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Ellie is no stranger to fear. She has felt it, known it, her entire life. She had thought, really thought, that nothing could surprise her anymore. She had seen the bodies of children, watched her friends die, had to shoot people she loved, she had watched as the disease that took over the planet took over the body of the only person in the world that cared about her. She had run for her life; she had retreated into the depths of her mind as cruel and unjust punishment played out on her skin at FEDRA. She knows fear.
But not like this. Never like this. Never had she felt this crippling weight of all that she had ever been slipping away from her. Never has the weight of one person cause so much panic to flood her system that she can't even lift her chest in breath with the weight of it.
It had happened at FEDRA. Guards who gave lingering glances, didn't knock before they went to check the changing rooms. Officers who made her skin prickle with more than just the usual fear of punishment. The glances that made just being seen feel violating.
Ellie wasn't stupid, she knew what would happen when one of the older girls were called to stay back after gym. She could see the look in their eyes when they came back, the way they had retreated into themselves, the way they looked like they had lost something between going into the office and coming out.
The weight of him, his hands pining down her wrists, his legs pining down her own, his body pressed against her hips. It was suffocating.
She had never been this scared before. This fucking frozen.
Somehow there was something worse about this. Worse than being scared for her life. Knowing she would have to life with the loss of what he was taking, that whatever he was about to take from her wasn't as all-encompassing as her life, and certainly not as forgiving.
The air was so cold, but his breath against her skin was almost scorching, or maybe it was the fire, she couldn't feel the difference anymore.
She was supposed to fight; she was supposed to bite and scratch and kick and scream and kill until everyone who wanted to hurt her was gone and she could get back to Joel. But she didn't. She didn't scream, or fight, or do anything fucking logical. Her body felt like it weighed a million pounds and all she could do was lay there.
She began taking stock of the things around her.
As his hands tightened around her wrists, she made herself focus on the hard wooden floors beneath her.
As his knee tore her legs apart, she paid attention to the crackling of the fire behind her.
She wondered if it would burn the whole place down.
As he adjusted so that both of her wrists were held in one hand, she began to hope that it did burn.
As his free hand ripped the front of her jeans, popping the button, she began to hope that if it did burn, she would still be inside.
But it didn't work like that, her brain reminded her, she didn't get to make wishes. She didn't get to prey to a God. Although if any of her prayers were to be answered, maybe he would pay attention to one that begged for the death of a child, instead of one screamed, in and empty mall as blood ran down her arm. God seemed a lot more interested in death that he did life.
And it also didn't work like this, she didn't get to distract herself with the floor and the fire, not when the harsh denim of her jeans was against her bare skin, not when his nails dug into her wrist, making her skin mold to the shape of him. Not when his fingers dug so deep into parts of herself that she had never even ventured to that she could feel the wet sting of blood.
His hands are everywhere, and somehow still so localized. So. Fucking. localized. He traced along the edge of her underwear, snapping the worn elastic against her skin.
His fingers were cold and dry as they moved mindlessly into her.
“So tight baby” He sneered above her “Need to get you ready for my love”
So, this is it, she thought. This is what it fucking feels like.
———————
It feels like hours before he hears something. And the noise feels like being stabbed all over again but at least it's something. It's her. Her screaming.
Joel had heard Ellie’s screams. Heard her waking from nightmares where her past gripped her body and escaped through her throat, he had heard her scream in play, as she kicked a ball with Sammy, he had heard her scream in fear, running for her life, he had heard her scream for the people she loved as they died in front of her.
But he had never heard her scream like this. Never heard her sound so fucking powerless, so desperate, so scared.
He moved as quickly as the gaping wound in his side would allow towards the smoke. He's slow, so fucking slow, so by the time he makes it around the side of the building the screaming has stopped. And that scares the shit out of him.
But instead of her body he finds her, dressed in a jumper he's never seen, stumbling to nowhere in particular except forwards. The sun gleams off the snow around her making her look like an angel, and to him, she was.
And then his arms are around her and she’s screaming again, and it's that same scream, that same nauseating scream that he never wants to hear again, except this time it's him causing it.
So then he’s cradling her face and calling her names that haven't left his mouth in over 20 years, and he’s begging her to recognize him.
Babygirl, Babygirl, Babygirl
But she does, when she mutters his name under her breath like a prayer, it’s like she’s not really there, like her skin isn’t feeling the cold and her eyes aren’t seeing him in front of her.
And all he wants is to have her back, is to feel her in front of him rather than just seeing her. So he keeps watching her as they walk, waiting for her to come back, guiding her body forward while she hides away from whatever made her walk like some part of her ached. He didn’t want to think about it.
But she didn’t come back, not for hours, and it made his chest ache with missing her.
