Chapter Text
She stumbled out of those metal doors like a rag doll, bending over and retching, hands on her knees. If she lived to ninety, the horrors of the last few hours would never dim in their glaring despicability. She stumbled toward the lake, only thinking about how much everything hurt. The sudden blast of cold air was soothing after the flaming scene that played over and over in her head. Lying on that cold concrete floor, flames leaping up around them, David's triumphant face as he leaned over her, hands slipping beneath her shirt to settle around her aching ribs for leverage - ribs that had already taken a hefty kick from his steel toed boots. But this time his touch was gentle, soft, as if trying to convince her that she wanted this too...but his movements were harsh, driving, angry, and she felt every second of the attack burning into her consciousness, just as white hot as the burning flames that eagerly licked at the walls around them. He didn't seem phased by the fact that the building was burning down around them. It was all she chose to think about.
She fell to her knees and vomited again, the world spinning around her in a white haze. She had to go, had to run now, had to get away – her mind kept chanting life-saving directions feverishly, trying to hold her consciously aware that they were still in an apocalypse after all. She shoved her aching body to a somewhat standing crouch, as she focused her eyes toward the lake again. Part of her wanted to just tumble into it and sink to the bottom, never to be seen again. She couldn't swim after all, and Joel – if he was still alive – would just think that it was an accident. It was better than face whatever nightmares today was going to cause future Ellie. Determinedly, she limped toward the icy water, not quite frozen over yet. Just a few moments in the blissful cold and the memory would be gone forever...
Suddenly, strong hands grasped her from behind, and her mind immediately assumed David had not died and had come after her to exact his revenge.
"Get off of me!" she immediately screamed at the figure, trying her best to pull free from the steadying, grasping hands. "Get oooooff!"
"It's me! Hey, it's me!" The voice belonging to the hands spoke softly, trying to shush her panicked voice. It would not do for raiders to hear them now.
"Please," she collapsed against him, completely drained of all resolve hands hitting at the rough jacket the figure wore weakly, too exhausted from fighting. "Please, no more, no more."
The figure froze at the desperate plea, her defensive hands resting on his chest mid-strike, then he took her bloodied face in his large hands.
"Ellie, it's me, look. It's me."
Her eyes were glazed over, and took a moment to focus. Once they did, he saw the myriad of emotions play out in them in quick succession, in just a few seconds of time.
Fear, concern, joy, then fear again and finally shame. Her gaze dropped from his face and she fell into him, sinking into his jacket in a way that made his heart flutter and a paternal instinct rise from the ashes of his past.
Someone had hurt her. And he had a terrible feeling that it was in a way that he could not heal her from.
He wrapped his arms tightly around her, pulling her as closely into his body as he could without crushing her. He was never letting something like this happen again. Damn, he should have never let it happen the first time.
"I got you, baby girl," he whispered. "I got you."
She pulled away, stumbling, her arm flailing into the air to balance herself. He steadied her with a free hand and shrugged off his backpack.
"Here, kid, here's my jacket. Put it on now, no arguments. Standing there in a damn sweatshirt is a sure way to catch your death. Come on, let's get out of here, there's an abandoned radio station to the northwest that we can stay at. Puts us a bit closer to the direction I'd hoped to go, and no one will think to look for us there."
She mumbled something unintelligable, and he nodded, accepting what he had hoped was an agreement. His heart was pounding in his chest at the sight of the defeated slump to her shoulders, the way she painfully limped along next to him – he had failed her, he decided dismally. Got a damn second chance and he blew that chance too.
He was in no top shape himself. His stab wound pulled sharply with every step he took, and the cold air felt like ice when it touched the area every so often. Dampness caused that, and he knew it wasn't damp from sweat. But his priority right now was getting Ellie as far awat from this hell hole as he could. Mercifully, the way out was not the same as the way in, so he could get her out past the carnage he had caused trying to get to her.
It was a silent trek, and he was okay with that, as his brain was still trying to process her words.
"No more."
That meant something had happened. Either she had been beaten within an inch of her life or something worse.
No. For the first time in his life, he desperately wished that his cargo had only experienced pain of the physical sort. He had warned her about the raiders with ill intentions, and he knew from her expression when he brought it up that she understood what could happen.
He also knew that when he had said it, his fear at the time had been that he wouldn't be able to stop them. Otherwise, why would he have been concerned. He knew that if the raiders found them by their campfire, she would watch him die, or worse, he would die slowly as he watched them -
A grunt escaped his lips as he tried to redirect his thoughts. Every muscle was tense, and he paused for a second to let them slowly relax. She wobbled slightly, then leaned into him, her eyes half closed.
