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In forethought, Joel probably should have seen this coming.
The idea of any man other than himself, and Tommy on good days, coming into their home would already send Ellie into a tailspin, let alone that someone propelling down their chimney.
So he should have predicted how this whole Santa thing might freak out his freshly traumatized teenager.
Ellie rushes through the dining hall door, her shirt and face smeared with dirt from wrestling around with her friends outside, and he immediately clocks her panicked expression.
She bursts through the door before the rest of the other teens and children, unusual considering she’s usually one of the last kids, along with Dina and Jesse, straggling back in from their outdoor shenanigans.
Her eyes dart around the dining hall before landing on her family, tucked away at a table in the corner. The second she sees them, or more specifically, her old man, she’s scurrying as fast as her feet can carry her.
Joel can tell something’s wrong the moment he lays eyes on her, reaching out for her once she gets close. She crashes into his chest, fingers involuntarily tangling in his flannel, while he searches her panicked gaze.
“I don’t want the fat man to come to our house,” she rushes, panting from her sprint.
Huh. That was not what Joel was expecting, and admittedly, he doesn’t quite know where to go from here.
“What fat man?” he questions, turning confused eyes to his brother and sister in law, who mirror his same confusion.
She pulls in a big breath, eyes still wide, before spurting, “The other kids told me that this fat white man watches kids all month, like when they’re sleeping and stuff. Then on Christmas, he comes down the chimney.”
“Santa,” Tommy offers, although the admission is unhelpful, and Joel feels her go even more rigid in his hold at the mention of his name.
“Yeah,” she responds, staring back at him hauntingly.
Joel shoots his brother a glare, silently communicating, ‘Keep your mouth shut.’
As much as Joel’s heart squeezes in adoration at this uncharacteristic display of childish naivety from his independent and too clever for her own good kid, his kid is genuinely unsettled by the revelation.
It tugs at his heart to think that some dumb character that’s supposed to be for kids is sending his kid, with too much trauma and way too much perception and mistrust of adults, specifically men, into a tailspin.
He needs to nip this little issue in the bud now.
“Baby, Santa’s not real. He’s just a story made up for kids. No one is coming into our house,” he soothes, wetting his thumb with his tongue and sweeping it along her cheekbone to remove the smear of mud.
While the action is involuntary on his part, Ellie usually cringes away in disgust while he wrangles her like a spitting cat being groomed. Today, his spit-slick thumb goes completely ignored as she stands unblinking, still, and silent. Joel can practically see the gears turning in her head.
She remains wide-eyed, her gaze slowly trickling into that thousand-yard stare that makes his skin prickle.
“He’s just for the kids, the younger ones at least. Even before, some parents chose not to buy into the Santa thing. Usually, one of the men will dress up and let the kids sit on his lap so they can tell him what they want for Christmas. Tommy even did it one year,” Maria adds reassuringly.
Joel internally cringes at Maria’s help because now not only is his kid still on the fence about a man sliding down their chimney while she’s sleeping, but he also encourages children to sit on his lap.
Great.
“But the other kids said…” she trails off, breath-taking on that shallow cadence, usually indicative of an incoming panic attack.
Joel tugs her closer to his body, hoping the fine tremors softly running through her frame have more to do with crisp winter air and less to do with fear.
“Baby-” Joel attempts to calm, hand settling on the back of her neck.
“I don’t want a man in our house, Joel. I don’t…,” she gasps, staring back at him hauntingly.
Fuck. How did they get here?
“Baby girl, Santa isn’t real. He’s not coming to our house. I promise, baby,” he pledges, pulling her into his chest.
He breathes deeply, keeping her head gently pressed against his chest with a hand cupped against her ear. They're used to this little routine, the quickest way to get her calmed down being pressed against him, listening to the thud of his heart against her cheek, while blocking out everything else around them.
Eventually, her breaths even out, both Maria and Tommy pretending to be engrossed in a meaningless conversation for her sake, something about tablecloths or placeholders.
“Better?” he whispers, to which she nods, slightly embarrassed by her episode.
They’re able to finish their meal, and Joel foolishly thinks that’s the last of it. The keyword being foolishly.
