Archive of Our Own

Joel's completely alone. Not in the metaphorical sense or the melodramatic sense, he's alone. So, desperately alone.

He finds not another human soul for miles. Only the bloody sounds of whining and groaning.

Gun in hand, he keeps walking far, far away from where he once was. He doesn't look back, he can’t look back. Once he looks back he'll yearn. If he yearns he will feel.

He'll feel too much. So it's better not to feel at all.

A few bullets bury themselves in flesh as he walks away from a place he screams to call home. His heart tugs on his sleeve, begging him to go back. He never planned to leave. He was going to stay here with those he loved.

He was going to grow up and marry her. He was going to grow up and invite him to their first drinks. He was going to grow up.

And they won't.

He couldn’t protect them.

Dammit, DAMMIT. He's starting to feel. He can't, he can't.

Focus on the dirt, focus on the blood, focus on the way she begged him to stay, how she knew she was dead, how it should’ve been him inst—

NO!

The sidewalk is cracked and the buildings burn. Corpses litter the interior as zombies graze on the flesh like gazelles. Joel minds his own business and he keeps walking.

His feet hurt, it's been too long. He used to sit all day. He used to spend hours writing up a resume, figuring out how to intricately hide his flaws; how to prove he was worth something, to prove he was the best.

Now he spends hours walking. Hours killing people he passed on the street. Killing those who taught him, talked with him, and told him everything would be okay.

The silence is loud, he finds. It's not something he noticed before. Loud is loud. Jimmy is loud, Grian is loud, he is loud. They scream so loud like dying in a game would be the end.

Without them, It's louder.

No. No. Not again.

Where is he going?

What is he doing?

Is it worth it?

No one to live for.

No one around.

No one to mourn him.

No one to care.

No one.

The concrete wall hits his shoulder as he feels exhaustion take a toll. The world crumbles around him, asking him why he runs, why can't he be happy to be alive? You're alive, it says.

I survived, he responds.

It's quiet again. He hears whining and groaning, he hears fire crackling, he hears the silence… he hears rushing water.

Water?

Water!

His hands drag over the concrete as his feet move to their own will. Water! Water! Water!

Look, Joel! You did it! You found water! You'll live! You'll live! You can survive!

His peripheral vision notices he made it to the river; it was the one that drove through the centre of this city. One that cut the trees in half and called to Joel.

His weak bones slide down the rocky terrain into the valley. The closer he gets the bigger the river becomes. It's enormous. He'd never been down here before, not a single soul was allowed to touch the greenery down here.

Surreality daggered into his mind as squirrels and woodpeckers lived harmoniously, untouched by the living dead.

He feels his cheeks stretch uncomfortably in a dearly missed smile.

He tumbles down to the river bed and reaches for the water. It seeps into his wounds and the sting feels blissful. The pain is kind and the pain is a blessing.

He drinks the water and he sobs. He sobs at the cool blessed water seeping into his veins and comforts him. He drinks the water, he couldn’t care less if it was dirty, he would live.

Tears run down his face and joins Mother Nature in her embrace. He quickly tosses away his clothes, not caring about safety, he needs the comfort.

He shivers in pleasure as he sinks into the water. He smiles under the waves, letting his body sink down as his hair floats around him. He feels the dirt and blood slowly drift off of his body.

He breaks the surface for air, looking up at the bright blue sky as each drop traces his locks. The air hits his bare chest and the clouds move gracefully across the atmosphere, untouched by the undead. It's a sanctuary… someplace so untouched, so… free.

The cliffs he had stumbled down were tall enough to block out the city, each tree had been protected by the old government, not a single fire or corpse in sight.

The clouds drift along and the sun continues its cycle. Joel stays there, naked in the river, staring at the sky as water pushes rocks and sand past his ankles.

Nearly a full sun cycle passes before Joel snaps out of it, pulling himself out of the water. His hands shake so hard he can barely grapple his clothes back onto his body. They stick to his skin uncomfortably to his wet skin.

His fingers twitch and his body shakes. His toes are purple and his hands bright red. He sniffles, looking around for a place to pitch his tent.

His head begins to spin as the sky washes over in grey. The green washes into monotone. Two shadows stretch to his feet, crawling up his leg, "Boo!"

"Aah!" He shouts, eyes blurring over. The world moves too quickly but she stands still.

She laughs at him, "Gotcha!"