"Ellie, not much further," he spoke softly, pointing ahead with his free hand. "There's a radio tower ahead, maybe ten minutes away."
She nodded once, raising her gaze to the direction he pointed. Her face stiffened into an expression of resolve, and he saw the muscles in her jaw clench. She was tough, no matter what they faced. He just wished life didn't have to be so damn hard.
The station was abandoned, unsurprisingly, and they quickly set about making camp. Every move still hurt like the devil, and he found himself little by little compensating more for the range of motion that he lacked on his right side.
She was busy on the far side of the room laying out their bedding, moving slow herself. He swallowed hard and dug around in his pack.
"Chili good for tonight?" he asked conversationally, holding up a can triumphantly. "Bush's beef and beans, can't be anything bad about that."
The very idea of meat sent another wave of nausea through her, and she tumbled sideways onto all fours retching again.
"I've got just beans, if that's better," he tried to joke, perturbed by her reaction. There was nothing left in her stomach to come up, and she was left hunched over, drooling onto the floor, the pain from clenching her stomach sending agonizing shockwaves through her ribs where she had been kicked. He was at her side in an instant, hand hovering right above her back. She could feel the heat from his skin, and for a moment, they paused there.
"Can I?" he asked softly, and she squeezed her eyes shut, a desperate sound somewhere between a groan and the bellow of a cow as his only response. He knew that feeling and he swallowed hard. He had to take charge, because she was losing it, and fast.
"Baby girl, I am going to just touch your back okay, just going to lay my hand here."
There was no response from her except another pitiful bout of dry heaving, and he wrapped one arm across her chest, his other hand on her back, and when he did, she went into full fight mode.
He threw his head back to avoid getting clocked by her elbow, and they fell sideways, her fighting to get free, and him fighting to hang on. The fight was brief, but he didn't think he would ever forget that as long as he lived. Her cries of "Get off" mixed with simply wild shrieks of fear played over and over in his head as the room fell silent again.
"It's me," he reassured her again, one hand caressing her hair. "It's me, Ellie." She lay on top of him, pinned to his chest, her head tilted back, mouth open, gasping for air, and her hand feebly tugged at his arm that lay across her ribs. He recognized the message and pulled his arm away. Her shirt stuck to his arm momentarily, and he gazed down in horror at the red stain that was mirrored by a smudge on his arm.
"You're hurt," he spoke in a faint voice, that to her ears sounded accusing, but he meant it to be compassionate. He slid her to the ground, and rolled over onto his hands and knees, once again leaning over her, eyes searching for any more blood. "Listen Ellie, you must let me help you. Not time for damn dramatics. Focus, just for a minute. What happened, where are you hurt?"
She gazed up at him, eyes still clouded with something horrible to see, and waved in the general direction of her ribs. He laid a hand on her stomach, pressing gently to find the injury, watching it rise and fall with every quick breath she took.
"Can I?" he asked softly, and she nodded, averting her eyes to the ceiling, a single tear tracking down the side of her face into her hair.
Carefully, he pulled up the grimy shirt a few inches and his throat constricted. Dark bruising covered most of her white skin, some areas worse than others. A red seeping bruise along her right ribcage caught his attention, and he palpated the skin around it carefully. She sucked in a harsh breath, arching her back, and he patted her shoulder with his other hand.
"It's okay, stay there. Just going to grab some water."
He moved away and was pleased that she stayed where he left her, as he dug around in their supplies for what he needed. An old t-shirt, water, and duct tape.
Carefully, he returned to her side, ignoring the flinch when he leaned over her, and tried to remove as much blood as possible. His hand lingered gently on the hand shaped bruising already showing around her waist, and for a moment, he fit his hands into those shapes, and he knew.
He let his eyes drift to her face, and his heart skipped a painful beat. She had her eyes focused on the ceiling, but tears were still trickling silently down the sides of her face.
"You good?" he asked suddenly, and she jumped.
"Yeah," she replied quickly, too quickly. He was simply happy for a coherent response.
"Alright. I am going to put this cloth around your ribcage and put this duct tape over it for support. You have some bruising on these ribs, and this one seems fractured." He felt the bone shift beneath his careful touch, and she shifted away from him slightly. "Sorry, El, trying not to hurt you. It will help stabilize them until they can heal, in case any more are fractured and I am missing them."
"Okay," she replied softly, and he shook his head.
"His name was David." She said it so matter-of-factly that he nearly choked. Well, that wasn't what he had expected her to say, but now he had a name. Any information could be important someday.
He wished David were still alive and that he could kill the creep himself, slowly, one moment at a time...
