Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

The road unfurls before him like a sinuous ribbon of darkness. Joel's eyes are locked on its winding path, yet his vision transcends the mundane asphalt as he drives by instinct and intuition, his thoughts plunging into the turbulent waters of recent events. Time and again, he finds himself anchored to the memories of all that unfolded within the cold and hostile walls of the Salt Lake City hospital. Mere hours in time have passed, yet his actions have left scars within him that feel equal parts ancient and inescapably present.

He has a passing familiarity with the term "dissociation", knows it as a state of disconnection from the world in response to trauma, a severing of one's self to preserve the soul. But he questions whether his icy lucidity, the brutal force he had unleashed to defend Ellie's life, truly aligns with that concept. Perhaps instead, some kind of primal instinct had stirred within him: a chilling, calculated dance of synapses and survival.

And if it were indeed this primeval drive that had forged him into Ellie's guardian, how then should he see himself? Joel's thoughts drift to the grand tales of fairytale chivalry that, once upon a time, he had read to his daughter Sarah as she snuggled in her bed and reluctantly succumbed to sleep. Yet he's less a 'knight in shining armor' for Ellie than he is a battered partisan: a warrior cloaked in snug flannel and worn denim in place of gleaming plate mail, tarnished by the world and tempered by loss.

A wry ghost of a smile flickers across his face, there and gone in a moment like a candle's last breath. Levity is often a rare and fleeting visitor in his world, and Joel exhales a heavy sigh, wincing gingerly as the pain from his stitched wound gnaws at his side.

What the fuck does it matter, if I'm a dissociated avenger or a post-apocalyptic knight? His gaze is drawn for the thousandth time to the rearview mirror, where Ellie lies in the backseat, an ephemeral vision of serenity in her drug-induced slumber. Her boneless limbs and soft expression give him hope that she rests in complete obliviousness to the storm that had raged within him and the devastation left behind at the hospital that day. Despite a dwindling belief in God given all that's happened in the last twenty years, he nonetheless offers a brief, fervent prayer that Ellie has no sense of what he'd had been willing, wanting, needing to do that day to keep her safe.

Aching to reach out, to trace the curve of her cheek with a tender touch, he resists; the time is not ripe for her to awaken. Not yet. He must first spin a tapestry of deception, a tale so seamless that Ellie will find herself ensnared within its gossamer strands. It's within this web of lies that he seeks to shield her from the jagged edges of their fractured world. He just needs time to craft it well enough that Ellie will be willing, wanting, needing to believe.

The hours pass, shadows stretch like whispered secrets, and Ellie's quiet stirrings eventually awaken her from slumber. "What...?" she murmurs groggily, her voice a ghost of a thought as she peers around the car.

“It’s alright. You’re with me,” Joel responds, his voice a gentle balm to soothe her disorientation. "Take it slow. The drugs are still wearin’ off."

Her groan is a quiet storm as memories struggle to break through the medicinal fog. "I was with the Fireflies, and then… what drugs?"

“They were runnin’ some tests on you, and some others,” Joel explains, treading lightly over his untruths. “Turns out, there’s a whole lot more like you… people that are immune. Dozens of ‘em. And the doctors... they couldn’t make any of it work.”

Breathing deeply, his voice slips on a mask of feigned regret. "They've actually… they've stopped searchin' for a cure."

Through the rearview mirror, he monitors Ellie with deliberate, practiced steadiness, imploring her to trust him, even as his heart labors beneath the weight of deception. He remembers her impulsive joys—her awe at the sight of giraffes, the playful chaos of a ladder carelessly discarded as she spirited away to greet the majestic sight. But now, her impulsiveness stirs unease within him: the fear that she might act recklessly, try jumping from the speeding car or some similarly foolish thing, should she suspect his betrayal.

The Fireflies’ betrayal, he corrects himself bitterly. Marlene had cruelly instilled false hope in the girl, leading Ellie to believe that a few simple tests and a dash of mysterious medical sorcery would miraculously reveal a cure for the cordyceps outbreak.

As the echo of his words drifts between them, Ellie's expression shifts, a flicker of doubt crossing her features before crumpling with what reads as a palpable sense of unbearable loss. She had yearned to be a savior, made it clear to him that her mission to contribute to the cure had finally given her life a sense of purpose and meaning. But now the hope within her has unraveled at the seams, leaving her lost and adrift.

