Chapter Text
Note: If you've read Chapter 5 of "It's Never Been an Option," you've already read this thing!
JANUARY 2024
Somewhere near Eastern Colorado University
Joel sank gratefully back into the bloody, sweaty mattress, which reduced the throbbing pain of his wound to a dull ache as long as he stayed still. He felt Ellie settle next to him, her head fitting against his shoulder and her hand coming to rest over his heart. Poor kid must be exhausted, taking care of him "between comas" as she put it. Stitching him up while he barely kept himself from screaming. Keeping him warm and hydrated. Keeping him and the horse fed to whatever extent. Helping him change positions on the mattress. Helping him get up for toilet purposes, like they'd just finished.
He knew Ellie would have handled bedpan tasks without complaint, but he was a little glad there was nothing in the house convenient to use. Sticking close to him to make sure he didn't collapse was enough of an intrusion on her, but Ellie just needled him about getting an early start on the whole "caring for the elderly" thing.
He couldn't really see the wound while he was lying down, but he'd checked behind the dressing while he was up to relieve himself. It looked... not great. Not the worst he'd ever seen, thanks to Ellie's first aid training (Go FEDRA, for once) and the med kit they'd replenished in Jackson.
That hunter's broken bat had missed everything. (Otherwise he'd be bled out or dead of sepsis by now.) But it had gone deep in his gut, beyond the reach of the expired topical antibiotic and whatever was in the wrapper marked Poultice Powder from Jackson's clinic. Maybe those things were buying him some time. But fighting off something like this was a total crapshoot and they'd only been eating well since they got to Jackson.
Ellie shouldn't have to watch him leave her. Riding back to Jackson while she and Callus were still strong was still the best thing. On the off chance he beat this infection he could follow later. Get better enough to get himself fed, then better enough to keep himself fed and moving. But she wouldn't hear it. She'd made it clear she was seeing this through.
He should be pretty pissed at the kid. Whatever happened to "do what I say, when I say it?"
"Te amo, mija." I love you, daughter. He wondered if he was saying that out loud.
"Um...te también? Or yo también?” Ellie whispered. Do I say “you too” or “me too?” It’s not a big deal. He’s probably thinking of Sarah. She’d say it right. She spoke it her whole life. Oh my fuck, is he having one of those near death things?
“Comin’ along, Ellie.”
He felt her relax little more against his shoulder, and then he went away again.
~*~
Joel rounded the corner of the storehouse or whatever the fuck it was, carrying his and Ellie's backpacks and the weapons he'd picked up. He tried to follow the smell of smoke, but the wind made it harder. Then Ellie's screams sent him careening in the right direction, desperately praying he could make it in time. Two bodies later, he was almost there, watching his girl stumble out of the burning building.
It took a moment to calm her - so stupid to grab her from behind. But then he finally had Ellie in his arms, saying "I've got you, Baby Girl." Bundling her up and giving her back her pack, Joel led Ellie toward the cover of the woods, saying "I'm never leaving you."
Once he had them out of obvious sight of the burning building, but still able to see and take cover if they were being chased, Joel found a log for them to sit on. He took a moment to wipe the more obvious blood from Ellie's face, gently check her nose (broken) and hand her a bit of snow to ice it. She insisted “I’m fine,” which she clearly wasn’t.
"You did good. You're here." Joel praised her. "Where else are you hurt?"
"My head," Ellie admitted, pointing toward the back of her head. "Ribs. Not broken. I think."
At any normal time Joel would've indulged in some angst about just how Ellie knew what broken vs. bruised ribs felt like. But Ellie wasn't done.
"My side." She gestured toward the left side of her waist.
"Bleeding?" Joel asked. She wasn't acting like there was bleeding to be stopped. But there was so much blood on her clothes. But Ellie shook her head.
"Took a hit?" Ellie nodded, answering the Joel-ese for any kind of impact injury. This wasn't exactly their first field triage.
"Can we check it real quick?" His usual line when they checked each other's injuries. Not that he had real options if the kid was bleeding internally. He doubted it. The spot Ellie pointed at was mercifully between her stomach and her kidneys. But still.
