Chapter Text
The gunshot still echoes through the room when Joel moves to Ellie’s side and kneels to block Henry’s body from view. Blood, metallic and cloying, overshadows the musty scent of an abandoned building. She’s pale, chin wobbling as unfocused eyes track to his face.
“Th-they…”
“I know.” He steadies her with a palm between her shoulder blades. Her whole body is trembling under his touch. “Other room.”
“But—”
“Other room,” he insists, grip gentle as he pulls her up. “C’mon, now.”
Ellie takes a few hesitant steps toward the door before Joel notices it: blood, soaking down her side.
Fuck. Fuck.
He yanks her back, frantic as he pulls up the hem of her shirt. Dark red seeps through the fabric as he searches for the source. “Jesus,” he breathes, spotting the wound. “Okay, you’re okay. Keep goin’.”
She stares at him in confusion, still trying to catch her breath from the terror of being attacked. “What?”
“Just keep movin’.” With his hand on her back, Joel forces her forward until bodies no longer surround them. He needs space to work, needs to get her away from the carnage before shock sets in. With one movement, he sweeps the cans off the large crate, then focuses on Ellie. “Up,” he says, voice low as he boosts her to sit.
“What’s wrong?” she asks. He can hear the fear creeping into her tone.
“I think you were shot,” he tells her, keeping his tone as calm and steady as he’s able. Possibilities and practicalities speed through his mind. How bad is it? What does he have to work with? How long until the adrenaline wears off and she crashes?
Ellie’s eyes widen, her mouth working soundlessly. “I didn’t… I don’t feel it.”
“Adrenaline,” he mutters. “Lie down on your side.” His voice is gruff, but he keeps his touch light as he guides her down, cushioning her head. Once she’s situated, he drops to one knee so they’re face to face. He squeezes her trembling wrist as he offers, “It’s just a nasty graze. You’ll be okay.” Ellie nods as Joel brings her hand to the wound. “Press here, hard as you can. I need my pack.”
When he takes a step away, she scrambles for him. “No, Joel—”
“Thirty seconds,” he promises, careful to prevent Ellie from seeing his own panic. “Keep pressin’.”
Joel rushes to retrieve his pack, blood pounding in his ears as he grabs it and hurries back to Ellie’s side. She’s half sitting up, twisted to get a better look. Her face is even paler, a sheen of sweat glistening on her forehead. Another girl, another gunshot wound…
Can’t think like that. Not now.
“Nuh-uh, no lookin’.” Joel presses her down once again. The last thing she needs is to see how much blood she’s losing. “Feelin’ it yet?”
There’s terror in her eyes when she looks up at him. “Starting to.” Her voice is shaky — whether it’s from pain or anxiety, he can’t tell. Probably both.
With a nod, Joel squeezes her arm before rummaging through their meager supplies. He grabs what he’ll need to treat the wound, grateful for Tess’s paranoia. She always insisted he carry two suture kits. If they’re lucky, he won’t have to use one today. After a second of hesitation, he takes out half an oxy and bends to catch her eye. This is going to hurt her like hell; she’s better off taking something now. “You got any allergies?”
“I don’t think so,” she whispers. “They didn’t give us much.”
Joel nods and splits the medication, uncapping his canteen and pressing it into her hand. “Take this. Should help the pain.”
Ellie swallows the pill with a grimace, her fingers trembling as she hands the water back to Joel. He sets it aside and steadies himself for what comes next. Keep her awake, keep her calm, keep her alive. “You’ll be alright,” he murmurs, his movements gentle as he lifts her hand away from the wound. “Get ya fixed right up.”
Joel ignores the slight tremor in his hands as he peels back the blood-soaked shirt. It doesn’t matter how many times he’s done this — it never becomes easier, not when it’s someone who matters. The wound is messy, but not as deep as he feared. It’s a graze, angry and bleeding steadily. So long as he gets it under control soon, this is not life-threatening. Still, it’s bad enough to need immediate attention.
