'i want everything back, the way it was. but there is no point to it, this wanting.' unknown.

season 1, episode 3
long, long time

2010

For the sixth time this month, Joel's hand reached for a freezing hand, only to land on an empty, warm space behind him. His steady heartbeat spiked, gripping the bed sheets. The trepidation of his reality poisoned his sleep until it was too far from the definition to be called sleep.

Formerly, sleep provided an escape from his life outside the foundation of his home. Being eased to sleep with fingers running through his once-fully brown hair, twirling locks in a rhythmic pattern that faltered over time by the love of his life was once something he did not yearn for as it was a daily act. Now, Samara could barely muster up a real smile. The one that enchanted him twenty-two years ago, though it felt like lifetimes ago. He longed to see it once again. He wanted her back.

But he knew it would be selfish. He could be selfish in all other ways of his life in order for the survival of his people but never would Joel be selfish with Samara. That was too much for him to ask of her.

"Mara," he called out, barely able to fight the rasp of sleep that clutched his voice.

Stiff air responded back. His eyes snapped open to confirm it.

Her side of the bed was made, topped with neatly folded clothes for Joel. Joel pushed himself up, continuing his scan. His spinal pain echoed upward, provoking his muscles to strain. Her bag continued to lean against the damaged wall. Everything was in its place. All except for Samara.

He slipped his shoes on, not caring about the uncomfortable feeling of them. Grabbing his jacket, Joel exited their deteriorating room. The hallway filled with fatigued adults, trudging to begin their endless loop of survival.

Joel maneuvered around them, stopping at a room at the other end of the hall. He knocked, pressing his ear against the door. "Tess?"

The door yanked open. Tess squinted at Joel's clumsy demeanor. They were work partners, brought together by her and Samara's similar grief. An understanding bonded them without the explanation of feelings as it was the opposite for Tess and Samara. It allowed them to get the job done and guaranteed they would both return back to their terrible beds.

"Ya'know where Samara is?"

"No. We aren't meetin' till after morning shifts."

Joel pinched the bridge of his nose, exhaling shakily. The days prior Samara would appear an instant after Joel woke up to an empty bed. It was like she knew. Like she expected it. Joel would never question it because she always came home—because she would never break their home.

"She's a grown woman, Joel, she doesn't need a guard dog every second of the day." Tess closed the door behind her, heading out of the apartment complex. "Let's go."

Resistance built in this throat as the hours passed doing their morning shift and still no sign of Samara. She had switched shifts with Maria, and as Joel was told repeatedly, "Samara offered so I could spend time with my boy—you married a saint."

Joel couldn't focus. Not while his wife was somewhere, alone, doing God knows what. He could feel her fading; how it nearly replicated Sarah's life fleeting as he cradled her. The only difference was that Samara crept away slowly, pulling back in small increments that Joel would have never noticed before.

Every second of every day after September 26th, 2003, the world returned to gray. Colors no longer carried meaning. For a brief moment, there was hope for the color. Then there wasn't. They were just there. And sometimes, they weren't.

There was a science to colors. A mass amount of knowledge that could fill a library if someone wished. Joel didn't understand the idea of drowning himself in one topic until he met Samara in the park, unaware of his presence as she was enchanted by the rainbow above. He hadn't noticed it before she pointed it out. After that moment, he couldn't help but find a rainbow in every moment. Color was noticeable. It was beautiful, almost as beautiful as her.

Samara's head snapped up from tying her boots on the chair. She eyed Joel before looking back down in an instant. But it was enough time for him to see. Derived from sunlight with shadows filling like craters underneath her eyes.

"Where the hell have you been?" He neared her, guiding her gaze upward. If there was any way, Joel would've absorbed the exhaustion in her eyes and freed her from her pain. "What's goin' on, Mara? Where've you been?"

Shaking her head off of his gentle hold, she finished tying her boots. "Nothin'."

"Mara—"

"Joel."

