Chapter Text
It's a blustery fall day, and leaves of red, orange, and yellow crunch beneath the horses hooves as Joel and Tommy patrol the weathered trail. There's a coupling of abandoned buildings a few hours out of Jackson, and as the weather grows colder and more biting in Wyoming, they are on a timetable to scavenge whatever they can find to prepare them for winter. They're always looking for medical supplies to add to their stock as the population of Jackson grows larger and more fruitful. Food isn't a concern, many of the residents grow their food and patrols always bring back meat; but medicine is a rarity out here, even in Jackson, where they're better off than most. Luckily, they know all the likely places to loot. Joel and Tommy leave their horses tied to a tree nearby, leaving them enough room to graze a little and rest before the long journey back. They've done this long enough to not need to speak to communicate, a series of hand signs and looks is all they need, armed to the teeth as always, cautious even though the threat is likely to be minimal here. The first building is dilapidated and there's barely a scrap of cloth that'd be useful to them, so they continue onto the next, pulling the collars of their coats higher to protect them against the cold.
Joel and Tommy step through a shattered window, careful to avoid stepping on most of the glass to keep as quiet as possible. Without needing to talk, they go separate ways to clear one floor at a time, guns at the ready. The first floor doesn't yield much more than tipped over shelves and the remnants of trash and decades of dirt on the floor. There's the skeleton of a cashier, still wearing their green supermarket vest, which just seems particularly pathetic for whatever reason. Predictably, nearly everything is wiped out of the supermarket, except for a few athletic wrist and ankle braces, some hydrocortisone creams and tissues; apparently none of those things were deemed necessary at the end of the world, but Joel pockets them and continues sweeping through the store.
Tommy uses a shiv to get into the staff backrooms, breaking the lock easily and shoving it open as far as it can go. He only gets two steps into the room before there is a dark, hunched form darting across the room between the wall and a toppled shelf, near silent on quick feet. He raises his rifle and continues through the room, scanning left to right every few seconds, listening as hard as he could for shuffling.
The infected slams into his back as he reaches the end of the aisle, knocking him down and nearly slamming his temple into a table. He rolls with it though, his back screaming in pain, feral growling coming from rotted teeth as he flips them, reversing their positions, and slamming the butt of his gun into the infected's face. It howls in pain, the blow stunning it as the flesh of its cheek is sloughed off, yellow and black teeth apparent through the sinew and what's left of its jaw. Tommy scrambles back to his feet, wasting no time raising his gun and shooting the infected in the head at close range, gore splattering all over the floor. He hears rushing footsteps and raises his gun again, preparing for a clicker, but it's only Joel, deadly determination on his face that always results in someone's gruesome death.
"S'fine, caught me off guard but it was just the one," Tommy says as Joel slows his pace, seeing that the danger is gone.
"It get ya anywhere?"
"Nah, probably fucked my back though, I'm too damn old for this."
"Or too damn slow."
Tommy flips him off, looking around and stepping over the body lying prone between them. There's a small mini refrigerator in the back emanating a gross smell that he doesn't dare open, a rotting wooden cupboard with cubbies in them and the remains of what once was a couch. They find a few dusty jackets in the cubbies, a small pack of Tylenol in one of the purses, and a reuseable water bottle that they might be able to restore once they clean it up a bit. It's not much, but Jackson finds a way to make use of almost everything they bring back. Pocketing their meager goods, they find the staircase to the next floor of the building, hesitating when they hear a shuffling noise come from above. Tommy and Joel inch their way up the staircase, weapons at the ready and eyes roving, Tommy checking left instinctually, and Joel checking right. They come into an opening at the top of the stairs, a few doors on either side of them, Joel motioning for Tommy to sweep the left.
Joel sweeps the first two rooms on the second floor, but finds nothing useful except bare rooms marked with age and graffiti, glass broken on the ground. The shuffling gets louder as he gets closer, footsteps crunching lightly with nearly every step. He sees Tommy across the hall, coming out of the last room near him with a shake of the head. Joel motions for Tommy to join him outside the door of the suspicious room, just in case. Some infected stay trapped for years until they are entirely feral and devastatingly strong the longer the cordyceps has time to grow.
