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sixhours · 5 months ago

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i know you by heart - chapter 7

Series Chapter Index | Read on AO3 | Complete

Rating: Explicit, 18+, here be smut Series tags: The Last of Us, The Last of Us (HBO), Prospect, Joel Miller x Ezra, Joel & Ellie, Ezra & Cee, Joel is bad at feelings and relationships, Ellie is a little shit (affectionate), mostly follows canon after season 1, SMUT, gay sex, bisexual!Joel, period-typical homophobia, alcoholism behavior, light angst, angst with a happy ending, romance, age gap (~10ish years), I've probably forgotten some so please let me know <3

Twelve patrollers including Joel leave the commune just before sunrise, the sky turning a bruised violet color as dark clouds gather. It’s a six-hour ride to the western edge of the patrol zone on a clear day, but the weather is uncooperative, and soon they’re being pelted with a cold October rain.

Seven miserable hours down the road, they arrive at the spot where the original group was attacked. There’s no clear trail, no footprints to follow; the rain has all but washed it away.

“Fan out!” Peterson calls over the rain. “Pair up, use the radios if you spot anything. If they’re still around, we’ll find ‘em.”

Joel and a younger man named Anders take a fork in the path going north, an old logging trail that leads to a camp that serves as an outpost on Jasper Ridge. It’s slow-going, the path is narrow and muddy and lined with dense forest. This area gets little attention on regular patrols, with few structures for scavenging and little chance to encounter infected, which makes it a good place to hide.

When they see a shape in the distance, what looks like a figure crumpled in the center of the path, they slow the horses to a stop, exchanging a look. Joel pulls out his revolver.

“Looks like we got somethin’ up here,” Anders murmurs into the radio. “Northern fork, just shy of the Jasper outpost. Might need backup.”

“Roger,” crackles the walkie. Joel recognizes Peterson’s voice. “On our way.”

They tie off the horses and approach on foot, trying to see through the pelting rain. It’s a blurry lump on the ground at this distance, no way to tell if they’re armed or infected or even human. When they’re fifty feet away, Anders calls out.

“Hey!”

When the figure shifts and rolls onto one side, Joel’s grip on his gun tightens. It’s a young woman, still alive. Her clothes are tattered and caked in mud, barely adequate against the cold. As they get closer he can make out bruises on her face, hear her pained groan.

“H-h-help m-me,” she croaks.

“You bit, ma’am?” Anders asks, keeping a safe distance. He keeps his rifle trained on her while Joel eyes the forest around them, looking for others, but it’s too dim. Rain lashes at the trees, whipping them this way and that, and the overgrowth is too dark and thick to see through.

“N-no. No, I just…I hurt my ankle–”

“You with anyone?”

“I b-b-broke off from a g-group–”

“What group?” Joel asks.

“I don’t know–I was–they were going to k-k-kill me. Please, I’m s-so c-c-cold.”

The hair on the back of Joel’s neck is prickling with a familiar unease. Nothing about this feels right. In another life, he’d have already put a bullet in the woman’s head and turned back, but a year in Jackson has softened him.

“Ma’am–“

Anders has almost closed the distance between them when a voice rings out from somewhere in the trees.

“Put down your weapons! Hands where I can see them!”

Shit.

Joel raises his revolver but between the rain and his bad ear, he can’t tell where the voice is coming from.

“Don’t do it, old man. You’re surrounded.”

He and Anders exchange a look.

“Nuh-uh,” says the voice. “You’ve got ten seconds to unload before I shoot. Do it!”

Sneering, Joel flicks open the revolver's barrel and shakes out the rounds into his palm.

“Toss' em over there. Now!”

He does, flinging the bullets into the tree line and letting the revolver drop to the ground.

“Happy?”

“Now the rifles.”

“The hell do you–“

“Do it!”

Slowly they unshoulder their rifles and unload them, slowly edging toward each other until they’re standing back-to-back.

“You from that settlement back east?” the voice calls, somewhere on Joel’s side, a shadow in the trees off the edge of the path.

“Who’s askin’?” Anders fires back.

“No one you know, I’m afraid.”

A man comes out of the trees, gun leveled at Joel.

Then a rustling from the brush on the left, barely heard over the growl of the wind. And another, and another, and another, until they’re surrounded by at least five more that Joel can see. The woman gets up off the ground and limps to the side of one of the men meekly, her purpose fulfilled.

Bait.

“You the ones who shot up our men?” Joel asks through gritted teeth. He eyes the faces around them searching for Tommy, but there’s no sign.

“Maybe they shot first.”

“Doubt that,” Joel says. “Heard you have one of ours.”

“Depends. Do you have the girl?”

“Think you got the wrong folks,” he tries, playing dumb. “We don’t know noth–”

The man tightens his hand on the gun. “Let’s not play games. You have her. We have him. Don’t make this difficult.”

“I don’t see our man.”

“And I don’t see the kid,” he says, making a show of looking around. “So it seems we’re at a stalemate.”

