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Abby shoved the door open, the wind howling behind her, and tossed her shotgun onto the kitchen counter with a clatter. Snow clung stubbornly to her scarf and shoulders. She unwound the fabric from her neck, brushing herself off with numb fingers.
Routine.
Check the traps. Patrol the perimeter. Come back to an almost silent house.
Except tonight—tonight was different.
Ellie sat hunched at the kitchen table, wrapped in an oversized coat that swallowed her small frame. Her sneakers tapped out an anxious rhythm against the floorboards. A half-stripped pistol sat on the counter nearby, forgotten.
Her face…
Blood crusted along Ellie’s throat, dried in harsh, jagged lines down to her collarbone. Purpled bruises spilled across her jaw, her temple, a brutal mural. Her mouth was split, healing wrong. The hollows of her cheeks were sharper than they should be.
Abby’s heart lurched into her throat.
“You’re back.”
Ellie didn’t answer, rising from the chair with an exhausted slowness. She crossed the room to retrieve a chipped cup, filling it with water from a bucket they kept on standby. Her hands trembled as she brought the glass to her mouth. For a moment, Abby thought she wouldn’t drink at all—that she’d sit there, cradling the water like something she didn’t deserve.
But then, finally, her fingers tightened, and she took a sip. Small. Careful.
Months.
Months ago, Abby woke to find Ellie gone. Her shoes, her backpack—everything that mattered—missing too. She had known then: Ellie wasn’t coming back. Not for a while. Maybe not ever. It hurt, more than she cared to admit, but she forced herself to live with it. Lev— Lev took it harder, sitting by the window every morning, craning his neck to watch the road like he could will her back just by staring hard enough.
But Abby knew better.
“Did you see them?” she asked.
Ellie set the empty glass down with a dull clink and lowered herself back into the chair, movements slow and deliberate. Her gaze remained fixed somewhere past the edge of the table, unfocused, as if the world had tunnelled.
“And?” she pressed.
“They’re well,” Ellie murmured, staring at the table. “I spoke to her.”
Abby’s heart clenched.
This was it—the moment where Ellie said she was leaving again, heading back to Jackson, back to Dina and JJ, to the life that was meant to be hers. Where Abby would have to bite her tongue and nod and pretend like it didn’t shatter something inside her.
“Okay,” she said, throat dry.
“JJ said his first words,” Ellie said, a ghost of a smile crossing her mouth. “Dina joked that if I had been there, it would’ve been ‘fuck’.” She huffed out a small laugh. “He can walk now—run, even.”
Abby nodded stiffly, feeling every word land like a punch to the gut.
Get on with it. Stop drawing this out.
“Dina—she was angry at first. Understandably.”
“Understandably.”
After Santa Barbara, Ellie had returned to Jackson. She found Dina and JJ at the settlement, and she could have stayed, she could have built a life there again. Instead, she’d left—again. No wonder Dina was angry.
“Abby.”
Meeting her gaze, Abby clenched her jaw so tightly it hurt. Her nails dug into her palms, creating small crescent-shaped wounds. She wasn’t sure whether to cry with relief that Ellie came back or yell at her for being so mindless and leaving—not that Ellie owes her anything. She sought out Abby on her own accord after fleeing Jackson.
“You can relax,” Ellie said, a hint of amusement twitching her mouth. “I’m not going back.”
The words didn’t really compute at first.
I’m not going back. I’m not going back. I’m not going back.
“You’re not?”
Ellie shook her head, casting her gaze back down toward the floor. “I—I can’t be there. I didn’t sleep. I didn’t eat. It’s not… It’s not home anymore.”
What’s home, Ellie? Abby remained silent.
“I’m better here,” she mumbled. “With you. With Lev. I…”
“Because you think you’re bad for them?”
“That’s not—That’s…” Ellie faltered, choking on her words. “Don’t fucking psychoanalyse me. Don’t do that. Fuck.”