When he was done with his first aid, he helped her sit up and tugged her shirt down. If David had done what he thought he had done, she was sure to have other injuries too, but he did not know how to help her. How he wished Tess were here. He desperately needed her.
"Anything else hurt?" he asked gently, that terrible gut-wrenching feeling sinking in his stomach as she managed to get herself into a cross-legged position a few feet away from him.
She did not speak, just gazed into the small fire that he had made to warm the food. He sighed and nodded once and moved away to continue working on dinner as if the whole drama of the last few moments had never happened.
What could he do? He was a man, and he wasn't the most emotionally supportive one too, but then again, Ellie had never needed emotional support. She was a tough badass that fought her way to be where she was now. He smiled slightly at the memory of the first moment that they had met. Ellie had launched herself at him from a doorway, much to his surprise, and he had instinctively rolled her over his shoulder and into the wall, knocking the wind out of her lungs, and the knife out of her hand.
Ellie had never needed emotional support.
Even when she had shot a man to save Joel, she had not needed emotional support. Even when Tess died, she had continued on.
But something had happened in that burning building that had changed her.
He knew in his heart that it had been bad.
She refused to meet his gaze, the shame and fear that clouded her eyes, a clear mirror for her soul.
He stirred the chili thoughtfully, nausea building in his own throat. How could he have let her down?
It had been a clumsy error, getting stabbed. He should have known better than to let anyone get that close. What if it had been an infected? There he had lain, for who knows how long, passed out, nearly dead, while she had gone to such lengths to save him and herself. She could have just left him, but no. Damned brat had to stick around and take care of him. He knew he should have felt honored that she had stayed with him, but part of him was angry that she had not gone ahead like he had ordered.
That anger was all dependent on how convinced he had been that he was going to die. And convinced he certainly was. Without her, he would have.
He had to find out what had happened, or he could not help her, and part of him knew how he had to go about it. He would have to play bad cop and he hated himself already for it.
"Should have listened to me and left this place," he said gruffly, glancing sideways at the still figure, apparently intent on burning out her eyeballs by gazing at the fire all night.
She grunted, something akin to surprise crossing her features. "Couldn't."
"You damn well should have," he rumbled. "Knew there were other raiders here and look at the blasted chance you took. Could be miles away by now, instead of here."
"This shit wasn't my fault! HE was a cannibal."
His eyebrows rose at that ghastly revelation and his stomach churned. But she had seen worse, done worse through the last months of their journey. There had to be something else. Her tone was so pitifully broken that for a minute he questioned his choice of words. Had to commit at this point, he decided. She would clam up and never talk about it and he needed her focus. If David had forced himself on her, there would have been no number of bandages and puns and canned ravioli that was going to make her heal. This type of thing had to be out in the open.
"You're the one who stayed," he replied noncommittally. Her eyebrows rose with an incredulous gasp and a bit of fire returned to her eyes.
"You are the one who left me!" She shouted at him, crawling toward him on her hands and knees. He felt the urge to back away, but knew he had to hold his ground. He had to break her, and he hated every second.
"You left me! You are the idiot that got yourself stabbed. You tried to shove me away, after all the crap we have been through. I stayed! I stayed because I damn well knew you would die if I did not. I did this for you!
"Didn't ask you to," he replied, looking away to stir the beans he had chosen to cook instead of the previously offending chili. He was not sure how much longer he could hold out this bravado. He just wanted to scoop her up in his arms and run as far away from this hell town as fast as he could. "You can blame yourself for that one. I told you to fucking go."
"It wasn't my fault," she whimpered, sitting back on her heels. Her hand drifted to rest protectively on her lower stomach, and she looked away, lips trembling. "It wasn't my fault. Wasn't my damn FAULT!"
The scream that ripped from her throat with the last word was blood curdling and Joel dropped the spoon he held as if it was a hot poker. His brain went haywire as it tried to decide to either grab the gun because there was an intruder, grab her to see if she had been injured somehow, or just freeze because he was a long way out of his depth.
He did the latter.
She dissolved into deep sobs, arms wrapping around herself, a terrible grief pouring out of her with every breath.
And again, he knew.
He hadn't been able to protect her.
"Damn you, Tess," he snarled quietly. "I need ya right now."
"Joel!" Ellie called out to him in her grief, and he immediately took the invitation. He was again at her side in a flash, and wrapped her up as tightly in his arms as he safely could, trying to prove to her that he could still protect her.
"Joel," she sobbed desperately into the crook of his neck, and he shushed her just like he would have his own daughter. In that moment, she was Sarah, and he was once again helpless to her cries, unable to fix it.
