastating agony of loss again.

Sarah. Tess.

He couldn't handle losing Ellie, too.

She was already exercising her independence and slowly detaching from the exclusive life they led together - and it fucking hurt him so bad. She was even spending more and more time out with her friends and at sleepovers, leavong Joel alone at home most of the time.

But Joel still felt guilty for lying to Ellie about what happened at the hospital with the Fireflies; so there was no way he could deny her the right to the pursuit of happiness in Jackson however she saw fit, including distancing herself from him. However, the gradual distancing still felt heartbreaking.

The notion of Ellie not being in his life made Joel's brain buzz with panic. A tightness seized his chest suddenly and seemed to squeeze the air from his lungs. He had to grip the edge of the bathroom sink with both hands in order to steady himself.

Fuck, no, not again.

Joel bowed his head and screwed his eyes shut in an effort to concentrate on keeping his knees from buckling underneath him. He gulped in breaths of air and expelled them in shuddering puffs while swirls of dread surged through his mind and body.

It's okay everything is alright Ellie is still here safe just keep breathing---

The internal monologue blurred into one continuous train of thought and quickly became a comforting sort of mantra to Joel. He remained still with his large hands wrapped around the porcelain of the sink while the dialogue rushed through his brain. He stayed like that for several minutes, until the tense coil inside his body slowly lessened and the panic eventually drained from his mind.

When Joel opened his eyes and his vision settled into focus he was confronted with the haggered image of his reflection in the bathroom mirror. The bags under his eyes were more prominent than usual and his lips were chapped from the cold wind. His crown of curls were tousled and smudges of dirt marked the tan skin of his face. He looked wrecked. Like an old man.

It was at times like this that Joel wished he could swallow a cocktail of pills and chase them down with whatever liquor he could get his hands on. Anything to knock him out for a few hours, just like he did at the QZ. Joel hadn't experienced a panic attack for quite some time - infact the previous one, precipitated by you trying to leave, had been the first one in more than a year.

Joel would never admit it, but he had spent a great deal of time thinking about you while he was away from Jackson. It was always in the quiet hours of the night, after the patrolmen had settled somewhere to sleep until daybreak. He struggled to fall asleep in the open wilderness, both his body and mind too wired with adrenaline to ease into a state of slumber, and so he spent alot of time reflecting.

Joel dreamed of your pretty face, the sensual curves of your body, the sound of your breathy voice saying his name when he fucked you. Fuck, he couldn't wait to get back to you and kiss you all over and fuck you again. He imagined slamming into you over and over until you screamed and begged him to stop.

Joel recalled how needy and anxious you had been the night he left, how perfect you looked crying when you heard he had to go. He knew you loved him still, even after hurting you with the belt, sweet little thing you were. Yes, you had tried to leave. But you were his and you belonged with him. He had managed to make you stay and you still loved him. And he loved you, truly, in the deep rooted core of his splintered heart. Even if he thought he could never confess it to you in this lifetime.

•••••

The elation you felt when Joel returned to Jackson was short lived. It was eclipsed by the passing of Maude, the librarian and your friend, just four days after the team had concluded their mission. She was found laying in her bed by her housemate, having died peacefully in her sleep at the age of 73. Her death was unexpected but not altogether surprising, given her age and the ailments she dealt with each passing year.

Maria had knocked on your door that morning to deliver the sad news. She sat with you on your sofa as you cried, encircling you in her arms as the waves of anguish hit you. You had known Maude since you had first arrived in Jackson as a young teenager and her enduring presence in the periphery of your life gave you a sort of comfort that you never consciously acknowledged. She had come to symbolise consistency and normalcy just by being visible in everyday life; like the baker who you saw display buns and loaves of bread each morning, or the man who sat outside the barbershop and whittled wood each day.

To you, Maude's death signified more than just the loss of her as an individual. It was also a harsh reminder that the shadowy hand of death could come to claim anyone you cared about at any time. Just like it had stolen your parents away from you, leaving you orphaned and all alone in the cataclysmic nightmare of the apocalypse, so distressed that you wonder how you hadn't died of a broken heart.

You never allowed yourself to ruminate too much on this truth, though. The pain was far too complex for you to willingly analyse. Instead, you simply cried for Maude and the fact that you'd miss her.

Maria held you silently, patient and gentle, until your cries eventually died down to shuddering sniffles. She asked if you would prefer to stay home from library duty for the day, in order to give yourself space to grieve. You shook your head stubbornly.

"I'll be okay," you assured Maria as you wiped your nose with a tissue. "I need to keep busy and the library will help."

So will seeing Oscar, your mind randomly chimed. You hadn't seen him for the last few days and you missed him. The soft cadance when he spoke, the crinkles around his eyes when he laughed, his stories and jokes. You needed Oscar right now, positive that he could lighten the weight on your heart with nothing but his mischievous grin.

When you pushed through the library door later that morning, Oscar was standing infront of the counter with his arms crossed, his mouth downturned with melancholy. He was already looking at you when you finished kicking off your boots and you glanced up at him. The sorrow reflected in his brown orbs was so raw that you couldn't suppress the sob clawing up your throat, or the impulse to rush over to him.

Oscar spoke your name softly and opened his arms open to catch you. You crashed into his chest and wrapped your arms around his waist. Oscar enveloped you against his body and squeezed your frame. You wept into his shirt while he cradled the back of your head tenderly.

"I know," Oscar whispered into your ear as you cried. "I know."

You stayed like that for what seemed like forever, basking in the warmth of his embrace as your tears poured relentlessly from the cracks of your heart. Oscar held you tightly, seeming to absorb every single drop of sorrow you expelled without complaint. It felt comfortable, so natural.

But Oscar knew your cries weren't just for Maude. Without you admitting so, he knew that there was a torrent of emotion inside you that had been desperate to break free for so long. He could identify it in the way you hesitated before revealing something about yourself, regardless of how trivial it was. He saw how quiet you became after the mention of certain subjects, eyes glazing over as you fell into contemplative silence, the gears in your brain working tirelessly. Grief plagued your soul, just like it did with all survivors, just as it did with himself.

Oscar wished he could express that he understood, that he wanted you to share your secrets and fears with him and he would keep them safe, tucked securely inside his own wounded heart, just to give you some kind of solace.

Oscar knew but he did not speak, not except for the occasional whisper of comfort, hoping to God you couldn't hear the pounding of his heart in your ear. Your tears eventually subsided and you composed yourself enough to detach from his body, wiping your nose with the back of your hand.

When his eyes met your beautiful watery orbs, he was sure he felt a zap of electricity between you. But then you went rigid and your eyes widened, almost like you were panicked. Oscar wondered if you were embarrassed, either by your display of emotion or the realisation of your physical proximity, or perhaps both.

"I better get to work," you quickly mumbled, averting your gaze.

Oscar smoothed his warm hands over your shoulders, willing you to look at him. He said your name and when his voice escaped his lips it sounded like a plea. But you pulled away from him wordlessly and disappeared into the solitary space of the storeroom to resume the job you had been working on lately. Oscar sighed and scratched the side of his cheek, his fingernails rasping over his beard.

He didn't want to pressure you or push you in any way, but he wanted you to share your feelings with him. He wanted to hear about your worries and fears and sadness. But maybe it was time for him to share himself with you as well.

Oscar kept his distance from you for the next few hours, letting you have some space to relax until you felt ready to talk. At around 12.30pm Oscar went to the mess hall for and returned with a small sack filled with sandwiches and fruit. He gave a small knock against the doorframe of the store room as not to startle you. You were knelt on the floor with some books and cleaning rags scattered around you.

"Got us some lunch," Oscar said tentatively, leaning his head against the doorframe. "Ready to come eat?"

"Thanks," you said without looking up. "But I'm not really hungry."

You hadn't said that for months, not since that first time working together when you insisted you weren't hungry but he served you food anyway - food that you ended up devouring with gusto. Lunch time then became something you both looked forward to on your subsequent shifts, a designated time when you could take it easy for a while and enjoy the companionship you built. While your resfual to eat concerned Oscar, he did not want to overstep any boundaries.

"Would you like to be left alone today?" He asked gently. "I have some odd jobs to do, so if you wanna have some peace and quiet I can work in the corner of the library."

You sighed and shook your head slowly before looking up at him. "Oh Oscar, you're so lovely. I'm sorry, I'm just...really sad."

"I understand, you don't need apologise." Oscar offered you a little smile.

"But I'd like you to stay close by, if that is okay?"

Oscar tried not to show just how relieved he felt to hear your request. Ofcourse he could stay close to you. He would happily remain by your side for as long as you wanted. But he just nodded and pushed his glasses back up the bridge of his nose. "Of course."

"Thank you," you whispered, looking down at your hands in your lap. "I haven't....lost someone, for so long. It brings up a lot of memories."

Oscar slipped into the storeroom and lowered himself to the ground to sit a few feet away from you, directly opposite the spot where you were kneeling. He hummed to convey that he was listening, to encourage you to keep speaking. You had never spoken about these things to anyone before - death, mortality, your parents, your own grief - but now it seemed like the words and emotions wanted to tumble from your mouth on their own accord.

"Maude...." you began, voice wavering, your gaze focused on your fidgeting fingers. "I knew her since I came to Jackson...everything always seemed so safe here. I guess I just never really...thought about someone dying inside the gates."

Oscar watched you silently with his chin resting in the palm of one hand. He waited for you to continue.

"And it makes me think of my life. Like what if I end up alone? What if I die without starting my own family?" Rivulets of tears were beginning to stream down your face and you speak so softly that Oscar has to lean forward and strain his hearing.

"J-just like my m-mother and father, how they didn't escape...but I did," you wept, gently shaking your head. "I survived but I didn't want to without them. I survived but I'm so scared."

Oscar's soulful brown eyes watched you intently as the raw emotion poured from you. He longed to cradle you in his arms but he knew you needed this, this cathartic like confession without any disruption.

"I shouldn't have." You croaked, covering your eyes with your hands like you were hiding from the truth of your own words.

"Shouldn't have, what?" Oscar reached over and gently touched your forearm.

"I-I shouldn't have lived," your throat was thick with your tears. "I don't deserve to. I should've d-d-died."

Oscar whispered your name and fell forward on his knees to crawl close to you. "Hey, listen to me. Don't ever say that, okay?"

He enveloped you into his arms gingerly and cradled the back of your head with his palm. "You do deserve to live. You deserve to live here, safe and happy. You were meant to survive. And your parents would be so happy that you made it here. They would be so happy and proud of the woman you are today."

You continued to sob and sniffle miserably but you allowed Oscar to hold you. The vague scent of cinnamon filled your nose when he pressed you closer to him. You both stayed like that for a long time, until your cries died down and became tiny sniffs and sighs. Oscar remained still as he embraced you. It was only when he was sure that you were somewhat tranquil that Oscar chose to speak.

"I survived, too," Oscar whispered. "And I spent so many years hating myself for it."

You pulled away from his arms just enough to peer at his face. His mouth was down turned in that pensive frown from earlier and his eyes, usually so warm and twinkling, were now downcast and full of woe.

"She...my wife..." Oscar's voice choked. "She was bitten before I could stop it, before I could protect her. I should've been right by her side but I wasn't." He swallowed thickly.

Without thinking you instinctively raised your hand up to Oscar's face and gently cupped his cheek. His eyes fluttered shut at the contact and a single tear slipped out from under his thick eyelashes.

"Oh, Oscar..." You whispered, staring at him closely.

He shook his head ever so gently and sniffed, then brought his own hand up to enclose over yours. He opened his eyes and met your gaze.

"But I came to learn that hating yourself for surviving isn't the right way to live." Oscar stated solemnly. "There's no point in living if it is in misery. It kills your heart and your peace, slowly."

Oscar slowly removes your hand from his scruffy cheek and lowers it to his chest, where he cradles it reverently with his own, still looking directly at you.

"We owe it them to continue living. To live as best as we can, to allow ourselves happiness and love - because that is what they would want, and because it honours their memory. And those feelings we have...that hate for ourselves...that guilt...it does nothing to help us. It may never really go away, but holding onto it so tightly...it makes life impossible to live."

You nod ever so slightly, totally enrapt in the truth of Oscar's words and the conviction in his tone. You've never heard someone speak in such a way that penetrates your heart like this, never identified with someone else's insight so deeply before.

"If we let the hate and hurt eat us alive, then we won't ever be able to remember the good memories. I will never forget my wife, I promised myself a long time ago that I would keep her memories close to my heart. Her smile...her laugh..."

Another tear rolled down Oscar's cheek but he did nothing to wipe it away. Your eyes were still locked on each others.

"And they remind me that life can be worth living, that she would want me to keep going. I bet your parents would, too. And so would Maude."

You can't stifle the sob that escapes your lips and you find yourself lunging into Oscar's body to hug him once again. He hugs you back, sure that you can both hear each other's heartbeats.

••••••

That night you sat crossed legged on Joel's bed cocooned in his blanket. Just as he had requested (or rather, ordered) the previous night, Joel wanted you waiting at his house for when he finished his patrol shift. As he sat on the edge of the bed to remove his boots, you told him the news about Maude's death.

"She lived til an old age," he said brusquely, letting his boots drop to the floor with a clunk. "Longer than alotta people. Ain't not use mournin' someone whose time is up."

You knew he was right; Maude had lived a long life by apocalypse standards, and many of them had been spent within the comfortable confines of Jackson, but the coldness in his words still stung. Joel's pragmatic nature was clearly vastly different from your more emotional disposition, but he also had more life experience than you, you reminded yourself. Maybe it was better to be a bit more like Joel for the sake of self preservation.

You sighed and hummed a halfhearted agreement.

The mattress creaked as Joel stood to undress. You pulled the blanket tighter around your shoulders and watched Joel wordlessly as he removed his jacket and flannel shirt. Your eyes wandered over the expanse of his thick shoulders and broad back - you could see the light scratches on his flank from where you'd dug your fingernails into last night when he'd pounded into you. You smiled softly to yourself.

You loved to watch him in various stages of undress; whether it was after a long day at work or right before he fucked you, the display of his bare body evoked a hunger inside your lower belly that made you ache for his cock. Even with the litany of scars covering his skin, nothing could detract from how sexy he was.

Joel pulled off his t shirt and tossed it and the flannel onto the floor by his dresser. He glanced at you and caught you shamelessly gawking at his half naked body. He smirked ever so slightly.

"What're you starin' at, little girl?" Joel teased.

You blushed and hid your shy smile behind the tips of your fingers. "Just you, how sexy you are."

Joel chuckled under his breath padded over to the closet to hang up his jacket. When he returned from the closet and slowly paced toward the bed, your heart skipped a beat to see that he's cradling the Polaroid camera in his hands. It's the same one from the shoe box that was hidden in his closet. The one you snooped in.

Shit, you hope he hasn't found out that you went looking through his stuff. You were sure you had returned it to the correct spot, had it angled in the same position you'd found it in on the shelf.

You swallow thickly and watch Joel's face cautiously. He is quiet and concentrated as he rubs the pads of his thumbs over the plastic black exterior of the camera, examining it as if he has never used it before, as if he's not entirely sure if it even works. It is worn but in good condition; a relic from the past, now a rare tool that was used to capture and eternalise scenes and faces before the end of the world. You briefly wonder who it belonged to once upon a time.

You chew your bottom lip as you watch him come to stand a few feet away from the bed. He looks up at you and holds the Polaroid up in his hand.

"Know what this is?" Joel asks.

You nod, and even though you do know what it is, you still sound slightly dubious when you respond."It's a camera, right?"

"'Thats right." He nods and turns it around to study the front of the lens. "Found it a while ago on a mission. Was gonna give it to Ellie but seems she's...more interested in her comics, or somethin'."

His voice trails off into a mutter at the end. He almost sounds sad, or disappointed. You feel bad for him, knowing he would be struggling to accept Ellie wanting to move out of home.

"It's a very thoughtful gift to give someone." You smile at Joel, trying to appear upbeat. "I think it is really cool. Have you taken any pictures with it?"

Joel shakes his head. "Nah, ain't tried it out yet." His eyes flicker up to you and he tilts his head, regarding you with a kind of curious contemplation. You raise an eyebrow at back at him.

"What?"

Joel's lips quirk into a sly little smile. "Wanna give it a go, see it in action?"

You can't hide your intrigue as you sit up straighter. The blanket slips off your shoulders. "What do you mean? Do I wanna take a picture?"

"I mean, how 'bout I take your picture?" Joel explains. The tone of his suggestion sounds more decisive and less of a request. He sees the uncertainty on your face and quickly clarifies his words. "A picture of you for me to remember you by. For when I'm at work, or you ain't here."

The sentiment behind his idea makes your cheeks warm. The idea is sweet, romantic. Perhaps Joel is more sentimental than he appears, you think. Your eyes light up and you smile eagerly.

"Okay!" You giggle. "Lemme stand up and get dressed."

"Nah," Joel shakes his head. "Just stay like that. Don't need to wear anythin'."

Your brow creases with confusion and you gesture to your body, still clad only in your bra and panties. "But Joel, I'm almost naked."

Joel sighs - a small sound that borders on mild exasperation. He looks at you with an expression of reproach that makes you feel small and a bit foolish, like you can't quite comprehend something and it frustrates him. You expect him to reprimand you or revert to being curt, like how he spoke about Maude just a few minutes earlier. However, when goes to speak next his voice comes out gentle.

"'S just me, darlin'," Joel assures you smoothly. "Ain't no one gonna see these pictures except me. And I think you look perfect just as you are right now."

Your lips curl into a tiny smile at his praise but you cannot disguise the indecision in your eyes. It isn't that you're ashamed of your body - it is the idea of being half naked and captured, eternalised in a physical medium like a photograph, that makes you slightly uneasy. It almost seems obsence and lewd, as if you're giving a sacred piece of yourself away permanently.

Joel can see your hesitation as clear as day. He narrows his eyes at you and speaks in that rich Texan drawl that sounds so sweetly coaxing, firm yet loving. "Babydoll, you got no reason to be shy. I just wanna have a picture of my pretty girl to look at whenever I want, that's all."

He smirks and gives you a cocky wink. It sends a hot rush of desire to your pussy and you giggle shyly. That's all it takes to win you over.

"Okay, okay, hold on." You clear your throat and wiggle a little to get comfortably posed, back straight and shoulders relaxed, fingers toying nervously with the blanket that covers your legs. Joel watches you, still smirking.

"Good girl. Now show me that sweet smile."

You look directly at Joel and manage a coy smile. He holds the camera up to his eye level and presses the little button to take the picture. The camera flashes for a second and makes a short whirring sound. You're momentarily stunned but laugh. A square strip of white film slides out of the camera and Joel pulls it out.

"That's it? It's all done?"

"Takes a minute to show up," he explains. He sets it on the window sill to develop. You grin and lean back on your palms.

"I hope I look okay."

Joel turns back to you and there is now a hungry, dark look in his eyes. One of his hands still hold the camera while his other hand hangs by his side, flexing slowly. He stares at you silently for a few beats and his jaw ticks.

"How about we try somethin' a little different," Joel murmurs. You recognise that sultry lilt in his voice, the silky drawl that you know means he is thinking of something dirty. "Somethin' a bit more...private, just for me."

You chew your bottom lip, not really sure where his train of thought is leading to. Joel swaggers the few paces over to the bed. You watch the softness of his tummy as he moves, the growing bulge at the crotch of his jeans. You can feel yourself starting to get wet.

Joel stands before you and tilts his head down at you. His hand reaches down and he drags his thumb over your shoulder in soft circles, his eyes roving from your face down to yours breasts, then back up again.

"Uhm, what do you mean?" You ask hesitantly. You're not quite sure what he's alluding to.

Joel smirks. "Well, when I don't got you around, I get a little lonely. I start missin' what we do together...start missin' more than just that pretty face."

You tilt your head to the side so your hair hangs over your shoulder and you grin playfully at him. "Ooooh," you giggle, "what else do you miss?"

"Well, I miss those perfect tits." Joel purrs, his fingers toying with the strap of your bra. "I think about how they feel in my hands, how gorgeous they look bouncin' around when I'm fuckin' you."

His hand shifts down and cups your breast in his palm, his thumb brushing over your nipple underneath the material of your bra. A shiver skates over your body and you moan softly.

"Let me see 'em, baby," Joel commands, slightly breathless. "Take it off and show me."

Joel seems to possess you in these moments, robbing you of rationality and lucidity, consuming and devouring your body until all that is left is a soulless vessel completely fucked out and used. You reach your hands behind your back and unclip your bra. You slide it off your shoulders and discard it on the side of the mattress. Joel inhales audibly and groans lowly at the sight of your bare breasts.

"So gorgeous, sugar." He ghosts the pad of his calloused thumb over one of your nipples, making it pebble. "And all for me, ain't that right?"

"Mm-hm," you nod. Joel gives your nipple a light pinch and you moan again. Your cunt throbs with rapidly growing desire.

Joel takes a step back and nods to the camera. "Gonna take a picture of these pretty titties, baby girl. Play with 'em, want you to feel good while I'm doin' it."

You obey and bring your fingers to tease your nipples, staring up at Joel with your eyes glazed with lust. Joel's own pupils are blown wide as he watches you intently. He grips the hard outline of his cock straining in his jeans.

"Fuck yeah, thats it."

Your heart swells to witness Joel in this moment. It is because of you, because of your body and actions, that Joel looks how he does right now. Hungry, feral, undeniably aroused. The knowledge of this makes you feel powerful and sexy and wanted. It also deepens your own desire for him.

"Take the picture," you purr seductively to Joel.

A growl rumbles in his throat and he holds the camera up once again and directs it at you, then clicks the button. It flashes again and deposits another white square of film out for Joel to accept. This time he holds the picture and watches as the image slowly develops on the page. A wicked grin eventually spreads over his face and he licks his bottom lip.

"Hot little slut for me," Joel rasps. His eyes lift from the photograph back to you. "You like makin' me happy, don't you, baby?"

You nod eagerly and squeeze your tits in the palms of your hands. "Yes, daddy, I do."

"Look how pretty you are." Joel holds the picture out towards you and you sit up on your knees to reach over and accept it from him.

You gasp when you see it. You are instantly shocked. But God, you're also so turned on. The photograph shows you sat on the bed but only from the waist up, omiting the blanket covering your lower half so it appears you're completely naked. Your eyes twinkle and your mouth is parted slightly, somehow exuding wanton sensuality and natural sweetness all at once. Your breasts look round and soft while your fingers play with your nipples. It's fucking hot.

"I look good," you whisper incredulously.

"Told ya, baby." Joel chuckles. "Don't stop now. Gonna prove how fuckin' sexy you are, how crazy you make me."

You would have never dreamed of doing such a thing before. It is debauched and so exciting, like a dirty secret, and you feel emboldened by the boost of dopamine. You toss the picture on the bed and flip your hair over your shoulder.

"Show me, daddy. What do you want me to do now?"

Joel does not reply. Instead, he strides to the bed and swiftly grabs a hold of the back of your head to pull you into a passionate kiss. It takes you by surprise but when he pushes his tongue into your mouth with desperation, you moan with pleasure and wrap your arms tightly around his neck. Joel's tongue laps at yours in thick strokes, moaning low and growly as he savours your taste. You crumble against him, surrending once more to his will.

He is more than happy to show you, to prove to you how much he desires you. How you will always belong to only him.

••••••

In the couple of days following his return, Joel noticed subtle differences about you that had developed during his time away. He noted the tint of colour on the apples of your cheeks. He could feel the slightest bit of extra softness to your flesh, as if you'd been eating a little more lately. You were smiling more often, too.

If Joel didn't know you, he would've guessed you had been fucked really good and had some kind of post orgasm euphoria. But he did know you, and he knew that wasn't a possiblity. You were his good girl.

You couldn't be pregnant, either. Joel loosely tracked your cycles along with you so he knew when you were ovulating and when he would have to settle for a blowjob instead of risking impregnating you. He knew the changes in you weren't due to any kind of pregnancy glow.

So just why you were more spirited than you had ever been before, he wasn't sure. Maybe it was because that stupid wedding you were so excited about was happening soon. Or maybe it was because Christmas was approaching. Joel remembered how much you liked baking during the festive season, how much you relished gifting your friends homemade treats like gingerbread men. Whatever the reason, it didn't really matter. Pretty soon, Joel was going to make sure you wouldn't be preoccupied with anything else except pleasing him.

••••••

The older townsfolk mourned Maude's passing with solemn reverence. In accordance with the directives created by the community council, all events and celebrations were postponed by two weeks out of respect for the departed individual. This meant that Cassie's wedding, which was supposed to take place in three days time, had to be rescheduled.

Once you knew Maria had broken the news to Cassie you and Kate went to visit her, knowing she would be devastated. The both of you perched on a couch in the living room of the house Cassie shared with her adopted family - fellow survivors who Cassie had known from when she had first been orphaned.

"I really don't want the wedding so close to Christmas," Cassie groaned as she flopped down on the couch. "Plus, it'll be so cold, it is going to start snowing any day now!"

You could appreciate Cassie's frustrations about the forced postponement of the wedding, yet the grief you felt for Maude's death was still raw, and so your capacity for commiseration was very limited. But you still dutifully listened to her lamenting along with Kate.

"I won't be able to have the ceremony in the orchid like I wanted, either." Cassie grumbled and hugged one of the couch cushions tightly to her chest. "I can't believe the council is doing this."

"It has been the town rules since the beginning," Kate said with a shrug. "Yeah it is disappointing, but it's reasonable."

"Yeah, I know, I know," Cassie muttered.

"Maybe you could postpone it until the spring?" You suggested. "That way the orchid will be in full bloom and it won't be snowing. It's only a few more months away."

There was a short silence between the three of you while the merit of your idea sunk in. Just when you were about to regret voicing your idea, Cassie suddenly sat up straight and turned to face you, her features lit up with excitement.

"That's...a great idea," she grabbed one of your hands and grinned widely. "It's actually perfect!"

You chuckled and gave her hand a squeeze. "Really? You like it?"

Cassie nodded eagerly. "Yes! It is amazing! Oh my god, I need to talk to Maria about the new date and the plans will be!"

Kate laughed and patted Cassie's shoulder. "Okay, slow down, there's still plenty of time for that. Matt's with Maria and Tommy today organising the new rosters for patrol, so she's probably too busy to talk about planning your wedding today."

Cassie let out a little huff of indignation and rolled her eyes. "Alright! I guess it'll have to wait. But in the mean time, let's talk about seating arrangements. Who are you girls bringing as dates?"

The question had caught you off guard. You hadn't thought about who you were inviting to the wedding since you asked Joel that night, the night when you had initially broken up with him (or rather, tried to). Kate answered first, rambling about trying to find the right opportunity to ask one of her colleagues she fancied, while you pressed your lips together in a tight line, body going rigid. How were you supposed to answer?

My older secret boyfriend doesn't like socialising and practically hates everyone and thinks stuff like this is a waste of time?

Cassie tapped your knee to get your attention. "What about you? Have you found someone yet?"

You give a small noncommittal shrug, hoping desperately that Cassie won't interrogate you any further, but you know she won't be so easily placated.

"Oh come on!" She swats you playfully. "There has to be someone that you want to ask out. I don't get how you don't have a boyfriend or at least someone to have some fun with!"

"What about Oscar?" Kate prompted.

You went stiff at the mention of Oscar and shot a glare at Kate. When she smiled at you, you recognised that there was no teasing inflection in her words or expression. Her suggestion had been completely innocent and genuine.

"He's a nice guy, and you must have gotten to know him well while he's been at the library." Kate reasoned.

She was right. Oscar was a nice guy. In fact, more than nice - he was actually the most kind and sincere man you had ever met. And yes, you had gotten to know Oscar quite well recently, well enough to admit that he was a great friend (and would probably be an even greater partner, you secretly admit to yourself). And you knew without a doubt that he would jump at the prospect of accompanying you to an event like Cassie's wedding.

The total opposite of Joel.

Your cognisance of this reality causes a deep rooted pang of disappointment to rear up inside your chest.

But even if you wanted to invite Oscar as your date, there was no way that could happen. Joel may have refused to go alongside you but it was an impossibility that you could go with any other man, not unless you wanted to potentially lose Joel or face his wrath. There was nothing you could do, you deduced.

Unless you asked Joel again. But you weren't sure if you wanted to risk the heartbreak of his rejection again. After all, he had said that your relationship should be kept private, away from gossiping and prying eyes and those who wished ill on the happiness of others.

You snap out of your thoughts and drag your eyes up to look at Cassie and Kate. They exchange a glance and look back to you expectantly.

You breathe out a sigh and shake your head. "I don't know," you finally answer. "Maybe."

"Well, you guys are lucky you've got some extra time to find someone!" Cassie teases while rising to stand. "Now, I want your final opinions on my veil."

You're grateful for the change in subject, for the attention to be redirected away from you and the topic of dates. You stand up with Kate and make your way to follow Cassie to her bedroom. As you trudge up the stairs behind your friends, you try to reassure yourself that Joel is right to protect you both, that his need for secrecy is for good reason. That perhaps one day soon he will decide it is safe enough for you to openly declare your love and become a family, just like he said you would.

••••••

Joel snuck over to your cottage late that night as soon as his patrol shift finished. He had been impatient to see you, practically starving for you all day. You hadn't so much as cracked the door open and greeted him before he slipped through the door to shove you against the wall and kiss you ferverantly.

Just five minutes later Joel was sitting on your couch, stroking his hard cock as he watched you with hooded, lust drunk eyes. Still wearing his jeans, his legs were spread wide and his boots were planted firmly on the living room floor.

Under his direction you stood opposite him across the small living room in only your panties. Your hands hang loosely by your thighs, fingertips brushing close to the hem of your underwear as you await further instruction from Joel.

Your arousal was seeping into the scant crotch of your underwear, making it stick to your core and causing your clit to throb. The juxtaposition of Joel fully clothed while you were stripped down to your panties made you feel exposed and dirty. You knew Joel could easily see the shame written on your face, and how it was just barely eclipsed by the overwhelming desire for him. He seemed to take pleasure in coaxing these opposing emotions from you, a proud satisfaction dancing in his eyes as he watched you clench your thighs and whimper.

"You missed me, baby?" Joel rasped.

You are too fixated on the sight of his thick fingers squeezing around his cock to verbally respond. It looks so fat and delicious in his grip, enticing enough that your mouth begins to salivate in anticipation. You don't speak, but instead just sigh softly and nod. Joel smirks and rubs his thumb over the bead of precum that has leaked from his slit, smearing it over the head of his cock.

"Yeah?" He cooes smugly. "Bet you've been missin' this cock all day, too."

Joel has teased you enough. You are so desperate to touch him now, and equally desperate to feel his big calloused hands roam over your own body. Unable to hold back any longer, you take a tentative step forward with the intention of approaching him, totally forgetting the rules of this little game you and Joel play.

He is quick to halt you, though.

"Don't move," he barks a warning and shakes his head at you. "Stay right where you are until I say you can move."

"Please Joel," you whine with frustration. "I need you."

"Tell me how you need me, baby doll," Joel murmers, "tell me how much you missed my cock and I might let you have it."

The mixture of arousal and shame was something you'd grown accustomed to over the months you had been intimate with Joel, but there was still a tiny sense of unease that lingered in your stomach each time you submitted. In the heat of the moment you push it aside, just as you do now.

"I really need you," you sigh."N-need to feel your cock and taste you. I missed it so much today. Missed how you fuck me so good with your cock."

Joel smirks, pleased with your admission. "You want it so bad, baby? Come get it. Crawl to me."

"Huh?" You squeak.

"Ya heard me. If you're so desperate for my cock, get on your hands and knees and crawl to me."

You don't need any more persuasion. You lower yourself to your knees and plant your palms on the living room floor, your gaze never leaving Joel's. There is a gleam of cruel satisfaction in his large dark eyes that makes him look like a hungry wolf gleefully torturing its cornered prey. Joel beckons you with two fingers.

"Keep those eyes on me," he drawls.

You obey, staring at him as you start slowly crawling across the space of the living room, the hardwood floors uncomfortably into your kneecaps. Joel leans back into the couch and watches you like a hawk, his jaw clenched. You feel the heat of shame colour your face but you try your best to keep your eyes on his. You cross the floor and come to kneel a foot before him in between his spread legs.

"Good girl," Joel croons. Your pussy throbs from his praise and you bite your bottom lip to stifle your moan. "Did just what daddy told ya."

"Yes, sir," you whisper.

Joel grips his dick at the base and gestures to it with a small nod of his head. "Come on, take it. Show me what you've been wantin' all day."

You shuffle closer to him and slide your hands up the length of his legs and over the thickness of his strong thighs, staring at the fat head of his cock glistening with precum. Joel releases his hold and slips the palm of his hand along your jaw and to the back of your head. He threads his fingers through your hair and tangles a handful into his fist, giving it a tight tug. It hurts but causes a tingling to surge from your belly to your pussy, and you mewl pathetically.

"Show me," Joel urged, the tone of his voice rough and close to cracking, betraying the depth of his own desire. His pupils were blown wide already. "Open your fuckin' mouth."

You stare up at him and flutter your lashes as your hand snakes up to wrap around his shaft. You part your lips and stick out your tongue then lean in and swipe it over his slit, tasting the salty musk of his skin. Joel catches his bottom lip inbetween his teeth and lets out a groan.

You lick a thick stripe up the underside of his shaft and then wrap your lips over the head of his cock, giving it a teasing suck and then popping it back out of your mouth. You jerk your fist up and down the base of his cock while you repeat the action several times, letting your saliva run past your lips and drip down Joel's girthy length.

"That's it," Joel drawls, his eyes appearing black while he watches you intently. His hand flexes in the tangle of your hair.

You dip forward to slide his dick inside your mouth until you feel him touch the back of your throat. You welcome the familar way he stretches the corners of your lips. You then bob up and down, hollowing your cheeks and sucking around him while simultaneously breathing through your nose.

You had very little experience sucking cock before you started sleeping with Joel. The idea used to intimidate you and you worried that your lack of experience was laughable, that you were incapable of giving pleasure to anyone. But your inexperience only seemed to excite Joel, a wolfish gleam in his eyes and a smug twitch on his his lips as he casually suggested he teach you how. And so he did. Joel was patient as he taught you how to take him in your mouth, how to properly breathe through your nose while maintaining suction, the importance of eye contact, how he liked your small hand jerking him off at the same time.

To Joel's immense satisfaction you learnt how to please him quickly, and he learnt how eager you were to hear his praise. Taking advantage of this eagerness and need for his acclaim, Joel slowly pushed you a bit further each time, nudging boundaries and inching closer to your discomfort. He eventually introduced you to the concept of face fucking, confessing his preference for rougher blow jobs, how he loved the seeing your face wrecked and covered in his spit and your saliva. He was just patient enough to guide you through your hesitations, careful to not push you too far too quickly, always encouraging you and praising your efforts. It thrilled Joel to experiment and test you, to force you to deep throat him longer, to endure more forceful thrusts.

Joel's dedication to your training had paid off; now you were skilled at sucking his cock just how he liked, and he knew you enjoyed it as well, conjuring an almost Pavlovian response in your loins.

So now, tonight, Joel sits on your couch and revels in you worshipping his cock with your tongue and your throat. His breathing becomes heavier and his fist pulls tighter in your hair as you continue to pleasure him.

"Fuck, baby," he grits breathlessly. "So fuckin' good for me, tight little throat takin' me so well."

His praise goes straight to your pussy and you moan around him. Your eyes are glassy with tears as you stare up at Joel. His plush lips are parted as he pants, hooded puppy dog eyes fixed on you, his crown of greying dark curls touseled.

You deepthroat him for another minute, his moans and groans filling your ears alongside the sloppy gagging noises coming from your thoroughly fucked throat. You gasp for air when Joel suddenly wrenches you off of him, making your scalp sting.

"Don't wanna cum just yet," he pants heavily. "Wanna fuck you. Bet that little pussy is drippin' for me, ain't it, baby?"

You whimper and nod as best as you can with his tight hold on your hair, your eyes wide and wet, your lips puffy. The sight of you so wrecked on your knees before him makes Joel feel crazed.

"Sit on my cock, little slut." He growls. "Come on, get up and ride it."

Joel doesn't wait for you to rise before yanking you up to stand on your feet by your hair. You squeal and wobble unsteadily but he ignores you. He then takes your panties and rips them down your thighs and down your legs in one swift, impatient motion. His hand grabs your ass cheek and squeezes roughly before using the grip to move you to straddle his legs.

You're like a rag doll, pliant and acquiescent, allowing Joel to manhandle you to hover above his cock. You spread your legs wide over his thick thighs and moan when you feel the wet blunt head of his dick press against your pussy. Even though you're so wet you're still apprehensive about taking Joel without at least having his fingers inside you to stretch you a bit. You open your mouth to voice your concern when suddenly Joel slams you down onto his dick.

You scream at the burning stretch. His cock impales you, seeming to part your insides as he buries himself completely inside your pussy. He watches you closely as your face contorts in pain, untangling his hand from your hair to slide down your spine and cup your other ass cheek. Your body shudders and your opening throbs painfully around the base of him.

"Ow, ow! F-fuck, Joel," you sob. Your hands claw at his shoulders for support.

"So full of me, babydoll," Joel whispers huskily. You can feel the rough skin on his palms when he slowly rocks your pelvis back and forth, his cock dragging out a few inches and then back in, forcing your walls to adjust around him.

He's right, you are so impossibly full of him. You choke out a series of stuttering moans and whimpers while he continues manovuering your hips in shallow thrusts. He's so fucking big you can feel him deep in your stomach. The pain eventually lessens in intensity and is replaced by overwhelming pleasure, although the sensation of fullness remains. Your pussy is getting wetter and wetter, making the the movement smoother. Joel notices your slick start to drip down his shaft and down to his balls and a growl of approval rumbles in his throat.

"Takin' daddy's cock like a good little bitch," Joel moans. "Such a good fuckin' girl."

His words make your pussy clench. God, he makes you feel feral. You start to wind your hips and bounce on top of him in a fervent rhythm, chasing your own pleasure.

"That's it," Joel murmers against your lips. "Ride me, baby, ride this fat fuckin' dick."

He licks at the corner of your mouth teasingly before capturing your lips in a passionate kiss. You moan into his mouth, still bouncing and grinding on his length and digging your nails into his shoulders. When Joel slips one hand inbetween your bodies and starts to stroke your clit with his thumb, your legs quiver.

Joel's tongue dances around yours as he skillfully circles your bundle of nerves. Your eyes roll back, the coil in your lower stomach swirling and contracting. Your soft body feels wholly possessed by Joel, every inch of you captured and devoured by him. You're lost in the ecstasy you share with him, and within a few minutes the coil reaches a crescendo and snaps. You climax, legs shaking and body shuddering. Joel helps you through it with upwards thrusts of his hips and his thumb still circling your clit.

When your orgasm fades and your body is overcome with fatigue, Joel grabs tightly on to your hips and fucks up into you. He slams you up and down like a ragdoll as he desperately chases his own climax, reaching it in less than a minute. At the last moment he hauls your body up off him. Joel's groans are loud and animalistic as his cock pulses and spurts ropes of his warm seed over your lower belly and your mound. You mewl wearily into his chest.

You feel sleep creeping closer and you slump further against Joel. His chest rises and falls rapidly as he tries to catch his breath, running a hand through his untamed curls and tilting his head back. You both remain that way quietly for several minutes. You are just beginning to drift off to sleep with his soft when Joel taps your hip to signal you to get off his lap.

You begrudgingly slide off of him and flop onto the couch. He stands and leaves you to curl up alone against a couch cushion. You can feel the stickiness of his cum drying on your skin but you're too exhausted to care. Your eyelids flutter shut and you yawn into the cushion. You hear the rustle of clothes, the clunk of his boots on the ground and some kind of movement near you, then Joel reappears above you naked from the waist down. You don't open your eyes as he scoops you into his arms wordlessly and carries you to your bedroom. You are almost completely asleep when he tucks you into your bed and slides under the covers next to you. And when he slings an arm around your middle possessively and gets comfortably snuggled against your body, you're already lulled into slumber.

•••••••

The next day you were back at the library with Oscar. The weather outside was awful; thick grey clouds filled the sky with the threat of rain while a bitter wind whipped mercilessly throughout the streets of the town. The inside of the library was cosy and warm though, and you had to agree with Oscar when he said that snow would be arriving soon.

Sometime after lunch, when there was a lull in residents visiting the library, Oscar cleared his throat before uttering your name.

"Hm?" You hummed in reply without looking at him. You were focused on recording the details of each book in a small stack of hardcovers beisde you.

He said your name once more, louder this time, commanding your attention.

"I won't be working at the library anymore," Oscar spoke quietly.

The weight of his confession hung heavy and resounding in the air. You froze, the hand holding the pen pausing halfway through writing a title. Your throat went dry instantly. Surely he hadn't just said he would be leaving the library?

A frown creased your brow. Yes, you must have misheard him. There was no way he would leave you and abandon the comfortable niche you had created together. Right?

You felt flames of panic start to lick the inside of your sternum. You looked up at Oscar with alarm, hoping for reassurance. But he was already staring at you with an apologetic expression that immediately told you that you had indeed heard him correctly.

"W-what?" You stammered. "What do you mean, why not?"

Oscar propped his glasses on top of his forehead and brushed the corners of his eyes with his fingertips, and you weren't sure if he were sweeping away weariness or tears. You had never seen Oscar without his spectacles before, and when he shifted his gaze back to you you were struck by how enchanting his sultry hooded eyes were. Even consumed with an expression of helpless regret, you couldn't help but marvel at how handsome he looked.

"Maria says it is time for me to go back to patrolling and the stables now my ankle is healed." Oscar said softly.

You sucked in a breath of air and shakily exhaled. "That's not fair," you mumbled petulantly, looking down."The library needs you."

Oscar smiled, a small sad quirk of his lips. You both knew the library no longer needed two people to manage it. Oscar had painted and renovated the building as best as it possibly could have been, and all that was left now was general cleaning and the maintance of books - the tasks you had easily completed alone.

"You've got it," he reassured you. "This is your library now."

Tears well in your eyes and blur your vision. You feel ridiculous for being so emotional, for the disappointment and sadness cruelly curling around your heart. You aren't even completely sure why you feel this way, either. You knew Oscar wouldn't always be around in the library with you, but you couldn't ever anticipate this sense of loss at him leaving. Why was the prospect so hurtful?

All you manage to do is shake your head gently, unable to voice your disagreement. This is yours too, you want to say, we made this together. You bow your head and shut your eyes tightly.

Oscar seems to read your thoughts. He moves slowly toward you, the whisper of his shoes against the floor being the only sound in the room. You're startled when you feel his hands tenderly settle on your shoulders and he says your name once again. You raise your head and turn to look at him, unable to hide your sadness, you are sure you find a similar glint of emotion reflected in his own beautiful eyes.

"Do you have to?" You whisper, searching his eyes.

Oscar gives your shoulders a gentle squeeze and nods. "Yes, I do. Everyone has their roles in the community, and I have to go wherever Maria and Tommy need me. And after that mission we need as many capable people as possible on patrol."

You sigh and nod your head slowly to show you understand. And you do. You have even seen Joel work himself to the bone at times when there have been shortages within patrol groups. But you can't help feeling selfish right now.

"We can still be friends," Oscar offers you a smile. "Have lunch together when I'm not on patrol. What do you think? I mean, only if you want. Do you?"

The air between you feels thick all of a sudden, tense with the intimacy of your proximity. He's so close to you now, his body almost caging yours, but somehow it doesn't feel claustrophobic at all. Instead, it is comfortable, it feels safe.

"Of course I do," you find yourself answering immediately. It is the truth, yes, but it is one that you know isn't realistic.

"Okay. Good." Oscar breathes out. It almost sounds like he is relieved by your answer. Maybe he is. He opens his mouth to say something more but the moment is abruptly shattered when the bell above the door tinkles, signalling someone's entrance. Instinctively you both take a step away from each other, Oscar readily greeting the handful of children that have materialised while you compose yourself.

For the rest of the afternoon you try not to sulk, trying in vain to savour the enjoyable moments of your last shift with Oscar.

••••••

Three weeks pass by quickly. The weather has turned bitingly cold and snow has settled into the mountains of Wyoming. The snowcapped peaks surrounding the Jackson village create a beautifully picturesque backdrop to the flurry of activity happening in the town.

Everyone is preparing for Christmas. Decorations are constructed and displayed in windows and shop fronts. Strings of fairy lights are hung in the main street and the glowing yellow bulbs illuminate the darkness of night. The townspeople are more cheerful and animated than usual, the children especially excited by the celebratory atmosphere and the wafting sweet smell of baked goods that carry from the bakery.

You continue to work at the school and the library. The library is so different without Oscar's laugh and his stories and the warmth of his presence. You force yourself to trudge through each shift without thinking about him too much, although reminders of him pop up here and there and it is impossible not to.

You haven't spoken to Oscar in three weeks. You know he has been busy back on patrol but his absence still stings. You still hope he will come walking through the door to visit, even just to say hello.

You have glimpsed Oscar twice throughout that time though, both in the main street as you were walking home and he was headed to the mess hall after his shift. You spotted each other at the same time and your heart skipped a beat to witness a flash of tender affection pass over his features. Both times he was with two other patrolmen though, and it was clear that he couldn't stop to talk.

As you passed each other Oscar gave you an apologetic smile, disappointment tugging at his lips. You smiled back and nodded once, hoping to convey your understanding.

I miss you, you wanted to tell him.

But you couldn't. You continued the trek back home, forgoing dinner at the mess hall as usual, preferring the quiet comfort of your cottage and your books. Joel would be over later.

Joel had started spending more time at your home recently. On the nights he wasn't on patrol he would skulk through the darkness to slip through your door and into your bed. It wasn't every night, but you made sure to always be home before 8pm in case he showed up.

Until a few days before Christmas.

It was just after dusk when you were startled by a knock at your front door.

It must be Kate, you thought, coming by early to go to the movie screening together.

When you opened the door you were surprised to find that it wasn't Kate on your porch, but Joel. He had just finished his patrol shift; his hair was windswept and his lips were chapped, and the lines around his eyes were accentuated by weariness. He must have come straight to your place after leaving his horse at the stables. Even with the evident exhaustion written on his features, Joel still looked as rugged and handsome as ever.

His eyes scanned up and down your body, clocking the fact that you were wearing your best pair of jeans and your hair was neatly combed and tied into a braid with a ribbon. You were too caught off guard by his unexpected appearance that you missed the way his eyebrows creased.

"Oh, Joel!" you exclaimed. "Why are you here?"

You stepped aside to allow him to enter the cottage and he swaggered in. As he squeezed past you could smell the mix of gunpowder, sweat and pine on his clothes.

"What d'you mean?" Joel glowered, watching you with an air of suspicion as you shut the door behind him. "Why wouldn't I be here?"

You turned around to face him and pressed your back against the wooden door. "Well, I didn't know we were meeting tonight."

Joel folded his arms and glared down at you with furrowed eyebrows. He looked annoyed with you.

Oh no, he's upset. Did I really forget he was going to come over?

"I mean, I don't remember us making any plans." You quickly amend. "Did we?"

"I can't just come over and see you when I want to?" Joel bristled. "What, you busy all of a sudden?"

Okay, he is really annoyed.

A tiny niggling anxiety began to stir in your stomach - a biological remnant of trauma that you weren't entirely conscious of but of which had entrenched itself throughout your nervous system. You needed to quash this feeling as quickly as possibly, and assuring Joel that you weren't too busy for him and still loved him somehow seemed like the best way to make it better.

"No, I'm not busy" you murmer soothingly. "I always want to see you."

You weren't lying, either. Since his return, you really did want to see Joel as often as you could. Within this short span of time there had been a shift within your relationship, mainly precipitated by changes in Joel's actions. He had become more generous in his affection and praise, causing you to become putty in his hands at every cuddle, caress and compliment he lavished upon you.

You had loved Joel for all these months now and had been so starved of the security of knowing his feelings, that these displays of affection had totally bewitched you. It was as if Joel had weaved an intoxicating spell over you. A spell you were powerless to resist and of which made you constantly crave his skilled touch and the weight of his body and his low baritone.

Simply, you were falling deeper in love with Joel.

You gather the courage to step toward him and lay your palm delicately against the curve of his jaw, hoping to pacify him.

Joel's eyelids close briefy while he savours your soft touch, and his head dips ever so slightly to press heavier into your hand. He's so beautiful when he's soft like this, when he lets his guard down and opens up a little.

Joel visibly inhales and exhales through his nose. He opens his eyes and glowers down at you once more, but you detect that his irritation has lessened somewhat, the hardness in his orbs not as amplified. Relief floods your body and the niggling knot of worry dissipates.

"Where you goin' dressed up like that?" Joel grunts, his hand moving in a vague gesture over your body.

"Dressed up?" You chuckle. "Joel, I'm just in jeans and a shirt. The girls and I are going to watch the movie screening in the hall tonight." You slowly stroke the patchiness of scruff on his jaw with your thumb.

"Baby, why do you wanna waste your time with that? I got a TV and video tapes at my place that you can watch anytime."

"I know, but--"

Joel takes your hand from his face and shifts away from you, sighing heavily. "Girl, I had a long day dealin' with the bullshit the last patrol shift left for me to clean up. I'm tired, back's killin' me, but I came straight here to see you."

"Oh Joel, I'm sorry," you sigh guiltily. You knew how the pain in his back troubled him, the affliction sometimes so bad that he would grit his teeth and snap like a vicious dog nursing a nasty wound. You often gave Joel massages to ease the tension in his muscles, especially after long strenuous shifts. Your heart ached to know he was in pain.

And you feel torn. You wanted to comfort Joel and support him, to show that you care for him and love him. But you were also so excited to see the movie with your friends tonight. You hadn't really had a fun evening with the girls for a long time and you were all eager to take advantage of any opportunity to enjoy your youth, to gather in public and gossip and joke. After the screening you'd all probably go to the Tipsy Bison for some drinks, of which you guessed Joel wouldn't approve of.

You approach him now and wrap your arms around his waist, trying to cuddle him, but Joel doesn't move.

"The movie won't go for too long. Why don't you stay here, have a shower and relax. And then I meet you back here?" You suggest cheerfully. "Spend the night with me, please."

"Not tonight," Joel mutters, detaching from your hold without looking at you. "I'm goin' home."

Your heart sinks. "Joel, please," you plead, tugging on the sleeve of his jacket. "Stay here."

Joel gives a tight shake of his head, his eyes avoiding your face, and paces to your front door. You are about to omplore him one last time but he quickly strides out of your home without saying anything.

When Kate arrives to walk with you to the town hall, you try your best to swallow the lump in your throat and adopt a happy facade. But it is a lot more difficult than you anticipated.

At the town hall you can't concentrate on the movie at all. It is impossible to focus on the moving images on the massive projection screen when your stomach is twisting into knots thinking of Joel. You're surrounded by Jess, Rhi, Kate and Cassie, in their chatter and giggles, but you can't hear them. It is as if you have been submerged underwater and everything is blurred and muffled.

Joel's scowl of displeasure flashes in your mind and an involuntarily shiver rushes up your spine, causing you to twitch in your seat. He had looked so disappointed and aggravated by your unavailability for him. It suddenly struck you that he needed you; he had come to you at the end of his bad day, had chosen you to share his complaints with, wanted you to comfort him. But instead you had chosen to attend a stupid movie night rather than be with Joel. You had prioritised something so meaningless over Joel's feelings; guilt had lodged itself inside your throat, heavy like a stone.

You can't stay. You need to leave and talk to Joel.

You feign feeling ill to your girlfriends. Kate offers to walk you home but you decline, not wanting her to miss the movie she had been so excited to see. Rhi protests and argues that they hardly ever see you anymore but Kate defends you and calms her down. Although disappointed, the girls encourage you to go home and rest.

You leave, but you don't go home.

Instead, you secretly make your way to Joel's large two storey house under the clandestine cloak of the dark night sky. It is freezing and you regret not wearing more layers.