Trembling all over, she pressed her face into her hands. Abby flinched at her words and tears stung the backs of her eyes. She didn’t dare reach for her. Didn’t dare startle her.
“You’re bleeding,” Abby said instead, voice thick.
Ellie shrugged, unzipping her coat with a sharp inhale. Underneath, her shirt was torn, sticking to raw cuts and scrapes. A nasty gash carved across her side, half healed and angry.
“The journey back was shit,” she said. “Infected. Raiders. You name it; I ran into it.”
Cursing under her breath, Abby took a step closer to her. Ellie waved her hand nonchalantly, rolling her eyes. “It’s fine. I’m fine. At least I’m breathing. You should see the other guys.”
“Oh, I’m sure they’re worse. You’re volatile.” She chuckled, her gaze still fixated on Ellie’s wounds. Did she even attempt to stitch herself up? Maybe she thought a slow death was what she deserved. Stupid.
“Let me help.”
“Is the water on? I need a shower.”
Part of Abby wanted to fight her and demand she let her help—just this once. But she knew Ellie well enough by now. Too much attention and she’d flee, retreating back into the darkness with her knife and her weak will to survive.
“There’s even hot water.”
Rising to her feet, Ellie flashed her a smile. “You spoil me, Anderson.”
“Shut up,” Abby grumbled, ignoring the way her heart stuttered in her chest. “Get in the shower.”
Without another word, Ellie turned on her heel, oblivious to Abby’s piercing gaze. She headed up the stairs, toward the bathroom. There was hot water, not much though. Ellie would have to find out the hard way when the water turns cold on her.
Once she disappeared upstairs, Abby’s shoulders dropped, the tension seeping from her body like water through a dam. She was relieved Ellie came back, but she left them so abruptly. Can Abby watch her break Lev’s heart again—break her heart again?
She hadn’t meant to get so attached.
In Santa Barbara, Abby hadn’t been willing to kill her—she only fought for Lev—and that stood true even when she showed up on their doorstep almost a year ago, claiming to have been tracking them for weeks. Ellie had pushed past Lev and dumped her weapons on the kitchen table, rambling on about how she was itching for a comic book and a cup of coffee.
Somehow… She convinced them to let her stay.
Lev grew to adore her. She taught him how to shoot better. They made traps for the perimeter to catch not only animals, but also infected and intruders. Ellie had knowledge Abby didn’t have, even after the brutal years of training at the WLF. So, she didn’t object.
Bonding with Ellie had been harder. There were long gaps in their conversations that were filled with awkwardness and silence. There isn’t much you can say to the person that killed your dad. But, Abby had stumbled across Ellie’s journal one evening. It was filled with drawings of Joel, Dina, and Potato. There were some of Lev, and even Abby too, hunting, cooking, reading. It was… something. Abby didn’t know what to do with what she’d found, but she started putting more effort in with Ellie.
Then the sex happened, and Abby couldn’t recall how or when it first happened. It just did.
Fuck. She really hadn’t meant to get so attached.
An hour had dragged by. Abby stayed in the kitchen, chopping carrots she didn’t even remember pulling from the basket, pretending like she wasn’t hyper-aware of how much time had passed. The shower upstairs had shut off nearly forty minutes ago—she had counted—but there had been nothing but thick, suffocating silence since.
The knife slipped from her fingers and hit the counter with a sharp clatter. Abby barely flinched. Her hands felt clammy, useless. She dragged her palms down her jeans, and tried to breathe as she forced her legs to move.
Climbing the stairs felt like she was moving through water. Heavy. Slow. Her hand trembled when she knocked on the bathroom door, the wood cool and solid, nothing like the way her heart bucked and raged against her ribs.
“Ellie?”
“You can come in.”
The door creaked as she pushed it open. The light above the mirror flickered faintly, throwing shadows across the room. Ellie stood there barefoot on the tile, drowning in one of Abby’s old, soft shirts. It slipped off one shoulder, baring bruised skin and the slope of her collarbones, damp where her hair dripped.
