Archive of Our Own ^beta

After Silver Lake, Ellie doesn't speak.

Joel would've appreciated the silence when they first met. But after four months of nonstop meaningless chatter, the quiet unnerves him.

As they stumble away from the flames, he can't stop talking. He invites jabs about his old age, reminisces on every stupid memory from his childhood that comes to mind, describes the day he decided to grow out his mustache. Ellie shakes and clutches his jacket, her face as white as the snow and her eyes never settling in one place.

When she doesn't even groan at a terrible pun he stole from a twenty-year-old Christmas cracker, he gives up.

They stop at an abandoned ski lodge a few miles out from the resort. If it weren't for the snow, Joel could still see the smoke rising from the ashes of the lodge. Staying this close is risky, but no one will follow them for a few hours yet. The men he killed were the strongest of the group, the ones their leader trusted to take out a threat. The amount of blood splattered on Ellie's face suggests she took care of the rest.

Once they put the fire out, they'll come looking. If they leave at dawn, the snow should cover their tracks and they can put this entire mess behind them.

Ellie clings to his side while he checks the lodge. There's a dusty queen bed upstairs. Usually he'd avoid sleeping on the first floor, but the window leads out onto the extension's roof, so there's an escape route if they need it. Besides, he can only fight his infection for so long. They deserve one good night of sleep.

Ellie drifts off before he can clean up the blood. He's not sure how much of it belongs to her, but she doesn't seem close to bleeding out, so he swaddles her in a sleeping bag and leaves the tough conversation for tomorrow morning. He dozes off with her in his arms, half-conscious of how vulnerable they are.

He wakes up in the early hours of the morning to Ellie's screams.

She doesn't want to talk about it. He doesn't make her.

He cleans her up. The lump on her head tells him her unseeing stare is thanks to a nasty concussion. The way she panics when he asks to check if she broke her ribs tells him the dickhead who hurt her deserved worse than whatever Ellie did. The way she wrinkles her nose at the food he offers tells him she knows what they were using the bodies in the shed for.

He can't undo what happened, but he can help her heal.

When he suggests they head back to Jackson, she agrees.

The cycle repeats ten times. Her silence. His rambling. More silence, when he runs out of things to say and his stitches rub his skin raw. Encouraging her to eat food she can't even look at. Sleeping within arm's reach. Waking up a few hours later to screams caused by a nightmare she won't breathe a word about.

He doesn't tell her he's getting weaker. He blames his stumbles on invisible branches and his pained grunts on his aching knees and the snow.

He stops asking why she's so quiet, and she never mentions his side. They return to the same stilted, one-sided conversations from when they first met, their roles reversed.

When he hears the hooves five miles outside Jackson, he nearly collapses on the spot.

By some miracle, he makes it all the way to the fence before he does.

As soon as she sees the fence, Ellie turns to Joel. They can help him here, fix up her terrible stitches and give him the medicine he needs. But Joel isn't where he was a few seconds ago, and his horse is missing a rider.

'Joel?'

One of the other riders notices him lying face down in the snow at the same time she does. Ellie flies off her horse, desperate to drag him back to the land of the living.

In her haste, her new boots — two sizes too big, but at least not her blood-splattered Converse — catch on the stirrups. Her stomach whooshes, the snow rushes to meet her, and then there's only white.

'Shit!'

Tommy can only watch Ellie fall through the crack in the gate as it creaks open. The sight of Joel already on the ground a few feet away triggers chills from his spine to his fingers, and it's not from the eternal Wyoming winter.

Two of the patrollers — Susan and Ben — roll Joel over. His green shirt is half red. Tommy bites back the bile in the back of his throat as he squeezes through the gate, and before he can dare to think about the last time he saw his brother covered in his own blood, he drops to his knees next to Ellie. He gently runs a hand over her skull, checking for any blood or lumps, but it looks like the snow cushioned her fall.

'We need to take him to the clinic,' Susie says.

Someone shoots off toward Jackson's tiny hospital. Most of the doctors died in the initial outbreak while trying to cure the first Infected or their victims. FEDRA and the Fireflies snapped up the rest. But Jackson has two nurses and three paramedics, making it the best place to be injured on this side of the country.

The reminder isn't doing much to ease Tommy's rolling stomach. He scoops Ellie up and makes sure someone has the horses under control before stopping by Susie.

'Can you take him to Morgan?' He swallows, ripping his eyes from Joel's unmoving body. 'I'll take Ellie to Maria. She can stay with us until Joel's better.'

Susie nods, her dark bangs stuttering across her forehead. She's kind enough not to question Tommy's unwavering faith in Joel's survival, because if the fucker dies now after twenty years of miracle comebacks, he's gonna kill him.

