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It’s New Year's Eve, and Ellie’s drinking.
It’s her second year here in Jackson, her second New Years, her second year of being…well, kind of a person again. After everything they’d been through on the road, and everything they’ve been through since, she’s finally begun to feel like herself.
Actually, that’s a fucking lie. Ellie doesn’t know who “ herself” is. She doesn’t know why she’s still here or why she ever was. She doesn’t know what the point is, of it all, or how she’s been allowed to make it this far when so many others have died.
So, she's drinking. Technically, the tavern doesn’t let people in until they’re eighteen, but she’d slipped Seth behind the bar a small bag of weed Eugene’s wife had left sticking -fucking haphazardly- out of her discarded coat pocket at dinner last week. Way too easy to snatch. Real sticky shit.
Seth’s a douchebag, but he accepts the bribe and sits Ellie at the back corner of the bar, where she won’t be seen. She honestly doubts anyone would care, she's close enough to eighteen anyway, and Joel’s doing overnight patrol, so there’s no one around to narc to.
Drunk? Nah. Just a glass of something brown that burns going down her throat, and some of the weed she’d taken from the supply before making her bribe. Not a big amount. Seth still accepted it, so.
Things are weird, lately. Things with Joel are starting to feel… blegh . Something festering under the surface that she’s still too afraid to poke at, something she knows he’ll never admit to her. A lie, a fracture in the clay of their connection, a rift somewhere deep, deep down that neither of them are able to reach yet.
Dina’s hooking up with Jesse. Cat and Ellie…well, that isn’t going too hot. Things are kind of a fucking disaster.
But she supposes this is what feeling like a person is, right? The fun stuff- like Dina making her a paper crown on her birthday, daring Jesse to do a “wheelie” on his horse and dying with laughter when the idiot actually attempts it then threatens her life against telling anyone, cobbler hot out of the ovens in the mess hall. Then the bad shit too, someone got bit on patrol, someone got too sick during the cold and died in the infirmary, Joel lied to her when she asked him again about the truth.
That’s being a person, she’s sure. The shitty stuff and the good stuff, which feels extremely confusing. It’s good but it’s bad too? She’s happy but she’s also really fucking mad, and sad.
The only logical thing to do is drink about it. She’s not going to the stupid NYE dance thing they put on every year. She’s not interested in being “part” of the community, outside of work shifts and hunting infected. She’s got her friends. And that’s the good stuff.
“You know we got an age limit?” A familiar voice says to her right, and Ellie turns to see Joel’s brother Tommy standing there, eyebrows arched, hands on his hips expectantly.
“Well, I have my ways.” She offers him a smirk, taking a smug sip of her drink.
“I could have you kicked out,” he says.
“I could make a fucking scene,” she bites back.
“Relax.” Tommy plops down on the barstool beside her, waving Seth over and ordering himself a whiskey. “My brother ain’t around. I’m not a narc.”
Ellie snorts. Tommy, while being a bit of a pushover when it comes to his wife, is infinitely more entertaining than his older brother. Joel is too busy being worried about her to have any fucking fun. Tommy on the other hand, he’s good for a decent hang.
“I’m surprised you’re not at the party,” Ellie observes, clinking her glass with Tommy’s when he reaches over for a toast. “Isn’t that community shit Maria’s whole bag?”
“Yes, and she’s right,” Tommy replies easily. “But I ain’t the biggest fan of New Years.”
“Ah, another year older, another year more useless?” Ellie guesses.
Tommy pulls a face at her that’s remarkably similar to Joel’s bewildered expressions. “What the fuck is wrong with you, kid?”
“Mushroom fungus in my brain,” she mutters dryly.
“Hey.” Tommy’s voice is sharp. “Keep that down. Jesus.”
“You and your fucking brother. No one’s paying any attention.” As if to punctuate her point, Ellie sweeps an arm around her at the nearly empty bar. An older guy with a bottle in his hand is leaning against the window, looking sorrowfully out at the snow. It’s clear there’s something he’s trying to forget, when he finds his way to the bottom of that bottle.
Even living here can’t erase all the bad. Ellie knows that firsthand.
Tommy studies her face for a moment, lips thinning. “You’re high.”
Ellie wags her eyebrows. “Is it your observational skills that made you such a good Firefly?”
Tommy winces, as if that word physically hurts him. “You got any left?”
“Any what?”
“Weed, Ellie.”
