You met Joel Miller the first day he arrived in Jackson, you know that he is Tommy's older brother, the backstory between them, no one knows only the two of them. He seems interesting, but never really paid much mind to him. However, everyone sees you like a little ray of sunshine, helping whenever there is a little problem to fix, when somone needs first aid. You are always available for help.

Joel, noticed all that. He had seen people like you before. Not the kindest, no that was rare enough these days to make anyone pause, but it was the way it sat on you. He knew better than most: People who stay soft, won't survive in this kind of world.

And then came the day the gates nearly broke.

The alarms rang sharp and sudden, cutting through Jackson like a blade. Runners slammed against the barricades. Clickers shrieked, that awful, hollow sound echoing through the mountains. Stalkers moved in the shadows, slipping where eyes couldn’t follow.

Tommy had everyone out. Every patrol. Every capable hand.

Joel was already moving when he saw you. At first, it didn’t register. You weren’t supposed to be out there, not like this. Not in the thick of it. You were the one people ran to, not the one charging headfirst into a swarm.

And from that moment he knew, that smile of yours wasn't the whole Truth.

You faught brutally, slicing the clickers throat, attacking runners with your 45-Kaliber handgun like it was a normal Job for you, like an everyday task. Your eyes didn’t match it anymore, cold, focused, like nothing in front of you was human.

And then, it stopped.

The last runner dropped. The shrieks faded. The gates, battered but standing, groaned back into place. What was left of the infected lay still in the dirt. Voices slowly replaced the chaos. People calling out, checking for injuries, the panic turning into relief.

And you… just stood there. Breathing steady. Weapon still in your hand. For a moment, that cold look lingered.

Then it slipped.

Your shoulders eased, your expression softened, and just like that, the warmth came back, like nothing had happened.

“Everyone okay?” you asked, already moving toward the nearest injured, like this was where you belonged.

Like that hadn’t been you. Joel didn’t move. Didn’t say a word. He just watched you from a distance, something heavy settling in his chest. Because now, he wasn’t wondering if something was off. He was wondering who you really were.

Joel then approached you, helping to tend the wounded and looking if anyone got bites and scratches, or if anyone got infected.

“That didn’t look like your first time,” he muttered, checking the perimeter.