He didn’t want to think about it, but he had to, it was too dangerous not to out here. He had to think about the way she limped with every dragging step, the way her breath caught in her throat as though it was painful. He had to think about the way she was wearing clothes that he knew for a fact weren’t hers, had to think about the fact that the Ellie he knew would never have changed them willingly.
And he had to think about the way her hands, even in the state she was in, kept drifting to her waistband, pulling the sweater down as if to hide herself.
————
She had been able to see things after they happened before. Like when Riley died, she could still see her body, or what was left of it, for months after. And she still could now, but it was easier not to think about. Or in the first few weeks of it just being her and Joel, she could see the building blowing up, the building with Tess.
But this was different, she couldn't just see him, she could feel him. Feel him ripping her clothes, his hot breath against her skin, she could feel him inside of her.
It made her sick, like the whole attack was playing out on her skin as she stood in the cold.
Ellie had no idea where they were, or how they got there, or where they were going. She just knew that she trusted Joel to take her there. So, with his hand on her back, encouraging every step, she let her mind slip.
She didn't know where she went, when she slipped, but it was warm, and light. and there wasn't any blood on her face. And there were no hands on her skin, and the cold didn't permeate like it should, it was all just…okay.
Which is what she needed, because nothing outside of this floaty space was okay. Not at all.
—————
He had to know. He had to know what had happened, what they had done to her. Logistically, practically, it was important, treating injuries, knowing what you're dealing within order to not letting things get worse, that was crucial on the road.
but selfishly, he had to know, just how desperately had he failed. Had he failed Ellie in all the ways he never got the chance to fail Sarah? what did they do to her?
There was nothing to indicate she was aware of her locations changing as he sat her down on the couch. The cabin was old, and falling apart, but abandoned, which for right now, was the closest to safe that they were going to get.
She was covered in blood, it made him nauseous to look at but the clean-up could happen in a minute. First, he needed to assess where it was coming from first, how much of it was hers. Honestly, he couldn’t tell if he wanted it to be hers, so that she didn't have to do what he thought she did. Or if he wanted it to be someone else's, so that he could know that at least one of them got what they deserved.
After he took stock of all her injuries he started on cleaning off her little face. He wiped gently, the corner of his shirt damp with melting snow. Her skin was so pale, she looked like she hadn’t eaten in days. The blood didn't want to come off.
“It's mostly his” she whispered into the cold and silent air. He froze, it took a second to process that she had spoken at all, let alone what she had said. he felt sick.
His, his, his
One person, he thought, one man. Him. Not a group, just one man, one man and a vulnerable little girl who now had his blood smeared on every inch of her exposed skin. His.
“He’s dead” she muttered again, as thought that wasn’t becoming increasingly obvious by the amount of his insides she had in her hair.
“Atta girl” was all he said instead.
She didn’t speak again but he could tell she was more aware. The way she reacted slightly to the cool temperature of the water, and flinched, her breath catching in her throat when he accidentally grazed her hip. He froze, looking up at her avoidant gaze. She didn’t meet his eyes, but he could still see it. How tense she was, how vigilant and aware of his every action. It took everything in him to stay the calm and collected presence he was supposed to be. But ever nerve in him was alive with the desire to hurt. To kill.
Joel was a violent man, maybe not from birth but he certainly was now. He had accepted that. But as much as he shot and maimed, as many lives as he took, he never wanted to. He did it for safety, or for protection. It was practical. Only once in his life had he truly wanted to kill a man for the purpose of making him suffer and having him dead. But he hadn’t been able to, Tommy had gotten that particular honour.
And here he was again, 20 years later, with the same urge and pulsating desire to kill. To torture.
And yet again, the honor was taken from him and put in the shaking palms of an unwilling party.
Ellie’s panicking again, he can feel it, her agitation resting below her skin, her glazed over eyes.
“What’s you need darlin’ what can I do”
She doesn’t say anything, just pulls at the jumper he found her in. Her hands shake so badly that she can hardly grip the damn thing let alone pull it off.
“Let me help Ellie, let me help ya”
If he sounds desperate it’s because he is. He’s begging, he needs to help, needs to do something.
She nods silently, the only noise piercing the room is her rapid breathing. He pulls the jumper up from her shoulders, being careful not to let his hands go any lower.
He can see her visibly relax the second it’s off, like its presence on skin was physically painful.
She’s not wearing anything underneath; he realizes with a sharp intake of cold air. The realization feels like it burns his chest. She’s in nothing but a dirtied and bloodstained sports bra. Her skin mottled and dry from the cold. She’s littered in bruises; her left ribcage sinks into her chest with every breath.
His eyes follow the trail of destruction until he reaches her waist line. Now exposed without the long fabric being pulled over it. Her jeans are ripped. The button popped clean off, the zipper torn open.