Turning sharply, surprise envelopes her features. Everyone pretty much knows about Eugene’s underground pot operation, but they’re not supposed to talk about it. It’s just one of those things- they all agree to pretend it isn’t going on, and they all benefit.
Council members are super not supposed to partake. It’s not dignified, and shit. Maria’s a bit of an anti-drug stickler. Lame.
“You…want weed?” she demands, trying to feel out the odd words on her tongue. “ You ?”
“Your ears work, don’t they?”
“Tommy.” Ellie sets her glass down on the smooth bartop. “What the fuck?”
He exhales, and she’s surprised to hear the slight tremble in the noise. Tommy wrings his hands together, glancing around the near empty room, before he leans in conspiratorially.
“I’d like to get fuckin’ high,” he mutters, “but I don’t know who’s selling.”
“I’m not narcing,” Ellie says immediately.
“Jesus, I ain’t asking you to. I just wanted to know if you had any left.”
She shakes her head. “Are you being serious? This isn’t like a trap?”
“Swear to God.”
“You can’t tell Joel. Or your wife.”
“You think I want my fuckin’ head chewed off?”
“I have some back at the garage,” she says cautiously. “Dina and I were gonna smoke it but, I think she’s busy with Jesse.”
“I’ll trade you for it,” he says.
“You don’t have anything I want,” she reminds him. “Don’t be stupid. We’ll split it. Mine’s wearing off anyway.” She picks up her glass and chugs the rest, resisting the urge to grimace.
Tommy finishes his off with ease and nods. “Alright.”
Ellie hops down from the barstool, trying to decipher if she’s hallucinating. Was it a bad strain? Laced with something? She’d been feeling fine, a little fuzzy and warm, but nothing out of the ordinary.
Tommy trails behind her, hands in his pockets, looking more anxious than she thinks she’s ever seen him. Even on patrols, he’s cool and collected. He’s not as cocky as Joel or as hard-headed, but he’s definitely not a timid man by any means.
Alone in the garage, Ellie instructs him to sit on the couch while she rifles through her patrol bag and pulls out the small pile of pre-rolled joints she and Dina had swiped from the grow lab on their last patrol.
“You can’t ask where I got it,” she says, turning to hand one to Tommy.
“Don’t care where you got it,” he admits, accepting the joint. His hands are shaking.
What the fuck?
“Seriously,” Ellie says as she sits beside him on the couch and hands him her zippo. “You know this is like really fucking weird right?”
He nods, but it doesn’t look like he’s paying much attention. “These are the ones that relax you?”
“Yeah. Are you-”
Her words are overshadowed by the deafening POP of a firework shooting off outside. She startles a bit, looking at the window as a cascading array of red sparks dance up in the sky. It had been a big deal a few months ago when Jackson had finally been able to utilize some resources and make the fireworks. Ellie wasn’t particularly interested in them. She’d seen them once before at the military academy.
“Must be midnight,” she observes.
Tommy doesn’t reply, and she turns her head back to him, frowning. Something’s wrong with his eyes, they’re glazed over.
“Tommy?” she asks, reaching out to touch his arm.
Just as he fingers make contact with his elbow, another firework pops off outside, so loud it rattles the garage roof.
And then, Ellie’s on her back on the floor, Tommy on top of her. He’s crushing her, knees pressed into her thighs, pinning her down. The joint and lighter are discarded beside her head, and Tommy’s hands are gripping her biceps so hard it hurts.
“Get off me!” She shouts, shoving at him.
“Stay the fuck down!” Tommy orders in a militant voice.
“Tommy, you idiot-” Ellie moves to shove him again. This time her palm smashes into his face, a scrambling attempt to get him off of her.
He doesn’t like that. Eyes still glossy, faraway like he’s seeing something behind her head, Tommy’s hand wraps around her throat, and compresses.
Fuuuuuuuuck!
“Tom-my!” she gasps, fumbling for her knife. His other hand grabs her wrist and pins it above her head with the other. Jesus this motherfucker is strong. And what the hell is he doing ?
His grip is tightening now, clasped around her neck and constricting her airway. Dizziness begins to swim at the corners of her vision, she struggles in his hold, trying to bite his arm. It’s too far to reach with the way she’s pinned.
Fortunately, she’s no fucking wimp, and she’s been training for this. With a defiant roar, she hauls her hips upward and smashes her knee between his thighs. Tommy makes a strangled sound of pain, and releases her neck.
She uses her freedom to headbutt him, hard.
Nobody fucking wins with a headbutt. They both double over, gasping in pain, Ellie coughing and clutching her throat. Once her vision clears, she looks accusatorily at him.
