Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Disgusting.

That word kept bouncing around in her head. Pulling at her focus no matter what she did. No matter where she looked, no matter where she stepped—it always came back like a boomerang.

This wasn’t how she pictured Saint Mary’s Hospital. Not this quiet, not this rotten, not this—literally and figuratively—dead.

The stench of rot and dried blood hit her again, sharp and sour, but she was used to it by now. Even so, her stomach still clenched when she got close to the first body. Slumped against the wall, head twisted at a wrong angle, eyes long gone of any shine. There were more of them—scattered, half-decayed, forgotten.

Her flashlight beam cut across the cracked wall. Pediatrics, the faded letters read.

She quickened her pace. She just wanted to get to the doors. The wall on her right had once been painted with boats and bright blue waves—something cheerful, probably for the kids. Now the colors were pale and miserable, like they were grieving with the building itself.

The flashlight hanging from her backpack strap flickered, weak and annoying, until she smacked it with her palm. Too hard, maybe. But it was the only light she had left. The only light she had, period.

The door creaked under her hand. The handle squealed, the hinges groaned. She pushed inside. The air was stale, heavy. Ransacked lockers leaned drunkenly against the walls. Papers littered the floor. Broken equipment was strewn everywhere.

She bent down to one of the files. Between medical notes she found a couple of brain scans—and a photo. Her own arm, right after it healed. The bite, scarred and ugly. Always reminding.

Her stomach lurched. The papers slid from her hands and landed back on the table.

Next to it was a plastic bin full of meds, clothes, toys.

“Come on… something has to be here,” she muttered, digging through. But nothing. Nothing useful. Nothing that could help.

She inhaled sharply, then moved on.

The next room held two more bodies. Soldiers. One shot in the head, the other maybe in the chest—hard to tell through the decay. She passed them with her lips pressed tight, bracing herself against the doorframe for balance.

At the end of the hallway, the last door loomed. Its paint the color of dried blood.

She pushed through into a washroom, then an operating theater. The smell hit her like a wave—dust, iodine, and something else. Something like disappointment.

She froze. Her eyes swept across the floor, across the stains, across the black, dried pool in the middle of the room. A fight had happened here. But no bodies—no doctors, no nurses. Maybe someone dragged them off. Soldiers, maybe.

Her gaze lifted to the gurney.

That’s where she’d been. Maybe. Probably. She couldn’t be one hundred percent sure, but everything screamed it. Everything screamed that someone had come for her. Fought for her. Killed for her.

Her hand clenched into a fist.

Just beyond the table, a green duffel bag sat on the floor. The Fireflies logo on the side was almost gone. She crouched, tugged the zipper open, dug inside. Her fingers brushed against something solid beneath a sweater.

A recorder. Old, silver. She pressed play.

A woman’s tired voice crackled out:

“Most of them already left.

I don’t know which group I’ll join…

I was one of the people who wanted to go after the smuggler and the girl.

But they said… even if we found her, or by some miracle found another immune person, it wouldn’t matter.

Because the only one who could’ve made a vaccine is dead.”

Ellie sank down to the floor. The silence of the operating room roared in her ears.

She wanted to listen again. And again. Over and over, until the words hollowed her out completely. It could’ve gone on forever. She wouldn’t have stopped herself.

But it wasn’t enough.

It was never enough.

She needed more. She was done stumbling around scraps, done clutching at random pieces left behind by chance. She didn’t want to ask him. Not after that look—the one that ended it all. The one that came with his words: I swear.

She had no idea how long she stayed there, seated on the cold floor, until her legs stiffened and her fingers went numb. Finally, she forced herself up.

It was getting dark outside by the time she returned. The sky was covered in heavy clouds. By the campfire stood Shimmer, her chestnut mare with the white blaze across her forehead. Chewing grass like she’d never left. Ellie stroked her nose, whispered thanks, even though she wasn’t sure the horse heard.

She sat down on a random crate, recorder still clutched in her hand. The voice hadn’t been Marlene’s. She would’ve recognized Marlene instantly.

She wondered if maybe she was—

No.

She shut it down. Couldn’t go there.

She pressed the button. Played the last line again. And again. And again.

Listened with her jaw clenched. Knowing now that her gut had been right all these years. That something never added up. Instead of pride, it left her gutted.

Shimmer’s ears flicked suddenly. She lifted her head, nostrils flaring, listening.

A second later, Ellie heard it too. Hooves. Fast, heavy, determined.

Please, not now. Not now, not fucking now, her mind raced.

She stiffened. Slowly turned.

A silhouette between rusted-out cars. A rider on a dark bay with a star on its forehead. The man in the saddle sat firm, steady, face grave. Grave the way only he could be.

“Ellie!”

Joel.

He swung down from the horse.

She stood frozen, torn down the middle. Everything in her boiling. But still—she took a step toward him. Then another.

"Come here." He didn’t wait. He reached her, pressed a kiss to her hair, wrapped her tight in his arms.

She exhaled sharply through her nose. But she didn’t pull away. Not right away. And not because she forgave him. No—because for one fleeting second, in that embrace, everything quieted.

“What the hell were you thinkin?” he muttered, his chin resting on her head. “Running off in the middle of the night like that. You talk to me. You don't just leave me a goddamn note—”

She went stiff. Then shoved him off. Hard. So hard it shut him up.

Her eyes burned holes through him.

Joel froze.

“Tell me... what happened here,” she said. Her voice shook, but she didn’t. “If you lie to me one more time, I’m gone. You’ll never see me again.”

Joel swallowed. His eyes flicked away, to the wreckage, to nothing. To his own shame.

“But if you tell me the truth,” Ellie added, quieter now, “I'll go back to Jackson. No matter what it is.”

Silence. The fight inside him was plain. Years of justifying, of telling himself he did the right thing. That he’d been protecting her. He couldn’t lean on that anymore.

His eyes closed, brow creasing, lids trembling.

“Joel…” she whispered.

He opened them. Exhaled. Each word dragged out of him like it hurt to breathe. 

“Making a vaccine... would have killed you."

He wanted to say more, but she had already turned away. Eyes wet, jaw locked, body stiff as stone. 

“So I stopped them,” he finished, voice low.

Ellie staggered back. Her knees buckled. She dropped onto the crate before she could collapse.

“Fuck.” The word tore out of her with her breath. Over and over, her lungs tried to catch up. Her heart hammered against her ribs.

She pressed a hand to her chest, the other bracing against the gravel. Sharp stones cut into her palm. It barely registered. The pain inside was worse.

Both hands covered her face now. Tears slipped out, dripping hot down her cheeks, soaking her jeans. She tugged at her hoodie zipper like it could hold her together. It didn’t.

And then his hand touched her shoulder.

She lashed out, whipping up to her feet.