Ellie stirs in his arms. 'It's alright,' he promises, stumbling toward home. 'You're both gonna be fine.'

Joel has no fucking clue what time it is. The only window in his hospital room is so small he doubts any light could sneak in even if it wasn't south facing. If the clock above the door is telling the truth, it's 6pm. Either he's been out for an hour, or a whole day.

His dry mouth and stiff limbs suggest the latter.

The past few weeks drift across his mind, lacking the accompanying panic the memories usually bring. Their streak of bad luck is over. He's in the hands of some hopefully capable doctors, and as soon as they discharge him, he can go back to his paternal role. It's time Ellie stopped looking after him, and he let her be a normal kid.

Jackson will keep them safe. Tommy and Maria will make sure they're okay. Ellie probably just stepped out to piss.

Dreaming of Sarah and Ellie scampering down a trail together, he slips back into the embrace of sleep.

It's been thirty-six hours since Ellie last slept. She sits on the spare bed in Maria and Tommy's house, burning the colourful butterfly mural into her memory so she doesn't drift off.

Every time she closes her eyes, she sees Joel collapse into the snow. She should've known he wasn't up to the hike. She should've insisted they rest. She should've carried his pack and kept watch so her nightmares wouldn't ruin his sleep.

He didn't sign up for any of this. He told her she wasn't his daughter. They were never supposed to meet. If him and Tess hadn't walked through that corridor at precisely the wrong time... she would still be alive. And Joel would've found Tommy a lot sooner.

Maria knocks twice and then sticks her head around the door without waiting for Ellie's response. She wants to point out there's no fucking point in knocking if she's gonna barge in anyway, but her mouth fills with glue.

'Tommy is going to meet us in the dining hall,' she says. 'Shall I meet you downstairs in five minutes?'

Joel noticed her recently acquired food problem. Joel hadn't asked. Joel figured it out on his own, without forcing the words out of her. They were eating people and if they closed that drawer, I would've eaten it and it smelt so good.

If her throat closes up around Joel, Tommy and Maria don't stand a chance.

She swallows and shakes her head. 'I just... I don't feel great. Can I stay here?'

Maria tilts her head. Her suspicious frown matches Captain Kwong's. It must be a universal adult thing; assuming they know which of two equally shitty options are best for her. Either she goes with Maria to dinner and freaks out in front of everyone, or...

'I'll bring you something back,' she says. A compromise. 'Try to get some sleep, Ellie.'

Maria watches her until she nods. What does she see? A broken little girl who still hasn't scrubbed the blood out of her hair? A feral child who nearly bit Tommy when she woke up in an unfamiliar room? A liability who she's only keeping alive because her brother-in-law is about to die?

The door closes with a soft click, leaving Ellie alone in the nursery once more. She waits thirty seconds before pressing her ear against the door. Dinner should give her a head start.

'How is she?' Tommy asks.

Maria purses her lips. 'Not great,' she answers, which is lawyer-speak for pretty fucking awful.

He sighs. 'Guess they didn't find the Fireflies after all.'

He dutifully yanks his boots on next to the front door. Maria hates when he tracks mud in, and she's even more of a germophobe now the baby's on the way. Since he's heading back to the clinic after dinner, he grabs his comfiest jacket.

'I don't know what happened to her out there,' Maria says slowly, in the way that means she's carefully choosing each word before letting the sentence escape her mouth. 'But that is a shell of the girl we met a few weeks ago.'

Tommy can't meet her eyes. He knows Maria isn't the biggest fan of his brother or the strange kid he's picked up, but he knows Joel would do anything to protect Ellie. Including, apparently, getting stabbed. Something must've gone seriously wrong for them to come back in this state.

'They're home now,' he says, projecting more confidence than he feels. It's how he got through Joel's last hospital stay; pretending he knows exactly how their story ends. Insisting on a happily ever after, even with his beloved niece dead and his brother bleeding from the temple and a broken heart. 'They'll be fine.'

'Have you considered what happens if everything isn't fine?' she counters. 'Nurse Ayers said Joel might not wake up. What happens to Ellie if he doesn't?'

He can't bear the thought. He zips up his coat, turning to face his wife. Her expression is pinched, one hand on her small bump. The implication is pretty obvious. They have a kid of their own on the way.

He shoves the front door open and the freezing air hits them immediately. 'They also said Joel has already pushed through the worst of the infection. Besides, you've never witnessed his stubbornness first hand. For Ellie, I'm pretty sure he would come back from a bullet to the head.'

'Tommy,' Maria chides, asking for him to be serious.

