Archive of Our Own

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They've only been back in Jackson a couple months. The drastic change of pace is jarring to both of them. 

The calm of Jackson feels surreal after months of fighting for their lives, but Joel is slowly settling in and gradually starting to relax; even if just a little. 

Ellie on the other hand - well, she seems to be having a tougher time of it. 

It's like she's been split into two different kids.

There's the happy-go-lucky one that's on the surface when they're around other people; always laughing and cussing. The sassy kid who’s eyes glint when he groans at her clever puns. 

And then there's the kid he catches glimpses of when she thinks no one is paying attention; the quiet, shut-down kid who gets lost in her own head. The one whose gaze is distant and smile forced; whoes muteness breaks his heart. 

It’s not exactly a new development. He’d seen it plenty in the wake of Silver Lake; in the aftermath of his own brush with death that left a fourteen-year-old to fend for herself. 

The “failed” mission to make a cure only seemed to worsen things. 

And Ellie won't talk about any of it. 

Which has not gone unnoticed by his annoyingly astute sister-in-law.

Maria's tried pushing her to talk to one of Jackson’s resident shrinks. But the more she insists, the more Ellie seems to shut down. 

It had taken all of Joel’s self control to remain civil in his conversations with Maria on the topic, but eventually the two of them (with Tommy running interference) reached a tentative truce. 

Maria would back off and give Ellie time, and Joel would be better about being open and “emotionally available” (Maria’s words) to Ellie. He’d also begrudgingly agreed to read a few self-help books on the topic. 

On the bright side, Ellie seemed to actually like school. 

The way she’d excitedly proclaimed “the teachers are actually nice and let us ask questions!” had made him wonder, once again, about what kind of school FEDRA was running.

But he didn’t ask the questions that burned in the back of his mind. The few times he had, Ellie seemed to realize by his reaction that he didn’t think her experiences were normal (they weren’t) and she’d get embarrassed or defensive and clam up. 

He’s hoping when the dust settles a little more they can work through some of the unsaid things that still hang between them.

He wants this second chance in Jackson to be good. He wants Ellie to have the best of what the world still has left to offer. 

And, he has to admit, he likes Jackson. He even kind of likes his ‘job.’ It’s nice to feel useful again, and do things with his hands other than acts of violence. 

He thinks maybe, in time, they could really be happy here.

_.-★-.__.-✰★✰-.__.-★-._

The sun’s low in the sky when he enters the house, hangs up his coat, and kicks off his boots. 

“Ellie, I’m home,” he calls. 

“In here,” she replies, her voice bouncing down the hall. 

He finds her at the kitchen table, the top of which is strewn with books and loose papers.

"Look Joel! Ms. Beckett found some colored paper for me!" she exclaims as she slices into a sheet with a pair of scissors, cutting it into long strips.

"And you decided to cut it up?" he asks, a bit perplexed.

"For paper stars!" she says excitedly, "I'm starting a second jar," she explains, not pausing in her pursuit of shredding the new stock. 

"Second jar?" he questions, still not following.

"Yeah! Well, not a jar really. Tommy said it was meant for fish," she tells him and point’s to the glass fishbowl sitting on the counter. 

The bowl has a label that reads HELL YEAH in all caps, written in marker on a bit of masking tape.

It sits next to a large mason jar that reads FUCK YOU on its own label. In the bottom of the jar there are several small, white, folded-paper stars.

Maria started her on the paper star kick. “A segway to journaling,” she’d called it in private.

Maria had come over unannounced one day with a stack of old printer paper, the mason jar, and some scissors and taught Ellie how to cut and fold long strips of paper into little stars. 

She’d also casually suggested Ellie write down her anxious or negative thoughts on the strips, fold them, and put them in the jar; and when she was ready to let those thoughts go, she could burn them. 

Joel’s pretty sure Ellie's aware of Maria’s agenda, but thinks the burning part was a selling point. 

It had become something for Ellie to do with her hands when she's feeling anxious.

Sometimes she doesn't even write anything on the strips, just folds and folds; and Joel thinks it's probably still pretty effective in its intent. It's not exactly therapy but it's a start. 

Ellie set the goal of filling the fuck-you-jar before indulging in The Burn (as she’s taken to calling it).  

Joel takes a seat at the table, surveying her handiwork, and stretching his stiff back.

"Seems weird that people would keep fish in a bowl,” Ellie muses aloud.

“Mostly just goldfish, you’d need a proper tank for saltwater fish.”

“But why?”

“Pretty to look at I guess.” 

“Fucking weird.” 

“You’re not wrong,” Joel agrees with a chuckle. “So, why are we starting a second jar-bowl? I thought you wanted to fill the first one?” he asks. 

“I do! But, I was thinking I could use the colored paper to write down cool stuff instead of shitty stuff. But like, keep them instead of burning them." 

Joel notes there are already a couple of green stars at the bottom of the hell-yeah-bowl and it makes him smile. Silently he hopes that one fills faster than the fuck-you-jar. 

“I like that idea,” he affirms. 

"You wanna do one?" she asks, pushing a couple strips of already cut paper towards him.

He raises his eyebrows in response. He’s never been particularly crafty; at least not outside wood and nails.

"Come on! Just write something, and I'll show you how to fold it! It's easy," she encourages. 

She has that playful glint in her eye that wins him over every time. Tommy says she’s got him ‘wrapped around her little finger’ - and as much as he’d like to deny it, he can’t. He’d been the same with Sarah. Anything for his girls. 

He hesitates only a moment before giving in and snatching up the offered paper.  

"Okay, now what?" he asks, having no idea where to even start. 

“First, you write something. Then we’ll fold it,” she insists. 

He gives her a sidelong look and notices what's under her spread of colorful sheets of paper. Picking up one of the scattered pens he writes his note on the skinny strip of paper, making sure to keep his message hidden from Ellie.

“Done,” he announces.

"Okay, now you just fold it like this - " she says, exemplifying and explaining the steps aloud in a tone that’s a little condescending, but he lets it go. 

He does his best to follow along. He feels like his big, calloused hands are too clumsy for this kind of delicate work, but he does his best and when he finishes he offers it up to Ellie. She ungraciously confirms his misgivings. 

"Wow, really fat-fingered that one," she snarks, taking it from him and holding up the less-than-perfect star. But she’s grinning, so it’s still a win in his book. 

Joel rolls his eyes dramatically in feigned annoyance.

"What did you write?" she asks. 

"Thought it was supposed to be a secret," he responds coyly, knowing he’s already lured her into his trap. 

"How am I supposed to know if it goes in the fuck-you-jar or the hell-yeah-bowl if I don't know what it says?" 

He cocks an eyebrow and she takes that as an invitation to unfold his handiwork. 

She starts reading aloud as she unfurls the folded paper "Have... you... finished... your… homework," her posture sags and her smile turns to a frown, "Awe man, this definitely goes in the fuck-you-jar. Should have used the white paper." 