When you reach his house, you spontaneously try jiggling the door handle and discover it is unlocked. As if he knew you would come. Were you so predictable, or did Joel just know you too well? You twist the knob and slowly push the door ajar just enough to poke your head through.

"Joel?" You call out hesitantly.

"Yeah," the deep timbre of his voice responds soon after. You can tell that he's close by, probably in the living room. You slip into the house and push the door closed.

As you creep into the living room, you feel sheepish, like a scolded dog crawling back to its owner with its tail between its legs. The whole house is dark except for the dancing flames in the fireplace and a single lamp that sits in the corner of the room that emits a dull yellow light. Joel sits slumped in his arm chair nursing a glass of dark amber liquor in his hand. He has showered and changed into a clean black shirt and sweat pants. You instantly feel the welcoming heat coming from the crackling fire in the fireplace.

"Movie no good?" Joel grunts, raising his eyebrows.

You are too embarassment to meet his gaze so you stare at the ground instead. You scuff the toe of your shoe against the floor while you fidget absentmindedly with the hem of your coat. You have to clear your throat before you answer.

"It was fine. I just...I missed you. I wanted to be with you instead. You are more important."

"Look at me," Joel commands softly. You obey and drag your eyes up from the floor to look at him. "That the truth?"

"Yes sir." You reply quietly with a single nod.

Joel seems to accept your answer and nods back. You don't realise you're holding your breath as you wait for him to say more. You study Joel's unhurried movements as he takes a leisurely sip of his whiskey and then deposits the small glass on the table next to him. He runs his hand over his face and grunts, but says nothing more. You suck in a breath of air before blurting out your next sentence.

"Is it alright I'm here?" You ask timidly.

Joel stares at you for a few moments, his weary eyes raking up and down your body. Then he jerks his head slightly to usher you over.

"Come 'ere," Joel murmers as he pats his thigh.

There it is. His permission. His forgiveness. You can't hide the relieved smile that breaks out on your face. You prance over to him and climb onto the thick muscle of his thigh, positioning your legs across his lap and wrapping your arms around his neck. You rest your head against his chest and sigh contentedly as Joel slips an arm around your waist and cups his large hand over your hip. You inhale his scent, the familiar musk of Joel and sandalwood and pine, and hum appreciatively. You adore the way you fit into his lap and how his frame cradles you, making you feel so small.

"I'm sorry," you whisper. "I wasn't thinking. I should've just stayed home."

Joel doesn't say anything. He drapes his other hand across your knee and strokes the area with his thumb. You nuzzle into his neck lovingly and Joel places a light kiss on the top of your head.

He is immensely pleased that you showed up - he knew you would. He's proud that you're starting to learn and accept that your rightful place is with him. Not with your friends or around any other frivolous things to distract you. You belong here, with him.

He wishes he could whisk you away from Jackson and leave all this bullshit behind. If it weren't for Ellie, he would find a way to do it.

But for now Joel has to be content with this. Just like training you to surrender your body to his every whim and desire, he was going to make sure you would surrender your life to him, too.

Chapter Text

Oscar sits on the edge of his mattress and watches the snow lightly falling outside his bedroom window. Without an official measurement to accurately mark dates of the month, Oscar always relied on the first snowfall of the season to guess how early into December it might be. When the delicate flakes of white began fluttering in the air, he knew it would be nearing Christmas.

This time of year was laced with bittersweetness for Oscar. Prior to the ending of the world there had been beautiful moments in his life that were borne in the month of December, framed by the magical glow of seasonal snow and Christmas spirit. One of the greatest of those moments was when Oscar proposed to Elvie, his true love, the woman who would later become his wife.

It was etched into the recesses of his memory, playing in his imagination like a vintage black and white film reel with no sound. Oscar and Elvie gathered infront of a decadant Christmas tree. Oscar lowering himself to one knee infront of her, a small black jewellery box in one hand, his adoring face beaming up at her. Elvie weeping tears of joy and nodding enthusiastically before Oscar stands to kiss her passionately.

Then the memories fade abruptly, the image of Elvie's face dissipates into black, and Oscar is once more transported back to the bleak reality of life as a survivor of the apocalypse. It always takes a few moments for him to acclimatise back to the present, for both his mind and heart to connect back to consciousness. The residual aching inside his rib cage has become a familiar consistent throb, one that eventually passes once he is distracted enough by reality.

Oscar rubs his hands together to generate some warmth against the chill that has seeped into his room. Although he finished his patrol shift over an hour ago, he is still dressed in the same clothes he wore, too tired and apathetic to bother changing into something more casual.

Oscar likes his work as a patrolman and stable hand. He revels in asserting his value as a community member in any occupation, but his role as a patrolman is of particular merit. It has given him many opportunities to demonstrate his physical strength and combat abilities, aswell his problem solving skills. The work keeps him sharp, he finds.

But nothing Oscar does gives him the same level of contentment he felt while being at the library with you. The days aren't as bright or exciting without you around. You aren't there at the stables to greet him with your pretty smile, or to share pockets of emotional intimacy with him during lunch breaks. He misses telling you the entertaining things that have happened to him during the week and the endearing chortle he earns from you, the tiny bubble of pride that rises inside him to be the one whose made you laugh.

Oscar has wanted to visit you. He's thought about spontaneously popping into the library or the school when you're almost finishing for the day but the timing is never right; he either returns from patrol soon after you finish your work, or he's due to begin just before. He considered going to your cottage to say hello but he's too shy, too afraid of possibly making you feel uncomfortable. So instead he looks for you at every mealtime he attends at the mess hall, desperate to capture even the briefest glimpse of you somewhere amongst the clusters of residents. You're never there, though.

Are you eating lunch without him? Oscar wonders randomly. When you had unexpectedly crossed his path the other week, he was startled by the change in your appearance - your face looked sharper and there was something about your eyes that unsettled him...there was a distant and dull sort of quality to your orbs that he hasn't seen before. Depleated is the word that came to Oscar's mind.

How he wished he could have taken you in his arms and held you tightly, confessing how he missed everything about you, from the smell of your skin to the ribbons you wore in your hair, the absent-minded way you'd chew the end of a pencil when you were deep in thought, your never ending patience when helping someone find a book they were in search of.

Do you miss him? Even a little?

Oscar cards his fingers through his curly hair and sighs. He feels pathetic pining for something he isn't even sure is reciprocated, an affinity on his behalf that could just be a superficial friendship to you. But no, that can't be right, not when he's been witness to your tears and emotions, not when he's held you in his arms like your body pressed against him is the most natural thing in the world.

Oscar watches the snow fall and thinks of Elvie and what he told you when Maude had died; "We owe it to them to continue living. To live as best as we can to allow ourselves happiness and love."

Oscar closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. The echo of his own words in his mind grant him consolation. When he exhales and opens his eyes once more, Oscar feels the warm rush of clarity from within his heart. He vows to be bold, more courageous. He vows to no longer hide away from his feelings, to allow himself happiness and love.

••••••

Joel stood in the small space of his closet, the white shoebox balanced in his hand while he sifted through its contents with the other. He peeked into the envelope and counted the tablets safely nestled at the bottom. Still all there. His emergency stash. For any 'just in case' incidents.

He shuffled out of the closet and over to the bed with the box. He's had a hidden chest of goods for quite a while now, very gradually adding items as he discreetly procures them from scavenging expeditions and the seized bounty of defeated raiders. Things he viewed as necessities for survival, like a couple of small handguns, stacks of ammunition, a hunting knife, rope, and duct tape.

But when Joel and you had first begun seeing each other, he knew he needed a box specifically for you; a place to keep mementos and sacred things of you safe. Like the pretty gold necklace he had found six months ago during a supply run, the pendant he had been waiting to gift you at the right moment. Beside it sat the pink ribbon he stole from your cottage, as well as a pair of your dirty underwear that he managed to pilfer.

Joel's fingers skim over the simple soft cotton material of your panties with a kind of reverence. He reflects on the last couple of weeks with you as the thick pads of his fingertips caress your underwear.

Things had been going a whole lot better than he expected, Joel mused to himself. It had been easier than he initially thought, coaxing you back into his strong arms and his salivating jaws like a weak little lamb. You seemed to slot back into his embrace so easily, easily enough that it solidified Joel's belief that you needed him. That you were destined to be his.

Joel did not ascribe to any religion. He had lost faith in any kind of God long before Sarah had died. He did not believe in concepts like karma or reincarnation. But what he did believe in to some degree was destiny, and Joel believed that you were destined to belong to him. From the very first moment he laid eyes upon you, he knew you must be his.

Joel was well aware of his obsession for control and domination over the things he cared about. He knew the driving force behind this preoccupation was the debilitating fear of losing what (or who) was precious to him. The crux of it all was that Joel was incapable of admitting just how fiercely he loved; as a result, his efforts to protect and preserve were over zealous and ruthless. It was easier for Joel to capture and cage you, to deprive you of the freedom to roam this dangerous world, than to stand by your side and navigate it with you.

Joel had tried to be patient in his pursuit of ensaring you. It felt like when you had first begun giving yourself to him, when things between you were still coy and gentle. He had tried so hard not to frighten you away, to keep control of his anger, instead bestowing praises and affection on you rather than cutting words and rough squeezes of his roaming hands. And it was working well.

Now that Joel knew your body and mind so intimately, now he knew the euphoria of having you weak inside the palm of his hand, it was near impossible to restrain himself for very long. But luckily for Joel, he wouldn't need to be patient for very long.

You were changing once more, Joel observed. The more time you were spending together, the more you were reverting back to the shy little thing you always had been. Someone a little less talkative and humorous, with cheeks no longer tinged pink and healthy, with evidently less sparkle in your eyes.

Lately you were more inclined to quietly curl up against his chest rather than talk idly about your day, the little kids you taught, or whatever book you had been reading. And that was how he preferred it; you finding contentment in his arms, pouring him his nightly whiskey, massaging his aching shoulders and neck. It seemed you were finally submitting to your purpose of being his woman, his property. You even let him take those filthy polaroids. It exhilarated him to know that he was the only man privy to this side of you.

Joel looks at the handful of small square photographs now, all strewn around the box. He chooses one at random and picks it up, bringing it to his face to study closer. You are laying on your back in this one, completely naked, smiling seductively as your hands spread the lips of your pussy open for the camera to see. It is lewd, debauched. And it immediately sparks a feral need in Joel.

He reclines back on the mattress and hastily tugs his sweatpants down under his balls, releasing his hard cock. He wraps his fist around it and squeezes, a drop of precum beading at the head. He groans lowly and stares at your picture, savouring every detail of the image with obsessive vigour; the glistening wetness reflected on your pussy, the soft curve of your belly, your round breasts, your pretty eyes that stare back at him.

Such a gorgeous cock slut.

Joel begins fisting his dick while keeping his gaze focused on your image. He feels ravenous at times like this, unable to reign himself free from this carnal obsession of you. He's been fucking you as often as possible and it's still not enough. He needs to taste you, sink his teeth into your flesh, bury his cock inside you all the time. He needs to hear your whimpers and moans, how your holes spasm around him while he takes you apart.

It only takes a couple of minutes for Joel to finish. It hits him hard and sudden, his balls tightening just before ropes of milky white cum spurt over his knuckles. He grunts and pants through the high of his orgasm, sinking further into the mattress as the tension leaves his body.

When the wave of ecstasy passes and his cock grows soft in his hand, Joel takes one last look at the polaroid before he flicks it back into the box.

He knows that you let him takes those pictures because you love him and wanted to please him. Joel understood quite early on that declarations of love come easy to you, that you actually enjoy expressing your emotions. That the desire to proudly share a life together is natural for you, biological and innate. And that is where Joel and you differ significantly.

Joel knows that confessing his love for you publicly would only invite trouble into your private sanctuary. Your friends would be the worst, he suspects; he could easily imagine the jealous little bitches scrutinising his every move, trying to pressure you to behave more like them.

He could imagine how people would gossip amongst themselves, whispering behind his back that he was far too old for you, far too irredeemable for an innocent thing like yourself. No doubt they would plead with you to be careful and warn you about his murderous past - hell, he was sure that Maria, his own sister in law, would be the first one to beg you to leave him.

No, it was safer to keep this all a secret, atleast for now. Just like the contents of this shoebox.

••••••

It had become a tradition at Christmas time each year for you to bake a small assortment of cakes and cookies to gift to your friends. You would use all your monthly butter, flour, sugar and egg rations for your labour of love, happy to exhaust your allocated staples for the giddy reactions your friends bestowed on you when you gifted them their share. With a laugh you remember last Christmas, how you had run out and Kate and Ellie were kind enough to give you their own ration supplies, eager to offer assistance in exchange for the promise of their favourite baked treats.

You would spend a whole day shut up inside your kitchen preparing trays of gingerbread cookies, butter cakes and sugar cookies. When they were finished baking and cooled, you would then arrange them on squares of spare fabric and gather the edges together, then tie them into tidy little bundles with string.

But this year you didn't bake for anyone. You didn't even step foot in your kitchen. You had become ill with a cold just a couple days before Christmas and could barely summon the energy to leave your bed. Despite the horrible headache and running nose, you were disappointed to miss out on celebrating Christmas in the ways you usually did. You were unable to have dinner with your friends or gift them their cakes and biscuits.

Instead, you spent five days curled up under your blanket drifting in and out of sleep. On the second day Kate dropped in to give you a pot of soup she made, while Ellie came over armed with honey and an array of teas under Joel's instruction. Although you were miserable and too sluggish to enjoy their company, you were grateful for their care and consideration.

Joel visited you each night after patrol, quietly creeping into your cottage and sliding under the blanket to cuddle up behind your body. You were so physically exhausted that you slept through his nightly visits, and it was perhaps because of this that Joel found the confidence to squeeze you close to his chest and soothe your hair with gentle strokes of his large hand.

Two weeks after your recovery, Ellie had insisted on organising a family dinner at Joel's house for just the three of you. Ellie was eager to show you and Joel the new cooking skills she had acquired since moving in with two of her girlfriends. You could tell it was also a gesture of kindness toward Joel, a reminder that he was still her father and she still cherished his presence in her life.

Although the three of you had eaten meals together before, this was the first dinner you'd all shared since Ellie first learned of your relationship with Joel. You couldn't help but feel slightly awkward sitting at the dining table. Although Ellie approved of the relationship, you were unsure if open affection toward Joel would be inappropriate or if it would make Ellie uncomfortable. You avoided looking at Joel and focused on interacting with Ellie instead.

She had surprised you both with the dinner she had prepared; honey glazed carrots, mashed potato, omelette, and buttered cobs of corn. You could imagine Ellie spending hours in the kitchen getting everything ready, swearing loudly at every inconvenience, burning the tips of her small fingers when she was distracted, trying her absolute best to recreate whatever assortment of food she had eaten with her new housemates.

During dinner Joel was mostly silent, hardly engaging in conversation as he ate. It didn't matter much though, as Ellie was her usual talkative self and filled the silence easily with anecdotes and jokes.

"So there's gonna be this big celebration for the town," Ellie said through as she shovelled a spoonful of mashed potato into her mouth. "Like a big birthday party for Jackson."

"Oh, really?" You asked, your interest piqued.

"Yup!" Ellie confirmed, voice muffled by the hunk of potato in her mouth.

"Ellie," Joel murmered disapprovingly.

She rolled her eyes and made an exaggerated show of chewing and swallowing the food with a loud gulp. You gave her a small shake of your head and chuckled.

"Anyways, as I was saying, there's gonna be a big party and I think we should go, the three of us." Ellie looked from you to Joel, an impish expression spread across her youthful face.

Joel cleared his throat and glowered down at his plate. He busied himself with stabbing his fork into a piece of carrot. "You know I don't I like parties."

"Really?" Ellie piped loudly, feigning shock. "You? Joel 'life of the party' Miller? No way!"

You giggled. Only Ellie could get away with teasing Joel like this. It made you happy to see their interactions, the dynamic of their relationship in the privacy of their home, how the pair fell into the roles of father and daughter so naturally. And now here you were between them, a welcome presence in their lives. Like a real family, just as Joel had said you would be.

"What about you?" Ellie asked you with a raise of her eyebrows. "Wanna go?"

You brave a glance over to Joel. He chews the inside of his cheek and stares down at his plate but you know he's listening to everything that's being said. He isn't going to express his disapproval infront of Ellie. There was no need for Ellie to know the level of authority Joel had in your relationship. But you wonder if he would be more inclined to grant his permission because it was Ellie's idea, not your own.

You don't want to disappoint her, and you are already excited by the very idea of Jackson celebrating something. So you take advantage of the situation and the fact that Ellie asked first, and infront of Joel.

You give her a smile and nod eagerly.

"With you? Sure," you replied. "But wouldn't you rather go with your friends?"

"Eh, I can catch up with them later. I thought it would be cool for us to go....like family time, ya know?" Ellie said quietly, giving a small shrug to appear nonchalant.

"Oh, for sure," you murmered, not wanting to make a big thing out of her moment of vulnerability.

"Yeah, except this jackass never wants to do anything fun," she scoffed and tipped her head in Joel's direction.

"I'll be workin' till late," Joel muttered as he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "You two go have fun."

"Oh! And I heard Maria tell Uncle Tommy that there's gonna be a separate party for just the adults at the Bison." Ellie grinned. "Maybe you can sneak me in with you?"

Joel's head snapped up immediately and he glared at Ellie across the table. She shot a defiant smirk back at him. Joel grunted, unamused.

"Well, that's not going to happen, El. But I'm sure there will be plenty of other stuff we can do on the day." You assured her.

"Like maybe we can spike the punch and see who gets drunk first?" She grinned.

Over the course of the next week banners and signs advertising Jackson's birthday celebration were hung up around the main streets. Residents began the preparations for the different activities and food stalls that would be on offer on the day, while a committee of volunteers decorated the town hall. It was evident that this event was to be bigger than any other festival or celebration.

You had planned to spend the afternoon with Ellie at the town hall, then catch up with Kate and the others later that night at the Tipsy Bison. Joel was working patrol until late and would meet you back at your house when he was finished.

••••••

That Saturday you and Ellie spend the afternoon together exploring the festivities taking place throughout the main street. You make your way through the crowds of families and children wandering up and down the street, submerging yourselves within the collective carefree gaiety and their lively chatter and laughter.

Several of your students spot you and approach you to say hello. Your heart swells to see them buzzing with so much happiness and excitement. They need this, you think. We all do, but especially them.

Ellie is eager to check out the activities set up along the sidewalk. You both meander along, awe struck at the effort the committee and volunteers have put into creating the event for the benefit of the community. For the children there were games such as bottle knock down and ring toss, aswell as a marble competition and sack races. There were designated areas further away from the main street for more adult activities, like axe throwing and wood chopping. Amongst the flurry of action were stalls offering candied apples, sugar biscuits, fry bread, roasted corn cobs, and mugs of pumpkin soup.

You and Ellie play the ring toss and knock down games together and make your own game out of trying to distract the other so they would fail. You both double over with laughter at each other's attempts, unfazed by the other people around you.

Afterwards you sit down and munch on candied apples while watching the axe throwing competitions. Ellie is captivated by it, wide eyed and amazed at the mastery of the more skilled participants who wield the tool and launch it at the bullseye target with astounding ease. You eventually move on to spectate the wood chopping competition. Watching the row of men hacking away at thick logs of wood, their thick arms and broad backs flexing with each powerful chop, makes you think of Joel. It would've been nice to have him here with you and Ellie.

When the wood chopping finishes you stop at one of the food stalls for fry bread and a cup of soup. The soup is a welcomed nourishment from the biting cold of the wintery air and the snow still covering the ground. You're almost finished eating when three of Ellie's friends suddenly gather around you, squawking like chicks about the dance being held at the town hall. They tug on Ellie's flannel in an effort to cajole her to go along with them. She glances at you with uncertainty in her eyes, as if she's nervous to say something to you. You smile at her gently, understanding what she is unable to say.

"Go, have fun with your friends. It's okay." You pull her in for a tight hug. "I had a great time with you, kiddo."

Ellie squeezes you back. "Thanks for hanging with me."

Without further hesitation Ellie slips from your embrace and joins her friends, disappearing into the sea of people around you. You secretly hope she doesn't get caught up in too much mischief, but you knows there's not much you can stop Ellie from doing once she has her mind set on something. So you just smile to yourself and start the walk back to your cottage to get ready for the night ahead.

••••••

The night is cold, the chilly wind nipping at your cheeks and the bare skin on your legs as you walk to the bar. You're wearing one of your best dresses, a simple light blue linen swing style dress with short cap sleeves that falls just above the knee. You are thankful for the thick padding inside your coat that keeps you warm as you stroll through the streets.

There are pockets of people milling around outside the town hall where the dance is being held. You can hear country music coming from inside, intermingled with laughter and voices, the noise carrying along the cold breeze.

You arrive at the bar around 8.30pm and find Jess, Kate, Rhi and Cassie already waiting out the front for you. They wolf whistle and chortle when they see you approaching, and you laughcat their antics.

It's going to be a great night.

••••••

Rhi and Jess sashay up to the bar to order a round of beers while you, Kate and Cassie sit at one of the tables dotted throughout the place. It's a full house tonight with pockets of men and women mingling together as they chug beer and whiskey and vodka, some dancing and some playing rounds of darts and pool. The music blasts from the old jukebox in the corner and you find your foot tapping along with some of the songs.

You spend the next hour drinking beer and dancing with your friends. The high you get from the music and moving your body is exhilarating and you can't wipe the smile from your face. You cannot remember the last time you felt so weightless, so euphoric. You are too absorbed by your high to notice the appraising looks a few men are throwing your way.

It's not long before Rhi has been pursued by one of the men watching your group, some of them openly hungry in their gaze while others are more covert in their admiration. She flirts and touches his arm as she leads in to whisper in his ear. You and your friends giggle as you watch Rhi's charm in action. You adore her boldness, how unapologetic she is in her feminine sexuality, how effortlessly she chugs a glass of beer before rejecting suitors and hitting the dance floor to be with her friends.

After a while you take a break and stand in the corner by the bar to catch your breath. Yiu are in the middle of Kate and Cassie, who have to raise their voices to be heard over the music. Your eyes travel around the bar, taking in all the movement around you, and it is all so close to being too stimulating for you. You look over to the front doors and consider going outside for fresh air when Oscar walks in at that exact moment.

When Oscar enters through the saloon style doors of the bar, you almost don't recognise him. He looks dashing, dressed in dark blue jeans and boots and a snug fitting black sweater that clings to his biceps. But it isn't what he's wearing that makes you do a double take.

He's completely shaved his beard. He has cut the length of the curly hair on his head. His features are no longer obscured by unruly locks. And just as you suspected, Oscar now looks even more handsome than usual.

The angle of his jawline and the shape of his chin are strong, sharp. With the lower half of his face now naked, he appears more masculine and youthful. His lips, tugged into a confident grin, seem fuller. The shorter length of his hair highlights the thickness of it and the attractive way his hairline borders along his temples.

You are mesmerised by him.

It does not go unnoticed by your friends. Kate nudges you with her elbow and Jess makes a teasing purring sound next to your ear.

"Damn," Rhi murmers. "He's hot."

He's with Kate's brother and another young patrolman. Oscar's eyes scan over the bar but seem to settle on you almost instantly. Your stomach flutters with nerves when you see warmth fill his gaze, the crinkles form around his eyes as he gently smiles. He tilts his head slightly in greeting. You feel your cheeks blush immediately.

Oh, how you missed him.

He's so beautiful.

You give him a small nod in return, smiling shyly. For what feels like an eternity but in actuality is only a few seconds, he doesn't take his gaze away from you. Then the two other men pull him along to the corner of the bar where the dart boards are and the moment is lost. You have to tear your gaze away from him.

"Wow, Oscar looks so different!" Kate exclaims. She bumps your hip with hers softly, playfully grinning at you. "What do ya think?"

You hum quietly in agreement. Yes, he looks different. And gorgeous. Mercifully the subject of the conversation changes quickly.

••••••

You're here. He's actually seeing you. Finally.

Oscar's heart pounds when he sees your pretty face across the room. He was hoping you would be here, hoping to finally speak to you and let you know how he's been feeling these past few weeks without you in his life.

His friends pull him to the games area and he plays a few rounds of darts and a couple games of pool. He drinks beer, his eyes searching for you in the crowd over the glass rim. You look you're having fun with your friends - it's the first time Oscar's really seen you interact with your peers and it fills his heart with joy to see you laugh so much, to see you dance and sway to the music, so free and beautiful in your sensuality.

It's another hour or so before he gets the courage to approach you. He finds the opportunity when you and Kate sidle through the patrons on your way to the toilets and pass him by the pool table.

Oscar speaks your name and you turn to him, gracing him with your warm smile, the one he's missed so much recently. He notices your eyes trail over his face, taking in the details of his new appearance.

"Hey," you respond with a bashful tilt of your head. "How are you?"

"Great," Oscar raises his voice a little to be heard over the noise of the bar. He can't take his eyes off of your face. "You look beautiful."

Your cheeks flush at the compliment. "You do, too. I like your hair. Very handsome."

Oscar grins at you. "I felt like a change." It was true. He needed something to change, something cathartic to encourage him to be more daring, to live a with a little more passion. Cutting his hair and beard felt like he was shedding some kind of armour, except it did not leave him feeling vulnerable.

"I was wondering if you wanted to have a drink with me, or maybe a dance?" Oscar asked, leaning in closer to your ear.

"Uhm, okay," you reply shyly. "Maybe in a little while, yeah? I just need to go to the bathroom."

Oscar feels a little foolish. Maybe he should have found the balls to walk over to you soon, like when you were dancing. He hides his disappointment well and nods ofcourse, and steps back from you and your friend to let you pass.

He doesn't get the opportunity to dance with you or drink alongside you though. When some time has passed and he can't spot you in the throng of people, he wanders to where your friends are standing at the bar. Kate drunkenly shrugs and tells him you left already.

Oscar's heart breaks a tiny bit.

••••••

You weren't sure how long Joel had been standing with Troy and Tommy by the entry of the Tipsy Bison. He stood with his arms crossed, jaw set squarely as his dark eyes watched you. When you caught sight of his tall figure out the corner of your eye, you whirled around to take a glimpse at him. It must be late if he's knocked off his patrol shift, you think.

You're tipsy but not drunk. Tiredness is starting to seep into your body. And seeing Joel makes your tummy swim with butterflies and ignites an aching want between your legs. You're ready for him to take you home.

And he must see the look in your eyes and know because he signals you with a subtle jerk of his head. Let's go home, it says. He doesn't wait for your response before saying goodbye to Troy and Tommy and stalking out of the bar.

You say goodbye to your friends. Rhi is too preoccupied making out with the blonde ranger to notice. Kate, Jess and Cassie stumble off the dance floor, drunk, to hug and kiss you goodnight.

Ten minutes later you leave the Tipsy Bison and head home, knowing Joel will be waiting for you at your cottage.

When you reach your cottage you twist the doorknob and enter. It is dark at first and you stumble into the living room blindly, but when you flick on the light switch you see that Joel is standing in your living room, staring at you with an iciness that startles you.

"What the fuck were you doin' tonight?" He barked at you.

The venom in his words makes your blood run cold and your stomach drop.

"What?" you ask meekly. "What do you mean?"

"Dancin' like that infront of everybody, showin' your ass off to the whole damn town." Joel snaps.

"I w-was just having f-fun with my friends," you respond timidly.

You take a couple of steps backward and Joel advances on you, his fists clenching by his sides. Your heart thunders in your chest and dread begins to roil inside your guts.

"Fun?" Joel spits, scowling with disgusted fury. "Dancin' around with your slutty friends, around all those men...that's what you think is fun?"

"I-we, we just," you stammer nervously. "It was harmless, we weren't doing anything wrong.'

"This what you do while I'm at work?" Joel booms as he towers over you. "I'm out riskin' my life while you're being a whore for every fuckin' man in town?"

"No, Joel, no, I sw--"

Joel's hand shoots out and snatches a handful of your hair. He quickly winds your hair tightly around his fist and hauls you across the living room. You shriek and sob loudly as you stumble, your boots dragging over the floor, your hands clawing up at his uselessly.

"No Joel please don't!"

"Shut the fuck up!" Joel growls. He shoves you roughly to the ground on your knees. Your knees hit the floor painfully, making you yelp.

"Wanna act like a whore, I'll treat you like a whore," he mutters bitterly.

He holds you immobile by your hair, forcing you to watch his large hand work quickly to unbuckle his belt and undo the button of his jeans. The rage radiating from Joel and the sight of his belt by your face is frighteningly reminiscent of the night he punished you; panic surges wildly through your brain and your body as you're pushed into flight or fight mode.

"Joel I didn't do anything, I swear!" You plead, voice shrill with distress. The high from alcohol has disappeared.

Joel ignores you and wrangles his cock out of the confines of his jeans. He wraps his hand around the base and it bobs infront of you, already hard and wet with precum. He tugs tightly at your scalp and yanks you closer towards him so that the head of his cock is almost touching your lips.

"Show me how you use that whore mouth," Joel commands. "Open."

He glares down at you with something that looks like hatred in his dark irises and it makes your whole body wrack with fearful shivers. You're frozen still, unable to move.

"I said open your fuckin' mouth," Joel barks.

His hand leaves his cock and comes to swiftly slap you across the cheek. You sob loudly from the unexpected pain. Joel quickly thrusts his hips forward and nudges his cock head past your lips and into your mouth. You want to jerk your head away at the intrusion but his hold on your hair keeps you firmly in place. He gives you no time to protest, anyway, roughly shoving your head down onto his length and making you sputter.

"Thhhhere we go," Joel mutters. "Get it right in there, little slut."

Joel stills just before the tip of his cock hits the back of your throat. It sits thick and heavy in your mouth and you struggle to breathe around it. He gives your cheek three firm, rapid smacks.

"Open wide, now." Joel drawls.

Your lips are already stretched around Joel's thick girth but you have no choice but to obey and open your jaws wider. Saliva is pooling on your tongue on the underside of his shaft, a shameful automatic response that your body has been conditioned to from the many times your mouth has pleasured Joel.

You stare at the patch of dark hair on his pubic bone and focus on breathing through your nose, your fingernails digging into the soft flesh of your thighs in an effort to bare the torture. Joel sees this and tugs at your hair roughly.

"Fuckin' look at me," he growls. "Look at me while I fuck your face, don't you dare look away."

Tears well in your eyes as they roll upward to meet Joel's steely glare. He nods and sucks in a deep breath, then begins fucking your mouth in fast strokes. His cock head knocks the back of your throat repeatedly and makes you gag, your tears starting to trickle down your cheeks. You have to fight to keep your eyes open and trained on Joel, but it is torturous when your jaw begins to ache and you are struggling to breathe. The saliva drips messily out the corners of your mouth and over your chin.

Joel's hands hold the sides of your head to keep you still as he fucks your face. He pants while watching you intently, uncaring as you struggle to breathe beneath him, satisfied to see your nose now dripping aswell.

"This what you been doin' behind my back?" Joel sneers.

You know he doesn't expect a response - it's impossible for you to utter even a word with his thickness fucking into your mouth so savagely. The only noise you make is the wet, filthy gagging sounds coming from your throat. His hips continue thrusting into your mouth for another minute and you feel like you will pass out any moment. When your eyes start to flutter and your body begins to sag, Joel pushes down on your head so his cock slides all the way into your mouth and down your throat. He holds you in place and your nose presses flat into the hairs on his pubic bone. You are practiced at deepthroating Joel but his grip on you is so absolute, your face buried so tightly against his crotch, that you begin to panic. You reach up to claw at his thighs, your throat constricting around his shaft.

"Yeah, gag on it, baby, come on," Joel groans. He is totally lost in his own pleasure, uncaring and merciless about your pain.

You can't breathe at all now. He's never been this cruel before. You pound your fist against his thigh and try desperately to retreat but his iron like grip keeps you still. Joel moans at the sensation of your throat spasimming wildly around him.

"Yeah," he cooes, accent thick and rough with desire. "Right there, baby."

Joel releases you after a few more seconds, abruptly pulling you off of his dick and shoving you backward carelessly. You fall back onto your ass and cough violently as air fills your lungs back up.

"Alright now, get on ya hands and knees." Joel says breathlessly.

He stares down at you, pupils blown wide with animalistic lust, chest rising and falling with heavy breaths. His erect cock, fat and throbbing, is slicked and shining with your spit. "Hurry up."

You are still choking as you catch your breath, but you somehow muster the courage to dare to shake your head, your eyes downcast, vision blurred from your tears. Your throat is too raw to verbalise your defiance.

No. Enough is enough. You cannot endure any more.

You can't see the way Joel's lip curls in disdain at your disobedience, or how he raises his hand back. Then a cracking sound echoes around the room when his large palm lands a hard slap against your face. Your body falls to the floor like a ragdoll. Your vision goes black for a second.

"Never fuckin' learn, do you?" Joel mutters.

His boots thud on the ground as he steps over your crumpled form. He crouches behind you and hikes your dress up over your ass.

"Always gotta be a disrespectful little bitch."

He tears your underwear apart with both hands and the shredded material falls from your backside. Your lower half is now exposed. You are no match for Joel. There is no possible way for you to defend yourself against the torment he plans to reign on you.

"Joel, please, don't, just stop." You whisper hoarsely.

Joel wedges his knee between your legs and spreads them open. You hear the sound of Joel spitting into his palm and covering the head of his cock in his saliva before it presses against the entrance to your pussy.

"Joel," you cry pathetically. Your head is dizzy and swimming.

His hand forcefully pushes down on your lower back, pining your hips to the ground. You squirm weakly under his hand but it's pointless. The inevitable burn of his cock pushing into your hole engulfs your whole body, followed by the intense stretch of him penetrating you.

"Fuck!" A guttural scream rips from deep in your wrecked throat.

He moans as his hips press all the way forward until they are flush against yours, his fat dick sheathed all the way inside your pussy, filling you to the point of discomfort.

"When you gonna learn that this is where you belong, baby?" Joel growls.

He rolls his hips to work in and out of you with slow, powerful thrusts. Your hands scramble blindly for purchase on the hardwood floor. Gasps and sobs rise from your sore defiled throat with each stab of his dick.

"Right here," he drawls above you. "Gettin' used and stretched out by this fuckin' dick."

Joel lowers himself and reaches to gather your wrists in one of his hands and then pins them to the ground above your head. His other hand grips your hip possessively to keep you in place. His broad body is now caging you so that your torso is flattened over the floor. Your thighs are pushed wide apart as he continues assaulting you.

You did nothing wrong. All you had done was just danced with your friends. You hadn't danced with any man, not even Oscar. Why is Joel doing this? You love him so much. He had been so sweet and loving.

Joel was spearing his cock into you with an unrelenting, rhythmatic force. Your pussy was being abused so recklessly, but your entire body was screaming in pain. The joints of your hips and the muscles of your inner thighs ached from the pressure of being split open. Your wrists were stinging from Joel's nails digging into them.

The weight of his body was trapping you so that you couldn't even squirm underneath him. He clamped his heavy hand across your mouth and pounded into you mercilessly. Your screams were muffled against his palm, the streaks of your tears trickling over his fingers.

"Fuck," Joel snapped his hips against yours. "Take what I give ya," he panted, "and shut the fuck up."

When a particularly sharp punch from Joel's cock knocked against your cervix you wailed into his hand, screwing your eyes shut in agony.

"Too much for ya?" Joel spat. "Too fuckin' bad, baby. Gonna shoot my cum so deep in that pussy, it'll be drippin' outta your fuckin' mouth."

He continued to defile you, his pace so grueling that you thought you might pass out. Robbed of sufficient breath and overcome with immense anguish, you couldn't respond. Even if you were not held down by his body weight, you felt too broken and lifeless to say anything back. You closed your eyes and hot tears streamed down the sides of your face.

You had began to dissociate, too far gone to register the telltale throbbing of Joel's cock against your walls. His hips stuttered and he let out a ragged moan as he came deep inside your pussy, filling you with his warm load for the very first time. Joel rocked his hips inbetween shuddering breaths, slowly milking every last drop of his spend into you.

You were totally disconnected from reality when Joel pulled out of you and hauled himself up from the ground. You couldn't feel or think at all, your mind blank, your body numb. You didn't know he bent down to bundle you up in his arms and carry you to your room like a limp ragdoll. You couldn't mentally comprehend Joel haphazardly stripping you of your dress, pulling off your boots and then laying you down in bed.

At some point in the night the adrenaline had drained from your veins and you succumbed to the bone crushing fatigue that had replaced it. Joel's solid body was enveloping you from behind, his thick arms wrapped around your middle to keep you close. He was sleeping solidly as if nothing had happened, his chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm in line with his quiet snoring.

Your body went lax and you fell asleep.

Chapter Text

You can't be sure what time it is when you awake from the slumber of the night before. The morning sun peaks through the curtains in your bedroom, beams of bright light streaming across your floor.

You are laying on your side and there is a throbbing in your head. You try to lift it off the pillow and are immediately struck by the heaviness of it, as if there is a weight inside your skull. You open your eyes and blink away the sleep crusted along your lash line and a bolt of pain shoots up the side of your face. You wince. Your whole face feels tender.

Then you are hit with the memory of Joel's hands all over you, the cruel violence his body inflicted upon yours. It comes flooding back to you in an abrupt wave of terror, causing your breathing to hitch.

Is he here right now?

You cannot feel the burning warmth of his body beside you or the weight of his limbs ontop of your own. Holding your breath inside your lungs, your pulse quickening rapidly, you very slowly roll your head to face behind you.

But his side of the bed is empty. You're alone.

You exhale a long breath of relief. You really cannot handle seeing Joel right now, not until you properly assess whatever damage he has caused, not until your brain can piece together just what had happened. You debate whether to stay laying in bed to rest or to brave the confrontation of whatever happened last night when you rise. With every progressing minute you become more cognisant of the injuries inflicted on your body, your mind becoming aware of all the different parts of you that throb.

You eventually decide to get up and go to the bathroom.

It takes you several minutes to sit up at the edge of the mattress and attempt to walk. As soon as you stand a gush of semen spills from between your thighs and runs down your legs. You spy the dress you wore last night crumpled on the floor, and you pick it up to clean yourself with before the evidence of Joel's rampage drips onto the floor. You clench your teeth and hiss at the burning sting when you move your legs - you must be torn.

You enter the bathroom, steeling yourself before peeking into the mirror. You aren't prepared for the reflection that confronts you, how the bruises correspond accordingly to each and every painful pulsation that you feel.

The ache of the right side of your temple and the left apple of your cheek are reflected by a smattering of purple bruises. Faint red imprints in the shape of fingertips on your face. Your bottom lip stings from where it is split at the corner of your mouth, a smear of dried blood blooming around it. Your hair is knotted and messy atop your sensitive scalp. Nasty purple bruises cup your sore kneecaps.

You assess yourself with clinical detachment, almost as if you have disconnected from your physical self once more. It is impossible for you to think coherently about what your body had suffered through; piecing together the events of the previous nights would have to wait. All you want to do is shower and rid yourself of the invisible grime and smells that cling to your skin.

You start the shower and spend the next ten minutes scrubbing every inch of your body with the lemon myrtle scented soap you splurged on at one of the boutiques in town. You lather yourself generously with the bar and rinse off under the steady stream of warm water, then repeat it all once more. You scrub at your skin harshly, desperate to shed the filth you swear you can feel itching you.

Your hands roam between your thighs and gently wash your vulva with the warm water. You aren't brave enough to look down there just yet but the swelling around the entrance to your vagina tells you enough. You are equally tender when you wash your hair, trying to avoid irritating your scalp even more.

••••••

Ten minutes later you are sitting on the bed with your legs extended, wearing a sweater and underwear, your wet hair wrapped in a towel. In an attempt to distract yourself you have started reading the book that was sat on your nightstand, one of several novels on your to read list. You are about to turn the page when you hear the sound of foot steps in your hallway. You freeze at the sound, the familiar feeling of panic seizing your insides.

Joel strides into your bedroom, dressed and wearing his boots, seemingly ready for the day. He's holding a mug in his hand. When you see it is him you quickly lower your head and fix your eyes to the book in your hands, hoping to God that he can't hear the pounding of your heart. You can't bear to look at his face, to see whatever emotion is projecting from his dark brown eyes.

He clears his throat and speaks your name quietly, his voice gravelly but gentle. You don't respond or even move an inch to indicate you have heard him.

"Made ya a cup of your green tea," Joel murmers.

The floorboards creak softly under his heavy footsteps as he sets the mug of tea down on your nightstand. The gesture astounds you - he has never made you tea before - but you remain still, as if you cannot hear him. Truthfully, you are scared stiff by his presence.

Why is he being so nice?

You hate yourself for the tears that begin to pool in your eyes, blurring your vision and obscuring the letters on the page infront of you. The springs in the mattress squeak as Joel sits at the end of your bed with a small sigh. On impulse you bend your knees and pull your legs back, but Joel wraps his hand around on of your ankles and tugs it back towards him. His touch isn't aggressive or forceful but it startles you, causing a brief jolt of fear to rip through your body. He guides your foot to sit on his lap and he begins rubbing your heel in tender circles with his thumb.

"Darlin'," Joel sighs. "Are you okay?"

No, Joel. How could I possibly be okay after what you did?

You remain silent. The tears break free from your eyes and trickle down your cheeks. Your fingers are trembling; you curl them tightly over the corners of the book.

You wonder if he actually cares whether or not you are okay. What is going on with this uncharacteristic gesture of kindness, making you tea and asking if you're okay? Can he sense how broken you are, just how far he crossed over the line, how irreparable the damage is that he caused?

Your nose starts to drip along with the tears that wet your face. You sniff and wipe your nose with the cuff of your sleeve.

"No, I'm not okay," you whisper.

Joel sighs and runs his hand over his face. "Look, I already told Ellie that you're sick and you'll need a few days off work. She's gonna tell Tommy."

It is then that you look up at him with an incredulous expression. "What?"

Joel's eyes look solemn and weary as he stares back at you, his brows knitted together. Why does he look so sad?

"Til the bruises heal." He explains quietly. "Won't be more than a couple days."

You can't stifle the sob that claws up your throat. Oh. Right. That makes sense. How on earth could you explain your face without telling the truth? There's no plausible excuse for the marks on you.

You drop your book onto the mattress and look down at your lap. Your tears flow freely now, the pain of betrayl and your broken heart too profound to suppress. You are sure you look pitiful and weak but you don't care. You drag your sleeve over your face and your snotty nose.

"Look," Joel begins in a serious tone. "I know I went hard on ya last night, maybe hurt ya worse than I was supposed to." His thumb rubs along the heel of your foot gently, almost like a supplication for you to understand his perspective. "But when you disrespect me, I gotta discipline you, otherwise how is this supposed to work?"

You shake your head a little, wanting to show your disagreement but the throbbing in your head is getting worse. "But I didn't do anything wrong," you whisper, a small part of you hoping your words don't come across as defiant.

"Baby," Joel says firmly. "Look at me. Now."

The authority in his voice is unsettling enough to make you look back up at him.

"You're my woman," he states plainly. "I ain't sharin' you with anyone else. And I don't want any other man lookin' at you the way I saw 'em last night. They see you actin' wild with those girls and think you don't got a man takin' care of you, that maybe you're askin' for somethin'."

You don't have enough experience with men to know if what Joel says is true. Do men really think that way?

"You gotta trust me, baby girl. Men like that see a pretty girl like you and they'll do whatever it takes to get a taste." Joel speaks earnestly. "I've seen what these men can do to a woman first hand. If anything like that happened to you...." Joel sighs heavily and shakes his head. "I gotta protect you from that."

You watch the almost mournful arrangement of Joel's facial features, the slightly pained regret and sorrow in his brown eyes. He looks so soft this like, when a glimpse of his inner sensitive side appeared. This is the Joel you love. Maybe he really is just trying to protect you

"I don't like it when you get so angry," you whisper, looking down at your lap. "And you hurt me."

"I know I can get a bit carried away, my anger gets the better of me. But that's because I get so worried about ya," Joel admits solemnly. "I can't lose you, baby. And that's why you gotta listen to me. What I do is for your own good."

You understand Joel's worries and concerns. You understand how the trauma from losing his daughter would always haunt him, cause him to cling tighter to those he loves. But how are you supposed to have a healthy relationship when Joel hurts you for any perceived threat of losing you?

But you can't bring yourself to argue with him right now. You are confused by his contradictory actions and words, your mind too muddled and tired for you to properly debate him or articulate yourself.

While you are silent Joel reaches into his pocket and pulls out what looks like a folded white envelope. "Now, I want you to take this medicine. It'll help with the pain."

You peek at him from under your brow curiously. He unfolds the envelope and carefully shakes three little white tablets into the palm of his hand.

Did he really trek to the pharmacy in town just for you, because he knew you would be in pain?

Joel takes two of the tablets and holds them out to you, motioning with a nod for you to take them.

"Take 'em now." Joel commands you quietly.

Your head feels heavy and pounding once again. If these are pain killers, you would happily devour them to rid yourself of this misery. You concede to Joel's wishes and slowly reach over to accept them in your own hand. You then obediantly pop the mecidine in your mouth and swallow them down with a big gulp of green tea.

Joel watches you intently. "Good girl," he murmers. "One more."

He holds the last tablet in his outstretched palm for you to retrieve. It is smaller than the others, with some kind of letter or number embossed on its face. You don't bother studying it. You swallow it, encouraged by Joel's hand stroking along your ankle. You don't know just why his touch feels so soothing, or how your guard has slipped enough for you to even accept his hand on your skin without flinching, but it feels good. You and Joel stay like this for some time and it isn't long before you're on the verge of being lulled to sleep.

Joel stops his ministrations when you yawn and rub your eye with your fist. He gives your shin an affectionate pat and then shifts your leg from his lap.

"I gotta get to work." He tells you. "I'll be back later. Stay in bed and rest."

Joel stands up from the bed with a groan, his knees creaking as he straightens up. He comes to stand beside you and places his calloused fingertips under your chin. "Listen to me, sugar." He tilts your head up slowly, forcing you to look at him.

"You aren't to answer the door if anybody knocks. Don't matter who it is, you are to stay put in this room." Joel instructs you matter of factly, a stern edge to his voice. "I'll be the only one comin' and goin'. I'll be back when patrol is finished."

"Okay," you answer quietly.

"When you're feelin' better and get back to work, there'll be some rules. Our business is our business, you hear me?"

You nod, but Joel isn't satisfied with your muted response. He shakes his head and frowns down at you.

"Repeat it.' He commands softly.

"Our business is our business," you whisper back.

"And you ain't goin' to tell anybody about this...disagreement...we had. Unless you need a reminder about what can happen if you don't listen." Joel is calm as he speaks, almost gentle in his tone, but the underlying warning in his words is unmistakable. He could easily hurt you if he wants to, for whatever reason he sees fit. After what he put you through last night you are petrified at the prospect of further discipline carried out by Joel.

"I won't tell anyone." You mumble, your eyes glassy with tears once again.

"We're gonna move past this. Gonna have a happy life. And I'll take care of you."

He leans down to place a chaste kiss on your forehead, the hair of his moustache tickling along your brow.

"You rest now. I'll see you later."

Joel turns and stalks out of the bedroom. You listen to the heavy footsteps of his boots as he walks away, the slam of the front door, the forboding clink of your key turning in its lock. Then you bury your head in your pillow and fall asleep.

******

You fall in and out of sleep throughout the day, succumbing to the fatigue that has followed the trauma you have endured over the past 15 or so hours. The pain had subsided considerably thanks to the tablets Joel gave you.

Sometime in the afternoon you lay awake, curled under your blanket and reading your book when there comes a loud knock at your front door.

Oh no. Who could that be?

You strain to hear any further noise from outside. It must be Kate, or maybe Ellie, you guess. But you can't risk them catching sight of you in this condition.

There's silence for a few beats, then another succession of knocks. You hear your name being called, but can't quite make out whose voice is speaking. Gingerly, you slip out of bed and pad out of the bedroom and down the hallway. You creep over to the front door when the voice speaks again, almost pleading in its timbre.

"Please open up, it's Oscar."

Your hand shoots up to your lips to instinctively stifle your gasp. Oscar? Why on earth is he here, outside your cottage?

"Please, I need to see you." He calls, softer now.

Oh, Oscar. I want to see you too. But not like this.

You slink to the door and press your forehead against the wood. You clear your dry throat nervously before speaking. "Oscar, I'm here."

••••••

Oscar presses his forehead against your door and sighs with something that sounds like relief at hearing your soft voice speak his name. He whispers your name with tender reverence.

"Are you okay? I went to the school and they said you were sick today."

There's a pause on the other side of the door. He's about to ask if you're still there when you reply.

"I'm okay, just a bit sick with a cold."

Oscar closes his eyes and turns his head so that his ear is leaning against the wood. "Can I please see you?"

He needs to see you. He needs to tell you how much you mean to him in your life, in whatever way he can have you. But not through barrier like this door. He needs to stand before you for you to look into his eyes and witness his sincerity.

"Not right now," you whisper. There's a tiny tremble in your voice.

Oscar slumps against the door dejectedly. He doesn't want to push you or pressure you in any way, especially when you're sick.

"But when I'm better, yes, ofcourse." He hears you amend. "In a couple of days. At the library."

Oscar flattens his palm against the wood, wishing you could sense his yearning. "Okay," he says. "Can I get you something, some food, or medicine?"

You decline his offer. He feels helpless, hates that he can't do anything for you when you're unwell. But ultimately he accepts your answer and says goodbye, telling you he will see you again in a few days.

He isn't able to hear your muffled cries when he walks away from your porch and onto the street.

••••••

The next two days follow the same routine. Joel returns to your cottage in the evening after his patrol shift. He brings you sandwiches, fruit, jerky and soup to eat. You have little appetite but manage to take a few bites and spoonfuls of food to keep up your strength.

Joel doesn't attempt to make awkward conversation but he does linger around the bedroom, as if he wants to remain close to you but doesn't want to impose on your space.

In truth, Joel doesn't want to be apart from you for even a second. He wants to stay close to you as much as he can. But he knows you are scared.

Joel knows he has frightened you. He knows he's hurt you. He knows he has damaged you in ways that he could never fully understand. He was only able to even acknowledge the possibility that he went too far when he saw your face the next morning. When he woke up he saw you laying next to him in bed, your eyebrows were pulled into a faint frown as you slept, as if you were in pain or having an unpleasant dream. When he registered the bruises and marks across your features, the aftermath of his rage, his heart dropped.

It was the first time Joel Miller had felt some semblance of guilt for the suffering of someone at his hands. It was like a knife twisting in his guts. He doesn't regret confronting you or reiterating your position in his life, but he knows he went too far. He knows he made you suffer more than necessary, and he feels guilt for that. And shame.

There had been times in this world, mainly as a raider, when Joel had murdered innocent people just to inflict senseless pain onto someone else. He never felt remorse for his actions, justifying them to himself and Tommy that it was imperative for their survival.

It was only at this point in his life that Joel had felt some kind of guilt for the suffering of another. He had believed himself to be incapable of emotion towards anyone else besides Tommy and Ellie. But now here he was, struggling with so many different feelings for a woman so much younger than himself, simply elicited by the raw sight of your wounded face.

You are so beautiful and so pure.

Joel hates himself. He thinks of Ellie and her reaction if she saw you and found out the truth, the real cause of your injuries. She would come to hate him, too, then demand that you leave him. The thought engulfs him with dread and dismay.

Joel knows he isn't able to verbalise what he's thinking. He cannot tell you he is sorry, that he loves you, that it'll never happen again. So he tries to show you his apology in different ways. He consciously tries to be more attentive than he has ever been before. He is gentle and mindful in the little tokens of affection he bestows upon you; featherlight strokes of your cheek with his thumb, trails of sweet kisses along your shoulder blade, his fingers slowly tucking lose strands of hair behind your ear.

He spoons you each night with his arm securely encircled around your waist. He nuzzles his nose into your sweet smelling hair and whispers goodnight baby into your ear and then you both fall to sleep snuggled together.

Whenever you have a bad dream Joel's right there beside you to cradle you in his arms and soothe you back to a peaceful slumber, coaxing you with ssshhhs and his hand rubbing your back in comforting circles.

