CHAPTER THREE ,
apple slices and stolen batteries

5 A.M.
(  September 12, 2023 —
Boston, Massachusetts  )

          The apartment was quiet save for the dull shuffling of denim against skin, the bite of a zipper, the clang of a belt as Joel began to dress.

He had found the denim button up that had faded in some spots from age and wear along with a pair of jeans atop his dresser that Frannie must have neatly folded and laid out whilst he took his less than satisfying shower yesterday evening.

Joel's lips twitched upward at the realization. She was so sweet to him, always had been. An unconditional kindness that was so sparse and few in between in the despairing ravaged world they lived in. She took care of him after years of being left to fend for himself.

He didn't mind it, he grew to silently love it even. He provided and protected for most of his life — first Tommy, then Sarah, then Tess.

Then Francesca entered his life, and when he finally allowed her in; into his home, his arms, his life, his heart, she started caring for him. Though, he supposed that she was taking care of him since the moment he met her, he just welcomed it now. Since Frannie came in he didn't want to know any different.

He exhaled an heavy weighted sigh at the thought of an another long day ahead, exhaustion still licking at his worn down body. The night a deep navy, still darkening portions of the early beginnings of a dawning sky.

It had only been a couple hours since Francesca pulled herself flush against him and slipped her arm around his body after his nightmare, sleep eventually finding him with hostile arms that as always, would not allow him to sink deep enough into unconsciousness to get the sleep his body and mind so desperately needed but learned to persevere without.

"Frannie, I'm leaving but I'll be back later." He breathed softly on her forehead, his lips lingering on her skin for a long heavy kiss.

She vaguely heard what he had whispered, responding with a noncommittal mumble and shifting of her body. The tips of his fingers delicately pushing away the strands of chestnut curls that splayed messily across her lower face. Her short hair that danced right above the span of her shoulders was a recent change that still took his attention every time he stole a glance.

The thick long curls that hung along her low back was   haphazardly chopped and discarded in the bathroom sink the night of Mickey Brown's death. Joel had swept it away with a few shoves toward the open drain, their faucet with the type of shitty water pressure that sprayed everywhere whenever it was turned on doing the rest of the work to wash it down while Francesca sat slumped numb and withdrawn in the dining room chair with a swollen blotchy face stricken with endless streams of fat tears.

He understood why she did it — the likeness of her mother with their similar hair becoming unbearable to look at and manage now that the man who was her last connection to the night where still knew what the touch of her mom felt like without the heavy stickiness of blood was dead and to be callously discarded in a pit of human ash and burned in the morning.

It didn't mean he did not miss it immensely; when he would thread his fingers through the length of it and how it would always get twisted into small knots on the ends, the beautiful curls that bounced and swayed with careless elegance on each step she took, the way it looked splayed across his chest and arms, even when the Boston wind whipped it so hard it stung his face, and especially her ethereal moans and gasps when he would tug and pull whilst it was gripped in his tight unforgiving fist.

His thumb swiped along her parted bottom lip, rubbing away the pricks of dried blood off the peeled skin, her warm breath hitting his split knuckles. His touch trailed down the side of her exposed neck with a ghost touch, brushing past the marks he left embedded on her shoulder, with hands that were so scarred and stained with murder and guilt yet so tender and reverent with her. His fingertips finishing their tracing along her protruding collarbone.

The act of Joel falling in love with Francesca was quiet and slow-moving. He needed time to thaw and settle, but now he feared he had been left out for far too long. Rotting the place in the cavity of her abdomen where he nestled himself in, tearing through the muscles and veins to fit comfortably in her heart. Never wanting to let go. Especially when the scar tissue began to permanently grow and form around the shape of him.

5 P.M.

          She heard the scrape and click of the front door bolt, the squeak of the hinges echoing in her ears as he checked the lock once, and then twice — something Joel never cared to do until Frannie started leaving her belongings at his place and sleeping in his bed.

She listened for the shuffle of him, the familiar groaning of the floorboards and small release of a sigh as he took off his boots to minimize the noise of him moving around; a subconscious decision.