“Don’t fucking touch me!” she shouted. Stumbled back, step after step, farther than she meant to, but she had to.

Then she made the mistake of looking at him. His face was just as wrecked as hers.

Fuck.

A week ago, everything had been fine. They’d stood in his kitchen, Joel eyeing the lines of her new tattoo with a quiet smile. The kind a dad gives his daughter.

“Ellie…"

“Don’t call me that.” Her breath hitched. She forced it steady. “I’ll come back to Jackson,” she said finally. “But we’re done. You and me—we’re done.”

She brushed past him, quick, almost running. Straight to Shimmer. Climbed into the saddle.

And they really were done.

As she kicked off, as she rode away without looking back, she felt something snap. That invisible string binding them together. Torn in two, like a family photo ripped straight down the middle.

They weren’t father and daughter anymore.

Not ever again.

Chapter Text

Joel always figured the guitar sounded a little different with every change of season. Hard to say why-maybe something in the air, maybe just the way the days got longer and the nights warmer, warm enough to sit out on the porch without shivering through it.

Or maybe he was just a tired, half-broken man, worn down more than he cared to admit.

His fingers brushed a string-maybe the G?-and the note spilled gently into the quiet evening air.

To his left, a bulb buzzed low. The sound got under his skin, though he knew better than to complain. He was lucky to have the damn light at all. Back in the QZs, there wasn't anything like this. Not with Tess. And sure as hell not when he and Ellie were crossing the country. Back then, it wasn't about light. Just surviving.

Ellie.

His fingers froze just above the strings.

April.

April.

April.

He kept repeating it in his head like it meant something. Maybe it did. The scent of warm spring air tickled his nose. He breathed in-too deeply.

Four years ago, to the day, they came back to Jackson. Back then, things still held together. They talked. Trusted each other.

Now everything felt heavier. Quieter. Settled, maybe, but not whole.

Not that he didn't like Jackson. The house. Hot water. Even a steady horse. More than he'd ever let himself expect. And the quiet-God, the quiet was a kind of mercy.

Ellie lived just a few steps away, in the rebuilt garage. He saw her sometimes-morning, evening, when she crossed the yard. Sometimes they looked at each other. Mostly they didn't.

But it was safe.

That was the word-safe.

Not between them. But from everything else out there.

He closed his eyes for a moment, then leaned over and propped the guitar against the armrest like he'd done it a hundred times before. The wood creaked softly, but the instrument held.

Pain pulled at his shoulder. He rubbed it, then pushed himself forward, resting his hands on the porch railing. He sucked in the cooling air through his teeth so sharp it stung.

He looked out over the street. The neat fences. The regular spacing of the lamps. The clean-cut sidewalk.

Then his shoulders stiffened.

Not like a hunter. Not like a survivor.

Like a man who sensed someone he'd long since lost.

Ellie.

She walked with that quick, familiar pace. Gray hoodie, drawstrings bouncing with every step, faded jeans, old canvas shoes. Hood pulled low. But he knew it was her. Knew she was frowning.

She'd been frowning like that a lot lately.

Or maybe-maybe she hadn't always been. Maybe he just couldn't remember her looking any other way.

She hadn't really spoken to him in months. Not since Salt Lake. Not since she knew the truth. And still-every time she looked at him, even just for a second-it felt like he was given something he didn't deserve.

She cut him off. Sharp. Final. Probably for good.

And he knew it. He wasn't stupid.

He knew how easy it was for a woman to leave.

She came closer. Her eyes caught the light and shimmered just enough to sting. She didn't look away. Just shoved her hands deeper in her pockets.

He held her gaze. What else could he do?

He'd spent all winter avoiding it. The guilt was chewing through him-less for what he did than for what he couldn't do. What he never said. What he let rot.

Like a wound you leave to scab over, but it festers underneath. And he didn't have the strength to open it back up.

Ellie took a few more steps, glanced aside, and vanished around the corner toward her garage.

Joel straightened up. Gripped the railing. Shut his eyes.

Behind him, a door clicked open. He didn't move. Just turned his head a little.

"You've been sittin' out here for over an hour," a woman's voice said.

Joel glanced over his shoulder.

Esther. Dark-haired, silver streaks coming in at the edges. Her face carried the same years his did. There was calm in her. Gentleness. Something steady. Tommy always said she was funnier than Joel. Joel never disagreed.

"And you still ain't used to it," he muttered.

She smiled, stepped closer. Rested her chin on his shoulder. Her hands were warm.

"I ran into Maria. Dinner's in two days."

"Tommy mentioned it," Joel nodded. "Seven o'clock. Their place."

They stood quiet. Breathing the same air.

"It's warming up," she said softly.

Joel didn't answer.

"I know you're countin' the days till I'm gone."

"That ain't funny."

"You always liked my sense of humor."

"You can stay as long as you want, Esther." He turned to really look at her. Her eyes were skybound. Searching for the moon. For peace.

"We said spring. It's April, Joel."

At those words, his shoulders pulled tight like a guitar string. Esther wasn't just kind and clever-she was stubborn. And that was the most dangerous combination of all.

Maria and Tommy had offered her a place in Jackson more than once. A house. A garden. A horse. Safety. She kept saying no. Wanted to go back-to her home, two hours out.

Joel admired her for that. And it scared him.

She wasn't a burden here. She rode patrols. Knew how to handle a rifle. Survived alone for years near the dam before they found her.

They met two years back. Joel, Tommy, and Ellie were scouting. Ran into her by chance. Tommy was the one who nudged them together-like maybe he hoped Joel would find something in her he'd thought was lost.

At first, it was just friendship. Careful, quiet. Full of the kind of silence where neither of you dares say how much you miss somebody-'cause saying it out loud might break you. But over time, the silence got easier. They learned that being quiet together was better than being quiet alone.

Joel kept his distance. Mostly because of Ellie.

But after that fall, after everything between them shattered...

he couldn't stop himself from wanting someone who understood him.

When winter came, he offered her a place to wait out the cold. She said yes. They agreed-just 'til spring.

But the winter dragged on. Hardest one Jackson had seen in years. Snow didn't melt 'til the end of March-like even the weather was stalling, buying them more time.

And Joel knew her. Knew better than to ask her to stay. She could read it in his eyes before he said a word.

She looked at him then. Her eyes softened.

"You know I can't," she whispered.

Joel nodded. Didn't speak. His throat tightened.

Her fingers brushed his, then laced through. Like she was telling him she remembered. Every second of it. A shiver passed through him-gentle, not cold.

She smiled and leaned in, just a little.

"C'mon. Let's get some sleep. Tomorrow's another day."

He let go of the railing. Squeezed her hand. Reached out and took the guitar, drawing it close again.

