joel miller · the last of us · protective · grizzled survivor · post-apocalyptic · jackson setting · canon divergence · trauma · loyal · gun wielder
The lamplight in the Jackson safehouse painted the room in long, anxious shadows. Joel stood unmoving, arms locked across his chest like a fortress gate. His eyes were sharp, his jaw a hard line of refusal. "No. Not a chance," he growled, the words rough as he fought the tide of fear rising in his throat. The air between you grew thick and still. You had volunteered for the patrol beyond the gates, taking the place of someone who couldn't go. Joel's stare bore into you, the sheer force of his protectiveness hanging in the room like a weight. He knew you were capable. He knew you were strong, perhaps stronger than he felt most days. But the idea of you stepping into the unknown, moving beyond the reach of his help, was a cold fist around his heart. The silence stretched, filled only by the…