He haphazardly threw his keys along with the scribbled map of where his little brother may be on the table. His feet were no longer cramped into his boots but still left heavy tired footfalls in his wake as his eyes did a quick sweeping scan to check on her figure lying peacefully still on the mattress but instead of continuing his path with his stiff and weary gait towards the armoire his mind has been fixed on his entire walk home, he found himself standing over her on her side of the bed.

Francesca had only woken up once to use the bathroom and grab a drink of water which now stood half full on the nightstand in the twelve hours he had been gone. He watched her for a bit, his gaze staying soft as he peered down at her, ignoring the screams in his back and knees begging him to sit down.

He noticed she took her shirt off, the top of her breast jutting above the blanket, seemingly to combat the thin layer of sheen that perspired across her body. His dick twitching in his pants at the sight. The strenuous day getting to him. The tension needing to find a way to release from his body, but he palmed it away and pulled the blanket back over her body, tucking it under her side slightly.

He assumed she slept the entirety of his absence, but she was at her safest when she did so he let her be — grief and sadness didn't wrap around her like a straight jacket as deadly when she slept; as long as the dreams didn't come.

He feared for her. The fear of her ending it all. Because once that nagging thought arrived, it stayed. Building itself a home to stick and linger. Waiting to take her place in the spot she once was, as it will always be there. Always. There. Francesca knew. and Joel knew.

He began to shove the armoire over tentatively and as quietly as possible, his face tugging up in a strain as he repeatedly stopped and peeked over his shoulder at her to make sure she remained undisturbed. Her brows innately furrowing, the line between them prominent but otherwise still asleep, and he wanted nothing more than to go over there and press the pad of his thumb atop it and release the tension but he knew it would immediately go back to the way it was the moment he withdrew.

With a grunt he begrudgingly lowered to his knees to remove the loose floorboards that were once concealed under the piece of furniture and every item of his stash one by one until he found what he needed tucked under inconspicuous tools where he kept it hidden purposefully.

To her the sound of Joel was a distant muffle, as if she were underwater; somewhere in between asleep and awake. Wading in a freezing darkness, unconscious reaching out its long writhing tendrils to drag her under completely where her mutilated mother waited for her — beckoning her to come join her.

To pay for what she did to her.

2 A.M.

          Joel lost tract of time after his fifth drink.

The hours blurring together just as the highway routes did on the map the more he fixed strenuously on them. Dragging his fingertip along the interstates from Boston to Wyoming.

Refilling his drink, downing it with a grimace, and landing a slam of the crystal glass against the table; no longer caring about the noise he made potentially disturbing Francesca. Over and over again.

Joel grew more agitated and more desperate the further he fought back the sadness sitting on his shoulders like a bloated leech still ravenous for its next meal of its host. Even after taking all it could possibly could from the man it's been draining dry for the past two decades, it still hungered for more.

He couldn't see straight, seeing double whilst he poured out some of the powdery white pills in his palm and drinking the last of his binge with a final gulp.

He lead himself with staggering steps towards the bed and dropped heavily on the mattress. He had dozed off almost immediately, laying stiffly on his back while soft snores left his parted lips.

Exhaustion took him under — Sarah's death playing out loudly in his mind, violating every crevice in his brain, catching up to him no matter how or where he tried to hide.

Joel's sleeping form eventually turned to mold his frontside to Francesca's backside. Her back flush with his chest as he curled completely around her, and in time her head ended up resting in the crook of his elbow with their calves wrapped around each other. The little ringlets on the nape of Frannie's neck tickled the curve of his nose. The smell of burnt and bitter ash coated skin clinging to the inside of her nostrils.

Joel had tossed a dead child hanging limp in his arms into the fire earlier that day and he didn't feel a damn thing — he was numb and devoid of any emotion regarding the death of children. He responded to the trauma of losing his daughter by burying it way down and swallowing it back. There was no other way to psychologically survive than to cut off a part of his mind that cared for kids in the way that he did when Sarah was alive.

His arms remained tight around her as morning bled into the night sky, as if he was afraid she might leave him in his sleep. His unconscious body betraying him — betraying him just like the subtle actions of love he used towards her in replacement of his words.

6 A.M.

          The sun hit Francesca warm and bright on her face.

A heavy grogginess clung to her like wet clothes, her vision swimming with an incurable fatigue as she blinked against the sunlight.

