Chapter Text
Ellie is one of several teens assigned kitchen duty in the days leading up to Thanksgiving. Jackson takes holidays seriously; the entire town is expected to show up for a communal Thanksgiving dinner. Until they arrived here, she’d celebrated her birthday only a handful of times with Riley. And if there’s anything she’s learned in the past seven months, it’s that this place fucking loves a party.
FEDRA didn’t make a big deal out of birthdays or other special days from before the Outbreak. On the road, the only thing she and Joel commemorated were small wins, like dodging infected or finding a cache of supplies. This level of excitement and preparation is unfamiliar, almost overwhelming.
“Ellie, be a dear and grab another pie crust from the fridge?” calls Chrissy, who is in charge of the entire operation. She’s probably around Maria’s age, but she’s shit at guessing ages. All adults look old.
Nodding, Ellie opens the enormous walk-in, grunting with effort. The cold air bites at her skin, and she rubs her arms as she scans the shelves. It’s more food than she’s ever seen in one place — and KP duty was Captain Kwong’s punishment of choice. She grabs a pie crust and hurries back to the warmth of the kitchen.
“You’re a lifesaver,” Chrissy says with a warm smile. “When you finish the potatoes, you can head out.”
Ellie returns to her station, unsettled by the gratuitous praise. She’s not a lifesaver, not now. Not anymore. And fetching someone a pie crust is hardly a life-or-death situation.
She sighs and eyes the mountain of unpeeled potatoes. The sooner she finishes, the sooner she can track down Cat. Dina, Jesse, and Cat escaped kitchen duty today. Lucky fuckers.
It takes another two hours to get all the potatoes peeled. Her hands are aching, raw in a few spots where the peeler slipped. Luckily, Chrissy shoos her away before she gets sucked into helping more.
Ellie exchanges her apron for her jacket, her stomach growling from the scent of pies and roasted vegetables. The dining room is colder than she expects, sending a shiver through her body. When she pulls the door open, she freezes.
It’s snowing.
It’s snowing a lot, enough to obscure the ground. It looks like…
There was barely a dusting when Joel got hurt last year. She’d gotten him wrapped up and strapped to Callus when the flurries turned into a blizzard. By the time she found the house they holed up in, several inches of snow blanketed the ground. It froze in Joel’s beard and hair, his face covered in pinprick spots of frostbite.
She steps out, flinching when a cold, wet flake lands on her cheek. Her hands tremble as she stuffs them into her jacket pockets. Every sound is amplified, her heart pounding harder with each innocuous creak of a tree branch.
Knowing that Joel is out on patrol intensifies the agitation building in her gut. She considers tracking down Maria but dismisses the thought. She’s not a baby. It’s just snow. Weather.
She can handle it. She did handle it.
Still, every step through Jackson is accompanied by Joel’s pained grunts and cries as she tried to find safety. The whipping wind takes on the odor of the basement: musty and stale, tinged with blood and illness.
It snowed for three months straight. Three months of nothing but blinding white and blistering cold followed them from Colorado to Utah. The swirling flakes in Jackson are a cruel reminder, each one carrying a memory she’d rather forget but can’t. They make her lungs constrict, threatening to choke the air from her chest. Her eyes dart from side to side, taking in the white blanket that’s swallowed the town. Familiar streets and buildings are suddenly ominous, providing cover for any number of human predators.
Home. She needs to go home. She can’t fall apart in the middle of the fucking town. They don’t need to see how fucked up she is.
By the time she reaches Joel’s house, her vision is darkening at the edges, head swimming from the cold or the heart attack she might be having. Ellie staggers the last few steps to the porch, landing on her hands and knees. It should hurt, but it doesn’t.
Time goes fuzzy, but she manages to turn herself around and sit. It’s heavier now, visibility so limited that she can barely make out the house across the street. The little she remembers after Joel found her is fragmented, scattered through her memories like the grains of rice she dropped in Joel’s kitchen last week. Even though she doesn’t recall much, she knows it snowed. When she was aware, it fell too heavily to see more than a few feet.
The world around her stretches and warps as she sits, staring at the flakes accumulating on the railing, on the steps, on her shoes.