“Would seem that way,” Joel says.

“Look, maybe we got off on the wrong foot,” Anders cuts in, and Joel almost wheels on him to tell him to be quiet, stops himself at the last second. No sudden moves.

“What’s your name? Where you folks comin’ from?”

Anders nudges his back and Joel glares over his shoulder, but the young man keeps talking.

“We got room back in town. Food. Supplies. If you’re willin’ to work for it. Maybe we don’t need to make this a trade.”

“Is that right?” the man sneers. “How generous.”

Anders seems intent on making friends and Joel is about ready to tackle him to the ground just to shut him up when the young man nudges him harder, more insistently. It dawns on Joel that he’s trying to buy time.

Gotta keep ‘em talking until backup gets here.

“Yeah,” Anders says with a smile in his voice. “We got a pretty good thing goin’ out here. The more the merrier, ain’t that what they say?”

“Think you can understand why we’d be hesitant to take you up on that.”

“You wanna come back with us, you can see for yourselves,” Anders says. “Ain’t that far, though you’d have to walk. We don’t have enough horses. How many ya have?”

No answer.

“I’m Andy, this here’s Joel,” he tries. “S’just us, just lookin’ for our man. Looks like you got a good sized crew here…”

“Not telling you

“The kid’s back there, safe and sound,” he continues. “And we could use some clever folks, people with skill. This don’t have to be a showdown.”

“He’s right,” Joel grits out, jaw aching with the effort. “Show us our man and we’ll take you to her. No hard feelin’s.”

“Hear that, guys? Open invitation.”

Scattered noises from the crowd, none of it discernable, but it doesn’t sound friendly.

Hurry the fuck up, Peterson.

“No one’s gotta get hurt. There’s medicine…clothes. Looks like she could use some patchin’ up,” Joel says, nodding to the woman shivering across from them. “Why don’t y’all put down the guns and we’ll talk it out.”

“Yeah, yeah, the town, I heard you. See, here’s the thing. I’d bet you have a lot of men waiting for us back there, and I bet they ain’t too happy with us.”

“Can you blame ‘em?” Joel snaps.

The man shrugs. “We’re not going anywhere. If you don’t have the girl, we don’t have any further business here.”

He cocks his gun to prove the point.

“Hold up. Think this through,” Joel says quickly. “She ain’t comin’ out here. You said it yourself, lotta men who’ll be mighty angry if you kill one of ours. Kill us and you’ll never see her.”

The man’s nostrils flare in anger and Joel knows he’s walking a fine line between biding their time and getting shot.

“You’re outnumbered…and you know it,” Joel guesses. “Or you wouldn’t be waitin’ out here in the middle of nowhere. Show us our man and we’ll get you to your girl. S’that simple.”

The man snarls. “Alright. You wanna see him?”

He looks over his shoulder and jerks his chin at one of the men in the trees. Joel’s eyes stay trained on the gun in his hand even as they bring Tommy out, dragged by two men and dumped unceremoniously at the man’s feet. He’s on his knees, barely upright, drenched and muddied with his hands and feet tied behind him. His shoulder looks twisted, jutting out at an odd angle, and his shirt is drenched in blood.

Joel’s jaw tightens as he tries not to stare at his brother’s battered, silent form.

“He ain’t movin’,” Joel says tightly.

C’mon, Peterson, where the hell are you?

The man toes Tommy with his boot, harder than necessary, and it takes all Joel’s effort not to launch himself at him and tear him apart with his bare hands. Tommy lets out a gruff groan of pain as he’s knocked forward, rolls to his side.

“See? Still breathing,” the man says, grinning wickedly.

“Think your girl should come back in the same shape?” Joel grits out.

“As long as she comes back,” he says flatly. “But folks like you? You don’t have it in–”

A gunshot rings out. One of the raiders at the edge of the woods drops with a pained cry, and the man’s eyes go wide.

Fuckin’ finally.

Relief is short-lived as confusion breaks out. Joel launches himself at their attacker and knocks him to the ground, smacking the pistol from his hand as more gunshots sound amidst shouts of surprise from all around.

There’s a scramble as Joel tries to keep the man pinned while reaching back for his rifle. He finally gets his feet under him, then faintly recognizes a hot slice of pain across his left calf as a bullet grazes his leg. Rifle found, he manages to swing the butt of the unloaded gun to connect soundly with the man’s head before he can get up.

“Stay the fuck down,” he growls, landing a kick to the man’s ribs that curls him up like a worm as Joel fumbles to reload the gun.

There’s the sharp crack of more fire in the trees and then an ominous quiet, followed by the sounds of more shouting, familiar voices as the Jackson patrollers close in. Somewhere off to his left, Peterson calls, “I counted nine!”

“Eight here,” someone else says. “Think we’ve got a runner.”

“I’ll get him.”

Anders at his back. “Joel! You got that one?”

“Yeah,” he says, not taking his eyes or his gun off the man on the ground. “Tommy, y’alright?”

