Pedro Pascal Fan Fiction - Blog Posts

WIP; In Cold Blood

I think this was from "The Uninvited" press interviews, but our guy had such a scruffy, Columbo-like quality, it seemed very Rockford coded to me. The Cannes looks are so gorgeously coifed, but I also love seeing our guy at his casual best...

He seemed to feel the magnetic quality as well, and almost thinking better of it, his sudden intake of air broke the spell abruptly. “I’m going to head into the washroom first, do you need anything?” his voice had an unexpectedly tender quality as you shook your head mutely. Rockford nodded curtly before releasing your hand and meandering towards the washroom. So, he was an army man as well. So many of the boys had been drafted for World War II, but it almost seemed that the world was just realizing the extenuating repercussions more than a decade later. He must have been a kid, maybe nineteen or twenty at the time? You found yourself pensively watching his broad figure head to the bathroom before absentmindedly observing that your past was equally steeped in enigma and mystery. Rockford might be a P.I, but you weren’t sure how much of your unconventional, mid-western beginnings you wanted to divulge. You bit your lower lip hearing the shower spring to life, and couldn’t help but wonder; Perhaps there was more than one mystery to unearth here in Holcomb County, Kansas.

I am having a BLAST with Pedge's Bookshop as we delve further into our film-noir-esque fanfic of "In Cold Blood". Currently working on this next installment, "The Interviews"....

*Thank you @auteurdelabre for our beautiful coloring book!

@littlemisspascal  @lizette50 @beefrobeefcal @sawymredfox @anelva @wordywarriorwrites @burntheedges @inept-the-magnificent @timelordfreya  @schnarfer @devineconjuring @mermaidgirl30 @galaxyedging @joelalorian @joelmillerisapunk @jennaispunk @sheepdogchick3 @marcus-is-my-muse @guiltyasdave  @copperhalfcent @bluesweaters15 @drewharrisonwriter @darkheartgatita @harriedandharassed @brittmb115 @confusedpuffin @yorksgirl @quicax3 @shaunasflannel @shinyanchorobject

In Cold Blood; The Funeral

Grab a Latte! lounge around in the foyer with this sweet fic "Fall Coffee House" @alwritey-aphrodite before heading into the Bookshop!

Triggers: profanity, murder, smoking, references to alcohol, small abrasion, major spoilers for "In Cold Blood" by Truman Capote, based on historical events, 1950's cultural misogyny, references past problematic relationship, burgeoning workplace romance, funeral...

Series Masterlist

Words: 5k

“Hey, doll. You wanna open those pretty eyes for me, let me know you’re still with us?” Rockford’s voice seemed to float in on a cloud of contentment. You snuggled further into the leather seat which had somehow softened against your drowsiness. You felt a whisper of his hand against your chin, cupping your cheek. “Time for sleeping beauty to wake up…” you couldn’t tell if you were dreaming or hallucinating, but your eyelids fluttered precariously trying to discern. “Time for our adventure to start, Red…” his voice gained solidity as a shot of adrenaline coursed through your system, jolting your eyes wide awake.

“I’m up!” you nearly shouted, as Rockford’s hand shot quickly to your forehead to prevent you from hitting the top of the car ceiling abruptly. 

“Owwww….” you moaned, closing your eyes once again and covering your face with your hands sleepily. “Are we there yet?” you grumbled, squinting through one eye at Rockford’s bemused and adorably bedraggled countenance.

“We have arrived” Rockford confirmed, tilting his head sideways against the headrest and relaxing slightly. “Welcome to Holcomb, Kansas…” you noticed a lazy diner called ‘Hartman’s Cafe’ before you, and the car seemed quite cool to the touch as you reasoned you had been parked for some time in arrival. 

“Did you drive all through the night?” you rhetorically asked, smoothing out your a-line skirt of travel wrinkles and looking in the overhead mirror to check your faded makeup.

Rockford nodded tiredly, scratching at the newly appearing scruff on his chin. “Wanted to get here as soon as possible, I don’t know when the FBI muckety mucks are going to show up. Might be here already” he wondered, clearing his throat of the morning huskiness and blinking steadily in the burgeoning dawn.

“Well, I don’t know much about being a travel secretary, but I think coffee is in order” you reckoned, delicately rubbing the sleep from your eyes and gesturing to the diner. “Thanks for letting me sleep, are you going to be okay for the day?” you wondered taking in the darkening circles under his eyes, and resisting the urge to finger his tousled hair.

“Nothing a little whiskey can’t cure” Rockford joked, catching your incredulous reaction. “Let’s grab a quick breakfast and we can locate the town sheriff afterwards. Last thing we need is to be fighting the long arm of the law before we’ve even begun…” he huffed, cranking the door open noisily and then tiredly stretching into the morning air.

“You’ve got the right mid-western mindset” you encouraged, rubbing at your lower back and emerging from the car, trotting behind him. “You’ll get more flies with honey, that’s for sure” you observed, hugging your purse to your side and casting a downward glance to your healing abrasion. Other than a few bumps and bruises, the near 20 hour drive to Kansas had transversed relatively quickly, and you were already starting to enjoy the newfound professional relationship with Rockford. You were keen to prove your secretarial prowess, despite the fact that you both felt a bit out of your league. It was one of the things that immediately bonded you to Rockford’s persona, was his dogged determination to pursue justice and excellence even in seemingly insurmountable odds. You hoped you could provide whatever support he might need, but you didn’t have the first clue about how to start the investigation. Maybe your midwestern upbringing could cushion Rockford’s fall from L.A’s bustling and cosmopolitan landscape. The familiar ring of a doorbell chime greeted your ears, as the wafting fragrances of coffee, pancakes and sausages tickled your nose. Your stomach grumbled in happy response. Rockford pressed a hand to your lower back, leading you towards the counter and smiling graciously at the waitress.

“Room for two?” he attempted to enchant, though the waitress was apparently having none of it.

“Not from around here, are ya?” she adroitly observed, a tight lipped smile painting her face as she smacked her lips sullenly against the trampled gum she was chewing.

“No ma’am, guilty as charged” Rockford poured on the charm, as much as possible, though the two of you were a bit of a sight after your lengthy travels. “Name’s Rockford, Tim Rockford P.I and this is my associate, Red. We’ll be gracing your homey town for the next couple weeks. Sorry to hear about your recent troubles and all…”. You nodded sympathetically, looking around the relatively empty diner in the early morning light. Rockford’s demeanor took on a honeyed quality as you quietly admired his attempts. You guessed one didn’t arrive at much professional investigatory success without a clear understanding of sweet talking and intimidation. You off-handedly wondered about the latter.

“Take your pick” the waitress seemed to complain, thrusting two menus into your hands and heading back towards the coffee behind her. “Looks like you could use the whole pot this morning…” she drolly noticed, avoiding your beleaguered expressions as you plopped down with fatigue and humility. Not the most auspicious beginning, but valiant nonetheless. Your eyes hungrily took in the options of the morning as Tim shook his head trying to clear the morning cobwebs from his mind. He’d have to be on his best behavior if he wanted to pry any secrets from a town like Holcomb, Kansas. He almost felt the iron-like bars of a social prison start to tighten around him as your eyes widened with recognition.

“Don’t look now, chief, but I think we’ve just had our first home town miracle” you whispered, as Rockford squinted at you skeptically. The doorbell rang once again to the sound of boots and leather chaffing against one another as Rockford looked out the diner window.

Holcomb County Sheriff’s Department. Bingo.

“Our first break” Rockford shushed, staring fixedly at the menu. “Go ahead Red, stick your leg out like they do in that movie with Clark Gable…”.

“I hardly think Clark Gable would be such a cad” you joked. “Besides which, my legs are all banged up from my clumsy secretarial pursuits on the highway earlier…” you scoffed. “That’s not what you’re expecting for my professional contributions, I hope?” you chuckled, attempting to focus on the menu in front of you.

“Absolutely not” Rockford chimed in. “It just happens to be a nice perk, from where I’m sittin’” he admitted, clearing his throat amusedly. It wasn’t but a minute the waitress appeared from behind the counter with a fresh pot of coffee and a disdainful look as a side order, as the sheriff skeptically surveyed you both from a stone’s throw away. First chatting with the sheriff conspiratorially, she eventually made her way to your table, somewhat begrudgingly…

“What’ll ya have?” she pointedly asked, pulling the pencil from behind her ear and smacking her lips loudly in accompaniment.

“I would like the Grand Slam, ma’am…” Rockford awkwardly rhymed, trying to remain aloof amidst the opportunity and gesturing to you next.

“I would like the oatmeal with toast on the side. And the possibility of speaking with that gentleman at the bar” you bluntly stated, watching Rockford’s eyebrows shoot sky high at the straightforward request. A flash of recognition and hidden admiration passed across the waitress’ face as she yelled over her shoulder, “EARL, your reputation has preceded you and your presence is requested forthwith…” she smirked, tucking the pencil behind her ear and pocketing the small writing pad.

“Huh?” the sheriff grunted, casting a not so imposing figure before hurrying over to your table quickly.

“Leave the coffee, will ya doll?’ Rockford questioned, as the waitress’ countenance immediately bittered. 

“Just don’t forget my tip, Mack” she retorted, soon replaced by the sheriff who was breathing raggedly with a quick jaunt.

“How can I be of service, ma’am?” the sheriff asked, attempting to size up Rockford who sat inquisitively across from you.

“Thank youuuu for your quick attention” you coo’ed, laying it on a little thickly, but desirous to make a good first impression. “We are obviously from out of town and looking to provide services of our own” you indicated to Tim to proceed.

“I’ve been hired to investigate the Clutter Family Murder. Rockford’s the name. Tim Rockford, P.I” he outstretched his hand in a friendly decisive manner, hopeful the sheriff might prove forthcoming, rather than combative. Sheriff Earl Robinson noticeably relaxed, and took Rockford’s grip firmly in his own.

“Pleased to meet ya, Mr. Rockford” he sighed, glancing back at the waitress who was overtly eavesdropping before making a quick exit to the kitchen. “Thought you might be one of them FBI agents that are en route as we speak. Don’t mind tellin’ ya we are all a bit out of sorts…what with the murders and all…” he trailed off as his features darkened. Rockford nodded grimly, moving aside so the sheriff could sit down at the table with you. “Most criminal acts are reduced to the production of moonshine in these parts. That, or the occasional harvest festival gone higgledy-piggledy” he admitted with humility, shifting the gun holster at his waist. “Haven’t seen a bona fide murder since my time in Kansas City, to say nothing of FOUR!” he lowered his voice with the confession, shaking his head dejectedly. “Don’t mind tellin’ ya I was glad when they took up that offerin’ at the charity event. The least we could do for the Clutter Family. They were the best of us…” he nodded, a small emotive crack in his voice appearing on the edges. You teared up in response. Gosh, you forgot the pleasantries of mid-western life after all. You immediately felt a bit reprimanded, shifting your adventurous enthusiasm to one of solemnity and mourning. Four people had lost their lives, and in a particularly violent and seemingly arbitrary way. You wanted justice as much as anyone in Holcomb did.

“We’re real sorry for your loss” Rockford observed, similarly moved. He’d seen plenty of crime on the seedy streets of L.A, but there was something about this atrocity that seemed especially personal. He wanted to proceed with sensitivity, and was again thankful for your delicate presence, particularly where his own intuition might be lacking. “I assume you were able to catalogue the scene of the crime…” he pressed, watching the sheriff shift with discomfort.

“Damndest thing” Sheriff Robinson finally removed his hat, wiping at his brow with turmoil. “Still trying to work my way around it…Sorry the girls had to see such a nightmarish sight…” he muttered absentmindedly, grabbing Rockford’s coffee cup and downing it in one swig. Rockford pouted with frustration, but silently refrained. “What girls are those?” he inquired, gently taking the cup back and sliding it away from the sheriff’s grasp.

“That’d be Nancy and Susan” he offered. “Sorry, Nancy Ewalt and Susan Kidwell. No one should have to see…somethin’ like that” he sighed, now reaching for your coffee cup and downing it in one swallow. Poor guy. You took his hand lightly in your own, curious to proceed.

“Can you tell us anything about the scene of the crime?” you softly asked, looking to Rockford for guidance. You didn’t want to move too far too fast, but the opportunity seemed to have dropped in your laps. The sheriff stiffened at the memory, his eyes casting downward with a sort of shame. “Don’t rightly want to burden you with those details just now” he protested, holding the now empty coffee cup firmly in his grasp. “Why don’t you come by my office later today, we’ll get you access to all of our reports” he formally offered as the waitress returned with your breakfast orders.

“Got your regular order, Earl” the waitress perfunctorily proffered, juggling your array of menu items and depositing of plate of assorted meats in front of him, as the sheriff swallowed dryly. 

“Thanks doll” Rockford winked, in the elongated silence, as her countenance soured once again. She retreated to the kitchen as Earl politely shoved the plate to one side. 

“Just can’t make head or tails of it” his eyes took on a glossy quality, looking out the window as Holcomb County seemed to blossom to life. You reached across the table once again, squeezing his hand with encouragement.

“We’re hoping to help as much as we can” you urged him, watching Rockford pour a fresh cup of coffee on the far end of the table, preferably out of the sheriff’s reach. “Who do you suppose we should talk to first?”

“Well, normally it wouldn’t hardly be appropriate, but seeing as everyone in the town hall meetin’ knows, you could probably come to the memorial this afternoon” the sheriff definitively reached across Rockford’s plate and grabbed his fresh coffee before Tim could protest.

“We don’t want to impose” Rockford tried to hide the edge in his voice, before stifling a yawn. This was going to be a long day.

“No way around it now” the sheriff contended, picking up a fork tentatively before tossing it back on the table with a loud clang. “Everyone should be there, includin’ the girls, my undersheriff Wendle Meier, Bobby….that’s the boyfriend. Probably talk to Myrtle as well. She’s the town gossip…” Earl winced with chagrin “I mean, local postmistress. She’s privy to everything that comes and goes. You just come on by my offices later and we’ll get you set up before the FBI folks arrive…”. Earl shouted towards the back, “I’M HEADIN’ OUT DOLORES! Will you put their breakfast on my tab??” The sheriff shifted awkwardly out of the booth, straightening his gun holster and holding his hat tentatively in his hands.

“Look Mr. Rockford, I won’t pussy-foot around. The Clutter Family deserved better than this. Better than conjecture. I don’t rightly know what Holcomb can do to aid your investigation, but we are fixin’ to rise to the occasion. I confess I will be mighty glad when those FBI agents take control, but not everyone in Finney County feels the same way. You’re bound to find a mix of neighborly interest and small town secrets, but if you have any real trouble you just let me know. ‘Preciate your help as well ma’am” he took your hand definitively in his own before nodding curtly and heading out the door. “SEE YOU LATER THIS AFTERNOON D!” he shouted before heading out the door. Rockford shifted his gaze to you with curiosity before pouting over the now emptied coffee. As if on cue, Dolores emerged from the kitchen with a fresh pot of joe.

“‘Xpect you’ll be wantin’ more” she jibed, depositing the now obsolete check at your table and muttering under her breath, “Wouldn’t hurt to get a tip on that, Mack…” before returning to the kitchen in protest. You paused, looking at both of your untouched plates before you. 

Looks like you were headed to a funeral.

You gazed down appraisingly at your bandaged knee, which despite a disheveled aesthetic, was managing to heal nicely. You were a bit of a sight for sore eyes, and it never ceased to amaze you how quickly the ghost of condescension showed up, despite your protestations, and the small town atmosphere was doing nothing to aid your self-imposed ignorance. You couldn’t help but flash on the disapproving countenance of your own past, before batting the memory away once again. Seemed like the death of the Clutter Family wasn’t the only injustice that was rising to the forefront of your mind. Nonetheless, after a bracing breakfast and several pots of coffee, you and Rockford at least presented a respectable figure as you approached the milling group of mourners at The First Methodist Church of Holcomb in the late afternoon. Rockford had grabbed a quick shave and a new tie, and you had attempted to smooth out the wrinkling apparel of a dark blouse and coiffed hat. It had been a full month since you found yourself living out of a suitcase, and were anxious to check into the Holcomb Motel, but not before scoping out the first and foremost suspects in the town…while offering your condolences.

You blanched under the weight of whispered gossip before the sheriff quickly spotted you both and made fast work of welcoming you to the proceedings. It really was miraculous that you were starting the investigation off with that kind of support, and you weren’t about to take it for granted. You and Rockford were both bound to ruffle some feathers, but you couldn’t argue with the intentionality of the town itself. They wanted you here—and you wanted to help. As attendants began to straggle in, you were astonished to see so many individuals paying their respects, and you wondered how many people were well-meaning lookie-loos, or attending family members. There were easily hundreds of people, if not bordering on a thousand, as the Reverend Leonard Cohen ascended the pulpit to begin the proceedings.

“It is a sad day indeed that gathers us together on this unseasonably warm day. A warmth that I can only surmise is permeated by the glowing tenderness of the Clutter Family themselves” sniffles and coughs could be heard around the packed sanctuary and you and Tim sat shoulder to shoulder in the crowded pew. It was difficult to see, but you imagined a row of relatives sat towards the front, and just to your right were several teenagers sitting in a row that must be classmates from Holcomb High School.

The Reverend continued, “God offers us courage, love and hope even though we walk through the shadows of the valley of death. I’m sure he was with them in their last hours”.  You tried to surreptitiously look through the crowd for the two girls Sheriff Robinson had spoken of. Just to your right, holding tightly to the hand of the girl next to her sat a cherub faced young girl of about 16 years old. She was starkly appareled in all white, horn rimmed glasses perched atop a buttoned, red-rimmed nose. You bit your lower lip with compassion observing her dark haired confidant, who was practically wringing her hand in supplication. Outside of the obvious tear stained patches of tumult, they were both the idyllic mid-western ideal of purity and youth. You were sorry to see the town itself marred by such a painful and unfathomable occurrence as this. You wondered if an interview could somehow be cathartic, but also worried that the remnants of a traumatic wound only recently incurred, might be exacerbated.  

The soothing voice of the Reverend pattered on, “Jesus never promised us we would not suffer pain or sorrow but he has always said he would be there to help us bear the sorrow and the pain”. Rockford looked to the other side of the sanctuary, noticing the row of honored relatives who somberly sat in the front pew. He squinted skeptically at a young man whose gaze was narrowed in an almost combative scowl, contrasted by a halo-like tousle of golden locks atop the crown of his head. Was this the boyfriend, Bobby Rupp, as the sheriff had intimated? Rockford could hardly believe that anyone in the town of Holcomb, Kansas would be capable of such violence, particularly as a young teenager. But if the war had taught him anything, it was that man was capable of tremendous atrocity, even under the guise of benefaction.

“Let us now rise and sing Hymn 25, ‘Blessed Assurance’” the organ began a solemn refrain as you and Tim awkwardly rose, your hands easily finding the hymnal in front of you. You glanced sideways in surprise, hearing Tim’s raspy voice haltingly and quietly proceed, “Blessed assurance, Jesus is mine. Oh, what a foretaste of glory divine. Heir of salvation, purchase of God. Born of his Spirit, washed in His blood”. You would not have thought Rockford the religious type. But then again, you were still getting to know one another, and there was a quite bit that remained in the shadows. Rockford nodded curtly in the girls’ direction as you returned his confirmation. It would be entirely inappropriate for Tim to question them at such a time as this. But with a proper introduction from the sheriff, you might be able to offer some solace, perhaps in exchange for essential information. “This is my story, this is my song

Praising my Savior all the day long. This is my story, this is my song. Praising my Savior all the day long”. You admired the voices raised in shaky song, here at the First Methodist Church of Holcomb, Kansas. You were more determined than ever to get some kind of justice for the Clutter Family, who by all accounts were upstanding citizens and well-loved members of a tight-knit community. Wincing with remembrance, you only wished you came from a similar experience, but maybe this could be a small chance at redemption. “Perfect submission, perfect delight. Visions of rapture now burst on my sight. Angels descending bring from above. Echoes of mercy, whispers of love”. 

The service proceeded as family members and neighborly friends spoke about the deceased family with love and admiration. Mr. Clutter was described as a pillar of Holcomb Community, member of the Federal Farm Credit Board and a respected name among Midwestern agriculturists. His wife, Bonnie Clutter was a fragile wisp of creature who had often been plagued by maladies and chronic illnesses. Timid and pious, she attempted to run the household from her sheltered state, giving Herbert Clutter four children in total; Eve Anna and Beverly who had grown and left the family residence, and Nancy and Kenyon Clutter, the younger two siblings who had experienced the dismal fate of their aforementioned parents. Nancy had recently appeared in the school play, to resounding applause, and the youngest boy, Kenyon, was a well-liked but more introverted youth who mostly kept to himself. There were no obvious indications whatsoever of what could have motivated a crime of this magnitude. You batted away the looming possibility that a close relative might somehow benefit from an insurance policy of some kind. There was still so much information you had yet to gather.

"In this moment, let me also speak on the subject of forgiveness, as we the community try to make sense of the inexplicable" the Reverend ventured, as a nervous cough appeared from the back of the congregation. "In the same way we have opened our hearts to the visiting extended Clutter Family, they have invited us to do the same in our own hearts and minds henceforth. I have heard some congregants, on more than one occasion, suppose that the criminals of this dastardly deed should be hanged from the nearest tree. But let us continue in the spirit of Christianity itself when I encourage us to forgive, as God would have us do. For they shall know we are Christians, by our love" the Reverend's voice rang out in the all but silent church as you hazarded a sideways glance at Rockford, who seemed undeterred. "The deed is done and taking another life cannot change it. It is not right that we should hold a grudge in our hearts. The doer of this act is going to find it very difficult indeed to live with himself. Hi sonly peace of mind will be when he goes to God for forgiveness. Let us not stand in the way, but instead give prayers that he may find his peace".

You looked more intently at Rockford's visage to try to glean his emotional response to this retort, but his focus was in observance of those around him, probably searching for a similar motivation. Was it possible to consider that the murderer of the Clutter Family was in this very room? The probability seemed unlikely, but not nearly as impossible as the investigative task before you. Perhaps justice and forgiveness could not proceed hand in hand, and it was not your business to even attempt it.

“Let us now proceed to Valley View Cemetery on the north edge of the city for our graveside services, and recitation of the Lord’s Prayer. I know the Clutter Family will join us, even posthumously, in our mutual praise and worship of the everlasting and eternal God”. The congregation rose once again as the organ sprang to life with a final refrain of “Amazing Grace”, as people began to quietly and pensively leave. You firmly grabbed Rockford’s wrist nodding in the direction of the girls before catching the eye of the nearby sheriff. Tim gave a quick wink, and headed in the opposite direction, presumably to find Bobby Rupp or investigate another suspect while he had the chance. The Sheriff met you towards the front of the sanctuary, as the girls held one another in a firm embrace, sniffling quietly to themselves as the mourners exited. 

“Ladies, I wanted to make a special introduction of our newfound friend from the Rockford Investigative Agency” the sheriff smiled with encouragement as you offered a handkerchief which the girls declined. “I know you have already been through so much…” his voice cracked with emotion, much like this morning, and your heartstrings pulled ever so slightly once again.

“Nancy, Susan…I don’t want you to feel obligated to speak with me after such a horrendous event” you bit your lower lip humbly, clutching your purse for some sort of emotional anchoring. “I just want you to know that I’m here if you ever…want to speak to me about what you witnessed…” you trailed off, smiling wanly at passersby and craning your neck to see if Tim were having any more luck. This was going to be a delicate process, and you wouldn’t blame anyone for wanting to avoid the microscopic attention Holcomb County was about to receive.

“I can’t get the images out of my head” Susan whimpered quietly, as her school friend Nancy Ewalt hugged her ever more tightly. “Never in a million years did I think such a thing would happen in our town”. Nancy nodded emphatically, as her hair bobbed around her.

“I couldn’t even stand to wear black today” Nancy’s face scrunched with overwhelming emotion, looking imploringly at the sheriff who helplessly gazed back. “Nancy and me was like twins, on account of our names, and friendship and all. I can’t sleep. Can’t eat. All I do is remember and remember” the girls both trembled slightly in one another’s grasp. “I think it might actually help to talk about…what we saw….and how we feel” Susan ventured, looking to Nancy for support who nodded quietly. The Sheriff pressed his lips together dolefully as you stretched a comforting hand towards Nancy’s back as she finally broke down into silent sobs.

“Let’s get you to the cemetery to make your final goodbyes, and we can set something up later this week. Does that sound okay?” you gently questioned, beckoning the girls forward and hugging Nancy tightly around the shoulder as you exited. They agreed to meet up for tea once things had quieted down a bit, and the sheriff continued to escort them onward as you met Tim at the church doors. You shook your head with lament, catching Tim’s equally darkened countenance. A brash young man tore past you both, nearly hitting Rockford’s shoulder en route and barreling past the rest of the congregation before anyone had a chance to speak to him.

“Bobby Rupp?” you questioned, catching Rockford’s grave expression.

“The boyfriend” he offered, watching Bobby recede into the distance. “Think I convinced him to join me at the diner tomorrow for a man to man talk. I might be city folk, but there’s nothing here that says hometown motivated quadruple homicide. That kid is mad as piss and vinegar, and I don’t blame him. Hell of a thing”, Rockford rationalized, drawing a hand to your lower back in emotional support. 

Rockford stifled a yawn while taking in the burgeoning colors of dusk tinting the steadily approaching evening sky. You brought a tentative hand up to his face, fingering the five o’clock shadow that was already appearing. “I’d say this has been fatiguing for all of us, to say nothing of someone, who shall remain nameless…” Rockford’s face relaxed with a humble chagrin, “who had been driving for ten hours straight”.

“Only so many things a cup of joe can fix” he rationalized, swallowing another yawn and looking towards the nearby Ford Falcon. “Let’s get a jump on the evening respite and we can start the day anew tomorrow. We can pick up the reports from the Sheriff and interview the youth to start” Rockford seemed to be convincing himself of a plan of action that didn’t involve running you both into the ground before the investigation had even started. You felt the pressure of success as well, but Rockford was right; justice would have to wait until tomorrow. You both headed to the car, arm in arm, anxious to uproot the unknown poison that was tainting the otherwise idyllic community of Holcomb County, Kansas.

The Ford Falcon puttered onto the main thoroughfare of Finney County, rounding the corner to arrive at the grandiose Windsor Hotel. You would not have thought such an establishment would be housed at the city’s epicenter, but noticing the bustling, nearly cosmopolitan energy of the main street, you were immediately thankful. If the funeral had been any indication, there could easily be hundreds of people milling around the otherwise sleepy town, hoping to get a look at the dramatic nature of the recent tragedy. Your anonymous benefactor had set up the reservation, before Rockford was even officially on the case, and whenever you discerned their identity, you would have to thank them for it. Your eyelids drooped tiredly, as Rockford lightly smacked the edge of the car door with his hand good-naturedly. “Be right back with our rooms, doll…” his ragged voice blurred around the edges as you gazed into the back of the messy Ford. Despite losing several newspaper clippings en route, you still had a few boxes of files, and were hoping to add to that from the Sheriff’s collection.

What a whirlwind beginning. You had not barely been in Los Angeles for a moment’s breath, before finding yourself at the center of one of the most talked about and sensationalized crimes in recent midwestern history. You tiredly emerged from the car, hefting a small box of files along with the small transportable typewriter into the front seat. You were starting to get a better idea of how your services might prove truly valuable. Rockford was an impressive P.I, but he didn’t have a midwestern sensibility, and there were some sensitivities that only a woman could provide. You were curious to resume your conversation with Nancy and Susan to get a better idea of the details surrounding the scene of the quadruple homicide, when you noticed Rockford slowly ambling back to the Ford Falcon. You knew you were both tired, but there seemed to be an added gait of dejection as his figure approached the car.

“Doll…I think we may have encountered our first bona fide small town scandal, I just wasn’t planning on being in the middle of it…” Tim nebulously began, shifting his weight awkwardly before you, a blushing tinge dotting the tops of his ears. He was cute when he was embarrassed.

“More scandalous than a four person murder?” you proffered, shifting the box to the side of your hip. “What is it now?” you wondered, taking in Rockford’s humorous and unknown conundrum.

“Well, seems that the hotel reservation is just for one…” he halted, looking around the crowded thoroughfare… “and the town is bustin’ at the seams with lookie-loos and passersby”. A growing awareness drifted into your periphery as Rockford’s cheeks reddened still further. “That is to say, in the most respectful of ways possible…notwithstanding any professional impropriety…” Tim began to stutter adolescently, rubbing the back of his neck with self-consciousness.

Your mouth dropped open with incredulity, “Oh will you spit it out Rockford? Are we sharing a room?” you asked tentatively before meeting Tim’s uneasy expression.

“We’re sharin’ a bed” he muttered with discomfort, looking around the square helplessly and shrugging with irritation. “It’s like somethin’ Biblical. There’s no more room at the inn!” he winced, trying to lighten the mood before catching your similarly humiliated expression and pausing dramatically. “I had to tell ‘em we were married”.

You nearly dropped the box of files before starting to laugh in hysterics at the incredulity of the unexpected situation. “Let me get this straight…” you guffawed, between bouts of strained laughter, “I have not only become employed in the last 24 hours, but I am now also MARRIED? And working for my faux HUSBAND?” you gasped between laughter, only slightly bruised at the similarity to past indiscretions Rockford had yet to learn of, which you weren’t anxious to regale him with.

“Till death do us part?” Tim’s playfully beleaguered expression elicited another round of laughter from you as you set the box on the passengers seat and doubled over with a fit of giggles before quieting down as the reality hit you. “Look I might be city folk, but I’m no turkey…” Rockford held out his hands in supplication before straightening his tie resolutely. “I’ll just be sleepin’ on the floor is all…” he nodded, as though deciding for you both, as you leaned against the car door with fatigue. Your eyes glazed over with defeat, huffing quietly as the evening air started to chill. You certainly weren’t going to have him sleep in the Ford Falcon. You took a deep breath before stealing yourself for the next leg of your adventure.

“Alright sweetheart, I’m not making you carry me over the threshold, but you’re gonna be bringing all of these boxes in yourself” you sarcastically joked, slamming the car door and taking in Rockford’s relieved expression.

“You got it, doll…I mean, Red” he chuckled, a wry smile curving the corner of his mouth mischievously.

“That’s Mrs. Rockford to you” you teased, grabbing the key from Tim’s outstretched hand and heading towards the Windsor Hotel. You offhandedly wondered if he were watching your curving figure as it sallied away from him. 

Till death do us part.

@littlemisspascal  @lizette50 @beefrobeefcal @sawymredfox @anelva @wordywarriorwrites @burntheedges @inept-the-magnificent @timelordfreya  @schnarfer @devineconjuring @mermaidgirl30 @galaxyedging @joelalorian @joelmillerisapunk @jennaispunk @sheepdogchick3 @marcus-is-my-muse @guiltyasdave  @copperhalfcent @bluesweaters15 @drewharrisonwriter @darkheartgatita @harriedandharassed @brittmb115 @confusedpuffin @yorksgirl @quicax3 @shaunasflannel @shinyanchorobject

In Cold Blood; The Road Trip

Grab a Latte! lounge around in the foyer with this sweet fic "Coffee and Crisis" @albertasunrise before heading into the Bookshop!

Triggers: profanity, murder, smoking, major spoilers for "In Cold Blood" by Truman Capote, 1950's cultural misogyny, minimal physical descriptions of reader, small roadside accident, blood, references past problematic relationship, burgeoning workplace romance...