Ellie hesitated for a second, then seemed to grasp Joel's point. She moved his still-open jacket aside and raised her sweatshirt and flannel a couple of inches to expose the makings of a bruise. It was flat, with no sign of accumulating fluid. After running his fingers over the area as lightly as possible, Joel nodded an OK nod and Ellie let the shirts drop.
That didn't look like a punch. More like... No, not now. Gotta move.
With Ellie more “with him” now, he tried for some tactical intel.
"Can you tell me how many are left?" Ellie shook her head.
“Don’t know how many live there. Seven came to the house. Shot Callus. Woke up in there. Two men. Fucking leader. His buddy. Dead now.” Ellie spoke in fragments, but clearly and coherently. She choked back the beginnings of a sob at the mention of Callus.
They shot the horse out from under her… she coulda been crushed!
“That’s real good, Baby,” Joel soothed. “I got three back at the house. Your knife, your barricade, saved me. You did so good. A couple more back there while I was lookin’ for you. Maybe your last two, maybe not.”
She “woke up…” Better check for a concussion.
Joel put his arms around Ellie again, then leaned back to check her pupils, felt the bump on her head.
“I saw Callus where I found your bag,” he said. Ellie looked up, her eyes tearing up. “He didn’t suffer, Honey.”
Ellie nodded, swallowing. Joel figured she might be cried out for now, or implementing his normally-stupid (but right now useful) “pick up and move on” mode. Hoping it would comfort her, he fished Ellie's switchblade out of his pocket and closed her hand around it. She gasped, looking into his eyes with something between relief and gratitude, and held her mom's knife, and their hands, to her chest.
“They’re down too many men including the leader. It’s snowing, and there's that fire to deal with,” Joel said, assessing the situation, including her, maybe helping her stay with him. “They can’t really afford to come after us. They said they’ve got women and children.”
The guys trying to kill me. The guys who were lettin’ this David turn you into his new pet. They were sure ready to bring up their wives and kids.
“But they still might be pissed enough to try.”
Joel pulled out his bloody map to pick a direction. They needed to move before their adrenaline plummeted. She was OK as concussions go, as far as he could tell without a fucking brain scan. But he was in no shape to carry her very far.
“Whoever’s left has plenty of food now,” Ellie spat out. “They eat people.” The deer. Seven bodies. She knew Callus would come before the men she and Joel just killed, but –“
“I saw.”
“You done?” she demanded, looking at the map.
"Depends," Joel answered. "You want your nose set now or later? The cold air might help."
"Now. Get it over with." Yes, please, erase this one thing he did.
That briefly agonizing task done, Joel got up and stowed the map. He slid off the jacket and pack he was wearing, and motioned for Ellie to switch coats with him. The jacket was slightly less warm, but would be easier for her to manage than the overcoat he'd hastily put on her when he'd found her. "Your clothes are still in here." he said, lifting her green backpack. "You should add a layer."
Ellie shook her head, put on his smaller jacket, and held her arms backward so he could fit the pack on her shoulders. "Next break if I need to. Let’s go,” Ellie insisted.
"Alright, " Joel countered. He zipped open the front pocket of his own pack and produced an unfamiliar pistol, which he held out for Ellie. He hadn't found her Beretta in her pack, which made complete sense. She probably had the gun out when she was grabbed, and if not, those bastards would have definitely searched her stuff. This new weapon was the recent property of some motherfucker who no longer needed it -- or anything else -- after meeting Joel.
Ellie performed her now-practiced routine of checking and securing the weapon before stowing it in her (Joel's) coat pocket. With only the small delay of helping Joel shimmy into his own backpack, they disappeared further into the trees.
~*~
Ellie checked out again while they picked their way through the woods. But she kept putting one foot in front of the other. Joel let her have her mental break as long as it was just them against the weather. He periodically told her things about the route, and whatever else he could think of, just in case it was a comfort to her on some level.
