The compound was quiet, thick snow covering every inch of Jackson as you made your way to Joel's doorstep. You and him had been assigned as patrol partners for a while now, a situation where neither of you was exactly thrilled about — he was stubborn and strong-willed, but so were you. And the last time you checked, two negatives didn't equal to a positive, not in this case anyways.

As you approached the door, the pain in your side flared up. You had promised to take over a patrol shift for somebody else, since they needed the help, but your attempt at trying to be helpful nearly costed you your life when a group of bandits had attacked you. It was brutal, and it left you battered and bruised, and a wound deep into your side.

You staggered, raising your hand to knock on the door while the other clutched at your side, an attempt to try and stop the bleeding. A few moments passed before the door swung open, Joel stood there, his expression hardening as he took in how you looked — and the wounds. You could see his brows furrowing, the concern flickering in his eyes, although it was masked by his usual stoicisim.

"What happened to you?" Joel asked, though it sounded more like a demand, his voice gruff but not unkind. "Why didn't you come sooner?"

His jaw tightened, a hand wrapped around your wrist as he guided you in, the other hand caressing the small of your back as he led you to sit down, his touch surprisingly gentle.