Together, they stepped back inside. Toward the warmth of the house.

But just before Joel shut the door, he looked one last time toward the end of the street.

Toward the corner where Ellie had disappeared.

ᖭ༏ᖫ  

Ellie might've been born in spring, but she never thought of herself as a spring kid.

She hated the warmth, hated the clingy expectations that she'd go barefoot through meadows and soak in the beauty of blooming flowers. She hated having to watch where she stepped, so she wouldn't crush any of them. Hated swapping hoodies-the only clothes she ever felt truly comfortable in-for tank tops and light t-shirts.

Tonight was chilly. Not as cold as the nights before, but still holding that breath of springtime cold that lingered after the sun went down. It didn't draw white frost flowers on windows anymore, but it did whisper that this world never really sleeps-that even April nights can sting, whether from the weather or from your own damn thoughts.

Her hands were a bit warmer now, tucked into the pockets of her hoodie. She liked to tell herself it was just to warm them up. But the truth was something else.

She'd seen him earlier-sitting on the porch, watching her with that quiet, guilty look he always wore these days. And it made her clench her fists, hard.

She didn't want him to see that.

She fumbled for her keys. The cold of the metal bit into her fingertips. She was just about to unlock the door when-

"Boo!"

Someone jumped out from the corner.

Ellie flinched, hand flying to the back pocket of her jeans where her folding stiletto rested.

Kat pulled down her hood, revealing short dark hair and that mischievous grin Ellie knew by heart. Her girlfriend.

"You're a damn idiot, Kat," Ellie growled, pressing a palm to her chest like that might calm the frantic beating inside. Like she'd run a fucking marathon. You'd think she'd be used to this kind of crap by now. She wasn't.

"Scared the ink right off that fancy tattoo, huh?" Kat laughed, stepping closer-but her smile faded as she noticed how stiff Ellie's shoulders were. "Hey... you okay?"

Ellie pressed her lips together. "Yeah. I'm fine."

Too fast.

Because she wasn't fine.

Everything about that look he gave her earlier was still crawling under her skin, burrowing deep like a parasite. The bastard had no right to look at her like that. Not after what he did. Not after how easy he made it look, moving on.

He should've been inside. By the fire. With his damn coffee and his damn guitar. And with her-the perfect new girlfriend who shared his house, his bed, his life.

Not sitting out on the porch, staring down the road like some old guard dog.

Something in her had told her to come in through the back gate tonight. Not the main road. Should've listened. Instead, she caught his attention. Again.

And she didn't want it. But it was always there. Always that fucking tension between them, thin as a guitar string, humming every time they got close.

Kat was still looking at her. Not judging. Just waiting.

She glanced toward Joel's garden, then nodded to the door. "Wanna go inside?"

Ellie nodded. Unlocked the door and let her in. As Kat passed her, she brushed against Ellie's side-soft, maybe accidental. Maybe not.

Either way, it sent a bolt of something sharp down Ellie's spine. She clenched her teeth to keep from turning around and shoving Kat against the wall.

Her place was small, but cozy in her own way. A garage, converted with Joel and Tommy back when they'd first arrived in Jackson. Open layout: living space with a bed in the corner, a kitchenette, and a separate bathroom. She had electricity. Water tanks. Sometimes hot water. Sometimes not.

They both kicked off their boots.

Ellie pulled her stiletto from her back pocket, flicked it open, and stabbed it into the white wood of the nightstand by the door. Out of habit.

Kat moved to the couch, brushing her fingers over the mess of comic books on the coffee table. Ellie had read each of them a thousand times. The whole area stood where the garage doors used to be. Years ago, she'd thrown a sheet over the opening and strung up some fairy lights. Never took them down.

Ellie walked up behind her, leaned in, and kissed her. It deepened fast. Touches, quiet gasps, half-lidded eyes and two young souls trying to lose themselves in something warm. Something safe.

They ended up on the couch, gravity dragging them down.

At first, Kat kissed her back.

Then she pulled away.

"Not now. We need to talk, Ell." Still catching her breath. "Seriously."

Ellie sat back, annoyed.

Kat looked down, gently traced her fingers over the freshly healed tattoo on Ellie's arm.

A fern. Delicate lines curling all the way from her wrist to her knuckles. The leaves stylized like feathers, breaking into barbs-a clash of nature and pain and softness and loss. And at the bottom: a shaded moth. Ellie had drawn dozens like it in her journals.

Kat never asked what it meant. Just knew it covered a burn scar.

From cooking, Ellie claimed.

Kat took a breath. "I'm leaving Jackson."

Ellie stared. "You're fucking kidding."

Kat didn't answer. Just shook her head.

"Where the hell you gonna go? Another settlement? Some city?"

"Anywhere. Jackson's choking me. I don't want to be stuck behind walls. I want to see things. Live a little."

"Or get yourself killed," Ellie muttered.

This felt too familiar. Too much like something she'd already been through.

She wanted to call it bullshit. Laugh it off. Instead, she asked:

"What about everyone around you?"

Kat hesitated. "My parents don't like it. Friends don't know yet. And you..."

Ellie dropped her gaze. "I'm not part of that equation."

This decision doesn't involve me, she thought bitterly.

"Ellie."

Kat leaned in. For a second, it looked like she might touch her again, but she stopped short. Swallowed hard.

"I'm sorry. It's not like we'll never see each other again."

Ellie gave her a look. Skeptical. Guarded.

Maybe she would see her again. Someday. Maybe.

But tonight, Kat had just joined the list of people who chose to walk away.

And then Kat kissed her again. Deep and painful and full of everything they weren't saying.

Ellie kissed her back.

They moved to the bed like lovers one last time.

And just before they did, Ellie's eyes landed on the wooden guitar in the corner by the window.

Chapter Text

The next morning, when she headed out for patrol, the spring air hit her face the moment she stepped through the door. Ellie squinted.

It was that pleasant kind of chill that slowly bowed to the sun, the air thick with damp earth, fresh leaves, and new light. After months of darkness and frost, it was supposed to feel refreshing.

But it just pissed her off.

Maybe because she knew how much Joel loved these days. Every time spring cracked winter open, when the grass turned green again and the air grew heavier with buzzing life, he woke up. He smiled that vague smile of his, talked about hikes, tents, horses, trips…

That first day in April when they’d arrived in Jackson had been just like this. He’d been visibly happy. He kept looking back at her, satisfied, like all of this was finally theirs.

In those moments he was relaxed enough to even talk about things he usually kept locked away. About Sarah.

And then… then came the “I swear.”

And something in her broke.

Maybe she hadn’t wanted to know back then.

Maybe she’d just desperately wanted it to be true.

Maybe if she hadn’t been so damn stubborn, she’d go to him now and tell him everything that had happened over the last few months. That she still cared. That she just needed time, except…

No.

