Chapter Text
It was their second week in Jackson. Birds chirped, the sun was rising, and if Joel listened closely from the living room, he could hear some folks down the street shoveling snow.
At eight in the morning, the front door burst open, and Joel was nearly scared shitless.
“I wanna get rid of this,” Ellie said out of the blue, gesturing towards her left arm as she entered. When they were out, she would wear long-sleeve shirts to cover the scar, but in the house—somehow wearing nothing but her long pajamas through the cold—she didn’t bother.
“Good mornin’ to you, too.”
“Joel, I’m serious.”
He was reading a book on the history of something or other that he didn’t really care much about; but it was better than having to make small talk with the other adults in Jackson at the church or pub. Ellie slid onto the couch next to him with the bitten arm outstretched.
“What’d you mean?” he asked. He put down the book on the side table and turned his attention to her.
Ellie sighed. “The scar. There’s gotta be a way to get rid of it, right?”
Joel huffed a laugh. “Don’t think so—that’s why it’s called a scar, kiddo.” But he leaned in to inspect it, anyway, and Ellie scooted closer so he could see. He wasn’t any doctor, but… “Looks like it did yesterday.”
“It’s gross.”
“Ellie, it really ain’t that bad,” he tried to reassure her. And it was true to him. Sure, the first few days after they’d met, it almost gave him a heart attack whenever he even thought about it—but by now he’d seen it so often that it was just another part of her, like the freckles she got over the summer.
“Yeah, it is that bad!”
“It startin’ to hurt or something?”
Ellie pursed her lips. She gently traced the arched grooves and cyst-like protrusions with her fingers, a deep frown forming on her face. “The other kids won’t— fucking stop bothering me about it,” she said quietly, and that uncharacteristic sadness in her voice struck a nerve in him. But there was also the information that someone else in Jackson knew.
“You showed them?”
“No ,” Ellie said. “I mean, not on purpose. But I pushed my sleeves up the other day by accident when we were helping with painting that new house, and one of them saw, and he wouldn’t stop bugging me, and now he’s telling people I’ve got some nasty infection—not infected infection, but still—”
“Alright, okay. I understand.”
“He’s such a dick.”
“I know.”
Joel breathed in deeply. Christ. She was nearing fifteen, but after spending so much time seeing her killing infected and grown men alike, he’d almost forgotten the majority of kids her age were damned, idiotic assholes. But he couldn’t exactly go out there and start cursing out other people’s kids—however much he wanted to.
Regardless, those other kids weren’t the most important thing. Ellie was. And right now, he could see she was on the verge of tears; so he opened up his arms, and just let her lean against his shoulder while he tried to remember what he used to do when Sarah would get upset. After making sure Ellie seemed comfortable against him, he just ran his fingers through her hair in a soft, rhythmic caress. She hadn’t bothered to tie it into a ponytail yet—probably woke up just before she came to see him.
“Ellie, you just…you gotta ignore them, ‘kay?” Joel said calmly. “You’re more than that scar.”
“I’m trying.”
“I know. But sooner or later, they’ll forget all about it. No one cares what some dumb teen boy thinks. Trust me.” He’d heard his fair share of drama from Sarah back in the day, and while this was obviously…a much more complicated circumstance, he’d just have to treat it the same way.
She just looked down, clearly not accepting that as a solution. “What, am I just gonna have to never show my arm for the rest of my life? That’s fucking stupid,” she murmured.
“I reckon that’s better than everyone in Jackson wondering whether or not they should shoot you.”
“Why can’t I just tell people? You know, and so do Tommy and Maria.”
“Because if them other families find out you’re immune, they ain’t gonna react well. Wonder why they gotta risk their own kids on patrols when they can just send you out instead, risk-free.” Joel tapped the couch’s armrest, trying to keep himself sounding sure. He could never tell her the real reason why he was so concerned: that if someone knew, word might spread to the wrong people—back to the Fireflies. “Except there’s always a risk; there’s more than just infected out there, and they won’t be able to see that,” Joel continued. “They’d put you in danger.”
“I can handle myself.”
“‘Course you can, kiddo, but Jackson is meant to be a safe place for us. You ain’t gotta put your life on the line every day, and I don’t want you to feel so different that you have to.”
“I already feel pretty different.”
“Yeah, well, you’re the new kid. A month or two from now, you’ll have made more friends than you can count; and I know some of them girls have been asking about you.”
“They’ve all lived in Jackson for years,” Ellie said, shaking her head. “I don’t even know what to say to them.”
“It was just you and me for a long time. This place—it’s gonna take a while to get used to it. But there ain’t nothing wrong with you. Just give it time, okay?”
Ellie finally looked up at him, if only for a moment. She still seemed unconvinced, although her tears had at least dried up.
“Yeah,” she whispered. “Okay.”
Then, there was a loud knock on the door. Shit. He’d nearly forgotten it was a patrol day.
“That’s for me, I think,” he said.
“Tommy?” she asked.