It would be heartless of him to force her out of her grief. But how much longer did he have to watch as she sat underwater waiting for the breath to come back? She was able to keep going after Joel failed to take his own life, after he failed to keep his end of their pact. She could pretend to be fine while Joel grieved but the longer she did, the further her pain rotted. The foundations were weak and ready to fall.

"I've gotta get to my shift—I switched with Maria, sorry for not telling you." She stood up, attempting to move around him.

Joel grabbed her hand. Her eyes softened as they met his. He wanted to hold her face, hold her as she did him and let her cry. He knew better. She wouldn't be able to handle it. She flinched at his touch when she didn't guide it. She refused to let him initiate the smallest of intimate moments. His hand remained intertwined with her without her flinching or staring at it with disdain.

"Don't...don't disappear from me." He hadn't been the best with words. They never came out right when they left his lips. "You're not alone, Samara. Let me take it all when you're ready."

He hovered over her forehead, awaiting her rejection but it never came. He planted a kiss and let go of her before walking towards their bed. Samara didn't move an inch. Her eyes followed Joel, watching him intently.

"I've been talking to a guy on the radio—not through Abe or Gabriela but one I stole." Joel didn't respond. The silence was suffocating and Samara needed it to stop. "He lives with his partner in a town a few hours out. They're secluded from everyone, traps to keep the infected away, and...and they have power, Joel. Warm water."

Everything the Boston QZ was lacking. From the look on Samara's face, how bright she became from telling him about a place she had no idea was real, Joel knew what to say. He didn't want to say it, but he couldn't help himself. For her sake, he let himself believe in it too. "So...what's your plan?"

She blinked. His lack of disapproval shocked her. She rubbed her hands, feeling the urge to move around. "You, Tess—if she agrees—and I, go to them. Frank and I spoke about trading; they have things we could use, like guns, and we have supplies for them that they can't get. We just need to meet and convince his partner."

His eyes remained on her before he dropped his head, thinking as he bounced his head up and down. "Okay."

"Okay?"

"We'll go."

2023

"Get that outta my face."

"Why don't I put a bullet there instead?" Kieran spat, keeping a gun pointed at Joel's head. Where she found that one was unknown to Samara.

A blade flicked open as Joel towered over Kieran. Her eyes filled with rage; if looks could kill, Joel would have long gone. There was still a chance Kieran would make that happen if Ellie wasn't ready to strike her with her blade.

Samara snatched Kieran by her hoodie, pulling her back as she glared at Ellie. "Both of you put your weapons away. Now."

Ellie knew nothing of Samara besides their encounter moments ago and that was enough to know what she was like. She encouraged a fear in Joel and Tess that not even the split-headed infected could form. Her blade returned to its slot then into her pocket. Even her eyes softened on Kieran before falling onto her fading red canvas shoes.

"Get your things together, Ellie, we're leaving," Joel instructed, dismissing Samara and Kieran as if they were ghosts. To him, they were. Nothing but remnants of what was.

Ellie didn't move an inch.

"Ellie."

"Marlene told you to take me to the Fireflies and that was it." Ellie took a step away from Joel, towards Samara and Kieran. They weren't Fireflies but they were the ones that would take her to the real Fireflies.

Joel shook his head with a wince as he curled his bruised fist. "I made a promise to Tess I'd get you to Bill and Frank."

"Since when were you a man of your word?" Samara spat, lacking in hesitation or respect. The two girls locked wide, uncomfortable eyes for a brief moment. Kieran had a loose understanding of what was. Nothing more, nothing less. Samara made sure of that. "Cut your losses and go home, Joel."

His eyes narrowed. Betrayal was a straightforward emotion that was either a seed or a fruit of a tree with a variety of other feelings. "Losses? You—"he shook his head, stopping himself "—you have no information, no lead, nothing, Samara—" despite it all, he still said her name with a gentle voice, cradling each syllable like a flower—"you're walkin' straight into something you don't understand."

"And you do?" She asked with a tilt of a head, knowing what he was pulling. "I know more 'bout these areas than you. And I got more to lose if I don't get that girl out west."

He stayed silent for a second. Samara used that second to sign to Kieran, "Distance."