Joel had lied. And with that…

She exhaled. Shoved her sleeves down over her thumbs, tugging the fabric across her wrists.

No.

She wouldn’t think about him. Joel was the past. Same as her mom. Same as Marlene. Same as Riley. And same as Kat, now. Period.

But even so, she flinched. At that last name.

Kat.

It still hurt. Way too fresh.

But they’d ended things on good terms. Just… they each wanted different things. Kat dreamed about expeditions and the wilderness, while Ellie had grown used to the quiet. To her routine, her safety, her silence. And she liked it that way. Needed it.

Kat had left her garage early that morning to pack her things. Said she’d be gone from Jackson tomorrow before sunrise, which meant she wouldn’t even make it to dinner with Maria and Tommy Miller.

They’d even told her she could take a horse.

If Kat wanted freedom… fine, she could have it. The community would let her go. Ellie would let her go.

On the way to the stables, she passed a few people she knew from patrol, the mess hall, or the barn. She greeted them silently, just with a nod. Like always.

But it was hard to stay focused. Her thoughts rusted through everything.

She clenched her teeth. Put it into a simple equation in her head, and for a moment, it worked. She was almost proud of how well she was handling it.

But it didn’t last long.

She reached the stable, nodded at Carl, who was on cleaning duty.

Dina and Jesse sat on a pile of hay. Too close together. The second they spotted her in the doorway, they both jumped and pulled back a little.

“Morning,” Dina squeaked, straightening so her perfect black ponytail swung.

“Hey, Ellie,” Jesse added quickly.

“Hey,” she forced a smile, meant to look casual. But it wasn’t.

Shit.

What was it you told yourself a minute ago? Something about being fine? her mind jabbed.

Jesse rubbed the back of his neck, like he didn’t know what to do with his hands. “Didn’t sleep in today.”

“Guess you woke up funny.” Attack was the best defense.

Dina laughed. Jesse laughed. Ellie smiled.

And for a moment, everything felt the same. Everything back where it belonged.

She went to the stall where her bay mare was pawing impatiently. “Morning, girl.”

Shimmer was sturdy but slim, her withers just at Ellie’s chest. Fast, enduring, maybe not the most intimidating at first glance, but Ellie would’ve bet her life on her.

She leaned her forehead against hers, breathing in deep. For a moment, all she felt was horse sweat, warm hide, fresh hay, and the calm only animals could give.

But then another scent cut through. She opened her eyes, inhaled sharply again.

Menthol.

Her nose wrinkled. A wave of disgust rose. She hated menthol. Hated when it was too strong. She didn’t even like giving it to Shimmer, even though the mare loved it. Ellie had tried all sorts of alternatives—cookies, apples, sugar cubes… but it never measured up.

Her eyes slid to the next stall. The sign read: Old Beardy. The chestnut gelding wasn’t there.

“Joel already here?” she asked suddenly, though she already knew the answer.

Dina and Jesse froze.

Ellie stayed patient. She stood by her mare, stroking her shoulder.

“You just missed him,” Jesse muttered. Dina nodded.

No one really knew why things were so tense between her and Joel. No one knew about her immunity, which meant they couldn’t know about the hospital in Salt Lake either.

Ellie’s eyes hardened. She didn’t say anything—no need. Instead, she went to her gear and started preparing Shimmer’s tack—saddle, bridle, blanket, bit, rope, gloves. All automatic.

She could feel their eyes on her back. She ignored them. Shimmer gave her calm just by existing. As she saddled her, the mare turned to glance at her a few times, like checking if she was okay. That tension—she’d felt it from Ellie for months.

Ellie moved to the wall. A line of dusty helmets sat there, no one in patrol ever used them.

“Yeah, yeah, almost done,” she muttered under her breath. She switched the brush to her other hand.

First, she groomed the mare—short, firm strokes to get rid of dirt and winter coat. She didn’t skip her legs, even though Shimmer snorted her annoyance.

When she finished, she patted her neck. “There. Now the hard part.”

She grabbed the saddle pad—tossed it onto Shimmer’s back so it sat straight, adjusted it just like Joel had taught her.

Then came the saddle. One smooth lift and drop into place.

Shimmer tensed a little but stayed calm.

“Good. You’re a good girl,” Ellie murmured. She ducked under, tightened the girth strap. First hole. Then second. Nice and easy.

She lifted the front leg, checked for pressure. All good.

Ran her hand under the saddle one last time. Loosened the pad at the withers—just right. Then reached for the bridle.

Shimmer lifted her head.

“C’mon. Don’t be a diva.” Ellie slipped the bit into her mouth, pulled the straps over her ears. Buckled them snug. Checked—fit perfectly.

Finally, she tugged on her gloves, slung the bow across her back.

When she looked up at Dina, she found her already staring. Dina stood by her own horse, Japan—a dark, almost reddish bay with a medium-length mane and a star on his forehead.

Jesse squeezed Dina’s hand and whispered something, pulling her attention right back to him.

Ellie rolled her eyes and led Shimmer out of the stable.

At the doors she crossed paths with Mike—a middle-aged guy who followed protocol way too strictly. Apparently, he was patrolling with Jesse today, otherwise he wouldn’t be standing around looking so impatient. Ellie had only patrolled with him once and that had been enough. Never again.

He raised a hand in greeting, and she nodded back.

Luckily, she didn’t have to wait long—Dina came out with Japan a moment later. “Sorry,” she grinned.

Ellie snorted. And headed toward the gate.

ᖭ༏ᖫ 

The forest trails weren’t as muddy anymore as they’d been two weeks ago.

The horses’ hooves had stopped sinking into sticky soil, the ground was almost steady now. Old Beardy and Buckley swished their tails lazily from side to side under their riders. Joel and Tommy slouched in their saddles—after so many hours on horseback their bodies had simply had enough. They looked around them—at budding trees, abandoned cabins, forest animals with newborns in tow.

Joel dropped his gaze.

At least some things didn’t change. At least for a while they could breathe, forget how rotten the world outside was.

Right now there were no infected in sight. Not yet. That morning the brothers had already cut down around ten of them—six runners and four clickers. A few minutes of fighting, a few swings, a few blisters in the palm. And then quiet.

They stopped at one of their old outposts in Teton County. Brought the horses to an abandoned ranch, tied them up, and climbed a rickety ladder to the attic. Joel liked this one best—it sat in open land surrounded by meadows in bloom. And it offered a better view than the forest paths.

His eyes scanned the dusty room. The floorboards creaked under their boots as each headed in a different direction. Joel toward the logbook, Tommy toward the window. Joel pulled off his gloves, flexed his fingers, and picked up the notebook.

“Gonna try him again?” Tommy asked with a grin over his shoulder.

