Joel would rather shit in his hands and clap than be stuck in the waiting room of a triage center FEDRA had the audacity to call a doctor's office. Yet here he was.

Waiting room. A real one should have month-old tabloids and Time Magazines bent from fingers coiled from arthritis, since every younger pair of hands would be taping away on a smartphone, eyes determined not to meet another set until a nurse called their name. They might roam to glance at a fish tank or a wall clock as if it would make time move any faster.

Joel didn't bother looking at the clock on the wall across from him. Its hand had been stuck on half-past three since he'd gotten there an hour ago.

He was jammed beside a peeling wall and an older woman who sniffled as if she was trying to make up for the ticking that had long ago stopped coming from the clock. At least 30 other people were crammed into the hallway-turned "waiting room." Most were quiet and droopy eyed. Others talked low to each other, as had become the norm in the zone. A door opened with a name called out behind it every now and then. One person would trickle out, another person would come in, though after the infection scanners beeped "clear."

The chill of the metal bench still seeped into Joel's jeans even though he hadn't moved since Tommy had dragged him in.

His brother leaned back against the wall across from him. His eyes were closed and his arms crossed, looking asleep if it wasn't for the absence of snores Joel had almost learned to tolerate. Still, one unsanctioned movement and Joel knew his baby brother would be on his ass again.

They'd been in Boston for just under two months and already he'd fucked himself up. What should have been an easy jump from one low rooftop to the next ended with him slipping from the roof's edge and onto a rusted-out fire escape. Fucking black ice. Baltimore didn't have that problem most of the winter. Austin definitely didn't.

Joel had never needed a tetanus shot before gashing his arm - and breaking it, if Tommy was right, but Joel didn't want to give him that satisfaction - on a sharp piece of metal brown with rust.

"A carpenter's luck has to run out sometime," Tommy had said as if smuggling a backpack full of pistols was the same as framing out a house he would never afford to buy.

Joel would have told Tommy's nagging to go to hell and wrapped up his arm himself if it hadn't been for the rust. Dying from tetanus after everything he'd done to stay alive would be just plain sad.

"Joel Miller," a woman's voice called out.

Tommy opened his eyes and nodded toward the door down the hall. "That's you, big brother."

Joel huffed and unwound his arms from across his chest. He started with even strides toward the door where a young woman with auburn hair and a hand holding a sizably swollen belly stood waiting for him.

"Good morning," she smiled and waved him in.

He followed with a gruff "Mornin'" back.

Joel watched her settle into a chair pull a clipboard in front of her. He eyed the exam table before heading toward it.

"So, what brings you in today, Mr. Miller?"

Mr. Miller. That's something he hadn't heard in years.

"Fell and cut myself on some rusted metal."

She sighed. "You wouldn't be the first. FEDRA would cut down half of my patient load if they bothered doing the bare minimum of upkeep around here."

The woman - nurse, he corrected - got up from her chair with a bit of effort. He felt awkward watching her, his instinct telling him to go to her and save her the trouble. That's not how this works, he reminded himself.

"May I?" she pointed to the gash on his left arm. He met her green eyes for the first time and nodded.

She gently picked up his forearm and inspected it. Joel didn't mean to flinch when she started squeezing. It made her pause.

"How old are you, Mr. Miller?"

"Thirty-seven."

She nodded again. "Do you have any health issues?"

"No, Ma'am."

"Then you took a mighty good fall to have broken it," she eyed him, almost knowingly. He shifted under her gaze but felt some of his unease melt away when the kind glimmer he'd caught in her eyes before was still there. "Sorry if it hurts, but I'd like to check it again to make sure it's a clean break. X-Rays aren't quite in FEDRA's budget."

He nudged his arm further into her hold and held back his grunts this time.

"You broke it here-" she pointed to the spot about halfway up his forearm, just below the gash. "-but that's it, I think. It should heal up fine. Let me get a sling out and I'll help you into it after your shot."

"I'm fine without a sling."

"You're not, but if you want to take longer to heal, that's your business."

His face hardened. Hers stayed even.