Kieran lifted her hands to argue but Samara focused on Joel, listening to the words that were too low for Kieran. She gritted her teeth, walking towards a collection of large rocks. The sun slowly left them.

Resisting the urge to force her footprints into the Earth, she used the lack of sound to hear Samara. She wished she hadn't. Never in the ten years of being with her had Kieran seen her like this. Vengeful, disappointed, depressed, happy, content, that's all she would ever be. Not angry. Not like this. This was an anger that reminded her of none of the stories she absorbed. It was docile, like a domesticated animal. It was almost, almost unrecognizable.

"Nice giraffe," Ellie spoke as she stepped into Kieran's field of view.

Glancing at the stuffed animal she's had for years, Kieran shrugged. With her head in between her hands, she looked at the arguing adult's. "Is he always like that?"

"Joel? Yeah, he's an asshole."

"They tend to be."

"They?"

Kieran turned her attention to Ellie, more specifically the healed wound hidden behind her jacket. "Why does a bite make you so important?"

Raising an eyebrow, Ellie responded, "You ever seen anyone with this type of bite?"

She shrugged. "Never see anyone really."

"What?"

She shrugs once again. New people are odd. Maybe it was just Ellie. It was probably just Ellie.

"You just live in the woods, away from everyone? Like...freaks?"

"No." Kieran flinched, straightening her posture. "And we're no freaks, you freak—you're the one with a bite mark, being treated like someone's special pet they want back."

"...Fair."

Kieran inched back into her position with a swift glance to the adults. Joel was heading their way. "We just...don't go near people. People are dangerous."

Ellie didn't attempt to say anything as Joel stomped near. "Ellie, get up."

Samara, still calm, came beside Kieran as she rose to her feet. "Get up, kid."

"Where are we going?" Ellie asked, standing slowly, unsure and confused.

"Bill and Frank's," Joel stated, scratching the side of his face. Kieran stared down at the moss and dirt that covered the rocks.

Ellie shifted towards Joel, noting how Samara and Kieran were acting. "Aren't you guys coming?"

"We're gotta make a stop before. We'll meet you there."

"Why can't we come with?"

Neither Samara nor Kieran made a verbal answer, only flickering their eyes to Joel. Allowing him near where they stayed would allow him to return there once the mission was over. If it happened once before, it was bound to happen again and again.

"We'll meet you there, get what we need, then we go from there." Samara's eyes lingered on Joel. She kept the entire plan from the girls, as she kept an important piece of information from Joel. She only needed him to protect Ellie until she had more supplies for the three of them. Then he could go off on his own for good.

Ellie appeared uncertain. "Why do I have to go with him?"

Kieran stifled a laugh, refusing to look up as she felt a hard gaze that could have only come from Joel.

"It'll only be a few more hours, Ellie." Samara added a maternal smile that effectively swayed Ellie's mind. "Then, I won't leave your side until we get to the Fireflies."

Her uncertainty remained, only for a split second. She remembered Kieran's angry words to Tess at the capital. Samara doesn't lie. "Okay."

2010

"Why're you lookin' at me like that?" Samara giggled as she adjusted her curls that hadn't been able to appear in ringlets in years, watching Joel with squinted eyes through the half-fogged mirror.

Joel's brain couldn't wrap around the thought of all of those things being possible again. After all they have been through, all the pain, all the heartache. Joel could confidently say he was grateful to live through it for this moment. "God, you're so beautiful."

His words were involuntary, but he didn't regret them. His skin flushed.

Samara rolled her eyes, walking out of the bathroom. She shoved a button-up Frank gifted them into his cheat. "Hurry up before Bill shoots you."

He could try, Joel said to himself. He wouldn't let anyone ruin this day for Samara.

Bill was brilliant—trigger-happy, but brilliant as Samara would say. The day relocations in Massachusetts occured, he managed to secure an area and protect it for seven years and more to come. Some would say he was an insane apocalyptic-prepped. Samara would say he was about to be the smartest man she would ever meet.

Joel on the other hand, he would say Bill was just another survivor. He was prepared for the world to succumb to an end because of their leaders. Only the Earth released the first attacks. And humans lost.