Series Masterlist

Words: 3.5k

A drop of salty perspiration travailed the distance down your curving spine, resting right at the dip of your back and tickling the remaining path lower. You squirmed in your seat against the harsh leather, re-crossing your legs in the opposite direction. Damn nylons. Rockford cleared his raspy throat, extinguishing the most recent of several cigarettes in the nearby overflowing ash tray. A dull headache was starting to creep up the back of your neck, punctuated by the flowery plumes of smoke. 

What had you gotten yourself into?

It certainly was too late to back out now, as you neared the Nevada border, from your whirlwind drive through Los Angeles and out onto Interstate Ten. This was the most unexpected road trip you had ever embarked upon, but here you were nonetheless; newfound secretary to Private Investigator Tim Rockford, and headed towards your uncertain future of mystery and mayhem. You were about to launch into one of the most intriguing and confounding investigations regarding the Clutter Family Murders in Holcomb, Kansas. Even though it sounded like something out of those crime novels you loved to read, this couldn’t have felt more real. More real than the stinging smoke as it lodged at the back of your irritated throat. More real than the rising temperatures, adding to the heat and oppression of your haphazard decision making. More real than the nausea that was curling in the pit of your stomach and forcing you to question your pell-mell life choices. But you were employed, dammit, and eager to learn more about the unknown world of homicide, enigma and investigation.

“Read it again, doll” Rockford complained, shaking his head with infuriation as he gripped the steering wheel tightly beneath his freckled knuckles. You cleared your throat quietly and repeated one of the many newspaper clippings that sat piled in your lap.

“The Kansas City Star reports that the investigators will be faced with a search for a killer or killers whose cunning is apparent if his or their motive is not. For this killer or killers carefully cut the telephone cords of the home’s two telephones. bound and gagged their victims expertly, with no evidence of a struggle with any of them. Left nothing in the house amiss, left no indication they had searched for anything with the possible exception of the Clutter billfold. Subsequently shot four persons in different parts of the house, calmly picking up the expended shotgun shells. Arrived and left the home presumably with the murder weapon, without being seen. Acted without a motive, if you care to discount an abortive robbery attempt, which the investigators are wont to do”.

The repetitive chug of the Ford Falcon puttered reassuringly as Rockford reached up to grab yet another cigarette. 

“Don’t…..please….” you implored, unfastening another blouse button and wiping at your neck with a moistening handkerchief. Already hotter than hell, and the cigarette smoke wasn’t helping.

“Sorry, doll” Rockford acknowledged, returning the carton to his shirt pocket and cranking the window down another inch as the papers rustled in the breeze. “Damned if I can figure out what the motive is” he grumbled, reaching instead for a packet of Wrigley’s Doublemint gum and tentatively offering you a stick, which you declined. “Who in the hell shoots an entire family for a simple billfold?” Tim pondered between bites, crumpling the wrapper and messily throwing it into the backseat. You could see why he needed your secretarial skills.

“Where should we start with a case like this?” you asked curiously, rubbing the bridge of your nose with exasperation. You wanted to be a source of assistance and organization, but had no idea where to begin. Maybe you could be the sounding board for his own investigative process. As much as you wanted to portray an air of confidence and experience, you had neither. Mostly, outside of the uncomfortable car seat, staunch cigarette fumes and stifling heat, you were still keen to provide whatever resources you could, but were already feeling like the weak link. None of the newspaper clippings could make sense of an irrational crime that couldn’t even harken back to a bona fide motive.

“I don’t know what to tell you, doll” Rockford mumbled, reaching for the nearby car lighter and then thinking better of it. You shifted with discomfort at the repeatedly used nickname. Doll. “There are some things you can only sniff out in person. That’s why we’re headed to Holcomb, Kansas. Get a lay of the land. A feel for the town talk. Root out whatever vile and sordid secrets those down-home kinfolk are bound to be hiding” he paused to reflect on his plan of action when arriving. “Don’t know about you, but I never really trusted a sleepy, mid-western, Bible belt town” he mentioned, almost as an afterthought before you grimly retorted;

“I’M from the midwest” you bristled, though not entirely happy about it either. Tim’s gaze uncomfortably shifted sideways as he re-situated himself in the driver’s seat with a loud cough.

“Oh. Sorry doll” he backpedaled as you answered with a curt and abbreviated huff.

“Look, just call me Red, Mr. Rockford, and don’t misunderstand me. There are plenty of busybodies poking into everyone’s business. Gossiping might be the main order of the day, and the best judgements might be waged by any Bible-toting, nearby neighbor in sleepy Finney County. But it’s no better than the seedy and polluted streets of downtown L.A. Maybe our sins are a bit more polished, but I don’t suppose anyone deserves a quadruple murder next to their slice of apple pie, wouldn’t you say?” the puttering sounds of the Ford Falcon punctuated your surprising reprimand as Rockford’s eyebrows shot sky high. You bit your lower lip with a bit of chagrin. Rockford had unknowingly stepped right into a burgeoning emotional wound, but that couldn’t be helped now. You could almost hear the sardonic bit of William’s condescending voice in your ear, but swatted it away with chagrin. If you were going to hold your own in a world of criminals and justice seekers, now wasn’t the time to be a shrinking violet. Any secretary worth their salt was going to offer some insight, and you were determined to earn every iota of this impending adventure. 

“Sorry doll…I mean…Red” the corner of his mouth twitched upwards in a humble smile as you felt yourself relaxing a bit in the heat. You took several deep breaths to steady yourself and smooth out the wrinkled newspapers in your lap. 

“That’s alright” you finally admitted, swallowing dryly and tilting your head back against the headrest. “Guess I’m a little more sensitive than I thought” you wondered, reaching up to lazily twist a small curl of hair around your finger pensively. “But, that might be a good place to start when we finally arrive. Plenty of busybodies in a small town like Holcomb, Kansas. I know first hand the mighty power they can wield. An entire neighborhood of amateur investigators” you chuckled bitterly, searching through the newspapers once again for any new nuggets of information.

“Don’t suppose they all have shotguns, do they?” Rockford tried to joke, catching the roll of your eyes with a delighted smirk.

“Let’s hope not” you smiled, picking through the available research. Rockford hazarded a quick glance towards your reddened cheeks, a glistening drop of sweat dripping right down the center of your….EYES ON THE ROAD, he observed, absentmindedly reaching for the cigarette carton before encountering your pleading eyes once again.

“Sorry, sorry…” he repeated, shaking his head with embarrassment. “Read me that other one…the one with the Hefner Slaying…” his brow crinkled with consternation. “I know it was forty years ago, but maybe they’re related somehow…” you nodded with appreciation as you searched. 

“Okay, says here that ‘senior members of the small community can recall a wild goings-on of the Hefner Slaying. Mrs. Sadie Truitt, the hamlet’s septuagenarian mail messenger, is expert on this fabled affair. ‘August, it was. 1920. Hot as Hades. A fellow called Tunif was working on the Finnup Ranch. He had a car, turned out to be stolen. Turned out he was a soldier AWOL from Fort Bliss, over there in Texas. He was a rascal, sure enough and a lot of people suspected him. So one evening the sheriff rode out to the Finnup Ranch to ask Tunif a few straight forward questions. Third of August. Hot as Hades. Outcome of it was, Tunif shot the sheriff right through the heart. Poor Orlie was gone before he hit the ground. The devil who done it, he lit out of there on a horse and road east along the river. Word spread, and men for miles around made up a posse. Along the next morning, they caught up with him. He didn’t get the chance to say how d’you do? On account of the boys were pretty irate. They just let the buckshot fly”.

Rockford loosened his tie for the umpteenth time, before drawing it up and over his head with annoyance and tossing it in the back with the gum wrappers. He cracked the window down another inch as the newspapers fluttered in the breeze, eliciting a surprised gasp from you. “That sounds like the Finley Murder that happened in Holcomb, 1947” Rockford observed, as you tried to find the corresponding newspaper clipping.

“Mary Kay, stabbed with the jagged end of a beer bottle by that…Polk fella. All the makings of a cut and dry case. But nothing in the reports that suggests any of this foul play is related to the Clutter Family Murders. Just sounds like a town that has their own sense of justice, and won’t take kindly to strangers mucking around their dirty laundry” Tim rightly concluded as you nodded in affirmation.

The humble repetition of the car engine hummed beneath him for a few moments before you broke the relative silence. “I’m sorry I didn’t mean to snap at you earlier” you grumbled, searching for the next newspaper installment you had in mind.

“That’s okay, doll….RED” Rockford emphasized, smirking dryly. “S’been a long time since I’ve been around a real lady, and a road trip isn’t usually the way I…get to know one…” he sputtered, gripping the steering wheel more tightly, in lieu of holding a cigarette. “M’real grateful for your help and all, without so much as batting a pretty eyelash” he reddened slightly at the confession. “Even better if you have a mid-west mentality. I’m just a city mouse I guess. May not understand all the home-grown, Americana the way I should…” he self-deprecated, rubbing a hand across the back of his neck and wiping the sweat down. Damn hot in here…

You smiled tenderly at his admission. The heat must have gotten to you more than you realized, as you nodded your head with recognition. “I appreciate your taking a chance on me” you sniffled quietly, focused intently on finding the next resource. “I guess we’ll have some time to…get to know each other” you ventured, attempting to narrow your gaze from the broadness of his nearby thigh to the stack of papers sitting in front of you. This was going to be a lot of togetherness.

Rockford pressed his lips tightly together, choosing a forced silence rather than a continued haphazard bumbling. You gasped slightly with the finding of a report from The Wichita Eagle as you quickly read out loud,

“Officers will be investigating the tragic slaying of four members of the Herbert W. Clutter Family and have appealed to the public for any information which might aid in solving this baffling crime. Clutter, his wife and their two teen-age children were found murdered in their farm home near Garden City early last Sunday morning. Each had been bound, gagged and shot through the head with a .12-gauge shotgun”.

You paused in the reading as a wave of nausea passed over you. Taking a steadying breath, you continued, 

“Investigating officials admit they can discover no motive for the crime, termed by Logan Sanford, Director of the Kansas Bureau of Investigation as the most vicious in the history of Kansas….”. 

Rockford sighed heavily, flicking the switches of the car fan repeatedly, trying to get more air cycling through. “Just a matter of time before Finney County is swarming with every looky-loo and governmental official, if not already. M’not sure how much good we can do, other than dirty our noses a bit…” he rationalized, grabbing the carton once again and lighting a cigarette without thinking.

“Rockforrrrrrd!” you whined, attempting to cover your nose with the nearby handkerchief as he rolled the window down abruptly.

“Sorry doll…I mean RED…GODDAMIT!” he yelled as the newspapers fluttered out the window in a stream of literary nuisance as the car pitched dangerously from side to side. Rockford hit the brakes suddenly, checking his rear view mirror, though there hadn’t been a nearby car in hours. The Ford Falcon bumbled to an awkward stop as you jumped out of the car without thinking, running after the scattering newspaper clippings and laughing at the absurdity of the situation. Rockford emerged from the car with incredulity, watching you meander around the highway amidst the tumbling tumble weeds and surprised desert life, placing his hands resolutely on his hips. “TAKE IT EASY RED!!!” he yelled good-naturedly, watching your curvaceous figure stooping and bobbing demurely atop your office heels, the desert wind buffeting your once coiffed hairstyle. You were just about to counter with a sassy retort when your heel stuck in the asphalt, pitching you unceremoniously atop the heated highway, a painful burning sensation ripping through your nylons and bruising more than your ego.

“RED!” Rockford’s concerned voice was a bit lost in the din of the desert winds as you winced tenderly, your palms catching most of your weight and absorbing the searing heat of the ground beneath you.

“Jesus Christ” Rockford was almost immediately at your side, the crunch of gravel underneath his foot as he lowered to one knee and cupped your face in his hand. “You okay, Red?” he nearly shouted into your face as you squinted up at him slightly dumbstruck. This wasn’t the most auspicious beginning to your secretarial career, but you were mostly just embarrassed. You began to sit up shakily before noticing the rip of nylon and streak of blood cascading down your leg. Ooops. Rockford’s image swam in front of you for a millisecond before you steadied yourself bracingly. You took several deep breaths, trying to get your bearings and lamenting the lost newspaper clippings. 

“Shit” you mumbled, delicately brushing the asphalt from your legs as Rockford comfortingly shushed you. You felt the flat of his hand rubbing in large circles against your back soothingly as you swayed lightly at the motion.

“Got the pretty little mouth of a sailor I see” he chuckled, placing a hand lightly at your ankle and surveying the blossoming line of red beneath your nylon.

“It’s not that bad” you slurred slightly, clearing your throat and fingering the nylon tentatively.

“I’ll be the judge of that” Tim observed, now touching your knee sweetly and gazing down at you imploringly. “Do you mind?” he wondered, gesturing to your leg. You shook your head mutely, licking your parched lips in confusion. Without another moment of hesitation he deftly ripped the nylon right down the middle, a fresh trickle of blood appearing but quickly pooling in the arid heat. You jumped slightly at the quick motion, surprisingly aroused, albeit concerned. “Can you stand up, doll?” he asked, looping a sure hand around your waist and pulling you towards him. Your eyes widened to doe-like saucers, smelling his nearby musk mixed with an unknown desert flower of some kind. Without waiting for an answer he brought you smoothly to your feet as you hopped tentatively on one shoeless foot, wrapping your arms tightly around his neck for support. “Took a tumble, huh?” he soothed, his face strangely silhouetted by the blinding noonday sun.

“I lost the newspapers” you whispered, pouting slightly with frustration before Rockford swept you up in a cradle hold.

“Pretty sure that was MY fault, Red” Rockford admitted as you pointed furiously at the Cinderella-like shoe behind him. He bended down gruffly as you grabbed it with possession, Rockford carting you back to the idling car. “I think we got the gist of it on the ride here” he placated. “We’re about to join the narrative ourselves, if we play our cards right” Tim professed, setting you down gently at the passengers seat and grabbing the handkerchief strewn across the dashboard. “Now if I stop acting like a damn idiot….” he stuck his thumb roughly in his mouth with a quick lick, bringing it swiftly to your knee to staunch the trickle of blood. An intake of air passed over your lips as he gazed at you concernedly, soon pressing the handkerchief in his stead. “Hold that nice and tight, Red. Think you’ll be okay till we get to the motel in a bit?” he asked, his hand drifting up and down your calf reassuringly as your eyes glazed over with fatigue.

“Mmmhmmm…” you managed to get out, as his forehead crinkled with worry. 

“You just sit back now, I’ll get us there in no time” Rockford offered, shutting the door gently to your side and hopping back in the driver’s seat. “Maybe we can stop at a diner en route, it’s still a bit of a drive till we reach the halfway point. Hoping we can get to Utah by late evening, if you feel up to it?” he quarried, watching you intently as the car rolled to life again.

“I’ll try to be more careful” you shook your head with embarrassment, looking down at the dried blood starting to mat your ripped nylon. Some doll.

“Think it’s ‘sposed to be me in harm’s way” Rockford chuckled dolefully, placing a heavy hand on your upper thigh, but then quickly removing it as you jumped with excitement. “Don’t want you to worry your head about anything on this trip. I’ve a mind to find justice any which way I can, and I’m thankful to not be doing it alone” he responded curtly, fixing his eyes straight ahead and setting his jaw squarely. You hadn’t always been the best judge of character, but after the end of a long and painful relationship with William, the newfound liberation of a fresh start in Los Angeles had emboldened you. Rockford, P.I. was a good man, and if you could be a small part of the hunt for justice, then it would take more than a ripped nylon and bruised ego to dissuade you from your task. The Clutter Family certainly deserved as much. You smiled tiredly under his watchful gaze, drifting into a lazy sleep for the afternoon.

As promised, Rockford had found a diner just outside of the developing Vegas strip. You had gingerly hobbled into the establishment, amidst some concerned looks, and headed to the restroom to smooth out your disheveled hair, and carefully remove the now unnecessary nylons. The abrasion had easily clotted, and you wiped off the excess blood judiciously, emerging to find that Rockford had already ordered lunch for the both of you.  You both fell into easy rapport, relaxing from the day’s early adventure and starting to forge a professional relationship that you hoped would develop into a friendship. Right. A friendship. 

Watching Rockford tuck into a B.L.T you swallowed your glass of milk, watching him pensively. Rockford was an attractive man. You had certainly noticed in your quick morning interview, but…you gulped defensively. Slow down, Red, you chastised yourself silently, watching Rockford drag the back of his hand hungrily across his steadily chewing mouth. You just got out of a long term relationship, the last thing you need is jumping into bed with your boss. Your cheeks blushed at the unbidden thought as you both sat comfortably, prepping for the second half of the day’s journey.

It was nearly nightfall when the Ford Falcon jittered into the Kanab Roadside Motel parking lot, as Rockford secured your adjoining rooms and carried your small suitcase next to his own. Pausing at the doorway, he unlocked your room shyly, handing you the valise and turning back to his own. 

“You gonna be okay there, Red?” he shrugged, chewing the bottom of his lip with concern. It was only the first leg of the journey, and somehow he already felt like a bit of a failure. You smiled tiredly with encouragement, nodding in silence. 

“Good night, Tim” you yawned, waving your hand before closing the door behind you and plopping down with exhaustion on the squeaky mattress. Your first day as a professional secretary to Rockford, P.I.

A dull knock resonated through the wall as you heard Tim’s muffled voice, “I’ll be right here if you need anything….”. You giggled quietly, already feeling the tendrils of sleep tugging at the corners of your consciousness. You reasoned that taking off your high heels was a good place to start, before slowly drifting into a happy evening oblivion, and dreaming about what adventures might await the heroic tales of Red and Rockford, P.I.

You will never believe it, but I am headed back your way with an exciting new job opportunity! I know you had some reservations about my moving to L.A after...But I have been hired by Rockford Investigative Services to research the Clutter Family Murder in Holcomb, Kansas. I feel really lucky to be on this adventures, though it is not without its bumps and bruises. I hope you will be proud of me. I am definitely in good hands. Don't know if I'll have time to stop by on this trip, but will still see you for Thanksgiving... Your Loving Daughter

@littlemisspascal  @lizette50 @beefrobeefcal @sawymredfox @anelva @wordywarriorwrites @burntheedges @inept-the-magnificent @timelordfreya  @schnarfer @devineconjuring @mermaidgirl30 @galaxyedging @joelalorian @joelmillerisapunk @jennaispunk @sheepdogchick3 @marcus-is-my-muse @guiltyasdave  @copperhalfcent @bluesweaters15 @drewharrisonwriter @darkheartgatita @harriedandharassed @brittmb115 @confusedpuffin @yorksgirl @quicax3 @shaunasflannel @shinyanchorobject

Baby Pedge

Oh man, Baby Pedge is the cutest. I've been thinking a lot about the start of any artistic journey and the many roads our dreams can lead us to. Delighted to see his recent appearance at Cannes with the beautiful Lux, and relishing the fruition of so many aspirations, finally realized. A reminder to all of us burgeoning artists that the moment of success is not always the moment most apparent to the crowd. But it's nice when we get to enjoy both...

Preview; RPF

You turned in his embrace, desperately trying to locate the chocolate depths of his eyes in the darkened room. “You didn’t ruin a thing, Pedge” you began. “As artists, we get to experience all of this together, wherever we find ourselves. Our victories. Our defeats. It’s one big tapestry, and it’s nice to find ourselves knitted together.” Even in the dark, you could feel the intensity of his gaze pouring into you. “Was tonight okay? I mean…do you need more?” you stuttered, eager to show your support in whatever way you could. The silence stretched out before you as your heart fluttered nervously in your chest. Perhaps you had said too much…Had the intimacy of the day somehow threatened your easy friendship? You heard a single tear patter to the pillowcase as Pedge caught you in an unexpected and passionate kiss. You held each other, attempting to hold time further still. “Today was everything I needed, and more” Pedge whispered. “Thank you for being my friend. I’m proud of you” he smiled, and your heart exploded in your chest with joy. “I’m proud of you, P” you whispered back, slowly starting to drift into a happy haze, feeling the hairs of his beard bristling at your neck and his arms wrapped firmly around your waist in comfort. “You’ve got a big day tomorrow, just rest” his voice echoed in the recesses of your mind before you fell asleep.

For anyone that enjoys RPF I hope you will check out my New York, New York Series and pair it with Pedge's Jukebox for the full immersive experience! I know RPF isn't for everyone, but Pedge is my avatar for para-social feelings, and I've been neglecting them for too long. Buckle up, it's going to be a bumpy ride!

Thank you @auteurdelabre for our beautiful coloring book!

@lizette50 @beefrobeefcal @sawymredfox @anelva @wordywarriorwrites @burntheedges @inept-the-magnificent @timelordfreya  @schnarfer @devineconjuring @mermaidgirl30 @galaxyedging @joelalorian @joelmillerisapunk @jennaispunk @sheepdogchick3 @marcus-is-my-muse @guiltyasdave  @copperhalfcent @bluesweaters15 @drewharrisonwriter @darkheartgatita @harriedandharassed @brittmb115 @confusedpuffin @yorksgirl @quicax3 @shaunasflannel @shinyanchorobject

In Cold Blood; The Exposition

Grab a Latte! lounge around in the foyer with this sweet fic "Happy to Help" @itwasntimethatdidit40, before heading into the Bookshop!

Triggers: mentions of alcohol/smoking, huge spoilers for the Truman Capote classic "In Cold Blood" which is referenced A LOT, profanity, romance, common themes from 1959, slight misogyny, murder and mayhem! Enjoy....

Series Masterlist

Word Count: 3k

A seedy and polluted haze drifted over the din of the L.A. basin as Tim Rockford inhaled a slow drag from another satisfying smoke. Just another day in the life of investigation, as the gears of inspection ground down to a wearied lull. Another night for Chinese Take out, thought the P.I as he loosened the strap of his gun holster and downed the first of several whiskeys. Rockford didn’t mind being a private investigator. If pressed, he’d go so far as to say, he absolutely loved it; the adventure, the intrigue, the search for truth amidst a grimy haze of innuendo and misdirection. 

But on tired nights, such as these, he also wondered if a soft, feminine body wouldn’t cushion the loneliness. Begrudgingly extinguishing the cigarette and flicking the light switch, he grabbed his coat, poised to enter the bustling Los Angeles night life before….

A phone rang. 

HIS phone rang, in the echoing and empty office building he populated with so many others. Who would be calling at this hour? He paused but a millisecond to lift the phone receiver, anticipating the tinny crackle of an undisclosed voice.

“Tim Rockford; Private Investigator for hire”. An eerie silence permeated the landline, as Rockford sucked through his teeth with annoyance. “Look Mack, I’m on my way out, so make it quick…”. The line immediately bristled to life as a tentative, high-pitched nasal voice cut through the auditory ether.

“Tim Rockford?” the voice nonsensically repeated, as though caught in an unexpected moment. Rockford cocked his head to the side with curiosity. He wasn't often contacted by a woman, particularly this late at night.

“In the flesh” Tim answered, with softening annoyance. What was this? Rockford had some Moo Shu Pork to order before this whiskey threatened his already cranky stomach lining. Maybe egg rolls were a good idea as a chaser, he pondered, waiting for the caller to get up their gumption. “What can I do you for?” he probed, shifting his weight impatiently. 

“Tim Rockford….in Los Angeles…Tim Rockford, Private Investigator?” the voice gained a little anonymous momentum, as Tim tried to wrangle his increasing disdain.

“Look doll, I don’t care if you’ve got the zorros, but make it quick will ya? I’ve got a plate of stir fry with my name on it….” Rockford admonished, wondering if he should take his raincoat off or not.

“Yes! Yes, Mr. Rockford, forgive my hesitancy. Um….are you familiar with Holcomb? Holcomb, Kansas?” 

Rockford froze with intensity, looking around the quiet, darkened room. Of course, he’d heard of Holcomb, Kansas. The recent catastrophic four person, Clutter Family murder had painted the newspapers over the last couple weeks, and the entire investigative community was alight. Who would do such a thing in a sleepy, unassuming town? It had all the markings of a robbery gone wrong, but what could have led to such unmitigated violence? Tim’s inquisition and sense of justice was immediately heightened, but he tried to play it off as the cool cat he was.

“Plastered all over the news, paper shaker. What’s it to me?” his stomach gurgled audibly as he waited with rapt anticipation. He wanted in. This was maybe the biggest crime of the decade, and chance had potentially dropped a prime opportunity in the palm of his hand.

Another dramatic pause of introspection gripped the receiver before the voice admitted, “We need help Mr. Rockford. This case is much bigger than anyone here in Finney County can muster. It’s only a matter of time before the Kansas Bureau of Investigations comes snooping into all our business, and we want someone we can trust. You know, a man of the people…” the voice confessed.

Score.

“Alright doll, how many smackers are we talkin’?” Rockford chewed his lip with anticipation. He had just finished a recent case and there were no prospects on the horizon. Well, unless you counted the secretarial search, but a hook as large as this one would necessitate two…no…four weeks of investigation, travel and per diem. Maybe even justicial glory for the taking.

“Well….we took up a little charity offering at the town hall yesterday. Managed to dig up about one hundred dollars…” Rockford rolled his eyes before draping a weary hand over his furrowed brow. One hundred dollars? That would barely cover two weeks salary, to say nothing of the cost of food and travel. He stalled momentarily, unsure of his footing as the caller placated.

“Please Mr. Rockford, I think you might be our only hope”.

Rockford held his breath, weighing the options. The pay wasn’t as enticing as he’d hoped, but the rewards would far outweigh any monetary reparations. If his moniker was attached to solving the crime of the decade, it was only a matter of time before Rockford P.I. was a household name.

“I can be there in about two days” Rockford’s gravelly voice betrayed a hint of child-like enthusiasm as the anonymous caller rattled off the important details.

“Oh thank you Mr. Rockford, P.I., sir. I can’t tell you what a boon this is for Holcomb, Kansas. We are just beside ourselves with worry” the voice pleaded as Rockford nodded with encouragement.

“Damndest thing I’ve heard of in a while” Rockford admitted. “I’ll get to work straight away. See you in a few days, Mrs.….?”….but the line went dead at the potential inquiry.

Hmmm. Not a good sign. But Rockford was already planning his next move. Grab every piece of newspaper clippings, roadmaps and literature he could get his hands on. Pack a suitcase for a few weeks in Holcomb, Kansas, hop in his trusty Ford Falcon tomorrow morning and start the arduous task of uncovering the truth in the “Clutter Family Murders”.

Now, all he needed was an egg roll, some Moo Shu Pork and a good night’s sleep. Finney County, Holcomb, Kansas….here I come.

The mellifluous voice of Frankie Avalon drifted from your record player singing the dulcet tones of “Why” as you teased your bouffant just a bit higher.

I'll never let you go Why? Because I love you I'll always love you so Why? Because you love me

You bit your lower lip, already smudging the dark red lipstick you had freshly applied. Who did you think you were, Marilyn Monroe? You were reaching for the stars, not trying to ascend to heaven with the height of your questionable hairstyle. Opting for a more humble approach, you shifted your pantyhose awkwardly as they began to ride up your ass. So much for new fashions. 

No broken hearts for us 'Cause we love each other And with our faith and trust There could be no other

You had already been to more interviews than you could count, and opportunities were starting to become scarce. For most employers money was tight, and you didn’t have an official secretarial certificate to fall back on. But you were talented, skilled, full of moxie, and today on this potentially mediocre Tuesday, that was all you needed. 

I think you're awfully sweet Why? Because I love you You say I'm your special treat Why? Because you love me

You nodded curtly at your beleaguered expression in the mirror, grabbing your coat and heading for the door.  You were determined to land this next employment, come hell or high-water, and were willing to do whatever it took. Well, ALMOST whatever it took, you noted, grabbing your thermos of coffee and heading for the bus stop. This Mr. Rockford P.I wouldn’t know what hit him, you mused, locking the door securely behind you and strutting forward confidently. At least you would try to look damn good...while you, once again, fell flat on your coifed face...

We found the perfect love Yes, a love that's yours and mine I love you and you love me I love you and you love me We'll love each other dear forever

Rockford had spent most of a sleepless night pouring over the many newspaper clippings he had accumulated about the Clutter Family Murders. Somehow the Moo Shu Pork remained relatively untouched. The trades could always be sensational, but the distinction of these reports was indicated by everything they DIDN’T say. This was a veritable bloodbath, which had done quite enough to set Tim off his much anticipated dinner. The main point of contention seemed to be the cause for such a grandiose and seemingly incomprehensible atrocity. The Clutter Family did not seem to possess extravagant monetary means. They were well-loved and admired by the town of Holcomb, Kansas; couldn’t have been more quintessentially traditional than apple pie.

What had gone wrong?

One newspaper clipping had stood out. Such was the descriptive narrative by a reporter named…Capote something…Rockford had all but obsessed on its picturesque description. 

“Until one morning in mid-November of 1959, few Americans-in fact, few Kansans had ever heard of Holcomb. Like the water of the river, like the motorists on the highway, and like the yellow trains streaking down the Santa Fe tracks, drama, in the shape of exceptional happenings, had never stopped there. The inhabitants of the village, numbering two hundred and seventy, were satisfied that this should be so, quite content to exist inside ordinary life-to work, to hunt, to watch television, to attend school socials, choir practice, meetings of the 4-H Club. But then, in the early hours of that morning in November, a Sunday morning, certain foreign sounds impinged on the normal nightly Holcomb noises on the keening hysteria of coyotes, the dry scrape of scuttling tumbleweed, the racing, receding wail of locomotive whistles. At the time, not a soul in sleeping Holcomb heard them-four shotgun blasts that, all told, ended four human lives. But afterward the townspeople, therefore sufficiently unfearful of each other to seldom trouble to lock their doors, found fantasy recreating them over and again-those somber explosions that stimulated fires of mistrust in the glare of which many old neighbors viewed each other strangely, and as strangers.”

Rockford issued a heavy sigh, dragging himself to his feet, pouring himself into the Ford Falcon and making a quick trip to the office. He rubbed the bridge of his nose with irritation and fatigue. Maybe a breakfast of whiskey and aspirin wasn’t TOTALLY out of order. He had started packing a small suitcase for the approaching trip, before realizing that most of his formative research and notes still remained at the office. Pulling into the parking lot of the building, his reliable Ford puttered to a smoky stop before Tim achingly lumbered up the stairs to his own office. Just ONE whiskey before the road. How many aspirin could you take on an empty stomach, he wondered before opening the door to find….

….the silkiest legs he had beholden in more time than he would care to admit.

The sounds of an imaginary saxophone seemed to permeate his now idling brain, as his eyes lugubriously dragged from the curving ankle up to the ironed skirt, and finally resting on the mischievous expression of an unknown female.

“Mr. Rockford, I presume?” you stood, outstretching a well-manicured hand into the dumbly, overstimulated countenance of a somewhat befuddled and handsomely disheveled private investigator.

“Ummmmm….” he stalled, simultaneously looking around the office to make sure nothing untoward lay in a public place. 

“I’m here for the secretarial interview” you immediately offered, as he kicked the door shut behind him, holding your hand tentatively in his surprisingly tender grasp.

A spark of acknowledgement flitted through his mind scape as he reconsidered the logic of a whisky chaser with breakfast. Damn. What a doll. Shame that I can’t investigate further, he lamented, dropping your hand with immediate chagrin and bustling about the office haphazardly.

“Look sweetheart, I don’t mean to be rude, but I’m just on my way out with an important case. I’m sorry the agency wasted your time, but I’ve got little to no time for a person of your….skill” Rockford seemed to be bumbling with his words as he gathered the important documents and research loosely in his grasp. Your expression immediately fell with disappointment before morphing into a confident transformation.