"Well? Have you?" he asks, pointedly eyeing the workbook peeking out from under the pile of paper scraps. 

“Ugh, no. But it’s easy! And it’s not due to Friday. Can’t a girl just have a little fun?” she whines. 

“Alright, but I better not hear from Ms. Beckett you aren’t completing your class work. I’ll get you put back on kitchen duty,” he warns, but there’s no real threat behind it.

“Dude, I hate kitchen duty!” she groans. 

Joel chuckles. He’s very aware of her distaste for the job, and the kitchen manager in particular. The two had gotten into a shouting match on her very first shift there. After that, Maria had her reassigned to the stables and she'd been much happier for it.

“How bout you pack up the arts and crafts for the night, and while you’re putting that all away, I’ll make us some popcorn.” 

“Popcorn? You got a movie?!” she asks excitedly.

“Mmhum, two actually.”

“Two! What are they? Better not be those cheesy fucking action movies you like,” she says, practically bouncing out of her seat. 

“Those are not cheesy, they are exciting and sophisticated,” he banters.

“Ri-ght,” she says, drawing the word out sarcastically. 

Joel huffs a laugh. She’s very vocal about how ‘low-brow’ his movie choices are but she still never passes on the chance to watch one with him. But tonight he’s picked some that are more Ellie’s speed. 

“No, I got space movies,” he admits. “The moon one you were asking about last time, and another Ian recommended.”  

“Fuck yeah!” she exclaims, lighting up. 

“Now hurry up and clean up this mess or we won’t have time for a double feature before your bedtime.”

“What the hell? I don’t have a bedtime.” 

“You will if you don’t stop given’ me lip, girl.” 

“Whatever, old man. Don’t skimp on the butter!” 

_.-★-.__.-✰★✰-.__.-★-._

The first movie is Apollo 13, which has Ellie absolutely enthralled.

She asks him about a million questions, none of which he can answer. 

“Dude! You were alive for this, how do you not know?!”

“I was three.” he protests flatly.

“I can’t believe you were around when we had a real space program and you didn’t even care!” she complains.

“Knew about Sally Ride, didn't I?” he counters. 

She shrugs but doesn’t have a rebuttal. 

She’s polished off the popcorn by the time it’s over and he makes her go up and brush her teeth before they start the second movie. 

They aren’t even halfway through 2001: A Space Odyssey when he notices Ellie’s head start to bob, her eyelids at half mast. It’s unusual for her to lose steam so early, but he figures she’s just had a tiring day.

She’s snoring before they even meet the infamous killer computer, HAL.

Honestly, Joel’s starting to nod off himself (in his opinion, this movie is boring as hell), so he pauses the tape and gives Elle’s foot a little squeeze and a shake to wake her. 

“What?” she asks automatically, startling awake.

“Come on. To bed with you.”

“I’m not even tired!” she argues. 

“You were asleep.” 

“Was not!” she says around a yawn. 

“Watching through the holes in your eyelids, were ya?” he asks incredulously. 

“There were monkeys, and some weird black rectangle, and a space station or something…” she explains, trying to prove she hadn’t missed anything. 

“That was twenty minutes ago. Come on, up. We can watch the rest tomorrow,” he offers. 

“Boo,” she groans groggily, getting to her feet, “you’re no fun.” 

“No fun?” he says with mock hurt, “I just made you buttered popcorn and let you watch space movies instead of doing your homework - on a school night, no less.” 

“Okay, maybe you’re a little fun,” she says impishly, climbing the stairs to her room.

“Thanks. Little shit,” he grumbles affectionately, following her up. 

She pauses in her doorway, “Goodnight,” she says quietly. 

“Night, Ellie. Sleep well, kiddo.”

She gives him a warm little smile before she pulls the door almost shut behind her. It had been an unspoken agreement, but they’d both taken to leaving their doors open (just a crack) at night. 

_.-★-.__.-✰⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆✰-.__.-★-._

The next morning, Ellie’s slower to rise than usual. 

Joel’s making breakfast when she finally comes shuffling down the steps.

“You sleep okay?” he asks, noting the dark circles under her eyes. 

She covers her mouth and yawns wide before slumping into a chair. 

“Yeah,” she says unconvincingly, rubbing sleep from her eyes, “I think I dreamt about being stranded on the Moon.” 

“Maybe not the best place for a sheep ranch after all,” he jokes as he plates up some eggs and toast for both of them. 

She eats, though with an atypical lethargy and significantly fewer smart-ass comments than normal. 

“Sure you’re okay? If you’re not feeling well you shouldn’t go to school,” he says, worried she might be getting sick or slipping into one of her low moods. 

“‘M fine,” she mumbles around a mouthful of bread. 

“Okay. Well, If you change your mind, you can come get me, ya hear?”

“I said I’m fine,” she reiterates more clearly after swallowing, “quit your worrying, old man.” 

“It’s my job to worry,” he says as he rinses the pan and puts the egg carton away. 

“No, it’s your job to build that new storage shed,” she quips. 

At least she’s feeling well enough to be snarky. 

“Regardless. Offer still stands. If you’re not feeling well, you come find me, okay?”

“Yeah, yeah,” she replies dismissively, getting up and scraping the remnants of her meal into the compost bin. 

For a moment Joel considers insisting that she stay home but ultimately decides against it. He knows Ellie really values her autonomy, something he’s sure she never really had with FEDRA, so he tries to be careful about taking away her choices - especially considering the significant one he’s already bulldozed.

“I gotta get going,” she says, slinging her school bag over her shoulder.  

“Have a good day,” he calls after her as she pushes the front door open.

“Later,” she says, waving without turning back. 

There’s a while yet before Joel’s due to meet up with this week's construction crew, so he tidies up the kitchen before heading upstairs to gather some laundry. 

Popping into Ellie’s room to grab her hamper he spots the star-jar and fishbowl on her desk, the accompanying strips of paper now carefully arranged in color coordinated stacks. 

He stands there for a moment, debating internally if he should give into his impulse. He sees that she’s already added more colored stars to the bowl since last night and decides to just go with it. 

He takes a green, blue, and purple strip and writes a note on each: 

Proud of you

You’re a cool kid

Glad you're here

The last one makes him swallow heavily. He tries not to think about how close they came to the last one not being true. 

Then, for good measure, he grabs a strip of red and writes another message: 

Love you

As carefully as he can, Joel folds each one into a star and drops them into the hell-yeah-fishbowl. They are better than his first one but they still stand out against Ellie's little nuggets of perfection. 

Feeling a bit self conscious he shakes the bowl to mix his stars in with the ones already at the bottom. He's not sure if she'll notice but it makes him smile all the same. 