"Joel." When she called his name the third time, her tone was conversational, and he knew more was coming, and he braced himself against the hard floor, preparing to fall into that darkness with her. What she said next broke his heart more than anything else that she could have said.
"What if I become pregnant?"
His blood ran cold, his eyes filled with hot tears, and a guttural groan deep in his throat crushed any word of hope that he could have given her. Instead, he held her impossibly tighter, rocking back and forth like one would with a baby. She was his baby girl and he had failed. He had not saved her from the blackest intentions of the men in the broken world around them.
"Joel," she wailed again, and he forced himself to breathe, and look into her eyes. They were overflowing with tears she had never cried before, and he knew she was looking at him for help.
"I'm sorry kiddo. I am sorry I couldn't save you." His voice came out of his lips softer than he had intended and she replied just as faintly.
"I knew you were sick; it was a risk I had to take."
"I know. But it's a risk you should never have had to take. I'm so sorry, Ellie, I put that on you by my mistake and I should never have done that."
"Can't be helped," she replied, sounding a little more like herself. Joel rested his head atop hers.
"Maybe not, but you listen to me. Don't you compartmentalize this. If you need to talk, I'm here. I know it's not easy to talk about, me being another man, and all that, but you know I will do anything for you. Damn it, I wish Tess were here."
"Me too," she replied softly, and he squeezed his eyes shut, hot tears tracking down his tanned, rough cheeks.
"I - I don't want to talk. Please, can we eat now?" she asked softly, and he slowly unwrapped himself from her.
She was brushing the tears from her face in an obvious decision to move on, and he sighed.
"Sure."
The meal was a silent one, and he watched her from his vantage point by the small stove. She ate mechanically, swallowing hard with every bite, forcing herself to take down what he offered her.
She was battered and repulsed by the idea of food, but she wasn't stupid. He was grateful to see that her wisdom was still in control of her actions.
As he was putting the clean dishes and stove back into his pack, she came to his side, holding out a bottle and syringe. "It'll do for now," she said softly, not meeting his gaze. "Let me see that wound."
He hesitated, staring at the bottle, both relieved at the sight of the medicine and strangely repulsed.
"Where did you get that?" he asked harshly. They didn't have it with them before his injury, that he knew. He was beginning to realize there was a very long span of time that he could not remember. He felt weak in the knees at the knowledge that she had been scrounging for them for a long time. Feeding him, helping him, all alone.
She still did not meet his gaze, and her outstretched hand shook slightly. He reached out and took the bottle from her, understanding dawning on him.
"You got this from – him?"
"Trade," she replied, tugging at his shirt. "Deer for medicine. Was fair. Now hold still."
"Ellie, for goodness' sake, stop trying to be the damn hero and talk to me."
"Let me see it," she countered, and he looked away to hide the emotional battle on his face. From cargo to now his kid, they had grown much closer than he had realized. When it had exactly happened he could not tell. Now, in the gravity of the moment, he hated that she had risked literally everything to keep him alive for goodness knows how long.
"How long were you on your own," he asked bluntly.
She examined his injury carefully, her face giving away no indication of her thoughts. After administering the medication, she scooted away and dropped the bottle into his bag before moving to her bed made in the corner.
He tucked his shirt into his belt carefully, hissing as the cloth contacted the healing wound and propped his elbows on his knees, hands clasped.
"Ellie."
She started at the commanding tone he used and looked up from scrunching her pack into a makeshift pillow. Her face was a perfect blank wall and he swallowed hard.
"How long. Was I. Out."
"A while." She laid down on the makeshift bed and turned away from him.
He sighed and shoved himself to his feet, turning out the lantern and standing there for a few seconds to let his eyes adjust to the light. Practiced hands inspected the rifle, then laid it beside his bed next to hers, and he carefully shifted himself into it, mindful of the throbbing in his side and of not crowding her.
For a long time, the silence was deafening, a slight ringing in his ears the only companion to the stillness around them.
His own breathing sounded harsh and ragged to his ears, and he stared toward the ceiling trying to focus on what breaths were his or hers.
"Joel," she whispered breathily in the dark.
"Yes," he responded, half hoping she was going to tell him one of her stupid puns.
"It fucking hurt."
His breath caught in his throat at the blunt admission, and he squeezed his eyes shut against the onslaught of bitter pain that squeezed his throat like a vice.
"It fucking hurt and you weren't there, and I was hoping every second that you would show up - and stop it - but I knew it wasn't possible because when I saw you last you were unconscious, and I had to pretend-" Her voice was breaking into bitter sobs again and his hands squeezed into fists in the dark.