Meeting her gaze in the cracked mirror, Ellie broke the silence with a rasp. “Hi.”
“Hi?” Abby croaked out, her mouth dry.
A faint smile pulled at Ellie’s lips. “The water turned cold on me.”
“I knew it would.”
“Fuck you,” she said it without bite, just a breath of something familiar—a fragile, obstinate piece of the girl Abby remembered from Seattle.
“You okay?” Abby murmured. “I’m starting dinner.”
Ellie nodded, but it was too quick, too practiced. “I’m fine. Better than I was earlier.” Her hand fidgeted with the hem of the shirt. “I fucking hate blood. It stains everything. I gotta scrub down my shoes and—” She cut herself off, shaking her head like she could dislodge the memories clinging to her.
Shuffling from foot to foot, Ellie twitched. Abby’s gaze fell, and she noticed then—Ellie’s bare legs, the way the oversized shirt brushed the tops of her thighs. Her breath caught in her throat, heat flooding her cheeks like a primitive reaction.
Ellie turned, stepping closer. Close enough Abby could smell the soap clinging to her skin, something sharp and clean and so alive.
“I’m fine,” she whispered again, her hands tentatively coming up to grasp Abby’s shoulders.
“I know—” Abby started, but Ellie leaned in, interrupting her with nothing but the warm brush of breath against her mouth.
“But you don’t believe me,” Ellie said, tilting her chin up, eyes shining with something raw and broken and still so goddamn stubborn.
“Ellie.”
Something cozy flowered in her chest, her heart palpitating in her ribs. Her hand slipped into her damp hair, fingers playing with the small strands that curl at the base of her neck.
“Abby.” Her name was a plea, a prayer, and then Ellie was kissing her— softly.
Her mouth was warm and eager, as if this is what kept her up at night. Not Dina. Not JJ. Not Joel. Selfish. So selfish, Abby. She tasted faintly like mint as her tongue slid across Abby’s bottom lip.
She let herself be consumed by it, bracing her hand on the sink behind Ellie, and when she pulled away, their foreheads stayed pressed together, breathless. “I believe you.”
Ellie’s eyes fluttered closed, lashes trembling, her mouth parting like she was on the edge of something and couldn’t find the words. She was so beautiful, and Abby was so far gone for her. It wasn’t meant to be like this. It was meant to be fun, an escape from the gaping chasm that was left behind.
Abby didn’t give her the chance to speak—reconnecting their mouths in a searing kiss. It was different, heated. Her teeth scraped Ellie’s lip until she whimpered. That tiny sound snapped whatever fragile restraint Abby had left.
Ellie gasped when she lifted her onto the sink, her legs falling open to bracket Abby’s hips. The porcelain was cold, but she didn’t seem to mind—she was too busy clutching Abby’s shirt like it was the only thing keeping her upright.
They should stop this.
But she can’t.
Abby dragged the shirt up and over Ellie’s head in one swift, reverent motion. For a beat, she just stood there, taking her all in—the soft curve of her stomach, the constellation of scars across her ribs, the fresh bruises painting her like a canvas.
Surging forward, Abby attached her mouth to Ellie’s neck, digging her teeth into the soft flesh. Ellie gasped and arched into her, nails digging into her shoulders hard enough to hurt, and Abby welcomed the sting of it, feeling more grounded and sane than she had in weeks.
“Fuck, Abby. That hurts.”
Abby pulled back for a moment to admire her work, the array of red marks adorning her pale skin, and although she knew Ellie would kill her later for them, it was all worth it. Darting down to her chest, Abby laved over her breasts, taking her hard nipples into her mouth, not bothering to cover her teeth.
“Abby— Please.”
Her hips ground down aimlessly, seeking something.
“Patience, baby,” she murmured, her voice low and teasing. It was hard to hide the smirk that threatened to break out over her lips.