“I’m not with an agency!” you piped up, starting to organize his desk, such as it were, and placing a smelly, used cigar in the nearby wastebasket. “I’m a go-getter, and a single gal of wit and resource. Looks like you could use all the help you can get!” you blurted out enthusiastically, grabbing the pile of papers from Rockford’s surprised hold and smoothing them into an organized pile. “Now if you’ll just show me where the typewriter is, I can get to work on notating this important case of yours” you insisted, nearly shoving him to the side and plopping down in the main office chair as it squeaked with impetulance.

Tim smiled ruefully to himself, opening the side drawer that revealed assorted contents of handcuffs, pencils, paperclips and aspirin. Well weren’t you a fire starter? Typical redhead. He winced with regret, massaging the back of his neck with discomfort. Get ahold of yourself, fella; no time for night time fantasies in the day. Just let her down easy and head towards the next steps of your future. “Look Miss….?”

“You can call me Red” you offered definitively, beginning to rifle through Rockford’s drawers in order to appear decisive, but gasping ever so slightly upon discovering what appeared to be a spare revolver in the lower chest. Clearing your throat immediately you sallied forth, brushing past his broad shoulders and beginning to organize the disastrously unkempt file cabinets in desperation. 

You could NOT lose this job opportunity. You would do whatever it took…and this Mr. Rockford could just get on board sooner rather than later. Rockford stood smiling behind you, with a knowing agitation. Maybe he could employ your services after the case, but it wasn’t going to be easy to throw you off of his scent. Maybe intimidation was the key...

“Familiar with the Clutter Family Murders?” he all but interrogated, reaching over to slam the file cabinet shut, a puff of air displacing your auburn locks and eliciting a fast flourish of your feather-like eyelashes.

“Of course” you lied. It’s possible you had read something fleeting in the local newspapers, but most of your attention had been focused on securing a new job as fast as was humanly possible. It had been a long trek to L.A. and you weren’t enthusiastic about returning to your mid-western roots, with your tail between your legs. Determined to make something of yourself in the City of Angels, you stared back at Rockford with what you hoped was a steely gaze of determination. Rockford’s glance lowered ever so quickly to the plump, reddish hue of your lipsticked mouth. 

Damn. “Look doll…I mean…Red…I don’t know the intricacies of this case, I’ve only just started. But based on the trades, the scene is about as colorful as that perky nickname of yours. Not easy fixin’s for the eyes of a lady, to say nothing of a doll….” Rockford bluntly stated, as a thin shade of embarrassment crept up your neck and into your cheeks.

Damn. “Mr. Rockford, I don’t know how many ‘dolls’ you’ve employed in the past, but I am no shrinking violet” you tried to quell the slight tremor that laced your voice. Probably just…the excitement of a new job opportunity. “I am more than capable of fulfilling any secretarial duties, whether the crime is polite or not” you nodded curtly, perhaps in an attempt to convince even yourself. Rockford gazed at you appraisingly with a degree of skepticism.

“I can’t pay you…much” Tim muttered, hesitantly considering the options before him. This was quite possibly the biggest case he had ever been invited to solve, and it didn’t escape him that he might need all the help he could get—even from a distracting broad like you. Your visage shifted ever so slightly with the changing balance of power.

“I’m very interested in gaining more experience” you blurted out a bit too quickly before confidently placing your hands on your hips. “I can type 60 words per minute and make a darn good cup of joe”. Almost as an afterthought you raced around the desk, grabbing your purse for the plaid thermos, unscrewing the top and hefting it under Rockford’s nose. Tim tilted his head to the side with cynicism.

“Travel per diem might be in order….” he considered, taking the thermos tentatively and sniffing with curiosity. This was better than whiskey. Or….better WITH whiskey, he sipped slowly at first, eventually draining the entire draught. Your mouth dropped with surprise at this new information.

“Travel?” you dumbly repeated, dropping the purse on the nearby chair and attempting not to sink down on top of it. What the hell? You had barely been in L.A one month and had yet to fully understand the transit system. Was your first job in this new life, already tearing you away from it? “Travel to where??” you doubled down, stubbornly unwilling to let go of this tantalizing opportunity just within your grasp.

“Holcomb, Kansas of course!” Rockford wiped his mouth with the back of a speckled hand, returning the thermos and now rifling through the drawers once again. Aspirin. Revolver. Binoculars….He begrudgingly thought better of actually retrieving the “breakfast whiskey”.

“KANSAS?!” the word escaped from your mouth like an accusation, trying to pin him down with incredulity and meeting his gaze with unadulterated surprise. “When?”

“That’d be now, sweets” Rockford offered, nodding curtly and lumbering out the door with a handful of files and assorted necessities as you looked around the office helplessly.  “Either way, thanks for the coffee, you’re a real doll. Meet you back here in an hour if you’re game. Otherwise, I’ll be seein’ ya…” his voice drifted down the hall as you stood with mouth agape.

He must be joking. Within thirty minutes of meeting Rockford P.I. you had a possible job, the promise of adventure and intrigue, and a questionable road trip with a man you hardly knew. What could possibly go wrong?

“Does that mean I’ve got the job?” you questioned, receiving no answer whatsoever and hearing a car puttering to life outside.

Well not if you just stand there, Red, you mused, gathering your things and taking one final glance around the office. “Catch you on the flip side!” you muttered to no one in particular, racing down the hallway and running towards the nearest bus stop. If you hurried, you could just make it.

Exactly one hour later, you felt ridiculous. Standing on the corner, with a small, humble suitcase, you felt like Little Orphan Annie. You bit your lower lip in frustration. If William could see you now, he would be laughing his ass off. You brushed the self-deprecating thought aside. Well, William isn’t here now, and it’s up to you. You heard the sound of the sputtering Ford Falcon before seeing it, as a smoky plume drifted into your peripheral view and Rockford P.I. loomed large before parking the car just beside you, the engine idling loudly.

“Wasn’t sure you’d come, Red” he smiled, opening the passenger door, and gesturing to the back. “Glad you packed light! Hoist it in the back will ya?” It seemed you had passed the point of no return, as you hefted your small suitcase atop boxes of newspapers, a small typewriter, baseball bat and other assorted mysteries. You hesitated just a moment before wiping down the dusted passengers seat and noting the myriad of cigarettes populating the nearby ash tray.

“How ‘bout it doll? Ready for an adventure?” Rockford asked rhetorically, before the engine roared to life in response. Your answer died quickly on your lips before settling in your stomach with a heaviness that betrayed the fluttering curiosity in your chest. Only one way to find out…

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What Happened to Belen? Part Two

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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.

What Happened to Belen? Part One

Grab a Latte! thanks @timelordfreya for this fun game to "Read Your Color". Enjoy a treat before heading into the Bookshop...

Triggers: profanity, pornography, smoking, attempts at Spanish, contemporary canon for "Narcos" character, Catholicism, 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...

Series Masterlist

Words: 5k

This workday was taking forever.

You looked up at the clock for the umpteenth time on this lazy Wednesday. After several hours, the second hand had moved…5 minutes forward. You rolled your eyes with irritation. It didn’t help that you were on your period. You shifted behind the counter awkwardly, the summer heat already starting to drag across your perspiring skin. If it was already this hot at 11am, you could only imagine what the rest of today would hold. At least you had a good book to keep you company. Taking another perfunctory glance around the bookstore, you floated somewhere between annoyance and gratitude, thankful that more customers weren’t gracing your local Barnes and Nobles. You couldn’t complain. The pay was decent, and you had wanted to be close to your first love; books. Here you were, getting paid to read, drink coffee and mind the bookstore, even on this deplorably hot Wednesday….

The front bell rang abruptly as a customer entered the bookshop, just out of your peripheral sight. Shit. You chastised yourself for your bristling attitude. Were you here to work or not? You smiled with self-deprecation, setting down the book of the hour “What Happened to Belen”, by Ana Elea Correa. You were just PMSing, and already anxious to get back to your re-read of the thought provoking piece about the Women’s Rights Movement. Tucking the book behind the counter, you tightened the strings on your Barnes and Nobles apron and sauntered towards the front with curiosity. 

The newfound customer had already disappeared in the annals of the bookshop, so you took a precursory lap around the store, looking for dust mites and books out of place when you spotted the bright pink, silky top stretched across the broadest shoulders you had ever seen. He had his back to you, a pert ass nearly screaming to be pinched, a thin line of perspiration dotting through the flimsy fabric in a straight line down his spine. Hello hormones. Sometimes you really hated being a girl. You noticed the wallet sized protrusion in his back pocket, wondering if his front seam demonstrated a similar bulge. Not wanting to add the description of “lasciviously horny” to your resume, you cleared your throat tentatively to indicate your presence. The statuesque stranger remained undeterred, much like his jeans which were fitted tightly to his tall and lanky stature. Jerk. You neared his stoic posture, raising your eyebrows in judgement at the Playboy Magazine that was held delicately between his fingers. Good hands. Jesus. Get a grip, woman. You noticed a small twitch in his Burt Lancaster like mustache, as he shifted his weight with irritation.

“Can I help you with something, sir?” the sarcasm seemed to drip off of your tongue unintentionally, as you caught a wry smile flash across his countenance before returning to an icy cold demeanor.  The stranger grunted in acknowledgment, without removing his fixed stare from the centerfold, his tongue darting out surreptitiously, tinged with lust.

“We have a new section that favors Pulitzer Prize winners” your tone had all the syrup of a honeyed practice, but you were inwardly shocked at your bravado. What the hell were you doing? You didn’t know this guy from Adam, and here you were alone in a bookstore, baiting a complete stranger? The already stolid man seemed to momentarily freeze before casting a sideways glance in your direction as his pupils widened and re-focused. He turned his body towards yours, almost defiantly.

“What do you think, hermosa?” he seemed to taunt, turning the pages of the Playboy towards you as a buxom blonde nearly slapped you across the face with her breasts. “Do you think she reads Nobel Laureates?”. Your face reddened with embarrassment, though stubbornly refusing to back down. 

“Maybe…” you whispered, his face softening ever so slightly in response. The shift was incremental, but noted nonetheless. “You can’t always judge a book by its cover”, the words fell out of your mouth sloppily, but with sincerity nonetheless. He stood up slightly taller, considering your words and looking at the magazine centerfold once again. “Too true, hermosa, too true” he seemed to acquiesce. closing the magazine definitively and looking at you with a new appraisal. “What are YOU reading?” he pointedly asked, allowing his eyes to meander over the totality of your body, as though still looking at the magazine contents. You shifted with an annoying arousal that you couldn’t quite shake, noticing the buttons of his shirt dangling precariously open revealing a sun-kissed, tanned torso. Stupid PMS.

“Uh…” your brain stalled like a sputtering car as he smiled sweetly at your unravelling manner.

“Pena” he held his hand out, wiping it deftly across the backside of his jeans and extending it forwards into your halting grasp. “Javier Pena” he matter-a-factly stated, his Adam’s apple bobbing strongly in his throat as a small trickle of sweat cascaded down his sternum. Holy hell. It must be hotter in here than you realized.

“Oh you wouldn’t like me” your eyes widened with horror as he ticked his head to the side curiously. “The BOOK, you wouldn’t like the book…” you rallied, stepping back and nearly falling over, but for his steely grasp that was not releasing.

“Easy now” he teased, reaching into his back pocket and soon displaying a shiny metallic badge with the large letters of DEA printed across the front. “Your secret is safe with me” he lowly intoned, dangerously winking in your direction as you felt a new bout of crimson feather across your face. Idiot. Idiot. Idiot.

“I didn’t mean to interrupt your…reading…uh, officer?” you blurted out, apparently unable to string two sentences together with a flashlight as he kept shaking your hand slowly and maintaining eye contact.

“S’okay” he offered, gently releasing your hand and placing his on his hips mischievously. Who was this guy? “M’not on patrol or anything, just looking for a good read and a quick lunch. What’dya recommend, hermosa?” his tongue dragged across his lips seductively as he looked you up and down once again. 

Were you hallucinating? Geez, hormones were a drag. “Uhhhh…” your mind seemed to short circuit once again, as though on auto-pilot. “What Happened to Belen?” your voice floated out of your body and hovered above you both tentatively.

“I don’t know, what DID happen to Belen?” he quirked, one eyebrow skyrocketing upwards. “Is this a joke I should know?” he scoffed, straightening the magazine on the rack as you nearly scurried back to the front counter.

“Oh it’s just a book I’m reading about Women’s Rights!” you called over your shoulder, desperate to regain some composure, and hastening back to your isolated perch by the cash register. Safe. His intimidating stature came tentatively lumbering around the corner, as though placating a frightened animal. “I like women” he smiled drolly, nodding at the book in your hands as you looked around the shop haphazardly. I mean, he seemed to be an officer of the law. Other than your own adolescent insecurities, what were you so jittery about?

“I recognize the name from the news, but I don’t know much about this woman, Belen. What was she, some sort of freedom fighter?” he questioned, leaning broadly against the counter and sinking his weight against it. You somehow felt protected and caged in, whilst not entirely disgruntled about it.

“Maybe an accidental one?” you observed, leafing through your copy thoughtfully. “She found herself at the epicenter of the Argentinian discussion of abortion rights, after she was unjustly jailed following a miscarriage. Huh. Miscarriage of justice indeed” you muttered under your breath, watching Pena’s eyebrows furrow in consternation.

“Bullshit” he muttered, his eyes squinting into skeptical lines of incredulity.

Your breath hitched in your throat hesitantly. It sounded nearly implausible on the surface, as you back-pedaled quickly, “Well, like I said, it’s probably not for everyone, and we have some other books along the same themes. There’s ‘A Room of One’s Own’ by Virginia Woolf. Or even ‘Good Night Stories for Rebel Girls’” you started to slide the book behind the counter before Pena’s heavy hand layered on top of yours cautiously, locking eyes with you fixedly.

“More” he stated bluntly, holding your gaze determinedly with his. “Tell me more”.

You swallowed dryly re-opening the book hesitantly. “Well, it’s not surprising that you haven’t heard as much about her. She prefers to remain relatively anonymous, and most people don’t even know what she looks like. But the international ramifications of her story go far beyond Argentina. It triggered international discussions about poverty, women’s rights, abortion, misogyny and much more…” your voice trailed off insecurely, hoping that the DEA agent wasn’t harboring a chip on his shoulder. “There’s a documentary, too” you finished, humiliated at how small your voice had become. Geez, even feminism at the local Barnes and Nobles wasn’t easy. Pena seemed to sense your hesitancy, drawing back from the counter tentatively and looking off into the distance.

“The system is fucked up” he mumbled, kicking the base of the wooden counter and planting his hands once again on his hips defiantly. “Don’t have to tell me, hermosa. I battle the powers that be every damn day of my life. Money, drugs, death. It’s all a fucking nightmare” his words hung in the air heavily, like the humidity that threatened to oppress everything around it. He nodded curtly, drawing a nearby stool up to the counter and planting himself in front of it like a hungry schoolboy. “So, what actually happened to her?”. A momentary image of an interrogation room flitted across your mind, as you wondered how it would be to have this man opposite you in more threatening circumstances. But his demeanor seemed genuine, and you were starting to gain a little confidence in your presentation.

“Okay, well first she has a bout of peritonitis that requires surgery and causes physical complications leading to a dangerous episode of cramping and fatigue. So she goes to the nearby hospital for help, taking her mom with her for support.” You referenced the book in your hands,

“As in many other parts of the world, there are two kinds of hospitals. The clean ones with plenty of doctors and nurses to attend to patients, a clear view through the windows, labs, X-ray machines, ultrasound devices, gauze and emotional support. And then there are the other hospitals where people like Belen go. Two police officers handle her admission’”.

“That seems sketchy as fuck. Why are there police officers at a hospital?” Pena inquires, his stance still wide and foreboding, his arms stretching easily across the counter with control.

“That isn’t even the worst of it” you shake your head uncomprehendingly. “Here, let me read it to you….

‘When Belen finally comes to from the anesthesia she is surrounded by police officers. One of the men in uniform looks at her vagina. They ask where the fetus is. She is still adjusting to the news that she’d been pregnant and not known it, as well as to the news that she had miscarried, so she says nothing. Then a male nurse walks up to her with a small cardboard box. inside is something small and black. He shows it to her and says; “This is your son. Look what you did, bitch.” Belen cries and shouts that she didn’t do anything, so she doesn’t know what they’re talking about. They give her water to calm her down. It is day now and she is kept in the hospital under police custody. When she looks at the officer, she wishes she were dead’”.

Pena’s mouth falls open in disbelief, “The fuck…” he whispers, his eyes growing into a steely sheet of iron, grabbing the book out of your hands abruptly. Yeah, you definitely wouldn’t want to find this man behind the barrel of a gun. You pursed your lips thoughtfully as he rifled through the book, almost searching for redemptive clarity. Maybe you had judged him too harshly as per his proclivities. It seemed like he actually cared. You delicately retrieved the book from his open grasp. “Well, she’s safe now, right? They acquitted her, or issued a formal apology or something?” he asked, tightening his hands into two balls of fury pressed firmly against the wooden counter.

“I’m afraid it wasn’t quite that simple” you lamented. “They take her to prison for an interim period that lasts nearly three years” Pena’s lips tightened to a taut line of reproach. “And she has a string of deplorable lawyers before finally meeting Soledad” you brightened slightly with the first piece of good news in the narrative.

“Wait a damn minute, how can the court imprison someone for having a miscarriage? What about an abortion? I mean, THAT’S still legal, right?” his voice was tinged with incredulity, as you remained grateful that you were the only ones in attendance for your unexpected Ted Talk. This was going to be hard to explain, because it made little to no sense.

“Argentinian abortion laws only came into fruition four years ago, and the discussion of Belen’s story was a HUGE part of that. Prior to that time, most abortions were considered illegal. Even her lawyer Soledad talks about her personal experience, ‘I had an illegal abortion. The whole thing took me by surprise. This can happen to any woman. I went to the kind of place where no one on earth would feel safe. You can imagine what it was like. Suddenly, I was experiencing illegality and its many consequences. The moment when you feel you’ve lost your autonomy, then  all your rights, all of them, are suspended. I’ve never talked about it, you know? But my kids are all grown up now. That experience was a huge motivator. Why are women put through that? If it was awful for me, then what must it be like for women who don’t have the resources? Something inside me woke up. I might never get any rest, but I would do something for women’s rights. No one deserves to be treated that way’”.

You set the book down as Pena closed his eyes, attempting to quiet his breathing. He reached a hand behind his head drawing it across the back of his neck tensely and eventually dragging it down the front of his face. “Ay, Dios mio…I thought it was bad in Columbia”.

You paused quietly before offering, “It’s actually worse in Columbia”. Pena seemed to stop breathing momentarily as you continued. “I think Columbia only ratified their rulings in 2022, but don’t quote me on that”. The color drained from Pena’s face with embarrassment. He cleared his throat haltingly.

“LosientoDiostengapiedad” the words flew across his tongue fluidly as he rolled his eyes with chagrin. “I don’t….” he cleared his throat again for good measure, “I don’t generally associate with women who are in a…family way. Or want to be” his face contorted self-deprecatingly. “Maybe I just…didn’t ask….” his face gained a dull, graying quality. He looked like he was going to be sick.

You smirked knowingly. Okay, Playboy. Maybe you COULD teach this hot pendejo a thing or two. He reached into his back pocket and pulled out a cigarette packet before offering you one.

“Oh, I’m sorry you can’t smoke in here…” you apologized, watching his eyes widen to saucer like imploring orbs of incredulity. Licking his lips dryly and eventually tucking the cigarette deftly behind his ear he gestured. “Dame mas…” he rasped, lowering his eyes to the ground and swallowing thickly.

“I know, it’s hard to believe such a thing actually occurred, but let me try to synopsize….

When Belen arrived at the hospital she was already mid-miscarriage. She went to the bathroom, and amidst pain meds and confusion, unbeknownst to her, expelled the fetus. Belen wakes up in the communal labor room surrounded by police and with forensic pathologists examining her vagina, and learns she was 15 weeks pregnant. She had two lawyers neither of which visited her, and was eventually held in reprimand for first degree murder. No one raised the issue of doctor-patient confidentiality. Her new lawyer does not have access to her legal docket before asking for a mistrial amidst Belen’s protestations to remain anonymous”.

“But people should know!” Pena nearly yelled full voice, gripping his knees placatingly and looking into your eyes. “I didn’t join law force to fuck around!” his cheeks reddened immediately under your scrutinizing gaze. “Well….not JUST to fuck around…” he whimpered, throwing his hands up in the air.

“Listening to her experience, it’s easy to see why she was reticent about sharing her personal story. It was nearly three years before she finally received the acknowledgement she deserved, and it wasn’t for lack of trying. She spoke with multiple people proclaiming her innocence. Look, the author recounts,

‘The following day she tries her best to get some sleep. She asks for a sleeping pill and prays it’s all a nightmare. When she wakes up, a priest is staring at her with a frighteningly serious expression and a Bible in his hand. What you’ve done is incredibly serious. God’s law cannot be broken. You murdered your son. God will punish you. You must repent” she recalls him saying. Belen tells him she didn’t do it, she’s innocent. For days, weeks, months, she will say the same thing. The priest is asked to vacate the room; the patient is under medical orders to rest. It’s a lie. The hospital no longer cares what happens to Belen. They just want her to leave as soon as possible. The priest continues his rounds”.

“Bastardo” Pena mutters before reacting to your intake of air. “Sorry” his hands drifted upwards as though cornered by his own law enforcement officers. “Would you believe—lapsing Catholic?” his impish smile disarmed you must faster than you anticipated, as you chuckled under your breath. Shifting your footing you winced slightly as a pang of cramps ricocheted through your body, nearly doubling over. “Are you okay, hermosa?” Pena stood to his feet, touching your elbow slightly with concern. Your skin crackled under his heated touch, as you locked eyes.

“Oh…yeah…I just…been on my feet, all day, probably have a headache or something” you deflected, though you thought you caught a knowing purse of his lips in acknowledgement. You must be imagining things again. Pena checked his watch. 

“It’s nearly noon, I’ve been commandeering all your time” he lamented, looking around the bookstore appraisingly. “Can you…take your lunch?” he shrugged mischievously, gesturing to the small counter behind him that doubled as a refreshment bar. You sighed with relief, recognizing the prudence of his observations. God you could use a break. Your mouth curled with chagrin as you began to remove your apron. “Wait right here” you instructed, rolling your eyes with faux indignation. Can’t argue with the long arm of the law, you internally jested, flipping the “OPEN” sign in the doorway and motioning him to the counter. You grabbed two pre-packaged sandwiches as Pena reached over the counter for two bottles of Jarritos before tossing a ten before him.

“Keep the change” he smirked, pulling out a chair for you and joining for your impromptu picnic. You placed the book on the table and began to unwrap the sandwiches, rolling your eyes.

“My hero” you winked, as his face began to beam with unadulterated pride. “Alright Pena, fess up. How much did you know about Belen before meeting me today?” you questioned, taking a quick bite of your sandwich and humming in approval.

“Guilty as charged” Pena agreed, now twiddling the cigarette between his fingers, as though toying with his actual hunger. “I saw her name in the papers and always wondered. I mean, it was obvious there was a story that needed to be told. But what province was she sentenced in? What happened to her supporters? How did she go from a murder conviction to a final acquittal? Where is Belen?” the questions rattled off of Pena’s tongue as he watched you closely. You had definitely ensnared his attention.

“Are you interrogating me, Officer Pena?” you smiled between bites, happy to see his veneer crumple with tinged embarrassment. “I think it’s important to note that this isn’t just Belen’s story. You should check out the documentary. It shows a part of the story a lot of people are in denial about; the fact that illegal abortions primarily affect women who are poor. In the movie, Belen is in shadow and her face isn’t viable per her request. All we get is her voice, which takes the form of a desperate cry. Most of the women interviewed in the documentary which delves into the underworld of clandestine abortions, appear again at the end of the film when they say with a smile; let it be law. But Belen doesn’t. her silhouette in the dark, her voice, her pain, and her story are all she agreed to share. And it’s plenty. But the bright side of her is missing. She’s more than her experiences, more than that cry”.

Pena nodded solemnly, finally taking a bite of his sandwich and sighing heavily. It was a lot to take in and easy to feel a fraction of the helplessness Belen must have experienced during her incarcerated time. You opened the book and proceeded,

“It’s Belen’s first day at the Special Investigations Unit, and she would rather not talk to anyone. But another detainee approaches her and asks what she’s in for. Belen says she’s been charged with inducing an abortion. The woman bursts out laughing and says that can’t be right. “If it was, then I’d be facing life, I’ve had three” she reassures her. Belen wants to explain that she didn’t induce anything, but the woman insists that even if that were the case, no one gets sent to prison for an abortion. It’s odd, but after a while Belen starts to feel safer in prison than she did at the Special Investigations Unit. Then again, there’s the shame. She doesn’t want anyone asking her why she is there. She has no interest in talking about happened. All she wants is to go home and wake up from this nightmare”.

“I don’t blame her” Pena muttered, wiping his mouth broadly and taking a quick drink. “Law enforcement is supposed to prevent situations like this, not make them worse” he sneered. “I’m surprised they didn’t release her…”.

“Oh, they tried”.

Pena nearly spit out his next sip of soda, sputtering slightly in surprise. “What do you mean?”  he coughed, grabbing a nearby napkin.

“Apparently it was clear to most of the correctional facility that Belen was being treated unjustly. One day, the guards endeavored to just…let her accidentally escape. Here, I highlighted this part,

‘Belen is on the sidewalk outside the correctional facility. She is un-handcuffed and unsupervised. The prison guards watch her from inside the prison and wonder if they will ever see her again. They can always make something up. They’re not worried. But Belen leaves the trash bags on the corner and walks back. She asks the guard to open the gate, then asks to be let back into the prison. The guards laugh, "You weren’t up to it. You looked like a cat that can’t be bothered to go outside” “I’ll go out when they prove my innocence. You’ll see.” Belen replies. She goes back to her book—How long can people live without air? How long? What is the measure of suffocation? And falls asleep”.

“No shit” Pena whispered, nodding in solidarity. “Speaks to her innocence” he curtly states, downing the rest of his soda in one gulp.

You nodded in agreement. “She and her lawyer, Soledad, never lost faith, but it wasn’t always easy.  Corea recounts Belen’s words,

‘No matter what happened to me, I never lost strength. I kept telling myself; I will not fall, I will keep going, because what they’re doing to me is unjust. Except for one time. There was a single time in my life when I thought I’d never recover, that I was falling and wouldn’t be able to get back on my feet. It was when I left the courthouse and my mom stayed behind. I didn’t think I’d get through it. It was hard, but here I am”.

“But where is here?” Pena opened his palms reflexively. “How did she escape? How did she prove her innocence? There must have been clues…” he propositioned, leaning forward in his chair, crumbs scattering the table before him. 

“Oh get this!” you exclaimed, rifling through the book as quickly as possible. “A social media post that Soledad noticed, ‘She felt a mix of relief and anger when she saw the last thing Belen had posted, five days before her hospital visit; a picture of her looking happy; with no belly. No one had bothered to notice that small detail before convicting her”.

“Jesus” Pena had started answering with one word responses, such was the force of his disbelief.

You continued,

“The way most of the media addresses this problem has to change. Too often, victims are blamed for their fates; they clothes, their friends, how they have fun. Deep down, the press fans the idea that “They brought it on themselves” . We need a news media that is committed to creating new protocols while adhering existing protocols and codes of ethics when covering cases like these. Television reproduces words and images that put women in situations of danger, inequality and dominance. It reproduces stereotypes. When women and girls who fall victim to violence are covered by the media, their private lives are trespassed”.

“The media is total shit” he spat. “Can’t trust ‘em for a goddam thing, unless it’s ratting out a source”.

“Tell me what you really think, Pena” you quipped, finishing your own soda and leaning back in your chair before gripping your abdomen tightly. Squinting your eyes shut, Javier reached across the table grabbing your hand tightly.

“I think that’s a little more than a headache” he softly intoned, squeezing your hand and beginning to clean up. “Why don’t you finish your lunch break and I’ll grab a smoke. I don’t want to leave Belen hanging for too long…” he begrudged, heading for the door and turning the door sign right side up. What an interesting customer, you reckoned, scouring your purse for that long awaited Advil and heading to the backroom. You decided to put together a display featuring some of the other books mentioned like “Jacque a Le Reina”, “Open the Door” by Ana Guillot, and “Bad Mothers, Abortion and Infanticide” by Julieta Di Corleto”. Belen may have achieved her freedom at a high cost, but there were still many women suffering under the injustices of an obsolete governmental system. You exhaled a steady sigh of exhaustion, heaving a new stack of books to the foyer and catching sight of your new, fast friend. His broad posture was pacing back and forth concernedly, a myriad of smoke mystically curling about him. As though hearing your unspoken thoughts, he turned abruptly to catch your stare, dropping the cigarette and stamping it into submission, flinging the door open decisively.

“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?”…

Part Two...

"What Happened to Belen?"

Thank you to @auteurdelabre for our beautiful coloring book! Pedge and I have had a few ups and downs over here, but are managing okay! A couple WIP's, currently re-reading the Women's Rights book, "What Happened to Belen?" as recommended by Papi Pascal. Pedge's Bookshop has decided to tackle the important literature with Javier Pena at our side. Seems like he has plenty to say about it...

“Maybe…” you whispered, his face softening ever so slightly in response. The shift was incremental, but noted nonetheless. “You can’t always judge a book by its cover”, the words fell out of your mouth sloppily, but with sincerity nonetheless. He stood up slightly taller, considering your words and looking at the magazine centerfold once again. “Too true, hermosa, too true” he seemed to acquiesce. closing the magazine definitively and looking at you with a new appraisal. “What are YOU reading?” he pointedly asked, allowing his eyes to meander over the totality of your body, as though still looking at the magazine contents. You shifted with an annoying arousal that you couldn’t quite shake, noticing the buttons of his shirt dangling precariously open revealing a sun-kissed, tanned torso. Stupid PMS. “Uh…” your brain stalled like a sputtering car as he smiled sweetly at your unravelling manner. “Pena” he held his hand out, wiping it deftly across the backside of his jeans and extending it forwards into your halting grasp. “Javier Pena” he matter-a-factly stated, his Adam’s apple bobbing strongly in his throat as a small trickle of sweat cascaded down his sternum. Holy hell. It must be hotter in here than you realized.

The Last of Us

Went a little old school today. Negotiating my health challenges, and hoping The Tumblr doesn't crash. Super excited about Season 2 of the Last of Us coming out this Sunday, but might need to watch after the fact. If you're looking for a fix until then, check out my "Crime and Punishment; Last of Us" hybrid I wrote for Pedge's Bookshop. I'm really proud of the series and it sets us at the doorstep of Season 2. Check it out!

Until then, "endure...and survive..."

“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.” “Don’t be overwise; fling yourself straight into life, without deliberation; don’t be afraid - the flood will bear you to the bank and set you safe on your feet again.” “the most offensive is not their lying—one can always forgive lying—lying is a delightful thing, for it leads to truth—what is offensive is that they lie and worship their own lying…”

Pedge's Cinema; All About Eve

Thank you to @auteurdelabre for our beautiful coloring book! I have been doubly inspired, writing the sequel for Pedge's Cinema; All About Eve. It was fun to take this coloring page and overlay it on some of Pedro's favorite movie posters. There are several more installments on the horizon, I hope you will enjoy!

Series Masterlist

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.

Dostoyevsky + the Slutty Knee

A big thank you to @auteurdelabre for our beautiful coloring book! I really feel like I'm making progress with my health journey, but it's super slow going. The main thing that is keeping me creatively motivated is my art projects! I'm working on the final fiction for our "Crime and Punishment" series at Pedge's Bookshop, just in time for "The Last of Us Season 2". Don't forget to check out Joel's Jives if you would like the full participatory experience.