"Well, this really is just—it-its amazing," Tess let out, still unable to comprehend the normalcy the two men had just a few miles from the hell that the three had.

Frank, Bill's kinder half, grinned almost as bright as the sun. "Right?"

Samara's cheeks and jaw quivered every so often from pain. They ached from how long she had been smiling. She would place her hand against one of her cheeks and massage it slightly as she got lost in Frank's stories of his life before and his life with Bill. None of the stories shared across the table had anything to do with their goal, but that didn't matter. At least not to Joel.

Though every-now-and-then, the smile would falter slightly as she was reminded of reality. Her eyes would flicker to Bill, seeing his hardened face, unable to find joy in this moment. He wasn't wrong to be unsure of them. It just would have been better if he hadn't held and pointed his gun towards Joel every time he shifted.

Frank reached for the wine bottle, twisting it open as he turned to his partner. "Can you not, please?"

Hesitantly, Bill disengaged his handgun. He placed it right next to his plate, pointed across himself at Joel.

The Miller man was unbothered by it. Many guns had been drawn at him in less than a decade. With each one, the less it mattered. As long as it was him and not Samara. He squeezed her hand underneath the table. "I'm the same way."

"Oh, you're a paranoid schizophrenic, too?" Frank inquired as he poured a decent amount of wine into his glass.

"I'm not a schizophrenic," Bill defended, keeping his eyes trained on Joel. Better him than either woman on both of his sides.

"We get it. The QZ may not be beautiful like this but...—"Samara let out a sigh, taking a sip of her wine— "we all have to protect what's left."

Responding with a squeeze in return made Joel's eyes focus back on his food. Bill may have been paranoid, but he was a damn good cook. Samara's hand surfaced above the table, switching her glass into her right hand as she cleared her throat. "Well, can I just say how nice it is to have a civilized meal in such a beautiful place? It's been too long since...I've felt somewhat normal."

Joel's eyes observed her face, noting every feature that had been left in darkness. As if this singular encounter revived what had been locked away, Joel couldn't help but be grateful to Frank for giving this to her. If only there wasn't rot in him that made him upset that he couldn't do this for Samara.

The amount of eyes on her may have been a handful, but more than what she was used to in the past few years. Samara tilted her head down slightly, trying to maintain a smile. "I just...I wanna thank you. Even if we don't end up working together. I really needed this."

Frank's glass rose. "We are working together." He reached his glass across to meet hers. To which Tess joined them, leaving Bill and Joel to be the odd men out.

Bill wasn't fond of it, even after meeting them. His eyes shifted slightly at the toast. Frank didn't need to see it to know what Bill was thinking. He knew Bill's mind like his own at this point.

"We are." Frank placed his glass down. "You know what? Let's go inside. Samara, I wanna show you something. Tess, you'll love it too."

The women rose, intrigued by how the beauty of the exterior could possibly compare to the interior. Samara looked to Joel, silently asking if he was going to join them.

"Go."

She smiled softly, bringing a feeling inside of him he hadn't felt in so long. She planted a kiss against his scar before following Frank and Tess inside. The scar might have been healed, but a buzzing sensation radiated from it. Joel kept his eyes on her as she walked away. If Bill had chosen to fire the gun he had just cocked, Joel's only reason to be upset would be that he ruined Samara's day.

"I understand," Joel said, continuing his meal once Samara was out of sight. "If my wife brought strangers into our situation, I wouldn't be happy either. But of all the people he could've found on the radio, we're actually decent people just tryin' to get by."

"Oh...Well, aren't I the lucky one?"

"There's stuff we have in the QZ that you don't have here," Joel continued, forcing himself to bear someone like him for the sake of Samara. "Books, medicine, machine parts. We can help each other and get that gun outta my face."

Pulling the gun away, Bill disengaged it once more, but this time he tucked it into his holster. They were getting somewhere.

"So, what, you were a," Joel started, trying to find the right word, "prepper or somethin'?"

