#back & forth

Her eyes were stuck on the back of the door. 

It was a nauseating shade of yellow with flakes of ancient paint curling away, exposing fissured grey wood beneath. It was bleak and bland, yet Ellie found her eyes glued to it, silently urging it to swing open again. She harbored a flickering hope that Joel would reconsider, that he would come back, that he wouldn't venture out there alone—or at least, not without her. 

Seconds stretched into agonizing minutes, but the door remained still. 

Ellie was alone.

Her breathing was uneven, her chest rising and falling silently in the chilly bathroom, the icy tiles biting at her bare feet and goosebumps blossoming on her exposed legs. 

The glance had been quick as Joel had dragged her down the hall, but she had seen enough: flames greedily nibbling at the couch's base, devouring dust and aged fabric, scorching it with too much ease, spreading upwards and onwards. And now she could smell it. 

One time, a records room at FEDRA went up in flames and she had to help bring water buckets to it. For some reason, it smelt just like that, almost to a T. It was smoky, yet also had a musty sort of aroma with faint hints of wet logs and old paper.

Ellie's fingers nervously palmed her switchblade, flicking it open and closed in a rhythmic pattern. Her mouth was going dry and her throat was beginning to feel tight as she envisioned the progress of it all, flames now hungry and angry, consuming everything in its path. 

She hoped not everything - not Joel. 

Joel - who was now braving the flames that were spreading across the living space, licking up the walls, cascading across the floor. 

His eyes darted around, trying to suddenly make sense of the situation, which wasn’t really all that hard of course: their shelter was on fire. 

Actually no - it wasn’t just on fire - someone had lit it on fire. Someone was lighting it on fire.

A targeted attack to flush them out, or hell, just burn them alive. 

With a lung-searing breath, Joel hastily gathered their rifles and their packs, sidestepping hot fiery pools of flames. His head was on a swivel as he tried to see what else had been left in the room, what could be saved - they had so little now, they couldn’t afford to lose any of it.

The blaze spread rapidly, growing as it joined their once small corner fire. Running along the perimeter, flames enveloped the thin curtains, transforming them into fiery veils. Smoke filled the room, stinging Joel's eyes and clogging his lungs, the heat pricking his skin like countless tiny pins

Squinting, Joel zeroed in on Ellie’s jeans and boots by the couch. When he took a step forward to retrieve them, his foot struck an object, sending it rolling. With time he didn’t have, he paused for a moment, eyes following as it traveled across the floor, coming to a halt against the baseboard of the wall a few feet away.  

A wine bottle, stuffed with cloth, somehow unbroken. 

Fucking molotovs. 

He knew that’s what they had been throwing, but seeing the evidence of it made anger in his heart smolder just as hot as the flames in the room, and it pounded with equal parts rage and urgency as he tore his eyes away and clenched his jaw. 

With a pained groan, he hastily reached down to grab Ellie’s stuff, their packs, and his rifle almost slipping off his back in the process. The moment he was straight again, he heard it - another crash, this time followed by a distant holler - words indistinguishable. 

They were coming for them. 

If fear hadn't already tightened its grip on his chest, it did now - viscerally enough that it was painful. 

He stayed eerily still for a moment, waiting for another crash, another yell, but the only sounds to fill his ears were the pops and snaps of the growing fire. 

Carefully, he crossed the living room to an unbroken window and brought his face to the glass, nose hitting the now warm pane. The sun was making its way up the horizon, bathing the outside in a warm glow that eerily matched the color of the burning living room. He could see the light of the flames refracting off, creating dancing shadows across the white snow. 

It would have been almost pretty if it wasn’t a sign of something so deadly.

He scoured the treeline, searching for whoever was out there. 

He knew it had to be the people from the resort, but couldn’t wager a guess about how many. By the rate at which the Molotovs had been thrown - at least two. But, there could be so many more - a fucking resort’s worth. 

Taking down a couple had been a strain - more? - jesus fuck. 