"How about this," she offered. "I'll give you a sling but you don't have to walk out of here wearing it. Just put it on when you're home or asleep. Though I doubt anyone would try to jump you even if you had no arms," she chuckled.

He was getting ready to send her a another glare when a hiss of pain escaped through her teeth and she grabbed her stomach.

His arm reached forward on instinct. He willed it to stop before it touched her shoulder. "You alright? I can get someone-"

"No, don't - I'm fine. That was just a kick. She's gotten good at those," she snorted. "My friends say I'm going to have a handful on my hands."

Joel felt his tongue start to stick to the roof of his mouth. They always are.

"I keep telling them that she's going to be a perfect angel," she said as she walked to a cabinet and pulled out a syringe, a bottle and some gauze and disinfectant. "But then missy here likes to help their case."

He willed his tongue to move and swallowed. "You seem sure it's a girl."

"Mother's instinct, I guess. I never bought into that crap from my own mom, but she might have had a point. I'm not even a parent yet and already feel this pull, or... something."

An invisible fist tightened around his chest. He waited for the question that always came after someone mentioned having kids, even after the world had gone to shit. Thankfully, it didn't.

"She's due in March. It's still a month away, but I'd push her out now if I could," she rolled up his sleeve and padded a wet gauze pad over a patch of his skin. "I miss being able sleep on my stomach. Or see my feet. Or not having swollen feet," she laughed. It was a sweet sound. "You're lucky this won't ever happen to you."

She was right. Still, he remembered the days of having to prop pillows under Erin or rubbing her feet, and feeling helpless the whole time doing it.

He didn't have a chance to dwell on the memories before his attention tore to the needle stabbing into his arm. Fuck. This shot really was the worst to get.

"Sorry," the nurse said, wearing the apology on her freckled face. "I'd warn you first, but it's honestly better to do it like ripping off a band-aid. Which I'd give you, but-"

"I know," Joel waved her off. "Supplies."

"The little kids get a kick out of them when they're available. I even found a few old boxes of Ninja Turtle ones. The reference is mostly lost on them, but a funny turtle is still a funny turtle," she smiled again. "I'm gonna clean this cut out and wrap it, but I think you'll live otherwise."

He snorted. "Glad to hear."

The quiet didn't last long once she started to work. "I've been going back and forth on names since I found out I was pregnant. I started out with Morgan first, but that only lasted a week, then went on to Grace, but that just doesn't fit these days. My friend is running an unsuccessful campaign to call her Mackenzie. I shot that one down quick. Too many of those 'Toddlers and Tiaras' girls were called that. I don't care if pageants aren't a thing anymore. I'm not passing on even a sliver of that energy to my kid."

Joel never saw the show, but he knew enough about to agree. "More of a fan of the classics, myself."

That line slipped out, he realized, and the invisible fist squeezed hard again. If the nurse noticed, she didn't mention it.

"What, like Gertrude? Margaret? Eleanor?" she snorted. "Though Eleanor's not bad if you shorten it to- shit!" a hand grabbed her gut again. "Are you done?" she said down to her stomach.

Looking down at the woman's stomach should have made the fist's hold almost unbearable. Much to his surprise, it made it loosen instead. "She sure does seem like a handful," Joel raised a brow.

"I honestly wouldn't be surprised. From what I've heard, I was a pretty tough kid to raise myself," she chuckled again. Her slim hands slipped a strip of cloth around Joel's arm and tied it, then handed him a sling she had left on the counter. "Well, Mr. Miller, you're all set. Is there anything else I can help you with?"

"Joel," he corrected. "And no. Thank you for the help."

"Anytime. It's what I get paid the big bucks for, after all. And it's Anna," she stuck a hand out for him to shake.

That was another thing that was far from normal now, yet it was something she was able to do so normally. Joel took her hand and retuned the gesture.

"You take care now," he let himself glance down again. "Both of you."

Anna opened the door for him and gave him one last smile. She'd called out another name by the time he reached Tommy.

"What's the verdict?" his brother stood.

"You're not getting rid of me yet."

"Dammit. While you were in there, I was thinking of how to spend your ration cards."

Joel scoffed. "Cute. Now C'mon, we have a drop-off in an hour."