Work Text:
Rage.
Desperation.
Vengeance .
It’s all jumbled up inside her head, so much so, that she can’t even process what she’s doing. Her body moves. Her arms go up and down at a steady pace, hitting something. Something hard, solid. Something that gets softer and softer each time her limbs move.
She’s hot, burning actually. She feels the sweat all over her body. Her clothes sticking to her as she sways up and down. But there’s something sticky on her face, something her brain knows is not sweat, but she can’t pinpoint exactly what it could be.
There’s too much smoke to see anything. From where exactly, she’s not sure, but it’s all around her. It makes it harder to breathe, and she knows she should get out, but she can’t . Not yet. There’s something she needs to finish first.
What? She’s not exactly sure. She just trusts her body will be smart enough to let her know. It seems thought of, her movements that is. Like a dance she had rehearsed inside her brain without her even noticing.
But then, she hears it. Screaming. Not coming from outside, not even from another room. From her. Her throat hurts and she wonders if she’ll even be able to speak after all is done. But she finds herself not really caring.
Her body will know when to stop, she’s sure of it. And if it doesn’t? Well, she’ll just pass out right then and there, let the smoke or the fire take her. What’s she got to lose?
It all comes back then. Flashes of steel bars, chopped off limbs, butcher knives and unwanted touches. She’s fighting for her life. For her right to get out and walk free from hell. For safety. For Joel.
Joel .
Her movements slow down. She’s starting to regain consciousness. She’s starting to see what she’s doing. Arms up and down, up and down on something. Someone.
David .
The root of all future nightmares, she’s sure. So sure of himself, so egotistical, so manic, so wrong . But oh so right . Violent heart he said? Well, he got one thing right for sure. When it comes to it, she can be violent. As violent as they come. A split open and chopped off head is proof enough.
She breathes, and then she breathes once again. The cleaver falls to the floor, so does the man’s small pieces of brain. Her hand lands on the floor and she feels something cool against it, she grabs it. She then stands up, not caring what she steps on. What’s it matter anymore?
She walks and walks until she reaches the door. The keys sit tightly on her hand, and without a second glance, she steps out. Cold air hits her face. She can breathe again. She can see again. She can feel again.
Agony.
Defeat.
Loss .
She’s caught up on her inner turmoil, not even taking in her surroundings. It’s all too much. Everything is too scary, too dangerous. Nothing makes sense. What is she supposed to do now? Who is she now? What has she become?
She’s screaming again. Someone got a hold of her shoulder, turning her around. She’s going to die. Does it matter anymore? Is there anything left for her?
Joel.
“Hey, Ellie- Ellie, it’s me.” Who? What? “It’s me .” It's Joel. It's safety. It’s comfort. It’s warmth. It’s love .
“He-” she babbles nonsense. It’s all she can do as she stares into his eyes. “He- that man-” She can’t talk. What is there to say? What is there to explain? She’s got neither the strength nor the will to talk.
Her body moves on her own once again. But this time, her violent heart disappears. She doesn’t know if it hid right when she stepped out of that hell, or when Joel came into view. All she knows is that her brain is screaming at her.
‘ Joel. Joel. Joel. Joel. Save me. Save me. Joel. Please. Don’t leave me. Don’t leave me. Please. Joel.’
His body is solid against her. His warmth surrounds her, grounds her. His hands pull her into safety. His hold is secure but soft. Everything she didn’t know she needed.
“It’s okay. It’s okay. I’m here baby girl.” His voice on her ear soothes her anxious mind. He’s alive. He’s everything she’s got, and he’s alive.
Suddenly, her body isn’t cold anymore, but she doesn’t dare find out why. She stares right into his hazel eyes, she can’t stop. Not now. Not when she’s got him right there . She can’t lose him now, and if she loses sight of him, she just might.
But then she’s standing up, a solid hold on her shoulders keeping her close to him at all times. And then they walk. Minutes, hours, maybe even days. She can’t say. She doesn’t care, really. As long as that warmth is right beside her, she couldn’t care less.
Before she knows it, she’s sitting down, a constant warm feeling on her face, but a loss of the one that matters the most at her side.
Alone.
Desperate.
Dying.
Joel .
“Hey, hey. I’m right here, I’m right here.” Big hands on her, warming up her oh so cold fingers. “Yeah, yeah, it’s me. It’s me.” Caresses on her hands. Whispered words in her ear. Delicate touches and warm water on her skin. Bandages on her cuts, careful fingers on her wounds, tender hands on her face.