Anders kneels and helps Tommy up.

“M’here,” he coughs.

When it’s over, there are six men and women tied and lying on their stomachs with three more dead.

The Jackson group has a handful of bullet wounds between them, and by some miracle, none of them are fatal. They send the worst of the injured home on horseback, Tommy among them, leaving enough patrollers to handle the raiders.

Some dim part of Joel recognizes that he should have gone back, too. He’s struggling to stay upright as the adrenaline wears off, the wound on his leg bleeding through a hastily applied bandage, soaking his jeans. But after seeing Tommy’s injuries, he wants to be here for every second of what comes next.

“That one, up,” Joel says, pointing at the raiding party’s spokesman, and Anders and Peterson yank the man to his knees with a grunt.

“Who’re you lookin’ for?”

The man scowls. Joel taps him with the barrel of his rifle.

“Speak up.”

“Fuck you,” he snarls.

Anders is quick with his rifle, smacking the man in the back of the head hard enough to send him sprawling, but Peterson holds him upright by one arm.

“Let’s try this again,” Joel says. “Who’re you lookin’ for?”

“My k-kid,” he spits. “She c-came out this way with a man.”

Joel grinds his teeth. “That right?”

“Blonde, blue eyes, she’s…she’d be s-s-seventeen…her name is Cecilia–”

Tears shine in his eyes but a hint of defiance lingers. Joel exchanges a knowing look with Peterson, a silent agreement. He sighs and shoulders his rifle, then pulls out his knife. No sense wasting ammunition.

“Don’t know her,” he says flatly. “Guess you fucked with the wrong people.”

“No! No-wait, please, you have to wait, just–she was taken, she was taken from me. All I want is my little girl back. The man who took her–”

Anger flares hot and red in Joel’s gut.

“She get the same treatment as her?” Joel jerks his chin toward the woman in the tattered clothes, now tied alongside the others on the ground.

“I don’t–”

Joel grips the man by the hair, yanking his head back, exposing his throat.

“Tell me,” he growls. “Tell me what happens to little girls with your kind. Tell me she ain’t better off with you dead.”

“N-no, she’s not–it’s not like that, man–tell him–Bonnie, tell–tell him–”

He looks side to side, frantic. The woman in question doesn’t speak, only gives a soft, plaintive sob. Of all the lives they’ll take today, hers will be the one that gives him pause, but Jackson’s policy on raiders is clear. They’ll be treated like rabid dogs, put to death, the bodies left behind as a warning for others.

“Please, just–we’ll come quietly. You said…you said there was food…we’re starving–”

Joel snorts. “Now you’re ready to play nice, huh?”

“Look, please, we’re just–”

“You got anyone else out here s’gonna give us trouble?”

“N-no, there’s–it’s just us, but–”

“Good.”

The blade is sharp, and Joel’s practiced hand slices through the man’s artery with ease. It’s a faster death than he deserves, but between the pelting rain and the dwindling daylight, they need to move on. The man gurgles and spits his protest, and when Peterson lets go, he slumps to the ground, his blood making a muddy red pool underneath him.

Joel wipes his blade on his jeans, limps over to the next prone figure.

“Let’s get the rest of ‘em.”

It’s dark when Joel finally makes it back to Jackson. There’s blood on his jacket, mud caked on his clothes, and his calf is on fire, the bandage long since soiled and soaked through. He’s drenched and shivering as he and the remaining patrol crew ride through the gates.

When the wall opens up ahead of them, there’s a crowd gathered and waiting, Maria at the front. The relief in her eyes is palpable.

“Where’s Tommy?” he asks, easing down from his horse.

“They’ve got him at the clinic. He’s pretty beaten up but he’s going to be fine. And you?” she says, glancing down at his bloodied leg.

“S’nothin’,” he winces, trying not to put weight on it. “You should be with Tommy.”

“He insisted I come check on you,” she says, arching an eyebrow. “Besides, I wanted to get the story from someone I trust.”

She lowers her voice, pulls him off to the side. “They said it was raiders? Not Fireflies?”

“Uh-huh. They were lookin’ for…someone else’s kid, I guess,” he says.

“Someone else’s kid?”

He bites at the inside of his cheek. “Cee…I think.”

“Ezra’s?”

Joel nods tightly. “We took care of it. They won’t bother us again.”

She considers this with dark eyes and a hint of suspicion before nodding, squeezing him lightly on the shoulder. “Alright. You and the others will debrief with the council in the morning. Rest up.”

“You, too.”

Someone has fetched the horses and the rest of the crowd starts to dissipate. Joel is prepared to hobble home until he sees them some distance from the gate. Ellie is standing with Ezra, tucked under his arm, both of them shivering. His first thought, ludicrous as it is, is that they shouldn’t be out in this rain.

But then Ellie spots him and sets off running, her eyes wide and wet, and her arms fix themselves around his waist, nearly knocking him over.

“Stupid asshole,” she mutters thickly into his chest.

