Chapter Text
The last thing Ellie remembers before blacking out is rushing water and a very unstable school bus under her feet. The next is Marlene, eyes not inches from her face, telling Ellie: “Joel left. He took the car we had ready, and didn’t want to say goodbye.”
Ellie shakes her head. “You’re fucking lying,” she spits and watches Marlene flinch from the contact. It doesn’t make any sense, Joel leaving.
Even still, Marlene just sighs and puts her hand on Ellie’s knee, like she’s trying to be kind. But Ellie sees right through it. “He’s gone, Ellie. He did his job, he got you here safely. Now you can save the world.”
“Not without Joel,” Ellie says, and Marlene just sighs again.
“He’s already gone,” she insists. “I tried, Ellie. I was too late.”
“How can I do this without him?” Ellie whispers. “I’m - I’m doing this for him. I need him. I need Joel.” It doesn’t make any sense. Joel can’t leave. Joel - Joel calls her mija. He’s going to teach her Spanish and maybe guitar, too, if he can get his hands on one. They’re supposed to go home together, after this, to Jackson where a little yellow house is waiting for them, where Tommy and Maria are waiting for them, and Ellie’s never had a family before, but she’s had a Joel for a while now, and she knows families and Joels never leave without saying goodbye first.
She’s doing this for Joel. Ellie’s going to make a cure so that she never has to lose Joel, so he’ll never get sick like he does in her nightmares. But she can’t do it without him.
“You’re not doing this for Joel,” Marlene says, and takes Ellie’s backpack from her limp grip. “You’re doing this for the world. Can we get started, now?”
Ellie blinks. She nods, slow, and watches as Marlene leaves with Ellie’s backpack in tow. She can’t figure out why, but it feels like it’s the last time she’ll ever see that thing. A doctor comes up out of the shadows - Dr. Anderson, he says, and when he smiles it reminds her a little of Joel, gentle and old like a parent - and takes Ellie’s hand in his to lead her down the hall. It’s tempting to look back, but Ellie won’t give in.
On the other side of the world, just two doors and one floor above, Joel is huffing like a bull with at least four guns pointed at his head. “She doesn’t want to see you,” Marlene says.
“I don’t give a shit,” he replies, and his knuckles turn white while he restrains himself, trying desperately not to push forward against the weapons surrounding him. He’s smarter than any of these hogs, but they’ve got the upper hand for now. He’s still groggy, too, and a spot on his head is trickling blood from a fall he doesn’t remember taking. “Let me talk to her. Let me see it for myself.”
Marlene crosses her arms over her chest and glares at Joel like he is sorely inconveniencing her. “No,” Marlene says, insistent. “She has no obligation to speak to you. I can’t make her do anything she doesn’t want to do.”
“Please,” he tries, and his voice cracks around the vowels. It’s a sign of weakness he’s ashamed to be showing, but he’s weak when it comes to Ellie. That’s his girl.
“You’ve done your job.” Marlene gestures to open the door for her to leave and a guard obeys, one less gun trained on Joel’s face. “Leave. Let us do ours.”
Joel resists a while longer but in the end, when a shorter man with a crazed look in his eyes presses a pistol right up to Joel’s forehead and clicks the safety off, he relents. Joel is no good to Ellie if he’s dead. In a daze, Joel lets them push him down the hall and down the first flight of stairs and he’s supposed to go down another but, through the shaded glass window of a heavy iron door, he sees a dark green backpack with a familiar fuzzy purple keychain. He pauses.
A gun presses into the small of his back and he stumbles forward just a little, but stays looking at the bag. That’s Ellie’s. Why the hell would they just leave Ellie’s bag there, slouched by a trash can at the end of a hallway? She might not need the water in there or the first aid kits or the weapons, but she’ll want her books. They’ll keep her company. When Sarah was 9, she was in the hospital for 3 days with a broken leg and cried when a nurse accidentally moved her little gaming console out of reach. Won’t Ellie get bored? Lonely? Without her books or her little toys or - without Joel.
He doesn’t remember lifting his elbow to break the guard’s nose. He doesn’t remember pulling out the shiv they never found in his sock and jamming it up another guard’s chin. He doesn’t even remember taking the gun from one of them and shooting the third dead between the eyes. All he’s thinking is: Ellie. A second bullet goes through the first guard’s skull and he steps over the bodies with practiced ease. If Ellie was here, watching this, he’d be sick to his stomach. If Sarah knew what her daddy had become -
It doesn’t matter anymore. Joel will not lose another kid. Save the people you can, he figures, and so he does.
