#some drug use

[youshouldhavepaidattentiondad]

A Budding Conspiracy

Ao3

Summary: Best friends Ziggs and Skud didn't mean to stumble into what is possibly the biggest conspiracy in Hatchetfield. Upon learning what happens to the Honey Queen every year, the duo have to figure out who they can trust as they decide how far they'll go for answers.

It's been a while, but here's my entry for the @hatchetfield-bang this year!

-

The sun dips low in the sky, casting a cozy orange glow over the town of Hatchetfield. Main street is busy as citizens of the town prepare for tomorrow night. 

Deep in the heart of Witchwood Forest, a small green pickup truck sits outside an old farmhouse. Ziggs sprawls out on the ground, soaking up the sun.

They should be working, the thought has crossed their mind. But Emma is spending the weekend in town with her boyfriend, so Ziggs is going to take the opportunity to relax.

The rumble of an approaching engine makes Ziggs crack open an eye lazily. Their bare toes wriggle in the soft blades of grass as they watch a beat up black sedan roll into the yard.

The car comes to a halt, the engine shutting off. The driver's door opens. “Hey, Ziggy,” Skud calls as he climbs out. 

Ziggs grins, propping themself up on their elbows as they watch their friend approach. “Sup, man?” They greet, eagerly eyeing the case of hard ciders Skud carries.

“Not much. Glad to have a fucking break from rehearsals,” Skud replies as he plops down on the ground next to Ziggs. He brushes back his long, wavy hair. “Shouldn't you be, like, working right now?”

“Perky's not here,” Ziggs answers as they open the box of ciders. The bottles rattle slightly before becoming still again. “Besides, I don't think she'd be mad if I took a little break.”

Smirking, Skud reaches into his pocket to pull out a bottle opener. “Perky seems like a chill boss. Better than Thrash anyway.”

Ziggs holds out a bottle, letting Skud pop the top off before asking, “He still being a dick?”

“He's just mad cause Maevis Lyn has been super successful since breaking up with him and starting her own band,” Skud explains as he grabs himself a bottle from the box.

They sit in silence for a few minutes. A light breeze washes over them as they sip their ciders.

“Wanna go to the Honey Festival tomorrow?” Ziggs asks finally, “I wanna get some honey to infuse with weed.”

Snorting slightly, Skud replies, “Of course you do. I'm down, as long as we don't have to go to the Honey Queen pageant.”

“Yeah, no, fuck that,” Ziggs agrees. They drain the rest of their bottle before setting it in the grass between them and Skud. They pull out another bottle. 

Before they can get Skud to open it for them, a stronger gust of wind blows over them, making the field of cannabis sway.

Ziggs retches, tugging their shirt up over their nose to try to block the smell the breeze carries. “The fuck is that gnarly smell?”

Nose wrinkling in disgust, Skud shrugs. “Maybe a timberwolf didn't finish eating something.”

“Nah, if a timberwolf left it, the nighthawks would have picked it clean.”

The wind dies down and Ziggs lets their shirt drop as the scent fades. “Probably the Metzgers and something weird over on their property.”

Skud nods as he opens the fresh bottle for Ziggs. “Probably,” he agrees.

The sun finishes setting, casting them in the glow of twilight. They head inside before the mosquitoes start to appear.

In the farmhouse, Skud raises the windows for the fresh air, the screens keeping the bugs out. 

Ziggs emerges from the kitchen, a brownie in each hand. “Me and Perky baked them fresh earlier,” they inform Skud proudly.

“Are they left handed?” Skud asks even as he reaches for the one Ziggs offers.

“Brownies don't have hands.”

Skud takes a bite of brownie. “I meant do they have weed in them, dumbass.”

“Oh. Yeah, they do,” Ziggs laughs.

The moon slowly rises. Stars twinkle and shine down on the farmhouse. Inside, Skud and Ziggs lounge lazily on the couch, their brownies kicking in.

It happens again: a strong breeze filters through the window screen, carrying the same smell as before.

“Okay, what the fuck is that?” Skud demands as Ziggs gags.

“One way to find out,” Ziggs manages to get out.  They stand, swaying slightly as they walk to the kitchen. They return shortly with two flashlights.

Skud stands unsteadily, taking one of the flashlights.

They venture past the fields and into the trees of the woods. The lights cast eerie shadows as they illuminate their way.

“I hope it's not a dead animal,” Ziggs says as they stumble over a tree root, bumping into Skud. “Fucking hate seeing dead animals.”

“I know you do.” Skud clumsily pats them on the back as they continue making their way.

After a bit of walking, they can hear voices up ahead, as well as see lights.

Instinctively, Ziggs switches off their flashlight, prompting Skud to do the same. They creep to the edge of the trees to see a clearing.

Torches cast the space and several figures in black robes in a hazy light.

In that light, they see the cause for the smell: A large pile of pig carcasses.

Ziggs claps a hand over their mouth, trying to fight the urge to vomit.

“-prepared for tomorrow night,” one of the robed figures says to a tall man with a thin mustache.

“...isn't that Roman Murray?” Skud whispers, leaning towards Ziggs.

It takes Ziggs a moment to focus, but when they do, they recognize the only figure not draped in a cloak. They nod, frowning at the scene.

“Excellent,” Roman replies, “I'll be here tomorrow night with our new Honey Queen. Hopefully she enjoys the ceremony.”

Dark laughter ripples through the clearing, sending shivers down both Skud and Ziggs’ spines.

Skud bolts first, his flashlight flickering to life as he tries to put as much distance between himself and the clearing.

It doesn't take long for Ziggs to follow.

The beams of their flashlights bounce and jerk as they race through the Witchwood. Ziggs feels like they don't breathe until they burst out of the trees, back in the safety of the farm.

Ziggs drops to the ground, panting heavily. Out of their peripheral, they see Skud doubled over, leaning against a nearby tree.

it takes several moments, but once they get their breath back, Ziggs’ first words are, “What the fuck?!”

“I… I don't know,” Skud admits. He straightens up,  glancing over his shoulder. He pushes off the tree and reaches a hand out to help Ziggs off the ground.

They make it back into the farmhouse, collapsing on the couch. The air feels heavy, the weight of what they saw and heard hanging over them.

“Why do you think they have dead pigs for the Honey Queen?” Skud finally asks after several minutes,  breaking the silence.

“Fuck if I know, man.” Ziggs shudders at the memory of the pig carcasses. “You think that's why she leaves every year? They scare her off with dead pigs?”

Skud contemplates this. “We could always go back tomorrow night. See what they do.”

“...yeah, we could,” Ziggs hesitates, “But, like, do we want to?”

More silence. Ziggs grabs their open cider and chugs the rest of it.

Yawning, Skud shrugs. “Maybe we decide tomorrow. Right now, I think it's time for bed.”

“Yeah. Come on up,  the guest room is all made up for you.”

They make their way up the stairs, saying their goodnights at the landing before going into their respective rooms.

Ziggs changes into a loose tank top and a pair of sweats before climbing into bed.

It feels like they're asleep before their head touches the pillow.

The next morning, sunlight shines through the window of Ziggs’ room, falling across their face. Wincing, they slowly open their eyes, cringing back from the light.

Their whole body aches, like they got hit by a truck. Groaning, they roll over to climb out of bed.

Their bare feet pad down the stairs and they make a beeline for the kitchen to start a pot of coffee.

By the time it finishes brewing, Skud enters the kitchen, his bandana missing, leaving his messy curls hanging in his face.

Ziggs grabs two mugs, pouring them each a cup before passing one to Skud.

He gives an appreciative little grunt before taking a sip, hissing at the heat.

They settle at the kitchen table, snacking from the box of donuts sitting between them.

Finally, Skud speaks. “You remember last night?”

Memories flash through Ziggs’ mind: the smell, the pig carcasses, the conversation they overheard.

They swallow the donut they were eating, quickly chasing it down to a swig of coffee before answering, “Yeah. I'm guessing you do too.”

“Yeah,” Skud replies. He stares down at his coffee.

The silence feels uncomfortable. Ziggs reaches for another donut. “We could just forget it,” they suggest.

“We could,” Skud agrees, “But… what's one of the most powerful men in Hatchetfield doing in the woods late at night with people in robes and dead pigs?”

“... I don't know.”

Skud finally looks up from his coffee, brushing his hair back from his face to look at Ziggs seriously. “I say we, like, Scooby Doo this shit.”

Ziggs chuckles at this before seeing the look in Skud's eye. “Wait, for real?”

“Yeah, for real,” Skud confirms, “You in?”

Taking a sip of coffee, Ziggs considers it before nodding. “Yeah. Yeah, I'm in. Where do we start?”

Skud hums thoughtfully. “Roman Murray said they were going to bring the Honey Queen there…”

“...so we should probably go to the pageant,” Ziggs finishes with a groan. “I hate beauty pageants.”

“Same,” Skud agrees, “But, like, if we're going to find out what they're planning, I think we need to go.”

Another frustrated groan escapes Ziggs. “Fine.” They stand to go refill their mug. “We go to the Honey Festival, hit up some stalls, go to the pageant- wait, how are we gonna find our way back to that clearing?”

Skud blinks as if he hadn't considered that. “I mean, we found it last night. It shouldn't be too hard.”

“Yeah, okay, that makes sense.” Ziggs agrees. They check their watch. “Festival starts in a few hours. Imma have a brownie. You want one?”

“Do you even have to ask?” Skud stands as well, grabbing his mug on the way up. 

-

Downtown Hatchetfield bustles with life. Vendor stalls line the streets, along with food trucks and carnival games. 

Ziggs and Skud walk down the road toward the Starlight Theater. Ziggs carries a brown paper bag holding a jar of honey they bought earlier in the afternoon.

Next to them, Skud snacks on some cotton candy, the sugar turning his lips blue.

“Do we know anyone competing in the pageant?” Skud asks curiously. 

“Dude,  I don't even know who is competing,” Ziggs admits, “We weren't going to go, remember?”