Joel resists the urge to fuck you until the third consecutive night of him sleeping at your home. In the still and quiet of the late night hour, Joel is aroused from sleep by the throbbing of his hard cock. He can't restrain himself from rutting his crotch against your ass, and when you moan softly in your sleep, he feels emboldened enough to slip his hand down the front of your pyjama shorts. He lightly rubs your clit through your panties with his thick fingers while grinding his hips into yours.

It doesn't take long for your pussy to become wet and soak through the material. A groan of desire rumbles in Joel's throat and he sucks at the side of your neck. You whimper and moan and slowly stir from sleep as your orgasm builds, your body unable to deny the power Joel holds over it when he pleasures you so expertly. Joel continues to rub tight delicious circles over your clit until your climax hits you and your body quivers and you gasp breathlessly. He places soft kisses all along the column of your throat while he coaxes you through your orgasm.

When your tired body slumps back into his chest Joel yanks down your shorts and underwear and pushes them off your legs. He takes his cock out from his underwear and presses it in the space between your ass and your inner thighs.

"I need you, babydoll," Joel grunts into your ear.

You arch your back and tilt your hips wordlessly. Joel slips his arm underneath your knee and hikes your leg up to spread you open, then pushes the head of his cock into the tight heat of your wet pussy. He fucks you in a slow and deep rhythm so that every roll of his hips makes his cock touch your g spot. The sound of your sweet moans and the squelching of your pussy around him intensifies Joel's own pleasure.

He rocks his hips and fucks you faster, his heavy balls smacking against your ass with each thurst. But Joel's movements are not frenzied or rough as he chases his own orgasm; he is more reserved than usual, as if he is being careful not to hurt you.

When he is about to cum he swiftly withdraws from you and jerks his cock against your lower back, and then shoots his hot semen onto the flesh of your ass cheek. When Joel has recovered from his climax he goes to the bathroom and returns with a wet towel to clean you up. It is the first time he has ever done this on his own accord.

You soon fall back to sleep cuddled in Joel's embrace exhausted and satisfied. It is only when Joel can determine for sure that you are properly asleep that he whispers "I love you."

••••••

After three days of resting in bed and waiting for your face and body to heal, you return to work. Joel patiently helps you dress.

"You look perfect, sugar. Pretty as ever." He purrs in your ear. He places a soft kiss on your temple, gliding his hands over your upper arms. You cannot help but lean against his chest a little to savour the distinct scent of sandalwood and his skin. Just before you leave Joel sneaks out of the back door to go to his patrol shift.

You depart and begin walking to the library with a niggling sense of apprehension and anxiety digging inside your stomach. You feel conspicuous being outside the quiet refuge of your home, as if you are parading around naked in public. You try to squash it down and assure yourself that it is a short distance to your destination, but by the time you turn into the main street and see the library you are almost completely overwhelmed.

You are so relieved to reach the library and so eager to enter into somewhere quiet and safe that your hands are shaking as you fumble to retrieve the keys from your pocket. You drop them twice, cursing under your breath, before successfully unlocking the door. You hurry inside and slam the door shut, not sure why exactly your heart is pounding so loud in your ears.

You shut your eyes and try to regulate your breathing with deep, slow inhales through your nose and exhales out of your mouth. It takes roughly five minutes for you to fully compose yourself and for the panic to subside. You chide yourself for being so weak. You are just feeling a little fragile right now, that's all. It's just something you will just have to get over.

You don't consider the reasons why you feel so vulnerable; your brain is still switched into survival mode and you are somewhat still in a state of dissociation. Instead, you just resolve to be productive and you get to work.

You potter around the library doing small jobs. Although your bruises are almost completely faded you don't want to interact with anyone at all, and fortunately you are granted the solace you need when no one visits the library.

Until just after the clock strikes noon.

You know your luck will run out eventually and you will have to somehow muster the energy to socialise with another person. When the chime above the door finally tinkles, you inwardly cringe and do your best to conjure a smile on your face.

When you walk out from the book shelves to see who is there, you gasp and freeze in the spot.

It is Oscar.

He immediately perceives your alarm and hastily comes to a halt by the counter. He holds his palms outward like you are a frightened animal, trying to convey that he means no harm. He frowns and his eyes show concern and worry.

"Are you alright?" He asks tentatively.

You stand still and stare at him. His presence has caught you so off guard that you are robbed of speech and are incapable of articulating yourself.

No, Oscar, I'm not alright, you wish to say.

Why has Oscar disarmed you so profoundly? Why are you so affected by seeing him?

But you know why, even if you could never quite comprehend it, even though you have never been able to acknowledge it before this moment.

He's your safe place, the only man who has ever made you feel respected, worthy, appreciated. Because you knew that if you needed him, he would come to your rescue straight away. Because he possesses so many attributes that you desire in a friend and a lover; qualities that you wish Joel had.

But you are so unworthy of him.

The realisation hits you so hard that you become breathless and dizzy and have to grip onto a book shelf for stability. Panic seizes your lungs and your heart and your eyes go wide and glassy. You are no longer disconnected and your brain is no longer tuned to static.

Joel raped me.

A ragged sob escapes your throat, tortured and sorrowful.

Oscar rushes over to you. "Hey hey," he whispers, "what is it, what's wrong?"

You shake your head tightly, lips pressed together as the tears ran down your cheeks. You could never admit the truth to Oscar.

You hate yourself for being so weak and emotional, for breaking down infront of him. You can't bear to meet his concerned gaze. You sink down to the ground and hug your knees into your chest. Oscar drops to his knees beside you immediately.

"Are you hurt?" He asks gently. His brown eyes scan over your frame in search of any sign of injury.

You shake your head once more and a sob hitches in your throat. Oscar was so close to you now that his knees were touching your legs.

"What is it?" He whispers desperately, frowning.

You squeeze your eyes shut and whimper. It was like you couldn't speak at all, no longer had the ability to verbalise your thoughts and emotions in any way, the ball of despair in your throat too cloying to communicate through. Tears run down your cheeks and drip down your chin.

"It's okay, honey," Oscar cooes. "You're okay, I'm right here with you."

You begin to cry harder, your body wracking with sobs. Oscar places one of his hands up to rest on the space between your shoulder blades and starts to rub soothing circles over your back. His other hand reaches down to clasp one of yours. His skin is smooth and warm.

"Let it all out, I've got you." He whispers. "I got you, honey."

And so you do. You weep openly, the dam of suppressed emotions breaking free and pouring out of you.

After what feels like ages, you gradually relax and allow him to comfort you, surrendering to his peaceful presence. Your sobs become small hitches that eventually die down and turn into sniffles. He stays by your side the whole time, continuously rubbing your back with his gentle, warm palm.

"You don't have to tell me," Oscar confides. "But I'll always be here, whenever you're ready."

I am ready, you think to yourself. I'm ready to leave.

••••••

You didn't reveal what had happened to Oscar, or to anyone else. You kept your word to Joel and did not speak about it. You were still afraid of what he was capable of doing if you did tell someone, if he somehow found out that you told the truth. You felt ashamed and dirty, as if you were deserving of Joel's wrath, that what he did was justified. Maybe you shouldn't have been dancing and drinking so much that night, maybe Joel was right about the men at the bar and their lecherous intentions. After all, you had to defer to Joel's knowledge and extensive life experience when certain subjects were concerned, and this time seemed to be no exception.

Ellie and her happiness were also at the forefront of your mind. You knew that she would be devastated if she discovered how Joel had treated you; the security of her world and a happy family life would be shattered and her heart broken. You couldn't do that to Ellie. Not when you could see so much of yourself reflected in her, that same yearning for a stable and loving family.

Yes, you still loved him, and perhaps a small part of you always will. But he has broken something inside you and you know it can never be repaired or compensated for in any way. Joel had pushed you too far for you to be able to forgive and forget. A bridge has been crossed and there's no returning to how things once were. Where do you go from here? Do you leave him? Joel hadn't accepted that the first time you tried to leave him - would he relent this time?

You tried not to show the inner turmoil you were facing when around others. Working at the school proved to be a good distraction from your thoughts; the young faces of the children, their innocence and wonder at the world, always managed to motivate you to be collected and calm.

However the library shifts proved to be more challenging at times. You were alone more often than not, only the occasional visitor popping in to seek out material on a specialist subject or children wanting to peruse the comics and picture books. Left alone with the whirlwind of introspection inside your head could be tormenting.

Does he really even love me?
What if he does it again?
He's been so sweet and loving lately, maybe he's changed?
Maybe he's realised how much I mean to him?

This fruitless cycle of thoughts was interrupted by the surprise appearance of Oscar at the door, a grin on his face as the bell jingled above him. You felt startled, like you had been caught doing something you weren't supposed to, but you quickly composed yourself.

"Is it weird that I miss that sound?" He chuckled.

"Hey stranger," you greeted him, flashing a smile that didn't quite reach your eyes . "Didn't expect to see you here. How can I help you?"

Oscar smiled at you, his clean shaven face boyish and handsome, and you suddenly felt warmth spread all over your cheeks. Surely you weren't blushing because of Oscar?

He walked to the counter where you stood and plopped his satchel on the counter top. "Mhm. It's lunchtime, so I figured I'd stop by for a visit and we could pretend it's like old times - us eating together, hanging out. What do you say?"

"Oscar, are you sure you wanna spend your work break with me?" You asked dubiously, making a face at him.

"You're kidding me, right?" Oscar arched a thick eyebrow in question. "As far as I'm concerned you're the only person I wanna eat lunch with."

He didn't wait for you to speak any further before he flipped open his satchel and took out some sandwiches wrapped in wax paper and a few pieces of fruit. You looked away from him bashfully and shuffled your feet. You could definitely feel your cheeks glowing now.

"Oh Oscar," you murmur, sighing a little. "I don't deserve this."

"Don't deserve to eat lunch? C'mon," he scoffed.

"No, you know what I mean," you said while smoothing your hands over your skirt, still unable to look at Oscar. "You coming here specially for me."

Oscar proped his elbows ontop of the counter and leaned forward so that his head was craning closer to you, tilting his head in an attempt to catch your gaze.

"Hey, look at me," Oscar implored softly.

You obeyed his request and slowly raised your head up to face him. He was gazing at you with a mixture of confusion and pity on his features.

"Why do you think so little of yourself, when others think so much of you?" Oscar asked quietly.

The question is too raw for you to actually answer. It makes you feel bare, like your insides are being dissected. How can you possibly explain to Oscar that you've carried this low self worth all your life, that it has been rooted into your very core since your parents died, left to pullulate and fester like a disease?

Somehow, you believe Oscar already knows and that he isn't actually asking for an answer.

All you can do is shrug awkwardly and look away from him. Oscar sighs and extends his arm over the counter to take hold of your wrist. "Honey, what is it going to take for you to believe just how important you are?" His thumb begins to stroke the fragile spot where your pulse and veins intertwine under the thin layer of skin.

You close your eyes and savour the sensation of his soft hand wrapped around your wrist. "Important to who?" You murmur.

"The children at school. Ellie. Me." Oscar whispers silkily. "Look at me."

You raise your head once more to gaze back at Oscar. He studies your face, his eyes roaming over your features longingly. The tip of his tongue swipes over his bottom lip. "You're a beautiful person, and I'm lucky to have you in my life."

The the lilt of his voice and the passion in his gaze penetrate your heart and send electric like shivers up and down your limbs. "T-thank you, Oscar." You stammer.

He smiles at you, the corners of his eyes crinkling. He gently releases your wrist and stands back upright. "Now, enough of this nonsense. I'm hungry and I want you to tell me everything that's been going on here since I left. Didja finish Bug Science? What about that paperback that old man stole and refuses to give back?"

You can't help but laugh at Oscar's light hearted way of breaking the tension in the room. When he sees you finally smile genuinely, he smiles back with a mix of relief and adoration.

After you finish eating and Oscar has to go back to work, you both agree to a regular lunch date at the library every week.

••••••

That night you were pacing around Joel's kitchen preparing dinner for when Ellie arrived. She was making a dedicated effort to spend more time with Joel without making him feel awkward; you had suggested that regular dinners together were an uncomplicated way to achieve this, and so naturally Ellie had invited herself over.

You alternate between stirring the pot of stew on the stove and shuffling to the dining room to set the table. You carefully arrange the bowls and cutlery in their places, mindful to give Joel a slightly bigger bowl than you and Ellie, knowing that his appetite was more voracious than either of you, especially after a patrol shift.

The setting reminded you of a tale you had loved as a child - a papa bear, a mamma bear, and a baby bear, all with porridge bowls and furniture corresponding to their sizes. Three bears, a happy family with food and a comfy house. Until an intruder comes and disrupts their carefree life.

What was it again? Ah, yes. Goldilocks and The Three Bears.

Silly stories and fairytales created to entertain and teach children morals and valuable lessons. You only vaguely remember some of them from your childhood. Just like the innocence and curious wonderment of youth, your happy memories had been destroyed by the end of the world, shattered to smithereens.

You want Ellie to be able to experience the things that had been so brutally ripped away from you. You know she's suffered her own share of trauma and horrors in her life, things she hasn't shared with anyone but Joel. You know their bond is what has given them both reason to endure and survive for so long. But Ellie was still young, and now she was safe from whatever was still left in the wild of the world. She deserved her own fairytale.

You know you will have to try your best to mask your melancholy for the upcoming evening. You are about to turn off the stove when you hear the front door rattle open, then the sound of boots stamping at the door. It seems Joel and Ellie have arrived home at the same time.

"Good evening!" Ellie trills as she floats into the kitchen. "What did you make? It smells fucking amazing!"

Your heart lights up to see her bound over to the stove and lean over the pot to take a big whiff of its aroma. She lets out an exaggerated sigh and rolls her eyes.

"I'm sooooo hungry!" Ellie groans. "Work sucked today."

You chuckle and pull her into a hug, brushing a little snow flake from her head. "The goats giving you trouble again?"

Ellie was assigned as a farmhand for her work duties and tended to the goats, chickens and sheep. "It was the sheep this time, lazy fuckers wouldn't listen."

"Didn't do what they were told, huh?" Joel chimes, walking into the kitchen with a smug smile tugging at his mouth.

"You callin' me a sheep, old man?" Ellie pretends to square up into a boxer's stance and raises her fists. You watch the interaction with your fingertips pressed to your lips, hiding your smile. No matter how low you were feeling, being immersed in the domesticity of Ellie's and Joel's company was always entertaining.

"You know what insolent means?"

"Uh, nope," Ellie says with a crinkle of her nose. "Why, that what you're callin' me?"

"Damn right," Joel sniggers. Ellie punches his shoulder playfully and then begins a hasty exposition on just why her job is so taxing and why Joel should shut up. You shake your head at her theatrics and slip on some oven mitts before carrying the pot of stew out to the kitchen table.

"And if you actually let me go on patrol I could show those assholes just how badass I am," she laments as she follows behind you and Joel.

"No." He takes his seat at the table. "Too dangerous outside the gate."

Ellie just scoffs loudly and flops down onto her chair. You ladle the stew into the bowls and hand them to Ellie and Joel before serving yourself.

"You gotta teach me how to make this," Ellie mumbles through a mouthful of stew. "Tastes amazing, dude."

You settle into your seat and dip your spoon into the bowl. "Yeah, I can do that."

"How'd you learn how to cook?" Ellie asks between another slurp.

You occupy yourself with slowly stirring your spoon through the vegetables and chunks of lamb floating in your bowl. "I picked up some things from working in the mess hall but I mostly taught myself, through cook books and experimenting. More so experimenting."

"Cool," Ellie says, sounding sincerely impressed. "What's your favourite thing to make?"

"This kind of stew, I guess," you respond quietly, still not meeting her eye. "It's hearty, so it's good for when you're sick. And it reminds me of a dish my mother used to make when I was a kid, so...I find it comforting..." Your voice trails off at the end of your sentence. You never spoke of your mother or father but the words had come rolling from your tongue without thought, leaving you to feel as though you've said too much, been too vulnerable infront of both Ellie and Joel.

"Oh," Ellie murmers. "Well, that's good that's it's good for when you're sick, right? You've been sick alot lately so--"

"Ellie," Joel says low and warning.

A tense silence falls over the dining table. You are sure Joel can read your mind, the automatic internal response that you dare not utter aloud - "I wasn't sick last time, Ellie, I was just hiding my face."

You are thankful when Ellie fills the silence once again and starts talking about her friends and the different adventures she's had lately. You listen but do not talk much, only sometimes expressing a hum of agreement or a noise to indicate your interest. To your surprise, Joel makes an effort to engage with her to ask questions or make comments; it is unusual but refreshing, and you can't help but think Joel is doing it for your sake.

When Ellie excuses herself to go to the bathroom, Joel outstretches his hand to you and tenderly clasps it over yours. He lightly squeezes your small hand in his large one and leaves it there, his thumb making tiny circles over the knuckle of yours, soothing and supplicating. You glance up at Joel but he's staring down at his lap unmoving, and you wonder if it's because he feels too ashamed of himself to look at you.

When Ellie returns to the table Joel doesn't move his hand from yours.

••••••

It feels like forever since you've joined the girls for a meal in the mess hall. A few days after Ellies visit, you were greeted by Kate waiting outside the school to surprise you after your shift. Despite being exhausted from the days work her cheeky grin made you laugh.

Truthfully, you hadn't thought much about your friends since the night you had all celebrated Jackson's birthday at the Tipsy Bison. It seemed like the time between then and now had stretched infinitely, the events of that night like a vivid dream that was not real but of which you still could not shake from your memory. Seeing Kate in person and so excited to you makes you feel guilty for not being more involved in your friendship circle.

You sit side by side with Kate and Cassie at one of the dining tables, Rhi and Jess opposite you. You have little to no appetite and even the delicious dinner menu doesn't inspire any hunger from you; you mostly move your spoon aimlessly around your plate, only occasionally taking small bites of food. Rhi has lowered her voice and is recounting a recent incident between her and the blonde ranger she has been pining for.

"Can you believe it? He actually stuck his hand up my skirt right then and there!" She hisses with disgust. "Without even kissing me!"

The four of instantly you scrunch up your noses in revulsion.

"Gross!" Jess gags.

"Who the hell does he think he is?!" Cassie fumes.

"What did you do? Did you slap him?" Kate grumbles. "God, please tell me you slapped him!"

"Ofcourse I did!" Rhi answers haughtily, primly running her fingers through her hair. "No bastard touches me like that without my say so."

"He's was cute but boy, did he turn out to be an asshole," Cassie tuts, then adds sympathetically, "I'm sorry, Rhi. I know you liked him for a long time."

Rhi shrugs dismissively. "Eh, better I find out now than after six months of dating and wasting my time."

"Very true," Jess chimes in. "You deserve better than that shit."

"Ofcourse I do! I'm staying out of the dating game for a while, men are so not worth it." Rhi concedes, scooping up some potato and carrot with her spoon.

You watch the airy way Rhi speaks, how the words spill so confidently from her mouth. She's so self assured - in her capabilities, in her worth, in her beauty. You are simply in awe of her. You have often found yourself wishing you were more like Rhi; someone more bold, stronger willed.

You're sick of being timid. You're tired of never standing up for yourself. You're exhausted with hating yourself.

••••••

It was becoming more and more difficult for Joel to ignore the fact that he was in love with you. Obviously he knew you belonged to him, but he hadn't really examined just how deeply his own attachment to you ran. The concept of romantic love was something so foreign to Joel that during his pursuit to conquer you he hadn't even recognised how much he loved you.

It hit him when he returned to his house after a gruelling double patrol shift while you were still at work. The inside of the house was still and lifeless and seemed so much bigger and colder than usual. Not a trace of your pretty fragrance or your soft voice to greet him. Joel hated it.

It was you who Joel wanted to see when he ambled through the door after work, aching and weary and hungry. It was your face that he wanted to see when he opened his eyes every morning. And it was your lips that he wanted to kiss goodnight before each time he went to sleep. Joel needed you as close as possible, so it was a natural conclusion that you start the process of living together.

It wasn't part of Joel's plan - he hadn't expected things to have progressed so quickly, but then again he couldn't deny just how much he needed you. So for the first time since living in Jackson he had decided to follow his heart.

••••••

One night after his patrol shift, a week and a half after Jackson's birthday celebration, Joel slipped through your front door and toed off his boots.

"I been thinkin' about somethin'," Joel calls out as he shrugs off his coat and hangs it on the hook by the door. "I want you to come stay at my place. Got plenty of space for your things. Can even turn one of the spare rooms into a library for your books."

When you didn't answer him he turned around and stepped into the living room. You were sitting on the couch with your feet tucked under you, staring down at your hands as they fidgeted with a loose thread on the cuff of your sweater. Joel put his hands of his hips and clears his throat.

"Baby, you hear me? What do you think?" He asks with a tilt of his head. He was trying to temper the irritation that was pricking at the base of his neck, but when he properly looks at you it quickly disappears. He clocks the despondent slouch of your shoulders and the pensive expression on your features.

You sigh softly and then tilt your head up to meet his gaze. You look tired, and the tears swimming in your eyes alarmed Joel enough for him to stride over to the couch and sit down beside you.

"What's goin' on?' He asks with genuine concern, his soulful brown eyes darting up and down your form.

Joel had seen you cry many times before, and it was he who was the reason for your tears more often than not. It usually did not perturb him or discourage him. He knew from the beginning that you were sensitive and soft hearted, the opposite of himself. But something about this instance was totally different.

You swipe the sleeve of your sweater across your eyes to brush away the tears that have spilled over.

"Nothing," you mumble, downcasting your eyes back to the loose thread on your cuff as your fingers toy with it. "Just lonely...missing my parents alot today."

Joel hums and smooths his hand over the back of your head tenderly. "Come to my place, babydoll, stay at my house. You'll never feel lonely there."

"Like, live there forever?"

"Well, not just yet." Joel smirks as he tucks a strand of your hair behind your ear. "We can move your belongings gradually."

"What do you mean?" You question him with a side eye glance.

Joel leans into you and nuzzles his nose in the crook of your neck. One of his arms snakes around your middle and he effortlessly drags you closer to his body like a scolded kitten tugged by its scruff.

"You can move into my place permanently later, aint no rush. But for now I want you close by, always. In my bed waitin' for me after work. Sittin' pretty on my lap while you read." He inhales your scent and places a soft kiss on your neck. His breath is hot against your skin and his whiskers tickle you. It makes shivers crawl up your spine.

"I don't know Joel," you whisper hesitantly. "I don't think I'm ready for that."

Joel's body immediately tenses at your words. He slowly draws his face away from you and loosens his arm from your waist. Your first instinct is to cower away from Joel and curl into yourself, to distance yourself from any potential outburst of wrath that he might choose to rain down upon you.

"What d'you mean?' Joel asks in a low, dangerous tone.

"I just...want to stay here, I don't want to go anywhere," you mumble, not meeting his gaze but still feeling the heat of his scathing glower nonetheless.

"Don't wanna go?" Joel growls harshly. "Look at me when I'm talkin' to you."

You cannot control the automatic reaction that his sharp tone commands from you; your head whips up to look at him obediantly. You feel small and vulnerable under Joel's glare.

"You don't wanna live with me in my house?" He hisses. "I thought that's what you wanted."

You sigh helplessly as you feel the tears begin to well in your eyes once again.

It is what I wanted. But now I'm not so sure.

"I'm ready to give you everythin' and now you wanna throw it away?" Joel spits bitterly, scowling. There is an inflection of dejection in his words, and the disbelief and hurt reflected in his glistening eyes causes a small stab of guilt in your chest.

"I just...don't think it's the right time," you explain with slow deliberation. "I'm not ready for that."

Joel takes a sharp inhale and scoffs. "So you changed your mind? Just like that, you changed your goddamn mind?"

"Joel," you speak calmly in order to placate him. "I want to keep my place. I don't want to live at your house."

"Why the hell not?"

The pressurised anxiety and woe that has been gradually constricting around your organs finally explodes, rapidly surging through your veins and your limbs and up into your skull.

"Because you raped me!" You snap suddenly, your voice hoarse and choked with emotion. You haul yourself off the couch and storm to the other side of the living room. "Because you hurt me worse than you ever did before!"

The word rape hangs heavily in the air, shocking and weighted in the way it tears from your throat. Joel's mouth falls open and shut, like he's too shocked to form a response.

And truthfully he is. He's speechless at your outburst, at seeing you so impassioned that you have raised your voice at him for the first time in your relationship. He wonders where this argumentative side of you has come from so suddenly. This kind of back chat and disrespect would usually warrant a punishment, but the near hysteria of your demeanour has thrown Joel off completely.

And then it clicks. He really did hurt you. He hurt you so much so that you are expressing anger at him for the first time, aswell as rejecting him. His throat feels dry. Joel swallows thickly, his adams apple bobbing.

There had been times in the QZ when the women Joel fucked had been desperate enough to acquire something he smuggled in that they let Joel use their bodies however he wanted. He had readily accepted the trade conditions but had never taken any woman unwillingly before, had never forced himself upon a woman or abused her. He openly despised the men that did - the FEDRA officers, the perverted assholes that roamed the streets, the raiders on the outside that thought nothing of gang raping a girl and leaving her bloodied and broken for the infected and wild animals to devour.

But when it came to you Joel seemed to lose his sense of morality and rationality. He was blinded by the intrinsic need to dominate and possess you from the moment he saw you. It was something feral and biological inside his brain, his heart, his loins. You were his, you belonged to him, and he had to assert ownership over you in any way possible in order to never lose you. That included having to punish you at times to remind you of your place beside him.

Joel knows he's been rough at times. But rape?

Rape. A disgusting and violent violation used to assert control and cause one of the worst kinds of pain possible.

And that's what he did to you. He hadn't stopped once to think exactly what he had done, but now you've said it outloud he has to acknowledge it. He raped you.

Joel heaves himself from the couch and steps towards you but you flinch, wrapping your arms tightly around your waist and shrinking into the corner.

"I...I know what I did wasn't right. I just got carried away." Joel confesses. "Got so angry I wasn't thinkin' straight."

"Angry for what?" You sob, glaring directly at him. "For having fun with my friends like every other person in town?"

"I don't want my woman behavin' like that," Joel declares while shaking his head firmly, his mouth downturned in a scowl. "Not when she belongs to me."

"So you call me a whore and rape me?" You cry with exasperation, the tears pouring down your face.

Joel sighs and runs his hands through his hair in frustration. "I told ya I didn't mean to go that far, but you know I got a temper."

"That doesn't give you the right!" You argue back, secretly thrilled by your surge of self confidence in confronting Joel. "Imagine if someone did that to Ellie, what would--"

"Don't." Joel grits fiercely, his nostrils flaring and his jaw clenching. "Don't you dare mention her."

"Why not?" You ball your trembling hands into fists and stare him down. You can see the anger simmering just beneath the surface of Joel's restrained exterior, the mannerisms that signify an imminent danger. Your heart is thrumming in your chest and your stomach feels sick with trepidation but you won't back down. Not now. "So it's okay if you do it to me but if it's El--"

In a flash Joel storms toward you, his boots thundering heavily on the floor boards. He grabs a tight hold of your wrist and yanks you to him. You squeak with fear and collide into his chest. His eyes bore down into yours with steely reproach.

"Better listen to what I say, little girl," Joel warns lowly. "Mind your fuckin' manners."

You stare back up at Joel, tears of outrage and hurt stinging your eyes. Neither of you move during the tense stand off and time seems to stand still. There's a loaded intensity emanating between you two that is intoxicating, like both your souls are being forcefully pulled together despite fighting tooth and nail to resist. Amidst the anger and pain is something primal, a kind of hunger that is magnetic and electrifying. You can see it burning in Joel's orbs as his gaze flits between your lips and your own eyes.

Before you do something you'll regret, like kiss him or slap him, you try to pull away, but Joel effortlessly keeps you pinned to him. You shake your head despairingly and a sob escapes from your lips.

"I l-loved you," you whisper brokenly. "S-so much. And you have d-done nothing but hurt me."

Joel's expression softens and his grip on your wrist looses a tiny bit. The hardness leaves his dark eyes and is replaced by a helpless kind of sorrow. He blinks and clears his throat.

"That ain't true," he whispers back. "I been tryin', you know that, don't you? Been tryin' to show you how I feel and make it up to you."

"You broke my heart, Joel," you confess in a barely audible whisper.

Joel appears almost pained when the words leave your mouth; his brows furrow and his eyes shut tightly for a second. Then he releases his grip around your wrist and instead cradles your hand in his rough palm. The gentle way his paw engulfs yours is beseeching, as though your very being is the elixir that sustains him, something vital to his life yet is also so fragile. It brings you no comfort and instead makes the situation feel even more gut wrenching. Why can't you always be like this? You want to scream at him. Why now, when it's so late?

"I'll fix it," he says definitively. "Lemme fix it."

"I don't know if it can be fixed," you whisper truthfully.

You move to pull away from Joel again but his other arm wraps around your waist and holds you firmly against him. His emotive puppy dog eyes search yours beneath the heavy frown of his brow.

"Please," he whispers.

You shut your eyes and your breath hitches in your throat. You are so empty that you cannot evoke any words to describe the maelstrom of emotion inside you. Your legs feel weak and you feel like sleeping. Without speaking a word, you feel Joel dip down and lift you up into his arms like a child, and then carries you to bed.

Joel lays you carefully on the mattress, placing your head delicately on the pillow. You pull your knees up to your chest and curl up into yourself, wanting nothing more than to drift off and dream of alternate realities that you had read of in your favourite books, of imaginary places and people that you longed to visit. Joel climbs over your legs and plonks down behind you with a grunt.

"Baby," he whispers in your ear. Joel slips his thick arm around your waist and presses his front flush against your back. You hate yourself for the way your body has become conditioned to crave the heat of his body, how you still relish the sensation of his skin on yours even after he's defiled you.

"I'm nothing more than a whore for you, aren't I?" You whisper back wetly.

"What?" Joel breathes. "What? N-no, God, no." He props himself up with an elbow and uses his other arm to flip you onto your back. You stare up at the ceiling ans blink away the tears threatening to pool in your eyes.

"You said that," you warble.

"I know," he says with a sigh. "I didn't mean it." Joel splays his large hand over your belly and leans down to press his forehead to yours. "I'm sorry," he whispers. The two simple words stun you - it is the first time he's ever apologised.

Joel nuzzles his nose against your cheek tenderly, his eyes falling shut.

"I ain't lettin' you go," he whispers against your lips. "I'll prove myself to you. You'll see. You're mine, babydoll. I love you. You only belong to me. No one but me."

Chapter Text

Despite standing up for yourself, Joel was able to convince you to spend most of your free time at his house. Fortunately for you, your friends rarely visited your cottage so you didn't have to worry about explaining your absence if they came knocking on your door. You still sneaked undetected through the back door of Joel's house, coming and going to and from work like some sort of ghost.

He had gotten what he wanted, as usual. But over the next few weeks Joel had noticed subtle differences in your behaviour toward him. One of the main changes that he could distinguish was that you had become less physically affectionate. You no longer ran your fingers through his hair spontaneously, or stood on your tiptoes to kiss his nose to greet him after work. You didn't slip into his lap and curl against him like a kitten seeking warmth. As this crucial part of the relationship faded away, Joel came to realise just how much he craved the contact and connection with you. He felt like you were both lost in the dark and he couldn't reach you.

You still washed his clothes and cooked for he and Ellie, still cared for him and fulfilled household duties, but there was an unmistakable lack of emotional intimacy in how you interacted with him. You no longer initiated conversation and when you did speak, your voice was hushed. You rarely looked him directly in the eye. Sometimes Joel would catch you quietly staring at nothing, your eyes dull and sad. You just didn't seem disheartened; your spirit seemed to be completely broken. It began to worry him.

Joel would still fuck you most nights and he would still make you cum on his dick or his mouth or his fingers. Your body was still receptive to Joel's touch and he could feel how hungry your pussy was for him by how wet you got. The sexual chemistry between you had always been explosive and Joel still took smug pride in his ability to manipulate your body and pleasure you. But your moans and cries were no longer wanton. The submissive role you always assumed during sex somehow became more impassive; several times he noticed the disconnected blankness in your eyes, and his palm itched to slap your face just to illicit some kind of reaction from you.

For the first time ever, Joel had consciously stopped himself from taking advantage of you in order to dominate and hurt you. He was careful not to verbally demean you as he fucked you. Joel didn't demand blowjobs and when your period came he settled for your hand jerking him off until he shot a load of warm sticky cum onto his soft stomach.

Joel would be lying if he said he didn't care, that it didn't bother him. Throughout your time together he had never worried about your feelings for him, never needed to panic about whether or not you wanted him. Now, however, Joel felt a sickening panic deep inside himself that you no longer loved him and needed him.

It was impossible for Joel not to worry or ruminate. It was in his nature. And he had spent more time contemplating the night of your confrontation than he would ever care to admit.

You were right. Joel could concede to that. It was just something that had never crossed his mind. And so when you raised the question, it rocked Joel to his very core.

You had made the point when you brought up Ellie in that arguement - what if Ellie had been the one who had been violated instead? It was a rhetorical question, ofcourse. It was obvious what Joel would do; he would go on a rampage of carnage and torture whoever was responsible for hurting her. He would be so blinded by rage that he would slaughter anyone who got in his way. Even the mere idea of something so vile happening to Ellie made Joel's skin crawl with fury.

But what gave him the right to do what he did to you? You had asked that question during the argument too, and now Joel asks himself the same thing. At the time Joel was so incensed that he lost all sense of rationality. The jealousy and wrath had overtaken him. Heart and mind, body and soul.

I don't want my woman behavin' like that when she belongs to me.

Joel had taught you what he expected of you as his woman. All he had needed to do was take your naturally demure and meek character and shape you just as he wanted, and that had been so easy. As far as Joel was concerned you belonged to him from the moment he saw you, and you still did. But now, with an anxious sense of dread, he's not so sure that your heart still belongs to him.

Joel didn't know how to deal with the situation. He had intended to overlook whatever was happening to you until it passed. But when Ellie pulled him aside after dinner one night and expressed her concern, Joel knew he had to do something.

"What's wrong with her?" Ellie whispered to Joel in the kitchen when you had excused yourself to go to the bathroom. "She's acting weird. Like really sad. What happened?"

"Nothin' happened," Joel muttered. "She's just tired. Been missin' her parents and not sleepin' too good."

"Well, do something to cheer her up, asshole," Ellie hissed. "Fix it."

Joel grunted and started filling the kitchen sink with hot water. He gripped the bench and watched the water blast from the faucet. He wasn't sure what to do, how he could fix it, but he needed to do something before you completely disappeared from them.

••••••

When Joel and Tommy were assigned on patrol together, like they were the following week, Joel would meet Tommy at his house and the two brothers would walk to the stables together. It was early morning and Joel didn't feel fully awake just yet. He scrubbed at his eyes with his fists and yawned. He hadn't slept much the previous night - you had been whimpering in your sleep on and off and had somehow repeatedly slipped from his arms to roll to the edge of the bed. Joel would continually wake without you curled up to him. He would pull you back to his chest, only for you to escape from him and return to precariously balance on the edge of the mattress. Joel eventually got you to stay still in his embrace but you would still let out little sighs and gasps every so often.

Joel wondered what you dream about. Did you dream of horrible creatures like the infected? Or were you plagued by the memories of your loved ones' deaths? Joel wishes he knew. His own dreams could be so vivid and distressing, especially the ones of Sarah.

Joel's fingers fidgeted nervously by his sides as he waited for Tommy to saunter down the steps of his porch. The morning sun poured through the clouded sky but did little to diminish the bitter cold that had settled in overnight. Tommy tipped a nod to Joel in greeting before they began the walk to the stables for their patrol shift together. Anyone who saw the two side by side could easily tell they were brothers; they were close in height and shared the same gait, aswell as the same intense brown eyes and full bottom lip.

"Snow looks like it ain't gonna ease up for another few weeks," Tommy observed while glancing up at the snow capped mountains surrounding Jackson.

Joel only grunted in response. He was lost in thought trying to work out how to ask Tommy about his relationship with Maria and how they solve any issues that arise between them. Joel hated deferring to Tommy about anything, but he was desperate for insight into resolving conflict, and Tommy was the only person he could ask for help. Joel was struggling to find a way to segue the conversation, especially without revealing your relationship to Tommy.

"Maria's been like a crazy woman tryin' to knit all these sweaters for the kids," Tommy chuckled. "Balls of yarn everywhere."

Joel cleared his throat and tried to sound as casual as he could manage. "How're you and Maria goin'?"

Tommy gave him a sidelong glance. "We're okay. I mean, some days are better than others, but that's how it is in a marriage, ain't it?"

Joel rubbed his hands together to generate some warmth and kept his gaze fixed ahead of him as they walked. "You two disagree on much?"

Tommy's lips quirked into a small smirk. "Often. You know her well enough by now that Maria doesn't back down easy when she's got an idea in her head."

"How do ya deal with disagreements?" Joel asked offhandedly.

Tommy shrugged a little. "We work it out, we talk things through, compromise."

Joel nodded without looking at Tommy, but he could still feel Tommy's gaze on him.

Joel, unfamiliar with subtlety, struggled to come across nonchalant as he asked his next question. "Well, what if she was still angry at you for somethin', how do you get her to forgive you?"

Joel was still unable to face his brother directly so he didn't see the roguish twinkle in Tommy's eyes or the tiny smirk on his lips.

"Oh. Well, you know," Tommy tried hard to maintain his serious composure. "Depends what it is she's angry at me for. But in general I give her a bit of space and some time, tell her I'm sorry."

Joel was silent as he digested Tommy's response. He had apologised to you, told you that he loved you. But the idea of giving you space and time alone seemed almost unfathomable. Would that actually work?

Joel's focus is interrupted by Tommy's chuckle. Joel looks at him and grunts. "What?"

"Why you so interested in how I solve problems with Maria?" Tommy grinned at Joel. "Wouldn't have anythin' to do with that sweet gal who works at the library, would it?"

Joel stopped in his tracks and glared at his brother. "What?" He spat. Tommy came to a stanstill and chuckled, throwing his hands up in surrendering gesture.

"Come on, big brother. I know somethin's been goin' on between y'all for a while now. I ain't blind."

Joel's cheeks burned pink to hear Tommy's confession. Tommy had never given any indication that he knew about you and Joel; there had been no teasing jokes, no sly looks, no comments full of innuendo, all of which Joel would have expected from his little brother.

"How'd you...? Damnit, did Ellie-" Joel started to ask, then faltered. It didn't really matter how Tommy found out or when he did. He knew, and it wasn't possible for Joel to deny it.

"Ellie didn't tell me shit. How long did you think you could hide somethin' like that from me, Joel?" Tommy shook his head and began walking again. "I see the way you two look at each other."

Joel followed Tommy and grumbled lowly. "Don't tell nobody, Tommy. Ain't ready for that yet."

"Joel, I ain't head of the Jackson rumour mill, so relax. Don't know what a pretty thing like her sees in an old bastard like you, though."

The two men trudged along the snow laden ground in silence for a while, both occupied with their thoughts. Then Tommy cleared his throat and spoke softly.

"What's gonna happen with her, Joel?" He asked, turning his head to look at his brother. "You're old enough to be her father. Are you two gonna get married? Or you just havin' a bit of fun? What's your intentions?"

Joel furrowed his brows and seemed to deliberate the answer for a few beats, then muttered. "I don't know."

"Only askin' cos I know for a fact how soft that girl is," Tommy said earnestly. "She's different to alotta others 'round here."

I know, Joel thinks to himself. That's part of the reason why I love her.

Tommy glanced at Joel to make sure he was listening. "She's got a good heart, never causes any trouble. And she's smart."

"I know," Joel grunted.

"Don't take this the wrong way Joel, but you better not go and break that poor girl's heart over some bullshit," Tommy admonished.

Joel scowled at him. "What the fuck is that s'posed to mean?"

"It means you got issues," Tommy answered solemnly, staring right back at Joel. "I know you better than anyone else. There's alotta shit you haven't dealt with yet, stuff that's gonna make a relationship hard work."

Joel's jaw ticked with irritation but he said nothing. His silence made Tommy feel bold enough to continue speaking.

"I'm talkin' from experience, brother," Tommy admitted, his voice a little more gentle. "When I met Maria, I had alot of anger and sadness inside me. Didn't know how to deal with it, how to control it. Sometimes I'd just lash out, and it would scare her. One day she said she didn't like who I became when I lost control. Said she was going to leave if I didn't work on it."

Joel watched Tommy intently as he confessed this part of his private life. Since coming to live in Jackson, Joel had harboured an envious resentment toward Tommy for the seemingly perfect life he led with his own little family. Everything seemed so easy in Jackson. Tommy was physically strong, he was respected and well liked by the other residents, and he had a thriving family to share the fruits of this paradise with.

Part of this envy was because it still secretly pissed Joel off that Tommy had cut off communication with him back in Boston. Joel still felt a deep sense of betrayl and hurt stemming from the discovery of Tommy living in the luxury of Jackson, all the while Joel had agonised for his safety.

Therefore it never occured to Joel that his own brother, who had been both a raider and a Firefly throughout the collapse of the world, who now lived a healthy and happy existence in a safe community, could have ever struggled with similar internal battles.

"Realised I had to snap outta my bullshit quick, or else I would lose Maria forever. So I did." Tommy said with a heavy sigh. He looked at Joel with a hint of sorrow in his dark eyes. "I'm glad she said that, Joel."

Joel chewed on the inside of his cheek. He didn't particularly like Maria and he knew that she didn't quite approve of him, either. Joel's immediate reaction to what Tommy had said was to blame Maria, call her a controlling bitch who has always kept Tommy on a short leash. But Joel could see the point Tommy was trying to make.

"You want somethin' serious with her, then you need to fix the shit inside your head. You have to treat her right, Joel."

How was he supposed to do that, after over 20 years of living this way? He was at a loss as to how he could begin unravelling the decaying threads that had kept him stitched together for all this time.

"But just how the fuck do I do that, Tommy?" Joel growled. Tommy sighed and ran his fingers through his long black curls. He was trying to remain cool and forgiving of his brother's prickly temperament, aware of how difficult this whole conversation would be for him. He chose his words carefully and spoke calmly.

"Talk. Learn how to control your anger. Be patient. Give her time and space. If she loves you then she'll come back to you."

They walked in silence for the rest of the way to the horse stables. Joel appeared his usual characteristically stoic self but he was distracted by the convulted jumble of thoughts inside his head. Tommy's words swirled throughout his brain - talk. Control your anger. Space and time. He could talk to you about how you felt, how he felt, listen to what you wanted to say. But how was he supposed to give you space and time? What did that even mean? Let you leave him or some shit?

When they entered the barn they found Oscar stroking one of the horse's muzzle and murmuring words of affection to her.

"Mornin'," Tommy greeted him as they marched in. Joel only nodded to Oscar and then went straight to his horse to get loaded up.

"Hey Tommy, hey Joel," Oscar tipped his head in greeting. "Got Misty and Tex saddled and ready for you."

"Thanks," Tommy said, clapping a hand on Oscar's shoulder. "Listen, Troy needs me to cover some of his shifts startin' tomorrow." He lowered his voice a little. "You alright to fill in for me and work with Joel?"

"Yeah, sure," Oscar smiled. "Been a while since we worked together on patrol. A change will be good."

Tommy smiled back. "Yeah, well, I think some change will be good for him, too."

******

After work that evening Joel stopped into the Tipsy Bison with Tommy, Troy and a few others to have a drink. He needed to unwind, to let the burn of alcohol distract him from his woes. He let the whiskey wash over him as he only half listened to the men's conversation. Joel scanned his gaze across the bar and observed the different groups of people milling around the place. His eyes locked on a couple of women sitting on stools by the bar. They were around your age, hair styled and wearing what he guessed were their best clothes. They were both undeniably good looking - he's sure every man in the room would be dying to fuck them if given the chance. One of them, a dark haired beauty, was looking back at Joel and smiling coyly, a mischevious twinkle in her eye. He knew that look - the fuck me eyes and the fake innocence, a bold invitation for whatever the fuck you're up for. And he hated it.

It didn't interest Joel in the slightest bit. All he was interested in was you. Not a single woman could tempt him to betray his loyalty to you. He turned away from the women and threw back the last of his whiskey, then unceremoniously stood up and farewelled the men goodnight.

"Come on Miller, one more round!" One of them protested. Joel just shook his head and stalked to the entrance then disappeared through the saloon doors.

When he arrived back home the house was shroud in darkness and not a sound could be heard. Panic creeped up his spine. Where were you? Why weren't you waiting for him? Joel bound through the downstairs of the house to check each room, not bothering to remove his boots or his coat. The kitchen was still and empty. The living room was devoid of life, as was the laundry. Then he raced upstairs, two steps at a time, hoping to find you laying in bed asleep.

When Joel hurtled into the bedroom he did find you, but awake, sitting cross legged on his bed, a book open in your lap. Relief flooded over him and his body sagged against the doorframe as he caught his breath.

"There you are," Joel huffed.

"Why do you look so scared?" You asked, staring at him with unease.

Joel shook his head. "Nothing, don't matter."

He heaved himself off the doorframe and plodded over to the bed. He couldn't wait to settle under the covers with you and melt into a deep sleep. You shifted over from the edge to give him room, and he fell back on the mattress with a heavy groan.

There was silence in the room for a minute, then both of you started to speak at the same time.

"Joel I--"

"Baby--"

Joel lifted his head to look up at you but you were staring at the book in your lap. "What is it? What were you gonna say?" He asked.

"I want to stay at my place tonight," you said quietly. The unexpected admission surprised Joel so much that he quickly sat up and shifted his body to face you head on.

"Why? You're not happy here?" Joel was unable to disguise his vexation, causing the question to come out sharp, accusatory. He sucked in a breath and quickly tried to rein in his irritation, remembering Tommy's advice.

Control your anger. Control. Control.

Joel exhaled through his nose and gently took your chin between his thumb and finger and angled your head to look at him. He studied your beautiful face and absorbed the set of your features; your bottom lip pulled between your teeth, a lock of your hair swept over your forehead (why did you never wear ribbons in your hair anymore?), the vacant and weary expression in your eyes that made you appear ill.

"I'm not happy anywhere right now," you whispered. Joel had to turn his head slightly so that his good ear was closer to you.

"I said I was sorry," he rasped, throat suddenly dry. "I'm takin' care of you, ain't I?" He hated the inflection of slight panic in his voice; it made him feel desperate and weak.

"Yes, you are," you replied flatly, moving your head so he had to release your chin.

"So what, you wanna leave me?" Joel snapped suddenly, overwhelmed with his  conflicting emotions. "That it?"

"No, Joel," you spoke calmly, almost mechanically. Your voice sounded tired. "I just need some space. I'm not ready just yet to properly live together. I need some time to....to just heal. And I can't do that if I don't have space from you."

Joel sighed with frustration and pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger. He understood that you weren't prepared to live together officially after what he did to you, but he was going to force you anyway. Well, that had been his plan initially, before speaking to Tommy.

Joel was at a crossroads; he could coerce you and watch as you continued to deteriorate or he could be patient and wait for you to get over everything. If Joel wanted to keep you in his life then he had to prioritise your needs and wants over his own.

"Is that...is that somethin' you'd really want?" Joel asked, the deep timbre of his voice close to cracking. "That'll make you happy?"

You stared at him with large glassy eyes and slowly nodded your head. "Yes, Joel. I really do want that."

He huffed out a shaky breath and rolled his eyes up, shaking his head ever so slightly. It takes all his might to not argue with you and raise his voice and fiercely deny you. Joel wants nothing more than to scoop you into his arms and hold you tightly to his chest, to withdraw his permission to give you the space you seem to want so dearly. But he knows that it isn't possible and that he risks everything by forcing you.

"We can still spend our time together," you said softly. "Nothing will change...I just need to be in my own house."

Joel looked back down at you with dejection and grief swirling in his soulful brown eyes. He swears he can feel each and every tiny fracture that strikes at his heart in this very moment. He sniffed and brought his hand up to tenderly stroke your cheek with his thumb.

"Okay, baby," he whispered. "Just...tell me you ain't gonna leave me, yeah?"

You pressed your hand up to cup the back of his and nodded. "No, I won't."

The lack of warmth or sparkle in your eyes does nothing to reassure Joel. He still feels lost in darkness.

••••••

You woke up sweating and tangled in your bed sheets after another fitful sleep full of bad dreams that seemed so realistic. You had always suffered from the occasional nightmare, as every survivor did, but lately you had been plagued by them more often.

They were vivid dreams that always revolved around the deaths of your loved ones. Hordes of the infected, grostesque beings with faces mutilated by cordyceps, would chase you relentlessly through thick forests or abandoned towns. Sometimes Ellie was with you, sometimes your parents. The dreams always ended similarly, with one of you being caught and barbarically devoured.

Each dream was traumatic and so lifelike. But you found the worst ones to be the dreams involving Ellie. They seemed to be happening more and more lately. In the dreams you would both be running from the infected, your laboured breathing and the crunch of earth under your shoes loud in your ears. You were running so fast that it seemed like you were escaping from the mob after you and freedom was just on the horizon, so close and so tangible.

Then disaster would strike. Ellie would trip over and land heavily onto her chest, the fall knocking the wind out of her small body. You would scream at her to get up and try desperately to haul her back up on her feet. But she was so heavy, like a lead weight, and no matter how hard you tried you just couldn't lift her. She lay motionless with her big eyes staring up at you full of tears. You would be screaming and crying hysterically as the infected approached, their shrieks and screeches deafening in your ears.

You would look up to see the horrible creatures rushing toward you then you'd look back to Ellie. Except it wasn't Ellie staring back at you now. Her face had changed. Staring back at you now was you as a child, 12 years old and frightened out of your wits. Time stood still as you and your child self gazed at each other in anguished horror. You were paralysed. The screams would get louder as the horde closed in on you. You squeezed your eyes shut when they reached you and lunged at you. Then you were enveloped in black.

And that's when your conscience returns to the reality of living and you wake up in the safety of Joel's arms or alone in your bed, disorientated and close to hyperventilating. Having Joel's warm body enclosed around yours as he whispered soothingly during these moments of profound distress was a blessing. It was something that you missed on the nights he didn't stay with you and you startled awake. Truthfully, it was just about the only time you missed Joel these days.

It had been a week since you negotiated your return to your cottage. You reveled in the comfort of your home and the security of all its quirks and nooks; the squeak of the kitchen cupboard where the mugs were kept, the small watercolour painting that hung in your hallway, the missing tile in your shower alcove, the smell of your herbal teas on your kitchen windowsill.

Joel still visited most nights and slept in your bed, entangling you in his strong arms and long legs. He invaded all your senses at once; his sandalwood and pine scent filling your nostrils, his thick fingers sliding into your pussy, his plush lips pressing against your neck, his intense dark brown eyes gazing at your face full of desire. You still surrendered yourself to Joel but there was a niggling part deep inside your heart that wouldn't settle, that caused your body to instinctively flinch when he touched you or when he spoke.

Joel had been trying very hard to prove himself to you. He had been loving and gentle, affectionate and attentive. The sex was still amazing. He hadn't gotten angry or annoyed with you. Infact, Joel had changed so dramatically that you couldn't help a modicum of hateful resentment spiking deep inside you. Why had it taken him so long to change? After all the damage he had inflicted, why did he now try to be better?

Joel had even uttered those three simple words that you had waited so long to hear. When you heard him say I love you for the first time you were left speechless and his voice echoed through your head for days to come. But that shock gradually morphed into indignation the longer you thought about what Joel had done. And then that softly spoken declaration of love dissipated completely, outweighed and replaced by the other things he had said.

Disrespectful little bitch.
Whore.
Slut.

The passion in his insults still stung. The phantom grip of his hands all over your body still haunted you. You were suffocated by his presence and had to retreat to your own safe space, not just physically but emotionally. And emotionally that safe space was Oscar.