Joel kneels and takes the ammunition from the guards. They won’t be needing it anymore. He swings the heavy hospital door open and takes just three steps forward, grabs Ellie’s backpack and slings it over his shoulder. The hallway is empty, silent enough to hear a pin drop, but Joel knows Ellie is somewhere near. Like a bloodhound, he sniffs her out, figures she’s to the left and starts walking that way. Hopefully, his dad-honing instincts aren’t too rusty. 20 years ago, he could find Sarah by a stray curl in a crowd. He’d found Ellie at Silver Lake and he’ll find Ellie again.
He doesn’t have to go far. A minute or two later, when he’s only passed a handful of empty surgical rooms, a couple dozen feet away, a pair of double doors burst open and out comes a very bloody Ellie, huffing and puffing like she’s run a marathon without stopping. He darts forward and it feels sickeningly familiar when Ellie, shaking and basically catatonic, collapses in Joel’s arms with a hug.
“Joel,” she whines and kicks her leg like a dog. He imagines Ellie as a very sick puppy, and deliriously thinks she would’ve been real cute as one of those babies in a doggie costume. “I killed them.”
“Oh, Ellie,” he says, but she’s crying too loud to hear his voice.
“I didn’t mean to,” she sobs. “But - their hands - and I was just so scared I - I didn’t mean to.”
He pulls her in closer, squeezes her tighter, and says a prayer. He thanks a God he doesn’t believe in anymore for giving him a second chance. For letting him and Ellie have just one more day. Now, he can keep fighting for all the rest.
“That’s okay,” he says. “You were just protectin’ yourself. You did what you had a’ do.” He pushes Ellie behind him and says, “We’re gettin’ out of here, mija. Don’t you worry.”
When she grabs onto his flannel with her tiny fist, he remembers Sarah and the way she wrapped her hand around his finger the day she was born. He steps forward. He will not lose another daughter.
The first stretch of their escape reveals a few key pieces of information. Through sobs, Ellie explains that she was being strapped down to a hospital bed by a male nurse much, much larger than herself when she flipped out and dug a scalpel into the side of his neck. Then the doctor, who’d left the room, returned to free her and told Ellie he’d buy her some time. Now, they’re running low on what is left of that time. In fact, they only make it down one flight of stairs before a group of Fireflies come barreling through, guns pointed, and Joel shoots all four of them without mercy. Without even blinking. Ellie is hiding behind him, fingers still twisted around his shirt, but she doesn’t flinch, not even when the kickback of a gun Joel’s unfamiliar with causes his elbow to bump one of her shoulders lightly. “We keep moving, El,” he says, and she shuffles forward obediently.
Sarah would be scared, but Ellie is used to the violence. Just another way they’re different, he supposes. It’s a good reminder that Ellie is not Sarah, that she isn’t a replacement for something Joel lost a long time ago. Sarah is that broken watch on his wrist and the scar on his forehead and every purple flower or yellow butterfly. Ellie is - water. Air. Dirt. Guns and blood and coffee grounds and knives and the big, mossy rocks that she always picks up and turns in her hand before placing it meticulously exactly where she found it. He needs them both, and whether it makes sense to anyone else means absolutely nothing to him.
Another flight of stairs passes without commotion, and then they’re on the ground floor, where Joel was being led to take a car. All they have is what’s left of Ellie’s pack - who knows if the Fireflies took shit, and he hasn’t had a chance to check, and they took his shit - and the shiv he made and the gun he stole. He’ll get them out of here, get them all the way to Jackson if he has to, because he has to.
When the doors open, Marlene and a tall, thin white man are standing. Her gun’s in the air, pointed at him as she yells, and Ellie gasps. “No,” she whispers. They haven’t noticed Ellie and Joel yet. “That’s Dr. Anderson. He’s - I think he’s nice.”
“This is what she died for,” Marlene says, and it sounds like she’s going to cry.
“We can’t go back in time, Marlene,” says the doctor. “Anna’s dead. We can’t save her anymore, but we can save Ellie. Right? That’s what she would’ve wanted.”
“How the hell do you know what she would’ve wanted?” Marlene screams. Her hands wave and though the gun doesn’t move from Anderson, Joel takes a step forward and pushes Ellie behind him some more. A crazy person with a gun is a lot more dangerous than a sane one. “You didn’t fucking know Anna.”
“I’m a parent, Marlene, I’m telling you, she would’ve wanted Ellie safe. Joel - Joel can keep Ellie safe. That’s all anybody can do nowadays.”
“Ellie’s blood - the cure - it could save Abby. Don’t you even care about that?”