He looks down to find Ellie’s gaze fixed on his face. It strikes him how she’s looking for him to tell her everything’s going to be okay. That she’ll be okay. “Barely a scratch. You’ll be fine.” She nods, bottom lip firmly between her teeth. “Press again while I get everything set. Hard as you can.”
Joel positions her hand, squeezing her wrist when she lets out a pained cry that wrenches something in his gut. Once he’s sure she’s steady, he folds the shirt and then removes his belt, folding it in half. He ducks into her eyeline once more. “Gonna hurt like hell.”
“What are you doing?” Her breathing becomes increasingly ragged as pain and understanding settle in.
“Pressure to stop the bleeding. Open,” he murmurs, tapping her chin and showing her the belt before slotting it into place. “Bite this; we don’t need you crackin’ a tooth.”
She mumbles something around the leather as Joel gingerly removes her hand from the wound and places it on his forearm. Her grip is already tight, fingernails digging in. “Squeeze as much as you need. Deep breath in, hold it, then out hard through your mouth. Got it?”
Ellie nods, her eyes wide with fear and a trust he hasn’t earned and certainly doesn’t deserve. They’re in this mess because he failed to protect her. Joel rests his hip against the crate and counts down: “Three, two, one…” On cue, the girl inhales and holds it.
“Now,” he commands. As Ellie exhales, he presses the wadded cloth against the wound, exerting as much force as he dares.
The belt muffles Ellie’s resulting scream, her body arching in pain. Joel uses his free hand to keep her still. “Whoa, easy. Easy, girl. Breathe through it.” Tears stream down her face as she whimpers around the leather, doing her best to steady her breath. “Hang in there,” he encourages. “Should get a little better in a minute.”
Joel maintains the pressure, his jaw clenched tight as he watches Ellie struggle through the pain. Her fingers dig into his skin, leaving crescent-shaped marks in their wake. He keeps his eyes locked on her face to gauge her pain levels and watch for signs of shock. “Doin’ real good,” he murmurs, squeezing her upper arm with his free hand. “Almost there.”
Ellie has her eyes squeezed shut, her breath coming in sharp gasps around the belt. Joel can see the effort it takes to stay still, to not fight against his hold. After what feels like an eternity, he slowly eases up on the pressure. The cloth is soaked through, but the bleeding has slowed.
He touches her cheek, frowning at the clammy skin as he reaches for the belt. “You can stop bitin’ now. How we doin’?”
“Fucking fantastic,” she grates, squinting up at him. “How much more?”
With a sigh, Joel kneels next to the crate so they’re eye to eye. “I need to clean it, then rinse it with alcohol. And it needs to be stitched.”
“Motherfucker.” Ellie squeezes her eyes shut with a nod before looking at him with determination. “Okay,” she says, her voice barely above a whisper. “Just… be fast.”
“Be quick as I can,” he promises. “That pill should kick in soon.” Joel stands, patting her arm before cleaning the wound, trying to be gentle but thorough. Blood has already clotted around the edges — that’s something, at least. Ellie hisses through clenched teeth, her fingers digging into the edge of the crate. He works silently, his brow furrowed in concentration.
When he’s done, Joel crouches in front of Ellie, frowning at her pale complexion. “How bad?”
“Getting worse,” she admits breathlessly. Her honesty catches him off guard; he expected her to minimize the pain to maintain a tough front. “Joel?”
“Hm?”
“I’m scared.”
She’s just a kid. Fourteen years old and scared out of her mind because she got shot. For a moment, he softens, running his hand down her arm until he makes contact with her fingers. “I know,” he acknowledges, squeezing with surprising gentleness. Joel takes a deep breath, steeling himself for what comes next. He reaches for the belt again, folding it as Ellie watches.
“It’s gonna be bad?” She sounds… small. Vulnerable. Like another girl used to when she had nightmares. Of course, those nightmares couldn’t hold a candle to reality these days.
Nodding, he taps her chin, slotting the belt into place once more. “Should only last a minute or two. Once I start, I ain’t stoppin’ ’til I’m done. Be better that way.” Joel examines her for a second, then touches her forehead with the back of his hand, frowning at the too-cool skin. It’s not a good sign. “You can do this.”
