Crime And Punishment The Visitor

Pinkie Pie Pedge

There is no justifiable reason why I'm posting this. It COULD be a showcase of my soon to be complete series "Pike's Place" and all things Pink. It MIGHT be an installment of Pedge Tweets, and an excuse to gaze longingly at our beloved. OR it might just be a distraction as I head into a barrage of tests and doctor visits for the New Year (#pinkpoop). MOSTLY it's just cause I think Papi Pascal is hot sh@t.

*thanks zephirahh for the design page!

*sweets from the sweets @inept-the-magnificent + @romanarose

Pedge Bookshop Art

A huge thank you to @auteurdelabre for our beautiful Coloring Book! I hope you will check out Pedge's Bookshop, as this rendering is based on the integration of "Crime and Punishment" themes that closely resemble "The Last of Us".

“We sometimes encounter people, even perfect strangers, who begin to interest us at first sight, somehow suddenly, all at once, before a word has been spoken.” “Your worst sin is that you have destroyed and betrayed yourself for nothing.” “That's why I drink too. I try to find sympathy and feeling in drink…. I drink so that I may suffer twice as much!” “Power is given only to him who dares to stoop and take it … one must have the courage to dare.” “Do you understand what it means when you have absolutely nowhere to turn?” “Only to live, to live and live! Life, whatever it may be!” “Through error you come to the truth! I am a man because I err!”

My Darling Muse (v),

Dieter is in LOVE. He's just not sure if he's met them yet. But in the interim, he's keeping a journal to house all of his inspiration, poetry and recipes, before they fly out of his head. And once he meets the ONE...or ONES...this is going to be his gift to you. Along with those sexy time IOU's he's always handing out...

Trigger: it's Dieter bub so this series will DEFINITELY include profanity, drugs, alcohol, sex, smut and any meanderings D wants...He's endlessly inspired by art, poetry, songs, sex and YOU!

Series Masterlist

*artwork by Cat Bug and OsoStudios *cool dividers by @sweetmelodygraphics

My Darling Muse,

YOU ARE THE SUN, AND I THE MOON I ENCIRCLE YOU, CASTING SHADOWS IN THE TUMULT OF EMOTION BUFFETING THE OCEANS I, THE MOODY COLD LANDSCAPE YOU, THE FIERY FLAME I LONG FOR YOUR WARM TOUCH ICY, BARREN AND ALONE WHAT DEPTHS DO YOU ILLUMINE? SUBMERGE IN MY OCEANS BATHE IN MY SEA OF TRANQUILITY MELT THE ICE HEART’S TUNDRA THE SHIFTING TIDES WILL LULL LOSING OURSELVES TO ONE ANOTHER LOST AT SEA, BUT NEVER LOST DROWNING UNTO BREATH I AM MYSTERY, IMAGINATION I AM INTUITION AND AMBIGUITY I FIND CERTAINTY IN MY ENIGMA DRAWING YOU INTO THE UNKNOWN EVER FIXED LIGHT IN THE DARK ANCHOR TO THE HARSH DAY STEP INTO THE NIGHT NAKED MOONBEAMS ALIGHT (scribbled in the margins; the moon is made of camembert, Lunar Landing; Actors needed?, Is the moon pan?, Moon Pie Ingredients?, Lunar Cycle: Impact how high I can get?)

Hey folks! This is J, Dieter's PA. Firgive any typoos, Dieter has gone nocturnal since his good friend Pedro Pascal posted about the Aries Moon and Dieter had his first reading (@firsttarotreader). Now Dieter is determined to read his own horoscope to find his long lost love/s. He wants me to share that he hasn't pooped in three days, after subsisting on a diet of entirely cheese, but it is the "sacrifice of artistry". No Dieter you cannot read my palm again, it's only been five minutes. No we would NOT get a group discount by traveling to the moon as a polycule. I gotta go folks, time for a midnight nap...

Pedro Scouts Ice Cream Social

Pedge and I had the sweetest time this Sundae for the @pedroscouts Ice Cream Social! As a Tumblr newbie, this is the most corresponding I've ever done and the amazing writers did not disappoint! A special thank you to Pedro Scouts for the fun summer activities! Now, if you'll excuse me, Pedge and I are going to enjoy our nuts and cherries! Hope we don't make too much of a sticky mess...Happy socializing!

🍨🍦🍧🍨🍦🍧🍨🍦🍧🍨🍦🍧🍨🍦🍧🍨🍦🍧

Indulgent @maggiemayhemnj Rocky Road

The Trailer; All About Eve

Trailer: Inspired by the @auteurdelabre VHS Club, we are going to deconstruct these favorite movies and write some analogous fics taboot. Javi will be our theatrical custodian, but other Pedro Boys might join us for cameo appearances....

Concessions Stand: Don't forget to grab your sweet treat before heading into Pedge's Cinema. Check out "The Unbearable Weight of Perfection" by @wardenparker which should fit the bill nicely....

Triggers: This was a lot more complicated than I realized; spoilers for "All About Eve" (dialogue usage), no smut but romantic situations, discussion of ageism/misogyny, male infantilism if you squint (?)...

Series Masterlist

Word Count: 5k

The week of acclimation had blearily raced past in happy contentment, and most of that was due to your newfound friendship with Javi. Italy was a close second. Since that first fateful encounter at the local movie house, you and Javi had become fast friends. Setting up a happy rapport of tourism and conversation had motivated the entirety of your summer stay. Every single morning, Javi arrived with two espressos, occasionally befriended by the local pastry options and after reviewing the evening movie choices, Javi would whisk you to the first of many cinematic locations. Visiting Venice and hearing about “Three Coins In the Fountain”. Touring the Vatican and talking about “Roman Holiday”. And enjoying gelato while Javi waxed philosophical about the Italian centered Nicholas Cage movie “Time to Kill”…which was actually about Ethiopia. Your friendship was like something out of a movie, and you relished every morsel of it. But this had done nothing to prepare you for the start of your Summer Internship. Having flitted away this “week of preparation” you found yourself on the doorstep of your next excited academic exploration, with little to no idea of what it might entail.

“I think we should take the students to all of these important cinematic locations!” Javi exclaimed, plopping down on the living room couch and beating clouds of dust out of the nearby pillows. Coughing and sputtering in allergic response, you opened the nearby veranda windows to the sunlight of the day.

“Are you my newfound TA for these events?” you jested, sipping your espresso tentatively as Javi had already inhaled his.

“Absolutely! Would you like that for your first day of class, Principessa? You don’t have to tell me how nervous you are…” Javi pouted, drawing the pillow up to him like a baby he was trying to cuddle. You stomach lurched with excited anticipation. You WERE nervous to meet the students and begin classes, but you were also excited to be working with your colleagues and gaining artistic insight into the rich history of cinema and storytelling.

“That’s VERY sweet of you Javi, but I know you have your big meeting tomorrow. I don’t want you to miss it…”.

“Are you talking about my very important industry meeting with international superstar and personal friend, Nicholas Cage?” Javi’s smile delightfully curled at his lips as you sat across from him on the couch, playfully propping your feet up on his lap.

“Oh I’m sorry, are you friends with THE Nick Cage?” you taunted, poking him slightly in the stomach and watching him crumple with embarrassment.

“Don’t tease me Principessa, we’re just meeting on the Skype. Besides, I’m still waiting for you to read our screenplay. I want all of your thoughts on the narrative quality of our story. Of course, Nicholas Cage will star” Javi’s eyes widened to an imploring gravitas as you shook your head with incredulity.

“I AM excited to read it Javi, but you haven’t given me half a moment! We’ve been bouncing from one tourist attraction to another…not that I’m complaining” you observed, rubbing your calves mournfully from all the walking Europe seemed to motivate.

“Would you like for me to recite it, right now?” he questioned, reaching over to massage the base of your foot, before you dissolved into a fit of laughter at the tickling sensation.

“I kind of hate to say this, but I think you need to go away for the next few hours. I need to plan my curriculum, organize my collegiate schedule for colleague introductions and…apparently read a screenplay this afternoon” you launched a pillow good-naturedly at Javi’s head as he began to sulk.

“But we have not yet been to the Trevi Fountain!” Javi lamented, collapsing against the couch dramatically and closing his eyes forlornly. “Perhaps we should watch “La Dolce Vita” this evening for our cinematic selection?”.

“Ah, no, no, no! You promised me we could begin with my teaching curriculum, starting with the Hollywood classic, ‘All About Eve’” you threatened, poking Javi once again and eliciting a small growl of protestation.

“I DO like Betty Davis, though she’s no Nicholas Cage” Javi retorted, setting a heavy hand on your upper thigh, as you attempted to stifle an unbidden shiver. “Very well Principessa, I will leave you to your cinematic studies, now appropriately fueled by the caffeinated nectar of the gods. What culinary selection would you prefer for this evening’s festivities?” Javi stood abruptly, towering over you at nearly six feet tall.

“You better bring the martinis and milkshakes, I’m going to procure a pizza from the trattoria down the street” you salivated, looking towards the kitchen with skepticism.

“Milkshakes?” Javi wondered, jaunting towards the door and grabbing his jacket from the nearby chair. “I will endeavor to bring the gelato…” he jovially saluted you, emphatically pointing to his screenplay situated on your kitchen counter and bouncing out through the foyer.

Javi was a ray of sunshine that never seemed to dull, his energy and iridescence was quite contagious. You only hoped all of your relationships would prove so fulfilling during this summer internship. If there was one thing you knew from your love of a masterpiece like “All About Eve”, professional challenges seemed to be hiding around every corner, and no sooner were friendships found, then they were immediately questioned. You prided yourself on your ability to ascertain someone’s intentionality, but would your colleagues be just as welcoming as someone like Javi? Only time could tell. You took your espresso over to the counter and picked up Javi’s screenplay as a curriculum amuse bouche. Let’s get to work…

The day passed quickly as you assembled your talking points for tomorrow’s class and skimmed Javi’s rough draft. You were delighted to discover it was quite good. Slightly meta, and self-deprecating. It would give Nicholas Cage a delightful opportunity to poke fun at his eccentric self. You couldn’t imagine anyone but Javi playing the autobiographical role, but Hollywood would probably find some young 20 something to play the 40 something and call it a day. Pausing to grab a fresh margarita pizza from the local trattoria you caught Javi walking up to your villa, grocery bag in hand.

“Bona note, Principessa!” Javi sang out, as the children raced past, chasing a futbol down the cobblestoned street. “I have returned with flowers, gelato and vodka, the holy triumvirate!” he greeted you with the traditional European kiss across both cheeks as the blush heightened across your freckled face. “We have much to discuss!”

You smiled with anticipation as Javi immediately launched into a descriptive analysis of the screenplay, drawing your attention to several of the analogies you hadn’t noticed. You had just queue’d the dusty DVD to start playing “All About Eve” as Javi synopsized.

“And so you can see how the relationships ARE similar. The protege, desperately desiring validation. Surviving in a world of distrust, ambition and greed. Not knowing where to turn and feeling that youth slipping away like time itself…” Javi gestured dramatically before eyeing a few of his own sun-soaked wrinkles with skepticism. “So many insecurities in our 40’s…” he sighed, raising a glass of vodka infused gelato before settling further into the couch after dinner.

“You’ve really written something marvelous for Nicholas Cage to star in” you agreed, toasting Javi’s milkshake martini concoction with curiosity. “Is that how your friendship really came about?” you questioned, as the memorable soundtrack by Alfred Newman lilted in the background.

“That is for me to know, and you to discover! What is cinema, if not ILLUSION?!” Javi bellowed, pinching at your leg flirtatiously and smiling broadly. “Fasten your seatbelts, it’s going to be a bumpy night!”

The voice of George Sanders intoned in the background,

“To those of you who do not read, attend the theater, listen to unsponsored radio programs, or know anything of the world in which you live, it is perhaps necessary to introduce myself. My name is Addison DeWitt. My native habitat is the theater. In it, I toil not, neither do I spin. I am a critic and commentator. I am essential to the theater. Margo Channing is a star of the theater. She made her first stage appearance at the age of four in Midsummer Night's Dream. She played a fairy and entered, quite unexpectedly, stark naked. She has been a star ever since. Margo is a great star, a true star. She never was or will be anything less or anything else”.

“Betty Davis is quite nearly as big a star as Nicholas Cage” Javi whispered beside you, munching on the final piece of pizza. You smiled quietly, relishing his artistic obsession. You would have thought he would demand cinematic silence, but Javi’s movie enthusiasm was often as unbridled as his general lust for life.

“She must have learned a lot from his pantheon of work” you scoffed as Javi gently nudged you in the side with his elbow, shushing you ineffectively.

“Think me cynical, if you like, but the cynicism you refer to, I acquired the day I discovered I was different from little boys! Bill's thirty-two. He looks thirty-two. He looked it five years ago, he'll look it twenty years from now. I hate men” you moved your mouth in conjunction with Betty Davis as she lamented the joys of industry aging. “I'm not twenty-ish, I'm not thirty-ish. Three months ago I was forty years old. Forty. Four O. That slipped out. I hadn't quite made up my mind to admit it. Now I suddenly feel as if I've taken all my clothes off.”

God, you loved this movie. You looked over at Javi, his eyes shining affectionately as the screen flickered light across his joyful face. A fellow afficianado. “You know, if you wanted to come by after your meeting tomorrow I could use the help. I AM actually a little nervous” you admitted, looking down at your gelato hesitantly.