Joel held his breath as he stared and waited as long as he could, hoping to catch a glimpse of what was lurking out there. Sweat mingled with soot on his brow, the intense heat making his skin tingle uncomfortably, each breath becoming harder against the smokey air as his eyes moved around, scanning relentlessly. 

His heart was torn between the instinct to flee and the possibility of bringing Ellie out into danger - out into a potential ambush.  They could run, but neither were in much condition to make it far. Not in the cold. Not with injuries like there’s. Not trailed by people who knew the terrain far better than they did.  

He couldn’t even make it away last time without passing out. 

A fucking failure. 

No part of him could say for certain that wouldn't happen again.  Ellie would be forced to go at it alone - stare down a mob of men by herself - which he also couldn’t say for certain didn’t already happen once.  

“Okay look at me. There are men coming, okay?” Her voice drifted through his head almost hazily while his brain supplied a vision of her mouthing the words. He hadn’t been able to draw his eyes up to her at the time, exhaustion and delirium sticking his gaze to her lips instead. 

“ I’m going to lead them away from you.”

Another crash jolted him back to reality. 

Another bottle. Another burst of flames, this time through the kitchen window. 

He was running out of time. 

He couldn’t afford to linger and worry about what could happen next - not when it would mean their death. 

Joel quickly turned away from the window, his eyes casting a final lingering look back as he made his way out of the room. 

Just before exiting, he made a split-second decision and turned, ducking into the kitchen, and plucking the quilt from the ground. It was dangerously close to a pool of fiery alcohol creeping towards it, which had him leaning awkwardly and covering his eyes to avoid the sting of the heat. His teeth were clenched so hard that his side stung with the movement, almost to the point he thought his molars might crack.

The second the fabric was in his fingers, he was on the move again. As he turned to head down the hallway, he bunched up the blanket into a bearhug hold against his chest, holding it firmly alongside Ellie’s boots and pants.

His gait was uneven but hurried as he made his way back -  a plume of smoke eagerly trailed behind him like a competitor in some twisted race. A race he felt like he was losing. 

Knew he was losing. 

Without giving Ellie any warning, Joel burst back into the bathroom, the door urgently swinging open enough to hit the counter behind with a thwack.

Startled, Ellie’s instincts took over, and her hand shot out, gripping her switchblade tightly as she braced for the intruder, nostrils flared, stance hard. Her heart raced in her chest until she recognized Joel's disheveled appearance just a moment later. As relief washed over her, the tension in her shoulders eased, and she lowered the blade, allowing him to enter the bathroom completely. Joel released a long breath as he closed the door with his foot, a wisp of smoke slipping in behind him and skimming along the floor before it sealed shut. 

The moment it was closed, Joel dropped their belongings to the ground, shrugged off their packs and the rifle, and ripped off his coat. He wiggled it down his arms with haste and threw it to the floor, the weighty fabric landing on the cold tile with a modest thump. Ellie watched, wide-eyed and tense as he used his foot to shove it up against the doorframe, pressing the fabric firmly against the gap, sealing out the smoke that was sliding under. 

“It’s bad?” 

He turned around and nodded hard, not trying to sugar-coat the truth in the slightest. 

“Can’t stay,” he grunted, his voice low and resolute, locking on to her and looking her straight up and down. 

Every time he sees her now, his stomach continually drops like it somehow doesn’t have a bottom. His brain kept forgetting how he found her - expecting her to look like normal old Ellie - rosy, cheery, personality bigger than her body, not battered and broken.

She was still pantless, her sweatshirt riding up to her hips, no longer covering her thighs as before. Her wet hair hung in odd clumps, dripping down onto her shoulders. It left two massive wet spots on both sides of her collarbone, making the tan fabric turn dark. Her sweatshirt was still speckled in blood, and, of course, there were also the black soot stains from the last fire she had managed to escape.  

Shaking his head and gulping away the dryness in his throat, Joel grabbed Ellie’s backpack, turned toward the vanity, and plopped it into the sink. His hands stumbled to grasp at the zippers, his fingers surprisingly shaky. 

“Need’ta get clothes on you,” he said firmly, just as he was finally able to grasp the metal pull fastener, the zipping sound promptly scratching through the air and punctuating his sentence. 