I think our next foray is going to be a one shot with Pena and J revolving around Pedro's recommendation, "What Happened to Belen?". And don't forget to check out our first fic for Pedge's Cinema "The Trailer" when Javi and J first meet. Grab your popcorn first however, the opening scene of "All About Eve" is soon to be started.

“Taking a new step, uttering a new word, is what people fear most.” “–and suddenly, in the midst of my laughing, I’d give way to sadness, fall into ludicrous despondency and once again start the whole process all over again

“You never reach any truth without making mistakes. Talk nonsense, but talk your own nonsense, and I'll kiss you for it. And what are we doing now? In science, development, thought, invention, ideals, aims, liberalism, judgment, experience and everything, everything, everything, we are still in the preparatory class at school. We prefer to live on other people's ideas, it's what we are used to! Am I right?” “Break what must be broken, once for all, that's all, and take the suffering on oneself.” “Fling yourself straight into life, without deliberation; don’t be afraid - the flood will bear you to the bank and set you safe on your feet again.” “What do you think, would not one tiny crime be wiped out by thousands of good deeds?”

@littlemisspascal @wannabe-urs

@beefrobeefcal @sawymredfox @anelva

@wordywarriorwrites @burntheedges @inept-the-magnificent @timelordfreya 

@schnarfer @devineconjuring @mermaidgirl30 @mandolover37 @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog 

@joelmillerisapunk @jennaispunk @sheepdogchick3 @marcus-is-my-muse @guiltyasdave 

@copperhalfcent @bluesweaters15 @drewharrisonwriter @darkheartgatita

@harriedandharassed @brittmb115 @confusedpuffin @zaniasky @quicax3

My Darling Muse, My Darling Dieter (iii)

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. Love this post @for-a-longlongtime, and inspired by the @auteurdelabre Trope-Off (Dieter Bravo/Pen Pals)...

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! Workplace vibes...

Dieter's Art Studio

My Darling Dieter,

Oh silly muffin! I was so excited to receive your postcard and hear more about your spiritual sojourn! I know you are doing research for your reawakening, but I still miss you terribly and our intimate spongebaths. Be sure to keep all your sketches limited to postcards and not the originals....Yours, J

My Darling Dieter,

Racoon! Your travels sound absolutely amazing, it will be just the thing to take your mind off of awards season. YOU are the true gift! My Darling, is it just me or are some of these pictures a bit....erotic? I definitely recognize the artist, but I can't quite put my finger on it....Love, J

My Darling Dieter,

Oh my! My neighbors are fantastically scandalized as they keep intercepting your postcards and complaining about their content. I told them IT'S ART!!! Although, I'm not 100% sure if these images are being displayed in their purest form. Sweet D, I think you've taken some artistic liberties... Yours, J

My Darling Dieter,

There is something about these pieces I can't stop looking at. I find myself drawn into a void-like, dreaming state, thinking about you Mr. Darling D. I think they might be flowers of some kind! But I find them very erotically charged! I can't seem to concentrate on anything else! Are you coming home soon? Who is Georgia? Should I be jealous? Love, J

My Darling Dieter,

Need you. Come home now. J.

Hey folks! This is J, Dieter’s PA. The year has been a challenging one, as Dieter has successfully checked himself out of rehab and has embarked on a spiritual journey of artistic expression! I am sad to report that his holiday special, Cliff Beasts 6 1/2; Hannukah Hijinks, was completely snubbed by the Oscars this awards season, so we indulged in many a sponge bath to recouperate. I myself am experiencing some health challenges, and can't accompany D on his exciting embarkation, so he's promised to send postcards from his travels as I attempt to figure out "Where is D?". He keeps mentioning Georgia, so I think he might be in Atlanta, but it's anyone's guess. I've just received his most recent postcard and he's promised to be home any minute! Gotta go! Where will D be next?

*I'm afraid D has taken HORRIBLE liberties with the classic artwork of Georgia O' Keeffe, but I would encourage anyone to view their work in New Mexico and research their stellar artistic contributions and creative friendships with the likes of Frida Kahlo, Ansel Adams and Agnes Martin.

Pedge's Cinema The Trailer

Concessions Stand @iamasaddie is getting us ready for a true snack! See some of the fics we are going to be covering with Javi this awards season...

Triggers: profanity, alcohol consumption, lite flirtation, disastrous attempts at Italian, easy peezy we're just getting started...

Words: 2.6k

The landlady handed you an archaic looking key that was easily the size of a small brick. You half expected her to give you bottles that said “eat me” and “drink me” in Italian, but she merely snickered tossing her hands up with exasperation. “Idiota americano!” she muttered, not wholly under her breath, closing the ornate door behind her, leaving you alone in the somewhat crumbling apartment.

Guess you didn’t need Google Translate after all.

You looked down at your myriad of belongings, heaped into two large suitcases, and the somewhat dilapidated but charmingly rustic Italian apartment that smiled before you. You had arrived. After about 15 hours and one too many espressos, you found yourself at your Italian residence, anxious to start your teaching internship, yet even more enthusiastic about taking a shower. Finding yourself in your mid-forties, embarking on a summer adventure of this scope seemed an implausibility, as you rubbed at your lower back wincingly. As you shuffled slowly down the narrow hallway, you were exponentially grateful for the study abroad program at the college you had recently gained tenure at. Things were finally starting to amount to professional and personal solidity, so why did you still feel so lost? The bumbling taxi drive hadn’t helped, as you felt for the stale bag of airplane peanuts in your pocket. This was the opportunity of a lifetime. You’d been working with students your entire life and we’re finally exploring the international ways to bring creative techniques to life. But maybe your artistic eyes were somehow bigger than your metaphorical stomach. What were you even doing here? You opened the first door on the left, expecting it to be the water closet and were greeted by the imploring eyes of….a pigeon.

A bona fide pigeon. You blinked back and forth at one another curiously until an unexpected shriek from you caused your temporary flat mate to flutter haphazardly around the room, seeking immediate solace through the nearby open window. Sigh. Expect the unexpected. And, no toilet paper. Obviously. You felt around your pocket for the discarded cocktail napkin. Score. You could do this. Your path might not be clear, but you had earned your summer of adventure. All that remained was to take full advantage of the opportunity, and try to enjoy yourself in the process. Besides, weren’t pigeons a sign of Italian good luck? Maybe they needed to poop on you first. Heading him off at the pass, you quickly locked the window for good measure, taking stock of your surroundings. The shower was a dubious looking pipe that awkwardly found its way to a free standing bath tub. The ceiling of the water closet hovered about two feet above you, as you finally expressed gratitude for your diminutive stature. Finally, being short was working to your advantage, once you figured out how to use the faucets. You returned to your quest, shuffling down the hallway to the first door on the right, finding a queen sized, decorative bed frame showcasing the boudoir and more open windows. Luckily, there was no flora, fauna or fowl this time, but your eyes were immediately drawn to the picturesque view. Dragging your fingers lazily across the veil-like linens you gazed at the idyllic panorama before you. As though mirroring your cinematic dreams, the small Italian town stretched out before you, a winding fantasy of artisan shops, coffee, clotheslines and cobblestone.

What a view. Maybe you weren’t so lost after all.

Savoring the afternoon air, you sat cautiously on the pillowy mattress, a very thin layer of particle dust billowing in the sunlight. But nothing could stop you, as you nestled into the linens for your first nap. Any pigeons were welcome to join you.

A blurry feeling of disorientation greeted you, along with a melodic Italian argument, punctuated by puttering vespas. You blinked lazily at the dusky horizon, propping yourself up on your forearms. Your stomach immediately gurgled in response. You had given yourself several days to acclimate to your new Italian environment, before attending classes and symposiums, but hadn’t really considered what your first order of business would be. The stale bag of peanuts was holding little appeal, so you willed yourself out of bed and into the bathroom to tidy up. The apartment was slightly dilapidated and breezy, but the summer charm was already beginning to work its magic. You laid out your wardrobe on the bed before enjoying a luxurious shower, gazing forebodingly at the ceiling, as though it were about to crash down upon you. Just some getting used to. You looked around the small kitchenette, but only found a teaspoon of dried coffee grounds and what appeared to be some dried olives in the cabinet. Tomorrow’s task; find the nearest farmer’s market.

You had gone to inordinate lengths to make your phone internationally ready, but were already encountering difficulties. Other than a smattering of musical terms, you weren’t seriously proficient in Italian and were looking forward to honing your skills, as Duolingo had proven only conceptually effective. But that’s what this entire experience was about! Dipping your toes into the adventure of travel and mystery. You had tried to research this area of town, but could only find the local cinema listings which seemed to feature at least one movie in English. Clutching your chatty stomach with annoyance you slipped into a silky blouse and comfortable jeans. Stop overthinking and head out the door! Grab your Alice in Wonderland sized key and start exploring, woman! Smiling to yourself with chagrin, you checked for your Euro, passport and key, took a deep breath and closed the front door behind you. Ciao Bella!

It had been several decades since you had been to Italy, but your memory did not disappoint. Floating down the cobblestone streets, you were once again thankful to be wearing sneakers as you gazed at the nonnas bringing in their dried laundry and shouting at one another across the way. You were sure you stuck out like a sore thumb as you used your cell phone as a divining rod to arrive at the local cinema art house, patting yourself on the back. Surprised to discover your very limited geographical intuitions had actually served you, as you noticed the only English Film available blazing against the darkening sky;

PADDINGTON 2.

Alright, it wasn’t “La Dolce Vita”, but you were determined to give your stale packet of peanuts a run for its money, if this Italian cinema had anything resembling the Western definition of a snack. As per usual, the Italians were eons ahead of the United States, offering a sampling of pasta, wine and confections, which you unabashedly stocked up on. You sheepishly entered the small movie house, balancing an array of popcorn, snacks and wine, the latter of which was offered from a soda-like dispenser. Your international travels were already getting off to a GREAT start. You gazed around the room appraisingly, surprised to discover that you had the movie house COMPLETELY to yourself. 

Bellisima.

Indulgently plopping down in the absolute center of the room, you nearly squealed like a little girl when the projector clicked to life and the room darkened in response. This was only partially stifled when another figure peripherally entered your vision and began ascending the stairs. You weren’t overly concerned. Having visited Italy nearly 20 years ago, you had received more than your fair share of attention, but now, at 45 you were fairly certain you could blend into the background. It wasn’t until the curious stranger sat in the seat next to you that you glanced sideways with slight annoyance. Your heart immediately dropped at the sight of the standard Italian god that greeted you; well coifed, colorful, a curly mop of hair gelled into submission and a potent, but not disagreeable cologne that mixed with the heady smell of buttered popcorn. You weren’t sure why he had selected the seat immediately next to yours, but were momentarily distracted by his matching box of indulgent snacks. His face broke into an immediate grin as a handful of popcorn fell into your lap with his jostling.

“Popcorn, principessa?” he muttered, jamming a handful into his own mouth and licking the butter from his fingertips playfully. In another lifetime, you might have been irritated, but there was something immediately disarming about this man’s demeanor. You stalled, at the realization that he might not be Italian after all. Thankful he couldn’t view your blushing cheeks, you sputtered, 

“Oh I’m all set!” before wondering if he spoke English, and then realizing he was in the same movie as you. “Uh…par…parlare inglese?” you bumbled, spilling some Golia licorice into his lap in turn and grabbing at them haphazardly before flushing a dark shade of pink. “Scusi…”.

“Si!” he blurted out before wiping his hand embarrassingly over his face with chagrin. “I mean, yes!” He awkwardly grabbed your hand, shaking it emphatically and spilling still more popcorn over the floor and both of you. You both laughed good-naturedly as the movie was preceded by several Italian commercials you didn’t understand.  Settling into the gravitas of the cinematic experience, you quietly chewed your snacks, attempting to be demurely polite, but quite frankly you were starving. You were also immediately charmed by your unexpected movie date, as he uproariously laughed at the smallest jokes, nodding in agreement at the the most poignant dialogue. The snacks eventually discarded in satiation, you hadn’t expected the well of emotion towards the end of the movie, but that was nothing compared to your seat-mate. He was sobbing vociferously, his body quaking with emotion, when you finally reached over to tentatively pat him on the shoulder comfortingly.

“I…fucking…LOVE…this…movie…” he sniffled, between big gulps of air as you smiled knowingly to yourself. God, European men were so much more beautifully emotive than some of their Western counterparts. No wonder you had found yourself currently single in the States. You chanced a quick look at his left hand and found his wedding ring finger unoccupied, but internationally, did that even mean anything? Come on, woman, this isn’t “Only You”; get a grip. Just enjoy your new friendship and move on. You swiped at a few stray tears of your own before the lights gradually increased, leaving you both alone in the lightened movie house.

“Is that not the BEST movie you have ever seen? Without cinematic film star, Nicholas Cage, of course…” he oddly presumed, staring at you with saucer shaped eyes of warmth, a slight tinge of red dotting his cheeks at the corners.

“Uh…well, yes. Quite good, Much more emotional than I was anticipating” you admitted, shuffling your feet awkwardly.

“I feel the same way. It made me want to be a better man. I would even place it above towering films of cinematic greatness like “The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari”….or maybe even “National Treasure 2”” he observed dryly, taking in your inquisitive expression.

“National Treasure 2?” you repeated dumbly, blinking with curiosity at the tenure of your conversation. Who the hell was this guy?

“Oh, I couldn’t possibly bore you with my encyclopedic knowledge of the greatest actor, and my personal friend, Nick Cage” he blushed shyly, rubbing at the back of his neck with humility.

“You know Nick Cage?” you brightened, stumbling upon a fellow afficianado. You worked with artists all the time and loved discussing the creative process. That was the exact reason for your internship.

“Do you know him as well?” he turned his body to more fully face you, the fragrance of cologne intoxicating you slightly in response.

“Oh…certainly not. But I know OF him, he’s quite talented, and eccentric I believe…” you started before he launched into a cinematic info. dump.

“I find his artistic choices to be quite outlandish, but in a very stylized and curated execution…” as he began to wax theatrical for the next 20 minutes. You tried to remain focused on his discussion points, but you were equally distracted by his animated and appealing aesthetic, as much as the lateness of the hour. It wasn’t until you stifled a yawn and shivered slightly that he paused in his information monologue with a look of lamentation. “Oh, principessa, you are quite tired of my ramblings. Please, may I walk you home?”. He stood impressively above you, holding out his hand in inquiry.

You cleared your throat with some embarrassment, as the wine fueled evening crawled up the back of your neck with a seductive tickle. “Oh, certainly mister….?” you inquired, stumbling ever so slightly to your feet as he grabbed you protectively around the waist.

“Javi! You can call me Javi!” he intoned. You weren’t sure, but you thought he brushed a small, affectionate circle at your lower back, turning you towards the exit and guiding your steps. You weren’t one hundred percent sure it was a good idea to lead this stranger right to your door step, but you were even less sure you could make it there on your own, the inefficient osmosis of popcorn and wine happily buzzing inside you. Jet lag didn’t help. But the streets of Italy were warm and inviting, as children continued to play late into the night, and old men sat smoking cigarettes and drinking grappa.

You wrapped your arm warmly around his as he gripped you solidly around the waist. The combination of wine, jet lag and cobblestone streets was proving a challenge, but your newfound friend didn’t seem inconvenienced. If anything, he kept chirping about his favorite movies and inquiring about your own theatrical tastes. It was like something out of a movie, and you decided to give in to the romantic idealism, however short lived it might be.

“This is me” you blinked lazily, arriving at your apartment and happy to return to your queen sized bed. And doubly grateful for your new and unexpected friendship. Javi.

Javi beamed, a dazzling smile dotting his face as you unlocked the door hesitantly. “What time can I call on you tomorrow?” his question immediately poked you in the stomach as you nearly tripped over your own doorway.

“Wh-what?” you sputtered, butterflies immediately erupting in your abdomen and cascading into your fluttering heart. He looked back at you curiously, as you swayed slightly in the night air. “Uh…noon please” you found yourself saying, equally delighted and confused at the surprising turn of events.

“Excellent, we can continue our cinematic discussion, and I will bring my screenplay for your perusal” he stated matter-a-factly before leaning in confidently and kissing you just to the side of your lips, which curled in delight. You blushed at the welcome bristle of his beard as it tickled your face, before he pulled back slightly and inhaled pointedly. “Buona notte, principessa” he whispered before purposefully turning and jaunting down the cobblestone street, his arms swinging happily from side to side, as he disappeared round the corner as quickly as he had entered your evening.

You stared after him, not entirely convinced he wasn’t some sort of cinematic illusion himself. It wasn’t until noon the next day, as you blearily considered the friendly knock at the door that the realization began to dawn on you. Squinting into the sunlight, you gulped dryly at his reappearance, two espressos in hand, as he stood once again, on your doorstep. He seemed to lustfully drink in your disheveled head of hair and naked legs which peeked from beneath the large white t-shirt you had haphazardly settled into before bed.

“Javi?” you rasped, rubbing the sleep from your eyes, and smiling dopily. It seemed your cinematic dreams had temporarily come to life.

“Buongiorno, principessa!” Javi beamed, shoving the espresso emphatically into your hand and downing his own in one shot. “What movie are we seeing today?” he beamed, removing his glasses and smiling broadly.

This might be the beginning of a beautiful friendship….

*Thanks @dornish-queen for the cool footage!

@littlemisspascal @wannabe-urs

@beefrobeefcal @sawymredfox @anelva

@wordywarriorwrites @burntheedges @inept-the-magnificent @timelordfreya 

@schnarfer @devineconjuring @mermaidgirl30 @mandolover37 @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog 

@joelmillerisapunk @jennaispunk @sheepdogchick3 @marcus-is-my-muse @guiltyasdave 

@copperhalfcent @bluesweaters15 @drewharrisonwriter @darkheartgatita

@harriedandharassed @brittmb115 @confusedpuffin @zaniasky @quicax3

Pena's Pose

Thank you @auteurdelabre for our beautiful coloring book! I don't often like reposting my own work, because it messes up my dashboard. I guess Pedge and I run a tight ship, much like Pena himself, but occasionally he decides to let loose. Don't forget to check out our Afterglow Series that focuses specifically on intimate topics. Pena particularly enjoys "Workplace Benefits" and don't forget to listen to Pena's Playlist for the fully immersive experience. Narcos was absolutely amazing, definitely check it out if you haven't seen it yet....Pedge is heading to bed....

Friendly Frankie

Ooooh, @auteurdelabre told me they are working on a SECOND coloring book for us!? I'm not even done with the first! An embarrassment of riches! I don't write for Frankie very often, but when I do...I seem to be gushing about it. If you're looking for something saucy, don't forget to check out my "Moody Frankie Fic". Coulda used him last night....Pair it with Frankie's Favorites for the full experience and enjoy :)

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.

@littlemisspascal @wannabe-urs

@beefrobeefcal @sawymredfox @anelva

@wordywarriorwrites @burntheedges @inept-the-magnificent @timelordfreya 

@schnarfer @devineconjuring @mermaidgirl30 @mandolover37 @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog 

@joelmillerisapunk @jennaispunk @sheepdogchick3 @marcus-is-my-muse @guiltyasdave 

@copperhalfcent @bluesweaters15 @drewharrisonwriter @darkheartgatita

@harriedandharassed @brittmb115 @confusedpuffin @zaniasky @quicax3

Pedge's Bookshop The Wound

Grab a Latte! lounge around in the foyer with this literary collection from @obscurexsorrows "Recommendation" before heading into the Bookshop...

Triggers: profanity, Last of Us canon + references, MAJOR spoilers for "Crime and Punishment", hospital environment, death, wounds, blood, spiritual concepts

Series Masterlist

Words: 3k

Your heart throbbed painfully in your chest, gripping your windpipe with a searing knife-like burn and you felt the icy pinpricks of the wintry air stab at your cheeks as Ellie raced behind you. Did you even dismiss the class? You suddenly realized you weren’t wearing your winter coat, having run out of the classroom blindly, and were still several hundred feet away from the infirmary.

Joel was hurt.

And truthfully, there wasn’t another substantial thought in your mind as your boots gripped the recent snowfall tenuously. What had Ellie said just a few moments ago? Only ten men had returned, and Levi wasn’t one of them. You didn’t have an iota of care for that man, but it only added a cloud of concern and fear to the already tense situation. What had happened?

Would Joel be okay?

You barreled through the infirmary doors, immediately feeling the shift in temperature and tone as pure chaos descended. There were men sitting on the floor, covered in blood and dirt. The limited pool of the commune’s medical resources were already strewn haphazardly around the small building as your eyes took in the scene before you. Every eye seemed to emanate guilt and anxiety, as you searched frantically.

Joel. Joel. Joel.

Stopping abruptly you were greeted by the doleful countenance of Tommy who was locked in heated conversation with Maria. You and Ellie rushed towards him, ignoring the subdued voices contrasted by medical yells of urgency. “Where’s Joel?” you bluntly questioned, interrupting Maria mid-sentence, immediately noticing the blanket of blood covering Tommy’s jacket. “Is that his blood? What happened? Did Levi do this?” the questions poured out of you like a tumult as tears streaked down your face. You were crying. When had you started crying? You didn’t care.

You had to get to Joel.

“He’s dead”.

The world stopped for a moment, tilting on its axis, as you stopped breathing.

“Levi is dead” Maria quickly clarified for Tommy as a small cry escaped your lips, unbidden. Your knees buckled slightly as the group steadied you with supportive hands.

“Where’s Joel? Tell me what happened to Joel…” you croaked, pleading with Tommy helplessly.

“It was a mess. An absolutely ambush” Tommy’s eyes glazed over tiredly. “Levi’s men scattered everywhere when we found the infected. Or THEY found us…” Tommy shivered slightly as Maria gripped his arm tenderly. “It’s my fault…” Tommy’s voice cracked in defeat as Maria shook her head defiantly. “I had the sightline, and I stood up, and Joel…” he swallowed harshly as you looked to Ellie who was uncharacteristically silent. “Joel got shot”.

Your breath came out in haggard rasps, looking desperately around the building. “Where…is…he?” you hyperventilated, prying yourself out of their grasp and meandering shakily. Ellie gripped your arm, heading towards the only examination room that existed as voices blurred around you. All of your senses were somehow merging into a myriad of confusing sensations and images. The people around you took on a bizarre, inhuman quality; their features distorted into a hall of mirrors. Sounds were amplified as though blaring through a sieve, and your skin was a heightened maelstrom of sensitivity and dulled awareness. Moving with the unadulterated force of a bullet you plowed through the separating sheaths of fabric until you found him.

He looked so small.

Your spirit was immediately arrested as all your senses came rushing back with the precision of a scalpel. Smell of iron. Cotton clean. Rusted blood red patches of cloth thrown on the ground. Joel was curled into the fetal position on a low cot, gripping his stomach protectively as Tommy and Maria followed unsteadily behind you. A slew of medical attendants were coming and going, and you immediately noticed a solitary bag of medicine precariously connected via IV. Resources were extremely limited, so the situation must be as serious as it looked. Joel’s shirt had been ripped open, giving you a clear view of the gauze that had been quickly wrapped and immediately soaked in his blood. It was a gut wound, and you knew from books how excruciating those could be. It was a miracle he was even conscious at all, and you wondered what IV the commune had access to.

“The prospects are good, but you know we don’t do surgeries very often…” Maria’s voice held a small quiver, possibly considering her own health concerns. The Jackson Commune would have a limited supply of antibiotics, penicillin and other medicines, but it was obviously for emergencies only. Living and dying had always been a messy business, but the apocalypse reduced everything to one or the other.

“Please, can I touch him?” your voice drifted out of you as though from another country, as the only doctor in the commune raced into the room to check Joel’s vitals.

“Make it fast, Teach…taking him in any second…”.

As though moving through quicksand, you found yourself outstretching your hands towards Joel, afraid to touch him. As though he were made of glass and could easily shatter at any moment, you touched your fingertips lightly to his face, watching his eyelids sluggishly flutter open. What pretty eyelashes, you obscurely thought, now mostly unaware of every other flurry surrounding the room.

“Hey Teach” Joel choked, his fingers twitching quietly over his abdomen, as you circled your thumb over his patchy beard. Dirt and grime had seeped into every crinkle, highlighting his sun-kissed wrinkles, but his eyes held the youthful fear of a young boy. “Tommy tell you I need an extension on my homework assignment?” he smiled tiredly, closing his eyes once again.

“Absolutely unacceptable” you whispered. “The moment you get out of surgery I’m subjecting you to a pop quiz”. You joked tenderly, reaching for Ellie’s nearby hand and pulling her into the conversation. “You don’t want this one to surpass you, right?”. Joel’s eyes shot open with a new awareness, immediately flooding with a host of tears.

“Sarah” he rasped before closing his eyes once again. Tommy lowered his head solemnly as Maria’s eyes widened in acknowledgement. You squeezed Ellie’s hand with encouragement.

“Go on honey, he’s just confused” you offered, catching the intensity of Ellie’s stare as she hesitantly stepped forward. Joel’s eyes fluttered open again with confusion.

“Tell ‘em…” Joel mumbled, his fingers quivering softly in front of him as you brushed a feather-light kiss over his lips before they took him down the hallway.

“Ellie, please…” he continued “Tommy already knows. Please. You gotta tell ‘em” his words started to slur slightly as you gazed helplessly around the room looking to the doctor.

“We gotta take him” the doctor stated, gesturing to the volunteers in the room who grabbed Joel’s cot by both ends gently.

“I’ll be here Joel…” you called after him, leaving the group standing impotently silent, the din of chaotic voices suddenly cascading in from the foyer.

“What did he mean by that?” Maria asked, looking to Tommy for understanding as you gripped Ellie around the shoulders bracingly. Tommy kept looking at the floor as Ellie maintained a tight lipped reservation in response to your probing gaze.

“He’s got to be okay” Ellie stated desperately, rubbing at her forearms with anxiety.

“He will be” you lied. In this moment, you were hanging on by the thinnest of threads, but were determined to offer whatever confidence you could muster. “He’ll be fine because he has to be”.

The group stood poised in silence until Maria broached the subject once again. “Tommy…what did he mean?” Tommy refused to meet her eyes, but glanced quickly at Ellie for confirmation. You gripped Ellie tightly around the shoulders, uncertain as to how to support in the best way possible. You knew he was medicated and nearly delirious, but his words seemed sincerely motivated.

“I…” Ellie halted, looking around the small room, as though expecting a myriad of clickers to come cascading through the doorway. “How much did Joel tell you about our escape from the Fireflies?” she muttered, nearly under her breath. You held your breath with nervous anticipation. This was it. This is what Joel was trying to protect. WHO he was trying to protect…

“Not much” Maria offered, a tinge of betrayal spiking her tonality. “Tommy won’t tell me any of the details, just says I should keep my mouth shut…” she grumbled, looking to Tommy with slight annoyance. Tommy and Ellie knowingly locked eyes, as you observed her clawing and voraciously itching at her forearm, as though trying to tear it off. A cry of anguish from the foyer jostled your group out of its tumultuous reverie, as Ellie shook her head with defiance.

“Just leave me alone…” she muttered, wrenching herself out of your grasp and heading for the exit. Maria breathed a sigh of frustration, clutching her abdomen protectively.

“I pushed. Pushed too hard…” she observed, throwing her hands up in supplication. “Damn it. Tommy why the fuck do you ever let me talk out loud!” she tried to jest, contemplating sitting on the floor and finally giving up with frustration. “I need to take a walk…” she grumbled, heading out the door before slapping Tommy across the back of the head, eliciting a small smile of acknowledgement. Tommy’s eyes stayed locked to the floor.

“Women” he smiled, one small tear falling to the floor and dotting his dirtied boot. You grabbed his hand lovingly, nodding your head. Emotions were running high, including your own. You genuinely believed that Joel would pull through, besides which you couldn’t stew any longer in your own anxiety.

“You’ll be here?” you asked, watching Tommy shuffle his feet awkwardly.

“Not going anywhere” Tommy stated matter a factly, before giving your hand an exhausted squeeze.

“Okay, let me talk to her…” you offered before casting one final glance in the direction of the surgery room, willing Joel to sense your telepathic concern.

Joel. Fight. Fight like a motherfucker. I can’t lose you. Not yet. Fight. We need you. I need you.

You turned on your heel and headed out the door, knowing the one place Ellie would go for solace. Trudging through the cold and rain which had turned the previous snow to a dirtied sludge, you were quite a distance from The Bookshop. Finally alone with your thoughts and overwhelming emotions, one reality bubbled to the service with stark clarity;

….Levi was dead.

You weren’t exactly pleased, but wondered at his unexpected demise. Is it possible that Joel had something to do with it? You batted the thought away with annoyance. But with Levi’s death came the completion of a chapter of life that had long since ended. You were thankful for the closure, and desperately wanted to talk with Joel. IF he was able. You winced painfully, shoving those intrusive thoughts out of your mind as quickly as they appeared. Nearing the Bookshop you already saw the telltale signs of the woodburning stove and pacing tom-cat. It just wasn’t Rascal this time, it was Ellie. You approached cautiously, the bell at the door muffling a somber sounding ‘ding’ as you pried the door open tentatively.

“Can I come in?” you ventured, spying Rascal the Cat who was similarly peeking its head from behind the bookshelves. Ellie didn’t respond, just continued her cyclical pacing around the room in a flurried fashion. You shut the door behind you, backing up against it so as not to frighten her unduly. Ellie made another loop around the totality of the Bookshop as Rascal eyed you both suspiciously. Whilst obviously aware of your presence, Ellie seemed undeterred from her meditative flurry as she muttered something under her breath.

“Endure and survive, endure and survive, endure and survive….”

It took you a couple passes to gather what she might be repeating as she continued to scratch at her forearms, so you decided to take up residence in the foyer armchair, wrapping the quilt around yourself protectively. You were thankful to be distracted by your care for Ellie, otherwise you might have crawled out of your own skin waiting for the surgery to be successful. After a few minutes you decided on a different tactic.

“Have you arrived at the confession yet?”.

Ellie’s circular path halted, placing her behind a bookshelf, effectively hidden from your sight. You had struck a chord. Maybe if she couldn’t immediately make her own confession, you could arrive at via literary resources.

“Of course, Rascal tries to make his confession multiple times before he finally succeeds with Sophia…” you continued as Ellie’s mantra resumed, albeit at a slower tempo.

“Endure and survive, endure and survive…”.

“When Rascalonikov finally confesses, he moves from a place of human isolation to Divine consummation. Much like Lazarus, he begins to participate in his own rebirth; his own moral resurrection, rejoining the community via his own suffering and eventual redemption…”. Ellie quietly stopped pacing as Rascal the Cat nearly bumped into her calves and stared at you with a fixed intensity. “Just don’t tell Joel, I don’t think he’s read to that part yet…” your voice finally wobbled with emotion, allowing the smallest thread of reality to seep into your periphery.

Rascal the Cat slowly began stalking in the opposite direction, as Ellie attempted not to trip.

“And when he eventually does, a lot of it is steeped in anger and bitterness…”. Ellie remained undeterred in her pacing, but the words dulled to a non-existent roar. “That’s one of Dostoyevsky’s main points, regardless of society’s aversion to it, the true human of conscience can’t escape their own Divinity. Morality becomes it’s own punishment…and salvation…”. You were just winging it here, but how many lectures were born out of spontaneous desperation? Pouring your fervor and anxiety into the one beneficial thing you could helplessly do, was less of a decision and more of a reaction. Rascal the Cat had finally ceased his opposition and trotted merrily behind Ellie in her slowing circle of perseveration.