Ellie’s eyes flashed with frustration. “Fuck you,” she snapped.
Abby chuckled—warm and fond—and stroked a finger down Ellie’s cheek, watching her shudder at the touch.
“What do you need, Els? Tell me.”
Ellie’s glare was defiant, but there was a crack in it, a tremble in her bottom lip that gave her away. She wasn’t angry. She was desperate. Aching.
“You,” she said, rasping the name. And there was so much vulnerability in it that Abby felt it like a punch to the gut. Ellie’s hand scrambled against Abby’s shirt, twisting her fingers into the fabric.
“I’m right here,” Abby promised, trying to ignore the cracks in her voice. “I’m not going anywhere.”
She would give Ellie everything. Whatever she asked for. Whatever she needed.
Even if it killed her.
Ellie made a low, frustrated sound, surging forward to kiss her again, messy and desperate. Teeth clacked together. Abby caught her hips in her hands, holding her in place, and swallowed the shaky whimper that spilled from Ellie’s mouth.
Her hands roamed—down Ellie’s sides, along the curve of her waist, thumbs brushing the soft skin just under her ribs. Ellie shivered under her touch, legs tightening around Abby’s waist like she couldn’t bear even a centimeter of distance.
“Touch me. Fucking touch me, Abby. If you don’t—”
“Hey, hey,” Abby cooed, cupping her face, thumbs brushing against her cheekbones. “Knock the attitude, Ellie. I’ll give you what you need.”
Even in the dim lighting, Abby could see the wet patch between her thighs, pure unadulterated evidence that Ellie wanted her. It wasn’t as if Abby didn’t know that, but it had been so long…
Shut up.
She ghosted her fingers down to the waistband of her underwear, toying with the material and noticing the way Ellie’s hips twitched. Ellie stared up at her, all half-lidded and breathless, one hand resting on the sink, the other digging into Abby’s shirt with such force her knuckles turned white.
“Abby—”
“Shh,” Abby’s fingers dragged along the apex of her thighs, lightly applying pressure until Ellie’s mouth fell open, a soft whimper escaping her throat. Her body arched toward her, silently pleading with her. “Look at you. All desperate for it, hm?”
Stubbornly, Ellie shook her head.
Abby barely resisted the urge to roll her eyes before shoving her soaked underwear aside. At the first teasing stroke of Abby’s fingers, Ellie’s hips jerked, her head knocking lightly against the mirror behind her. A moan slipped from her mouth, and she spread her legs wider, shameless and open—she had never been one to hide from Abby.
“This what you needed, Els?” she asked, circling her fingers lower before returning back to her clit, stroking it in soft motions.
Ellie gasped, nodding quickly, her teeth sinking into her bottom lip hard enough to leave marks. “Don’t tease. Fuck—Need it too bad. Don’t you dare.”
“I won’t,” Abby muttered against her cheek, her voice low and almost cruel with promise. She kissed her sharply. “Not this time.”
And then Abby stepped back without warning, ripping the heat from between them. Ellie’s whole body lurched toward her instinctively, furious confusion flashing across her face.
“What the fuck are you doing?” she snapped, the high points of her cheeks and nose glowering red.
Smirking, slow and deliberate, Abby gave her a rough pat on the hip. “Doing exactly what you begged for, Els. No games. No teasing. Now get the fuck off the sink.”
Ellie glared at her like she might murder her—but the need burning under her skin was too much. With a choked sound, she slid off the porcelain, her thighs trembling with restraint, fists clenching at her sides.
She stood on shaking legs, glaring daggers at Abby but unable to hide the way her thighs pressed together.
Abby didn’t give her time to think. She grabbed Ellie by the hips and spun her around, pressing her front to the cool countertop, the lights flickering above them. Choking out a gasp, Ellie slammed her hands against the sink’s edge, trying to balance herself.