⋆⊹ ࣪ ˖ཐི|ཋྀ⋆⊹ ࣪ ˖
At precisely 3 am, Joel wakes to shrill screams. He’s hastily clambering out of bed and straight into the nightstand. He winces, hobbling down the hall and toward Ellie’s room despite the white hot pain lancing across his shin.
She’s tangled in the sheets, twisted tightly around both her legs due to thrashing. Her shirt has rucked up in sleep, exposing her pale belly to the soft white light filtering through the window against the night, and her hair is mussed from tossing and turning.
Her belly domes and curves with each pant, her face scrunched in anguish.
“Hey, hey,” he soothes, quickly untangling the sheets from around her legs and gently tugging her shirt back down.
He rests his heavy hand on her stomach, tenderly rubbing up and down in hopes of both gently rousing and soothing her from the nightmares tormenting her unconscious.
She startles awake, eyes staring unseeing at the ceiling before her head snaps toward him.
She calms when her eyes settle on Joel’s face, expression gentle and sympathetic, before a sob emits from her throat, pulling at Joel’s heart. He tugs her up by her armpits while settling himself down onto the bed.
She clambers into his lap, throwing her arms around his neck and sobbing into the crook of it. His hand comes to rest on the back of her head, the other squeezing around her back, applying firm and calming pressure to soothe his precious girl.
“Shhh,” he coaxes, rocking them back and forth, “I’m right here. You’re okay.”
After more gentle touches and soft coos, she settles down. Yet, she makes no move to unplaster herself from around him. He continues rocking her, humming tunelessly as he rests his chin against the top of her head. Frigid air blows through the room from her cracked window, sending her gauzy white curtains in a billowing dance.
“You want to tell me about it?”
“I keep seeing him,” she sobs, “Every time I think about it, I see him.”
“Think about what, baby?” he questions, brows furrowing in confusion.
“Santa! Every time I think about Santa, I see him,” she wails, sobbing pathetically against his chest.
Oh, god.
He’d known the whole Santa thing had creeped her out, and admittedly, the more he thought about it, the more he understood. Before, it wasn’t that crazy a notion to feed your kid, but now… I mean, in the biggest sense, what are they doing walking around telling their kids a man is watching them sleep, constantly monitoring if they're naughty or nice, and shimmying down their chimney while they sleep?
But for a kid who’s already constantly on edge, surveying and analyzing everything and everyone around her on the off chance they might take an opportunity, the idea doesn’t sit well.
He knew he’d seen her gaze lingering on the chimney a little too long this evening, but he’d been able to distract her with Shrek and snuggles. He should have known his earlier talk-down wouldn’t be enough to banish the fears from her mind.
“Oh, my sweet girl. You’re safe,” he comforts, pressing kisses to her temple and cheeks.
“We didn’t-I don’t-” she stumbles over her words, “Santa wasn’t really a thing in the QZ. I mean, maybe some of the kids knew about him, but I’d never heard of him, and surely no one actually fucking believed in him.”
Joel nods understandingly.
Jackson was different, not just operationally, but the air here was different. Probably the fact that they weren’t being oppressed by and forced to work for a fascist government, he thinks wryly.
Kids, especially, were different in Jackson, Ellie had once told him. She’d said they were naive, though not in condescension but confusion and fascination, naive about what was really out there or how fast things could go bad.
It’s one of the reasons Ellie had such a hard time making friends initially, along with the fact that the two were joined at the hip for the first few months upon returning.
They hadn’t even started sleeping in different beds until recently, and even now, they’d usually still end up in each other’s beds at least twice a week.
Joel had noticed the differences in how children were received in Jackson as opposed to Boston as well. In the QZ, children were seen as a nuisance, something to be strictly managed and monitored. He’d rarely seen any children in the city, when he did they were usually being tugged away by a fistful of their shirt by some irate FEDRA officer.
However, Jackson celebrated the children as precious lights in their dark reality, something to be cherished and adored.
“I know it’s stupid-” she starts.
“It’s not stupid,” he interrupts, chest tugging at Ellie’s tendency towards dismissiveness.
“You went through something difficult that would leave anyone rattled. Sometimes trauma can root itself in things that don’t make sense to us. You remember when Gail talked to us about triggers?”