Your weekly lunch date quickly became the highlight of your week. He never failed to show up, always with a meal and some fruit tucked in his satchel. That one hour of spent with Oscar was a blissful reprieve from the depressive spiral you had gradually been descending into. Just the sight of his smile was enough to pierce through the darkness smothering your existence, like a speck of guiding gold light offering hope.

Joel had snuffed the flame of your spirit, leaving you abandoned in darkness. But Oscar was the one whose hand had found yours, knitting his fingers through your own and offering you refuge in his light. It was he who gave you hope, a reason to strive against the oppression of Joel's dark side and the survivor's guilt and depression, a reason to want to be happy.

You still loved Joel. You are sure a part of you will always love him. But he cannot fix what he has broken inside you, no matter how dedicated he is in trying to repair the ruins between you. The more time passes, the clearer it becomes that you can no longer love him as you once did.

••••••

Oscar stands infront of the small mirror in his bathroom and runs a comb through his thick black hair. He hasn't shaved for the last three days and the stubble growing on his face is already prickly. He wonders if he should let it grow, if he looks better with a beard. He recalls the way you looked at him at the Tipsy Bison that night, the first time seeing him without the extra hair. Your eyes were twinkling with a mixture of something like intrigue and surprise, and what he believes - hopes - was a spark of attraction.

No, he decides. He will shave tomorrow.

Oscar splashes cold water on his face and brushes the sleep from his eyes. He doesn't take long to get ready for work, preferring to instead save enough time to eat a plate of scrambled eggs and have a cup of tea at a leisurely pace. He had spent far too many years on the brink of starvation to neglect his body's need for regular meals, and therefore he treats food with reverence. Once he's finished his breakfast Oscar washes his dishes and leaves the house for the stables.

On the walk there Oscar absorbs the sights and sounds around him. The snow on the trees lining the street look like powdered sugar, reminding Oscar of the donuts displayed in the window of the Jackson bakery. The sweet melody of chirping birds carries along the chilly breeze sweeping through the town, and the sounds feel like a warm morning greeting to Oscar. He stuffs his hands into his coat pockets and continues on his way, mentally preparing himself for the day ahead of him.

Joel is already at the stables when Oscar arrives. They greet each other and saddle their horses together, then go to the patrol post at the community gates to sign the log book and collect their rifles. Joel mounts his usual steed, a brown stallion named Tex, while Oscar hoists himself up onto his favourite mare, Misty. They trot through the massive gates of Jackson and set off on the well established route they have been assigned to.

Joel knows this route like the back of his hand. He doesn't need a map to navigate where they are going; he already knows what directions to take, every landmark that acts as a measurement of distance and time. The men settle into a companionable silence while they ride, and it isn't until an hour has passed that one of them says more than a handful of words.

"Tommy said Troy needed a week off," Oscar speaks up. "Is it his knee again?"

"It plays up in the cold," Joel grunts. "Gives him hell."

Like Joel, Troy had survived through many battles and escapades with both men and mutants, and he had the scars to prove it. Troy was younger and stronger than Joel, his body solidly built with more muscle and fat, but he was often plagued with aches and arthritis from old injuries. Joel empathised with Troy; his own back gave him much grief, the pain stemming all the way back to his contracting days.

"Check point is just up ahead," Joel announces. "We'll stop and survey the area, but I gotta piss first."

"Alright."

Less than half a mile away was a clearing that served as the first stopping point in the route. Joel and Oscar steer the horses to the glade and dismount them. Oscar stands and stretches his arms up over his head, sighing contentedly, then looks out over the small valley below them. The land is blanketed with snow and dotted with patches of green shrubs and trees. The vast Wyoming land is encompassed by the formidable grey mountains that sit in the distance. Oscar soaks up the sight before him, speechless by the panorama for a few moments.

"This view is surreal," Oscar remarks reverently. "Beautiful, like a dream."

Joel cracks his neck and pulls off the sling of his rifle from over his shoulder. "Speakin' of dreams, you been havin' any more bad ones lately?"

"Not many, actually. Work's been so busy that I just about pass out when I get home. And...well...I guess I've just been a bit happier lately," Oscar replies with a light-hearted smile.

Joel huffs a laugh and takes hold of his rifle. "Yeah? Finally got yourself a woman, huh?" He bends down to set the gun to stand against a large rock.

"I don't wanna say too much but...yeah, there's kinda someone," Oscar says, bashful as he rubs the back of his neck.

Joel tethers Tex's reins to a branch of one of the nearby trees before pacing a few feet away to urinate. When he finishes and ambles back to Oscar and the horses Joel resumes the conversation.

"What's she like?" Joel asks as he reaches down and picks his rifle up once again. Oscar strokes Misty's muzzle, his back facing Joel.

"Well, she's a real sweetheart. Smart, loves to read. Really cares about others, you know what I mean? Like kids and old people."

Joel's breath catches in his throat and his hand immediately tightens around the handguard of his rifle. Is Oscar talking about you?

Have you been cheating on him?

No, you can't be. You love him, not Oscar.

You'd never do that. Oscar must be talking about some other woman.

Joel knows he needs to appear indifferent if he wants to find out more information; getting angry when he doesn't have any details would do more damage than good. Joel slings his rifle over his shoulder, then reaches into his pocket and fishes out his flask. He carries out these actions slowly as he thinks of how to respond.

How the hell is he supposed to ask Estrada if he's fucking his woman? And goddamnit, it's not like he would have known you belong to Joel.

Unless you told him. Did you?

In this moment Joel wants nothing more than to show Estrada and every single person in Jackson that you are his - perhaps in some grand sweeping display of dominance. But for now he has to focus on what he can do, which is interrogating the younger man without scaring him.

Joel takes a deep breath to help compose himself enough to carry on the conversation. "Yeah? How long has somethin' been goin' on between you two?"

Oscar flips open his satchel and rummages around inside it for some of the jerky he always has stashed in one of the pockets. "We have been friends for a while now, but it isn't been anything more than just hanging out, you know?"

Hanging out.

Have you been seeing him since he left working at the library?

Where? Why?

Joel watches Oscar's every movement, every expression, searching for the sincerity in his words, any telltale sign of dishonesty. But Joel already knows that Oscar isn't the kind of man who lies or showboats.

"You ain't told her you got feelings?" Joel asks impassively.

"Not outrightly so. Not yet." Oscar responds with a sigh that clearly conveys his chagrin. "Guess I've been too chicken shit to do it."

Joel pops open the lid of the flask and takes a swig of scotch. The burn of it helps calms his nerves. "She feels the same, you reckon?"

Oscar locates the small bundle of jerky and pulls it from the satchel. "Well, I think so. She said I'm the only guy she is comfortable with. And she gives me these looks, like she wants more."

Joel pictures you standing infront of Oscar and flirting with him, shyly batting the lashes of your pretty eyes. Those same eyes that used to gaze at him with so much passion when he fucked you senseless. Joel's belly clenches with white hot envy at the thought of Oscar being the subject of your adoration instead of himself.

He shuts the flask and shoves it back into his jacket pocket.

"But she's not the kind to make the first move." Oscar explains earnestly. "She's quiet, shy. Would rather get lost in a book than be the life of the party."

It is you.

Estrada is talking about you. That he has feelings for you and you probably reciprocate them, and that he's the only man you feel comfortable with.

Joel whips around to avoid Oscar's gaze. Flames of jealous fury lick up the nape of his neck and burn into the back of his eyes. His nostrils flare as his breathing speeds up, his heart pounding in his ears.

Are you fucking Estrada?

Are you going to leave him and end up with this weak piece of shit and let him be the one to fuck you and own you?

Both of Joel's fists are balled so tightly into themselves that the skin of his knuckles have turned white. It takes all of Joel's might and willpower to suppress the poisonous wrath coursing through his body. The primal, more reactionary part of Joel's brain says to shoot Oscar in the face instantly, and if Joel were in his younger raider years he would have splattered the man's brains out onto the dazzling white snow without a second thought.

He could easily dispose of Oscar's body somewhere in the vast expanse of forest land surrounding them, no trace of him left behind to ever to be found. Joel imagines being surrounded by a large group of townsfolk on his return and delivering the tragic news that his patrol partner died while out on a routine patrol route. Maybe Joel would say Oscar was viciously mauled by a clicker out of no where, or maybe raiders ambushed them and fatally shot him. No one would question the validity of Joel's version of Oscar's demise; why would he lie? And after all, Joel was one of the very best patrolmen in Jackson and he surely would've done everything he could to save Oscar.

But by some miracle Joel is narrowly able to restrain the impulse to murder Oscar. He reminds himself over and over that he must control his fury. Control, control, control. He consciously regulates his breathing, inhaling through his nose and then exhaling through his mouth. The anger seems to slowly dissolve and leech into Joel's blood stream, icy and venomous as it flows through his veins, no longer imminent in its threat but nonetheless still alive.

Joel immediately realises he has to do something about this friendship between you and Oscar. There is no way in hell that he will allow this to go on, and behind his back, no less. Before all this bullshit happened on Jackson's birthday, Joel would've stalked straight into that library to teach you a lesson; he would have marked you all over with his mouth and teeth and then he would have fucked all your holes.

But things are different now, and Joel has to find other ways to deal with the situation that's been presented to him. He needs to come up with a plan that will tear you and Oscar apart without implicating himself in the destruction.

When Joel remains quiet and does not show any response, Oscar shakes his head and let's out a sheepish groan. "Shit, sorry for boring you with this stuff, man. I don't tend to talk about this kinda thing with anyone, I guess it's all come rushing out."

"Hope it all works out for ya, man," Joel says gruffly with his back still facing Oscar. "Now let's get back on route."

"Thanks, man." Oscar calls out.

Joel's jaw ticks. He has found benefit in Tommy's advice of controlling his temper; the discipline allows Joel the ability to strategically plan, to contemplate different courses of action in order to gain an advantage in a situation. And if executed effectively, Joel knows the repercussions of those plans could destroy you and Oscar.

••••••

The next morning Joel arrived at the patrol post for his shift earlier than usual. He flipped through the pages of the large hardcover log book where each ranger recorded their name, the day, and the starting time and ending time of their shift.

The first lined column of the page detailed the week of the day and in the next was where the times were written. The following columns showed the rangers names and their signatures, as well as a space for comments and notes about that particular shift.

Joel scanned along the name column in search of Oscar's name. He discovered that on average Oscar was working patrol three days a week, always on Tuesday, Thursday and Friday. He also worked at the stables on Monday, Wednesday and Sunday, sometimes on the Saturday as well. Joel's tongue licked along the inside of his cheek as he contemplated what this meant.

If you and Oscar were spending time together, it would have to be during the day - night time would be impossible for you because you were with Joel or Ellie so often. Oscar wouldn't be able to see you during the day when he was on patrol, so that cancelled out Tuesday, Thursday and Friday. And you wouldn't be able to meet Oscar on the days you were at school without children and teachers gossiping. No, you needed more privacy than what the school environment was able to offer.

That left your library shifts. It made sense. It was the perfect place for more clandestine meetings and it was where you two had met. Joel's jaw clenched at the thought of you and Oscar alone together.

Joel deduced that the only day you worked there in which Oscar could possibly visit you was Wednesdays.

Wednesday. Five days time.

Just enough time for Joel to make sure you stayed his.

••••••

That Saturday night Ellie came to Joel's for family dinner and movie night. Despite the limited range of movies available in Jackson, Ellie located a tape that neither of you had seen before. It was always exciting to watch a VHS movie on Joel's large analog television. It was an activity Joel and Ellie used to enjoy together, however it had become a rare occurrence in the last year or so that Ellie had become more independent and sociable. So although Joel grumbled about staying up late to watch a ridiculous movie, you knew he secretly loved the opportunity to spend time with Ellie in the comfort of the living room, snuggled by blankets and pillows and a big bowl of popcorn.

At dinner time the three of you sat at the dining table to eat the soup and freshly baked bread you had made that evening. As usual, Ellie was the centre of attention and was entertaining the two of you with stories of her work escapades and what her and her friends had gotten up to that week.

"Hey, you know that Oscar guy?" Ellie asks eagerly. "Works at the stables and does patrol?"

Your heart skips a beat to hear Oscar's name spoken and your head automatically turns to look at Ellie across the dining table. She grins and raises her eyebrows like she is dying to share some kind of secret with you both.

"Partnered on patrol with him this week," Joel replies casually before taking a fork full of potato into his mouth.

The throwaway comment surprises you and you momentarily freeze, your spoon stilling in the middle of scooping a spoonful of soup. The thought of Oscar and Joel working alongside one another makes you uneasy, like their proximity is a ticking time bomb waiting to explode. You haven't cheated on Joel but he doesn't know how close you and Oscar are or how profound your friendship is, and if Oscar were to somehow mention you then you're sure Joel would not be pleased.

"Well, Uncle Tommy said he'd show me how to throw an axe, just like the competition we saw!" Ellie exlaims enthusiatically, looking from you to Joel. "So he took me today and Oscar and that Matt guy tagged along and we had our own competition to see who was the best."

You secretly glance at Joel to gauge his reaction but he appears apathetic as he eats, shoulders hulking as he leans over his bowl, eyes trained on the soup before him.

"Uncle Tommy was bragging that he would kick their asses but then Oscar beat him like, three times in a row!" Ellie snickered, shaking her head at the fond memory. "It was fucking hilarious."

You picture Oscar gripping the heavy wooden handle of an axe, its blade sharp and glinting dangerously in the sunlight. You imagine the determined expression on his face as he eyes the target ahead, how his stance shifts into the best position for him to pull back and launch the weapon. You imagine his shirt sleeves rolled up to his biceps, revealing the olive skin of his forearms.

Oh, how you wished you could have been there.

Joel remains quiet and does not acknowledge Ellie's anecdote, so you muster a little smile and nod at her to show you've been listening. "That sounds like fun," you supply.

"Yeah it was. You guys should come watch next time." Ellie slurps some soup before turning her attention to Joel. "So do you and Oscar like, chill when you're not on patrol?"

"Nah," Joel grunts, not meeting Ellie's eyes. "I'm too busy workin'." He pauses for a few beats before adding, "and he's busy with some mystery woman alotta the time, forgot what he said her name was."

Your spoon drops from your hand and clatters down into your bowl with a sudden clang. No one notices and Ellie continues talking, but Joel's words ring in your ears.

Oscar has a woman...and they spend alot of time together.

Why had he never told you? Is that why he was so busy for all those weeks, is that why he didn't visit you in the library when he stopped working with you?

Tears prick at your eyes and threaten to spill over your lash line. You hurriedly blink them away and discreetly wipe your eyes with your sleeve.

You stupid, stupid girl.

You have no right to feel like that, your mind hisses. How can you feel betrayed when you've done exactly the same thing, seeing Joel without telling Oscar anything? Oscar has every right to be happy with someone else and it's none of your business.

And you know this well. You want Oscar to be happy in any way he can be. He deserves it. And if that happiness is found with another woman, one you know nothing about, then so be it. You should wish him good luck and be glad that he's got someone to share his life with.

But why did it have to work out like this? Why hadn't I met Oscar before Joel?

You nibble on the inside of your lip and try to quell the deluge of emotions and thoughts flooding your mind. You raise your head to look at Joel and find he's already staring at you. He looks handsome in the soft light of the dining room with his fluffy greying curls and his rich chocolate brown eyes sparkling at you. You offer him a tiny smile, disguising the hurt swirling around your heart. Joel's lips curl into a little smirk in return and he winks at you, then turns his attention back to Ellie's rambling.

You glance over to Ellie and watch her speak animatedly to Joel, marvelling at how her eyes glint with mischievous charm, how the corners of her mouth curve into her endearing smile, similar to her adoptive father. Oh, how your heart aches for Ellie. You need to focus on the family you've created with Joel and Ellie, this precious piece of life that you have been given. It's what you've always wanted, after all. And now you have it, you cannot throw it away.

••••••

The following Tuesday morning Joel paid a visit to Tommy at his home. Maria had already left the house for the day to get an early start on the tasks assigned to her by the committee, which suited Joel fine. He never felt completely comfortable being around Maria. He always felt like she was judging his every word and action. Joel sensed it in the way she watched him like a hawk whenever he played with her and Tommy's two children, or how she seemed to incessantly quiz he and Ellie during every family dinner they attended.

Nosey bitch, Joel thought.

But this morning Joel was thankful to be able to relax without Maria lurking by. The brothers chatted in the kitchen as Tommy stood at the stove frying a pan full of eggs and strips of bacon. Joel leaned against the kitchen counter next to him and sipped on the slightly bitter black coffee Tommy had made.

"I tell ya, won't be long til Ellie gets the hang of that axe," Tommy chuckled. "Better watch out, big brother."

"Anyone gets hurt and you're responsible," Joel grumbled good naturedly. He slurped a mouthful of coffee and scratched the scruff along the side of his jaw.

"Deal," Tommy smirked and poked the sizzling bacon with the spatula in his hand. "So, how's everythin' goin' with your lady? She forgiven you yet?"

Joel rolled his eyes and shifted his weight on his feet, obviously uncomfortable with Tommy's candour. "Better. But I gotta favour to ask you."

Tommy glanced at Joel and raised his eyebrows. "What can I do for ya?"

"Need to swap my Wednesday shift," Joel said before taking another sip, purposely avoiding Tommy's gaze.

Tommy sighed and flipped one of the eggs in the pan. "Already had Troy off last week. It's been hard gettin' shifts filled lately, you know how sickness goes around."

"Yeah I know, but Tommy, I need tomorrow free," Joel explained firmly. "I'll owe ya one."

Tommy hummed thoughtfully. "You gonna tell me what's goin' on?"

Joel placed his coffee mug down on the kitchen counter. "Just wanna spend some time with her, that's all. Tryin' to change for the better, like ya said."

Tommy smiled to himself, seemingly pleased that his brother had listened to his advice. "Joel Miller, a romantic," he mused teasingly.

"Shut up," Joel muttered. "Now will ya cover me or what?"

Tommy nodded. "Yeah, okay. But I can't do a double shift - Maria would kill me."

"So ask someone else," Joel shrugged. He tried to appear like he was sincerely thinking of different suggestions for who might be available. "Well, who ain't rostered on Wednesdays? What about...Harry? Or....or Estrada?"

Joel knew Harry was already working at the blacksmith sheds tomorrow and wouldn't be able to swap onto a patrol shift. Joel also knew full well that Oscar was at the stables and would easily be able to fill in.

Tommy smoothed his moustache with his thumb and forefinger and clicked his tongue. "I reckon Oscar might be able to."

And there we go, Joel thought smugly as a triumphant glow spread wide across his chest. So fuckin' easy.

He clapped his hand on Tommy's shoulder. "Look, leave it with me, I'll go arrange it with him. Save you the trouble."

"Good," Tommy laughed and nodded along. He turned off the burner on the stove and gave his brother a wry grin. "Cos I don't need anymore headaches, asshole. Now get the plates and let's eat."

••••••

It was your day at the library and also the day of your weekly lunch date with Oscar. You were nervous to see him, having spent the last few days contemplating if you should bring up the question of whether or not he was now seeing someone.

It is not your business, you kept reminding yourself, you need to let it go.

Each week on Wednesday, like clockwork, Oscar arrived at the library at noon. But today he didn't come strolling through the door at the expected time. You watched the clock intently as the minutes progressed. When he still hadn't shown by 12.15pm you reasoned that there must be a mountain of work to do at the stables and he's just running a little late. You continued to wait patiently, still taring at the ticking hands of the clock on the wall opposite where you stood.

At 12.30pm you began to panic. Perhaps something had happened to Oscar. What if there had been an accident at the stables? Or maybe Oscar was sick? But then you remembered Joel's revelation at dinner last week and his words rang in your ears like a jeering jingle.

"He's busy with some mystery woman alotta the time."

You couldn't help the taunting feeling of rejection that came creeping into your mind. What if Oscar had stood you up to go see this woman instead? What if he had forgotten about you?

You shook your head to rid yourself of the intrusive thoughts but as the minutes passed by excruciatingly slow, your spirit sunk lower and lower into the pit of your stomach.

When he hadn't shown up by 1.30pm all you wanted to do was go home and curl up in bed to wallow in your sorrow.

Then the door bell jingled. Your head quickly snapped toward the door.

But it wasn't Oscar who had finally arrived. Instead, you were met by the sight of Joel purposefully striding into the library with a satisfied grin on his face. His hair was slicked back, fresh from the shower, and he wore a black long sleeved shirt underneath his Carhartt jacket. You were even more unnerved by how gorgeous he looked.

"J-Joel?" You stuttered, completely dumbfounded. You couldn't even remember the last time Joel had been inside the library.

"Hey, baby," Joel drawled silkily as he approached you.

"H-hi," You mumbled dumbly, still awestruck by his presence.

Joel wrapped an arm around your waist and gathered you into his broad chest, his other hand coming up to cradle the side of your face tenderly in his palm. He tilted your face up at him while he stared down at you with a loving adoration in his gaze. Your tummy fluttered with nervous excitement, then Joel bent his head to kiss you softly on the mouth.

The smell of soap mixed with Joel's scent engulfed your nostrils as you surrendered to the kiss. His tongue slipped into your mouth and lapped at your own in slow rolling strokes, making you moan softly. Joel squeezed your waist and you reached up to run your fingers through his hair.

You forced Oscar from your mind. You had to, otherwise the pain of disappointment would be too much.

Joel continued to sensually kiss you and your whole body wilted into his strong chest. The familiarity of his warm body enveloping you somehow felt simultaneously comfortable and tantalising, so simple yet so arousing.

Maybe I do belong here, you randomly mused.

When you felt the thick press of Joel's hardened dick against you it caused an involuntary lustful stirring inside your belly. You soon forgot about Oscar and all you could focus on was Joel. The minty taste of his saliva with a hint of coffee. The light tickle of his moustache on your lips. The wide expanse of his palm cupping your face. How his aquiline nose fit so perfectly against your face.

Your clit throbbed with desire. You couldn't resist the way your body responded to him any longer. You were about to grind your pelvis against Joel's crotch when he gently pulled away from the kiss.

"Wait," you whined, confused and frustrated.

Joel stroked his thumb over your cheekbone as he looked down at you, smirking with cocky satisfaction. "Now babydoll, before we get carried away here, I got somethin' for you."

"Uhm, okay," you whispered, uncertain what to expect.

Joel released you from his grasp and took a step backward. You watched, intrigued, as he reached into his jacket pocket and retrieved a white handkerchief folded into a small square. It had a delicate lace trimming along its edges.

"Open your hand," Joel instructed you softly. You obediantly held out your hand with your palm facing up and Joel carefully placed the handkerchief onto it.

"What is it?" You asked, your eyes flickering up to look at Joel uncertainly.

"Open and see," he said with a nod to your hand.

You carefully unfurled the pretty white material in your hand and found a delicate gold chain curled in the middle. You gasped. It was the necklace from the shoebox you had found while snooping through Joel's possessions. You swallowed and reminded yourself to act surprised in order not to raise Joel's suspicions.

You held up the necklace to study it closer and noticed just how pretty the attached jewel pendant was. As you dangled it infront of you the light reflected off the jewel, causing it to twinkle mesmerically. You hadn't remembered it being so attractive when you briefly spied it in the shoebox. Now that you held it close, you could appreciate just how beautiful it was.

"Wow," you breathed, eyes fixated on the piece of jewellery. "Wow...this is amazing, Joel."

"Just for you, baby," Joel murmered. "You like it?"

You couldn't help giving him a shy little smile. "I do," you whispered truthfully. "Thank you."

Joel smiled back at you and leaned in to press a chaste kiss on your forehead. He watched the delight in your expression as you examined the necklace, pride bursting inside his heart at being the one to make you smile.

Joel ended up staying with you at the library for a while to keep you company and browse through some of the book titles. When a horde of noisy school children came barging in through the door, you looked at him and laughed, knowing that he would make a hasty escape.

As Joel was about to walk out the door he spied a folded piece of paper peeking out from under the welcome mat just inside the entrance. He discreetly bent down and picked it up before stalking away towards home.

Back at his house Joel made sure to tear up the paper into tiny irretrievable pieces. He needed to make sure that you could never read the apologetic note Oscar had written. He must have slipped under the library door before his patrol shift earlier that morning, Joel presumed.

•••••

It is busy in the mess hall that night. It's close to 8pm, the latter part of the dinner shift, so the families and children have already eaten and are now home, tucked up safe and warm in their beds. Most of the residents occupying the mess hall now are workers who began later in the day, such as the afternoon labourers that took over from the morning crews.

You and Rhi sit at one of the smaller tables amongst the throng of diners and pick at the food on your plates. You listen to her impassioned report about why her supervisor is a control freak, how the sewing machines at the haberdashery need maintenance but no one listens to her, and that she is sick of being condescended to because of her age. You nod along sympathetically. Although Rhi can be obstinate at times, you know she's a dedicated seamstress who takes her craft seriously and you dislike seeing her be treated so unfairly.

Joel is already seated and eating dinner with Troy, Tommy, Harry and Oscar. His gaze fell upon you the moment you walked into the mess hall and he found himself furtively glancing your way every so often. He only half listens to the trivial conversation going on around him, not really interested in the bantering and amicable debates the other patrolmen liked to engage in.

Joel wasn't the only one to notice your presence, though. He clocked the way Oscar's head turned in your direction and the way his back straightened when he spied you. Oscar wasn't adept at disguising his feelings very well, Joel had come to learn. He could see the yearning on Oscar's face as clear as day.

Christ, the bastard had really fallen for you.

Sometime later, when the men had almost finished eating their meal, Tommy excuses himself and disappeares to the kitchen. Joel lazily picks at his teeth with a toothpick and observes you and Rhi.

Damn, you're so beautiful, especially when you're so unaware that you're being watched, he thinks.

Tommy returns a minute later and throws a conspiratorial wink at his older brother as he sits back down at the table. Joel leans back in his chair and folds his arms and patiently waits to see his plan unfold.

It's only another minute before a woman approaches their table and shyly clears her throat. The men look at her expectantly but she seems to zero in on Oscar.

"Excuse me," she speaks, voice silky and polite. "Oscar, I was wondering if I could have a word?"

Oscar raises an eyebrow at the woman. "Me?" He asks her, confounded.

She nods coyly and hitches a thumb over her shoulder. "Maybe over this way, for a bit of privacy?"

The patrolmen give each other teasing smirks while Oscar stands up and follows the woman. Their eyes watch Oscar and the woman as they walk to an unoccupied space a few tables away and stand to talk.

"Whose she? What's that all about?" Harry pipes up.

"Tryin' my hand at a bit of matchmakin'," Tommy answers with a cheeky grin. "Joel figures we should get him set up with someone."

"Why, Joel Miller," Troy laughs heartily. "Regular ol' cupid, huh?"

Joel rolls his eyes and mutters. "Shut the fuck up."

The men all laugh and glance back over at Oscar.

It is in the same moment that you catch sight of Oscar for the first time tonight. Seeing his face sends a shameful pang of dejection spearing into your heart. He stood you up and now here he is without a care in the world. He doesn't appear to be injured or unwell, either. Infact he looks really good.

And he's also with a woman.

You swallow thickly.

This must be the mystery woman.

You watch them intently and realise you recognise who she is. Her name is Gayle. You had known her from your time on cleaning and food prep duty. Gayle was a friendly woman and easy to talk to. She was also beautiful, with long blonde hair and light blue eyes and a wide smile. She was probably around Oscar's age, perhaps even a bit older.

You watch the interaction from where you sit, hating the wretched bubbles of envy simmering in your guts. Oscar is facing away from you but you have a clear view of Gayle and the bright smile plastered on her face, aswell as the enthusiasm in her body language. You wish you could hear their conversation and what he's saying to her.

It doesn't matter, though. The scene is too much for you to bear. It hurts to see him but it hurts your heart even more to see him with another woman.

You're such an idiot.

You quickly mumble to Rhi that you are done eating and want to go home. Rhi feels the same. When you both stand up to leave the table you are suddenly blockaded by three men. They stand tall infront of you with their arms crossed, exuding an intimidating air of arrogance. They leer at you and Rhi with taunting smirks carved on their faces.

"Hey babe, where'd you disappear to?" The blonde ranger chuckles to Rhi.

Oh, this must be that asshole who touched her.

"Anywhere you wouldn't be, apparently." Rhi spits back. "Get out of our way, Beau."

He shakes his head and grins down at her. "Nah, I want another chance. What do you say, baby? Ya didn't even let me get a proper turn."

Rhi growls and stabs her forefinger into his chest. "Listen here, dickface. I don't want anything to do with you, so fuck off."

The three of them snicker. The Beau tuts at Rhi leans closer to her face, now completely invading your space. "Maybe I'll just have to fuck your little friend here, then she can tell you what you're missing out on."

Suddenly you're aware of the loud thud of boots stomping against the floor, but before your mind can register what's happening, Joel's meaty hand grabs onto Beau's shoulder and wrenches him backwards. He stumbles.

"What the fuck?"

Joel shoulders himself past the men and stands beside you and Rhi.

"Think the ladies made themselves clear the first time, boys," Joel barks. "They ain't interested."

The young men seem to recognise Joel and the obnoxious smirks fall from their faces immediately. One of the dark haired men visibly loses all his confidence and shuffles back a few steps away from Joel and his friends. Beau is clearly the ring leader of the group as he remains standing where he is, chest puffed out and glowering petulantly between Joel and Rhi.

"She's being a tease," the blonde ranger argues back indignantly "Flirts with me from across the room and then acts like a bitch when I try talk to her!"

Rhi scoffs loudly and rolls her eyes. "Yeah right, Beau."

You glance up at Joel to see his steely gaze pinned to the young man, his furrowed brows and clenching jaw signalling his aggravation. Beau was almost as tall as Joel but no where near as imposing in strength and presence. He looked foolish standing infront of Joel trying to justify himself. The hall has fallen silent and everyone has turned to watch the confrontation unfold before them.

"That should tell ya she ain't interested." Joel said through gritted teeth.

"Well, her friend hasn't said anything," the other ranger quips, gesturing to you. "You don't speak for both of them."

A seething wrath blazes in Joel's eyes when the arrogant words fall from the young man's mouth. The air is uncomfortably thick with tension. You shuffle backwards a little and press against Rhi's side and, sensing your unease, she slips her arm around your side.

"Matter of fact, I do. And she ain't interested, either. Now get the fuck outta here before I break your jaw." Joel growls.

Joel steps closer to the younger men, challenging them to dare defy him. You swear you can feel the collective suspense of the townsfolk all around you. Your heart beat pounds in your ears as your eyes darting back and forth between Joel and the others.

All the self assured macho arrogance drains from the three men's faces at the threat of Joel Miller beating the shit out of them. Their shoulders slump in defeat and then they begin to walk away, scoffing and sneering as they leave, their anger at being rejected now exacerbated by their humiliation. One of them mutters "whatever, man" under his breath and Beau glares at Rhi. She sticks her middle finger up at him.

"You okay?" Joel asks.

He's addressing both you and Rhi but his soulful brown eyes are trained solely on you. His brows are furrowed with worry. You stare back up at him and nod, dumbstruck by such a public display of his concern.

"Yeah, thanks for that, Joel." Rhi answers with a smile. "I reckon they won't be a problem anymore."

Joel glances at her and nods curtly, then looks back to you. You feel captivated by the expressive beauty of his features, like how his mouth parts ever so slightly, as if he is breathless, and the almost sorrowful way his gaze roams all over your face. There is no trace of anger reflected in Joel now, only a gentle protectiveness that makes your tummy feel fluttery. The intimacy of the moment between you and Joel makes you forget about the rest of the townsfolk surrounding you. You feel the sudden urge to kiss him.

"Can I walk you home?" Joel asks you, his voice soft but gravelly.

"Yes, please," you whisper back. Rhi slips her arm from around your waist and chuckles.

"Strong and chivalrous. I guess you'll be safe without me," Rhi chuckles as she slips her arm from around your waist. "Go have fun."

You flash a shy smile at her and she gives you an enthusiastic nod of encouragement. Joel steps aside and holds his arm out, gesturing for you to stand and walk next to him. You sidle up beside Joel and feel his hand come to rest possessively on your lower back. The magnitude of this exhibition is profound - no one has ever witnessed Joel Miller actually touch a woman before, and doing so with such reverence and familiarity. It is a statement, a declaration. Joel has claimed you.

He escorts you through the mess hall to up to the door. "Come on baby, let's go home," he murmers close to your ear. He pushes open the door and pulls you close against him in order to squeeze through the threshold together, and you giggle.

You don't look behind you, not even to check if everyone is still watching you (which they are). You don't see Rhi proudly grinning after you, or Tommy smirking quietly to himself. You don't see Oscar or his crestfallen expression, or how his orbs swim with woeful disappointment to see you walk away with another man.

Chapter Text

You walk with Joel back to his house without saying a word. After the confrontation at the mess hall there is a sense of exhilaration flowing throughout your whole body; you feel so light and free like you're walking on a cloud, with your heart thumping but your mind blank, still not having processed just what happened. All you can focus on is Joel's firm hand against your back and how safe and protected you feel in this moment.

You huddle closer to Joel to shield yourself against the cold night wind that whips against your cheeks. The cold weather has not eased and the amount of snowfall that has graced the landscape recently most likely indicates that it will continue for a while yet. The warmth of Joel's body radiates onto you and you whimper, feeling like a kitten yearning for somewhere soft to sleep. When you press your face into his side and inhale, taking comfort in his familiar scent, Joel's arm wraps tightly around your waist.

At the house Joel shuffles into the living room and flops down onto his arm chair with a grunt. He bends forward to remove his boots while you slip your shoes off at the front door. Now that you are surrounded by the quiet privacy of the house, away from the din of the mess hall and the prying eyes of other people, your high begins to evaporate. The weight of reality sinks ontop of your head and pours a flurry of questions down into your brain.

You need to talk about it, you need to know.

"Why did you do that?" You ask quietly as you unwind the scarf from your neck. You hang it on one of the coat hooks by the door. "And for Rhi, too? I thought you hated my friends."

Joel manspreads and leans back into the chair, the muscles of his body visibly relaxing as he settles against the cushion. You watch him while you remove your coat, your eyes falling to the way he dangles one of his hands by the inside of his thigh, close to his crotch. It is so effortlessly and distractingly sexy - why does Joel have to be so handsome, so strong, so beautiful?

He tilts his head to the side slightly and regards you with an almost scornful air.

"You really think I'd let some asshole talk to my woman like that?" Joel scoffs. "Or to any woman, for that matter?"

You stand still by the door contemplating his words. You couldn't ever deny that Joel was overprotective, but to witness him defend you publicly - and your friend, who he had expressed disdain for in the past - had left you astonished. It was exciting to witness him assert his authority over someone else for your sake, to reprimand someone for merely speaking about you disrespectfully. It was also undeniably arousing.

"Didn't see no one else pull him into line," Joel added.

You bow your head and scuff your socked foot back and forth over the floorboard. The mention of this observation stung you more than you expected, perhaps because it was true. Oscar had not defended you; he hadn't even noticed what was happening because he was too busy flirting with Gayle. You knew you shouldn't feel disappointed. You had no right to feel failed by him, not when you and Oscar weren't even together, but especially because you were still technically with Joel.

You needed to suppress these useless emotions, these feelings that were pointless to cling to when they seemed so nonsensical.

Joel had done what he vowed to do. He was trying to fix the damage he had caused, trying to show that he was sorry. He had finally given you what you had wanted all along. And although deep down in the depths of your heart you believed the destruction to be irrevocable, you now felt you had little choice but to carry on. You had a family with Joel and Ellie, and he had proved he loved you and wanted to protect you.

And Oscar, your sweet, kind Oscar...he had found someone to love, someone to spend his time with, someone who was actually worthy of him.

You had to accept that this was your life. You had to try rekindle some of the lost love you had for the man infront of you.

"Yes, that's true," you admit quietly without looking up. You toy with the end of your braid that hung over your shoulder, awkward and unsure what to say next.

"Don't matter, though. Only matters that I was there, baby." Joel assures you gently, as if offering you comfort from something that had upset you.

You glimpse at Joel from under your lashes and see how his large puppy dog eyes stare at you with sincerity, serious yet soft, silently beseeching you to understand his devotion. In this instant you can't help the endearment that tugs at your heart.

"Now come here," Joel urges with a pat of his large hand against his thigh. This command and your subsequent subservience is a well practiced dance for you and Joel now, and the resulting gratification has conditioned you to want it. You want to sit in Joel's lap, you want to feel close to his broad chest and soft stomach and hear his praise.

You saunt over to the armchair obediantly and demurely slide into his lap without saying a word. His big mitt comes to rest on your lower back to support you.

"There's my good girl." Joel murmers as his opposite hand reaches up to tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear. Despite having been in this exact position many times, your lower belly still flutters with arousal every time you are perched on his thick thigh.

"Tell me somethin'," Joel cooes in his honeyed Texan accent. "Did you like what happened back there tonight? You liked me tellin' that cocky piece of shit to fuck off?"

You did, and he knows it.

You bite back a smile and look down at your fingers fiddling in your lap. Joel is watching your reaction intently, focused on every microexpression that passes over your features. It makes you feel exposed and far too self conscious to answer his question or look at him, but in this situation you know he doesn't mind too much. Joel is savouring the flirtatious tension buzzing between you both - all part of the addictive, intoxicating game of seduction that he loves to enact with you.

Joel strokes his thumb over your chin and smirks proudly. "Yeah, my baby girl liked it, ain't that right?"

The gesture combined with the timbre of his voice makes your inner thighs clench together and a tiny whimper slip from your mouth. It is shameful, you think, how easily Joel can coax such a response from your body with just the pitch of his voice. Joel must be thinking along the same lines because he lets out a soft chuckle, the corners of his eyes crinkling in the way they do when he's genuinely amused by something.

"Just needed daddy to take control and keep you safe, huh?" He croons. You nod, certain that a pink tinge is now spreading across your cheeks.

"Show me them pretty eyes."

Joel's thumb and forefinger angle your chin upwards, directing you to look at him. The beguiling spell he's weaving has already begun to hypnotise you; your eyes are large and dreamy with desire while you chew your bottom lip, one of your hands now trailing up his chest to fist the collar of his flannel in a way that seems to beg him to keep going. Joel hums knowingly and shifts his hand to cup your jaw in his calloused palm.

"Want everyone to know you're mine, huh? Don't you worry, baby, I'll tell 'em," Joel purrs seductively, his hooded eyes flitting from your eyes to your lips and back again.

"Tell 'em you're mine and I'm yours. That I'm the only man who can take care of you and fuck you like you need. What do ya think of that?"

Your pussy clenches around nothing and you whimper softly. You are hardly aware of the way you're already squirming in his lap from being so turned on. Joel chuckles darkly and nuzzles his nose against yours.

"Reckon you'd love that," he whispers. "Everybody in town knowin' it's me who gets this pussy wet and beggin' to get fucked. "

You are so desperate for some kind of relief from your throbbing clit that your hips unconsciously grind down into his thigh.

"Bet you're fuckin' soakin' through your panties right now," Joel rasps. His hand snakes down your neck and your breasts and roams over your belly to the waist band of your jeans. You exhale a breathy sigh and lean back into his chest, parting your legs instinctively and angling your hips the tiniest bit upward.

"Yeah, I know, sweetheart. Know how desperate that little pussy gets for me."

Joel's fingers slip under your pants and past your underwear, the pads of his fingers immediately meeting with your slick arousal. He groans into your neck and dips two fingers lower toward your opening to collect the wetness seeping out of you. Joel brings them back up to rub your clit in slow circles, the sensation of his lubricated digits making you moan softly and buck your hips. You can feel the hardness of his huge cock in his jeans underneath your ass.

"Yeah," Joel breaths. "So needy and I've barely touched ya."

Your eyes roll back and your hand reaches up to run your fingers through his hair "Yes," you whisper back. "N-need you so much."

Joel hums, a deep rumbling in his throat. He massages your clit at a steady, leisurely pace, occasionally stopping to slip his fingers down and into your pussy hole.

"I know, babydoll, I know. Need daddy to touch you and make you feel good, huh?"

Your eyes fall shut and you nod eagerly, your fingers tugging at his crown of greying curls. "Please, please," you beg. "Make me feel good."

"I will," Joel murmers. His voice is now rough and husky with his own desire. "Get upstairs and strip, wait for me on the bed."

He retracts his hand from your pussy and pulls out of your underwear, making you whine and pout at the loss. His fingers shine obscenely with your slick.

"Do as your told," Joel growls. He urges you to stand with a firm push of his hand against your back, then heaves himself off the armchair. You obey and scamper up the stairs to Joel's bedroom.

••••••

Not even five minutes later you are completely naked and laying your back in Joel's bed. He lays on his stomach in the middle of your open legs, still fully clothed, still the one in control despite having his head buried between your thighs.

Joel starts by licking a slow, thick stripe from your opening up to your clit. The sensation of his warm tongue caressing the most sensitive spot of your body forces a long moan to escape from your lips. You shiver momentarily and your back arches.

Joel groans hungrily and slowly laps at your clit, his thick fingers digging into the flesh of your inner thighs as he holds you open for him to devour. He continues the motion of his tongue over and over until you can feel the wet mess of your slick and his saliva drip down to your asshole.

Joel had always loved eating your pussy. But tonight he seems determined to take his time pulling you apart. His mouth works expertly to lavish you with such intense pleasure that you feel you'd float away if not for the tight grip of your fists in his hair.

You keen with every fat, languid stroke of Joel's tongue and then gasp when he occasionally stops to suckle on your sensitive bundle of nerves. The alternating actions have your whole body tensing and shuddering, steadily building up to what you know will be an explosive orgasm.

Joel stops and pulls his face from your exposed pussy to speak, his moustache glistening with your juices.

"Taste so fuckin' sweet, babydoll." He pants, his voice rough with lust filled hunger. "Want you to soak my face when you cum, alright?"

You nod, dazed and drunk, unable to form any words. Joel gives your inner thigh a firm swat with his hand to get your attention. You yelp and buck your hips, instinctively tugging on his hair that you still hold in your fists.

"Yes daddy," you gasp. "Yes."

Joel hums in approval and leans back in to continue eating your pussy. He presses his two thick fingers against your entrance and he swirls his tongue back over your clit, his nose bumping against your mound.

"Joel," you moan loudly. "Fuck, don't stop, please...f-feels so good."

Your hips rock in small circles, chasing the stimulation of his tongue, desperate for the tightening coil of your climax to hit its peak. When Joel slowly pushes his fingers all the way inside of you and curls them to hit your g spot, you cry out at the overwhelming pleasure. You are wrecked, totally devoid of any coherent thought and not able to utter anything but his name.

Joel, Joel, Joel.

He begins to fuck you steadily with his thick fingers while sucking gently on your clit, making you wail loudly, your walls contracting tightly. It doesn't take much longer for your ecstasy to culminate in a fervent orgasm, heightened by Joel's unrelenting ministrations. You squeal and arch your back as you cum and gush into Joel's mouth, your vision bursting with stars.

"Oh my God, Joel," you choke out through panting breaths. "Fuck!"

Joel continues thrusting and sucking all the way through your climax, only letting up once your walls have stopped spasming and your moans are reduced to soft sighs. Joel cannot completely stop there, though; he prolongs your bliss with light swipes of his tongue over your throbbing clit until your legs shake and you mewl pathetically from the overstimulation. Only then does he stop and slide his fingers outside you, leaving your cunt a quivering mess.

Joel crawls ontop of your lax body and captures your mouth in a sloppy, passionate kiss. You are still delirious from your high but you can taste yourself on his tongue, can smell yourself on his moustache, and it is utterly intoxicating. He kisses you and it is savage and desperate and loving all at once; nothing exists in this vacuum of carnality but you and Joel, just the heat of your bodies and the thundering of your hearts, seemingly forever entwined.

••••••

A week and a half had passed since the incident in the dining hall. Day to day life remained the same, although there were some small changes in your routine.

One of the other teachers, Mrs. Thompson, was entering her third trimester of pregnancy and had been experiencing progressively worsening morning sickness and swelling in her feet. She approached you before class one day and burst into tears as she recounted the agony of heartburn and regular episodes of vomiting, the pain of bearing weight on her swollen soles. Although Mrs. Thompson had three older children, the effects on her body from this pregnancy had been the most challenging. She confided that it was becoming increasingly difficult for her to persevere through the sickness in order to continue her work duties.

You understood right away that Mrs. Thompson needed your help in covering her shifts, and so you readily offered your availability before she could even ask. Mrs. Thompson was a good woman, always hard working and dependable, someone you looked up to in the community. You wanted to help alleviate her stress and make yourself useful, so you offered to swap your Wednesday at the library for her teaching shift at the school. You could switch your library day to a different day, perhaps even take on an extra work duty.

You ignored the sad ache in your chest and accompanied Mrs. Thompson to meet with Maria about your proposed roster changes.

Time to move on, you thought.

••••••

Joel wasn't supposed to see you tonight. He was supposed to be spending the evening at Tommy's playing poker with a bunch of the guys that made up Tommy's social circle. Some were senior patrolmen, like Troy and Joel, while others were friends he had known since the early days of his arrival in Jackson. Cocky, charismatic and idealistic, Tommy had always found it relatively easy to make friends and was a well liked and popular member of the Jackson committee. He cherished the commraderie of the community, ever grateful of the security and love it had bestowed upon him, and he did his best to nurture this brotherhood.

It was very clear that Tommy's personality was fundamentally different to that of his older brother's. Joel hated what he deemed as meaningless socialisation and avoided most gatherings, but for Tommy's poker nights he made an exception. Despite their differences and rocky history, Joel felt an undying loyalty to his brother and secretly treasured the time they spent together. He was also encouraged by Ellie, who threatened to kick his old ass if he didn't make an effort to participate for Tommy's sake.

Joel wasn't supposed to visit you tonight but with each passing minute he was becoming more desperate to see your face. He was falling more in love with you, losing more and more of himself in his obsession with you. He wasn't able to tolerate another night of giving you space. He refused to.

With the aid of a few shots of whiskey Joel was able to persist through three rounds of poker before making the excuse that he was tired and was going to go home. The men all protested and tried to persuade him to stay, playfully insulting his age and joking about his stamina in all areas of life. Tommy slapped him on the back with a knowing grin and told him to "get the fuck outta here".

Joel made his way directly to your place, stalking through the camouflaging vegetation on the makeshift path his boots had created from repeated trampling over the past year. He couldn't wait to see your pretty face and kiss you and run his hands all over your soft body.

Joel was about to sneak in through the side door of your cottage when he heard your voice floating along the late night breeze. He paused. It seemed to be coming from your front porch. Why were you awake and who were you talking to? Even with his good ear facing the direction of your voice Joel couldn't quite make out what was being said, so he skulked slowly along the wall toward the front of your cottage. He stopped at the very edge of the weatherboard exterior and peeked furtively around the corner.

Joel's entire body went rigid at the sight of Oscar standing at the end of your porch.

What the fuck is going on?

••••••

"I'm so sorry, I know it's late. But I just had to see you."

"No, it's okay, really. I wasn't asleep or anything." You sound slightly breathless. The way you're self consciously tugging on the bottom of your sleep shorts and pursing your lips makes Oscar want to swoop in and kiss you. But he just nods and runs a hand through his dishevelled hair.

"Oh, good. Good."

There is a moment of silence while the two of you look each other up and down, soaking up the unfamiliar sight of the other in casual sleeping clothes. You crack a tiny smile at the fitted black sweat pants and loose grey sweater he wears, faded red block letters that spell HARVARD adorning the front. In turn Oscar's eyes scan over the length of your bare legs, the fuzzy mismatched socks on your feet, and the oversized pink sweater covering the top half of your body.

"Why are you here, Oscar?" You ask quietly. "Why do you need to see me?"

Oscar bows his head and swallows thickly, steeling himself for this very scene he had been dreaming of for weeks. Okay this is it, he thinks. Oscar lifts his head to look directly into your eyes and the words seem to spill from his mouth before he can properly articulate himself.

"I'm here because I just can't stop. I can't stop thinking about you. Because I hate myself for not telling you how I felt about you sooner."

Your eyes widen in shock and blink rapidly. "W..what? How you felt?"

"Yes, how I feel," he quickly corrects. "But please let me finish. I need to say this because it is eating me up inside." Oscar beseeches, his emotive brown eyes pleading with you. You nod your understanding and chew your bottom lip nervously as you wait for him to finish.

"I love you." Oscar confesses softly. "I've loved you since the first day I met you."

You gasp and cover your mouth with your hand. He sees the glimmer of tears welling just above your waterline and resists the urge to kiss your eyelids. It feels like an eternity that you are standing face to face on the porch of your cottage, gazing at each other in weighted stillness as if time has stopped. The moonlight is the only source of illumination around you and its beams offer just enough light for Oscar to see your features. He didn't think it could be possible but you look even more beautiful under the soft glow of the moon.

There's a sudden crackling sound nearby that shatters the moment and causes you both to jerk your heads toward the street. A squirrel darts out from a shadow and scampers up a tree across the way. You let out a breathless, nervous laugh and Oscar turns back to you.

"I know you're with Joel Miller now and I shouldn't be here. But I just needed to tell you." Oscar says solemnly. "I came to the library today to tell you but you weren't there."

You sigh and wrap your arms around your waist, seemingly shrinking into yourself. "I changed my roster. I thought you wouldn't come, anyway." You mumble, looking out onto the street to avoid Oscar's gaze.

"Really? Why wouldn't I?" He questions, frowning with confusion. "I always meet you on Wednesdays."

You huff like you're close to exasperation. "You stood me up the last time," you retort sharply. "And you're busy with Gayle now. I didn't expect you to."

His face contorts with a mixture of surprise and bewilderment. Stood you up? Gayle?

"I didn't stand you up!" Oscar blurts out."I left you a note saying sorry, that I had to fill in a patrol shift for Joel."

It's your turn to look puzzled now and when you speak your tone is significantly softer and borders on apprehensive."What note? And...you filled Joel's shift?"

"Yes, I slipped a note under the library door that morning apologising. Tommy was desperate to get someone to cover Joel." Oscar explains with calm sincerity. You're staring at him now and he cannot quite decipher why you appear so timid all of a sudden.

"And I'm not with Gayle. Why would you think that?" Oscar reaches out to cup your elbow, no longer able to resist touching you, needing you to see him and hear him. "I hardly know her."

You allow him to hold your arm while you sigh once more. He notices your body shivering and how your bare legs are now prickled all over with goosebumps. Shit, you must be freezing, but you have yet to invite him inside your home to escape the cold. Maybe you're not pleased that he's knocked on your door. Maybe it's time to go.

"I promise you, I am not with Gayle. And I'm sorry, both for not telling you about my feelings earlier...and for coming tonight," Oscar mutters awkwardly, pulling away from you. "Uhm, so...have a good night."

He turns to go but before he can walk away from your porch he feels a tug at the back of his sweater, then your sweet voice uttering a plea. "Oscar, please wait, don't go."

When he whips back around and sees your bottom lip nervously pulled between your teeth and your eyebrows dolefully knitted together he wants nothing more than to enfold you into his arms and kiss you. Oscar is positive that if he were given that opportunity, to have that moment with you as his last on this earth, he would die a happy man.

"I'm sorry, Oscar," you croak. "I don't know what to tell you. You don't know how much you've meant to me these past few months, how happy you've made me. You became the best thing in my life."

"Are you...is what you're saying true?" He murmers in stunned disbelief. "Me?"

When you sniffle and nod your head, Oscar's heart is flooded with an overwhelming surge of adoration and relief. He's made you happy. That's all he ever wanted.

"Your friendship has saved me in many ways, you know," you whisper. There's a hard lump stuck in your throat causing your voice to come out thick and cracked. "And for that I will always love you."

Oscar takes hold of your hand and you interlace your fingers with his as if it's the most natural thing in the world. You give his hand a small squeeze.

"But I am with Joel," you affirm. "And although things...well, they haven't always been so good. They really haven't been good."

You are crying now.

"But we've been together for over a year now. And Ellie's even given us her blessing. We are a family now. I...I just can't leave that, even if I wanted to."

Oscar feels at a loss as you unleash your emotions onto him. He is torn between wanting to comfort you and wanting to tell you to forget it, forget everything he confessed to you, to forget him completely.