He feels sick. He’s not an idiot, he knows what all this looks like. It was always one of his biggest fears with Sarah, a nauseousness that always sat in the back of his throat when he went to school, when she met a new male teacher.
But it had never happened. it had always been his fear. But he couldn't do that for Ellie. He couldn't hold that fear and make it his. It was her fear, no matter what had happened today. she had grown up into a world where she had never gotten the privilege of not knowing what could happen to her.
“Ellie-“ he didn't know what to say, his voice was already breaking and he hadn't even got to the hard part yet.
She was still, her form frozen on the couch, her eyes fixed on where he crouched below her on the ground.
She now seemed hyper aware of her vulnerability, but she made no move to cover herself.
—————
Ellie felt so unbearably alive in that moment. With Joel staring at her. Every instinct in her went to over herself, to hide, to protect. But she didn't. She fought the urge, and she let him see her trauma as its evidence remained painted across her skin. she needed him to know. needed him to see it and understand what had happened. even if no words would form in her throat.
She watched as Joel composed himself. He looked different. Angry. She just hoped it wasn't directed at her. she was sure the answer was in his face somewhere, but she was too numb to figure it out.
“You-you don't gotta tell me what happened, not if ya don't want to. But I need to know what we have to worry about, can ya tell me that Babygirl?”
His voice was so soft, so gentle, she wanted to melt into the sound of it and never leave. she wanted to answer. really, she did. But all she could do was stare. Even though she could feel the answers on her tongue, they wouldn't let themselves be pushed forward.
Joel watched her face for a minute, before stepping in to break up the silent fight happening between her mouth and her head.
“Okay-okay, how ‘bout this, I'll say somethin’ and you just let me know if its something we need to be aware of. Alright? can ya do that darlin’?”
She nodded, yeah, if Joel was the one asking the questions she was pretty sure she could do that.
he smiled, not like he did when she told a shitty pun or when they found Chef Boyardee in the back of some dump. But she smiled, at her. And it was enough to make one string of the tension in her chest snap.
“Alright, let's start with the easier stuff” he adjusted himself so that he was sitting down now instead of crouching. She liked that she was taller than him right now. Joel would never hurt her, but it felt safer. Knowing that she could be on her feet before he could.
“Anything broken?”
She took a minute to try and assess her body. Her nose definitely hurt but it didn't feel crooked. Her ribs however, that were a whole different kind of pain. She shrugged, putting a hand to her side where she knew Joel could already see the damage. She thought about going to get a shirt. But she knew if she moved from this moment she would lose any guts she had to look Joel in the eye an answer his questions. So she stayed put, in her old bra on a tattered couch, with ripped jeans and blood in her hair. she stayed.
Joel nodded, seeming to take stock of that information before moving on.
“Are ya bleeding anywhere that I can't see?”
Truthfully, she didn't know, she knew she had a nasty cut on her nose that was now clotting. But anything else seemed almost impossible to perceive. She tried to feel into the rest of her body. Looking for the telltale warmth that could indicate blood. All she felt was cold. That didn't really mean much but she shook her head anyway. If she was wrong, she figured they’d find out soon enough.
“Okay, okay that's good baby, that's real good. Now what about infection, do ya think that could happen...anywhere?”
Her stomach flipped with the answer, but she nodded anyway. She didn't want to lie to Joel. And more than that she was desperate to have him understand.
He was tempted to ask where this potential infection could take place. But he knew, they both knew. There was no point in making her answer that.
“Okay, last question sweetheart, last one I promise, then you can rest” He knew that resting was probably very low on the list of things that would be happening tonight, but he had to hope.
She nodded blankly, he got the feeling she knew what was coming and she hated it. He hated it for her.
“Ellie, is-is, fuck, is pregnancy something that we need to worry 'bout?”
He watched her face closely, watched her bite her lip and squeeze her eyes shut before looking back at him.
She shook her head. And he wanted so desperately to believe her.
“Baby, im not mad, i just need to know, just need to know if...that could be in the cards”
Ellie could feel the sarcastic laugh building up in her throat before he was even done talking. It felt strange, out of place, like humor, no matter how dry had no place in her body anymore.
“Well, I know FEDRA school was fucked up, but unless they completely butchered my education, I'm pretty sure you can't get pregnant from fucking fingers” She yelled, it hurt her throat, and it pulled tightly at her ribs, but it felt good. To scream. To tell. It felt like the best thing that had happened all fucking day.
Joel swallowed thickly, he knew for a fact that those were words he would never get out of his head. Fingers. He felt like every bit of light her was holding onto had been snuffed out. Like the candles he never got to light on Sarah’s 13th birthday cake. Blank. Empty. Dark.