“Tommy what the fuck was that?!” she exclaims. “Some sort of shitty training exercise?”
Then she notices his eyes are still glassy, even as he clutches his head in pain. Outside, another firework pops off, and his entire body trembles violently.
Oh, shit.
“Tommy?” her voice softens as much as she can manage, which isn’t much. She moves toward him slowly, carefully. “Hey, Tommy, are you here ?”
He’s still got that thousand-yard stare on, all his limbs electrified with buzzing energy. She’s afraid to get too close, but she also doesn’t want him to like, keel over from a fucking heart attack. Outside, another firework shoots off, and a small whimper pulls from his throat.
“Hey, Tommy,” Ellie says, “you’re okay, man. You’re here with me, Ellie. You’re safe.”
She makes another brief move closer, an arms-length distance between them. She has to snap him out of it, but she doesn’t fucking know how . Ellie gets moments like this sometimes too, where the present doesn’t exist and the past sweeps you up in its suffocating embrace. What works for her may not work for this middle-aged fucking man. She wishes Joel were here. He’d know what to do.
She tries, anyway.
“You’re okay,” she says again, tender as she can manage. The fireworks continue outside, and she curses internally, wishing she could mute them. It’s clear each loud, deafening noise sends another round of terror through Tommy, with the way his frightened body reacts.
Her eyes cast over the room, and go wide as she spots her walkman and headphones. Okay, she can’t talk him down from this, and touching him seems to be a trigger for psycho murderous rage. Maybe all she can do for him right now is drown out the noise.
Ellie moves quickly in case he gets any ideas about following her, but he doesn’t even seem to notice she’s going. She beelines for the desk, fingers fumbling for her walkman and hugging it to her chest once she’s got a grip.
She scrambles back over, carefully moving to Tommy with her arms outstretched. “Okay big guy, coming to you. Don’t fucking strangle me again, okay? You’re safe, dude. I promise.”
Somehow, she gets the headphones over his ears and hits play before he reacts. His hands come up to the headphones, as if instinctively trying to remove them, but Ellie touches gentle fingers to his wrist, and shushes him.
“It’s okay!” She assures him. “It’s Pearl Jam. I know you like them. Just listen to the music, Tommy. Ignore everything else.”
His eyes are still wide, shell-shocked, but she feels his fingers grip hers, and she knows somewhere, he’s still there. The fireworks boom, and she hopes for everyone’s fucking sake that they will be done soon. These greedy motherfuckers really wanted to get their money’s worth.
Slowly, Tommy’s tension begins to wither. His shoulders and arms relax, his body sagging against the couch, knees tucked up against his chest. The noise in his expression quiets, eyelids drooping, lips drawing down. It’s as if there’s an invisible tube attached to his chest draining the anxiety and fear out in a slow drip.
Ellie sits with him, nodding her reassurance every few moments, telling him it’s okay, trying her best to give him a comforting smile. They sit side by side, Ellie bobbing her head to beats she can’t hear, Tommy’s heart gradually slowing down to a healthy rhythm.
Finally, the fireworks seem to have stopped. Ellie touches a hand to his shoulder, and Tommy tentatively removes the headphones from his ears.
“It’s over,” she tells him. “It’s over.”
“Ellie.” His voice is broken. The rattle in his chest sounds painful. His eyes are red-rimmed and watery.
“It’s okay,” she says quickly, “they’re done. You’re okay.”
“No.” He shakes his head, gesturing to her, his own hands ghosting over his neck. “I-”
Ellie touches the skin of her neck, wincing at how tender it feels. Yup, she’s definitely gonna have some fucked up bruises. Joel’s gonna be super chill about that. For sure.
“That doesn’t matter,” she insists, “I’m alright. Are you? ”
Tommy wets his lips, swiping the back of his hand across his eyes. Tears stick to his lashes but Ellie pretends she doesn’t notice.
“I fuckin’ hate New Years,” he whispers raggedly. “They had to go and make fuckin’ fireworks.”
“Fireworks are stupid,” she agrees. “ Oooh cool sparks in the sky. Like, you could get a better effect by setting the council building on fire.”
His forehead creases. “Don’t get any ideas.”
“So, fireworks?” Ellie prompts. “I’m guessing…the sound…”
“Heard a lot of explosions, in my day,” Tommy mutters back. Now that the dust has settled and he’s himself again, he seems almost…embarrassed.