“Where are my clothes,” she inquires, words cutting through the silence like a blade, as she realizes that a thin hospital gown is the only armor she has to protect herself in this new, unfamiliar reality.

“Raiders attacked the hospital,” Joel replies, conviction steeling his voice. “I barely got you outta there. We’ll find you some new ones on the way.”

Ellie retreats into her thoughts, then ventures a quiet question. "Were people hurt?"

Joel's grip on the wheel tightens, his gaze fixed on the road. "Yes."

Ellie swallows as she bears the weight of this confession. “Is Marlene okay?”

A pause, heavy as a dying breath. He recalls the final words he had exchanged with Marlene before he had snuffed out her life under the stark lights of the desolate parking garage.

"You’d just come after her."

He cannot bear to add any further weight to the burden he sees settling itself on Ellie's shoulders. The wounds of his deceit already run too deep. "I'm taking us home." The redirection of his words hangs in the air like a shroud, far from the ray of hope he longs to offer to this precious girl who holds his heart in her hands.

Joel watches as Ellie receives his words without offering any response, then restlessly turns to lay on her side on the backseat, facing away from him. Was it a deliberate shift? His throat tightens, and his eyes burn. Please, kiddo, I need you to trust me again. I need you to believe in me. I need you…

Heaviness settles its solemn weight into the depths of his chest. He gazes at the back of her head, which had come so perilously close to being severed from her skull just hours before. Love for her permeates his skin like fungi in a forest, weaving its circuitry and roots deep down into his marrow. There was no other choice, baby girl. You are my purpose.

As the sun mellows into a tender embrace of amber, Joel whispers an apology into the silence.

Daylight burrows itself more deeply beneath the horizon, casting shadows like ink spilled across the forsaken road. Frustration tightens its grip on Joel's chest; he's yet to fulfill his promise of finding new clothes to replace Ellie's flimsy hospital gown. Silence ensnares them, suffocating and tense. Her words, laced with discomfort and vulnerability at her state of undress, reverberate within him, and he agonizes over her obvious unease.

If it comes down to it, I'll give her the clothes off my own back and wear the damn hospital gown myself, Joel resolves, determination fueling his foot on the gas pedal. He'll gladly swallow his pride and endure her relentless teasing if it would bring her a measure of comfort and peace.

Just then, a weathered vacancy sign beckons his attention, hinting at salvation. The thought of abandoned suitcases lingering within the crumbling motel are all the incentive he needs.

"Ellie?" he calls gently, careful not to startle her.

"Yeah?" Her voice emerges muffled, thick as honey, and he detects a stifled sniffle, a clearing of the throat.

She’s been crying, Joel realizes, his heart twisting as if ensnared in barbed wire. And I’ve been too deep in my fuckin' thoughts to comfort her. Christ... I hope you can find it in your heart to forgive me, Ellie. For everything.

“I’m gonna do a quick scout through this motel, see if I can find you some clothes. Maybe find a room we can hunker down in too, so we won’t have to sleep rough tonight. Sound good?”

Ellie jerks upright, her fingers trembling as they clutch at Joel's jacket. Her eyes, wide and fearful, implore him. "Joel, please don't... don't leave me behind."

He hastily pulls the car into the parking lot, unbuckles his seatbelt, and turns in his seat, reaching for her icy hands. He envelops them tenderly in his warm, calloused grip. Pressing her palms to his cheeks, he tries his best to convey solace and warmth.

"Shhh, Ellie. It's alright. Da- Joel's here, baby girl. You're safe. Promise I won't leave you."

Ellie's gaze darts around the car, her fingers skittish on his skin, offering little sign that his words have reached her. Joel closes his eyes, drawing on his strength and composure to instill a sense of calm in the distressed girl, even as his own insides churn with a potent blend of bewilderment and guilt.

I damn near called myself “Daddy”, like decades have evaporated in a heartbeat, and I’m tryin' to comfort my daughter after a bad dream. Joel keeps his breath slow and steady while his mind races. Sarah quit calling me Daddy when she was years younger than Ellie is now, right around the time she decided she was too grown up to be my “baby girl” anymore, too. But Ellie…

Joel opens his eyes and studies Ellie closely: her spirit in tatters, her vulnerability igniting a heartache in his chest.