"Pease understand that I just can't, Oscar." You sob. And despite his own heart beginning to crumble and perish, he unlocks his hand from yours and pulls you into his tight embrace. You fall into Oscar and bury your face into his neck and wrap your arms around him. One of his hands cradles the back of your head while the other supports your lower back, keeping you pinned firmly against his front.

"I want you in my life," he whispers. "As my friend, as my lover...whatever you give me, I want it."

Oscar isn't sure how much time passes before he eventually extracts you from his hold,. He knows he needs to leave. He bestows a final kiss on your temple and bids you goodnight, forcing himself to ignore your little whimper of sadness. Oscar leaves you alone in the darkness and retreats from your cottage without glimpsing back at you.

••••••

The unbearable pain of betrayl and jealousy crush Joel's heart like a vice. He shuts his eyes and squeezes his shaking hands into fists so tight that his knuckles turn white. His jaw clenches so hard that his head begins to pound.

For the first time ever, Joel is almost paralysed by an onslaught of emotion; he isn't angry or provoked into impulsive violence, but instead is genuinely hurt by what he has heard. He had given you so much, had tried so hard to change for you, and this is how you act? You're practically cheating on him right now, baring your soul to another man while bad mouthing him. How could you?

Joel slumps against the side of the cottage and tilts his head back, trying his best to maintain control over his increasingly panicked breaths. Fuck, not now, not now.

He loves you. You're his. When did you become so unhappy with him? Didn't you love him, too?

Joel shakes his head, willing his buzzing mind to silence itself, to allow him to breathe and rein in the hysteria that threatens to take over. He exhales a heavy, shuddering breath and feels some of the pent up pressure inside his chest disperse along with it. He stays slumped against the wall while he rides through the wave of panic. It takes almost five minutes for the distress to abate enough for Joel to decide to abandon his plan to surprise you tonight. He goes back to his own house and gets drunk instead.

••••••

Joel meets you at your cottage for dinner the following night. You have made a lamb and vegetable stew specially for him as you've noticed it is one of the very few dishes that Joel consumes with zeal every single time. You still crave his praise - that groan of pleasure that rumbles in his throat as he takes his first bite always makes your tummy flutter and your heart beam with pride.

You aren't hungry but you join him at the dining table anyway, perched on the chair opposite him with a novel in your hand. You know Joel likes it when you are close by, keeping him company throughout even the smallest of tasks.

Joel is quiet during the meal, even more so than he usually is, but you don't pay much attention to his brooding. He is prone to sullen moods and you have become accostumed to the occasional bouts of grumpiness, now unfazed by Joel Miller's characteristic sullen sulking. Maybe he had a bad day at work, or maybe he's just tired. Whatever the reason, you show no curiosity or concern, only paying attention to the book you're reading.

It's a paper back romance novel, a genre you had never really delved into before, but decided to take a chance on. The spine is worn and the cover is dog eared, but the picture depicted on the front of the book was enough to capture your interest. The artwork shows a woman dressed in a corseted gown collapsing into the arms of a handsome man above her. The swell of her round breasts peek out from the top of her neckline and her head is tilted back sensually as she gazes up at him.

When you had first spotted the book and studied the cover you felt a flutter inside the walls of your pussy. It was erotic, the way the characters were positioned, the passion and lust conveyed through their expressions. You thought there was a romantic quality to the scene, too, something in the way the man's hands cradled his lover, and that was what prompted you to give it a go.

You're so lost in the story that jumps to life from the pages of text that you don't even register what Joel says at first.

"Hmm?" You look up at him from the spot you were reading.

"Said I don't want you eatin' in the hall anymore." Joel says offhandedly as he scrapes his spoon against the ceramic of the bowl, not even looking at you, the words falling so casually from his lips.

Your brows crease at the sudden random remark and you look at him, confused. You lay your book open in your lap and clear your throat to speak. "Uh, what do you mean? Why not?"

Joel doesn't respond to you right away, instead chewing the food in his mouth in an unhurried manner, then taking a long sip from the glass of water next to him. He still does not meet your eyes and it feels as though he is purposely ignoring you. You wonder if he is secretly enjoying the drawn out suspense from his lack of explanation, and irritation prickles your skin at his apathy.

"Joel?" You implore as you lean forward to catch his attention. "What do you mean?"

"Too many men there, don't want them lookin' at you." He states gruffly. He scoops up the last bit of stew and eats it before dumping the spoon in his bowl and finally looking up at you. His expression is unreadable, almost blank.

You stare at him still frowning. As far as you are aware, no men look at you in the mess hall during dinner or any other meal times, and if they did then it did not perturb you as long as none of them spoke to you.

"No one looks at me, Joel," you say firmly.

"That's a lie and you know it," Joel spits out straight away.

The bitterness in his tone startles you. It makes you feel caught out and exposed.

Is he talking about someone in particular or is he just acting paranoid and possessive?

Regardless of what Joel is alluding to you still keep your eyes focused on him, not wanting to let him intimidate you. It seems impossible though, with the stoic way his eyes bore into you, and it takes all your will to not bow your head.

You do not want Joel to dictate what you can and can't do without a logical reason, and not wanting you to eat in the mess hall because there are other men around seems ridiculous to you. Well, it is ridiculous. Why had this not been an issue before?

Joel sits back in his chair and crosses his arms without breaking eye contact with you. He licks his tongue across his top teeth and clicks his tongue. The atmosphere in the dining room is suddenly loaded with tension. You realise that whatever has been simmering inside Joel tonight is about to spill out from him. His jaw ticks.

"I don't know what you're talking about," you say adamantly.

Joel scoffs and raises his eyebrows. "Oh, you don't? You didn't see how your little friend Estrada was starin' at you the whole damn time we were there?"

Shit.

That day at lunch time the dining hall had been teeming with people; among them were you and your friends at one table, Joel and Tommy at another, and Oscar and a few patrolmen sitting at another. You caught glimpses of both Joel and Oscar staring at you from time to time and you couldn't relax at all. At the time you had hoped the men hadn't noticed the other gazing at you, but now you knew Joel had.

You understand immediately that you will need to tread carefully with this conversation.

You look away from Joel and shake your head. "No, I didn't," you lie.

You grab your book and push your chair back to stand, the legs scraping loudly against the wooden floorboards. You turn away to walk out of the room and hear Joel's chair drag as he jumps up to follow you.

"Where you goin'?" He barks.

"To bed," you bite back at him.

You hurry to the bedroom and push the door open. Joel is so close behind you that you can hear the heavy breaths of frustration huffing from his nose. He grabs hold of your upper arm and whirls you back around to look at him, your face close to his.

"Did you tell him you already got a man?" Joel asks accusingly, his firey brown eyes darting back and forth between yours. "When you were spendin' so much time with him behind my back?"

"Behind your back?"

"You know exactly what I'm talkin' about," Joel bristles. "His visits to your work, sneaking around to see you on his fuckin' lunch break."

Your breath siezes in your lungs and you stare back at Joel, incapable of masking the panic that briefly glosses over your eyes.

He knows.

Joel clocks the alarm in your expression, what he interprets as a silent admission, and snarls. "Tell me, did you tell him you're mine?"

You're suddenly struck by the absurdity of what Joel is asking you. How could anyone have known you belonged to Joel when he was the one who refused to be in an honest relationship with you? He had dictated the terms of your relationship this whole time, and yet here he was now, criticising you for keeping it a secret?

You shrug your arm out of his grip and raise your hands in an exasperated gesture. Your resolve to remain calm and navigate the conversation had completely disappeared.

"Well, what did you want me to do?" You snap. "Tell him I am taken but my boyfriend won't walk down the street holding my hand? You didn't want to publicly be with me so why would Oscar know you're my man? Seriously Joel, that is so unfair!"

Joel lifts his eyebrows, surprised at your little outburst. Just when did you become disrespectful like this? How did you get the balls to speak to him like this? Where had his good girl gone? Maybe he had been giving you too much freedom lately, was too lenient in allowing you to call the shots.

Maybe it was time to rein you in a bit.

Joel's eyes darken and narrow at you. You instantly recognise that look - the look of stern intimidation that challenged you to quickly rethink your behaviour lest you wanted some kind of cruel reprimand. The palpable change in his demeanour is disturbing but you cross your arms over your chest and boldly hold his gaze, lips pouted defiantly.

Joel runs his hand over his face and chuckles mirthlessly. "Christ, baby. When did you become such a goddamn brat?"

"All I did was ask what I was supposed to do." You argue stubbornly. "You know what? Whatever, Joel. I don't want to have this conversation."

"You really think you can talk to me like that, little girl?" Joel asks cooly, voice low and bordering on ominous. His jaw ticks in irritation.

"Like what?" You heedlessly snip back.

"Like you're forgettin' who you're fuckin' speakin' to right now."

The foreboding tone of Joel's voice combined with his icy, piercing glare causes a stirring of the familiar knot of anxious dread in your lower belly. It's all so reminiscent of the past episodes of violence he's inflicted upon you. Was this the calm before the storm? There was no way you could do this again, no way you could endure whatever nastiness he was going to impose on you.

Your confidence deflates rapidly and you realise you need to change tact to diffuse the situation. You sag your shoulders and drop your chin in an effort to appear more submissive.

"I'm just confused about how...what you expected of me, Joel." You reply timidly. "I'm just asking--"

"No, see...you ain't," Joel shook his head. "You're bein' downright disrespectful right now. I suggest you watch your tongue."

Your strategy hasn't worked. You were too bold, too rebellious, and now you will pay the price. You gulp and instinctively step backwards to maintain some distance between you and Joel.

"I'm not," you protest weakly, hating the pleading inflection that comes across in your voice. "But you're getting upset with me for something that isn't my fault."

"And leadin' him on wasn't?" Joel growls, his fists clenching by his sides. Your mouth falls open in shock.

Leading Oscar on? By being friends and spending time together? The shock fizzles away and is replaced by anger; anger at Joel for his unfair judgement, anger at yourself for not having told Oscar how you truly felt earlier, anger at the whole fucked up situation.

"Lead him on? How? By being friends?" You retort. "Talking about...about books and music and whatever else friends talk about?"

It was so much more than that, you know. You're purposely diminishing the beauty of what you and Oscar shared, downplaying just how important the friendship was to you. If Joel found out just what Oscar meant to you then you would truly dread what may happen.

"Why the fuck do you need him for?" Joel booms. "I'm not good enough for you to talk about that shit with?"

You almost scoff at how ridiculous he sounds. It is like he is mocking you. Joel had never initiated any kind of discussion with you about anything meaningful - no profound conversations about music or books, no questions about your work or your passions, no display of genuine interest for anything that mattered to you.

Oscar, however, was the complete opposite. He asked question after question about you and listened intently to everything you had to say. How could Joel be so ignorant to your needs and feelings? Had he truly never acknowledged you as an individual, as a woman with a personality and dreams and desires?

"You don't like to talk about those things with me! Infact you don't like to talk about anything with me!" You argue back, rage and frustration once again swallowing your sense of self preservation and robbing you of your better judgement. "All you want to do is fuck me, Joel!"

Joel's reaction comes faster than you could anticipate. He reaches out and snatches your bicep tightly into his grasp, making you squeal in pain and surprise. He roughly drags you toward him and brings your face close to his, his lip curled into a snarl and his chest expanding wide. His eyes appear black, pupils blown wide with wrath. It elicits a deep seated fear from within your gut, that ever present primitive fight or flight mechanism, adrenals in overdrive from the previous times Joel has unleashed his vehemence upon you.

All of your courage drains from your body and you tremble, tears quickly filling your eyes.

"You better fuckin' quit this before I make you regret what the fuck you just said," Joel hisses.

"Let go of me," you whimper, "let me go right now."

"Not til you listen to what I have to say to you, you cheating little bitch," he growls. You flinch at his vemon laced words but his iron grasp on you keeps you from recoiling away. You hang your head and begin to sob pitifully.

"From now on, you will not talk to another man. You will not look at another man. You are going to live at my house and you will come straight home from your work duties. You hear me?"

Joel gives your arm a tight shake. When you don't say anything in response he squeezes your flesh between his fingers, causing you to cry out. "Answer me!" He barks.

"Y-yes sir," you sob in defeat, your tears falling directly to the floor as your head remains bowed. Joel releases his hold on your arm and leans down to whisper into your ear, voice low and menacing.

"And if I see you with that son of a bitch ever again, I'll kill him."

••••••

Oscar had expected to leave your doorstep that night feeling lighter and more at peace within himself. He was being truthful when he said that he just needed to confess his feelings to you. He was not expecting some miracle to magically manifest, a dream come to life that you miraculously confessed your own love for him.

He expected to depart with the weighty burden of his emotions no longer torturing him, returning to the lonesome quiet of his room to fall into a dreamless sleep. But instead, Oscar ended up treking back to his home in an almost bewildered state, with questions buzzing around his brain and a disturbing suspicion that something was not right.

He replayed your conversation over and over in his mind, trying hard to recollect the nuances of your body language and your voice, to remember your exact words. You had looked so small and sad standing at the threshold of your door in your pyjamas. Oscar had overheard Troy talking about the poker night at Tommy's earlier that day, so he chose that particular night to come to your door, knowing Joel would be at Tommy's.

Oscar may love you, but he would never encroach on your relationship with someone else. It didn't occur for him to try persuade you to leave Joel, to give him a chance instead - it just wasn't the kind of man Oscar was. Oscar couldn't even feel resentment toward Joel, even if Joel had never mentioned you. It wasn't his business.

Joel. Oscar couldn't believe you had been with Joel for so long. He was shocked, truthfully. He didn't feel betrayed or upset; he only felt disconcerted. Why hadn't you disclosed your relationship to him earlier? Surely you would have declared it if you were happy together, Oscar believed. So just why did you keep it a secret for so long?

Things haven't been good, you had sobbed to him. What exactly did that mean? Was Joel not treating you right?

While working together Oscar had witnessed the range of moods you cycled through. There were many times you appeared sad, so many moments when he had noticed the pensive set of your features while you were lost in some daydream. You had even cried in his arms. Did you not do that with Joel? Did he not comfort you?

Oscar dug the heels of his palms into his eye sockets and groaned wearily. Maybe his mind was purposely confusing him; perhaps he wasn't remembering things as accurately as he could have. But there was a gnawing apprehension inside him that he couldn't ignore. And if this apocalypse had taught Oscar anything, it was that gut instinct shouldn't be ignored.

••••••

The night of the argument Joel had stormed out of the dining room and out of the house straight after threatening to kill Oscar, leaving you no chance to debate him. You figured you should wait for the dust to settle and for Joel to cool down before potentially provoking his anger once more, anyway. There was no point in trying to discuss anything with him when he was so agitated; all reasoning seemed to disappear when he was in such a mood. It would have to wait until another day.

You weren't capable of rationally arguing with him, anyway. Your gut was a knotted mass of anxious despair to think of Oscar being in danger, to think that you were now completely trapped into being with Joel not just for Ellie but also for Oscar's safety.

You went to bed alone that night and cried into your pillow. You spent a long time tossing and turning in the sheets, the muscles all through your body far too tense for you to relax enough to fall asleep. You tried to read some more of your book but you couldn't concentrate on the words on the page.

Joel really thought you had cheated on him, had betrayed him somehow. But what was wrong with two friends meeting for lunch once in a while? It's not like you knew Oscar had such deep feelings for you at the time; infact you had been quite blind to the depth of his affection. You had always felt so unworthy of anything good in life that the idea of Oscar actually loving you was never something you'd ever considered before. Why would someone so pure and beautiful want you like that?

But that didn't matter now. You had met him at the wrong time in life and nothing could be done about it, you told yourself. It was easier to think that way and to just brush it off as bad luck, something of a subconscious attempt to stop you from mourning what could have been. If you stopped to consider the whats ifs, your heart would surely break.

After hours of rumination and reminiscing you eventually fell into a deep sleep. You did not wake when Joel returned home in the early hours of the morning and crept into bed next to you, bleary eyed and stinking of whiskey.

••••••

The following Wednesday you are sure Oscar would show up to the library for your usual lunch date. You knew him well enough to know he would not abandon your regular date, even after showing up at your cottage late at night to confess his love for you.

So just before your usual meeting time you stick a sign on the front door that said closed for lunch break. You scribble a note for him on a small piece of paper which you fold and tuck under the door with his name written on the top. You feel like a coward telling Oscar you can no longer see him without a proper explanation, in a letter rather than face to face, but it is for the safety of you both.

You sit on the floor in the store room and read while you wait for your lunch break to finish, your stomach growling from lack of food.

You've been on edge around Joel since your argument last week. You're like a mouse, the way you creep around his house hoping to avoid the opportunity for him to initiate some kind of interaction. It isn't that you are scared of him, either. You want to avoid him because you cannot hide the twisting vine of resentment that's been growing inside your sternum; a burgeoning sense of indignation that you cannot suppress.

You aren't affectionate back to him when his hands ghost over your hips as he passes you in the hallway, or when he presses a kiss to your lips when he comes home in the evenings. You do not seek him out for any kind of pleasure but you also do not stop his advances, often waking in the middle of the night to his hard cock pressing against your ass and his mouth sucking at your neck. You submit to him again and again, and you cum again and again, but you resist the urge to cuddle to his warm, solid body after it is over.

Joel has moved most of your possessions into his house but the place does not feel like home to you. It lacks the warmth and comfort that your cottage owned in all its simple, run down charm. Joel's house is much more spacious, and despite being filled with paintings and different furnishings, the place exudes a kind of gloomy loneliness. There is no sign of cheer. Ellie's absence would have really hit Joel hard, you mused. Joel is probably quite lonely, although he would never admit it.

You retreat into the comfort of books and quests of research for your students. You bask in the ray of joy whenever Ellie pops in for a visit, and you take extra care preparing food she enjoys when she comes for the weekly family dinner. Every other meal time is subdued.

You sit beside Joel at the dinner table each night, sometimes reading a novel, sometimes wordlessly chewing and swallowing food that neither whets or satiates what little appetite you have. To his credit Joel tries to make some kind of conversation with you, usually by asking questions about your day, but his words come out awkward and stilted. He's not a big talker at the best of times and it is clear he is nervous, unsure how to best navigate the task of casually conversing with you. But he really does try.

"Ellie mentioned an experiment you were talkin' about with your class," Joel mentioned shyly one night, keeping his eyes trained on the soup bowl before him. "So, uh, how's that all goin' along?"

You wedged a finger inbetween the pages of your book and slowly closed it. You glanced up at him and licked your dry lips.

Joel asked you a direct question about your teaching duty. He actually paid attention to what Ellie had said about you and asked a question like he gave a shit. For the first time ever.

"Oh. Yeah. It's going good," you replied, feeling weirdly formal in your response. "It's for the science component of our curriculum. I'll be demonstrating chemical reactions."

Joel nodded without looking at you and cleared his throat. "Well...if ya need anything, like materials 'n such...I could get some stuff from the lumber yard, or the pharmacy."

You are taken aback by this offer. He really is trying.

"Oh," is all you could blurt out.

"Just let me know," Joel murmured as he scraped his spoon around the bowl.

"Okay. Thank you, Joel." You replied politely.

Joel just nodded, still not looking at you although he could surely feel your gaze upon him. You took the opportunity to absorb his features and really study him; the mess of dark and silver curls of his hair - which is in need of a trim, you think - and the soft scruff of beard smattering along his jaw, the worn wrinkles of his handsome tanned face. He almost appears serene. In this moment Joel is soft again, unencumbered by the burden of whatever demons plague him, and you are struck by how beautiful he looks.

You hate yourself for the twinge of adoration that pulses inside your heart, an agonising reminder of just how profoundly he has imprinted upon you.

This is the Joel I loved, you thought to yourself. Why did he have to hide for so long?

Joel opened his mouth to say something more but you spoke swiftly, cutting him off. You had to get out of the room before you could no longer resist the random urge to caress his face and kiss his plush lips.

"I'm feeling a bit off, I'm going to bed," you quickly blabbered, hurriedly standing up from the table and rushing to the bedroom to get away from him.

Once in the bedroom you shut the door behind you and flopped onto the mattress. You tucked your knees up into your chest, wanting to make yourself as small as possible.

Sometimes you wished he was always cold and cruel. It would hurt so much less if he did not show you these glimpses of kindness, of the kind of man he could be.

••••••

You felt like it was the right time to confront Joel. Things had calmed down significantly and Joel's attitude had softened enough for you to feel confident enough to talk to him. You couldn't just accept whatever Joel said without atleast trying to dispute it. You no longer wanted to be that weak little thing who bowed down to anything he demanded.

You wanted to be strong and powerful like Rhi, or vivacious and carefree like Kate. You wished to be like the protagonists in your favourite books - headstrong, resilient, fierce characters - who fought against oppression. Maybe it was time for you to try. And the first step to achieving such a thing would be summoning the courage to use your voice.

One night after dinner you approached Joel in the living room as he poured himself a shot of whiskey. You cleared your throat to capture his attention.

"Joel," you announced, "I need to talk to you."

"Hm," he hummed without looking at you, seemingly unbothered as he pushed the cap back into the glass decanter.

You took a sharp inhale to steady your nerves. You can do this. "The rules. They aren't going to work."

Joel turned to look at you then, his brows creased. "What?"

"It'll affect everything. Like my job, Joel," you tried your best to sound assertive. "If I have to be home straight after school, I can't liaise with the other teachers. That means I might not be able to effectively teach the kids."

Joel nodded slowly, like he could see the merit in your point. "Schedule a meetin' with 'em once a week and I'll allow ya an extra hour that day." He replied smoothly.

His solution was simple enough and it could work; you did not need much time to plan your lessons when you only taught part time. Thankfully Joel valued education and knew the importance of you being able to teach according to a proper curriculum. But when it came to the next issue of contention you weren't so sure he would understand its importance to you.

"A-and what about my friends?" You asked, slightly breathless. "How can I keep my friendships if I don't ever see them?"

Joel brought the glass in his hand up to his mouth and took a shot of the amber liquid, his eyes watching you the whole time. "Tell 'em you're livin' with me and got work to do at home. You don't need to be wastin' time with those girls anyway." Joel retorted with total indifference.

Vexation and irritation bubbled in your guts at his words. You balled your hands into tight fists and narrowed your eyes at Joel. Kate and Rhi had both shown up on your lunch break at work on different days, curious about where you'd been lately and if you were okay. You were convincing enough to make some excuse about being busy with your work load now you were filling in for Mrs. Thompson, but you felt terrible for lying.

This whole thing was beyond unreasonable, you wanted to yell. Once, in the not so distant past, you would have agreed to such conditions without dispute. You would have easily adhered to whatever conditions that would make Joel happy. But something had changed inside you. You were determined not to prioritise Joel's satisfaction over your own anymore. Not after the heartbreak he has put you through for so long.

"And if I tell them the truth?" You questioned him, voice wavering just a little.

"Oh yeah? And what truth is that?" Joel asked with barely disguised derision in his tone. He raised his eyebrows and tilted his head to the side with an air of condescension. You hated the way he made you feel like a foolish little school girl who had been caught misbehaving.

"That...that I can't see them because you're forcing these conditions onto me." You squeaked, digging your fingernails into your palms. Don't cry, don't cry, don't cry, you internally admonished yourself. "That you're just trying to control me."

Joel clicked his tongue. "These conditions are consequences of your own actions, sweetheart. I ain't forcin' anythin' on you."

Your mouth fell open in disbelief. He had indirectly blackmailed you into staying with him to keep Oscar safe and Ellie happy. How could Joel possibly contend that he wasn't forcing these conditions onto you? Was he so deluded that he couldn't recognise how obsessive his need for control over you was?

"But...I-I didn't even do anything wrong! I don't want to live with these rules," you stammered and shook your head vehemently. "I can't. Joel, you're making me."

Joel set his glass onto the mantle above the fire place and then stood with his hands on his hips, shaking his head gently. "Now you listen to me, sugar, cos I already explained this and I aint gonna do it again."

Joel spoke calmly, his tone smooth and authoritarian and so confident. It simultaneously scared you and irritated you. "Ain't no use fightin' about this. You're mine. Nothin' is gonna change that. And you need boundaries. So it's best for the both of us that you just accept it."

"But why do I need rules?" You bristled, fighting to resist stamping your foot like a petulant child. "I'm not a child, Joel, I'm a woman...and-and you can't treat me like I don't have a say in anything!"

"Havin' some rules in place keeps you from bein' around bad influences and it keeps us strong." He narrowed his eyes at you and concluded pointedly. "Help keep you faithful."

"Joel!" You snapped in exasperation. "I did not cheat on you! Not with Oscar, not with anybody! So just...just stop it!"

You hated the shrill edge to your voice but his obstinate resolution was starting to unravel your self control. Joel's expression darkened suddenly and he took a step toward you.

"Then why were you meetin' with him in secret like that?" Joel boomed, the dimple in his cheek visible for a brief moment. "Why were you hidin' that from me if you weren't fuckin' him?"

"I wasn't fucking him." You insisted with composed sincerity. "And our meetings weren't in secret. It was just the only time we were able to spend any time together."

You inwardly cringed at the sound of your own explanation, knowing full well that Joel would misinterpret your reasoning as still being deceptive. He scoffed and shook his head at you.

"I just didn't tell you, Joel," you said with a defeated sigh. "Because you wouldn't let us be friends if you knew. Because you hate any other man speaking to me, even when it is innocent."

You braced yourself for another argument and whatever insulting accusation Joel chose to throw at you next. You were already so exhausted by it all. You realised he will never be satisfied by your answers, will always succumb to the insecurity and distrust that plagues his heart. It pained your own heart to finally comprehend this, to become cognisant to the hopeless reality of this relationship.

But Joel didn't argue against this point. Instead, his shoulders slumped and he let out a heavy stuttering sigh, as if he was just as worn out as you were. Maybe he was.

"Why is he so special?" Joel lamented, his deep voice sounding hushed and wounded.

"Oh, Joel...I've been so miserable," you replied tiredly. You cupped your cheeks in your palms and sighed wearily. "And Oscar actually cared about me. He actually listened to me and tried to help me. That is what made him a good friend. That is why he is special."

"I didn't care for you? How could you say that?" Joel hissed indignantly, the evident pain in his sorrowful brown eyes actually making you feel an ounce of guilt. "All I've been doin' is care for you."

No! You beat me with a belt and raped me!

"If you truly cared for me, you would have listened to me when I said stop or no." You responded softly. "You wouldn't have done what you did in the first place, Joel."

Joel's adams apple bobbed as he swallowed thickly. He opened his mouth as if to speak but just closed it again, seemingly lost for words. His silence encouraged you to challenge him further.

"Did you ever care enough to listen to me then?" You questioned him cooly.

"Thought we moved passed that," Joel muttered as he crossed his arms and looked away from you.

"You might have, but I haven't. And I don't think I ever will, Joel."

He was silent for a while, seemingly lost in his thoughts, his jaw ticking.

"How many times do I have to apologise?" Joel asked in a low, bitter tone. He rolled his eyes to look back at you and you could see the spark of aggravation in his orbs. "What else do I have to do to fix it?"

"You can't say sorry and expect me to forget everything you did to me!" You spat at him, dropping your hands from your face and clenching your fists once more. "That isn't how things work, Joel!"

"I know, alright?" He huffed. "I know."

You couldn't hold back the tears that were beginning to well in your eyes. You had held on for so long without crying, you stupid girl, you chastised yourself. The confrontation was slowly wearing you down, removing your armour bit by bit to expose the tender flesh of your emotions.

"So what do you want from me?" You asked dolefully, shrugging your shoulders in a weak gesture to indicate the hopelessness you felt. "To say I love you and act like nothing happened?"

Joel sighed and scrubbed his face with his hands, rough skin rasping over the scruff of his beard. He stared at you with forlorn hooded eyes and visibly gulped before he spoke.

"I don't know, alright? All I know is I love you," he whispered. "Just want you to love me, too."

Why did you wait so long? You wanted to scream in his face. Why did you hurt me so much and ruin everything?

"Joel," you murmured as you rubbed your temples with your fingertips. "If you really loved me, you wouldn't be keeping me here as a prisoner. You wouldn't be hurting me even more by doing this."

"I ain't hurtin' you - I'm protectin' what we have. I can't lose you." He took a step toward you and outstretched his big hand to you, imploring and supplicating. "I won't lose you."

You just stared at him and slowly shook your head, despondence and fatigue etched into your soft features.

"It's you I need protection from, Joel."

The impact of your words hit Joel like a knife being plunged into his chest cavity and piercing his heart. He took a step backward as his face contorted with hurt and shock, mouth falling open and eyes burning with betrayl. You had never seen him like that before - stung and vulnerable - and it genuinely surprised you to see him so perturbed.

This time, however, you didn't feel bad. You were speaking the truth - your truth.

The air in the room had suddenly become stifling, as if all the oxygen had been sucked out of the space. Your eyes were locked on each other and you felt all the muscles in your body tense, prepared to face the onslaught of whatever Joel was going to do in response to what you had just said.

The moment seemed to last forever but then something appeared to click inside Joel's mind. There was a visible shift in his demeanour; the sadness within his eyes dissipated and the features of his face hardened back into its usual stoic scowl. You noticed his hands clench and unclench nervously by his sides.

"So you think I'm a monster or somethin'?" Joel growled. "Well I don't give a shit. I ain't gonna have you ruin our family over this bullshit, so you're gonna accept whatever I say and stop fightin' me on all this."

Ruin our family.

You closed your eyes for a second, the image of Ellie's smiling face flashing in your mind.

Oh, dear Ellie.

You opened your eyes once again and were met with the sight of Joel's morose face, with his mouth downturned and prominent bags under his eyes, looking every bit his age. You were truly struck by how unless this whole situation was; the pushing back, the arguing, the energy and emotions expended. You would never escape it.

"Okay," you said robotically, no hint of emotion in your voice. "Okay, Joel. I won't ruin our family. But I can't love you the way I did. I can't change that. So if I accept your conditions, you must accept mine."

Joel didn't bother responding to you. He just turned on the heel of his boots and stormed out of the bedroom, leaving you alone in the room with nothing but a somber silence in his wake.

You couldn't possibly guess that he didn't want to be near you in case you could see the tears forming in his eyes and begin to trickle down his cheek. He rubbed the corner of his eye with the back of his knuckle and willed himself not to cry.

••••••

The first time you walk down the main street of Jackson next to Joel seems surreal. You aren't even really sure why he insisted on walking with you this morning. His gloved hand clutches yours tightly as he leads you towards the school building where your teaching lesson is due to start soon. You struggle to maintain the pace Joel has set and you end up lagging slightly behind him, but his grip on your hand propels you forward through the thick snow covering the ground. You feel like a scolded child being reluctantly dragged along by her parent.

You don't even really care about who is out and around town to witness the unexpected sight of Joel Miller with a woman for the first time in his history of residing in Jackson. There is no sense of pride or joy in your heart at finally having Joel openly affirm your place in his life. You are not an equal partner, not a girlfriend or a wife; you are nothing more than property that he owns.

The grip of his thick fingers over yours solidifies this. Joel's hold is more like a warning than a gesture of affection; a caution for you to uphold a happy facade or else something could happen to you or Oscar, or perhaps even the both of you.

His hand swallowing yours serves to remind you that you are under his control, that it is Joel who protects, and that it is he who also bends you according to his will.

You turn your face upward to the sky. It is depressingly dull with dark grey clouds that appear heavy with the promise of rain. You like the rain and the nourishment it brings your garden, particularly in the spring, but spring seems impossibly far away right this minute. With the frosty air currently numbing your cheeks and splintering your lungs with each inhale you take, you feel like spring will never come. And perhaps it won't - perhaps your beloved plants and flowers will remain dead and suffocated under layers and layers of snow.

It is the kind of morning that makes you wish you were still snuggled in bed, safe and warm within a bundle of blankets and your favourite sweater. But you need to substitute for Mrs.Thompson today and you need to show up for the children who crave knowledge and who flourish under your tutelage. You need to fulfil this purpose no matter how defeated and dismal you truly feel.

You can always go back to bed after school, anyway, you reason to yourself. It's not like you'll be able to do anything otherwise. You can nap for a couple hours until you have to get food ready for the weekly family dinner tonight.

You almost trip over your own boots when Joel comes to an abrupt stop infront of the school.

"I'll see ya at home," Joel murmers before he presses a soft kiss to the corner of your mouth. You just nod, feeling slightly disorientated. He gives your hand one last squeeze before turning around to make his way toward the stables. You watch the back of Joel's tall, board figure stalk away and round the corner into the neighbouring street. Once he's disappeared from your view you let out a soft sigh and your tense shoulders immediately slump.

You feel exhausted but you manage to push through the day. That evening you prepare the dinner table for Ellie's and Joel's arrival around 7.30pm. You arrange the bowls and cutlery in the usual places, mindful to set the larger bowl where Joel always sits. You hear the front door open just as you sit a pot of steaming soup in the centre of the table.

You put on a smile and walk out of the dining room into the living room to greet them. But it's not just Ellie's light hearted lilt and Joel's drawl that you hear; there's another voice amidst their chatter. There's a shuffle of boots and clunking, then they trail into the living room, still talking amongst each other. Then you spot the third mystery person walking behind Joel and your heart skips a beat.

It's Tommy.

"Hey there, little lady," he beams at you when he sees you. His dark eyes twinkle and his soft smile is warm and genuine. He's just as gorgeous as his older brother, and you feel your cheeks blush.

"Hi, Tommy," you give him a polite, shy smile. "How are you?"

"I'm doin' fine, what about yourself? Smells mighty good in here."

You can feel Joel's eyes on you, watching the interaction, but you pretend not to notice.

"Yeah, what's on the menu?" Ellie playfully nudges you with her elbow. "I'm starving."

"You're always starvin'," Joel grunts as he pulls off his gloves. Ellie rolls her eyes and unwinds the scarf from around her neck.

"How you manage to put up with these two is a mystery to me," Tommy chuckles. He smooths over his thick moustache with his thumb and forefinger and you can't help but marvel at how large and thick his hand is, just like Joel's.

"Can Uncle Tommy stay for dinner?" Ellie asks, looking between you and Joel.

Similar to Ellie, there's something about Tommy that seems to soothe you, to inspire a carefree gaiety inside your soul. Tommy seemed to have that affect on people, you thought. He was also a good husband to Maria, a dedicated father to his children, and an overall devoted and fair leader of the community. You would love to have Tommy stay but you didn't want to seem too excited, lest Joel find your enthusiasm suspicious. So you just nod and say ofcourse.

"Well," Tommy murmers, rubbing the back of his neck. "Maria is visiting Mrs. Thompson with the boys this evenin'..."

"That settles that, then," Ellie slaps her hand on his shoulder. "What's that saying? The more the merrier, or some shit?"

Tommy barks out a laugh and gives Ellie's hair a playful tousle. You glance at Joel to gauge how he might be feeling; he seems impassive as eyes shift from you to his brother, but then he nods.

"Plenty to go 'round." Joel concedes. He tosses his gloves onto the mantle. "Ellie, go wash your hands first."

Ellie makes a fuss but follows Joel's orders and goes to the bathroom. You pop back into the kitchen to gather a bowl and cutlery for Tommy while the brothers take a seat at the table. You appear back in the dining room and place Tommy's bowl and spoon on the place mat infront of him.

"Thank you, ma'am," Tommy gives you another winning smile. "I appreciate your kindness."

You chuckle and sit down on the chair opposite Joel. "You're welcome, Tommy. It's nice to have you."

Joel remains silent and rigid as you abd Tommy exchange small talk. Once Ellie comes bounding back into the room you begin serving everyone their portion of lamb stew and buttery mashed potato.

Joel spends the whole of dinner quietly observing the interaction between you and Tommy, trying his best to appear dispassionate and unconcerned. He cannot help feeling envious of his brother for how effortlessly he's able to get you talking. You are still your normal bashful and feminine self, but you are different. You are more like you were when Joel first met you - more bubbly, a little more chatty, and so inquisitive. It is unnerving for him to witness.

Joel surreptitiously studies the way your mouth curls into a sweet little smile and the shy way you cover your mouth when you titter at something silly Tommy says. Joel cannot remember the last time he saw you so animated like this. The realisation makes him feel both resentful and sad. He should be the one making you giggle. He should be the one you ask questions to. He should be the one who incites you to speak about your work and aspirations with such gusto and passion.

When dinner is finished Tommy, ever the Southern gentleman, insists on helping you wash and dry the dishes. He stands at the sink with his hands submerged in the soapy water and washes the bowls and spoons and cups while you stand beside him with a dish towel to dry them. Ellie sits on the kitchen countertop and entertains you with stories from her days work at the barn, and the kitchen is soon filled with laughter.

Joel doesn't join in. He watches from the shadows of the hallway for a while, seething with jealousy, hating how harmonious and domestic the three of you look together. He's jealous of how naturally Tommy slots into sync with you and Ellie, but he's also disturbed because there's something familiar about the energy around the three of you. Then it clicks for Joel.

Sarah. It's because of her.

Because Joel is reminded of all the nights he ate dinner with his daughter during her time on this earth. He is reminded of them sitting together at the dinner table sharing stories and jokes, how her laughter brought him so much joy, how her killer smile could wash away all his tension and stress after a hard days work. He is reminded of all the times he fumbled around in the kitchen trying to conjure something palatable to eat. He remembers how she once went weeks refusing to eat anything but macaroni and cheese. He can even remember the first time he taught her how to properly cook a steak medium rare, and how they both groaned with satisfaction when they took the first bite of their meal.

Seeing you and Tommy in the kitchen reminded Joel of how he and Sarah would always do the dishes together. He would flick soapy water at her as she dried, making her squeal and threaten to dunk his head into the sink. They would laugh and jest - just like the three of you now - and Joel felt like that may have been one of the happiest times in his life.

But Sarah's voice was absent among the happy noise coming from this kitchen. And Joel himself is not part of it, either. The version of himself who could once revel in such carefree gaeity was dead. The man Joel was now didn't deserve to be happy, anyway.

He slunk further down the hallway and disappeared to go pour himself a drink.

•••••

Soon it is time to say goodnight. Ellie pulls you into a hug and thanks you for a delicious dinner. Tommy tips his head to you and smiles warmly.

"Thank you once again for dinner, darlin'. You're a damn good cook. Maybe you can give Maria a lesson one of these days," he chuckles and gives you a wink.

You giggle and absent-mindedly fidget with the cuff of your sweater. "You give me too much credit, Tommy."

"Oh, hush now. I give credit where credit is due," he declares. "My brother is a lucky man."

Tommy crosses over to where Joel stands impassively by the fire place with his arms crossed. He pats his brother's shoulder and they exchange some words about their next patrol shift then walks to the door. As he pulls his jacket on, he addresses you once last time.

"By the way, that paint you were lookin' for a while ago for that shelf - I found more of it in one of the sheds. I'll drop it off next week, that alright?"

"What?" You huff a little laugh, incredulous. "Tommy, that was ages ago. You actually remembered that?"

Tommy nods. "Yeah, sure. I know how much it meant to ya."

"Thank you, really. Thank you so much."

Joel can see how touched you are by whatever Tommy's done for you, your surprise and gratitude evident in the blush of your cheeks and the girlish way you clasp your hands together. He knows Tommy is just being Tommy, that his brother isn't purposely laying on the charm to make him jealous. But it doesn't stop the bitter wrath prickling at the nape of his neck.

"Come on Ellie, I'll walk ya," Tommy beckons the girl with a jerk of his head. Ellie gives you another quick hug and they both bid you and Joel a final goodnight before they trudge out of the door.

A heavy silence falls upon the house once the pair have left. You have already plopped onto the couch with one of your books, settling in for another night of barely talking to him in favour of whatever adventure is happening in your story.

Joel remains standing at the fireplace watching the flames dance, tossing up whether it is worth asking about. He wishes it didn't bother him, wishes he could give less of a shit that his younger brother can make you smile so easily. He tries to drown the angst and curiousity swirling inside his belly, telling himself it doesn't matter, to just forget it, but he can't. He so desperately wants to provide for you, to be the only man you rely on to fulfil your needs and wants, to keep you protected from the harsh world and the people in it. It makes him feel like a failure to know that another man fulfilled one of your wishes, even if it was his own brother, even if it was something as simple as paint and a fucking shelf.

"What's that shelf Tommy was talkin' about?" Joel finally breaks the silence.

You look up from the novel splayed infront of your face and frown. "Huh?" It takes a second for you to register what he's talking about. "Oh. The paint?"

Joel nods once.

You give a little shrug. "There's a book shelf at school that I really love. One day I mentioned to Maria that I wished I could paint it a particular colour. This pretty kind of teal shade that I have always loved, since I was a kid."

Joel notices the flash of sadness pass over your eyes at the mention of your childhood.

"Anyway, she told Tommy. He came to the school to ask how he could help." You sigh softly. "It was a long time ago now, but he remembered."

It pains Joel even more to recognise that this is the most you have spoken to him since that big argument. He clears his throat and looks at you with doleful eyes. "Why didn't you ever mention that to me?" He asks gently. "'Bout the shelf, or the paint?"

You stare at Joel and cock your eyebrow quizzically. "You're actually asking me this, Joel?"

Joel frowns and turns his body to face you directly. "Yeah, I am. Why did my brother know about it and I didn't?" He knows he sounds pathetic, childish. He hates himself for it, but he cannot stop himself.

"Joel," you almost seem to groan. "I don't want to talk about all this again."

"I wanna know," Joel says with conviction.

You close your book and toss it next to you on the couch. You glare up at him. "When did you ever care what I had to say, Joel? When did you ever want to hear about something like a random book shelf at my work?"

Joel doesn't have an answer. He just stares at you, ashamed and lost for words.

"Your brother knew because he was interested enough to ask," you snap. "I'm a person too, you know, Joel."

"What?" He mumbles in confusion.

"I'm a person," you repeat the words slowly, bitingly. "I'm not just your toy, or your maid, or whatever."

"I know," he whispers.

"You don't even know anything about me," you whisper back despondently.

"Ofcourse I do," Joel scowls.

You just shake your head and sniff, sounding like your sinus is clogged with unshed tears. You turn your head away from him and stare at the hardwood floor in gloomy silence. For what seems like several minutes the only sound within the room comes from the quiet cracklingly of the fire. It is soothing in a way, along with the cosy warmth it emits, and you find yourself being lulled to sleep on the couch. Just as your eyelids flutter shut Joel's voice cuts through the peace.

"Forget Me Not."

Sleepiness has made your mind sluggish and you don't quite understand what he has said. You blink slowly and scrub at one eye with your fist.

"...What?" You mumble.

"The flower. It's your favourite."

You don't respond or even look at Joel but your heartbeat picks up speed. How did he even know what your favourite flower is? You don't recall ever telling him.

"You like green tea best in the mornin'," Joel utters. "Peppermint at night."

He is right, but you still don't say anything in return.

"Your momma used to tie ribbons in your hair when you were a little girl," Joel states softly, his expressive brown orbs roaming all over your fragile form. "'S why you like to wear 'em still."

Joel's intention was to prove how intimately he knows you, but in reality his words spark something vicious and defensive inside your soul. You pull yourself up from the couch and snatch your book up.

"I don't want to hear this!" You growl at him. "Just leave me alone!"

Joel strides over to you and blocks your escape into the hallway. He looks down at you, sober and resolute. "I know you better than you think, babydoll."

"I said leave me alone," you snap, glowering up at him. You shove at his chest but his body stays solid and unmoving, far too powerful for your small hands to have any impact upon.

"I'll never leave you alone," Joel snaps back. "And from now on, you need anythin', you come to me and me only. I'm the only person you rely on, you understand? Not Tommy, not anybody. Just me."

You scoff contemptuously and try again to shove past him. "Yeah, sure Joel, whatever you say."

"Better watch that smart mouth," he growls, but still steps aside to let you pass by into the hallway. You quickly ascend the stairs and Joel follows close behind you. You cross the landing and make your way to the bathroom, but just as you turn the door knob Joel swiftly wraps his hand around your wrist. He pulls you back into the hall and stands directly infront of your line of vision, determined for you to see and hear him.

"I mean it," he grunts. "I'm the only one you need."

"I don't need you, Joel," you hiss at him. "And I don't want you, Joel, not this cruel man you've proven yourself to be. I will never be happy with you again."

An uncontrollable, primal fury surges through Joel and he suddenly smashes his fist into the wall next to your head, busting a hole into the drywall and sprinkling plaster debris over the rug. You scream and scurry into the bathroom, slamming the door shut and locking it behind you.

Joel grits his teeth as he flexes his hand, the split skin of his knuckles already bloody and smarting. He heaves rapid breaths through his clenched teeth, his chest expanding with each inhale.

He hears you sobbing heavily through the wall and the woeful noise is enough to shatter through the bubble of animalistic wrath blinding him. Fuck, now you are terrified and crying. Again.

Joel growls and descends the stair case to go to the kitchen and clean his hand. He turns on the cold water and runs his knuckles under the stream.

It isn't his fault, he tells himself. You goaded him and had to fucking talk back.

He dabs at the blood with one of the dish rags and watches a red stain bloom on the soft yellow material. He grumbles and cleans the powdered drywall from his skin.

He'll let you cry it out. You won't have such a smart mouth after that, he's sure.

Joel finishes cleaning up the back of his hand and dries it with a dish towel, unbothered by the familiar sting of freshly sliced skin.

All he wanted to do was provide for you and take care of you, but you had to ruin everything.

Joel swaggered into the loungeroom and grabbed the decanter of whiskey from the mantle. He was going to get shit faced and knock himself out. He wanted to forget the hateful ferocity of your words. The grief for what he has ruined. The mourning of what could have been. And most of all, the unbearable absence of his daughter Sarah.

•••••

Joel had laid down the law of his house without any room for compromise. It had been so long overdue, after all. His rules are straight forward and fairly simple, uncomplicated in their shared objective to isolate you from everyone else, especially Oscar.

In his mind Joel is justified in drastically limiting your freedoms. He had made the mistake of allowing you too much independence, of granting you too much trust, only for him to catch you in the arms of another man.

Joel had always liked seeing you scared; he took pleasure in your wide panicked eyes, how your hands trembled, how you begged so helplessly. Your fear excited him and made him feel powerful. But the choked sob you let out when Joel threatened to kill Oscar had only infuriated him. He found no satisfaction in your reaction, only anger.

He was angry because of the agonising realisation had dawned upon him so abruptly at that moment - the reality that he was no longer the only person that resided in your precious heart. How had Oscar infiltrated your bubble of introversion so quickly? What made you choose to accept him into your heart?

Oscar talked with you, you had argued pathetically. So what? Joel was well known for his distaste of conversing more than the bare minimum of what was considered good etiquette. But he could talk to you, properly and intellectually, if that's what you really fucking wanted. But that didn't matter so much right now. What mattered was Joel retaining control over your relationship and keeping Oscar the fuck away from you.

He should've never listened to Tommy and his bullshit psychology - he and his bitch of a wife were so different to you and Joel, their connection no where near as deep and profound as what you two shared. No words could adequately describe just how special that binding tie was. No one else could understand.

Tommy had been wrong. Oh so wrong. Being tender and patient with you hadn't worked - you had still sought out Oscar for your emotional needs while denying Joel any kind of deeper intimacy. What was the point of trying to be gentle and not hurt you when you had hurt him so badly? Nothing Joel did seemed to help make you happy. You were never satisfied.

He has given you so much of himself. Parts he did not know still existed inside his black heart, pieces of him that he thought had been strangled the moment Sarah had died in his arms. He has shown you so much vulnerability, shared sacred parts of his soul and a depth of intimacy that he has never revealed to anyone before. He had offered you his love and protection.

Joel has given you so much and yet you make him feel as though it is not good enough. As though he is not good enough, that he is inferior to someone like Oscar, or his brother Tommy. You have made him feel pathetic and weak. You have made him feel out of control, something that he has not experienced for a very, very long time.

It scares Joel to his core.

The longer he thought about it, the more irritated Joel was becoming. Just what the hell was it going to take for you to stop moping and forget about Oscar? What was it going to take for you to just accept your fate and get over everything? What more could you possibly expect of Joel? Why couldn't you and he start over again, go back to the way things used to be? When you were so sweet and meek, just his good little girl.

Amidst the rejection and aggravation and betrayl was something else stirring inside Joel; something more venomous, more baleful than anything he had ever associated you with. It was an emotion that Joel was very familiar with, one that had enabled him to endure and survive for so long in a world gone to hell.

Hatred.

Hatred for you for all that you had taken from him just to throw back in his face. For you to yell at him that you don't need him, that you don't want him.

Hatred for your selfishness and insolence.

Hatred for you giving him so much pleasure and kindness only for you to retreat and withhold from him completely.

It made Joel want to hurt you in any way he could, to thieve every last bit of dignity and autonomy from you, to show you just who the fuck you were dealing with. He was Joel Miller, after all, and you had no idea just what he was capable of.

Chapter Text

If you were going to live a life pretending to be happy with Joel, you were not going to allow him to completely oppress you.

You stopped speaking to him unless necessary, essentially ignoring him. You dedicated more of your time planning lessons. You spent alot of time out in the garden despite the freezing cold. You read your books and sipped your tea - you even found you started to like the way the chill pierced your lungs whenever you inhaled deeply. I reminded you that could still enjoy freedom in other ways outside the house.

The little rush you get from ignoring Joel is addictive. It could have been considered pathetic to anyone else but it makes you feel powerful in a way you had never felt before.

You became slower to attend to your house duties because you were often too preoccupied with daydreaming. When Joel reminded you to be more prompt in washing the dishes he was sure you rolled your eyes at him. Sometimes you would mumble something that he couldn't quite catch with his bad hearing, but when he'd question what you said you would just say "nothing, Joel".

Joel got frustrated with you more and more often because of your carelessness. His harsh words soon turned into rough grabs and shoves, then they progressed into slaps.

You had forfeited your friendship with Oscar to protect him from Joel. That was not going to change. You remember the rumours that had circulated around town about Joel's propensity for violence when he and Ellie first arrived. Considering what he has done to you, there is no doubting Joel would take great pleasure in torturing Oscar. You would rather disappear from Oscar's life than risk Joel potentially killing him just for talking to you.

Although you feared for Oscar, you did not fear for your own safety. Not any longer. Joel had already hurt you as much as he could and you had survived. What was another slap? What was another bruise to add to the rest of the purple-yellow clusters that mottled your skin? Whatever punishment he deemed fit would be worth suffering, just for the reminder that your heart was still beating with life and love.

Although your spirit had grown stronger and more independent it is still impossible for you to completely relax. You simply cannot when Joel is a constant dark shadow following you, the wicked source of both your pleasure and your misery, the man who wants nothing more than to hurt and possess you.

Joel not only invades your body, but you swear he is beginning to invade your thoughts, too. His presence seems to pervade your surroundings at all times. Even when he isn't at home and you are alone in the house you feel like you are being watched. You know it isn't logical and that he's either on patrol or at the bar, but it does little to alleviate the unsettling feeling of being spied on.

At times you feel like he can read your mind and it makes you question your sanity. He always seemed to be one step ahead of you, always calculating your next move before you could even think of it.

Like when you planned to ask him for extra time allowance to go to the market for food and had discovered he already went shopping and stocked up on as much food as his rations would allow. You searched through the pantry and fridge and were astounded by the plenitude of food.

Never before had you seen another person's pantry so well stocked with flour and fruits, or so much butter, milk and eggs all in one single fridge. You almost allowed yourself to believe that maybe he had done it to prove his dedication to you, to demonstrate how he cared about you and wanted you to eat. But that was probably a farfetched idea, you concluded. He was no longer the tender and loving Joel that he had been in the recent weeks. His personality had morphed once again, disorientating you even more.

From that point on the house had an abundance of food at all times, leaving you with no excuse not to cook or to go out to fetch ingredients without him.

Fine, you decided, if you couldn't get time outside then you would try harder to limit your proximity to Joel. He may have coerced you into living with him but you didn't have to share his bed.