His body freezes over and he hits the dirt before he can grasp what's happening, "You need to pay more attention." She says sarcastically, "One of these days I'm not going to be around and you'll scare yourself off a cliff!"

As the world fades to black her face stays bright.

Jimmy dies that night, bashed in the skull as he falls over, draining head bouncing on the dirt. Joel opens his eyes to Jimmy's killer towering above him.

He stands there and stares at Joel, smile twisting as he jumps at him. Joel’s heart leaps into his throat as his slippery hands fumbled with his gun, pulling the trigger, "Oh snap!" The killer exclaims.

Joel didn't hold the gun properly and missed, hitting the dirt by the killer's feet, "Hey! Calm down! I'm here to help!"

Joel holds the gun more steadily this time but for some reason, his hands still shake, "Why did you kill him!?" He screams. He's ready to pull the trigger again.

Itch… sneeze. His shot buries itself in a tree trunk and Joel's head begins to swirl. The killer sprints towards him and Joel seizes up, "Don’t come bloomy near me!"

His arms feel too heavy to bring up the gun again. His body feels too heavy in general… the world moves once again, and the bat cracks against his skull.

He wakes up alone. He's always alone, he's been alone for a while now, but it felt like an eternity since it was just him.

His head still swirls but he can read his surroundings. A grey tent. Light peaks through the loose zipper as he's wrapped in a sleeping bag. He faintly wonders where all this stuff came from.

He shoves off the too-warm polyester and unzips the tent. A towel falls off of his forehead, he acknowledges it briefly and it begins to dawn on him how weird this is. He looks around the tent to find nothing but a bowl of water and a towel. He takes the towel and walks out.

Joel finds his backpack resting against a tree and he scurries to it. Gun, where's his gun!? He shovels through it before he hears someone clear their throat behind him.

He whips his head around, holding the towel in front of him in defence. The stranger leans against a tree, and they chuckle. Joel throws the towel as hard as he can and the stranger watches it flop on the ground like a pathetic suffocating fish.

The stranger pushes themself off the tree and raises both hands in the air, letting their loose jacket sleeves fall down to his elbows revealing badly wrapped bandages, "I'm not here to hurt you."

"This is your stuff?" He finds his words are slightly slurred as his head pulsates. The stranger nods.

"My name is Etho. Etho Slab." They say softly as if approaching a wild animal, "I've been treating your fever. You've been out uhh… two days?"

He's taken aback by that, "What? Why?" They should’ve killed him by now, "What are your pronouns?"

Etho chuckles, "He, him."

"Cool. Leave." To that, Etho burst out laughing. Joel looked at him irritated, almost offended, "If you're just gonna ridicule me hurry up and bloody leave!"

"Listen, man, I know you're mad at me," His eyes shift around a bit before holding stern eye contact with Joel, "I mean no harm."

Joel continues to stare at him in confusion, "Where's my gun?"

"It’s…" He hesitates, "I don't want you to kill me." His shoulders tense.

"Fine, I won’t kill you, where is my gun?" He tries.

"Your fever is a lot worse today than it was yesterday, I don’t recommend you stay up for that long."

"And trust you?" Joel snarls.

"You have for the past two days."

Joel rolls his eyes, "Whatever, where is my gun?" Etho drops his arms and Joel raises his fists, causing Etho to raise his arms again.

They stand in a stalemate for a while, neither of them saying anything as the fever-ridden man holds his guard up, "What do you want from me?"

"To stay here, Treat your fever."

"That’s a lie and you know it."

Etho sighs and puts his arms down, not particularly bothered by the distrust anymore, "You can believe that, I can’t stop you." He walks forward and picks up the towel, slinging it over his shoulder and going into Joel's tent.

When Etho ducks out of sight Joel doesn't waste time dwelling on what just happened, instead rummaging through the other tent located opposite of his own. He finds Etho's belongings, but no sign of his own weapons.

He digs through a hiking backpack and a bedroll, finding nothing but practical supplies, some trinkets, and a rope, none of which were going to help him once Etho cracked the bat against his skull.

Etho must have all of his weapons on him, which, okay smart, but inconvenient for Joel. He groaned, what did he have to gain by not just killing him in his sleep!? He doesn't get it.

Something metallic taps the back of his head and Joel spins around, smacking it away as hard as he could. It tumbles against the grass, and Joel lunges onto his feet, "What the heck are you doing!?"

"Water," Etho says, causing Joel to glance at the small canteen of water rolling on the grass, "You haven't drank anything in two days."