Her backpack wasn’t all that big, but he did have to dig toward the bottom, pulling out her walkman and notebook and tossing them on the vanity counter so he could better see what else she had in there. Her metal water bottle was thrown aside too, a hollow clanking sound filling the air as it hit the counter and rolled. 

“Hey watch it, that’s my shit,” Ellie scolded, arms crossing in front of her chest with a flicker of a pout. She knew he wasn’t trying to be rough - he was just rushing. Yet, she couldn’t hold the comment back. Her emotions were getting a bit jumbled - she always met fear with snarkiness. Growing up in FEDRA had her masking emotions from a young age; otherwise, she would have been eaten alive. 

“Your clothes in my bag?” Joel asked quickly, hands meeting the dirty bottom of hers without finding anything more. 

Confused, she replied, “What?”

“Your spares - ain’t here.” He patted and squeezed at the sides, checking the outer pockets - not that they could fit clothes anyway. He then paused, looking up to meet Ellie's eyes in the mirror’s reflection. “In mine?” he suggested, raising his own brows.  

She took a tentative step toward him, arms falling limply to her sides. A defeated expression gradually overtook her features as she peeked around his shoulder, trying to catch a glimpse of her bag. 

"Oh... um..." Her voice wavered with uncertainty, her words faltering, as relayed, "They should've been in there."

“Are you sure they ain’t mine?” Joel began, turning to retrieve his bag to investigate, “didn’t you just get- ”

"Yeah. I just fucking just did," she replied, annoyance briefly cutting through her words, a sharp edginess to them. “Those assfucks probably just took them or something.” 

Joel heaved out a shaky breath, anxiety rearing its head monetarily. He knew that was the truth, but it was still not a reality he wanted to have to face, but, there was also no time to dwell on it either. 

“It’s fine I’ll just put back on the -” Joel instantly began shaking his head at her suggestion, causing Ellie to leave the rest unsaid. 

When he had picked up her pants in the living room before, they were cool to the touch and damp, the heat of the room doing little to melt away the iciness still somehow clinging to the fibers. 

“Your pants are too wet; you’ll freeze when we get outside. I got an extra - will make that work.” 

Joel leaned down for his backpack, movements surprisingly brisk as he hoisted the bag off the floor and to the counter, landing it with a thud on the edge of the sink.  His hands dove inside the worn weathered bag, fingers dancing across its contents until they found what he sought, going on touch rather than sight. Dragging his arm up, he pulled the pants out from the very bottom. 

They certainly were not the cleanest, grimy in fact, but they were dry - which really was all either of them could ask for right now. Without a moment's hesitation, he balled and flung them back towards Ellie, not even glancing her way, his focus entirely on his pack, lost in finding the next thing and planning their next steps. 

The denim struck her chest and nearly slipped through her arms, its abrupt arrival catching her off guard. “Joel, what the fuck, dude.”   

The list seemed endless - clothes, protection, exiting, running, cover …  god forbid he would need to fight them off. Every new thing his brain remembered made the air feel even thicker in the bathroom - chest squeezing and squeezing and squeezing - barely able to grab air. 

"Put‘em on." His voice was clipped - rough and urgent- as he rubbed a soothing hand across his chest for a second. He felt like he could hear the ticking of a clock, counting them down until it was all too late - until the situation was finally one of complete failure. 

And no matter how fast he was trying to go - trying to get them to go - it wasn’t going to be enough. They were losing the race. 

“Are you serious?” 

He didn’t dignify it with a reply - they really didn’t have the time. 

"Dude, these aren't going to-" Ellie began to counter, but Joel silenced her, his frustration finally spilling over, voice tinged with exasperation: 

“Just- Goddammit Ellie!” 

It came out with an unintended force that made Ellie flinch - left foot sliding back, body shying away, the click of her switchblade firing open on instinct. She was jumpy down to her bones now - ready to fight, always. 

