Chapter Text
He'd been tending to the livestock all morning and was finally taking a break in the barn. The daily routine kept him sane. His cheeks stung from the winter air, his back and knees ached from the strain, but that physical exhaustion? It reminded him he was still alive.
It took losing nearly everything to realize what truly mattered: caring for living things and sticking to a routine. If he'd figured that out twenty years earlier, things with his father might not have gone to shit. The old man had been dead for years, but he could still hear that bitter voice: "Master skills that'll keep you alive. Get ready to support a family. Be a real man." Fucking old men and their wisdom.
While his father was alive, he never delivered the daughter-in-law and grandkids the old man so desperately wanted. He never found the courage to tell his father he was gay, but he also refused to live a lie by marrying some poor woman. And after his father passed, before he even had time to process his grief or explore what he truly wanted, the world collapsed and everything went to hell.
Where once he'd worried about losing relationships, facing workplace discrimination, or getting jumped in some alley on his way home, now he had to worry about avoiding the infected, finding food, surviving among other survivors who could be just as dangerous, and the terrifying possibility of his preferences being discovered, leading to torture and death.
So... he'd never actually attempted a real relationship. It sounded pathetic even to himself, but with so many urgent problems demanding his attention, it was surprisingly easy to forget the loneliness etched deep in his bones. And the pandemic had left almost everyone equally miserable, which helped considerably – finding an attractive man who made his heart beat differently was about as likely as finding aspirin in an already-looted house.
While he focused solely on survival, time flew by like an arrow, and by the time he was lucky enough to join Jackson and help build the community, he was already facing a middle-age crisis. Maybe if soap and toothbrushes had been as readily available as they were in Jackson today when he was younger, he might have found the courage sooner – but even thinking about that was laughable.
Winter hit hardest, but in Jackson, nobody starved. The pigs and calves were getting fat, chickens laid eggs like clockwork. This year's harvest beat anything they'd seen recently – their storehouses bulged with wheat, potatoes, corn, dried fruits, apples – enough to keep everyone fed until spring. The community had bled and sweated for moments like this, and goddamn, they'd succeeded. They'd built walls, fixed the dam, created their own little self-sufficient paradise.
Life in Jackson wasn't just about scraping by, wondering if you'd wake up tomorrow. They lived something close to normal. The square had a massive Christmas tree, kids buzzed about what movie would play this week, and instead of bathtub moonshine or expired beer salvaged from looted gas stations, they drank fresh brews and well-aged wine. What could top this? Nothing in America, that's for damn sure.
Just as he was dreaming about a hot mug of mulled wine to thaw his insides, the barn door burst open and Mark practically tumbled in. Mark Brown – owner of Jackson's most conspicuous bald head and biggest mouth – was his best friend (or the closest thing to it; he suspected if Mark found a better listener, he'd be replaced in a heartbeat).
"Knew I'd find you alone! Have you heard? Talked to anyone besides the chickens today?"
"Just you. What is it?"
Like he'd been waiting for his cue, Mark launched into his news, literally spraying spit on his face.
"You won't believe it. Tommy's brother showed up! All the way from fucking Boston!"
"Boston? That's impossible—"
"That's not the half of it. He brought a little girl with him!"
Usually, he'd tell Mark to calm down, but the news was so shocking all he could manage were stupid little gasps.
"How the hell is that possible? Boston to Wyoming? With a kid in tow? What do they look like?" He caught himself, lowered his voice, aware of how his curiosity might come across.
"The girl's small but looks healthy. The man's rough around the edges, but when he hugged Tommy..." Mark paused, choking up slightly.
Finding someone you thought lost was nearly impossible now. Separated families usually stayed that way – with death, or if you were lucky, finding their corpse, or worse, having to put them down after infection. But crossing half the country with a child and actually finding your brother?
Mark's eyes were still wet from witnessing the brothers embrace. He felt tears welling up too, suddenly thinking of his own brother. After the outbreak, when he'd finally made it back home, he found only a ransacked house and his brother's body hanging from the ceiling. He shook his head violently to chase away the memory.
"The man's name? What's he called?" he asked Mark.
"Joel, I heard."
It was like something from a movie. He'd never seen miracles in his old life, but since coming to Jackson, he'd witnessed countless. He wanted to meet this man and girl, talk to them. Strong survivors could only make their community stronger. For the first time in forever, his chest tightened with excitement at meeting someone new.
The next morning, he woke earlier than usual. He washed up, tried to tame his hair, and headed to the mess hall. Hunching against the cold, he thought about the newcomers – especially the rough-looking man. Had to be tough and decisive to make it that far with a kid.
Inside, he spotted Tommy right away – face drawn with worry. Deep lines between his brows, mouth turned down at the corners. Maria sat beside him, placing her hand over his. Tommy smiled briefly, but it vanished just as quickly. No sign of the brother or the girl.
He knew before anyone said a word. The expressions on Sally the horse-keeper's face and the patrolmen huddled in the corner told him everything. Sally was pissed they'd taken her favorite stallion – well-trained, gentle – without so much as a by-your-leave. But she wouldn't complain to Maria or Tommy. Partly because the horse belonged to the community, not her personally, and partly because Maria essentially ran Jackson.
But mostly because, until yesterday, nobody knew Tommy had a brother and niece. And now everyone knew he'd lost them again. Looking at Tommy now, only his wife dared approach him.
He realized he'd gotten so used to the cheerful, smooth-talking Tommy that he'd almost forgotten what the man looked like when he first arrived at Jackson. His handsome face overshadowed by that nervous energy. How scared he'd looked, but how his dark eyes still somehow burned with hope. Was Tommy still holding onto that hope? Once was a miracle – twice seemed impossible.
He sat by the window with his food, watching snow fall outside. Where had Joel gone with his daughter? Why? Nobody left Jackson willingly unless they were kicked out. Electricity, hot showers, food... Who in their right mind would abandon this sanctuary? Especially right after reuniting with a brother you thought was dead? Dragging an exhausted kid along?
As his initial amazement faded, the bitter reality hit hard. Tommy's brother must have had his reasons, or he was just batshit crazy. Like those hollow-eyed people he'd seen before – walking corpses with dead souls.
When they'd arrived, they were all anyone talked about. Jackson's residents were starved for stories, and gossip spread like wildfire through their little community.
But after they left, nobody mentioned them openly anymore. Everyone just quietly acknowledged Tommy's loss and went back to their routines. Like nobody wanted to hear another story about losing family. They'd all lost enough already.
He tugged his beanie down and went back out to tend the animals. The brutal winter would pass, like always. Jackson would keep turning. New faces would come and go. He'd keep living day by day in this small paradise.
And then the seasons changed, spring arrived, and they returned.