Etho sighs and leans down to pick up the canteen.

Lights flash in his mind as he recognizes the back of a killer, he reaches for his gun— He swipes at his jeans. Etho stands up and he turns around, handing the water to Joel once again.

Water. It's water. You want to live. You'll live. You want to live. Take the water.

He takes it slowly and never turns his back to the strange man. He opens up the cap and sniffs the water, nose twitching at the distinct smell, "Honey? Where the heck did you find honey?"

Etho shrugs and sits down on a log by his campfire, pulling out a lighter and creating a small controlled fire.

Standing there awkwardly Joel begins to feel the condition of his body. His head feels like shit and his throat is hoarse with phlegm, there's a weird twinge in his joints as he wiggles his fingers around. He comes to a slow realisation that he is, in fact, extremely sick.

Without rest, Joel would likely slowly burn himself out until some straggler feeds on his flesh as he's too weak to fight back.

He sips the canteen slowly and grimaces at the taste of lukewarm honey water. It helps– somewhat –it hurts to swallow but he knows from experience that this would eventually heal his throat.

He sits down on the other side of the fire and watches Etho. His body feels like shit but there are some more important matters at hand. Etho doesn’t seem to want him dead, but what does he want? An ally? No that's not a possibility, help from him? Allies are liabilities, they'll… they all die anyway.

He swallows his saliva and winces at the pain in his throat, "I can boil the water if you want." Etho pipes up briefly.

Joel looks at him suspiciously, but Etho is patient. He tosses the canteen over. He catches it with ease and tosses it into the fire.

"What the heck."

"What?"

Joel looks at him like he just killed Joel's grandmother, "Have you never boiled something over fire? Ever?" He continued not letting Etho answer, "If you put it into the fire, not only do you ruin the canteen but you also smoke everything inside. You can create toxic gases!" He scolds, "Get it out of the fire."

"Yes, ma'am." He chuckles softly, pulling out a machete from his sheath and slowly tapping the canteen out of the fire.

Joel sighs, "So what do you want from me?"

Etho glances up at Joel and raises his brow at the question. He raises his brows back and Etho glances at the ground then the fire, "You have a fever, you should go rest."

"You need to come up with a more clever way of avoiding questions."

"Uh-huh." Etho doesn’t answer it anyway… telling.

The red metal cools back into the black of charred stupidity, "I'm not drinking that." Joel couldn't find any justification for why he would drink a murderer's murder water.

"Where's my gun?" Joel asked one last time, watching Etho avoid his gaze and poke the fire with a machete. Sighing dramatically he pushed himself to his feet.

A couple coughs surfaced as Joel thought of what to do. It wasn't safe here but Etho had his weapons– double unsafe –but he's not leaving without them. That's a death wish.

Swiping his sleeping bag from his tent as well as backpack, Joel headed into the woods.

The light dims into blue, filtering the bright sunlight into a cooler shade. The birds chirp quieter and Joel finds himself wanting to go back to the camp— No.

He's not going back to the camp. He's not doing that. He has the bat. He'll die.

Don't let emotions cloud your judgement.

She's right, he probably just craves companionship. Joel can't do that. Joel pushes away his desires and focuses on his needs.

What does he need? Food, he needs food. How can he hunt without his weapons? He glances back at Etho who stomps out his fire.

Joel shakes his head. His stomach whines at the thought of food, rejecting its very concept.

Next best thing? Sleep. Sleep away the hunger. He's just woken up but he's tired, sweaty, hungry, aching and needs sleep. Moving his rusty creaking joints, Joel lays down on a poorly laid sleeping bag and closes his eyes.

It feels like an eternity trying to force himself to sleep. He counts sheep, thinks of comforting things but nothing helps.

He opens his eyes again to find the void darkness and the ever-looming feeling of faux-reality.

Huh.

"Waiting for the tide to roll… back in." She smiles, walking towards Joel in the void. Her face shifts between dimensions hiding from Joel as he can only read the white smudge across her body as a grin.

Why are you here?

Sound doesn't come out but she shifts. She heard him, "It’s just another…"

What?

"...little piece of ocean trash… not you. Just a little ghost I keep around."

The dimensions merge and her body's clearer. She wears a soft blue dress that flows in the breeze, "Funny shadow always hanging out."

The void opens up into a sunflower field, stretching farther than he could see. He looks over at her and he realises she's been singing, "Your voice is beautiful."