They hover outside the closed door, listening intently for the shuffling sound. Tommy counts down on his fingers from three, and Joel kicks open the door at one, choosing the element of surprise. There's a tiny war cry that answers the banging of the door on the wall, and for the second time in one hour, Tommy is charged again; this time by a much smaller, much wobblier form. He lowers his gun in surprise but fails to notice the knife held in a small, dirty hand that nearly manages to stab him in the thigh as the form closes in, until Joel steps in and snags the twig thin wrist, spinning the child until his hands trap both wrists behind their back, making them drop the knife.
At first, Tommy thinks the kid is infected, and his heart leaps to his throat at the thought, he's already mentally preparing to have to shoot the kid, fighting like a prey animal hopelessly caught in a trap. The kid wails, positively feral looking as she bucks against Joel violently, trying desperately to throw him off. Dirty brown hair hangs tangled over half her face, which is covered in scrapes and bruises, and her torn up clothes hang off of her tiny body, but what he can see of her skin beneath the grime is intact, not peeling or rotting, and despite her rage, she doesn't seem to be trying to bite them.
"Get off me fucker!" The kid spits, still struggling even though she seems to be losing steam as seconds pass, panting furiously.
Joel and Tommy relax simultaneously despite the words, now that they're pretty sure they won't have to put the child down. Infected can't form words, the cordyceps that grows in the brain renders the victim unable to process language as well as produce it, and by the time it does, cordyceps has its own way to use their hosts to communicate. The kid's far too small to be a real threat to either of them as long as she isn't infected, her head not even reaching Joel's hip, though she fights like hell to get free. Joel kicks her knife to Tommy's feet and he picks it up, slipping it into his pocket, which seems to make the girl even madder, making them both wince as the girl screams in fury like a banshee.
"No! Give it back!" Her voice wobbles even though she sounds pissed as all hell, and Tommy can see the tears streaking lines down her dirty face.
Tommy lifts his hands in surrender, looking to Joel before saying, "No problem, s'long as you don't intend on stabbing us with it. We won't hurt ya, we're just passin' through, thought you were infected."
The girl peeks at him distrustfully, a watery brown eye glancing at him through a curtain of matted hair. She looks over her shoulder to glare at Joel, only stopping her struggle and relaxing when he nods like a peace offering. She shoves away from Joel as soon as he lets go, and she tries to put distance between the men and her, but her legs wobble and send her to the ground before she gets very far. Tommy reaches forward like he wants to help, but retracts his hand quickly when she tenses up and curls into herself a bit.
He crouches so he's level with her, scanning what he can see of her skin for bites, but it's hard to tell past the grime on her clothes. The room is empty, and they know the rest of the building is too, meaning she's waiting for her adult to come back, or she's on her own entirely. There's not much else in the room, two stained couch cushions pushed together in the corner, a red patched backpack, and a dented canteen. He guesses she's on her own, judging by the sparse objects in the room and the hungry, animalistic glint in her eye that he's seen so often since the outbreak.
"Promise you won't get stabby if I give this back?" Tommy asks, waiting for her to nod before sliding her knife across the floor, watching as she scrambles to grab it.
She holds the knife to her chest with both hands, like she's determined not to let it be taken from her again, on her knees on the disgusting floor. Tommy can't help but think about his own kid at home, barely walking and still so fragile, he can't imagine the germs this floor alone holds, and it looks like this kid's been living here.
"Do you know where your adult is, sweetpea?"
Ellie's face hardens, "Don't have one."
"You're here by yourself?" Joel questions, brow crinkling.
Ellie sniffles and shrugs without looking at them, decidedly ignoring the question.
"Are you hungry? Thirsty? We don't have much food, but I bet I've got something in my pack, and we've plenty of water."
Ellie perks up at the mention of sustenance, licking her cracked lips, though she still eyes them warily, nodding slightly.
Joel cuts his eyes to his younger brother, and Tommy knows exactly what it means. The Joel of now, of the last twenty years, is suspicious of everyone and reluctant to help on that basis, it could be a trap, raiders could be hiding somewhere in the building, she could stab us as soon as she gets that knife back.