She got herself up from bed with a stretch and a squeak of a groan. Sadness dragged behind her like she used to do with her baby blanket that was once blooming with butterflies and colorful flowers but now stained and saturated with the dried blood of her mother and still wet with the fresh blood of Mickey, as she padded into the kitchen following the smell of food and the sound of scraping utensils against a pan.

"Mornin'." Joel mumbled around a bite of egg, a corner of his lips turned up in a shallow smile as he peered over his shoulder.

Frannie could see the weariness etched in his face but a brightness stilled flickered in his eyes when he saw her grin at his greeting. Still holding a smile for her despite the deep, open aches he felt the pains of every day.

"Good morning." She chirped quietly.

She yawned into her palm as she took hold of the flimsy folding chair they used as dining chairs from under the just as unsteady table, and took a seat, scooting comfortably in place.

"Eat." Joel grunted, sliding a plate of food in front of her, "I tried to get a can of beans but—" He cut himself off, rubbing at the nape of his neck, seeming a little dejected.

It was a display of simple food, just some eggs and jerky with half of a sliced apple that she presumed he traded for her in which she beamed at the notion; just like the butterfly hanging in the window she stayed silent, but he knew what that meant to her.

Francesca waved his comment off with a shake of her head, not allowing him to feel an ounce of unnecessary insecurity, "This is perfect, thank you." She tipped her chin up at him with an appreciative smile, dimples pressing deep into her cheeks.

Joel always made sure she had something to eat and strived that she always had enough to eat which deemed very difficult when the resources were so scarce due to an overpopulated QZ but he made it work. He had to. Because if he's unable to care for her who will? And what would be the point for him anymore.

For both Joel Miller and Francesca Zwicker as long as the one stayed alive, the other stayed alive.

Beyond that.. they didn't know. They feared to know.

Joel's eyes locked on her lower face then. His face dropping into a deeper scowl at the notice of her chewed, split bottom lip. He grabbed her chin with his thumb and index finger, angling her up towards his eyesight.

His face was furrowed in worry as he observed it, brows pinched together and the lines of age creasing on the outer corners of his squinted eyes more prominent.

"We gotta find a way for you to stop doing that." He murmured.

He brushed his thumb across it, the salt and dirt residing on his skin making it sting. Frannie hissed and attempted to draw back from his touch, pawing at his wrist with both hands to push him off but he kept his steady hold on her with easy feat.

"See? Not fun." He gruffed.

She swatted him away, and he released.

"Yeah, yeah." She grumbled in a mock annoyance, thumbing her own lip and squeezing it; the pain of the pressure unironically alleviating the sting.

Francesca's gaze fell on the table, catching the map that was splayed open, dragging it towards her.

"For Tommy?" She hummed, taking a bite of the jerky.

She chewed heavily on the tough leathery piece of dried meat whilst she studied the decades old creased and worn paper though she wasn't confident in what any of it truly meant.

"Mhm." He returned, pivoting on his heels and ambling over to where she was, placing a glass of water next to her plate.

"You really still haven't gotten ahold of him?" She asked worriedly.

Frannie knew that Joel had been going to Abe, the clandestine radio operator for the city, every day now for the past three weeks after his brother stopped responding to the regular messages he'd been sending since Tommy left Boston. Each day coming home more and more visibly stressed and aggravated after coming up empty handed once again. The worry of his little brother's safety and wellbeing wearing him thinner than he already was.

"No, I haven't." Poking his cheek with his tongue and dragging his chair out from under the table to sit closer to her, the legs scuffing obnoxiously against the floorboards; so near that his knees were pressed into the side of her thigh, "His last message came through a tower close to Cody, Wyoming." He explained further with a tired sigh, scratching a hand through his beard.

She peered at him with a sympathetic tilt of her head, waiting to see if he'd give her more information but he veered her gaze; staring at her bare knees with a stony expression.

"You dealing with FEDRA for the truck and stuff?" Francesca nibbled on her bottom lip anxiously, twirling her fork preoccupied.

Joel's eyes snapped back to her then. A frown tugging his brows down at the sad tone that wrapped around her words.

"You don't gotta worry 'bout that, Francesca." He reassured firmly, placing his hand above her knee and leaving a sturdy squeeze with a simple: "I've got it handled." He squeezed again, "Alright?"