'If he... If, God forbid, he doesn't make it, then we'll look after her. She's my niece, for Chrissakes, and I won't let another one down.'

Maria doesn't look away. He told her what happened to Sarah the day he made the memorial, and then he told her about the death of the brother he used to know. She took every bad thing he's ever done in her stride, on one condition: he leave that behind him. And now Joel's back, and they both know he's the only man who could convince him to leave Jackson. Last time, he nearly did.

'Okay,' she says, squeezing his shoulder. 'I've never had a niece before. I'm not sure I'm trained in being an aunt.'

He laughs through the thick blood blocking his throat. 'I'm not sure I'm the one you want pointers from.'

She weaves her arm through his. 'I bet you're a brilliant uncle, the same way I'm a brilliant mom,' she says. 'I always wanted two kids.'

'Let's not call ourselves aunts and uncles until Joel figures his shit out.' Tommy manages a smile. 'Don't want to scare him off. Most emotionally stunted man I've ever met.'

Maria laughs, and they trudge toward the dining hall. His first act as a new uncle is gonna be sneaking a slice of blackberry crumble back to his niece.

The second time Joel fights his way to consciousness, there's a small hand clinging tightly to his.

'Ellie?' he croaks, trying to force his heavy eyelids open so he can check she's okay. She squeezes his hand tighter in response.

When he's blinked away the black spots in his vision — damn Jackson and their fluorescent lighting — he turns to get a good look at her. Her hair's still matted, her new shirt speckled in blood. He'd picked the chunks of brain and skull out her ponytail, but there weren't any bathing opportunities between Silver Lake and here.

A foggy, disused part of his brain informs him she should've showered by now. The part mashing memories of Sarah and Ellie's worst moments together is harder to ignore.

Ellie's expression never wavers from unmasked worry, even as blood blooms out of her stomach. He tries to warn her, to scream her name the way he cried for Sarah, but nothing escapes.

He brings her hand up to his mouth instead and kisses it.

'You stink,' he mumbles.

He thinks she might be crying when he drifts off again.

Ellie scrambles onto the nursery bed only a few minutes before Maria returns home, alone this time. She doesn't want to lie down in case she stains the sunny yellow sheets with blood, so she shoves her wet boots under her backpack and brings her knees up to her chest.

Maria takes a few minutes to face her. Ellie can barely look her in the eye. Eavesdropping is a pretty vital skill for surviving a FEDRA orphanage — especially at her size — but Ellie's never been great at hiding her emotions.

She heard what they said. Joel might not wake up. And Maria doesn't want to look after her when they have their own baby on the way.

She knocks without waiting again. Ellie bites her tongue, hoping she mistakes the melted snowflakes in her hair for blood. Maria holds out a bowl with a spoon poking out. 'Tommy wanted you to try the crumble.'

Ellie doesn't move to take it. Sitting up too fast still makes her head swoop, so at least she has a semblance of an excuse.

Maria places the bowl on the dresser by the door. 'I saved an actual meal for you downstairs, if you'd rather have something savoury.'

Ellie hugs her knees tighter. Maria sighs.

'Did you get any sleep?'

She shakes her head too fast, and Maria spins in a circle before settling back in the centre of her vision.

'Can I have a shower?' she asks. Making her voice small and pathetic doesn't require any effort.

Maria's face lights up like Ellie told her the secrets to the fucking universe. 'Of course. The bathroom is down the hall. The soap and shampoo is already in there. I'll find you a clean towel and some new clothes...'

She's off in a flurry, ushering Ellie into their pristine bathroom and thrusting a towel into her hands. She closes the door behind her, pointing out the bolt on the inside that Ellie slides shut.

Joel's right — she stinks. So she peels off her clothes and rinses her hair until the water runs clear. The heat makes her head swim, but her plan is half-formed already, and Joel once joked that all the best ideas come in the shower.

Armed with a new stick of deodorant and a fresh set of clothes, she's ready to tackle phase one of her new life.

Maria hovers at the top of the stairs for ten minutes after she returns to the nursery. Ellie ignores the creaking floorboards and inspects the crumble. It looks like fruit and smells amazing, so she forces it down, ignoring the way the blackberries burst like blood.

She hasn't kept down five meals since Silver Lake. Every bite makes her stomach flip, but she sits on the bed and breathes through her nose, counting the steady clink of her spoon against the bowl. The painted smiley sun in the corner of the room watches her. Hopefully, Charlotte-Or-Ethan-Depending-On-The-Gender thinks it's less creepy than she does.

Eventually, Maria comes in. She takes in Ellie's wet hair and the empty bowl and smiles. The naughty teenager, finally behaving herself.

'Tommy's gone to the clinic,' she says. 'They're playing Moulin Rouge, if you fancy watching another film.'