Joel’s route followed a path parallel to a series of potential shelters, but kept to the woods for cover. Easier walking, too, where the canopy of evergreens had kept the snow from piling up. Once they were moving, Joel started to assess his physical state for the first time since he'd lurched himself off that mattress that morning. Adrenaline had kept him searching for Ellie and was still propelling his effort to get her safe. But they needed to stop while he still had energy to clear a place and hopefully get cleaned up and scavenge. He could put together a shelter in the woods if he had to, but he really wanted better for Ellie right now. He gave himself an hour as a decent compromise between getting distance and not collapsing in the goddamned snow.
But the goddamned snow picked up and Joel called it after half that time. He didn't love stopping so close, but on the other hand, the same weather would prevent anyone from following them or detecting the smoke from their fire. He guided Ellie out of the woods toward the nearest set of buildings. To his relief, he was able to coax her back into being present with him pretty easily. Whatever combination of his voice, the change of scenery, and their "clear" routine did the job.
Get ready to clear, Baby. Get your gun out. That's it. Got your knife? Alright. Let's go.
They got a lucky break with the small hotel they sheltered in: a space that could be decently secured, but with multiple exit points that would be difficult for a "downsized" group like those resort bastards to cover. Multiple spots to burn firewood and heat water for bathing and laundry between the commercial kitchen, common spaces, and guest rooms. Even overlooked food and clothing.
It didn’t mean the evening was easy. First, there was so much more space to clear than a single-family home. Common areas, work areas, and two dozen guest rooms. Ellie followed Joel silently, but alertly.Then it was time to start addressing what happened. Joel needed to at least check Ellie for dangerous injuries -- more thoroughly than he'd done at the start of their escape through the woods. He'd already seen evidence of concussion, and Ellie was ambulatory and coherent when a task was before her. But some kind of slow, seeping internal injury was still on the table, if unlikely. And he needed to verify that her ribs were bruised and not broken. As soon as he satisfied himself that they were alone, Joel sat Ellie down on the foot of the bed in the last room they cleared.
Already accustomed to respectfully checking each other's injuries, Ellie wasn't shy about raising her shirts up to her bra line. It didn't occur to her scrambled brain that this time might be different till she noticed him trying to hide his fury. He gently guided her fingers over each rib, and then the painful side bruise she'd shown him earlier. Then a quick look at some smaller bruises. Okay. Just bruising.
He shared that he’d been beaten and kicked around that way, that he knew it hurt like a motherfucker, and he was sorry. (“Are they dead?”, she asked. “Some,” he replied. “Good start,” she declared.)
When Joel noticed the torn zipper on her jeans, he again swallowed his fury. But he had to say something. He had to know what kind of help she might need.
"You can tell me anything," he whispered, gently tugging the front of Ellie's sweatshirt downward, so she could cover herself again. "You don't have to."
Ellie took a shallow breath.
"Just, please tell me what I gotta know. If you're hurt anywhere else. If you get sick, or..."
"It's not like that," she hastily cut Joel off. Relief washed over him. She knew what he was asking. Whatever else his girl was dealing with, not having to worry about pregnancy or disease was a mercy.
"He tried, but the big ass knife was right there." The words tumbled out in a tone much flatter than her dramatic words seemed to demand.
He'd assumed there was some kind of struggle, up close and personal. So much blood on his girl, and her bleeding only from her nose and maybe that bump on her head.
Sick bastard. Looks like going for her jeans was the last thing he ever did.
Joel didn't kid himself. Ellie may have stopped David there, kept her jeans on, and still endured other things at that man's hands. But they had time for that.
"That's good, baby." Joel cupped his girl's cheek briefly. He exhaled, with Ellie joining in. He rose (creakily), reaching out to help her get up from the bed.
"Time to hit the showers," he gave his code for gathering water to drink and clean with.
"How did you find me?" Ellie asked as Joel led her to the restaurant kitchen.
Joel told her only that he’d “learned” where she was taken from the guys who came after him. Ellie'd seen the new cuts on his freshly swollen knuckles, was privately planning to make him ice the hand when they went out for snow.
On the way, he told Ellie he was glad she got away without being “hurt like that” (“You mean raped?"), and he didn’t care what she did to protect herself, to get away. "He" would never rape anyone again, thanks to her. And he told her that, if she had been, he wouldn’t look at her any different. For anything that happened, or anything she did to make them pay. Then he told her something only Tommy knew for sure.