“Hey, kiddo,” he sniffs, returning the hug, relishing the solid weight of her against him. “Nice to see you, too.”

Ezra watches from afar, his face solemn. Joel meets his eyes over the top of Ellie’s head and gives him one terse nod, telling him everything he needs to know.

It’s done.

He turns away just as Ellie pulls back and looks up at him sternly, then down at his leg. “You’re hurt.”

“It’s nothin’, just a graze. I’ll be–”

“Clinic,” she snaps. “Now.”

“I don’t–”

But she’s already tucked herself under his arm and is moving them in the direction of the clinic. She’s still small for her age, but stronger than she looks–months of patrol training have paid off, and she makes a sturdy crutch.

“You’re gonna freeze out here,” he mutters. “Where’s your damn jacket?”

“Shut up and walk, old man.”

He leans on Ellie all the way to the clinic. She refuses to let him go until he’s safely deposited onto a cot and struggling to take off his jeans. The blood and dirt have caked over where the bullet took a chunk out of his flesh, the fabric around it stiff and soaked.

Ellie folds her arms across her chest and paces the tiny room while they wait for a nurse. The staff are busy with more urgent cases after the day’s events, so he settles in.

“We can just go home,” Joel tries after half an hour has passed. “This ain’t nothin’ I haven’t–”

“Don’t even think about getting off that bed or I’ll shoot your other leg, too,” she fumes.

He puts his hands up in surrender. “Alright…fine.”

A clock on the wall ticks and Ellie resumes her pacing. Eventually she stops and turns to face him.

“You should’ve told me you were going.”

“Yeah, well…you weren’t exactly talkin’ to me,” he sighs.

“You could have been killed.”

“We take that risk every time we go outside the walls. You know that well as anyone,” he says gently. “‘Sides, they had Tommy. I had to. If it…if it were you…”

He shakes his head, can’t finish the thought.

After a minute, she huffs a frustrated sigh and plops down on the bed next to him, frowning.

“You’re still an asshole,” she mutters, but she’s leaning into him now, shoulder to shoulder, picking at her cuticles the way she does when she’s nervous.

“Yeah, reckon I am,” he says. “But I’m still here.”

The nurse takes that moment to interrupt, swooping in with a wound kit. Ellie’s fingers find his as the nurse uncovers the bloody gash and begins dabbing at it with clean gauze.

“I’m alright,” he reassures her, grimacing as the nurse works around the wound, the antibiotic wash stinging something fierce. “Just a scratch.”

She fixes him with a glare that says she doesn’t believe a word, so he shuts up and lets her squeeze his hand. Before long, he’s bandaged and cleaned up and cleared to go home with a course of antibiotics.

“Take care of your dad, hon,” the nurse smiles on the way out.

“I will.”

They’re leaving the room before Joel realizes she hadn’t bothered to correct her.

On the way out, Ellie stops them halfway down the hall. “Wait…can we check on Tommy?”

“‘Course,” Joel says.

He points them in the direction of the bigger rooms used for in-patient care, peeking into each of them until they find his brother at the end. He’s dressed in a hospital gown, sitting up in bed. Cleaned of blood and dirt, his face looks slightly less gruesome. His left eye is a purple swollen mass and there are sutures over the worst of the gashes on his neck and face. His shoulder is no longer jutting out at a weird angle, fixed in place by a sling. Based on the way he’s holding himself, Joel suspects he has some broken ribs.

But he’s alive.

Joel nods in greeting, exchanges a glance with Maria, sitting in the chair at the side of his bed.

“Hey, brother,” Tommy murmurs. “Y’all goin’ home?”

“Yeah. Just wanted to check on ya.”

Ellie goes to him and before either of them can say another word, she leans down and puts her arms around Tommy’s neck in a careful hug. He pats her on the back, eyes widening in surprise, whispers something to his niece that Joel can’t hear. Ellie nods into the crook of his neck and doesn’t pull away for a long time. When she does, her face is pinched tight, like she’s trying not to cry.

He can practically hear Maria’s I told you so in her smirk.

Then Ellie is back at Joel’s side, almost crashing into him, re-anchoring her arms around his waist.

“Let’s go home, ‘kay?” he tries gently, palming the back of her head, giving her ponytail a gentle tug.

Ellie nods against his ribs, and it takes a solid minute for her to let him go enough so he can walk, nudging them in the direction of home. By the time they get inside, they’re both drenched all over again.

“Hot shower, now,” he mutters. “Ezra shouldn’t have had you out in the rain, god knows how long, it’s fuckin’ freezin’ out–”

“I made him,” she cuts in. “When they brought back the others and you weren’t there, I thought…I thought–”

Her chin trembles and her eyes fill with tears. In the quiet of their little house, all her previous fury is nowhere to be found.

“I know,” he softens. “I know, baby, it’s alright.”

“I didn’t even say goodbye,” she whispers, voice wavering. “I was so…so fucking mad at you, dude. You shouldn’t–shouldn’t have–”

“I know,” he soothes, cupping her face in his hands. “Hey. I’m not goin’ anywhere, baby girl.”

