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Flickers of light peek between the closed curtains, but the bright afternoon sun is covered to lull the chubby baby to sleep, she has him draped over her shoulder as she hums, soft and serene, rubs his back with gentle movements.
They're watching over JJ today as Ellie and Dina headed out for some hours. It's his time to take a nap.
And she's glad, now she has everything under control.
Months before she would've been horrified, she was always really bad at taking care of gentle, soft, fragile things; but Joel was patient to teach her how to hold him, how to feed and burp him afterwards, how to bathe and change him. But most importantly, how to comfort him, to rub away his choked sobs and bring out a gummy smile instead.
He even taught her how to hum a lullaby, old, and reminiscent of his hometown. She didn't ask him for whom that song had been learned before.
JJ's eyelids flutter, he stops sucking on his thumb and gives a muffled yawn as he drifts off to a peaceful slumber—she hopes he has nice dreams, that he pictures soft and warm things, remembers the books they read to him out loud—while his small arms rest over her shoulders, nestled in her embrace. She sniffs his tiny head and finds that particular baby aroma. She wonders if all babies smell the same, tiny little things full of enigmas.
It's not like she ever took care of one before.
She feels warm eyes looming over every single one of her actions, vigilant as ever, he's sitting beside her but left her to soothe the baby on her own, like he knows she can handle herself with an infant.
She's focused on a spot on the ceiling when he breaks the comfortable silence, voice low and tender, absent-mindedly he spills his words, "In another world we could've had our own..."
She stiffens at his reveal, tenses at the unprompted image that flashes in her mind, and feels heat rush to her cheeks to her chagrin.
She turns her head around, almost smacks him in the face at the force, he's in the same state as her when he registers his words: he's flustered and mortified, not like he wanted to speak them aloud.
They blink together, wide-eyed and open-mouthed, in shock. Our own.
He clears his throat and coughs a bit when he chokes, Tess swallows hard, and then they're looking at anything but each other.
Shame, there's shame rapidly filling the quiet room, but another kind of emotion flourishes then, not something akin to remorse, what an awful feeling that always accompanied them, but nostalgia.
And how can you be so nostalgic for something you never had? Homesickness and sentimentality for something that never existed? Fond memories that aren't even real?
Their minds both chew at the words, work them over to analyze and put together again and again, more than twenty years to revalue their lives, choices and regrets, their old bodies filled with what-ifs of a fragmented life. Who they were before, and who they are now.
Our own.
Probably, yes. In another life in another world, a kinder world perhaps. In a place without a deadly infection that never got a cure, never will, they're trapped to live under the rules of cruel nature. But not caged anymore under concrete walls and wretched violence, loud gunshots, and blown out bodies.
They would've been so different.
And they would've given in to love early, and they would've had all the children they desired.
Maybe even more, one didn't exactly plan those types of things, unexpected surprises ; never needed to control every aspect of your life to guarantee your survival.
Why would they need to worry about those things? It was so normal, so typical, nothing extraordinary. Common, it was painfully common. But it would be a happy moment in their lives, cherished memories as years passed by, to have children with Tess's freckles and Joel's dark hair, tiny clothes and nursery rhymes, fear of the dark and can I sleep in your bed tonight?, so many firsts that they're mundane, the brutal honesty but unconditional love, a day at the beach.
It wouldn't be some type of life-threatening danger, not a risk, not something they avoided like Cordyceps itself.
The images slip away slowly, she feels her mouth go dry but her voice doesn't falter, her voice never falters, this world made sure of that, "I wasn't meant to be a mother, Tex." She searches for his eyes and finds them. They'll always find each other no matter what. She gives him a little sad smile, so many words that she will never share.
This world carefully crafted her to always keep something to herself, there's power over everything, over the most guarded parts of yourself.
He reaches a big arm around her waist and kisses her temple, his lips linger on her skin, and he stays there for a long moment. He studied how to soothe her with his touch only. Once they crossed all their boundaries and broke their unspoken deal of no feelings, intimacy became their new type of high, an intense rush of infatuation. A kind of miracle for their isolated and trapped souls.