Ellie shakes her head.

'It's a romance, with lots of songs in.' Ellie doesn't reply. Maria sighs and moves to step out the room. 'Alright. Let me know if you need anything.'

'I want to see Joel,' she says.

Maria pauses, the same calm demeanour as the other hundred times she's repeated the same sentence. 'I know you're worried about him. But, as I've told you, the clinic has rules against children visiting.'

'Only for five minutes,' she pleads. 'I'll be really quick and quiet and I won't break anything, I swear.'

Maria steps out of the room. 'Go to sleep, Ellie.'

She stares at the back of the door, her last chance at bargaining her way to safety trudging down the stairs.

Time for phase one.

She can't risk sneaking into the clinic while Tommy's still there, and he'll stay until the nurses kick him out around eleven. That gives her a few hours to catch up on some much needed sleep, if she can convince her brain to shut down without the protection of Joel's arm wrapped around her shoulders.

She lies on top of the pristine duvet and shuts her eyes tight. Lying on her side with her knees curled up to her chest, she could pretend she's all the way back in her FEDRA dorm, Riley fast asleep across the room. She can dream of a different life; one where she met Joel earlier, and he stole her and Riley away long before anyone died.

Tommy shifts on the chair by Joel's bed. The plastic stopped being comfortable hours ago, about the time he ran out of things to say. He'll repeat them all when Joel can listen, but telling him about the day Maria told him her period was late and decorating the nursery and sneaking Ellie a bowl of Lisa's famous crumble twice is better than silence.

He won't repeat his pleas for Joel to wake up. His brother has always been the stronger of the two of them. Seeing him pale and covered in his own blood twenty years ago was enough of a fright for a lifetime. He better never pull this shit again. Tommy's heart can't bear it.

Morgan pokes their head around the door. 'Time for bed, Mr. Miller.'

He stands up. There's no arguing with them. Morgan may not be a doctor, but they're the closest thing anyone will find outside a QZ. The world ended three months before they got their doctorate, and they won't let anyone forget it.

'You'll let me know if anything changes,' he says, more of a demand than a question.

They roll their eyes. 'Of course. Shawn's working the night shift, and I trust him. Your brother will be fine.'

'That's not what you said this morning.' He glances back at Joel before following Morgan out into the hall. 'You said he might not wake up.'

'I did,' they agree. 'But then he woke up, asked about an Ellie, and promptly fell back asleep. The infection is responding very well to treatment, so if he continues to recover at this rate, I would consider discharging him in a few days.'

He briefly closes his eyes. 'Thank God.'

'He didn't have anything to do with it.' Morgan shrugs off their white coat by the door. They hemmed the bottom, presumably to stop a coat designed for someone a foot taller than them from trailing down the linoleum of the clinic floor. 'Who is Ellie, then?'

'She's Joel's...' He trails off, trying to find the right word. Ellie's a lot of things, and he knows Joel might not be ready to admit all of them so soon. After a minute of searching, he lands on, 'adopted daughter.'

Morgan nods. 'I'm sure I'll see her around at some point if the two of them choose to stay in Jackson. Give her the good news about her dad.'

Tommy thanks them, and they part ways at the clinic doors. If Ellie's awake, he'll tell her as soon as he gets home. The two of them are codependent little fuckers, and she'll love to know she'll be able to see Joel in a couple of days.

He daydreams about their happy little family as he walks across Jackson. His brother and niece across the street like he always wanted, even if it isn't the circumstances he imagined. His lovely wife, and their brilliant baby who can grow up in the safest place this cruel world offers. Ellie will love having a cousin, he can already tell.

When he walks to their front door, he sees the light in the nursery is out. Ellie must be asleep. That's fine — he can tell her in the morning.

There's a calloused hand squeezing his arm. A thumb brushing over a bruise.

'You wake up, you stubborn fucker,' Tommy says. 'Ellie needs you.'

Joel fights to open his eyes and loses.

It takes Tommy and Maria a long time to fall asleep. She listens to them murmur through the walls for a while, catching the odd word here and there, but not enough to tell what they're saying. She tosses and turns until they finally stop discussing how they're gonna get rid of her when Joel dies, and she quietly slips her shoes on.

Sneaking out of a FEDRA dorm was her and Riley's specialty. Sneaking out in Jackson is piss easy compared to that, and doesn't involve the added threat of a soldier hanging her if she's caught. She doesn't hear so much as a snuffle from Tommy and Maria's room, and not a soul in Jackson witnesses her pilgrimage to the clinic. She stops outside the window, waiting until she's sure there's no one but Joel inside.