“So have I,” Ellie says. “Different shit messes me up though. I guess…yours is probably even from before the outbreak, right? Joel said you were in…Desert Thunder, or whatever?”
Tommy manages a brisk laugh. “Desert Storm.”
“Right. Sounded fucked up. And then…Firefly shit?”
Wordlessly, he nods.
“That’s why you wanted the weed?” she guesses. “To calm you down.”
Tommy exhales shakily, picking at a loose thread on his well-worn jeans. “I ain’t heard fireworks in a long time. Before the outbreak, I’d fall apart any time I heard ‘em. Still can’t really explain why. Joel took to inviting me over any time there was a holiday with ‘em. 4th of July, New Years, you name it. Joel, Sarah and I would do the countdown in their basement, blasting music and keepin’ all the doors and windows shut tight.”
Ellie’s expression twists with sympathy. For all his goofiness, and uptight-councilman-husband energy, she sometimes loses sight of all that Tommy’s been through. A soldier at 18, a survivor in the outbreak, a soldier again, and now, finally, what some might call peace.
The thing about bad stuff though, it lingers. It doesn’t just go away when you’re happy. It waits, sneaks up on you when you least expect it. It lives inside you like cordyceps, growing, maturing as you do, finding new ways to strike into your veins and paralyze you.
“I’m sorry I wasn’t more help,” Ellie says. “I wish Joel was here.”
Tommy looks down at her bruised neck, eyebrows furrowed. “You got nothin’ to be sorry for, Ellie. I’m the one who-”
“Hey, don’t go there. It wasn’t your fault.” Ellie smiles gently at him. “Besides, it was a good opportunity for me to put my training to the test. You folded like a deck of cards.”
He snorts. “That’s some shit my brother would say.”
“Well, he handles you better than I do.”
“You two are more alike than you wanna think,” Tommy reminds her. It’s something he says all the time, lamenting that “oh great, there’s two of you” whenever Ellie does something that’s remotely annoying or Joel-esque.
She doesn’t see it, personally. Joel is aggravating. She’s not.
“I’m surprised Maria would be cool with the fireworks anyway,” she adds, “knowing they fuck you up.”
Tommy looks at her with surprise. “She doesn’t know.”
She blinks in disbelief. “You never told her?”
“What’s the point? Never thought I’d have to fuckin’ worry about it here.”
“Jesus dude. I think you’re the one who’s more like Joel here.”
Ellie can’t help but look at this man beside her, more than twice her age, reduced to a frantic pile of tears and terror at the mere sound of fireworks. She’s always kind of assumed if she made it that far she’d be well-adjusted, collected, like Maria. Is it possible that it truly never fucking gets better?
“So it doesn’t get easier?” She braves the question, averting her eyes. “All the shit we’ve seen and done. It…even now, it won’t go away?”
Tommy’s eyes scrutinize her, lips drawn tight, brows knitted together. It’s clear he’s debating how to answer her question.
“Don’t fucking lie,” she breathes, and it’s more a plea than a demand. She can’t handle any more lies. Even small ones.
“Easier?” he asks, shaking his head. “No. But you learn to manage it.”
“ That was managing it?” she demands, and then guilt swallows her whole. “Sorry. I didn’t mean-”
“No, s’okay. You’re right. I lost control. I hurt you. That’s fuckin’ unacceptable. I fully intend to turn myself into the council for punishment.”
“Punishment?” Ellie sits up straighter. “What the fuck? No, Tommy.”
“I hurt you, Ellie. That ain’t okay.”
“It wasn’t your fault.” She crosses her arms over her chest petulantly. “I’m not letting you do that. We both know I can kick your ass. Don’t even try it.”
“You haven’t seen those bruises.” He gestures to her neck with a tortured look on his face. “I can’t believe I did that to you, Ellie. I’m so-”
“Tommy, you didn’t do it, okay? I’ve had plenty of fucking episodes where I lost control. If it makes you feel better, I can headbutt you again.”
He presses a hand to his forehead. “That explains the fuckin’ headache. Why would you headbutt me?”
“It was that or shoot your dick off,” she snaps.
“Why was it between those two?!”
“I like to keep it interesting.” Ellie sighs and gets to her feet, holding a hand out for Tommy to take. “C’mon. Get up. I’m taking you home to your wife and kid. You should be with them.”
Tommy accepts her open palm, but instead of just standing up and fucking off, he pulls her against his chest and hugs her.