_.-★-.__.-✰★✰-.__.-★-._

It’s dark when he gets home. He finds Ellie at the kitchen table again, but this time without the construction paper and scissors. Instead she’s hunched over a text book, pencil end between her teeth. 

“Hey, El. Doing that homework?” 

"Trying to,” she answers, sounding irritated.

His stomach growls and he crosses the kitchen to check the fridge for some leftovers. Instead he spots a new tupperware container in the fridge with “Joel” written on it. 

Ellie sometimes brings food home from the dining hall for him when he works late. He never asks her to, but she does it anyway - a simple gesture that says a lot. 

He pulls it out and peels the lid off, revealing potatoes, green beans, and a porkchop. 

“Thanks for this, kiddo,” he says, smiling. 

“There’s cornbread too, in that foil on the counter,” she answers distractedly, still focused on her homework. 

He plates the food and pops it in the microwave, then gets himself a tall glass of ice water (ice was a luxury he’d missed more than he’d realized). 

He takes the seat next to her at the table and digs in. 

She’s quiet while he eats, leafing through some pages and scratching things down in her notebook. But when she flips to the back of the book to check her answers she slams her pencil down on the table with an exasperated growl. 

“Math is so fucking stupid!" she growls and fists her hands in her hair in frustration.

The outburst isn’t totally unexpected. He knows from talking with her teachers that she’s been struggling with math. It was understandable that she was behind in some subjects and ahead of her class in others, but it was obvious that Ellie was more than a little embarrassed about it; which of course fed her dislike of the subject. Joel thinks it’s especially frustrating to her because so many things come so easily - she’s not used to not excelling. 

"Not always, can be useful too," he responds calmly, trying to employ some of that “emotional regulation” he’s been reading about. 

"Well then, maybe I'm dumb,” she sneers and clears her throat awkwardly. 

"Hey now,” he chides lightly, “You aren't dumb. Don’t like you talkin’ like that. What are you working on?"

"Geometry,” she says the word like it tastes bad, “How the fuck am I supposed to find all three angles when it's not giving me any to start with!?"

"Would you like some help?" he offers.

"You know geometry?" she questions skeptically. 

“I went to school too, you know.” 

“Yeah, like six million years ago.” 

“Well, I reckon two plus two is still the same as it was six million years ago.” 

She rolls her eyes, but doesn’t smile, then clears her throat again like it might be agitated. 

“Fellin’ okay?” he asks, concerned. 

“I’m fine.” 

“Don’t sound fine.” 

“It’s just the weather or something. It’s dry out,” she says dismissively as she uses a big pink eraser to clear most of her previous work. 

"I'm actually pretty decent at geometry," he says, returning to the topic at hand. Ellie raises one eyebrow like she doesn't believe him, “Comes with the territory. Carpentry is all about angles. Ever try installing crown molding?” 

“What the fuck is crown molding?” 

He chuckles, “Nevermind. Now let me see what you’ve got going on,” he says, pushing his plate aside and gesturing for the textbook. 

She hesitantly turns back to the page she was working on and passes it to him. 

Joel reads a couple pages of the chapter as a quick refresher of terms; it’s been a while since he had to explain any of this. Then they work through a few of the problems together. 

She stumbles a bit at first, but once she gets a better hold of the underlying concepts, she’s off and running on her own. She’s such a bright kid. Sometimes he wonders what she would have become if the world hadn’t ended. Maybe she really would have been an astronaut. She’s certainly driven and stubborn enough to have at least tried. 

When Ellie finishes she turns to the answer key again and quickly compares her new results. When they come up 100% she actually cheers. 

“Fuck yeah!”

“Told you,” he says a bit smugly, “Knew you could do it.” 

"You know, you aren't half as dumb as you look, old man," she snarks, but there’s no malice in it.

"Gee, thanks..." he replies sardonically, purposely hip-checking her chair as he gets up to put his dish in the sink. 

She starts to laugh but it quickly devolves into a sudden episode of hoarse coughing.

Plate abandoned, Joel crouches next to her as she raps her chest with her palm, trying to get herself to stop.

When the fit passes he presses his hand to her forehead to check her temperature. She doesn’t feel hot. 

“How long has that been going on?” he asks. 

"Just since lunchtime,” she admits, leaning back in the chair, looking tired. 

“Told you to come get me if you weren’t feeling well,” he reminds her.

“I know. But I’m fine. Throat just feels a little funny is all. It’s not a big deal."

"I'll make you some hot tea with honey.”

_.-★-.__.-✰★✰-.__.-★-._

It takes less convincing than usual to get Ellie to bed early. He figures he might as well follow suit and get some extra shut eye, there are several houses in need of roof repairs, which have become more urgent since the rainy season started.

It’s the middle of the night when something wakes him. At first he thinks it’s the rain he can hear coming down outside, and attempts to go back to sleep, but a moment later he hears the sound of a toilet flushing followed by the all-to-familiar sound of retching.

He’s up and across the hall in a heartbeat. 

“Ellie?” he calls tentatively, pushing her door open. 

He scans the room and sees her bedsheets in a pile at the foot of the bed. 

Another round of heaving followed by a strangled sob pulls all his attention and he’s drawn to her bathroom where he finds her hunched over the toilet.

“Oh, kiddo,” he empathizes and crouches down beside her.

"I'm sorry!" she says between gagging and spitting into the water.

"For what?" he asks, ducking to get a better look at her. She looks haggard; hair plastered to her face, forehead sweaty, cheeks flushed. 

"I puked in bed… I'll clean it up in a minute," she tells him, still gripping the sides of the toilet.

"Ellie, honey, don't worry about that," he says and pushes her ponytail back over her shoulder so it’s not at risk of getting wet. 

He presses a palm to her forehead then the back of his hand to her cheek, she screws her eyes shut in response, breathing a little hard.  

She’s notably hot to the touch this time.

"You've got a fever," he says, and in response her body seizes again, dry heaving on an already empty stomach. 

She groans and rocks back, landing hard on her ass and immediately starts to cough, big body shaking coughs. 

Joel flushes the toilet then wets a washcloth and hands it to her. She wipes roughly at her mouth before tossing it unceremoniously in the tub. 

He presses a steadying hand to her back and she leans into it. He can feel the heat radiating off her. 

“How you feeling?” 

“Fucking awful,” she laments. 

“That much I could have guessed, but what kind of awful?” he asks.

"My heart feels like it's trying to bust out of my chest, it's beating so hard," she says, rubbing her hand over her sternum. 

“That’ll be the fever. So, fever, nausea, sore throat, cough. You feeling dizzy or light headed?"

She shakes her head no.  

"Okay. Give me a minute to switch out the sheets and we’ll get you back in bed."

“I can do it,” she protests weakly.

“I got it. It’s okay,” he says, “Just take it easy.”

He stands, then offers her his hand and she takes it, letting him pull her to her feet. He guides her to the window seat before wrapping a blanket around her shoulders and going to retrieve a clean set of bedding.