The forest was so quiet under its blanket of white. It unnerved her, but she pushed it aside because Joel needed her clear-headed and focused, not an anxious mess who couldn’t function without his guidance. Even the infected seemed to hibernate, leaving an eeriness that gnawed at her already frayed nerves.
Ellie is so wrapped up in the horrors swirling through her head that she doesn’t register two figures emerging from the white haze. Then she blinks to find Joel crouched to her right, brows furrowed.
“Ellie?”
Her jaw works silently for a minute as she compels herself to meet Joel’s eyes.
“You with me, kiddo?”
Ellie bites her lip before whispering, “It’s snowing.”
With a small nod, Joel shifts to sit next to her, bent forward to see her face. “Yeah,” he breathes. He sounds sad and worried in a way she knows all too well; he sounded like this after Colorado. “Got back fast as I could.”
Out of the corner of her eye, she catches movement that sets her heart racing even faster. Her head snaps toward it, body tensing as she prepares to fight…
Tommy. Just Tommy.
He puts his hands up, palms out, frowning as he looks between her and Joel. “Sorry, honey. I’m just… headin’ home now.” When he focuses on her, it makes her skin prickle and her lungs shrink even more. “Y’all let us know if you need anything at all.”
Ellie watches him disappear into the swirling white, her mind a tangled mess of relief and dread. Now that they’re alone, Joel may want to talk, and she won’t be able to keep herself together.
But he says nothing, just sits with his leg pressed to hers in the windy, snowy silence. Her thoughts ricochet between past and present, between the porch and the snow-covered terror of Colorado. The basement was cold like this. There wasn’t enough ventilation to build a fire, and she didn’t want to attract anyone who might have seen the smoke.
Not that it mattered in the end.
Joel moves, getting to his feet with a grunt and moving to stand in front of her. “C’mon, now. Time to warm up.”
She wants to tell him that the cold is the only thing keeping her from falling apart, but she’s not sure if that’s true. There might be nothing to prevent it. Joel extends both hands to her, squeezing them as he pulls her to stand.
He keeps hold of her as he ushers her into the house. Usually, he’s a freak about coming in with snow or dirt or whatever on her shoes, but he just tows her into the kitchen and presses her to sit at the table.
“Take that jacket off, kiddo,” Joel instructs as he sheds his outerwear. “I’ll be right back.”
She watches him stride through the doorway. When she blinks, he’s crouching in front of her, outerwear abandoned. “Grabbed somethin’ for you to change into,” he murmurs, nodding toward the table. She follows the movement, blinking at the pile of clothes.
“Thanks,” she croaks, looking down at her lap. Her jeans are soaked; she hadn’t noticed.
“Go on, get outta those wet things. I’ll put some water on.”
She picks up the clothes Joel left for her — a flannel, sweatpants that are going to be huge on her, and thick socks — and shuffles toward the bathroom.
The tight ball of anxiety in her chest loosens a fraction now that she has a barrier between herself and the world. She strips off the wet clothes with shaking hands and towels off her partly-wet, partly-frozen hair. Joel included one of his heavier flannels, so she wraps it around herself, taking a moment to bury her nose in the collar. It’s almost like a shield.
Fully dressed, she regards her reflection, startled by how haunted and blank her eyes appear. The sight overwhelms her; she turns away from the mirror to sit on the closed toilet lid, head hung low.
Joel knocks on the door, startling a yelp from her. “Sorry, kiddo. You okay in there? Been a while.”
Ellie scrambles to her feet, heart pounding in her throat. “Yeah,” she calls out, voice cracking. She clears her throat and tries again. “Yeah, I was just…” With a shaky sigh, she covers the few feet to the door and pulls it open to find Joel hovering with a concerned expression. “Sorry.”
“Nothin’ to apologize for,” he assures her. “Got a fire goin’. C’mon, let’s warm up in the livin’ room.” When he clocks her hesitancy, Joel adds, “Pulled the curtains closed to keep the heat in. Thought maybe we’d put on a movie while we defrost.”
Walking is borderline torture, each step like wading through waist-deep water. She pauses at the edge of the room, eyeing the flickering fire, the lit candles, the closed curtains. It all creates a cozy, claustrophobic atmosphere. When she glances at Joel, he’s regarding her from the kitchen door. “What about you?”