They walk up the steps to the doors of the theater. Ziggs looks around. “You know, I don't think I've ever actually been in here.”

“Me either,” Skud admits. 

They find seats near the back of the house. Almost all of the rows in front of them are full, crammed with citizens eager to see their new queen get crowned. 

The lights over the auditorium go dark as a spotlight illuminates Professor Henry Hidgens, microphone in hand. “Welcome, Hatchetfield, to the Honey Queen Pageant!”

Avid applause fills the chamber, complete with some hoots and hollers. Ziggs rolls their eyes, reaching over to steal some of Skud's cotton candy.

“We have twenty very beautiful, very talented women here to put on their best for you folks,” Hidgens proclaims once the clapping has died down. “First-”

Ziggs tunes out the names as they stare at the stage. One name in particular catches their attention though: Charlotte Sweetly. It catches their attention because Skud smacks their arm when it's announced.

“What?” Ziggs hisses, rubbing their arm.

Skud looks at them seriously. “Isn't her husband a cop?” He asks before glancing around. “See, right there.”

Following Skud's gaze, Ziggs sees a uniformed officer clapping albeit half heartedly at the announcement of his wife's name.

“Yeah, so?” Ziggs whispers.

“I dunno, do you think the police are in on this too?”

Ziggs considers this before shaking their head. “Nah, man. I think this is bigger than small town cops. Much bigger.”

They go quiet as the question round begins. All of the answers seem generic: world peace, betterment for children, etc.

Then comes Charlotte's turn. Ziggs finally recognizes her. It's unusual seeing her in a royal purple evening gown instead of her usual knitted cat sweaters. She's transformed from frumpy to dazzling, with her curls framing her face.

“Okay, Charlotte, your question,” Hidgens starts before pausing for dramatic effect. “What is your biggest fear?”

Charlotte gives a dreamy smile. “I'd have to say my biggest fear,” She responds, “Is leaving Hatchetfield, because I know nowhere else could be as great.”

The crowd eats it up,  going wild for the answer.

Skud frowns, leaning in towards Ziggs. “Isn't she usually, like, super timid when you see her around town?”

“Yeah,” Ziggs confirms before glancing at the cop again, who is applauding much more enthusiastically at his wife's reply. “Maybe she's trying to prove something to someone.”

After a few more questions to other participants, Hidgens announces the talent portion of the pageant.

Ziggs and Skud both groan lowly at this. It's a new kind of torture, listening to a grating violin that clearly hadn't been practiced in years. The rest of the acts that follow are equally as mediocre.

Then Charlotte comes onstage to perform Just for Once from The Barbecue Monologues. The pain In her voice, the utter desperation bleeds through every note. Ziggs isn't sure If they're imagining it, but it seems like every now and then throughout the song, she's looking directly at her husband instead of performing to the judges and audience.

By the end of the tune, Skud discreetly wipes away a couple tears. “I think she is trying to prove something,” he manages to croak out quietly.

Ziggs pats him on the back.

Once the talent portion completes, Hidgens returns to the stage. “Now, we're going to take a few minutes to let the judges deliberate- oh? You're ready?”

One of the judges stands, passing an envelope to Hidgens.

Straightening up,  Hidges places the microphone in the stand. “Okay, Hatchetfield. Your Honey Queen this year is….” he pauses dramatically as he pulls the cars from the envelope. “...Charlotte Sweetly!”

Thunderous applause greets Charlotte as she comes back out on stage, beaming as Hidgens places a sparkling silver crown on her head.

“C'mon, we need to get back there,” Skud mutters as he nudges Ziggs.

Nodding, Ziggs stands.

They hurry from the theater, back to Ziggs’ truck. Once they're safely in the cab, Ziggs lets out a breath they didn't realize they were holding.

It's not until they're on the road, driving through the dark back to the farmhouse that Skud speaks. “What do you think they're going to do to her?”

“Fuck if I know, man,” Ziggs answers, voice shaking. They spare a glance over at Skud. “Last chance to back out.”

Skud shakes his head firmly. “I gotta know what happens.”

“Okay.” Ziggs presses their lips in a thin line.

The truck rolls to a stop next to the porch. The pair climb out,  heading inside to grab flashlights before heading for the treeline.

“Maybe they just pay her to leave town,” Ziggs suggests as they cross the field.

“Why would there be dead pigs then?” Skud questions as they break step into the forest, stepping over gnarled roots.

Ziggs doesn't have an answer for that.

Silently, they wander through the trees, their flashlights cutting through the darkness.

After several minutes, Skud flips off his flashlight, prompting Ziggs to do the same.

Several yards ahead, Ziggs can make out the glow of torches. Swallowing heavily, Ziggs follows Skud almost to the treeline, trying to stay hidden in the shadows.

The seconds stretch into minutes. Ziggs feels like they're suffocating from anticipation.

Finally, a fancy car rolls up,  headlights cutting through the trees. Skud and Ziggs both duck to avoid being seen.

As they stand up again, Roman Murray and Charlotte are climbing out of the car.

The ground rumbles slightly, making Ziggs and Skud both hold onto a tree for support. Hissing and popping fills the air as the pig carcasses begin to writhe.

Ziggs retches, covering their mouth with a hand as the pigs begin to stretch and meld into one another. Even from this distance, they can see the teeth from the bodies falling into neat rows until a huge, gaping maw appears, licking its lips.

A loud shriek fills the air as Charlotte turns to try to run. The figures in robes grab her, dragging her back over to the mouth. 

“Hello, Charlotte,” the mouth greets with a smile. Its voice grates Ziggs’ ears. “Yum, yum.”

In horror, Ziggs and Skud watch as Charlotte gets lifted and devoured by the mouth in one bite.

Skud steps back first, his foot crashing down on a large branch with a sharp crack.

“What was that?” Roman demands, looking towards the trees.

Ziggs doesn't wait, turning and running as fast as they can. They can hear Skud behind them. They're halfway back to the farmhouse before Ziggs even remembers to turn their flashlight back on. 

Once they break through the trees, the pair both drop to the dewy grass, panting heavily.

The moon shines down on them as they attempt to catch their breath.

Skud speaks first. “What… the ever loving fuck… was that?!”

“I dunno, man,” Ziggs gasps, “That…” They shudder as the scene replays in their mind. “We gotta tell someone.”

Nodding vehemently, Skud glances back at the trees, as if expecting someone to be following them. “...what about your dad?”

“My dad is an artist, the fuck is he gonna do?” Ziggs asks.

“No, not Russ, your other dad,” Skud clarifies, “The military one.”

Ziggs considers this before shaking their head. “No. He's busy. I doubt he'd come back for this,” they say bitterly. They push themself to their feet before reaching out a hand to help Skud up.  “Come on,  let's get inside.”

Once they make it back inside the farmhouse, they collapse on opposite sides of the couch. “Where do we even start with this?” Ziggs asks, pulling off their beanie to run their hand back through their hair.

“... maybe the mayor?” Skud suggests slowly, “If people in town are being ritualistically sacrificed, he'd probably want to know.”

Ziggs considers this before shaking their head. “I don't think so. For all we know, he was under one of those robes. We gotta think smaller, find someone who can actually help.”

The clock on the wall ticks loudly in the silence.

“... what about your dad? Hasn't he lived in Hatchetfield all his life?” Ziggs finally questions. 

Skud nods. “Yeah. Yeah we can try asking him, see what he knows.”

The next morning, Ziggs and Skud head down to the docks. The pair steps out of Ziggs’ truck, heading down to where a houseboat floats in the water.

A man with long, curly, sandy hair, not unlike Skud's, stands on the deck. His tanned skin broken up by various scars on his hands.  Busy coiling a length of rope around his arm, he doesn't notice the two approaching.

“Permission to come aboard, captain?” Ziggs calls once they're close enough to be heard. 

The man looks up, smiling slightly at the sight of them. “Ziggs! Scott!” He hangs up the rope as they walk across the gangway.

“Hey, Dad,” Scott replies. 

Ziggs waves. “Hey, Harold. We have a couple questions.”

“Questions?” Harold raises an eyebrow, the scar running through it made more prominent by the action. “What kind of questions?”

Glancing around nervously, Skud suggests, “Let's go inside first then we'll ask.”

Frowning, Harold leads them inside to a small sitting area. Skud and Ziggs squeeze onto a small loveseat while Harold settles into an armchair. “What's going on?”

Ziggs and Skud exchange a look. “Dad.. does anyone know what happens to the Honey Queen every year?” Skud finally asks. 

“She leaves town,” Harold replies with a shrug, “Everyone knows that.”

“Yeah, but do we know for sure she leaves town?” Ziggs asks, “Does anyone stay in touch with her after she leaves? Or does she just go missing?”

Harold laughs lightly. “People seem to go missing every day around here,” he answers, “Besides, almost all the Honey Queens have been young, single women. They probably just leave after winning to get out.”

“...what if-” Ziggs starts, stopping abruptly when Skud shakes his head before standing. 

“Thanks, Dad,” he says.

Harold doesn't seem surprised by Skud suddenly wanting to leave. “Of course. Are you still coming over for dinner next week? Gabe and your Uncle Barry will be here.”

“Yeah, I'll be here.”

Ziggs follows Skud off the houseboat. “What the hell, man?” They finally ask once they're back on the dock.

“He wouldn't have believed us,” Skud says with a sigh. “We-”

“Well, if it isn't Ziggs MacNamara and Scott Swift,” Roman Murray's voice comes from behind them. 

They both jump, turning to see Roman standing in front of a large boat, dressed in linen shorts and shirt.

“Uh, hey, Mr. Murray,” Skud says awkwardly. His eyes dart to the blonde woman waiting impatiently on the boat as four blonde boys run around.

“What's up?” Ziggs asks, feeling dread creep up their spine.

Roman smiles widely. “Just seeing what you two thought of the Honey Festival last night. Did you enjoy the show?”

Swallowing nervously, Ziggs starts, “Yeah, the pageant was gr-”

“I'm not talking about the pageant.” Roman's eyes seem to glint as he takes a step towards them. “Who have you told?”

