"I'll be right here when you're done."
I nod, not trusting my voice, and walk toward the families.
Once all the bad news and tears have been shed, a hard cold silence settles over me.
Sarah, Travis and Emma’s grandmother, stays behind, putting her hand on my shoulder. "We've needed a proper medic for over a year, Hazel. You know that." Her voice is kind but firm. "Maria's pregnancy is high-risk. We've got people with chronic conditions, injuries healing wrong. If you wanted to stay..."
The offer hangs in the air.
Old Pines needs me. These people I know, who I care about, who just lost family because I failed them, and they're offering me a permanent home.
I find Travis at the radio station with Tom, their heads bent over maps and frequency charts. They're discussing raider patterns, coordination between settlements, and the work Travis does to keep people connected.
The work my crew died trying to do.
When I enter, Travis looks up, and the careful neutrality on his face tells me he's still hurt from last night.
"How did it go?" he asks.
"They don't hate me." My voice sounds hollow. "They offered me a job. To stay here, be their medic. Help with Maria's pregnancy, train volunteers, actually make a difference for people I know."
Something flickers across his face. Fear, maybe. Or resignation.
"Are you going to take it?"
I sink into a chair, suddenly exhausted. "I don't know. It makes sense, doesn't it? Stay where I'm needed, where I have relationships, where I can help people who just lost family because of me."
"Because raiders ambushed your convoy," Travis corrects quietly. "Not because of you."
"Does it matter?" I look at him, really look at him. "They're offering me safety. Purpose. A chance to actually save lives instead of just watching people die."
Tom clears his throat. "I'll just... check on the convoy." He leaves, closing the door behind him with careful precision.
Travis and I sit in silence.
"Last night I told you I used you," I finally say. "That I needed to leave before I got your crew killed."
"I remember."
"I was lying." The confession comes out rough. "Not about being scared—that part was true. But about using you. About it not meaning anything."
He leans back against the radio console, arms crossed. Waiting.
"I'm terrified," I continue. "Everyone I care about dies, Travis. Everyone. My crew, the families here—I promised them I'd keep their people safe, and I failed. And you—" My voice cracks. "Youmake me want things I thought I'd never want again. A future that isn't just about surviving. And that scares me more than anything."
"So stay here." He says it without judgment. "Old Pines is a good settlement. Those people care about you. You could help Maria, teach Emma, build something safe."
"I could." I stand, needing to move. "I could stay here and help eighty people. Train volunteers, deliver Maria's baby, treat chronic conditions. Important work. Necessary work."
"But?"
"But my crew didn't die protecting one settlement's medical supplies." The realization crystallizes as I say it. "They died protecting the idea that settlements should be connected. That cooperation beats isolation. That the network you're building," I gesture at the maps, "That this matters more than any single place."
His expression shifts. Hope, carefully guarded.
"Staying here means helping people I know," I continue. "People I care about, people I owe. It's safer. Smarter, probably. But going with you means helping hundreds of people. Maybe thousands, as the network grows. It means finishing what my crew started." I close the distance between us. "It also means not losing this. Whatever we are, whatever we could become. And I'm terrified it'll end badly, that I'll lose you the way I lost them. But I'm more terrified of choosing safety over purpose. Of surviving without actually living."
He's quiet for a long moment, studying my face.