When he comes back with the linens and a glass of water, Ellie’s still exactly where he left her. 

He makes her bed and gets her situated, placing the waist bin from the bathroom at her bedside, just in case. 

He makes sure she drinks some more water before tucking her in. The fact that she doesn’t protest or call him a sap for it speaks to how bad she’s feeling. 

She’s already out again by the time he turns off the light and slips out of the room. 

_.-★-.__.-✰⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆✰-.__.-★-._

As soon as the sun’s up he heads across the street to his brother’s to see if he can borrow a thermometer. 

Not surprisingly, it’s Maria who answers the door. It’s clear she’s been up for a while with the baby. Lucy’s just started teething and has not been happy about it. 

Tommy apparently left early for a supply run, but Maria packs him a bag with an old mercury thermometer, a homemade mentholated rub, a thermos of orange juice, and a VHS box set of The Blue Planet.  

“Was saving that to bribe Ellie to do some babysitting, but this seems like a worthy cause,” Maria says, indicating the movies, “I can go see what the dining hall has when they open. I'll ask Regina to make some soup for Ellie.”

Lucy, tucked into Maria’s side, makes grabby hands at him and coos, mouth full of a pacifier. 

“Thank you. I’m sure she’ll love the tapes, but I have food covered I think. I have some stuff in the fridge and can stop by the kitchen a bit later if needed. You two probably shouldn’t come over, don’t want to expose little Lucy to anything if we can avoid it,” he says, resisting the urge to reach out and hold his niece. 

“Okay. Well, I’ll let the scheduler know you’ll be out for a day or two. If you need anything else, you know where to find me,” she answers with a nod. 

Joel says his goodbyes and when he returns to the house he can hear Ellie moving around upstairs. 

He deposits the bag on the kitchen table and goes up to check on her.

He finds her dressed in her day clothes, wearily packing her textbooks into her school bag. 

“And what exactly do you think you’re doin out of bed?” he asks, confused by her behavior.

"I have school in an hour," she says, her voice hoarse, hair a mess, and posture slouched.  

"Ellie, you’re sick. You can miss a couple days."

"But I'm already behind," she protests with a sniffle.

"Ain't nothing for it, kiddo. You're sick, and probably contagious. You can’t go to school.”

She sinks dramatically into her desk chair looking sad and defeated. 

“Not surprising really. Populations are so isolated anymore, you were bound to pick up to somethin' new, coming to Jackson." 

"This sucks," she says dejectedly. 

"Yeah. It does," he agrees. 

She looks at him like she wants to say something, opens her mouth then closes it again.

“What is it?”

“Can I… stay here?” she asks. 

There’s a hesitance in her voice he doesn’t understand. 

“Isn’t that what I just told you?”

“No…” she intones, “You said I can’t go to school… but like… do I have to go to solitary?”

“Solitary? What in the world are you talking about?”

“Like quarantine, or segregation, or whatever they call it here. At FEDRA we just called it the hole. Had to be isolated if you were sick until your symptoms passed.”

“You don’t have the plague, kid,” he says, taken aback. “It’s not that serious.”

“So… I can stay here?” she reiterates, still uncertain.

“Of course. Jackson isn’t locking people up for getting sick, Ellie,” he reassures her. “Is that why you didn’t tell me you were feeling bad?” he asks, finally piecing things together. 

She shrugs and looks away; which is as good as a “yes” in Ellie-speak. 

“That shit with FEDRA… Well, it ain’t right. Staying home to rest and not spread germs is a good thing, but no one’s going to lock you in isolation for it.”

“They're not?” she ask again, and the note of hope in her voice makes him feel like an ass. How has he not learned to be more clear up front with her?

“No, kiddo. I promise. You don’t have to be alone.” 

“I don’t?” she questions, her eyes widening a little in disbelief. 

“I’m not going anywhere,” he reassures her firmly. His heart aches at the implication that she’s always been left to fend for herself (or maybe worse) when she’s been sick. 

She blows out a breath and her shoulder sag in relief like she finally believes he’s not going to lock her in a closet or something. 

"Aren't you going to work?" she questions. 

"Not when I’ve got a sick kid to take care of."

"I can take care of myself," she counters a little too quickly. 

He’s used to that - her reflexive need to assure him she’s not a burden. He’s tried to dismantle that habit a few times; tried to instill in her that accepting help doesn’t make her a burden; but it’s clear to him that the roots of that particular fear go deep and will take time to dispel. 

"I know you can, but I ain't gunna let you." 

Something crosses her face that he can’t quite read. 

“Why don’t you put something more comfortable on and come down stairs? You can watch some TV and I’ll make you some oatmeal and more tea.”

She hesitates, her eyes searching his face, as if trying to find the lie or trap in the offer. But after a beat she nods her assent, pushing herself out of the chair and hanging her backpack back up. 

_.-★-.__.-✰★✰-.__.-★-._

Joel makes some oatmeal with honey, but Ellie only gets a few bites in before she’s throwing it up in the kitchen sink.

Opting to go liquid only for the rest of the day, he has her sip some more water before taking her temperature. 

Ellie goes cross-eyed trying to watch the reading. 

“How’s it know my temp?” she asks, the words coming out mumbled with the thermometer still under her tongue. 

“Keep your mouth closed or it won’t be accurate. It’s got mercury in it,” he answers. 

She scowls at the insufficient explanation but keeps her mouth shut. 

When the red in the glass tube stops moving he takes it from her and does his best to read it. The increments are tiny and his eyes are getting worse (though he refuses to admit it.) 

It’s somewhere around 102.5 °F. Not terrible, but not great either.

“Mercury’s a planet. What do you mean it’s got Mercury in it?” she asks incredulously, her mouth no longer impeded. Her voice is scratchy though, he’s sure her throat must be sore - coughing and throwing up probably isn’t helping.

“Mercury the metal, not the planet,” he corrects.

“A metal? But there’s no metal, it's like glass with some red liquid in it,” she says, blinking a little owlishly in her fever induced haze. 

“Mercury is liquid at room temp, but it’s still a metal,” he explains as he wipes the thermometer clean.

“Okay, well then how does mercury-the-metal know how hot I am?” she asks, unappeased. 

“Honestly kid, I have no idea. You’ll have to take that one up with Ms. Beckett.”

She huffs in disappointment but doesn’t push the subject. Unbidden, he’s visited by the memory of the first time they came across Jackson’s dam, and his inability to answer her questions then too.

You know, you could’ve just made something up. I would’ve believed you.

He sighs. The trust in that statement makes his skin prickle with guilt, but he pushes it to the back of his mind. 

He gets Ellie situated on the couch with extra pillows and the knit blanket that she’s always stealing from his bed, then puts on one of the tapes Maria gave him.