“Yeah, must be.” He brushed a strand of loose hair behind her ear, then after one more quiet second of her leaning against him, she sat up sluggishly and moved away—but she was still practically melted against the couch.
“Patrols are so annoying,” she said, the words muffled by the couch cushion pushing into her cheek.
“You think everything’s annoying.”
“‘Cause they are. Not my fault.”
Joel chuckled. Before leaving, though, he sobered and said, “We can keep talking about this later. If you want to.”
Ellie nodded.
“Stay out of trouble. I’ll see you at three.”
“Hmph.”
Joel pushed himself off the couch, trying to ignore the way his back ached at the simple action. I really am getting old. Ellie reached for the book Joel had set down and began to read the inside cover, eyes flitting across the words. That would keep her occupied for approximately thirty seconds, if he knew her as well as he thought. Joel grabbed his jacket as he left the room, then opened the door to greet Tommy outside.
“Mornin’,” Ellie heard from Joel.
“Lord Almighty, I didn’t know hair could get that gray.”
Ellie laughed at that loud enough for both of them to hear, but she didn’t bother saying anything. The last thing she heard before the door shut was Joel saying softly, “Tommy, that kid’s gonna be the death of me.”
~
Half an hour before three, Joel and Tommy were back in Jackson. The patrol area had been surprisingly quiet—they’d only seen nine infected total, all runners. An easy takedown. That was why one of the biggest shocks of that day for Joel was when he crossed Laurie, the middle-aged, dark-haired woman who ran Jackson’s plumbing supply, and she told him how “Ellie just had the sweetest manners when she came by.”
“You sure we’re talking about the same Ellie?” Joel joked.
Laurie nodded confidently, then told him how she’d asked for paper towels and drain cleaner. “Yeah, better expect a mess in the kitchen when you get home.”
“Yeah,” Joel replied, “I guess I’d better.”
~
“Ellie?” He walked into the kitchen expecting suds and discarded towels, but it looked exactly like it did in the morning. “Ellie, you upstairs?” he said louder. No response. Then, through the window, he saw the lights of the garage were on. Of course. The garage had become her home, basically, although he had no clue why she didn’t want to live in an actual house when there was more than enough room.
After putting his jacket back on, he walked over. The air echoed his two knocks on the garage door. When there was no response, probably because she was listening to music again, he turned the knob and pushed. To his surprise, she wasn’t sitting and doodling at her desk like usual.
“Ellie?” he called. “You in here, right?”
The main area was empty, but he heard a curse when something fell to the floor from the bathroom in the back.
“Ye-yeah!” she called back. Her voice was overly cheerful, compensating. He heard her trying to cover sniffles.
“You okay?” Joel asked, not bothering to hide the concern in his voice. He walked inside, nearing the bathroom, and glanced at his surroundings. She really had settled in. The closet by her bed was filled with new-ish shirts and pants. The coffee table was covered in those Savage Starlight comics and some new addition: a graphic novel called Raven & Mouse , with some overly-colorful cover that suggested it was another one of her superhero and/or space adventures. She must’ve gotten it from the school library. “Don’t go all silent on me, kiddo.”
No response, again.
Those damned teenagers. If they had bullied her again while he was gone…
Suddenly, Joel wasn’t so opposed to the idea of cursing them out.
“Just go…please,” she finally said from behind the still-shut bathroom door. Joel had a sudden realization as to what might be the problem. He remembered when Sarah went through the same thing, and Joel, embarrassed that he hadn’t even thought to prepare, had to call the neighbors for help since the pharmacy had already closed for the night.
“You, uh, you want me to get Maria?”
Silence, then, “What? No! No, it’s not that.”
So…something else. Probably the problem he already knew about.
“Listen,” Joel said, “It ain’t gonna do you any good to be alone. And I ain’t leaving until I know you’re okay.”
There was a heavy pause. A reluctant sigh.
“Okay,” she said quietly. “Promise…you won’t be mad at me?” she said.
Why the hell would he—? Joel didn’t even want to know. Maybe she beat up one of the kids, or got into some trouble with an adult, or…it didn’t matter. “I promise, kiddo.”
When the door opened, she was cradling her left arm with a lowered gaze. She was damn near trembling, and her eyes were tinged pink. The moment she let go of her arm, fully displaying what remained of the old bite mark, Joel swore under his breath.
“Who did that to you?” he said, trying not to raise his voice.
“Joel—”
“You tell me their names right now, Ellie.” He swore he would beat those kids himself if they had gone this far—
But then, he saw it. On the bathroom floor, a bottle of blue drain cleaner, and on the sink, half-dissolved paper towels stained the same color. When Ellie followed his line of sight, she just let out a shaky exhale.
“You did this?” Joel asked, barely able to breath. She had never been self-destructive like this, never. He’d seen her scratch it before, sure, but that was no different from picking a mosquito bite to get rid of the itch.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered.
“What the hell were you thinking?” He lifted Ellie’s arm in his hand, trying not to touch the wound, and cringed at the angry red blemish covering the flesh of her forearm. A chemical burn, shiny and uneven and most definitely painful, covering even more area than the bite had.
