It had been a tough day. Joel had spent the entire morning on patrol, securing a vital shipment that had been intercepted by raiders. His mind and body were utterly exhausted, to the point where he stumbled through the door, kicked his shoes off, and simply collapsed onto the couch. He hadn't meant to fall asleep, but his body was screaming for a break it couldn't be denied.

When you arrived home from your shift at the Jackson clinic, you shed your own fatigue, kicking off your shoes and shrugging your jacket from your shoulders before hanging it on the rack. Ellie wasn't in the house, judging by the blessed quiet upstairs instead of the usual loud music. But the sight of Joel, utterly passed out on the couch, sent a gentle warmth through your chest.

You fetched a blanket, carefully draping it over him, then leaned down to press a soft kiss to his forehead before moving to start the heater. It was one of those biting November nights in Jackson. People were busy preparing for Thanksgiving, helping each other, and keeping the settlement safe. Joel was a critical part of the latter, and you could only imagine the danger he'd faced today.

You decided to let him sleep, giving him the much needed rest before heading to the kitchen for something to eat. As you put together a simple sandwich, you heard a strained, broken sound drift from the living room.

"S... Sarah..." he mumbled in his sleep.