Tommy's been hardened by the outbreak too, his trust shattered time and again, and the optimism he had for any good humans being left had died early on, or at least before he found Jackson and Maria. He used to let Joel convince him to be paranoid of everyone, to look past suffering, to induce suffering on others, because Tommy and Joel had to worry about their own survival, and the depravity the outbreak brought out in people made Tommy feel justified in that for awhile.
But Tommy couldn't live like that forever, he's naturally hopeful, optimistic and trusting of people. He believes in good intentions and second chances, and that's what always kept him anchored. When that ended, and he hardened like his brother, life lost meaning and color, because what's the point of anything if we don't take care of each other? If we let humanity go and pass us by, we open the door for new depths of depravity and selfishness. Tommy doesn't want to live that way anymore.
"Here," Tommy slips his canteen out of his belt without waiting for an answer, uncapping it and offering it to the shivering figure on the floor, "Go on, it's just water."
The girl hesitates for long seconds, but she gives in eventually, darting out to grab it from his hand before backing away again. She tips it back clumsily, sloshing water down her front as she drinks hungrily, loudly.
"Stay here with her," He tells Joel, "I'm gonna see if we've got any food in our packs."
"Tommy," Joel begins, already protesting.
"Two minutes," Tommy calls, jogging down the hallway before Joel can say anything more.
"You're gonna make yourself sick," Joel mutters towards the girl, who finally lowers the canteen after several seconds, swiping at her mouth. She burps loudly in response which makes Joel snort before he covers it quickly by clearing his throat.
She looks at him curiously at the sound, tilting her head when she asks, "Did you shoot a guy?"
"What?"
"I heard a big boom, that's why I attacked with my knife." She explains, turning said knife over in her hands.
Joel notices she's got a scab through her eyebrow that looks like it'll scar, and an abundance of freckles across her nose and cheeks, far too hollow for a child. Size wise, she looks around like a small four year old, or at least he remembers Sarah was about that size at four, but outbreak babies have always been too small due to the lack of proper nutrition for them, so she could very well be older. Her oversized clothes don’t help either, her shirt nearly down to her knees and her pants rolled several times at the ankles.
"My brother shot an infected. It's dead now," He adds, surprising himself with the reassuring comment.
"What brother?"
"Uh, Tommy? The guy you almost stabbed."
"Oh."
"Yeah."
There's an awkward silence, the kid still taking long pulls of the bottle, but less urgently than before. She clicks her heels together, holes in the bottom of both of her decrepit sneakers.
"What's your name?" She asks eventually.
"Joel."
"Oh." She says, clearly waiting for him to ask her for her name before she sighs dramatically, like he's stupid and she's being incredibly patient with him, "I'm Ellie."
Joel nods, but is saved from having to figure out how to continue by Tommy coming back.
"Found some trail mix and crackers, it's not much, but it's somethin'," He sits on the ground a few feet away from her and pushes the bags toward her, mindful not to crowd her.
Tearing into the trail mix and stuffing a handful in her mouth eagerly, Ellie chews like it'll get to her stomach faster if she rushes. She doesn't seem to mind the crumbs she's getting all over her shirt.
Joel knows that feeling, while there's been multiple times in his life where he did have access to food; he knew intimately what it was like to be hungry, even before the outbreak. He remembers being a kid, trying to get his kid brother to eat beans on toast for the third day in a row because their dad hasn't been shopping in days and the only other thing they did have in their fridge was alcohol. He remembers feeling like a failure when he was raising Sarah on his own, and it was her complaining about having shredded cheese and tortilla chips as nachos for dinner again.
"Slow down, no one's gonna take it from you," Tommy says gently, "Are you hurt? Looks like you've got some scratches."
"M'okay," She mumbles through a mouthful of nuts, and bats away the hair falling in her face, "S'old stuff."
"You got any bites?" Joel asks, crossing his arms over his chest.
Ellie shakes her head, cheeks full like a chipmunk's. Both Joel and Tommy sigh, releasing the tension in their shoulders.