"I had to fucking pretend that I was enjoying it because it distracted him so much that I was able to reach and grab the knife and get him – off me." Her voice trailed off into a strangled gulp and he wanted desperately to leap up and take her in his arms and whisper all the strong encouraging words he could think of into her ear. "I hacked into him with all the strength I had left. I wasn't going to give him a chance to - touch - me again. Then I ran outside and you were there..."
His chest ached with grief and he wanted to tell her that she had done the right thing, that it wasn't her fault. But he sensed she wasn't done, and he instead slowly sat up on one elbow and flicked on the lantern again. If she wanted to talk, he was going to be here all night, listening for raiders with every last bit of strength he had in him. Goodness knows he had been sleeping long enough.
"Joel? What if I get pregnant?" She asked again, her voice barely a whisper.
His heart melted at the fear in her tone and in that second, he understood. She was afraid of judgement. Afraid of what Joel would say or do with that bastard's son inside of her.
"Do you understand how all- that – works?" he asked haltingly.
She turned her head to look at him and her nose scrunched up. "Public school, remember?"
He nodded once. "Ah yeah, right. Well, that – experience- is not exactly how a baby gets made. He has to – well, you know, I guess. Did – did he – that you are aware of?"
Her eyes glazed over for a moment as she processed what Joel was trying to say, then she shook her head once. "No."
Relief relaxed his face, and he hoped she wouldn't take that the wrong way. He would do anything for her but nearly sixteen and pregnant? He wasn't sure what he would do. This dad thing was all new to him and he wasn't feeling up to the task. Damn that Tess and her infection.
"Well, if – that – didn't happen then there is a very small chance that you won't be. When did you last have – well -" he waved his hand awkwardly in the air and Ellie raised an eyebrow. A fragment of a smile turned up the corner of her lips and she shook her head.
"You're fucking terrible at this dad thing."
His heart warmed at the idea that she thought of him as a dad, and he frowned at her, his eyebrows furrowed over his dark eyes.
"You got any suggestions since you apparently have more dad experience than me?"
"Just say words!" she exclaimed, and he was pleased to see a fragment of her old self returning.
"It's actually due any day now."
He breathed another sigh of relief. "Well, timings a bit off then, so the chances are even smaller."
"But there's still a chance?"
He gazed down at his hand for a moment, rough skin dark with dirt and dry blood and he took a steadying breath.
"Ellie, it's a very, very small chance. But if you become pregnant, then we will make those decisions at that time. That baby is yours, not his, and I will protect you both with my life. You – you're my daughter, and I will not let anything come between us."
Her face finally relaxed and she nodded, the haunted grief returning to her eyes in an instant. He hesitated, waiting to see if she was going to speak.
After a moment, she did.
"I'd have rather it had been you."
His breath caught in his throat and his blood ran chilled through his veins again.
"Who-what?"
She took a deep breath and squeezed her eyes shut tightly. "I- I know you're like my dad and everything. I – I am glad for that, really. But if anyone was going to do – that to me – and for the first time to have been – him -"
"Whatt?" he asked in confusion, feeling both revolted of her implication, and confused, wondering when he had ever given her any idea that he felt like that about her. He was way too old her after all, goodness' sake, he was almost old enough to be her grandpa at this stage -
"You wouldn't have hurt me," she whispered and he understood, and his heart broke.
"Come here, baby girl." This time she willingly allowed his embrace, and he held her tightly.
"Baby girl, I would never do to you what that man did. That – that is something special, something you do with people you genuinely love and want to spend your future with. He should never have taken that from you. You're just a kid who wasn't ready for that kind of education. Trust me. In time, you'll find someone that wants to be with you like that, who is kind and trustworthy, and wants the best for you. And they will be – gentle – and understanding. Until then you just remember that this is not how it was supposed to be. Alright?"
She nodded hesitatingly. "But I don't know how it was supposed to be. How am I going to know it when I find it?"
Joel raised his eyes to the ceiling, cursing Tess's absence again and shook his head. "Trust me, kiddo. You'll know."
"Alright," she replied softly. "I trust you."
"And this wasn't your fault. Got that?"
She was silent for a moment, eyes dropping to the floor and he shook her. "Ellie, you damn look at me. This wasn't your fault. That man had a choice. He made the wrong one."
She nodded once, closing her eyes for a second. "I - Joel - I - I was going to jump in the lake. I -"
"Was in pain and in shock," he finished for her, running his thumb along her bruised jawline. "I know. I saw the resolve in your steps. You were walking so doggedly, so dramatically, I feared - I feared at first somehow you had turned. Then I saw your face. I knew you had been through some kind of hell."
"That's putting it mildly," she whispered.
"Try to get some sleep, Ellie. You need it. I will keep watch. He's not coming back, and neither will his ghost."