“I’m still fucking m-m-mad at you,” she hiccups.

“I know,” he says. “An’ we have a lot to talk about. But…not tonight, okay?”

She bites her lip, swiping at her eyes.

“Tomorrow. Let’s get some sleep and I’ll…I’ll tell you whatever you want to know. I’ll tell you everything.”

She nods, then ducks between his arms, butting her head into the center of his chest and squeezing him so tight it hurts. It’s a good hurt, though; like re-breaking a bone so it can heal.

“Shower,” he repeats thickly, but his arms refuse to move.

“Mmph. Have to let me go.”

“You first,�� he chuckles, resting his cheek on the top of her head.

“You first,” she retorts, scrubbing her nose on his soaked t-shirt.

They practically sway with fatigue, dripping rain water and mud onto the kitchen floor, still shivering in wet clothes. But she doesn’t let go, so neither does he.

The shower, when he finally steps under the spray, feels amazing. Joel turns the water up to scalding to try to take the chill out of his bones, can almost hear the ancient hot water tank protesting. He’ll have to replace the dressing on his wound but it’s worth it.

Every muscle in his body aches. He’s embarrassed at how stunted his movements are, how difficult it is just to pull on his sweatpants. If Ellie catches him hobbling around like an old man she’ll never let him live it down, but the thought of her teasing only serves to put a smile on his face.

She’s home.

By the time he’s dried off and rebandaged his leg and dressed, she’s curled up in his bed, damp hair soaking his pillows, wearing a pair of his sweats and one of his t-shirts. He doesn’t have the energy to grump at her for stealing his clothes.

“Scoot over, blanket hog,” he murmurs, poking her in the side until she complies, rolling herself up in his down comforter like a burrito in the process. She has the audacity to growl at him when he tries to take the blanket back.

He groans getting into bed, back popping like a firecracker, and Ellie mumbles something that sounds suspiciously like old man into the thick comforter.

“Yeah, yeah,” he says, pulling the spare wool blanket from the foot of the bed and tugging it over himself.

Ellie’s big brown eyes poke out over the top of her blanket cocoon, staring at him from the other side of the bed. They haven’t done this in months, he realizes. He supposes he should be relieved; no nightmares, no need to keep him close in the darkest hours.

He didn’t expect to miss it.

“Thought you weren’t gonna come back. Someone said they had Tommy and you were gone and–”

“Hey,” he whispers, reaching out to gently pinch her chin between his thumb and finger. “Don’t gotta worry about that now.”

She sniffs and nods, burrowing further into the comforter and wiggle-worming her way over to him. There’s a lump in his throat as she tucks her head under his chin.

“What happened?” she whispers.

“Bad folks. Raiders.”

“Did you kill them?”

Joel remembers the look in the man’s eyes when he realized he was going to die. How easily his supposed daughter was used as a pawn for sympathy. The woman’s body lying in the path, used as bait. The clean cut of the knife, body after body after body.

“They’re not gonna hurt anyone again,” Joel sighs.

“Okay,” she says. Then, in a small voice slurred by exhaustion, “M’sorry I ran away.”

“I knew where you were.”

“I was a jerk.”

“Yeah, well…so was I. I’d say we’re even but…I have a lot more to answer for‘n you do,” he sighs, a lazy dread prickling at the back of his neck at the thought. He’s too tired to give it fuel, though, so he reaches back and turns off the bedside lamp. “Tomorrow, alright? Promise.”

“Pinky promise,” she yawns. There’s a rustling as she frees her arm from the blanket and holds up her hand.

“Pinky promise,” he murmurs, locking their fingers and ducking his head to kiss her crown.

There’s another pause while he wracks his overtired brain for the right words. Eventually he settles on the simplest truth.

“I love you, kid. You know that, right?” he asks into the darkness. “I know it ain’t always…easy. An’ I’m not good at sayin’ it, but…I do.”

It’s a long time before she speaks, long enough that Joel wonders if she’s fallen asleep. But then he catches the hint of a sniffle in his good ear.

“Yeah, asshole,” she sniffs. “I know.”

Then another pause, wherein he’s certain she’s fallen asleep. He’s almost there himself when he hears it, muffled by the blankets and his chest.

“I love you, too.”

He wakes the next morning to Ellie’s knee jammed into his ribs, her head still tucked under his chin, arm thrown across his chest. She’s half wormed her way out of the blanket in her sleep, they’re tangled in her legs and wrapped around her torso. Somehow he manages to extract himself without waking her.

He pads to the bathroom to check the dressing on his leg; no more bleeding, no signs of infection yet, but everything hurts. What he wouldn’t give for a bottle of aspirin. He considers another shower to loosen his aching joints and muscles but he doesn’t want to wake Ellie, so instead he hobbles downstairs, muffling a grunt of pain with every step, and heads to the kitchen to make coffee.