He picks up the alcohol and unscrews the cap. “Deep breaths,” he reminds her, then pours the liquid over the wound.
Ellie’s scream is raw and piercing. Every long-buried parental instinct claws at him, trying to surface. Her body jerks, nearly toppling off the crate until Joel gets a good grip on her. “I know it hurts, I know,” he consoles, voice steady. “Easy now, we’re almost done.”
By the time he finishes, Ellie is panting, tears running down her face unchecked. Joel rests his hip on the crate and wets another strip of cloth. “It’ll pass,” he murmurs, dabbing away the wetness. “Just keep breathin’.”
“F-fuck,” she gasps when she manages to open her eyes. “Remind me never to get shot again.”
“You got it.” If he has anything to say about it, she never will be. Joel studies her closely, brow furrowed when she shows no sign of the pain receding. She’s still breathing too fast, too shallow. He needs to help her calm down before he can start stitching.
“Hey,” he says softly, ducking to catch her eye. Her pupils are still dilated, but she’s focusing on him. “You’re doin’ good, but I need you to slow it down.”
Ellie nods jerkily, her eyes wide and glassy with pain. She’s trying — he can see it in the way her chest heaves — but she has no success. He crouches so they’re face-to-face and takes her hand, pressing it to his breastbone.
“Match me. In… out. There you go.”
For a few minutes, they breathe together until Ellie’s gasps even out into steadier inhales and exhales. The color doesn’t return to her cheeks, but she’s more aware. “You got it,” he murmurs, squeezing gently before releasing her hand.
When he’s sure she’s as calm as possible under the circumstances, Joel reaches for the suture kit. The plastic crinkles as he opens it to lay the tools within reach. “Alright,” he says, voice low and steady. “This is goin’ to hurt, but I need you to stay still. Understand?”
Ellie stares at him, her chest rising and falling in measured breaths. She squeezes her eyes shut, brow furrowing. Thinking it through, he realizes. Reviewing her options. “I think you need to hold me down,” she mumbles.
Joel nods, his jaw clenching. Causing additional pain, even when it’s necessary, stirs guilt deep in his gut. This is going to be torture for both of them.
“Alright.” He considers the options, patting her arm. The floor is their best option; she won’t fall, and he’ll be able to keep her still. “Let’s get you down. We don’t need to be fallin’ off this thing.”
She nods, biting back a cry of pain when he helps her onto the floor. Cold seeps into his knees from the concrete as he positions himself. As soon as they’re finished, he needs to get her bundled up as best he can. He kneels to pin her legs beneath him. It feels wrong to restrain her like this, but their options are very limited. “This okay?”
“Yeah,” Ellie breathes, opening her mouth without prompting when he picks up the belt.
“Deep breaths,” he reminds her, taking one of his own partly to demonstrate, partly to steady himself. “In through your nose, out through your mouth, nice ’n even. Ready?”
She nods again, biting down on the belt. Joel takes a steadying breath of his own before beginning to stitch the wound closed. Ellie’s body goes rigid as the needle pierces her skin, a strangled scream escaping. Her hands scrabble at the floor, searching for something to grip. He pauses, letting her find purchase on his jeans before continuing.
“You’re doin’ great,” he murmurs, voice steady as he stitches. “Keep breathin’.”
“Doesn’t… feel great,” she mutters breathily.
“I know, kiddo.”
Joel works as quickly as he’s able, his movements steady despite the tension in his muscles. Ellie’s muffled cries pierce the air, the tremor in her body growing stronger as he continues. Her fingers press into his leg, white-knuckled with the effort of staying still.
“Gettin’ there,” he murmurs, tying off another stitch. Four down, and the wound already looks more manageable. “Two more.”
Tears leak from the corner of Ellie’s eyes, her chest heaving with ragged breaths. Joel pauses again, resting his free hand on her shoulder. “Stay with me. Another minute and we’re done.”