“If you had the power to save Levi’s life…would you?” she rasped, Rascal plopping down on the floor lazily and beginning to play with Ellie’s tangled shoestrings. Your mouth fell open dryly as the pit of your stomach dropped to the floor abruptly. An unexpected bout of tears immediately sprung to your eyes as the room stilled with a newfound, pulsing heat. You grasped helplessly at emotions you obligated yourself to, contrasted by the confusing substantiality of what was. Waiting for your response, Ellie delicately walked towards you, seating herself at your feet and looking out the main foyer window pensively. “If somehow you had the power to save, even the worst of these…would you do it?”.

You closed your eyes with consternation, Joel’s small, pained form seared into the recesses of your mind. Could both seeming dichotomies be true? Were punishment and salvation so inexorably entwined that humanity could never distentangle them?

“I think…” you cleared your throat from the emotion-filled rasp that greeted you. “I think…I somehow hated Levi enough to WANT him dead, but would do almost anything to keep him alive. It doesn’t make a lot of sense. But that doesn’t make it any less true…”. You collapsed back into the chair with exhaustion as Ellie laid her head against your leg with a restless, contentment. Rascal jumped into your lap, settling himself for a catnap as the snow began to drift lazily across the cold, foyer window. And that’s how you stayed, until the bell rang loudly at the Bookshop Door with Maria’s rushed entrance. You didn’t know when you had all fallen asleep but the specks of whitened snow were now dotted against the darkened, evening sky.

“Joel’s out of surgery!” Maria’s voice jarred you from your tumultuous reverie, as adrenaline kicked your heart into a flurry of activity.

Joel was awake.

Running into the infirmary, ghosts of the previous chaos hung lightly in the air, as you noticed a handful of men, sleeping quietly in corners or speaking in hushed tones. Piles of bloodied rags and emptied IV bags were piled haphazardly outside of the walkway, as Tommy barreled towards you and Maria. “He’s asking for you both” Tommy sighed with relative relief, holding Maria’s hands and stifling a wash of tears. “They removed the bullet, and if we can hold off infection, he should make a steady recovery” his voice trembled with emotion as Maria nodded her head with encouragement. “It’s good that we’re both the same blood type” he smirked with chagrin. “‘Seems only fitting if I got Joel nearly killed out there, that I should have something to do with his recovery”. You smiled with gratitude, grasping Tommy’s forearm and then heading tentatively into the make-shift recovery room.

Seeing Joel’s skin in a grayish hue, but his otherwise serene expression, dotted with a slight sheen of perspiration was a mixture of solace and concern. But he was safe. Ellie took your hand shakily as intently watched Joel’s chest rise and fall in steady breath. The four of you stood poised at Joel’s bedside, somber and quiet. It was quite a bit of time before Ellie’s voice tentatively emerged.

“I have to tell you…” she whispered, barely audible, as Joel’s eyelids fluttered sweetly in medicated sleep. Maria pursed her lips stubbornly, determined to protect the fragility of the moment.

“Tell us what, honey?” you swallowed, not taking your eyes off of Joel. None of you wanted to disrupt the intimacy of your connection. You were alive. There was something about death that made living all the sweeter. Ellie slowly reached down and peeled back the sleeve of her flannel revealing the puckered and veined laceration of an apparent infection. Without meaning to, you dropped her hand reactively, bringing your hand up to your mouth with revulsion. Tommy closed his eyes and dropped his head to the ground, while Maria gasped in quiet surprise.

“Ellie, are you?…When?…” Maria’s voice was pinched and cautious as Tommy shook his head quietly, holding her fixedly in place.

“Let ‘er talk first…” Tommy’s voice graveled, as you grabbed her hand again in forced solidarity.

“Are you sick? Are you infected?” the words tumbled out of your mouth as Joel stirred slightly in the bed.

“I thought I was…” Ellie’s confession now poured out of her without hesitation or limit. “But I’m immune. Joel knows. He’s known for a while. That’s what we were trying to do with the Fireflies. We were trying to find a cure”. The words hung awkwardly in the air as Maria’s brow crumpled in disbelief.

“That’s what you’ve been hiding?” Maria looked to Tommy doubtfully as he remained stoically in place. Ellie swallowed dolefully, her eyes widened to saucer-shaped orbs of apology.

“There are others” Ellie blurted out, as Joel stirred once again, his fingers quivering at his sides helplessly, unbeknownst to you and the group. “I’m not the only one, but it’s dangerous for anyone to know. There’s no cure. At least none that we could find. We got out of there as fast possible once raiders descended on the hospital. Joel saved me. He might have saved us all” Ellie reflected, looking back at his stilled form on the gurney. “I’m sorry Maria” her voice broke with defeat. “I didn’t want to get your hopes up…for you…and the baby. But no one can know…” her shoulders sagged with overwhelm before Joel’s voice rumbled low and quiet against the stillness.

“Hey Teach…” he smiled tiredly, reaching a hand out towards you and Ellie as you both quickly moved towards him. “When’s that pop quiz you promised me?”. The five of you laughed with relief before Joel winced in relative pain, clutching his abdomen tenderly. You made quick eye contact with Maria and Ellie in knowing acknowledgement of discussions yet to be traversed. But not now. Now, was the time for healing and rest.

“Come on Joel” you sighed with reassurance. “Let’s get you home”.

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!”

Happy Pedro Hours Bouquets of Pedro!

Gosh, I wanted to do so much more for Valentine's but here we have arrived. I DO enjoy writing for Din, as per @beefrobeefcal Christmas Prompt. But I currently have my hands full with Pedge's Bookshop "Crime and Punishment" Series completion and Din deserves our full attention. I'm not sure if it's Platonic Love or not, but I always found Din to be ace-coded, so I enjoyed some beautiful @auteurdelabre coloring + a bitty poem to celebrate this Pedro Boy. Hope you are enjoying Valentine's and all things Love! Thanks @happypedrohours for the fun activities!

Platonic Love

Come, my love, and wrap the tendrils of your soul around mine Anchor yourself to the port of my storm Reach out for me, with the Divinity within, as I reach within for You I do not tether myself to you anymore Than we are already inexorably linked I do not entitle myself to a Love already realized And if we must lie together, let’s do so quickly, As though racing towards a reality already observed Reveal yourself to me, as I already know you, So that I may better divine myself Let us layer our bodies on top of The unspeakable euphoria and horror we must endure Let us divorce ourselves from ourselves, Taking one another without judgement or force Shed your armor and step into my ocean I will encase you, enhouse you, as unto myself, Forever relinquishing and forever devouring

*thanks @dollywons for the cool dividers

@joelmillerisapunk @i-own-loki @oliveksmoked @inept-the-magnificent

Pedge's Bookshop The Talk

Bookshop: As per your recommendation, Joel is our shop owner. I think there's something appealing in a man who says little, but obviously feels so much. I just finished reading Pedge's rec for "Crime and Punishment" and it's a doozy. Joel has a lot...or very little say about it.

Triggers: spoilers for "Crime and Punishment", "Last of Us" canon, profanity, gun, sexually threatening situation, cat allergies...

Series Masterlist

Word Count: 2k

“Now, just because Teach is comin’ to the house more often, don’t mean that she’s like…your mom or somethin’…”.

Ellie winced awkwardly hearing the stilted words fall out of Joel’s mouth in his decidedly Southern drawl. This was easily the most uncomfortable conversation she had ever had. What topic was he going to broach next, the birds and the bees? Watching the reddish tint creep up Joel’s neck, now reaching to the tips of his ears, Ellie saw a rare opportunity to rib him a little.

“Just one question…” Ellie somberly muttered, casting her eyes deceptively downward to the bookshop floor hearing Joel’s gruff affirmation in response. “If your condom breaks, does that mean I get a little brother?” Ellie’s mouth turned upward in mischief, watching the crimson hue completely drain from Joel’s chagrined face as he froze in temporary emotional paralysis.

“Maybe we can call him Rascalnikov for short?” Ellie teased as Rascal the Cat quipped its head to the side in curiosity. Joel’s face registered a millisecond of recognition before he exhaled the breath he had unknowingly been holding, chuckling softly under his breath.

“Fuckin’ teenagers” he muttered, his shoulders quaking slightly with laughter. “Look, unless you want an earful, just get home a little later tonight, okay? Me and the Teach are gonna have some adult time…”

“…Discussing literature?” Ellie interrupted, kicking at Joel’s booted foot playfully.

“…Discussing LITERATURE, among other things” Joel continued wryly. “But this is all real new, and we don’t want to rush into anything that…”

“…Makes us extremely uncomfortable” Ellie continued to jest, rolling her eyes clairvoyantly. If Joel was determined to drag this conversation out, then she was going to have her fun with it. Ellie was actually excited to form more of a connection with you. In your conversations you had already formed a connection, and your response to her had been so welcoming and inclusive. Besides the sharing of clandestinely housed secrets, in you, Ellie had found a mentor, a friend and a teacher. Someone who understood the darker parts of humanity, maybe even of themselves, but didn’t shy away from it. And Ellie desperately needed more people like that. But she wasn’t done humiliating Joel while his soft underbelly was exposed.

“You know there are lots of ways you can be intimate with someone, without risking a pregnancy…” Ellie continued watching Joel’s jaw lock with embarrassment. “I’ve been reading some VERY educational material here at the Bookshop that Maria and Tommy should DEFINITELY have read…”.

“Jesus Christ” Joel wiped his hand over his face with annoyance. “Are ya done yet?”

“Oh I’m just gettin’ started” Ellie razzed before acquiescing to his point.

“Just…nothin’s changin’. It’s still you and me” Joel’s eyebrows pinched in the center of his forehead with real concern as Ellie considered his words carefully.

“All jokes aside…it’s okay” Ellie hesitatingly pondered. “I like Teach a lot, and so do you. But things are gonna change. Things always do. We’ve just gotta make it our business to change with ‘em.” Ellie nodded her head curtly as though agreeing with herself. She had already lost enough in this world to know how temporary things could be, and knew that life was meant to be lived. Hesitate for even a millisecond and your entire existence was a flash in the pan. Ellie wasn’t going to go out quite so easily.

“How’d you get so smart?” Joel mumbled, kicking back at Ellie’s foot good naturedly. 

“Did you hear about the Buddhist who refused Novocain?”

Joel stalled in confusion, squinting his eyes skeptically.

“His goal was transcend-dental-MEDICATION” Ellie paused triumphantly as Joel brought his hands to his hips with defiance.

“I’m leavin’”. Joel grabbed his winter coat heading for the door huffily.

“Atheism is a non-PROPHET organization” Ellie called after Joel as he stalked past her gruffly shooing Rascal the Cat out of his way deftly.

“Be home by 10, BUT NOT BEFORE!” Joel reiterated, flinging the bookshop door open, a hefty bounce in his step she hadn’t previously noticed.

“Hope you get an ‘A+’!” Ellie managed to get in before the bookshop bell sounded cheerily and Joel was out the door and headed home. She smiled to herself victoriously, looking around the Bookshop happily.

Good for you old man, she chuckled, heading into the back room to grab another stack of books. The store was nearly assembled, and despite Joel’s grumblings she knew that he was anxious to open it, not just for the rest of the commune but for the admiration and encouragement of his favorite customer; Teach. All that remained was a special exhibit featuring the Book of the Month, “Crime and Punishment”. Options were still limited, but the display would include a dirtied copy of “Anna Karenina”, “The Master and Margarita” (which was unfortunately in Russian), and a collection of short stories featuring Chekhov. It was somewhat miraculous they had the options they did, so Ellie was smiling as the bookshop bell rang upon her re-entrance to the main lobby. “Forget your condoms?!” she chided, now hearing the tell-tale hissing of Rascal as her stride was abruptly halted in revulsion.

Levi.

What the hell was he doing here? She looked around the Bookshop noting her avenues of escape, and was continually grateful for the wide open window transparently showcasing their interaction. However, the backroom now forebodingly loomed behind her. She resumed her confident path to the front counter, pocketing a nearly dried out ball point pen. “What do you want, Levi?” she spat, mirroring Rascal’s aggressive reception.

“Ain’t got to want something to visit the commune bookshop” Levi retorted, dragging his dirty fingers along the display shelves and kicking at the cat with annoyance.

“Well, we’re actually closed, so why don’t you come back when you learn how to read” Ellie responded sweetly, gripping the pen abrasively in her small hand. This felt terrifyingly familiar, and she wasn’t going to lose the upper hand. No one was coming to save her, and she was all too ready to take care of herself.

“Well ain’t you got a mouth on ya?” Levi judiciously appraised, picking up the showcased copy of “Crime and Punishment” and tossing it unceremoniously back on the table. “You remind me of the Teach, when we first met”. Ellie bristled noticeably whilst battling her own curiosity. Levi was no friend of hers, but knowing more about the Teach and her background was an interest she couldn’t deny.

“I’m surprised she didn’t run circles around you” Ellie bantered, watching Rascal bob and weave like a feline prize fighter, ineffectively batting a small paw at Levi’s boot.

“Can’t say she didn’t” Levi offered, his hands outstretched plaintively. “But surely you know, sometimes circumstances force our hand. Most people would be willing to do whatever it takes to survive”.

“Endure and survive” she almost whispered.

“I like that!” Levi feigned enthusiasm, now drifting behind one of the tall bookshelves, his voice eerily echoing in the Bookshop. “Endure and survive!” he re-emerged, peaking out from behind a different bookshelf, now several paces closer to the front counter.

“What do you want, Levi” Ellie growled, shifting a few feet closer to the doorway and trying to situate herself nearer the exit. 

“I’ve got my eye on you…and Teach” Levi threatened, contrasted by his all but beaming countenance, as he edged closer. Rascal latched his serrated claws onto Levi’s tall boots, but found him undeterred.

“What is that supposed to frighten me or something?” Ellie countered, gripping the pen harder in her now sweating hand. She could go for the eye, or the jugular if she had the right angle. Maybe Rascal could prove a worthy distraction.

Levi reached to the side, donning a small revolver that he brandished in front of him like a toy. Ellie’s eyes widened to the shape of saucers. Leave it to her to bring a ball point pen to a gun fight. What could he possibly gain by shooting her in broad daylight? He couldn’t be serious. Levi was many things, but crazy wasn’t one of them. Before Ellie had a chance to register what was happening, Levi slid the gun across the counter proffering both hands before him in surrender.

“Thought I’d lay all my cards on the table, before you had a chance to doubt my intentions” Levi drawled, leaning on the opposite end of the counter and ignoring Rascal’s hissing and caterwauling. “How old are you anyways?”.

“Too young for you” Ellie bluntly stated before greedily grabbing the gun and pointing it in Levi’s direction. His eyes shifted darkly eyeing the barrel of the loaded gun and licking his lips slowly. “‘Sides I don’t date psychopaths” Ellie joked, waving the gun towards the door. “Get out of her Levi, before we both do something we’re gonna regret”.

The look in Levi’s eyes flashed a momentary dejection, as the cat finally abandoned its attack and slunk off to the back room in defeat. “Ya gonna shoot me, before you even know what I have to say?”

Ellie slowly cocked the gun, relishing the clicking metal beneath her fingers. “Fuck around and find out, Levi” she breathed deeply, focusing on what Joel had taught her about marksmanship.  

“Yeaaaaah” Levi’s honeyed voice almost smothered her with its poisonous sweetness. “You’d do it, wouldn’t ya? But I know somethin’ you don’t. You think you’re so special, like you’re the only one with passion or desperation?” Levi inched closer as Ellie backed up. “Nothin’ special about the will to live.  Saw it in Teach. Saw it in Joel. See it in you…” Ellie held her breath, considering her options. She’d killed before, and she could do it again.

“Go ahead. I like my girls fightin’” Levi stretched his arm towards Ellie as her foot unexpectedly caught on the lip of the rug. Without even thinking, the pull of the gun slammed back violently against her hand as a bullet grazed past Levi’s shoulder and lodged itself in the nearby bookshelf. Ellie’s eyebrows shot up to her forehead, a mixture of bravado and shock as she flung the gun back on the counter towards Levi’s surprised expression.

“I’ll be damned” Levi sighed, slowly taking the gun and returning it to the holster disappointedly. He sounded almost disheartened as he regarded Ellie with a newfound clarity. “Guess I have my answer” he sulked, giving one final look to the Bookshop before heading towards the door. “Maybe you’re not like Teach at all…” he appraised, casting one final look back before jerking the door open swiftly and ducking out. Ellie gripped her chest anxiously, as Rascal the Cat poked its head out from the backroom, meowing with uncertainty. 

“It’s okay, he’s gone” she muttered, rounding the corner and laying a finger to the bullet lodged in Joel’s fine workmanship. A small party of men went running down the main thoroughfare, ostensibly in search of the ruckus as Ellie winced with embarrassment. Maybe she would just keep this little altercation to herself. But one thing was quite clear; Levi was a threat to more than just her, but also to the lives of the entire commune and the people she cared most about. As far as Ellie was concerned, Levi couldn’t leave soon enough. She plopped herself down on the floor unceremoniously as Rascal sidled up next to her with encouragement, purring softly.

In this moment she was assured of her resolve, and had never felt so certain of anything. She would protect, and she would kill. She would do whatever it takes to keep her future lodged safely in the palm of her hand.

And she would do it, by any means necessary.

Pedge's Bookshop The Patrol

Grab a Latte! lounge around in the foyer with this sweet series, "A Girl Walks Into a Bookshop" by @oonajaeadira before heading into the store!

Triggers: profanity, Last of Us canon + references, MAJOR spoilers for "Crime and Punishment", alcohol, lots of talking, ambush, gunfight, nightmare, descriptions of death/loss, injury, blood..

Series Masterlist

Words: 3k

Joel listened to the steady thrumming clip-clop of the mare’s hooves, watching his breath perspire and evaporate in the cold wintry air. Truthfully, his mind wasn’t on the approaching task of securing the spring resources for the Jackson commune, or divining the nebulous intentions of the visiting posse on their tentative, circumstantial union. 

He was thinking about you.

The smell of your hair in the morning as it cascaded around him like fluttering wings. The soft, open part of your lips as you slept soundly in his bed. The crinkle of your nose as you awoke in the approaching day. And he wondered if the soft hums you made in your sleep in any way would mirror the sounds you would make otherwise. He shifted his body, suddenly contrastingly hot against the morning air. Breathing deeply, he refocused his eyes on the surrounding nature before him. Tommy rode several paces ahead and the group had already made good time on the second of their three day journey. The trip had been relatively uneventful, as they ventured to meet the tradesman at Elk Creek

The only wild card was Levi.

Joel’s body stiffened at the mere thought of Levi’s presence and his suspiciously friendly demeanor on this forced expedition. It was quite bad enough that Levi had unceremoniously revealed your previous employ as an escort. Joel did not judge, having made some nebulous choices in the name of survival. But Levi’s insidious and stubborn attempts to ingratiate himself, not only to the Jackson commune but to the Miller Family in general, set Joel’s teeth on edge. As though telepathically summoned, Joel heard the telltale percussivity of Levi’s aggressive galloped approach.

“Man of few words” Levi quipped, slowing his steed’s gait and sidling up alongside Joel’s unwilling stature.

“Let’s keep it that way” Joel retorted, gripping the leather a bit tighter and unsuccessfully attempting to rein in his own hostility.

“Can’t ignore me forever, Joel” Levi countered, spitting needlessly to the side and sucking his teeth with annoyance. 

“Watch me” Joel muttered under his breath, just loud enough for Levi to hear and chuckle at sardonically.

“I like you Joel. You remind me of myself” Levi laughed as Joel gritted his teeth violently, swallowing hard. He would NOT be baited. “You might not like it, but I knew our girl way before you did. I know her in a way that you never will”. Levi’s words stung unexpectedly, as Joel was forced to consider the mutual anonymity that so many post-apocalyptic relationships were forced to endure. 

“I know her” Joel countered, craning his neck slowly and meeting Levi’s gaze. “And more importantly, she knows me. I’m someone she can trust, and that’s something you never were and will never be”. Joel returned to his stoic disposition as Levi paused appraisingly, regarding him with a look that bordered on admiration.

“You’ve got convictions is all” Levi reasoned, nodding his head curtly. “Something I never could afford” he rationalized, shrugging his shoulders with nonchalance. “Man’s gotta believe in something” he offered, almost as an afterthought. Joel quietly wondered if that were true. He thought on some of his own “convictions” and whether they were admirable or not. He refused to be drawn into a moralistic conversation with a man like Levi. What could possibly be gained? All that remained was to tolerate his presence, get the supplies, and get the hell back to the Jackson Commune, content in your arms once more. He didn’t know how he was going to incorporate Levi into this plan, but he didn’t have to. You were his future. You and Ellie, and THAT was all that mattered.

“Can’t say I’ve got many beliefs myself” Levi droned on, seemingly bored with his own conversation. “The only moment truly yours in the one in front of you, so I take advantage of every opportunity” Levi reached into a side pocket, removing a flask and taking a swig before offering it to Joel.

Idiot. Joel rolled his eyes skeptically before adding Levi’s shortcomings to the long list he had already assembled.

“More for me” Levi joked, taking another sip and pocketing the flask once again. “Can’t say I ever met a vice I didn’t like. What about you? You enjoying your time with the Teach?”.

Joel’s breath hitched in his throat abruptly, as he caught Tommy’s skeptical gaze from several paces ahead. This was no time for an altercation, but he nearly crawled out of his skin at the mention of you from someone so vile. 

“Don’t mean anything by it, just noticing. Teach bailed me out more than a few times when I thought I was SOL. She’s real dependable like that. It’s good you have each other”.

The contrast of Levi’s final statement sat in stark opposition to the rest of his potential diatribe. Joel inadvertently furrowed his brow with consternation. Was Levi trying to make nice? Was this yet another facade of friendliness, or ulterior motives? Or was Levi simply observing things as they were? Perhaps even as he wished them to be…Joel immediately felt his rancor flare up with a protective spirit.

“If you even think of touchin’ her…” he threatened, pulling up on the reins forebodingly. Levi followed suit, pausing slightly and allowing the group to cautiously move past. He felt the eyes of Tommy boring into him from several paces ahead, who had also stopped and was turning his horse towards them.

“Wouldn’t dream of it” Levi stated matter-a-factly, his face a staunch pallor of apathy. “Care more about my own self interest. Just sayin’ is all”. Joel started cantering again, only more perplexed than ever. Tommy turned back to the trail with trepidation, keeping an eye on the tenuous conversation. 

What was Levi’s game?

“Just see that you make yourself useful” Joel admonished. “There isn’t a world where you and I are friends. But, take it from me; any man so fixed that he can’t see beyond himself, may as well be alone.”

Levi finally settled into a quiet resolution, as though seeing Joel for the first time. “Get busy livin’ or get busy dyin’…” Levi acquiesced, gazing fixedly at the horizon and moving ahead of Joel to join the rest of the group. Tommy took the opportunity to hesitantly double back next to Joel before questioning.

“What the hell was that all about?” Tommy cautioned, keeping his voice low and secretive.

“Don’t rightly know” Joel confessed, narrowing his eyes in skepticism at Levi’s receding figure. “Just know we can’t trust him. He’s more harm than good”.

“I’m surprised you didn’t deck him again” Tommy admitted, clicking his tongue encouragingly to his own steed. “I know I can’t trust HIM, but can I trust you?”.

Joel whipped his head around with surprise looking into Tommy’s doubtful expression. “What the hell does that mean?” Joel raised his voice before noticing some passing glances from the rest of the posse. “What the hell you on about?” he gritted his teeth conspiratorially, in a hissed whisper.

“Come on Joel, you’re a loose canon, always have been” Tommy kept his voice low and without threat, but there was an edge of candor that only a brother could inflict. Joel swallowed hard, begrudgingly admitting to himself the truth of Tommy’s words.

“You should talk” he grumbled, increasing his speed as Tommy hastened to catch up.

“You listen to me, Joel because I’m only going to say this once. You’re my brother and I love you, but there’s more at stake here than just you or me. I’ve got a family to protect and a commune to lead, and if Levi gets me one step closer to that goal, I’m willing to do whatever it takes” Tommy paused, hesitant to say more. Joel bit his lower lip, reflecting back on his own choices and the lengths a man will go to secure the future that he wants and protect the people he loves.

“S’not like family, Tommy” Joel growled. “You’ve always been an optimist, I’m just sayin’ you can’t trust someone just because they’re strong”.

“Will you give me a little credit, Joel?” Tommy unexpectedly lashed out, lowering his voice once again to avoid too much attention. “I’m not the little brother you left all those years ago” he accused huffily. “You take care of your family the way you see fit, and I’ll take care of mine”.

Joel swallowed the taste of bile, as memory after memory cascaded unbidden into his periphery. Holding Sarah as a baby, flashing on her small form cradled in his arms as she breathed her last. Coming upon Ellie, speckled with blood and terror. The feel of a gun housed securely against his shoulder blade. The smell of iron and gunpowder pervading his senses. He felt his chest lurch forward violently, attempting to stave off another panic attack, as your face floated serenely before his eyes; holding you passionately in the flurries of snow. The smell of dried flowers and bramble berry wine. The tears sprung to his eyes as he quickly took in Tommy’s guilty countenance.

“YOU are my family Tommy” Joel gravely whispered, feeling Tommy’s intense gaze at his shoulder.  “You and Maria…Ellie…and Teach…if she’ll have me” his voice trailed off timidly, not trusting himself to proceed further. Joel didn’t know much, but he had lived lifetimes of forced apathy, violently displacing himself from the power of his own emotion, and the people he loved had always paid the price. Now that he had a second shot at anything close to love, he was hanging on to it with both hands, even at the risk of strangling it. Somehow, he had to keep holding on, whilst simultaneously learning to let go.

“I don’t know what I’m saying” Tommy backpedaled, drawing his hand to the back of his neck with chagrin. “Sometimes I feel crazy, like Maria and the baby…it’s all slipping right through my fingers” he chuckled sheepishly, receiving a nod of encouragement from Joel immediately. 

“Maybe we’re more alike than I thought” Joel joked, reaching out to playfully punch Tommy in the gut. He felt the watchful gaze of Levi from afar, but didn’t pay it any mind. He couldn’t control the future. Hell, he couldn’t even predict the future. The only thing he could control was himself, and even that he wasn’t so sure about. He would have to keep relying on his instincts and let life do the rest. All he needed to do was get home to you. 

Home.

The group continued to make good time until they set up camp near the rendezvous point. Elk Creek had always been a great resource for trade and bartering, and Tommy was intent on getting an early start on the Spring gathering. They managed to find a cave that was interconnected with a quarry, setting up the first watch before settling in for the night. It was a large group of about 25 men, so they decided to risk a few campfires. In the seven years of the commune’s existence the Elk Creek Run had never proven to be dangerous until the recent events that necessitated the support of Levi and his disheveled band of journeymen. Wary of future altercations they decided to go on the offensive. Perhaps renegades would be hesitant to attack seeing a small militia of this fortitude.

Levi sat alone, his back against the rock, shadows eerily dancing and silhouetted against the quieting campsite. Hunched over protectively, he observed the friendly banter between men, casting a jealous glance towards Joel and his brother Tommy as they laughed by the fire. What made them so different from him? Why were their desires so much more noble than his? Levi knew desperation when he saw it, and survival in the apocalypse had only heightened the corruption and self-interest that already existed. It was just as well he was already well-versed in the art of self-protection. He’d always survived by his wits; card-shark, con-man, go-between. Any opportunity observed was an opportunity seized upon, and it didn’t matter who he had to manipulate, so long as Levi ended up on top. He hunched down further, bracing himself against the stolid rock face. Truth be told, the freedom of this ongoing anarchic existence provided Levi with a strange dichotomy of liberation and oppression. He was loathe to admit it, but it turned out that even hyper-independence had its own special distinction of isolation. Even tentatively joining the commune and engineering a shaky reunion with you had proven ineffective. Eventually, that same self-salvation seemed to destructively twist in on itself. Levi had long since passed the point of no return regarding his own apathy, but a spark of bitterness pulled at whatever heart strings remained, particularly when he looked at Joel Miller. 

They were the same. Weren’t they?

He gazed down at a small spider stretching itself across the gritty soil, unperturbed by the nearby flickering flames. Levi shivered slightly, repulsed by its alien exoskeleton. He leveled a heavy boot on top of its delicate filaments, his eyes shifting to another moving target to his right. An undulating centipede was crawling its way towards his arm, before Levi grabbed a large rock, hefting it sloppily forward. Looking over at his foot, a myriad of spiders suddenly cascaded from the original, pouring forth like an overwhelming quicksand of darkness. He hardly had time to register a horrified expression before feather-light touches of legs tickled his neck and shoulders from behind, spiders crawling like enigmatic tendrils as he stood shakily to his feet. Right before uttering a scream to high heaven Levi…

…jerked his head upwards from an unexpected stupor, breathing heavily, his heart pounding relentlessly in his chest. The camp had stilled even more, though gazing several feet ahead, he saw Joel clutching his firearm fixedly, staring at Levi’s halting expression. Levi clenched his jaw with discomfort, scrambling for his flask of whiskey and downing the dregs in one terrified gulp.  Just a nightmare. Inwardly he scowled, abhorrent to admit his temporary lapse. Settling back in  for the night, he skulked forebodingly in the corner, reflecting on his future options. Maybe he could get Maria on his side. She was a shrewd leader, but similarly found herself with her back against the wall. It wouldn’t be possible to pull the wool over Joel’s eyes, but maybe Tommy was in Maria’s pocket. Nor would Ellie be dissuaded, and the Teach…Levi flashed on your angelic visage, his jaw pulsing with resentment. He felt certain that your shared background would ingratiate him and alienate you, but such was not the case. Somehow you had already managed to sway the commune to your side, and Levi was impressed. Reflecting on your smiling face, he caught the smallest micro expression of violence seeping into your countenance. As though temporarily vindicated, the expression expanded into one of sheer maniacal terror a broad, gaping grin splitting your mouth into an appalling void. A quiet, looming scream seemed to emanate from beyond his body. Was it your voice? Was it his? His body felt immobilized in quicksand as he struggled to escape his sleep paralysis. It wasn’t until a bullet grazed the rock face behind him that Levi sprung into an adrenaline fueled aggression. 

“Move!” Joel’s voice split the darkness, as Levi took in the chaotic, fire-lit reality that mirrored the nightmarish hell his mind had just escaped. Men were screaming and yelling as they ran purposelessly around the campsite, looking for shelter or solace of any kind. Levi’s head whipped around to the tell-tale shriek of an infected, grabbing at the gun in his holster and running towards the small remaining group of men, hunkered down in a small rock protected abutment that were motioning him in. Sliding into place with a dusty fury, Levi quickly clocked around 50 infected pouring out of the quarry, as though mimicking the spiders in his recent nightmare.

“Jesus Christ” Tommy muttered, reloading and looking around the disintegrating campsite. “Where the hell are your men going, Levi?” he all but screamed, watching several picked off by the nearby infected. Levi’s heart twisted violently in his chest. Everything was falling apart, and there was nothing that he could about it. The men wouldn’t follow his lead, they were as self-motivated as he was. The men of Jackson Commune were a stolid and well-led bunch, but they were about to find themselves significantly outnumbered if something wasn’t done. Joel shoved his way to the front of the group, picking off five infected in quick succession, and reloading his firearm as well. 

“What are you gonna do about it, Levi!” Joel bellowed, looking helplessly at Tommy and shoving Levi to the side. Levi closed his eyes tiredly feeling the knot tighten in his chest poisonously. 

“Get busy livin’ or get busy dyin’” he droned, a dry smile passing over his lips as Joel looked on incredulously. “Tell Teach that she owes me one…” he quipped, holding his firearm lovingly and taking a deep breath before barreling forward suicidally.