"There's no one here with you?" Tommy checks again, needing to know, he can't imagine going back to the comfort of his home knowing this little girl's out here alone and starving.
She scowls at him, a wall that wasn't there before going up between them, "Mind your bees, Tommy."
Tommy blinks in surprise, and Joel snorts, this time not even trying to disguise it, "Yeah, Tommy, mind your bees."
Tommy flips his brother off, smiling and turning back to Ellie, "I was just going to ask, if you're alone out here, if you wanted to come back to town with us, little miss.”
Joel makes a noise in his throat, “Your wife approve of that?”
Tommy ignores him, “We've got lots more food, and clean clothes, and a nice bed for you to sleep in. How's that sound?"
"I'm not going back to the orphanage," She says cuttingly, pausing her chewing to glare at each of them threateningly, dirt caked finger nails grasping the handle of her knife. Joel wonders how often she’s had to use it to protect herself.
"You won't, we don’t live in a QZ," Tommy reassures, even though he has no clue exactly what orphanage she's talking about. Probably one of the FEDRA ones if he had to guess, which means she somehow escaped from a QZ, except the closest one is probably hundreds of miles away from here, and he has no idea how she would've gotten to the middle of nowhere Wyoming.
"No FEDRA?" She checks.
"No, FEDRA can't even find us where we are, pinky promise."
"What's a pinky prom— pro—"
"Promise," Tommy emphasizes, "It's the most serious of all promises, that's how you know you can trust it. A pinky promise means, I mean what I say. No FEDRA. Here," Tommy reaches his hand out, extending his pinky and taking her hand, guiding her pinky to interlock his, "This is how you seal the deal."
"Pinky promise." Ellie says to herself, staring at their linked fingers.
"So what do ya say, kiddo? Would you like to come back with us?"
Ellie nods, looking at both brothers in childlike astonishment, like they're her personal heroes. She clambers to her feet, still a little unsteady, but shaking less now that she has some food in her system, crumbs falling from her clothes.
"Sorry for bein' mean and telling you to mind your bees," She says earnestly, swiping a hand under her nose.
"That's alright. What's your name?"
"Ellie. I already know yours, and the grumpy dude is Joel, we talked when you left."
"He is grumpy, isn’t he?”
Joel levels them with a flat stare, and Tommy stage whispers to Ellie, “Extremely grumpy,” and she giggles, growing more comfortable with them by the second.
Joel rolls his eyes, “How old are you, kid?"
Ellie holds up a grimy palm, little fingers spread wide, "This many, but I'm gonna be this many," She says, arranging her fingers until she's holding up six of them.
"And how old would you guess the grumpy dude is?" Tommy asks conspiratorially.
Ellie scans Joel up and down, thinking hard before uttering confidently, "A hundred and two."
They help Ellie collect her meager things, a dented water jug, a patched hoodie, and her backpack, which Tommy holds so she can stick her arms through. Tommy tells her to stick with Joel as they leave the room, walking a few steps ahead of them as he sweeps the path, rifle on his shoulder.
The dilapidated store appears empty and silent around them as they skirt around fallen shelves and vending machines, occasionally lifting Ellie so she doesn’t step on glass or nails with her worn shoes. Now that she’s sure they’re safe, all previous reservations or doubts she might’ve had about them are completely discarded as she chatters their ears off while they make their way back to the horses. For a kid who tried to disembowel them at first glance, she seems perfectly content now to follow them. It makes Joel feel nauseous when he thinks about what could’ve happened to her if someone else with bad intentions found her and gained her trust, or what might’ve already happened to her before she got here, and what caused all those scrapes she has.
Ellie gasps loudly when she sees their horses, chewing on some grass by the tall oak tree they were tied to, chuffing and snorting.
“You have horsies?!” She squeals, pulling on Joel’s hand as she tries to tug him faster toward the animals.
“Now hold on,” Tommy says, halting her before she can rush at his horse, “You gotta be nice and calm when you go to them, or you’ll scare them. You can’t pet them if you scare them away.”