“Oh Principessa, I would love to!” Javi met your eyes with encouragement. “You are already supporting me in my cinematic endeavors, I would also love to support yours!” he beamed.

You snuggled up beside him, soaking in the exposition by Joseph Mankiewicz;

“The theatre. The theatre. What book of rules say the theatre exists only within some ugly buildings crowded into one square mile of New York City? Or London? Do you wanna know what the theatre is? A flea circus. Also opera. Also rodeos, carnivals, ballets, Indian tribal dances, Punch and Judy, a one-man band, all theatre. Wherever there's magic and make-believe and an audience, there's theatre. Donald Duck, Ibsen and The Lone Ranger. Sarah Bernhardt and Betty Grable, all theatre. You don't understand them all. You don't like them all. Why should you? The theatre's for everybody, you included, but not exclusively. So, don't approve or disapprove. It may not be your theatre, but it's theatre for somebody, somewhere.”

“Did you know that the Mankiewicz brothers were both famous for their literary ability?” you whispered, as Javi remained quietly at your side. “Herman Mankiewicz gained notoriety for Citizen Kane…”. You paused, surprised by Javi’s uncharacteristic silence. Eve Harrington, the antagonist of the movie continued on;

“If there's nothing else, there's applause. I've listened backstage to people applaud. It's like - like waves of love coming over the footlights and wrapping you up. Imagine, to know every night that different hundreds of people love you. They smile, their eyes shine, you've pleased them. They want you. You belong. Just that alone is worth anything”.

“You’ve got to give it to her, she is DEFINITELY passionate, if not unscrupulous” you teased, waiting for Javi’s retort and hearing none. You looked over at Javi to see if he had fallen asleep, but his countenance had taken on an uncharacteristic solemnity that concerned you. “Hey, you okay over there, Shakespeare?” you sat up slightly, watching his brow furrow with consternation.

“Oh. Um, yes, forgive me principessa, just….thinking” he muttered, gripping his knees fixedly and staring at the television screen. Had you done something wrong? Maybe he didn’t want to cuddle on the couch, but wasn’t saying so. You scooted a few inches away, drawing your hands into your lap with disappointment. Glancing at his side profile you watched his Adam’s apple bob tensely as he swallowed hard. What was going on? Betty Davis monologued,

“So many people know me. I wish I did. I wish someone would tell me about me, outside of my own notoriety. What’s in a name anyhow? What is it, besides something spelled out in light bulbs, I mean - besides something called a temperament, which consists mostly of swooping about on a broomstick and screaming at the top of my voice? Infants behave the way I do, you know. They carry on and misbehave - they'd get drunk if they knew how - when they can't have what they want, when they feel unwanted or insecure or unloved”.

“I have to go!” Javi bolted upright suddenly, as you confusedly paused the movie.

“Okayeeeee….are you alright? Do you need me to…?”

“Absolutely not! I mean…it’s time for me to go!” Javi grabbed his jacket lying on the coffee table and gave you a quick peck on both cheeks before nearly running out the door. If it wasn’t so concerning, it might be comedic, as he nearly tripped over his own shoes, farcically wrestling into his evening jacket and flinging the door open. “See you tonight! I mean tomorrow. Thank you for a lovely evening principessa…” and he was out the door.

How strange. You were often apt to conclude that you had somehow misread the situation, but your instincts told you that something had shifted. Was he suddenly embarrassed about his screenplay? It wasn’t perfectly formed, but it was quite good. Maybe you hadn’t offered enough encouragements. You shrugged your shoulders doubtfully, resuming the movie and trying to set your quandaries to one side. You were anxious about class tomorrow—maybe Javi was growing similarly trepidatious about his industry meeting with Nicholas Cage. You sighed defeatedly, trying to release the growing tension in your shoulders and neck. If only real life could be as straightforward as the movies…

Hearing your high heels echo in the lecture hall you tried to conjure the confidence and stage presence of Betty Davis as you read her scintillating observations of women in the performing arts industry,

“Funny business, a woman's career - the things you drop on your way up the ladder so you can move faster. You forget you'll need them again when you get back to being a woman. That's one career all females have in common, whether we like it or not: being a woman. Sooner or later, we've got to work at it, no matter how many other careers we've had or wanted. And in the last analysis, nothing's any good unless you can look up just before dinner or turn around in bed, and there he is. Without that, you're not a woman. You're something with a French provincial office or a book full of clippings, but you're not a woman. Slow curtain, the end”.

Your voice hung in the air as about 20 students gazed back at you with enchantment. Betty Davis you were NOT, but you were delighted to see the cinematic enthusiasm of your summer students.

“And what do we gather from the character’s steely diatribe against society’s requirement of the female persuasion?” you asked, noticing a shadowy figure sneak in the back of the lecture hall and silently take a seat. Oooh, maybe it was someone from the administration, you’d better be on your best behavior. “I think it’s incredibly prescient, given its context in the "Golden Age", you formed quotation marks with your fingers “…and recognizing society’s grab for power, dominance and greed at all costs. Even to the exclusion of the personhood of the human” you debated, returning to your notes for the classroom agenda. “Let’s move on to the topic of social manipulation and professional ambition” you noted, referencing your power point presentation. You clicked on the graphic of the character Addison Dewitt,

“That I should want you at all, suddenly strikes me as the height of improbability. But that, in itself, is probably the reason. You're an improbable person, Eve, and so am I. We have that in common. Also, our contempt for humanity and inability to love, and be loved, insatiable ambition, and talent. We deserve each other”.

The figure in the back of the room shifted slightly in their seat with discomfort. You hoped you were making a good impression. “The character of Addison Dewitt is a literary metaphor for the dominating ambition that seems to drive, not only those in the performance industry, but in a capitalistic society at large” you tried to use as much flowery language as possible. This internship was a golden ticket of sorts, and you were anxious to demonstrate your academic prowess. You referenced the next clip, eliciting a vocal response from your audience as Addison slapped Eve across the face;

“-We are all busy little bees, full of stings, making honey day and night. Aren't we honey? -Sounds more like the mark of a true killer: sleep tight, rest easy, and come out fighting. -I’m sure you mean something by that, Addison, but I don't know what. -I am nobody's fool, least of all yours. -It’s important right now that we talk, killer to killer. -Champion to champion. -After tonight, you will belong to me. -Belong to you - why, that sounds medieval, something out of an old melodrama! (slap) -Now, remember, as long as you live, never to laugh at me - at anything or anyone else, but never at me.”

The class tittered with tension and awkward laughter. “The relationship between Addison and Eve is hardly romantic, but more so qualifies as a means to an end. How do you think that contrasts with the other relationships such as Karen and Lloyd; Margo and Bill?” Shifting to the next power point slide, the character of Bill reprimanded Margo in a lover’s spat,

“-As it happens, there are particular aspects of my life to which I would like to maintain sole and exclusive rights and privileges. Like….you. -That might be my cue to take you in my arms and reassure you. But I'm not going to - I'm too mad. Darling, there are certain characteristics for which you are famous, on stage and off. I love you for some of them, in spite of others. I haven't let those become too important. They're part of your equipment for getting along in what is laughingly called our environment. You have to keep your teeth sharp - all right - but I will not have you sharpen them on me, or on Eve! -You know, there isn't a playwright in the world who could make me believe this would happen between two adult people. -Perhaps I’m not a good enough director to salvage our scene, but you must be a good enough actress. There never was, and there never will be another like you.”

The hum of the projector warmed the already infused summer air as you wiped your forehead delicately, hearing the silhouetted figure clear their voice loudly in the background. You noticed their hand raised and delightedly called on them. “Is there any hope for her at all?” the voice rang out from the back of the lecture hall, bouncing off the walls and around the interior of your heart. Javi! He made it! You wondered how his industry meeting had progressed before responding…

“Well the cinematic ending is rather ambiguous, but I think Margo Channing has a vibrant life ahead of her! Finding romantic fulfillment with Bill Simpson and recognizing her individualized self-worth is probably the best revenge one could get…”

“I mean….Eve. Is there any hope for Eve?” Javi’s voice cracked as the class began to turn in their seats to locate the hidden voice in the background. You paused, somewhat concerned if Javi were okay, there seemed to be a note of tension in his voice. Perhaps he needed some encouragement after his Skype discussion.

“Oh! That much is up for interpretation. Addison does encourage Eve to place her accolades and awards where a heart should be. But the enigma continues as we see her potential protege, already usurping Eve’s meteoric rise to fame. Ladies and gentleman allow me to introduce my friend and colleague Javi Gutierrez. An aspiring screenwriter, cinematic aficionado and close friends with international superstar, Nick Cage!” you really laid it on thick, but wanted to support Javi however you could. The class immediately burst into applause as you finished the lecture. “In closing, let’s continue to analyze the ramifications of this cinematic classic. The way that it questions industry ambition, greed, power and the double standard brought about by professional misogyny. I haven’t even touched on the queer subtext, sophisticated campy dialogue or dramedy hybrid, but that will be another discussion for another time. Don’t forget to start watching our list of classic and contemporary cinema covered in the syllabus such as “East of Eden”, “Psycho”, “Fanny and Alexander”, “Deer Hunter” and more. I’ll see you next week, excellent work! Class dismissed!” There was a smattering of applause as the students excitedly talked and exited the classroom straining to get a better view of your enigmatic guest, as he walked down the stairs to the front of the room. You gathered your books and notes, the projector humming vibrationally next to you and casting dramatic beams of light around the room theatrically.

“You are a vision!” Javi exclaimed, kissing you across both cheeks and beaming with pride. But his eyes seemed to be shining with more than just satisfaction, as you caught a sheen of emotion dotting his countenance and a deep furrow to his brow.

“Aw, thanks Javi, it means the world that you made it today, I can’t tell you…” you ventured, squeezing his forearm with approval. “How’d everything go with the meeting? Was Nick pleased with your progress?” Javi’s face immediately fell with defeat, as he turned his back to you with a small whimper.

“Let us focus on your victory of the day, rather than my own…” his voice dramatically intoned, gathering up more of your books despite your protestations. “I am anxious to enjoy our dinner and movie selection of the night” and he immediately headed out the door amidst your confused looks.

What in the world was bothering him?

It had taken some coaxing, but on the walk back to your villa, Javi had slowly started to relax. You couldn’t be sure what was plaguing him, but after a steady stream of discussion and joking, he nearly seemed back to normal as you both entered the apartment laughing jovially. You were just about to suggest an evening movie when you caught Javi’s crestfallen expression as he fixed his eyes on his screenplay sitting on the kitchen counter.

“Alright, out with it!” you exclaimed, as Javi’s face crumpled with emotion, his lip quivering ever so slightly with concern.

“I cannot continue” he dramatically professed, histrionically dropping the books and flinging himself face first onto the living room couch with chagrin. You rolled your eyes good-naturedly, picking up the screen play and carefully sitting atop his lower back as he sniffled quietly.

“It seems to me this couch could use some more padding” you tried to tease, as Javi’s weight shifted beneath you with embarrassment.

“Would you taunt a man whose very existence is dissolving into a heap of despair and angst?” Javi’s voice mumbled into the pillows disdainfully. You pouted with concern, moving to the floor and running your hands lightly through his curly hair. European men could be so dramatic, but something was obviously bothering him.

“Is this about the meeting with Nick?” you offered, before Javi pushed himself up revealing his red-rimmed eyes and crimson hue’d nose.

“YES this is about my online meeting with international superstar and close personal friend Nicholas Cage!” he nearly cried before collapsing back onto the couch with despair.

You bit back a smile of skepticism before starting to rub large circles over Javi’s back and nodding in support. “He didn’t like it?” you whispered, dreading the response. Javi paused before mumbling into the pillow;

“He loved it”.

You stopped your ministrations, sitting back on your heels with disbelief. “Well of course he loved it! It’s absolutely amazing!” you giggled, looking at the prostrate man before you. “Wait, so…what’s the problem then?” you waited with anticipation watching Javi’s back rise and fall with a tense breath.

“I believe…” Javi’s voice wilted under the oppression before meeting your eyes with gravitas, “…I believe I have become….Eve Harrington”. He threw himself back onto the couch as you blinked dumbly before him.

“I’m sorry….what?” you tried to stifle a laugh, fingering the pages of the screenplay in your hands. Artists were so delightfully hyperbolic.

“It is not funny, Principessa!” Javi declared, sitting up abruptly and kicking your foot with seriousness. You nodded solemnly, hugging the screenplay to your chest tightly. “You must understand the sincere anguish that is permeating my very soul in this moment.”

You quietly considered his admission. “How absolutely horrible, you must get confused for Anne Baxter all the time” you deadpanned, waiting for Javi’s explanation. FINALLY, his veneer cracked, as he sheepishly collapsed back onto his side with petulance.

“It is possible I might be over-reacting” he acquiesced, poking the screenplay with one large forefinger. “Did you actually like it?” he whispered, his eyes a sea of innocence.

“I absolutely did” you confessed, leafing through the pages with delight. “It’s campy and genre-bending. A total tour-de-force for Nicholas Cage, and a wonderful commentary on the self-referential nature of Hollywood and artistry in general. It actually reminds me of "All About Eve" in some ways…” you admitted before Javi’s face screwed up with anxiety. “But not because you’re turning into Eve Harrington!”