“N-no one,” Skud manages to get out,  reaching blindly for Ziggs’ hand to give it a squeeze. 

“Let's keep it that way, shall we?” Roman's sharp grin looks more like a predator baring its teeth.

One of the boys from the boat calls, “Grandpa, hurry up!”

“Coming, Trent.” Roman turns.

A sudden burst of courage fills Ziggs' chest. “We'll stop you.” They squeeze Skud's hand back.

“Stop me?” Roman turns back, shaking his head. “By all means, stop me. But you'll never be able to stop Nibblenephim.”

Without another word, he heads up to the boat.

Skud jerks Ziggs’ towards the truck, glancing back anxiously. “What the hell, Ziggy?”

“I-” Ziggs shakes their head, suddenly aware of how fast their heart is beating. “I don't know.”

Once they're back in the truck, they watch the boat Roman is on sail away from the docks. “How does he know your name?” Ziggs finally asks.

“My dad is part of the Hatchetfield Boating Society,” Skud explains, “I've seen Roman Murray at their events. His daughter is the president.” He glances at Ziggs. “How did he know your name?”

Ziggs racks their brain for an answer. “I-I don't know,” they admit, “Maybe something with Pops working at the school? I think he's a donor or a school board member or something?”

“Yeah, maybe.”

An uneasy silence falls over them. They watch until the boat fades from view, too far out in the lake to be seen from shore.

“I need to smoke,” Ziggs mutters before cranking up the truck.

When they arrive at the farmhouse, there's another car parked beside Skud's. 

“Looks like Perky's home,” Skud comments as they climb out of the truck.

“Perfect! She'll believe us!”

Ziggs races up the porch steps, Skud close behind them.

Inside, Emma Perkins and her boyfriend, Paul Matthews, sit on the couch. A movie plays on the TV, not that Ziggs cares. They stand in front of the TV.

“Ziggs, can you move?” Emma asks as she pauses the film. “We were watching something.”

“And now you're going to listen to me,” Ziggs says urgently.

Emma blinks, surprised at this tone from her farmhand. 

“So you know last night was the Honey Festival. Skud and I went to the Honey Queen Pageant-”

Paul interrupts, “Oh yeah. My coworker Charlotte won. Well, ex coworker. She sent in her resignation after she won. We didn't go to the pageant though. People singing and dancing-”

“Makes you uncomfortable, I know, I've heard a million times,” Ziggs snaps. They fidget anxiously.

Emma sits up straighter, “Ziggy, what the hell is wrong with you?” She demands, “Are you sober right now? Do you need to smoke?”

“Yes and yes, but this is more important!”

Skud rests a hand on Ziggs' shoulder in an attempt to soothe them. “We saw what happens to the Honey Queen.”

Paul and Emma share a look. “What do you mean? She leaves town. She always does,” Paul responds.

“No, she doesn't! She gets eaten by some fucking monster mouth made of dead pigs!” Ziggs exclaims, flashes of the night before running through their mind.

Silence as their outburst hangs in the air.

“...Ziggy,” Emma starts slowly, “What have you been lacing your blunts with?”

“I- nothing!” Ziggs practically shouts, “I know what I saw!”

Emma frowns. “Really? Cause it sounds like you were doing ‘shrooms or smoking salvia.”

Next to her, Paul shifts. “Yeah. That seems more likely than whatever the hell you just said,” he agrees.

“I- forget it!” Ziggs throws their hands up in frustration before storming back out of the farmhouse, Skud right behind them.

Ziggs jerks open the door of the truck before climbing in. Skud slides into the passenger seat. He stays quiet as Ziggs starts up the truck once more.

They drive around Hatchetfield in silence for several minutes. They pass by the high school before entering a small neighborhood.

Out in front of one of the houses stands a small sign that reads yard sale. Tables littered with 80s memorabilia fill the yard.

Skud points to it. “Should we stop?”

“Yeah, why not?” Ziggs huffs as they pull the truck over to park by the curb.

As they climb out of the truck, a familiar voice calls their names. They both look to see a familiar man with dark curls and warm hazel eyes.

“Hey, Duke,” Ziggs greets as Skud nods. They look around at the displays. “Finally get tired of the retro?”

Duke gives a sad smile. “It's not mine. I'm selling it for a friend who sadly passed away.” He gestures to the items. “Take a look around, see if anything catches your eye.”

Another potential customer comes up to Duke, holding a bright purple leather jacket.

Ziggs doesn't wait to hear the offer the person makes, choosing instead to follow Skud through the maze of tables.

“Whoever Duke's friend was really seemed to like the 80s,” Skud comments.

“Yeah,” Ziggs replies vaguely, their mind far from the yard sale. Their eyes land on a table covered with candles and crystals. They frown slightly as they approach the table. 

Amongst the candles and crystals, there's a rectangular something wrapped in a red cloth.

Without thinking, Ziggs picks it up,  pulling back the cloth to reveal a black book with some unfamiliar symbol on the cover.

“A book?” Skud asks, raising an eyebrow.

Nodding, Ziggs flips it open to show a map of Hatchetfield. They frown as they notice certain places marked by stars. “Look at this,” they say as they hold the book out for Skud to examine.

Skud takes the book, examining the map. “That's the Starlight Theater,” he says, pointing to one of the stars. “Then Lakeside Mall… CCRP… Hatchetfield High… and the old Waylon place.”

“What do all those places have in common?” Ziggs wonders as they take the book back. They flip a few pages in, eyes widening as they catch sight of a certain word. “Isn't that the name Roman Murray said?” They ask urgently, showing the book to Skud once more.

Skud's bright blue eyes widen. “Yeah… yeah I think it is.”

The book closes as Ziggs quickly wraps it back in its cloth. “We need this book. You got any cash on you?”

“Uhh…” Skud pats his pockets before pulling out his wallet. He fishes out a five dollar bill. “Think this will work?”

“Worth a shot.” Ziggs takes the money from him before heading back to Duke. “Hey, any chance we can get this book for five?” They ask, holding up the book as they offer the money.

Duke frowns slightly, as if trying to remember something. The moment passes and he shrugs. “Sure.” He takes the bill. “Anything else?”

“Nope, that's it. Thanks, Duke!” Ziggs calls, already heading back to the truck.

Skud waves before jogging to catch up with Ziggs.

Once they're in the truck, Ziggs passes the book to Skud before they begin to drive. “What is that thing?” They ask, “Some kind of spell book?”

“I dunno,” Skud says nervously. He opens the book, flipping through the pages slowly. He frowns as he scans the words on the page. “It looks like it though.”

Ziggs’ thumbs tap against the steering wheel as they come to a stop at a red light. “You think this is how we find out about what happened?”

The book shakes slightly as Skud's hands tremble. “Do we want to know that bad?” 

“Dude, looking into this whole thing was your idea!” Ziggs reminds him. 

“Yeah, I know! But like…” Skud swallows thickly as the book flips shut once more. “This is big. Bigger than us, bigger than this whole town.” His eyes dart to Ziggs. “Are you sure we shouldn't get your dad involved?”

The light turns green. Ziggs starts driving again. “I already told you, he's probably too busy to deal with this,” they snap a little harsher than they mean to. “We have to figure this out ourselves.”

“Alright, alright.” Skud stares down at the cover of the tome. “First we gotta figure out exactly what that means.”

“I think it means stopping Nibb- you know,” Ziggs answers, “Maybe that book has a way we can do that.”

Reluctantly, Skud opens the book once more, turning the pages slowly. “What if we could talk to that thing?” He asks, pausing on a certain page. “This one is called ‘Holding Court with the Void.’ That sounds promising.”

Hands tightening on the wheel, Ziggs asks, “Okay, how do we do it?”

“Looks like we need a Black Altar,” Skud reads from the page. Paper rustles as he flips back to the map. “That must be these places marked on the map.”

“Remind me what they are again,” Ziggs requests. 

Nodding, Skud's eyes scan the map. “Lakeside Mall… CCRP… Hatchetfield High… the Starlight Theater… and the old Waylon place.”

“Well, we're not going to the old Waylon place,” Ziggs says with a shudder. “I think the mall is our best bet.”

“Yeah. Easiest to get into, for sure,” Skud agrees before flipping the book closed.

Silence fills the cab of the truck as they make their way to Lakeside Mall. Ziggs feels like they can't breathe. Their hands grip the steering wheel so tightly their knuckles turn white. 

Once the truck comes to a stop in the parking lot, Ziggs lets out a breath they didn't realize they were holding. 

In the passenger seat, Skud looks pale. “We really doing this?”

“Yeah, we are,” Ziggs confirms before opening their door.

They cross the parking lot, Skud close behind them.

When the pair enter the mall, Ziggs frowns. “Where are we going to do this?” They ask quietly as they look around at all the shoppers milling about.

“I dunno,” Skud answers. “Maybe we just walk around and we'll find a place?”

“Sounds good.”

After about ten minutes of trekking through the mall, Ziggs stops, grabbing Skud's arm to jerk him to a halt as well. “What about the Cineplex?”

Skud's eyes dart to the entrance of the theater. “Think that's still considered part of the mall?”

“One way to find out.”

The teenager at the ticket booth doesn't notice them approaching. Behind his glasses, his eyes flutter shut as he leans against the counter, bored.

Ziggs crouches, sneaking past the booth with Skud close behind.

Once they make it into the lobby of the theater, they straighten up again. “So we just pick a theater?” Skud asks as they slip past the empty concession stand.

“Yeah, why not?” Ziggs walks through a large door labeled with a 1, trying to ignore the way their heart hammers in their chest.

The silver screen looms large above them as they enter the theater. Ziggs looks over all the empty seats. “Okay, find that spell.”

“Uh…” Skud flips the book open, pages rustling as he searches for the spell once more. “Here we go: Holding Court with the Void.”

Ziggs leans in, meeting Skud's eyes. “Ready?” They wait for an affirmative nod before they begin to speak. “We invoke the names…”

Shakily, Skud's voice joins theirs, “Pokotho…”

Whispers seem to seep out of the speakers, only getting louder with the next name.