“Son of a bitch” Joel muttered, trying to provide cover for Levi’s ill fated martyrdom but quickly realizing its futility. Levi managed to take down another 5 infected before vanishing in a dusty clump of writhing bodies and blood curdling screams. Tommy leveled another 3 infected from where he stood, as Joel reloaded as quickly as possible.

“Get DOWN Tommy!” Joel yelled, rising to his feet and shoving Tommy into the dirt before a searing knife-like explosion bloomed across his abdomen painfully. Tommy’s eyes widened in distress, viewing the steadily blossoming pool of blood flower across Joel’s stomach as he crumpled to the ground in anguish. Joel gritted his teeth stubbornly, his firearm clattering helplessly to the dirt, a flurry of hands and concerned voices darkening around him. He was thankful for the twisting exhaustion that deadened his entire body as he focused on your image with each labored breath. 

Home. Home.

It would only be a matter of time before he saw you again, whether in this life or the next. His mouth tiredly curled into a smile before darkness finally took him. 

Home. Home. Home.

@morallyinept @littlemisspascal @wannabe-urs

@beefrobeefcal @sawymredfox 

@wordywarriorwrites @burntheedges @inept-the-magnificent @timelordfreya 

@schnarfer @devineconjuring @mermaidgirl30 @mandolover37 @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog 

@joelmillerisapunk @jennaispunk @sheepdogchick3 @marcus-is-my-muse @guiltyasdave 

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@harriedandharassed @brittmb115 @confusedpuffin @zaniasky @quicax3

Pedge's Bookshop The Storm

Grab a Latte! lounge around in the foyer with this sweet fic "Taste You" by @hellishjoel before heading into the Bookshop!

Triggers: profanity, Last of Us canon + references, this series will feature MAJOR spoilers for "Crime and Punishment", lite smut, ex-type character, spiritual concepts, injury

Series Masterlist

Words: 3.3k

You drew a tentative single finger down the perspiring glass of water before you. The town hall cavernously echo’d, as your leg tapped nervously under the elongated table before you. Tommy shuffled his papers awkwardly as Joel placed a firmly solid hand atop your thigh, squeezing gently as you attempted to take a deep breath. This had been YOUR idea. Maria swallowed dryly, pausing to look at a non-existent watch and then softly chuckling to herself in defeat. Everyone had assembled except the least desired member of the discussion; Levi.

Once again you questioned your motivations, but with the administrative transitions coming up  and the anticipation of Maria’s pregnancy, it was more important than ever to solidify the safety and maintenance of the commune’s existence. You just never counted on it including Levi. Initially you had reasoned that his temporary presence might be nothing more than an inconvenience; a temporary setback when your past haltingly caught up with you. You had spent more than a few sleepless nights, wondering if his appearance was the harbinger of disastrous revelations, and indeed, it had culminated in more than a few protestations. The worst had occurred; and The Miller Family at large was all too aware of your questionable background and salacious past. But if anything, it had seemingly solidified their undeserved respect and acceptance of your assured position in the community. Tommy was overjoyed to provide Maria with extended resources, and Maria was holding her skepticism of Joel at bay with her repulsion of Levi in comparison. Ellie had all but started a campaign for your continued administrative duties, and Joel. Joel was the most surprising of all.  The layers of armor and emotional barriers had finally started to dissipate, as your own vulnerabilities came to light.

Not so with Levi. 

His moral apathy hung like a weight around his neck, dragging him and his posse to the forefront of patrol responsibilities, as they begrudgingly ingratiated themselves into town life. It was only a matter of time before the uncomfortable social bomb detonated, and you were hopeful that casualties could be limited, so you had suggested this clunky and currently stalled discussion to get a better idea of Levi’s intentions. Joel shifted with discomfort in his seat, as he glanced sideways and offered a perfunctory smile. His only motivation for being here was YOU, and offering whatever support or encouragement he could. Levi had set his teeth on edge from day one, but since that tumultuous altercation at dinner, Joel had managed to stifle whatever aggressive tendencies bubbled just below the surface. You appreciated his stolid presence, but felt the tension shifting between Maria as well. There were so many things unsaid, and you weren’t sure if voicing them would bring any clarity or unification. You just knew that things could not stay they way that they were. Finally, the door swung open as Levi strode confidently and loudly into the echoing chamber, fresh from patrol. Grabbing a nearby chair, he grabbed the available glass of water and downed it in several quick swallows before wiping his hand sloppily across his mouth and heavily sighing.

“Hey Teach” he smirked, squaring off against Joel who sat across the table and staring into Maria’s eyes as though questioning the barrel of a loaded gun.

“Thanks for joining us, Levi. I trust you and your group didn’t encounter any unexpected difficulties on patrol this evening” Tommy began, attempting to assuage the growing tensions.

“How could I? You’ve got me on such a tight leash I’m starting to feel like the commune bitch” Levi joked, casting a teasing glance in your direction before Joel cleared his throat menacingly. Levi paused appraisingly. “Nothing to write home about…” he begrudgingly jested, leaning back in his chair as though settling in for an interrogation.

“Tommy and I wanted to get a better idea of your long term intentions for commune residency” Maria engaged, setting her papers before her as though back in a courtroom atmosphere. “Joel tells me your patrol participation has been…satisfactory”.

Levi drolly smiled, crossing his arms smugly behind his head. You vaguely imagined him tipping over backwards, he seemed so pleased with himself. “High praise indeed” Levi sarcastically observed, pursing his lips thoughtfully.

“Your arrival was…well-timed” the words curtly exited Joel’s mouth. “Figure the same will be true for your exit” he quipped, his jaw ticking angrily beneath. You took a deep stilling breath before attempting to join the conversation.

“I for one, am very grateful for Levi’s support” you chose your words carefully, feeling Joel bristle beside you. “Nothing is more important to me than the people of this commune, and if Levi has anything beneficial to add, I think we should put it to the test”. You surprised yourself with the assertion of your tone, but encouraged by Maria’s staunch reinforcement. Levi’s eyes deceptively narrowed at the directionality of your challenge, and he sat up as though answering  a dual.

“Don’t matter to me” Levi nearly spat, knocking the table slightly with his body weight and relishing the small jump it elicited from you. “World’s been endin’ for a long time now. I’m just scopin’ out the best place to land” he licked his chapped lips defiantly. Maria nodded definitively, though Joel was shaking his head in silence. You felt as though you were poised between a rock and a hard place. Desperately wanting to protect Joel and the commune, but currently at the mercy of your own desires and insecurities. 

Tommy broke the tension deftly, “Alright, it’s a deal. One week from now we have our next scheduled resource rendezvous. Joel, you and I can lead a patrol at dawn, and Levi and his group can watch the defensive flank. What’dya say Levi?” Tommy stood to punctuate the offer, holding out a circumstantially forced hand of agreement. Levi stood to mirror him, spitting into his hand and grasping Tommy’s firmly in his. Joel gripped the table forcefully, a ticking time bomb, waiting to explode at any moment. Levi smiled with awareness, enjoying the mounting tensions of the moment. He feigned a two finger salute, “Be seein’ ya!” before striding back out of the town hall, and slamming the door behind him. The room audibly breathed a sigh of relief upon his exit.

“Are we really doing this?” Joel muttered under his breath. Maria’s gaze held a steely resolution, as Tommy sat down defeatedly. 

“It’ll be okay” you encouraged, taking Joel’s hand fixedly in your own, under the table. Perhaps the ends could justify the means. You were loathe to articulate the unspoken truth, but you no longer had the luxury of painting reality in any other light. The truth might be a bitter pill to swallow, but in the face of insurmountable odds the only thing you really risked losing was yourself. You flashed on a Dostoyevsky quote that the devil might not exist, but man has thus created him in his own image and likeness. But if you could save the commune…if you could save Ellie…if you could save Joel…it was worth it. However, the weight of your discussion settled over the table with a heavy foreboding.

Had you just made a deal with the devil?

Joel’s whiskers teased the sensitive skin of your neckline as you bumped precariously against one of the bookshelves. “You know, if it weren’t for you, I wouldn’t have to keep revisiting the Arts and Recreation section…” you breathed, eyelids heavy with longing, as you temporarily paused his ministrations.

“Feels pretty recreational to me…” Joel teased, grabbing the lush shape of your backside, and caging you against the oaken wood.  The corners of you mouth hiked upward as you drew your hands lazily up and around his neck.

“I AM sorry about this upcoming patrol” you apologized, halting Joel’s salacious attention and watching the incredulity flood his features.

“Just protocol” Joel chastised, touching his nose lightly to yours. “We need the supplies, and if Levi can help us get it, we’ll use him in the process” he wisely advised, tightening his grip. 

You smiled cautiously, “Please watch yourself around him, Joel”.

“Always do, ‘xcept when I’m watchin’ you…” he joked, pulling you in for another kiss. You were about to admonish him when Rascal the Cat signaled an approaching customer. The doorbell chimed distinctly as Joel rounded the corner, deftly tucking you behind the bookshelf clandestinely. “We’re closed…” he began, before subtly bristling at Maria’s appearance. “Oh…uh…Maria….Everything alright?” Joel’s hand stayed behind the bookshelf, motioning for you to stay quiet.

“Sorry to bother you Joel, I had some commune business I wanted to run by you without a bunch of watchful eyes” Maria judiciously observed, clearing her throat authoritatively. You secretively held your breath, stilling your pounding heart. Should you announce yourself? You still felt a little unsure of your new administrative position, and Joel seemed content to keep your presence known only to himself. Perhaps you could do more good from the shadows…

“I hate to ask it, but…I’ve been talking to Ellie” Maria began, looking apprehensively around the room, as though expecting her to show up at any moment.

“Now wait just a goddam minute…” Joel retorted, leaving you behind in the back of the bookshop and moving towards Maria purposefully. 

“She just wants to join patrols, Joel. She’s old enough, and capable as hell, and you know it” Maria countered, shifting her weight awkwardly. She was getting closer and closer to a due date, and the pressure of that responsibility might be motivating her decisions unexpectedly.

“Don’t make it right” Joel stated matter a factly, nodding his head succinctly. You were already hesitant about Joel’s patrol participation, and weren’t keen to add Ellie to the mix. The last thing you needed was Levi influencing them both.

“I know you’re protective of her, but she watches you like a hawk. She only wants what’s best…” Maria chimed in as Joel folded his arms skeptically across his chest.

“Can’t do it” he argued. “S’not time yet”.

Maria sighed with defeat, placing her hands on her hips with a slight defiance. “Well,…you’re gonna have to explain that to her yourself, because she won’t leave me alone otherwise”. Joel nodded knowingly, anxious to drop the matter as quickly as possible. 

“’S’good training for your little one, whenever they arrive” Joel offered, widening his eyes sympathetically. He might complain about the responsibilities of faux parenthood, but it was apparent in all of his actions and words that Ellie was his pride and joy. He wasn’t easily going to let her out of his sight. You smiled affectionately.

“Ellie’s a lucky kid” Maria downshifted, heading away from the Bookshop Counter and within your diagonal sightline, though you were still relatively hidden behind the bookshelves. “I can see why she’s so special…” Maria seemingly taunted, fingering the nearby psychology section and drawing her words out precisely.

“What’dya mean by that?” Joel interrogated, a slight bite nearing the edges of his tone subtly. “What’d Tommy say?”.

“Oh nothing…” Maria toyed again, pulling out a copy of Sigmund Freud’s “The Interpretation of Dreams” and placing it back on the bookshelf in one motion. “Just seems like I can’t get a straight answer around here. From Levi, Ellie…YOU” Maria’s voice sounded neutral and passive, but there was an air of interrogation in it. Maria was a leader through and through, and if she seized upon something that raised a red flag, she reminded you of a dog with a bone. She wasn’t easily going to let this go.

You peeked from behind the bookshelf quizzically, watching Joel’s neck tick with discomfort. “Are you accusin’ me of somethin’?” Joel growled, his hands perched confidently on his hips. Maria turned quickly, with a judicious appraisal, bringing her hand to her stomach protectively. 

“You’re family Joel” she soothed, watching his shoulders relax infinitesimally, but still recognizing his guarded stance. “Tommy won’t ever betray the brotherhood” she smiled, rubbing a small concentric circle around her abdomen. “I just want you to know that…whatever you’re hiding, can’t be good for Ellie. It can’t be good for you or anyone else that loves you…” you shrank quickly behind the bookshelf, wondering if Maria somehow telepathically sensed your presence.

“The past should stay in the past” Joel lowly intoned, so quietly you weren’t sure if you heard him correctly.

“Maybe…until it drags itself into the light” Maria responded, stepping closer as Joel inched back. “You don’t have to suffer alone, Joel. Rid yourself of whatever you’re holding back. I know Ellie will thank you for it…”. You heard the stifled intake of air, as Joel responded to Maria’s firm grasp of his forearm. Rascal the Cat bumped up against your calve as you tried to shoo him away. Maria nodded curtly before departing out the door, a cascade of wintry air barreling inside juxtaposed by the no longer friendly chime of the bell. You picked up Rascal and slowly approached Joel who remained locked in introspection. Placing a soft hand on his shoulder, he still jumped at your light touch as Rascal scampered down onto the floor, heading to the foyer armchair.

“She’s right you know…” you murmured, tucking yourself into his side as he drew a tentative arm around your waist. “You’re not alone in all this” you encouraged, watching Rascal blink lazily atop the cozy quilt.

“S’not my secret to tell…” Joel rasped, his brows furrowed in concentration. “But…the time’s comin’. Comin’ for a reckoning…” he cautioned, swaying lightly with you enclosed in his grasp. You darkly pondered his meaning, looking forlornly around the nearly completed bookshop. 

“Gonna have to start letting people in soon” you remarked, smiling at Rascal and pointing to the perpetually “closed” sign in the doorway.

“Soon” Joel nodded gazing down at your face affectionately and pressing his lips lightly to yours. “Very soon…”

The rest of the week passed quickly, as you prepared for the upcoming patrol. You couldn’t calm the horrendous gnawing sensation that was eating away at you from within, but you knew that this was the next necessary step in finding solutions. You and Ellie commiserated more than a few times before the fateful day when Joel, Tommy, Levi and others would head back to Elk Creek to pick up the much needed monthly supplies. It was time to put this shaky union to the test. 

You were spending more and more time at the Millers, so it came as no surprise when Joel invited you to spend the night. His eyes twinkled mischievously when he confessed that he had already “talked to the kid”. While you giggled tremendously imagining the comedy of that situation, he had led you upstairs, inviting you into his bed. The night was filled with cuddling, laughter and kisses as you discussed your dreams for the future Bookshop. You were already excited to introduce your students to a new town library and Joel was already suggesting your next literary venture once “Crime and Punishment” was done. Currently it was the coziest Book Club for two, but there was a world where you could expand to officially include Ellie and other commune members who were interested.

While the ease of your rapport wasn’t surprising, Joel’s modesty was, blushing a bright red as you pushed your ass back against his hips. You felt him stiffen in more ways than one, as he chuckled shyly. “Can we wait a little darlin’?” his Southern drawl already had you melting under his touch as you turned your head to meet his gaze. “Wanna take my time with you, and if we…get together now, I’m not gonna last nearly as long as you deserve”.

You gulped with arousal, twisting your body to meet his and collapsing back into him. “Don’t need any more than this, Joel. But I hope I can motivate you to come back from patrol as soon as possible” you tantalized, grinding your hips against his as he inhaled quickly through his mouth.

“Don’t have to tell me twice” he teased, smashing his lips into yours for another passionate kiss. And so the night passed sweetly, encased in one other’s arms, housed in your den of solace. It wasn’t until the early morning hours that you awoke to Joel’s bristling beard at the nape of your neck signaling the start of the dreaded patrol. Entangled in one another’s embrace you tried to soak up every freckle, every wrinkle and every smile on Joel’s face, memorizing his visage as though wondering if you would ever see it again. Eventually you both begrudgingly lumbered down the stairs, meeting Ellie who had already prepared a hearty breakfast for Joel’s exit. You had expected the interaction to be more awkward, but Ellie was mostly focused on Joel’s safety…and arguing for her future participation when she was a bit older. You smiled tenderly at the easy conversation and teasing tonality. Please. Please. Let this be the start of my next story. Not the tragic ending of a narrative just begun. You caught yourself staring at Joel longingly, and trying to keep your thoughts focused on possibility, not tragedy.

And then he was gone. Grabbing his winter coat and supplies, you had all decided to keep the goodbyes short and unemotional. Joel would be back in three days. There was no purpose in histrionics or dramatics. Just another three days, and Joel would be back in your arms, and the commune would have more supplies and more resources for the long respite till Spring.

Three days.

Tapping your pencil nervously against the school desk you looked around at the cornucopia of students taking an impromptu test on agriculture and harvesting techniques. Ellie looked up tentatively to lock eyes with you. Three days.

You had a faint recognition of the Biblical telling of Jesus’ crucifixion and resurrection. Surely nothing else had felt nearly as interminable.

Two days.

Gone were the times of cell phones and emails. No news broadcast that allowed you to focus your attention on outlooks or predictions. Just Maria’s solemn face in the town meeting hall as you wordlessly nodded in her direction. The hours ticked by, as slow as molasses. You and Ellie had spent several hours, trying to wrangle the remaining refurbishment of The Bookshop before Joel’s return. Every evening, you had methodically read and re-read the confession of Rascalnikov and thought of Joel. Wondered where he was. Wondered at his safety. Wondered if he were thinking of you. The pages of your book started to fray and tatter slightly at the corners as you wore them down doggedly.

One day.

You were hesitantly happy for another day at school, desperately trying to focus on the current curriculum of World History and corresponding literature. You had already begun tantalizing the class with the promise of an upcoming field trip to the “soon to be opened” bookshop, with library options galore. You bit your lower lip in a mixture of anxiety and anticipation. Joel. Joel. Come back. Joel. You felt nearly crawling out of your skin. Where was Joel? Drawing your focus meticulously back to a description of the Civil War, it wasn’t until you heard the flurried footfalls of Ellie across the outer deck that your heart lurched with foreboding. Ellie flung the door open, pausing heatedly as the entire class craned their necks with curiosity.

“Come quick Teach, the patrol is back!” Ellie shouted, though your countenance immediately fell from enthusiasm to concern noticing the tear streaks lining her face.

“What happened?” you croaked, dropping the chalk to the ground quietly as the classroom collectively held its breath.

“Only ten men came back…there’s no Levi, and barely any supplies. Just come quick, Teach…it's Joel.

Joel is hurt.”

@morallyinept @littlemisspascal @wannabe-urs

@beefrobeefcal @sawymredfox 

@wordywarriorwrites @burntheedges @inept-the-magnificent @timelordfreya 

@schnarfer @devineconjuring @mermaidgirl30 @mandolover37 @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog 

@joelmillerisapunk @jennaispunk @sheepdogchick3 @marcus-is-my-muse @guiltyasdave 

@copperhalfcent @bluesweaters15 @drewharrisonwriter @darkheartgatita

@harriedandharassed @brittmb115 @confusedpuffin @zaniasky @quicax3

The One That's Personal

Triggers:

This is a WAY overshare, but if Pedge and I keep encountering all these naked bodies on Tumblr, this seems mild in comparison. Therapist Pedge has RPF vibes, but he's really just an avatar that helps me process scary or unfamiliar feelings...AND we have Pedro Pascal for everything else...A little personal chat about the asexuality spectrum, profanity, SH, pleasuring yourself, post-hysterectomy health problems, and all other things Papi Pascal....

Oh wow. Okay, leave it to Pedge and I to have a surprising sexual experience and immediately sit down to write something about it. My personal journey has been a bit meandering, but as I've discovered over my 45 years of existence, EVERYONE is on a unique journey, so I'm no more inhuman or ill-fitting then the rest of humanity.

I didn't pleasure myself until I was in my 30's, and there wasn't anything immediately pleasurable about it. It was a solid 2 weeks of trial and error, confusion and self-loathing until I discovered a buried component of myself and breathed a relative sigh of relief.

It's odd being a virgin, without a uterus or cervix...at the age of 45. I feel like a f*ckin' unicorn. While I had enjoyed a solid decade+ of pleasurable self-moments, it was pretty perfunctory. I've nurtured many a crush, but I'm not sure if there is a bridge between my physical desires of self and my emotional/spiritual desires from others. So I've started experimenting with a tentative ace label...or more accurately, a "sexy celibate"...But until I had my hysterectomy I thought I could just jam myself into the standard heterosexual, Western convention of relationships, marriage and children, receiving the emotional support and structure I wanted, while deftly sidestepping any sexual "eccentricities".

But after I had my hysterectomy everything was harder. At first I blamed my non-existent cervix, and employed more...vibrational means of enjoyment, and that was a revelation. Seriously, anyone that wants to self-experiment--Pedge and I couldn't encourage you more.

But after about a year, my pursuits started to feel more self-destructive than self-celebratory. Honestly, it felt like my SH narrative of yore, as I tried to vibrate my way into feeling human. Feeling self-acceptance? Feeling "normal". Soon, I was dealing more with pre-existing health problems and a hyptertonic pelvic floor, and all my toys went to the nearest landfill (can't donate those to Goodwill). My body was crying out for self-revelation, but I still don't always know how to give it to her.

2025 is my year-o-health and it's had a bumpy start. Four different doctors and I'm mostly making progress with my own research, extremely regimented diet and new routine. But after several weeks, I was feeling hungry in more ways than one. Maybe I had drowned out my still, small voice in such a vibrationally overwhelming and confusing world.

So my experiment resumed....with the F4 Trailer. Mind you, I didn't realize that at the time...All I can tell you is, I woke up in a foggy haze to Pedge's midrift digitally nuzzling against my tum-tum and decided I wanted more, and I f*cking got it. For the first time in my 45 years of existence I came under my own fingers, and we all have the F4 Trailer to thank for it.

That's not EXACTLY true, though that interview was a sight for sore eyes. Honestly, that overwhelming outfit of pattern and joy with the smallest bit of tummy peaking through....really just pushed me over the edge. Here is a man who seems to have joyously accepted himself and I bet I can learn how to do the same.

So here we are. Nothing has really changed. Just one, single, possibly ace, emotionally and spiritually confused level 45 human who joins the rest of the world in loving Pedro Pascal...and maybe getting one step closer to really loving themselves :)

It was very good for me.

And Pedge approves.

Pedge Bookshop Art

Oooh, this was fun! 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".

“Pain and suffering are always inevitable for a large intelligence and a deep heart. The really great men must, I think, have great sadness on earth.”

“To go wrong in one's own way is better than to go right in someone else's.”

“The man who has a conscience suffers whilst acknowledging his sin. That is his punishment.”

“Man has it all in his hands, and it all slips through his fingers from sheer cowardice.”

“Break what must be broken, once for all, that's all, and take the suffering on oneself.”

Happy reading! This fan art took a little over a day. I've never used my i-pad for coloring and writing, so this was a fun adventure

Pedge's Bookshop The Dream

Bookshop: As per your recommendation, Joel is our shop owner. I think there's something appealing in a man who says little, but obviously feels so much. I just finished reading Pedge's rec for "Crime and Punishment" and it's a doozy. Joel has a lot...or very little say about it.

Triggers: y'all I was in a MOOD for this one, spoilers for "Crime and Punishment", "Last of Us" canon, injury/violence/murder/abuse/nudity, spiritual concepts, nightmare scenario, crying...geez...maybe read this later...

Series Masterlist

Word Count: 1k

Joel stared resolutely at the stairwell, heading into the hallway and was met by the flickering fluorescence of the hospital corridor. His head was pounding with a dull throbbing, which he was all but oblivious to, as the steely taste of iron permeated his senses. He had to get to Ellie. It might already be too late. The childlike paintings and mildewed toys added a bizarre foreboding, as he carefully and quickly moved down the hall with the gun concretely nestled in his shoulder. He had lost count of how many bodies fell under the weight of his quick precision, as he continued, unblinking, towards the main Operating Room. Only stopping for a moment to reload, he quietly entered the darkened environment, quickly observing three individuals.

Without a moment’s hesitation he dispatched the surgeon, hearing the scalpel clatter helplessly to the floor. On the operating table, he saw the delicate feet of the small body, limp and lifeless. The nearby nurses were screaming for mercy, but it was hush under the din of blood rushing to his ears. 

Ellie. 

He gestured for the nurses to step aside as he neared the table with an almost sacred anticipation.

Sarah. 

Joel froze in longing terror as the angelic face of Sarah stared up into his face, arms outstretched and reaching for his touch. An unbidden cry escaped his mouth as the nurses vanished like phantasms and a burgeoning circle of blood blossomed across her abdomen. 

“You let me die” Sarah neutrally observed, blood now covering the expanse of her surgical gown, as Joel dropped to his knees in placation.

“Babygirl, I tried, I tried…” he whimpered, drawing both hands to his face in abject horror, opening his eyes to see the unfeeling and lifeless face of the surgeon on the floor before him. The surgeon’s eyes opened gravely, a strange smile spreading across his face, much like a Cheshire grin. His body began to convulse with laughter, a maniacal mirth dripping from the tones of his otherwise melodious voice. Joel reached behind him for the hunting knife housed in his belt, stabbing the surgeon in the chest. But the surgeon continued to laugh, tendrils of infection now spreading around Joel’s wrists drawing the knife forward and back repeatedly.

Joel fearfully looked up, noticing that Ellie was sitting up on the hospital gurney, watching him voraciously. He ripped the knife from the vice-like grip of the surgeon, and scooped Ellie up in his arms. “Let’s get out of here…” he muttered, stepping over the body of the doctor and heading for the hospital doors. Reaching the hallway, Ellie was no longer in his arms, but a row of doors opened on either side, each one housed with a familiar face.

The occupants held an eerie awareness, staring unflinchingly at Joel as he walked down the hall towards a silhouetted figure at the end of the walkway. He saw his brother’s visage gazing skeptically, and Maria perched in another doorway, holding her stomach. On the left hand side was Tess, covered in infected tendrils, and to the right Marlene had a gaping wound in her abdomen, and was fingering a hand held revolver at her side. Joel quickened his pace as he walked towards the lit figure, hoping against hopes that Ellie had somehow escaped from this medical nightmare.

Nearing the hooded figure he breathed a sigh of relief seeing your face revealed to him in an almost ethereal glow. You were standing before him otherwise naked, but he couldn’t look away from your eyes. They were radiating with a compassionate warmth, glistening with tears and awash with empathy. Joel fell to his knees helplessly, reaching out for your supple form and gulping back his own tears.

“I couldn’t save her, I couldn’t save her…” he repeated over and over again, sinking lower and lower still into the floor. Returning to meet your gaze he was horrified to see the looming figure of Levi towering behind you, dragging a foreboding palm across your bare midriff.

“Get away from her…” Joel growled, reaching for the knife once again, but finding himself completely devoid of weapons other than his own fists which balled aggressively at his sides.

“She was mine first” Levi drawled, twisting your head to the side and licking a long stripe of lust across the upward turn of your neck. Joel saw blood red as he lunged for Levi’s legs, tackling him to the ground in a feral rage. Tendrils of infection blossomed out of Levi’s mouth, but Joel paid it no mind. He was pummeling Levi again and again, oblivious to his own well-being, a creature of violence and murder. Again and again, his heart pounded in his chest, no longer aware of Ellie or Sarah or you…only focused on the singular goal of overwhelming vehemence. This was beyond choice. Beyond awareness. There was a road of destiny and Joel was fated to follow it. At some point, he looked down at his own bloodied and mangled hands, only to discover that he was beating the wooden floor, splintered and shattered, but all that remained was his own self-destruction.

Your beautiful silhouette was now poised at the opposite end of the hallway, as Ellie and Sarah stood at your sides. Joel shakily stood to his feet, feeling the blood drip onto the wooden floors. The hall occupants were continuing to stare in judgement, as a great chasm began to deepen at the center of the walkway, but Joel was paralyzed with indecision. He was completely rooted to the spot, unable to move and unable to articulate a single word. His body was a frozen skeleton of rigidity and helplessness as his hands hung like weighted anchors at his side. He opened his mouth to scream, but floating and delicate bands of infection cascaded forward, tickling his throat and wrapping themselves around his neck and jaw.

He tried to scream your name until…

Joel awoke, covered in sweat and gripping the sheets desperately. His chest heaved with a heaviness he hadn’t allowed himself to fully feel in years. Muscles aching with the imaginary weight of nightmarish terrors, his face was covered with the dry salt of tears long since cried. His throat was raw and dry with the winter’s chill, as he sat upright, feverishly clawing at the back of his neck.

He had to tell you. There were so many things you didn’t know about Ellie, and the unquestionable things he had done to protect her. What he would do to protect you. What he would do to anyone that threatened the people he loved. He didn’t know how you would respond. He just knew you were a kindred spirit. A companion in his solace of suffering. A beacon of hope in a world that grew increasingly dark. For so long, he had questioned his capacity to love and be loved, but in that moment, he knew that it didn’t matter. Maybe suffering was the spiritual bond that engages man to Divine Love itself. Joel sank back on the bed, willing his heart to stop pounding as though racing out of his chest. Maybe he didn’t know how to love. But if suffering was his key to eternity, he was assured that he could follow his heart all the way to wherever it led….

Pedge's Bookshop Before...

Grab a Latte! You deserve a sweet treat! Why don't you check out "The Book of Love" from @jolalibrary before heading into The Bookshop!

Triggers: profanity, Last of Us canon, MAJOR spoilers for "Crime and Punishment", references to prostitution/murder/suicide/pregnancy/alcohol, bar-room proposition, spiritual ponderings...

Series Masterlist

Words: 3k

Ellie’s laughter devolved into an impish snort as you scoffed from the sidelines. “What do you call an alligator with a vest?” You rolled your eyes placatingly, though secretly wondering what the answer was. “Huh, Teach? Give up?” You playfully tossed a copy of “Another Country” into her lap for the Literature Section. “An inVESTigator! Get it? VESTigator?” she doubled over in obnoxious laughter as you smirked by the adjacent bookshelf.

“Soon I’m going to suggest you add more of these puns to your project and papers” you teased, determined to bring order to the History and Geography section, such as it was. “How’s it coming with ‘Crime and Punishment’?” you mused, shaking your head slightly at the sorry condition of George Orwell’s copy of “1984” as it crossed your vision. Ellie poked her head out from the nearby aisle, suddenly intense. 

“I love it” she bantered. “I’m way ahead of Joel, he got stuck at the funeral dinner. Snake Eyes finally did himself in, and Rascal is thinking about confessing to Sophia” Ellie’s eyes sparkled victoriously. Your face registered a somewhat feigned look of shock and awe, as you inhaled quickly.

“Joel is falling behind on his homework assignments! I’ll have to dock points for that mis-step” you jested, heading over to the wood burning stove for your second cup of coffee.

“I guess we can cut him some slack after all these patrols” Ellie mumbled, obviously concerned, as the afternoon hours laboriously passed. You nodded your head solemnly. It had been your recommendation to put Levi and his posse to the test via controlled observation and limited patrol participation. You wanted to give Maria some viable options, you just hadn’t realized it was going to absorb so much of Joel’s time away. The thought of Levi somehow manipulating Joel, or negatively influencing his viewpoint was more of a worry than you had realized.

“I miss him too” you muttered quietly, as the front bell rang amicably. Rascal the Cat answered with a happy meow, as Maria tentatively entered The Bookshop.

“Anybody home?” she questioned, as Ellie’s face optimistically brightened.

“Hey Maria! When are you going to pop?” Ellie toyed, skipping towards her playfully, joined by Rascal underfoot.

“I AM starting to feel like a balloon” Maria shook her head exhaustedly. “I’m loathe to admit it, but the new visitors have taken on a lot of the commune patrol responsibilities, which is helpful. I just wish I knew more about them…” she paused distractedly. “I take it Joel isn’t back yet?”.