“Fuck—”
“Spread,” Abby ordered, desperate to get her hands on her again.
She hesitated for half a second—then obeyed, pushing her hips back. Abby hissed between her teeth at the sight and dragged her fingers roughly up the inside of Ellie’s thighs, enough to make her squirm. Unable to contain herself any longer, she shoved Ellie’s soaked underwear down, just enough that she could slip her hand down to cup her pussy.
“Shit, Ellie,” she muttered, voice hoarse. “You’re fucking soaked.”
Whimpering—sharp and bitten off—Abby felt the sound punch straight through her to the heat between her legs. She pressed harder against her, pinning Ellie between her body and the sink, feeling the subtle tremor running through her. “Stop waiting. If you’re not going to do something, I’ll—”
“You’ll what? Hm?” Abby said, slipping her hand into Ellie’s hair, tightening her fingers in the damp strands. She yelped, struggling in Abby’s grasp. “Go on, tell me. You'll do what?”
“I’ll…” she trailed off.
Glancing at her in the mirror, Abby took in her downcast gaze, the blush on her cheeks deepening. Her fingers tightened on the bathroom sink. Abby smiled smugly. “That’s what I thought.”
She needed to feel her.
Abby released her hair, sliding her hand down to its rightful place between her legs. Her warm fingers slipped over the wetness, pressing wet kisses to Ellie’s neck whilst she moaned and cursed under her breath.
So fucking wet. Fuck—
“More, Abby. More.”
She chuckled against her neck, puffing soft breaths against her skin. “You’re so impatient.”
“It’s been a while,” Ellie murmured.
Ignoring the sting inside her chest, she slipped two fingers inside without warning, stretching her open. Ellie jerked, her forehead bumping against the mirror as she let out soft, desperate noises. Abby swallowed it down like it was something vital, something she couldn’t survive without.
She pressed another kiss to Ellie’s neck before pulling back, meeting her gaze in the mirror—saw the way her brows pinched together, the way her lips parted in a soundless gasp. Every twitch, every flinch, fed something deep and brutal inside Abby.
What broke you enough to need this so bad? To need me?
Abby curled his fingers inside Ellie, feeling her clench around her digits. She moved ruthlessly, dragging against that spot inside of her again and again. Relentless.
“You’re fucking shaking,” Abby rasped, nose brushing the shell of Ellie’s ear. She watched in the mirror as Ellie’s eyes squeezed tighter, a shiver wrecking through her.
“Can’t help it—” she gasped. “Oh, shit.”
She needed Ellie to come apart. Needed to watch her lose that aching guilt she always clung onto.
Abby’s thumb found Ellie’s clit and circled mercilessly. Ellie cried out, and Abby’s heart swelled at the noise, it drove her to move her fingers faster, working her over and over again until she was almost sobbing. Keeping her eyes locked on Ellie’s reflection, Abby drank in every tortured twitch of her mouth, the way her flushed skin glistened with sweat.
Fuck, you’re so beautiful when you break.
Ellie’s hands clenched the sink, her knuckles leaded white—pale as the porcelain beneath them. She was holding on like it was the only thing keeping her from unraveling.
But Abby saw the cracks splintering her.
Saw the way her chest heaved, the way her hips frocked frantically into Abby’s hand, chasing each ruthless thrust.
She leaned in, voice a ragged whisper. “That’s it. Let it happen. Let go for me.”
Ellie sobbed again—a desperate, humiliating sound—and Abby’s heart fucking shattered and rebuilt itself all at once. She could feel the orgasm tearing through Ellie before she even heard it. Her whimpery, stuttering moans.
Ellie convulsed around her fingers, shaking so hard Abby had to wrap both arms around her to keep her upright. She rode it out for her, didn’t let her fall, didn’t let her hide.
“Fuck, look at you,” Abby whispered, using her free hand to pull Ellie’s sweat-soaked hair away from her face. “So fucking perfect.”