“...Bliklotep… T'noy Karaxis…”

Were the lights that shade of yellow when they entered the theater? Ziggs can't remember.

The next name they only know how to pronounce because they heard Roman Murray say it.

“...Nibblenephim…”

Pink light bathes the pair. Ziggs hears Skud take a sharp breath next to them. Their own voice cracks as they say the last name.

“...Wigogg Y'wrath.”

The lights turn green for the briefest second before the room plunges into darkness. Ziggs grabs Skud's arm, squeezing tightly.

“Did it work?” Skud whispers.

“Hello, friendy-wends.”

The lights flicker back to life, revealing five figures lounging in different spots of the theater. Ziggs and Skud stumble back together in shock, their backs hitting the wall.

“How boring,” one of the figures, dressed in a yellow and orange hoodie and orange cargo pants, with messy yellow hair, says as it fidgets with a yellow cube in its hands. It has its feet propped up on the seat in front of it,  ignoring the pair.

“Now, now, Tinky,” the figure wearing what appears to be a green American Eagle button down with the sleeves rolled up and the collar popped scolds. “We don't know what our paly-wals here want yet.”

Ziggs can hear Skud gulp. 

The sound attracts the green figure. He smiles wide, his teeth appearing razor sharp. He smooths back his perfectly styled dark green hair.

“Never thought I'd see the day,” The figure in a purple sundress with matching purple sunglasses giggles. The figure holds up a cell phone, as if taking a selfie.

“I know,” a figure in a blue beret and leather jacket responds.

“Yes, yes, Johnny’s kid summoning us is very funny,” the green figure says with an amused chuckle.

At the sound of their dad's name, Ziggs swallows. Their eyes dart from figure to figure before landing on the only one who hasn't spoken yet.

The pink beanie on the figure’s head has been pulled down so Ziggs can't see its eyes. Instead, all they can see is a wide, pink mouth that stretches into a hideous smile.

Ziggs’ heart plummets to their stomach. “It was you.”

“Yum yum,” comes the reply, followed by a biting motion in Ziggs’ direction.

“Yes, you saw Nibbly's sacrifice,” the green figure speaks, its emerald eyes glinting.

Ziggs finally finds their voice. “Yeah, what the fuck, man?”

The figures erupt into a chorus of giggles at the response. 

“Is that why you've called us here, Ziggy?” The green figure inquires. Its long fingers wiggle as it crosses its arms.

“How-” Ziggs starts, only to be interrupted.

“Oh, we know all about yours and Scotty’s noble quest to try to find out what happens to the Honey Queen,” the green figure chuckles, “I commend you for coming this far for answers.”

Skud speaks, his voice shaky. “How do we make it stop?”

Manical laughter echoes off the walls of the theater. “Stop? It won't stop,” Nibbly answers.

“Indeed,” the green figure agrees, turning those bright green eyes back on the pair. “If Nibbly doesn't get his sacrifice, he'll consume the whole world. The Honey Queen is doing a service, really. Sacrificing herself to keep the world safe.”

“But she doesn't know she's going to be sacrificed if she wins!” Ziggs argues as they squeeze Skud's arm tighter.

The figure in green shrugs. “So what? You can't stop it, Ziggy. Not unless you want the end of the world on your hands.” It cracks a wide smile. “And I don't think you want that.”

The lights go out once more. When they come back on,  Ziggs and Skud are alone in the theater.

-

That evening, Ziggs and Skud sit on the couch in the farmhouse. The rays of the setting sun filter in through the open windows.

They've been there for hours, silently passing joints back and forth until they've been smoked down to roaches.

Finally, Skud speaks, his voice cracking slightly, “So what do we do now? How do we, like, deal with knowing this happens every year?”

“I say we just forget,” Ziggs answers. “Like your dad said, people go missing in Hatchetfield every day. The Honey Queen is just another one of them.”

“Yeah, but those… Those things we summoned-”

Ziggs cuts him off. “Don't let it eat at you, man.” They reach for the pack of rolling papers on the coffee table, swearing when they find it empty.

Their eyes drift to the book. They reach for it, opening it and tearing out a page.

“What are you doing?” Skud asks, blue eyes filled with fear.

“The paper is thin enough to use for rolling,” Ziggs answers with a shrug as they begin ripping the paper into smaller sheets.

“Do you think that's a good idea?” Skud questions nervously.

Rolling their eyes, Ziggs reaching into a plastic bag to pull out some weed so they can roll the joint. “You're being paranoid, Skud. What's the worst that could happen?”

[egophiliac]

have you been keeping up with gavv? because holy hell, i think the beginning arc has been one of the strongest beginnings we've had. so many goddamn emotional moments and crazy good fights

oh Gavv has been excellent so far, I've been enjoying it a lot! :> Shoma's an absolutely delightful protagonist, and the balance between "cute silly candy shenanigans" and "urban fantasy crime noir" is...working surprisingly well, actually?

although it does lead to the show basically having two modes:

[trashyshrew]

[fascinationstreetmp3]

I have what you're looking for. High quality. Befitting a man of my tastes. I have a room over on Divisadero, not too far a walk.

[reasonsforhope]

"For the first time in decades, public health data shows a sudden and hopeful drop in drug overdose deaths across the U.S.

"This is exciting," said Dr. Nora Volkow, head of the National Institute On Drug Abuse [NIDA], the federal laboratory charged with studying addiction. "This looks real. This looks very, very real."

National surveys compiled by the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention already show an unprecedented decline in drug deaths of roughly 10.6 percent. That's a huge reversal from recent years when fatal overdoses regularly increased by double-digit percentages.

Some researchers believe the data will show an even larger decline in drug deaths when federal surveys are updated to reflect improvements being seen at the state level, especially in the eastern U.S.

"In the states that have the most rapid data collection systems, we’re seeing declines of twenty percent, thirty percent," said Dr. Nabarun Dasgupta, an expert on street drugs at the University of North Carolina.

According to Dasgupta's analysis, which has sparked discussion among addiction and drug policy experts, the drop in state-level mortality numbers corresponds with similar steep declines in emergency room visits linked to overdoses.

Dasgupta was one of the first researchers to detect the trend. He believes the national decline in street drug deaths is now at least 15 percent and could mean as many as 20,000 fewer fatalities per year.

"Today, I have so much hope"

After years of wrenching drug deaths that seemed all but unstoppable, some researchers, front-line addiction workers, members of law enforcement, and people using street drugs voiced caution about the apparent trend.

Roughly 100,000 deaths are still occurring per year. Street drug cocktails including fentanyl, methamphetamines, xylazine and other synthetic chemicals are more poisonous than ever.

"I think we have to be careful when we get optimistic and see a slight drop in overdose deaths," said Dan Salter, who heads a federal drug interdiction program in the Atlanta-Carolinas region. "The last thing we want to do is spike the ball."

But most public health experts and some people living with addiction told NPR they believe catastrophic increases in drug deaths, which began in 2019, have ended, at least for now. Many said a widespread, meaningful shift appears underway.

"Some of us have learned to deal with the overdoses a lot better," said Kevin Donaldson, who uses fentanyl and xylazine on the street in Burlington, Vermont.

According to Donaldson, many people using fentanyl now carry naloxone, a medication that reverses most opioid overdoses. He said his friends also use street drugs with others nearby, ready to offer aid and support when overdoses occur.

He believes these changes - a response to the increasingly toxic street drug supply - mean more people like himself are surviving.

"For a while we were hearing about [drug deaths] every other day. When was the last one we heard about? Maybe two weeks ago? That's pretty few and far between," he said.

His experience is reflected in data from the Vermont Department of Health, which shows a 22 percent decline in drug deaths in 2024.

"The trends are definitely positive," said Dr. Keith Humphreys, a nationally respected drug policy researcher at Stanford University. "This is going to be the best year we've had since all of this started."

"A year ago when overdose deaths continued to rise, I was really struggling with hope," said Brad Finegood, who directs the overdose crisis response in Seattle.

Deaths in King County, Washington, linked to all drugs have dropped by 15 percent in the first half of 2024. Fatal overdoses caused by street fentanyl have dropped by 20 percent.

"Today, I have so much hope," Finegood said.

-via NPR, September 18, 2024. Article continues below with an exploration of the whys (mostly unknown) and some absolutely fucking incredible statistics.

Why the sudden and hopeful shift? Most experts say it's a mystery

While many people offered theories about why the drop in deaths is happening at unprecedented speed, most experts agreed that the data doesn't yet provide clear answers.

Some pointed to rapid improvements in the availability and affordability of medical treatments for fentanyl addiction. "Expansion of naloxone and medications for opioid use disorder — these strategies worked," said Dr. Volkow at NIDA.

"We've almost tripled the amount of naloxone out in the community," said Finegood. He noted that one survey in the Seattle area found 85 percent of high-risk drug users now carry the overdose-reversal medication.

Dr. Rahul Gupta, the White House drug czar, said the drop in drug deaths shows a path forward.

"This is the largest decrease on record and the fifth consecutive month of recorded decreases," he said.

Gupta called for more funding for addiction treatment and healthcare services, especially in Black and Native American communities where overdose deaths remain catastrophically high.

"There is no way we're going to beat this epidemic by not focusing on communities that are often marginalized, underserved and communities of color," Gupta said.

"Overdose deaths in Ohio are down 31 percent"

Indeed, in many states in the eastern and central U.S. where improvements are largest, the sudden drop in drug deaths stunned some observers who lived through the darkest days of the fentanyl overdose crisis.

"This year overdose deaths [in Ohio] are down 31 percent," said Dennis Couchon, a harm reduction activist. "The deaths were just plummeting. The data has never moved like this."

"While the mortality data for 2024 is incomplete and subject to change, Ohio is now in the ninth consecutive month of a historic and unexpected drop in overdose deaths," said the organization Harm Reduction Ohio in a statement.

Missouri is seeing a similar trend that appears to be accelerating. After dropping by 10 percent last year, preliminary data shows drug deaths in the state have now fallen roughly 34 percent in the second quarter of 2024.

