#im collapsing

Whace.... yyay....

(spoilers)

I love thinking about joel and ellie post-David. They leave the restaurant and Ellie either 1) is silent the whole time til joel finds a little cabin to rest in or 2) she keeps bugging Joel about his injury and about how he needs to sit down and stop, but he keeps going for her despite how desperately his body his screaming at him to stop.

And then how they are once they find a cabin/a place to hole up. Joel immediately starts looking for things to start a fire with. Ellie zones out while he does. She should be helping. He’s in pain. She should get up and find logs that aren’t wet and get the fire started. But she can’t. Even if she could, Joel would tell her to sit down.

Joel has two cans of beans and one can of peaches in his bag. Ellie has half a canteen of water. Joel boils some snow to get them more water. There’s only one fork and Joel tells her to eat first. He gives her a full can of beans and the full can of peaches. How much has she eaten since the university? She looks smaller somehow. Joel keeps the fire hot as she eats, occasionally checking on her to make sure she is eating. She finishes her food and Joel starts on his can. All Ellie can do is stare in to the fire.

“Ellie,” he says, trying to get her attention. She keeps staring. Fire. It brings her back to the restaurant. Back to-

“Ellie.” He says and she blinks at him. Blinking away the images. Trying to.

Her eyes frantically watch his face. There’s still some blood on him. But he’s here. He’s alive. He’s alive. His eyes are open. His chest is moving. He’s talking. He’s eating, all by himself. He’s sitting up. He’s awake. He’s okay. “Hm?” She finally responds, her voice almost croaks. She’s so tired.

“You’ve got a lot of blood on you, baby.” He nearly whispers the last word. It’s new, almost, yet it seems to come naturally. “We should clean you up.”

We.

“Oh. Yeah.” She pauses. “Yeah,” she repeats, looking down to pull at her fingers. Why is this so hard?

Joel brings a rag out from his bag and quickly dips it in the water he boiled and wrings it out. The water’s still warm.

“Here,” he motions in front of him for Ellie to scoot over. She takes a minute, but eventually she obliges, sliding in front of his criss-crossed legs. She sits the same way. Her head is hung low, almost as if she’s embarrassed.

“Ellie, I’m ‘onna need you to lift your head up a bit for me, okay? If not, I can help.” He doesn’t move a muscle, he’s waiting on her to lift her head or respond to him.

She takes a deep breath in, preparing herself. It’s Joel, he’s not going to do anything. You’re fine. You’re safe. He’s safe. All he’s doing is wiping the blood off your face. She lifts her head slightly and it hurts. She’s pretty sure there’s already bruising on her neck. She’s exhausted. Her adrenaline is wearing off, and somehow lifting her head is the hardest thing she’s done in a month.

Joel reaches the rag up as her head lifts, but he immediately pulls it back as her head drops again and her hands come up to her neck. “Can you…” she trails off. She feels embarrassed to ask. It’s lifting your head, for fucks sake.

“I gotcha” he responds, and he grabs the other side of her chin. He’s barely touching her; he’s being as careful as he possibly can. “Okay?” He asks, and she nods. There’s tears in her eyes. Why is he so gentle? Why does he care?

He’s so gentle, but it’s hard when there’s an unknown cut. He’s wiping softly, but strong enough to get the blood off. But the cut catches them both off guard. She winces as Joel runs the rag over it.

“Sorry,” he apologizes, and his hand moves from her chin to her shoulder. “You okay?” He asks, and all she can manage is a nod. Her eyes are growing more and more red by the second, but Joel doesn’t say anything. Use your words, it’s not that hard. It’s just Joel.

“Okay. Ellie, I’m gonna need you to face the other way so I can get the other side of your face.” Ellie let’s out a shaky breath. It’s moving, for fucks sake, Ellie. None of this is worthwhile to be upset over. Get over yourself. He’s in more pain than you.

She switches the way she’s facing so Joel can clean the right side of her face. He’s just as gentle, more so now in case there’s another cut. He wipes near her temple, folding the rag over to use a clean corner. He tosses the rag aside and faces her again. She’s still looking away from him.

“Ellie,” he says. No response, not even a difference in breathing. Joel grabs a small bit of her hair hanging out from her ponytail. Dried blood, he realizes. Shit.

“Ellie,” he says again, placing his other hand on her shoulder. “You got a lot of blood in your hair, baby. Do you want to deal with it now or wait til tomorrow?”

“‘Morrow,” she breathes, still unable to get a full sentence out. It’s just talking, stop being an coward. She’s so tired.

“Okay.” He waits a minute. She’s not moving. How much did she push herself while he was out? What happened back there? “Here, get closer to the fire,” he ushers, and she scoots back over with his help.

They sit in silence for what feels like an eternity. Tell him you’re glad he’s awake. She’s so tired. Tell him what happened back there. The images keep flashing, she won’t be able to sleep. Ask him if he’s okay. Check his stitches. Joel groans every time he moves, he’s obviously in pain. Help him. How?