You gathered your pillow and headed to one of the spare rooms with the intention of setting up a cosy nest in privacy. But when you tried to open the door you had found it locked, perhaps for the first time ever.

Strange, you thought, before moving onto the next room down the hallway.

When you went to enter the second bedroom you had discovered its door was also locked. You rattled the handle fruitlessly, growling with frustration, then kicked at the door.

Ofcourse Joel locked them, you chided yourself. Because he knew you'd try isolate yourself.

Because sleeping in the spare rooms weren't an option you tried the next best thing - the couch. Joel walked into the living room just as you were spreading a blanket and pillow over the couch and he understood your intention right way.

"No," he grunted. He scooped you up and carried you all the way upstairs, ignoring your thrashing and protests. He took you into the master bedroom and dumped you unceremoniously onto his mattress.

"Knock it off," he scowled. You just glared at him and he shook his head at you.

"Last warnin'," Joel cautioned sternly. "Next time I'll tie you to this damn bed."

You don't doubt he would, so you resign yourself to sleeping in his bed every night. Atleast the heat from his body keeps you warm, you think. And when you startle awake from another horrible dream in the middle of the night, sobbing and with your heart pounding, it's Joel's arms that hold you tight. It's Joel's gravelly voice that whispers soothing phrases into your hair. In some kind of unspoken paradoxical illusion it is his enduring presence that ultimately assuages your distress.

••••••

Having you living in his home has awoken a new depth of perversion in Joel that he cannot temper. It excites him to know you sit waiting for him to return home every night like a good little housewife, that your pretty face and your sweet scent will greet him when he steps through the door after a long stint on patrol.

His cock thickens in his pants to think of how accessible your body is now that you are essentially a prisoner in his house with no where to run and hide. Joel has even contemplated the idea of tying you to the bed each night; mostly for his pleasure and to reinforce your position beside him, but also to fuck with your head a bit.

Maybe he can tie you up and take some more perverted pictures of you sometime. The possibilities are endless, especially now that he's resolved not to give a fuck about your feelings. Despite the pathological love he feels for you, the embers of hatred still smoulder inside Joel; it urges him to hurt you, to break your will.

Your attitude lately was really starting to piss him off. Your behaviour reminded him of a sullen teenager at times - you barely talked to him and always evaded him in favour of being alone with your books. You had even started sitting on the steps of the back porch to read, a blanket draped over your shoulders to protect you from the evening chill.

He had a good mind to burn those fucking books.

It felt like you were toying with him with some sort of strategic psychological game to purposely anger him. And it was working. But like a moth to the flame his hunger for you is more insatiable than ever; like he wants to drain the life from you and devour you whole, as if your arousal is the essence in which keeps his blackened heart beating. He is greedy in his quest to ravish you.

Joel marks you in any place that can be concealed by your clothing. Your breasts and stomach are littered with purple hickies and the imprint of teeth, as are your thighs and the flesh of your ass cheeks. Joel tries to restrain himself from marking your neck gratuitously though; he doesn't want to raise any suspicions but he is also too possessive to allow you to walk around with prominent hickies all over your neck. He doesn't want some asshole looking at you and thinking you're easy.

You have come to know that there is no point in trying to resist Joel's advances anymore, either, because he just ends up taking from you anyway. Your refusal only spurns him on and feeds his obsessive compulsion to dominate you, and the more you resist him the more determined he is to break you.

When you kick at him and smack at his face and chest Joel silences you with heavy slaps across your face. He likes to slap you - on your cheeks, your ass, your breasts - so he can see the bloom of his red hand print on you.

He wins the battle of wills between you and he over and over again. And as much as you fucking hate him there is no denying the rapacious magnetism you and Joel share. You may scratch and bite like a feral cat but it is all part of the game you play. He knows you can't resist him, even if you could never admit it to yourself.

"Told you I know you better than you think," he whispered tauntingly in your ear the other night, just after he had coaxed a mind blowing orgasm from you. "Don't forget this pussy is mine."

Joel left you a whimpering mess, too fucked out to say anything in return to his boasting. He's never seen you squirt so much before, but his own orgasms seem more intense now, too. He is finding it increasingly more difficult not to cum inside you and fill your cunt with his load every time he has you. It feels like he's defying his natural instincts by pulling out and spilling his seed elsewhere.

Fuck, Joel would love nothing more than to explode inside your perfect pussy. It is not that Joel wants to get you pregnant or have more children; infact just the thought of him fathering a child again makes his stomach clench anxiously. It's the act itself, internally marking you with his cum, that he so badly wants to indulge in.

Joel makes a mental note to check on his pill stash to see if there's any more plan b. He knows for sure that he still has pain killers and sleeping pills. They will come in handy for the future, he thinks, when he's sure you are both ready to move on from here.

••••••

Kate yawns as she carries her cup of tea from the kitchen to the living room, grateful for the the warmth of the mug heating the palm of her hand. Although she is wearing a thick sweater over two long sleeved shirts she still feels chilled. These past few months have been bitterly cold with no sign of reprieve, and like most Jackson residents she longs for the snow to ease and for the warm sunshine to return.

For Kate the early mornings during this time of year are the worst; she hates having to leave the refuge of her bed to go to work when the sky is still dark and the air is unforgiving and icy. Fortunately today she is able to enjoy a leisurely morning infront of the fireplace.

She is just about to sit down in one of the armchairs when three solid knocks rap on the front door.

"Who on earth...?" Kate mumbles to herself. No one visits this early in the morning, unless maybe Maria or someone else from the committee are in search of a volunteer to fill a work duty for the day. Shit, she really hopes it isn't the case - she's really looked forward to her day off this week.

With her mug still in hand Kate shuffles to the door and turns the handle to pull it open. She's visibly surprised to be greeted by the sight of Oscar standing on her porch, his nose and his cheeks tinged with pink. The chill from the wind infiltrates the house immediately and Kate makes a hissing noise.

"Oscar!" she blurts out in surprise. "Matt has already left for work, you've just missed him, sorry."

She obviously assumes Oscar is at her front door calling on her brother, but Oscar shakes his head and narrows his gaze at her.

"I'm not here to see Matt," he speaks cheerlessly. "I'm here to see you."

Kate frowns, perplexed. "Huh? Me?"

"Yes Kate, I need to talk to you." Oscar replies firmly. "Let me in."

She is startled by the fixed solemnity within his striking brown eyes, how his usual jovial smile has been replaced by the grave downturn of his mouth. Kate realises she has never seen Oscar look so concerned before, and the realisation worries her.

She hurriedly steps aside to let him inside the house. "Ofcourse, Oscar, come in."

He stamps the snow from his boots before entering the house and Kate quickly shuts the door behind him. She ushers him into the living room and they end up perched on opposite ends of the couch by the crackling fireplace. She takes a sip of tea while eyeing him curiously.

Then a sudden wave of emotion crashes over her. There could only be one reason why her brother's friend is visiting her looking so forlorn.

"Oh my god!" Kate cries out. "Is it Matt? Please tell me Matt isn't hurt! He just left for work, what could have happened--"

Oscar immediately holds his hand out to quieten her.
"Kate, he's fine," he soothes. "Matt is fine. He's not the reason I'm here."

"Oh, thank God." Kate exhales with relief. "Holy shit Oscar, you scared me."

"I'm sorry," he apogises sincerely. "I didn't mean to worry you like that. But I'm here because I am worried."

"What's up, Oscar?" She asks gently.

The words tumble from Oscar's mouth without hesitation, as though he is desperate to divulge the burden of a secret.

He tells Kate everything. He tells her about how his crush on you developed into something more meaningful, that you shared a kind of deep connection with each other that he couldn't quite explain. He details to Kate about the night he confessed his feelings to you and about the subsequent note you had written him - the one that apologised for wasting his time and that said you couldn't be friends anymore.

Kate listens with rapt fascination, cycling through a range of emotions throughout Oscar's monologue; she sways from astonishment to delight, from bemusement to dismay. By the time Oscar concludes his story Kate's own face has morphed into a sombre scowl.

"I can see why you're worried," she admits quietly. "It all worries me, too."

Oscar sighs heavily and buries his face in his hands. "I didn't know if I was just getting all wound up over nothing, but it just doesn't feel right to me, Kate. I had to come and see what you think."

Kate tentatively sets her mug of now lukewarm tea on the coffee table before her. "Well, I have been a little concerned that we haven't seen her around lately. But when I asked about it she just said work has been really busy." Kate gives a sheepish shrug. "I didn't really give it much thought after that. But now, after what you have said...maybe we need to do something."

Oscar slumps back into the couch and slaps his hands down onto his thighs. "She doesn't want to see me, Kate. What can I do?"

"I'll talk to her," Kate says firmly. "I'll go check in with her, maybe at her house. And I won't tell her you came to see me, so don't worry about that."

Oscar stares at Kate with gloom clouding his large brown eyes . "Please let me know what she says as soon as you can, Kate. Please. I have to know she's alright."

The strain is evident on Oscar's face and Kate feels a twinge of pity tug at her heart. She hopes this is all a big misunderstanding, that the intensity of his feelings have caused him to misread things and that you are perfectly fine. But now a seed of doubt has been planted in Kate's mind and she cannot be sure.

She just pats his shoulder reassuringly. "I will, Oscar. I promise."

••••••

Kate felt an overwhelming urge to talk to Rhi and seek some kind of guidance. Rhi had always been the more pragmatic one in your friendship group, the one everyone confided in and went to for advice, and now Kate felt she needed to hear Rhi's perspective on this whole situation.

That afternoon Kate bundled herself into her thick woolen coat and set off to the town square. She walked briskly across the town square toward Rhi's work. The haberdashery is located on the main street of Jackson tucked between a leather goods store and a shoe repair shop. Because the block of businesses provide essential services to the community there is always a steady trickle of people coming and going and bustling around the street outside. That afternoon was no exception and Kate had to manoeuvre around a cluster of people spread outside the leatherworks.

An older lady trudged out of the haberdashery and bumped into Kate's shoulder as she passed, grumbling something about crocheting needles. Kate sniggered to herself at the thought of sassy Rhi taming ill tempered customers with her quick wit and sharp quips.

The inside of the store is more spacious than what its exterior suggests. There are display cupboards lined against the walls that are full of tapes of ribbon and differently coloured and patterned stacks of material. The service counter in the middle is surrounded by panels of fabric and measuring rulers, chalk and large scissors. Towards the back of the store are atleast half a dozen wooden desks arranged in neat rows with sewing machines sat ontop of them. There are women flitting about the store carrying armfuls of material and baskets of wool, needles and an assortment of other tools.

Kate spotted Rhi emerging from the storeroom at the very back with a panel of rolled fabric in her hands. When Rhi noticed Kate approaching she smiled warmly, a serene look flooding overher pretty features.

"Hey babe, what's up? I have to say, it's a pleasant surprise to see you here." She dumped the roll onto the counter. "Cheered my day up instantly."

Kate grinned. "Really? That bad, huh?"

Rhi snorted and reached over the clutter on the counter to retrieve a pair of scissors. "Yep," she said, emphasising the 'p' with a pop. "If Mrs. Letterman comes in here one more time to complain that the yarn is subpar and that's why she keeps messing up her knitting, I'll fucking scream."

Kate laughed and gave her a companionable pat on the shoulder. "Ah, always so much drama in the world of textiles."

Rhi rolled her eyes jovially and prepared to cut a swath from the fabric roll. "Uh-huh. So why are you here on your day off? Bored so you've come to keep me company?"

Kate was suddenly reminded of why she is there in the first place. She cleared her throat and crossed her arms, her cheery demeanour visibly shifting into a more sober expression. Rhi was too busy snipping the material to notice the change in her friend.

"Well, you see...Oscar actually came to visit me this morning," Kate began carefully.

"Oscar the fox?" Rhi interrupted with a grin, eyes still on the task infront of her. "What did he want?"

Kate took a breath and then recited a brief description of Oscar's concerns to Rhi, omitting how Oscar confessed his love to you. Kate could see the depth of his candor and knew it was something to be respected and kept private.

Rhi listened and waited patiently for Kate to finish speaking, then laid down the scissors and turned to face her friend.

"Wait, let me get this right. You're worried because you haven't seen her around much and she seems sad?" Rhi asked, one eyebrow cocked skeptically.

Kate sighed and shoot Rhi an unimpressed look of reproach.

"Come on, Kate! She's in the honeymoon phase," Rhi exclaimed and threw up her hands. "She's probably too busy getting fucked out of her mind and in love and finally enjoying a man."

Kate, used to her friend's informal attitude and candid way of speaking, just rolled her eyes at Rhi's crassness.

"God knows she's needed it," Rhi said with a smirk. "Oscar's probably got a little thing for her and is jealous or something."

"It's more than that, I think," Kate sighed again.

"You guys are worrying for nothing. I spoke to Joel just last night and everything seemed fine."

"What? Really?" Kate's eyes widened in surprise. Joel never talks to anyone outside his group of patrol buddies. Infact, Kate wonders how someone as seemingly antisocial as Joel and someone as shy as you ever got together in the first place.

"Yeah!" Rhi smiled brightly. "He came up to me at the cafeteria and asked me if Beau was leaving me alone - he was checking up on me! Can you believe?" Rhi sighed wistfully. "What a man! Anyways, he said she was tired and chilling at home after work, so..."

"I don't know," Kate mumbled dubiously. "She never comes to the mess hall anymore, or to any movie night. When I went to the school to see her, she was...I dunno, like scatterbrained."

"Hmm," Rhi hummed. She tapped her fingers on her chin as she considered a course of action. "Alright then, let's invite her out to dinner and see what she says. Then we can get all the juicy details and see how she really is."

Kate nodded. "Good idea. I'll go see her later. I just hope you're right and she's not hiding something."

"When it turns out that she's just been busy getting dicked down, you owe me," Rhi smiled teasingly.

••••••

Kate had accosted you as you were leaving the school. She enveloped you in a big hug and pleaded with you to come have dinner with her and the girls tomorrow night. She had caught you so off guard that you hurriedly agreed.

It was only afterwards, as you walked home, that reality sunk in. Why did you say yes when Joel was so adamant about you not going anywhere? How were you going to convince him to let you go out?

But you had missed your friends so much; you really did want to see them and spend time with them like the old days. You had to try. You owed them atleast that.

Despite not wanting to be subservient to Joel, you know you have to be humble and supplicating if you want him to grant you permission to go out tomorrow night. You can't be too assertive or demanding so you wait patiently until after dinner, when he has showered and changed into his night clothes. He is always so much more relaxed with food in his stomach and a fresh set of clothes on his back.

You approach Joel as he sits in his armchair nursing a glass of whiskey. You stand infront of him and clasp your hands behind your back, your fingers nervously twisting together. His eyes rake up and down your body and his jaw ticks. You cannot decipher what his mood is like right at this moment, although he seemed tranquil during dinner.

"Joel," you begin with a gentle tone. "I was wondering if I could go have dinner at the mess hall tomorrow night. Kate has asked me to go."

"What do you think the answer is?" He says without missing a beat.

"B-but this is important--"

"No," he mutters dismissively.

"Joel, it's just having dinner at the cafeteria, that is all," you explain calmly. "And I haven't seen the girls for so long."

"No."

"But they will be expecting me to go--"

"Girl if you think you have any chance of goin' out you are sorely fuckin' mistaken." Joel snaps irritably. He leans forward and throws back his shot of whiskey, then slams it down on the table beside him. You flinch when he then heaves himself out of his chair and advances on you, but still you cannot stop the deluge of words that come tumbling out of your mouth.

"I'll have dinner ready and waiting for you and I'll have everything around the house--"

"I said no. How many goddamn times do I have to tell you?" Joel raises his voice. "You are comin' straight home from work and that's it."

"But I'm not working tomorrow--"

You and Joel are interrupted by the sudden crashing sound of the front door slamming shut. The heavy bang reverberates throughout the lower ground floor of the house ominously.

You freeze on the spot while Joel quickly moves infront of you, protective and immediately ready to pounce at any threat of danger. Your hands cling to the material of his shirt.

You aren't really scared because Joel is with you, but the possibility of someone forcing their way into the house is still disturbing. You take a furtive peek from behind the solid of his flank to see just what is going on.

A figure emerges from the shadow of the hallway to reveal themself.

Ellie.

She stands at the entry way of the living room, her eyebrows creased and her mouth pulled into a grimace. She stares hard at Joel. She looks pissed off.

"Ellie," Joel says gently, his posture slackening. You let go of Joel's shirt and sigh with relief.

"What the fuck, Joel?" She grits out, her voice tight.

How much of the conversation did she hear? You wonder. Joel says nothing. He just stays silent and stares back at Ellie.

You wish you could see his face.

"Why does she have to be home straight after work?" Ellie demands loudly.

"Mind your business, Ellie." Joel shoots back, his tone quiet and serious.

"No, I wanna know!"

You step out from behind Joel and approach Ellie slowly. You have no idea what exactly she heard Joel say but you have to try maintain the pretence that everything is normal.

"He didn't mean it like what you think, El," you say gently, placing a tentative hand on her shoulder.

"He didn't mean to tell you that you couldn't leave the fuckin' house?" Ellie spits bitterly, her eyes shifting between Joel and you. "Because that's what it sounded like."

"Joel's just worried about my safety. There was a ranger who was bothering me and my friend at dinner a while ago. He was being threatening. Joel is just having a bit of trouble trusting that something like that won't happen again."

Your voice is soft and pacifying but even to your ears your words sound unconvincing. You hate Joel for putting you in this position, for making you lie through your teeth to one of the most important people in your life.

Ellie stares at you, searching over your face. You can tell by the pinch of her brows and the uncertainty in her eyes that she's conflicted and doesn't know whether or not to believe you. When she doesn't move you take her hand in yours and give it a little squeeze.

"What's up, El? You come over for something to eat?" You ask, changing the topic while trying to sound more light-hearted. "I have some leftovers if you're hungry."

"I came over because I wanted to ask if you wanna get breakfast tomorrow," Ellie grumbles. "That's if you're allowed to." She shoots a pointed look at Joel.

"Yeah, I'd love that, El." You swiftly assure her, hoping the slightly breathless hitch in your voice doesn't give away the fact that your heart is racing. "It's my day off. We can even spend the whole day together, if you want."

Ellie's eyes drag from Joel to you and you give her an affirming little smile.

"Well, Uncle Tommy did set up the axe throwing thing again..." She says with an offhanded shrug. You know this is Ellie's way of accepting your invitation; you bite back a smile, having to hide the relief that flows through you

"Awesome." You reply casually. "You can show me your skills tomorrow, then. Maybe even teach me how to do it."

She nods a little. "Cool."

The heavy tension in the air alleviates to some degree. You glance over at Joel; he's got his arms crossed and his eyes are fixated on Ellie, but like the typically stoic man he is, Joel gives no indication of what he's feeling or thinking.

"Do you wanna stay for a while?" You offer her.

With a flick of her wrist she flips the hood of her jacket up over her head. "Nah, gotta go meet Dina. I'll see ya tomorrow for breakfast."

"It's a date." You nod. "Meet you here at 8 and we can walk together."

"Okay." Ellie shifts hesitantly on her feet, glancing back to Joel and narrowing her eyes into suspicious slits. "You better not be acting like an asshole."

Joel rolls his eyes and scoffs. "I ain't. Now get outta here, kid."

You and Joel follow Ellie to the door to bid her goodnight. She stomps down the porch steps and shoves her hands into the pockets of her jacket. The lamps lining the street glow above Ellie's lithe silhouette as she walks away.

You feel the anxiety drain from your body and your body momentarily sags against the door frame. You and Joel watch Ellie right up until she disappears into the next street. As soon as you retreat back inside the house Joel clicks the door shut behind you. He moves swiftly to cage you between himself and the wall. He glares down at you with threatening hostility.

"You hurt that girl and I swear to God..." He whispers as he stares down at you. The strain of repressed emotion makes the timbre of his Southern accent thicker.

Your face crumples and you feel the instant threat of hot tears sting your eyes. Does Joel really believe you would ever be capable of purposely hurting Ellie? For all this time you have being sheilding her from the truth of your relationship with Joel just so she can have some kind of stable family life. You can honestly attest to doing whatever you can not to hurt Ellie. Can Joel not see that?

"Come on, Joel. I'd never hurt Ellie." You can't hide the genuine hurt in your voice. "Didn't I just prove that?"

You duck underneath his arm to quickly scurry away but Joel's hand seizes your upper arm and halts you suddenly. His grip is bruising and hurts - as it seems to be every time he touches you now days.

You tilt your head to meet his eyes, your expression already listless and defeated.

"I'll let you go to breakfast with her...and this thing with your friends...but if you say one word to her or anyone about anything..." Joel gives a minute shake of his head and clenches his jaw.

There is a torrent of emotion swirling within his brown eyes, something that appears like a mix of sadness and worry and anger, but you don't care to scrutinise it. You have no energy or will to argue; you are so drained that you just want to go to bed and sleep.

"I won't," you whisper.

Joel studies your face for a few moments, as if he's weighing something up in his mind, and he eventually let's go of your arm without another word. You wrap your arms around yourself and scamper toward the stairs.

••••••

Breakfast with Ellie is pleasant, if not a little awkward. Neither of you mention last night and conversation seems stilted at times, but overall you both enjoy the other's company. Ellie so thrilled at the prospect of taking you axe throwing afterwards that you have to tell her to stop scoffing her scrambled eggs and toast.

As soon as you leave the dining hall Ellie grabs your arm and guides you across the town square toward the woolshed and the blacksmith workshop. She leads you to a secluded area behind the sheds that Tommy has cordoned off from the general public. Your mouth falls open in wonderous surprise when Ellie unveils the small axe throwing range Tommy has constructed. The range is shaped in a rectangle, with one end for throwing and the other for the targets.

On the target end, a row of three rounded archery butts have been assembled several feet apart from one another. An axe has been wedged into the centre of one of the butts. At the opposite end of the range, around twelve feet away, Tommy has marked a stripe on the ground to indicate where the axe thrower should stand. He has also used white paint to outline three separate lanes on the ground.

"Pretty fuckin' cool, huh?" Ellie grins widely, raptly watching your reaction.

"Yes! It's amazing!" You say, sincerely in awe as you survey your surroundings. "I can't believe Tommy did all this!"

"Yep, says I'm his favourite niece."

"Ellie, you're his only niece."

"Precisely why he has to do what I want," Ellie beams. "Now stand back and watch the master at work."

For the next hour Ellie demonstrates the skills she has acquired from Tommy and other townsfolk who are proficient in wielding weapons. She talks the whole time, alternating between explaining techniques she learned and retelling funny stories that they had shared with her. You watch each throw and listen to Ellie's every word, marvelling at her natural aptitude for the sport.

She looks back at you whenever the axe lands within the bullseye, and you cheer and clap with just the right amount of enthusiasm that won't make her feel awkward. The proud smirk Ellie wears makes your heart sing.

You and Ellie stay at the range for a while. You even try your hand at throwing the axe a few times, making you both laugh hysterically when you fail. You are doubled over giggling when a silky, gravelly voice startles you both.

"Atleast if anythin' ever happens to ya, you'll have Ellie to save your ass."

You both whip around to find Tommy standing by the makeshift door, thumbs hooked in his belt loops and a wide grin plastered on his handsome face.

"Oh no, how long have you been standing there for?" You groan, your cheeks blushing with embarrassment.

"Long enough to see why you ain't never worked a patrol shift," Tommy teases.

"Hey, leave her alone," Ellie slings her arm around your neck defensively. "I'm gonna teach her and then the both of us will make you eat shit."

Tommy barks a hearty laugh. "I don't doubt it, El." He ambles over to you both and gives you a wink. "Now let me have a turn to show off."

The afternoon at the range is even more fun with Tommy around. The three of you take turns throwing, with both of them teaching you how to properly aim and launch until you actually hit the target. You can't recall the last time you genuinely enjoyed yourself so much.

When you arrive back home, your soul singing and your spirits high, Joel is waiting for you on the porch swing like a disapproving father. The smile on your face drops as soon as you spot his glower, and you slink up the porch steps like a dog about to be scolded.

You drag your feet as you walk through the front door, Joel trailing behind you wordlessly like an ominous shadow.

You should have known he'd make you pay your penance for today.

••••••

"Watch," Joel demands gruffly, voice low and thick with desire.

He uses the hand tangled in your hair to wrench your head back so you are staring at the bathroom mirror. He towers behind you, still fully dressed with only his cock free from his jeans, while you stand completely naked before him. The cold air of the room makes you shiver, your bare flesh prickling with goosebumps. He kicks your legs apart and grabs your ass cheek with his other hand, digging his fingers into you painfully. You hiss and try to squirm away but his nails only press into you further and hold you tighter.

Joel leans forward and licks a thick stripe from your the base of your neck up to your ear, where he plants a soft kiss on your earlobe. His beard tickles you and his warm breath beats against your skin.

"Watch yourself get fucked." He whispers.

You have no other option.

Joel stoops ever so slightly to line the weeping head of his cock against the slit of your cunt. He bows his head and spits a warm wad of saliva onto where you connect to lubricate himself. Then he wastes no time pushing into you, groaning at the way your heat slips around him, how fucking perfect you feel at the first stretch. You moan involuntarily and he feels your pussy clench around him while your legs tremble.

Joel loves how much your body still desires his, even after all this time, even after all your efforts to push him away. He watches your reflection intently and smirks at the way your brows knit together and your mouth hangs open.

Joel slides his cock all the way inside your pussy and fills you completely, then quickly retracts his hips and pulls out again. He slams back in forcefully and relishes how you wince and gasp, taking pleasure in the fact that he knows you feel like you're being split in two, that the initial thrusts always hurt you, even more so when he hasn't prepared you at all.

"Don't forget who makes the fuckin' rules around here, little girl," Joel gruffs.

Joel had begrudgingly agreed to let you go meet up with your friends tonight. He couldn't possibly say no after Ellie had walked in on your argument together. That would just confirm her suspicions about what a controlling asshole he is.

But Joel could still prove to you just who was in charge. And that's exactly what he was doing right now.

His hand is wound tightly in your hair, making it impossible for you to move. He uses it as an anchor while he begins to pound into you at a steady pace, powerful and hard. Each punch of his fat cock pushes the air from your lungs and makes you grip tighter to the bathroom vanity.

Doggystyle has always been one of Joel's favourite positions. He loves sinking his fingers into the curves of your waist and your hips as he watches your ass jiggle from the impact of his thrusts. He revels in how pliant you become, unable to control how fast or hard he drills into you. He relishes in just how fucking animalistic it is.

Joel is able to see your every microexpression reflected in the mirror infront of you both and he wants you to see yourself, too; to see how utterly he wrecks you, how pathetic you look when you're blissed out and drunk on his cock.

When he had cornered you in the bathroom as you prepared to shower. You had struggled feebly, tried to fight him off, but you both knew it was impossible for you to escape him. You stare back at him now with half lidded eyes, vacant yet consumed, body weak and malleable as he hammers into you. Joel can read the shame on your face, the embarrassment you feel that he is both the one you hate and the one who pleasures your body so expertly.

Joel snaps his hips into your ass over and over and his balls smack against your skin, loud and lewd in the echo of the bathroom. He pushes down on your lower spine while tugging your head firmly backward, causing your back to bow. The change of angle allows the head of his cock to hit your gspot and the sensation pulls a raspy moan from deep in your throat.

"Yeah, there it is," Joel growls, his wolfish stare transfixed on your reflection. He cants his hips so that he taps against the soft spongy spot repeatedly, over and over with every thrust, and soon your pussy begins to contract around his dick, signalling your impending climax.

Your eyes are half closed, vision unfocused, your bottom lip caught inbetween your teeth. Joel snakes his hand around your front and slips his fingers between your lips to press on your clit. Your thighs shake and you moan wantonly as he begins rubbing the sensitive spot in sloppy circles.

"Cum on my cock," Joel pants, "I know you're close, baby, give it to me."

He slams into you harder and faster while he grunts like a wild animal, his dark orbs hyper focused on your fucked out expression in the mirror. He keeps his thick fingers pressed to your clit with just the right amount of pressure and speed that he knows will make you come apart on his dick.

Your jaw goes slack and your eyes shut tightly. He knows how humiliated you feel and it only makes him more determined. He wants to violate every inch of your body and your mind until he's all you can feel and taste.

Joel jerks your head sharply.

"Eyes open," he barks, "look at me when you cum."

Your eyes flutter open to meet his reflection and a only a few seconds later your orgasm hits. Joel pummels your cunt relentlessly and you keen loudly from the waves of blissful pleasure he has forced upon your body.

You look so fucking gorgeous, he thinks.

Joel frees his hand from your hair and gives your rump a harsh smack that leaves a stinging red mark on your skin.

"Fuck yeah," Joel moans, "can feel that pussy milkin' me, babydoll."

He continues to rub your clit throughout the high of your climax, wanting to prolong your pleasure until you are overstimulated and desperate for him to stop. He grins when your eyes roll back and he feels a gush of your juice drip down his girth and his balls.

"There you go, pretty slut," Joel murmers.

Soon it becomes too much for your swollen clit and your thighs clamp around his hand. You shake your head and gasp.

"Stop," your voice comes out weak and wrecked. "Enough, please."

The sensation of your muscles squeezing around his cock is so deliciously intense that Joel's own orgasm comes quicker than expected. When he feels his balls tighten Joel abruptly removes his hand from your clit and swiftly withdraws from your aching pussy. He holds tightly to your hip and furiously jerks his cock a few times before shooting ropes of warm cum all over your ass and lower back. He groans like a beast, chest heaving, his orgasm hitting him in one big intense wave.

When Joel is finished and his balls are empty he staggers backwards and stuffs his cock back into his jeans. He admires the streaks he has painted on your skin and how his spend drips across the faint white scars on your ass; it fills him with proud gratitication, as it always does to see you so degradingly marked by him.

He is uncaring when your legs give out and you sink to the cold tiled floor. He doesn't speak to you or look at your face when he pushes past you and walks out of the bathroom. He just leaves you alone to clean up the mess he's made, as he always does.

After you shower you don't complain when Joel stands at the closet and selects he outfit you would wear tonight (a simple long sleeved navy coloured dress with thick black tights). You wear your hair pulled back in a basic ponytail so that the necklace he gifted you is clearly visible.

You listen dutifully and don't talk back when he outlines the stipulations of tonight's outing; that you are only to talk to women at the hall, that you stay in his line of sight at all times, and that you can only stay an hour and a half tops.

Joel escorts you to the mess hall with his hand resting possessively on your lower back. He's not as anxious as he had anticipated but the familiar knot of aversion still sits heavy in his stomach. Regardless of his inner conflict Joel keeps his head held high as he walks into the hall beside you.

All your friends are already at a table and when they spot you they wave excitedly.

God damn, anyone would think you had been gone for years, the way these girls are behaving.

Joel politely greets your friends and awkwardly watches as they take turns hugging you and gushing about how much they have missed you.

Joel doesn't stick around. He goes to the serving station to get a tray of food and then finds a seat at an empty table not too far away from yours. A few minutes later Tommy shows up and joins him.

They eat in companionable silence for a while. Joel isn't in the mood to talk, too preoccupied with sneaking glances your way to maintain conversation. He didn't want to let you out of his sight for a minute - not that he actually thought you'd run away or something, but the paranoia was starting to get to him. He had to be vigilant. Joel didn't want other people taking up your precious time but he also didn't want you to have any opportunity to betray him.

What if you were telling your stupid bitch friends all about your private business? Joel is sure they would drag you away from him. Then they would go crying to Maria and the council, and there would be no way in hell that they'd listen to his side of the story. Ellie would fucking hate him. Your life together would be ruined.

But thankfully for Joel there didn't appear to be any indication of that happening tonight. He watches you sat amongst your friends, all of them talking and giggling exuberantly around you. It appeared to be a happy little reunion, however Joel noticed a clear contrast between you and the others; your reserved smile and tired, dull eyes didn't match their more cheerful expressions. It almost appeared as though you didn't want to be there.

Joel had not realised just how much he was staring until Tommy coughed a little to get his attention.

"You're like a damn dog with a bone," Tommy snorts. "She ain't goin' anywhere, Joel."

"Don't know what you're talkin' about." Joel mutters, finally tearing his eyes away from you. He picks up a piece of bread and mops up some of the gravy on his plate with it.

"You've been starin' at her since the moment I sat down."

"Fuck off, Tommy," Joel bristles. "Just makin' sure she's safe."

Tommy chuckles. "From what? She's sittin' with her friends. And you made that Beau boy shit his pants. You think any man would dare try anythin' after that?"

Joel says nothing in reply. What Tommy had said was true - now your relationship is public knowledge no man in the whole of Jackson would even think of trying to flirt with you.

"Anyway, how's the domestic side of things goin'?" Tommy grins. "You two love birds think' of sealin' the deal?"

Joel glances up from his plate and his brow creases. "If you're talkin' marriage that ain't gonna happen."

"You told your girl that?" Tommy asks with an amused little smirk.

"What?"

"Have ya'll talked about the future? You might not want all that, but ever thought she might?"

Joel knows Tommy isn't being argumentative or intrusive, that his younger brother is just being the romantic dreamer he always has been, but he raises a good point. Joel actually hadn't given much thought to marriage with you, or even talked with you about it, although he suspects it is something you do (or did) want.

Joel shifts uncomfortably in his chair and goes back to concentrating on his dinner. "Not everybody wants that kinda thing, Tom."

Tommy hums in agreement. "That's true," he concedes. "She just gives me the impression of bein' the kind that wants that kinda thing."

"What do you mean?" Joel asks lowly. "What'd she say?"

"Aw it was nothin'. We were just talkin' a bit at the range today, mainly about school 'n all that." Tommy says plainly before taking a bite of the roasted meat on his fork. "Said she was lonely at times, wants more in life."

More in life? What the fuck does that even mean? Why were you talking to Tommy about your life anyway?

"She's fine," Joel mutters, his voice sharp with vexation.

The topic of conversation changes when out of nowhere Troy slams his tray down onto the table and takes a seat next to Joel.

"Tommy if you roster me on with that Deacon son of a bitch one more time you'll have a homicide on your hands," Troy announces.

Troy greets Joel with a friendly slap to the shoulder before starting a diatribe about the latest incident to happen on patrol with Percy Deacon, one of the newly trained rangers that most of the others can't stomach.

Tommy chimes in occasionally while Joel partly listens to Troy's grievances. He continues to periodically observe you, careful not to look for too long lest Tommy teases him once more. Time passes and Joel finds himself actually starting to relax.

Until Oscar walks in.

Joel clocks Oscar the second he enters the crowded hall. He's talking to his friend, that Matt kid, but once his gaze lands on you he stops speaking completely. Oscar openly fixates on you, practically fawning over you.

How dare he fucking stare at you like that.

Joel watches you glance up and lock eyes with Oscar. You're transfixed on him for only a few moments, but the gesture is meaningful and intimate. It makes Joel's blood boil.

Tommy witnesses the loaded exchange and instantly knows what's going on.

"Joel--" Tommy begins to say, but Joel is already standing up and stalking over to your table. A hush falls over your table when he approaches. He doesn't pay attention to any of your friends when he bends down to whisper in your ear.

"We're goin' - you got one minute to say goodbye. I'll be waitin' outside."

Joel strides out of the dining hall without looking back. The night air hits his face in a refreshing, chilly blast but it does nothing to dampen the jealous rage that burns through his whole body. His jaw clenches tight and his hands itch to punch something.

Soon Tommy is by his side, his barrel chest knocking against Joel's shoulder. "What the fuck was that, Joel?"

Joel glowers at him and just shakes his head, but Tommy can read his expression clearly.

"They're just friends. Ya can't stop people from bein' friendly, Joel." Tommy implores.

"I don't care. She ain't for him." Joel snarls.

"What are you gonna do, Joel?" Tommy hisses. "Gonna kill any man that looks at her? Lose your shit whenever things don't go your way?"

"You don't know a goddamn thing," Joel growls back. "You don't know what loss is, Tommy."

"I haven't been through loss like you have," Tommy's voice quivers slightly. "But I don't wanna see you go through it again, brother. And if you keep doin' this shit tryin' to protect her it could happen. Violence ain't the way to keep a person close to you."

"Didn't lose Ellie," Joel retorts firmly. Tommy immediately understands what Joel is implying and nods.

"Hell of alotta difference between a hospital of Fireflies and half the population of Jackson, Joel." Tommy argues back soberly.

"I'd do it all over again if I had to," Joel asserts.

"I knew it." A voice suddenly spits out. "I fuckin' knew it."

Joel and Tommy whirl around to see Ellie standing behind them. Joel feels his blood run cold in his veins at the sight of her young face scrunched in anger and betrayl.

"Ellie," he croaks pathetically. "I--"

"I hate you," she seethes, teeth clenched. "I fucking hate you."

Before he can even plead with her to let him explain Ellie is running away from the brothers, her figure disappearing into the night shadows like a creature fleeing from peril.

Joel wants to call out to her but his throat is so dry it feels like sandpaper. He can't hear what Tommy is saying over the rush of blood pumping in his ears. His heart is galloping so hard in his chest that he feels on the precipice of a heart attack. He stands frozen in place but his brain is a discombobulated mess of invasive thoughts.

Ellie knows about the Fireflies.

She hates you.

She fucking hates you.

You've lost her forever.

You failed her, just like you failed Sarah and Tess.

You've lost everything.

He cannot hear Tommy's panicked voice shouting his name. He can't see or feel his little brother grasping tight to his shoulders and shaking him. Joel's vision goes black and he can't breathe. All he can feel is his heart physically tear in half and his lungs crush under the weight of this catastrophic devastation. He's sure he's dying, that the sweet relief of eternal black is finally claiming him and ending his miserable existence on his earth.

But then your voice is pulling him back. You are calling his name over and over, your angelic voice piercing through the canvas of darkness with pinpricks of blinding white light. His senses seep back into his body one by one until he is aware of your hands cradling his face and your big worried orbs staring up into his.

Joel's vision clears and he is greeted by your own beautiful face. You look like an angel. His precious angel.

Overwhelming relief and adoration flood through his whole body.

I still have you, he wants to say. You're still here. I can't lose you, too.

"Joel, brother, are you alright?" Tommy is right beside him, brows knitted with worry.

"'M okay Tom," Joel is somehow able to mumble through the dissipating fog of dissociation. "'M fine."

Tommy retreats back a step and watches you embrace Joel and stroke his hair, as if soothing a spooked horse. Joel appears calm but the only coherent thought he can identify rattling around in his brain is to escape - to run away from Jackson and leave this life behind. He has nothing here now. You and he have nothing left here.

Joel abruptly takes hold of your bicep and stalks away from Tommy. You stumble in shock as he drags you but he doesn't stop. Tommy calls out to him, desperate and pleading, but his voice is nothing but white noise to Joel.

It's time for you to leave Jackson.

••••••

Beau Henley was on night patrol at the front gates of Jackson that night. He didn't enjoy the shift; it was boring and uneventful and seemed to stretch on forever, the minutes ticking by slower than molasses in winter time. Because he wasn't properly trained as a sniper shooter yet, he was posted on the inside of the gates on the ground more often than the lookout points, which were a hell of alot more exciting than pacing back and forth in the snow with the same unmoving view of the town.

Beau hated it but he couldn't argue with Tommy and Maria about the roster when he was still a junior ranger. Beau had to suck it up and pay his dues, do all the boring shit like check the inside perimetre and stand around during the tedious night shifts guarding the gate. There was so much more to keeping Jackson safe than just riding around on horseback with a loaded rifle like the heroes in the cowboy comics he used to read as a kid. It wasn't all fun and games and action, like the young generation seemed to think it was. There was protocol to follow and a heirchary of roles that had to be exercised, and unfortunately for Beau he was stuck at the bottom in the chain of command.

He couldn't wait to rise through the ranks. Once he had a few more accomplishments under his belt then he could patrol outside more often, which is what most junior rangers dreamed of. Beau loved the thrill that came with patrolling outside the community and the possibility of running into infected or raiders. He also loved the weight of a gun in his hands, how it was seen as a symbol of authority and power. He hadn't had the opportunity to shoot anyone yet but his finger itched to pull the trigger on his rifle. Goddamn, he couldn't wait for an excuse to blast someone's head off with a clean shot.

For now all Beau could do was try to stay out of trouble and demonstrate his potential as a patrolman who would one day take over from the likes of Joel, Troy and Tommy. He tried, but his hot headed nature and egotistical persona occasionally got him in the shit with his superiors. Beau could usually weasel his way out of someone's bad books with a manipulative, charming pretence of good manners and what seemed like sincere apologies. He knew just how much humility to exhibit before he started to look like a kiss ass. The older men could see how strong and eager he was and would let him off with a light warning. Women were easier, though. Beau found his golden boy good looks worked particularly well on women of all ages, so all he needed to do was flash a smile or do some bullshit gentleman thing like hold a door open for them and any grievance was forgotten.

Except when it came to that teasing bitch, Rhi. His cheeks still redden at the memory of Joel Miller reprimanding him for simply jesting with her. All Beau had been doing was showing off to his friends while shooting his shot, silly stuff that guys sometimes did when they were looking for a fuck and being egged on by their guy friends. It had been harmless. But whatever. One day he would rule this fucking town and he could have some glory for himself, including all the pussy he could dream of.

Beau stood at the checkpoint at the gates that night with a rolled cigarette hanging out the corner of his mouth, idly fantasising about the latest girl he had flirted with at the Tipsy Bison. He was about to take a piss break when he spotted the black silhouette of a large figure on horseback approaching the check point. There looked to be a small cart attached to the horse as it clopped through the snow.

Now what the fuck do we have here? Beau's eyes squinted curiously as the figure advanced, the features of their face shroud in shadows and unidentifiable from a distance. He took one last long suck on his cigarette and then tossed it on the ground by his boot.

"Whose that?" Beau called, smoke exhaling from the side of his mouth. The figure did not reply but continued to approach him, mysterious and forboding in its dark anonymity. He threw a quick glance at the guard at the lookout point at the top of the gate above him, who just shrugged in return.

When the figure ontop of the horse finally came close enough for the lamplight to illuminate their face, Beau's mouth fell open in shock and confusion.

"Joel?"

Like an almighty general prepared to go to battle, Joel Miller looked formidable and tyrannical sat atop his horse, Tex. The greying curls of his hair were unruly and the bags under his eyes were more pronounced than usual, yet his orbs were steely and distant; he looked simultaneously exhausted and wired, a disconcerting combination that made Beau feel anxious.

Beau stuck out his chest and stood straight in an attempt to appear assertive, but he couldn't quite disguise the tinge of fear that came creeping into his voice when he spoke.

"Joel, uhm, sir. What can I--"

"Open the gate." Joel demanded simply without meeting Beau's eyes.

"What?" Beau was utterly bewildered by the situation. No one had ever passed through the gates alone or outside of the scheduled duties - it was unheard of and certainly an unprecedented occurance. He had no clue what to do but wondered just what the hell Joel was up to. "Where are you going? I mean, what are you doing? You aren't on patrol tonight. You can't just leave the town."

Joel's jaw ticked once before his head tipped down to glare down at Beau with icy hatred. Joel Miller was an intimidating man at the best of times but when he was displeased he appeared downright frightening; his eyes looked almost black and a dangerous energy radiated from his being, punctuated by a snarl on his lips and a flare of his nostrils. The single gaze from Joel made Beau made gulp involuntarily and the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end.

"Open the gate." Joel commanded once more, gritting his teeth in aggravation. "Now."

"Joel, I mean sir, you gotta fill out the log book, you gotta record the reason you're leaving," Beau blabbered. "We can't just let anyone go out without permission--"

Without breaking eye contact Joel slowly reached into his coat pocket and produced his pistol. Beau's words immediately died in his throat at the sight of the weapon and when he heard the threatening clicking of the hammer being pulled back, his stomach clenched and his blood turned cold. Although Joel hadn't pointed the muzzle directly at him the warning was still loud and clear.

Whatever the fuck Joel had planned, there was no mistaking how serious he was. Beau held up his lightly trembling hands and nodded vigorously.

"Okay, okay, hold on, I'll tell them to let you out." His head snapped up to look to the guards at the top level of the wall above them. They were already peering down and intently watching the interaction, concerned yet not daring to aim their own guns at the infamous Joel Miller. Beau hurriedly signalled for them to open the gates.

The wooden infrastructure creaked laboriously as the massive fortress like entrance gradually unfurled. A sudden blast of frosty wind rushed through the gap, a prompt demonstration of just how unforgiving the fierce wilderness could be outside the commune. Only somebody crazy would go out in such conditions, Beau thought. If that was what Joel wanted to then he really is as fucking crazy as they say.

Steeling himself against the wind Beau folded his arms tightly around his chest and trekked backwards a few steps, giving a wide berth to Tex and the cart. Joel rode passed him without speaking a word, the pistol still held tightly in one of his gloved hands. Aside from the dim moonlight and twinkling stars in the sky the landscape beyond the walls was devoid of light. Beau watched silently as Joel departed through the gateway and out into the ominously black wilderness, the cart rolling behind Tex like a faithful old dog trailing after it's owner.

Beau stood frozen on the spot until the entrance to the outside world was folded back and sealed once more. He frowned and shook his head, not knowing what exactly to make of the surreal situatikn that had just occured. It had been like a dream, too peculiar for Beau to fully process. He was suspended in the trance like state until the uncomfortable throb in his groin reminded him that he needed to empty his bladder. He whirled around and marched over to a nearby bush tucked into the shadows along the gate.

"Fucking psycho," Beau muttered to himself.

If Joel Miller wanted to go outside Jackson in the middle of the night, who the fuck was he to stop him? And why should he? He hated Joel; why should he give a shit that the old man was going against community rules and acting like a crazy person? It wasn't any of his business, and so he wasn't about to sound off any emergency sirens.

Fuck the Millers.

••••••

The idea had been significantly less challenging to execute than Joel had originally thought. It had not been something he wanted to do so soon and with so little preparation, but he felt he had little choice right now. After the confrontation with Ellie had essentially shattered Joel's world, his ability to employ logic and critical thinking had been shattered, too. His main reasoning for surviving these years now despised him. There was no coming back from that. How could she ever forgive him? When she spat those cursed words at him, Joel's fight or flight had been activated and all he wanted to do was flee.

Leaving Jackson had just been a fanciful notion until now. A distant desire kept tucked at the back of Joel's mind that subconsciously spurred him to collect and stow away bits and pieces for the future venture. If he had more time to adequate prepare, he would have done so methodically to ensure the safest possible journey for you both. There were so many facets to consider for survival, after all. But time was not on Joel's side; he didn't have as many supplies as he wished, but he had the basic neccessities and they would have to suffice. You would have to learn to get by.

He had been quite convincing in his explanation to you. He told you Ellie had blown up at him over something and then he had a panic attack, but things were okay and he just needed to go back home and rest. You seemed to understand, and even looked a little sympathetic. When you made your nightly cup of tea and left it to steep in the kitchen while you went to the bathroom to get ready for bed, Joel worked quickly.

He retrieved the sleeping pills from the box in the closet then returned to the kitchen. Using the handle of a carving knife he methodically crushed the pills into a powder, then swept the dust into his palm. He sprinkled the pile into your mug of tea and stirred it until completely dissolved.

You had no inkling of what Joel had done, not even when your eyelids started feeling heavy soon after finishing your drink. It wasn't long after that you slipped into a deep sleep on the couch. He had given you enough to be confident that you wouldn't rouse for several hours. You did not wake up when he carried you out of the house over his shoulder. You did not stir when he set you in the cart and bundled you with blankets and one of his coats.

You were dead to the world when Joel transported you both out of Jackson and away from everyone and everything you knew and loved.

••••••

The next morning Tommy Miller kissed Maria and his sons goodbye and walked out the front door of their home to begin his day of work. As he twisted the doorknob shut behind him he winced at the twinge of pain that was already leeching into the joints of his knuckles. With each passing season Tommy was becoming more aware of how old he was getting, how the weather and demanding physical work was impacting upon his body, how his tolerance for ineptitude was waning faster. But it was his two young children who gave him the strength to persist each day, it was their youthful innocence that motivated him to fulfil his role within the commune with a smile on his face.

Family was everything. And with that in mind, Tommy knew he had to be gentle talking with Joel today. He needed to be ready incase Joel needed his support and counsel after what happened with Ellie.

The brothers were scheduled together on the day patrol today. Whenever they were working alongside each other they met outside Tommy's house ten minutes prior to the shift and walked to the stables together. Tommy liked the unspoken routine and he suspected Joel did, too, and it seemed to help their relationship improve significantly over the past two years.

However, this morning was different. There was no sign of Joel waiting for him out the front of the house. Tommy turned his head to scan around up and down the street but could not find any sign of his brother. It was completely unlike Joel to be late or missing in action - his fastidious temperment made him pedantic about things like punctuality, and so for Joel to be missing this morning was strange.

It was strange. And it was worrying.

Tommy very quickly tried to rationalise Joel's absence, to calm the instant swoop of alarm that flashed through his gut. Perhaps Joel was sick and couldn't get up out of bed this morning? Maybe he had a late night and didn't wake up in time and was on his way right this second?

Tommy desperately wanted to believe in the actuality of these reasons, even the possibility of them, but deep down he knew they weren't going to be true. He could feel the growing spiral of dread circling inside his stomach, urging him to trust his intuition that something was definitely not right, that Joel was infact in a great deal of trouble.

Tommy bolted into the street and took off in the direction of Joel's home.

••••••

When you woke up and opened your eyes, everything in your line of vision was completely blurred. It took a good minute for all the fuzzy shapes and pools of colour to become distinct objects as your eyes gradually adjusted to your surroundings. Laying on your back, the ceiling above you was the first thing you became conscious of. It was made of a darkened shade of wood, totally unfamiliar to you. Your gaze rolled around to see the surrounding walls, bare of any decorations or pictures, made of the same kind of timber.

This isn't Joel's house, and it definitely isn't your cottage.

With great effort you slowly sat up onto your elbows, your head leaden with the sedation of heavy sleep and your body devoid of strength. You registered the feeling of warm, soft flannelette sheets under your hands and realised you were laying ontop of a bed.

A stranger's bed.

Your unfocused gaze skitted around until your eyes settled on the outline of a man's figure across the room. He had his back to you as he crouched down infront of a fire place. Your heart skipped a beat with alarm, but through your foggy vision you quickly recognised the crown of soft greying curls, the colour of his favourite Carthartt jacket.

Joel.

You desperately wanted to speak, to somehow get his attention so he would look your way, but your mouth felt too dry, your throat so parched. You rolled your tongue over the roof of your mouth, the ridges of your palate rough with lack of saliva. You parted your lips but no sound came out. It seemed to take all your effort to get the signals between your brain and your mouth to work in conjunction with one another just to form a single word.

"Joel?" You were finally able to mumur, groggy.

You watched the figure remain in the same spot by the fireplace, his broad back still turned to you, unmoving. He must not have heard you.

You blinked with weighted deliberation, trying to fight against the overpowering tug of drowsiness that was beginning to coax you back to sleep. You opened your mouth again to try speak but it stayed shut, like your jaws were glued together and unable to open. Then your arms gave way and your elbows slipped so that you lay supine once more, your upper body too weighty for you to stay elevated. As soon as the back of your head hit the pillow you once again fell into a dreamless slumber.

••••••

Unfortunately for Tommy, his premonition had not been unfounded. When he barged into Joel's house he discovered neither you or Joel were there. The silence was deafening as he searched through the rooms on both levels, finding nothing out of the ordinary.

Fuck.

Tommy rushed to the stables. Tex's stall was empty. There was no sign of the horse in the paddock.

With his heart thundering in his chest and his stomach roiling with anxiety, Tommy sprinted from the stables toward the front gates. His mind was a cacophony of dread filled thoughts.

Joel's dead.

Joel's left.

But there's no fucking way, it's not possible, right? If Joel had left then somebody would have seen him, somebody would have stopped him.

When Tommy reached the check point at the front gate Beau was leaning over the log book, pencilling his signature and clock out time.

"Who was on last night?" Tommy yelled, striding up to him with his fists balled at his sides. "Who the fuck was on watch?"