"It absolutely seems things are going in the right direction, and it's something we should feel pleased about," said Dr. Rachel Winograd, director of addiction science at the University of Missouri St. Louis, who also noted that drug deaths remain too high.

"It feels wonderful and great," said Dr. Mark Levine, head of the Vermont Health Department. "We need encouraging data like this and it will help sustain all of us who are actively involved in trying to have an impact here."

Levine, too, said there's still "plenty of work left to do."" ...

Dasgupta, the researcher at the University of North Carolina, agreed more needs to be done to help people in addiction recover when they're ready.

But he said keeping more people alive is a crucial first step that seemed impossible only a year ago.

"A fifteen or twenty percent [drop in deaths] is a really big number, an enormous impact," he said, calling for more research to determine how to keep the trend going.

"If interventions are what's driving this decline, then let's double down on those interventions."

-article via NPR, September 18, 2024

[cybertron-after-dark]

Hi sorry I'm still talking about Cyberverse, specifically the starscream getting therapy punchline, because yes it is very funny, but it's also a pretty big indicator of how Optimus sees the Decepticons even after countless eons of war.

Optimus witnessed Starscream's unhinged power trip, his resentment for Megatron, his insistence that he had been mistreated and that his rage was righteous, that it was justice, as well as his affection for the scraplets he called his children. Optimus saw all of that and decided that this was a deeply troubled mech, and now that he's in their brig and no longer a threat, the best thing they could possibly do is try to get him help.

Starscream successfully murdered nearly a dozen people and TRIED to murder way more, including Optimus himself, and he STILL thought there was hope for that mech. If that isn't commitment to restorative justice I do not know what is.

[elderwisp]

eyes lit on sharp threats from dark lips

[yttdtextposts]

I did NOT realize that almost everything was shin lol..

Submit textposts/suggestions here

[wifeyoozi]

Imagine (gn!) you as the 14th member of seventeen and Jihoon your group mate has the biggest fattest crush on you. Everyone in the group knows this and finds it very funny because Jihoon is a loser who doesn't know how to act around his crush or show his feelings and you're an oblivious idiot who doesn't realise the very obvious fact that jihoon is wholly and entirely in love with you.

You two are always clingy to each other because Jihoon is your best friend (:D) and ofc you'd love spending time with him! And Jihoon is just going with the flow trying to ignore hoshi and dk who're constantly at his ass to tease him about it. You are almost like a couple in everything you do except you are just two best friends in a group.

So time goes by (prolly years, let's say) and eventually jihoon does some shit and confesses to you and you two start "officially dating". You tell the good news to your group but everyone is just so unsurprised with no trace of any reaction just ._. and jeonghan taps both of your shoulders appreciatively and says, "congrats, you two are the last to know that you are dating."

[didderd]

here, have a quick Stretch sketch. :3

[yaralulu]

I sometimes wonder if the IC know what rhys did to feyre UTM,if he ever told them the truth.I highly doubt he came clean about everything and since feyre doesn’t remember much/is delusional because of the mating bond and the IC weren’t there��lucien is the only person who knows the full truth about rhys’s treatment to feyre UTM.I’m almost certain lucien still doesn’t like rhys because of what he saw him do to feyre every night for 3 months straight and rhys is fully aware lucien knows too much and thats why he doesn’t fully trust him.I hope that fact looms over rhysand’s head and he sleeps with one eye open 😊.

[shivroy]

waystar royco employee stress relief

[dragonciphering]

okay wtf is dan heng doing in the train during all this bullshit? star watching? playing bingo?playing sudoku? getting hyper focused on some research? drinking tea? sleeping? bcuz damn.

[anotherpapercut]

genuinely so many of you want to be leftist and "punk" and countercultural soooooo bad but you refuse to become comfortable with the concept of people taking drugs for fun because they like it and not because they were somehow tricked or forced into it without knowing what they were getting themselves into

you'll be like "addiction is a disease!!" but think you're better than those degenerate stoners because you only drink energy drinks and white claws and would never touch "illegal drugs"

many if not most drugs CAN be consumed completely safely with almost 0 risk to the user and even if that werent true and all drugs were extremely dangerous you still wouldn't be better than those of us who love doing drugs recreationally

lighten up and grow up. get offline, talk to real adults, and stop being shocked to discover that they enjoy doing stuff that adults do like have sex and do drugs and even listen to rock and roll

[brionysea]

allison and five are actually fascinating to write together. allison is the sibling for checking on people and asking in plain english if they're okay but five would literally rather bleed out than show a shred of vulnerability

[bluebeary-jay]

scattered thoughts / sharp focus

Joel Miller x f!Reader

Summary: Joel is taken away from you and upon finding him almost-dead... something in you snaps ((kinda part 2 to clouded judgment / clear mind, but you don't necessarily need to read that one))

Tags: ANGST, angst with happy ending, near death experiences, Joel has surprisingly little screen time but you'll see he was there in spirit

Warnings: REALLY graphic descriptions of violence, small panic attacks, KINDA torture(?) 😳, choking, lemme know if i missed something

Word count: 7.5K

A/N: i can't believe i've finally finished it! i aimed for a worthy successor to cj/cm aaand i hope i managed but jeez was it hard. also i told myself i won't be writing sth like that again but i kinda have an idea for the final part (would be hurt/comfort 🤭) so let me know if it's sth you'd like to read. anyway as always happy reading!! 💕🥰 comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated, i absolutely love seeing what you think of my fics!

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟

You swallowed your tears and rested the chin on your hands, trying to push back the wave of panic threatening to drown you.

“Tell me again.”

Tommy sighed, his own eyes empty and worried.

“I don’t know who those guys were, but they obviously knew Joel. There was a dark man leadin’ them, and I think he had somethin’ wrong with his lip, but it was too far for me to take a good look. The group consisted of five, maybe six people? And I shot one of them, but he appeared to still be alive when they were leavin’.”

You were silent for a couple of seconds, trying to make sense of it all.

“And where did they take him?”

“I reckon to the old ski resort on the top of the mountain. We ventured pretty far from here to investigate these tracks.”

You nodded and steeled yourself, taking a deep, trembling breath and quickly drying your tears.

“Okay. I’m going.”

“You’re not.” Maria leaned over the table, her expression unyielding. “The decision is final.”

“I am going,” you repeated fiercely, slamming the flat of your hand against the tabletop, but Tommy gave you a stern look, which made you bite your tongue. “Look, I get that you don’t want to lose even more people in a rescue mission–”

“This is not what it’s about,” Maria retorted, almost looking hurt by your words. “Believe me, if I wasn’t carrying another human being inside me, I’d already be going after them. But you have to take other things into consideration.”

“She’s right,” Tommy spoke up quietly, though equally irritably, and you turned sharply to look at him in disbelief. “The route to the resort is very advantageous to fall into an ambush. They could shoot us off like ducks and we’d have nowhere to hide.”

“I don’t care,” you ground out, looking from one to the other. “We can’t leave Joel. He’s your family, for goddamn–”

“You think I don’t know that?!” shouted Tommy abruptly, bringing his hand down onto the table, too. “He’s my fucking brother and was family way before you were even born!”

“Tommy.” Maria kicked him under the table, keeping one hand on her belly. Her husband flared his nostrils, clearly agitated by your words, but you were too angry yourself to care right now. You two glared at each other for some time before Tommy clenched his fists and turned around.

“M’goin’ to get some air,” he said gloomily over his shoulder, already at the door leading outside. Maria sighed and looked at you again.

“Please. Don’t do anything stupid, and I swear I’ll send a group out as soon as this blizzard ends.”

“He can be long dead by then,” you answered gravely, really set off by Tommy’s reaction and his words. You tried to will your tear ducts to hold any signs of stress and worry, not wanting to show your friend how broken and helpless you felt inside. “If it was me, he’d already be halfway there to save me, Maria.”

“I know. But just think about it. If something happens to you…” She shook her head. “How do you think I’d be able to look Joel in the eyes and explain why… how…”

She genuinely seemed at a loss of words, and you sighed, rubbing your eyes tiredly.

“I understand where you’re coming from, I really do. But I need to get him home, Maria. I have to.”

With that, you stood up, feeling like you were going to suffocate if you stayed in the room any longer. You didn’t look back even when you heard Maria calling your name softly.

There wasn’t any sense in discussing the matter with any of them – you made up your mind to go and save Joel and there was no way anyone would make you stay. He wouldn’t hesitate to go and get you if anyone dared to lay a hand on you.

You remembered that one time when he killed a group of men who wanted to use you as a bargaining chip to gain entry to Jackson. And how afterward you told him you’d do the same for him, unable to bear the painful and guilty expression on his face.

Now you planned on doing just that.

You were scared – of course you were, you weren’t stupid – and the nerves were practically eating you alive, gnawing at your bones and hurting your muscles from the inside out.

But the worst was the fear of never seeing Joel again. Of something happening to him. And you couldn’t live with yourself if you didn’t at least try…

“I’m coming with you.”

Your head snapped to the side. There stood Ellie – dressed in a warm jacket and a hat that didn’t cover her ears. Her eyes were full of fire, and you recognized the anger and determination in her expression as the same which were almost suffocating you.

Of course she was eavesdropping on the conversation. It was Joel that it was about, after all, her dad in all but one sense.

And suddenly you understood what Maria meant by not being able to look Joel in the eyes if something happened to you.

“No,” you said curtly, walking past her and out onto the street in the direction of your house.

“I’m not asking for permission.” Ellie was right behind you, and the force of her steps showed just how angry and frustrated she was – just like you felt. “I know you’re gonna go after those guys, and I’m coming with you.”

“You’re not,” you repeated more sternly, not turning around to face her. You reached your house and fumbled to open the door. “You’re staying and that’s fina–”

You stopped yourself and sighed, pressing your forehead against the wooden surface.