“‘Kay,” Ellie nods her understanding vigorously, eyes fixed on the beautiful brown horse, a white stripe running down his nose. “I’ll be good, I promise,” She says emphatically, stumbling over the word a little and raising her arms at Tommy, all previous reservations about these two strangers abandoned as her chocolate brown eyes sparkle with excitement.
The way Tommy’s face melts makes Joel’s heart ache, it’s an expression that used to be reserved only for Sarah before Tommy had his own kid, she had them both wrapped around her finger since the day she was born, but especially when she started talking enough to call him, “Unca Tommy.” Joel’s seen more of it now that Tommy has his own kid, and it both fills him with joy and nostalgic grief to see his brother softened again.
Tommy lifts her up, settling her on his hip as he slowly approaches his horse. He keeps his voice low and steady as he instructs her, “You gotta be real gentle with horses, they’re big scaredy cats so you want to be real calm.”
He takes her little hand in his, guiding her to pet the horse’s nose, chuckling when she giggles, feeling the horse’s breath on her hand and his warm fuzzy nose nudging her for more pets.
The ride back to Jackson is full of Ellie's questions about the horses, about them, and where they're going, peppered with their questions about Ellie's past, though it seems to be the one thing she doesn't want to talk about. When they get to the gates of Jackson, Tommy having radio'd ahead to let them know they were bringing back a stray, Ellie gets quieter, pressing into Joel's chest like she's trying to shrink herself as a patrol group meets them halfway, dogs at the ready. The dogs deem her clean after a few tense moments, and despite her skittishness around people, she’s completely at home with the animals, bear hugging each.
As the gates receive them, and Jackson in its full fall time glory is revealed, Ellie's head moves on a swivel, taking in everything around her with an anxious expression, and Tommy can't blame her. It must be like stepping into a different world from the conditions she's been living in for who knows how long. To see so many well fed, clean, and dressed. People gathering and enjoying the nice fall weather probably doesn't make sense to a kid who was born into the end of the world. There are very few comforts in living in a QZ, and fewer people to trust when the military controls the occupants every breath and shit until those few comforts don't seem to be worth living in prison.
"Alright, how does some dinner sound?" Tommy asks, lifting Ellie off the horse and setting her on the ground.
"Can the horsies come?”
Tommy clicks his tongue regretfully, “The horses have to go eat dinner at the stables."
"Can just one come?" She asks sweetly, leaning into the horse's leg, obviously having picked up Tommy's weakness. "They're my friends."
Joel for his part, is having a fantastic time watching Tommy fight for his life not to melt like butter on a hot pan for her puppy dog eyes. Benji, even though he's only 15 months, has also learned how to weaponize his cuteness, and after 14 years of Tommy teasing Joel relentlessly about how easy he is when it comes to Sarah, it feels like retribution to watch it happen to his brother now. Not to say that Tommy wouldn't melt under Sarah's puppy dog eyes, but Sarah hardly ever had to ask Tommy for something because Joel never had the heart to deny her anything, and Tommy's always been the easy going one; so it wasn't until having his own kid with his very no bullshit wife that he's had to put his foot down more than ever.
Tommy's mouth twists like he's tasted something sour, and Joel almost thinks he's going to cave and force Joel to find a way to fit the horse at their usual table when he says, "Sorry munchkin, Your friends have to go home, but what if I take you to visit them tomorrow?"
“Aw, fuck, man.” Ellie says disappointedly.
Tommy chokes a little, knowing he should probably correct her, but she sounds so genuine and cute.
“Don’t say that word, Ellie, it’s rude,” Joel scolds lightly, though his lips are pursed as he tries not to smile as he dismounts as well.
She turns to him grumpily, hands on her hips, “What am I s’pose to say instead?”
“How about darn?” Joel offers, unable to stop himself from putting his hands on his hips and arranging his face into something stern to mime her.
“Aw darn,” She tests, in the same disappointed voice as before for the full effect before she makes a considering face, scrunching her nose in apparent disapproval, “Doesn’t feel the same."
Joel makes a face like he's saying good point, and Tommy sighs, "Say bye to your friends Ellie. Tomorrow you can meet all the other horses and make even more friends."