“I will not kill a little girl to save my own,” Anderson says, and Joel realizes what exactly they’re running from. They were strapping Ellie down to kill her. He had a feeling it was bad, but hearing it outright makes him tighten his grip around his gun and swing back his free hand to grab onto Ellie’s wrist. “I won’t let you make a monster out of me.”
“I will kill you,” Marlene growls, cries, stumbling forward to press the gun against Anderson’s chest.
“No,” Ellie screams, because she’s never quiet even when Joel really fucking needs her to be. He pushes her to the ground and slides her behind a car and raises his gun to Marlene just as she swings around, arm locked around Anderson’s neck with the lip of her pistol tucked into his forehead. The doctor, to his credit, doesn’t look scared at all.
“Go, Joel,” he says. “Find Abby. Please.”
Marlene spits, “Shut up, Jerry.”
Joel shakes his head. “What the hell is going on with you, Marlene?”
“I’m trying to save the world, Joel!” she screams. “Fuck! You can’t keep Ellie safe forever. You can’t. We - we can still do this. The three of us, we could save the world. Ellie’ll be remembered forever.”
“She’s a kid,” Anderson cries pitifully, the pressure on his throat letting words come through weakly as his face turns red from the lack of oxygen. “Let them go, Marlene.”
Marlene cocks the gun against the doctor’s temple and digs it in a little tighter. “I’ll kill him,” Marlene says. “I’ll fuckin’ do it.” Joel and Dr. Anderson - Jerry, maybe - make eye contact, and Joel knows what it means. He nods, as much as he can with Marlene’s fist beneath his chin, and Joel raises his pistol higher.
Just barely, Joel can hear Ellie crying from behind the car, but he has to do this. Anderson smiles at him when his head tilts, leaning in to align the sights of his gun with his target, and he closes his eyes, leans his head back just a little and breathes in deep.
And Joel shoots him.
Ellie screams and Anderson falls to the ground with a thud. Marlene collapses under the weight of his corpse and her gun slides out and skids across the floor. Joel is there in an instant, boot on her wrist and presses down when she struggles. “Where’s Abby?” Joel says. Marlene chokes when Anderson’s blood makes it to her face, but Joel doesn’t relent. “Where’s his fuckin’ kid, Marlene?”
“Next door,” she says finally. “Firefly. The - used to be radiology.”
“Ellie,” he shouts, “close your eyes, baby.”
“Joel,” she whimpers.
“Close ‘em for me,” he says, and after a beat, ‘cause Ellie always listens to him even if it takes some time, he puts his last bullet through Marlene’s skull.
Ellie stays in the truck when Joel pulls around front and walks into the imaging center with a tiny white recorder that was in Anderson’s pocket labeled ABBY . He keeps a pistol in his back pocket and the shiv in his shoe but is otherwise unarmed, hoping these Fireflies will let him go so this Abby girl can mourn her father in peace. He has no idea what to expect in this place, how old Abby is or what kind of work the Fireflies in this hideout get up to. All he has is the fortune Dr. Anderson gave to them, the time he bought for them.
He enters quietly, but not hiding. The door rattles when it closes behind him and someone, a girl or maybe a young woman, with her brown hair pulled into a fishtail braid and a brown leather bag strapped to her chest, swings around the corner with a gun. She’s holding it wrong.
“Who are you?” she demands. “Where the fuck are Marlene and Jerry?”
“I’m lookin’ for Abby,” he says.
She falters, and a man from behind her puts a hand on her shoulder. “What do you want with Abby?” the guy asks.
Joel slowly holds up the little device, baring out the palm of his hand for the Fireflies to see. “He left this for you. I’m - I’m sorry.”
“He’s - he’s fucking dead?” she screams, and Joel figures this is Abby when she steps closer with her gun, so he steps back.
“Abby,” someone says, like they’re trying to comfort her.
“He died saving Ellie,” Joel says, true. “Marlene killed him.” Less true.
Abby shakes her head. “Marlene would never,” she insists. “You - you killed him.”
“I killed her right after. I’m sorry for your loss. He told me to find you.”
She grabs the recorder from his hand and pushes him mercilessly to the floor. His ass hits the ground with a thud and he hisses under his breath. She puts the gun right up to his forehead and asks, “What is this? He left me a - a recording?”
“I didn’t listen,” Joel swears. “It was in his pocket. I’m just doin’ what he asked of me.”
Abby scoffs. “We’re gonna fucking listen to this, old man, and see what my dad had to say about it all.”
“Let me go back to Ellie,” he tries.
“Depends what I find on here.” She waves it in the air and then clicks.