Beau turned around to face him with a timid reluctance. "Uh, me, sir."

Tommy stood directly infront of Beau, his chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath and quell his anxiety all at the same time. "Did you see Joel walk through the gates?"

"Well...." He puffed up his cheeks and blew out a sigh of air, shrugging indifferently. "He wanted to go out. So yeah, Tommy, I did. I let him out."

Outraged, Tommy roughly grabbed Beau by the collar of his jacket and jerked him close to his face. Beau's eyes widened and he held his hands up in a surrender pose, suddenly made speechless by Tommy's aggression.

"And you didn't fuckin' tell anyone until just now?!" Tommy roared, his teeth bared.

Beau swallowed thickly and shook his head rapidly. The smug bravado he usually exhibits had totally vanished, all the arrogance drained from his body as the senior man chastised his spineless character. Tommy wanted nothing more than to punch the young man square in the face, but the urgency of the situation granted him the restraint to stop. He cannot get sidetracked, cannot waste precious time on a piece of shit like Beau when Joel has probably kidnapped you and skipped town. No, the penalty for Beau's mistake will have to be served after Tommy sorts all this shit out.

He let go of Beau's collar and shoved him backwards, his top lip curled in disgust.

"Gutless piece of shit," Tommy spat. "I'll deal with you later. Get the fuck out of here and don't say shit to anyone."

He had to find you.

••••••

Although the log cabin was not large and wouldn't take long to warm up, Joel tried to get a decent fire going as soon as he settled you into bed.

He stared at the small flames crackling in the fireplace before him, waiting patiently as the fire finally began to swell and engulf the logs sitting in the middle. He was eager to feel some kind of heat; his body was still stiff from the journey in the freezing cold and the ache in his bones radiated in tandem with the throb of the jagged scar on his abdomen. These physical ailments were bitter reminders of his age and shortcomings, of just how mortal he was.

Joel had endured the brunt of the harsh weather as he navigated his horse through the snowy night, with the harsh wind chapping his lips and smarting his eyes. He had made certain, however, that you had been insulated from the elements as well as possible, bundling your body up in a blanket and one of his thick jackets.

The journey here had not been too far from town, for the cabin was one of the checkpoints along the northern route Jackson patrol. It would serve as a halfway stopping point for you and Joel for half a day, just long enough for him to prepare some food and clean out the supplies there. Then you would be travelling further up the state to a bigger cabin, one Joel had discovered on the last raiders mission. The raiders had used it as their base and it had been well furnished and stocked. It would make an ideal home for the two of you, one where you were remote enough to not be disturbed.

Joel thought he heard you stir, that he heard the phantom echo of your voice say his name. He turned back to check on you but you were sound asleep on the bed, the features of your face lax as you rested. His mind must be playing tricks on him. He anticipated that the sleeping tablets would keep you knocked out for atleast another six hours. But the fatigue has started to seep in to Joel now, and the longer he stays awake the more sluggish his brain becomes, his movements slowing like a child's wind up toy.

He ascended carefully from his crouched position, his knees cracking and his back aching. He had to sleep before he passed out completely. Joel lumbered over to the bed and lowered his body down beside your sleeping form, the springs of the bed frame squeaking underneath his weight. The instantaneous relief flooded over him and he groaned loudly. He would rest just for a little, just enough to recharge.

Joel wrapped his arm around you and pulled you tightly into the crook of his arm before descending into a deep, dreamless sleep.

••••••

It had been a restless night for Oscar. Another night of vivid dreams and the harrowing retelling of Elvie's final moments, a jumble of vignettes and imagery that made him toss and turn and tangle in the bedsheets.

The last dream had been the worst. More often than not, the most distressing ones were the most simple and unembellished. Usually they began with Oscar searching the woods for Elvie, eventually finding her standing at the edge of a cliff top with her back to him. He calls her name and approaches her. Elvie turns to face him, her face streaked with tears and her large eyes anguished, her hands placed over the round globe of her pregnant stomach. She shakes her head gently and outstretches her arm to show Oscar the fresh wound in her skin.

Bitten.

Infected.

She was bitten after they escaped from a clicker just hours earlier. Understanding of just what Elvie is planning to do hits Oscar with torturous clarity. He lunges to her but he's a second too late, and she topples over the edge of the cliff.

Oscar jerks awake with a loud gasp of air rushing into his lungs. He immediately sits up, panting inbetween coughing and spluttering. He pounds on his chest with his fist to try clear away the choking sensation, and it is truly distressing just how prolonged the sense of terror; it floods throughout his whole being, making his brain race and his limbs shake.

Oscar gasps as he digs his palms into his eye sockets. He waits for his heart to stop thundering.

Oh, how he longs so desperately for a reprieve from the pain and the nightmares, from the yearning and despair.

A series of knocks hammering from the front door of his cottage pulls Oscar back to reality. He somehow manages to stumble out of bed and drag a sweater over his head before shuffling to answer the door.

Oscar is surprised to find Tommy standing on his porch. Before he can say a word Tommy begins explaining the situation.

"Joel's lost the plot, big time." Tommy sighs, shaking his head in dismay. "He's taken her and left. They left late last night."

The news hits Oscar with a force that makes his heart clench inside his chest; it's a crushing pain that squeezes his very soul. "Left? What the hell do you mean? Why would Joel do that?"

"Somethin' happened between him and his daughter. I ain't goin' into details but it hit him hard, so he's not thinkin' straight." Tommy explains calmly. He knows now isn't time to deal with indignation or rage - he need to get down to business and formulate a plan as soon as possible.

Oscar tries to process his words. There is no way you would have left Jackson on your own accord. This is your home for goddsake, where your entire life resides. Oscar pictures you being dragged through snow, whimpering and begging for Joel to let you stay. The pain in his sternum morphs into a white hot rage that rips through his core. Tommy recognises the torrent of emotion dawning over Oscar, how his eyes blaze wide and accusing, his top lip curling with wrath.

"I know," Tommy assures him quickly but not unkindly, holding up his hands. "I only found out this mornin', otherwise I wouldn't be here - I'd be out there already."

"She would never leave Jackson," Oscar snaps. "Tommy we gotta go get her, right now, right this minute."

Tommy reaches out and plants a firm hand on his shoulder. "Oscar, I gotta come up with a plan first. Can't just hunt 'em down and demand they come back to Jackson."

Oscar exhales harshly through his nose, clearly on the verge of lashing out. "But she could be in danger, Tommy."

"Joel ain't in a good state of mind right now. We gotta be careful." Tommy gives his shoulder a small squeeze, an imploring gesture that begs him for understanding. "The last thing I want is for her to get hurt, but we gotta do this the right way, or else it'll end up worse than this."

Oscar runs his fingers through his hair and sighs heavily. He knows Tommy is right; given Joel's history as a raider and a skilled hunter, this situation will require strategy and diplomacy, lest someone get injured or worse. Oscar cannot bear the thought of you caught in the middle of all this chaos. He cannot even allow himself to entertain the mere possibility of you getting hurt.

"I'm gettin' a group together to go find 'em. You sit tight here and I'll be back when I round everybody up." Tommy instructs Oscar. "We'll all go together. Get ready and be waitin'."

Tommy leaves Oscar's cottage with brisk, determined strides. Oscar watches him disappear down the street, most likely going to round up Troy first. It'll take some time to get a party ready, to equip themselves with rifles and horses and an official plan of action. More precious time wasted that could be finding you, Oscar surmises.

He can't waste any more time. He can't lose you. He may not have been able to save Elvie, but he was going to save you, even if it killed him.

Oscar dashes back to his room and scrambles to get dressed in his thickest, warmest clothes. He swipes his glasses off the night stand and shoves his feet into his boots. He can't be weighted down by anything more than what is essential, so he forgoes taking his sachet with him. The only provision Oscar allows himself to carry is a pocket knife he managed to stow away from a patrol mission a long time ago. He tucks it in his jacket pocket at the last minute. His impulsively and urgency stops him from contemplating the actuality that he could run into danger; that the knife itself is a comparatively insufficient means of protection when the likes of clickers and bloaters could be roaming wild on the outside.

It doesn't matter. All that matters is finding you.

Oscar doesn't wait for Tommy to return. Ten minutes later he's saddled up on one of the horses and trotting through the front gates of the town.

••••••

The next time you wake up from the tranquilizing trance of the sleeping pills Joel slipped you, your brain is instantly more lucid and sharp and you are no longer groggy. When you sit up your vision is clear and you are able to fully process the reality around you this time - you are somewhere foreign to your usual surroundings but you are warm and uninjured. And Joel is with you.

You turn your head and see him sitting at a small wooden table near the fireplace this time. There is a disassembled pistol laying on the table top and in his hands is a rag. He's cleaning the pieces individually.

"Joel?" You speak croakily, grimacing at the dryness of your mouth. Joel glances up at you with no expression on his face; he says nothing before returning his attention back to the task before him.

You swing your legs to the edge of the bed and rise to stand cautiously on your wobbly legs. "Where are we?"

He remains silent, still focused on the rag and the gun part in his hands. You watch him as he works the stained rag over the barrel and the muzzle for a minute, quietly observing his appearance; you note how tight and hunched his posture is, aswell as the dark circles under his eyes and the clenching and unclenching of his jaw. You have never seem him so on edge before.

"Joel, where are we and why are we here?" You repeat a little more firmly, your eyes fixed on his face.

"Cabin not too far from Jackson." He finally mutters.

You're outside of Jackson?

"W-why?" You gasp.

Joel abruptly stops cleaning the pistol and let's the part drop onto the table, the metal clattering loudly against the wooden top. You're startled by the sudden movement and automatically scoot back on the bed away from him, bracing yourself for an impending slap or harsh word. Yet nothing happens to you; Joel stays seated, pinching the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger, his eyes screwed shut like he's in pain. You watch on as he exhales loudly and shakes his head, as if he's fighting off an unpleasant memory that's plaguing him.

"Ellie hates me," Joel confesses, his gravelly voice sounding thick in his throat. "I did somethin' bad. I...I hurt alotta people to save her. And now she found out and she won't ever forgive me."

The memory of Joel's panic attack from last night promptly comes flooding back to you. It makes sense that he would catastrophise an argument with Ellie, considering just how deepp he loves her. He must have needed some space away from where she was to get himself together mentally.

"Okay...," you speak hesitantly. "Why don't you just give her some time to cool down and then talk to her? I'm sure it'll blow over."

Joel's eyes flicker open but he doesn't look at you. He runs his hand over his mouth and sighs heavily. "It won't."

You sigh and shake your head a little, uncertain how to comfort him any further. You privately vow you would try your best to help mend their relationship once you get back to Jackson.

"When are we going back?" You ask, looking around the cozy cabin. "And why don't I remember getting here?"

Joel is quiet and unmoving, almost like a statue save for the rise and fall of his chest as he breathes. The longer the silence between you continues, the more aware you become of the sickening sense of tredipation beginning to simmer in your gut. Something isn't right. Something bad is happening.

"Joel!" You cry with exasperation. "Tell me!"

"We ain't goin' back." Joel replies lowly, his brown eyes finally rolling up to stare at you.

"What? Why?"

"We can't live there anymore." Joel says softly. "There's nothin' there for us. 'S best we just make our own life somewhere else."

Somewhere else? Where else was there? Your understanding of the world outside Jackson was very limited, but you knew what awaited outside the safety of the community; desolate place, vast and perilous, filled with monstrous beings and devoid of anything resembling purity or joy.

And that's where Joel had taken you. Away from everything and everyone you ever loved, away from safety and comfort and happiness. You would never see your friends again. You would never step foot in your cottage again. You would never see Oscar again.

Your heart races. The walls are closing in on you as the reality of the situation sinks in. Your lungs feel tight and constricted and you struggle to breathe.

"I love you," Joel confesses, his voice thick with tears, his eyes piercing into yours. "I couldn't leave you there. I can't do this without you. We can have a good life out here, I promise, I'll keep you safe. We won't have anyone else interferrin'."

You shake your head frantically, tears of terror starting to well in your eyes. "No, no, no! This is insane! I want to go back!"

You try to run but your legs are so weak and your head is still swimming; your limbs and brain aren't yet coordinated enough to allow you to move nimbly. When you stumble Joel anticipates your move and is by your side in a flash. Before you hit the ground he wraps his arm around your waist and pulls you tight against his body. You sag into his belly and begin to sob helplessly.

"I can't, Joel, please don't do this to me," you wail with your face buried in his chest.

Joel holds you against his front and nuzzles his nose into the hair ontop of your head. "You're all I got left. I'll take care of you, I'll make it up to you, I promise."

Something in his words spark a flame of anger from your very core. After all the abuse and hurt Joel's made you suffer through, the promise he speaks at this moment sounds nothing but a poisonous lie. A sweet, hope filled vow of love that inevitably eventuates into a punishing battle for domination and forced submission. That is all you and Joel will ever have. For the rest of your life, he will hold power over you until he breaks you down irrevocably, with no family or friends anywhere around you.

You cannot allow him to do this to you.

You need to escape.

You covertly peek out the corner of your eye to spy the front door. It's the only way to enter and exit the cabin. It's your only way out.

And it's now or never.

You suddenly shove against Joel's chest with all your might and rip yourself out of his embrace. Before he can grab you and pull you back, you pivot and make a run for the front dood. You grasp hold of the knob and haphazardly twist it back and forth until the door clicks open. You fling it wide and it crashes loudly against the exterior of the cabin, but you don't care how much commotion you make. You just need to run.

With your heart thumping in your chest you sprint into the open like a hare on the loose. It is freezing outside the warm cocoon of the cabin and the pinching shock of the snow on the bottom of your bare feet makes you hiss, but you push onward.

Your frantic eyes dart around the environment - you are somewhere within a forest and you can see nothing but snow and trees. You have no clue in which direction to run, but you instinctively launch straight ahead.

For a fleeting second there is a swell of triumphant energy powering you. You can do this.

You can be free.

Then it all comes abruptly crashing down; you trip over your own foot and collapse face first onto the ground with a harsh smack. You squeal in pain when your chin connects to the floor of the forest and the skin of your knees and hands scrape against the icy snow.

Joel is on you within a matter of seconds. "Fuckin' hell," he grumbles to himself. His strong, rough hands grip your arms and haul you back up to your feet. He seems to exert little to no effort corralling you back inside the cabin, dragging you like a scolded kitten being carried by the scruff of its neck.

He shoves you to the ground and slams the door shut firmly behind him. You fall onto the floor on your ass with a thud.

"What the hell do you think you're doing!?" Joel roars as he glares down at you.

"I'm not staying here with you!" You yell defiantly, glowering up at him from where you are sprawled on the floor.

"You got no fuckin' choice!" His baritone voice booms back at you. "You ain't never been outside Jackson since you got there! You really think you could survive by yourself? Think you could out run infected or a band of raiders?"

Joel is right. You have never shot a gun. You would have no idea how to fight for your survival, whether it be against infected or the weather or another person.
You have never stepped foot outside the gates as an adult, had never even been on patrol before. It wasn't in your personality to want to explore or venture; you had always been too soft, too traumatised as a child yet too sheltered as an adult to even want to brave the outside.

You had never been a great candidate to be a ranger physically, anyway - your body is weak and soft from lack of proper nutrition and disordered eating, unable to defend or attack. You were just one of the many shelteted residents of Jackson that were kept safe by those more powerful and capable than you, like feeble lambs watched over vigilantly by shepards at all times. Except now you felt like a lamb tricked and led astray from the security of your flock by a cunning and blood thirsty wolf.

"I want to go back, Joel." You sob pathetically. "I don't want to be here!"

"Well congratulations, because we ain't fuckin' stayin'!" Joel shouts back, the dimple in his cheek flexing.

You flinch and bow your head, letting the sudden pool of tears cascade from over the rim of your eyes and down your cheeks. You swipe at your running nose with the sleeve of your sweater and listen to Joel's boots thunder over the floorboards as he strides over to a rucksack by the fireplace. He crouches down to retrieve something from inside it.

"Don't wanna hear another fuckin' word out of you," Joel snarls. "So I'm gonna make sure you don't try anythin' stupid like that again."

When he stands up straight again and stalks back over to you, you begin to shake with wracking sobs. He towers before you, his dark brown eyes ablaze with fury as he starts unwinding a long length of rope between his two hands.

You can't save yourself this time.

You can't fight this.

You are going to need a saviour.

Chapter Text

The baleful ferocity in Joel's eyes is so frightening that for a split second you are afraid that he was going to kill you right then and there. You are scared stiff, frozen in place with the fear that he was about to hurt you more than ever before.

But he doesn't.

Joel manhandles you onto the bed to tie you up, but his actions are not heedlessly cruel. He doesn't slap you to subdue your anguished cries or berate you with vicious insults. He simply carries out the task with his jaw firmly squared and his laboured breaths huffing through his nose.

His lips are pressed shut and his eyes stay glued on what he's doing, his hands moving with deft efficiency. He doesn't speak at all. You sob and plead for him to stop, to take you both back to Jackson, to give it one more chance, but he does not meet your eyes or respond to you. He does not acknowledge you as you promise to be good, to be better for him if he only just turns around now to go back home. It is like he can't hear you at all.

Joel wraps the rope tightly around your arms to secure them against the sides of your torso, then uses the remaining length to tie your wrists securely together behind your back. He then kneels down at your feet and ties a shorter piece of rope around your ankles, making it impossible for you to walk. You attempt to move your arms and rotate your wrists but the restraints keep your limbs in place, rendering your whole body almost completely immobile. It is disconcerting how defenceless it leaves you.

You open your mouth to make another plea when Joel reaches for a strip of cloth beside his boot on the ground. He pulls the material taut between his hands and raises it to your face. A surge of steely terror pulses through your veins when you realise his intentions.

"Oh, Joel," you sob pitifully. "Please don't. I w-won't speak anymore, I promise."

Joel continues to ignore you, his lips pressed in a grim line and his brows furrowed as he places the cloth firmly over your mouth and reaches behind your head to tie the gag. Although your nose is unobstructed and you can still breathe, the gag is the final crushing blow to your sense of autonomy. You bow your head in defeat and let the tears splash down to your lap in big fat drops.

This can't be happening. You must be dreaming - this has to be a bad dream, a nightmare.

Joel finishes and pulls back to rest on his haunches. You spy the way his large hands hover over your knees uncertainly, as if he is restraining himself from touching you. When you lift your chin to look at him, you're unsure how to interpret the sight before you.

It is immediately evident that Joel's anger has simmered down considerably. The tightness in his jaw has eased and the hunch of his shoulders is more relaxed. The coarse aggression in his facial features has been replaced by more benign emotion; his eyebrows knit into an almost sorrowful frown and the corners of his mouth are downturned. You think you may see something akin to conflicted woe glistening in his rich brown eyes.

But perhaps it is just your eyes playing tricks on you in your distressed state. Maybe your vision is too clouded to see properly. The Joel you know wouldn't feel remorse for doing this. Would he?

Joel's gaze trails over your bound body before drifting up to your face, but he avoids meeting your eyes. He stares at the makeshift gag instead, then sniffs and shakes his head gently. What is he thinking?

You watch him rise from the floor and lumber over to the fireplace, his boots scraping across the floor planks. Despite the circumstances you want to reach out and cling to him, to try appeal to whatever shred of rationality that could be hiding within his tormented heart.

But it's impossible. You can hardly move an inch with how proficiently he has bound you with the rope and the gag strains taut against your lips. All you can do is weep in adject silence while you watch him prepare your departure from the cabin.

The fire in the fireplace has died down considerably but the remaining flames crackle and the emanating heat continues to warm the inside of the cabin. Joel upturns the logs and ash with the shovel and extinguishes the little fire, the embers sizzling and glowing in its wake. All your hope dies along with the fire.

••••••

From the very moment he found out that you were kidnapped, Oscar feels like he is in a race against time. He imagines a giant hourglass hanging above his head, the seeping grains of time taunting him as they distill through the narrow glass neck, urging him to move faster and faster. He knows that is crucial he act on his impulses right now, that not even a minute can be squandered. Every second that passes could be another potential step toward a catastrophic fate.

He was able to convince the gate guards to let him leave town without them interrogating him too much. He lied smoothly enough, telling them that he was scheduled for patrol with Tommy but Tommy had to stay back and sort things out about Joel. Oscar was confident explaining that Tommy told him to go ahead alone and that he would catch up soon enough. It was a far fetched lie but it worked - word had already spread about Joel among the patrolmen and the guards at the gate were too nonplussed to argue with him.

Oscar sits rigid and staunch upon his horse now, directing it to canter away from Jackson as the gates shut behind him. Oscar knows that Tommy would be pissed with him but right now he doesn't care. His patience and inclination to adher to authority and their protocols have been completely overriden by the primal part of his brain, the part that commands him to hunt and kill and defend all that is his.

His.

That's what you are. He's known it for so long now. Whether you want him as a friend or a lover, you're his. His to cherish and love and honour.

He growls and shakes his head, furious with himself for being such a coward and waiting so long to tell you how he felt. Maybe if he hadn't, you wouldn't be in this situation. Maybe he could've protected you from Joel.

He hopes to God that despite being taken against your will, you're uninjured. He hopes that you are warm and sheltered, that you aren't weathering the freezing cold, that Joel has atleast some consideration for your physical well-being. He knows you have never been outside the town, he knows you probably wouldn't cope well with the unforgiving conditions of the land. You must be so scared, so broken hearted and lost.

Once again he imagines Joel hauling you through snow in the open wilderness, you shivering and weeping like a tortured prisoner behind him. The sorching rage burns brighter in his sternum, flickering frenziedly with reaffirmed indignation. He'll find you, goddamnit. He'll find you if it's the last fucking thing he ever does.

Oscar struggles to constrain the garbled whirlwind of pessimistic thoughts and endless questions cycling through his mind. Why had Joel taken you away? What was he planning to do? Where the hell has he taken you? Are you dressed warmly enough? Are you wearing your good boots, the sturdy brown ones you liked wearing when the ground was hardy with icy snow? Did Joel give you time to pack anything, or did he rob you of the opportunity to take any kind of comfort with you?

Although Oscar does not know the answer to any of these things, he is hell bent on finding you and rescuing you from whatever demented plan Joel has.

His intuition tells him to follow the worn path of the patrol route he is most familiar with. Too much time has elapsed since now and whenever you left town, leaving little to no hope of tracking you using hoof prints; he can only depend on his instinct to guide him. He steers the horse along the path while vigilantly searching for any sign that you had passed along this very course earlier - a piece of clothing, a ribbon, anything that could give him a clue.

He continues riding to the closest check point, the one positioned at the top of a clearing that overlooks a small valley. Despite the morning sun hiding behind the dull grey clouds, the blanket of snow covering the ground sparkles. Oscar's eyes squint and scan over the vast Wyoming landscape before him. The clusters of trees and shrubs dotting the land offer some kind of shield but are sparse enough that he could spot any movement from a distance. He sees no speck of colour or motion in the valley, though. He looks toward the peaks and mountains further beyond the basin and considers how barren it appears. Did Joel take you eastward? Oscar himself has never been on the south-eastern patrol before, but he has a hunch that there's nothing worthwhile out there.

No, his internal voice decides. His intuition pulls him around to face north-west instead. The surface of the ground is more flat that way, easier to travel along than the more rocky terrain in the valley. Oscar nods pensively to to himself as he surveys the environment. He notes the thick forest covering an extensive area of land. Perfect for clandestine travel. He vaguely recalls that there's even a cabin checkpoint in that direction. Yes, the tugging in his navel seems to beckon him in that way he cannot ignore. Yes. This is the way.

Oscar grips the reins tighter in his hands. He has to follow whatever higher power is guiding him. He digs his heels lightly against the horse and clicks his tongue. The horse whinnies and accepts his command to keep going, starting with a trot before accelerating into a steadfast canter. The glacial wind sails through Oscar's curls and prickles his cheeks and lips but it doesn't bother him; in fact he finds it strangely uplifting and rejuvenating, urging him to soldier on with his rescue mission.

He wishes he could send some kind of telepathic message to you right now to assure you that he's on his way to save you.

I'll find you, honey. I promise.

••••••

You feel like a coveted trophy animal that has been hunted down and captured - one that now awaits its inevitable demise, its own slaughter. You might as well be such an animal, considering the way Joel dragged you out of the cabin and heaved you onto the cart with nothing more than an irritated growl.

It hadn't taken long for him to gather whatever belongings he had and to get Tex saddled up again. He moved quickly, a renewed vigour for fulfilling his grand plan coursing through his whole body. It seemed like a matter of seconds before you heard him climb up onto Tex's back and click his tongue to signal the horse to get going. Then you felt the cart lurch and begin to move, and the pieces of your broken heart sank into the sour pit of your stomach.

You lay in the wagon now, your back pressed uncomfortably against the rope and wooden planks. You have been weeping for what feels like hours and your head aches. Your brain still feels foggy. Your body is exhausted and small waves of nausea roil in your stomach every so often, most likely from the lack of food in your belly.

The cart vibrates and rocks gently as it moves over the forrest terrain, the wheels bumping over the rocky snow covered earth in a way that is almost pacifying. You stare despondently up at the dull, grey clouded sky and the passing tree tops above you. The monotonous view has barely changed throughout the last few hours of travelling, each scene blurring into one never ending kaleidoscope. It has a disorientating effect; you have no idea where you are or where you're headed, or how far you've traversed from the cabin, and Joel has not spoken a word this whole time.

Your ears keenly attune to every sound surrounding you; the creak of the wagon wheels turning, the soft clop of Tex's hooves plodding through the snow, the faint wooshing of breezy wind passing through the trees. In any other scenario the harmony of these vibrations could be soothing, but in the current circumstances the noise sounds melancholic and only serves to accentuate how alone you are.

Tears of despair leak incessantly from your eyes and slide down the sides of your face. Despite Joel keeping you swaddled in his coat and a thick blanket the chill still nips at your flesh and bones, and the graze on your chin stings from the cold air. It is a harsh contrast to the comforting warmth of the cabin you woke up in earlier that morning.

You scold yourself for trying to flee, for even believing you could escape from Joel's irrational incarceration; not only is his strength far more superior than yours, his resolve has proven to be unbreakable. It would have been impossible to loose him. Even if you did succeed in running away, it would have only been a matter of minutes before he tracked and ensnared you once again. He's all the things you are not. Cunning, mighty, tenacious. You are total opposites, your personalities in stark contrast to one another in almost all respects.

A multitude of memories circle through your mind while you lay powerless in your bindings. You find yourself reminiscing about the first few months of knowing Joel, how everything had been so innocent and radiant and so exciting and thrilling. You had never been in love before. You had never felt such an electric attraction to anyone they way you did with Joel. You remember the fluttering in your stomach every time his rich brown eyes watched you, the pleasant shivers that would crawl up your spine whenever the baritone of his voice caressed your ear, the impatient throbbing inside your core when his fingers grazed your skin.

In the beginning, when the mystery of Joel's character was so alluring, everything about Joel seemed attractive to you. His demeanour had always been gruff and stern, but you had also witnessed the softer edges of his nature at times, particularly when he interacted with Ellie. You found his protective dedication to his daughter so endearing. He personified the role of a reserved gentleman - a perfect match for your own shy personality. He was able to demand respect from those around him without even uttering a single word. He radiated a fastidious masculinity that appealed to the lost, lonely little girl you kept tightly concealed within the depths of your heart.

Everything had been so exhilirating...until it began to hurt. You cannot pinpoint just when the relationship (or whatever Joel had refused to call your bond at that stage) had begun its slow descent into depraved obsession. There had been no specific event or moment that signified the change from muted courtship to fixated perversion. In hindsight it had been almost imperceivable.

You sift through the snapshot memories projecting in your imagination like a kind of dim montage. All the milestone instances of passion and love flashed like a shooting star exploding in the night sky.

The explosive first time you kissed. The first time you felt the delicious, intoxicating stretch of Joel's cock entering you. The first time he held his massive hand against the column of your neck and squeezed just enough for you to feel that bliss filled floaty sensation. The first time he smiled - genuinely smiled - at you, his dark eyes twinkling with amusement at some silly joke you had told he and Ellie.

The first time he had shown you just how petulant and sullen he could be when you had gone out with your friends to the Tipsy Bison. The first night he had made you kneel before him and let him fuck your mouth. The first time you suspected that he may have loved you, too, when you surprised him with a birthday cake and caught a sheen of adoration gloss over his irises.

The first slap Joel's calloused hand had delivered to your face when he had been plunged balls deep inside you. The subsequent ones he had delivered both in and outside the bedroom. The first time he had called you his perfect girl after you swallowed all his cum without choking, how it had made your cheeks blush and your tummy somersault. And then the following night, when Joel insisted he start training your throat properly, and how he held you down on his cock those few extra seconds despite your panicked smacks to his thigh, his gravelly voice praising you for being a good little slut.

You feel disgusted with yourself. You should have been strong enough to stay away from Joel. You should have devoted more of your time and energy to your friends, to your teaching, to servicing the community. If you had, you would be in Jackson right now, dancing with Kate and Rhi and helping organise Cassie's wedding and helping the kids at the library find their favourite comic books. You remember the smiles and laughter you shared with your students and your friends, and you hate yourself for not appreciating those precious, joyful times until this moment.

But none of that matters now. The chapter of your life in Jackson has been firmly shut. Those moments of happiness will never be replicated. The people you've come to know and love there will become ghosts of your past, just like your mother and father, and one day you'll be unable to recall their faces. Maybe they will forget you, too.

You must surrender to whatever fate Joel has chosen to bestow upon you. Whatever had transpired between Joel and Ellie was clearly catastrophic, given that he was willing to leave her behind in search of a new life. He would never leave his daughter, the most important person in his life, the one he is so fiercely protective of. This fact alone cements your belief that you will not returning. You wonder how Ellie feels now, what she might be thinking when she hears the news that he's left. You try to picture her face. Would she be sad? Angry? Relieved?

And your friends, how would they react when the gossip spreads throughout the community and reaches their ears? And Oscar?

Oh, Oscar. His face enters your minds eye and you can see him as clear as day; his dark brown eyes and the earnest sensitivity they always seem to convey, the distinct square shape of his jaw and his soft lips, his prominent nose, the lush black and grey curls of his hair. To think you will never lay your eyes on him ever again causes your heart to clench with profound sadness.

You ruminate for what seems like forever. Your thoughts progressively snowball into a turbulent storm of repetitive fantasy scenarios, scenes and faces gradually blurring into one another until you begin to feel faint and light headed. The nausea inside your belly and the pounding in your head intensifies until you're forced to squeeze your eyes closed in an effort to quell the sickness.

You are finally granted mercy when you pass out and descend into a black void of dreamless slumber.

••••••

As the day goes on the sun remains subdued by the dark grey clouds painting the sky. It creates a sombre backdrop to the rugged landscape that seems to stretch on forever. Oscar can sense that evening is creeping closer; he knows he needs to maintain the steadfast pace he's been riding in order to achieve some headway before it gets too dark.

The ever present hourglass hangs precariously over Oscar, its proverbial weight crushing his optimistic spirit with every gallop of his horse's hooves. He rides for several miles over stretches of flat earth and forest before he finally finds something that could possibly offer clues to your whereabouts.

A short distance ahead a small building comes into his peripheral vision. As he approaches closer to it he realises its a cabin - one that he is sure is used as a checkpoint for one of the patrol routes. That intuitive force flares once again within his lower belly and it guides him straight to the door of the cabin.

Oscar tugs the reins to command his horse to halt, then hastily dismounts from the saddle. His actions are clumsy, his brain too distracted by the urgency of the situation, and he lands heavily on his foot. He stumbles and a shooting pain reverberates from his heel to his ankle, reigniting his old injury. His face contorts with agony and he hisses through his teeth.

Fucking hell, of all the times this shit could happen, why does it happen now?

"Fuck," he seethes aloud, gritting through the throbbing hurt to stagger up to the front door. He twists and heaves the wooden door open and rushes inside the cabin as quickly as his smarting ankle will allow.

Oscar's eyes search wildly through the interior of the small cabin, his orbs bouncing from each piece of furniture to every space and every visible nook. He calls out your name once, then twice, but all that responds is the deathly quiet within the house. His heart sinks when he realises you are no where to be found. He exhales a heavy sigh, disheartened and defeated.

Oscar stands in the middle of the cabin and roughly cards his fingers through his hair. Where are you? What if he's too late to get to you? Oh God, please don't let it be too late. The crawling sensation of hysteria begins to bubble inside his chest, but Oscar quickly quashes the feeling.

"Keep it together," Oscar scolds himself aloud.

He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath in through his nose. Be calm. He exhales through his mouth. Stay calm. He repeats the sequence twice more, patient and unhurried, until he feels the panic completely evaporate from his body. Now, focus. We need clues.

His head swivels around to scour the place once more. The bed is unmade, a blanket sitting in a crumpled heap on the mattress. The sole table and chair perch close by, unoccupied by any clutter. Across from the bed is the fireplace.

Oscar is suddenly struck by the realisation that the inside of the cabin is relatively warm. When was the last time a patrol team came here?

He saunters over to the fireplace and crouches down to inspect the logs in the hearth. Oscar reaches out to trace his fingertips along the stonework bordering the hearth, not expecting to feel the faint warmth that greets his skin. Shit, it's still warm. He peers into the nook and surveils the small bundle of partially burnt logs sitting amongst clumps of grey ash. His eyes widen when he spies the orange glow of a burning ember admist the heap of ash.

Someone was here. In just the past few hours, someone had been here. It had to be you and Joel.

Oscar scrambles to stand up and run back outside the cabin. If you were here, there would be foot prints or hoof prints or something close by. There's been no snowfall this afternoon - any prints would be fresh enough to still be distinct enough to be visible. He scours the panorama before him with great concentration.

Please please please.

Then it hits him - a trail of half circle imprints in the snow leading away from the cabin.

He pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose and blinks a few times, hoping his eyes aren't decieving him. He's in luck, though - they are indeed hoof prints, albeit shallow, but they really are there. He studies the trajectory of the tracks and observes that they head diagonally toward a narrow opening amongst trees and shrubbery. There's where he's got to go.

A fierce surge of victorious convinction floods Oscar's guts. This is the path that'll take him to you, he's sure of it. He wastes no time hoisting himself back up on the saddle of his horse, paying no heed to the throb in his ankle.

"Come on," he instructs the horse with a firm tug of the reins and a tap of his heels. "We gotta go get my girl."

••••••

It is close to nightfall when you and Joel finally arrive at the raiders cabin. He had wanted to arrive well before sunset but things hadn't gone according to the vague plan in his mind. He hadn't planned spending much time at the cabin, let alone half a day, but he had also not anticipated the possibility of being so thoroughly exhausted.

Those hours of rest proved to be crucial, though, as he had woken up feeling energised enough to complete the last and longest leg of the journey. He couldn't feel too irked about arriving late when his senses were sharper and the strength in his body was reinvigorated. As much as it pains him to admit, he isn't a young man anymore.

Besides, there was still enough light to check out the area and do a sweep of the cabin before the dark of the night sets in. It was imperative that Joel carry this out as soon as possible. Although they had wiped out the raiders during their last mission, it was still vital for Joel to check that no one was lurking inside the cabin, infected or not. Anyone or anything could have taken up residence in the area since then and the last thing he needed right now was a surprise hiding in the shadows.

Joel tugs on the reins and mutters woah boy to signal for Tex to come to a halt. The horse stops just outside the cabin and obediently waits for Joel to dismount. Joel lets out a weary grunt as he descends from the saddle, the dull ache of his joints flaring as he finally stretches his legs and walks. He ties the reins to the railing of the cabin porch and then pauses to stroke the horse's muzzle. As he whispers praise to Tex Joel glances past the horse's head to make sure the cart is still intact and secure.

He hasn't heard a sound from you since he laid you in the cart - not that you could speak or anything. You hadn't let out so much as a whimper the whole time.

Joel faces back to the cabin and begins to make his way up the porch steps. From the outside, the raider's cabin is a one storey log home of impressive structure and aesthetic. He can easily tell that the foundation of the dwelling is solid and its construction durable, the thick logged walls providing more than adequate insulation from the elements. He can imagine how it would look after you've settled in and made it home - smoke puffing out from the chimney atop the roof, piles of chopped firewood stacked on the porch, a couple of hunted rabbits strung up by the door awaiting dressing.

Joel withdraws his pistol from his pocket and enters through the front door with careful, calculated steps. He feels no fear or anxiety as he wanders through the cabin, for the many years of constantly being on guard have trained him to remain calm while cautious. He's primed to confront and fight any source possible danger with confidence. It doesn't take long for him to investigate the place and determine that it is clear of any life.

Joel returns outside, the porch wood creaking under the heavy tread of his boots. He tucks his gun back into his pocket and ambles to the cart behind Tex. He peers into the tray and sees your form covered by the thick blanket, your head lolled to the side and your eyes closed, the skin around them red and puffy. Even like this, you are still the most beautiful thing in this world, he thinks, and his withered heart aches at the sight of you.

He swipes the hair from your face and smooths it back. You must have fallen asleep, exhausted from crying or from the tranquilising effects of the pills, or perhaps from a combination of both. You will wake up eventually and see your new home. You will come to accept that this is where you'll live, with no more arguments or trying to run away. You will come to understand why he's done what he has and you will be grateful for it.

Joel slides his hands underneath you body and hoists you into his arms. You remain limp and asleep, your head tilting backwards like a ragdoll. He carries you up the porch steps and to the cabin like a groom carrying his bride.

"Here we go," he whispers to himself as he passes through the threshold. "Home sweet home."

••••••

The man had been lurking alone throughout the Wyoming wilderness for months now. He had managed to survive the harsh conditions of the land with little more than a set of knives, a rifle, and the gritty set of skills he had acquired throughout his many years as a raider. He had always been ruthless and resourceful, wily and fearless, a man determined to survive in this world through any means necessary - including the slaughter and defilement of anyone who got in his way.

And although he was a hardened survivor, Lyle was also a man grieving the loss of the group of men who had been his companions for many years. He was the last one left of his band after those godforsaken Jackson cowboys had discovered them going about their business and decided to fuck with them.

Lyle and his gang of raiders had crossed the state line into Wyoming to see what they could plunder. They had heard talk of a well established settlement somewhere but decided to steer clear of it, atleast for a while. They didn't want to give up their lifestyle in favour of living in a commune and sharing and all that utopian bullshit. They also knew it would be suicide to try stage a coup when they were significantly outnumbered.

Giving the community a wide berth, they had eluded the Jackson patrols for quite some time, but their good luck eventually ran out when they got complacent. A clan of townsmen came for them, chasing Lyle and the gang for weeks, nipping at their heels like a pack of wild dogs with the scent of blood in their snouts. They managed to evade the bastards for a couple weeks, until one night they ambushed and attacked. One of the raiders, Rick, took a shoot at one of the cowboys and struck him in the shoulder before he got gunned down himself. They put up a hell of a battle, all of 'em, but the cowboys had the added advantage of better weapons and stronger bodies.

In the end the Jackson cunts massacred them, but Lyle had managed to survive and escape by the skin of his teeth. Amidst the chaotic flurry of gunfire and screaming he had gone unnoticed when he scrambled for cover behind a massive log. Lyle had intended to stick around but when the gang started dropping like flies he made a run for it. He might have been considered a coward for fleeing like he did, but what else could he do?

It's not like he took the easy way out either. Lyle ran for hours through the fucking forest and into the mountains to dodge those cowboys. He endured countless days and nights hiding in treetops and starving and enduring the freezing cold. He lived like an animal all the while mourning his brethren and their glory days.

Lyle had abandoned the group's old headquarters after the battle. He had been afraid that Jackson would return at some point to ransack the group's belongings, or even to track him down and kill him. It was better to stay away, atleast for a while. But the search for other houses and communities to raid proved to be fruitless ventures - every place had been picked to the bone.

Lyle had been on his own for several months now, but the chances of long term survival were growing more dire each day. His ammunition was dwindling and he hadn't caught anything more than a few rabbits this past week. He had no other choice but to return to headquarters and try his luck.

He grits his teeth against the harsh wind as he trudges through the snow in the direction of the cabin, the soles of battered his boots close to falling apart. He still has roughly three miles of ground to cover, but with nightfall already settled over the land and his feet swelling with each step he decides to stop and set up camp for the night.

Lyle succeeds in finding a suitable shelter to tide him through the night. A rocky alcove partially hidden by shrubs offers a safe and dry place for him to get some sleep. He clambers inside and sits up against the wall, grumbling at the painful throbbing of his feet. He paws at the splitting tip of his right boot and sighs.

Once upon a time he never had to worry about his feet getting frost bitten. He had pillaged an array of clothes, shoes and weapons over the years. Most of his possessions came from the rag tag groups of survivors that would come wandering into the state, all of them weak and pathetic and no match for a raider like him. If he saw something he liked he just took it, whether he needed it or not. But not without having a little fun as well.

He remembers the time he slit a man's throat and stole the boots from his bleeding corpse. They had been a fine pair of shoes. He even took the time to try them on right before he raped the man's distraught wife.

God, what he wouldn't give for a decent pair of boots right now. Who would have thought he'd end up like this? His life had been completely fucking decimated. And it was all because of those communist pricks. Lyle's stomach had long adjusted to the perpetual torment of hunger but his thirst for revenge remained bitterly unsated. It became a malignant obsession that haunted his imagination.

One of these days I'll get 'em, he thinks. Burn their whole town to the fuckin' ground.

••••••

When Tommy contemplated death, he hoped that his time on this earth would come to an end when he was a very old man. He pictured being in the company of his grown sons and Maria in his own home in Jackson. But unfortunately for Tommy, the stress of this day was making him feel on the verge of a heart attack.

It was just before noon by the time the council had convened to discuss the appropriate course of action to take regarding yours and Joel's departure. The council members bombarded Tommy with a battery of questions before they deliberated and debated what should happen.

"How do you know she didn't go on her own free will?" One of them asked him.

"Look, I can't give you any solid evidence that she was kidnapped," Tommy answered honestly. "But she never expressed any desire to leave before. It just ain't who she is. Her friends would attest to that, too."

"Why would Joel want to leave Jackson?" Another piped up.

"As I said before, he had an argument with his daughter and it really upset him." Tommy explained solemnly. "And when my brother gets upset he tends to lose his ability to stay calm."

"Maybe he's just blowing off some steam. Maybe he needed some time away and she agreed to go with him." One of the council members suggested. Tommy couldn't stop the derivise scoff that fell from his mouth.

"No," he retorted sharply. "That Henley boy said he saw my brother leave with a wagon full of God knows what. I got a feelin' she was bein' hidden. If Joel's left Jackson, he's left for good, and he's taken her with him."

Maria reached out and grasped Tommy's hand in hers and gave it a reassuring squeeze. He squeezed her hand in return and shot her a small smile of appreciation.

"My husband knows his brother better than anyone else," Maria stated firmly. "If he believes Joel is a danger to himself or anyone else, then his concerns should be taken seriously or else someone could get hurt."

The council members then conferred with one another while Tommy impatiently paced the room awaiting their verdict. After what seemed like an unnecessarily long time to Tommy, they announced their decision with sage poise.

Tommy's appeal for a rescue patrol was granted permission to find you and Joel.

However, the patrol was not to commence until the following morning, just in case you and Joel were to return within the next 18 hours.

Tommy stormed out of council headquarters filled with impotent rage. When Maria eventually caught up to him she saw tears pooling her husband's eyes.

"What if he kills them both?" Tommy whispered, his voice thick with emotion. "Maria, what kind of man would I be to not stop that?"

She wrapped her arms around him and held him as he weeped.

••••••

Joel was curled behind you, his arms wrapped securely around your frame, his face nuzzled into the back of your hair. You had been asleep for hours now with no sign of waking. You hadn't even stirred when Joel unwound the rope from your body and removed the material gagging you. Fuck, did he give you too many sleeping pills?

He had left some rope binding your wrists, though, and had tied the end to the bedframe. It was just long enough to allow you some wiggle room but still restricted any wide range of movement. It could be distressing for you to wake up like this, but Joel couldn't chance you trying to run away again.

He cuddled you tighter to his chest and sighed contentedly. He didn't even think to roll over and lay on his right side. He was too tired to remember, his body and mind overcome with fatigue from the events of the past few days. All he wanted to do now was hold you against his body and let himself succumb to the peaceful sleep he so desperately needed. His eyes drifted shut and soon a light snoring began to rumble through his chest.

He didn't even hear Lyle creak open the door to sneak into the cabin.

••••••

When Lyle finally completed the trek to the cabin his gang had claimed as their headquarters, he was surprised to find a magnificent black horse and a wagon stationed outside the front. Who did they belong to? He hadn't seen another human for months, not since the showdown that had massacred his men and left him forsaken and alone. There wasn't a settlement besides Jackson for hundreds of miles, and as far as he knew no one ever travelled through this part of the state. So who the fuck could be holed up in his cabin right now?

A horse of such stature and a wagon that looked so well maintained couldn't possibly belong to somebody destitute and without the means of survival. And that meant a fresh source of supplies for him to get his hands on.

Food. Clothes. Shoes. Fuck, maybe even some ammo.

Lyle was stealthy as he slipped through the cabin's front door, painstaking in his effort not to arouse the attention of whoever was residing in his rightful house. With his gun in hand, he peered around the wood of the door but saw no one in the main living room. Although there was a small fire crackling in the fireplace and the place was warm, he could tell that whoever was staying there hadn't been there for very long. There were no immediately unrecognisible belongings anywhere in his view. There were no changes in decor or furniture, no drastic alterations. The telltale signs of the raider's occupancy were still littered around the place, too, like the empty bottles of moonshine scattered around the kitchen sink.

No one had been around long enough to clean up the cabin and rid it from the stain of degeneracy. It hadn't changed drastically, had not been transformed from a den of iniquity into a real home.

It felt surreal to Lyle, like he was suspended inbetween two different realities. His whole life had been transformed since he was last inside the walls of this cabin, yet nothing around him reflects it. There's even the faded red bandana still hanging in the coat hook by the door, the one that belonged to his buddy Wyatt.

As Lyle made his way into the center of the main room, he was conscious not to let the weight of his boots press too heavily against the floor. He remembered that one particular spot by the table that always creaked. He stepped around it before slowly creeping across the cabin to where the bedroom door was situated. It was partly closed but he could vaguely hear snoring coming from inside the bedroom - a definitive man's snore, low and rumbling.

Lyle tightened his hand around the grip of his gun. It's probably just one man, lone on his travels, laying in the bed asleep without a care in the world. It will be easy enough to kill him, shoot him right between the eyes before he had the chance to crack open an eyelid. But perhaps Lyle could have a bit more fun with this one.

He prowled toward the bedroom where the door was ajar, and then he carefully slid through the threshold.

It was a spacious main bedroom, big enough for a dozen men to sprawl out on the floor to sleep. On one side of the room were a couple chest of drawers pushed up against the wall. Facing westward from another wall was a queen sized bed - a lavish piece of furniture in the apocalyptic world, made of solid wood with an intricately carved ornamental bed head. Whoever lived here in the before clearly had expensive taste.

The first thing Lyle saw when he entered was the large shape of the slumbering man on the bed. He was rolled on his side and facing away from the door, his messy greying curls sticking out from the thick blanket he was tucked under.

What a sucker. Lyle had every intention of murdering the man, but maybe after a light interrogation to find out where he was from and what riches he had in his possession. He smiled to himself at the thought of a full belly and a new set of clothes. Stepping closer, he then noticed the other body curled up asleep infront of the man.

Oh. He isn't alone.

Intrigued, Lyle skulks to the foot of the bed and peers over to your side of the mattress. When he spies the length of your tresses and the feminine features of your face he stops dead in his tracks. Holy shit! A woman!

But wait. You're also tied to the fucking bedframe. What the hell?

Excitement swirls in Lyle's gut, that old familiar anticipatory thrill that always rears up just before he swoops upon a gold mine opportunity to destroy and conquer. His hands flex around the handle of his weapon, his fingers tingling with giddiness.

A woman. A real one, in the flesh. Fucking jackpot. He hadn't had a woman in so long, and here you are practically served up to him on a platter ready to be devoured. Oh, the filthy fucking things he would love to do to you - for you to do to him, and all infront of the dumbass snoring next to you.

Lyle moves closer to you, eager to get a better look at you. His cock is already stirring to life, his arousal growing the longer he studies your mouth, your nose, your long eye lashes. Maybe he would take his cock out and jerk himself off until he came all over your pretty face, waking you up to a real treat. Yeah, that's what he'll do.

Lyle is about to drop one hand to his jeans when his gaze flickers over to the face of the man behind you. He stops his ministrations, totally frozen except for his eyes that widen in almost comical recognition. Well, fuck me six ways from Sunday, he thinks. It's one of the Jackson cowboys.

He stares at Joel, absorbing the details of his features. Lyle would recognise him anywhere. He was one of the leaders of the pack that decimated his men. He remembers Joel, remembers witnessing him in action, a colossal warrior firing shot after shot, fearlessly dodging between trees and boulders to advance on the raiders camp, shouting directives to the other Jackson men like some kind of army general in battle.

Lyle had dreamed of exacting revenge on the very man who lay peacefully sleeping before him. Standing here right now was like a dream come true, like he'd died and gone to heaven. Not only was he going to get some fine pussy, but he was also going to fulfil his dream of retribution.

Lyle grinned widely. This was going to be fun. And he'd enjoy every fucking second of it.

••••••

If it were at all feasible, Oscar would have continued riding through the night in his pursuit for you. His determination would push him to forgo sleep if it meant finding you sooner. He wouldn't have stopped, wouldn't have squandered a second of time if he was still able to see Joel's horse's hoof prints on the ground in the dark of the night. But alas, when the sun disappeared and the light faded, so did his ability to clearly perceive the precious guiding tracks. It would be foolish of him to travel at night with no sense of direction or little means of protection. He hadn't seen hide nor hair of another person or infected around, but he couldn't chance it. He had no other choice but to stop and find somewhere safe to camp for the night. He eventually found a relatively safe space amongst a cluster of boulders and large rocks. It would have to do.

For the whole night Oscar sat upright and wedged between two rocks. Fortunately it wasn't the most uncomfortable place he had ever slept and his body adjusted to the tight space, allowing him to relax enough to fall to sleep. It was a night of fitful slumber, however, with his subconscious slipping from one random dream to the next, as if his soul were as restless in the dream world as it was on Earth.

He was roused awake by the first twittering birdsong of the morning, at the same time the first ray of sunlight peeked over the horizon. He groaned and scrubbed his weary eyes with his fists, then cracked his neck from side to side. He hadn't eaten for over 24 hours now and his stomach rumbled loudly.

He suppressed the hunger in his stomach with a few bites of jerky he stashed in his jacket pocket, sure to save some for you incase you haven't been given food. He will have to make sure your pantry is fully stocked once you get back to Jackson. Hell, he will rush to make you whatever you want to eat as soon as you walk through the gates. You won't ever have to worry about food from this day forth, he vows.

Once up and about Oscar greeted his horse and gave its muzzle a series of affectionate strokes. "And you, you're gonna get all the carrots and oats you want, buddy." The animal snorted by way of reply and Oscar smiled. "Back on the road now fella."

There hadn't been much snow fall during the night but there was a considerable chance that yesterday's tracks would no longer be discernible. The quicker he resumed his search, the more probable the prospect of heading in the right direction. He had to listen to his gut instincts again. If he did, he knew he'd find you.

••••••

When you stir from the black abyss of dreamless sleep you are instantly confronted with the rough texture of your dry mouth and a grumbling knot inside your empty stomach. You groan a little as your eyelids gradually peek open, the scratchiness of the crusted sleep at the corner of your eyes already irritating you.

Straight away you can recognise a huge difference. Your sense are no longer groggy and your head doesn't feel fuzzy and heavy anymore. Your body feels lighter, like you've actually rested soundly for the first time in months, like a dark shroud has finally been cast away from your all physical and cognitive mechanisms.

You don't even realise your hands are tied before you feel the oppressive stare of someone close by. You roll your head to the side to see Joel still sleeping behind you, his features relaxed as he snores lightly. Then you turn to look directly infront of you, and there you find the source of your instinctual discomfort.