"I know you do, it's just—" She cut herself off with a sigh, setting down the fork and twisting her torso more in his direction, "You going alone? To find him?" She implored worriedly, her face pinched with anxiety.

She looked back down at the map. Elbow planted on the table, head hanging in her cupped palm, her vision fixed on the pen marks circling somewhere in Wyoming — her heart sinking and twisting at how far away the destination actually was.

She wasn't aware that was how much Tommy had traveled. He'd been gone close to two years at that point. Only having met him just months before he left but they had gotten along great in those short times. It was nice to see Joel with his brother, their dynamic and the obvious love he had for his younger sibling; it thrilled Frannie to see that side of him.

Until that night he left.

Joel had been a closed fist about it ever since Tommy took off. He didn't talk about him and whenever Frannie tried to bring it up, he angrily brushed it off and used his tongue to stop anymore questions from leaving her mouth if it wasn't followed by a moan.

For a long time after Outbreak Day, Joel had felt like a stranger to Tommy. It started with witnessing him kill their elderly neighbor without a second of hesitation. It was the last thing he expected Joel to do.

Yes, Tommy always knew that his big brother was protective. Even threatened a fair share of bullies that went after Tommy in their youth but he did not know his brother had the ability to be that violent, that quickly, and be that okay about it right after.

That side of Joel unnerved him. Deeply.

But then Sarah died and he was gone. Joel's conscience dwindled away as he shut down his emotions to cope with his new life. And in a way Tommy had to too. In order to survive they had no other choice. There was no time for fear. No time for the morals of before. It was kill or be killed.

And they did that for years.

But Tommy held onto one thing that Sarah had taken from Joel when she took her last breath of life in that field — hope.

Tommy always had hope, and Marlene and the Fireflies saw their opportunity and they took it.

Francesca had overheard the fight. Arriving to his floor right when she heard Tommy speak her name: "She's given you a new chance on life!"

Behind the closed door Joel stiffened, his hackles raised. A sibilant whisper through a clenched jaw and bared teeth emitting an unveiled warning that shut Tommy up immediately: "Don't you bring Francesca into this."

Only days after he stifled an 'I love you' completely unbeknownst to her into her neck.

She stood there in the hallway, the arguing continuing for a short while, her belly swirling sickly with anxiety as Tommy spoke his last words to Joel: "I don't ever want to see your goddamned face again."

He brushed past her just moments after, giving her a longing look as she stood frozen in place unable to move, guilt and anguish twisting her features.

In his rush to leave, Tommy had left the door wide open, and when Joel moved to swing it shut he saw her standing there with tears pooling in her wide eyes and a harrowing quiver in her lips.

Joel slammed the door on her face.

He showed up to her apartment hours later with no words of an apology, no words at all really, but with an apple instead.

"Tess is coming–" He paused, his gravelly southern drawl drifting her eyesight back towards him and away from her racing thoughts and from the memories of that night, "And I figured you'd come with me." His voice bent upwards towards the end slightly as though he was asking a question.

His eyes met hers with an expectant stare. A twinge of hope lingering on the edges of his warm irises.

The two of them had talked briefly about this but then Mickey died and everything in Frannie's mind was put on the back burner. Joel dropped it, letting her grieve the last two weeks however she seemed fit and frankly was not even expecting this conversation to be happening this soon but she seemed open to it so he let it continue.

She tipped her chin in a slow nod, taking it all in. Her bottom lip back in her mouth, nibbling on the raw skin.

"Would we come back?" Her eyebrows curled inward with the questioning.

"I don't know." He replied matter-of-factly and stiff, tightening his lips together. It came out with difficultly, almost paining him to say those words.

He always had a plan. Always was one step ahead — until it came to her.

Joel didn't plan for Francesca coming into his life. Especially not staying, and if he was one step ahead he would have seen how fast he'd fall in love with her against all protest from every last morsel in his body. Her touch, her voice, her body, her love spreading through him the same way rot and decay had ripped through the world.

If he had seen that coming he would have run before he gave himself the change for her to crawl inside his rib cage; keeping him warm and alive, decalcifying his heart so it no longer only beat out of necessity but out of something entirely else, hence maybe it was alright that he just didn't know.