“Ellie, you’re freezing. Take my jacket; wrap up in it and stay real close to me. We’ll give this place a good once-over to make sure it’s safe, then we'll find a place to rest. Alright?”

Ellie nods mutely, and Joel swiftly goes to her side. Together, they step into the twilight, the motel's crumbling facade looming before them like a forgotten sentinel. It stands as a testament to the world that once was, a time when travelers sought refuge within its walls, finding solace and respite from the weariness of the road. Now it’s nothing more than a hollow shell, its rooms haunted by whispered memories and fading ghosts.

As they traverse the grounds, Joel instinctively positions himself between Ellie and the unknown, vigilant for any hint of movement or danger. The wind sighs through broken windows, orchestrating an eerie symphony of shattered glass and rustling leaves. The courtyard, overtaken by encroaching vegetation, seems to swallow them, shadows deepening as daylight's final embers begin to fade.

Ellie clings to Joel's arm, her grip white-knuckled as they move cautiously from room to room, each one etched with the scars of abandonment and decay. The air is heavy with the scent of mold and damp, rotting walls weeping from the moisture that has seeped into their bones. They find remnants of lives once lived, possessions left behind telling fragmented stories of dreams interrupted and lives cut short. Ellie's eyes linger on a discarded stuffed animal, its button eyes clouded and vacant. The weight of loss hangs heavy in the lonesome quiet.

Despite the shadows and decay, the motel offers a reprieve from the dangers lurking beyond its walls, its desolation warding off both the infected and any squatters who might have sought refuge there. Together, they sift through remnants of the past. As they search, Joel feels Ellie's grip on him tighten, their connection solidifying with each step into the darkness. He catches glimpses of the strength and resilience that define her, still residing somewhere within despite all she's experienced and witnessed over these last few months. I may be her guardian, he thinks to himself, but there's no doubt she's my compass.

At last, they discover a room relatively untouched by chaos, a small sanctuary amid the desolation that provides a semblance of safety. Joel finds himself nearly shaking with relief when they uncover a long-forgotten suitcase seeming to belong to a teenaged girl; a time capsule brimming with memories, the garments within bearing silent witness to a life interrupted. Some items appear to be the right size for Ellie, and her eyes light up as she rifles through the garments, rummaging through the remnants of someone else's life. She selects a jacket, a flannel shirt, long-sleeved tee, jeans, undergarments, socks, and a pair of sneakers—each foraged piece a fragment in the intricate mosaic of survival.

As she dresses in privacy, Joel gathers extra blankets from nearby rooms, yearning to give Ellie a comfortable space where they can momentarily rest their weary bones. He then focuses his efforts on the motel's vending machines, shattering the glass with the butt of his gun and retrieving the few snacks remaining inside. It's not a feast, but it'll sustain them for now.

Upon returning, he raps gently on the door of their room. Ellie ushers him inside, and their eyes meet in the dim glow of a battery-powered lantern—another lucky find. Within her gaze, he discerns a blend of fortitude and fragility. He extends the snacks toward her, giving her first choice of the meager bounty. "Found what I could," he says, his voice a low rumble, a comforting note in the semi-darkness. "We'll make do."

Ellie accepts his offering, her fingers ghosting over his as she murmurs her thanks. She seats herself on the bed with her legs folded beneath her like the wings of an injured bird, a pensive expression casting a shadow across her face. The television, its screen dark and silent, mirrors the room's ghostly image on its glass.

"How're you holding up?" he asks gently, offering an invitation for her to unburden her thoughts.

Ellie looks up, her eyes glazed and distant. "I don't know," she murmurs, her voice quivering. "I keep feeling like something's off." She shakes her head, as if clearing away cobwebs. "It feels like there are pieces missing, things I'm supposed to remember, but they slip away when I try to grab onto them."

A pang of sorrow reverberates through Joel's heart, and he wonders if her intuition about the hospital fuels her unease. He reaches out, his strong fingers enfolding hers. "You've been through so much, kiddo. It's okay to be scared."