It was unfair. You were unfair. If those exact words spoken by Maria have set you off so much, you wouldn’t be surprised if Ellie…

“You’re not my fucking mom, remember?” the girl barked angrily, and you let out a shuddering breath, stressed to your limits with everything that happened in the last few hours. “You can’t tell me what I can and can’t do just because you’re older!”

It’s okay. It’s gonna be fine. Everything is gonna be okay.

“I know,” you whispered after a couple of seconds of silence, still not turning around. “I’m sorry.”

Ellie didn’t answer. You repeated your quiet mantra and glanced over your shoulder at her. “But Ellie, I… I can’t let you go. Joel would never forgive me if something happened to you.”

Jesus. Exactly like Maria.

Ellie still looked pissed at your earlier words, and she crossed her arms over her chest.

“Well, you’re not the only one who cares about him, you know?”

“Yeah, I know. But you’re the one he cares about the most.”

Ellie opened her mouth. Closed it and furrowed her eyebrows, but the irritation in her eyes dimmed. You gave her a small, apologetic smile, trying not to burst into tears.

“He’s gonna be fine, you know,” you lied smoothly, opening the door. “And Maria said she’ll send a group to retrieve him as soon as the storm eases up a bit.”

You didn’t even need to look to know that she didn’t believe you. To be honest, you wouldn’t believe yourself either in this situation.

You waited several seconds to see if the girl wanted to say something else, but after a few moments she spun on her heel and went back, not saying anything. You stared after her, but when the thick snow made her figure just a fuzzy shape, you gently closed the door and pressed the heels of your hands to your eyes.

It’s going to be fine. You’ll get Joel back and all will be okay.

You took a couple of deep – albeit shaky – breaths to pull yourself together, and when you were pretty sure you weren’t about to start crying, you made your way into the kitchen. And stopped short.

At your table sat Tommy, fiddling with his thumbs.

“Fuck, Tommy,” you mumbled, trying to calm down your pounding heart. “You scared the crap out of me.”

The younger Miller looked up, but stayed silent. You looked at each other for a few tense moments, but ultimately you sighed and left him in the kitchen, going to your room to get a backpack and another, more fitting, set of clothes.

He was still there when you returned to the kitchen with your stuff, but you didn’t even pretend you weren’t preparing to head out. The man watched silently as you put the backpack down by the door, went to retrieve and reload your gun, and gathered some essentials on the table, not once glancing in his direction.

You were persistent in ignoring Tommy’s presence, but then he finally spoke up.

“We can go before dawn. I’ll get the horses ready and we will take the fourth gate.”

You froze and stopped what you were doing, then turned around and placed your hand on your hip.

“We can’t take horses up there. Not in this weather.”

“We’ll leave them at the fifteenth checkmark. That place in the East where there are so many swallows durin’ spring.”

You nodded, and your gaze softened when you looked him over. Tommy was just as worried about Joel as you were, you knew it. He was just better at hiding it.

“I’m sorry for what I said,” you murmured, feeling terrible that in such a short amount of time, it was a second person you were apologizing to. “But you know I have to go after him. You know that.”

“Fuck,” he swore quietly, sighing. “Yeah, I know. There’s no way I ain’t goin’ either. Just… I just hate doing somethin’ behind Maria’s back.”

You didn’t answer – because what could you say? That he didn’t have to go with you? As much as you wanted to save Joel, pretending not to care about the dangers or anyone’s opinion, you knew you’d probably die if you went alone. But it didn’t mean you were going to ignore all that Tommy was risking by coming along with you.

“You don’t have to, Tommy,” you whispered. “You have your wife to think about, after all. And your–”

“I know,” he interrupted glumly. “Don’t worry. All of us will come back.”

You nodded. You really hoped he was right.

*****

At first, everything was going according to plan.

At least, until Ellie decided to show up.

She surprised both you and Tommy a couple of miles outside of Jackson, probably thinking that it was far enough that you won’t try to send her away.

You tried anyway. You were understandably furious, not only because she didn’t listen to you, but also that she trailed after you both for so long in this weather. Her reveal caused a short screaming match and a couple of nervous tears shed by you, but eventually you and Tommy decided it’d be more dangerous to make Ellie go back to Jackson alone. So she continued with you to the house where you left your horses, then past it and in the direction of the ski resort.

You didn’t know how many people were at the resort, and there were only the two of you – well, three, counting Ellie, but no matter her stubbornness, you weren’t going to let her go in – and an attack was too risky in this situation.

So you decided to sneak in. To distract and draw the kidnappers’ attention long enough for you to get Joel out.  It was still stupidly risky, but it wasn’t like there were much more options that wouldn’t end in those guys killing all of you. The plan was that Tommy would find a vantage point and be on guard to take down any threats with his sniper rifle if you were noticed, while you go get Joel.

Ellie… Ellie didn’t take no for an answer. And as much as you hated that she tagged along on this dangerous rescue mission, you had to admit that she came prepared. Apparently some time ago Joel taught her how to make trap mines and she pitched the idea of planting some up the mountain to create an avalanche.

Well, you and Tommy were both very much against setting off a full-blown avalanche, but it wasn’t a bad idea per se. So it was agreed that Tommy will help her set the bombs in some strategic places while you wait for a signal to go in.

The sneaking in part was surprisingly easy. The people staying there didn’t leave any guards outside, probably because they didn’t expect that someone would actually look for them in this weather, and it seemed that there weren’t that many of them inside like you feared. You had a vague idea where Joel might be, based on the positioning of the people present, so you reckoned it’ll be the wisest to wait nearby.

It took about an hour of hiding in one of the empty rooms (you had to change your hiding spot once, because someone decided to randomly sweep the perimeter) before you heard distant explosions and panicked, angry yells, and then a rumble of the mountain. You suspected a fair amount of snow was falling down the slope, and you prayed that Ellie and Tommy were in a safe place when that happened.

You heard the sound of footsteps getting further away. Then more of it. It was eerily silent, and you counted to ten in your head, before slowly exiting your hiding spot.

Just as you suspected, Joel was held in the lobby, tied to one of the decorative columns, and even though his back was to you, you’d recognize him anywhere, even by hands or the back of his head alone. A quick glance around the room confirmed that there was no one around, but still you preferred to stay on guard. You silently tip-toed to where he was sitting on the floor, mindful of all the debris scattered on the floor and keeping your head low, and breathed a sigh of relief when you finally reached him.

“Don’t move,” you whispered, barely moving your lips. Your fingers touched his wrist and he budged slightly. You angled your face closer to the left side of his head, hoping he’ll hear you better this way. “It’s me, Joel. I’m gonna get these off you, okay?”

Not waiting for the reply, you took out your knife and started to cut the thick, coarse rope binding Joel’s wrists. You winced at the burns underneath, but you managed not to cut him, which was a feat with how tight the ropes were. He was very still, probably not wanting to handicap you.

“Okay,” you whispered when the last of the thick strands were cut through, and you carefully slid the remnants of the rope from his wrists. “Now follow me, Tommy is…”

Your voice died down when Joel’s arms loosely slumped down, along with his head, and a second later his torso started tilting to the side before heavily hitting the ground.

Your heart stopped in your chest.

“No.” The whispered word escaped you when you hurried around him, now not caring about staying hidden. “No, no, no, please…”

You rolled Joel onto his back and only now saw the damage done to him – his nose broken, face covered in blood, a gash under his left ear, and a still bleeding gunshot wound in his arm. He didn’t look dead, didn’t have that lifeless emptiness around him, but his eyes were closed and his chest was still. You put your ear to his mouth, desperate to feel his breath on your skin, but…

No, it can’t be, it can’t…

You couldn’t feel anything.

“Joel,” you said quietly, taking his face between your hands, but tears were blurring your vision. “Come on, please open your eyes.” A choked sob broke out of your throat and you shook your head when he still didn’t even as much as stir. “Love, please…”

That’s when your eyes landed on a small, glass vial lying discarded some feet away. You looked from it to Joel, tears clouding your vision, and scrambled forward to check it out.

As you suspected, the syringe – because that’s what it turned out to be – had the traces of a thick, translucent liquid in it left. There wasn’t any writing on it, but the glass was clean, unlike various other bottles and wrappings scattered throughout the facility. You stared at it for a couple of seconds, then fixed your gaze on Joel again.

Just as the sound of footsteps started to echo down the hall.

You froze and strained your ears to make sure you didn’t imagine it, then took a look around the room. The doors were slightly ajar, but whoever was coming here, they couldn’t see you just yet. Panic seized your insides and you turned to Joel again.

“Sweetheart, please wake up,” you whispered pleadingly, shaking his shoulders and slapping his cheek lightly. “Come on, look at me, open your eyes…"

The steps were getting louder by the second. You tore the glove off your hand with your teeth and tried to very quickly check Joel’s pulse, but either in your panic you couldn’t find it, or the heartbeat was too slow for you to pick up.

You didn’t consider any other option.

There wasn’t much time left, so finally you left him and quietly went to hide behind the door, waiting for the incomer to walk in. Your hand reached for the gun on your belt.

And paused.

There couldn’t be any other option… right? Joel was alive, you just failed to find his pulse. He…

He was lying, still in the place you left him, and you couldn’t see his chest moving. The blood was flowing from the wound in his arm, staining his jacket and the floor… Your hand, the one holding the pistol, was covered in it, too…

Then you did something you never expected of yourself.

The gun stayed in its holster, and you went to grab from the ground one of the heavier pieces of debris you noticed before, a long metal pipe. Your hands tightened on the metal, and your eyes stayed on Joel’s lifeless form. You took a stifled, nervous breath. Then a deep, steadying one.

The person in the hall was really close now. Joel still didn’t appear to be moving or breathing, and it made your own chest feel tight and painful.

He couldn’t be dead. He couldn’t.

But if they did this, if… if he won’t ever open his beautiful brown eyes again, say your name in that entricing raspy drawl…

The doors to your right opened and your face twisted in rage and resentment. Your muscles tensed and focus sharpened.

