Chapter Text
The first time Maria laid eyes on the man who would become her husband, he was lying in a ditch.
She had been hunting in the woods that surrounded what was left of Jackson City when she spotted him, splattered with mud and lying in a puddle created by the previous night’s heavy rains. He wasn’t moving. Maria sighed; just her luck.
She crept through the brush, edging close to the prone man. She’d seen newly minted runners spring up from more impossible positions, and she wasn’t taking any chances. But as she finally stood at the edge of the ditch, the man still hadn’t moved. She pursed her lips, then poked him with the butt of her rifle, the pistol in her other hand aimed right between his eyes.
The man groaned, but didn’t wake up. It wasn’t the groan of the infected though; this man was still alive.
“Hey,” she said, prodding him again. “Wake up.”
The man’s eyes fluttered open and stared up, unseeing.
“Are you bit?” she asked.
“What?” The man’s voice was a raspy whisper.
“Are you bit?” she asked more loudly.
“No, I’m...” He pulled his hand away from his stomach. Both were covered with blood.
“Holy shit,” she muttered. She bent down and carefully pulled up his shirt. The wound looked bad, but it looked like it was just bits of shrapnel lodged in his gut. It would be relatively easy to patch him up.
She stood and whistled for her horse, who came cantered out from a clearing a few yards away.
“I’m gonna get you to a doctor,” she said to the man, grabbing him by the armpits and dragging him over to Virgil.
He didn’t reply; he had fallen unconscious again.
“How’s he looking?” Maria stood over strange man. He was lying on her dining room table, eyes closed. He’d woken up momentarily when her father had begun to pluck the shrapnel from his skin, but he’d passed out again from the pain shortly after.
“I’ve seen worse.” Maria’s father plunged his hands into a bowl of warm water. She watched the blood ebb from his skin. “He’ll live.”
“Hmm,” Maria said, crossing her arms.
“What are you thinking?” her father asked.
“I’m thinking about what the fuck we’re gonna do with him once he wakes up.”
“We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it.” He began packing up the first aid kit. “For now, let him sleep.”
As her father left the room, Maria eyed the injured man. As she examined him, she spied a bit of silver glinting around his neck. She pulled the chain loose and grimaced.
Tommy Miller.
Firefly.
When the man opened his eyes, Maria had her pistol cocked at him from the place where she sat, near his head.
“Rise and shine,” she said. “Although, I guess you already do.” She dropped his dogtag onto his chest.
The man reached up to close his fist around it, wincing as he moved. “Where am I?”
“I get to ask the questions here,” Maria said, bumping his temple with her pistol as a warning.
He turned to look at her. The defeat in his blue-gray eyes startled her. “If you’re gonna kill me, just fuckin’ do it.” He sounded weathered, beaten. And Southern, to Maria’s surprise.
“Let’s not be hasty,” she said, sitting back in her chair, but not moving her gun from his head. “Who are you? Where are you coming from?”
“Boston,” he said. He held up his dogtag. “You already know who I am.”
Maria blinked. This guy sure was flippant for someone with a gun to his head. “What the fuck are you doing all the way out here?” she asked.
“Marlene had a group of us strike out for the Denver QZ,” he said. “We were supposed to reinforce the group that’s already there.” He paused. “I suppose you already know who Marlene is.”
Maria snorted. “I think we all know who Marlene is.”
“Guess people do.” He moved his head to stare at the ceiling.
“So, I’m guessing your group didn’t make it there,” Maria prompted him.
The man coughed a bitter laugh. “Fuck if I know.”
“The hell’s that supposed to mean?”
“We got ambushed by some soldiers a few miles back. They hit us with a grenade. And my group left me there to die. Got as far as I could go before I fell into that ditch.”
His eyes drifted closed again, but pain was still etched into his weathered face. Maria wasn’t sure if it was from his wounds or from his betrayal.
“And then I found you,” she finished.
“And then you found me.” He turned to look at her again. “Why did you save me?”
Maria swallowed, a knot forming in her stomach. “I don’t know.”
Tommy made a sound that was almost a chuckle. “Okay.”
It was only after he fell back against the table, silent, that Maria noticed her father standing in the doorway, watching, a strange look on his face.
Tommy slept for hours.
“You can probably leave him,” Maria’s father said. He had found her keeping vigil over the newcomer as she cleaned her guns. “He seems harmless enough.”
“What, and come back and find out he woke up and made off with all our shit? No thanks.”
Her father shrugged. “Suit yourself.”
Maria knew she had better things to do than watch over a half-dead man. The fence around Jackson was almost complete, and Sherry needed help patching up the house she had decided upon. But Maria stayed with the stranger.
Tommy woke as Maria was slotting the pieces of her rifle together. It was dark, and Maria was working by the light of an old lantern. He tried to push himself up onto his elbows, grunting from the pain. Maria reached out for his shoulder, pushing him back down to the table.
“Take it easy,” she said. “You hungry?”