Javi sighed with uneasiness, as you sat down next to him, attempting to heft his body to an upright position. “I’m doooooomed for all eternity! I have sullied the iridescent name of cinematic powerhouse and intimate artistic comrade, Nicholas Cage, with my flagrant attempt to displace his greatness! As though that were even possible….” Javi whimpered with a flourish, collapsing his heavy weight against you and tilting his head to your shoulder.

“Oh my. This is really quite serious” you nodded. “I had no idea you had such gargantuan screenwriting prowess. On the surface, you just seemed like a loving fan who idealized their theatrical hero. And now, as per your observations, I can clearly see how maniacal you have become. It’s just too bad Nick Cage is not capable of seeing through your facade” you teased, taking Javi’s large hand in yours and stroking it tenderly.

He sniffled thoughtfully at your remarks. “Nicholas Cage is the paragon of dramatic virtue” he observed huffily, drawing your interlaced hands up to his chest and heaving a hefty sigh. “Perhaps you are right, Principessa. But what of the playwright Mr. Richards? He intimates that artists should know their place and avoid self-aggrandizement at all costs!”

You screwed up your face in remembrance, trying to access the referenced cinematic moment. “Javi, he says something about actors taking artistic liberties with words that are not their own. If anything, that quote refers to Nick Cage, not you the playwright…” you argued, as Javi apparently stopped breathing momentarily. “Maybe you could listen to the words Nick is actually saying to you, because they seem to be nothing but supportive”.

Javi turned to face you with a new beam of enlightenment gracing his sparkling face. “I am not attempting to usurp and displace theatrical legend and creative genius, Nicholas Cage?” he whispered, nearly nose to nose with you now.

“I’m not sure you could, sweetie” you offered, gripping his hand tightly with encouragement.

“I have not turned into an attractive but maniacal masculine version of the literary character Eve Harrington and forever damaged our burgeoning professional and personal relationship?” he blinked skeptically, looking for any minuscule traces of hesitation in your micro-expressions.

“That would be quite the talent, but no, I’m fairly certain not”.

Javi’s face burst into a radiant smile as he collapsed back against the couch, finally satisfied, and breathing a sigh of relief. “And you really thought the screenplay was good?” he cast his eyes downward, avoiding your glance before you dipped your head lower still to catch his gaze.

“I really did. And so did Nick Cage” you smiled, kissing Javi lightly on the cheek as he blushed a deep crimson.

“Eccellente” he mouthed, stifling a small giggle of joy.

“Now, I wouldn’t mind another one of those gelato milkshake concoctions from last night. Are we watching another selection from my curriculum series? I haven’t even attempted “The Candyman”…or maybe “Poltergeist”?” you questioned.

“Principessa, I have had more than enough horrors for the evening!” Javi joked, kissing your hand with bravado before heading into the kitchen for ingredients. “Incidentally, I believe you agreed to watch one of my favorites at your earliest convenience….” his voice drifted in from the background.

“Javi, we already watching Paddington 2…” you whined, kicking off your heels and settling in for the night.

“A giant in the world of dramatic arts!” Javi bellowed from the kitchen before waxing philosophical. “But, of course, I am speaking of National Treasure 2, starring international film star and personal friend….”

You mouthed with his expected response, “Nicholas Cage”. Smiling quietly to yourself you listened to the melodic hum of Javi’s voice as you watched the children playing in the golden light of Italian dusk.

There are very few moments in life as good as this. Let's remember it. To each of us and all of us, never have we been more close, may we never be farther apart.

*roll credits

*@dornish-queen footage + Alfred Newman Soundtrack

Moody Rainy Day

Good Lord, did you see the new TLOU trailer? Pedge and I are already wrecked. This has been one of the most personally difficult weeks of my life, but one artistic outlet sustaining me is the Tumblr community! I had an awesome time creating this mood board for the beauty @beefrobeefcal, and they encouraged me to share with everyone! It's going to be 106° tomorrow, but I've definitely got Fall on the brain. Anyone who wants to use as inspiration please feel free and tag away! As per last week's poll results, I'm going to continue Monday Mood Boards starting with Pedro characters like Javier Pena...Pedge approves.

What Happened to Belen? Part Two

Grab a Latte! Don't forget to check out Ana's Archive! The largest open library in human history, with millions of books and papers preserved forever!

Triggers: profanity, pornography, smoking, attempts at Spanish, contemporary canon for "Narcos" character, fainting, discussions of the book "What Happened to Belen" which involve topics of abortion, miscarriage, homicide, women's rights, medical malpractice, judicial injustice, menstruation, harassment etc...

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Words: 5k

“Take it outside” you muttered, standing quickly….too quickly, and nearly tripping over the base of the counter at your feet. Everything was so blindingly bright. Stars were beginning to enter your periphery once again, if you could just get some more Advil….Your thoughts started to slog slowly forward, as though on a malfunctioning assembly line, with your feet dragging haphazardly behind them.

“Maybe you should sit back down, hermosa…” Pena began, circling the counter to meet you. “Just get that out of my face!” you pushed your hand against Pena’s perspiration dotted chest, as a high pitched ringing sound drifted into your mind scape. What was happening? You couldn’t think straight, couldn’t see straight. “Hermosa, you’re white as a sheet” but Pena’s voice was nearly inaudible as you focused tightly on the mustache decorating his plump lips. They were moving slowly, SO slowly before the power went out, leaving everything pitch black and sedate....

“Hot as hell out there, hermosa” he huffed, coughing slightly and rushing to help you with the stack of books. “So perhaps you can now tell me, what DID happen to Belen?”…he jested, the smell of nicotine tickling your nose pungently. Your stomach lurched slightly at the fragrance sensitivity. This Advil didn’t seem to be doing much, and your hormones were still raging out of control. You swallowed hard to down the rising bile in your throat, wondering if you wanted to slap Pena across the face or the ass first. “Perhaps I have overstayed my welcome, hermosa?” a concerned look crossed his face as he gauged your unknowable expression. 

“No, not at all!” you rallied, wiping the sweat from your brow and attempting to regroup. Pena had been nothing but conciliatory; it was your body you seemed to be at war with. 

“Let’s put you to work, agent…” you teased, motioning to the display case and putting your apron back on. “One of my favorite parts of the book is the description of the many women and organizations that rallied for Belen’s aid” you encouraged, returning with your book to the display counter and starting to judiciously display your books of choice.

“Excellent” Pena quipped, taking a step back to admire your burgeoning handiwork.

“At first, the word ‘abortion’ wasn’t even used in legal contexts. It couldn’t be written. What isn’t written does not exist. When in doubt, they used the word ‘homicide’. This didn’t happen all that long ago. In 2016 when Belen’s case first came to light, omitting the existence of abortions was part of the lexicon. But with the inclusion of women’s rights groups like the National Campaign for Abortion, representatives from Pan y Rosas, CLADEM and empathetic journalists, Belen’s story started to gain a voice”.

Pena picked up the book and read from the back cover, “Freedom for Belen! Sex ed so we can decide! Contraceptives avoid abortions! Legalize abortion! Save lives!”. 

You gingerly kneeled down, stacking the books aesthetically, hopeful it might grab some attention. “You know, in Argentina, as in many places the world over, you have to make noise outside the country so that people at home will hear about it. A woman’s failure to choose motherhood, whatever the reason, instantly makes her a criminal. Women must reassert the right to say no to something unwanted, whether it’s a partner, a pregnancy, sex or a traditional way of life. They must reassert the right to say no to the social mandates of submission and obedience. And saying no to these things means saying yes to our bodies, our emotional lives, our sexuality, to our participation in society, work, politics and everywhere else” you wiped your hands on your apron admiring your work.

“Well done, hermosa” Pena observed, reading the rest of the book cover, “Belen, you’re not alone. Chin up, Belen we’re with you. We’re fighting for you and for women who’ve been unjustly incarcerated all over the world.” Pena paused to reflect momentarily. “I’m…embarrassed I didn’t know more…” he massaged the back of his neck awkwardly. “This isn’t just about women’s rights. It’s about justice, and I know a thing or two about that…” he placated.

You stood quickly and immediately realized your mistake as bright orbs of crackling energy drifted into your periphery and the smell of iron tickled your nose. Pena was at your side in an instant, hand lightly fixed at your waist, as you swayed unsteadily.  “Hermosa?” his voice seemed to be coming from quite a distance away, as you closed your eyes and took a deep breath through your nose. “S-sorry, s-stood up too fast!” you deflected, leaning against him securely for a millisecond before returning to the counter, shaking your head from side to side. It WAS hot in here, and you were more embarrassed then ever at your momentary lapse. Menstruation was SUCH a drag, but you didn’t want to let on about your recent diagnosis. As if womanhood didn’t feel debilitating enough, you had already experienced years of struggle with endometriosis and were newly considering a hysterectomy. You didn’t find yourself in Belen’s position, but it wasn’t hard to imagine the helplessness she might have felt, judged by the medical community, government, society at large…and maybe even…herself. This was a piece of information you were determined to keep clandestine. Javier Pena’s eyes swam before you as his image coalesced into focus. “Did you hear me?” he gently asked again.

“Uh…sure….yes!” you piped up, immediately unsure of your response. He nodded curtly bringing you a stool and placing it behind the counter for your respite. “Perhaps my endless questions have needlessly exhausted you”. Your cheeks reddened with the heat AND embarrassment as you chastised yourself for existing. “I’m fine…just overheated is all” you huffed as Pena cleared his throat and sat back down across from you. 

“So, what happened to Belen? How did she find redemption in such a storm of injustice?” he asked.

You sighed heavily, retrieving your book and flipping through the pages. “Well, at first she had to survive in the prison system. Family visits, challenging circumstances, holidays…This was an environment she had never been in before…”. You read, 

“I kept walking around the prison and talking to women who were there for reasons unknown to me. I realized some are doing time for murder and others for stealing, and that many are inside because they covered for a partner or family member. Soledad told Belen about a young woman called Maria Magdalena. The doctors who treated her at the hospital accused her of having an abortion. And that’s not right. medical staff have a duty of care”.

Pena dragged his thumb across his bottom lip pensively, starting to bite at the cuticles. “Seems like it all happened so fast. One minute she was living her life, the next…” his voice trailed off reflexively.

“There was no DNA evidence. The report mentioned more than one fetus, and none of them were preserved. There were no records showing Belen’s admission even. There is no evidence, there is simply none. The doctors who accused her were still living their lives. The men who convicted her continued like nothing happened.”

“And I’m still in here” Belen says. All I’m asking is for them to reevaluate the case. They don’t know what it’s like waking up in the same place every day, being away from your family ever day. They’re in their homes. They don’t know what it’s like to have to file a request just to see a friend. The judges are in their chambers, smoking, drinking coffee. And they have to live with the fact that they sentenced me to this place. What happened to me happened because I couldn’t get 20,000 pesos in less than forty eight hours. If I’d had the money, I could’ve defended myself. But I thought, why should I have to pay money when I did nothing wrong? Worse still, they tried to pass off a miscarriage as a murder, seemingly for political gain. ”

Pena had run out of words, reaching into his back pocket for another cigarette and rolling it between his fingers.

“In our society, when people wan to hide something, they find someone to blame. They point their fingers at those who can’t defend themselves, and they accuse them. They don’t listen to them. These people become guilty because of their faces, their clothes, because they’re poor or because they’re women.”

“Luckily, Soledad began to identify the discrepancies at Belen’s first trial, 

“The doctor has a legal obligation to maintain confidentiality unless expressly told otherwise by the patient. The patent’s silence can in no way be seen to provide a valid ad rational motive to breach the physician’s duty to professional confidentiality. All the evidence adduced in Belen’s case should have been inadmissible. The physician’s and midwives’ testimonies were in themselves a crime. She was convicted without valid evidence. In addition, no one can be compelled to testify against himself. It is a cruel, latent and ignoble violation of this precept to use the distress of a women who had an abortion to report her crime, whether wrenched via exploited confession or duress through a state of physical and spiritual helplessness. Moreover, public interest cannot justify so inhuman a dilemma; prison or death.”

“Finally, some common sense!” Pena exclaimed, dangling the cigarette in his mouth and immediately removing it under your scolding stare. “Lo siento, hermosa, continue por favor…” he returned to delicately fingering the unused smoke.

“At the time, Belen did not know she was pregnant, nor did she look pregnant. She never stopped menstruating and felt no movement in her belly, her body was normal and her breasts hadn’t grown. She and her mother went to the emergency room for the abdominal pain. A person who wants to commit homicide—a person who knows they’re going to have a baby and is determined to cause their death simply doesn’t go to a hospital”

“Obviously!” Pena retorted, grabbing for his lighter and subsequently tossing it on the counter impotently. 

You shook your head reprimandingly, “It was nearly two years of waiting and resolving before Belen had her second day in court, facing her original sentence, this time with Soledad at her side. Belen recounts, 

“First of all, I’d like to say I didn’t know I was pregnant, so you can’t tell me that I committed the atrocity that I’m being accused of. How can you say I cut the umbilical cord? Where is the DNA evidence that proves the discovered fetus of 36 weeks was mine? They gave me an intravenous sedative and when I awoke, I was covered in blood and police officers were examining my private parts. No one looked after me, before treating me like I was a murderer…”

These trials end up being more moral than legal, ironically enough as God is said to serve in the capital. The morning in court when the judges read her the grounds for her conviction, Belen cries again. Unlike the day her verdict was read the courthouse i packed because now people in Tucuman know what is happening. “Calm down, no one can see you anymore” a prison guard encourages. Now raise your head and look outside. All these people are here for you”. Belen sits up, at first fearfully. Finally, Belen relaxes. she cries, but this it’s different”. 