Joel’s still surprised he had been able to convince Ellie to talk to Gail, albeit he’d had to gently shove her over the threshold and she’d clamped down so hard on his sleeve he’d thought she was going to rip right through his sleeve.
Maria had been the first to suggest speaking to a therapist, or in Joel’s opinion, demand it, stating the importance of helping Ellie learn to cope in order to acclimate properly. Joel had only agreed after Tommy informed Joel he’d talked to this woman, Gail, a few times himself.
Ellie’s meltdown after a well-meaning community member reached for her when she tripped, which ended in a 2-hour-long search party and a gash across her forehead, also helped encourage him that getting a little counseling couldn’t hurt.
They’d only gone a handful of times, Gail stating that a joint session may be beneficial for both of them. In reality, a joint session was the only way Ellie would be attending, so it was that or nothing, but therapy is therapy. At least he thinks so.
She nods along against his chest, keeping her gaze tucked away.
“It just freaked me out, and now every time I close my eyes, they just keep morphing together. Their faces, I mean,” she explains, rubbing at her teary eyes.
“I’m sorry, baby girl,” he desperately soothes, caressing her knuckles with his thumb.
“It doesn’t help that they look alike,” she grumpily complains.
Joel frowns.
The weeks following finding his baby covered in blood and despondent, Ellie had eventually divulged more information about the man who’d hurt his girl. He knew David was a pastor, the group’s leader, and that he had been a math teacher before.
He shuddered thinking about how Ellie had described him, but every detail pointed to David being the exact opposite of Santa in Joel’s mind.
He knew David had red hair, pale skin; he was lanky, cold, and wore a crooked smile, much different than the jolly, rosy, full-faced character.
“How so?” he questioned.
“They’re both men. White men. And they both have blue eyes. And they both like children,” she shyly explains.
He hums in response, not knowing what else to say.
“How do you know what Santa looks like if you’ve never seen him?” he questions with a furrowed brow.
“Jesse and Dina took me to Tammy Black’s house, because she had a Santa statue in her front window,” she explains as he nods in understanding.
Tammy Black was the middle-aged woman who lived just on the edge of town. She kept to herself for the most part, opting to stay at home and tend to her own property between shifts at the greenhouse.
Supposedly, she was a botanist before, making her a valuable asset to their greenhouse and crop management. For trade, she dabbles in apothecary, making soaps, creams, tinctures, and even herbal medicine. Joel himself had traded with her early on, as Jackson's generic soap had left Ellie’s delicate skin red and angry. Tammy had been the one to volunteer a bar of her own oatmeal soap that had done wonders, even throwing in a small vial of peppermint oil when he’d off-handedly mentioned her migraines.
Despite her reclusive nature, she was a tough yet kind woman. She stood tall and built, with short and choppy jet-black hair, and tattoos lining both of her arms. She had a knack for the kids, always chatting with them when she wandered into town to trade, but she had a special spot in her heart for Ellie.
“Hey, why don’t we stay home tomorrow?” he suggests, angling to get a look at Ellie’s downturned face.
“You’re finishing the lot on the west side, and I have school,” she mumbled, nuzzling further into his chest.
He gently lowers himself down, keeping her tight against his chest and settling the covers over them. It’s a tight fit in her smaller bed, but it's possible, and Ellie stays pressed to him the whole night regardless.
“They’ll be fine without us,” he whispers, stroking her hair back.
She blinks groggily up at him, face smushed into his shoulder.
“Ok,” she easily relents.
He settles his hand on top of her head, stroking his thumb across the bridge of her nose until her breaths even out, small puffs of breath gracing his neck.
He knows he’ll have to leave a note for his brother, letting them know why they won’t be out tomorrow, but that can wait. Right now, he’s more focused on the gentle snores and nuzzles from the kid tucked against him.
⋆⊹ ࣪ ˖ཐི|ཋྀ⋆⊹ ࣪ ˖
They sleep until noon, Tommy eventually popping in to check up on them before heading back to work.
Once the mid-morning light filtered in through the cover of Ellie’s curtains, Joel decided he was going to expose Ellie to all the Christmas traditions she’d been stripped of, all non-Santa-related, of course.
They whacked down a small tree from the few that resided a couple of yards from their backyard, covering it in ribbon they’d found in a box in the attic some months ago.