“Starvin’,” he said, his voice a little stronger than it had been.
Maria went to the adjoining kitchen and ladled some broth from the pot on the stove. Her father had gone to bed an hour ago. When she returned to the dining room, Tommy was sitting up and facing the chair where she had been sitting, his legs dangling off the table. She looked from him to her guns, but it looked like he hadn’t made a move for them.
“You’re a stubborn bastard,” she said, but there was no heat behind it. She handed him the bowl of broth.
“Thanks.” He ignored the spoon she’d given him, choosing to tip the liquid into his mouth instead. He drained the bowl in seconds.
“Want more?”
He shook his head, setting the bowl beside him. “Do I get to ask the questions now?”
Maria settled back into her chair. “A few.”
Tommy looked thoughtful. After a few moments, he asked, “Where exactly am I?”
“Wyoming,” Maria said.
“Where in Wyoming?”
“Next question.”
Tommy chortled. “Okay. What’s your name?”
She raised an eyebrow. “Why?”
He threw his hands up. “I’m just askin’! You know my name.”
She couldn’t argue with that. “I’m Maria.”
“Maria.” He sounded like he was rolling her name around in his mouth, and she wasn’t sure if she liked that.
“Next question,” she said, harsher than she needed to be.
“Where are you from?” he asked, letting her tone go.
“I live here.”
“But are you from here?”
“No.”
“Then where?” Tommy’s expression was a cross between exasperated and amused.
Maria shifted in her seat, stared at her shoes, then mumbled, “New York.”
“What?”
“New York,” she repeated, her teeth gritted. She felt heat sliding into her cheeks.
Tommy stared at her. “Like...the city?”
“Yes.”
“You’ve gotta be kiddin’ me.” His eyes were bright in the lantern light. “A city girl like you, out in the --”
“No more questions,” she said, cutting him off. She moved to get up, but he flapped a hand at her.
“Hey, I’m sorry,” he said, looking sheepish. There as a desperate edge in his voice that surprised her. She settled in her chair again, curious now.
“I’m sorry,” he repeated. She said nothing, watching him.
“Fine,” he said. “You don’t trust me? I’ll tell you all about me, then. You won’t have to answer anythin’.”
Maria schooled her features into a neutral expression. He shifted under her glare, then cleared his throat and began to talk.
He talked like there was a dam bursting inside of him.
He told her about Texas, about humid summers and mild winters, about growing up on a farm, about the sharp smack of his father’s belt, about following his older brother from Corpus Christi to Austin, from construction job to construction job, because his brother always took care of him, always promised him a way out of the shitty little town they’d grown up in.
So Tommy followed his brother. His brother, and his brother’s daughter.
Sarah.
When he said her name, his voice broke. He stared at his shoes, his eyes wet in the flickering light, his arms crossed tight over his chest. Maria’s hands twitched; something in her wanted to reach out to him, but she held herself back. Waiting.
“That was when it all went to shit,” Tommy murmured. “When she died.”
He told her about the gunshots, about the blood blooming thick and red over Sarah’s abdomen, her eyes blank in death. He told her about his brother, broken. About how Tommy had to drag his brother away from her body, because more soldiers were coming.
“I’ve never forgiven myself,” he said. He barked a bitter laugh. “For a lot of things. But I see her body.” He looked up at Maria, his eyes so haunted Maria wanted to back away. “I see her body all the time. Just lyin’ there. Right where we left her.”
He told her about the Austin militarized zone, about leaving when the rations ran low, about almost dying that winter that they found themselves in St. Louis, surrounded by a group of hunters, Tommy and his brother still just strong enough, just alive enough, to be brought into their fold. About how he learned how to kill that winter. About how he got really, really good at it.
“When I couldn’t do it anymore, Joel and I moved on,” Tommy said. “We wound up in Boston. I joined the Fireflies. He didn’t. And then we went our separate ways. And now I’m here.”
It struck Maria as an oddly abrupt ending to what had, until then, been a detailed story, but she didn’t comment on it.
Tommy spread his hands wide, his eyes dry now. “That’s all I got for you, ma’am. So. What are you gonna do with me?”
Maria took in his face, lined with grief that made him look ancient, his long hair, lank from weeks on the road, his eyes, darkened and pleading with her for something she couldn’t name.
Her decision was made before she even realized it.
“I have an idea,” she said. “But I’ll have to consult with the others about it.”
“Others?”
Maria sighed. There was no turning back now. “You’re in Jackson City. My name is Maria Sanderson. My father, Allen, and I run this settlement. We have about five families also living here, helping us fortify the area. Building a fence, keeping an eye out for bandits. And we need to start growing crops.”
By this point, Tommy was staring at her, his mouth agape, his sorrow sliding off him easily. Maria almost laughed, but instead she said, “I’m not saying living here is going to be a cakewalk for you, but there might be a place for you yet, if you think you want to stay. You in, farm boy?”
“I’ll do you one better,” Tommy said, a wicked grin splitting his face now. “I can help you build that wall.”