“Some of us can raise our voices and have the privilege of health care access. Others can afford to become mothers. Others experience the same troubles Belen did but are less formatted because their cases aren’t talked about, and so they are still in prison. Then there are others who aren’t here to tell their stories today, because they died trying, during miscarriage. This issue moves me. A great deal. I still don’t understand how it is that in the 21st century we women still have to relinquish our independence and our freedom to a society that imposes its way of life on us. Why do we have to be the talk of the town? Why do we have to air our most private decisions?”.

Pena gulped in silence, possibly reflecting on his own private decisions, playing with the lighter in front of him. You grabbed a tissue from your apron and wiped your brow profusely. The AC had been broken all week, but it was supposed to be getting cooler, not hotter. The words of the book began to blur and dance in front of you, as you put a wearied hand over your eyes.  “What time does your shift end?” Pena asked, already aware of how propositional his question sounded, but your countenance was pale and blanched as compared to the start of the day. Something was obviously wrong, but he didn’t want to leave you alone in whatever plight you found yourself. 

Unhearing, you sallied forth. “Where was I?” you blinked, squinting at the book with determination. “Eventually she has her day in court, and things start to change slowly but surely.

“Belen starts to receive support from everyone around her at the correctional facility, online and even abroad, The organizations put together an online campaign to denounce the press’ persecution of Belen and call for people to leave her alone. The campaign consisted of people taking selfies with a sign that says are you looking for Belen? I’m Belen. Men and women of all ages, some angry, others amused, some bearded, others very young, hold the same sign and post it online with a caption—‘They’re trying to infringe on her privacy, to see her face. But what they don’t realize is that Belen isn’t just one person. She thousands! Belen is all of us!’”

Pena leaned back against the stool beaming momentarily, before absentmindedly lighting the cigarette in front of him and taking a deep drag. “Victory” he puffed before viewing your incredulous face. His expression immediately fell with chagrin, considering how to snub out the cigarette, whilst desperately inhaling. “Lo siento, hermosa” he mumbled into the cigarette, possibly trying to inhale it in one draft. He looked towards the front door, considering an ill-timed exit before taking in your pained look. The fragrant aroma of the cigarette usually would have been fine, but your head was pounding and your abdomen was irritatingly alight with menstrual cramps and distress.

“Take it outside” you muttered, standing quickly….too quickly, and nearly tripping over the base of the counter at your feet. Everything was so blindingly bright. Stars were beginning to enter your periphery once again, if you could just get some more Advil….Your thoughts started to slog slowly forward, as though on a malfunctioning assembly line, with your feet dragging haphazardly behind them.

“Maybe you should sit back down, hermosa…” Pena began, circling the counter to meet you.

“Just get that out of my face!” you pushed your hand against Pena’s perspiration dotted chest, as a high pitched ringing sound drifted into your mind scape. Oh shit, what was happening? You couldn’t think straight, couldn’t see straight.

“Hermosa, you’re white as a sheet” but Pena’s voice was nearly inaudible as you focused tightly on the mustache decorating his plump lips. They were moving slowly, SO slowly before the power went out, leaving everything pitch black and sedate.

This was the WORST mattress you had ever been on, including the taut pillows. It felt hard as a rock. To say nothing of the nicotine infused fragrance of whatever hotel room you found yourself in. Your eyes blinked open hazily, taking in your surroundings. Why did this hotel room look exactly like a Barnes and Nobles?

“There she is” Pena’s voice was amplified to that of a megaphone as the tingling sensation in your arms and legs started to dissipate. You squinted up into the bright lights of the ceiling as Pena’s concerned expression drifted into your line of sight. You licked your lips to say something, but your mouth was as dry as cotton. Were you on the floor?

“Power outage?” you heard your voice rasp quietly, attempting to take stock of the situation.

“I guess you could say that” Pena chuckled softly, running a hand across your forehead. Oh my God, did you have your head on his thigh? You tried to sit up, but felt as heavy as an anvil, as he placed a hand behind your neck. “You sort of had a personal power outage, before fainting into my arms, hermosa” he smiled. “Had me worried, I nearly called the police”. You sank back down against his lap for a second, waiting for the disorientation to pass. “I’m a total ass, no more cigarettes this time, I promise” he apologized, placing a heavy hand on your forehead appraisingly before shrugging with helplessness. “This seemed preferable to books for pillows” he chuckled, the tinge of worry in his voice evident.

“Well this is embarrassing” you finally smirked, focused on breathing deeply and bringing your knees up slightly underneath you.

“Mierda…” he encouraged, leaning against the wall and finally relaxing. “It is your time of the month, no?”. You froze with apprehension at the intimacy of his observation, but quickly relaxed against his thigh once again.

“Guilty as charged” your cheeks blushed with a crimson hue. This had to be the strangest work day in the history of employment. You found yourself surprisingly grateful that you weren’t alone.

“You’re not the first woman I’ve made faint” Pena tried to tease as you scoffed good-naturedly. You took a look around at the smattering of books littering the floor. “You managed to bring down half the display case with you however” he noted, straining to reach for the copy of “What Happened to Belen” before settling back against the wall. You both sat in silence for a minute or two, thankful that no customers were entering the bookshop, as Pena thumbed through the book introspectively. You were surprised at the tenderness in his voice as he started to read Belen’s words to her supporters, 

“Greetings to all the women, to the warriors, and to everyone who’s stood by me until now. I want to thank you for making my fight your own. Thank you for standing up for me, for making sure my voice and truth were heard. I was silent for two years. I couldn’t bring myself to talk. I was scared. They told me I would get life. They convicted me on hearsay alone, for being poor, for going to a public hospital, for not having the money to to a private clinic and hire a good lawyer. I haven’t been home or seen my family March 21st, 2014. They robbed me of so much. All I wanted was help and instead I was detained, surrounded by police officers and accusatory fingers. Two years and three months away form home. They took away my life! Did any of them wonder how I felt that night? They accused me and asked if I’d induced an abortion. My mother was mistreated, too. No one cared about me. She’s ignorant, she doesn’t know anything, they probably told themselves. Even though I said I hadn’t done anything, that I hadn’t killed anyone. I didn’t even know I was pregnant. I cry because of the injustice I’m experiencing. But I’m also calm, because I know I will get justice. I am stronger now, calmer. I never hurt anyone, never stole, never killed, I don’ know drugs. I’ve worked my whole life. I always did everything I was supposed to. I will forever be grateful to every who’s helped my voice be heard. I’m sending you all my love. It makes me so happy not be alone. Thank you and thank you again to all you women. Let us all fight and be heard so that no woman is imprisoned for abortion again. ow your struggle is my struggle, too”.

Pena’s soft baritone voice hummed quietly as you heard the dull traffic sounds outside. Dusk was starting to descend as you looked up into his face. You could have sworn you saw the smallest of tears glistening at the corner of his eye before he brushed it away, clearing his throat.

“Can you stand, hermosa?” he asked, sitting upright, your head still atop his lap.

“Let’s find out” you parried, his solid hand easing you forward and massaging the back of your neck deftly. A small moan escaped your lips as you tucked your legs beneath you.

“Long day” Pena observed, allowing his hand to drift to your back in slow, methodical circles. “Is this okay, hermosa?” 

“More than okay” you realized, scratching at scalp and smiling tiredly. This work day had proven unexpectedly enjoyable, amidst an obstacle course of challenge. You leaned back towards him with a slightly dopey expression. “Thanks for your help, Pena”.

“We aim to please” the corner of Pena’s mouth drifted upwards, as he carefully stood to his feet, offering his hand once again in support. You felt a bit like Bambi at first, getting your legs beneath you and holding on to Pena’s steely grasp. Closing your eyes for clarity, you breathed in his warm fragrance of nicotine, cologne and sweat as Pena watched you intently.

“Nearly done with our story” you whispered, locking eyes with him and finally noticing his hand at your waist, moving in soothing circles.

“I almost don’t want it to end” he replied, licking his lips attentively. You looked towards the clock once again. What had started as a day of doldrums had nearly evaporated before you. One more hour before your shift was over. “Sit back down while I clear things up” he offered, setting you back on the stool definitively and collecting the books at your feet.

“I guess I can be grateful today that we didn’t defund the police” you tried to joke, but caught Pena’s apologetic visage.

“This story is a travesty” he grumbled, collecting the books and handing you the literature of the hour. “I’m as imperfect as the next man, but I joined the DEA to make a difference. Belen’s story is…an embarrassment. I wish I knew how to help”. He set the last of the books on the counter and leaned against it with dejection.

“It’s not all bad” you sighed, uncharacteristically reaching up to cup his face in the palm of your hand, and running a thumb against his five o’clock shadow. Pena’s eyes took on a new sheen of redemption as he took your hand in his. “Tell me” he agreed as you referenced the book once again.

“Finally after nearly three years, Belen is released from prison. She can now begin the long process of championing her government to make the necessary changes, 

“The warden insists before her release, ‘You need to understand that you’re not a criminal. You have no reason to hide.” In the evening the cellblock breaks into song and applause. The sounds travel over the wall and infect the women who have been waiting outside since morning. The activists from the  organizations form two lines to shield Belen from the cameras. They wear masks of white and green, but their expressions are the same; rigid, stern faces and masks featuring the words, “We are Belen”. Belen steps onto the street watching balloons float high in the sky. “This must be a dream” she wonders, but after two years, four months and twenty three days in prison, Belen gets back some of her freedom”.

Pena smiled, placing his hands on his hips defiantly, “Todo va bien”. He was looking resolutely at the ground and nodding definitively. 

“Justice for all” you agreed, feeling tears spring to your eyes at the end of a long day. Stupid hormones. “Thanks to events like ‘Green Action Day’ and the printing of this book, Belen’s government begins the arduous process of lawmaking, and she remains timidly at the forefront.

“It is difficult to conceive of a sphere more ‘private’ than an individual’s own body. The right of individuals to prevent others from invading or interfering with that body is an essential component of a private life, where personal autonomy is paramount…as listed in the Constitution.” The prospects might seem tenuous, but Belen’s case was gaining more and more steam. The majority of women were in favor of legalizing abortion, while a majority of men were against it. Belen says, 

“It’s been three years since I was released, and I feel enormously happy and grateful to everyone who helped me through the most difficult time of my life. Today, I am firm in my decision. I’m not the weak woman I was bak then, broken by a patriarchy that, 6 years ago, sentence me to 8 years in prison for a crime I didn’t commit. Now I am a strong woman pumping her arms in the air and calling for an end to the unjust imprisonment of women for abortions. It’s been three years since I was released and I am here, yelling at the top of my lungs; we can do it girls, the patriarch will fall!”

“Freedom fighter indeed” Pena observed, slamming a soft fist against the counter definitively. “It can’t be easy though…reclaiming her life after….everything….”

The fatigue was starting to catch up with you as you searched the book for your notes. “You’re right, the road to redemption is rarely an easy one” you acquiesced.

“She’s been having panic attacks. Then second she walks out of the house, she start shaking and feeling faint. Her heart races. She has regular fits of crying and rage. “It was like my body was still in prison, like it couldn’t get used to me being free. They told me to try therapy, but I could’t make it to the offices, because I got dizzy every time i tried to leave the house. My family helped me with that. And when I got frustrated they would be there to tell me everything was going to be alright. ‘You got out of prison, there’s no way you can’t get out of the house. Sometimes I wake up at night screaming “No, don’t take me! I didn’t do anything wrong!” When the Supreme Court finally issued the decision to exonerate she looks in the mirror and utters the words she would like to say to the whole world. Didn’t I tell you I was innocent?

Belen hasn’t been to a hospital in three years. She still has nightmares of physicians and police officers storming into the operating room. She still feels scared because of how she was treated that night, long ago. Yet she isn’t a fearful person. “One day I’ll probably have to tell people who I am, but I’m taking it slow for now”.

You took a deep breath, smiling at Pena in repose. “Belen has done so much to change the landscape of this discussion, not just in Argentina, but internationally as well. To know that there are other women, facing great struggle, but using their voices to take a stand…” you felt the emotion of the moment swirling within you, but decided to press on… “I know I already live such a privileged life, but you wouldn’t believe…”. Your voice cracked as it bent under the weight of recent challenge and a lump crept into your throat tightly. Pena grabbed your elbow firmly in solidarity.

“Steady, hermosa” he cautioned, stroking higher up to your shoulder with encouragement.

“It’s okay, I mean you’ve already seen me at my worst…Or my most unconscious!” a sound escaped from your lips somewhere between a cry and laugh as your body trembled in place. “The author even talks about the liberation of the women’s rights movement as it relates to women in the workplace. We’re no longer required to hide our sobs in the company bathroom” a big, fat tear rolled down your cheek as Pena lightly brushed it away. 

“Fine by me” he whispered. “We all must bear the weight of our burdens, but this isn’t something you have to carry alone”. Your eyes widened with realization at his beautifully articulated point. He was right. In as much as it is our responsibility to articulate the challenge, it is our continued privilege to accept the support. You sniffled quietly as Pena gazed up at the clock knowingly.