Ellie made paper ornaments after he explained the premise of the dangling decorations, even convincing Joel in creating a few of his own, much messier ones. The activity had just been something fun to keep her mind busy, but Ellie’s collection ended up rather impressive. He should have known, the little artist of his.
Dozens of intricate, colorful sketches of moths, dinosaurs, foxes, and even a grumpy doodle of Joel now resided on the tree, hung with twine. Joel made sure that all of Ellie’s were shown off in the front and hid his own in the back, much to her snickering.
The activity tickled a memory locked away in the back of his mind, the memory of hanging much fancier ornaments on a much bigger tree with another little girl. The memory would usually find him clutching his chest, but instead, it leaves a sweet warmth, as if sharing the activity with both of his girls now.
He’d managed to whip up an unnecessarily large batch of sugar cookies, even managing a buttercream frosting that was much more liquid than he thought it should have been.
Nonetheless, they’d messily decorated the cookies, Ellie even having the forethought to dye the frosting with fruit juice and bits of crushed flowers from their garden.
The result had been a few dozen messily decorated cookies in muted shades of green and red, decorated with little flowers and pieces of fruit.
Joel mentally fist-pumped when Ellie took down her third cookie, uncaring of the amount of sugar his kid was inhaling if it meant she was eating on one of her bad days.
While she was busy taking down more cookies, he quickly ran across the street to borrow a Christmas movie from the plethora of DVDs the other Millers owned, and it had taken him a surprising amount of time to decide on one.
Initially, he’d picked up National Lampoon’s Christmas Vacation, thinking Ellie would get a kick out of that, until he remembered Clark Griswold fantasizing over every woman within a ten-foot radius.
What the hell, Clark Griswold?
He’d spent a surprising amount of time trying to locate a movie that would have the fewest references to Santa, until he settled on Shrek the Halls.
Shrek was pretty much always a safe bet with his girl.
They spent the afternoon watching the movie, which was thankfully a big hit, coaxing Ellie into taking a few bites of the sandwich he’d quickly put together for himself after she’d refused her own.
Her friends eventually came by, and with some gentle encouragement, he’d managed to convince her to run along with them until supper. He’d mosied across the street to return the DVD, where Maria and Tommy were puttering away in the kitchen.
“Hey,” Tommy greets, dutifully chopping onions at the kitchen table, “Where’s the munchkin?”
Joel’s heart swells at the genuine concern marring his little brother’s face, coupled with a bit of indignation that his brother seems genuinely disappointed to see him without his little gremlin.
“I managed to convince her to hang out with her friends for an hour,” he explained, settling himself into a chair at the table.
“Good,” Maria agreed from the stove, “The fresh air and socialization will do her good.”
Joel refrains from rolling his eyes.
Maria and Joel had come a long way from their first meeting, primarily due to their shared devotion and adoration for their girl. Still, Joel sometimes considered Tommy and his wife as personal apocalyptic social workers.
Initially, Joel and Maria had gotten into their fair share of disagreements over Ellie’s care, the boat finally tipping after Maria suggested Ellie come live with her and Tommy for a more “permanent and stable environment.”
Ellie had been the one to settle the argument after she’d yelled at Maria herself, communicating exactly what she thought about that idea, and then proceeding to lock herself in her closet.
It’d taken the combined force of Joel sitting against the door, wiggling his fingers underneath for Ellie to latch onto, and Maria promising Ellie wouldn’t be separated from Joel, encouraged by both Joel and Tommy’s combined glares.
Only after Tommy had ushered Maria out, scolding her tersely under his breath about her plans she conveniently never mentioned, did Ellie finally crawl out. After the incident, Maria had taken on an unconditionally supportive role in both their lives, and he couldn’t be more grateful for her.
“Oh, hey,” she jumps up, directing Tommy to watch the pot as she trots out of the room.
Joel looks to Tommy, but his brother just shrugs.
She returns, toting something in her arms.
She sets it in front of Joel on the table.
It’s large, appearing to weigh about 10 pounds, but it’s small enough to still fit on a large shelf or a mantel. The ceramic statue depicts a snow-glittered bench, with little birds with colorful feathers perched along the edges. A lamp post with warm yellow painted light stands beside the wooden brushed bench. On the bench sits a jolly Santa, slightly bent over to pet a brown dog perched by his big black boots.