He’s just settled on the porch swing with his mug when the front door creaks open. The first frost has settled across the grass, beaded drops frozen and glittering after last night’s rain.

Ellie steps outside, scowling into the light, still wrapped in his comforter. Her hair sticks up in wild spikes, ponytail skewed to the side of her head, and a thin film of dried spit decorates the corner of her mouth.

“You’re up early,” he says.

“Not as early as you.”

He shifts over on the swing and Ellie plops down next to him. Then she scoots closer and leans into his shoulder with a wordless grunt, wrinkling her nose at the smell of his coffee. The warmth of her presence makes his heart ache with affection, and he drapes an arm over her shoulders, letting her tuck into his side. For a while he thinks she’s fallen asleep again, and that would be alright, but then she speaks, low and hesitant.

“Do we have to talk about it now?”

“I reckon sooner is better than later.”

“I…dunno how to start.”

“Well…what do you want to know?”

“I want to know about the hospital,” she murmurs, pulling away from him and looking down at her lap.

He takes a deep breath, lets it out in a shaky rush. “Yeah…thought you might.”

“I want to know what happened. For real.”

So he tells her. He tells her what Marlene told him; that the cordyceps was in her brain. That the operation would kill her. That he’d lied about the other immune people, lied about the search for a cure, lied about the raider attack.

The words feel slimy on his tongue, months of shame pouring out of him like black oil, the aftertaste bitter.

She listens with an unnatural stoicism, jaw clenched and working, tears pooling in her lower lashes.

“Did you kill them?” she asks, her voice rough.

He bites the inside of his cheek until it bleeds. He nods.

“And…Marlene?”

Another nod. His voice is raspy when he speaks.

“She would have come after you. I couldn’t let that happen.”

She’s too quiet, the silence too loud, so he continues.

“Losing you wasn’t an option, El. It wasn’t a choice. Couldn’t do that again. Couldn’t lose a…another daughter.”

Her head snaps up at that, her expression impossible to read.

“Talk to me, kiddo,” he whispers when the silence that settles around them feels too heavy to bear.

“I think…I think I hate you for that,” she says.

There it is; confirmation of his worst fears, spoken aloud. The words don’t sound so daunting in the open air. He breathes it in, surprised to find her judgment doesn’t hurt the way he imagined it would. Maybe he’s too tired, in too much pain for them to sink in…but she hasn’t screamed at him, either. Hasn’t stormed off. She’s still bundled up in his comforter, shoulder nudging his with every gentle rock of the swing.

“That’s…that’s fair,” he chokes out. “I…understand.”

“But I…I still fucking love you, too.”

That lump in his throat is back. He tries to clear it with a sip of coffee but it doesn’t work, so he just ducks his head in a nod.

“Ezra said…he said it could be both. That hate and love are two sides of the same coin…or whatever,” she rolls her eyes, sniffs.

“You talked to Ez, huh?”

“I didn’t want to,” she wrinkles her nose. “I figured he’d just defend you because…y’know.”

Joel lets out a watery chuckle at that. “That ain’t his way.”

“Yeah. He said I was right to be angry. Said I had to ‘feel my feelings’ or some shit. Write things down so they make sense in my head. He’s so fucking annoying sometimes.”

“He is,” he says drily. “But I reckon he knows more about this stuff than we do.”

“I guess,” she says, mouth pinched in a frown.

He looks away, listens to the gentle creak of the porch swing on its chain, a bird’s call as the first rays of light spill onto the lawn.

“Look, I don’t blame you for bein’ mad at me, Ellie,” he says, keeping his eyes fixed on a point in the distance. “I know…what I did…it’s a hard thing to forgive. I know I took a choice from you, at a time when you didn’t have a lot of choices…an’ I’m sorry for that. Maybe you can’t forgive me for it, and that’s…that’s alright.

“But no matter what…no matter how mad you are, or how much you hate me…I’ll be here. You’re my–you’re mine,” he whispers, ducking his head. “I’m never gonna stop lookin’ out for you. I’ll never stop carin’ about you. I feel like that’s what I was put on this earth to do. An’ I know you may not understand that right now…but it’s the truth.”

She looks at him with that same expression she’d had in Salt Lake City, when he was the guy who shot and missed, and she was the girl who healed what time could not.

“I want to forgive you,” she says softly, wiping her eyes on the blanket. “I want to try. I want us to be…better.”

“I want that too, kiddo,” he says softly. “More’n anything.”

“So…no more lies,” she says. “No more hiding things. No more secrets.”

“No more secrets,” he agrees.

They sit side by side, rocking, and Joel sips his coffee. He feels lighter than he has in months.

“So…while we’re being honest or whatever…I guess I have one more question,” Ellie says.

“Shoot, kiddo.”

“I get why you lied about the hospital…kinda. I don’t fucking like it,” she says, brow furrowing. “But I get why you did it.”

Joel nods.

“But I wouldn’t have cared about Ezra. I’m not…y’know, a homophobic dick. I mean, it’s gross, but that’s because it’s you.”

