Requested by Ghost_Guard_13 . My new favourite :D
[ What if Reader was in the military and not only has PTSD from THAT but also from the infection as well. One day you're resting by a river, contemplating life, fiddling with the knife in your hand, and you see some people across the river, so you hide, listening to their conversations before accidentally snapping a twig, and panic fills your mind, remembering what happened to those in the army who had been caught. It all goes downhill from there (with a step up?) ]
Decided it's pre-Ellie, and the people are raiders, Joel appears behind the reader to help them. :D
~
You were a soldier. It was the only thing you focused on. Thinking of anything else brought waves of pain and fear crashing over you, and you couldn't resurface for days. Last time that happened, you had people to protect you, your squad. Your friends. Family. All that was gone, and more. Yours was not the only life torn to pieces by war. Nor was the infection the worst thing you had seen.
The worst thing you'd seen. That was something. It wasn't blood. It wasn't death. It was bearing witness to the pain of families as they saw the monster the fungus turned someone they thought they knew into a monster. The pain was raw, primal, and tore your heart from your chest, discarding it on the floor as you were forced to kill to survive. Killing was easy. It was living with the overbearing guilt that destroyed people.
You'd seen one of your longest friends be destroyed by that guilt. The pain was fresh, the wound being reopened every time you fired your weapon. The fear, the guilt, everything, piling on, trying to drag you under.
A man you once called a brother had been infected. You were the one to end him. That's when you decided that feelings only caused pain, and you didn't want to acknowledge them anymore. With the last of your squad dead, you drifted from town to town, replenishing your supplies when you could, your eyes as cold and dead as those you had killed.
For the past few days, you'd been camping next to a large river, finding the sound of the water rushing over the rocks calming to your racing thoughts. It was peaceful, and you'd granted yourself the luxury of a fire, warming your fingers for the first time in months. You still didn't relax, you weren't that safe, and your eyes looked everywhere, thinking every shadow cast by the cheerful flames was an infected, or a hunter, with a gun, both ready to kill you in a heartbeat.
You were glad of your preparedness. Paranoia, a small voice whispered. You silenced it, kicking the fire into submission, shoving everything into your pack, your sniper steady in your hands as you melted into the friendly shadows, fading from view.
The figures soon became clearer. Three men, all armed, with bullet-proof vests, and what looked like a pair of thermal imaging binoculars around one of their necks. You cursed under your breath, your pistol already in your hand, a knife in the other, moving silently through the trees. Far enough from the bank that you couldn't be seen, but close enough you could hear them.
A coarse grunt. "They've moved."
"Ashes are still hot."
"Still close then."
You held your breath as you hid behind the comforting solidity of a tree. The best bullet defence you had. Your pack dug into your shoulders. Sliding to the floor, you crawled along, silence was your best friend. As long as you made no noise, you'd be-
Crack.
Fuck.
There was a shout, then another. They were closing in on you, and you discarded secrecy in favour of distance, getting to your feet and tearing through the forest. Your internal compass was going haywire, nothing looked familiar as you hurtled past, muscles burning. You'd been slow and silent for so long, it felt criminal to be this noisy. It felt alien to be this fast.
You skidded to a halt at the waters edge. Shit! Nothing was going right. You forced yourself to breathe, your legs burning. The shouts were nearer now. The other side of the river was bare, no cover at all. To your left, was solid rock, a sheer tower. You wouldn't be able to climb that in time for it to matter. To your right, a stream, and then some bracken, too uneven for you to move fast, too bare for cover. Behind you, they were getting closer, shouting and whooping, like hunters that knew their prey was cornered.
A rope almost hit you in the head as it was flung down. You didn't question it. If they were willing to help you, it was an easy guess that they were a better bet than the killers on your tail. You just got over the edge, hauling the rope up behind you, when they broke into the small clearing. A bullet sheared a chunk of stone from the ledge right next to your arm. You felt hands on your pack, dragging you back, lifting you up, then depositing you back down.