The statue is unlike others he’s seen, as the Santa isn’t overdone or excessively jolly. His beard is shorter than most, and only a soft smile graces his face. His soft brown eyes are downturned on the dog at his feet.
The most significant difference to the other Santas Joel’s seen is his skin tone. He has a dark complexion with a grey, more than white beard, speckled salt and pepper colored.
“There were a few different ones in the attic when Tommy and I first moved in. I know she knows he’s not real, but I thought that it might help to see that Santa isn’t one skin tone. He can look like whatever she wants him to,” she supplies with a warm smile.
Joel’s eyes slightly fill. His girl has no idea how fiercely loved she is.
“This- this is great, Maria. Thank you,” he praises, pulling the statue towards him to get a better look.
“She-I guess the whole idea of Santa freaked her out and made her think of something that happened after we left. She was up last night with nightmares,” he explains to them.
Tommy’s face furrows in sympathy.
“The man from after you left?” Maria questions.
“Yeah,” Joel supplies seriously.
He’d been tight-lipped about Silver Lake once he’d returned from the hospital toting a case of fresh vaccines and a sickly little girl. The two had been slightly frustrated with Joel’s secrecy, mainly his sister in law, but they understood his insistence on protecting Ellie’s privacy.
Eventually, he’d divulged bits and pieces of information about the resort, mainly to warn them about any stragglers who may wander their way.
They knew the main details, including Joel’s injury, how Ellie was left to fend for herself and Joel, the religious cult she’d run into, and how Ellie had almost been a victim in too many ways. Plus, Joel got the idea that Ellie may have shared some details with Maria.
Tommy’s body went rigid, as it always did when the incident was brought up. His fists clenched on the table at the mention of the nameless man who hurt his niece.
“Well, hopefully this will help,” Maria encourages, “Now go wrangle that child of yours so we can eat.”
⋆⊹ ࣪ ˖ཐི|ཋྀ⋆⊹ ࣪ ˖
The Santa now perched on their mantle ended up being a Godsend. He’d have to trade for something to show his thanks, maybe some of that floral soap he knows Maria likes.
It had not only eased Ellie’s nightmares, but she loved plopping down on the edge of the fireplace to admire it. It was moments like that that made Joel wish he had a camera on hand, the ability to capture such a sweet moment forever.
He’d hug Maria the next time he saw her.
His good mood, blessed by his kid’s restful nights, had propelled him to the end of the week, until he walked in on Tommy in giant red drawers, loosely held up by suspenders, shoving his feet into too-big black boots.
“I think you’ve still got a ways to go before you can fill those out,” Joel jests, nodding his head at the red pants hung loosely at his hips.
“Hilarious,” Tommy remarks blandly, finicking with cinching the belt.
“I’m supposed to be Santa for the preschoolers,” he explains, falling against the bed as he starts tussling with his shoe.
“Well, with the right motivation, by next year they might fit,” Joel informs with faux optimism.
“Ha ha,” his brother sarcastically responds. “Whatcha need?”
“I just came by to thank Maria again. The Santa was a big hit. I owe her one.”
Tommy shoos him off with a hand.
“It’s nothin’. That’s what family is for, right?” Tommy responds with a grin.
Joel nods in agreement, but his heart squeezes with the acknowledgement. Tommy begins lacing up the boots before slipping the hairy beard over his head, situating it on his face.
“I don’t see the difference,” Joel responds plainly.
Tommy glares at him, lunging towards him and stuffing the Santa hat on Joel’s head before he can push his brother away. Tommy’s bent over at the waist with laughter as Joel stands with his hands on his hips, hat pulled over his eyes.
After letting his little brother have his fun, Joel lifts the hat off his eyes, and a funny expression crosses his brother's face as he’s no longer blinded.
“You know, I know one thing that might help Ellie get over her Santa-phobia,” he cheekily asserts, wiggling his brows.
“No,” Joel grumbles, yanking the hat off his head and throwing it back at his brother.
“Fine, fine,” his brother relents, hands held up in surrender. “All I’m sayin’ is your kid seein’ her daddy as Santa might make her a little less scared.”