She manages a small nod, her grip on his jeans tightening. With a deep breath, he focuses on his task, trying to block out the sounds of her pain. But each whimper slices through his concentration, each muffled cry a reminder of the other people he couldn’t protect.
Joel ties off the final stitch and lets out a long breath. “Finished,” he says gently, touching her cheek before removing the belt from Ellie’s mouth. She’s paler now, shaking in earnest.
“You did good, kid,” he murmurs, patting her shoulder. “Just needs a bandage, then you can rest.” As he disentangles her fingers from his pants and moves off her, the girl makes a weak noise. “Ellie?”
No response. Shit.
Joel taps her cheek, concern ratcheting up when she doesn’t react. “Hey, Ellie? Eyes open, kid. C’mon, let’s see ‘em.”
“Don’t feel good.” Her words are thick, slurred, like she’s drunk.
He keeps his voice calm as he runs through the next steps. Wrap the wound, elevate her legs, and keep her hydrated and warm. “I know. Can I get you up? Just need to bandage you now.”
Ellie’s eyes flutter open, unfocused and glassy. She nods, trying to push herself to sit on arms that look ready to buckle. Joel slips an arm behind her shoulders, supporting most of her weight.
“Lean on me,” he instructs, wrapping the bandage around her torso. She complies without a word, her head lolling against his shoulder. As he secures the gauze, Ellie lurches forward and gags. Joel turns her just in time, holding her steady as she dry heaves. “Whoa, s’okay,” he murmurs, supporting her through each shudder and gasp. When the retching subsides, he eases her to rest against him. Her skin is clammy, her breathing shallow and more rapid than before.
He needs to lie her flat, manage the shock setting in before it becomes a real problem. At least he knows what to do; smuggling isn’t exactly safe, and he’s nursed Tess and Tommy through their fair share of injuries.
“Alright, let’s get you down,” he says, lowering her to the floor with care. He elevates her legs on his backpack and squeezes her ankle. “Right back.”
Joel returns with both his jacket and the blanket. Gingerly, he works the jacket beneath her to act as a barrier against the concrete, then drapes the scratchy wool over Ellie’s shivering form. He kneels beside her, pressing two fingers to her neck. Her pulse is rapid and weaker than he’d like, but steady.
“How you holdin’ up?” he asks gruffly.
“Cold,” she mumbles without opening her eyes.
“I know. It’ll pass.” Joel tucks the blanket tighter around her. “Rest now.”
He sits beside her, his back against the crate. For a while, the only sound is Ellie’s shallow breathing as he keeps vigil.
“Joel?”
“Yeah?”
“Are they really…?” Her voice cracks on the question.
Joel’s jaw tightens. He’d prefer not to answer, but he owes her the truth. Henry and Sam deserve that much, and so does she.
“Yeah,” he says quietly. “They’re gone.”
She turns her face away, chest hitching when a ragged sob escapes. “Know it’s hard, but you need to stay calm right now. Focus on that breathin’.”
Her hand fumbles weakly, searching. Joel hesitates for a moment before guiding it to rest on his knee. The contact seems to give her something to focus on that isn’t pain. “I’m right here,” he promises. “Nice’n slow now. That’s it.”
Ellie’s breathing steadies as she clings to Joel’s knee. Her eyes remain closed, silent tears still leaking from the corners. After several minutes of counting the girl’s breaths in silence, she speaks again. “Joel?”
“Hm?”
“Are we leaving today?”
Joel sighs heavily, running a hand over his face. He looks down at Ellie, shaking his head slightly. She’s in no condition to travel, not like this. “No,” he says. “Should be safe enough here for a day or two. Give you time to heal up.”
Ellie’s eyes drag open, glassy but searching for him. “We haf’ta bury them.”
“You need to rest. Close your eyes.”
She shakes her head, frowning as she tries to focus. Even drugged and hurt, she’s too stubborn for her own damn good. “They’re our friends. We have to.”
They only knew those boys for two days. He recognizes how she grew attached to Sam, but he hadn’t realized just how desperately she wanted a friend. Did she leave any friends behind in Boston? She told Tess she didn’t.