Her lips quiver, and she draws a deep breath, as though battling a deluge of emotions. "I'm not fucking scared. I'm just... tired, I guess."

She doesn't elaborate, but Joel understands that her exhaustion reaches far beyond the physical. The burdens of her past, the phantoms of her memories, and the weight of her failed mission at the hospital are all too heavy for her young shoulders to bear. He reaches out gently and enfolds her in his arms, a haven against the storms brewing within her. "You're safe now, I promise. I won't let anything happen to you."

For a fleeting moment, the room is hushed, save for the soft cadence of their breaths and the wind's mournful crescendo outside. Then Ellie speaks, her voice scarcely more than a whisper. "I wish I could believe you, Joel. I really fucking do."

She wishes she could believe me. Her words strike Joel like a sledgehammer—a deadening thud, a crushing blow. He resists the urge to envelop her deeper within his embrace, to let his ribs cleave open and swallow all her fears and distrust, burying them far beneath the surface so she never has to suffer their weight again.

But he knows he cannot shield her from every danger, cannot dispel every shadow that haunts her. Instead, he offers what little solace he can, his presence a steadfast pillar. Ellie leans into Joel, her body trembling with a mixture of cold and unspoken fears, while he holds her close, ceaselessly offering his support despite the fear and apprehension tumbling inside him.

Silence stretches between them, punctuated only by the faint susurrations of their breaths and the wind's relentless rustling. In this quietude, Joel observes Ellie as she absently bites her lower lip, her thoughts seemingly caught in a whirlwind of their own making. He fears the nagging doubt that appears to have taken root deep within her.

“Joel…” The singular word hangs heavily in the stillness, its tone a mixture of worry, curiosity, seeking, needing… knowing.

Ellie's eyes traverse the landscape of his face, seeking the hidden map of truth. "Joel," she asks pleadingly, "you said the Fireflies told you that none of it worked, that there was no hope for a cure after all. But what if they're wrong? What if there's something more we can do?"

A hush of trepidation unfolds as Joel's eyes meet Ellie's, their fears mirrored within pools of shared uncertainty. He suddenly finds himself yearning to tell her everything, to lay it all bare before her like fragile parchment. But a cold coil of apprehension tightens around his heart, its dread snaking through him and threatening to sever the connection that has become his very lifeline.

A few months back, Ellie had smiled at him when he reassured her of his persistence when it came to finding his brother, Tommy. Now, as she reflects that same indomitable spirit back at him, he knows that she not only deserves the truth, but she will chase it to the ends of the Earth if she has to, no matter the cost.

The world they dwell within seems permanently colored in shades of gray, where truths and untruths entwine; where people use lies by omission to protect what they value, and outright deceptions as means for survival. All at once, Joel knows he has to find the courage to be honest with her. He tenderly brushes an errant strand of hair behind her ear and sighs, the exhalation heavy with the weight of unspoken words.

"Ellie, we did what we had to do," he murmurs, the timbre of his voice quivering like the last leaves of autumn. A shake of the head. "No, that ain't right… I did what I had to do. Was all me and my own actions. And maybe you're right, maybe there's more options out there that would lead to a cure, but I can't change what's been done.”

Joel's words cascade and tumble in a waterfall rush, his heartache mirrored in Ellie's trembling frame. "Remember what I told you once? You keep going for family… and baby girl, you are my family. You’re more than that to me, you—”

“—lied to me, didn't you?” Ellie's voice cuts through his confession, her tremulous fear replaced by a torrent of fury. “Is that what you’re trying to say? All that shit you told me in the car, was any of it true? And you did what you had to do? What the fuck does that mean?”

Ellie's sudden vehemence catches Joel off guard, his heart twisting in a dance of guilt and sorrow. Witnessing the kaleidoscope of emotions flickering across her face, he realizes that the fortress he built around his actions and motivations is crumbling before him, but if their bond is to survive, she has to feel that she can trust in him to be honest with her, always.

"I lied to you, Ellie, and I’m sorry..." Joel’s voice goes ragged as a torn fingernail, seeming to catch on every word until it snags and rips, threatening to tear his confession from his throat. "I was afraid of losing you. Thought I was doin’ what was best for you, and I know it was selfish at the same time. I was trying to protect myself from the pain of losing someone I love..." he swallows and bows his head, "...again."

