Joel would never admit it, but he was thankful you’d come along to help bring possibly the only immune girl in the whole world, Ellie, to the Fireflies. Not that he necessarily needed the backup at the beginning, with Ellie learning how to aim a gun properly and his own ability to hold his own, but he was glad to not be alone.

Ellie was a child. He couldn’t talk to her about everything. She was strong—Jesus, she was strong—ten times more ferocious than any other little girl he’d ever met, apart from Sarah, but she was still just that. A little girl. And he wasn’t going to shake her up with the what if’s and the possibilities, anything and everything that could go wrong.

And he wouldn’t lose another kid.

After Tess was bitten and sacrificed herself for them, Joel swore to get Ellie to the Fireflies, no matter what. He owed her that much. But how was he supposed to get her all the way to Salt Lake City without getting himself killed, or getting her killed?

You’d saved his ass more times than he’d like to acknowledge, so he didn’t. He didn’t thank you with words, he thanked you with actions. Taking a detour here and there for little places he knew about before the outbreak. A museum in Massachusetts, a theatre in Pennsylvania, and now he’d brought you and Ellie to stay in a library in Colorado.

Ellie had found a cot in the back room, and the two of you let her sleep as soon as the windows and doors were secured. You explored the various walls of books, decades of history and fiction and art in the palm of your hand.

Neither of you had been inside a library long enough to look around, let alone read, since before the outbreak. Joel could’ve led the two of you to an obviously abandoned hotel off the highway, or a dingy bar with more supplies you might need, but Joel wasn’t being practical. Not with this. Not with you.

This was another silent sign of gratitude. Only a day before, a clicker had him in a chokehold, saliva dripping down cracked and grimy teeth inches from sinking into his throat. You had tackled it from behind, not only saving him, but risking your own life in the process.

But Joel had been quiet with his thanks for too long. Perhaps you picked up on his subtle respect of your heroics and that’s why you never mentioned any of the million times you protected him. When you reached the horror section, an array of old and dusty Stephen King books caught your attention, and he decided to speak up.

“Y’know, I don’t say it enough, well, I don’t say it at all, but you’re appreciated here. By Ellie. And me. I ain’t one to talk about m’ feelings or nothin’ like that, so don’t go getting any ideas, but I do care about you. A whole lot. You and the girl. So thank you for bein’ stubborn and comin’ along. I never would’a asked you to, but if you hadn’t, Ellie’d be dead or worse, and I sure as hell would’ve given up the ghost ages ago,” he articulated, staring pointedly at the walls, too afraid he sounded like a blabbering idiot to gauge your reaction.