The man who walked through the door made a noise of surprise at the sight of Joel lying on the floor – and that inhaling sound, that maddening noise seemed to taunt you, because how dared he breathe when Joel’s own breath was stolen from him, when you weren’t sure if it was still there – right before you stepped forward and swung the pipe with all your might.

The man – dark skin, with short hair – fell down with a loud cry when the harsh metal hit him right in the temple. Your eyes scanned his figure for a weapon, and you hit him again, this time somewhere near his stomach, when he made a move to reach for his knife.

“What did you give him?!” you asked with malice and venom that were so alien to you, you almost didn’t recognize your voice. The man’s eyes focused on you for the first time when you kicked his blade away, and his confusion turned to anger.

“Crazy bitch!” he spat, heaving for air, and lunged at you, but the open wound in his skull must’ve slowed him down, because without any problem you managed to raise your makeshift weapon before he could grab you.

Since you met him so many years ago, you always had Joel to watch your back. Now you were alone, but somehow that thought didn’t scare you. It exhilarated you.

An unpleasant, hair-rising crack echoed in the room, followed by the stranger’s scream, when the heavy metal smashed the bones in the forearm.

“I asked… a simple, fucking, question!” you snarled at the man, bringing the pipe down again, aiming for his hand this time. He moved it away at the last second, which enraged you even more, so with a mad, frustrated scream, you smashed his knee, using the pipe’s momentum when it bounced off the floor. “What the fuck did you do to him?!!”

He screamed, loudly and terribly, cursing at you with every shaky breath he took, and–

You felt so unlike you, so… out of your skin, somehow… but you wanted to make him suffer. You wanted to know this inhuman cry of pain that was reverberating through the walls of the resort was your doing and your power over this bastard. Because of what they did to Joel.

Then a loud bang rang out in the air, and you instinctively ducked your head when a part of the door to your side was shot off. You dropped the pipe – no use for it now – and drew your gun, noticing with surprise that your heart was steady and your breath even, as if you didn’t almost get shot just now.

Another bullet was sent in your direction, and a woman’s voice yelled something inaudible, while you stood still and counted the seconds.

Three, two…

In a rapid movement, you came out of cover and aimed at the person standing in the hall, firing twice. The first bullet hit the woman in the arm while the second seemed to burrow itself in her stomach. She fell backwards with a curt cry, and the man lying at your feet roared with rage.

“No! You fucking bitch, leave her alone!!”

Your motions were almost automatic as you put your gun away and picked up the metal pipe again, its end splattered with blood. The man in front of you had to see something in your eyes – despair? emptiness? hatred? – because his face fell and he started quietly begging for you to stop and let him go. At least that’s what you assumed he was saying, because you didn’t listen to him one bit.

��Do not…” you started, unexpectedly calmly, bringing the end of the blunt weapon down. The impact caused his shinbone to break, and you lingered for just a moment to hear the bitter cracks of the shattered bones, “fucking… go anywhere. Don’t you dare move, hear me?”

The man didn’t answer, just cursed and wept in pain. The sound was horrible, but you almost didn’t notice it – or more accurately, didn’t care. Which would be even more concerning if you weren’t aware of the woman lying injured in the hall behind the door, and Joel, still unmoving and cold to the touch on the other side of the room.

Slowly, not hearing the black man’s cries or distant gunshots from where Tommy probably was taking down the enemies, and not caring about the blood of a stranger covering your jacket and pants, you dropped the pipe and took out your gun again. Then you made your way down the corridor, your eyes locked on the woman who shot at you.

She was groaning in pain, clutching at her stomach. When she noticed you, her hand reached for the pistol which lay discarded next to her, but you quickly lifted your own and aimed at her before she touched it.

“Don’t move,” you murmured, which would sound almost soft if it weren’t for the empty look in your eyes. The woman scanned you up and down, and slowly lifted her hands.

“Who are you?”

“What did you give him?” you asked like you didn’t hear her, coming closer to kick away her gun to the far end of the hall. The woman’s eyes followed the weapon, then shifted to you.

“Do you even know what that man did? What is he guilty of?”

“I know. Now answer the damn question. What did you give–”

The door on your left slammed open and you only had time to turn your head before a heavy body collided with you, pushing you to the wall. Your head hit the bricks with an echoing crack, knocking the breath out of you. A man who surprised you grabbed the material of your jacket and slammed you into the wall again, but you managed to grab his hair and yank it hard, which allowed you to step to the side and away from the point of disadvantage that being trapped against the wall was.

The man – taller than you, with a black eye and without one of the front teeth – was quick to recover, however, and catched the wrist of your hand that held the gun, pushing it to the side when you pulled the trigger. From the corner of your eye you could see the woman you shot curling up and covering her head, then trying to scamper away, but the wound in her stomach was a significant impediment.

You fired again, trying to wrestle the gun from the man, but his grip was strong and after a few seconds of struggle he managed to knock the weapon out of your grasp, sending it flying to where you kicked off the woman’s one earlier.

Not sooner than your hands were empty, his elbow collided with your face, hard, and you cried when a gush of blood started pouring from the broken nose and a cut on your lip. Fear washed over you, and sheer luck caused you to duck to the side in time, avoiding a fist to the temple.

You stumbled backwards a few unstable steps, breathing heavily. The guy was smirking, acting like he already won – but you weren’t about to die in this sleazy, stinky place, leaving Ellie all alone and never knowing why they abducted Joel in the first place.

Joel…

“You’ve made a huge mistake,” said the man quietly, taking one, then two steps forward and swinging again. You backed away a second time, feeling your heart pounding in panic and knowing you didn’t stand a chance against a man of his stature.

Finally your luck ran out, and the man managed to hit you in the jaw, making you taste blood on your tongue. Before you could recover, one of his hands shot forward and grabbed you by the throat, and then, still keeping his big hand on your neck, he brought your entire torso down, slamming you to the ground. You hit your head hard and the glass shards on the floor embedded themselves in your skin, but in the next moment the sound of your painful scream was cut short. The grip the man had on your throat tightened, and you started to have difficulty breathing.

Your eyes budged in fear as realization of what was happening dawned on you, and you started to kick and struggle wildly, reaching for your attacker’s face, but he moved out of reach, still putting his whole weight down on you.

Your fists were hitting his forearms, your nails scratching his cheeks, whatever to make him let go. But he didn’t, his hands still squeezing your throat so strongly and crushing your esophagus.

“After I kill you, I’ll go kill your friend,” your attacker snickered, smiling viciously as he watched ice-cold panic enveloping you. “He’s not worthy of keeping him alive that long, anyway.”

Something ignited inside you at his words.

Joel.

You suddenly remembered the many self-defense lessons Joel had given you, so that whenever he wasn’t there to protect you, you could do it yourself. He was always so afraid for your life…

Slowly and with great effort, your fingers crept down, searching for the handle of your hunting knife, while dark spots started to appear before your vision, partially covering the sneering face of the man crushing your windpipe. He said something else – something you didn’t even hear because of the ringing in your ears…

And then with the last bit of your strength, you yanked the knife out of its sheath and buried the blade in the side of his neck.

Several things happened simultaneously: the man cried in surprise and let you go, the woman shouted a warning – too late – and you swung your leg over him, straddling and stabbing the man over and over again. His neck, his chest, his face, you didn’t even see what you were hitting. Screaming your lungs out and burying the blade in him again, and again, and again.

And again.

With an outraged, desperate cry, the woman lunged at you, but the adrenaline coursing through your system made you not even register something cutting deeply the skin of your arm, your veins and muscles giving way. You spun around, tumbling with her to the ground, but quickly managed to pin her down, blocking her arms in place with your knees, and pressing the tip of your knife to her chest.

She immediately stopped moving.

“Last fucking chance,” you croaked with difficulty, your neck bruised and swollen. “What… did you give him?”

You didn’t know if it was the sight of you, bloodied and wounded, the fact that you just violently killed her friend, or something else entirely – but now the woman looked scared.

“Okay,” she whispered, trying not to breathe too deeply, and glanced nervously at the blade pressed against her skin. “Okay, I’ll tell you, just don’t… It was a tranquilizer. Nothing dangerous, we just put him to sleep for a couple of hours. He was putting up quite a fight and the guys were getting antsy that he’ll pull something off before–”

“He’s not breathing,” you rasped viciously, sputtering blood onto her face. The woman flinched and took a shaky breath.

“His heart rate is slowed down, but it doesn’t– it shouldn’t kill him.”

You clenched your teeth, then exhaled. Inhaled.

You have to take a grip of yourself. He is alive. He has to be…

Should be.

The weight with which you had pinned her to the ground became lighter, and the woman sighed with relief when you removed the sharp end from her chest.

“It shouldn’t… kill him?” you repeated emptily, trying to dismiss the pain in your throat when you were speaking.

“No.”

Your head was still buzzing, but you tried to push it to the side, to focus on what was important right now.

“Why… did you take him?”

And just with that one, quiet question, the woman’s expression changed. You were considering letting her go, since you already hurt her pretty badly, but the sudden shift in her behavior set off alarm bells in your head once more.

“He’s a murderer,” the woman said, as if it was the most obvious answer. “A monster that would do everyone a favor if he got put down.”

White, blinding fury flooded your veins and it felt almost as if electricity was cracking above your skin. Your hand held the knife tighter.

‘Put down’, like… like an animal. She was talking about the man you loved–

You weren’t able to stop the hatred and rage flowing out of every pore of your skin. In one swift motion you plunged the knife into the woman’s chest, making her choke and gasp in surprise.

“You cannot call him that,” you spluttered, barely able to speak from the pain. “You…”

And then your hand forced its way lower down, still holding the handle of your weapon. Cutting through the woman’s – now struggling and screaming in agony – abdomen and guts.

They went so far as to abduct Joel, they took him from you, hurt and shot him, wanted to torture him, to make him suffer before they ultimately kill him…

But they didn’t, he can’t be dead, he can’t–

The woman was conscious the entire time as you were ripping her insides apart, and her screams died down only after you reached the navel.

Your vision was blurry and faltering when you stood up, but your heart was still beating steadily. There was an echo of a scream in your ears, though you couldn’t tell if it was your or the dead woman’s voice.