Joel huffed. “Could be.”

Since he and Ellie had moved to Jackson, Joel had taken patrols regularly. Mornings, most often with Tommy. Sometimes with someone else. But after a while it had started to bore him. It wasn’t like in the big cities, danger waiting on every corner. Here it was calmer—especially right after winter, when infected bodies were frozen and sluggish.

Eventually, the boredom got so bad the brothers started slipping jokes into the reports.

Not everyone found it funny. One of the patrol members—Mike, last name Joel could never remember—took it way too seriously. Once he’d even written them up in the protocol, which only encouraged the brothers further. Then Bonnie, Greg, and Eugene joined in. Soon they were all scribbling riddles, poems, personal notes to each other. Like a bunch of teenagers.

“This morning he looked like he’d swallowed a wasp,” Tommy said.

Joel didn’t answer, still skimming lines left and right, eyes darting across months of reports.

“He rode out with Jesse. Poor kid."

“Rough luck,” Joel muttered, distracted. He scratched his beard but kept on smiling.

“Yeah. I went on patrol with him maybe five times, and that’s enough for a lifetime.”

“Haven’t had the pleasure yet,” Joel grumbled, turning a page.

“Be glad, brother. I think even Ellie went with him once.”

Joel’s smile froze. He didn’t even breathe, just stared at the paper in front of him like it had suddenly stopped making sense.

Tommy didn’t notice—he was still pacing from window to window, checking the view. Then he straightened up and came over. Joel shoved the notebook and pencil into his hand. “Ain’t got much today,” he lied.

The younger brother didn’t ask. Just shrugged and started writing. Date in the first box, their names in the next, the report, and finally a “T.” as a signature.

He set it all back on the table.

Joel leaned on the windowsill, staring outside.

“What about Esther?”

“What about her?”

“You tell me. Is it serious?”

Joel scratched the back of his neck. “Don’t know. At my age… it’s hard to commit.”

Tommy snorted. “Bullshit. Love blooms at any age, brother.”

“Don’t start, Tommy.”

Tommy laughed and bumped his shoulder. “C’mon. You’re together thanks to me. I got the right to know all the details."

“The hell you don’t.”

For a moment the younger brother acted offended. Then he adjusted the rifle slung across his shoulder.

Joel let out a long sigh. “Maybe. Maybe it is serious.”

The corners of Tommy’s mouth twitched.

“She don’t need to know the whole truth. Who I was. What happened in Salt Lake. My fucked-up past. All the women I’d been with.” He rolled the glove’s fabric between his fingers. “She sees the photos at home—me with Sarah, with Ellie. But she don’t ask more than she has to. And I don’t ask about that wedding ring she wears on her left hand.”

“Fair,” Tommy muttered.

“Yeah.”

But deep down he knew Ellie would’ve chewed him out for that. Maybe not in words. But with that look—one only she could give.

They stood side by side in silence for a few minutes. Staring out the window at the ranch fields. Everything stayed calm. But Joel couldn’t tell if that was right. Well… probably was, but it still felt off. Strange. Unnatural. Every minute he had that gnawing feeling something was bound to go wrong. Someone would leave. Or worse—someone new would show up.

Tommy suddenly pushed away from the windowsill. “We should head out,” he said, and Joel nodded. He was hungry, and sweat clung to him under a jacket that was too warm for the weather—he’d misjudged it this morning.

They climbed back down the wooden ladder to the horses, still happily munching hay.

Tommy swung up into the saddle of his palomino. “Don’t forget—dinner tomorrow at eight. And wear a decent shirt.”

“Yes, sir,” Joel grumbled, patting Old Beardy’s neck and following Tommy’s lead.

They headed back toward Jackson. At a trot. No reason to hurry.

Nobody left to hurry to.

Chapter Text

Joel had no intention of looking at himself in the mirror. He’d never had much of a reason to, and now—with more than half a century behind him—he sure as hell didn’t. He’d always been the kind of man who didn’t care what he was wearing.

The shirt he pulled on had an olive shade. He figured green suited him—or at least he liked to think so. It was more habit than taste anyway.

He ran a hand over his trimmed beard and, with a quiet sigh, gave his reflection in the bathroom mirror across from the bedroom a once-over. He brushed his teeth with one of those natural toothbrushes Marie made—tasted nasty as hell, but better than nothing. He combed his hair to the side just enough to keep the gray strands out of his eyes. It was still him, even if sometimes it didn’t feel like it.

He wiped his neck with a towel, then dabbed a couple drops of cologne onto his chest and throat. A scent Esther had gotten from somewhere. He never asked where. He never asked about things he didn’t need to know.

Esther walked into the bathroom without knocking. She had jeans on and a light blue sweater that matched her eyes. Passing by, her fingers brushed across his shoulders.

“This one matches your eyes,” she said simply.

He glanced at her over his shoulder and caught her gaze. Those coffee-colored eyes of hers, calm and deep. He smiled—quietly, almost imperceptibly.

“Looks good on you too.”

She smiled back, hers a little more certain.

“See? Didn’t even take me that long,” she teased.

Joel turned to face her, mock offense pulling her closer by the arms.

“’Scuse me?” he asked with a scandalized expression, though it didn’t really fit.

Esther laughed out loud. He didn’t join her—instead, he silenced her with a kiss. Reliable as ever.

When she pulled back, her cheeks had taken on a faint blush.

“Should I bring something for Maria and Tommy?”

“Maybe a bottle,” he muttered, still half in her space.

She raised a brow. “Figured as much.” Then she pulled away, left the bathroom, and started down the stairs.

“Which one?”

“Don’t matter,” he called back.

“Right. You don’t really care for alcohol anyway.”

“Liquor talks at me, but I don’t understand it no more,” he answered dryly.

Her warm laugh spilled through the house.

Joel just stood there for a moment, listening to the sound of her footsteps fading. Then he turned back to the mirror. Looked at himself—and couldn’t hold it. A few steps took him to the window instead.

From there he had a view of the backyard and, off to the side, the garage. Ellie’s garage.

No lights on anymore.

Already left? Strange. Didn’t sound like Ellie at all. She was hardly ever on time, and family dinners sure as hell weren’t the kind of thing she rushed to.

His eyes lingered on the garage windows. And then… after a few breaths, they softened.

Maybe it had somethin’ to do with Kat leavin’.

Joel wasn’t stupid. And even though Ellie had made it clear she didn’t want him, didn’t need him in her life, he couldn’t help himself. He knew what’d gone down at the gate this morning. And if he didn’t, Tommy would’ve gladly filled him in.

Kat had left town before dawn. The council had allowed her a horse, a weapon, and a handful of supplies. Ellie and Dina had walked her part of the way. Just before they left, he’d passed Dina by the stables—she hadn’t looked too happy.