Ellie’s so out of it she doesn’t even pretend to be watching, she just lays facing the back of the couch. But the narrator's voice is familiar and soothing, so he leaves it running. 

She spends most the day tossing and turning on the couch - cycling between being too hot and having the chills, sometimes to the point her teeth start chattering. 

She does very little actual complaining - which he’s come to recognize as a sign that she’s really in pain or struggling.

On the road she’d been like that too - quieter the worse their situation got; only ever complaining about superficial things. She’d walk her feet bloody before admitting she was struggling, so Joel makes sure to pay extra close attention and tries to anticipate her needs.

When she’s awake he tries to keep her company, and when she’s asleep he putters around the house, cleaning, straightening things, and taking note of things that need to be fixed. This level of downtime is something he hasn’t had in… he doesn’t know how long; but he doesn’t mind it. 

He takes her temperature one more time before calling it a day. It’s crept closer to 103 but isn’t quite there yet. Worry starts to creep in, but he convinces himself she’ll be feeling better tomorrow.

He pulls out another pillow and blanket before taking up residency in the recliner for the night, Ellie having requested to stay on the couch. 

_.-★-.__.-✰⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆✰-.__.-★-._

Unfortunately, the next day things only seem to get worse. 

Her congestion seems to have kicked into high gear. 

“What the actual fuck?” she complains when she hacks up some bright green phlegm.

“Seems like you might be sporting a sinus infection now too. Sorry kiddo,” he says sympathetically, then remembers the balm Maria sent him home with. 

He digs it out of the bag and unscrews the lid. The first whiff makes his eyes water. 

“Ugh,” he says, recoiling and putting the lid back on.

“What the hell is that?” Ellie asks, eyeing him from her cocoon on the couch. 

“Some homemade Vapor Rub,” he answers, examining the hand-written label on the jar, “Courtesy of Jackson’s own apothecary.” 

“Come on bro, my head already hurts, you know I don’t know what the fuck vapor rub is,” she grumbles. 

He crosses the room and hands it to her, “It should help with your cough and stuffiness.”

Ellie eyes him suspiciously before removing the lid again and testing it for herself.

She inhales as deeply as she can, trying to smell through her stuffy nose, and Joel thinks he probably should have given her better warning. A moment later she’s gagging and pulling a face; which leads her to start coughing again.

“Yeah, gunna be honest, that smells a lot worse than the stuff we use to buy in the store. But it’s got menthol, it does help.” 

“That’s fucking nasty,  dude! I can’t eat that,” she protests, looking aghast and hurriedly replacing the lid. 

“You don’t eat it, you rub it on your chest and throat,” he explains. 

“Hell no!” she blanches, “Then I’m going to smell like this shit!” 

“Well, yes. But only temporarily. Worth it if it makes breathing a little easier isn’t it?” he says, trying to sway her. 

She scowls again but looks like she’s considering it. She unscrews the cap and takes another more hesitant sniff. 

“Does kinda tingle in my nose,” she admits, though she still sounds very put off by the prospect of using it. “This better not be some kind of practical joke - trying to get me to slather myself in some smelly goo for shits and giggles,” she warns. 

Joel shakes his head and huffs, “No. Not a joke, unfortunately.” 

“Fine,” she relents, getting up and taking the jar with her to the bathroom. 

When she comes back, smelling rather fragrant, Joel makes her some toast and tea.

She nibbles on the toast like a mouse, eating maybe a quarter of one half. He knows she’s afraid to throw up again so he doesn’t push too hard, but he makes sure she gets her fluids. 

The small amount of exertion of being up and eating seems to have worn her out though. 

So, Joel puts on another of the Blue Planet tapes and takes a seat on the other end of the couch. 

_.-★-.__.-✰★✰-.__.-★-._

It’s around noon when there’s a soft knock on the door. 

He gets up from the couch, careful not to disturb Ellie, who’s finally fallen back to sleep.

He finds Tommy waiting on the porch and steps outside to talk to his brother. 

“Hey, Joel. How’s Ellie doing? Just got back from that supply run that last night. Maria told me she’s been sick.” 

“Yeah, she’s still feeling pretty rough. Sleeping at the moment.” 

“Poor kid,” Tommy says empathetically. “Can I get you guys anything? Heard Billy say they had wonton soup at the hall today. Always my go-to when sick,” he offers. 

“That actually might be good. She’s having a hard time keeping down solids.” 

“Throwin’ up too, huh? That is rough,” he says with a frown. “You taken her to see the doc yet?” he asks casually.

Joel stiffens at the suggestion, “That’s not necessary, she just has a cold. Did you need something?” Joel asks curtly, not wanting to broach the subject of hospitals or doctors right now. 

Tommy’s brow furrows at the sudden change in mood, but then he seems to actually remember why he came over in the first place. 

“Oh! Yeah… Actually, uh, the Thompsons have some kind of wiring problem. It’s been on the fritz for a while now and half the stuff in the house ain’t working. Josh and I have been trying to figure it out since Claudia is on dam duty this week. But we’re not having any luck. Was wondering if you’d mind taking a look?” he asks a little sheepishly. Tommy never was any good at electrical work.

Joel sighs and looks back over his shoulder towards the living room. He doesn’t want to leave Ellie, but she is sleeping, and he has been cooped up and dodging his commie-community duties for three days now. 

“Wouldn’t ask,” Tommy continues, rubbing at the back of his neck in that way he use to do as a kid when he was about to ask Joel to take him to the mall or spot him some money for a movie, “but their hot water heater is electric, and I think Mrs. Thompson is getting a bit fed up with having to take a shower at the neighbors.” 

“Yeah, okay. I’ll go,” Joel concedes,“but only if you’ll stay here with Ellie. She’s sleeping, but I don’t want her to be alone if she does wake.” 

There’s an odd look on Tommy’s face, but he nods his head in agreement, “Of course.” 

Tommy goes inside and Joel goes to get his toolbelt from the garage. It’s probably something stupid that’s just been overlooked, shouldn’t take long. 

_.-★-.__.-✰★✰-.__.-★-._

It takes longer than he’d anticipated (because of course it does), but he finds the problem, and with Josh’s help they get everything back in working order. 

It’s nearly dinner time so he swings by the dining hall on his way home to grab some of that wonton soup Tommy mentioned. If nothing else Ellie can have some of the broth.

When he gets home he finds Tommy sitting with Ellie on the couch. Ellie’s upright but enveloped completely in blankets, only her face poking out. 

Tommy locks eyes with him as he comes into the living room and there’s clear worry in his expression. Joel stubbornly ignores it because he already knows what it means. 

“Brought you some soup, kiddo. How are you feeling?” he asks, directing his attention to Ellie, who looks like someone who hasn’t slept in days despite doing little else other than sleep. 

She just groans miserably.