Ellie's eyes shimmer with the threat of tears, her face a tempest of pain and betrayal. Her voice is laced with venom as she speaks, each word a dagger aimed straight at Joel's heart. "So you kept me from making my own fucking choice, then you lied to my face, and all for what? So you could feel better about being a selfish asshole? So you could fucking pretend like everything was gonna be okay?"

Her whole body shakes, a futile attempt to quell the maelstrom within. "I fucking trusted you! I TRUSTED YOU!"

Joel's soul shatters under the weight of her words, the pain in her eyes a reflection of his own torment. He acknowledges the dark path that his fear of losing her had led him down. But there’s no going back now; all he can do is face the consequences of his actions and try to make amends.

"Ellie, I'm sorry," he utters, his voice a choked half-whisper tinged with sorrowful apology that skirts the edge of remorse. "I can't change it, and I can't deny that my actions were selfish."

He locks eyes with her, the memory of their last, poignant conversation surging forth, moments before the Fireflies had descended upon them outside the hospital.

“It wasn’t time that did it.”

Swallowing the knot of emotion lodged in his throat, he continues. “Baby girl, I love you, and I will do anything to protect you. Even if it means runnin’ the risk of you hating me forever. As long as you’re alive, that’s all that matters."

The fury in Ellie's eyes wanes, just a flicker, but Joel notices its fleeting retreat and seizes the opportunity to draw closer, physically and figuratively, desperate to bridge the chasm between them.

“This is the truth, Ellie. Marlene betrayed you today. Hell, for all we know, she's been betrayin' you from the start. She told you at the hospital that they’d put you under anesthesia and do what? Run some tests? Draw some blood or take some tissue samples, maybe? If any of that were true, why didn’t they wait 'til I woke up, wait ‘til you could see me for yourself and know that I was alright, before they rushed you into surgery? Thing is, they didn’t wanna give you the chance to ask questions, or wait 'til I regained consciousness in case I was gonna be your advocate and protector. Think about it: the Fireflies had been waitin' on us to show up for more'n six months, but they couldn’t even wait an hour longer before they got you on that operating table?”

Ellie's sidelong glance and troubled expression tell Joel that he's built a fragile bridge of understanding between them. He forges ahead.

“Ellie, those Firefly docs had no intention of keepin' you alive. Marlene told me their plan. They were gonna cut into your skull and biopsy your brain. The procedure was guaranteed to kill you. But she said she didn't tell you what was gonna happen so you wouldn't be scared. And I'm sure she also failed to mention that she was there in the room when your mother gave birth to you."

Ellie recoils at the mention of her mother, her body tensing as if jolted by a live current. A storm of sorrow and fury darkens her expression.

"Marlene told me, Ellie. She said your mama trusted her to take you from her arms, protect you, and keep you safe. But as soon as she found out you were useful to her, she betrayed the promise she made, and she betrayed you. Marlene was ready to kill you today just for the chance that her docs might find a cure somehow by cuttin' into your brain.”

Ellie bends at the waist and wraps her arms around herself, rocking on the edge of the bed, her voice keening like a wounded animal, a primal sound that pierces Joel's heart. He kneels before her, torn between the urge to console her and the knowledge that his unwanted touch may provoke further distress. He raises his gaze to Ellie's tear-streaked face.

“I'm givin' you my lifelong promise to protect you and do all I can to make sure nothin' bad ever happens to you ever again. And I don’t care if a single drop of your blood would save the whole goddamn world. Unless you’re given the all the facts and the absolute truth about what’s expected of you, and only if you give your complete consent, I’m not lettin' anyone treat you like your life don't matter. Because it does matter, and you matter. And not because somethin' inside you might be the key to a cure. You don't gotta be a goddamn thing more than exactly who you are, Ellie. You don't owe the world anything. You are never too much, and you're more than enough. And you will always be worth saving.”

Joel leans in, their foreheads tenderly brushing. The warmth and intimacy of their connection momentarily calms her trembling form.

“I've got you, baby girl. And if you’ll let me, I'll protect you for as long as I live.” His forehead presses against hers, an unwavering conviction resonating deep within his words. “And God help any motherfuckers who stand in my way.”