*author note : loved this chapter. I have always felt tommys loss was overshadowed. Unless you have lost a sibling there is nothing like that pain. I have big plans for tommy though.

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Chapter 3 – "A Brother's Love"

(Tommy's POV)

Mornin's come slow these days.

I sit on the edge of the bed, one boot on, the other just… hangin' there in my hand. Takes me a while to get this bum leg to cooperate. The bed creaks under me every time I shift, like the damn floor's tryin' to warn me not to stand up.

My right leg's a bastard. Stiff and heavy. Never moves right 'less I force it. Hurts when it rains. Hurts when it's cold.

Hell, hurts when I'm sittin' still.

My left eye's no good neither—just a milky blur these days. I chalk it up to a war wound. I know all about that.

Room stays dim most of the time. Don't like bright light anymore. Makes me feel exposed. Don't trust it.

There's a photo on my nightstand. Been there a long while now. Joel, young, cocky, just grinnin', holding a beer with Sarah hangin' off his arm. She got that big smile—the kind that made everything else fade away. I miss that girl, still, almost thirty years later. I wonder who she'd be now.

I look at it every morning. Like I need to remind myself what love used to look like.

What I lost.

What we all lost.

It's the only thing I haven't moved since Maria left.

Goddamn, she tried. Stood by me longer than I deserved. Watched me lose myself—chasin' after revenge like it was gonna fix anything. She couldn't take it anymore. Couldn't stand what I turned into. What I let grief make of me. How I let it ruin everything—for me, for Ellie, for her.

One morning, 'bout a year back, after a long night of me on that stupid radio—callin' out to anyone who might've seen a big girl with a braid—Maria was waitin' for me. Sat at the kitchen table, hands folded, like she'd been sittin' there a while.

She didn't sigh. Didn't raise her voice. Just looked at me with this empty kind of grief—like she'd already buried me.

Then she said, real quiet, lookin' me in the eye—my good one:

"I can't do this anymore, Tommy."

I tried to stop her. "

Are you kiddin' me? After everything I've been through? This is what you do?" I yelled, anger and pain coating every word. Like that was gonna change anything.

She just sat there. Stone-faced. Tears wellin'. Then she stood, walked over, kissed me gentle on the cheek.

And that was it.

No yelling. No slammed doors.

Just silence.

Now I just… exist.

I help out where I can. Fix broken gear, clean rifles and load what rounds these hands can still manage. Jackson's got a good group—young ones, hopeful types. They smile and wave at me in the streets like I'm still somebody. Like I ain't just a broken old man with ghosts followin' him everywhere.

Every day, I walk out to Joel's grave. Don't miss a day.

I talk to him. Tell him dumb stories. Apologize for things I never said out loud. For things I shouldn't've said or done. Some days, I sit under that old elm tree near him and just sip coffee from a dented thermos. Watch life go on. Watch the kids laugh, the gardens grow, the patrols return.

I sit there. Still.

Dina walks by sometimes. JJ draggin' her by the hand to every cool rock or critter he sees. She might nod. Most times, she don't.

I don't blame her.

Hell, if I were her, I wouldn't forgive me neither.

Still miss JJ. When I catch his eye, I used to smile and wave. But then Dina'd turn the other way so fast I thought she'd fall down. So I stopped.

I could watch him a bit longer if I didn't.

He looks so much like Jesse. I miss that boy too.

I think about that day at the farmhouse more than I care to admit. The last time I saw Ellie.

Me sittin' at her table. Busted up. Bitter. Eye gone. Leg barely workin'. Still spittin' venom like I had any right.

"Well, I can't go," I told her. Bitter, like that justified what I was askin' from her.

"Must be easy to forget about her while you're cozy up here." I huffed. She didn't even look at me when I spat it out.

"HEY! That's enough!" Dina'd had it by then. Her voice like gasoline waitin' on a spark. Eyes blazing.

"I'll make her pay. That's what you said when we got back to Jackson." It slipped out before I could stop it.

Truth is, I didn't want to stop it back then.

Ellie's voice cracked when she answered: "I'm sorry…"

Barely a whisper.

Dina followed me out. Rippin' into me, rightfully so.

At the time, I thought she was actin' entitled. Thought I was the one hurt most.

Now?

I'd give damn near anything to take it all back.

When I heard Ellie went after Abby—followed the lead I gave her—I nearly collapsed.

That's when it got real.

That's when I knew. I probably sent her to her grave. My brother loved her, and I killed her.

When I saw Dina come back to Jackson, hollow-eyed, carryin' JJ with that empty look…

I knew.

We ain't said a word since that day. Don't know if we ever will.

I ain't man enough to face her anymore.

So I keep myself busy.

Build ammo in the evenings. Oil the rifles in the afternoon.

Keeps the tremble in my fingers at bay.

Keeps the nightmares from crawlin' in too early.

The dreams are the worst part.

Joel on the ground.

Sarah screamin'.

My voice yellin' and never loud enough.

A bullet echo in my skull.

When I wake up, I light a candle by the window and just… sit.

Sometimes I whisper. Can't bring myself to say it out loud anymore.

Just move my lips.

I'm sorry, Joel.

I miss you, every goddamn day.

The wind picks up outside. Smells like spring's comin'.

New things growin'. People startin' over.

But I don't move. Not yet.

I'm still here.

Still breathin'.

But most days…

It don't feel like livin'.

⸻