"Survivalist," Bill defined. "Maybe you are decent people, maybe not. Doesn't matter. We're self-sufficient here. I don't need you, your wife, or friend complicating our lives. Is that clear?"

Joel resisted a laugh. He didn't know how fast Bill could re-equip his weapon and kill him, nor did he want to find out.

"That fence has got a year on it, tops. Galvanized wire already started to corrode. I can get you 10 spools of high-tensile aluminum." There was one thing Joel could present to Bill to get him to understand. He didn't need him to like him, befriend him, or start planning future hangouts where they talk about the past. He needed Bill to trust him, just enough for the deal to work.

"Last you the rest of your life. Lives."

And it worked.

Samara, Tess, and Frank spoke ahead, near the fence as Joel came up beside Bill. He stared at the trio, unsure of what he agreed to. He had his life to fear for. He had Frank's life to fear for. And Joel understood that.

"F.E.D.R.A.'s never gonna come up here. And you're well protected against stray infected," Joel started. He was like Bill, he had someone to protect. "But sooner or later...there'll be raiders. And they'll beat that fence and your tripwire. They'll come at night, quiet and armed."

Bill took in Joel's Intel, but as stubborn as he was, he still couldn't appreciate the help. "We'll be fine."

That's all one could wish for.

2023

Kieran observed Samara's tense posterior: how her leather jacket managed to stretch, almost erasing the creases crafted by her taking it off and using it to rest; how her shoulder-length hair frayed from its ringlets due to the humidity. But despite her stoic stature, a trail of sweet air came from her.

When Kieran began to recognize her past, she remembered Samara would have the two of them visit Bill and Frank every two weeks—or less if she had been hunting—just to wash her hair. The first few months she would have a different smell that followed her. Kieran learned that while sunflowers were bright and pretty, its oil wasn't the best smell. Since Bill hated the fact Frank would waste resources on scents—Samara even agreed—Kieran would add columbine flowers that grew in the summer into Samara's products. They were never allowed to travel towards the ocean, but Samara told her the flowers smelt like honeysuckles that grew along the forests.

That night Samara told Kieran a story, a true story. Just as humidity began to creep up on Massachusetts, Samara would take her family to a trail every year. She could never say their names, but Kieran knew them. Sarah and Joel. Joel and Sarah. Samara's husband and daughter. Sarah loved the honeysuckles after playing in the river. She loved the taste, how sweet something was without needing to be made by human hands. Sarah would always tell them facts about the plants that they never knew. Before Kieran would let sleep win, she saw Samara cry for the first time. And the last time.

"How far are we going?" Kieran broke the silence once they were safe behind their fences. "We can't get far on foot, can we?"

"No, we won't." She sounded tired.

Kieran didn't want her to be tired. Samara spent years exhausted trying to care for the two of them, refusing Bill and Frank's help. They were a partnership that wouldn't work if they joined them. Kieran was Samara's partner. She needed to help her.

"Will he let us go when he finds out?"

Samara exhaled as she looked at Kieran. The younger adjusted herself to ensure Samara didn't see her as a child, but a partner. They were on the same level. "He will, whether he wants to or not."

She continued towards the storage building. On the big map, West didn't appear to be that far. But Kieran quickly learned that each area in-between the lines—states were more complex maps that had maps for the counties, cities, and towns. A day's trip on foot could get them to the zoo. How many days would it take to go west?

Kieran stared at the map, calculating how it would take them to get to the next state, Connecticut. 71 miles. Before that would have taken 24 hours according to Samara. With the broken roads, infected, and people, it would take at least a day and a half or more.

A hand disrupted Kieran's calculation. Samara planted her hand, sprawling out her fingers to get Kieran's attention. "No more. I need you to gather supplies for the four of us."

"That'll be all of our supplies," Kieran pointed out. Though, Samara already knew that. "What will we do when we come back?"

Something shifted in Samara's face. Hope. "Once we get Ellie to the Fireflies, we can go anywhere we want to, Kieran."

Anywhere and everywhere. They could travel the entire continent before Samara grew too old for the adventures. But with all that space meant endless dangers. Samara said it herself, she knew nothing of the west. She knew nothing beyond the Massachusetts lines.