The melody slows down and halts, "So is yours." She turned towards the flowers and plucked a petal, "I wish I got to hear more of it."

Joel frowns as everything around him begins to rot. All the flowers began to wilt down, browning and eventually they die. She turns her head to Joel and laughs, "They're my favourite."

Her skin began to wilt down, browning, and eventually she d—

Joel darts upwards. Sandpaper drags through his throat and his body gags on the violence of it all. He throws himself to the side and feels his stomach push a great amount of nothing he's eaten out of his throat. He gags painfully while saliva trails down his sweat-drenched chin.

A hand makes its way onto his back and pats lightly. A familiar canteen of water is set down in front of him and Joel snatches it, drinking it like the starving man he is.

The water pushes the emptiness back into his stomach and Joel's left panting, clutching his throat to release the pain.

"I've gotten you medicine. These… should help. Take these with food." Joel glances up to see that bloomy guy again!

Etho holds out some sort of packaged snack and a pill, "Don’t try to poison me."

Etho shakes his head, pushing it towards him and insisting, "I'm not. I'm here to help."

Joel bites the inside of his cheek and he resists the urge to nibble, his arms are weak from hunger and his lungs reach in agony. Frankly, he gives up.

He props himself up against a tree and rips open the snack. He takes a pill and sticks it into the soft jelly of the snack. It's gone in seconds.

It doesn't soothe the hunger in his stomach and Joel comes to the realisation he really needs to find a meal, "You have more of that?" He asks Etho, who's been kneeling there this whole time with concern written on his face. The man shakes his head.

"I haven't eaten since I found you. I can't fish." He sheepishly admits, shifting the fishing rod in his backpack away from view.

"3 days? What has it been? 4?"

"Still 3 days." Etho clarifies, "It’s just evening now."

Okay. Either this guy was really stupid or has the appetite of a rock.

"Etho, was it?" Joel asks, "I need to eat more– more than this. How about you give me my weapons, continue being useful, so that I don’t blow your head off, eat, and you just… kill me later?"

"I'm not gonna kill you, man."

"Joel. It's Joel." The Joel in question raises his hand to shake, "Deal?"

Etho stares at his hand, his own fingers twitching. Eyes soften and Etho speaks—

* * *

"Are you sure you know what you're doing?"

"You dare doubt me?" Joel laughed, pointing a pistol at the horse.

"We can’t eat that."

They sit in an open field next to a rather pathetic-looking horse, frail and skinny, abandoned by its owner. Joel wanted it dead, it was so close anyway, "I know that." He shoves the pistol back into his pocket, "There should be some game out here."

Etho looked at Joel questioningly but followed him anyway. Joel walks ahead of Etho by a couple metres, eyes scowering the grass for a rabbit, squirrel, or maybe even a chicken would be nice.

The stupid horse lowers its body to the ground and continues to look pathetic, "Do you have something longer? Like a sniper?"

Etho rummages through his backpack and pulls out a knife, "No."

"Give me the knife," Joel demanded.

"What? Why?"

"I'm not going to stab you." Joel scoffs. Etho hesitantly hands over the weapon and Joel twirls it around his fingers, "Hyah-!" He lunges at Etho who jumps back with a loud yelp.

"Whuh– What was that for!?" Etho pulls out his machete. Joel sat there and watched Etho with a shit-eating grin.

"Just checking your reflexes." Joel turned away from Etho and walked slowly, "Not that bad."

Etho grumbles, "You–" His voice wavers as he attempts to find a suitable insult, settling on nothing.

Joel huffs out a laugh, "If I'm not to your liking, feel free to leave." Etho glares at him with his mismatched eyes before giving up and once again keeps his distance from Joel.

Joel continues to make his way through the tall grass, heading straight to the forest border.

These trees were tall, impressively tall. Tall, skinny, white… woah, just like Etho. Joel chuckled to himself as they traversed the Etho Woods.

"I didn't know there was a birch forest so close to the city."

"Stop small-talking me you birch tree." Really it was a bad idea to talk while hunting in general, but this time Joel genuinely wanted Etho to shut the bloody hell up.

Etho does as he's told though Joel can just feel a frown coming from behind him.

"Drop your stuff here." Joel holds his gun tightly within his grasp as his backpack slides off his shoulders. Etho doesn’t question him verbally but he stands there unmoving, "If you want to hunt with that oversized maraca, be my guest."