Ellie turns her face up to the night sky, snowflakes melting on the tip of her nose. The stars aren't as bright here, but the moon still shines. To think people reached it, touched the beacon in the sky that has guided lost travelers home for centuries, still blows her mind. She'll always be grounded, waiting for the world to kill her.

When she's certain there's no one hovering by Joel's hospital bed, she shrugs off her backpack and leaves it in the snow. She cracks the frosted glass open an inch to double check the room is empty, and when she's satisfied, she swings it fully open and wiggles through the tiny gap before dropping into the warmth of the clinic.

Her boots leave muddy tracks on the pristinely mopped floor. It's enough evidence for a trained eye to twig what's going on, but none of Jackson's doctors have had to fend for themselves in years. They're too important to risk straying past the fence, apparently.

The plastic chair isn't where she left it, but she doesn't want to leave any more clues about her midnight adventure, so she perches on the edge of Joel's bed.

Her incompetence killed Riley, and Tess, and Sam, and Henry. And now Joel. Even though he's dying, he looks better than he did when she was trying to keep him alive. The universe has a point to make, and this time, she won't be stupid enough to ignore it.

'I'm sorry.' She squeezes his hand. 'Bye, Joel.'

Selfish and incompetent. That's what she is.

But if Joel's going to die, she won't stick around to watch.

There's a small hand holding his, pressing against his bloodied knuckles.

He searches for his voice. 'Ellie?'

There's a long creak and the smack of plastic hitting plastic, but no reply.

'Baby?'

No one answers.

The room is colder than before.

Ellie doesn't show her face for breakfast either. Tommy hates leaving their warm nest for the trip to the dining hall in the morning, so he traded with Julie a few doors down. A new coop, in exchange for a supply of her beloved chicken's eggs.

'D'ya think she likes scrambled eggs?' Tommy asks.

Maria kisses him on the cheek. 'You make the best scrambled eggs, my love.'

'Better than Lisa's?'

She rolls her eyes. 'No comment.'

He cracks an egg into the pan, grinning. 'We'll let Ellie decide. How 'bout you wake her up while I give her the best morning of her life?'

'So touchy about your breakfast foods.' She squeezes him on the arm as she passes by, and he catches her and twirls her around for a kiss.

'Good morning', he says, resting his forehead against hers.

She smiles and brings a hand up to the back of his neck, the other resting on her bump. Maria wanted to hold off telling the rest of Jackson for as long as possible, but they'll have to say something when people notice her showing.

'What's cooking, good looking?' she says, smiling up at him.

'Eggs, and either Ethan or Charlotte.'

She snorts and pulls away. 'And that's the moment ruined.'

'Which d'ya think it'll be?' he asks.

She tilts her head, idly stroking her stomach. 'Charlotte. A girl would be a fresh start.'

For her, a girl would be better than a reminder of Kevin. For him, a boy would be better than a reminder of Sarah. She may not have been his, but he's missed that girl every day for twenty years.

'Your eggs are burning,' she informs him.

'Shit,' he says, turning back to the stove. 'You might have to wake Ellie up to evacuate her from a burning building at this rate.'

She disappears around the corner, grinning at his cooking misfortune. He makes damn good eggs, but Lisa might have him beat this time.

He stirs his eggs, salvaging the burnt edges. He lowers the heat, pushing them around the pan until they're rubbery. He plates them up, tapping his fork against his plate while he waits for Maria to come back.

'Honey? The eggs are getting cold,' he calls up the stairs.

Maria thunders down a few seconds later, stopping on the bottom step. She presses a hand against her head, her eyes wide.

'What?' he asks, moving immediately to fight whatever danger has his unshakeable wife looking like this.

'Ellie,' she says. He stops in his tracks, his heart cracking his ribs. 'She's gone.'

When Joel opens his eyes the next morning, Maria is sitting in the plastic chair by his bed.

'I stopped your painkillers,' she says.

'No shit.' Every muscle in his body screeches for attention, and his vision blurs around the edges. He must've been in worse shape than he thought if they've had him on constant painkillers for a few days. Explains the weird dreams.

He scrubs his eyes and glances around the room, waiting for the black spots to fade. His mouth is drier than the Sahara and his head is giving him hell, but he can deal with pain. He's fought his way through worse injuries than this with only some dental floss and stolen whiskey; Jackson's clinic is a luxury they shouldn't have wasted on him.

It takes him longer than it should to realise Maria isn't here for a social call.

He sits up as much as the shitty hospital bed allows. There's a hundred possibilities racing through his mind, each one worse than the last. Is she here to tell him Tommy's dead? That those fuckers from Silver Lake followed them here? Or is she just here to take up his paranoid brother's watch while he sleeps?