The silence was thick for a moment as the ring of Joel’s voice lingered in the air, bouncing off the tile and settling between them. He hadn’t met to yell; but like the flames surely biting at the door by now, dread and fear and frustration were burning hot inside him. 

“Sorry…just..,” his hands found the edge of the counter and gripped it hard, knuckles going white while he dropped his head and lowered his voice. With a steadying breath, he continued, “Please listen to me, okay?” He moved his head to the side, balancing his chin on his shoulder as he glanced back at her. “Don’t got time to do this.” 

She gave him a long slow nod before holding the jeans out in front of her and eyeing them up and down. “Sorry,” she mumbled as she gently placed her switchblade on the counter, freeing both her hands to put the pants on.  Tears pricked at her waterline, and she pretended it was just because the bathroom's air was gradually thickening with smoke, a hazy veil forming. She whipped Joel’s jeans in the air, fluffing out the pant legs as she backed toward the toilet, sitting down to put them on. 

Turning back to his bag, Joel muttered, "can't find my spare socks," - more to himself than to her.  His fingers dug through the pack, moving aside items in a desperate bid to find them, eyebrows scrunching closer and closer every second he came up empty-handed. 

“My extra socks? You put’em somewhere?” 

“Used’em. For when you got stabbed. I didn’t have gauze,” she told him flatly as she wiggled her feet through the long pant legs, focusing hard on getting them on.

Joel let out another deep long sigh, learning they were down another crucial item - this time without a replacement. 

Nothing could be easy. 

“Okay,” he muttered softly, taking out an undershirt and flannel and putting them aside before zipping both his and Ellie’s bags up. 

His gaze shifted back to Ellie, concern etched in his features as he watched her struggle with the oversized jeans. Even though she was sitting on the closed toilet lid, her movements were labored as she gathered the excess fabric up her legs. Each bend and twist seemed to draw a silent wince from her. The bruises on her ribs protested under the strain. 

"You okay?" Joel asked, although he knew the answer - clearly could see it. 

Ellie nodded, biting her lip as she worked through the discomfort. 

Briefly, he returned to his task, grabbing the crusty yellowing shirt, and, with a slight grimace, clenched the fabric between his teeth and tore, ripping two sizable pieces - the sound of the tear piercing through the air. He placed them on the counter and then quickly turned his attention back to Ellie just as she stood up from her seat. 

She had managed to pull the jeans up to her hips, but they were comically large, the waistband gaping and slipping down. 

“They’re not going to stay,” she muttered, a note of frustration in her voice as she gathered a handful of fabric at the waistband to keep them in place and then looked up at Joel. 

Within an instant, he was taking off his belt, not having to think longer than a second about it. The leather whipped through the air with a sharp snap, the sound echoing in the small bathroom, just as the shirt had done seconds ago. 

He handed her the belt, and she began threading it through the loops of the jeans as Joel stepped around and crouched in front of her, bracing on the sink cabinet to lower himself to the floor with a prolonged wince of pain. His hands quickly came to the bottom of the jeans and began rolling them up, cuffing them several times until they were the proper length. 

Ellie leaned to the side, reaching for her switchblade with a grimace. She tried not to move too much, mindful of Joel's hands still busy with the fabric at her ankles. Her fingers wrapped around the blade, and she began to carve a new hole into the leather - the existing ones too few to keep the pants tightly in place.

Bending her head down and keeping it there, even just briefly as she drilled a new hole, sent a wave of dizziness crashing over her. The pressure in her head-mounted, concussion flaring up.

Suddenly unsteady, Ellie swayed, her balance faltering. She sat back down on the toilet- a soft thump marking her descent. 

Caught off-guard, and hands still on her pants, Joel almost toppled forward, barely catching himself from falling out of his crouch as he moved with her. He quickly flicked his eyes up to her, a silent question in his gaze, but she was already focused back on the belt - determined but clearly uncomfortable. 

He wasn’t thrilled she was sitting back down - didn’t bode well for what was coming next - but he kept that to himself.  Pants cuffed, Joel straightened up - shakily.  