Appeased by the offer, Ellie nods and lifts her arms for Tommy to lift her again to give goodnight kisses and pets on each horses snout, "See you tomorrow horsies, sleep good."
Ellie holds Joel's hand and presses into his side as they walk to the house, seeming to keep a wary eye on everyone they pass, muscles tensing like a cat's when people stare or call out greetings to the pair on the way. Joel nods and replies politely but keeps them moving at a steady pace and not allowing himself to be stopped by anyone. Tommy's house is a freshly painted sage, a project that'd been on the list for years that they finally got around to in the summer, and there are fresh herbs growing on the porch in the window sills.
A harmonious breeze drifts through the space, carrying the scents of dill, basil, and mint. Ellie slides behind Joel's leg while they wait for someone to respond to Joel's knocks, knowing that usually, children are to be seen and not heard, Joel and Tommy were just exceptionally nice, Ellie's not really met many adults that care to answer all her questions, or offer to take her to see horses.
Maria opens the door and gives them a stressed smile, "Hi, come on in," she waves them inside, distractedly looking into the other room when an angry cry begins.
She leads them into the living room, scooping up a handsome baby with shiny black curls and almond coffee colored eyes from a playpen. She sits on the armchair by the couch, giving Ellie a warm, if not tired look, "I hear you're Ellie, it's nice to meet you. I'm Maria, and this is Benji."
"Hi," Ellie says shortly, eyeing the pair.
Benji, as if to emphasize this point, reaches for one of her braids, tugging hard with a squeal. Maria grimaces, unwinding her hair from his fist and setting him into a bouncy chair. Maria shows Ellie the bathroom and the clothes she'd managed to rustle up while going through Jackson's clothing storage, and made sure she knew how to use the shower before leaving Ellie to it. She reenters the living room to find Joel playing a game with Benji that consists of him answering a banana phone and finding out horrible news that makes him cry, because for whatever reason, her menace of a son finds that the funniest thing in the world. She flops onto the couch, rubbing her eyes, she can't remember the last time she's slept longer than two hours.
"Where's she stayin' tonight?" Joel asks after giving her a few quiet moments.
"Ours, for now, probably. Until we find a family willing to adopt her. How old is she? She's so small."
"Almost six, she said. Outbreak babies. She also said something about FEDRA and an orphanage, and you know how most of those kids end up, she thought we were gonna take her back."
"How the hell did she end up all the way out here?"
"Beats me, she told Tommy to mind his bees when he asked."
Maria laughs, "Well did he?"
"Does he ever?"
There's the creaking of the glass door opening, and then the doorknob jiggling, when Maria says, "Speak of the devil."
Tommy enters with his arms full of at least six containers piled high. He flashes them a smile briefly around the stack, wobbling precariously. "Incoming, Millers! I didn't know what Ellie would and wouldn't like, so I got everything, anything else can be eaten later, and extra mac and cheese for my wife because I don't like being on her bad side. Joel get your old ass moving and set the table."
Joel points at him threateningly, though it doesn't look very intimidating with Benji clapping happily on his shoulder, "You're pushin' it, punk. I'll shove your head in the toilet, 43 years old or not."
"You can't do that, Maria won't let you, and you're scared of her," Tommy teases, dropping the containers on the kitchen counter, coming back to brush a kiss to his wife's forehead, offering her a hand to help drag her out of the couch.
"Like you aren't," Joel rolls his eyes.
"Gotta have some survival instincts."
There’s a process for new residents, but since Ellie’s a kid, it’ll go a little differently than usual. Maria explains that they'll have to interview families that are interested in adoption, and set up meetings so Ellie can meet them and so they can see how they get along together. Jackson doesn’t have an orphanage or any specific housing for refugee children on their own, so for now, Tommy tries to talk Maria into letting Ellie sleep in their house.