“I just—” She looked away, wiping newly formed tears with her free hand. “—I wanted to get rid of it.”
“We gotta get you cleaned up,” Joel said. “Jesus. Come on.”
He dragged her back into the bathroom and started running cold water from the sink. The arm went directly under the faucet, and Ellie hissed at the sudden rush of pain.
“Why would you do this to yourself, huh? You think you’re gonna fix things by giving yourself permanent damage? On your shooting arm, not to mention. Well, hell, Ellie—” Joel shook his head “—hiding a scar ain’t worth all that.”
“It is to me,” was all she said back.
Later, he’d made her come back to the house so he could bandage her up properly. The sun was lowering, now, and she was still picking and pulling at the edge of the white wrap that covered her entire forearm.
“You gotta wear that for a month, at least,” Joel had told her. “No cuttin’ corners.”
Ice, antibiotics, pain relievers. No sun exposure on the wound. That’s what the next few weeks would be for her. It sucked. Everything sucked. But despite how terrified and angry Joel had looked when he’d seen the burn, she couldn’t help but be relieved that the bite mark was gone. Anything was better than those itchy, red and yellow fungal spores making it look like she could turn any second. Even this.
“I’m sorry for scaring you,” Ellie said quietly while they ate dinner that night. Her mouth was half-full with some chicken Joel had picked up from the butcher and roasted.
He nodded, cutting into his own food. “You just–you gotta promise me you’ll never do anything like that again. No…no scheming or dangerous plots behind my back. You talk to me, and we’ll figure something out together. Clear?”
“Yeah.”
“‘Kay. Good.” But then, Joel paused and set down his utensils. “Almost forgot something. Wait here, it’ll cheer you right up,” he said as he pushed himself away from the dinner table and stood. He walked out of the room, then returned with his backpack slung over his shoulder. With a loud thunk, Joel set it down next to his chair. Ellie raised a brow.
“Patrol was easy today. Gave us some time to stop by that old bookstore in Teton County.” Joel reached into the bag, retrieving a heavy stack of books that eventually landed in front of her, the pile so big it nearly passed her shoulders. “Consider it an early birthday gift.”
“No way.”
She unstacked them one by one. Cosmos: A History of the Stars. Then, Beginner’s Guide to the Galaxy. After that, Earth: From the Beginning to Now. And finally…
“Oh my god.” Ellie laughed, the last, thin book held tightly in her hands. “You’re kidding.”
“Nah, but you will be.”
“You have that line prepared?”
“Hm. Maybe.”
Ellie brought the cover of the book into the glow of the ceiling light.
To Change a Lightbulb. Kathryn McCormack. The sight of it was nearly enough to distract her from the stinging pain still encompassing her arm.
“How the hell’d you even find this?” Ellie asked in awe.
All she got was an infuriatingly nonchalant shrug. “Just saw it on a shelf. Thought I recognized the name, so I grabbed it.” Another volume of amazingly awful puns . “Still your style?”
“Uh, duh.”
Ellie started skimming through the pages, careful not to brush the arm wrap against them. A cloud of dust burst in her face, and Joel failed to cover his laugh when she started coughing it right back. When she finally could breathe, she stopped on a random page, brushed off the remaining residue from years of sitting lonesome on a shelf, and read the jokes. Yeah, Ellie thought, these are alright.
“How is it?” he asked.
Ellie rolled her eyes, knowing he found most of the jokes she told overdone or just downright lame. “You really wanna know?”
“C’mon, kiddo, I didn’t spend all that time in a musty old bookstore for nothing. Lemme hear one.”
Challenge accepted. She started skimming again, trying to find something that wasn’t too obvious or that he’d already heard during their year-long trek. Finally, she found it.
”Ready?” Ellie said, mimicking the low, dramatic voice of what she imagined a sports commentator would sound like—although, it was mostly based on Joel’s impression when he had described a football game back in Colorado.
He nodded, mouth spread thin with a smile. “Go for it.”
“Okay.” She stared at him straight on with as intense a face as she could muster. “Did you know diarrhea is hereditary?”
“As a matter of fact, no.”
Ellie pursed her lips, trying to smoothly deliver the punchline. “Yeah,” she said, “it runs in your jeans.”
Joel processed the words for a second, then just shook his head with a small huff of laughter. “Jesus, that’s stupid.”
“You’re stupid.”
“Eat your food.”
“Whatever you say, old man.”
Ellie placed the book down and continued cutting into the chicken, so flavorful and tender it basically melted in her mouth. She almost forgot how rare warm food used to be—how for weeks at a time her diet had consisted of nothing but canned beans and jerky. Jackson gave her everything that harsh winter had once stripped away. For all its shitty kids and boring mornings, she couldn’t deny the beauty in that.
“What’re you smiling at?” Joel asked softly.
Food, home, Joel, joke books. Scar or no, life was good here. Could be good here.
“Nothing,” she said, and he nodded, not needing an explanation.
They both knew she meant everything.