"But—"

"We'll talk 'bout it all as we travel. Bring a new notebook to keep track of everything."

Hope. It was an odd emotion for Samara to have, but her face hadn't been brighter. Her eyes...they stayed the same.

Kieran watched her posterior as she left the building to do whatever she needed to. Bill and Frank were able to work for as long as they did because they trusted each other. They became one, understanding the other without having to try. They would know what the other was thinking without words.

There were moments where Kieran and Samara were able to do that. But there was a barrier that remained. It kept pieces of Samara away. Kieran believed she had gotten close to finding the key but seeing Joel and Tess only changed the code.

Joel. One of endless names Kieran learned as she learned to read. His name lacked any beneficial meaning for Kieran. But once meant everything to Samara. His name was rarely used, so the word 'he' became his new name. He was the one Samara wrote about in her letters that rotted in her desk. He was the name Samara couldn't let out of her throat. He was the one who ruined her.

There were pieces of Samara that Kieran would never meet—she understood that, hated it but understood. But pieces of the past lingered in the worn letters that her eyes should have never gazed upon. Joel—whoever he was—ruined Samara, ripped pieces of her out until she was a carcass of who she was. She had to remake herself. Kieran could never forgive the unknown man for the pain he caused her.

2010

It was as if there was a second sun that formed on Earth, somehow not destroying the planet. She glowed. Samara radiated in a way Joel hadn't seen since she was pregnant with Sarah. There was hope in her.

Thus hope grew in Joel.

"This is a good idea, right?" Joel asked quietly, staring at Samara's relaxed back.

Tess looked at him, then to Samara. "We get what we need and they get what they need." Joel's eyebrows still furrowed. "She just needs time."

"She needs this," Joel thought aloud, convincing himself further that the reward was greater than the risk.

Once again, Joel felt Tess' eyes on him. "You think she can handle going out of bounds? She won't be able to handle that."

"She's a grown woman, Tess, you said it yourself. She'll be fine," he assured, watching as Samara slowed her pace, peering into a ditch.

Tess grabbed his bicep, forcing him to stop and look at her. "Damnit, Joel, this isn't how you help her—"

He leaned down, getting into her face. For years since meeting Samara, Tess believed she understood her and what she needed. Five years did not compare to the twenty-one years he had been by her side."I think I know how to help my wife. If I wanted your help, I'd go to Detroit and ask your husband."

She let go of his arm, hardening her eyes the best she could. They flickered away for a moment then returned then went back. "Mara?"

Samara's back faced the smugglers. Her leather jacket stretched as her shoulders curled forward.

"Samara?" Joel repeated.

Instead of a response, she crotched into the ditch. Her body quivered, hands peeking over her curls as she gripped them.

"Samara," Joel called out, jogging towards her. He towered over her, now able to hear her faint cries. His boots skidded against the dirt but he didn't care. He didn't care that his clean jeans were now muddy. "Hey, hey, Mara. What's wrong?"

Her words were incomprehensible. Joel neared her, placing his hand on her back. She flinched. "Hey, it's just me."

Still she pulled away from him.

"Joel."

Inhaling slowly, Joel held his tongue back. She wanted to berate him for not being able to help Samara. She wanted him to hurt because he couldn't help.

A dusty blue cloth came into few. Rainbow patterns all over. Joel's eyes scanned the cloth in Samara's clutched hand before trailing behind it. Two decomposing bodies, barely bones yet but too far gone. Still, the larger carcass held the other's. It cradled the carcass of a baby.

Word Count: 4.8k

new chapter!! i'm so happy with this chapter so i just had to publish this before completing its sister chapter/next chapter. Next chapter will be formatted like this one and be the same scenes but a major difference will be that its in Samara's pov. I really wanted to show how similar Kieran and Joel are before they form a relationship. They both care deeply about Samara and want the same thing but have different ways of proving it, though do they really?

before i spoil everything, i hope you guys enjoyed this chapter. please tell me your thoughts, ideas, theories, etc. I enjoy interacting with you guys!