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She’s tried. Dear God, has she tried. He’s her husband, she loves him, she’ll always love him. But the man who returned to her from Seattle is not the same man who left on that cold March day a year and a half ago.
For one, he’s angry, all the time .
He tries to hide it, to keep up the facade of the affable, talkative man he once was. Helps around town where he can, goes to all the functions, laughs and drinks at the Bison, and pretends that he doesn’t hear the furtive whispers of their neighbors as he goes by.
He says to anyone who asks that it’s no big thing that he can’t shoot anymore and jokes that he was getting too old for patrolling as it was. Insists that his old bones are happier staying home, now he can focus on making sure that the patrol schedule is done just right.
He never complains that he can’t ride for extended periods anymore without persistent pain or that when the weather changes, he has to hide in a dark room, in complete silence, because it feels like his skull is too tight.
But Maria sees him when he comes home at the end of the day. The mask falls away, and all that's left is his anger. He pours over maps, notebooks, and messages from old firefly buddies and even some of the guys he managed to stay in touch with from when he, Tess, and Joel were on the road.
He hides in his office, drinks too much, and broods.
He’s consumed by a pain that she cannot ease—a festering wound that he feeds with his feelings of failure and shame. He’s on a downward path that she refuses to follow, especially since he won’t let her in. She would do anything to help him, but he’s determined to handle it alone; he doesn't want anyone's assistance. And she won't keep throwing herself against a wall; she just won’t.
—
Maria comes to stand by him on the back porch, hands wrapped around the railing inches from his. She watches the sky change from black to lavender and pink, then orange and yellow. When she speaks it's quiet, measured, reasoning, “I think we should take some time apart.”
Tommy doesn't react at first, his gaze still locked on the horizon. It takes a few moments for her words to penetrate his reverie. When they finally do, his shoulders slump, his fingers tighten on the wood under his fingers, and his head turns to her. She doesn't look at him; just keeps her eyes on the sky.
He clears his throat, “You wanna take some time apart? What does that mean?”
“I think, it might be good for both of us to have some distance.”
“Distance from what?”
“From each other. From us.”
“Like a separation?”
“Yes, something like that.”
Tommy looks down at his boots, scuffed and worn from years of wear and tear. From the miles he's traveled here with her in Jackson and outside its gates on his own. “Do you want me to move out?” he asks slowly.
“Yes.” She puts her hands together on the railing, one over the other, hoping to hide her trembling. “I talked to Issac, there's an apartment available in the condos down on Euclid. You can stay there or make other arrangements that suit you better.”
“You talked to Issac?”
“I didn't say it was for you; I just asked when we were going over town business.”
“That's good then I guess,” he huffs, scuffing his boot on the weathered planks of the porch. “Wouldn't want people knowin’ the lady of Jackson and her husband are ‘takin’ some time apart’. What would that say?”
“Tommy.”
“No, no. I understand, it's what's best right? Don't wanna be seen with the likes of me.” He clips, pushing away from the railing and stalking down the stairs.
“Tommy, it’s not like that,” Maria says. When he continues to walk away, she slams her hand against the railing, her anger finally coming through in her voice. “Don’t do this. Don’t make it about how you look; you know this isn’t about that.”
He stops halfway to the side gate, his body tense and his jaw twitching. She watches as he gradually relaxes, his fists uncurling, and his shoulders dropping from his ears. He takes a deep breath and turns around, his face illuminated by the sunrise, revealing only the ruined side in the light. “I’ll stay at Joel's place. I’ll use the time to pack up his things. Get the house ready for someone else.”
Maria sighs and walks to the top of the stairs, pausing on the top step. “That sounds like a good idea,” she replies.
“So, is this really what you want?” Tommy asks softly.
“Yes. I think… I think it’s what we need.” She wraps her arms around her middle, gripping her elbows with her fingers, and finally looks him in the eyes for the first time since stepping outside.
He meets her gaze, but she sees nothing in his eyes; they are devoid of emotion. He nods and clicks his tongue. "Well, I reckon that's it then. I'll come by later today while you're at your meetin’ and grab my things."
“Okay,” Maria confirms quietly, her voice barely above a whisper. An overwhelming sense of emptiness fills her, and she feels torn inside.
“Okay, then,” Tommy replies, his voice thick with emotion. For a moment, it seems as though he might say more, but then he simply nods and adds, “Guess I’ll see ya ‘round.”
With a heavy sigh, he turns away, his shoulders slumping—the gate swings shut behind him with a dull, echoing click. Maria stands there for a moment longer, the weight of unspoken words lingering between them.
—
Maria knocks on the door of Joel's house a week after Dina’s return to Jackson, with JJ in her arms and her belongings in the back of a wagon. Ellie nowhere to be seen.