Maria let herself smirk. “That’s what I like to hear.”
“Absolutely not.” Ted slammed his fist on the table in the meeting hall, the sound of it echoing through the room.
“What?” Maria stood, her palms braced against the table top, staring daggers at the man sitting across from her. “And why the hell not?”
Her father, who was sitting on her right side, put a hand on her elbow, pulling gently to get her to sit. She did, but not without a sigh of frustration.
“Let Ted say his piece,” her father said.
The meeting hall, which also served as her father’s office, was actually a repurposed mansion. The upstairs was closed off, pending a cleaning and repairs, but her father had begun using the enormous dining room in the meantime. Now, all of the community’s eight adults were seated at the table there, with Tommy sitting silent in a chair behind Maria. Every so often, she heard his chair creak as he fidgeted.
Ted jabbed a finger in Maria’s direction as he continued. “Do you have any idea how dangerous this bastard is? You’re telling me you think you can waltz in here and tell me this guy was a hunter, but -- oh wait! -- he knows how to grow some fucking plants, and we’ll welcome him with open arms? For all we know, he’s a spy sent by the bandits that keep attacking the town.”
Maria had to stop herself from glancing in Tommy’s direction. She hated to admit it, but Ted had a point.
Instead, she said, “I really doubt that.”
Ted snorted. “What proof do you have?”
Maria opened her mouth, then closed it. She sighed again. “All I have is his word.”
Ted laughed, but the sound was sour. “His word,” he spat. He sat back in his seat, as if the matter were finished.
“Ted,” Maria’s father said wearily, rubbing a hand over his lined forehead. “We all came here to start a new life. To leave whatever’s left of the world behind, as much as possible. We haven’t discussed a process for any newcomers who might show up, but now’s a good a time as any to discuss that. Maria and I have spoken with Tommy” -- he nodded toward Tommy’s chair -- “and we believe he is being honest with us about wanting to settle here. He’s had every reason and every opportunity to escape this place -- and make a hell of a ruckus while he did it -- but he hasn’t. And that’s good enough reason for us.”
Ted leaned forward, glowering. “A ruckus? Are you telling me you let him have access to weapons?”
“We didn’t let him,” Maria said, all pretense of being polite gone now. “He was injured, he was staying in our house, and yeah, if he’d wanted to, he could have found our guns.” She swallowed as she remembered how she had left him in the dining room of her house with every gun she owned. “But he didn’t. I don’t see why we shouldn’t trust him.”
“This is a fucking joke,” Ted muttered. His wife, Sherry, put a hand on his shoulder, but he shrugged it off. Maria could never understand why Sherry put up with such an unpleasant man.
As Maria opened her mouth to argue further, Tommy cleared his throat behind her. All eyes focused on the chair behind her. She turned around to find Tommy blushing furiously, but standing steady.
“It’s all very well to listen to people while they sit around and call me a jackass, but I think I deserve some say in this, too,” he said. Maria cringed. She had told him before the meeting to stay quiet and let her and her father do the talking. Clearly, he had decided he didn’t much like this plan.
When no one said anything, Tommy pressed on. “I’m not givin’ y’all a whole lot of reason to like me. Hell, sometimes I don’t like me. I’m not gonna lie to you folks; I’ve done some pretty godawful shit. But like it or not, Maria brought me here. She saved me, when I might’ve --” He faltered, licked his lips, took a minute to gather himself again. “Might’ve died,” he finished. “And maybe I wanted to, a little. But she gave me a second chance, and I’m not gonna waste it. I didn’t know I was bein’ brought here, but I want to be here now. I want to stay. And I just hope y’all will let me.”
The silence made Maria’s ears ring.
“Why do you want to stay?” Mel asked from the other end of the table. She was a single mother, wiry and soft-spoken. Maria thanked whatever it was in the universe that had made it so that Ted had stayed silent.
“I been betrayed by a lot of people in my life,” Tommy said. “My family. My friends. The Fireflies. Maria coulda left me for dead, but instead she took a dyin’ stranger into her home. That’s all I need to convince me that you folks are good people. I figure I got a debt to repay to Maria, and to whatever the hell’s left of society.”
“Well said,” Maria’s father murmured. “Does anyone else have anything to say?” Tommy plunked back into his chair. No one else moved.
“Shall we take a vote, then?” Mel asked.
Maria’s father nodded. “All in favor of letting Tommy into our community?”
Around the table, Maria counted hands. Ted shot Sherry a poisonous look when her hand went up. Ted himself crossed his arms. Howard, an old man Maria and her father had picked up on their way out west, was asleep, his chin pressed to his chest, as he usually was during these meetings. Maria couldn’t help but stifle a giggle.
“Then I think it’s settled.” Maria’s father rose from his chair and turned to Tommy. “Welcome to Jackson.”
Tommy stood and shook the older man’s hand, grinning from ear to ear. He winked at Maria when no one was looking, and the gesture seemed to strike right at her chest.