'Tell me,' he says.

She crosses her arms. 'Only if you promise not to blame Tommy, or anyone else in Jackson.'

Is she trying to give him a heart attack? 'Unless they're tryin' to hurt someone I care about, I swear I won't hurt a hair on anyone's head.'

Someone I care about. There's only two candidates, and she wouldn't have woken him up for Tommy.

'Ellie,' he concludes.

Maria nods slowly. 'She disappeared.'

Her eyes flicker over to the heart monitor as the beeps double in frequency, but she has the good sense not to mention it.

'We don't know how. She was staying in our spare room. I checked in on her before we went to bed, and when we woke up...' She shakes her head, and he can see the genuine apology in her eyes. She's lost a kid before. She understands this panic. 'It's like she was never there.'

'Somethin' must've spooked her.' He's seen the unbridled panic in her eyes whenever something reminds then of the shit they went through. Rare meat, an unexpected gunshot, an unexplained noise. He was always there to rein her in, to remind her that no one will hurt her as long as he's close.

This time, he wasn't there to protect her.

'There's six search parties looking for her,' Maria says. 'Tommy's leading them. He asked me to tell you. They'll find her, Joel.'

'When did she run?' he asks. He taught Ellie to fight, but he also taught her to hide. If she doesn't want them to find her, they won't.

'Last night, we think.'

He frowns. 'But Ellie was here last night.'

Maria sits up, one hand holding her bump. 'What?'

'Not sure what time. It was dark.'

'How did she get in?'

He rubs his eyebrow. 'The door, I imagine?'

Maria stares at him for a few seconds. 'She's not allowed in,' she says slowly, as if she's explaining Jackson's stupid rules to a child. 'It's the clinic's policy. No minors in hospital rooms, unless they're a patient. Nurse Ayers wouldn't have let her in.'

He sags back into the bed and drags a hand down his face. Jackson may protect its residents from the outside world, but they sure as fuck haven't protected Ellie from the horrors of her own mind. If their roles were reversed... well, he would've taken the direct approach of barging his way in, and God help anyone who stood in his way. But Ellie's too smart for that. She must've been sneaking around for days without anyone noticing.

'You're sure it wasn't the medication making you imagine things?' Maria asks, her voice gentler than usual.

Joel sighs. The things he does for this girl. 'Probably was.'

Maria stands up. She'll want to check on Tommy. She can't be pleased about him tearing off after Ellie with his own kid on the way.

'They'll find her, Joel.' She leans over and squeezes his arm, the same way Tommy does. She must've picked up the habit from her new husband. 'I'll tell you as soon as there's any news.'

He thanks her and settles back into the bed, pulling the graying sheet further up his chest. Maria hesitates by the door, one hand resting on the handle, but she leaves without saying anything else.

Good. Comforting his idiot brother and his wife for losing Ellie is the last thing he wants to do. Tommy should've known separating them would be a terrible idea. Ellie only trusts him because Joel does. Staying in an unfamiliar house with strangers, unable to see the one living person she knows... he's surprised she held out this long.

He counts to a hundred before sitting up. The pain's manageable — certainly better than it was during the trip to Silver Lake the last time someone split them up — and an inspection under his hospital gown reveals a neatly bandaged wound with no signs of infection.

Perfect. He swings his legs out of bed and finds they hold him upright when he staggers to his feet.

The window resting ajar and the Ellie-sized boot prints on the floor tell him everything he needs to know.

First things first: he needs some clothes and a gun.

Ellie drags her feet through the snow. Her feet started aching a few miles back, and if Joel was here, she would've pestered him for a break already.

Stealing a horse was too risky. Early patrol or some overeager stable hand would notice it missing as soon as they woke up. Tommy and Maria, on the other hand, wouldn't worry about Joel's weird problem child until the late morning, or lunchtime if she's lucky.

She's never been the most athletic person. Back in Boston, Bethany spent years stealing her meals or sending her to the infirmary because she couldn't run laps as fast as everyone else. But her stupidly short legs aside, crossing the country with Joel has given her one advantage she never used to have: stamina.

She snuck out of the clinic around midnight, but the sun rose hours ago. The search parties may have horses, but she has a head start. They can't travel this far without stopping to let the horses rest, allowing her to always be one step ahead.

That's assuming they even sent search parties after her. Without Joel, why would Tommy and Maria care about her leaving?

She stops in front of a strange structure. A low stone wall, with a sign dangling from a wooden frame. She wipes the snow away with the sleeve of her coat. Grand Teton National Park.

The sky is as gray as clean cement, and the snow falls faster with every passing hour. The white flakes cover up her trail, but they also obscure the path she's been following all day.