Sagging in her arms, Ellie’s body trembled with the aftershocks. Abby cradled her close, pressing her face into her neck. She kept running her hand through her hair and murmured small praises.
After so long, that was everything she needed and more. It felt like confirmation of something—that Ellie was going to stay, that she cared about Abby.
Selfish, again.
The silence afterward was deafening.
Ellie’s breathing was shallow, almost inaudible. Her body was slack against Abby’s, but her muscles twitched now and then—little aftershocks, like her nervous system didn’t know how to shut down. Abby didn’t let go. She couldn’t.
She rested her chin on Ellie’s shoulder.
“I’m gonna get you cleaned up,” Abby murmured. Her voice was foreign to her. Raw.
Ellie didn’t answer.
Easing back just enough to tug Ellie’s underwear back up with trembling fingers, Abby pressed another kiss to her cheek. Then she turned the water on at the sink, ignoring the way it ran cold, and grabbed a rag.
Ellie didn’t look at her—just leaned heavily against the sink, eyes downcast, lips parted like she was still catching her breath.
“Hey,” she said gently, brushing a knuckle under Ellie’s chin to tilt her face up.
Their eyes met.
Something delicate ruptured open in Abby’s chest at the look she found there—dazed, red-rimmed, but still feisty beneath it all. Ellie had been somewhere far away. Somewhere Abby couldn’t reach.
So she didn’t ask. She just started wiping her down; her neck, jaw, under her eyes. Her movements were clumsy at first, unsure, but they steadied as instinct took over, the need to soothe outweighing her fear of Ellie’s reaction.
She cleaned the sweat from her chest, and the sticky shine from her thighs.
“I didn’t mean to—” Abby started, then stopped. Swallowed hard. “I mean. That was… a lot.”
Ellie’s throat bobbed. Then, softly: “I know.”
“You okay?”
“Yeah.” Ellie nodded. Then again, a little firmer. “Yeah. Are you?” Her gaze flicked up.
That undid her more than anything else. Abby laughed, barely. “Fuck if I know.”
She ran the cloth down Ellie’s arm, even though she’d just had a shower. Abby wanted an excuse to touch her for longer.
When she was done, she tossed the rag into the sink, then stood there, uncertain. Like she didn’t know where to put her hands anymore.
Ellie reached out and solved that for her—grabbed the front of Abby’s shirt, tugged her in, and rested her forehead against her chest.
It was quiet for a long time.
The silence stretched.
Abby cradled Ellie like she might vanish or detonate. Every breath that rose and fell beneath her arms was a reminder that Ellie was back, still real, still warm. And yet… still out of reach.
She watched the slope of Ellie’s shoulders, the mess of her hair clinging damp to her neck, the faint pink marks left behind. Hers. She’d meant to destroy the distance that had plagued her for months, but now, Abby only felt the sharp edge of it all.
Ellie was always quiet after. But inside Abby, everything screamed.
She wondered if Ellie thought about killing her again. If the old anger was still there. What did Ellie see when she looked at her? A mistake? A wound? Something less than human?
Abby remembered the way Ellie had sounded, moments before, when her voice cracked around her own need. That desperation had been real.
But now, she couldn’t stop picking it apart.
She wanted to believe that Ellie needed her. That maybe, just maybe, this wasn’t penance anymore—or at least not only that. But need and hate sat side by side in Ellie. Parallels of one another.
And Abby, always the fool, kept trying to tell them apart by touch alone.
If Ellie ever stopped coming back—if this, whatever this was, slipped away—Abby didn’t know if there’d be anything left inside of her worth salvaging.
So she held her tighter, and pretended she didn’t notice Ellie flinch just slightly before melting into it.
Then Ellie mumbled, voice muffled against Abby’s shirt: “You always take care of me after.”
Abby’s throat tightened. “Yeah. I always will.”
Another silence. This one a little softer.
“Don’t stop.”
She held her tighter.
“I won’t.”