“Looks like I’m your only customer for today” he observed softly, turning towards you and pulling you in for a tentative hug. You were about to protest before reconciling to the desire, wrapping your arms lightly around his waist, and trembling in his grasp.

“I wouldn’t have thought you so eloquent when we first met” you mumbled into his shirt, relaxing against his solid frame. Pena rested his head quietly atop yours, swaying a bit from side to side.

“I keep telling everyone that I read Playboy primarily for the articles…” he teased, pulling back to gaze at you pensively. “Time to close up shop” he brushed a few stray tears from your face once again before kissing you lightly on the forehead. The surprise that registered on your face seemed to delight him as he headed to the front door. Turning the sign to the the “CLOSED” position he caught a straggler that was approaching from the sidewalk. “I’m sorry we’re closed for the night!” he shouted through the window as they dejectedly shrugged their shoulders and walked away. He turned back to you gesturing apologetically as you giggled from the counter.

Pena helped you tidy up a bit before you headed back to the locker room to discard your apron and grab your things. Holding the book lovingly in your hands you met him in the foyer before exiting. “I don’t know how to ask this without sounding somewhat brazen…” Pena actually looked embarrassed, rubbing his hand at the back of his neck awkwardly. “But…could I see you home?” he finally confessed, his eyes a deep brown of sincerity. “Just…to make sure you’re okay…or…” he tripped haltingly over his words. It was a strange dichotomy to see such a confident man, momentarily unravelling.

“I’d like that” you smiled tiredly, taking his hand in yours and locking up the bookshop. His hand swung easily in your grasp as you headed to his car.

“So, what finally happened to Belen? Did she get the freedom she so richly deserved?” Pena asked, opening the car door for you and seating you inside. 

“See for yourself”. You opened the book to the final chapter, referencing your favorite part;

“I woke up to a message that the Chamber of Deputies had approved the bill, legalizing abortion. I think it’ll become law because women’s suffering is finally out in the open. I learned to fight, little by little and from the bottom. Even though things weren’t easy for me when I moved to Buenos Aires, I began rebuilding my life from scratch, she told the journalist who interviewed her. I never imaged I’d be unjustly imprisoned for there years, for doing nothing, But wounds heal.”

“Two days from now will be the first anniversary of the date I effectively regained my freedom. How will I ever forget the day I set foot on the street again, with my angels! How will I ever forget how much they helped me! How will I ever forget all the women who spent hours waiting to welcome me outside! How will I forget my fellow inmates and the prison guards and the night we said goodbye! How will I ever forget my family, who was anxiously waiting for me! How will I ever forget that day! Everyone awaited my return after two and half years of unjust imprisonment. How will I ever forget that was the day…I WAS REBORN! How will I ever forget the day one of my angels put a pencil to paper and wrote down the words I couldn’t speak! A year after my release I can only give thanks to God and my angels. Who is it that said we don’t have angels? I can testify today that they exist. How will I ever forget that amidst all the anxiety and distress my angels were there with me, holding my hand and listening. I am eternally grateful. Thank you! Thanks to every woman and every organization, to the women’s movements and to all the people who did their part to help me, who put on their “Freedom For Belen” T-shirts and went into the street to fight for my freedom.”

“Excelente” Pena observed, starting the car and turning towards you. “Alright, hermosa, show me the way home” he smiled, tucking a stray hair behind your ear tenderly.

As the author states at the beginning of the book, “There are many people hiding stories we aren’t always prepared to hear.” But after spending the afternoon with Agent Pena and remembering the value of your own unique narrative, you at least were sure this was a story you wouldn’t soon forget.

Trick or Treat!

Pedge has been complaining that we're not doing enough Spooky Season activities. I tried to tell him that we are very busy with work, but he's very insistent, so for the rest of October, we are going to "Trick or Treat". Just DM me and Pedge with:

1.) Pedro "Bad" Boy (listed below) 2.) Candy Selection 3.) "Trick" or "Treat"

From L to R: (Max Phillips, Joel Miller, Veracruz, Maxwell Lord, Oberyn Martell, Dave York, Marcus Acacius, Dio, Agent Whiskey)

*thanks @thecutestgrotto for the cool dividers!

Pedge's Bookshop The Epilogue

Grab a Latte! lounge around in the foyer with this RPF fic "Between the Pages and Us" by @andy-15-07 before heading into The Bookshop!

Triggers: profanity, Last of Us canon + references, PTSD/anxiety attack,/nightmare, MAJOR spoilers for "Crime and Punishment", foreshadowing for LOU Season 2, pregnancy, not really smut but a lot of romance...Gosh, I didn't want this series to end, I think I was stalling a little...(series completion)

Series Masterlist

Words: 6k

Somehow you felt you had finally arrived. A lifetime of running, and you still had no earthly idea where you were going. But the events of the last few months had coalesced into a contentment that felt unbridled and dreamlike. You felt an odd pang of regret, recognizing the circumstances that had to occur to arrive at such a conclusion. But you almost didn’t care. Almost.

The often stoically minded Joel had softened himself for your benefit during this season of healing, and didn’t seem altogether bothered by the metamorphosis, however temporary it might be. He jokingly demanded all of his meals were spent in bed, so he could enjoy the luxury of having your supple body nestled beside him. A tenuous rapport had resumed with Ellie, particularly as she entertained a flirtation with a fellow commune resident named Dina. Under Joel’s feigned aloof tutelage, she endeavored to invite Dina to an upcoming dance to celebrate the Spring Harvest. But since her confession at the hospital, an unspoken apprehension had permeated the Miller household. It was as though the secret itself had tendrils of infection, moving into the nooks and crannies of an otherwise happy existence, and you found yourself wondering when the emotional dam might break.

There were so many aspects of life that were tenuous and fragile, and life could change at the flick of a switch. Sometimes, nearing the end of reading “Crime and Punishment” Joel’s baritone voice would trail off absentmindedly, as he read to you in bed. At first, you thought he had fallen asleep, but often discovered him starting darkly into the corners of the room, haunted by phantasms of the past you could never entirely understand. It often seemed that Joel was in an emotional prison of his own making, and his main solace in existence was the ever-present, anchoring support of his once again found family.

The both of you were still often plagued by nightmares, as you gathered bits and pieces of a life no longer lived. Joel’s stray, delirious comments about the horrors of the hospital, or impassioned plea to keep Sarah safe. Some of your nightmares were just as enigmatic; wrestling with Levi in a pit of snakes or running from infected that hounded you till you awoke in frightened disorientation. And Joel was always there. Grasping at your hands that were grabbing for purchase, shushing and pleading to remind you that you were safe. Somehow, his eyes would always find you in the dark, softly coaxing you back to the light. And you would hold one another, swaying from side to side or humming quiet melodies until the dawn arose. 

One recent commune expedition had brought back a guitar, and you were shocked to discover that Joel was a humble musical aficionado. It took quite a bit of convincing, but he had even started playing simple choruses, particularly at night when the stress of the day seemed to catch up with the entire family. Even Ellie seemed impressed as she took up the mantle of reading aloud, as you knitted in the living room. Though often besieged by Rascal the Cat and introspectively serenaded by Joel, it kept the nightmares at bay, with the dream-like quality of something from a book. And there wasn’t a moment you wanted to take for granted.

As the healing process continued there was thankfully a lot of work to be done. The Bookshop was nearing its final reveal, and as Joel’s health continued to improve, Maria was nearing her due date. Joel and Ellie had begun to take small trips to the Bookshop in preparation, and you had all but moved into the Miller residence full time. It was ridiculous to cite nursing duties, as returned to your teaching obligations full time. But the easy rapport and comradry you felt, not only with Joel, but with Ellie had started to wear away your well-developed armor. It was a new life. And part of you had to guiltily acknowledge Levi’s demise as a stepping stone to that contentment.

You didn’t know what to make of Levi’s final actions. It wasn’t a feeling of gratitude, but a sort of begrudging awareness that every journey has a price. Whether selling yourself to the highest bidder, or exacting emotional interest on a debt that required payment, there would always be a punishment for the crime. More and more, you wondered if that debt was housed in humanity or Divinity. Dostoyevsky seemed to have an understanding, but it seemed beyond your own machinations. All you knew was that you were currently reaping the benefits of a life well-lived, and whatever suffering the future held, you would encounter it; together. Levi was a distant part of your past that had reared its ugly head, and despite the current existential respite, a certain foreboding crept on the horizon. You just hoped you could be unafraid and meet it head on.

And so the days turned into weeks, and things began to resume a certain post-apocalyptic normalcy. School resumed, the spring harvest was well underway and the Bookshop was slated to officially open to the rest of the commune in a matter of weeks. In the interim, Tommy had successfully traded for more resources at Elk Creek and Joel was looking sturdier on his feet, even adding a beautiful mahogany coffee table to the cozy bookshop atmosphere. It wasn’t until Ellie came home one day after school that the darkening clouds of confrontation began to assemble.

“We’re havin’ a dinner” she began, under Joel’s watchful stare.

“What’dya mean ‘we’re havin’ a dinner’?” he parroted with suspicion, as you quietly prepared food in the background.

“I mean, Maria and Tommy came by The Bookshop while you were out and invited themselves over for dinner sometime” Ellie bluntly stated, shifting awkwardly. Joel cleared his throat authoritatively, mirroring her discomfort.  

“What for?” Joel questioned, his eyes narrowing skeptically.

“They said it was just to catch up on commune responsibilities, and see how you were doing. But you know how Maria is” Ellie observed. You felt the bristle of tension move through the kitchen as you stirred the evening stew.

“Maybe…you could invite Dina?” you offered, trying to lighten the mood before Joel and Ellie both vociferously objected.

“No (just) way (family)” their voices clashed aggressively as your eyebrows shot up with surprise. The kitchen deadened to an uncomfortable silence.

“I…kind of expected them to come by…sooner…” you trailed off, hesitant to voice everyone’s concern. Tommy’s presence in the hospital had been unrelenting, and you didn’t doubt their current intentions for a millisecond. But Maria was besieged with plans for the upcoming delivery and commune responsibilities. And Ellie’s confession…

“Just say it” Ellie proffered bitterly. “It’s my fault”.

“Absolutely (FIDDLESTICKS!) not” this time you and Joel cascaded in a heap of protestations. The silence awkwardly returned.

“Fiddlesticks?” Ellie coyly smirked, tilting her head towards Joel jokingly. You heaved a sigh of relief, chuckling under your breath.

“I TOLD you to tell ‘em” Joel encouraged, nodding his head defiantly. “Didn’t say it was gonna be easy though”. The pots of food bubbled precariously on the stove, much like the pressurized conversation. “Alright, tell ‘em to come over tomorrow night” Joel said definitively glancing in your direction.

“No bramble berry wine this time” you wisely observed, returning to your dinner tasks. This reunion was long overdue, and there was nothing to fear. Just time with family. Your newfound family. Nothing to worry about. But as you and Joel plated the prepared dinner, you couldn’t help but wonder; what newfound challenges were the three of you headed into this time?

Joel hugged you against his side tightly, nestled comfortably in the darkened bedroom. Ellie had already gone to sleep upstairs, and with your leg hung loosely over Joel’s legs you sighed contentedly as his mellifluous voice lulled you into a pleasant drowsiness.

“And yet he was ashamed, even before Sonia, whom he tortured because of it with his contemptuous brought manner. His pride had been stung to the quick. It was wounded pride that made him ill. Oh how happy he would have been if he could’ve blamed himself. He could have borne anything the, even shame and disgrace. But he judged himself severely. Vague and objectless anxiety in the present, and in the future a continual sacrifice leading to nothing—that was all the play before him. What had he to live for? What had he to look forward to? Why should he strive? To live in order to exist? Why? He had been ready a thousand times before to give up existence for the sake of an idea, for hope, even for a fancy. Perhaps it was just because of the strength of his desires that he had thought himself a man to whom more was permissible than to others. He suffered too from the question; why had he not killed himself? Was the desire to live so strong and was it so hard to overcome it? In misery he asked himself this question and could not understand. He didn’t understand that consciousness might be the promise of a future crisis, of a new view of life and of his future resurrection.”

Joel paused to remove his reading glasses and scratched at a small scar you had noticed, situated just to the side of his face. You delicately reached up to stroke it, but his head jerked away as his hand swatted your attentions to the side. It was uncharacteristically curt of him, and your body crumpled aside him with embarrassment. He turned to look at you apologetically, his lips tightening to a narrow line of reticence.

“I’m fine. Don’t need your nursin’ anymore…” he attempted to explain, but the words only seemed to seep into your skin with a heavy poison. You drew your body away from him in confusion as he dropped the book to bring you back to his side. “Wait. I didn’t mean that” he whispered, dipping his head to the crook of your neck, his beard bristling at the tender skin of your decoupage. You giggled quietly, pleased that the misunderstanding was short-lived. There were still many unseen scars that might never completely heal, but you were thankful to be with a man like Joel who didn’t shy away from the ones you also possessed. You didn’t have long to think about it, as Joel’s lips dragged achingly slowly across your neck and nibbled at your jawline. “Enjoyin’ the final chapter of ‘Crime and Punishment’” he teased, mumbling into your breastbone, as his hands found their way to your backside, squeezing gently.