There wasn’t anyone else in the hallway. In the back of your mind you hoped that Tommy took care of any remaining enemies, because if they’d come running here, you didn’t think you’d be able to hear them in time.

Clutching your injured arm, you slowly made your way to the room where you left Joel and the man who attacked you first. Your gun was lying near the entrance and you picked it up before pushing the door open and staggering inside.

The man wasn’t where you left him. Instead there was a big pool of blood, forming into a wide, smeared path leading further into the lobby. At the end of it you saw him, groaning and crawling to the exit.

You reloaded the gun and walked closer. At the sound, the man turned his head and his eyes widened when he saw you.

“You fucking psycho!” he spat, bracing himself on the elbow of his left arm – the only one still working. “Do you have any idea what you’ve done?! When she sees it, they’ll come for you, and they’ll make sure that the two of you will fucking pay for it!”

His words were flowing through you as you struggled to keep your vision focused. You felt weird – almost like waking up way too early and finding your body not listening to you entirely.

Then you realized. The hungry, burning anger was gone, the embers of hatred slowly dying out. There was only smoke and emptiness left inside you.

“I don’t care,” you mumbled, not loud enough for the man to hear you, but that didn’t matter – two seconds later he was dead, his brain splattered all over the floor behind him.

Your hand was shaking. Cold crept up your limbs, embracing and almost choking you as you breathed in, out, faster and faster as you finally comprehended what you did.

Your eyes moved down to the man’s indented knee, completely smashed into a bloody mess. The other limb was all wrong, his foot sticking in the opposite direction and no wonder he had to crawl to get away from you, you destroyed his legs, you…

You staggered backwards, your pupils darting to the hallway just for a second before returning to the battered corpse in front of you. The back of his skull was gone now, but how did he stay conscious for so long after you smashed his head with a metal pipe? There was so much blood on it… How much pain he must have felt after you left him?

And that woman… He begged you to leave her alone, and you… you ripped her open…

You moved back, back and further away, before tripping and falling to the floor. Your breaths were fast and shallow, and you reached for your neck, sore and swollen from almost being strangled, trying to will your lungs to work.

They were bad people. They took and hurt Joel, and planned to kill him. You had to kill them, they’d kill you in a heartbeat, they…

It wasn’t like you’ve never taken a life before, but it was the first time that you inflicted pain on somebody on purpose – not in self-defense, but because you wanted to retaliate. It was done in revenge.

You didn’t know for how long you had sat there when you heard someone saying your name. It sounded like… No, it couldn’t have been his voice, he was unconscious, he wasn’t breathing…

Suddenly, Tommy’s face appeared in your blurry field of vision – of course it was him, their voices were so similar, after all – and there was a deep crease between his brows. He looked worried and fearful, and–

“Snap out of it,” he said firmly, shaking your shoulders harder than he should have. Your name fell from his lips when you didn’t answer, and his eyes followed yours to a battered body on the floor. “Look at me. Look at me.” Tommy forcefully turned your chin in his direction, and his eyes were full of sorrow and pain. “You did what you had to do.”

You shook your head, swallowing the tears that streamed down your face. He didn’t know what you did. He didn’t understand what happened here, what happened with you… You yourself didn’t know what happened to you.

Tommy brought you closer to his chest, enveloping you in his strong embrace and the smell of leather and gunpowder. You choked on air, unable to stop the sobs racking your body, and deaf to his words, for the only thing you could hear were cracks of bones, screams of pain, and your own vengeful cries.

It was so loud in your mind that you almost missed a quiet grunt coming from behind you.

*****

Joel slowly opened his eye, then groaned and closed it again. He felt like shit and it was so hard to breathe, but he pushed through the pain and discomfort from the wound in his side, and tried again.

The first thing he saw was the greenish curtain, hiding the rest of the room from him, but judging by the fact that he was lying in bed, alive, with apparently all his wounds dressed, he figured it wasn’t the same place that group of angry youngsters took him to.

Lifting his head and turning it to the other side was a tremendous task, but it was so worth it – because there was you. Sitting in a chair next to him, asleep and with your head lying on folded arms on his bed. Joel smiled softly, but then furrowed his brows as a pang of anxiety shot right through him.

Your face was a mess, with cuts and bruises healing, your brow was split, and one of your forearms had a bandage wrapped around it, now a little dirty around the edges. Joel couldn’t see clearly, but your neck seemed… dark, as if the skin was bruised there, too.

What the hell happened?

He lifted his arm – the tingles and needles pierced his stiff limb – and brushed your cheek lightly, trying to wake you.

“Darlin’...” he murmured, and you stirred. He tried to say it again, louder this time, but his throat was scratchy and he winced at the feeling. There was no need for it, however, because in the next moment your eyes fluttered open and then widened when you took in the sight of him, realizing he’s awake.

“Joel!” Your hands – God, he missed the feeling of them – cupped his face gently, and your eyes filled with tears in the matter of seconds. “Oh my god, baby…”

“Hey, hey, I’m fine,” he breathed out quickly, not wanting to see you cry. “It’s okay, darlin’... I’m here.”

You sobbed with a dazzling smile, your beautiful eyes dancing across his features before you darted forward and pressed your lips to his firmly. Joel could almost taste the desperation and worry in your shaky breaths and tears that fell from your eyes and onto his tongue. He wanted to tangle his fingers in your hair and bring you in closer, but a sudden, sharp pain pierced his arm when he tried to move it, and he hissed into your mouth.

“Sorry,” you whispered and moved away quickly, letting out a broken laugh and brushing the unruly strands of hair away from his forehead. “I’m just so happy you’re okay.”

Joel wanted to ask what exactly had happened while he was out, but before he got a chance, you leaned in again and started softly peppering his face in kisses – first his cheek, then his forehead, then the tip of his nose and his chin. And Joel didn’t have the heart to stop you.

And that’s how Ellie found you both. She gagged when she saw the display of affection, but there was a grin on her face when he looked over at her.

“Gross,” she scrunched her nose. “But I’m glad to see you awake.”

“Yeah, well, I still feel pretty shitty,” he grunted, scanning the kid for any injuries, but she didn’t look any worse for the wear. His eyes strayed to your neck again, and the concern came back double-barreled. “What happened to you, sweetheart? Where–”

“I’ll… go get the doctor.” You stood up abruptly before he could finish, and looked over at Ellie. “Will you stay with him?”

“Yeah. Sure.” The teen shrugged, but now was avoiding Joel’s eyes, and he felt more uneasy and agitated by the second.

“Okay. Be right back, love. Gonna grab you some water, too.” You squeezed his hand and smiled. Joel’s eyes escorted you, and when he made sure you were out of the earshot, he turned to Ellie.

“What happened?”

“Well.” The teen blew out her cheeks and went to take a seat you previously occupied. “You were attacked during the patrol…”

“Yeah, no, that I remember,” Joel interrupted quietly. “They shot me, took me to that ski resort. But how am I here? Did she…”

He trailed off. Ellie looked at the curtain you disappeared behind, then back at Joel. “Listen, I wasn’t there, so m’not sure,” she mumbled quietly. “But after she and Tommy got you out, she was sorta… different.”

“Different how?” he asked sharply. Ellie bit the inside of her cheek, looking away. “Ellie.”

“I don’t know, okay?” she answered in a sudden burst. “She looked like hell. You saw her neck, I think someone tried to choke her, and she had an ugly cut on her leg, a fuckton of cuts and bruises… And the doctor spent hours getting all the glass shards out of her.”

Joel got up as much as he could, feeling a pit of anxiety rising in his chest. Ellie was silent for a while before she spoke again, this time surprisingly softly.

“Remember when you beat the shit out of that soldier when we were escaping QZ in Boston?” Joel nodded slightly – she did, too. “Yeah. She had a similar… kind of look on her face, and it looked… not exactly scary, but alien.” The teen looked up. “My guess is she did some fucked up shit to get to you. Tommy said she’s been having real bad nightmares since then, but he doesn’t want to tell me–”

Ellie snapped her mouth shut at the sound of footsteps, and a few seconds later you emerged from behind the curtain. You had a tall glass of water in your hand and a small, hopeful smile that grew when your eyes fell on Joel’s face.

“I know you’d probably prefer something stronger, but water will do you good,” you said, seemingly oblivious to the fact that they were just talking about you. Joel watched as you carefully sat down at the edge of his bed and put down the glass onto the table to his side. “One of the nurses will come here in a couple of minutes. You were unconscious for a couple of days so they want to make sure everything is okay.”

“I told you I’m fine, darlin’...”

“Please.” You gently took his hand in both of yours, staring at him with concern. “For me?”

Joel looked you over, his eyes lingering on your bruised neck and the bandage around your thigh which he didn’t notice before. Then he glanced at Ellie with worry, not knowing how to approach this problem or ask what exactly happened to you.

Your eyes were a little red and puffy, and he briefly thought about what the kid said: that you have had terrible nightmares, that apparently you went through some sort of hell to save him. It seemed that whatever you had done, it took its heavy toll on you. And he couldn’t bear it.

Joel hated the thought of you risking your life for him, of the experience branding you so deeply that you lost sleep because of it.

Because of him.

The only thing he could do right now was to be there for you. And maybe – just maybe, if he tried hard enough – to do something about those of your scars that he couldn’t see.

He lifted your hand to his lips and pressed a kiss to it, keeping his eyes on yours the entire time.

“Okay,” came his soft answer, to which you smiled with relief. “Whatever you wish, darlin’.”

No snarky remark, no groaning or muttering could be heard from Ellie, and that worried Joel much more than he’d ever admit. He exchanged a worried look with her while you were distracted, drawing patterns on the back of his hand with tender fingers.

“It’s gonna be okay,” he heard you say quietly, though it was unclear whether you were talking to him or yourself.

Either way, Joel squeezed your hand tighter, now feeling oddly afraid of letting go.

“Yes, darlin’,” he confirmed in a soothing manner. “Everything’s gonna be okay.”