Joel continues on without waiting for his unnecessary companion. Despite the faint sounds of wildlife, each tree lined up in rows, the stench of human labour was strong.

To his credit, Joel doesn't notice Etho following him at first, only realising when he walked next to him, awkwardly shifting his eyes around… Jimmy was like that.

He tore his eyes away from Etho and kept his eyes trained on their surroundings, "Shh…" He hushes. Etho gives him a look but understands when the sound of rustling fills their ears. A small bunny hops out of the woods with blood-stained fur. Joel shifts to hide behind one of the trees; it didn’t really hide him but it did what it had to.

The bunny’s nose twitched in the air as its eyes glossed. He recognized the look on its face as pain. A small soundless sigh escaped his throat as Joel lifted his pistol and put it out of its misery.

Joel walks over to the corpse and pokes at its body, he checks for signs of infection or decay, finding nothing but the blood of a different animal on its fur, Joel grabs it by the ears and walks back towards their stuff. He grabs his backpack and puts his gun away, “C’mon Etho, that’ll be enough for today.” He turns back to check on Etho only to be met by nothing.

He glances around and Etho hasn’t moved from his spot, his entire body is still and Joel could swear he stopped breathing, “What is it?” He resists the urge to roll his eyes and leave. He doesn’t know why he’s resisting it, he can just go… ugh, “C’mon, Etho, spit it out.”

Etho makes a small motion and beckons Joel back over. With a sigh he complies, hand on his gun he stands next to the lanky stem of a man. Etho’s eyes glance down at Joel briefly before he points at the blood trail, “The rabbit isn’t bleeding, is it?” He asks.

“Of course, it’s bleeding, I bloody shot it.” Joel lifts the kill to Etho’s eyes.

“Before that.” Etho rubs his temples and pushes forward towards the blood trail, “There might be other people nearby.” Etho’s voice is laced with what Joel can only imagine to be hope. Joel bites his lip and shakes his head.

“No way.” He’s had enough other people to last him a lifetime, “I don’t want anything to do with that.”

“It’s better we find them before they find us.” Oh. Maybe he was wrong? What was Etho expecting? If it’s caution he can get behind that.

“Fine.” Joel scoffs, “But if it goes to hell, I’m out.” It was very likely. He couldn’t see running into other people going well in the slightest. People never have good intentions; not in this world.

Etho follows the blood trail and Joel keeps the distance, he needed for a head start once Etho died.

The trail of blood was sparse but visible enough for them to follow it. The longer they followed it the more fur pricked his palm, the bigger the lump grew in his throat, the more his hands shook. His heart sank lower as his vision of Etho’s back began to blur, something bad was going to happen. He knew it. Something was going to go horribly wrong. Wrong. Wrong. Wrong.

His threads of reality began to fray as his body swayed, her body leaned on the trees as her skin decayed, Joel’s foot dragged on the blood coming from his skull. They were around and they were angry.

He looked around the fog of delirium trying to reach towards something real. The corpses. They’re real. He drags each appendage painstakingly through the sharp blades as his blood joins that of theirs. Her rotting eyes rolled towards him. Sheets of skin move as she mouths something. What? What is she saying? He cried. Please! Please talk to me!

Please! Please talk to me!

Joel!

Joel, talk to me!

“Joel! Are you okay!?”

“Joel?!”

Etho kneels beside him for the second time today and offers a hand. There’s little hesitation to reciprocate as the other pulls Joel to his feet. She’s still behind him, and so his eyes stay trained on Etho’s face. Etho’s eyes flutter around, “What were you looking for?”

“Nothing.”

“...”

Etho holds onto Joel’s arm softly and he can’t find it in himself to mind, he needed to ground himself and boy, was his fingers skinny… uncannily skinny. Etho glances around, with an expression Joel can’t read he begins to tug them both away from the blood trail, “Your fever’s getting worse, let’s go back.”

* * *

The rabbit tastes… okay. He’s unsure if it's the meat or Etho’s fault for such a… mediocre taste. It’s not inedible by any means; Joel ate his portion so fast he almost threw it back up. Etho was still eating as they sat next to the campfire, “I’m assuming you didn’t cook much.”

Etho looks up at Joel, raising an eyebrow, “You’re talking to me?”

“Who else?” Joel scoffed, drinking from a thoroughly cleaned canteen, “You cook like a toddler.”