As she lies on the ground with something solid holding her, she breathes. She's safe. She’s loved. She’s home.
……………..
Her body is freezing, no matter the fire, the blankets, his jacket or his embrace. She trembles with what he guesses is a mix between coldness and pure shock. His hand doesn’t stop caressing her arm, the back of her head, her face. He needs her close, she does too.
Laying down on the floor, her head on his chest, her hand gripping his shirt tightly, her ragged breath against his neck, he finally has a chance to process what happened to him and what might’ve happened to her.
He hasn’t gotten a single word out of her, no matter how many times he’s tried. She looked lost in her own thoughts, unable to escape. She walked mindlessly beside him all the way there, eyes glued to the snow crunching under their feet.
He held her up as steadily as he could, knowing that the moment his hold on her disappeared, she’d simply fall to the ground. She was pale, to anyone else, a dead girl walking. To him, a completely shattered little girl in need of comfort.
He found them shelter, made a fire, melted some snow, gave her some of the water to drink and cleaned her face and hands with the rest. By the end, the bucket was filled with red liquid, someone else’s blood mixed with hers floating around. He stared and stared, wondering what the hell could’ve happened for her to end up this way.
“You need to eat, baby girl. Come on.” No luck. No matter how many times he asked, she wouldn’t even open up her mouth. He tried over and over again, getting to a point where he thought of simply forcing her to eat, but scrapping the idea as soon as the thought of her choking came to mind.
He found countless small bruises and cuts on her face and hands, not wasting a second before taking care of them. Clean, disinfect, cover and repeat. No word was spoken except for his quiet ‘ May I? ’ right before even touching her, her slight nod was enough for him.
He took care of her to the best of his abilities. No matter how little they had, how bad he might need those provisions as well, Ellie comes first. She always has and always will.
She shifts in her sleep. Mumbling incoherent words repeatedly. He knows what she's feeling, what’s going through her head. He knows how difficult traumatic events are to overcome, and even though they haven’t gone through the same situations, the outcome is the same. Nightmares.
He knows that’s what’s ahead of her. Every time she closes her eyes. Every time her mind wanders. Every time a word, an action or even a sound might remind her of what happened. He wishes he could carry her burden. He’d take every single bad part of her and suffer on her behalf.
“No- get off-” she trembles in his arms, her hands grasping his shirt tighter and tighter. “Don’t. No.” His hand touches her face and that’s when the screaming starts. “Get off of me! Don’t touch me!” Tossing and turning, slapping and punching with little to no force, she gets away from his embrace.
“Ellie. It’s me. It’s me. ” He doesn’t dare to touch her again, getting on his knees as she moves away, frenzied. “Ellie. Kiddo. Look at me, please .” Her eyes move crazily all over the room, never settling in one spot. “Hey.” He gets closer, his hands slightly raised in front of him. “Kiddo, calm down.” Her breathing picks up. “Listen to me, breathe.” He’s right in front of her when he stops. “Look at me, you are okay.” He sounds desperate, and that’s because he is. This fear, this intense panic at someone getting even close to her, is frightening. “It’s me. It’s me baby girl, you are safe.” Somehow, those words do the trick, and her eyes finally meet his.
“I-” her voice is raspy and too low for his right ear to catch.
“Can I?” She stares at him for way too long before nodding, but without another word, he takes the countless strands of hair falling on her face, placing them behind her ears, leaving both his hands grasping the sides of her face. “You are safe, do you hear me?” She keeps staring with glassy eyes, nodding. “No one’s going to come for you. They can’t hurt you anymore.”
“But he-” she starts to hyperventilate once again. “I see-” her gaze falls to the ground as her hands grab his arms tightly. “I see him.” Him ? Who the hell is him ? “I feel him.” His heart starts beating louder and louder in his own ears. “His- his hands.” Her hold on him tightens. “His- his breath .” He can feel the venom and disgust in her words, which makes his blood boil.
“Did he-?” He can’t even pronounce the words. He feels sick even thinking about it. She’s smart though, she catches on pretty quick. The second her eyes meet his, tears streaming down her face, his heart shatters.
“He wanted to.” She sniffs softly. He tries to keep his tears at bay. “He tried to.”
“Oh, baby girl.” Before he has a chance to pull her into a hug, she throws herself at his arms. She cries, mumbles, sobs, tries to breathe through it all. He doesn’t let go. “It’s okay, baby. You are okay. You are safe.” He’ll make damn sure of that.