When Maria visited Jesse's parents' house, where she was staying, to ask about what happened, Dina, her eyes red from unshed tears and her voice cold with hostility, told her to ask her husband. Then, she turned and closed the door in Maria's face.
So that's what she does. When he answers, she notices a flicker of surprise on his face, though he quickly conceals it and invites her inside.
The house is in disarray, with boxes half-packed, cabinets and drawers open and emptied. Tommy’s kept his promise and is clearing out what used to be his brother’s home, boxing up the remnants of his brother’s brief life here in Jackson. Seeing it all, Maria feels a twinge of guilt for suggesting that Tommy stay here amidst all these memories of the brother he lost; she realizes she should have pressed him to take the apartment instead.
But Maria doesn’t have time to dwell on it before Tommy leads her to the kitchen and asks if she wants some tea. She agrees, and when it’s done they settle at the table, mugs in hand, and the question can’t wait any longer.
“What happened with Ellie?”
Tommy looks down and rubs at the scar on his temple, “What’d Dina say?”
“Nothing, told me to ask you.”
He sighs and shifts uncomfortably in his seat. “I got a lead on… the girl . I just went up to the farm to tell her about it.”
“Tommy…” Maria begins, disbelief creeping into her tone, “You didn’t.”
“She made me a promise,” he replies petulantly.
“Tommy.”
The tension in the room crackles like a live wire, heavy and electric.
“That girl needs to pay for what she did,” he insists, the desperate edge of his voice cutting through the silence. “And I can’t go.”
“Tommy…” Maria’s voice trembles as she stares at him, horror flooding her features as the full weight of his actions finally sank in. “You sent her to her death.”
He clenches his jaw, refusing to meet her gaze, his eyes fixed on a point beyond her, “She’s strong; she’ll be fine.” The words roll off his tongue, but the tremor in his voice betrays their insincerity—a hollow promise cloaked in desperate hope.
“You sent your niece to her death,” Maria utters, her voice barely above a whisper. She shakes her head in disbelief, “I don’t know what to say.”
“Ain’t nothin’ to say. She made her choice; I didn’t force her,” he replies, his tone hardening as he crosses his arms defensively over his chest.
With a sudden burst of emotion, Maria pushes back from the table, the chair scraping loudly against the floor. She rises to her feet, her finger trembling as she points at him, disbelief and fury coursing through her veins. “Who are you?” she demands, her voice rising in pitch. “The Tommy Miller I know would never do something like this. He would be disgusted with your actions.”
“Well, that man’s dead, Maria!” he bellows, his frustration boiling over as he shoves himself out of his chair. His face twists in a mixture of rage and anguish, the pain of his choices etched permanently across his features. “He died in Seattle. All that's left is me—a broken man, good for nothin’ and twice as damned! You made the right choice when you told me to leave. I’ll only drag you down, just like I did with Joel, and Jesse, and now Ellie.”
The admission hangs in the air, heavy and suffocating, the remnants of their shared history overshadowed by the enormity of his despair. Silence falls, a chasm widening between, their bond threatened by the darkness that now swirls around Tommy.
It’s Tommy who breaks first, limping out of the kitchen and to the stairs, each step upward for him is a struggle, the muscle in his thigh forever damaged by the arrow that had pierced it. She hears the shuffle of his steps down the hall and then the creak of the bed.
She stands frozen by his words, caught up in their implications. He has never admitted any of this to her. Since his return, he has kept her at arm's length, shutting her out of his pain. While he has explained the practicalities of his wounds and how he received them, he has never shared his feelings about what happened to him in Seattle.
Just moments before, she had expressed her confusion over his behavior, but she now realizes that his actions since Seattle are precisely what the Tommy Miller she fell in love with would have done if broken to the point that he has been broken to.
He feels responsible for his brother's death, which led to the regrettable trip to Seattle, the death of Jesse, and the physical and emotional scars that he, Dina, and Ellie all carried back with them. In his mind, everything is interconnected: his failure, his weakness, and his inability to save and avenge those he loves most. All this has culminated in the man sitting upstairs, lost, angry, and bitter.
With trepidation in her heart, she mounts the stairs and pauses in the door of Joel’s old bedroom, which it looks as if Tommy has taken for his own.
“Killing her won’t bring him back.”
“I know that.” He sighs softly, head down, forearms resting against his thighs, hands hanging between his spread legs.
“I won’t restore your eyesight or repair your leg either.”
“I know that too.”
“Then why?” She asks genuinely interested in his reasoning.
“Because it can’t all be for nothin’.”
“And you think Ellie going there, finding this girl and killing her will make it all worthwhile?”
Tommy shakes his head, takes a heavy breath, and then falls flat on the bed. He puts his hand over his eyes and says, defeated, “No.”
Maria leans against the entryway, crosses her arms and waits.
“I shouldn’t’ve done it, I know it.” He says shame in his tone. “I knew she was strugglin’. Christ, Maria, the things I said to her.”