He stares down in that wistful way that it's so distinct of him nowadays, he's showing his age, already a grandpa she would taunt, "Know you would've been a great mama," He points to the door with his head, nods as if he's a aware she's completely denying that, as if he's just lying, so stubborn, "You already are like one to Ellie."
She huffs full of sarcasm, shifts the baby in her arms slightly, and tries to fix her attention to a squishy toy on the floor. Her gaze blurs, and she blinks only to notice wetness smearing on her cheeks.
Unbidden tears, because she would never cry on purpose, because in those twenty years she lost a human part of herself where feelings and emotions resided, because she loathes showing anything but her tough and fierce exterior, rough around the edges and razor-sharp, a flame ready to burn everything in her wake.
What's there to admire? What's there to be proud of? What's there to like?
To love?
It's not like she ever fit in a calm place, not like she could play her role.
Joel embraces her in one of his bear hugs, and she can't help but lean into his touch, mindful of the sleeping child, because somehow he never left. Because in another life, he would've done the same. Partners in crime, dangerous criminals, complicated lovers. I'm here, Tessa, while she bled out on the pavement, warm soup when she caught a cold in the dead of winter. Bloody knuckles to defend her name, her honor, that she never had.
She doesn't know what motherhood is, doesn't know how to be a mother, doesn't know how to be gentle and warm, comforting and affectionate. She never experienced it. Not until-
"Ellie?" She whispers, Joel just hums in acknowledgment softly.
The tiny girl that came out of nowhere, the miracle for this treacherous world, the light to illuminate a new path for humanity, a cure. But she was much more than that, and in the end, how couldn't they see her as their own? When they risked everything for her? When the girl that never had a family found a place between two smugglers who never wanted kids?
Tess doesn't know why that girl liked her, even when they barely knew each other, she's not sure how the girl admired her and peered at her with those big green eyes like she was some kind of hero. She's not sure why the girl got attached to her so quickly, but she would stay late at night with her if only to have a resemblance of something .
A mother.
And a father, the girl just wanted a family.
Our own.
She's not sure if she did a good job taking care of her. She was awful with speaking aloud meaningful words, and her affection could only reveal the tiniest truth of what she felt, anyway. If she ever felt like she never deserved a kid asking for her advice, her shoulder to cry on, her I'm proud of you, she was right. She would never deserve a kid like Ellie, not even in a million years.
But Ellie found her place, didn't she? She found a place in Jackson, flourished into a woman and found love, she made her own family, she lived a peaceful life on her farm, and what more could she ask for?
Tess wasn't perfect. She was the most broken human being ever. She would always stick out where joy and harmony went. She was mean and ill-tempered. She didn't really deserve to live here after all she had done.
And it was surreal, to wake up in the mornings with Joel by her side and not have to worry about ration cards, shitty deals, and backstabbing clients. It was bizarre that they had food, warm water, and a home, and she would never get used to the luxury of homemade soaps and candles.
She had feared it would slip away, that it was solely an escapist dream like the ones she had in the QZ, her fantasies locked in her unconscious state of mind. Who could blame her? It was too good to be real.
So what if, in another world, everything would be changed to the point of being unrecognizable? Yes, they would've avoided so much heartbreaking pain. Their shared misery would've been something nicer, maybe something better. Love would overflow without restraints, and happy giggles of innocent children would echo in their backyard while they folded the laundry. But that never happened, would never happen.
She presses JJ closer to their shared embrace, and she sniffs. Her nose was too stuffed to breathe steady, but the weight of the baby and Joel's arms could ground her. This is her life.
There was nothing more to wish for, Joel agrees when they go to their own home and share a lukewarm shower, cleaning each other in their practiced routine, rosemary and pine scents filling the bathroom. You're a grandma now, Tess, it's not fair I'm the only old man anymore. And she slaps his chest, clicks her tongue, Call me grandma again and, I'll stab you while you sleep, Joel.
To exist in their world and to persevere through everything they did, they could never have the distant lives their minds could assemble, they could never allow children to be under their care, they could never be kind people, they could never visit the sea again.
It was fair to say goodbye to their unfulfilled future.
They had more than enough.
A gentle existence.