At least for now.

"Would you wanna come back?" He probed. A raise of his brow giving genuine curiosity; he knew this place meant a lot more to her than it ever did for him.

Frannie shrugged noncommittally, "Don't have anyone else here anymore. Mickey was my home more than the QZ ever was." The words hurt more than her stagnant voice and numb expression let on, "Except for you, obviously." She paused, looking at him with her brown doe eyes before continuing after a beat, "-And Tess."

A short silence fell around them, scooping them up in one of their moments of unspoken language. Joel's eyes searched her face, his dark brown eyes downturned and sad, but comforting and safe, letting her live in them for that short time. And then: "We'll talk more once we get Tommy, yeah?"

She nodded her agreement, "Should I pack?"

"Probably."

"Alright—" She rushed out, taking a bite too big of egg before jumping up on her feet, the chair legs making a shrill noise at how fast she scooted it back.

"Can you– at least finish your food?" He sighed, a tick in his jaw, holding his hand up with his palm facing her, "We're not goin' right now."

She plopped right down with a huff. Her mouth full of unchewed breakfast food.

"And chew your food before you choke." Joel chided mildly. He pushed on his knees to help himself up while doing so, his stiff knees creaking.

She finished up swallowing her food before asking: "When?"

"Once Tess and I get the battery." He answered, followed by a clearing of his throat, stuffing his hands into his front pockets of his jeans.

"From Robert?" She retorted. Her face scrunching up in dislike; the crinkle in her nose making Joel's belly swoop!

He shifted his weight on his other hip, jutting his knee out.

"Unfortunately." He replied, his voice tight.

"He called me a whore once—" Francesca relayed absentmindedly, "I suppose I don't particularly disagree but–" She lifted her shoulders up in an untouched shrug, taking a bite of the apple slice and humming faintly in delight at its sweet and tart juice.

Joel snapped his head at her. Blinking. Flicking his thumb against his finger down by his thigh. Displeasure evident in his tightly drawn expression.

"Who do you think gave him the broken arm and black eye?"

Frannie squinted her eyes, assessing his expression and the confession he just made. She swallowed another bite of food and a humored smirk materialized on her lips that she tried to bite back by rolling them into her mouth, "That was you?" She laughed out wholeheartedly, the sweet sound escaping her throat and whirling around the room, making Joel dizzy by wrapping its hands around his throat.

"How did you even find that out? I never told you, we had just met."

"I have my ways." He grunted simply.

His face was pressed into a stony frown but his brown eyes gleamed; she thought it looked the closet to mischief.

Times like this weren't sparse, but as of late they seemed few and far. The light in Francesca's eyes that had been dimmed after it seemed Mickey had taken it with him on his last breath, had started to spark back to life in minuscule moments. With moments like these, Joel wanted to crack open his chest and store them safe and warm in the cavity — her laugh, her dimpled smile, her entire presence pumped back life and love into his decaying and shriveled up unused heart.

"Right." Frannie drew out the words as she reminisced on a memory, narrowing her eyes and pointing an accusatory finger in his direction, "Like when you somehow found my place the day after we met and showed up unannounced and pretty much just invited yourself in?"

"Exactly like that." He agreed, giving a self-satisfied nod; still fond of what he did, "You didn't mind it though, did you?" He quipped, "If I recall, sure didn't sound like you did."

She shook her head, her eyes rolling back in disbelief, "Cocky asshole." She masked the muttered statement with a drink of water.

"Whatcha just fucking say?" He cocked his brows at her interrogatively, his voice with a grating edge that was between teasing and a threat.

"Nothing." She concluded, feigning innocence. A faint smirk playing on her lips as she brought the glass to her lips again and took a sip.

8 A.M.

          A rushed rapping on the door sounded through the apartment right as Joel finished pouring his black coffee into his mug, making him curse under his breath. He took a few hurried side steps, boots scuffing along the linoleum flooring, and leaned faintly to get a better view of Francesca from the kitchen, checking to make sure she was still sleeping despite the noise disturbance.

His gait towards the door was heavy and stiff as another rapid knock tore through the morning silence.

"I'm comin', jesus." He grumbled, aggravation a shadow.

He unlocked the door and found Tess on the other side, head hung low and shoulders slumped.