A small huff escaped the other as he turned away from Joel to take a bite of the rabbit; hiding his face from view. A gulp later Etho nods slowly, “Yeah, my roommates usually did the cooking.”

Joel hums. It’s quiet and he's left with his thoughts as Etho awkwardly eats beside him. The fire is warm and so is the company; no matter how awkward. He had to admit it was nice to have a living, breathing human sitting next to him rather than the emptiness of the past few weeks. Etho was strange—he didn’t think that’s gonna change—but Etho was useful. He glanced at the pale flagpole who was only now finishing his portion, “You don’t want to kill me?”

Etho glances up with that complicated gaze and hums, “Yeah. I don’t want to kill you.”

‘Why not? I have some good stuff.’ or ‘You want to stick by me of all people?’ flashes in his mind before he grits his teeth, “Okay.”

That was that. They ate, they ignored each other and then slept. They slept. Yes, sleep, what a thing indeed. Laying in his tent with a cold towel on his forehead Joel watched small raindrops fall onto the polyester of his tent, slowly trailing down towards the ground.

It's a funny thing, really, when you're too weak to do anything other than lie down; the thoughts creep in. He'll never get used to it. It makes his fingers go numb and his head ache. It makes it hard to breathe and it makes his heart beat erratically, “Lizzie.” He can’t help it.

She sits by his feet and fiddles absentmindedly, “I’m sorry. I…” He bites the inside of his cheek before removing the sleeping bag from around himself. Joel stepped out into the rain of the evening, she followed behind him wrapping her arms around him slowly as he couldn’t muster the strength to look.

It becomes hard to breathe as he explores the woods behind his tent, searching through foliage and the damp feeling of hopelessness for a suitable stone. He finds it, eventually. It’s a heavy, smooth rock with dimples scattered on its speckle-patterned surface. He stares at it for a moment, wondering.

Will this do?

No. No. This wouldn’t do at all.

They won’t forgive him, who is he kidding, they don’t want anything from a failure like him.

He grabs the rock lifting it into his embrace, the weight is kind of comforting. The soil is kind of nice. He grabs a smaller, sharper stone, slamming it against the tough exterior of the rock, chipping away small indents. It wasn’t precise, it wasn’t readable, but eventually, it spelled out ‘Jimmy & Elizabeth Shadow, siblings, girlfriend, best friends.’

He opens his eyes to Etho standing over him, holding two fish by their tails like a proud father. Joel glances around blearily at the soil, to the rock with a mass of indents; had he attacked a rock? Then back at his unwelcome companion, “What?” His voice is dry and scraggly, though the other doesn’t seem to care.

“I learned how to fish.” Etho seems proud of himself, dropping his arms to his side and then making it back to the camp that sat a few feet behind Joel’s dreary form, “It was a little difficult, but I'm a quick learner.”

He brushes off his pants and stands up, walking towards the camp where Etho had set up, “That doesn't seem possible.” He spat.

Falling down with a thump on the small log, Joel eyes the fish and his mouth waters, Etho looks like he's smirking, not that he can tell under that infuriating black mask, “Why?” It slips out.

Etho raises an eyebrow and Joel sputters, “The—well, never mind. I couldn't care less.” He grumbles.

“It’s for comfort.”

“Huh?” Joel looks back at Etho. Etho's eyes were averted as he continued to spin the fish around, cooking them thoroughly. Silence stretches on as Joel waits for elaboration.

“You know, it's like a blanket… but on my face.” Etho's eyes soften, “My friend used to always carry his blanket around, even if it was childish. So why shouldn't I?”

Joel squints, “Just pass the bloody fish.” Changing the subject, Joel grabs a piece of fish and bites down into the meal. Etho rolls his eyes, grabbing his portion and eating as well.

The world is quiet once again as Joel is stuck with this odd companion. His body feels weak, but not weak enough to faint, he's safe and has someone… not unfriendly, here with him.

He wonders.

“What are you doing out here?” Joel asks, eyes trained on Etho with a serious expression. The man quickly pulls up his mask and glances at Joel.

“That’s a tough one, pass?” He laughs nervously. Joel scoffs and the other tenses, “I don’t know how to answer that!”

It strikes him odd how passionate Etho sounded, everything about the other has been cut and dry, mysterious and infuriating.

“I'm alive and I found someone else that's alive! You don’t seem that bad and I just—man, I just need to stay near someone or I'm going to go insane.” Raw emotions dripping off his tongue he turns away and bites the fish.

The fish in Joel's hands lay forgotten.