“I’m not saying what you did was right, but I think she would have gone with or without your meddling. She wasn’t doing well.” Maria pushes away from the doorway and sits on the bed beside him. Hands folded in her lap. Thinks of the last time she saw Ellie, two weeks back. Too skinny, dark bags under her eyes, her smile just a little too big, her laugh just a little too loud, “Do you think she’ll come back?”
“If she has anything to say about it, she will. She's like Joel in that way, stubborn as a damn mule.” Tommy laughs, a hollow, exhausted sound, “Leave it to Joel to find the one orphan in the whole of Boston who’s just like him.”
“She really is like him, ” she agrees, nodding, a fond smile curling her lips. Her gaze is drawn to a faded tan line that rings the third finger of his left hand resting on his chest and another question that’s plagued her for the last two months, trips from her lips. “Why didn’t you fight me on it, Tommy?” Maria asks softly.
“On what?” He asks, one eye cracking open to look at her.
“You know what.”
Shrugging, he drops his hand from his eyes and mutters, “Didn’t think you wanted me to.”
Reaching out, she places a hand under his chin, tilts his face to hers, and says gently, “Of course I did… of course.”
His eyes darken, and he angrily challenges, “Was it all just some game then, tryin’ to prove something?”
She bristles, pulling away from him, stung, “No. No. You knew me better than that.”
He sighs deeply, pushing up to a seated position, turning his body toward hers. “Yeah, I do. M’sorry.”
Maria breathes slowly, twisting her fingers together on her thigh, feeling the denim's rough weave beneath her palms.
“Would it’ve made a difference?”
“No, I still would’ve told you we needed some time apart. But fighting would have shown me you cared about what happened after.”
“After?”
“Yes, you idiot, after.”
“Didn’t think there was an after for us. Thought we was through.”
“Christ, Tommy, that almost makes it worse. So what, you think we're divorced now?”
“No. Not yet, but someday down the line, you’ll say it’s been enough time, and you’ll come to me, give me your ring, and that’ll be it.”
“Is that what you want?”
“‘Course not.” Tommy asserts gruffly.
“Then why do you think that’s what’s happening?”
Tommy looks at his hands in his lap, fingers twisting together. He looks like a little boy caught in a lie, unsure if telling the truth will help or hinder him. “I wasn’t good to you.”
“No, you weren’t.” Maria nods sadly, “Not to me, Ellie, or yourself. You’ve been so angry at everyone.”
“I ain’t angry at you.” He insists lowly. He doesn’t look up but keeps his eyes locked on his fingers, twisting and flexing against one another. Fingernails bitten short and bloody. “Weren’t even really mad at Ellie… just angry with myself.”
“I know,” Maria sighs as she looks at him. His head is down, his lank, greasy hair spilling out of a low ponytail. She liked it when he started growing his hair long; loved running her fingers through the silvering strands. Adored the one lock that always slipped loose and hung next to his face; it softened him and gave him the appearance of a happy, settled man. But now it looks neglected, left to grow long simply because it’s easier than cutting it.
“You don’t talk to me. You always try to handle it on your own.” Tommy attempts to speak, but she raises her hand to stop him. “We’re partners, or at least we’re supposed to be. But every time something comes up with your family, you cut me out.”
“I let the situation with Joel slide when he first arrived with Ellie because, in the end, he did the right thing. I should have said something then; I regret not speaking up– but I knew how seeing a glimpse of the brother you thought you lost affected you , made you promise something you usually wouldn’t. But Tommy, that wasn’t fair to me. I shouldn’t have let it go, but I did.” She looks away, her lips pressed together, her finger idly tracing the spot where her wedding band once sat. “Then all this happened with Joel. We both agreed that we didn’t have the manpower to send to Seattle, and that it was too dangerous for anyone to go out there. But the first thing you do is turn around and head out there on your own.”
“I had to. I had to.” Tommy insists, hands opening palm up on his legs, face twisted, voice full of desperation, “Maria, she was gonna go out there on her own, she wasn’t taken no for an answer. I couldn’t let her do that. I couldn’t let her go out there and die for my fool-ass brother. He wouldn’t have wanted that.”
“So your answer was to go out there yourself? To what? Try and take care of them all on your own before she got there?”
“ You were supposed to stop her.”
“Tommy,” She scoffs, “You said it yourself. There was no stopping her. She was going with or without our say-so. All you did was delay the inevitable. And you cut me out again.”
“I didn’t mean to.”
“Of course not, but you still fucking did. Why didn’t you come to me after you talked to Ellie? We could have figured something out together.” Tommy sits quietly, his eyes cast down. “You didn’t tell me because you thought I’d shut you down. Tommy Miller, I don’t know when you started looking at me like I’m your mother, but I’m not. I may not always agree with you, but I can see reason. If you’d explained how desperate Ellie was, I would have talked to her and laid everything out for her.”