Tommy gives her a little pat on the back before getting up and heading into the kitchen, Joel follows reluctantly. 

Joel puts the food down on the counter and Tommy gets out a couple bowls and the appropriate silverware. The silence has an anticipatory tension to it, and still Joel tries to ignore it; mentally willing Tommy to drop it. 

“How'd it go?” Joel asks, trying to clear the air.  

“She slept for the first hour or so. She was stressed about you bein’ gone when she woke,” Tommy says in a hushed tone. “Got her settled, but then she started hacking. Doesn’t sound good.” 

Joel knows what’s coming and his shoulders tighten expectantly.

“Took her temp. Nearly 104, Joel. I really think she should see the doctor,” Tommy states pointedly.

The thought of stepping foot in a medical facility sends a shiver down his spine, the last time still too fresh in his mind. But he’s not stupid, he knows a fever that high would have warranted a hospital visit Before.

“Can’t,” Joel chokes out, his anxiety rising rapidly. 

“What do you mean, ‘can’t’?” Tommy asks, confused. 

“Her scar,” Joel explains in a harsh whisper. 

“Keep it covered,” Tommy counters, as if it’s the simplest thing in the world.

“I ain’t takin’ her. What if they can tell some other way? She came up positive on the FEDRA scanners,” Joel argues through gritted teeth. 

“We don’t have anything like that. If the dogs couldn’t tell, no one else can. I assure you,” Tommy insists, trying to assuage his fears. 

Joel shakes his head. There are too many things running through his mind for him to articulate just how unwilling he is to take her to another hospital. 

He hasn’t told Tommy what happened with the fireflies, but he knows his brother has already worked out that it wasn’t good.

“Joel, you keepin’ her scar a secret ain’t going to do her any good if she gets pneumonia,” Tommy pleads, the ‘and dies’ part is left unspoken but implied. “I’ve heard coughs like that before. It’s not something to take lightly.”

Joel doesn’t respond. 

“Look,” Tommy continues, “I can have the doctor make a house call. You don’t have to go to the clinic. Mayleane is good people, she’s trustworthy. She ain’t gonna do anything you don’t want her to, I promise.”

Joel’s jaw tenses, but the sound of Ellie coughing in the other room has his heart stuttering. He feels like he’s stuck between a rock and hard place… but Tommy’s right. He can’t just do nothing. If his inaction caused Ellie more harm, he’d never be able to live with himself.

“Okay,” Joel breathes, his voice shaky, “but I ain’t letting her alone.” 

Tommy nods in understanding, “Okay,” Tommy echos, “Good. It’s past normal clinic hours but I’ll go track her down.” 

Joel can still feel the panic building in his chest. He turns away from Tommy and deliberately focuses his attention back on the rapidly cooling soup. He goes to pour some into a smaller bowl to reheat when a hand lands on his shoulder. Joel startles, nearly spilling.

“Joel,” Tommy says earnestly, “it’s going to be okay. I promise. You two are part of this community now, let us help you.” 

Joel puts the soup down and leans on the counter, his head bowed.

Trusting anyone beyond Ellie and Tommy goes against twenty years of hard won instincts, but he does trust his brother, and he knows he’d never intentionally do either of them harm. 

“Yeah,” Joel mutters, “Just worried.” 

“I know. I’ll go get the doc and be back soon,” Tommy says, giving Joel’s shoulder a reassuring squeeze. 

He hears Tommy say bye to Ellie before leaving out the front door. 

_.-★-.__.-✰★✰-.__.-★-._

Joel gives Ellie a quick rundown of what’s about to go down, she nods in understanding but mostly just stares at him glassy-eyed. 

He wraps her arm with an ACE bandage to hide her scars then gets her to put on one of his flannels over the top of the pajamas she’s been living in. 

When the doctor shows up Joel is on high alert, having already moved his gun to an easily accessible drawer in the kitchen should the need arise. The more logical and less panicked part of his brain tells him this is a stupid move, there’s no way he’d make it out of Jackson alive if he started shooting - but having it close makes him feel more in control. 

As it turns out, all his worries about the doctor and the bite marks end up being for naught. 

Like Tommy said, the doctor, Maylene, is kind and gentle with Ellie. He notes the careful way she talks Ellie through all the checks she’s doing and announces when and if she’s going to touch her. 

Ellie doesn’t seem half as bothered by the whole thing as Joel is. 

The bandage never even comes into question since Ellie’s never asked to take off the flannel. 

The doctor does express some concern about what she hears with the stethoscope, but thinks things are still in the early stages and should be treatable without issue. 

She leaves Joel with a list of instructions and then has her medical assistant bring over some antibiotics. Apparently Jackson’s apothecary does more than just make hyper-pungent Vapor Rub. The assistant explains they have basically re-engineered the production of penicillin the ‘old fashioned way,’ and assures him that it’s very effective, especially for those who’ve never used more modern drugs. 

Ellie’s given a week's worth of antibiotics along with some low grade pain meds and some other concoction that’s supposed to help with the cough. 

All told the doctor and her assistant are only in the house for maybe thirty minutes; but Joel thinks the stress of the lead-up may have taken a few years off his life. 

Once the two of them are alone again, Joel finally gets around to heating up that soup. 

He gets Ellie to eat some broth before taking her first round of meds. 

“Is this going to fix me?” she asks after choking down the cough syrup. Judging by her face, it doesn’t taste good.

“It should. But it will probably take a day or two to really kick in,” he explains. 

“Joy,” Ellie replies, unenthusiastically. 

_.-★-.__.-✰⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆✰-.__.-★-._

By day five, Joel can tell Ellie's at her wits end; her resolve to put on a brave face crumbling quickly. 

At one point he finds her standing in the middle of her room just staring off into space. 

"Hey, kiddo. Whatcha’ doing?”

She shrugs and pouts pitifully. 

“Why don't you lay back down," he encourages.

"My back hurts. I don't want to lay down anymore," she mewls pathetically.

“Okay. How about your other symptoms? You still feeling nauseous?” 

“No, but I can’t breathe right, and my face hurts, and my head hurts, and -” she’s interrupted by a bout of coughing. She clutches at her side, cringing with each involuntary constriction of her chest, “- and my fucking ribs hurt.” 

He knows it’s not unheard of for hard coughing to break a rib, especially for someone who’s broken them before. But he doesn’t voice that, not wanting to bring up Silver Lake or think about that horrible bruising he’d seen on her side. 

“Why don’t you come down stairs. Maybe try some toast again, and we can watch a movie or play a game of cards?” he suggests. 

She nods, still frowning, and follows him down stairs like a sad puppy.

He makes the toast and she actually eats it all this time, though very slowly. 

After, he gets out a TV tray and they sit on the couch and play a round of Crazy Eights. Ellie wins, but he doesn’t bother re-shuffling, he can tell she’s not into it. 