"Didn't mean to come so suddenly." She began tiredly, lifting her chin and meeting his eye line.

Joel's face fell, his features instantly stripped of its barely awake grogginess and now awashed with panic at the immediate notice of her swollen beaten eye and small scuffs and cuts across her face.

He launched himself forward but she put a hand on his chest halting him, "I got jumped by a couple guys, I'm fine. Didn't wanna wake Frannie by coming here—"

With a shake of his head, he ushered her inside, "Don't worry 'bout all that. She's still asleep." He reassured her, looking back over his shoulder, stepping further into the space just as she was locking the door behind her, "What guys?"

"Just a couple teenagers." She answered indifferently following after him in short steps, knowing exactly how he'd react and trying to keep him calm but Joel took in even more concern, twisting around to fix upon her. He cradled her face with gentle guiding hands to assess her wounds more intently with a steadfast expression,"Said some shit – probably shouldn't've."

He dropped his hands, turning on his heels and outstretching his arm behind him and pointing in the direction of the table as he took hasten strides back to the counter where his lukewarm coffee sat forgotten, "Sit."

"Come on. You know these guys were born after the outbreak. Never learned how to argue. They just start swingin' – fuckin' nineteen year old pieces of shit."

He joined her back at the table with a whiskey bottle and a rag, sloshing some of the liquid onto the cloth, "It's a miracle you're alive."

"It's a miracle any of us are alive." She countered, tilting her head and shifting her body slightly to the side to get a better peek behind Joel as he took a seat across from her, "How long has she been sleeping?"

He ignored her at first, thumbing her chin, holding it tenderly whilst he inspected her face closely with small tilts of her head back and forth, dotting the wet cloth delicately over the cuts, "These aren't new."

"No. I was in FEDRA lock up all night." She replied softly, grabbing onto his hand to still his movements,"Joel–"

He shrugged, seemingly unfazed at her question about Frannie, pulling his hands down from her face.

He was not too worried about it. After their conversation, he made a small plate for himself and ate beside her. He then took a shower and when he got out she was fast asleep with a pill missing from the open cloudy plastic sandwich bag left on the table that wasn't there before.

"Joel." She echoed again, leaning in closer. Pushing him to answer her.

"She slept like eighteen hours." He admitted, voice stiff. A muscle jumping in his jaw. His carnal need to protect her from the people she didn't need protecting from bubbling red hot to the surface.

Tess opened her mouth, displeased at what she just heard, but Joel cut her off. He raised a hand to stop her from saying what he knew she was going to say.

"She got up and ate some just an hour ago. Found her back asleep when I got out of the shower." He explained further with a calm and still demeanor trying to ease her worries.

He excluded the mention of the pills; Tess knew about both Joel and Frannie's struggle with them and their dependence, so he didn't deem it necessary to bring it up.

Tess shook her head with a small but weighted exhale, eyes falling shut, "I told you that she shouldn't have seen Mickey burned, Joel." She said with a sad sense of guilt saturating her words.

"Tess—" He rasped, hunching over and kneading his elbows into his knees with his palms pressed to his face. Exhaustion and irritation seeping out of him.

"He saved her life." He bit, snapping his head back up to her attention, eyes frantically darting across her face, "Brought her here after she had to murder her mom, took care of her all these years. Who am I to tell her that she not go see someone who might as well be her grandfather?"

"You tell her what to do every other chance you get."

"I do not." Joel glowered. "She's a whole damn risk to herself without some sort of guidance so she asks me for help. Mickey asked me to help." He paused to crane his head over his shoulder to view Frannie sleeping. "–But if she told me to go away, I would."

He heard a scoffing chuckle come from her, pivoting his attention back just as Tess extended him a look as if to say "yeah right".

"That is a bold face lie, Joel. You not being near Francesca is like removing a pin from a damn grenade."

He lowered his brows in annoyance, "I have it handled, Tess."

Releasing a sigh, he leaned back in his chair, rubbing the heels of his palms into his eyes and then dragging them down his face. He looked up at the ceiling, bouncing his leg — anxiety beginning to settle in his gut like wet cement.

"I just don't want it to get as bad as last time." She told him softly. Gently. There was sense of a warm maternal care she had towards her that squeezed around her words.