“Oh absolutely…” you drawled, gripping him tightly against you and drawing your fingers across his back seductively. “It’s so visceral, I don’t remember the epilogue being so alluring when I read it in college” you joked, feeling Joel’s body titter with laughter against you. 

“Must be the company” he smiled, looking lovingly into your eyes. You reached up to stroke his face sweetly.

“What are we gonna do about the dinner?” you sighed, the sudden intake of air signifying his trepidation as much as your own.

“Don’t know” Joel bluntly stated, leaning back on his side of the bed and looking up at the ceiling. He took your hand, interlacing your fingers with his own as you both lay still in the quiet bedroom. “Maria doesn’t know….everything” he began, the bed creaking awkwardly under his shifting weight. “Nobody really does”. You held your breath tentatively, as though waiting for permission. There had been so many indicators of a tension unresolved; a type of secret that was infecting even the healthiest of relationships and desires.

“Something at the hospital?” you whispered, longing to press Joel further, but hesitant to force the matter. Joel’s head shifted quickly in your direction, as though telepathically imploring you to clairvoyantly understand. The moments passed laboriously slow, as an old wooden clock ticked loudly in the corner. You drew Joel’s hand to your heart, breathing quietly as you looked into his eyes. “You saved her” you recounted from Joel’s previous delirium, his eyes closing abruptly in remembrance. A pained look crossed his features as you waited patiently.

“That day…in the hospital….with the Fireflies…” Joel began, as though dragging the words through the mud with every suffering syllable. “We lost so much on the journey to bring her back…” he observed, thinking about Tess, and Sam and so many others on their meandering sojourn. “Ellie wanted her immunity…to help others. To save us all….” Joel opened his eyes once again, a newfound tear cascading down the side of his face as he turned to meet your gaze. “But if I had known I was deliverin’ her to death’s door, I never woulda stopped runnin’” he confessed, gripping your hand tenaciously in his own.

“But the raiders, they attacked you. You saved her. Even if she’s immune, there are others. Let others worry about it…” you remembered from Ellie’s description at Joel’s bedside. What part of the story were you missing? Your voice hung questioningly in the silence as Joel swallowed dryly under the heat of your stare.

“What if I told you….” he paused, shuddering slightly on the next inhale “…there weren’t no raiders at the hospital that day?”. You blinked confusedly, eyeing him with skepticism.  Joel sighed heavily, as though battling a silent war within himself. The clock’s ticking thudded in dull, oppressive strokes as you watched his shoulders tighten in immeasurable tension. He brought his hand tiredly over his face, rubbing at his temples and scowling with indecision. Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. He looked like he was going to be sick, and you wondered if his wound had in fact healed properly, or if he were nursing another fever. He drew in a shaky breath to steady himself before muttering, “Can’t keep this secret anymore….s’gonna kill me. Or kill Ellie in the process…” his voice cracked, steeling himself for the long overdue confession.

“The Fireflies nearly killed her at the hospital that day” he whispered raspily, shaking his head from side to side. “Wasn’t gonna let nobody hurt my girl…not again” he said, almost to himself, as you tried to grapple with this new information. You bit your lip in consternation, trying to assemble the details as Joel laid them out.

“They tried to….extract her immunity, and apparently her life was a small price to pay for it” he pleaded with you finally, wringing your hand between his own in supplication. Your eyes widened with awareness as the pieces of the puzzle began to fall into place. “So I killed ‘em. I killed them all”. You mouth fell open in surprise, finally processing Joel’s many enigmatic reactions over the last several months. He was a murderer. You were in love with a murderer. 

Joel seemed to sense your growing apprehension as he pulled back slightly in self-revulsion. “There aren’t no others. It’s just her that’s immune. And Ellie doesn’t know”. Your breath seemed to stop with trepidation, as he nearly collapsed back against the headboard with exhaustion. A myriad of thoughts were pummeling you into disorientation, but Joel was the anchor holding you in place. You gripped his hand more tightly, cupping his face with your other palm, watching his lips tremble apologetically. “Wouldn’t change a damn thing” he muttered over and over again, as you flung yourself into his arms. No one could know. For Joel’s sake. For Ellie’s sake. For your own. The only possible redemption resided in this secret confession, but that’s as far as it could be allowed. The only other thing that remained was to suffer in silence. And so that’s what you did. For the rest of the night, you held one another in the silence of that horrible realization. Ellie was immune. And she was alone. But there wasn’t a damn thing that could be done about it.

The next morning passed wordlessly as the Miller household was submerged in a state of tension. Ellie was appropriately worried about the upcoming dinner, but you and Joel held the suspension of disbelief, knowing the additional gravity of the situation. Maria was a bloodhound when it came to the truth, territorially motivated by the continued survival of the commune, and viscerally impassioned with the upcoming birth of her child. After Ellie’s hospital confession, the five of you held a special connection that seemingly surpassed that of bloodlines and family, but would that information be enough to leave things as they were? You spent the day, avoiding Ellie’s stare in class, and rushing home to prepare the simple dinner. 

Before you knew it, dusk was upon you as you observed Tommy and Maria slowly making their way across the blossoming field, leading up the Miller household. You felt your stomach anxiously lurch, suddenly wishing that you and Joel had discussed a plan of action. But for better or worse, the conversation was now imminent as Tommy and Maria approached the landing. Ellie looked like she was standing in front of a firing squad, pressing her plaid shirt staunchly against her rigid body. Joel make quick eye contact with you, as he crossed the living room and opened the door to their overt smiles.

“Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes?” Tommy immediately intoned, bursting through the door and embracing his brother strongly. Joel winced, ever so slightly, his abdominal wound mostly healed, but the surrounding muscles tender and sensitive. Maria patted her stomach empathically, rounding the corner and immediately catching Ellie in a somewhat stilted, but well-intentioned embrace. “I’m starving!” Maria enthusiastically exclaimed, though you secretly wondered if there were an ulterior agenda to the evening’s discussion. You finished setting the table, and enjoyed a round of placated small talk; recent trade at Elk Creek, the upcoming Spring Harvest Dance, preparation for Maria’s upcoming delivery. The banter began to die down as the conversation turned to more pressing matters.

“Joel, how have you been feeling this last month?” Maria began, innocently enough, but the shift in the mood was apparent.

“I hate to say it, but my resident nurse has proven real helpful…” Joel smiled, a tinge of distrust flickering across his eyes that only you were privy to, as he took your hand with encouragement. “I’ll be ready for patrols, as soon as you give the word” he offered, nodding succinctly, hoping to end the conversation there.

“About time to get your sorry ass back out in the field” Tommy joked, attempting to lighten the mood. “Try not to get killed this time” he teased, kicking his brother’s foot good-naturedly under the dinner table.

“And what about you, Ellie?” Maria’s voice gained a syrupy sweetness that immediately brought Levi to mind. What was her intent? “How have you been feeling since our….discussion at the hospital?” Joel’s hand immediately stiffened in yours, his head whipping over to Ellie watchfully.

“I’m ready for patrols too!” Ellie chirped, gripping the table energetically. “Joel can tell you, I’m real capable with a knife, or a gun…” she beamed, as Joel bit back a protective reprimand.

“Oh no, I think you’re far too valuable to risk out on patrol” Maria ventured, under Tommy’s imploring gaze. “It’s not every day you meet someone with immunity” she tried to observe matter-a-factly before Joel slammed his fist in to the dinner table abruptly.

“Goddamit Maria, now you know that’s not up for discussion!” Joel spat, his body becoming a taut representation of feral rage. Maria gripped her swollen belly protectively as Tommy shifted in his seat with embarrassment. 

“It’s just family, Joel” Tommy quietly intoned, nodding in your direction. “Right, Teach? Just hear her out for a sec’” he pleaded, drawing a hand to Maria’s back affectionately as Joel attempted to calm down. The water in the nearby pitcher was still sloshing from side to side as the table sat in relative unease.

“What do you wanna know?” Ellie muttered, her face becoming stoic and steely under Maria’s hopeful countenance.

Maria didn’t hesitate a moment, as month’s of pent up inquisition and curiosity tumbled out of her mouth haphazardly. “Well, you said you were immune, and there were others that shared that ability. But you haven’t found a way to share that immunity? Have you tried a blood transfusion? What about studying your DNA?”

“Maria” Joel growled as he fisted the tablecloth, threatening to upset the entire dinner table this time.

“Honey, can’t we just let sleeping dogs lie?” Tommy beseeched his wife, lowering his gaze to the floor with humiliation.

“I’m just asking a question, Tommy” she bitterly retorted. “Don’t you want your baby to grow up in a commune that’s safe, and protected from EVERY horror this world has to offer?”. She took a deep breath and rested her attention on Ellie once again. “Well, honey, what’ve you got to say for yourself?” 

Ellie’s face nearly curled in a snarl, sensing Joel’s brimming rage and your helplessness in the face of the truth. “It’s no use” she began, holding Maria’s gaze with an unflinchingly cold stare. “I’ve lost countless people that my immunity could never save. Riley, Tess, Sam….None of it made any difference. I was stupid to think the Fireflies could do better. But Joel will tell you. We tried everything, and when that didn’t work, the raiders came and destroyed everything and everyone that got in their way. I’m no damn good to the people I love. Just another god-forsaken human in this shit-show of an existence. And it doesn’t matter if that baby lives to grow old, he better learn to take care of himself, because he won’t be gettin’ any goddam help from the world around him”.  Maria’s face fell with disappointment, nodding slightly with acceptance as Tommy took her hand encouragingly. You bit back a sob, hearing Ellie’s bleak outlook on life in this post-apocalyptic hell. Joel could never tell her the truth about that day. She was already so alone, his apparent betrayal would only serve to isolate her further still. Ellie MUST be kept alive. Looking over at Joel’s graying visage, you wished it didn’t come at such a high cost.

“So that’s it” Maria muttered, touching her belly lightly, her eyes still lowered to the ground. “Joel, are you sure you’re not hiding anything else?” she asked one final time, fixing him with an interrogative stare. You held your breath with anticipation as the room caught Joel in a heated stare. Maria would NOT back down. Either her desperation was so intense or her maternal nature was in intuitive overdrive, it seemed only a force of nature would deter her at this point.

“Well, I guess you caught me…” Joel began, drawing your concern and Ellie’s questioning eyes in one fell swoop. This couldn’t be. You had to stop him from undoing the most difficult choice he had ever made in his life. 

“Teach and I are plannin’ on gettin’ married”.

Your mouth dropped open in surprise, squeezing his hand so hard you wondered if he would need to revisit the doctor that evening. “Joel, are you sure?” the words fell out of your mouth as Ellie reverted back to a teenager of 17 years, giggling and clapping her hands enthusiastically, and Tommy began to beam broadly in periphery.

“Still workin’ on the wedding present, but yeah, I figure if you can put up with me and Ellie for the last several months, ya might be worth keepin’ around for good” Joel’s mouth curled in a mischievous grin as you sat yourself firmly on his lap, hugging him assuredly around the neck for good measure.

“Well I’ll be damned!” Tommy exclaimed, clapping his brother heartily on the shoulder and catching Maria’s knowing expression.

“I told you there was something he was hiding” Maria slowly mused, sighing with relief, and giving Ellie’s arm a soft squeeze of approval as a peace offering. You looked into Joel’s eyes searching for the smallest amount of doubt or hesitation, but found none there. It was something beyond your dreams, that even seemed to quell your nightmares. It was home.

Rascal the Cat sniffed awkwardly at every visitor, as the The Bookshop’s normally quiet atmosphere radiated light and love, the residents of Jackson Commune pouring in throughout the day. Joel stood behind the counter, stoically surveilling, but approachable nonetheless. His arms were folded neatly over his broad chest with skepticism, but a small smile tugged at the corners of his mouth, watching families and children make their way around the neatly organized and homey Bookshop. You and Ellie were on social duty, guiding families to the appropriate sections, the corner wood burning stove currently out of use as the Spring season began to thaw everything around it. You looked over at Joel whose statuesque stare was already beaming at your welcoming and warm presence. You could never have imagined this chain of events that first day you walked into his bookshop.

The Bookshop Bell rang jauntily as Tommy sauntered in with a fresh bouquet of lavender, immediately catching your eye and heading towards you. You finished your conversation with a nearby family as Tommy caught you in a familial embrace. “How are the plans comin’ Teach?” you admired the small freckles dotting his cheeks and mischievous sparkle in his eyes that reminded you of Joel. You’d never had a brother, but you were pretty sure this is what it felt like.

“Gosh, I haven’t even stopped to think!” you admitted, brushing a stray hair out of your face and grinning at the children that were good-naturedly chasing Rascal around the biographies section. “Honestly, a wedding ceremony is the last thing on my mind! We’ve got Spring evaluations for the students and I’m helping Ellie organize the Harvest Dance. But at least The Bookshop is finally up and running, and Joel can get back on patrol soon. What about you? How’s Maria?”

“Oh she insisted I leave her alone this afternoon, and sends her regards” Tommy handed you the bouquet, sheepishly tugging at the back of his neck with humility. “She’s just about to pop, and I think I’m driving her more nuts than usual” he confessed, squeezing your arm affectionately. “Just wanted to say, thanks for all your help around the commune, and gettin’ my elderly brother to soften up a little. Welcome to the family!” he leaned in conspiratorially as Joel eyed him suspiciously from the corner. “Don’t tell everyone what a big ole softie he actually is…”. You knowingly smiled, catching Joel’s inquiring gaze that immediately spread into a shit-eating grin. You hadn’t seen that look in a while, and you breathed a sigh of relief enjoying the settling Spring recreation. Maybe everything was going to be just fine. Tommy headed over to the front counter as Ellie caught your attention from the Classic Literature Section.