There must be a building around here. She needs to find somewhere to sleep and shelter from the snow so she can wait for the worst of the storm to pass, and then she can continue north.

She marches through the white, shoving her gloved fingers under her armpits. This sweater isn't as warm as her old one. Her teeth chatter so loudly she's sure they could hear her all the way back in Jackson.

There shouldn't be any Infected in this weather, but they aren't the most dangerous creatures out here.

The world feels a lot colder when she's by herself.

Tommy catches him at the stables.

'Maria said you were lookin' for her,' says Joel before he can ask what he's doing out of the clinic.

He puts down the bucket of water he's carrying. Their first conversation since the last time he left Jackson, and it's about to be an argument. 'It's good to see you on your feet. Even if you shouldn't be.'

'You know I couldn't just sit there.' Joel gives him the same desperate look that convinced him to look after Ellie last time. 'She could be in danger. What if she's already—' He chokes on the idea, not ready to think about the possibility he's lost a second daughter.

Tommy sighs. Joel, God love him, has always been Joel. Even before Sarah died, he always got his way. Teacher's pet, mommy's favourite. Big bastard. He knows he can't say no to his big brother.

He claps Joel on the shoulder. 'Please go back to the clinic. Half of Jackson's out looking for her. I only came back to direct a new group.'

Joel offers him a consolation smile for trying. Tommy's never been capable of talking sense into him, and don't they both know it. The only thing Tommy's ever got Joel to do is pick him up from jail and stop him from killing himself.

'I appreciate that. I do. But they won't find her.'

Tommy sighs and lets go of his shoulder. It was worth a shot. 'Take Sunfeet. He's temperamental, but he's rested. He'll get you wherever you want to go.'

The horse is blonde and stocky, one of the ones they'd found on a recent supply expedition. They have to go further and further out these days, but they'd found him with his former owner still strapped to his back, long dead. If he doesn't spook at that, then he'll survive whatever shitstorm Joel is about to ride into.

'Sunfeet?' Joel asks.

Tommy shrugs. 'The kids name 'em.'

He helps to saddle him up, making sure Joel has everything he needs for the journey. He hands over his rifle, ignoring the way Joel winces when he swings it over his shoulder.

'Try not to die,' he says, stroking Sunfeet's mane as Joel mounts him.

'We'll be back in no time,' he says.

Tommy watches him ride out. Their patrols are switching out every few hours, so he'll be out in the snow to have Joel's back soon enough.

He can picture the blood on Joel's temple as easily as if they'd been in that army camp yesterday. If Ellie's dead? He doubts there's anything he could say to talk Joel down this time.

Sunfeet, despite the ridiculous name and shitty attitude, moves quickly. His first thought is to ride west, to see if she's attempted to find the Fireflies by herself. But if she headed to a city, there's a high chance she's already dead. He clings to the hope that if she's upset, she wasn't thinking straight.

He rides north instead. One of the few things that had elicited a response from Ellie when she'd been nearly catatonic after Silver Lake was the assurance that there aren't many Infected this far north. There aren't enough people for it to be a pandemic hotspot, and Cordyceps isn't a fan of the colder conditions. If she'd panicked and ran, then she would've gone the direction she felt safest — the route away from civilisation.

An hour into his search, another patrol group nearly shoot him. After he introduces himself, they admit they haven't found much. A few footprints here and there, but no trail they can follow thanks to the snow. He thanks them through gritted teeth and continues on his way. He's faster on his own anyway.

The wind picks up, blowing snow in his face. He pulls his scarf up to his nose. At least the snow numbs the pain in his side.

He hates to think how cold Ellie might be out here all by herself.

'I'm comin', baby girl,' he says to himself. 'I'll bring you home.'

Hiking is miserable without Joel. There's no one to groan at her puns, no one to roll his eyes at her attempts to pass the time.

Worst of all, there's no one to stop her tumbling into the river.

One second the snow holds firm beneath her feet, and the next she's sliding. She digs her nails into the ground, scrabbling for purchase, but her gloves rake through the powder like it's air.

The snow muffles the frantic 'fuck!' that rips its way out of her mouth. She thrashes and fights and screams, but nothing slows her descent. There's no one close enough to hear her howls.

She plunges into the freezing water with no warning. The cold shocks her lungs into a gasp, and the river flows into her mouth and down her throat.

Fuck her stupid plan. Fuck FEDRA for not teaching her how to swim. Fuck Joel for dying and leaving her alone in the world all over again.

Not that she's going to last very long. She flails her arms, choking on the freezing water. Somehow, she propels herself up enough for her head to surface, and she heaves in a huge breath.