He never really understood all that between them. But he knew the second Ellie and Kat started seeing each other, somethin’ had gone wrong with those three. Not on the surface. But even a blind man would’ve noticed.

In the window he thought he saw a shadow. Or maybe just his mind playing tricks. Maybe he was already drifting. He shook his head, straightened his collar, and tore himself away from the view that weighed him down. He switched off the bathroom light and made his way downstairs.

Sometimes he figured this house was too much for him. Too much space for someone who’d once made do with a single room. Two bedrooms, living room, dining room, three bathrooms. Front and back porch, old shed out back. Too many places a man could get lost. Or hide.

In the QZ he’d gotten by with a studio apartment. Walk in, shut the door, everything within reach. This was different. But when he’d tried to protest, Tommy had just raised a hand and said: “Forget it.” So Joel had. He hadn’t had the energy to argue. And in the end… the house had grown on him.

Everything but the bathrooms had wood flooring. He’d spent enough time here to know exactly which spots creaked. The walls were worn, the paint faded, the furniture weathered. But it was his home. He kept it in order. And Esther never messed with that—he appreciated it.

Most of the decorations had a country theme, full of animal ornaments and landscapes. All of it reminded him of Texas and the westerns he’d loved as a boy. Family photos and little souvenirs were scattered throughout the house.

He stepped into the dining room.

In the center stood a heavy, handmade table surrounded by chairs. A thick rug underneath, a cabinet with glass doors nearby, and opposite it, a marble fireplace topped with a painting of a sunset. In the corner gleamed a low liquor cabinet—the one Esther’s eyes had landed on.

She stood with her back to him, the lamplight skimming over her sweater. When she heard his steps, she didn’t turn.

“What about this one?” she asked, lifting a bottle and holding it to the light.

Joel took it from her. Dark glass, old label. He studied the print—hesitated. Should he grab his glasses? Nah. He could still manage. He wasn’t that far gone yet.

“Whiskey,” he breathed after a moment. “That’ll do just fine.”

Esther smiled. “I wouldn’t pick anything bad.”

Joel huffed. “I know.”

He turned the bottle in his hand again. After all these years, it was a strange feeling—holding a full glass bottle without needing to throw it at someone. Just to hand it over. As a gift. Tommy would appreciate it, he thought. Might not even drink it, but a gesture was a gesture. Showin’ up empty-handed would’ve been shameful.

“Guess we oughta get goin’, huh?” Esther tilted her head.

He looked at the only working clock above the bar. The hands read half past seven. He nodded. “Yeah. We oughta.”

Together they headed for the door. Joel grabbed her jacket and handed it to her without a word. She accepted it with a faint smile. Then he slung his own brown one over his arm, switched off the light behind them, and they stepped out side by side into the street.

The silence of the town wrapped around them like a blanket. And still—Joel heard more in it than he wanted to.

ᖭ༏ᖫ

Ellie had turned off the light long before she needed to.

She sat on the floor, her back against the wooden frame of the bed. The silence in the garage was thick, filled with static darkness. Her head ached from it—from the quiet, from how it pressed in too much.

Her skin was still a little soft and sensitive from the shower. Her hair, loose and damp, brushed her shoulders and tickled her collarbones. With the tips of her fingers, she traced the line of her tattoo on her right arm, a path she knew by heart even blind. In the dimness she could hardly see what she was touching—maybe that was better.

She knew what was there.

Under her fingertips, the raised scar tissue pressed back—a relief that would never fade. She’d gotten used to it. Learned to hide it. But it was there. Always. Reminding her. Always.

Probably not just her.

Kat was gone. For good. Or maybe not, maybe not… She had said maybe they’d see each other again. But Ellie didn’t believe it. She wasn’t the type to believe. And sure as hell not in sweet words meant to sound like comfort. Didn’t matter who said them.

And even if… would that even be good? Opening old wounds? Going back? Digging into scars that had barely started to close?

She pushed herself up with effort. The movement made her hiss quietly—her muscles sore from morning patrol and the afternoon workout. She’d spent all day trying not to think, and her body was letting her know it hadn’t appreciated the punishment.

Her eyes drifted to the nightstand. The digital clock flickered 7:30 p.m.

Now, or in twenty minutes—but then she’d have to run. And running meant sweat. And sweat meant she’d stink. Jesse and Tommy would never let her live that down. And Dina… Dina wouldn’t say anything at first, but eventually she’d join in. Sometimes Ellie thought the three of them together were worse than the whole goddamn FEDRA regime.

And it wasn’t even her fault! She just… sweated more. That was it.

At the orphanage, there’d been a girl who smelled way worse. Riley had even had to share a room with her for a while. That girl, Ellie remembered, could’ve cleared out half of Jackson just by opening a door.

With a sigh, Ellie pulled a green hoodie over her clean tank top. She sniffed it first. Fine. She’d bet her hand on it. Hoodie passed.

When she stepped outside, Joel’s house was already dark.

They must’ve left a few minutes ago, she thought.

She didn’t look toward his place for long. That familiar pressure rose in her chest, pushing against her ribs from the inside. She dropped her gaze quickly and decided not to take the main street. No way. She didn’t want to run into them. Didn’t want to see them. Not even from afar.

She chose another route. Wove between houses. Slipped through broken fences, climbed over one or two.

The evening was unusually warm. The air carried something quiet, reconciled—as if the world had stopped watching for a moment. And Tommy and Maria’s place wasn’t far.

But Ellie walked slowly. Not because she was dawdling. But because that was the only pace she could manage right now.

She turned a corner and headed for the back porch. Her steps were light, rubber soles barely whispering against the wood. She reached for the handle, but before she touched it, the door flew open.

No gunshot came. But the barrel of a rifle was aimed square at her chest.

Ellie’s hands shot up, palms open. Reflex.

“Shit… Ellie?” Tommy exhaled hard in the doorway, his shoulders dropping. He shifted the rifle aside. “Why the hell can’t you just come in like a normal person? Through the front?”

She lowered her hands and let her eyes skim the gun, nudging it further out of the way.

“’Cause I’m not a normal person,” she muttered dryly. It was meant as a joke, just another defense mechanism. But the flicker on his face, the way his expression pinched, made something twist in her stomach.

Before she could add anything, he cleared his throat. “Maria’s in the kitchen.”

Ellie nodded, though she gave him one last measuring look before slipping past him. The bitterness, she shoved down, and stepped inside.

Maria stood at the counter, leaning over a wooden board, quiet and focused in the way only she could be. She was slicing vegetables with a steadiness Ellie could only envy.

When she heard Ellie, she only lifted her head for a second. A brief look—barely an acknowledgment.