They discuss it while Ellie’s showering, sipping beer on the porch, the food kept warm in the oven. It’s not that Maria’s entirely against taking Ellie in, it’s more that she doesn’t have the time or energy to take on a whole new kid while running the town and being a mother to a toddler. Plus, they have no idea what the kid’s been through to get here, or what issues could come of it. Maria doesn’t feel like she can give Ellie the full attention she deserves, even with Tommy promising he’s going to help in every way he can, while also doing his job. Tommy argues that Ellie needs to be with people she feels safe with until they can introduce her to others, and Maria agrees, though the problem remains the same. Joel listens to the conversation while also sort of pretending not to listen, because it’s not really the sort he’s meant to be involved in, so he turns his beer in his hand and watches the dying sunset over the mountains.
Tommy and Maria continue heatedly discussing it, not in an angry way necessarily, but in a passionate one. Tommy feels a responsibility to the little girl he met today, and Maria started Jackson with the same empathy and passion in mind. But logistically, the planning part of her brain tells her they can’t hack it. Jackson is like a boat with a bunch of tiny holes in it, slowly but surely filling with enough water to sink them eventually. Maria has more than she can handle on her plate already, they’re already behind on building, taking in more people than they can properly house, they need to find more staffing for elderly home they just finished, and the clinic is still waiting on repairs and desperately needed supplies. Tommy knows this because it’s his job too, so he isn’t angry with her, he just doesn’t see another way, and he will not let this little girl go with strangers.
They’re not anywhere closer to a conclusion when Ellie shuffles down the stairs, following the voices to the screen door and peeking at them around it. Joel notices her first, sporting a tweety bird short sleeve and blue pants, fabric bunched at the ankles. Her skin is pale and freckled underneath the countless bruises and scrapes, and her hair lays heavy on her shoulder, dripping water with a hairbrush hanging from it. Her eyes are red like she’s been crying.
“What’s wrong?” Joel asks the sliver of the girl behind the door softly, setting his beer on the floor.
Ellie sniffles, a little more of her face peeking out now, “My hair’s hurting. I can’t brush it.”
“Come here,” Joel gestures for her with his hand, and she slinks out of her hiding spot, standing in front of him with watery tired eyes. “Sit down, let me try.”
He spreads his legs so she can sit in the space between them, and she does tentatively, her ears by her shoulders like she’s expecting something bad to happen. The brush is stuck on a mat on the back of her neck, brown hairs wrapped tightly around the handle. He unravels the first few to loosen the brush, but getting it out won’t be the real challenge, it’ll be detangling the mats. They may have to cut her hair in some places, the dead ends frizzy and stuck together in gnarled clumps. With a bit of finessing, pulling, and soothing, he manages to get the plastic brush out of her hair, a million strands stuck to it, but he’s not really any closer to detangling her hair.
“I think we’re gonna need a few things,” He says while separating the strands of one of the smaller knots with his fingers. “Let’s go to the bathroom.”
They leave Tommy and Maria to their debate, entering the light blue bathroom with yellowy lighting but the best mirror. Joel tries not to stop to think about his actions too closely, he doesn’t dare lose himself in a memory of rubbing curl cream into Sarah’s coils, pulling them into buns with a crooked part. He raids Maria’s cabinets under her instruction, because everything’s homemade and there aren’t brands to go by, just a cabinet of bottles and containers in various shapes and sizes with various liquids/powders/gels in them. He finds the skinny bottle labeled hair oil and deposits Ellie onto the counter, feet in the sink as she faces the mirror. He takes a towel and squeezes out most of the water in her hair first, shaking her head a little to make her laugh when he rubs the towel over her head.
Joel can tell she’s sniffly, and overtired, overstressed from the events of the day, and thinks it’s a wonder she hasn’t had a tantrum, as any ordinary kid would. He soaks the mats in a good amount of oil, maybe too much, but he’s not a hairstylist and he’s hoping he won’t have to cut her hair if he can get it soft enough. Ellie stares blankly at a corner of the mirror, not really seeing, but she smiles briefly every time Joel gets her attention like she’s happier when she remembers he’s there. He rubs the oil into the mats, already feeling better about how the hair loosens in his hand.
"Do you have a favorite animal, or do you just like alla'them?"
Ellie's face scrunches as she thinks, pointed chin wrinkling, "I like sharks. There was a book about all kinds at the orphanage. I like the great big sharks."
"Big sharks, or a great white shark?"