“Just waitin’ for the water. Go on, pick somethin’.”
For a moment, she considers ignoring his instructions and stationing herself in the kitchen. Taking a deep breath, Ellie moves to examine Joel’s collection of movies, tracing her fingers over the spines without taking in any titles. Instead, she stands there, distantly noting how she sways in place. The warmth from the fire is oppressive, cloying in a way it has no right to be.
Joel approaches, setting something on the coffee table with a soft clink. “Want me to choose?”
With a shrug, Ellie squeezes her eyes closed against a sudden wave of lightheadedness. If Joel notices, he doesn’t call her out on it. Instead, he hums and studies the shelf before selecting a case from the middle.
“How about this one?” he asks, holding it up for her to see. The cover is faded, but she can make out a cartoon cowboy and some sort of astronaut on the front. “A kid’s movie?”
“Sometimes it’s nice to watch somethin’ simple.” Joel moves to the TV, glancing back when Ellie remains still. “Don’t tell me you’re plannin’ to stand through the whole thing.”
“I’m not,” she croaks, forcing her legs to carry her forward. Sandwiches and cookies sit between two mugs, making Ellie’s stomach twist in confusion. She’s hungry, but the thought of eating makes her nauseous.
Joel sits, not too close, but not so far that she feels alone. They reach for the mugs at the same time, but he stops to capture her hand instead. “Jesus,” he mutters, sandwiching it between both of his. “Your fingers are blue. How long were you out there?”
Ellie shrugs, wincing when the heat from the tea makes her free hand burn.
With a deep sigh, Joel tugs the quilt from behind him and drapes it around her shoulders. “Do you know what time you finished in the kitchen?”
“Like… twelve-thirty, I think?”
He presses his hand to her face, shaking his head at whatever he feels. “Hang on.” He returns less than a minute later with a thick blanket — her favorite. “Can I check your feet? Wanna make sure there’s no frostbite.”
When Ellie shrugs, Joel uncovers her legs, peeling her socks off with a gentle touch. “Just cold,” he confirms, pressing her toes between his hands. “Y’want that hot water bottle you mock me for? Warm up faster?”
“No.” She wants it to stop snowing, but that’s not something they can control. “Just… start the movie.”
After a moment of hesitation, Joel sinks into the sofa and leans back, stretching his legs out. They sit through coming attractions before the movie starts in earnest, too bright and cheerful for the dark buzz in Ellie’s brain.
She steals a glance at Joel, looking away before he notices. His face is set in the neutral mask he wears when he doesn’t want to show emotion. It’s something she wishes she could do — just turn everything off and be a blank slate. Instead, she’s a ticking bomb, every emotion and memory threatening to detonate and obliterate her.
After a few minutes, he glances over and offers her a small smile, then casually drapes his arm over the back of the sofa. Normally, she waits until she’s half asleep to get close enough for Joel to be her pillow. But it’s cold, and she’s going to rip apart, and somehow Joel knows how to soften the threat of annihilation.
“Put your feet up, kiddo,” he murmurs, pulling her to his side.
Joel jostles her a little, then raises his eyebrows when she doesn’t move. “C’mon now, don’t make me repeat myself.”
It rankles something deep inside, the way Joel knows just how to get her to unwind. But it also makes her feel cared for, which she never experienced in Boston. Between the fire, the blankets, and the human heater next to her, Ellie starts to thaw. She looks at the screen, doing her best to follow the dialogue. It’s funny — if she wasn’t so disconnected from her body, she’d be trying to disguise how much she’s enjoying the movie.
“Y’know,” Joel says halfway through, “I swore I’d never see this movie again.”
She twists to look at Joel’s face instead of the television. His expression is soft and a little sad, the way he looks when he’s thinking about the good things he did with Sarah. “Why?”
With a chuckle, he nudges her to sit up and holds the food out. “Sarah went through a phase when she was six or seven. Watched it after school every day, insisted on watchin’ it two or three times a day on the weekend. I swear, I saw the damn thing more’n a hundred times.” When Ellie doesn’t move, Joel selects two cookies and puts the plate back. “Still have most of it memorized.”