“Yeah.” It’s all Joel can really say, yeah. It's a kind of epiphany, ‘eureka’ if you might. The birds chirp and the fire burns a little quieter, “You didn't have to take care of me.”

“I wanted to.” Etho says firmly, “For me, I needed to.”

Joel chuckles, surprising himself, “That’s great.” Picking up the fish again, Joel freezes. There's a faint sound of crunching, a second passes and it multiplies.

“How fast can you unmake a tent?” Joel asks, getting up and stuffing the piece of fish into a roll of tissue. Dropping it in his backpack he didn’t wait for Etho. He pulls out the pins and folds the tent as quickly as he can—too slow—Etho's stomping out the fire behind them, throwing his pack around his back and unsheathing his machete.

Joel glances around hurriedly as the sound gets louder, “Put that—thing away! Hold the tents.” He throws the folded polyester in his direction and Joel finally comes face-to-face with the sheer number they're facing.

It's a horde— well, obviously! Fucking run you idiot! Joel shoves Etho in the other direction, screaming incoherent words. He holds his gun up and shoots at them, aiming for vitals.

“Joel, JUST RUN!” A yank knocks the breath out of Joel as he stumbles backwards. Etho holds him up by his forearm, barely keeping him from the raging river and them. The ledge is thin between wet, rushing death and the dark forest, suddenly seeming oh so much more intimidating.

He finally stumbles back onto his feet and he takes stock. They're going to be outrun eventually—at least Joel is—the only way he can see is the river—shit, uh–!

Etho suddenly stops and makes a sharp turn, “What are you doing!?” Joel exclaims.

“Follow me!” He yells. He hesitates for a moment only to be met with the spine-chilling feeling of rotting bone.

A shriek erupts from his mouth as he quickly bolts after Etho. Different amalgamations of limbs reach out for him trying to drag him down to the pits of hell. Etho carries a deathly tree, dragging it along. Grabbing the other side, Joel heaves it onto their shoulders, “RUN! RUN! RUN!” He bellows.

The fragile twigs and stiff branches stab and tear at the living dead as the two blast past them. Each step burns under their feet as they leave a trail of fire in their wake. They shoot into the air as cliffs skim past Joel’s plummeting form in both milliseconds and decades.

The water slams into them with the force to tear off his skin, it chokes him out as he holds onto the tree with all his might. Darkness is interrupted by occasional stinging as the dirty river seeks to destroy his wake.

“Joel!” A gargled shout comes from nearby as Joel wrenches his eyelids open—Etho’s slipping—mindlessness infiltrates his brain as the impulses take over. His fingers grip the other’s wrist so tightly he swore he could hear a unique ‘snap!’

The rushing water is so loud his head could burst, but the piercing shrill of an agonizing scream erupts from Etho at that moment makes Joel’s heart stop. He pulls Etho fully towards himself with a strength unknown to previous as everything processes too fast but not quickly enough. They’re approaching a shore. The river will push them away. Etho’s hurt. They can’t survive on the water for that long. Out. Out. Out. SURVIVE!

“Hold on tightly!” He orders, feeling Etho’s limbs choke his body tightly, Joel climbs onto the haggard tree and leaps. His body collides with something sharp and everything fizzes. The pure rush of adrenaline forces Joel’s body up into a half-hazard seat as he watches their old ride splinter and crack as it crashes into a large boulder; pieces washing away never to be seen again.

…………..fwomp.

Puffs of sand erupt from his body as he collapses, drawing coughs from both Joel and his companion. Speaking of which, Joel turns to the man and attempts to focus through his skull-splitting headache. Etho’s left hand sits limply by his side, bloodied, purple and horribly swollen as he digs through his backpack, “Holy shit. Bloody hell man!” Joel pushes himself in a half-walk-half-scoot towards the other and hovers his hands over Etho’s—what he suspects to be—dislocated wrist.

Etho hisses, “It’s fine, it doesn’t hurt as much.” He draws his bad hand away from Joel, pulling out soaking ace bandages from his bag and half-hazardly wrapping them around his wrist.

“Once the adrenaline dissipates you’ll be crying.” Joel warns, eyes trailing to all of Etho’s miss-wrapped bandages, “Right— well—” On one hand he could honestly not care less… but he could care less, as much as he’d hate to admit it. Etho’s hand is going to heal the wrong way just like how all his cuts and bruises haven’t faded since they’d met, none of them healed correctly and look horribly gruesome, no wonder he never took off those scratchy things, “—Tell me about what’s around us, I’m going to rewrap your bandages.”