“Ellie, you’re in no shape to be movin’ around,” he chides, touching her shoulder. “Can’t have those stitches tearin’.”
She opens her mouth to protest, but he cuts her off. “No arguments. You ain’t gettin’ up, and that’s final.”
“Will you do it?” Her voice is small and pleading. And goddamn effective.
Joel sighs, his gaze fixed on the opposite wall. “Alright,” he agrees quietly, resting his hand on top of hers. “But not now.”
“Why?”
Too many goddamn questions. “Need to keep an eye on you.”
As he watches, confusion clouds Ellie’s face as she shakes her head. “I won’t get up.”
“I’ll do it when you’re feelin’ stronger.” Later, when he can’t see the rapid beat of blood at the base of her neck and her skin isn’t the color of paper.
Ellie’s frown deepens, her eyelids drooping with each blink. “But… they shouldn’t be left like that,” she whispers, her voice cracking.
He sighs again, his thumb absently moving over the back of her hand. “I know, kid. But you’re my priority. We’ll take care of them. Just… not yet.”
She nods weakly, her eyes finally closing. “‘Kay,” she murmurs, loosening her grip as exhaustion takes over.
“Get some sleep.” After a few minutes, he squeezes her fingers, then moves her hand under the blanket.
Ellie refuses to let go.
Joel squeezes again, huffing when she only tightens her hold. “I ain’t leavin’.”
“I know,” she mumbles without releasing him.
“Alright,” he sighs. His knee is already complaining, but he doesn’t have the heart to move. “You just relax.”
Joel sits in silence, watching Ellie’s chest rise and fall with each shallow breath as he keeps his mind from wandering to the blood and the bodies and the almost-lost-her. Eventually, he tips his head to lean against the crate, closing his eyes.
“Joel?”
Surprisingly, she’s still awake; he thought the pill would have knocked her out by now.
“Hm?”
“Are we floating?”
He restrains an amused snort; she’s high as a kite. “You ain’t floatin’ on my watch, kid.”
“Feels like it,” she mumbles, her grip on his hand tightening, as if she might drift away.
“That’s the medicine,” he explains softly. “It’ll pass.”
“‘Kay.” Ellie struggles to open her eyes, frustrated when she doesn’t manage. “But you gotta hold on to me, okay? Just in case.”
Joel refuses to dwell on the vulnerability in her voice. The trust in those words — that he’ll keep her safe while the world spins around her — is disarming. Damning. “Sure, kiddo,” he concedes, readjusting his grip on her hand. Her skin finally warming under his. “Back to sleep.”
“Mmkay.” She sounds like she’s barely awake, but threads her fingers through his. “Don’t bury ‘em without me.”
“I won’t. Go on now.”
“Go where?”
“To sleep.”
With a pained frown, Ellie turns onto her side, facing him. “That’s dumb. Sleep isn’t a place,” she slurs without opening her eyes.
Joel grunts, reaching to gauge her temperature when he notices that her shivering has lessened. “How ‘bout you check, make sure?”
With a hum, she presses into the touch. “S’nice.”
“Less talkin’, more sleepin’,” he chides.
“Put the warm thing back,” she demands, wincing when lifting her arm aggravates the wound.
Capturing her wrist, Joel leans forward to tuck it under the blanket. “Knock it off,” he warns. “Gonna rip those stitches.” He places his hand on top of her head, thumb resting against her hairline. “Better?”
“Mmhm,” Ellie hums. “Warm.”
“Good. Sleep now.”
“‘Kay.” She sniffles, fingers tightening around his. “Thanks, Joel.”
He watches as her breathing starts to even out. Still too shallow, but the tension and pain leech from Ellie’s face as sleep claims her. When Ellie is asleep, he extricates his hand and stands, stretching the stiffness from his back and legs.
Christ. He’s only had the kid with him for five days, and she’s already been shot. The thought turns his stomach. Joel paces the room, rubbing a hand through his hair as he considers their next move. He has sufficient medical supplies to get Ellie through her injury, but it will deplete them more than he’d hoped. Tess always insisted they plan for the worst-case scenario. Guess this qualifies… at least there’s enough food to keep them going for a little while.
