Chapter Text
Joel slips off a ladder and sprains his bad knee on Ellie’s 16th birthday. It had given him grief for over a decade after taking a targeted blow from a raider’s bat and it had just barely healed enough for him to walk on before they were moving again. Piling on age and the cross country milage, he should have known.
He caught himself on his good leg and the kitchen counter, ankle still hooked over the side. He leaned back and breathed into the searing pain reflexively while Tommy looked down from his place standing up next to the cabinet holding his end of the garland they’d pulled from storage to set up for her birthday dinner that evening. All he could do was shake his head.
Tommy had scrambled down to grab his arm and keep him steady quickly reaching for a chair to sit him down.
He was laid up for months, trying very pointedly not to be too grateful that Ellie had immediately refused Maria’s gift of getting her on the patrol schedule until he was recovered.
Except he didn’t. Not really.
Ellie starts on paired patrol 4 months before her 17th birthday, 3 weeks after he’s able to walk to the dining hall and back without his cane, and 6 days after Tommy tells him that he won’t be put back on the roster. The new kids are filling in spots left by the old guard, well-seasoned by this point, he says. Joel knows it’s because he still can’t ride and he’s actually as slow now as he thought he was years ago.
But, he can sit, and he can work a radio. He can talk some hot head or panicked kid out of a sticky situation from the musty old couch in the house closest to the gate that was used for office space and clearing new residents more than anything else.
Joel knew he couldn’t go out with Ellie like they always planned, but he wasn’t going to let her out there without him in her pocket. He knew better than to trust that shit would stop happening in a world full of it.
When Ellie went out, he set up shop in the living room with something to fiddle with and he waited. He waited anxiously by the radio for every shift she took, for years.
By the time she was 20 he had largely retired from his post, picking up shifts now and again just to get out of the house.
He’s playing cards with Eugene at the rickety old desk placed up against the wall in their makeshift office when the radio crackles to life with a burst of static.
“Houston, we have a problem,” Ellie’s voice comes through out of breath and with more interference than it should.
He drops his cards to grab the mouthpiece and he back of his neck prickles – she was on an easy route today. “This is Jackson. I hear you. Just one?”
The static crackles, “Joel?”
“What’s going on?”
Silence, “not much. What about you?”
“Ellie,” he chides.
Static. “I think we got it, actually.”
A faint, “Jesus fucking Christ, El – “ and “shut up, Jesse,” muffled by something comes over the speaker before she cuts out again.
“You sure?” Joel asks. “Might I remind you that bein’ a dumbass is against protocol and Maria’ll have you pulled quicker than – “
“Fuck,” she snaps. “Outpost 3 is overrun, we’re in the attic. But I know – “
The radio fumbles and if Joel weren’t so stuck on the fact that his kid was stuck in an attic in a house he can only imagine is full of infected if Ellie was using the term overrun, he might have rolled his eyes just listening to them squabble.
“We need backup,” Jesse says, “We could handle it, but there’s no need for the risk. We’re not injured and in a secure location. We can wait for help.”
“Asshole,” Ellie mutters in the background.
Joel sets the mouthpiece down and looks over to Eugene who’s already standing, “Get Tommy and Brian after ‘em. With an extra med kit and ammo, just in case. Have ‘em call in when they’re headin’ back.”
“You got it.”
Joel can feel the tension across his shoulders as he turns back to the radio, “That’s a good call, Jesse” he says “I got people headed your way. Hunker down and stay quiet. Shouldn’t be more than an hour.”
“Copy.” Jesse replies. “I’m turning the radio off to save battery while we wait.”
“Be careful,” he says.
He sets the radio down and sits back. His knee aches.
Joel picks up his chunk of wood and picks at it with his carving knife twice before putting it down. He looks over at the deck of cards, scattered across the desk and thinks about setting up solitaire. He pulls a book from his backpack and reads the same paragraph 4 times over before tossing it across the room so hard it leaves a crack in the drywall.
He is just as useless as he’s ever been.
He picks up the radio and turns it to the channel he knows Tommy must be on and stares at it. If he calls over just to ask something while they’re clearing the house, he could get them in more trouble. If he doesn’t then something could be wrong and he wouldn’t know.
If he does and something is wrong he wouldn’t be able to help anyway.
He’s rubbing idly at the tightness in his chest when Maria knocks on the door.
“Figured you might be alone in here having a panic attack,” she greets, “thought I’d join you.”
He grunts his response and she takes a seat on the old couch, elbow propped up on the back so she can face him.
“They’re fine.”
He nods.
“They can handle themselves. They made a safe decision.” She says, “They’re being smart.”
“Jesse made the call,” Joel says, shaking his head. “She wanted to – “ he sucks in another breath.
Maria chuckles, “I heard. I’m knocking her off the roster for 2 weeks. See if she’ll learn something.”
“I could wring her damn neck,” Joel says, “you should’a heard her. Tryin’ to talk him out of callin’ back up when they needed it.”
“She’s behaving like the muscle in that operation, that’s for sure,” Maria says. “We’ll see what Tommy says. If they were just being cautious – “
“They should always be cautious,” Joel interrupts. “How many fuckin’ times did she not call for backup? Thinkin’ she can do everything on her own. Putting her partner at risk over it?”
Maria sighs and reaches over to squeeze his shoulder, “Let’s just get the full story before wringin’ any necks. If it’s in order, I’ll take a number.”
He heaves a breath and looks over at the clock. It’s only been half an hour. Knowing Tommy, he and Brian should be coming up on them soon, if they hadn’t already. He looks back at the radio and Maria kicks his good ankle. “I need to practice my Spades before game night,” she says, firmly, “your brother is as sore a loser as there ever was and I cannot take the blame for that anymore.”