Tommy huffs, his mouth opening to respond, but Maria cuts him off. “And if, if, after all that, she still refused to wait, then we would have worked on a plan together . But instead, all of you went off on a fool's errand without any coordination or communication, just chasing each other's tails. And what did it get you? Nothing— absolutely nothing.”
Maria pauses, breathless and gasping, her chest suddenly tight. She struggles to take a breath and is shocked to find tears streaming down her cheeks. This isn’t like her; she doesn’t lose control like this. It annoys her that the only person who’s seen her this vulnerable is Tommy, and now it’s happening again. He doesn’t have the right to see this side of her, not right now. She hadn’t lied earlier—she genuinely wants to work things out between them. She wants to share a home, a life, and a bed again. But she’s still so angry and so hurt. She’s not ready yet.
Wiping away her tears, she stands up and walks to the bureau in front of the open window, hoping the cool air will soothe her heated skin. Her hands grip the edge of the bureau, her knuckles turning white as she desperately tries to regain control. A hiccuping sob escapes her lips, and she knows it's too late. She won’t be able to hold back the flood of emotions overwhelming her. It feels so foolish.
This world isn’t easy; she knows this well. She has experienced it firsthand and has seen more than one family fall apart due to a single mistake. But at some point, she allowed herself to become complacent and started to believe that she could be happy, that loving someone might actually improve her life. What a fool she was.
Strong arms wrap around and gently turn her until she’s pressed against a warm, solid chest. There’s no fight in her, the feeling too familiar, too needed at this moment, and she surrenders to his embrace. He rocks her as she cries, smoothing a hand gently down her hair and murmuring soft “M’sorry’s” against her temple.
As the stream of tears begins to slow and her breathing steadies, she gently pulls away from him, and he lets go. She can feel the reluctance in his release, but she doesn’t go far, stays within the circle of his arms, and looks up at him. “Tommy, I need for you to be with me in this marriage,” she states firmly, placing his hand delicately over her heart. Their fingers intertwine.
“Are you sure you still want me?” He asks.
Maria's face softens and she delicately runs her fingers along the scar that travels from his temple to his right eye. He flinches away, shame and embarrassment twisting his face.
“Tommy, you are so much more than your looks.” She mumbles softly, pushing up on her tiptoes to place a lingering kiss on the lid of his ruined eye. “More than your ability to shoot and ride and kill,” He shudders, and his hands grip fiercely to her biceps. Her lips trail along the scar cutting into his cheek, “More than your brother's failed avenger and your niece's fallen savior.”
His fingers tremble on her arms. She runs a hand through his messy hair, pulling out the hair elastic so it falls free around his shoulders. It's longer than she’s ever seen, and the white hairs are more pronounced. She lovingly smooths a lock behind his ear. “You don’t have to prove yourself to the world, to me, to yourself," she whispers.
“But I failed.” He mumbles, head bowed, eyes looking past her.
“We all fail.”
He curves in on himself, hair falling around his face, fingers slipping away from her arms, shoulders slumping. “It was all for nothin’.”
“Sometimes it is.” She husks, tears pricking behind her eyes, her chin trembling. “But you tried Tommy, and that does mean something. And you’re alive.”
“But I ain’t the same.” His eyes return to hers, the working eye a dark green like the pine trees outside of Jackson and the dead eye the color of milky matcha tea. There’s so much pain in his voice, his eyes, his face; it radiates from him, fetid and noxious. It’s eating away at him, turning him into a man he’s always fought against. A man with no hope, one who only sees the world in dark, prismatic shadows, and one who can no longer see the light.
She tenderly places a warm palm against his cheek, and he leans into it, his eyes closing, a low, pained groan passing his lips as a lone tear slides down his face. “Oh, Tommy, none of us are the same, and I don’t expect you to be. I just… I just need you to come back to me.”
“I’m here,” He rasps, a tear falling from his ruined eye this time. She wipes it away gently.
“You’re not here, Tommy,” she shakes her head, and his eyes open watching as she runs the fingers of her other hand along the scar from Seattle once more. “You’re still there. In your head, you never left. I need you here , please .”
He takes a deep breath, something seeming to settle within him, and says, “I hear ya and I’ll do better.”
“Good, because I love you, but I will no longer be taken for granted. I will no longer allow myself to be set aside whenever it suits you. This is a partnership; we must either face this together or not at all.”
He nods and takes her hands.
Looking into his eyes, she adds, “I need you to promise me, Tommy. It’s all or nothing this time. I refuse to continue living like we have been.”
“Alright darlin’ I promise.”
“All or nothing,” she reiterates.
Reaching into his back pocket he pulls out a thin gold wedding band. Softly he kisses the bare skin on the third finger of her left hand, then slides the warm metal back into place and promises “All or nothing.”