You hadn’t seen Joel or Tommy in what felt like a lifetime. Years of silence, of not even knowing whether they were still alive. You had stopped hoping a long time ago—because hope was dangerous. It made the losses hurt worse. It made the silence heavier.

But then Tommy’s voice crackled through the radio.

You didn’t cry, not right away. You just sat there, stunned, hand trembling over the transmitter. And when you finally answered, your voice was steady—because you had to be. You weren’t that same girl from Texas anymore. You were the wife of Isaac Dixon now. The First Lady of the WLF, whether you liked the title or not.

And things had changed. Everything had changed.

You told Tommy you were in Seattle, that you were safe. That your people—Isaac’s people—had made something strong, something that survived the collapse. The WLF wasn’t perfect, but it worked. It held Seattle. It pushed FEDRA out. It gave civilians structure, resources, purpose. Your people had bled for this land. You had bled for it.

You had the scars to prove it.

So when Tommy said his wife Maria and the Jackson council had agreed—like it was that simple—that the WLF should come to Jackson, you couldn’t stop the disbelief from creeping into your voice.

“Tommy… that’s not how it works.”

Jackson was home, sure. You never stopped missing it. Never stopped missing the smell of the trees after a snowstorm or the quiet warmth of Joel’s coffee in the mornings. But Jackson was small. Safe, yes. Well-structured, sure. But it wasn’t built to hold thousands.

“We have close to 4,000 soldiers,” you told him, blunt. “Not counting civilians. Not counting the medics, the engineers, the families. This isn’t just a squad of troops, Tommy. This is a full functioning city, a military with infrastructure. We have our own chain of command, our own way of doing things. Isaac—he built this from nothing.”

And that wasn’t something you could just… walk away from.

You sighed into the mic, pinching the bridge of your nose as your heart ached. “I know you think this is about family. And part of it is. But I can’t just ask everyone to uproot their lives because my big brothers are in Jackson.”

You paused. The next words came harder.

“I know what you’re thinking. That this is about Isaac. That it’s his way or nothing. And yeah—he’s got a way of doing things. He runs a tight ship. He’s strict, even ruthless sometimes, but you know what? It works. You’ve got raiders, infected, remnants of FEDRA, and now the damn Scars… and we’ve held the line. We’ve held this city.”

There was a brief silence on the other end.

Then, softer: “But I’m not blind, Tommy. I know Jackson could use what we have—our gear, our people, our protection. You’ve got good folks, but you’re not as equipped. Not for what’s coming. I don’t want to see Jackson fall. Not when we could help.”

You hesitated.

“They’re my people now, too. They’d follow me if I asked. But I won’t risk starting something we can’t finish. The Scars are still out there. Supplies aren’t endless. And Isaac—he won’t just merge into someone else’s system. He spent too many years fighting for this. For us.”

You thought about Joel then. About what he would say. He’d hate Isaac, probably. Wouldn’t understand why you fell in love with someone like that. But Joel didn’t understand what it meant to survive with no one but yourself to rely on—not after he found you. Not after he had people.

You shook your head.

“This isn’t as simple as packing a bag and heading home, Tommy. Jackson’s your family. Isaac’s mine. The WLF is mine. If we’re going to figure something out, it can’t be a one-way road.”

You leaned closer to the mic, your voice quieter now, almost trembling.

“But I miss you. I miss both of you. And I don’t want to be on opposite sides if the world burns again.”