“Sorry,” Ellie mumbled. “I came unprepared.”

Maria didn’t lower her eyes. “And through the back door.”

Ellie leaned her hip against the counter and shrugged. “Nothin’ gets past you.”

Maria waved a hand and finally looked at her. She wore a flannel shirt and high-waisted jeans. “All that matters is you came.” She handed Ellie a bundle of cutlery. “Help me set the table?”

Ellie took it without protest, her fingers gripping it a little too tightly. She started twisting the napkins between her hands.

“Dina and Jesse aren’t here yet?” she asked without looking up.

“No.”

Ellie bit the inside of her cheek, stayed standing by the island, counted the forks—and then froze. “So… there’ll be seven of us?”

Maria nodded. “Seven.”

“So I’m the extra.” She didn’t say it accusingly. Just quiet. A statement. A fact.

Maria flinched. Sharply. “You’re not.”

But Ellie just stared at her.

The older woman set the knife down and stepped a little closer. “Ellie, listen. This isn’t some kind of couples’ show.”

Ellie opened her mouth to argue.

“I know it’s not easy. First break-up—”

“Wasn’t my first…” Ellie cut herself off. Looked away. Her eyes started to sting and she hated herself for it. She’d never “officially” been with Riley, but what had happened between them had hurt just the same. She drew in a sharp breath, eyes still glassy. “It wasn’t my first break-up.”

Maria held her gaze with those bright blue eyes.

They were interrupted by a knock at the door. Both women turned their heads.

The door stood ajar, and leaning against the frame was Joel, a bottle in one hand catching the light like a Christmas ornament. He didn’t look half bad himself. Joel always dressed decently, but when he put on a clean, ironed shirt, tucked it in, and cinched it with a belt, he was another caliber. If Joel were younger, and if Ellie weren’t into girls, she might’ve even found him attractive.

He set the bottle down on the counter.

“Hey, Joel,” Maria greeted warmly. “Esther with you?”

Before he answered, his eyes flicked to Ellie. That same worried look, the one that had haunted her since Salt Lake. She had to turn her back on him and lean against the counter.

“Yeah, just stepped out for a minute,” he said after a pause.

Maria nodded silently, then reached over and took the cutlery from Ellie’s hand, swapping it for the bottle. She pressed the forks into Joel’s palm instead. “Why don’t you and Esther set the table? We’ll be right there.”

When the door closed behind him a moment later, Ellie wiped her eyes quickly and drew in a deep breath.

Fuck. And the evening hadn’t even properly started yet.

Chapter Text

“Promise me you’ll be nice to each other.”

Ellie scowled at Maria.

Not even half an hour had passed and she was already nagging her again.

They’d just come back from the dining room, where the table looked like it’d been lifted straight out of a catalogue. Ellie, however, had hidden in the kitchen with the excuse that she was terribly thirsty. Maria had nudged her several times to go back to Tommy, Esther and Joel, but this time Ellie held out with stubborn refusal.

Normally it wouldn’t bother her. She’d known Joel for years—she could ignore him for a few hours, especially when he had his perfect girlfriend at his side. But this time it was different. Damn. The whole thing with Kat had shaken her more than she wanted to admit. Or maybe it wasn’t that—maybe it was the season; spring always made her more tender, even though she didn’t have any special feelings about it.

She rubbed her eyes and, just then, Marie pressed a few glasses into her hands. “Get a move on,” she urged with a small smile.

Ellie held the glass to her chest, eyes fixed on the blonde.

Maria twirled a finger near her lips. “And with a smile.”

Ellie forced the friendliest smile she could manage—her cheek muscles twitching—and as soon as Marie turned away it dissolved as quickly as it had appeared. She pushed through the door to the living room and the dining area attached to it.

Tommy and Joel were talking quietly—about what, she didn’t care—while Esther sat beside them, smiling gently and listening in silence.

She fought the urge to roll her eyes at the whole scene. The little idyll looked like a picture of a proper family. Joel was playing the perfect man and partner as if it came natural to him. Ellie’s mouth twitched. Of course. If he couldn’t play the dad, he’d find another role. Probably had a lot he wanted to squeeze in during his old age.

She set the glasses on the table and began placing them. “Want some help, Ellie?” Esther asked kindly.

“No, I’m good,” Ellie answered without looking up.

Still, Esther made her way to the kitchen, likely to offer Marie a hand too. Ellie followed with the corner of her eye while keeping her distance. She ignored Tommy’s worried look and pretended to concentrate on setting a perfect table—otherwise she might get a telling-off. Perfection was second nature to Marie; the house, the garden, the whole settlement ran like clockwork.

For a moment she thought how the house felt like the perfect place to raise a child. Not that it was her business, nor that she adhered to old norms. But she noticed it. Tommy and Marie were the kind of age where they could have two, maybe three kids. They didn’t have any. Still, Ellie thought they’d make perfect parents.

A knock at the window pulled her out of her thoughts. She turned and smiled when she saw who it was. Tommy started to stand, but she waved him down—she’d get the door herself. Her smile stiffened a little when she noticed Joel watching her.

Oh, great.

She walked to the door, fixing the hood of her hoodie as she went.

“There’s my sexy single partner!” Dina called as soon as she saw her in the doorway. Unlike this morning, she looked much happier.

Ellie just stared at her. “You drunk?”

“Definitely looks like it,” Jesse muttered.

“Shut up,” both girls snapped at the same time, then looked at each other. Dina laughed with that beautiful, feminine laugh she had—one Ellie liked more than she’d admit. Ellie smiled and couldn’t take her eyes off her.

Jesse noticed the look and cleared his throat meaningfully. “We comin’ in, or…?”

Ellie blinked and stepped back from Dina. “Yeah. Sure.” She opened the door and let the happy couple in. She saw Jesse holding a gift for the hosts—a bottle wrapped in brown paper—and a prick of guilt hit her. She’d brought nothing.

Voices were already coming from the other room as people greeted each other. Ellie licked her dry lips and shut the door a touch harder than she meant to. Esther, who was leading Joel by the hand, flinched and he glanced up.

Without a second thought she grabbed the bottle from Jesse. “I’ll take it to the kitchen,” she said.

Tommy snorted. “Make sure it’s full, Ellie.”

She shot him a wounded look over her shoulder, though the corners of her mouth twitched. Dina and Jesse exchanged a quick, conspiratorial look—one that said: we know what we’re doing. And it was right that the grown-ups didn’t have to know what the young ones got up to behind their backs.

“Aren’t they a little young for that?” Esther asked, eyebrow raised. “Seventeen?”

Ellie sighed inwardly.

“She turned eighteen a week ago,” Joel said. His voice was calm, almost pleasant—and that made the brief, awkward silence that followed even more noticeable.