"I had some close calls too, in my time," he said quietly. "You can ask about it sometime, or not, but the point is I might actually be worth talkin' to on this."
(“Are they dead?”, she’d asked. “The ones after the Outbreak,” he’d replied. “Before, there were rules about killin’.” “Good enough, then,” she’d pronounced.)
Joel knew it would take a lot more than one talk. Ellie'd been real subdued about that big ass knife, but the image in his mind's eye wasn't pretty. Killing a man that close was enough, on her enough to do that damage to her zipper. And her mood since then. The checking out. Whatever happened must have really rattled her, considering what he'd seen her shake off. At least he could explain to her how this shit messed with someone's head.
Joel wasn't sure how aware Ellie was of her bloodied state. But his priorities were 1. Get them both hydrated, 2. Get Ellie's face, hands, and hair clean, 3. Enable her to take off the bloody sweatshirt and jeans she was wearing. 4. Find food.
Getting this process started took longer than usual. Ellie got anxious if she couldn’t see or hear Joel. So he let her join him outside to gather firewood and snow to melt. Out of concern for the multiple bruises to her midsection (as opposed to his single, improving wound that he'd gotten used to moving with), Joel had Ellie keep watch with her new pistol. He'd noticed that she could stay "with him" given a task to focus on. To put off having to go out again, they made several trips to pile snow into every cooking vessel and kitchen bin they found as well as two of the commercial kitchen sinks and the bathtub of the nearest guest room. Next, Joel determined the best-ventilated place to burn wood, rattling off his contractor bullshit about flues and kitchen vents before setting fires in the kitchen charcoal grill, the dining room fireplace, and the lobby.
Possibly hypnotized by this latest episode of Miller Construction Corner, Ellie's adrenaline started to wane before Joel's. When Joel was ready to wash her hair, she opted to lie down on the kitchen counter rather than sit on a stool leaning her head into the sink. Pretty soon she was nodding off as Joel held her head over the sink and poured warm water though her hair. With the help of their remaining chunk of Jackson-crafted soap, the matted blood and gore soon disappeared down the (working, for now) drain. When he was done, Joel simply slid Ellie about a foot away from the sink and slid a folded kitchen towel under her head. While she dozed, he started picking over the place more carefully, sticking to the rooms within earshot and frequently coming back to the kitchen to manage the snow-melting and laundry operation. And check for signs of nightmares.
In another lucky break, previous scavengers had overlooked several pieces of hotel logo'd clothing: workout clothes, bathrobes, the type of polo shirts and half-zip fleece sweaters hotel staff used to wear. This find meant Joel and Ellie could bathe right away without having to wait till tomorrow for their clean clothes to air-dry. He was planning to stick to a sponge bath on account of his wound, but warm water and plenty of it would be nice for once. For Ellie, he'd secure one of the rooms and fill up a bathtub if she felt up to getting into and out of one with her bruises. Hot baths in an actual tub were rare on the road. You had to find somewhere with a usable tub, enough water around and the means to heat it, and the ability to secure the place to Joel's satisfaction. He let himself spend about 30 seconds thinking about how those Silver Lake bastards had hurt his kid so much that she might not be able to enjoy the chance now.
Even more handy: an airtight food service container filled with single-serving food and beverage packets. Instant soups and hot cereals, instant coffee, cocoa, hot cider, even sports drink powder and trail mix. Originally intended, no doubt, for the hotel's breakfast and snack selection, items like these often turned up. But rarely in such quantity and fresh condition, undisturbed by rodents or bugs.
Joel understood how these godsends got overlooked. He and the people he ran with (including Ellie) would never have missed these items given enough time to search. But they' been stored in atypical places. The clothing, especially, stuffed among binders and papers in the hotel office filing cabinet. But now he wouldn’t need to hunt and forage until they got considerably more distance from that godawful "resort."