“Hey Teach, have you ever heard of a book called something like….The Miserables?” Ellie grimaced, skeptical at its existence.

“Les Miserables?” you pondered, glancing at the backroom. “Uhhh…does the musical count?”

Tommy lumbered up to the front counter as Joel finally melted from his stolid, sentry-like visage, relaxing under his brother’s sunshine countenance. “You old dog” Tommy clapped him on the shoulder, looking around The Bookshop appraisingly. “I hate to say it, but….you done good. This is just what the commune needs, and seems like you got the best part of the deal” he watched you and Ellie disappear into the backroom, laughing together. “Ya gonna get her a ring?” his eyes twinkled sweetly, reaching over for Joel’s unfinished coffee and taking a swig, wincing at its potent bitterness.

“Not sure you noticed but we’re kinda in an apocalypse right now?” Joel huffed, defiantly placing his hands on his hips, and matching Tommy’s mischief. “HOWEVER, if you’ll put me back on patrols I can get to bartering for it” he gruffly stated. “Already got a wedding present. Do you want me build a city hall and get the appropriate paperwork while I’m at it?” he grabbed the coffee from Tommy’s hand and downed it in one gulp amidst Tommy’s chortling.

“I’m just glad to see you so happy again” Tommy acquiesced, looking around The Bookshop and nodding with encouragement. “Wasn’t but a few months ago, I was starting to think my brother right near lost his mind. Damn, you had me wonderin’ if you were joining up with the raiders, or vying for the Fireflies”. Joel’s eyes flashed a dangerous shade of black before his face returned to a jovial skepticism. “But all that time, you were just fixin’ to get married” Tommy teased. “How’s about some brotherly advice? Doesn’t seem near appropriate for this soon to be dad askin’ about Playboy magazine” his ears tinged a slight shade of red. “How’s about Home and Gardens? Or Women’s Health?” he balked, chewing at his lower lip. Joel heavily clapped a hand on his back looking over at Ellie affectionately.

“We’ll get you fixed up” he surmised. He hadn’t but circled the counter when a young man came running down the commune square, flinging open the door to The Bookshop with the telltale ringing of the doorbell. 

“Tommy, come quick! Maria already went to the infirmary after her water broke…and is screaming bloody murder! I ran as fast as I could…but you might nearly be a dad already!” he gasped between bouts of coughing and sputtering as the color completely drained from Tommy’s face and a tavern-like cheer went up in The Bookshop.

“Holy hell” Tommy muttered, standing still in paralysis, like a man sleepwalking until Joel shoved him towards the door.

“Ellie, get this man over to the infirmary before he damn near falls over” Joel beamed, gesturing for Ellie, and sending the three of them towards the door in a bumbling, talkative heap as you sidled up beside him. 

“Come on ‘Uncle Tommy’ you look like you’re about to lose your lunch!” Ellie joked, grabbing Tommy’s arm and driving him forward. “Say, do you know why one Father’s Day gift wasn’t better than another?” Joel rolled his eyes as Ellie wheeled Tommy out the door. “A tie. It was a tie” she guffawed, pulling Tommy down the street and towards his future, bright and beautiful.

The Bookshop twinkled with congratulations and laughter as families plotted on what to barter for their upcoming “purchases”. Taking Joel’s hand in yours you eyed the three of them stumbling down the commune square towards the infirmary and grinned with satisfaction.

“You know she would do anything for you” you mused, leaning against Joel’s body and sighing with contentment.

“I feel the same way” Joel agreed, smiling tiredly. “But she’s near grown up now. Won’t need me no more” he introspected wearily as Rascal the Cat looped himself around Joel’s ankles.

“Well, some of us still need you” you nuzzled his shoulder fondly as Joel turned, backing you up into one of the nearby bookshelves.

“Joel…” you whispered shyly, looking around The Bookshop with chagrin and remembering your first meeting with nostalgia.

“M’I not allowed to kiss my ‘soon-to-be-wife?” his cheeks flushed brightly as he gazed lovingly into your eyes.

“Fine by me” you smirked, digging your hands in to the front pockets of Joel’s jeans and eliciting a low, chuckle from his towering figure that was caging you in. “You know, it’s okay if that was a red herring or something” you deflected, admiring the swirling depths of feeling in Joel’s nearby shining eyes.

“How’s that?” Joel mumbled into your clavicle as you gripped him possessively around the neck, crumpling your body against him and blushing.

“Oh you know what I mean…If that was just to detour Maria, or if you have second thoughts, I’m not going anywhere” you mumbled before Joel pulled back to look deep into your eyes.

“Not havin’ second thoughts” he blunted stated before planting a searing kiss on your imploring lips that seemed to deaden the chaos in The Bookshop to a single pin prick of loving light. It was quite some time before the sound of the surrounding atmosphere trickled back into your hearing, as your eyes remained closed in a dizzying haze of romantic ebullience. Your eyelids finally fluttered open as Joel watched you keenly, placing both hands aside your face. He looked like he was about to kiss you again before his eyes darted up to the small metallic indentation in the bookshelf just above your head. “Well I’ll be damned” he whispered, digging a small bullet out of the corner and holding it in front of your face with some confusion.

“Expect the unexpected” you drolled, fitting your hips against his playfully.

“Come with me, Teach” Joel teased, pocketing the bullet and pulling you into the backroom. “Rascal, mind the store” he called behind him, meeting the cat’s quizzical expression. “Was gonna save this for our weddin’ night, but sounds like someone needs a little assurance” Joel said over his shoulder as he rummaged around his work space in the back. You enjoyed the fragrant smell of wood chips, coffee and tattered books, silently cataloguing the many resources you had yet to organize.

“S’just a start” he reddened, presenting a chiseled, hand made set of bookends labeled ‘His’ and ‘Hers’ in his outstretched hands before you threw yourself into his embrace.

“How long have you been working on this?” you giggled, seeing his copy of “Crime and Punishment” nearby at this desk.

“‘Bout as long as I’ve been workin’ on weddin’ vows” he grimaced, shaking his head from side to side. “Probably need to set the bar low, Teach” he self-deprecated, shrugging sheepishly.

“Is that your next homework assignment?” you taunted, picking up the book and turning to the most recent dog eared page. Joel took the book from your hands, clearing his throat timidly.

“Just tryin’ to learn from the best” he mused, reading aloud;

“How it happened, he did not know. But all at once something seemed to seize him and fling him at her feet. He wept and threw his arms round her knees. At the same moment she understood, and a light of infinite happiness came into her eyes. She knew and had no doubt that he loved her beyond everything and that at last the moment had come. They wanted to speak, but could not; tears shone in their eyes. They were renewed by love; the heart of each held infinite sources of life for the heart of the other. What terrible suffering and what infinite happiness before them! But he had risen again and he knew it and felt it in all his being. He knew with what infinite love he would now repay all her sufferings. And what were all the agonies of the past? Everything, even his crime, seemed to him now in the first rush of feeling an external, strange fact. Life had stepped into the place of theory and something quite different would work itself out in his mind. Under his pillow lay Sonia’s Bible, it was the one from which she had read the raising of Lazarus to him. He did not open it now, but one thought passed through his mind; “Can her convictions not be mine now? Her feelings, her aspirations at least…”. He did not know that the new life would not be given him for nothing, that he would have to pay dearly for it; that it would cost him great striving, great suffering. But that is the beginning of a new story-the story of the gradual renewal of a man, the story of his gradual regeneration, of his passing from one world to another, of his initiation into a new unknown life. That might be the subject of a new story, but our present story is ended.”

Joel’s raspy voice trailed off, now lost in the curious expression of your eyes that danced with a newfound light. “A new story…” you whispered quietly, drawing your arms around his neck and pulling him in for a tender kiss.

A new story.

Pedge's Bookshop The Confession

Grab a Pastry! lounge around in the foyer with this sweet fic "A Baker's Dozen" @avastrasposts before heading into the Bookshop!

Triggers: profanity, Last of Us canon + references, implied PTSD/anxiety attack, MAJOR spoilers for "Crime and Punishment", sexy time snuggles, discussion of death/murder/suicide, nightmare, surgery recovery...This is the second to last installment of the series, which should place us at the ready for the LOU April release...

Series Masterlist

Words: 3.5 k

The long trek home had taken just under an hour, including pauses for water and grumbles as Ellie rambled continuously.

“Hey Joel…” Ellie’s voice distractedly interrupted from the sidelines, as Joel huffed and puffed at his very own doorstep. “What’s the fastest mode of transportation?”. Joel gripped the porch stairs doggedly, as perspiration dotted his forehead and your fingers dug into the side of his hip supportively.

“Shut the hell up….” Joel growled, his patience long since evaporated as he stubbornly made the slow journey from the infirmary to his community residence.

“Guess it’s not you…” Ellie muttered under her breath, before shouting quite loudly, “The bullet train!” she guffawed, as Joel took several halting steps up the porch before yanking the front door open huffily. His heavy laden feet nearly caught the lip of the doorframe as you both lurched into the living room, eventually depositing Joel on the tattered living room sofa, with as much gentility as an avalanche. You knew it was important for Joel to hold on to his stoic self-belief, but his current physical limitations had all but depleted whatever reserves Joel housed. He was completely exhausted, and you were keen to help him start the healing process as soon as possible.

“Looks like you finally made it home, old man!” Ellie’s voice was a bit strained as she attempted to ignore her own insecurities about Joel’s fragile state. You smirked, knowing that her prodding was probably the best medicine for his combative soul. Maybe when things quieted down, you could offer the rest and relaxation Joel so desperately needed in contrast. “You seem barrel-y able to contain your excitement…get it? Barrel?” Ellie plopped down beside Joel on the couch eliciting a wince from his heated and pained expression.

“Jesus, Ellie I’ll be lucky if my stitches don’t rip, will ya give me a minute?” he grumbled, looking down at his abdomen tenderly, hesitant to examine the wrappings beneath his perspiration soaked flannel. It wasn’t everyday that a commune resident was recovering from surgery, let alone a gunshot wound, but after a week in the infirmary, Joel was nearly crawling out of his skin. Determined to go it alone, he had stubbornly refused a cane or wheeled transport of any kind, but had quickly ascertained the difficulty of his aspirations. Even with the commune’s significant stock of penicillin, it was going to prove a difficult month. He might have already done some damage, and he wasn’t even in his own bed yet. Joel gritted his teeth even harder.

“Sorry” Ellie finally quieted with a defeated tone. You reached up tenderly to wipe the sheen of sweat off his brow, as Joel closed his eyes tiredly, laying back slightly against the sofa. He was feeling every bit his 57 years, as a few stars dotted the periphery of his darkened vision. This might be something that tenacity alone couldn’t mend, and he would be grateful for all the help he could get, once he caught his breath. You watched Ellie’s countenance drop as the gravitas of the last week started to catch up to her. Joel remained unaware, so you offered a tight lipped encouragement from the other side of the couch. You would all get through this together. Some things just took time.

“I could go to the Tipsy Bison and get your favorite whiskey?” Ellie ventured, sitting up with the possibility of a task at hand. Joel smiled tiredly, his forehead already relaxing from the daunting escapades of the day.

“No way in hell they’ll give it to a kid…” his words slurred a bit as his body sank further into the couch.

“Wanna bet?” Ellie popped up jauntily from the couch, excited to put her pent up tension to beneficial use. “I’ll just tell ‘em we need it…medicinally…” as she headed out the door with confidence. You smirked with relief, glad to finally have Joel at home and resting for the entire month. The bullet hadn’t nicked any major arteries, and had avoided his organs, but the muscles were going to take at least a month to begin the mending process, and outside of antibiotics, there weren’t very many painkillers that the commune could offer. You were about to expand your expertise from teaching to nursing, and didn’t mind one bit. Joel’s breath steadied evenly in his chest as you delicately stroked his forehead and scalp soothingly. Content to stay there for the rest of the evening, you watched his face carefully for the next 15 minutes before his body jerked awake with newfound adrenaline. His eyes flashed with temporary disorientation before clasping your hand and holding it tightly to his chest.

“Had the worst nightmare…Somebody shot me, and Ellie wouldn’t shut up” he drawled, closing his eyes again and massaging your hand with affection. Leave it to Joel to be joking and taking care of other people, when he was the one in pain.

“Oh that would never happen…” you relaxed into the side of his body, tilting your head against his shoulder with ease. “Ellie is so soft spoken…” you teased, noticing the graying dusk of early evening begin to shadow against the living room window. “Think we can get up the stairs to bed, mister?” you questioned, giving a light kiss to the edge of his broad shoulder before catching his beleaguered and mischievous expression. 

“Thought you’d never ask, Teach.”

Certainly, this wasn’t the time to be indulging particularly fantasies in the bedroom, but you couldn’t help but eagerly anticipate the closeness this might provide for you and Joel. It took another 30 minutes to hesitantly ascend the stairs, but you finally deposited Joel in his bed and began removing his boots amidst his protestations. 