Joel huffs a soft laugh. “I know you wouldn’t, kid. An’ it ain’t like that. Not exactly.”

“So…why?”

“I guess…I didn’t have anyone when Sarah was alive. I was her dad, and for a long time, that’s all I knew how to be. Then I lost her…and I never thought I’d have a, uh…a life again.

“But now we’re here,” he says, looking down their street, the sun casting a warm glow over the mountains in the distance, drops of half-frozen water glittering in the grass, lights glowing in the houses around them. The serenity of an early autumn morning in a small town, their safe haven…their home.

“An’ I have you,” he smiles softly. “So I guess I thought it would be like it was…before. When it was just Sarah n’ Tommy n’ me, and I didn’t make a lot of room for anyone else. But now Tommy has a family of his own, so that changes things. And then…then I met…”

“You met Ezra,” Ellie prompts.

“Yeah,” he smiles a little. “Yeah, I met Ezra and he, uh, reminded me what it was like to–”

“Ugh, please don’t finish that sentence,” she shudders.

“To have more, s’what I was gonna say,” he mutters. “But I guess I…I didn’t think I deserved it. Done so much bad shit…then lyin’ to you…well. That kinda thing eats at you.

“So I told myself I was protectin’ you. Told myself I had to choose. An’ it wasn’t a fair fight…‘cause I’d choose you every time.”

“Dude, that’s so fucked up. You get that, right?”

“I know,” he winces.

“I don’t want to be the reason you don’t have…someone…if that’s what you want.”

“Yeah,” he tilts his head. “Guess I didn’t think about it like that, but…you’re right. S’not fair to, uh…to put that on you.”

He takes a deep breath and lets it out in a rough sigh.

“To be honest, I don’t know what I’m doin’, kid. I didn’t have that chance with Sarah. Never…never made it this far.”

She gapes at him. “And you think I know what I’m doing? Jeez, dude, I’ve never had a fucking family. And now I have, like, a shitload of people who care about where I am and how I’m doing and making me eat and go to school and it’s so fucking weird. And I feel like I’m fucking it up all the fucking time.”

She wouldn’t believe him if he told her she couldn’t fuck it up if she tried, so instead, he says, “Guess that makes two of us, huh?”

She sniffs. “Yeah.”

“Least we get to fuck it up together.”

She doesn’t answer, just leans into him again, letting the swing rock, and when he puts his arm around her shoulders again she burrows against his side.

“I missed you,” she mumbles, and he feels the warm breath of her words through his flannel. “Ezra’s cool, but…you give better hugs.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah,” she sighs. “Both arms.”

“Christ, Ellie,” he groans. “You can’t just say shit like that, kid. That’s…that’s a journal thought, not an out-loud thought.”

“What? Ezra thought it was funny!”

“You…said that to him?” he blanches.

“Yep,” she says, looking up at him. “Speaking of Ezra…are you two gonna, you know, figure out your shit?”

“Couldn’t tell you,” he winces, rubbing his chin. “Don’t know if I'll get a second chance there...”

“He misses you, y’know. Kept playing all this slow, sappy music. Was a real bummer.”

A warm, glowing ember of hope flickers in his chest. “That so?”

“Yep. You’re both so obvious it’s stupid. Cee and I had a running bet going–“

“You gotta be fuckin’ kiddin’,” he mutters under his breath. Did the entire town of Jackson have a pool on his love life or just his nosy-ass family?

“–but then you two had to go and make it all sad.”

“Uh-huh. Sorry to be such a ‘bummer,’” he grumbles.

She rolls her eyes. “Just talk to him. If I have to listen to any more of that sad Linda Ronstadt shit, I’ll–”

“Alright, alright, cool it, kid,” he sighs. “I’ll try, okay?”

“Good,” she nods, apparently satisfied. “Can we be done with the mushy stuff now? It’s freezing out here and you owe me pancakes.”

“I do?”

“Yep. You want my forgiveness, you better plan on pancakes. Every Sunday morning for, oh…the rest of your life.”

“That all?” he murmurs, arching an eyebrow.

“No, but you gotta start somewhere,” she shrugs, standing and facing him, hugging the comforter around her. Her smile is as radiant as the morning sun, and he returns it with his whole heart.

“I think I can manage that.”

The debrief is held in an office off the former school gymnasium that serves as the town hall. All seven members of the council are seated around a large conference table, and one by one they call in each of the patrollers involved in yesterday’s encounter.

Maria assured Joel this was standard procedure as they walked to the town hall together that morning.

“No one is on trial, we just want to have a clear picture of what happened for the record.”

With seven expectant faces staring back at him, asking questions and scratching notes on legal pads, he’s not sure he fully believes that.

When he’s finally cleared to go, he makes his way out to the gymnasium, passes Peterson and Anders in the hallway with a nod…and bumps into Ezra.

“Hey…what’re you doin’ here?”

“It was requested that I attend. I presume my name came up in relation to the group that attacked.”