“Still on the latest patrol” you mourned, looking around The Bookshop dejectedly. You longed for the days of relative peace, before the visitors had joined your otherwise safe environment. “Oh! I set aside some reading material, if you wanted it!” you chimed in, grabbing a small stack of maternity related material. Some of it was obsolete at best, but you hoped it might provide a sense of comfort.

“Ah! Thanks Teach, we like homework too!” Maria smiled, patting her own tummy affectionately. “Reminds me of my law-school days…” she took the stack of books, setting them maternally on her hip. “Can you let Joel know I dropped by?”.

Ellie winced sensitively. “I’ll tell him, but you know how Joel is”. Maria rolled her eyes sympathetically.

“He thinks I don’t like him” Maria stated straightforwardly, looking around the cozy interior of The Bookshop appraisingly.

“You said it, not me” Ellie retorted, shrugging her shoulders.

“I’d love to blame my hormones, but he’s not entirely wrong” Maria offered, huffing with exasperation. “He’s family, after all. I know he shares a deep bond with his brother. It’s just a time in Tommy’s life I was never connected to. I guess I’m just a cynic…” she grumbled.

“Sounds like a Mama Bear to me” you smiled encouragingly. “A leader”.

Maria chuckled skeptically. “Well, soon I won’t be able to do as much. I’ve got to acknowledge that” she begrudgingly admitted. “Tommy just mentioned Joel’s observations from the redemptive strike at Elk Creek, that caught my attention…”.

“Like what?” Ellie demanded, already suspicious. You swallowed dryly, curious as to his perceptions, but simultaneously anxious. What had happened once Levi joined the expedition?

“Ellie, this isn’t a council meeting, and you’re still a kid” Maria chided, shifting the books to her other hip deftly.

“Right, cause I don’t already live with the guy who never says anything?” Ellie countered, already gently willing to spar, even with a pregnant, adult woman.  Maria pursed her lips thoughtfully.

“He just said…” Maria stopped abruptly, cautiously considering once again. “Joel said they barely made it out alive. If Levi and his posse hadn’t shown up, he wasn’t sure if the patrol party would have survived. They were really hunkered down, and the renegades had the upper hand…until Levi…Well, something about help showing up at exactly the right time. But even Joel said there was something about Levi that seemed…unhinged.”

The Bookshop fell silent as you considered Joel’s observations. That sounded accurate, based on your previous interactions, over 20 years ago. You hadn’t immediately experienced anything overt under Levi’s employ, but there was always something about him that was morally deficit. A kind of existential boredom that seemed to permeate everything he did, or didn’t do. You wondered at his beliefs, or his passions, when he didn’t seem to have any. Even his rage and passion seemed to have a dull, almost inhuman quality to it and there always seemed to be a certain bankruptcy of spirit, in all of his choices. In your time together, he often seemed to falsely declare a liberalism of mind, or a freedom of philosophy, but when all things are permissible, there was a certain moral abdication that must be present. If nothing is really evil, than how can you actually tell what is good?

“I don’t trust that guy” Ellie growled, distractedly looking out the window, as though hoping Joel were already back from the afternoon patrol. You set your jaw resolutely, attempting to withhold judgement. The Miller Family had offered you a tremendous amount of compassion and mercy. You couldn’t, in all honesty, ignore their charity, you just weren’t sure if Levi was a worthy recipient.

“I wonder if Joel and Levi aren’t more alike than dissimilar…” Maria almost whispered to herself before Ellie responded with incredulity.

“You’re shitting me!”. You and Maria both cocked your eyebrows sky high, anticipating the emotional barrage. “Yeah, yeah, yeah…language, language, language. You cannot compare that douchebag to your own brother-in-law!” Ellie placed her hands on her hips in a decidedly Joel-like posture as Rascal smugly stared back. “You know Joel is the reason I’m even alive, you should be thanking him for everything he does!” she took an accusatory step towards Maria who placed a hand up placatingly.

“You’re right, you’re right…” Maria surrendered, lowering her gaze to the ground. “Just something I can’t figure. Call it hormones, call it intuition. I don’t doubt Joel’s intentionality for one second, but that’s not something I can say about Levi”.

Ellie nodded curtly, temporarily sated. There was no world where you would consider Joel in the same breath as a man like Levi…and yet….Maria was right. There was something about Joel that continued to be mysterious and enigmatic. Dark and seductive. It was easy to see, having delved into the deeper spaces of your own past, and equally pointless to ignore it. Perhaps at some point, it would finally be time to reveal those true secrets that remained in the haunting shadows.

You and Ellie worked for several more hours before she headed home to complete the day’s tasks. Joel should be arriving in the evening hours and you had tentatively opted to meet at the Tipsy Bison to celebrate his return. You were excited to update him on The Bookshop’s progress, but inwardly perseverating on the earlier conversation. Would Joel’s mysteries ever reveal themselves? Every human was capable of tremendous atrocity, and the only thing separating a saint from a sinner, seemed to be an intentionality of spirit. Or, as Maria had previously said, so many of us are one and the same. Your mind was already swirling with questions by the time you entered the potent bar atmosphere.

You didn’t often frequent the Tipsy Bison, instead preferring a quiet night at home, reading a book, or recently, avoiding the likes of Levi and his gang. But if you were going to take on a more administrative role in the commune, you needed to objectively consider Levi’s petition for commune inclusion. Joel had already brought more confidence and acceptance into your life, it was time to step into that security and stop deflecting. Time to stop being so afraid. If Levi’s presence allowed Maria a respite, and added protection to Joel’s already dangerous patrols, you wanted to believe you could overcome your own sense of insecurity.

You tentatively stepped up to the counter and ordered a whiskey, neat, anticipating Joel’s arrival sooner rather than later. One of the commune residents was quietly playing a guitar in the corner, and individuals were grouped in conversation and activity around the cozy room. You had just begun to settle in, when the noisy group from the patrol abruptly barged inside.

Your breath immediately hitched in your throat, looking for any sign of Joel, but unintentionally catching the lascivious grins of Levi’s gang. You weren’t sure what Levi had told them exactly, but it can’t have been good. Where was Joel? Maybe being here alone wasn’t such a good idea. As if on cue, one of the visitors sallied up to the bar, decidedly close to you, as you watched his hands twitch menacingly at his sides.

“Well hey there pretty lady, Levi tells me y’all are old friends…” he drawled, revealing a yellowing set of teeth. His rancid breath fanned across your face as you attempted to hide your immediate repulsion. 

“I wouldn’t call us friends, per se” your steely glare didn’t give the unwelcome visitor any cause for misunderstanding, but that didn’t stop him from grabbing your upper thigh possessively.

“Maybe MORE than friends?” he spat, digging his fingers into the flesh of your thigh, as raucous laughter echo’d around you. It had been a long time since you found yourself in a situation like this, but you felt your entire body tighten like a wound coil, poised to pounce.

“Best to leave her alone…” a familiar voice interrupted, as the hair on the back of your neck bristled uncomfortably. Rotating slowly in acknowledgement, a grimy hand gripped the visitor’s shoulder threateningly. You were unsurprised, but dismayed to see the foreboding profile of Levi enter your periphery, as the visitor stalled in their proposition.

“Just some harmless fun, s’all” he attempted to back pedal, before Levi shoved him to the ground stolidly. 

“Get your drink and move along” Levi threatened before watching him shakily stand to his feet and slink away into the corner. Levi’s lip curled upward, smug in the opportunity to act as your unbidden savior in this moment.

“Thanks” you muttered, your lips a thin line of vehemence, attempting to bite back a sarcastic diatribe. Damned if Levi didn’t always show up when you least wanted to take advantage of any opportunity under false pretenses. 

“My pleasure” Levi whispered into your ear, a tingling band of revulsion abrasively shooting down your spine. “Always like to act the hero…” he muttered, breathing in your fragrance deeply, before the bar doors opened once again to reveal Joel’s broad frame.

His hair was wetly slicked back, having apparently stopped at the house for a quick shower before joining you. You shivered slightly under the spell of his powerful and well-timed appearance, as Levi slowly withdrew to the shadowed corners with his cohorts. That was close.

Joel strode purposefully towards you, wrapping a protective arm around your waist. “You okay?” he pointedly asked, waving the bartender away. You nodded succinctly, not entirely sure if the answer was yes, warily watching Levi from where he lecherously looked on.

“Let’s get out of here…” you grumbled, downing the whiskey in one shot and shrugging Joel’s concerned touch from your back. The ensuing laughter echo’d behind you as you burst through the bar doors and began trudging through the dirtied snow.

“Will ya wait up a second?” Joel called after you, his knees already aching from the long, daily patrols. You were gripping your sides tightly, attempting to ignore Joel’s penetrative gaze, burrowing forward into the wintry wind. “What’d he say? Did he hurt ya?” Joel stopped you, looking into your face for any indication.

“He was my go-between Joel!” you shouted, shrugging with exasperation. “I thought I’d never have to see him again, and here comes every vestige of my past, threatening my very real future!” your voice cracked with defeat. Joel ran his hands warmly up and down your arms, offering solace and a listening ear. For some reason, it only added fuel to your irrational ire. “The only thing you can count on Levi for is ruining a good thing!” you tried to explain, twisting out of Joel’s strong grasp, nearly slipping in the snow. Joel widened his stance to brace yours, grasping at your waist in solidarity. “What has he told you? Are you all trading tales about the slut? Don’t tell me he hasn’t tried!” you shouted into Joel’s face over the din of the seasonal bluster and nearby bar sounds.

“I don’t give a fuck what Levi says or thinks!” Joel returned, your eyes widening softly at his immediate transparency. “Only thing I care about is you, Teach!” he held you solidly in his grasp, anchoring you to the iron core of his protective nature. You sniffled timidly, taking in his meaning. “Now can we go home? It’s freezing out here and my back is killing me!” his eyes crinkled good-naturedly at the corners, as you smiled tenderly. You nodded emphatically, as Joel wrapped his arm around your shoulders, tucking you in to the steel-like nook of his side. Stumbling together, you headed back to the Miller household, casting an occasional glance behind you at the receding town bar. You almost expected Levi to haunt every opportunity from here on out. How would you be able to find a moment’s peace with the ever-present and nebulous foreboding of Levi’s enigmatic personhood? Finally reaching Joel’s house, you both paused in the living room to see Ellie’s bedroom light casting shadows down the stairwell.

“Already talked to the kid” Joel gestured, shaking flakes of snow out of his hair and off his shoulders. “Said that Maria dropped by today with some questions…”.

Your mouth parted with surprise. Here you were, worried about Levi’s influence and you hadn’t even mentioned Maria’s. “She’s just as naturally suspicious of Levi as I am. As we ALL should be” you warned, keeping your voice secretive. “You didn’t tell me he saved your life” your voice gained a newfound warmth as your eyes brimmed with tears. Levi might be a lot of things, but if he really had saved Joel’s life, that was a debt you wouldn’t be able to easily repay.

“Hate to admit it, but it’s true” Joel confessed bitterly. “If he and his posse hadn’t shown up when they did, we wouldn’t be talkin’ right now. Don’t mean I trust the guy. But I’m not above using him to protect what I love” he finished confidently, taking you by the hand. You swallowed the lump of emotion that had unexpectedly risen in your throat, leading him to the couch and sitting together quietly. You gazed pensively at the fire, now dwindling by the hearth, Joel’s copy of “Crime and Punishment” sitting on the coffee table before you.

“You know, I was thinking about that quote from Svidrigaylov this afternoon when Ellie and I were tidying up” you began, laying your head lightly on Joel’s shoulder. He hummed with approval, kicking off his boots and resting his feet atop the hand made coffee table.

“Good 'ole Snake Eyes. Ellie says I won’t have to listen to him for much longer…” he mused, yawning tiredly.

“She’s right” you agreed. “Before he dies, he talks about his beliefs. His ideas about eternity…”.

“Wouldn’t think a guy like Snake-Eyes would have any beliefs to speak of” Joel’s voice rumbled lowly in his chest, buzzing against your skin.

“He doesn’t. He manages to fool even himself, up until the end. He wonders at man’s desire for a vast forever, an eternity that is redemptive and never ending” you pondered, leaning forward for a moment and thumbing through the pages of the book.

“Here…he says, ‘We always imagine eternity as something beyond our conception, something vast, vast. But why must it be vast?” Joel shifted with discomfort, unsure how to answer Dostoyevsky's literary question. “But what if eternity is one little room, black and grimy with spiders in every corner?” your voice trailed off suddenly unsure, watching the embers of the fire die down into flickering remnants of their earlier glory. “What if he’s right?” you finally asked, turning your head upwards to meet Joel’s gaze.

“Who? Snake-Eyes?” Joel scoffed, his jaw ticking curiously from side to side. “Hell, I don’t know, Teach. I’m no philosopher” he paused to listen to the crackling fire as it breathed its last. “A man would do…almost anything if he believed it was right. But a man with NO beliefs? What kind of eternity is that?” Joel whispered, almost as though to himself.

You didn’t know the answer to that question. There were so many unknowns in a world of constantly shifting ideals and dangers. You snuggled closer into Joel’s side as your eyelids drooped heavily with exhaustion. No more questions for tonight. Just the fire. And Joel. And the hope that tomorrow would have more light than the current darkness of night. A belief that somehow, Love might prevail, whether you understood the future, or not.

Pedge's Bookshop The Calm

Grab a Latte! in the foyer with this sweet fic "Just a Cover" by @popcornforone before heading into the Bookshop!

Triggers: profanity, Last of Us canon + references, yay lite smut!, MAJOR spoilers for "Crime and Punishment", references to alcohol/prostitution/murder/rape/death...

Series Masterlist

Words: 3k

It was the best of times, it was the worst of times. Having Levi and his posse sulk around the commune for the last several weeks was a tumultuous backdrop to the real foreground of your attention; Joel. While the visitors were slated to leave by the end of the month, that did nothing to quell your fears of town gossip or possible altercation. The main protection and acceptance you were currently enjoying was from Joel, and you never wanted it to end.

After that fateful dinner you had expected the participants to shun you or at least offer silent judgement from a watchful distance. But, if anything, it had only seemed to intensify your unique connection to the extended Miller Family. Somehow your own self-perceived fall from grace had engendered more of their affection and resolution. Maria was intent on discussing more of your leadership responsibilities, Tommy seemed exceptionally pleased that Joel and you were spending more time together. Even Ellie was paying rapt attention in class, and seemed to have an ever greater sense of care and support during your interactions. And Joel. Joel had surprised you most of all.

His once stolid and nearly gruff appearance had softened in almost every way; at least when he was around you. You were almost spending more time at the Bookshop than at school, not just to avoid the wandering eyes of Levi and his group, but to vanish in the safety of literature, coffee and your newfound burgeoning relationship with Joel. It was far too early to label anything at this point. You inwardly smirked at the incredulity of it all. A boyfriend, in the midst of the apocalypse? But yours was more than a passing friendship. There was an innate understanding, an “other-ness” that you somehow shared, and within that, had found a sense of belonging. You just didn’t know how far that belonging actually extended.

With Ellie’s help you had nearly finished the Arts and Recreation section, but were newly entrenched in the Literature categorization. Not that you were complaining. Almost everyday, if Joel wasn’t on a patrol, or the school day didn’t encapsulate your existence, you could be found at The Bookshop. Not that Joel ever let anyone shop there. Besides you, Rascal the Cat was his most loyal customer. And while the Bookshop was still in assembly, there was another somewhat clandestine reason; Joel couldn’t keep his hands off you. Only occasionally caught in a lip-lock by Tommy or Ellie, even this indulgence was becoming steadily more difficult, as you found unique ways to extend your ongoing “literary discussion”.

You had already unpacked the varied interpretations of the title, “Crime and Punishment”, indicating that the Russian word for crime was much more indicative of “transgression”. This seemed vaguely appropriate as you lost your train of thought with Joel’s stubbled beard and soft lips winding their way across your clavicle, your voice hitching raspily in your own throat. You tried to explain the import of interpretations like “crossing a line” or “stepping across a barrier”, but that was hard to do when Joel had your eyes rolling back in your head languidly as he cupped your breasts softly in his massive hands. So much for academic objectivity.

One night after Ellie had gone upstairs, you and Joel sat, kissing quietly in front of the living room fireplace, two untouched glasses of whiskey sitting on the handmade coffee table beside you. Joel’s hands had found themselves weighted at your waist, his calloused fingers teasing the hemline of your shirt, tickling the bare skin just beneath. You were straddled across his lap, your breasts nearly in his face as you cupped his jawline tenderly between two hands, licking into his mouth. Pausing to catch your breath, you gently relaxed atop him, feeling his hardened length beneath. You sat lower, wiping his lower lip tenderly with your thumb. 

“I think you might be one of my best students…” you drawled, winking lazily at him, as he gazed darkly back.

“What’dya think Teach, am I gonna get a good grade in class?” his voice edged lowly, making sure to keep quiet, lest Ellie get an earful of your evening activities from upstairs.

“Well, you’ve been doing so much, HANDS-ON…” at this you ground your hips in a circle over Joel’s tented pants, eliciting a groaning growl from him as you clapped a cautious hand over his mouth… “…extra-credit this semester. I would say your grade is rising as we speak…” you taunted, reveling in the pained delight that registered across Joel’s brow. He looked up at your showcased cleavage, licking his lips slowly with anticipation.

“And what about the oral examinations?” he mumbled into your neck, dragging his lips across the delicate skin of your décolletage. “When do those begin?” he teased, sucking lightly, just below your ear, drawing forth small giggles from your trembling mouth. You were just about to answer when Ellie’s door opened, her head buried behind Joel’s copy of “Crime and Punishment”.

“Snake-Eyes DIES?!” she exclaimed somewhere between disbelief and delight, slowly descending the stairs as you repositioned yourselves more appropriately, at arms length. You had just finished smoothing your shirt and adopting an innocent expression when she placed herself in front of you, cocking an eyebrow quizzically.

“I know you’re making out. It’s fine” she bluntly offered, Joel rolling his eyes with exasperation. 

“Did ya need somethin’?” he huffed, crossing his arms with frustration, before joining her line of questioning. “Snake Eyes DIES?!” he scoffed, looking over at you for confirmation. You shrugged enigmatically, a small smile already plastered across your contented face.

“He fucking offs himself!” Ellie smiled, not even attempting to hide her disdain. “I know, I know…LANGUAGE…” she interrupted before Joel even had a chance. But after attacking Dunya and arguing with Rascal. And probably killing the old lady, and maybe harassing the girl. I did NOT see that coming…” she shook her head confusedly.

“Well good-riddance!” Joel shouted, “…sounds like he had it comin’! Only…don’t get too far ahead of me, I only just finished readin’ the dinner scene…” he pouted, kicking Ellie’s boot with his own as she smiled mischievously. 

“Doesn’t seem like you have a lot of time for readin’ lately!” she toyed, dangling the book in front of Joel’s face before he grabbed it defensively, with a knowing grin. 

“Alright, alright…apologize to Teach before she heads home. Sounds like I need to do some research to catch up with y’all” he confessed.

“What am I apologizin’ for exactly?” Ellie sarcastically argued, reaching for the book which Joel swiftly held out of her reach. 

“Seems to me you still owe that report about weather cycles affecting crop rotation and seasonal climate shifts…” you offered, grabbing a pillow in anticipatory defense.

“Snitch” Ellie grinned, grabbing another pillow and hitting your own, before disappearing back upstairs and calling behind her, “BE SURE TO USE A CONDOM!”

“ELLIE!” Joel bellowed, standing to his feet with irritation as you covered your mouth to stifle the latest bout of giggling. Joel stood poised with his hands on his hips, mid-scowl, before noticing your squeaks of embarrassment, his frustration beginning to fade into the distance as he watched you unravel before him. An impish smirk appeared on his face, as he tossed the book to the side and draped his broad form above you.

“Something funny, Teach?” he asked, peppering your sternum with chaste and not so chaste kisses, as your laughter died down to soft hums of approval.

“She sees a lot” you observed, tucking your hands into the back pockets of his jeans as he gently lowered himself to your chest, snuggling in for a respite. 

“This okay? M’not squashin’ ya?” he mumbled into your chest, as his body incrementally relaxed atop you. Guiding your fingers through his peppered locks of hair you parted your legs slightly to capture more of his weight. 

“I’m a bit more durable than all that” you managed, relishing his supine figure before you. After a few minutes the room settled into a contented quiet, so much so that you wondered if Joel had fallen asleep before his low voice tentatively drawled, “You know, you can tell me anything. Anything in the world…” he gulped, unwilling to break the magnetic spell the two of you had crafted, before turning his head upward to catch your gaze. “Just want you to feel safe. Safe as…” he paused, considering his next words cautiously… “…safe as I feel with you” he finished, resting his head back on your chest sweetly. Your heart swelled within you. You didn’t feel a sense of shame, exactly. But wondering how Joel might react to the details of your past was carving a hole in your potential intimacy, and you welcomed the open door of conversation.

“I was young…” you started, as Joel’s head whipped up attentively, shifting his weight to the side of your body on the couch so he could get a better look at you. “I had made it to grad school, but my parents weren’t in the picture so much, and money was starting to get tight”. Joel fixedly held your stare, willing you to feel his support and encouragement if you needed it. “One of my friends had experimented with webcams…Remember those?” you chuckled, as Joel nodded in affirmation, nudging you forward. “Seemed harmless enough at the time. I made a little money with simple tasks at first, but soon I got connected to Levi…”. Joel seemed to stop breathing at the mention of his name, his jaw ticking slightly with restraint. “Well…you’ve met him. He always seem to show up at the ‘right’ moment. Saving the day, but somehow taking advantage simultaneously”. Joel breathed deeply, reaching a hand up to stroke your back in wide circles. “He assured me everything would stay virtual, until…well it didn’t. I was definitely complicit, but before I knew it, I was essentially a call-girl, and everything was very much in-person. Levi decided to really play up the ‘teacher’ aspect of my persona, and it became my calling card. It felt ridiculous to be pursuing my Masters in Education, all the while playing up those same qualities in…more intimate situations” your face reddened slightly at the confession. “It wasn’t really what I wanted. But it paid the bills. And it was my choice. A choice Levi definitely took advantage of, but my choice nonetheless. Sometimes it actually felt empowering. Until…it didn’t…” you trailed off, remembering some of the darker details of those years.

“Should I not call you by that nickname? I didn’t know…” Joel shifted upwards on his forearms, before you halted him mid-apology. 

“I love it. It was always my dream. I love being a teacher, and I don’t regret the choices I made to bring those dreams to fruition. Maybe it didn’t happen the way I dreamt, but it’s still mine” you shook your head with surprise as you articulated your clandestine thoughts for the first time. “Still think you’re one of my best students, Miller” you whispered toyingly, noticing Joel’s cheeks gain a pinkish tint as his chest rumbled in affirmation.

“Looking forward to those oral exams, whenever you feel ready” Joel jested, drawing you in for an extended, passionate kiss. You sighed quietly into his mouth, before he pensively pulled back. “Don’t want you to feel like you have to keep secrets with me” he mused, bringing his forehead tenderly to yours. 

You breathed one another in for several minutes before you hesitantly whispered, “Feel the same way Joel. You know you can tell me anything”. Joel sighed a deep breath of contemplation, rallying himself for the next step.

“Ellie mentioned…my Sarah?” he mumbled, gazing downward so much so that you only saw the beauty of his lashes flitting quickly. 

“YOU mentioned Sarah…” Joel’s quick intake of air at her name, flashed painfully across his face and yours, as his eyesight rose haltingly to catch your own. 

“When…?” he croaked, before closing his eyes in remembrance. “That night…I couldn’t get her outta my head” he nodded, thinking back on the drunken conversation several weeks ago. “The patrol was a nightmare. And…worried about Ellie and you…” he trailed off, trying to piece together the sketchy details, but just reflecting on Sarah’s smile. “You’d’ve liked her” his voice cracked sweetly as you abruptly grasped him around the torso, smashing your face into his chest.

“You don’t have to say anything” the tears welled up within you, desperate to somehow remove the searing pain of loss.

“Not much to tell now” he nearly whimpered. “I had her…and then…I didn’t. Coulda done more. S’my fault…” his throat closed with emotion as you squeezed him tighter still.

“I see the way you love Ellie” you managed to get out thickly. “Can’t convince me otherwise. I know a good dad when I see one…” you encouraged, reaching up to wipe away your tears cascading into Joel’s telltale plaid shirt.

“Nothing I wouldn’t do for that girl” his voice took on a serrated edge, as you pulled back to gaze at him appraisingly. “She mention anything about…how we came to Jacksonville?” he faltered, unsure of his next steps.

“She told me about The Preacher” you swallowed dryly, watching a flicker of rage pass over Joel’s face quickly as he nodded curtly. 

“There’s things…” he tried to continue but was steadily growing more tense “…things you don’t know about Ellie. Or me…” he bit down hard, his mouth a thin line of resolution, watching your eyes narrow judiciously before placing a single finger over his lips wisely.

“What have you done to yourself?” you murmured rhetorically as Joel’s eyes painfully closed, a single tear disappearing into the scruff of his beard. And there you stayed, held in one another’s arms for the evening, until finding a restless sleep. It was early dawn when you disentangled yourselves from one another’s embrace, shakily starting the next day, and whatever the unknown future might hold.

The next day you were scheduled to meet with Tommy and Maria to discuss future administrative plans for the commune. Maria’s pregnancy was really starting to show, and you didn’t dare ask when her potential due date was. You could feel the palpable excitement and tension in the air as you joined them in the town meeting hall.

“Joel doesn’t want to interfere with commune business” Tommy began, shuffling some papers hurriedly before him. 

“Give him a gun and a cause…” Maria shook her head disapprovingly, avoiding Tommy’s reproachful gaze.

“Come on darlin’…” Tommy chastised, sounding once again like his older brother, in voice as much as demeanor. “Told ya we can trust him” Tommy began before Maria halted him silently.

“I know when townsfolk are holding secrets” Maria reprimanded, looking over at you apologetically. “No offense, Teach, just a gift I have. Investigating. Used to be a lawyer in the time before. Comes naturally to me. I know a sinner from a saint, and they’re often one and the same” she wisely observed, before reflecting a bit further. “Except that Levi, for one…” she inhaled skeptically, quickly glancing over at you for confirmation.

“Levi isn’t someone you want around any longer than is absolutely necessary” you bluntly stated, pleased with your growing sense of self-confidence. Maybe Joel was starting to rub off on you.

“I hate to be so beholden to him after their last minute redemptive strike…” she pensively acquiesced.

“Even Joel said he might not have made it back without their assistance…” Tommy chimed in begrudgingly. Joel hadn’t mentioned that. Granted, this was before Levi’s full intentions were known, but were you really willing to sacrifice Joel’s well being for your own discomfort? Maybe there was some kind of olive branch you could extend, making the future somewhat tolerable. You had changed. Maybe other people could too.

“Maybe we could give them some kind of test” you ventured, pursing your lips thoughtfully.

“Alright, Teach!” Tommy cheered, clocking Maria’s chagrin. “Pop quiz time!”

You couldn’t help but chuckle softly, getting a small indication of the Miller playfulness that often lurked mischievously beneath.

“Maybe we send them out on our next dangerous patrol, and keep them on a steady leash” Maria agreed, taking notes in her own administrative notebook. “Good idea…”. Tommy gave a quick clandestine wink that brought a victorious smile to your face, perhaps motivating your next point.

“Regarding…our dinner conversation” you began, before Maria stopped you.

“Water under the bridge…” she tutted, not lifting her eyes from the notebook. You and Tommy shared a pregnant pause, as he returned your gaze definitively.

“We all have a past. Don’t mean we can’t have a future” Tommy succinctly encouraged, eliciting a curt nod from Maria.

“Some secrets should probably stay hidden” you muttered under your breath, reflecting on Joel’s past admonition, noticing Tommy shift uncomfortable in his chair. Maria was breathing steadily across from you, still not looking up.

“You talk to Joel?” she quirked her head to the side, looking at Tommy knowingly before he averted eye contact.

“He said enough” you intimated, sensing the growing tension, though somewhat unaware of its origin. “Told me about Sarah” you finished, attempting to gauge the telepathic conversation happening between the married couple.

“He mention anything else?” Maria probed, Tommy gripping the edges of the table in a stylistically Miller fashion.

“Darlin’…” he warned, shaking his head slightly, in earnest.

Maria clamped her mouth shut skeptically as her brow furrowed in conflict. “I’m not sure how much my….brother in-law might have revealed” she began, weighing her words carefully. “Truth will out” she finally decided, sitting back in her chair resolutely. Tommy sighed a heavy breath, closing his eyes fixedly. 

Truth will out. In Jacksonville you had found a new home and a new start. But perhaps there were some things that should ultimately remain in the past. You thought on Joel’s near confession, and the sheer depth of knowledge you lacked about Ellie, Sarah and so much more. Would it be possible for Levi and his group to somehow fit into the commune without disrupting the precarious new start you had finally crafted for yourself? Or was the future forever fated to be doomed by elements of the past? You wanted to believe in new beginnings. You wanted to believe in love. And more than anything you wanted to know Joel Miller for who he truly was. But as you reflected on your own secrets and the apocalyptic territory you were barely surviving, perhaps there was more still to the enigmatic narrative of Joel and Ellie.

But in this moment, you weren’t entirely sure you wanted to find out.

Pedge's Bookshop The Dinner

Grab a Latte! this seems very appropros for the Coffee Lovers! Check out Extra Cream and Sugar by @itwasntimethatdidit40 before heading into the Bookshop!

Triggers: profanity, Last of Us canon + references, reference to alcohol, MAJOR spoilers for "Crime and Punishment", ex-type return, reference to prostitution, physical altercation, and finally KISSING!!!!!

Series Masterlist

Words: 3.5k

Joel’s gaze was burning with the heat of a super nova as you made the short trek to the medical infirmary for a quick check before welcoming the new visitors to The Jackson Commune. If you had allowed him to speak, you might have had an inkling of his own emotional state, but you were purposefully driven to banish the feelings and the tears that were cascading unbidden through your personhood. 

What the hell was Levi doing here? 

During the tumult of the infected, you were lucky enough to be in the Wyoming Territory, having miraculously found your way to the burgeoning commune, and counting your lucky stars that you had survived. You just didn’t count on Levi being able to say the some thing. No way in hell was Levi going to let go of a good thing once he had it. You had been lucky to escape his clutches the first time. But how could you reveal his questionable background without risking the same of your own?

You found yourselves constantly surrounded by one medical practitioner or another, before being joined by Ellie, who was overjoyed at Joel’s return. Shrinking under the heated glance of Joel’s passionate intensity you had mumbled something about relief at his appearance before practically running out of the infirmary and returning to your own home. You immediately locked the door and shuttered the windows before escaping to your bedroom and hiding under the covers.

This was your worst nightmare come to life. A past you had tried so desperately to escape, and nearly had, before it practically came knocking at the very doorstep of your own community.  Joel had his suspicions, but had he told Ellie? Could he possible know the details of your own “fall from grace”. And why had he brought Tommy and Maria into the conversation? There seemed to be no escape, short of heading out the commune doors and going it alone. You finally let the tears fall, unhindered, lulled into a fitful sleep, wondering how you were going to survive this new, hellish ordeal.

The new visitors of the commune were the focal point of town gossip for the next week. If you didn’t have educational responsibilities you would have isolated yourself completely, hopeful that the incident would just pass over. But your students were alight with the discussion and questions, eavesdropping from every whispered conversation, and anxious for news from the outer territories. The residents of the Jackson Commune were so far removed from any other civilizations, you couldn’t remember the last time a party of this size had “graced” your doorstep. Apparently the patrol had found themselves entirely cornered, and it was thanks to this traveling posse they had escaped intact. But it was a glooming peace that hovered over the townsfolk as they tentatively invited the strangers into their all but isolated commune. There was much to be grateful for, but much to protect and Joel couldn’t have been unaware.