“You watched it with her?” In some ways, it’s easy to imagine Sarah curled up like Ellie is right now. In others, the young, relaxed Joel who exists in the photo with his daughter seems so far away from the man she knows. Was he grumpy around her? Had she realized it was only for show?
“Me an’ Tommy took her to see it in the theatre. Girl begged me to go back, and I gave in to stop the whinin’. Turned out she’d been pullin’ the same con on him. Think she saw it four or five times on the big screen before we cottoned on to bein’ fleeced.” He peers down at her for a moment, then nods toward her lap. “Let’s see those hands.”
It takes a few seconds to free herself from the blankets, then a few more for Joel to examine her fingers and nod with approval. “Much better.” Before she can burrow under again, he stuffs a cookie into her hand.
“Not hungry,” Ellie mutters, trying to give it back. He dodges her attempts.
“Humor an old man, would ya? Slaved over these for hours.”
She rolls her eyes, taking a tentative nibble before retorting, “You mean Maria slaved over these for hours.”
“Potato, potatoh,” he teases, smiling when she finishes it. “Shall we?”
Ellie nestles into his side, scraping her fingernails over the rough fabric of his jeans as he un-pauses the film. “We’re watching this again tomorrow, right?”
“No.”
“I think after dinner is the best time.”
“Absolutely not.”
“Just, it’s hard to pay attention, and since it’s such an important movie to you—”
“Shoulda kept my damn mouth shut.”
“—I think we should continue the tradition.”
“We do not.”
“And besides, you said you only have most of it memorized. Now that you’re elderly, you need to keep your brain sharp.”
“You’re a menace.” Joel reaches over to tug the blanket over her head.
“You’re a menace.”
Once she’s free, Ellie swats at Joel’s chest, huffing when he intercepts her hand and sets it on his leg.
“Watch the damn movie, would ya?”
“I’m fucking trying.”
She returns her attention to the screen, but her mind wanders. It’s difficult to reconcile the Joel she knows with the man he must have been before the Outbreak. Maybe he wasn’t so grumpy. Maybe he was… softer isn’t the right word. More whole. Complete.
When the movie’s over, Joel squeezes her, tilting his head to catch a glimpse of her face. “Whaddya say to some dinner and another movie?”
“Not hungry,” Ellie mutters as she sits up. “You should eat, though.”
Joel’s eyes linger on her, sighing as he stands. “Claire gave me some bone broth the other day. Might settle your stomach to have a little somethin’ in it.”
“Are you gonna get all mopey if I say no?”
He shoots her an exasperated look over his shoulder. “I don’t mope.”
“You totally do,” she calls. The room is colder without Joel, almost threatening in its hollowness. It’s too much to tolerate alone, so she follows with the pretense of putting the uneaten sandwiches in the fridge.
Joel moves around the kitchen with ease as he puts his meal together. For someone who’s a shitty cook, he looks comfortable and confident here. They don’t speak, but every so often, she catches a bit of humming. “How ‘bout I throw some pasta in this? Got some of those bowties you like last time I was fixin’ Astrid’s porch.”
“Whatever,” she mutters, turning her attention to the placemats. Joel gets anxious when Ellie doesn’t eat. Even right at the beginning, after they lost Henry and Sam, she could tell he was worried when she didn’t inhale her shitty cold beans. Sometimes when she’s upset, she just isn’t hungry and eating is impossible. It was much worse after. She lost a lot of weight in two months, even though he forced her to eat at least once a day. A week or so after Joel found her, he started making broth out of the animals he caught because she couldn’t stomach meat. It sort of worked out because he got to have the rest.
“Earth to Ellie.”
Damn, she fuzzed out. Joel’s sitting across from her now with an overly full plate. Her soup is in a steaming mug, spoon already poking out. It’s good — flavorful and a little salty — and her traitorous stomach growls in response. He’s trying not to be obvious every time he glances at her, but he fails miserably.
“Are there other movies she tortured you with?” Ellie doesn’t ask many questions about Sarah, mostly because they make Joel sad or upset. She’d asked about middle school dances once, and he answered with a forced smile. Later, when he thought she was asleep, she heard his breath hitch.
He chuckles, shaking his head. “Tons. You ever hear of Disney movies?”
“That’s the mouse thing, right?”