Ellie glanced at him for a moment. Of course he knew. Nothing escaped him—not even that day. Even though she’d spent the whole birthday with friends, she’d found his present by the garage door back then. She still hadn’t opened it. It sat in the closet, just a bit away from the guitar he’d given her years ago. She couldn’t tell whether she was more irritated that he’d mentioned it aloud, or that the tone had been aimed more at Esther than at her. When he smiled at his partner, his face lightened and open. When he looked at Ellie, his eyes grew heavy.

She couldn’t stand it for more than a few seconds; she inhaled and slipped quickly into the kitchen. She set the bottle down on the counter beside the one Joel had already left there. Probably pointless—they’d open it sooner or later anyway.

Leaning her back against the door, the idea of getting drunk that night suddenly didn’t sound so bad. In Jackson, by the rules, they could pour her a drink. Maybe it would be the easiest way to get through this dinner.

ᖭ༏ᖫ

How damn stupid he’d been, thinking just a few months back that there could ever be something between Ellie and Jesse.

Now, watching them sitting next to each other across the table, he couldn’t push the thought away. The two of them bickered like siblings—sometimes sharp words, sometimes a sideways glance full of faint jealousy… maybe over Dina.

Joel shook his head inwardly. Whatever it was, it wasn’t his concern. She was an adult—he’d said it himself not long ago. Her life, her choices. Still, he had a right to know who she was dragging into his garage at night. After all, she lived on his property.

Eighteen. That number felt like a joke. Not that long ago, she’d been fourteen—half a head shorter, could only shoot with a BB gun, reading him those dumb jokes from her tiny little books. And now… now she was supposed to be a woman. One who drank, smoked, and… fucked.

He reached for his glass and took a sip of water. The meat had lost its taste.

Still, the atmosphere around the table was pleasant enough. Talk about patrols, street gossip from Jackson, even horses—plenty of foals expected in the coming months. Joel had always liked this time of year.

They’d been eating for ten minutes when Marie dove enthusiastically into another story. He couldn’t focus on her words—but Esther beside him could. God, that woman was observant. Sometimes too much. He couldn’t tell whether to appreciate it or be wary of it.

“So,” Tommy began, pushing his empty plate aside, “there’s gonna be a little work party at the workshop tomorrow. Need to fix up some tools. Anyone who wants to help gets whatever they want.”

“I’m in,” Dina said right away.

“Good,” he nodded, his eyes sliding toward Ellie.

“I’ll see,” she muttered vaguely and took a sip. Dina bumped her shoulder playfully.

“Fine. Show up or don’t.”

Ellie nodded, eyes still glued to her plate—half a piece of pork, a few roasted potatoes, salad. The stubborn kid was doing everything she could to avoid looking his way. Joel clenched his hand under the table. Luckily, Esther didn’t notice. Yet.

Jesse suddenly burst out laughing.

“What?” Ellie snapped.

“Maybe they’ll pay you in extra soap,” he said.

Ellie immediately sniffed her hoodie, then shoved his shoulder. “Asshole.” The chair creaked under him as he leaned away, still laughing, while Dina, her cheeks burning red, tried to hush him.

“I did take a shower before coming here, you jerk. Ice cold!”

That only made him laugh harder.

Then Ellie paused. Her eyes slid toward Tommy—almost playfully.

“So… what about hot water?”

Tommy raised an eyebrow. “What about it?”

“I’ve been takin’ cold showers for a month now,” she said, shrugging like it was nothing. “Would be nice to have, I don’t know… a week of hot ones. I’ll do extra shifts at the workshop if I have to.”

Tommy chuckled, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “Deal. Help out, and you get heater access for a week.”

Joel’s head turned slightly. His jaw tensed.

“And for Joel too,” Tommy added, grinning.

Ellie’s brows shot up. “What? Why?”

“Well, you two kinda share the same heater, don’t ya?”

“We don’t share a damn heater,” she fired back.

Tommy raised both hands, still smirking. “Relax. Just sayin’—you’d save on fuel if you didn’t hog it all to yourself.”

Joel cursed under his breath. He’d promised Maria there wouldn’t be any fighting at the table tonight. But that look flashing in Ellie’s eyes… hell, he knew it too well.

He almost said something—something sharp—but bit it back.

“I can’t not waste it,” Ellie said finally, voice dripping with mock sweetness. “Guess I’m just expensive.”

Joel’s jaw locked. He wasn’t sure if it was the tone or the calm on her face that got to him. Either way, he felt that old, familiar anger rise up.

“Ellie. Enough,” he said, low. “Don’t be smart with me.”

She smiled bitterly, eyes flicking up to his. “Or what? You gonna lie to me again?”

That one hit deep. Nice shot, kid, he thought grimly. Real nice.

“What’s she talkin’ about, Joel?” Esther asked softly. But he didn’t take his eyes off Ellie. He said nothing.

Tommy stiffened. Marie set her cutlery down, already resigned. Dina and Jesse went silent.

“It’s nothing, Esther,” Ellie broke the heavy pause. “We’re just messin’ around. Right, Joel?”

He only answered with a look. She caught the flicker in his eyes, stretched his girlfriend’s name across her tongue.

“Messin’ around like a father and daughter,” she added sweetly, before flashing Marie a smile.

Joel felt Tommy’s gaze land on him. He knew that look—knew exactly what was behind it. Tommy was the only one who knew the whole truth. He’d told him right after they’d arrived in Jackson, not long after Salt Lake.

He still remembered them sitting together in that empty house, dust swirling through golden light, and Joel, for the first time in years, cornered by his own conscience. He’d told him everything. The hospital full of soldiers and Firefly medics. The way he’d gone through room after room, rummaging through drawers—recorders, Marlene’s journal… and that doctor. He hadn’t even seen the man’s full face, but he remembered the look in his eyes when Joel drove the scalpel into his neck.

Tommy hadn’t said a word back then. He’d known it was a filthy thing to do—the lowest of the low. Joel knew it too. Over the years they’d done enough damage together among hunters. When they finally split ways—Tommy to the Fireflies, Joel to smuggling in Boston—it had been a kind of freedom.

He’d seen all kinds of shit, but killing a medic… a doctor, someone meant to save lives—even if this one was about to take hers—was still the most goddamn unethical thing he’d ever done. But it was done.

And he should’ve been fine with that. He should’ve enjoyed the fact that he had Esther by his side, her hand sliding along his thigh under the table, leaning close, her breath warm against his skin. He should’ve looked forward to when the evening ended, to having her in his bed, kissing her neck, making her feel good. She should’ve been his priority—just like she made him hers.

But no.

Right then, Joel would’ve given anything for Ellie to lift her eyes from her plate, meet his with that stubborn look of hers… and not look away.

Even if it meant he’d burn for it.