“You want to do something else?” he asks, “We can try watching 2001 again.”

“I don’t know,” she whimpers pitifully, sinking back into the sofa cushions. 

“Aw, honey,” he says sympathetically, scooting a little closer to her. "Come here" he beckons.

The two of them haven’t really been much for hugging, but she really looks like she could use one right now.

Her frown deepens but she does move closer. He wraps an arm around her shoulders and she leans into him, her knee curled up to her chest and her face pressed to his shoulder

He rubs gentle circles into her back and cards his fingers through her messy hair.

"It's gunna be okay" he soothes. 

"I think I'd rather be Infected," she groans. 

"Don't say that,” he rebuts lightly, “I know you feel horrible, but it's only temporary. I promise.” 

"Everything hurts," she complains weakly into his shirt. 

"I know. Let me get you some of those painkillers, should at least help your back," he says and makes to stand, but she whimpers and clings to him, hands fisted in his flannel. 

"I'll be right back, El."

She doesn't let go, a sob bubbling up.

"Hey now. I'm not going anywhere, kiddo," he says, settling back down onto the couch.

"I'm sorry," she cries, voice quivering. 

"Shh, shh, you're okay. You're okay," he reassures her, hoping to comfort.

It has the opposite of his intended effect and she starts to cry in earnest. 

He knows she’s worn down and miserable, but he doesn't want her to tense up so much; her muscles already wrung out from all the coughing and shivers, not to mention a possibly rebroken or fractured rib.

He holds her close and murmurs reassurances into her hair. 

Slowly but surely, her cries quiet and she calms, sagging against him with exhaustion. 

When she finally catches her breath and sits back he presses a hand to her forehead. She’s still warm but not as hot as she was. He’ll have to get the thermometer out but he’s willing to bet she's back down in a safer range.

“Sorry,” she says again, her voice gravelly. 

“Nothing to be sorry for, baby girl,” he says, wiping a few stray tears from her cheeks with a thumb.

Her already flushed face reddens further, but she doesn't pull away from him. 

"Let me get you that medicine,” he tells her, getting up, “It'll help you relax, maybe get a little more sleep. You’ll be feelin’ better soon, I’m certain." 

After she takes her meds he convinces her to take a cool shower. And while she’s doing that he changes out her bed sheets for fresh clean ones and opens the curtains and a window to air the room out a bit.

The pills do help, and she sleeps through a majority of the day. 

_.-★-.__.-✰⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆✰-.__.-★-._

It’s just past midnight when Joel’s awoken by a heart stopping scream. 

He’s across the hall and at Ellie’s beside before he’s even fully awake.

He flicks on the bedroom light and finds Ellie’s tangled in her sheets.

“No. No…” she cries, caught in the throes of a nightmare. 

“Ellie. Ellie, honey, wake up,” Joel tries.

He approaches her bedside but is hesitant to touch her in that state; afraid he’ll add to her distress. 

“Ellie. Come on, kiddo. Wake up,” he tries again, but it’s no good. 

Carefully he reaches out and places a light hand on her shoulder, “Ellie.” 

She startles awake, sitting bolt upright, eyes wide and teary, hair sticking out in all directions, pajamas twisted and askew. 

She sucks in a few ragged breaths before her eyes land on him, “Joel?” 

“Yeah, baby, it’s me. You’re okay,” he placates.

“I … I … he was…” she stammers, fresh tears welling in her eyes. 

“Just a dream.” 

“He…” 

“You’re okay. You’re home. You’re safe,” he soothes. 

He brushes the hair from her eyes and cups her face in his hands, hoping to pull her away from the dream. A dream he fears may actually be a memory. 

Ellie blinks, her panic fading as she reorients herself. 

“That’a girl,” he praises, and rubs his thumbs over her cheeks, damp with sweat and tears.

He can tell her temperature has fallen even further and notes the way her shirt is soaked through with sweat.

“Seems like your fever finally broke,” he informs her.

Ellie sags and sighs in relief, letting herself fall out of his hold and flop back onto her pillow.

“Let’s get you into something more comfortable,” he says, crossing to her dresser and pulling out a clean, dry pair of soft sweatpants and an oversized t-shirt he’s sure she stole from him. 

Ellie sighs and sits up again, letting her feet hang off the edge of her bed. She still looks a little dazed, but when Joel hands her the clothes she accepts them and bundles them into her lap.

“Thanks,” she says quietly.

“I’m going to grab the thermometer and glass of water. I’ll be right back.”

When he returns Ellie’s changed and sitting curled up in bed, her knees to her chest. Joel takes a seat next to her on the edge of the bed. 

“Here,” he says, handing her the cup, “drink a bit for me.”

She follows his instructions, drinking most of the glass before handing it back. 

“Do you want to talk about it?” he asks carefully.

She shakes her head no.

“You know you can talk to me, right? About anything.”

She nods her head yes, but the corners of her mouth pull down and she looks close to tears again. 

“Come here,” he offers, opening his arms to her for the second time in as many days. 

This time she comes without hesitation, wapping her own arms around his middle. 

His stomach knots a bit at the idea that maybe she’s just been waiting for him to initiate before allowing herself to show this kind of affection. 

Joel envelopes her in a solid hug and rubs her back, trying to ease the lingering tension of the nightmare. 

“You’re okay. I’m here. You’re safe,” he repeats like a mantra.

He knows her distress is about more than just being sick, but if she doesn’t want to talk about it right now he’s not going to force it. 

When she lets go he takes her temperature again. 

“Would you look at that, 98.6 degrees,” he remarks happily.

“Is that good?”

“It’s normal. So yeah, that’s good,” he says with a soft smile.

“Might be a first,” she muses. 

“For what?” 

“Anyone calling me normal,” she quips.

“Hang on now, that’s not what I said,” he argues in jest.

Ellie giggles, unable to hold back her own smile. 

She still sounds stuffy and hoarse, but a warm feeling of relief and gratitude washes over him all the same. Joel makes a mental note to properly thank Tommy for talking sense into him. 

They spend another day on the couch together, this time they actually watch The Blue Planet. 

Ellie is enamored and concludes that it’s not just weird to keep fish in a bowl but downright cruel. 

“The ocean is incredible! Someday, I’m going to swim with the fish!” she declares, snuggled up next to him, head on his shoulder.

“You can’t swim at all,” Joel reminds her, giving her ear a little flick.

“Hey! I said someday!” she argues. She goes quiet for a moment, then asks, “Maybe when it warms up, you can teach me?”

“Of course,” he assures her. Truth be told, he’d already been planning on it. 

By the next day she’s feeling mostly like her old-self again. Or at least well enough to get a kick out of how disgusting it is when her sinus starts to drain. 

The cough lingers for a couple more weeks, but the doctor clears her to go back to school, satisfied that she’s no longer contagious after finishing the antibiotics. 