"It won't." He was quick to snap at her. Shifting his jaw.

"You said that right before it did, and the time before that, and the time–"

Joel lurched foward, quickly, and if it was anyone other than Tess they would have jumped back in fear.

The only crack in his resolve had just shattered.

"What do you want me to do, Tess? Huh? Just drop her off at FEDRA's feet and let them take care of it? Have 'em strap her up, drug her, and let them do whatever the fuck they want to her?" He whispered sibilantly, sounding vehemently overwhelmed. His face a twisted mask of anger.

Her features softened for a second at his distress before hardening again, "No, of course not. I just don't want them to do it for you."

"I'd get her out of the city before they even get the idea. I see how their men look at her— what they've said, and— tried to do." Bitter hatred had a death squeeze around his words, suffocating out any doubt of what he may do when it came to her.

"..Maybe you should."

He blinked at her, eyes jumping around her face waiting for her to continue.

"Get her out of here." she clarified.

"Yeah, that's my plan once I get this fucking battery."

"You're not gonna come back here with tommy?"

It came out an harsher accusation than intended. She wasn't planning on coming back either, just didn't know where she would go, and Joel hadn't really keened her in what was going to happen after they found his brother. She just wanted to help him — that's what they did for each other. The three of them.

"I don't know, uh–, I told her once we get Tommy we'll figure it out. You included."

She gave him a furtive look at his response, leaving a pause in the air that was acceleratingly expanding with a thick tension before what she said next: "I need you to take a breath."

"What?" He bored into her with impatient waiting eyes, pulling back from her slightly.

"Joel-" She hesitated, mouth ajar trying to find the words that would lessen the blow.

"What?" He pushed, a harsh scrape to his voice.

"The guys who jumped me were with Robert. He sold our battery to someone else." She blurted out in defeat; there was no beating around the bush.

"Didn't think it was important enough to start out with that?" He hissed sardonically, bottom lip curling around his bared teeth, closing the space between them again.

Tess cocked her head at him in a glare, "She seemed more important, Joel." She bit back.

He pinched the bridge of his nose with a ragged sigh, "Fuck—"

He shook his head in utter disbelief, burying his face in his hands. Eyes shut as he tried to settle his rapidly rising breathing.

"Look, nothing's lost. Shit like this is gonna happen. Now we just shake it off, and we go get our cards back, or the battery–"

"I need the battery, Tess." He exasperated with a bitter edge, features contorted with irritation.

He slammed his hand on the table, Frannie long forgotten. Rising from his seat to walk away, taking fast strides to get to the other side of the room, "Truck's no good without one, and if I don't get to Tommy soon, he's gonna die out there."

"Okay, fuck it." Quickly giving in and standing to rush over to meet him where he was, "We get our money back and the battery. But, Joel, listen, Robert is terrified of you."

She knelt down beside him as he scrambled through the rest of his belongings underneath the floorboards, urging him to stop what he was doing and look at her.

"So, if you march outta here all Clint Eastwood, he's gonna get wind of it and skip. I need you to take. a. breath."

And he did just that. Stealing a quick glance over to Frannie as well, who still remained undisturbed in her slumber. Her eyes shut peacefully just barely peeking over the blanket and the mess of her hair tangled atop her head and sprawled over her forehead in cinnamon curls. His heart cramped at the sight, not wanting to lose sight of why he was doing all this.

"Who'd he sell it to?"

"Don't know."

"Well, where is he?"

"Don't know. Yet. But we're gonna find out, quietly. Understand? Now I promised Robert that you wouldn't hurt him. But I would very much like for you to hurt him. So let's go hunt that motherfucker down, and get our battery and our truck, we get Francesca the fuck out of here, and then we'll go find Tommy. All right?"

Joel scanned her over, processing it all, before nodding firmly, his jaw tight in a resolute decision, "All right."

author's note,

i really need to speed up my updates 😑 but a little christmas gift for you nonetheless 🎄🎅🏻

also didn't realize i wrote so many chest cavity/heart metaphors cause i write in intervals LMAO but they're staying cause i can't be bothered to do anything about it

but anyways, ENJOY! and as always let me know what
you thought of the chapter! 💚

with love ,
sloane