April 28.
Marlene was right. The girl's infection is like nothing I've ever seen. The cause of her immunity is uncertain. As we've seen in all past cases, the antigenic titers of the patient's Cordyceps remain high in both the serum and the cerebrospinal fluid. Blood cultures taken from the patient rapidly grow Cordyceps in fungal-media in the lab... however white blood cell lines, including percentages and absolute-counts, are completely normal. There is no elevation of pro-inflammatory cytokines, and an MRI of the brain shows no evidence of fungal-growth in the limbic regions, which would normally accompany the prodrome of aggression in infected patients.
But. Fuck, she - she’s just a kid. Jesus, I’m stupid. What am I doing? Marlene is going to kill me.
…
She’s probably - 12? 13? She’s real little, she might even be younger, I can’t tell. Marlene didn’t tell me she was so little. I - I can’t do this to a kid. Torture her to - shit. I remember when you were little like that. Damn. You’re 18, now - ain’t it crazy how time flies? You’re all grown up. But she’s…
The surgery requires she stay fully conscious while we drill into her brain. She’ll feel everything. She’ll be in immeasurable pain and then she’ll die. I can’t do this to - to - her name is Ellie. Her dad is Joel, he’s - I thought she’d been older.
What the hell am I doing…
…
Fuck the world. Oh, god. Fuck the world. Fuck Marlene. Fuck the Fireflies. I’m - I’m gonna save Ellie. Shit. I’ll buy her some time.
I’m sorry, Abby, I’m so sorry. I have to do this. I can’t - I won’t kill Ellie. I’m leaving all my research in the office, Abby, and - I want you to live a great long life. Try to study it, see if you can find another way. Maybe one day, you and Ellie can save the world together. For your dads. That’s - that’s beautiful. Shit. Uh, be nice to Owen. He wants the best for you. But if you don’t like him, that’s okay, and no man is ever good enough for you anyways. Don’t let the anger eat you up. Ask - ask Joel to show you how to hold a gun. You can do anything you set your mind to, honey. I believe in you.
I love you, Abs. Jeez. I love you. I’m sorry.
The recording ends with a beep and Abby shakes her head. She falls to the ground, her knees hitting the floor with such a loud thump it has even Joel wincing.
“Show me,” she cries, holding out her hand. “Show me how to hold a gun!”
Joel shuffles forward and fixes her grip. It’s just her knuckles, really, so he lines up her fingers. “You steady it with your left hand,” he says, and remembers how Ellie held the gun like she was in a cowboy movie. “Squeeze the trigger like you love it.”
Abby scoffs. “That’s so dumb.” She shakes her head. “This is so dumb.”
“You can come with us,” Joel says, because Ellie’s bleeding heart is getting to him and he knows she would want him to offer. Abby’s got Fireflies, sure, but the Fireflies are terrorists and Ellie’s friendly like a stray dog. “There’s a town out west. A community.”
Abby shakes her head and tears drip out onto her gun. “I gotta finish what he started,” she whispers. His hands pull away and she adjusts her hands to press down in all the places Joel did. “Like this?” she asks.
“That’s great,” he says. “Just like that.”
“Go,” the man calls, stepping forward and waving his arms at them. “Just - please. Go.”
“I’ll find you,” Abby says, and it sounds equal parts like a threat and a promise. “I’ll figure out a cure and I’ll find Ellie.”
“I believe it,” Joel replies. “I believe in you.”
“Go,” Abby whispers, and Joel scampers out of there before she changes her mind.
Ellie is asleep in the backseat of the car, curled up in a hospital gown Joel hadn’t noticed was so bloody before. She looks tiny in this slumber and Joel remembers what Dr. Anderson said, that he thought she was 12 or 13 or maybe even younger, and he gets it, here. Ellie’s little, her face young even when it’s hardened and her eyes soft even when they’re closed. He takes off his flannel and drapes it around her legs and slides into the front seat, starts the car with a prayer that it’ll take them all the way to Jackson. He doesn’t pray to God, though.
He prays to Jerry.
Thank you, he says, and pictures the green eyes staring back at him in the garage. He remembers how it felt to lift up that body and wrap it in cloth, to tuck it shallowly into the flower bed just outside the hospital, and hopes he can make it up to Ellie for the rest of her life.
All these people who have died to save the world, but it turns out, Ellie’s the world. That means something, doesn’t it? It means that Joel flinched for a reason. Doesn’t it?
I owe you one, he says to Jerry, something he never says because he hates owing anybody and especially not strangers because he really truly means it every time, and starts moving the only way he knows how. Forward.