Joel glances at her. She looks there’s a war going on in her head, it’s written all over her face. She’s fighting way too much. “Hey,” he starts, placing a hand, ever so gently on the edge of her knee. She looks up at the contact. She looks, angry almost. Not at him. At her thoughts. What she’s fighting. Everything she’s fighting. They won’t stop. None of it is stopping. Why can’t you just calm down? “Are you okay?”

That’s it. That’s what she needed. No, she’s not. Of course she’s not, how could she be? If the last month is any indication, she’s far from okay. She’s far from anything decent. She’s ran herself in to the ground physically, mentally, and emotionally. She’s barely eaten or drank. Everything’s gone to Joel. She didn’t think he’d actually make it. Him being here still doesn’t seem real. A part of her thinks she’s still in that cage being fed who knows what. She never had enough layers, not for this weather. But she couldn’t take Joel’s things, he needed them more. He needed the comfort, the warmth, the food, and the water. I didn’t deserve it. And then running in to David and James. Why didn’t you shoot them both when you had the chance?

She breaks. The tears that have been building the past 30 minutes finally break. She doesn’t cry loudly. It’s silent, but her body is shaking. Crying finally shows her just how cold she really is. She’s shivering now, Joel’s hand still on her knee. He doesn’t know what to do. Does he? She’s never cried in front of him. She’s cried some nights when they’ve tried going to sleep, nights she thinks a little too hard about Riley or Sam, but they never talk about them. Joel knows, but he never says anything. He’s so out of practice with this. The last time sarah cried in front of him-

No. No, this is different. She needs comfort.

Sarah always liked hugs. And if Joel wasn’t awake, she’d crawl in bed with him. It was the proximity. It was knowing he was right there. Knowing she was safe and protected. He was a heavier sleeper back then, most nights he’d never even feel her sneak under the covers. He’d wake up for work and she’d be there next to him, curled up close to him. He’d kiss her head and pull the covers up to cover her shoulders. He’d cook her a little breakfast and leave her a note before he left. He was always greeted with a bear hug when he came home.

It’s worth a try, he thinks. He scoots over, setting beside Ellie, his legs outstretched as she continues hugging her knees. Her crying seems to increase when he sits beside her. Why does he care so much? He reaches his arm up and drapes it across her shoulders. He doesn’t pull her in, he just rests his arm, welcoming her in if she accepts. And she does. Of course she does. Her knees fall against his legs, her head in to the side of his chest. She’s so small. He holds her a bit tighter now, his elbow now bent and his arm resting parallel to hers.

They sit there a while, Joel occasionally rubbing small circles on her arm with his thumb. He doesn’t tread any further. Her crying has subsided and has now been replaced with heavy inhales and just as heavy exhales. Joel smells like iron. So much iron.

She speaks a full sentence to him the first time all day. “Do you…” she sniffs, rubbing her coat sleeve across her nose. “Do you have a change of clothes? Or at least a shirt? You smell like blood. A lot of blood. And your shirt still feels damp.”

Joel smiles ever so slightly. At least she’s talking. “Reckon I do, but I think I’m a bit occupied at the moment.”

Not with anything important “is it more important than changing so you don’t smell so gross anymore?”

“If it’ll get you to stop insulting me.” He remarks, and Ellie has the slightest smile on her face. He swears he can feel it through his shirt.

He takes his arm back from hers and places his palm against the floor to push himself to get up. Oh. This isn’t going to work out well as he thought. He pushes up and falls back against the wall immediately.

“Shit!” Ellie swears, scrambling to her feet. “I forgot. Here.” She gets up before Joel can even think about trying again and she starts rummaging through his bag. Her lands on soft fabric. Perfect. She yanks out a blue flannel for him. “Here,” she says as she holds it in front of him. He takes it graciously, sitting it in his lap as she settles back next to him.

“How are your stitches?” Almost reaching to check them herself. She catches herself. Old habit. Joel slides his hand under his shirt, placing his hand on them. It comes back clean.

“Lookin’ good.” He says. “Do you mind?” He asks, motioning to the blue flannel she got for him.

“Oh. Yeah.” She turns to face the wall as he changes. Not easily, as there’s plenty of groaning coming from behind her, but he manages.

“Okay,” he breathes, nearly out of breath from having to finagle his way in and out of a flannel, especially when one is dried with blood. This winter is gonna be rough.

Ellie settles back next to him. His arm finds her shoulder again as her head settles in to his side. “You think you can sleep?” He asks.

She waits, thinks. They’re safe. He’s alive. She’s alive. They have a fire and water. There’s a roof over their heads and a single blanket to keep them warm. It’s not much, but it’s enough.

“Yeah,” she says as she reaches over to the blanket beside her. “I think so.” She fluffs the blanket out, spreading it across their legs.

“Like this?” He asks, craning his neck as best he can to look at her.

Well, you fucked up. “Is that okay?” There’s a bit of hesitation in her voice. He’s totally not okay with this.

He smiles slightly, almost sadly. How could this not be okay? “Course it is, just didn’t think it was comfortable for you, ‘s all.”

“Joel, this is the most comfortable I’ve been in a month.” She says as she adjusts the blanket and adjusts her head in to his side. “Don’t you dare move.” He huffs out a laugh.

She settles in, comforted by the steady beat of his heart and the rise and fall of his chest.