Joel heads for the other room, pausing at the door to observe Ellie. She looks so young under that blanket, fragile in a way that makes him want to bundle her up until danger can’t touch her again. Her face is pale, brow furrowed even in sleep. There’s no choice but to wait until she’s more stable before he ventures out in search of supplies. In the meantime, he’ll move the boys’ bodies down to the utility room and scavenge for whatever he can find.
He moves Henry first. It’s an effort to carry the body instead of dragging it, but the brothers deserve some dignity. They were just kids, two more casualties of a world that wants them all dead. He needs to find something to cover what’s left of their heads. Ideally, he’ll wrap them so Ellie can’t see what remains.
She’s already seen it, but to make her face it again...
Tending to Sam is far more difficult. The kid weighs nothing, all sharp angles and too-thin limbs. He’s lighter but harder to carry. Joel tries not to think about how small, how innocent, Sam looks. He keeps his mind firmly on his plan for the rest of the day as he lays the boy next to his brother. Focus on the practical, not the past.
Joel stands, staring down at the boys as he offers something like a prayer into the silence. He’s not sure he believes in anything anymore, but it ain’t right to leave them here without acknowledgment of what they were. Then with a sharp nod, he gets to work. Luck is on his side; several tarps are tucked into a box in the adjacent closet. He uses two to wrap the bodies and brings the others up to Ellie. They’ll come in handy when it rains and when they sleep rough.
He pokes his head into the smaller room to find Ellie moving restlessly, soft whimpers escaping every so often. When her face twists in pain, Joel moves to intervene.
“Hush now,” he murmurs, kneeling. He rests his hand on Ellie’s head, frowning at the heat radiating from her skin. Too warm. Definitely running a fever.
Her eyes drag open, struggling to focus. “Joel?”
“Right here,” he assures her. “How’re you feelin’?”
“Shitty.” Ellie grimaces, shifting. “Everything hurts.”
Joel nods, his brow furrowed in concern. “Yeah. Got a bit of a fever.”
“Yippee.”
“Can you manage some water?”
Nodding, Ellie allows him to support her as she takes a few small sips. He eases her down and then checks the bandage covering her wound, sighing in relief; the stitches are holding and no fresh blood seeps through.
“Back to sleep.”
Ellie’s eyes are already drifting closed, but she reaches toward him and mumbles, “Please don’t leave.”
“I’ll be right here,” he assures her, adjusting the blanket to make sure she’s covered.
As Ellie slips back to sleep, Joel settles himself against the crate. He should scour the building for supplies, but he can’t bring himself to leave her alone again. Not when she’s running a temperature, not when she continually asks for reassurance that he’s with her.
He watches Ellie sleep fitfully for a while before grabbing his pack to catalog his remaining pills. Plenty of oxy to get through the next day or two. Three days of antibiotics — it’s not much, but it’s something.
The other room is the only path to the hallway; he doesn’t want Ellie to see the carnage when they pass through it. She’s been through enough without having to step over bloodstains as she moves around. It’s gruesome work. Joel sets about disposing of the gore and wiping down the floor and walls. After a couple of hours, the space is as clean as he can make it. Not perfect, but at least it no longer resembles a slaughterhouse. He gathers Henry and Sam’s belongings, setting them aside to go through with Ellie later. She’ll want to keep something of theirs.
When he returns to Ellie’s side, he sighs with relief; her forehead is dotted with sweat and noticeably cooler to the touch. Hopefully, this means they dodged a bullet. Well, so to speak.
It’s well into the afternoon when he realizes neither of them has had any food today. His own stomach has been gnawing at him, but he learned to ignore that long ago. Ellie, however, needs the calories to heal. “Hey,” he murmurs, stroking her arm. “Need you to eat somethin’, kid.”
She stirs, face wrinkling as she turns her head toward him. “Not hungry,” she mumbles.
“Don’t matter.”