“Mickey Mouse,” Joel confirms. “And a whole slew of other stuff. There were a ton of ‘em with princesses and not-what. She loved those.”
“Right. Girly.” She looks down in surprise when her spoon comes up empty; she finished the soup.
He nods, sliding his plate toward her. “Reckon you’d have been horrified by how damn purple her room was.”
Ellie huffs, rolling her eyes when she realizes Joel has filled his plate with her favorite foods. “You’re not subtle, you know.”
“Never claimed to be,” he agrees, nudging it again. “Help yourself.”
“Only ‘cause we can’t waste food. You didn’t answer the question.”
It’s Joel’s turn to roll his eyes. “Didn’t give me the chance. Went through a big Sesame Street and Muppet phase, but those weren’t so bad.” When he sees the blank look on her face, he adds, “They’re puppets. Actually, you’d love ‘em. Always managed to work some innuendos in for the adults.”
“So… princesses and Muppets?”
“Yup. When she got older — eleven or twelve, I think — she was into teen romance shit. I could put up with the kids’ movies, but the other ones were awful.”
“Oh.” Ellie chews on her lip, staring at the plate before glancing at Joel through her eyelashes. “Is that who you saw the werewolf movie with? The one with all the posters.”
He nods, chuckling. “Sarah and four of her friends. They had a sleepover and I had to endure them giggling and carryin’ on about it all damn night.”
“Torture,” Ellie agrees. “I read about sleepovers. Did kids really stay up all night while the parents tried to shut them up?”
“Sure did. Her little group rotated, so they’d see a movie, then sleep over at someone’s house. I only had to deal with it every month or so.” He pauses, considering her for a moment. “I made the mistake of takin’ them to a horror flick once. Scared the hell outta all of them. I, uh…” The way Joel laughs is almost like a giggle. “When I came downstairs the next morning, they’d duct-taped a blanket over the television. Thought the thing in the movie was gonna get ‘em.”
Ellie snorts at the image and tries to cover it with a cough, but it’s too late. A small smile tugs at the corner of Joel’s mouth, the kind that’s warm but tinged with a bit of sadness. She likes how genuine it is.
It’s hard to imagine living in a world where the biggest problem is traumatizing your kid with a movie. “So, like, you let them watch all these movies and eat junk food and stuff? You never just… I dunno, told her no?”
“Said no plenty of times,” Joel says, leaning back in his chair. “But she was a good kid. Real independent, y’know? She, uh… well, she didn’t have much of a choice in that.” He shakes his head slightly and squeezes his eyes shut. “Sorry,” he mutters, reaching for the now-empty plate. “I, uh…”
“They showed us movies if the whole unit went a week without a disciplinary action,” Ellie interrupts when she realizes they’ve gone too far. “So, like, not a lot.”
“Not with you in it,” Joel taunts with a sly grin.
“Fuck you. But, uh… yeah, I kinda fucked that up a few times. They showed us Wizard of Oz a bunch. My…” Ellie swallows and takes a deep breath. Joel shares little tidbits about Sarah, and he’s always telling her to talk to him about whatever she wants. “Uh, Riley and me both liked it even though we were in different units. We used to quote it.”
At the mention of Riley, Joel turns to her with an expression of genuine interest. “Yeah? Which character did you like best?”
“Uh…. the Scarecrow, I think. His song was catchy. Oh, and the Wizard.”
As he’s drying, he waves a hand toward the living room. “Another one?”
“Only if it’s Toy Story,” she says, expression serious. “No other movie compares.”
Joel shoots her a glare and grumbles under his breath, “I’m pickin’ again.”
“Nuh-uh,” Ellie corrects as she disappears through the doorway. “You picked the first one.”
He follows her into the living room, drying his hands on a dishtowel. She’s already examining the back of a VHS tape. “Dude, you’ve been holding out on me. When’d you get all these new ones?”
“Found ‘em on patrol. Popcorn?”
“No,” Ellie responds, distracted by an interesting cover. “I’ve never seen a scary movie. Do you have one?”
Joel collapses on the sofa with a groan. “Don’t think so. Want me to ask around?”
“Yep.” She goes back to the new options, smiling at a cover with legs sticking out of a lawn. “This one sounds good,” Ellie says as she tosses the case to Joel. “Is it good?”