Etho stares at him for a moment before offering his arm hesitantly. His hands were shaking from the sheer cold of air-drying their soaked selves, but to his credit, he held the bandages with all he needed. Joel tugs away the old, dirtied bandages Etho had on before, revealing small scratches and a speckle of bruises, most wounds stuck out on his skin like fish in a tree, contrasting his pale skin, “Uh… well we’re in the same forest—” There’s one scar that stretches all the way down his shoulder to his elbow, “—A lot of the trees are… uh… unhealthy?” Joel finally began winding the bandages around the other’s arm, ensuring everything was secure and covered. He paid little attention to the old wounds; there was little reason to cover them… he wasn’t sure the crusty bandages would hold much longer anyhow, “I can’t see a good place to pitch camp here, the water’s too fast to fish… the only food will be in the city.”

“Done.” He announces, clipping the ace bandage as he finishes checking if it would support the other’s wrist properly, “How does it feel?” Joel asks, pushing himself to his feet and wobbling a little.

Etho looks at him conspicuously, “It hurts.” He comments, to which Joel rolls his eyes. Etho sighs quietly and pushes himself off the uncomfortably textured sand, “We should dry off, can’t have your fever getting worse.”

“For goodness sake, I’m fine, stop worrying about me, it's so annoying.” Joel exclaims, “Yes, let’s dry off, but could you shut your mouth for a bit? My head is killing me!” He leaves Etho behind in the dust as he stomps forward, keeping an eye out for someplace where the sun is shining.

“You’re the one who asked me to talk at all.” Etho remarks with a huff, Joel throws the man a glare, “I think you need to lie down m—”

“Oh, and there’s that annoying voice again!” His patience snaps, “Just–! Like–! Quiet? Do you know what that means!?” Joel feels his voice squeak, going higher in pitch as if soaring away from his sanity, “You want to help me so much? Just stay out of my business, Etho! My head is pounding, swear the only reason they found us was because of you! I appreciate your sentiment, but if you really want to stick around— I—” His foot skids to a stop and he trips over air. He’s caught by his arm by Etho, wearing a bitter expression; his heart sinks, fuck, that was just mean wasn’t it? “—I—I’m sorry. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have snapped.” He grits out.

Etho pulls him up and he doesn’t speak a word. Instead, his brows scrunch together in a sort of contemplating-esque expression, always hard to tell with that mask on… eugh it’s soaking wet… who likes wet blankets on their face?

The forest is a lot thinner here, trees become more sparse as it makes way for human settlement… what used to be anyway. They both see a road and Joel’s quick to realize it’s the one that leads straight out of the city as a large ‘NOW LEAVING…’ sign sits across the way, “For what it’s worth, thanks for saving my life.” Etho mutters, loud enough for Joel to hear, “I shouldn’t have forced my way here, I’m sorry, that was a mistake. I… Joel.” He pauses, turning to face the shorter companion, “Do you want me to leave?”

Joel stares long and blankly as an answer never comes to him. He stares at Etho and his stubborn pushiness and infuriating need to avoid any and all questions, yet, he also stares at his clever nature and sneaky mischief, hiding a timid man who wishes for company. He surprises himself with the assessment clashing with what he always saw; some sort of mysterious daunting figure… yet it was all so… there, it was so clear.

Etho was simple… no that wasn’t quite right, The patient eyes that looked at him weren’t simple, Jimmy was simple, Lizzie was simple, he knew them like the back of his hand. But those patient eyes weren’t sinister either… Joel knows what it’s like to need someone by your side… guess it’s been the first time he’s been without his other half.

“No, not really.” Joel turns away from Etho and looks up at the sign once again, “Where are you headed?”

“Wherever you’re going.” Glancing at the other, Joel feels a satisfied smile radiate from the other, and he thinks he might actually be right for once.

Joel’s not alone, in the metaphorical sense and melodramatic sense. He’s always had someone by his side, his friends, his girlfriend… when they were stripped from him, he never truly was alone. Their voices were always so loud in his ear drowning his own voice in the sea of delusion, telling him to stay alive, telling him the truth. It was even more cruel than being alone, he would have preferred to suffocate in the silence of his own breath than ever listen to them again.

Etho was kinda like being alone… only without the suffocation, “Pick a direction and we’ll go.”