She begrudgingly allows Joel to help her sit with her back to the crate. The movement is careful and stilted, but she doesn’t seem to hurt as much. “You know I hate you, right?” she mutters when he spears a peach slice and holds it out to her. The fork vibrates with the trembling of her hands.
“Ain’t the first time I’ve heard that,” he smirks when Ellie huffs.
“You were never Miss Boston QZ, huh?” she snarks, wincing as she aggravates her side.
“Came close once,” he says in a serious tone. “Almost made Miss Area 4.”
Ellie snorts, then grimaces. “Ow. Don’t make me laugh.”
“Sorry,” he answers, not sounding apologetic. He holds out another piece of peach. “C’mon now, take a few more bites.”
She takes the fruit and begins to chew with reluctance. “This is humiliating,” she grumbles.
He shrugs, turning the fork around for Ellie to take. “If you’d rather knock the can over…”
“Oh, fuck off.” But she takes the utensil, which was exactly what he’d hoped for.
They fall into silence as she eats. When she’s had about half the can, she turns her head away. “I’ll puke if I eat more.”
Joel nods, setting the food aside. She ate more than he expected. “How’s the pain?”
Ellie’s brow furrows as she takes stock of herself. “Still hurts,” she admits. “But it’s not as bad. More like a constant ache unless I move wrong.”
He nods, reaching for the oxy. “Time for another dose. Should take the edge off so you can sleep.”
Ellie eyes the medication warily, brows pinching together. “Is it going to make everything spin and float again?”
“Might,” Joel says. “Probably not as much; this is half what I gave you before.”
She sighs but holds her hand out for the pill. He passes it over with the canteen. When she’s swallowed the medication, he rechecks her bandages.
“Lookin’ good,” he murmurs.
Craning her neck, Ellie asks, “Am I going to have a kick-ass scar?”
“Maybe,” Joel shrugs, settling next to her.
Silence fills the room as they sit side-by-side, lost in their thoughts. Dust floats through the air, highlighted by the sunlight streaming through the windows. After a while, she says, “It’s good that Sam attacked me and not you.”
Joel sits forward, turning to the girl with a frown. “What do you mean?”
She rolls her head toward him, her eyes glassy — the medication must have kicked in. “It travels through blood and spit and whatever, right? So the bullet that went through Sam had cordyceps on it. So it’s good that Sam was on top of me, ‘cause if you got shot through him, you’d be infected.”
Joel stares at Ellie for a long moment, his brow furrowing as the implication of what she’s saying sinks in. He hadn’t even considered that possibility.
“Jesus,” he mutters, running a hand over his face. “You’re right.”
Ellie nods, her eyelids drooping as she struggles to stay awake. “So it’s good,” she slurs, fighting against the pull of drug-induced sleep, “that I got shot. Not you.”
“Don’t say that,” he says, voice gruff. “Ain’t nothin’ good about you gettin’ shot.”
“But you’d be infected,” she insists with a slow blink. “And then you’d… you’d have to die. I don’t want you to die.”
“No one’s dyin’.” Joel shifts, grabbing her canteen and holding it out. “Have some water, then you need to rest.”
“But Joel—”
“Enough,” he cuts her off. Sitting here while Ellie talks about being expendable makes him sick to his stomach. “Drink.”
She glares blearily over the top of her bottle before handing it back. “I’m still glad it was me,” she grumbles as Joel helps her ease down. “Be fucked without you.”
With a heavy sigh, he adjusts the blanket over Ellie. “Just rest now,” he murmurs, careful to keep his tone soft.
Her eyes are already closing, but she reaches out to fist her hand in the hem of his shirt. When did she become so reliant upon him? Better yet, why? “You won’t leave, right?”
“Not without you,” he promises, tucking her hand under the blanket.
As Ellie drifts off, Joel settles against the crate, his mind racing. She’s little more than a stranger, but she’s relieved that she took a bullet instead of him. Grateful, even. The thought lingers uncomfortably in his chest, right along with the echo of Tess’s final instruction. When was the last time he cared whether he lived or died? He can’t remember, but now…
Now, a little girl needs his help, and he’ll do his damndest to live up to that expectation.