There's a man you have never seen before standing at the foot of the bed brandishing a small pistol. He's like a ghostly apparition, a menacing demon, tall and gaunt with unruly stringy black hair and dark eyes that gleam with malevolence. Your heart leaps into your throat and you gasp hoarsely, rapidly blinking your eyes, willing the figure to disappear and prove it is merely a figment of your imagination, a residual ghoul from a nightmare.

But he doesn't move. He remains still, a grin stretching across his face to reveal his yellowed, decaying teeth. Your legs reflexively kick out as you try to scramble further up the bed to get away from the man. Joel grunts in his sleep when your foot delivers a swift kick to his leg but he doesn't stir. You try to reach over to Joel to shake him awake, only then discerning that you are bound, with your wrists struggling against the binding tied to the bed.

"Good morning, sweet cheeks." The man jeers, his throaty voice somehow both oily and coarse all at once. It makes your spine crawl with shivers and your starving stomach sour. "Looks like you're all tied up with no where to go."

"Joel," you whimper, your eyes glued to the man, too frightened to look away incase he tries to grab you. "J-Joel, w-wake up."

Joel's eyes lazily flutter open at the sound of your voice, but his brain takes a couple of seconds to settle into consciousness, the haze of his sleepiness still thick. The first thing he is able to register is that it is now morning - the cabin is brightened by the sunshine pouring in through the flimsy curtain hanging over the bedroom window. How long had he slept for?

Joel blinks languidly a few times before he's able to focus his sleepy gaze on you. He knew to expect that you would be sad and scared when you woke up to the unfamiliar surroundings and your hands still tied. He was prepared to grant you some grace and let you cry for a bit. But when his eyes find your face he can tell something isn't right. You aren't looking at him, and even with only your profile visible he can see the panic written on your face.

His protective instinct kicks in suddenly and he bolts upright, ready to confront whatever danger has you so frightened. But when he's met with the unexpected sight of Lyle standing at the end of the bed his own body goes rigid with shock.

Joel may not recognise the raider's face but he undoubtedly knows who Lyle is. He has all the distinct physical characteristics of a raider, from the unwashed greasy top of his head down to the bottom of his filthy boots. His dark beard is straggly and his pallid skin accentuates the dark circles under his fiendish eyes. They are the kind of eyes Joel has seen countless times before, all belonging to men devoid of humanity in the face of the outbreak, men who were twisted into cruel, heartless creatures hellbent on surviving however they could while hurting all around them.

And Joel could tell right away that the man before him harboured the same ruthless hostility. He wants to hurt Joel. He wants to hurt you.

"Rise and shine," the raider sniggers.

Joel prickles at the sound, his whole being instantly irritated and disgusted. He imagines you must be feeling the same sense of repulsion, although unlike Joel, you would also be petrified. He sneaks a quick glance at you, only now realising how your body has been quivering beside him, but he can't see your expression.

Joel would die before he'd ever let that raider fuck hurt you. How did he not hear this scumbag sneak in? How long had he been asleep for? Joel mentally berates himself for letting his guard slip, for being so complacent in such precarious circumstances.

He glances over to the locked trunk pushed up against the corner of the bedroom wall. He hadn't yet unpacked the arsenal of weapons locked inside it, and right now his closest weapon is the pistol resting on the floor under his side of the bed. Shit. Joel needs to distract this bastard long enough to somehow retrieve it. Better yet, he should just try disarm the raider completely. But whatever course of action Joel goes with, he has to find a way to do it without jeopardising your life. He has to be cautious and toe the line for your sake.

"Stand up, asshole." Lyle barks out, jerking the muzzle of the gun to the side. "Come on, sleep time is over, hurry up."

Joel grits his teeth. Who the fuck does this prick think he is? He rips the blanket off his body and reluctantly rises from the bed, keeping his hateful glare cemented on Lyle.

"Good boy," Lyle mocks with a condescending smirk.

Joel's jaw ticks. He straightens his back and stands tall, his fists by his sides. "What do you want?" He asks flatly.

"Now, that is a great question," Lyle chuckles mirthlessly. "After you and your cowboy buddies wiped out my whole fuckin' crew, what do you think I want, fuckstick?"

Joel feels like a bowling ball has been dropped inside his stomach, its weight sinking to the depths of his guts. It's a nauseating feeling, the recognition that this isn't just any raider invading yours and Joel's private realm. It is downright stomach churning to discover that it is infact a raider with a solid reason to inflict unspeakable pain upon him. The raider wants revenge. Joel understands that. He also understands that Lyle has every right to desire it. Fuck, if the roles were reversed and Joel was the last surviving member of his gang, there would be no stopping him from wreaking destruction upon his rivals.

And because of this understanding, Joel also knows that this situation could turn very ugly very quickly. However, it is also a situation which he is woefully unprepared for. No, he had not prepared for the event of someone stumbling into the cabin on the very first morning after you'd arrived - hell, it wasn't even on his radar. The only concerns he had had was keeping you locked down and getting some rest himself.

But that complacency has left him unarmed and vulnerable, now cursing the shitty turn of fate that the one person to invade your new life together was a raider with a score to settle against him.

"Can you imagine the surprise I got, comin' back to my rightful home after so long, just to find you two love birds playin' house?" Lyle snorts derisively. "And not only that, but that you're a couple'a Jacksonites?"

Lyle cocks his head to the side and looks between you and Joel. There's a glimmering depravity within the man's gaze that frightens you to your core and you angle your face away from him. Joel can't see past the hair that covers your eyes but in his peripheral vision he notices how your shoulders tense and the way your body curls on itself a little more. He longs to pull you close and shield you behind his body, to reassure you that you're safe as long as you're by his side.

"Don't touch her," Joel commands, his voice steady and authoritarian. "Take what you want and we'll leave, simple as that."

"Now where's the fun in that?" Lyle scoffs, flashing his rotting teeth in a malicious grin. "I think it's only right I get my fill, seein' as you two have been squattin' in my house."

"Your fill?" Joel growls incredulously, his large hands clenching into fists.

"Yuh-huh. But before I do, I gotta admit, I'm a little curious." He nods toward you, still grinning. "What's with the rope? She your prisoner of war or somethin'?"

Joel doesn't reply, his steely gaze giving nothing away as he stares down the other man. You look down to your hands clasped in your lap, demure and silent. Lyle's eyes dart between you and Joel for a few moments, quietly musing, before the realisation dawns on him. He croaks a little laugh that sounds like a bark, a mix of amusement and disbelief.

"Ah, so she's your wife? That it?" He seems appears delighted by the discovery, his smarmy smile streching across his face. "How did a pig fucker like you get yourself such a pretty young wife?"

You cast your eyes on the floor, your face flushed and filled with humiliation. Joel doesn't answer. On the surface he appears calm, almost dispassionate, but there is a boiling fever of rage bubbling inside him. His heart is hammering within his sternum and his brain is abuzz with adrenaline.

How dare this bastard come here and threaten his life, your life, your honour? Who the fuck does this raider think he is, trying to threaten and intimidate a man whose murdered countless amounts of people and a whole hospital of fuckin' Fireflies? Fuckin' idiot is way over his head. It's almost laughable.

"Got your woman tied up like a dog," Lyle chuckles. "I gotta admit, I respect a man who keeps his bitch in line. Maybe you and me ain't so different after all."

"We ain't nothin' alike," Joel grits out.

"You know, you shoulda joined our band," Lyle drawls casually, like he's talking to a business associate rather than aiming his gun in Joel's direction. "Shoulda left that town behind. Fuckin' commie pussies. You woulda loved our way of life."

Joel shakes his head slowly. The mere suggestion that he's anything like those mongrel raiders is insulting. It is downright offensive. Yes, he was a raider many years ago. Yes, he committed heinous acts. But he was nothing like Lyle and the others. Not then and certainly not now. No, Joel was far more noble than them, far more honourable and righteous. He still is. So how dare this bastard compare himself to Joel?

"Me and the boys had plenty'a laughs with the sluts we came across. Used to tie 'em up, just like your girl here. Used to make 'em beg for their lives before we fucked 'em stupid." Lyle chuckles and sighs wistfully, as though he is retelling a treasured memory. "Sound like your kinda scene?"

The raider's sickening words disgust Joel. They make him sick to his stomach. He's dealt with men like this before, the kind of barbaric predators who have lost all sense of humanity and decorum, who think nothing of stripping a person of their dignity and torturing them for their own twisted pleasure.

"Haven't had that kinda fun in a long time," Lyle murmers lowly, more to himself. His gaze crosses to you and he pauses to scrutinise you. You shiver under his lecherous gaze but say nothing. "And I'm interested to see just how much this little lady can beg."

It's too much for Joel to take.

"Don't fuckin' touch her!" Joel roars, his face contorted by the pure rage flourishing throughout his body.

He takes a large step around the bed but Lyle swiftly raises the barrel of his gun to point directly at your face. A scream of fright tears from your throat, then Joel watches helplessly as you break out into a shuddering mess of sobs.

"Don't move a fuckin' step, asshole, or else I'll blow her fuckin' head off."

He stops dead in his tracks and lifts his hands in surrender. His chest rises and falls with each heavy breath he takes and his mouth is curled into a snarl. The pupils of his dark eyes are blown wide now. He wants to fucking kill Lyle with his bare fucking hands.

"You got two options," Lyle snaps. "Either I kill her now, or you watch - afterwards I'll let you both go. It's your choice."

An overwhelming sensation of revulsion hits Joel and he thinks he might vomit. His eyes flicker shut for a brief moment as he tries to keep composed. No, this cannot be happening. This wasn't ever supposed to happen.

He inhales a deep breath through his nose and exhales from his mouth.

"What's it gonna be?" Lyle questions, his tone dripping with patronising impatience. "You gonna shut up and let me do this?"

Joel presses his mouth in a tight line. He has little choice in the matter right now. Sure, he could refuse and argue with the raider, but that would just get Joel killed right away, leaving you alone and defenceless. Alternatively, he could buy some time and give Lyle the illusion of his submission while he figures out a way to kill the son of a bitch.

Joel knows he will hate himself forever for what he's about to do. He knows that his pride will never recover. He tries to swallow the thick lump that has formed inside his throat but his oesophagus feels so tight that it borders on painful.

Joel swears he can physically feel his heart fracture when he grants the raider a nod of confirmation. The assurance that yes, he will keep his mouth shut and his hands to himself and allow the raider to do whatever he wants to with you.

Lyle grunts, appeased by Joel's acquiescence, then turns to growl down to you. "You, bitch. Get on your knees, on the ground. Now."

Joel grimaces at the authoritarian tone of Lyle's voice and the ugliness of his cruel words. He has to grit his teeth to stop himself from telling the raider to shut the fuck up. His gaze shifts over to watch you follow Lyle's direction. You tremble all over, snot and tears pouring down your face as you slide off the mattress. The rope is just long enough for your knees to reach the floor, though it pulls taut and forces your wrists upright.

"That's it," Lyle nods, "easy does it, baby. You be obedient and do what I say and we won't have any problems."

The boiling rage inside Joel morphs into a a twisting, searing heat that stirs all the way from his belly to the nape of his neck. At the crux of the heat is a revolting mix of jealousy, anger and indignation. He's never had to exercise self restraint to such an extent before, in a situation where he's teetering on the line of life and death teeter so precariously. It is absolute torture.

"Okay folks, let's get this started," Lyle has the audacity to smile. "Judgin' by the way she's already tied up, I imagine it won't be anythin' she ain't used to."

A wave of shame washes over Joel; to hear the raider's observation about your relationship and how he treats you is humiliating for him, but what could you be thinking?

He looks over to you now. Your head is slightly bowed but Joel manages to catch sight of your face; your eyes appear dull and glassy, your pupils unfocused and distant. He recognises that look, the classic stare adopted by so many trauma victims and survivors - you're dissociating, your brain disconnecting from the current reality of you being raped and murdered by the raider standing before you. A brutal and confronting reality that he himself contrived against your will.

This is the first time he has witnessed you in such a despondent state that he himself isn't responsible for. It's a startling scene to observe and it triggers a stab of shame to slice through his guts.

It's his fault that you are both in this predicament. It's his fault for being so careless and sleeping for so long. It's his fault for being so goddamn old and slow. And ultimately it is his fault for dragging you out here in the first place, away from the safety of Jackson and away from everything you've ever known and loved.

Joel had wanted to protect you from the scrutiny of other people and from the advances of someone like Oscar, yet here you are, being terrorised by some scum of the earth raider who wouldn't think twice about inflicting horrific pain on you both. And he's powerless to stop it.

••••••

When Oscar catches a glimpse of the cabin in the periphery of his vision, he has to repress the urge to yell out your name. It is like a shining beacon amidst the forest beckoning him, and he's so sure this is it. It's got to be. This has got to be where Joel took you.

Oscar steers his horse to gallop through the shrubbery toward it. His whole body courses with adrenaline; it sends tremors throughout his limbs and electric sensations along all the nerves within his body. He feels invincible and fearless, like he could outrun a fucking bear. His mind races, one single word cycling through his brain over and over - your name.

He hastily jerks the reins to stop the horse outside the cabin, next to what he recognises to be Joel's horse. He dismounts quickly, the pain in his ankle dulled to nothing by the adrenaline rush. He jogs up to the porch, ready to smash down the front door before realising it is already open. He's so intent on seeing you that he doesn't stop to consider how dangerous the situation could become.

He sees no one in the large living room, but he can hear muffled voices coming from the door across the opposite side of the cabin. He races over to it, his stomach now roiling from the anticipation of confronting Joel and finally rescuing you.

He expects to find you shackled and forlorn. He predicts having to physically fight against Joel. He had prepared himself for pain and battle. But when Oscar burst through the bedroom door, he isn't at all ready to percieve the scene he intrudes upon.

He sees Joel with his hands raised in surrender, standing on the far side of the room, close to the entryway. On the other side is a gaunt and dishevelled looking man with a gun in his hands. The man's pants are unzipped and the wiry pubic hair of his crotch pokes out from his open fly.

What the hell is going on here?

The man is pointing the barrel of his gun to someone on the floor. When Oscar spots you at the recieving end of the gun, when his eyes skirt over your tear streaked face, his stomach turns a nauseating somersault.

Who is this man and why is he pointing a fucking gun at you?

Your wrists are tied to the bed frame with rope but it is long enough in length to let your bottom perch on the floor. You look pathetic and helpless, like a wounded animal that has been cornered.

Oscar's eyes lock on your watery ones and his heart skips a beat - he feels overcome with relief, tears pricking at the corners of his eyes. Even with the emotion threatening to pour over his lashline, he hopes his gaze conveys the multitude of comforting sentiments his heart wishes to speak in this moment; it's okay, I'm here now, I've got you. Oscar takes an advancing step toward the bed, speaking your name.

••••••

When the door to the bedroom swings open and Oscar charges through, it seems like time dramatically slows. Everyone in the room swivels their heads to the door to stare at the surprise trespasser.

Your eyes go wide. You cannot believe that Oscar is now in the same room as you, in this very cabin, so isolated and so many miles away from Jackson. He appears like an angel, a saviour to your wretched state, and when your name falls from his lips you feel like you might faint.

In reality, however, those prolonged incremental junctures in time last no longer than a couple of seconds. In reality, Lyle's instincts only take a second to kick in. He swings his gun to point from you to Oscar. Before his brain can even logically assess the likelihood of threat, Lyle's finger pulls on the trigger.

The booming sound of the gun firing pierces through your ears; it sends your heart racing and you scream. Oscar's body doubles over from the impact of the bullet, then he collapses onto the floor.

Joel takes advantage of Lyle's distraction and lunges at him, a loud primal growl ripping from Joel's chest as he tackles him to the ground. They hit the floor with a heavy crash and the pistol falls from the Lyle's grasp with a clatter. The raider may be tall but Joel's weight instantly winds him. Lyle lets out a choking gasp as his body is robbed of air and power.

Joel shifts on his knees to straddle Lyle's middle, quickly clamping a hand tightly around his neck. The raider grabs onto the collar of Joel's flannel in a vain attempt to wrestle him off, his dilapidated boots scuffing uselessly against the floorboards.

"Fucking bastard!" Joel roars down at him, spit flying from his lips. He looks incensed with rage, his hair sticking up in tufts and his eyes ablaze, his teeth gritted into a snarl.

He clenches his other hand and pulls back his fist before launching a solid jab in the middle of Lyle's face. You hear the sickening crack of the cartilage in his nose breaking. Joel then repeats the motion, landing another force driven punch into his face. And then again. And again.

You stare in paralysed horror as Joel reins blow upon blow down ontp the raider's face and head, his movements almost mechanical in their precision and vigour. He grunts like a wild beast, his chest rising and falling in heavy breathes from the exertion of his actions. Splotches of bright red blood smear over his knuckles.

The traumatic barrage is too much for your brain to witness; you have never been exposed to such carnage between two human beings before, never seen just how barbarous human nature can be once pushed to its limits. Joel is almost unrecognisable to you now, lost in the haze of his need for destruction. Your mouth gapes open, simultaneously repulsed and frightened by his animalistic assault. It seems to go on forever.

You think you might pass out. But then you feel the softness of worn leather enveloping your cheeks, momentarily startling you, making your breath hitch. Then someone whispers your name - a gentle voice that feels like a comforting sheet of silk falling upon your ears. The whisper implores you to tear your frantic eyes away from the savage scene taking place; they fall upon Oscar, who now kneels by your side on the ground, and you realise it is his two hands cupping your cheeks. You lean the weight of your head into his palms, relief flooding your body. You burst out into sobs.

He hushes you, his beautiful brown eyes roaming all over your face in desperate search of any injuries. "Are you okay, honey? Are you hurt?"

You shake your head, unable to control your hiccups and weeping long enough to speak. Oscar presses a firm kiss to your forehead. "I'm gonna cut the rope now, okay?" He whispers against your temple. "Gotta be quick so we can get outta here."

Oscar fishes inside his jacket for his pocket knife. He flicks it open and starts sawing at the cord around your wrists. He grunts softly as he forces the small blade through the thick thread, trying his best not to jostle either of you too much. He tries to school his face into a neutral expression, trying not to wince too much, but the pain in his lower abdomen is starting to kick in.

Hurry, please hurry, your mind begs.

You peer over Oscar's shoulder, only just able to make out Joel through your blurred vision. The raider is unrecognisable, his whole head now a mishapen mess of dark red blood and bone. He no longer resembles a human. Bile rises up your throat and threatens to spill from your lips.

Oscar finishes slicing through the rope and hurriedly unwinds the remains from your throbbing wrists. The liberation pf your hands sets your survival instincts into a frenzy, screaming at you to run. You scramble to stand up, your legs springing into action like a jack rabbit. Oscar heaves himself from the floor, dropping his knife in the process.

You both run through the door, crossing the threshold into the living room. You dodge the table and dash to the front door with surprising agility, blood rushing to your head and thumping in your ears. You burst out onto the porch and leap onto the snow covered ground like a graceful gazelle.

You've done it! You escaped!

Your heart soars with relief and joy.

You can go back to Jackson now. You can go back to your sweet little cottage and spend your days at the library and the school. You will not be hurt and defiled by any raiders. You will no longer be abused by Joel. All because you're with Oscar, safe and protected. You're going to be okay.

But then the thundering sound of a gunshot comes blasting through the air, and all your hopes come crashing down to the ground.

Chapter Text

The sound of the gunshot reverberated throughout the clearing surrounding the cabin, stirring birds to flee from the forest treetops with the loud flapping of their wings. You only managed to run a few yards from the porch before the gunfire caused you to come to a halt. 

Your boots skid in the icy snow as you whip around in search of where the shot was fired from. Your eyes scan the surrounding woodland for any shapes or movement between the trees. You imagine a man - another raider - just as tall and ugly as Lyle, stalking through the forest clutching a hunting rifle, on his way to kill you. The thought drives a spike of fear through your guts and makes your full bladder ache.

You search around, vigilant and alert, subconsciouly holding your breath in your lungs. You pause and wait, trying in vain to keep your body from shaking. You wait for but nothing happens. No sign of danger presents itself, neither in the form of an infected or an unknown, ominous figure holding a gun.

You inhale a gulping breath of the bitterly cold winter air and a visible puff of cloud escapes your lips when you exhale. 

Was it Joel who fired the shot?

He must be absolutely livid with you, crazed with fury at your repeated insolence, your second attempt at escape in less than two days. He must have fired a warning shot when he saw you had gone, as there's no way Joel would miss a target, not with all his weaponry prowess. 

You look back to the cabin now, your whole body still shivering with fear, expecting to see Joel standing on the porch brandishing a gun in his large blood covered hands.

But Joel is not there. 

Your eyes then fall upon the figure laying on the ground.  

You had been so startled by the sound of the gun shot that you hadn't realised Oscar was not next to you. Your stomach sinks when you see that Oscar had not made it as far as you; he had fallen to his knees just a few steps from the cabin. 

"Oscar!" You shriek with panic. Your own voice sounds muffled as your heart beat continues to thrum inside your head and inbetween your ears. You pace back to meet him, gasping in sharp breathes of the cold morning air as your legs work to carry your exhausted body.

You drop to the ground infront of Oscar and bring your trembling hands up to cradle his face, the stubble along his jaw pricking your palms. His skin feels cool to the touch and beads of sweat are dotted across his forehead.

"What happened? Oscar, what is it?" 

His eyes screw shut and his eyebrows knit together in a grimace of pain. He sucks a sharp breath of air through his clenched teeth.  "I...I gotta lay down." 

"O-Okay," you murmer. Oscar plants a hand on the ground behind him and begins to recline back. You splay one of your hands against the middle of back, your other still holding the side of his face. "Let me help you, go slow."

Oscar tries to shift his legs out infront of him but his limbs move too quickly, as though they are uncoordinated and weak; he plops down onto his backside with a thud, hissing with pain at the way his body jostles. You coo sympathetically and urge him once again to take it slow. He grunts and lays down flat on his back, pressing a hand to his lower abdomen.

You notice the motion straight away. "What happened to your stomach?" 

Oscar gives a slight shake of his head but doesn't open his eyes or say anything. You slide your hand down from his face to where he clutches his stomach. You curl your fingers gingerly around his and try to gently pry them away from the area. At first he resists, but after you whisper a tearful please he relents and uncovers the spot.

You gasp when you see that his whole palm is covered in blood.

Oh my god oh my god oh no

There's a ragged hole at the bottom of his jacket. You quickly fumble for the zip and yank it downwards, sweeping the panels to the side of his torso. Oscar allows you to do so without protest, his eyes still tightly closed, clearly battling against the internal agony that has been afflicted upon his body. You grab the bottom of his sweater and hurriedly tug it upward. You are desperate to see the hurt hidden underneath his clothes, desperate to see just how bad the damage is. 

When you find the source of his pain, you cannot contain the strangled cry that claws its way up your throat, raw and ugly. There's a small round black hole etched into the left side of his lower belly, just above his hip. It is a clean cut bullet wound with the flesh around it still firm. A thick pool of deep red blood puddles inside it, overflowing into a trickle that spills down to his groin.

It's a gunshot wound.

When had he been shot? 

"How?" You whisper brokenly, tears springing to your eyes. You grab hold of his bloody hand and squeeze it, wanting to reassure him of your presence, that you're still right next to him. 

Why don't you remember? 

Everything leading up to this moment is a blur within your memory. You don't have the capacity to realise just why, though. You don't know that while trapped within the chaos inside the cabin, your conscious had been overridden by your will to survive. You don't know you had dissociated, brain detaching from a reality you couldn't cope with. You hadn't remembered Lyle shooting Oscar because your mind was protecting you.

Oscar groans and squeezes your hand in his shaking one. "W-w...what can I do?" You stroke his forehead tenderly. "How do I stop the bleeding?" 

"I'm okay, honey," he mumbles, his beautiful dark eyes flickering open to stare up at you. His little round glasses sit crookedly on his face and you gingerly fix them to perch straight on his nose. He offers you a weak smile in return. "Just...just stay right here." 

"I'm here," you promise him, stroking over the curls on his temple. "I'm here."

***

The sound of a gun firing stops Joel's fist from connecting another gruelling punch to the raider's already gruesome face. It is like he's being snapped out of a trance, suddenly propelled from a hellish nightmare back to reality. His vision blurs as he struggles to focus on the scene before him, and it takes several seconds for him to remember just what had transpired within the last ten minutes. 

Joel glances down at his hand curled tight into a fist. It's completely coated in blood, and although his knuckles are raw and stinging, he knows the blood doesn't belong to him. His eyes descend to the lifeless body laying underneath his straddling thighs. He sees the grisly wreck of the man's head and it prompts a wave of nausea to lurch in his stomach. He has to quickly swallow the bile that rises in his throat, the bitter acid burning his oesophagus. 

Jesus Christ, Joel can't remember the last time he lost control like this. Maybe a long while before he started living in Jackson. It must have been, for Joel had to learn to hold back on dishing out beatings when he arrived in town. Despite wanting nothing more than to slap the shit out of some of the insubordinate young men around the town, he had quelled his temper with all his might for the sake of Ellie. He had masked so much of himself, of his true nature, all for their chance to carve out a decent life together in the safe community. 

But that savage beast of wrath had lain dormant inside him for all this time, waiting for a reason to rear its barbaric head and fight. There had never been a legitimate reason for this vicious part of Joel to show itself while they lived in the haven of Jackson.

But then again, nothing had evoked such an intense fury inside him as when the raider threatened your life right infront of him. 

You. 

His mind panics instantly, your name falling from his chapped lips with an edge of desperation. His head jerks around to where you were left beside the bed. You're gone, the leftover rope hanging limply from the bed frame, the ends frayed. A pocket knife lays on the floorboards where you were sat, its blunt looking blade glinting against the lone ray of sunshine pouring in through the window. 

Estrada, the mother fucking prick.

Did he really come all this way to get you? And you're gone, but who fired that shot? Are there more raiders out there? That pussy can't keep you safe. He needs to get out there and get you right now.

Joel shoves himself off of the raider's body and staggers to stand up. The bones in his back crack as he straightens upright. His whole body is an aching fucking mess but he refuses to think about pain. He can't. He's got to find you.

He grabs Lyle's gun off the floor and then hastily pulls on his boots, ignoring the blood his smears on every surface he touches. He storms out the bedroom to the front door, his footfalls striking heavily against the floorboards with each purposeful, formidable step.

You can't have gone far; Joel knows you can't ride a horse and he's pretty sure the raider shot Estrada, so he's willing to bet you're still in a quarter mile radius. 

Fuckin' Estrada. He'll blast the useless son of a bitch to pieces. He'll make you watch, force you to see how no one will ever come between you and he. Finally get it through that head of yours that you only belong with him.

Joel stalks out through the front door, resolution and determination catapulting him forth on his long legs. He's going to have to do something a little more drastic, he thinks, in order to cement his ownership over you, so you and everybody else in this world can see you're his, that you can't run away. Maybe a fucking brand on your skin.

Joel's boots only just meet the snow before he abruptly halts at the fringe of the cabin deck. It turns out you didn't even get past the boundary of the clearing, didn't even get 20 feet from the cabin. Instead you're here kneeling on the ground, Oscar laying down beside you on his back, his head in your lap. It appears intimate, a private moment he has stumbled upon, and it makes his stomach twist with burning possessiveness.

He scowls, flexing his hand around the grip of the pistol, the raider's blood already drying and crusting over the broken skin of his knuckles. 

Joel calls your name, his raspy voice loud and harsh, cutting through the air like a master commanding his dog. Your head snaps back to face him instantly; wisps of hair cling to your tear stained cheeks, your eyes wide with distress, your nose tinged pink from the cold air and all the crying you've done. You stay kneeling and Oscar remains on his back, which somehow pisses him off even more. 

What the hell is going on? And where'd that gun shot come from?

"Goddamn it," Joel growls.

He stomps over to you, jaw clenching and unclenching. He's going to drag you back inside by your hair after he kills Oscar. He'll strip you of your clothes and smack your ass until it's black and blue. His anger is palpable, radiating from him like a furnace, and the terror on your face amplifies with every determined step he takes. 

"Joel, please," you plead, "don't touch him!" 

"Get up and go back inside, right now!" Joel snarls. He'll do as he damn well pleases, and if that includes beating the shit out of Estrada like he did the raider, then so be it. 

Joel bends down to grab you by your collar but your hand shoots up and grips around his wrist, your fingernails sinking into his skin. Your red rimmed eyes stare up at him, frantic and imploring.

"Joel, wait, listen to me!" You gasp shrilly. "He's hurt! Look!"

Joel's gaze falls down past your face to where Oscar lays beneath you. He's startled by the change in Oscar's appearance, so unexpected and pitiful that it actually dampens the anger and jealousy seething from his core. 

He watches Oscar stare up at you and Joel, brows pulled together in a pain filled wince, a dull quality to his brown orbs. His pallid skin has a waxy sheen to it and there is a blueish tint to his trembling lips. His breaths come out in long stuttering gasps. Joel's eyes trail down to where Oscar's shirt in bunched in your hand and he sees the bloody hole sitting at the bottom of his belly.

You are right. He's hurt. The raider did shoot him.

"Joel, what d-do we do?" You sniffle, tightening your grasp around his wrist. "How do we treat it?"

The internal damage is difficult to assess, but judging from the location of the wound and how Oscar currently looks, the bullet has likely hit some organs, Joel silently deduces. It's dire, and with how Oscar's shivering right now he's not sure how long the man will survive for. Joel has seen his fair share of people die from all different kinds of ailments and wounds. He knows the signs well.

His gaze shifts back to you, jaw ticking as he deliberates his answer. You look so hopeless, so desperate for some kind of confirmation that you can actually do something to remedy the situation. It isn't your fault you're so naive, he reminds himself, and being kind is just part of your nature, so ofcourse you care. Ofcourse you care that Estrada is currently bleeding out in your arms.

But God, does he fucking hate that you still care so much about this prick.

"Can't do much for a gunshot wound," Joel delivers the words matter of factly. "Not without all the surgical stuff in Jackson." 

"What?" You whisper, your face contorting with disbelieving anguish. You relinquish your hold on his wrist as if the touch of his skin has become too uncomfortable to bear. "No, no. Surely there's something we can do now. We can get the bullet out, right?"

Joel tucks the gun in his pocket and descends down on one knee beside you. He avoids Oscar's eyes, instead training his gaze on the pool of blood seeping inside the wound on Oscar's lower abdomen. He can't soften the blow. It's not that he wants to purposely be cruel, but there's no use lying to you.

He scratches the side of his cheek and sighs heavily. "It's deep," Joel clarifies softly. "Not sure if the bullet hit an organ, but it looks likely. Can't do nothin' for it."

You chew on your bottom lip for a moment, contemplating his words, and then your eyes suddenly light up with childlike hope. "Let's go back to Jackson," you blurt out. "Dr. Amber can do it, we can go now."

Joel pins his gaze back to you, keeping his face impassive. He's never seen you like this before - so naive and deluded with optimism, denying the obvious reality of the situation. His heart unexpectedly aches for you.  

"It's too far," Joel whispers, schooling his tone to be firm but not unkind. "By the time we get there...he won't make it." 

"But we've got to try! Or, or maybe we can get the bullet out ourselves," you ramble in desperation. 

He sighs, trying hard to not let his impatience overtake his already limited empathy for your feelings. He places his hand on your shoulder, a sympathetic attempt to ground you, for he takes no pleasure in your current state of misery.

"Just told you, we can't do much. Where he got hit...it's too...it's just about impossible..." 

Your brows saddle together in defeated despair and you shake your head, fresh tears pooling at your waterline. There's a hint of emotion in your face, dancing within your watery irises and on the curl of your mouth, something that he cannot quite place; amidst the clear pain and grief is something firey, almost wild.

Like hatred. Resentment. Blame.

A croak comes from Oscar, prompting you to turn back and dip your head down to his. He's trying to talk but his voice is so muted that Joel cannot hear a word of what he's saying to you. You let out a small whimper and seem to whisper back a reply. The private moment between you two resumes, a confidential bubble that makes Joel feel like an outsider, pathetic and excluded. He clocks the way Oscar's hand clutches yours, the delicate brush of his thumb over yours, and he can't help the envious irritation that rears inside his chest once again, searing hot and bordering on painful.

Joel clears his throat and speaks your name to garner your attention. "Don't know where that gunshot came from. Could be more raiders just around the corner. We gotta go back inside." 

You jerk your head back to face Joel again, your features twisted into a glare, distrust and scorn evident in your eyes. "I'm not leaving him," you state defiantly.

"It ain't safe here," Joel bites back. "That shot was close by and it ain't gonna take long for whoever it was to find us." 

"I don't care!" You spit out harshly. "You go."

Joel feels as though he has been slapped. How dare you defy him like this? He's trying to protect you, to keep you safe from the potential threat of another raider, yet instead of obeying him you're openly challenging him. 

No, there's no way he's leaving you behind with Estrada while the poor fuck bleeds out.

Joel scowls, jaw clenched tight, and leans his head close to yours so that you are forced to look at him. You reflexively flinch away but keep your stare locked on his, bold and obstinate.

"Get up." He orders, voice low and loaded with danger. "'Fore we get killed." 

"No!" You argue.

Joel glares back at you, harsh breaths huffing through his nostrils. His jaw ticks once, then in one sudden move he's grabbing your arm and roughly hoisting you up on your feet. You squeal and yell at him but he just drags you away from Oscar like a predatory animal lugging its prey toward death, overpowering and tyrannical. 

He drags you several yards but stops abruptly when another gunshot suddenly blasts through the air, loud and resonant, unmistakeably closer this time. A mixture of other noises soon follow it, carried along the wind that rushes through the trees, sounds that quickly become more and more clear with each passing second.

Men's voices.

Horse hooves galloping. 

Dogs barking. 

And then a prominent voice calls out, masculine and commanding. 

"Joel!" 

Joel's blood runs cold. He knows that voice; he knows it better than anybody else still alive in this world, and to hear it right now makes his stomach churn with anxiety and resentment. He slowly twists his torso around, keeping his grip on your arm tight. 

There, at the edge of the small clearing by the south-west woodland, is Tommy. Joel swears under his breath. He is pertrubed at the unexpected sight of his younger brother. Did he really travel all the way from Jackson to track you and Joel down? He's made it all this way out here, and by the sounds of it he has a fucking rescue team with him close by. 

Tommy trudges through the snow with a gait almost identical to Joel's, his barrel chest heaving. The expression on his face is one of profound sadness and grave concern, a look that Joel knows well; Tommy was always the more self righteous brother, the bleeding heart, able to make Joel feel criticised and condemned with just a single look. 

Joel stays standing where he is, his hand still tightly gripping yours while he keeps his eyes locked on his brother. Tommy closes the gap between you in a series of long, laboured strides, his warm breath conjuring puffs of visible cloud from his lips. 

"Jesus, Joel, what did you do?" Tommy rasps in panicked disbelief when he catches sight of Oscar's prone form.  "Oh fuck, please don't tell me you killed Oscar." 

"I didn't touch him," Joel sneers. "And he ain't dead. We got ambushed by a raider but I took care'a him." 

"Oscar's hurt, Tommy," you interject, taking a step forward to try join him. "We need to get him help." 

Joel shoots you a disapprovingly glare before he clears his throat and gestures vaguely in Oscar's direction. "He got shot - by the raider, not by me."

Tommy drops down on one knee besides Oscar, hovering his hands over the man's body uncertainly.  "Fuck," Tommy whispers as his doleful eyes survey the grievous state of Oscar's belly and the bullet wound. He leans down and brings his gloved hand up to carefully cup Oscar's cheek in his palm. "Hey, Oscar, buddy, can you hear me?" 

Oscar blinks slowly up at Tommy and hums softly. "Hey, Tom," he manages to croak out. "Yeah....I can hear you." 

"Got yourself in a bit of trouble, looks like," Tommy murmers, trying his best to sound light-hearted. "But don't worry, I'm gonna get you back to town and we'll get you fixed right up."

"I'm dying, Tom," Oscar whispers. Tommy sniffs sadly and shakes his head, melancholic denial swimming in his eyes as he stares down at his friend.

"No you ain't," Tommy whispers back, his voice faltering. 

"It's okay...," Oscar coos, "just get her back...please, take her back home. Promise me you will."

***

You can't hear the hushed conversation between Tommy and Oscar, no matter how hard you strain to listen. You wish you could drop to your knees beside Tommy and be a part of what's going on, to hear Oscar's soothing voice assure you that he will be okay, that it isn't as bad as it looks. 

But you can't. Your freezing hand is still enveloped in Joel's possessive clutch, anchoring you to the stop next to him. He isn't interested in watching the interaction between his brother and his rival. He keeps a vigilant watch on the woods around you all, slowly turning his head left and right to scan each direction, no doubt still on guard for any possible raiders or infected. 

When Tommy eventually rises from the ground and drags his feet back to you and Joel, your heart skips a beat. You wish Tommy would smile at you and confirm that the wound actually isn't that deep, that your dear Oscar will be able to return to Jackson and get stitched up and everything will turn out alright.

You peer up at him, expectant and hopeful, but Tommy's morose expression just about crushes any scrap of optimism left in your weary heart. He comes close to you and takes your free hand in his and gives it a gentle squeeze, totally ignoring Joel beside you.

"Sweetheart," Tommy sighs, "I ain't gonna lie to you. He isn't lookin' good...I don't know....you needa talk with him."

"Why?" Joel cuts in, pulling you back from Tommy and cutting the physical contact between you. 

"For God's sake, Joel!" Tommy explodes with exasperation, curling his hands into fists. "You know why! Give her that atleast!" 

"Bleedin' heart 'til the day you die, huh Tom?" Joel mocks bitterly, glaring at his brother. Tommy meets his gaze head on, unflinching and firm.

"Doin' what's right, Joel," Tommy replies tightly. "It's time you did, too." 

You look between the two of them, too overcome with dizzying emotion and fatigue from the trauma you've endured to properly comprehend the gravity of what's being said. You're fighting to stand on your feet and all you want to do is lay down with Oscar.

"Fine, let's get this over and done with," Joel huffs, releasing your hand. Sensing how you're feeling, Tommy wraps his arm around your back and gently guides you to Oscar, carefully helping you to sit down in the snow. 

Your hand automatically slips into Oscar's to give it a delicate and comforting squeeze. He looks even more pale and you notice the way his stomach barely rises and falls with his short, shallow breaths. You bring your other hand up to brush back a curled lock of his hair that sticks to his forehead. 

His skin feels so cold. 

"Honey," his silky voice husks from between his blue lips. There is a film of tears swimming within his eyes as he stares up at you but his gaze seems more sharp, more focused. You feel as though he's looking right into your soul, his love and adoration piercing directly through your heart, and in this moment you're completely overcome with the intensity of your own love for him. 

Oscar is so beautiful, so pure. He came to save you. He risked his own life to rescue you, your own knight in shining armour, and now he lays here wounded and bleeding out. The guilt slices into you sharp and searing, you burst into a sob, lowering your head to his chest.

"I'm sorry," you weep. "I'm so sorry."

"Shhh, honey," Oscar rasps, slowly raising his hand up to stroke your hair. "It's okay." 

Joel growls and moves to grab you and intervene but Tommy is quick to block him. Tommy stands inbetween you and Joel and grips his shoulders firmly. "Back off," he commands sternly. 

Joel rips his little brother's hands off him and huffs angrily. "Go fuck yourself Tommy," he rumbles. Despite his hatred for what's happening, Joel turns away and retreats a few paces, unable to bear watching the scene. Tommy follows him, allowing you privacy; neither can hear what is whispered between you and Oscar.

Your nose drips from the cold, intermingling with the tears leaking from your eyes. Oscar's hand swipes the hair from your face as he continues to sshhh you gently.

"I love you," you hear his voice purr from within his sternum. "Always...have."

You lift your head to gaze at him, your face inches from his. His brown eyes project the same palpable sincerity that he has always embodied, even amidst the depth  of his suffering. There is a tranquil kind of energy swirling within in his irises that you can't quite work out the reason for. 

"Always will..." Oscar whispers, slowly tucking a tangled strand of hair behind your ear with an air of reverence. 

"I love you too," you mumble through tears. And you do. You truly love him. "I want to go back with you, wanna go back home with you, Oscar." And you do, more than anything else in the world, so much so that your desperation blinds you to the painful reality of Oscar's predicament. 

"I can't." Oscar admits in a breathless whisper. "Elvie is waiting for me..."

Elvie?

You're confused for a second until your brain kicks into gear. Elvie. The realisation of what Oscar means lands a punch right in the middle of your guts and a strangle gasp falls from your lips. You bring your face to cradle Oscar's cheeks and you lean down to place a kiss on his soft, wind chapped lips. 

"Please...." you whisper against his lips, a tear rolling down your cheek and falling to land onto the hollow of his throat. "Don't go..." 

He breathes your name ever so delicately. "I love you...."

And then, like a flickering flame of a candle being extinguished in the breeze, the last breath within Oscar's lungs drifts from his mouth and his soul slips away from his body. 

***

A ragged scream rips from your throat, full of anguish and sorrow. It startles Tommy and Joel and they both whirl around to where you kneel on the ground by Oscar. You are slumped over his dead body, forehead pressed to his chest and your balled fists clinging to his clothes. 

Tommy hastily springs back to you and crouches down to bracket your shoulders with his hands. He understands the reason got your distress immediately.

"Oh, sweetheart," he croons sympathetically. He slips his arm across your clavicle and carefully pulls you into him. "I'm sorry."

You lean back into his chest and let out a howl of anguish. Joel thinks it is just about the most tragic sound he has ever heard. He stands back and watches the scene with the the corners of his mouth downturned in somber silence. 

The magnitude of sorrow you express spurns something inside of him that makes his stomach clench and his breath hitch in his throat. When the initial shock dissipates he is left with a severe ache in his chest cavity that threatens to bring him to his knees. The realisation of why comes 

Your grief reflects his own. 

It reminds him of the day when his world was torn apart, when he had lost the most important thing in his life. 

Except the reason for your grief isn't an inescapable cordycep apocalypse; it is Joel himself. He may not have fired the bullet that fatally wounded Oscar but it was the consequences of his actions that led to the man's demise. Joel shakes his head to himself, trying to dislodge the thought from his mind.

No, he thinks, it isn't my fault. It isn't.

He bows his head and stares at his boots, unable to face the sight of your despair any longer. You wail and bawl for what seems like forever. Tommy keeps you close to him and murmers an occasional hushed I'm so sorry. It continues until you can produce no more your tears and your body lurches with exhausted dry retches. Your cheeks are puffy and splotchy, the rims of your eyes red and swollen. 

A long time passes before Tommy manages to persuade you to stand up. He hauls you up and keeps you tightly supported you against his body. You cling blindly to his jacket and nuzzle your face into his chest, finding a small degree of comfort in his warmth and kind commiseration. Another blurred period of time elapses where you allow Tommy to hold you and a quiet falls over the three of you. 

Joel doesn't look up until he hears your voice address him, hoarse yet full of venom. He lifts his head and sees you staring at him, your face twisted into a wretched mask of heartache and wrath.

"You," you hiss accusingly, "it's because of you!" 

Joel frowns at you and shakes his head, unable to formulate words in a response. He's totally bewildered by your anger.

"You brought me out here! You forced me here and Oscar came to save me!" You snarl. "He would still be alive if you hadn't!"

You struggle against Tommy and he loosens his hold on you. You launch yourself at Joel, half stumbling into him, your fists beating against his chest with all the strength you can muster.

Joel's hands cup your elbows so you don't fall over but he does nothing to stop you from unleashing your anger. He let's you punch his chest and slap his face, the impact of your hands leaving no more than a light sting on his cheeks. 

He could easily subdue you with nothing more than a solid shove or a quick slap but he doesn't. He stands still, patiently accepting your punishment, waiting until you eventually tire and end up collapsing against his front. You heave and sob with despair, fragile body wracking with the force of your cries, and Joel carefully wraps his arms around you and presses you firmly into him. 

"'M sorry," Joel whispers truthfully. And he is. He's sorry that you're heart broken. 

"You aren't," you sputter, "you've never been sorry, you don't care!" 

You struggle to escape his embrace but he holds you tighter. "I am," he asserts firmly.

You screech and thrash, incensed with anger at the way he seems to lie so easily. "He's dead because of you!"

Joel relinquishes his hold on you just enough to pull you back to look at your face. He is momentarily disturbed by the way your eyes smoulder with hatred and disgust, but he presses on, determined to make his point. 

"He's dead because of that raider, not me," Joel argues, "and it was me who killed that son of a bitch."

You shake your head vehemently, detestation written clearly on your face. "That raider could have killed us all! He was going to hurt me and you did nothing! Oscar saved me from that raider, not you!"

Shame heats the back of Joel's neck. He cannot deny that the raider was going to do unspeakable things to you and that he had basically offered you up to the man while he tried to formulate a strategy. It both shames and emasculates him that it was infact Oscar who saved you both from the raider. Joel may have beaten Lyle to death, but it was only because of Oscar that he was able to do so.

He feels like he has failed you. 

Just as he failed Sarah. Just as he failed Tess.

"I was gonna---" 

"I don't care!" You yell, flinging yourself backward to escape his grasp, but Joel just tightens his hands on your shoulders to keep you close. 

Joel has to battle the deeply ingrained instincts that urge him to slap the shit out of you to shut you up. He allows you to be angry and sad, to unleash the emotions you are rightfully experiencing right now, but his patience is wearing thin. He's also aware that Tommy still stands just a few yards away, so he needs to placate you enough to keep control of his temper and to somehow get you alone.

He narrows his eyes and rubs soothing circles over your shoulders with his thumbs.

"Let's go back inside the cabin," he drops his voice low in an effort to mollify. "Talk about this when you've calmed down some." 

"Talk about what, Joel?" You spit out, fresh angry tears trickling down your cold cheeks. "About how you got Oscar killed? About how you raped me and beat me and then kidnapped me?" 

"Christ almighty, Joel!" Tommy exclaims, shaking his head and staring in disbelief at his brother. "Is....is that true? You...you did those things to her?" 

Joel doesn't acknowledge his brother; he's so intently focused on you that he can hardly register Tommy's voice. All that matters is you and making you stay with here with him.

"I said I was sorry," Joel swallows the lump in his throat. "I tried, I tried so hard to do right by you. I brought us here so we could start a new life. So you could forgive me."

"What you did to me, Joel...," you whisper, your voice laced with embittered sadness. "That's different. But Oscar....he died because of what you did. And I won't ever forgive you for that."

"But I love you," he murmers, his voice becoming husky with emotion and his eyes blurring with tears. "I didn't...I love you." 

"And I loved you once, too, Joel, but how could I after what you've done?" You shove at his chest to punctuate your point. "I hate you!"

The impassioned vigour in your tone and your words cuts through Joel's heart like a knife. It reminds him of Ellie, how angry and betrayed she looked just a few nights ago. He knows you're stupefied with emotion right now, too wrapped up in misery to properly think or follow his commands. But he also knows you aren't lying. 

You do hate him.

Just as Ellie does.

The truth fucking crushes his heart into fragments.

Joel's face crumples and he stares at you with crestfallen dismay. His hands release you and he takes a staggering step backward. You stare him down like a feral cat ready to fight, your shoulders raised and your nostrils flared. Tommy steps forward to intervene in the face-off, standing half infront of you.

"Joel...It's over. Let her go," Tommy commands softly, almost pleadingly. "I'm takin' her back to Jackson. I gotta rescue team just over the clearing there."

Joel faces his brother with tears brimming at his lashline. "Who the fuck do you think you are?" Joel hisses angrily. "This ain't any of your business, Tommy! I don't give a fuck who you got waitin' in the wings!"

"She doesn't wanna be with you," Tommy emphasises, his voice measured and stern. "And you're my brother, Joel, so this is my fuckin' business. I ain't about to let this girl or anybody else get hurt because of you." 

"I love her, okay? I fuckin' love her, Tommy," Joel confesses brokenly. "I'll do anythin' to keep her."

"You hurt her, Joel. Jesus, you ra....you...," Tommy has to stop himself from choking on the weighted words that seem lodged inside his throat. He runs a hand through his black curls and shakes his head as he collects himself. "That ain't love." 

Your fingertips curl around Tommy's bicep, prompting him to stop from saying anything more. Like a hawk, Joel observes the movement and watches with bated breath as you step out from behind Tommy. He sees that you are no longer crying and that you no longer look angry. Instead, you now look composed. Bold. You stand upright, your body radiating self assuredness, chin tilted upward to meet Joel's eyes head on. 

The last time he had witnessed you like this was the time you confronted him about raping you. He sees the same stoicism in your face now - and he can see just how deadly serious you are. 

"If you really loved me, you'd let me go," you speak up, your tone smooth and placid despite the challenging significance of your words. 

"No," Joel croaks out. His brown eyes, large and glassy, swimming with tears as he gazes at you. "I need you. I need you with me, here." 

"I can't stay here, Joel," you say softly. "I can't stay with you." 

"I-I can't let you go," he rasps desperately. "You're mine, baby. I can't be without you."

"I've got nothing left to give you, Joel." You shrug with blunt weariness. "You've taken everything from me." 

Warm rivulets of tears begin to trickle from Joel's eyes and he sniffs. "I'll give you whatever you need, I'll...I'll make it up to you. Just....please."

You watch him intently, your chin raised with stoic determination, unmoved by his show of emotion. "It's too late."

"No," he pleads, taking a step closer to you. "No, it ain't. It ain't too late." 

"I spent too much time letting myself be hurt and unhappy. People like Oscar, like my parents...they don't have the chance to start over. They don't get to try. And I owe it to them to keep going. I owe it to them to be happy." 

"You can be happy. You can be happy with me," Joel asserts, his voice wavering with heartache. He reaches out to touch you but you take a step backward. You shake your head gently, your gaze never leaving his. 

"No, I can't. You need to control me, Joel - you need to hurt me. How can I be happy like that?" 

Joel opens his mouth to speak but no words come. He is at a loss for what to say. He cannot argue against the points you make as they are true - he does need to control you, he does need to hurt you. As much as he could try justifying it as expressions of love and care, it is still the confronting truth of your relationship. He is defeated.

He stays silent for a minute, then forces out a quiet mumble, "give me another chance. Please."

"No, Joel. I won't let you take the chance of happiness away from me," you respond matter of factly. "I'm going back to Jackson with Tommy. Goodbye, Joel."

You turn back and walk over to Tommy, where he stands looking at his older brother with concerned sympathy. He knows Joel won't return to town, knows it would be impossible for him to integrate back into society in a place where his foster daughter and the woman he loves will be absent from his life. 

Tommy slings his arm tightly around your shoulders and gingerly guides you away from where you stand. You give Joel once last fleeting look before you turn away and begin moving your feet to follow Tommy.

Joel watches you both trudge through the snow toward the clearing at the edge of the forest. He stands frozen in place, paralysed by the internal dialogue raging within his mind.

She's leaving. 

I can't stop her. 

She has to go.

She hates me. 

She doesn't love me.

This is the right thing to do.

Joel shields his eyes with his hand, unable to bear the sight of you walking out of his life. He hangs his head and heaves out a weighted, heartbroken sigh. The constrain on his emotions quickly cracks and soon he begins to weep. Fat tears pour from his eyes and roll down the bridge of his nose. His weeping escalates into mournful cries that make his shoulders shake and his stomach churn, and he feels his heart squeeze so painfully that he thinks he's on the verge of a heart attack. 

He cries now more than he has cried for the last 20 years. Not since the day Sarah died has he cried so much. The repressed emotion he has been habouring throughout all these years is set free and laid bare, and he allows himself to finally feel it all; the heartbreak for his daughter, Sarah, the undying unconditional love for Ellie, and the everlasting yearning for you.

Joel's legs buckle and he collapses onto the snow on his knees. The ice stings the sliced skin on his bare hands but he isn't even cognisant of the pain. All he can perceive is the devastating emptiness now residing within his soul; all that is left now are memories and nightmares, and the agonising regret and grief of losing you.