They also have the doctor check her ribs, which are still bothering her, but the doctor thinks if anything it’s a reaggravated fracture and gives her a strict prescription of “no climbing, horseback riding, or roughhousing.”

She balks a little at the restrictions but is appeased by her regained freedom to leave the house and see her friends again. 

_.-★-.__.-✰⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆✰-.__.-★-._

A change to the work rotations leaves him with a random Tuesday off. Since Ellie’s at school he decides it’s a prime opportunity to spend some time in his workshop. 

When he sits down at his work bench, he’s met with an unexpected find: two little paper stars waiting for him.

One red. One blue.

For a moment he wonders if he’s meant to keep them folded, but curiosity gets the best of him. 

He picks up the blue one first and carefully unfolds it.

Thank you for caring about me.

Deep inhale. 

Then the red one.

I love you too.

He stares down at the text for a long time, written in Ellie’s neat but sharp scrawl.

His vision goes blurry for a second, and he blinks back the tears. 

On impulse Joel dumps out the small vase he’s been using as a pen cup, then carefully refolds each star, and drops them in. 

Clearing a spot on the top shelf of his bookcase he places the glass vessel where he can both admire it and keep it safe from being knocked over.

From then on, it becomes a somewhat frequent occurrence; these star notes. 

Ellie leaves them for him, and sometimes he leaves them for her. 

It's a bit of a cheat code for getting around that lump in his throat that keeps him from voicing some of the feelings he knows he should; and he thinks she probably feels the same. 

Sometimes he gets white stars. And while they often make guilt or anger or sadness coil heavy in his stomach, he thinks he might actually cherish them more than the colored ones. 

The fact that she’s starting to feel safe enough to share some of her harder to navigate feelings means a lot to him, even if it hurts to know she’s feeling those things. 

He doesn't label his vase but he comes to think of them as his ‘reasons.’

His reason to smile, his reason to try harder, his reason to keep going. 

All little pieces of Ellie given willingly. All deeply important to him.

_.-★-.__.-✰★✰-.__.-★-._

Another month passes and his reasons-vase slowly fills. 

It’s a gloomy April day when he goes into his workshop and finds a single white star waiting for him. 

He picks it up and the tiny bit of folded paper feels impossibly heavier than the rest.

Somehow, he knows this is the star he’s been both dreading and waiting for. 

He meticulously untucks the end of the strip and unfurls the length of the paper. 

I want to know what really happened

It’s a simple, vague statement, but he knows without a doubt what she means. 

He sits with his thoughts for a long while, wrestling with his own inclination to bury his feelings, before going to find her. 

It’s one of the hardest conversations he’s ever had to have. 

It nearly breaks him to see the hurt and betrayal in her eyes, but he tells the truth. The whole truth.

He makes it clear that he’s sorry he lied about it, but he’s not sorry he did it - and that he’d do it all again if he had to. 

Ellie throws some angry words at him in response, but he’d expected it and accepts it.

The fear of her hating him is strong, but pales in comparison to his fear of losing another daughter.

_.-★-.__.-✰★✰-.__.-★-._

The following weeks are tough - and quiet. 

Ellie’s anger and grief seem to wax and wane at unpredictable rates. 

He gives her space to process. 

Her fuck-you-jar fills more quickly. He tries not to imagine they all say “I hate Joel.”

She spends more time over at Tommy’s and he has to really work not to take that hurt out on his brother.

He doesn’t let her pull away completely though. 

He insists she sit with him at dinner, even if she won't speak to him.

He still brings home movies for them to watch together, even if she stays stubbornly on the opposite end of the couch and withholds her usual commentary. 

And she, for her part, still brings him food when he works late.

And still leaves her door open a crack at night. 

_.-★-.__.-✰★✰-.__.-★-._

As the weather warms, Ellie’s anger starts to cool.

She starts talking to him again. 

It’s stilted and mostly monosyllabic at first; the fact that they are pointedly avoiding the elephant in the room is obvious.

He finally gets her to talk to a counselor by convincing Tommy to pitch it as his idea. (Maria helps him sell it.)

And slowly, but surely, that elephant starts to shrink.

He knows they’ll have to talk about it again, maybe several times, before that wound really starts to heal; but he gives her time to digest her own loss before even hoping to resolve his. 

He knows how important the cure was to her, and he knows she fought like hell to make it happen. 

It still scares him to think she would have given her life willingly if the fireflies had had the decency to ask.

He knows he took that choice away from her.

But he holds out hope that, with time, she’ll come to cherish her own life as much as he does.

_.-★-.__.-✰⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆✰-.__.-★-._

It's a beautiful summer evening when Ellie comes to him and declares it's time for The Burn, reverently presenting her full fuck-you-jar of white stars.

So, Joel rolls out an old dryer drum and stacks a couple cinder blocks under it to use as a fire pit. 

They wait for dusk before starting the fire. 

It’s a warm night, and the moon is large and full in the clear sky.

The two of them sit quietly by the fire as the last tendrils of daylight slip away. 

There’s a tinge of nostalgia to it, like those nights spent on the road, just to two of them.

He can tell there’s a real significance to this ritual for Ellie. She sinks into that quiet contemplative mood that usually unsettles him, but right now it feels more like coming to a crossroads. There’s more than one direction to go, but regardless of the path chosen, the journey will continue.

When the sky grows dark and the little pin pricks of distant light begin to twinkle, Ellie digs her hand into the jar and pulls out a fist full of stars.

She holds them for a moment in quiet reflection before she tosses them into the fire. 

The paper catches before they even fall all the way into the flames. 

The burning embers rise into the air, riding the rippling currents of heat.

They flare and flicker, dancing and darting like little fireflies before they burn out. Leaving behind only ash and dust.

She repeats the process until the jar is empty. 

When it’s done she blows out a long breath and settles next to him on the bench. 

There’s a palpable change in the air between them.

It’s not that everything is fixed now; but it feels easier. As if instead of being hung up on the past and the things they can’t change, they are both now looking forward. 

He wraps an arm around her shoulders and pulls her in close. She leans into him without protest. 

The two of them, side by side, gaze up at the stars. 

The fire burns lower and the night grows colder, but still they sit. 

It’s Ellie who finally breaks the silence. 

“Hey, Joel,” she starts.

“Yeah?” 

“How do you get clean in outer space?”

“What?” he asks, unprepared for her joke after weeks of stoicism.

“You take a meteor shower!”

He snorts, “Terrible.”

“Don’t lie. That was great,” she insists, smiling up at him.  

“You’re a menace, you know that?” he tells her, grinning and ruffling her hair.

“You love me,” she says playfully, the firelight glinting in her eyes.

“And what, pray tell, would give you that idea?” he says in mock incredulity, his heart so full it might burst. 

Ellie throws her head back and proudly proclaims, "It was written in the stars!" 

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚ ˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚ ˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚ ˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