“Get your boots and socks on,” he instructed as he glanced toward the door. Ellie gave him a nod as he crossed over to it, his movements quick and tense. Holding his breath, he reached out, cautiously touching the wood and the doorknob, checking for any signs of heat.

It was cool, but that did little to quell his anxiety. 

“We need to hurry.” He pressed, looking back towards her. 

“I’m not trying to be fucking slow,” Ellie pushed back.

Her blade finally pierced through Joel’s belt and she threw it back onto the counter and she fumbled to close the buckle. Her head was really starting to pound again, clearly over-irritated; and maybe it was the addition of the smoke, but it was coming to the point where her throat felt tight, nausea mounting. 

“I know you ain’t- just- gotta keep goin’ okay - can’t slow down.”

She screwed her eyes shut for a moment, so hard the little crow's feet scrunched at the sides of her face. It numbed the pain for a second, but not completely. 

“My fucking head is making that a little hard,” she admitted. 

Seeing the pained look on her face, Joel was moving to help her before she even had time to protest, hands digging into her boots and retrieving her still-damp socks, balled and cold. He gave his head a small shake as he unraveled them, chastising himself for not laying them out by the fire after stripping them off her before. 

Carefully, again, he bent down in front of where she sat. 

“So we’re just going to run?”

He scrunched up the fabric, stretched out the opening, and slipped it onto her foot with a fluidity that was surely born from years of practice.

“Don’t have much else of a choice.”

“It’s still snowing right?” She asked, tone tinged with a subtle sense of worry. 

He paused for a fraction second - an image of her going hypothermic again, but he quickly cleared the intrusive thought away.

“It’s slowing down,” he said with a curt nod. He hoped it was true. 

When both socks were on he leaned and grabbed her boots. His fingers plucked at the laces, loosening them quickly, before hastily and roughly wedging them onto her feet, little care for any possible discomfort. Ellie’s face scrunched as she tried to help, pushing her feet down into the stiff boots - practically semi-frozen. 

“I don’t have a coat-“ 

“-You’ll take mine.” He replied firmly and quickly- answer already in mind. He pulled hard at her laces - the sharp sound punctuating the end of his statement as he synched the boot up as tight as it would go. 

Ellie’s eyes followed his hands as they made work of her laces. Despite Joel’s best efforts to keep them steady, they were shaking like a leaf, barely able to keep the ties from fumbling out from between his fingers. 

“They - the people from the town - it’s them right?” She asked, voice dropping softer than it had been, true emotions finally starting to peek through. 

Joel looked up through his brows briefly, catching her eyes with his. He nodded slowly, with an affirmative hum as he tucked both the pant legs into her boots as best as possible. 

Ellie exhaled hard through her nose, enough to where Joel could feel the warm air hit his forehead.

“It’ll be alright - ain’t nothin’ we can do about them ‘sept run, but first we need ta focus on gettin’ outta here, okay?”

“Okay,” she whispered in a soft reply.

Once both boots were snugly on, Joel rose to his feet, wincing slightly from a sharp pain in his side. Ellie mirrored his action, gingerly supporting her ribs with a protective arm. Joel swiftly grabbed his spare flannel from the counter, shaking it out before gripping the sleeves firmly. He approached Ellie, extending the shirt towards her. Confusion flickered across her face as he moved closer, her eyes narrowing and eyebrows knitting together in a silent question.

But, there wasn’t any time to ask what he was doing - movements purposeful and fluid. Quickly, he placed the shirt over her hair, and brought the sleeves down the sides of her face and under, carefully tying the flannel like a headscarf, securing the knot under her chin.

Suddenly, the sound of another crash echoed through the door, followed by distant hollering that seeped in through a small crack in the bathroom window. This time, although still coming from outside, the voices were much more clear - “We know you’re in there!” 

Ellie’s eyes flicked toward the window, following the sound of the voices, eyes blown wide.

“You look at me, Ellie-”,  Joel said forcefully, grabbing at her chin, pushing her eyes to meet him instead. They were drowning in apprehension, but he desperately needed her to focus. 

“We get out there, you keep runnin’, you understand?”