She screams and then sobs a few times as she tries to keep her head above water. The river yanks her along, tugging her in dizzying circles and bashing her knees and elbows against hidden rocks as she kicks them desperately.

She's tired. She can't swim. What's the point in fighting when she knows she can't win? What's the point in struggling to stay alive when everyone she cares about ends up dead?

The thought of the cure crosses her mind, and the idea of Marlene finding her bloated, waterlogged corpse makes her choke on a watery laugh. So much for their stupid Firefly agenda. It's their fault for pairing her up with Joel in the first place.

There's a flicker of movement on the bank. Ellie tries to scream again but the water rushes in instead, reducing her cry for help into desperate, gargled nonsense.

A figure riding a horse emerges through the white bushes. The water and her tears blur her vision, but she would recognise his voice anywhere.

'Ellie?' Joel yells. He leaps off the horse, staggering further down the bank than she'd judge safe, and pushes through the snowdrifts to keep up with her. 'Grab hold of something!'

'Joel,' she cries. A new bout of tears shoot to her eyes, carried away by the river.

'I'm here, baby girl,' he calls back. 'I need you to grab onto something so I can get you out, okay?'

With a reason to fight again, she focuses on the cold ball of panic in the pit of her stomach and focuses. The underwater rocks have shredded her knees, but there must be one poking out somewhere...

There. She pushes towards it with all her might, kicking wildly and stretching her frozen arms out as far as she can. Her fingers brush the stone, but they're numb from the freezing water and refuse to cling on. She swears as she slips past it, one of her gloves flying off, still hurtling down the river.

'You can do it,' Joel yells. She can hear the terror in his voice. 'Come on, baby girl. You're so close!'

She reaches out again, to a branch this time. She angles her body towards the wood and slams into it with the full force of the river, crying out when the bark slices into her arms.

A rope splashes a few feet from her. She grabs it before it can slip away, wrapping it tightly around her wrists.

'I'm gonna pull you in,' Joel says. 'You ready?'

She makes an affirmative noise, and Joel reels her in. There's no graceful way to crawl out of the river, but a joint effort of dragging her out ends with them both on their knees in the snow.

Joel pulls her into an all-consuming hug. She sobs into his arms, holding him tight around his midriff even though her arms don't stretch the whole way around.

'Never do that again,' he says, fierce and terrified.

'I thought you were dead,' she sobs. 'Tommy said you wouldn't wake up.'

He pulls back a few inches so he can look her in the eyes, bringing his gloved hands up to cup her face. 'I'm alive. See? We're both alive. We're okay.'

They're five miles away from Jackson when Ben spots a lone blonde horse galloping towards them. Tommy thinks Joel's alone until he slows Sunfeet into a trot and he spots Ellie's arms wrapped around his torso.

'That's them,' he calls to the other riders. He slides off his horse and races over to meet them, desperate to make sure they're both okay.

'She's freezing,' says Joel immediately. 'Fell into the river. I tried to keep her talkin', but she isn't even shivering.'

'Fuck.' Ellie looks as pale as the snow, her clothes and backpack soaking wet. She's missing a glove, and her lips are blue. Joel's wrapped her up in his coat, and Tommy doesn't hesitate to sacrifice his to keep her a little warmer until they can get back. He'd rather she didn't lose a few fingers or toes to hypothermia while he she was in his care.

'How far out are we?' Joel asks.

'In this weather, about forty minutes,' Tommy answers. 'Go. I'll catch you up.'

Joel doesn't wait for further instructions. He races off, trusting Tommy and the rest of the patrol to follow them back home.

He shakes his head, clambering back onto his own horse. There's never a boring day with those two around, he'll give them that.

Let them get back safe. Let them both be fine. And let there never be a repeat of today.

He watches Ellie's eyes flutter open, blinking against the bright lights of the clinic. She's bundled up in every blanket the hospital can spare and there's a space heater on full blast at the bottom of her bed.

That grumpy nurse said she'd be fine. He doesn't know what he's gonna do if she's not.

'Joel?' she says.

He squeezes her hand. 'I'm here.'

'Are you gonna die?'

'No.' He swallows around the lump in his throat. All of this, and she's worried about him. 'You saved me, remember?'

She blinks at the ceiling tiles a few times.

He smooths a few loose strands of hair off her forehead. 'Get some sleep, baby girl. I'll be right here when you wake up.'

She rolls onto her side and tugs him toward the bed. He obliges, shuffling her across until they're both comfortable and she's nestled in the crook of his arm.

'Thank you,' she mumbles, burrowing her head back under the blanket before he can see her blush.

He holds her tighter, never wanting to let her go again. 'I love you too, kiddo.'