“Will ya quit babying me? I’m fine…” Joel complained, starting to unbutton his flannel and gaze curiously at the wrappings across his abdomen. Your eyes greedily took in the hair peppering his broad chest and belly button, up until the area shaved from surgery. You gulped hungrily, wrenching his boot off and depositing it at the foot of his bed.

“Are you going to be this ornery the entire month?” you accused, not altogether surprised. You had interacted with many a stubborn man, but Joel seemed to take the cake. The stauncher the patient the harder the fall, you surmised, batting Joel’s hand away and exploring the wrappings yourself. There was a bit of spotting from the arduous transport, and Joel was due for dinner and a round of penicillin. “How much are you going to argue if I suggest a sponge bath?”. Joel’s eyes widened to the shape of saucers, as he grew immediately self conscious of his body and glistening skin. His cheeks reddened slightly as he considered the possibility.

“I mean…I don’t…complain about everything…” his visage gained a boyish quality as he bit his lip and started fumbling with the nearby blankets. You smiled appreciatively. Score. Most men were big teddy bears, after they raged against the dying of the light. You peeled the wrappings back as Joel pouted bitterly.

“Alright, let’s get some food in you so you can take your medicine, and then we’ll make sure someone is set and cozy for bed” you offered, before Joel desperately grabbed at your hand, looking deep into your eyes.

“I….’preciate it” he managed to get out reservedly, as his eyes finally softened in the darkening room.

“My pleasure” you countered, leaning in for a tender kiss before heading downstairs to the kitchen, and stopping at the door way. “DON’T…” Joel paused mid exploration as you leveled your eyes skeptically in his direction “…paw at those wrappings until I come back, understand?”

“Yes’m” he quipped, though you weren’t entirely sure if he were joking. With or without Joel’s help, you were going to relish your new role as private commune nurse.

The days passed slowly, but delightedly as you nursed Joel back to health. The surgery had preceded your normal Spring Break, but in an unexpected turn of events, the commune had allowed you and Ellie to assign reading and creative projects on a weekly basis. With your permission, Ellie had even assembled class for a few hours once a week to help the students’ progress. You grinned, imagining Ellie’s lack of diplomacy as she regaled you with her first foray into instruction, accidentally making one student cry over math permutations and counseling another on the finer points of dealing with bullying. Apparently her first admonition was to just ‘punch the sucker right in the nose’, but having thought better of the ramifications for an eight year old, eventually encouraged them with subtler points from “Crime and Punishment”. You chuckled sweetly, rolling your eyes as Ellie sat on the edge of Joel’s bed, recounting the school day's events. 

“That’s my girl…” Joel nodded curtly, looking helplessly around the room and picking up his copy of “Crime and Punishment” once again. Within the week, he had caught up to Ellie’s literary progress and both of them were nearing the completion. Mostly absorbed with Joel’s recovery and the ongoing school year, you hadn’t yet broached the tender topic of Elk Creek or any of the unresolved questions that Ellie’s previous confession had elicited. 

She was immune. But how far did that immunity extend? How long would it last? And most importantly, was there any way her immunity could be duplicated? You didn’t know the answers to any of those questions, and alongside the immediate concern of Joel’s well-being and emotional wellness, you couldn’t perseverate too long. But if the three of you wanted a future together, there were some tough conversations ahead. Maybe you could help in more ways than just soup and sponge baths.

“How’s The Bookshop holdin’ up?” Joel asked for the umpteenth time, shifting awkwardly in the bed and grumbling at his limitations. He hated feeling helpless, and it was taking every iota of his strength to remain sedentary in the recovery process.

“Pretty good. Think we’re about ready for openin’ whenever you are” Ellie guessed, drawing the blanket between her fingers appraisingly. “Rascal might even host if you’re not feelin’ up to it” she joked, crossing her arms over her chest and leaning back smugly. 

“It’ll be a cold day in hell ‘fore that happens” Joel’s drawl intensified as he sat up taller, attempting to hide the momentary discomfort of shifting positions. Recovery was hard enough, but with no pain killers, you didn’t envy Joel’s challenging position. You were glad to help in any way that you could, watching Ellie’s face falter with hesitation.

“Shit, I forgot to feed him after class today” she observed, shrugging guiltily before standing up. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do…” she playfully punched Joel’s outstretched foot before squeezing your shoulder warmly and heading downstairs.

“Maybe sweep the floor while you’re there!” Joel called after, before grinning sheepishly in your direction. “Builds character…” he joked, settling further back in the bed, and patting the space beside him. “Back to our reading nook?” he tantalized, grabbing the pair of glasses he used for reading and lovingly fingering the pages of “Crime and Punishment”. You all but squealed with delight, being careful not to jostle the bed too wholeheartedly and delicately placed yourself in the crook of his embrace, resting your head softly on his shoulder. Draping your leg tentatively over his you sweetly placed a hand near his abdomen, willing the recent wound to continue mending. This wasn’t the moment for sexual intimacy, but sharing this last week with Joel had offered a tenderness your past relationships never could. You sighed contentedly as Joel returned to his reading selection.

“Don’t give Snake Eyes that goofy accent again” you chided, giggling quietly to yourself as Joel looked down his spectacles at you with skepticism. 

“Don’t like my Russian accent darlin’?” he teased, rocking you slightly and grunting with the effort. Joel cleared his throat and began again as you relaxed into him. 

“He seemed hardly to know what he was doing. He could not stay still or concentrate his attention on anything; his ideas seemed to gallop after one another, he talked incoherently, his hands trembled slightly. Without a word Sonia took out of the drawer two crosses. It’s the symbol of my taking up the cross, he laughed. As though I had not suffered much till now! Well, now I am going to prison and you'll have your wish. Well, what are you crying for? You too? Don't. Leave off! Oh, how I hate it all! But his feeling was stirred; his heart ached, as he looked at her. Why is she grieving too? he thought to himself. What am I to her? Why does she weep? Why is she looking after me? I am a murderer. He trembled, remembering that. And the hopeless misery and anxiety of all that time, especially of the last hours, had weighed so heavily upon him that he positively clutched at the chance of this new unmixed, complete sensation. It came over him like a fit; it was like a single spark kindled in his soul and spreading fire through him. Everything in him softened at once and the tears started into his eyes. He fell to the earth on the spot. Raskolnikov at that moment felt and knew once for all that Sonia was with him for ever and would follow him to the ends of the earth, wherever fate might take him. It wrung his heart…”.

Joel sighed heavily, looking down at your resting face, expecting you to perhaps be asleep, but a single tear was cascading down your cheek as he reached down to wipe it away. “My reading’ that bad darlin’?” he coo’ed, wondering at your emotion. Your voice came out more raspy than you intended, but the moment was upon you. “Joel…Can you tell me what happened on the way back to Elk Creek? How did…?” your voice stalled with hesitation, finally motivated by desperation and curiosity. “How did Levi die?”.

Joel swallowed dryly, taking off his glasses and setting the book down. “You sure you want to know?” he began, gripping your chin lightly between his thumb and forefinger. You nodded solemnly, your glassy eyes radiating in the late afternoon sunlight. Joel nodded once and continued. “It was the damndest thing. The whole trip he was like a mockingbird in a lonely meadow. Jabbering on and on, and asking questions about us. Not hardly makin’ any sense. Didn’t think I could feel sorry for that man, but he seemed right emptied out. Like he couldn’t think of anything worth living for” Joel paused, shaking his head with confusion. “Had to bite my tongue multiple times to keep from suggesting a quick exit, until….” Joel's breath hitched violently in his chest as he squirmed slightly with the memory of it.

“Until what?” you whispered, terrified to discover the revealing truth of that fateful day.

“Never thought I’d see a man more lonely than me” Joel observed, hugging you all the tighter against his side as you snuggled in for warmth. “Made me realize what my life could look like without you and Ellie at my side. We had our backs up against a wall, and Levi’s men were scattering left and right. And I saw it. Whatever flicker of rage or passion or fight he had left, just evaporated right in front of me. He ran headlong into the swarm of infected and that was the end of that”. The proceeding silence hung in the air morosely as you considered Joel’s words carefully. Death by clicker. What a way to go. Seemed counterintuitive to think of Levi as any kind of Savior. But maybe realizing that himself, Levi executed the only action that made any sense.

“Get busy livin’ or get busy dyin’” Joel muttered under his breath, almost to himself as you shivered coldly. You hadn’t realized how tired you were until that very moment and it wasn’t a few minutes later you were drifting into a heavy sleep, weighed down by the confusion and exhaustion of the last several weeks, held firmly against Joel’s side protectively.

You couldn’t reach him. Struggling through a maelstrom of acidic fog you coughed and sputtered in the fluorescent glow. Where the hell were you? The entire bog seemed to reek of a sulphuric bitterness, you couldn’t escape. The books were crumbling, your willpower was waning. Weighted down by a nearly paralytic heaviness, you reached forward as a hand grasped yours firmly. Drawing it towards you, you saw the deteriorating and skeletal face of Levi, his bony fingers, interwoven with yours, pulling you down and down and down. The sticky atmosphere was muffling your cries as you sank further and further into the quicksand of ever increasing doubts…

Joel. Joel. Joel….

You jerked awake, finding yourself in the twilight of dusk, particles of dust floating through the air in hazy delicacy. Thank God. Joel. You turned to look at him in solace, but were crestfallen to see his own tumultuous sleeping expression, perspiring under the heated upstairs oppression. In sleep, his fingers twitched nervously at his sides as you swallowed dryly. “Joel?” you rasped ineffectively, his lips pursing in unknown words and nightmarish phrases. You tenderly reached up to touch his shoulder, remember your first encounter in the Bookshop. You didn’t want him to needlessly suffer, but PTSD was an exacting beast. You tried to gently rouse him from his torment, wondering where Ellie was and if you should call the commune doctor, when Joel’s eyes flew open wildly in horror. He immediately grasped his chest with terror, his breath hitching violently in his chest as you timidly placed your hand over his.

“I’m here, I’m here, I’m here, I’m here…” you breathed steadily and soothingly as his eyes shakily found yours in the darkening upstairs bedroom. “You’re safe. With me. We are safe. Together”. You felt the strength of his heart beating powerfully against his ribcage as his mouth struggled to draw in one shaky breath after another. “Easy, easy…” you felt like you were coaxing a stallion or nursing a wounded animal. There were so many nightmares to choose from, how could you help one another escape?

“Ellie told you” Joel’s voice creaked out of him, as though on a wiry hinge, textured with gravel and broken glass.

“Told me what, honey?”

“Told you ‘bout the Fireflies…” Joel closed his eyes, trying to steel himself against a barrage of memories and unbidden images.

“She finally told us, in the hospital…” you began, before Joel sat up abruptly.

“The hospital…” he gasped, moving stiffly, attempting to get out of the bed.

“You’re not in the hospital anymore…you’re here with me…” you grasped him fervently around the chest, hesitant to rip any more stitches.

“You don’t….understand…”. He seemed almost delirious as you looked helplessly around the room for support.

“Will you lay still for me? Please? Let me get you a cold washcloth…” you negotiated, feeling his heartbeat ticking heavily and strongly against your forearm.

“They’re dead. All of ‘em.” his voice rumbled against your arm forebodingly as you paused in your struggle with him.

“Who, Joel? The infected? The raiders?” Joel continued to struggle against you, as you carefully straddled his hips with as much force as possible. “Honey, you’re gonna rip your sutures if you keep wrestling like that, can you please breathe for me?” you were reaching a point of desperation, amazed at Joel’s strength, even in repose, but determined to bring him back into the land of the living.

“I’m a murderer” he spat, writhing beneath you forcefully as you pushed down on his shoulders as hard as you could. You tried to ignore his words, recognizing his feverish incapacity, but startling nonetheless. The apocalypse had included so much death, what could he possibly be referring to? “In the hospital…I saved HER. I killed them all…”. He wasn’t making any sense; you had to get his fever to break.

“Joel, lie still!” your voice echo’d through the house authoritatively. You absentmindedly wondered if Ellie were within earshot as Joel immediately stilled in awareness of the edge in your voice. His pupils narrowed to a focused pinpoint as he grasped your face emphatically with both hands.

“The Fireflies” he wheezed, perspiration now dripping down the sides of his temples profusely. “They found out about Ellie’s immunity…and they tried….to kill her…in the hospital…” his words were a bit jumbled and halting, but the force of his desperation seemed to cut through the oppressive heat like a knife. This wasn’t an ongoing fever dream. Something about this was real. You gulped back tears of acknowledgement. “So I saved her….” his eyelids started to grow heavy with effort as his arms relaxed by his side. “I saved her…and killed me…”. His eyes shut with exhaustion, as his body finally stilled amidst the disheveled sheets, your body still atop him. His breathing eventually resumed an even pace, though his face seemed cemented in a pained expression of distress. You sighed with relief, checking his bandages, and wiping his forehead lightly with the sleeve of your shirt. But as you laid down next to him, the impact of his words hit you like a ton of bricks.

A murderer.

You could dismiss it, like his drunken admission. Another feverish nightmare, punctuated by an ill-advised confession. But. There was something about his words that seemingly rang true. And if it WERE true, who would know? And to what lengths would you go to protect the ones you loved? You gazed longingly at his profile, listening for sounds of Ellie in the empty house, but none materialized. 

It was just you, Joel…and the deadening silence of his confession.

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