Even held firm in place by his hand, she managed to give her head a small defiant shake side to side. She didn’t want to leave him.

“Keep goin’ even if you don’t see me, okay?” His voice softened just slightly - a contrast to the hard set of his jaw and the worry etched deep in the lines around his eyes.

“But-”

“You keep goin’ til you can’t run no more then you find somewhere small. Tuck yourself in and hide, real small.” 

Joel’s hand trailed from her chin and to the side of her face, fingers skimming the edge of the flannel. Gently, he tucked a stray piece of her cold wet hair beneath the fabric as his thumb rubbed gently at her cheekbone. 

“You can do that right?” 

Her eyes were prickling with tears now, beads of water pooling at the edges. She couldn’t think of anything worse than leaving him. 

“You won’t-” 

“- I’ll find you. I found you last time. I’ll do it again.” 

He didn't know what else to say to make this any less scary. 

Swallowing down a lump in his throat, Joel turned away and took the remnants of his shirt, now reduced to scraps, and dampened them with the last of their water. It wasn't much, but it was enough. He handed one piece to Ellie and wrapped the other around his face, fashioning it into a makeshift bandana.  

"Do the same," he instructed, his voice muffled behind the cloth. Ellie did. 

As he put the back and rifle over his shoulder, he gave her the plan - raising his voice so it was clear even blocked by the cloth.

“We’re goin’ to try to go out the slider in the living room.” 

“Not the front?”

“Think they are trying to push us that way. So I need you to do what I say when I say it alright? Don’t have time for questions.”

Ellie gave Joel a nervous look but ultimately nodded hard. 

He stooped to pick up his coat from the floor, the fabric heavy and stiff. He held it open for Ellie, guiding her arms through the sleeves and zipping her in. He then did the same with her  backpack, ensuring it was securely on her shoulders. 

He couldn’t help but pause for a second and look at her - bundled to the nines, everything too big. Despite their best efforts, Joel’s pants were bunching and hanging weirdly out of the tops of her boots. His coat hung off her shoulders and stretched all the way just past the middle of her thighs, a short dress of sorts. Even his flannel covering her hair and the half piece of shirt over her mouth looked too big - out of place. 

And peaking through it, were her eyes - big brown orbs that he had never seen so filled with worry. They were the most out of place of it all. 

Joel took a breath.

“You trust me?” 

“Yeah, just -” she said, bending to grab the quilt from the floor and handing it to him, shaking her head instead of finishing her sentence with words. He took the fabric from her with a sympathetic nod. 

“I know you're scared.”

“I’m not scared,” she lied, voice gaining a higher pitch as a red flag. 

“I ain’t going to let anything happen to us,” Joel offered - it was perhaps a lie too.

Turning around, he approached the door once more, palm pressing against its surface, testing the safety of the other side. The wood was still cool to the touch - a small mercy. He cracked the door open, and tendrils of smoke immediately pushed in, hitting his eyes, and he shut it. He took a step back, blinking hard, and then opened the door again, more prepared this time. He quickly popped his out checking the hallway was safe before closing the door a fraction of an inch.

“Ready?”

Ellie nodded. 

“Ready.”

With a firm but reassuring grip, Joel took Ellie's wrist. He opened the door fully, and pulled her through, moving quickly. The fire blazing in the living room was encroaching on the beginning of the hallway, casting long, orange ominous shadows down to them.  

He had them pause at the doorway to the living room, taking in the now heavy inferno of crackling flames and suffocating smoke. It had progressed more than he thought it would have - slider almost too far away.

Joel's eyes darted around, seeking out a viable path through the blaze, but nothing was all that much more clear than anything else.

“Joel,” she called out anxiously - taking in the same sight as he was.  

“I know,  I know,” he replied, voice laced with urgency. He gave her wrist a gentle reassuring squeeze before ushering her in front of him, dragging her by the same grip. “Get in front of me,” he said, positioning her so close that her backpack dug into his stomach. If his brain and body weren’t so preoccupied with reconciling the fact it was about to walk through fire, the pain of her bag hitting his stitches probably would have sent him to the ground. Instead, he sucked in a startled pained breath which only had him coughing, despite the wet cloth over his face and nose. 