Finally, Joel and Ellie settled in for the night with clean bodies in clean clothes, with laundry drying over a kitchen drain. Joel’s stab wound (and bloody hands) were freshly cleaned and wrapped, and a dose of penicillin administered under Ellie’s supervision. (“Shit. It’s supposed to go in your arm?”) They'd split a serving of the most inoffensively flavored sports drink. Joel had eaten a packet of oatmeal. Ellie seemed relieved about the food cache, but she was not her usual animated self about trying new things. But she'd been able to slowly finish a cup of chicken soup, and keep it down. That was a good sign for her concussion. And overall, good enough for tonight. Enough to keep their bodies in the game.
If the snow kept falling, they'd stick around tomorrow, rest up, and pick over the rooms. Otherwise, they'd get more distance from Silver Lake as soon as they were up and packed.
Because they were well barricaded, Joel didn't try to stay up for watch. Instead, he set the mechanical alarm clock to wake Ellie up as a concussion precaution. If nightmares didn't.
Though Ellie was no longer worried about Joel dying in the night, they assumed the position that had become habit in their basement hiding place. Ellie rested her head on Joel’s left shoulder, briefly touching her hand over his heart. No longer feverish and fuzzy, Joel willingly snuggled her in his left arm, tracing soothing patterns on her back. He asked if her bruises were OK like that, and she said yes.
"Kiddo?"
"Yeah?"
"Back there. I said I'm never leavin' you," Joel asked. "Did you hear that? Were you with me?"
"Yeah,” said Ellie. "Already implied. Fireflies. Jackson." Joel could tell that her sentence fragments at this moment were due to sleepiness, not trauma.
Fair point, Kiddo. My plan to watch your back with those Firefly doctors and bring you home covered that.
"That's right," he said. "Wanted to say I meant it. But old news, huh?" Ellie leaned into his side to distract herself from the tears she was suddenly blinking back.
“Back at the house... was I... with you when I said I love you?" Joel asked. “I did, right? Might've dreamed it."
"Si. En español. Did you hear what I said back?"
"Yeah," Joel answered. "Thought maybe I dreamed it."
"Te tambien, viejo. One more time for any senior brains in here."
Joel was too tired to laugh. But, snuggled against him, Ellie could feel him chuckle as he creakily bent his neck to kissed her brow.
This was bad. Real bad. But my girl's still givin' me shit. I'll take it.
~*~
April 2024 – Salt Lake City
“I owe you a ton of apologies,” said Ellie. “All those times I asked you about the Outbreak. Or about Before.”
“No, Ellie,” Joel shushed her. “You didn’t know.”
“But how dumb is that?” Ellie insisted, her voice rising as she found fault with herself. “I shouldn’t have to know exactly what happened to you and your family to know something did! Should've been obvious about anyone who’s older than, like, thirty.”
“It’s OK, Ellie.”
“I know it’ll be OK with you, but that’s the fucking point!” Ellie took a deep breath. “OK. Starting over. I started asking you about the Outbreak back in Boston. You were always cool about answering my questions. But that stuff is like, adventure or some shit to me. It’s this crazy world I’ll never see.”
“Oh, Ellie,” sighed Joel. “Of course that's what it is to you. That’s not on you.”
“It’s on me that I treat you guys like encyclopedias,” Ellie insisted. “It’s on me that it never occurred to me that we were talking about your life. Tommy’s life. Maria’s life. Tess's life. My mom's life. Fucking Marlene's life. You guys lost everything. I'm sorry, Joel.”
“Alright, I see what you’re sayin’,” Joel conceded. “But it’s still OK. I like seein’ the past through your eyes. And when I say to hold off, you always respect that. You’re actually a very nice person. About that, anyway.”
“I mean, it does occur to me what happened to you guys. Lots,” Ellie added. “Just not when I’m trying to geek out on Before.”
“Thank you. Apology accepted.” Said Joel, needing to free Ellie from this.
“Joel? I’m glad you flinched,” said Ellie. “I guess you were trying to tell me that time heals all wounds?”
“It wasn’t time that did it,” said Joel. They stood together for a minute, then something occurred to Joel.
“Not that it’s fair to burden you with bein’ important to me. I meant that the nice way.”
“I guessssss I could burden you back, if it would help,” Ellie groaned. “I was pretty sure I already did. If not, it was heavily implied.”
“That works,” said Joel.
“Consider the Talk had, Old Man.”