You stared at the floor for a moment, steadying your breathing, quelling the ache in your legs as you stood up again. Turning to face your saviour.
He wasn't anything special, you thought, his curly brown hair messy and unkempt, his eyes brown, but calculating, an emotion in them that you were all too familiar with. Pain. He was taller than you, and slightly wider in the shoulder, although you could see at once that he was slightly unsteady on his feet as he walked over to you, large hands gripping your shoulders.
"Are you okay?" His voice was like music, soft and lilting. You imagined it would be the voice people heard at the gates to Heaven. That was a weird thought, and you quickly silenced the voices trying to add more to it, telling you to hug him, just as a thank you, of course.
"I'm fine. Thank you.." You turned your gaze to the river, watching the water flow over the large rocks, fish darting about in the calmer areas. White horses galloping as the waves crashed to the sand. You saw nothing that the rope could attach to up here. With slow realisation, it dawned on you that he had pulled you up. Using nothing but his own strength. You bit your lip, fighting the urge to check him out again, just in case your preliminary assessment had been a little hasty.
"Happy to help." You heard, rather than saw his smile, still studiously ignoring him, watching the lights of the raiders fade.
You hummed. You could feel his gaze on you, trailing over your figure, not that there was much to see under the bulky dark clothes you wore. That and the sheer amount of weapons hanging from your person. A pack slung across your back, a pistol on your hip, a knife on your shin, sniper on one shoulder, a rifle on the other. That was why you were so impressed that he was able to haul you up. Not because it was just you that he was able to lift, but all your gear as well.
"I'm Joel." He introduced himself, stepping closer to you. The warmth radiated from him to you, your shoulders relaxing unwillingly.
You introduced yourself, turning your face so you could see him in your peripheral vision. He was nervous, twisting his fingers in front of him, his eyes downcast. "We should keep moving."
"We?" He looked up, hope evident.
"You helped me. Probably saved my life." You shrugged, facing him. "You're stuck with me until I repay my debt."
"I didn't mean-" He cut himself off. "Let's go." He jumped down a ridge, it seemingly second nature for him to turn and offer his help to you. You accepted, his palm warm against yours, your rough skin scraping against his. You didn't need his help, but it was nice to have the reassurance of another human that wasn't trying to kill you, or steal your gear.
~
You hiked together for weeks, rarely speaking, both of you easily matching pace, and he'd even offered to relieve you of some of the weight on your shoulders. You accepted again, and the entire stash of supplies was evenly split between the two of you, and he had your rifle and his across his back. You had your sniper and your pistol, along with your lucky knife in your boot.
You were grateful to him, although rarely voiced it aloud. Your feelings ran a lot deeper than just a simple debt, as you found when you thought you'd lost him.
You were fighting off a few raiders, a simple job really, now you had someone to watch your back, and you heard a grunt and scuffle. You were unable to take your eyes off the scene. It was still imprinted in your mind.
Joel, on the ground, not moving, a smear of blood on his temple, a shithead with a gun aiming at him. Your knife was in their skull before you could blink. You didn't even realise you had moved, then you were at his side, frantically feeling for a pulse. You found it, and almost fully relaxed. You dragged him into the nearest house, taking the time it took for him to wake up to steady the panic in your chest, resolving never to mention how him hurt had made you feel to him. That wouldn't go too well.
He seemed aware of the change though. Talking to you more often, asking if you were okay, his touches lingering a little too long to be casual. If he knew how his touch set your skin ablaze, you were sure he'd recoil, disgusted. Nobody would want you. That, all the voices in your head agreed upon. It was a depressing thought, but one you chose to linger on, to remind yourself that you weren't allowed to love, it would only end in pain.
~
1689 Words.
I'm leaving this one unresolved for a reason. Not everything is solved by a man showing up, and people can forever wonder'What if' :D
Unless I decide to write a part two...
Guess you'll have to wait and see.
Requests here.