He holds up his hand before Joel can confirm. “I have nothing to hide. I was honest during my intake save for that one…pesky detail. And as a personal matter between myself and Cee, I don’t expect blowback on the issue from anyone except her. Speaking of…I take it you found my…former employer?”

“Yeah…think we did.”

“And am I to assume you…took care of it in the manner we discussed prior to that engagement?”

“Yeah.”

A sharp nod. “Then I don’t see a need for additional deliberation on the matter. What’s done, as they say, is done.”

Joel twists his mouth in a frown. “Does Cee know?”

The other man won’t meet his eyes now. “Not yet. I must admit, I fear revealing the truth will set back her progress–”

“Ez. She’s your kid. Not a fuckin’ case study.”

He nods tightly. “I am well aware.”

“Are you? ‘Cause I know you said you don’t feel that way, but…she’s still just a kid. She needs someone.”

“She deserves better,” he whispers.

“Maybe so. But you’re what she’s got,” he says. “Look, I know I’m the last one to be givin’ advice, but…secrets have a way of goin’ bad. Makin’ things worse. An’ Cee…she’s a smart kid. Smart kids figure things out.”

“You would know,” Ezra murmurs with a smirk, then sighs. “Trust that I’ll take your input under advisement. Despite what you may believe about us…I still value your opinion.”

Joel grimaces, looking around. He lowers his voice, moving them out into the gym and away from the others. “Yeah…’bout that. I, uh…think I owe you an apology. Wasn’t honest with myself…or you. I’m not…”

He huffs a frustrated sigh, rolls his eyes to the ceiling.

“Back before, when we first…I told you I didn’t know how…how to do this–”

“You say as much, but that does not ring true to my understanding.”

Joel arches an eyebrow. “You sayin’ the last few months have been good?”

He smirks. “They’ve been genuine. Real. Messy and…true.”

“Look, Ellie is…she’s my everythin’, Ez. She takes priority.”

“As she should. I’ve never asked for anything else.”

Joel shakes his head. “You deserve…someone who can be…more…”

“And what makes you think that someone can’t be you, hm?”

“Ez–”

Ezra steps closer, reaching out to trace the line of his jaw with his thumb, the touch so familiar, so wanted it almost hurts.

“What if I was willing to…to share your affections? Even if that meant playing second fiddle to your young prodigy. What if I was willing to accept that?”

Joel’s voice has gone to gravel, a raw edge. “You sayin’ what I think you’re sayin’?”

“I’m saying that I don’t think…what we share must be divided. I think you can have both…but only if you’re willing to lay claim to it.”

Joel’s Adam’s apple bobs at his throat as he draws closer. “I…I think I’d–”

The door to the gym slams open and Ellie bursts in. “There you are. The hell have you–oh.”

She stops short, the words echoing in the cavernous space.

“Need a minute here, El,” he says, eyes fixed on Ezra’s. “Meet you back at the house.”

“I can wait,” she says, all feigned innocence.

“The house, kid,” he says, finally breaking Ezra’s gaze to give her a pointed glare.

“Ugh, fine,” she says, but she flashes him a thumbs-up sign and a toothy grin.

When the door shuts, Joel lets out a soft huff of laughter. “Christ…I, uh…what was I sayin’?”

“You were about to confess your undying affection, I hope,” Ezra says wryly.

“Right,” he says, cheeks flaming. “Uh, I’d like to…try. If you’ll…if you, uh…if…if I…fuck.”

A wordless growl of longing rises from his throat as he closes the distance between them, pressing their lips together, saying with actions what he can’t with words. One hand cradles his jaw, Ezra’s scruff scratching a brand against his palm, the other cupping the back of his neck, keeping him close as their mouths slant together, warm and soft and sweet.

“I missed you,” Ezra breathes when they break apart.

“I–”

“Ezra? They’re ready for you.”

Someone–sounds like Anders–pokes their head out of the hallway, and it’s all Joel can do not to turn around and snap at yet another interruption.

“Seems I’m being summoned,” Ezra murmurs, eyes dark and glittering with want. “I’ll see you soon, songbird.”

“Soon,” Joel echoes, frozen in place as Ezra walks away. He brushes his hand across his lips to cover his grin, almost floating as he walks out onto the street. Squinting into the daylight, he’s unsurprised to find Ellie leaning against the side of the building.

“Thought I told you to wait at home,” he sighs.

“Bold of you to assume I’d listen,” she says easily, falling into step beside him, slowing her pace to match his slight limp. “You two gonna…y’know?”

He flicks a glance sideways, unable to contain the little smile that pulls at his lips. “We’ll see, kiddo.”

“So that’s a ‘yes,’” she grins. “Good, Cee owes me.”

“Yeah…think we’re gonna have to have a little talk about gamblin’,” he mutters, throwing an arm around her shoulder as they make their way home.

#the last of us fanfic #prospect fanfic #joel miller x ezra prospect #joel miller #ellie williams #ezra prospect

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