Joel sighs as his brother’s poorly concealed persuasion, using his weak spot, his baby girl.
Joel really doesn’t want to tromp around in a Santa suit wearing a scratch beard while letting sticky preschoolers crawl all over him. But his brother did make a valid point. Ellie seeing Joel dressed up as Santa might create a healthier correlation than between Santa and that fucker.
Plus, seeing your parent dressed up in ridiculous costumes like Santa and the Easter bunny is practically a rite of passage, both for parent and child, and his child has already been deprived of enough.
“Give me the damn pants,” he growls, yanking the hat back onto his head and already unbuckling his belt.
Tommy’s face lights up with shock and unabashed excitement.
“Man, she’s got you wrapped around her little finger, huh?” he jeers, ribbing his brother before starting in on his own belt.
“Yes, she does,” Joel mutters fondly.
⋆⊹ ࣪ ˖ཐི|ཋྀ⋆⊹ ࣪ ˖
The utter hysterics the sight of Joel dressed up in fuzzy red pants and a burly white beard sends his kid into sends all his apprehension and embarrassment out the window.
She’d looked utterly confused as Tommy and Maria had ushered her to the little building they held preschool and nursery in, gently urging her through the doors to where he was already sitting in a chair, several small children huddled at his feet.
It’d taken her a second to realize it was him under the fluffy hat and curly beard, but the second their eyes met, she busted out laughing, hearty giggles coming from deep in her belly. Every time she’d gotten a hold of herself, the sight of him just sent her into more giggles.
His kid’s laughter had only sent her aunt and uncle into a round of chuckles themselves, Maria thankfully snapping pictures of the event with an old Polaroid he had no idea how she got a hold of.
Once her giggles had finally died down for good, he reached out for her, urging her towards him.
“Hi,” she smiled, running a hand down the sleeve of his fuzzy red coat.
“Hi, baby,” he responded.
“Tommy must have some massive blackmail on you, huh?” she ribbed, giggling as she ran her fingers through the fluffy white beard.
“Somethin’ like that,” he grinned, flicking her nose playfully.
“So, what do you want for Christmas?” he questioned seriously, pulling her against him with an arm around her waist and theatrically deepening his voice.
“Seriosuly?” she questioned, raising her brow at him.
“Seriously,” he returned with a cheeky grin.
“Do I have to sit on your lap?” she murmured, eyes wide with what Joel could only tell was genuine curiosity and slight apprehension.
“Only if you want to, baby girl,” he replied lowly, keeping her pressed against his side but not urging her onto his leg.
She stood silently, gnawing on her lower lip before finally nodding.
“Ok,” she agreed, sitting gingerly on his thigh and wrapping her arm around his shoulders to balance herself.
He felt even more indebted to his brother for the idea and to his sister in law for taking a plethora of polaroids, both when Ellie first walked in and now sitting on his lap. The pictures had later been divided amongst them, half coming home with him to be displayed on the mantle and fridge, the other half going home with Ellie’s aunt and uncle for their own keeping.
He was sweating in the fuzzy attire by the time they made it home, hand in hand, but he’d kept it on another hour if only to keep the carefree smile on her face for a little longer.
He’d offered to stay camped out in the living room with her, on the off chance that Santa did show up, but she’d responded with a light kick to his ribs from across the couch. He’d caught the cheeky foot by the ankle, tortuously ticking the bottom of it as she screamed and squealed, only releasing it when her other came concerningly close to his nose.
The rest of the night was a blur of some Muppets Christmas movie she’d snagged from her aunt and uncle’s house, more icing-drowned cookies, and cuddling beneath the downy blanket they found themselves under most evenings.
He let himself drift against his already snoring kid, arms squeezing even firmer around her as he relished the feel of her warm little body against his side. Reminiscing about how perfectly she fit against him, an Ellie-sized cut-out carved into his side that this precious little girl perfectly filled in more ways than one.
She was everything good to him.
She was everything.
If the night ended with Ellie situating one of their fire pokers sharp-side up by wedging it between two logs, he doesn’t say a word.
And for once, Joel doesn’t worry about the night to come, because he would be right here to soothe away nightmares and tears, come what may.
And if Santa does happen to shimmy down their chimney, he’ll be greeted with a fire-poker up the ass.