"Yeah," She confirms, though Joel doesn't really know which she means, he nods anyway. “Are horsies and doggies the only animals you have?” She asks after a few quiet minutes pass.
“We have sheep, goats, and chicken, too. Bet Tommy will show you all of them tomorrow if you ask nicely.”
Ellie smiles tiredly, “I like Tommy.”
“He’s alright, when he's not being an idiot,” Joel concedes, making Ellie giggle as he guides the brush through a complicated knot, pulling it back every now and then to separate hairs with his fingers. He tries his best to be gentle, and Ellie doesn’t complain too much, but she winces every now and then when he pulls by accident. “Sorry,” He murmurs, and she shrugs.
“When do we eat again?” Ellie asks sleepily, which confuses and amazes him considering he watched a seventy pound five year old house several pieces of cornbread, beans, and a half pound of brisket.
“In the morning? I mean, for breakfast, but if you need a snack, you can grab something in the kitchen, Tommy won’t mind.”
Joel carefully combs the matted area, picking up smaller knots and untying those as he works his way to the bigger ones. He’d had to learn from another mother how to detangle, wash and style curly hair, because Sarah’s mother wasn’t around to do so, and Sarah inherited her tight brown girls, beginning as adorable little spirals on his newborn’s head. He bought everything the mother recommended him and always asked for her opinion, sending her photos of the finished products. Joel spent hours in a bathroom practicing on Sarah’s hair as she went from sitting in the sink, to sitting next to it, and standing, eventually, not needing him at all.
“We get to eat tomorrow too?” Ellie asks incredulously, and suddenly it makes sense, why she eats so voraciously.
She probably thought that was the last meal she was having for the week, used to the constant shortages or crop issues with food in the QZ, probably starving more often than not, because she’s too small to fight for her meager portion anyway. There’s a reason FEDRA schools have a bad track record for student deaths.
“You can eat every day baby, whenever you want.”
The endearment slips past his lips easily, before he really has time to think about it. It’s getting to him, the feel of baby soft hair scented with lavender, sleepy blinks and little hands and feet peeking out of dryer warmed pajamas. It’s easy to feel like she’s his in another world, his brother’s voice floating up from the porch, a baby’s whine from down the hall.
Ellie’s face crumples, and she turns on the counter to wrap her arms around his neck, damp hair in his nose, and he can hear the tears clogging in her throat. Joel pats her back, simultaneously feeling full and scraped out, nostalgia, tragedy, and family singing in his blood.
“Thanks Joel,” She whispers into his neck, “You’re not as grumpy as I thinked before.”
Eventually, she lets go, sitting down with her back to him so he can keep working on her hair. He does end up having to cut the ends of her hair, and some knots that weren’t salvageable even with oil and conditioner. Ellie doesn’t mind too much, saying that it gets in her way anyway, so he cuts as straight as he can until her brown hair waves lightly around her shoulders.
When he starts braiding her hair to keep it out of the way and untangled, her body starts to sway a little, eyelids heavy with sleep. By the time, he’s tying the slightly lumpy braid off with an elastic he found in a drawer, she’s limp as an unwatered flower. Joel scoops her up, feeling a lump in his throat at the small body cradled in his arms, and takes her downstairs. He’s laying her on the couch, nursing an old ache in his chest and collecting a few blankets to drape over the little girl with her knees curled into her chest when Maria walks in. She looks surprised when she finds Joel tucking the blanket around her, but she smiles warmly at the picture.
“You get her hair worked out?”
“Yeah, had to cut a good bit off, but it’s better. Did you and Tommy figure out what to do?”
Maria sighs, pressing her fingers into her brow like she has a headache, “I don’t know. I barely have time to do my job with one kid, and I don’t know when I’ll find time to interview families to take her.”
“I don’t mind helpin’ with her. Can’t take her on a construction site, but I'm sure we can work out a way between the three of us for someone to be with her.”
“That’ll help a lot,” She sighs, a soft smile on her face as she looks at Ellie, “She seems like a sweet girl.”
“She is,” Joel says, a little thrown off by how strongly he cares for her already.