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Joel heaves Ellie back up into his arms, knees creaking, back aching, and tries not to think about the heat coming off her. Her skin, where it’s exposed, is covered in a fine sheen of sweat, and her breathing is thin and labored.
Ellie's gonna be ok. She's gonna be ok. She's gonna be ok. Joel keeps repeating to himself as he moves, he clings to the words like a lifeline thrown out in the crashing waters of the ocean to a drowning man. Because he is drowning, if he can’t save her, there's nothing in the world that would save him. She's gonna be ok. She's gonna be ok. She's gonna be ok.
The gates of Jackson rise up in front of him, and he nearly collapses with relief, but he knows he has to keep going for her. His feet stumble on a root, and he falls to his knees. He has to throw a hand out to catch himself, his other arm clutching desperately to Ellie. He is just barely able to keep her against his chest, but the jolt of their landing causes a pained moan to escape Ellie's throat. He soothes her as best he can with mumbled words while trying to gain back his feet.
"It's gonna be okay, baby girl, we're almost home." His voice is rough and broken, and his eyes are barely able to keep open. They had been walking for two days now.
They had been out on day two of their four-day patrol when Ellie started showing signs of sickness. Ellie had tried arguing that they should continue on, but Joel put his foot down, sighting the patrol rules stating if a patrolman was sick or injured, they must return to town immediately. It had just been sheer bad luck that when they had made to turn back to town, a group of infected happened upon them, spooking the horses and leaving them to track back on foot once they’d dispatched the small group. Joel knew the horses would make their way back to Jackson, but it left him and Ellie at an impasse.
Should they stay at the nearest lookout until someone finds the horses and comes out to find them, or should they just head back on foot? They had camping gear they could safely stay out a few nights, Ellie finally made the choice against Joel’s better judgment to push on.
By nightfall, Joel was kicking himself for letting her talk him into it. Her fever was high enough that she was shivering uncontrollably under all her layers, and her eyes were dull with the heartache she complained of. They set up camp and slept for a few fitful hours before Ellie could sleep no more. They cleaned up and started moving again, Ellie’s grip tight on her riffle head tucked down inside the coat of her jacket. The late falls in Wyoming got cold fast, and Joel could already feel the first nibblings of winter in the morning air. By midday, Joel knew they should have stayed at the checkpoint, but it was too late now, they had to keep pushing. By evening, Ellie was barely coherent, she spoke to herself and jumped at every shadow. They sat down for an hour to get some water in her, and Joel tried to encourage her to eat, but she just threw up everything he gave her. He pressed a cold compress to her neck with shaky hands and prayed to a god he no longer believed in that she would be okay.
When they started moving again, Ellie could barely walk. Joel finally convinced her to ride on his back, and they trekked closer to Jackson at a much-delayed pace. They stopped once more when Joel could feel Ellie trembling so hard on his back he thought she might break apart. He swore when he pulled her down and could see that her skin was pale and clammy. “Shit, Ellie baby, ya can’t do this to me. We are gonna get you back.” He had hefted her into his arms, leaving his and her packs buried under a pile of leaves. All he carried was his rifle on his back, a canteen in a sling to try and keep her hydrated, and his baby girl in his arms.
He was not gonna lose her.
On his knees in the dirt, Jackson’s wall looming in the distance, Ellie’s still, small body against his chest, Joel pushes himself up, desperation so old it went back twenty-some-odd years the only thing keeping him moving, he is not going to lose another daughter.
When he hears the hoofbeats and sees the face of his brother, he weeps, babbling to him, holding Ellie out in supplication. Tommy comes forward, taking Ellie into his arms and leaving Joel to the other two patrol men to wrangle on a horse. Tommy is already away, Ellie held tight to his chest as he gallops towards the gate.
Joel comes after as fast as his exhausted body can move. By the time he is finally inside the gates and at the clinic, Ellie is already inside, doctors hovering around her, outer clothing pulled away as they gently submerge her in a cooling bath. Joel stumbles to her side, reaching for her limp hand in the water.
“Joel, brother, c’mon. She’s gonna be ok, we gotta let the doctors work,” Tommy's hands are warm and steading on Joel's shoulder, and he lets his brother pull him away but only far enough so as not to get in the way.
—
Tommy brings him clean clothing and a thermos of hickory root coffee, knowing that Joel will not be sleeping until Ellie is safely in the clear. Hours pass, and Joel helps the doctors get Ellie out of the bath once her temperature has come down enough to have her out of danger. He gently comforts her when she awakens, confused and frightened, in wet clothing, memories of a winter four years past still plaguing her nightmares. He shoos the doctors away, and he and Tommy help dry her and clothe her in comfortable, warm sweats, so big on her petite frame she swims in them.
Tommy calls the doctors back, and they get her hooked up to an IV of fluids. A nurse hands him a cup and two small pills to help with her pain and the fever, and he helps her hold the cup to her lips so she can swallow them. Once that’s done, Tommy and the doctors leave, and Ellie makes grabby motions for him. He happily climbs into the bed with her, and she presses herself against his side and over his chest, her ear to his heart.
“What happened, Joel?” She asks, her voice weak.
“You got sick, kiddo.” His hand rubs up and down her spine, the bones still far too prominent for his comfort.
“I know that, but how did we get back?” Her hands clutch to his chest, and her face presses against the soft flannel of his shirt.
“We walked, and then I carried you.” He says, placing a soft kiss on her head as his other hand cards carefully through her knotted hair.
“That had to have been miles, Joel, how could you have managed that?” Her body loosens by his side, and he knows that she won’t be able to stay awake much longer.
“Doesn’t matter how far I have to go, baby girl, I’m always gonna be able to carry ya. Nothing on this earth could stop me from gettin' ya home safe and sound.” He has to cough to clear the tightness in his throat, and then he lays his cheek against the top of her head, and he rumbles. “I got you, baby. Go to sleep, I got you.”
Ellie sighs, and they drift off together, warm and safe in each other's embrace, father and daughter.