It isn’t their first time hugging. He’s a casual guy with his affection, compared to Joel. He’ll throw an arm around your shoulders for a group photo, or playfully tug your hair when he’s teasing you. His tenderness is not as guarded as his older brother’s.
Still, Ellie is a little surprised at the gentle embrace. His arms are strong, well-built like Joel’s. He smells like whiskey and sandalwood. His strength, which very recently had been the source of her frustration, now feels… safe.
“I don’t want you to be scared of me,” he whispers into her hair, like a vulnerable thing too personal to share loudly.
“W-what?” she stammers, face pressed into the fabric of his flannel shirt.
“I never, ever want to hurt you, kid.” His voice trembles slightly. “I want you to trust me. I don’t want you to be afraid. I’m so so sorry I broke that trust.”
Ellie blinks rapidly, not sure why her eyes suddenly feel wet. She swallows thickly, drawing the emotion down her esophagus. The shame and guilt coating each word that comes from his lips is enough to make her chest ache.
She doesn’t like to admit it most times, because it’s easier to be brash, cold, unforgiving. The lies and deceit and pain that intertwine with her heart overpower most of her desires to be happy and grateful. But, despite all that, Tommy has done so much for her. Joel and she have a home here because of him. They have safety. She has friends and weed and a bartender to bribe. She has shit she never, ever thought she’d have.
She has a life . And she knows she owes that to both of the Millers, whether she likes facing that reality or not.
“I trust you,” she leans back and looks up at his wrecked expression. “You’re Tommy. I trust you. I promise.”
He blinks rapidly, a surprisingly vulnerable openness on his face. “I love you so much, kid. I-I hope you know that.”
Ellie swallows her pride, knowing right now, he needs to hear the truth, more than she needs to protect herself.
“Love you too, stupid.”
Well, she has her limits.
Tommy manages a small, dry laugh. With that, he moves to separate their hug, but Ellie surprises them both by clinging to him.
He looks down at her inquisitively.
“Just-” she exhales, pressing her face back into his chest. “Give me five seconds to remind myself.”
“Remind yourself what?”
“What I have.”
He goes quiet at that, submitting again to the embrace. She holds him there, eyes closed, taking in the steady beat of his heart, the warmth of his skin, the gentle rhythm of his breathing. He’s careful with her, not overstepping or touching too much, just circling his arms and resting them on her shoulders. He lets her take the lead.
She doesn’t know much about family. She didn’t ever really have it until Joel. But she knows, without a doubt in her heart, that it’s supposed to feel like this.
It isn’t even hard to forgive him for what he did, because she knows him. She knows him like family knows each other. All of his bad, but all of his good too. That’s who he is. The good is Tommy, and the bad is something he battles with everyday.
Ellie has her fair share of bad, too.
She lets him go, running a hand through her choppy hair, laughing anxiously. It’s the longest they’ve ever hugged, and the most gooey and emotional they’ve ever gotten, and it’s kind of weird. But it’s also kind of nice. Things have been really hard lately, especially between her and Joel, and she likes being reminded that she has other people in her life who care about her. She has other people she cares about just as much.
A full life. Something she’d never, ever expected herself to have. Something she’d achieved at the expense of everyone else in the world.
That thought sours her expression, but she quickly schools it so Tommy doesn’t notice.
“I’ll probably stop by the dance, make sure everything went okay,” Tommy says quietly. “You wanna join?”
Ellie shakes her head. “Nope. I’m hitting that joint and going to bed.”
He chuckles, nodding. “Alright then, kid. Are you sure you’re okay?”
“ I’m not the one who went full Curtis and Viper action star, dude.”
With a roll of his eyes, he moves for the door. “Yeah, you’re fine.”
She watches him go, waving goodbye as he does. He shuts the door firmly for her, leaving her standing there in the almost eerie quiet.
A rush of emotions threatens to flood her chest, but she tamps them down. It’s not the fucking time. She’s exhausted, and frayed, and confused. She needs to ice her neck before Joel gets back and sees it. That’s gonna be a fun brotherly talk for them. Tommy will have to fess up, because she’s not gonna. The truth works both ways. If Joel wants it, he’s got to give it.
With that thought, she bends down and picks up the walkman, curious as to what song it had paused on when Tommy finally took the headphones off.
She slides them on over her ears, sitting down beside the couch. She grabs her joint, lights the end, and inhales a long, deep breath.
Ellie hits play on the walkman, eyes focused lazily on the night sky outside her window as a familiar tune begins to play through her ears.
If I ever were to lose you, I’d surely lose myself.