As she makes her way back to her blanket nest, he shakes his head and holds it out to her. “Haven’t seen it. You put it in, I ain’t gettin’ up again.”
With a solemn nod, Ellie sets up the film and sits with her knees pulled to her chest. “Do you think the kids kill the babysitter? That’d be fucking awesome.”
“Just said I ain’t seen it,” he reminds her. “Maybe if you paid attention instead of yammerin’…”
She whacks him in the chest, burrowing into her blanket before he can retaliate. “Shut up, I can’t hear.”
It’s a lot easier to follow this movie; Joel worked his Ellie-handling magic earlier, so she feels a little better about everything. They both laugh at the same parts, which makes her warm inside.
As the credits roll, Ellie stretches and lets out a contented sigh. “That was way better than I thought it’d be. We can switch off with this and Toy Story.”
“No,” Joel says flatly. “One more?”
She looks at the clock, frowning at the time. “Don’t old people go to bed early? It’s, like, way past your bedtime.”
“I’m rebelling.” With raised eyebrows, Joel regards her as he asks, “So?”
“One more,” Ellie agrees. “But only ‘cause you behaved today. And I’m picking.”
With the blanket wrapped around her like a cape, she wanders over to the shelf to grab a tape she eyed earlier. “How about this one?”
He eyes the cover for a minute. “Not today.”
“Aw, come on! Why not?”
“The end is sad. Pick somethin’ else.”
Ellie studies Joel’s face, searching for the reason behind his reluctance. “Sad how?” she presses, not moving from her spot.
“Sad like neither of us needs tonight,” he explains. “You can watch it another time, okay? Just… not tonight.”
“Okay,” she agrees with reluctance, grabbing the runner-up. “This one?”
Joel barks out a laugh so loud she jumps. “Sorry,” he chuckles. “Pretty sure that one’s awful.”
“Even better,” she grins.
Once she’s set up the movie, Ellie curls into a ball closer to Joel. The opening scene flickers, casting a dim glow over the room. She watches for a few minutes, stifling a yawn as she inches her way closer. His arm stretches across the cushions in silent invitation. He always makes space for her when they sit like this, even if she doesn’t take him up on the offer.
For the second time today, Ellie gives in to the pull of safety and slots herself into Joel’s side. His arm drops around her shoulders, keeping her close without making her feel confined. “Better?” he murmurs as she wiggles into a comfortable position.
“This movie’s awful,” she complains twenty minutes later, now using his leg as a pillow. “I love it.”
His fingers tighten around her arm for a second before he mutters, “Only you would love a terrible movie.”
“You love terrible movies too,” Ellie points out, yawning into his jeans. “All your 80s movies are so bad.”
Joel pokes her, then smoothes his hand over the blanket. “I’m tryin’ to watch this, y’know. Means you gotta shut up.”
Instead of responding, she smacks his leg and grumbles, “You started it.”
“Shhh.”
Joel threads his fingers through her hair, making it difficult to pay attention to anything other than how drowsy and comfortable she is. It gets harder and harder to keep her eyes open, each pass lulling her into a half-sleep. The movie’s terrible anyway; she won’t miss much by resting her eyes and listening to a steady stream of cheesy dialogue, gunshots, and explosions. She sinks, allowing her imagination to fill in the gaps as she hovers on the edge of sleep.
A soft murmur from Joel pulls her back momentarily, but she’s too far gone to catch the words. He shifts, touch gentle as he lifts her head and slides out from under her. The sudden absence of his presence makes her curl into a tighter ball, clutching the blanket closer. He’s careful not to wake her as he stands, his movements slow and deliberate. She should get up and walk, but her body feels leaden, anchored to the cushions.
“Bedtime,” he whispers as strong arms scoop her up. The motion is comforting and familiar even though Joel’s never carried her like this. It feels like he’s carrying her up the stairs instead of out to her garage. She’d wonder more about that if she weren’t so sleepy.
The bed is soft and warm, almost cloud-like; when Joel pulls the blankets over her, it feels like a cocoon of comfort. He lingers, leaning forward to brush a strand of hair from her eyes. After a moment, she feels Joel’s breath against her cheek, the lightest touch on her temple.
“G’night, baby girl.”