That is to say, you assumed Joel was aware, but couldn’t be sure. Between purposefully avoiding the possibility of seeing Levi, inundated with school responsibilities and dodging another conversation with Maria or Tommy, you had turned into a hermit, surviving on work and anxiety. Ellie had not been present in class, which was not an immediate cause for concern, and in fact aided your temporary escapism from her keen and insightful stare. Ellie would know something was wrong. Perhaps you could avoid the entire Miller Household until this newest threat evaporated or exploded.

But it wasn’t Ellie’s interrogative voice that greeted you at the end of this particular work day. If anything, that warm, sultry voice seemed nearly telepathic as your eyes raised to see the broad frame of Joel Miller pause at your doorway, poised to knock. “Howdy, teach” he lightly intoned, gazing behind him at the squabbling children and rubbing the back of his neck humbly. How was it possible to feel so many contradictory emotions at the same time? Your face flushed with embarrassment, immediately chagrined by your comparative silence, as he haltingly entered the room. “Got a sec?”.

“I’m afraid I don’t have any new homework for you today” you tried to deflect the intensity of his stare, but were arriving unsuccessfully. Something about the Miller Family in all its incarnations, seemed to strip you bare of facade, leaving you vulnerable to their charms.

“S’okay, I’ve got some catching up to do” he smirked, considering the small school desks available before him, and finally deciding on a towering stance in front of your own. “Missed you at The Bookshop though” his voice was surprisingly quiet, but well enunciated. Almost as though it were a secret being dragged from his lips, only for your hearing. You felt your heart stutter within you nervously, noticing his healing abrasion at the edge of his forehead. 

“You look good” you stammered. “I mean, your cuts, they look good. Healing okay?” you bumbled, grasping at any assembly of fortitude and finding none. Joel Miller always left you completely tongue tied.

“Just glad to make it back…”  (to you) he nodded, looking around the school room awkwardly. “Nice place ya got here”.

“Oh this old thing!” you feigned humility, finally venturing a small smile. “It’s no Bookshop, that’s for sure. I’ve been meaning to drop by and see…uh, see that copy of "Wuthering Heights” you promised me!” you rallied, straightening your burgundy sweater that Joel had been so fond of. Joel licked his lips placatingly.

“Got me doin’ your dirty work now” he teased, picking at the desk edge the same way that Ellie did. They really were two peas in a pod. Joel was an amazing father figure. Your heart gripped violently in your chest, wondering at his loss of Sarah, and a previous life you knew nothing about. Could one really escape their past? Or were we forever doomed to be haunted by our deepest cuts and wounds?

“Listen, about the other night” he began, his eyes darkening guiltily.

“Don’t worry about it!” you stopped him, standing abruptly and gathering your things. You weren’t sure what he wanted to say, all you knew was that you couldn’t handle another disappointment. Having Levi in town was bad enough, to say nothing of living up the the commune’s new leadership expectations. If Joel were about to question your motives now, you weren’t sure you could take it. Reaching a long arm in front of your waist, Joel easily halted your escape with the intimidating width of his shoulders, punctuated by a particularly gentle touch that took your breath away.

“Sorry you had to see me like that” he whispered, looking down into your face with real regret and supplication. “Some things I can’t say…in the harsh light of day” he sighed, swallowing dryly as his eyes drifted down to your lips seductively. “Still like that sweater though” he added, smiling dolefully, the air around you becoming hazy and warm, with a hypnotic glow.

You tilted your head down shyly, biting your lower lip, “Just glad you’re okay, Joel. Don’t know what I’d do without you”. You heard a quiet intake of air as he registered your statement internally. The two of you stood in charged energy for what felt like an eternity before Joel continued, 

“So, I’m ‘sposed to invite you for dinner tonight!” he brightened, dipping his head a bit lower to catch your eyesight and slightly terrified expression. 

“Dinner?” you gulped. Heaven forbid you had another confrontation like the one before. Maybe it would just be a quiet night of discussion?

“This time you’ve got the whole Miller Family. Maria wanted to discuss some of the new commune responsibilities. You don’t mind do ya?” Joel questioned emphatically, allowing his hands to drift to his hips decidedly and listening for your decision. Good Lord. The situation was getting worse, but was steadily inescapable. It seemed as though your hands were tied.

“I’d love to” you croaked, shifting awkwardly with discomfort. No way out now. At least this would keep you distracted until Levi and his posse left. “No bramble berry wine this time” you apologized, meeting Joel’s eyes with a twinkle. He nodded in affirmation with a bright smile before heading towards the door.

“Oh” he paused at the doorway, his face immediately darkened with something almost protective or primal. “Levi too…” he spat, visibly struggling with his own distaste. “He’s the leader of our visiting strangers, and they want to petition commune residency”. Your stomach dropped about a foot with the unhappy revelation. Not only was Levi going to be present at the dinner, but there was a chance he was returning to your happy commune existence in a permanent way. You couldn’t find the words as Joel’s jaw ticked angrily. “Something about that guy” Joel trailed off, watching you closely as you grasped helplessly for words. “He a friend of yours?” 

“No!” you finally managed to exclaim before gathering your books and papers haphazardly and stuffing them into your bag. “No friend of mine” you muttered, grabbing your winter jacket and breezing past Joel quickly before he could ask anything else. “See you tonight!” you called behind you, already terrified at the unsavory proposition.

“Miller House! Seven sharp, teach!” Joel’s concerned voice rang after you, as you wrapped yourself tightly against the bracing wind. It seemed that things could not get worse.

Things had gotten steadily worse as you approached the Miller Household. Not only were your hands tremulously shaking beside you, your heart was palpitating a mile a minute, faced with the dual conundrum of attempting to unmask Levi’s intentions without betraying yourself and your questionable past in the process. Poised at the front door, you might have stood there for an eternity, if Ellie hadn’t opened the door briskly, looking as though she were going to hug you.

“Thank God!” she exclaimed, pulling you by the scarf abruptly into an uncharacteristic hug and slamming the door shut dramatically behind you. Whispering quietly into your ear she muttered, “Levi the dick is here…”. Attempting to hide a timid smile, you removed your winter coat and shakily entered the dining area. At least you had one person on your side. Rounding the corner you were greeted by a sight more intimidating than any classroom or clicker ambush; Tommy, Maria, Joel and Levi were all seated formally at the dining room table, awaiting your entrance. Joel stood immediately, his eyes softening from the hardened glare he had been directing towards Levi before your appearance.

“Hey teach” Joel’s voice rumbled lowly in the room as Maria waved with encouragement, “Won’t you join us?”. Levi had a crocodile-like smile, dripping with metaphoric honey as much as poison. Wonder where he kept his fangs?

“What a surprisin’ reunion! Ain’t that right, Teach?” Levi sweetly drawled, poised to pull out your chair before Joel did so himself, barring Levi’s attempt with his own broad shoulders. 

“We were just talking about you” Joel smiled tiredly, offering an encouraging squeeze of your shoulder under Levi’s watchful gaze.

“Tommy tells me you're the school marm, and I’m not a bit surprised!” Levi began, reaching for food without anyone’s permission. Spewing biscuit crumbs immediately across the table he continued, “Teach and I go waaaaay back, ain’t that right? She’s real good at meetin’ people’s needs AND followin’ orders. Once you grant our continued stay here at the commune, we’ll be able to REALLY catch up…” he nearly threatened, with enough bravado to overshadow the entire evening, as Joel stared fixedly in his direction.

“Well, now that everyone has assembled let’s start the discussion and the dinner! Ellie, you and Joel have done a wonderful job hosting us this evening” Maria took control of the conversation before Levi completely dominated it.

“S’no trouble” Joel muttered, shifting his gaze from Levi to you, his countenance immediately crumbling as he noticed your terrified expression. 

“Levi, we couldn’t be more thankful for your assistance during the Elk Creek ambush. Sounds like you arrived just in time…” Maria thoughtfully offered, beginning to pass the bowl of green beans around the table.

“My posse and I couldn’t be more pleased, ma’am” Levi drolled, reaching abruptly across Ellie to grab the bowl of green beans, entirely unaware of her scowling grimace. “‘Spect you could use some more strong men to help lead this growing commune…”. You could have sworn you heard Joel mutter some quiet profanities under his breath, but kept your head lowered shamefully.

Maria paused, momentarily annoyed, but continued onward. “Funny you should mention new leadership. We’ve just offered our resident teacher a new administrative position she has happily accepted”. 

Ellie beamed appreciatively, making a small congratulatory fist, “Alright, teach! Way to go!” You lifted your head slightly to catch a small nod from Joel offering a similar encouragement. The dinner table became decidedly more quiet as Levi’s countenance darkened bitterly.

“S’that so?” he toyed, setting the bowl down delicately and turning his attention towards you. “Never woulda figured teach as a leader type…” he feigned thoughtfulness, reaching a hand under the table and grabbing your upper thigh possessively. Joel caught sight of your shift in posture, as he began tightening his fists at his sides. Something was wrong. Why were you letting Levi push you around like this?

“Do you wanna tell ‘em sweet pea, or should I?” Levi threatened coyly, gripping your thigh painfully as tears began to threaten at the edges of your vision.

“Tell what?” Tommy hesitated, looking to Maria for support. You gritted your teeth stubbornly, wringing your hands quietly in your lap. 

“Hey, doucheface, why don’t you take your hand off her leg before I stab you with my butter knife” Ellie’s pointed accusation held more ferocity than you would have guessed, as you flashed on her former confession. In that moment, you had no doubt whatsoever that she could make good on her threat, but you felt a sense of nausea, placing her in such a tenuous position.

“Maybe it’s time for you to leave” Joel’s voice was barely audible, as Levi carefully removed his hand, placing it upright in a mock surrendered position.

“No harm, right teach?” he looked to you with superficial humility. “I just wanna tell ‘em what a great worker you were…you know…in the time before? You were always REAL good at meeting’ people’s needs. Satiatin’ their desires and such…” he proceeded slowly, increasingly aware of his volatile position.

“Don’t…” Joel threatened, gripping the dining room table as though he would about to shatter it into a million pieces.

“Joel…” Tommy cautioned, rising out of his chair slightly, attempting to grab hold of the situation.

“This isn’t a job interview, Levi. What if you told us more about you and your group…” Maria shifted with discomfort, hugging her belly protectively, as Ellie stiffened in defense of your vulnerable position.

“Yeah, Joel, no harm in listenin’” Tommy attempted to placate, moving slowly as though towards a cornered animal, and trying to gently situate himself between his brother and his nearby wife.

Joel’s eyes seemed to impale you with the emotional force of a dagger, as he looked to you for confirmation. A single tear fell lightly to the plate before you. There were no words. Joel knew everything already. But now he was about to get confirmation of your greatest fear, your biggest shame. The memories that kept you up at night, and the desperation that shrouded almost every joy.

“Just think you would want to know your resident teach was the absolute best girl I had the privilege of employin’…in the time before. What’dya say teach? Give ‘em a quickie, for old time’s sake? Looks like Joel is sweet on you already…”.

Levi barely had time to finish his sentence before Joel shoved him backwards to the floor, pinning him and the dining room chair violently to the ground. Levi kicked powerfully, against the table, sending it into disarray, but Joel had a knee positioned strongly against his chest and a forearm squeezed tautly against his windpipe. Tommy quickly moved Maria out of the way defensively before trying to peel Joel off of his target.

“Say more…” Joel growled, in a nearly feral tone you had never heard but often suspected. He knew. This is what he had known, but never said out loud. But there was no reason or rationale in his mind at present. His vision was a wash of red, turbulent red, as he watched Levi’s eyes bulge in desperation. Ellie sprang to her feet, grabbing the nearest carving knife and setting herself between you and the flailing form of Levi, whose face was starting to purple intensely.

The room was heated with a buzzing electricity as you raised your eyes with rapt attention to the man splayed before you. “Joel…” you whispered, his head immediately snapping back to see your tender and nearly angelic expression. “Let him go…”. It was as though a switch snapped in Joel’s mind, as he immediately loosed his grip, Levi sputtering and coughing pathetically on the floor. Tommy hoisted Joel to his feet, before he had a chance to change his mind.

“Looks like you better get goin’ soon, Levi” Maria threatened, still holding her stomach, eyes blazing with fierceness, as Ellie twirled the carving knife slowly in her hand.

Levi stumbled precariously to his feet, as Tommy grabbed Joel instinctively around the shoulders, attempting to hold him in place. “Get out” Joel spat, his knuckles a whitened fervor as he clenched his jaw with the last bit of restraint he had. Levi rubbed at his neck incredulously, looking around the room in defeat before shuffling to the front door dejectedly. 

“Guess we’re not wanted” he rasped, before flinging the door open to the winter’s bite. “I’ll be seein’ you, teach!” he cast an enigmatic accusation your way before trudging through the snow angrily, his silhouette beginning to disappear in the snowy tundra. The dinner party stared after him in awkward silence as small flurries of snow coldly circled into the living room.

“Asshole” Ellie muttered, breaking the tension slightly and tossing the knife onto the table brusquely.

“Language” you jokingly whispered, but your voice cracked in emotional defeat. Who were you to chastise anyone? Who were you to instruct the next inspiring generation of young leaders, when you had made such questionable choices in your youth? How had you been so foolhardy as to think you could escape the desperation of your past, in a newfound desperation of the future?

“Didn’t like that guy from the get go” Tommy offered, leading Maria back to the table gently and setting a hand firmly on her shoulder.

“Truth will always out” Maria nodded, placing her hand shakily on the dining room table and breathing deeply. “Give a man enough rope and he’ll hang himself…” she darkly added, glancing up to see your crumbling countenance. “Teach, this doesn’t change a thing…” she began, but you were already headed out the open doorway.

“Thank you for dinner…” you sobbed, grabbing your coat and running out the door as fast as your boots would carry you. Fairly certain that Levi had headed the opposite direction, your only goal was to make it home, before the rest of your dignity collapsed around you.

Joel stood completely transfixed like a statue, nearly paralyzed with the indecision of his own forceful emotion until Ellie’s voice rang out, “Go Joel! Go get her!”.

Don’t have to tell him twice. Joel bulldozed through the center of the living room, not even stopping for his own coat and racing after you doggedly. The snow immediately nipped at his aching knees, but he wasn’t letting you go. Not again. Not when he had so much to say, and no earthly idea how to say it. He didn’t consider himself an eloquent man. But when there were no words, his actions had always spoken volumes.

Finally reaching your faltering form, he grabbed you emphatically by the elbow and whirled you around to meet his gaze. Your eyes were already red from crying, body shuddering in despair as you struggled half-heartedly in his grasp.

“Don’t listen to him!” Joel shouted over the din of the surrounding winds. “We need you at the commune…I need you!” he felt the words tumble precariously from his lips, but he didn’t care. Seeing the anguish painting your face had unlocked a passion within him that he hadn’t let himself truly feel in years. He couldn’t let you go. Your knees buckled slightly with the intensity of his unexpected words, as the hot blaze of tears continued to cascade, unbidden down your snow kissed cheeks.

“Joel…I…” you stuttered nervously, bracing yourself against his broad chest and sinking your weight against him. The seduction of the moment was moving you like two, fated magnets, against the storm, until his lips were mere inches from yours. He hesitated for only a second before smashing his mouth against yours, his jaw violently moving in supplication, like a prayer. Caressing over, and over, and over, as your soul leapt to meet his. You weren’t sure how the commune would eventually react, if news of your scandalous background ever reached the probing ears of town gossip. But in that moment of passion and acceptance, you knew you had truly found a new beginning. A new reason for living. A new home.

You had found Joel.

Crime and Punishment The Visitor

Grab a latte! Time for a sweet treat before you head into The Bookshop! Check out "Sleepy" by @starlightandfairies when you get a chance!

Triggers: profanity, Last of Us canon + references, discussions of death, MAJOR spoilers for "Crime and Punishment", abusive "ex" type character enters the picture

Series Masterlist

Words: 3k

Winter seemed to stretch before you like an interminable blanket of scarcity. You didn’t know if this season were particularly harsh, or if the tumultuous relationships you had begun to form were impacting your perceptions. “Crime and Punishment” indeed. Caught between a rock and a hard place, there had been no real opportunity for conversation since that fateful night at the Miller Household. Not only did you find yourself vibrating with the palpable realization that Joel had his suspicions, but another patrol had almost immediately necessitated his absence. You found yourself slotted between the desperation of seeing his face again, and avoiding that confrontation completely. The anxiety of his potential return had almost overshadowed your own misgivings, coupled with the unlikely possibility that he might not remember the drunken conversation at all. Regardless, something had peaked his attention, and you could only hope you would have the chance to talk things out once and for all.

Winding your way from your humble abode down the soggy streets of the Jackson Commune, you were almost grateful for the momentary distraction of a commune meeting. You’d received a personal invitation from Maria days before, in your mailbox, and were curious as to the tonality of the discussion. As always, you were planning to blend seamlessly into the background as more vociferous members complained about rations, resource allotment, commune responsibilities and more. Stuffing your hands further into your pockets you were doubly curious as to why the town meeting was so early in the morning, and only seeing a few solitary souls dotting the commune main street. Had you mixed up the times?

Trudging up the solitary steps you headed into the main eating area that doubled for community activities, immediately halting your steps at the echoing sight that greeted you. The dining area was completely empty, save for a long table at the back end of the room with three chairs. It was seating for Tommy, Maria…and you. You heart dropped into your stomach as your breath caught in your throat. WHAT was this? Had Joel said something about his suspicions? Maria had always been shrewd, and a formidable leader, maybe even more so with the expectation of giving birth in the next several months. If anything, it seemed to have provided a clarity of purpose and a voracity of intention you weren’t entirely sure you wanted to be stacked against. You had the momentary terror of being asked to leave, but quickly shoved it from your mind, almost guiltily heading towards them.

“Tommy. Maria…” you began, feeling your posture collapse into itself though hoping for a more confident facade.

“Teach!” Tommy exclaimed, oddly mirroring Joel’s mannerisms for a split second, before pulling out a chair for you under Maria’s hawk-like gaze. “Thanks for joining us!”

“Glad you could make it” Maria politely smiled, a hand tucked under the table to cradle her burgeoning belly.

“Didn’t quite realize this was going to be a solo venture” you mumbled, reaching for the water that had been laid out for you conscientiously. “Is Joel back from patrol yet?” the words were out of your mouth before you had a chance to hold them back, as Maria’s eyebrows shot up questioningly.

“No, they’ve been gone for almost a week again. Patrols are getting longer and harder the further we venture into Elk Creek and Mountain View. Dangerous too…” Tommy begrudgingly admitted, rubbing at the back of his neck dejectedly. “Hate to not be with ‘em…”.

“We talked about this” Maria muttered under her breath, eliciting a sharp look from Tommy in retort. “You can’t lead every patrol AND lead the commune from within. We’re already stretched too thin, and I have my own responsibilities” she emphasized, firmly but kindly, as he nodded acquiescently.

“Talked to Joel” Tommy added, “before he left”. Your heart lurched violently in your chest. Jesus, was this is? The moment they asked you to leave the commune for good, finally aware of your questionable past. Unfit for teaching, unfit for living, unfit for…

“Told us that you were trustworthy. Like family”. The words hung in the air as you sputtered helplessly with your glass of water, watching Maria’s reactions from across the way.

“What?” you croaked, coughing slightly in the echoing dining hall. “What did he say exactly?” 

“That was about it. Joel’s not one for lengthy conversations. We’re…uh…looking into leadership expansion and Joel said you were the one to ask…” Tommy trailed off, looking at Maria hesitantly. You stared at the both of them, uncomprehending.

“I have my reservations about Joel” Maria began, as Tommy hissed begrudgingly under his breath “but he wouldn’t even consider the position. His first recommendation was to ask you…” she stated curtly, folding her hands across the desk imploringly. “We need you to step up and lead” she finished. Your mouth parted in shock and concern. Leadership? Whatever suspicions Joel had about your past, he had either kept to himself or those opinions weren’t weighing heavily on the proceedings before you. You desperately wished you knew which one.

“But I’m…” you paused, unwilling to go into more detail, “I’m just…a teacher” you stalled, unsure of what requirements you were stepping into. If Tommy and Maria didn’t know about your background already, the moment they did, it would immediately derail any hopes of future expansion. Better to stay in the background as much as possible, while still proving yourself useful.

“You’re a lot more than just a teacher, and you know it” Tommy unwittingly bruised your disappearing ego. “You care for the next generation of The Jackson Commune, you’re an upstanding citizen, knowledgeable and friendly, and trustworthy. And we need you”. The silence was deafening as you considered their words. You didn’t want to incite suspicion with more deflection. Maria was about as investigatory as they come, and her pregnancy seemed to elicit an almost supernatural power of insight you didn’t want to overtly incur. As though perceiving your hesitation telepathically, she joined Tommy’s request.

“Things are steadily going to become more difficult for me as I approach the due date” she knowingly smirked. “I’ve got to be realistic about my own limitations, and start including others in the leadership process. I don’t know what this might involve, but can we count on your cooperation?” she almost pleaded, tilting her head to the side sympathetically. You took a deep breath before launching forward.

“I’m here” you stated bluntly, rubbing your hands together nervously. No turning back now. Come hell or high water, you were a citizen of the Jackson Commune, and whether they could unconditionally accept you, you were invested lock, stock and barrel in the health and wealth of the growing community. It was time to double down, whatever the consequences might turn out to be. Both Tommy and Maria sat back victoriously in their chairs, looking to one another in affirmation and resolve.

“Like I said, we don’t know much about the specifics, but as soon as Joel and the patrol party get back, we should have some idea of how this plays out” Tommy offered, standing courteously.

“Any quick questions before we adjourn?” Maria asked judiciously.

“Who’s Sarah?” you blurted out, almost covering your mouth with embarrassment, but holding firm to the question. If you were going to trust The Miller Family with your secrets, you needed a better understanding of some of their own. Tommy immediately sat back down solemnly, looking back to Maria tentatively.

“What did Joel tell you?” Maria asked, her eyes squinting cautiously in appraisal.

“Not much” you confessed “I could just tell that….he wanted to” you shrugged your shoulders placatingly, desperate to know more, but hesitant to push the matter. The silence deepened as Tommy and Maria seemed to communicate without words, Tommy haltingly stuttering, 

“If…” he cleared his throat sensitively “…if Joel already mentioned Sarah, you could…ask Ellie about it, too” he clicked his tongue guiltily. “Just go slow, teach. That’s not a topic you should hover around needlessly” he intoned, tilting his head forward darkly. You sighed heavily, acknowledging his implied warning. Understood.

“Thanks for coming by” Maria gravely stated, gesturing for your exit which you quickly took advantage of. Leaving the large dining area, the blast of cold winter air was like a refreshing slap in the face, steeling your resolve and snapping you back into reality. You needed to know more. Joel’s continued absences were not only making progress difficult, but you had to admit the stress of longing was waring. Every time he left, you wondered if he would make it back, and Ellie must be feeling the loss even more intently. Perhaps you could seek solace in the company of one another. Standing at the commune crossroads, you finally decided to venture past The Bookshop. Maybe it would prove comforting, even symbolically.

Arriving at the door, you always saw the stark “CLOSED” sign teetering bitterly in the window, but caught a quick glimpse of a lazy, orange tail flicking past the bookshelves. Joel might not be there, but Rascal the Cat was. Trying the doorknob you easily entered to the comforting sound of the ringing bell, as Ellie’s face popped curiously from behind a stack of books.

“Joel?” she uttered, before registering her temporary disappointment.

“Just me kiddo, sorry…” you apologized, enjoying the warmth of the wood burning stove, but feeling the loss of Joel’s presence as much as Ellie did.

“Sorry teach…Joel is on another patrol, and Rascal was gettin’ restless” she sighed, re-stacking the books in an unknown order and throwing her hands up helplessly.

“I think I know how he feels” you commiserated, joining Ellie on the The Bookshop floor and wrapping your arms protectively around your knees. “Did he say anything before he left?” you probed, wanting to be gentle, but also gnawing at the bit. Maybe Rascal wasn’t the only one feeling restless.

“No, I just caught him the morning before he left again. Said you had talked the night before?” she questioned, her eyebrows raised with curiosity. “Did he seem okay?”.

You smiled tenderly, reflecting on Joel’s vulnerable inebriation, and longing to reach out and touch his face in that exact moment. “He seemed…tired” you confessed “and…a bit…sad. Mentioned something about…Sarah” your voice nearly disappeared as you second guessed your line of conversation, but found yourself running out of time and options. Joel was hopefully going to come back any moment, and you were more than ready to offer whatever support and encouragement you could. But how could you do that without knowing the type of wound you were encountering? Ellie seemed momentarily surprised and a bit unsure of herself as Rascal the Cat rounded the corner, butting its head against her shoulder playfully.

“He told you about her?” she began, absentmindedly petting Rascal and shifting with discomfort.

“He mentioned her, and you…and someone else named Tess”.

Ellie shifted uncomfortably once again, her lips drawn tightly in resolution.

“Normally, I wouldn’t ask, but Tommy and Maria seemed to think it was a good idea” you slotted the final piece of information in carefully, as though negotiating with a nuclear explosion. “If you don’t think it’s appropriate, please forget that I asked…”.

Ellie breathed in quickly, an inhale of relief washing across her face momentarily, before Rascal started purring contentedly. “Just don’t tell Joel that I told you” she looked around conspiratorially as though expecting him to pop into the room clandestinely without her knowledge. “Sarah is…Sarah WAS Joel’s real…Sarah was Joel’s daughter” the words finally cascaded forth, anxious for their revelation. As though in support, Rascal mewled affectionately as you nodded your head in affirmation. 

Of course. So many things were starting to coalesce. Joel’s protection of Ellie, his isolation, the supportive father figure that he was. Steeling yourself against the barrage of emotion you sat in silence wondering at the many twists and turns of life and death. You continued to feel helpless in the face of such insurmountable suffering. Maybe the only comfort you could provide was a solace for confession and expression in a world of silent punishments, and maybe it would have to be enough. “And Tess?” you gently added.

“I don’t like talking about Tess” Ellie huffed, moving Rascal off of her lap as he smugly trotted away. “She saved me and Joel, and then she died. And it pissed me off, if I’m being honest” she barreled through the admonition, leaning back against the bookshelf resignedly before quietly smiling. “Not sure what that is” she pondered, fingering the pages of the nearby books pensively. “Don’t see why death should cause so much…anger”.

You tilted your head sideways, once again surprised by Ellie’s preternatural wisdom. Circumstances may have catapulted the next generation into a premature adulthood, but there was a lot to be learned from the ranks coming up. “Death is one of the most visceral of all human experiences, and we get to fully inhabit our humanity when we wrestle with it. It’s like a dance. A beautiful, horrible dance” you offered, just as perplexed as Ellie was.

“I’m glad Joel has you” Ellie whispered, tightly hugging her abdomen as though she were about to pull apart.

“I’m not the only one you guys have” you nudged Ellie’s boot with your outstretched foot as she hesitantly met your eyes with acknowledgement. “I’m glad you have each other…”.

The peaceful silence was punctuated by the wood burning stove, until you noticed a solitary figure begin running down the main thoroughfare of town. A quick intake of air was met by the telltale alarms of a returning patrol as you and Ellie locked eyes emphatically.

“Joel”.

Running down the mainstream, arm in arm you ran as fast as the lingering snow would allow, a small group of town’s folk assembling at the front gate. Your breath halted in your throat seeing the purpose driven pace of the patrol approaching, though not apparently in distress or escaping trouble. You uttered a small cry of relief seeing the bags of resources they had in tow, swiftly scanning the group to find Joel’s telltale winter’s coat.

“There!” Ellie pointed euphorically, as Joel’s formidable frame came into focus, galloping towards The Jackson Commune. Damn, he looked good. You squinted helplessly, trying to identify any cuts or abrasions, though he initially seemed to be in one piece. You attempted to quell the disparate emotions vying for attention in the overwhelming thrum of your heartbeat. This was it. Whatever Joel remembered from his inebriated conversation, he had obviously reconciled himself to whatever suspicions he may have previously held. Maybe he didn’t know what he thought he knew. Or maybe he just didn’t care.

You watched from a distance as Ellie raced to meet him, Joel cautiously dismounting from his horse as Ellie poked and prodded at him inquisitively. He DID have a few abrasions you noticed as you neared the party, Joel quickly making eye contact with you from several feet away. A smile teased at the corners of your mouth until you noticed the severity of his external injuries.

“What the hell, Joel?” you exclaimed, reaching up to his forehead concernedly, as he took your hand gently in his.

“Good to see you too, teach” he winced with discomfort as Ellie prodded at his upper arm. “Not a science experiment…” he grumbled, though his mouth betrayed a tremor of affection.

“What happened? Any clickers? Get any good books?” Ellie immediately interrogated, taking Joel’s pack from his shoulder and starting to pat down the nearby steed.

“Ran into some trouble up by Elk Creek. No clickers, but patches of raiders pocketed in the harsher territories. Met up with some scattered folks that gave us a hand…” Joel clicked his tongue begrudgingly, absentmindedly rubbing a small circle into your outstretched palm. That was new. “Found a copy of ‘Wuthering Heights’” Joel lowly intoned, his eyes sparkling mischievously, as you gawked incredulously. “Had to go through a heap of mess to get it” he whispered, as you slapped him good naturedly on the shoulder eliciting another small wince. Taking his arm in yours, you decided to save the chastisement for later, before escorting him to the medical facilities for a quick check.

“Looks like I can start assigning even more homework for our next adventure” you teased, so thankful to have Joel back in your sights and back in the safety of the commune. Maybe you were starting to believe in happy endings.

“Well, as I live and breathe! If it isn’t ‘The Teach!’”

A smarmy voice penetrated your bubble of happiness as your heart skipped several beats. You gripped Joel’s hand in a white knuckled vice, attempting to keep your face as stoic as possible, before turning slowly towards the familiar gravel, you had so happily escaped in year’s past. Joel’s face flicked to yours intensely as Ellie’s face contorted in skepticism.

“Levi” you drawled sarcastically, plastering a smile across your face politely, and gripping Joel’s hand even tighter. Joel positioned himself ever so slightly ahead of you, broadening his chest and staring fixedly at the stranger that stood before him.

“Couldn’t be more grateful to The Jackson Commune for welcoming us sorry band of misfits for a temporary respite”. Levi’s voice was as honeyed and calculated as ever, but you had learned long ago to distrust every iota of Levi’s practiced and sinister promises. “Looks like your Joel found himself between a rock and hard place. We were just happy to arrive when we did, and give ‘em a hand” Levi extended his hand to Joel who summarily dismissed it, coldly.

“Happy to get you back on your way after a square meal” Joel gritted his teeth harshly, watching your staunch expression, and growing more adversarial by the minute.

“Where ya from anyways?” Ellie squinted skeptically, already attuned to the tension in the frigid winter air.

“Oh we go way back, isn’t that right, teach?” Levi lightly touched your elbow which you jerked back reflexively. 

“Let’s get you to the medical bay” you uttered briskly, dragging Joel behind you before he did something you would both regret. Joel clenched his jaw resolutely, watching your face intently as he followed. You tried desperately to ignore the salty tears cascading down your cheeks with abandon, but the heat of Joel’s gaze seemed to propel them forward. Joel might not care about your questionable background, but there was no doubt in your mind;

Your past had just walked in through the gates of The Jackson Commune. And right now, there wasn’t a damn thing you could do to escape it.