#infectd

ㅤmouth dry, muscles tensed, he recognized the feeling her question set into motion: DREAD. he'd had a million questions that had turned into a million scenarios the longer she was away. she was tough, made of steel & bone. of all the horrid images his dreams had conjured in fear of losing her to whatever threat she'd found, he'd never once stopped to think that she might be the one her threats feared. the effects of whatever she had seen, whatever she had done weren't lost on him. there was a distance in her gaze that had been growing for years; the shadows beneath her eyes weren't easily touched by sleep. and she was worried that he would be the one to judge her.

ㅤunder better circumstances, it might have been laughable. how could he, truly? he understood the fear, lord knows, but she wouldn't face a reckoning sitting before him now. though that stubborn line stays put between his brows, the rest of his expression softens. the lines at the corners of his eyes & lips smooth, and he ducks his head to meet her gaze. " hey ─── there is nothin' you could tell me that would change the way i think of you. " he readies himself against the shock, promising now to simply listen, not react. he owed her much more than patience. " you can tell me . . . whatever you're ready to tell me, and i promise that you will still be the person i think you are when it's over. "

@infectd liked THIS for the bard.

" i know you wish things were different i wish things were different. but they ain't. "

ㅤlife was so quiet here. it might have been easy on mornings like these to forget the tragedies that had carried them here. the air was still a bit cold with remnants of the night, though the sun coasting over the hill was quick to warm whatever it touched. the breeze rustling the tall grass just beyond the house was the only sound save for his own breath. this was calm. this was peace.

ㅤhe should have known that he wasn't going to be alone for long. not that he minded. no, he preferred it most days. nevertheless, her voice startles him when it rings clearly through the early morning air. now that the winter had been banished by earlier sunrises and later sunsets, it was rare that he started his morning anywhere other than the porch. how long had it been since he'd seen sprawling fields without the accompanying dread of what lay beyond them? how many years had he spent searching for ways out of the walls that confined him, only now to see undisturbed horizon?

ㅤso no, he wasn't disappointed to have been interrupted. peace like this deserved to be shared ── especially with her. " hmm, " he hums as he finds the words. all he'd wanted for so long was safety, consistency. he'd found that with tess, albeit behind boston's walls. then he'd met ellie. desires long put to rest had started to awaken. he wanted to protect her, to give her a life of safety, to show her things she'd been robbed of merely by chance. two decades of suppressing the will to care for someone else and some smart - ass teenager had picked it out of him as if he hadn't spent years cementing it into place. then he'd wanted to save her. he'd wanted to give them a life only his brother could promise. then he'd wanted to spare her. [ . . . ] as he was sure she relived that day in nightmares, he, too, could hear her pleas. JOEL, GET UP! he'd wanted to be better for her. to right the wrongs he'd so desperately tried to disguise as sacrifices.

ㅤat the heart of it all, he supposed he wanted what he had been robbed of. a family. a home. a place outside of chaos without need for constant caution. and somehow, through all of it, she'd decided to choose those things, too. it's subtle, and in the harsh light of the morning it was probably indiscernible, but a smile plays at the corner of his lips. the lines on his face grow deeper with the gesture, eyes crinkling at the corners. " reckon it is . . . " he offers with a nod, turning to face her. " we've got our work cut out for us, but ── can't deny that view. " lips curl into a smirk, remembering a child so different from the young woman before him seeing the world for the first time. how had her desires changed, that little girl with a hope he couldn't understand? could this be what she wanted? truly, after everything? " think it'll be . . . enough? " enough to heal old wounds to make room for new desires, new dreams, new life.

ㅤthe house was quiet, save for the wind whistling between forgotten cracks in broken windowsills. even the glow of the town, fire & string lights, couldn't brighten the dead of winter. the air just inside the window hinted at how frigid it must have been outside. he would know because he'd been checking that window far more than was probably necessary, searching for signs of life in the little garage behind the property. there weren't fresh prints in the snow, she hadn't stopped by. maybe it was too early in the night to assume the worst ── maybe.

ㅤin the grand scheme of his life, he'd spent so little of it with ellie's life in his hands. it was enough time to make letting go difficult. he knew that she could take care of herself, that they were safe here. he also knew that the cold had a way of settling deep into her bones until the spring could thaw her out.

glasses rest on the edge of his nose, and he tries to ignore the sawdust collecting around the rims. he wasn't exactly surprised by the sound of the door slamming downstairs; if he was being honest with himself, he expected it. his hands don't falter as they whittle away at a block of wood starting to take shape as the horse he'd been riding since coming back to jackson. of all the things he knew this conversation may spark in him, shock wasn't one of them.

@infectd asked: are you kidding me? who decided this?

he finds her at the dining table. joel wastes little time in sitting beside her, a tired sigh falling from his lips. he wondered where her mind was. if she was ready to go, if she still felt leaving was the right choice. those questions die on his tongue, leaving a bitter taste in their wake, when she speaks.

@infectd asked: i should have been here. this is my fault.

blame weighs heavily inside this house. almost suffocating, really. a hollow ache returns to his chest as he thinks about just how much she carries on her shoulders . . . after everything. all the more reason to leave it behind. " ellie, no. " it's said quietly with a shake of his head. he'd made his choices; she'd made hers. they were still standing, weren't they?

he brushes his hand over the smooth surface of the base of the guitar before catching the sight of her out of the corner of his eye. he places the piece of sandpaper on the surface before him and turns to look at her. " not quite ready, but . . . shouldn't take too long. you were gettin' too good to just leave it behind. "