Recentering, he continued: “You’re goin’ to have to stay real close, okay?” 

Joel took the quilt, draped it over his back, and then extended it over her, enclosing them both inside the fabric. 

“Take’em… hold ‘em from the inside,” he instructed between lingering tickles of a cough, holding out the blanket’s edges for Ellie to grasp onto it. 

She gave a brisk nod and took the ends for him, one hand still grasping her switchblade and the other shaking, but still managed to hold the quilt in place around them. Joel’s arms snaked back towards his center, stopping at Ellie’s head and pushing it down - chin to her chest- before ultimately landing on her shoulders. He could feel she was shaking. 

“I’ll lead ya - just stay tucked.”

Ellie responded with a small nod, Joel’s flannel on her head scratching against the fabric of the quilt. It was better like this-  she didn’t want to look at the flames anyway. 

Joel inched forward, his steps deliberate and slow, navigating through the inferno with a protective vigilance. The heat was intense, a pressing force against their makeshift shield. The crackling of the fire mingled with the sound of their labored breathing, creating an almost rhythmic cadence amidst chaos tearing away at the living room. 

The quilt got tighter, Ellie's grip on the ends increasing at the front. 

A loud crack resonated through the room as a burning chunk of the ceiling crumpled, plummeting down toward them just inches away. The sound had Joel's instincts kicking in immediately,  and with a swift movement, he turned Ellie to the side, ducking them both out of its path. Narrowly avoiding the falling debris, they were enveloped in a shower of sparks and embers as the remnants hit the ground - white-hot grains hitting the quilt instead of their clothes. Hesitantly, Joel raised his head and straightened up, heart beating fast as he appraised the status of their path forward now. The large piece of plaster on the ground was definitely in their way, but thankfully, was not blocking the entire way forward.

A small miracle. 

With renewed determination, Joel guided Ellie away toward the open route, shuffling to the side past the hot burning couch. The heat was almost unbearable now, and the smoke made it hard to see and breathe. Joel was finding it hard to even keep his eyes open. 

"Nearly there," he murmured, half-lost in the roar of the fire. He wasn't sure if he was reassuring Ellie or himself. He could feel the tension in her body, the slight shivers that weren't just from the heat. It was fear, raw and unfiltered, but she was holding on, just as he was.

His hold on her shoulders tightened, pulling her closer, ensuring she was as shielded as possible from the flames. The perimeter flames were more intense than those engulfing the furniture in the center, and despite knowing it necessary - a small part of Joel couldn’t help but wonder if he was making the wrong decision. 

Suppressing a set of coughs, Joel pressed on, the tips of his boots colliding with Ellie’s heels as they shuffled the last few feet, his gaze fixed forward on the reflective glow of the sliding glass door. When his hand finally came to the handle, he threw it open with expeditious force. The frame bounced off as it hit the end of the track and the glass crackled as it broke apart more- the hole Ellie had put in it acting as an epicenter to a full shatter. 

He urged Ellie out first, following immediately behind and slamming the glass slide shut. Together they took several hasty steps forward, almost tripping each other up still wrapped in the quilt, before Ellie finally released her grip on it, dropping it into the snow, and freeing them both. 

For a moment, neither of them moved - caught off guard by how warm the outside air felt against the exposed bits of their faces- not bitterly cold like it should have been. The promise of crisp cool air would have been a prize for making it out - and now, the fire took that away too.

Ellie raked in a breath, the fabric of Joel’s t-shirt sucking into her mouth with the heave as she blinked several times, trying to moisten her dry eyes. Joel did the same, breaths deep, chest rising and falling as he stood behind her. He wiped the remaining smoke from his eyes as they dissected the treeline of the backyard, not allowing himself much time to catch his breath at all. 

Joel's body tensed, his stance shifting subtly, eyes narrowing. 

His hands found Ellie's back, landing squarely between her shoulder blades. With a firm push, he propelled her forward.