Chapter Text
Act 1 - The Road Out of Grief
The morning air stung Ellie’s cheeks as she guided Ember down the patrol path, the horse’s hooves tapping softly in the silence. Jackson was still—peaceful, some might say. But to Ellie, the quiet pressed in like a bruise. Her memories hung in the mist curling through the trees, heavy, cold, and inescapable.
She adjusted her grip on the reins, her fingers—what was left of them—feeling stiff in the chill. It had been months since her return to Jackson, and yet it felt like no time at all. The landscape hadn’t changed, the routine of patrols hadn’t changed, but Ellie had. She couldn’t forget the moment she crossed back through those gates after Santa Barbara, her body aching from the fight, but her heart heavier with something she couldn’t name.
The first faces she’d seen were familiar: Maria’s sharp, knowing eyes watching her from a distance, and Jesse’s parents, quiet and respectful as they tended to their duties. But there had been no warmth, no welcome. Just the stark reminder that Jesse wasn’t there, that Joel wasn’t there, and that the people she cared about had suffered while she was gone.
Her mind wandered back to that day, the sight of Jackson’s gates swinging open after so long, her return marked by exhaustion and the feeling of being more of a stranger than a survivor. She had expected something, though she wasn’t sure what. Maybe Dina would be there, waiting with JJ, ready to hold her, forgive her for leaving. But instead, she had been met with silence—Jackson’s quiet acceptance of her presence, but nothing more.
Dina hadn’t come out to greet her.
Ellie shook her head, trying to push the thought away, but it lingered like a sore she couldn’t stop picking at. The ride into town had felt like a march of shame, her every step weighed down by the burden of the choices she’d made. Every building, every person she passed seemed to stare through her, as though they could see the blood on her hands, the vengeance she’d failed to complete.
She had come back different—older, heavier, quieter. The girl who’d left to chase vengeance hadn’t made it home.
Ember huffed beneath her. Ellie blinked back to the present. The woods ahead were empty, just trees and wind. No raiders. No infected. Just Jackson’s peace, echoing too loudly in her ears.
Her grip tightened on the reins. This quiet—the kind most people prayed for—unraveled her.
The silence dragged her backward, to that first night home. The farmhouse had been still. Toys untouched. Joel’s guitar by the window. Everything familiar, yet hollow. Like walking into a dream someone else had left behind.
She hadn’t touched the guitar. She didn’t deserve to.
The people of Jackson hadn’t asked. But they didn’t need to. Maria’s stare, Jesse’s parents’ distance—it was all there in their eyes. They knew what she’d left behind. And so did she.
A sudden rustle. Ellie reached for her rifle without thinking. Her body still knew what to do, even if the world had quieted.
Nothing. Just the wind.
Still, her pulse stayed high. The danger was gone. But her body never really believed it.
But Jackson wasn’t like that anymore. Not for most people. For them, it was safe. For them, life had returned to some semblance of normal. And yet, for Ellie, normal felt like a distant memory, something unreachable.
She looked down at her hand, her left hand—the one missing two fingers—and flexed it slightly. The scars were healing, but the damage was permanent. Just like everything else.
The horse shifted beneath her, and Ellie realized she had been sitting there, lost in thought, for too long. She urged Ember forward again, forcing herself to focus on the task at hand. The quiet patrol, the familiar route, the life she was trying to fit back into.
But no matter how hard she tried, the return to normal life still felt like a dream, like something that didn’t quite belong to her anymore. And every day, she wondered if it ever would again.
___
After completing her patrol and getting Ember back to the stables, Ellie went back to the center of the city. She tugged at the sleeves of her jacket as she approached Jackson’s town hall, the familiar log-built structure looming ahead. It had been months since her return, and though life in Jackson had become a part of her daily routine, moments like this—heading to meet Maria—still stirred something uncomfortable in her chest.
Today’s meeting was about some mundane task, nothing like the tension-filled first conversation they’d had. But as Ellie pushed open the heavy wooden door, her thoughts drifted back to that first real talk with Maria—the one that had set the tone for their evolving relationship.
She still remembered that first meeting.
Maria had been sitting behind her desk, hands folded, eyes fixed on the papers in front of her. She didn’t look up when Ellie walked in. No greeting. No welcome. Just silence.
Ellie had stood awkwardly, hands in her jacket pockets, the air between them brittle with everything unsaid.
Then Maria spoke—quietly, but with the weight of a hammer.
“I’m not going to pretend I understand why you went after her,” she said. “But I’ve lost too much because of it.”
Ellie swallowed hard but said nothing. What could she offer? An apology wouldn’t bring Jesse back. Wouldn’t make Tommy whole again.
“I loved Joel too,” Maria went on, voice low but steady. “But this wasn’t about him. This was about revenge. About selfishness.”
That one hit.
Ellie had opened her mouth. Closed it again. Her stomach twisted, shame rising like bile.
Then Maria’s voice softened, not out of pity—out of truth.
“You left Dina. You left JJ. You left your family behind. And now, you have to live with that.”
That was it. No shouting. No threats. Just facts. The kind that didn’t fade.
Maria hadn’t shunned her after that day. If anything, she had kept Ellie closer. Not in an overt way, but with a subtle protectiveness that Ellie hadn’t noticed at first. Every new task Maria assigned her seemed to carry less of the tension from that initial talk. Ellie’s patrols became more frequent, Maria’s presence less imposing, and gradually, the conversations that had once been laced with anger turned into discussions about the community, about how Ellie could help.
The memory of one of those more recent talks stood out in her mind as she reached the door to Maria’s office today.
A few months ago, Maria had asked Ellie to sit down after a patrol debrief, the tiredness in her face softened with something Ellie couldn’t quite place.
“You’ve been doing good work, Ellie,” Maria had said, her voice steady. “I’m not going to pretend everything’s been easy for you—hell, for any of us—but you’re trying. And that’s more than a lot of people would do.”
It had been one of the first times since returning that Ellie had felt… seen. Not as the broken girl who had chased vengeance, but as someone trying to find her place in the world again.
And now, here she was, months later, coming to see Maria for something as simple as checking patrol routes, but it didn’t feel like the same office or the same relationship anymore. There was a quiet understanding between them now, something that had been built slowly and without words. Maria’s anger had given way to a kind of maternal protectiveness, though Ellie hadn’t quite allowed herself to fully recognize it.
The door creaked as Ellie pushed it open, and there was Maria, sitting at her desk as usual, her eyes lifting to meet Ellie’s. This time, there was no cold stare, no simmering anger—just the tired but warm gaze of someone who had seen too much but was still standing.
“Ellie,” Maria said, offering a small, almost imperceptible smile. “Thanks for coming.”
Ellie nodded, stepping inside, the tension in her shoulders easing just a little. For all the guilt and anger that had lingered between them in the beginning, Maria had become something Ellie hadn’t realized she needed—a guiding presence, firm but fair, and maybe even, in a way Ellie hadn’t expected, a figure she could lean on.
She still wasn’t sure what to call it. Friendship, maybe. But as she sat down across from Maria, a thought flickered in the back of her mind: family.
___
The town hall buzzed with quiet activity as Ellie stepped into the main hall, the smell of roasting vegetables and simmering stew already filling the air. It was the weekly communal dinner, an event that had grown in importance over the last few months, serving as a time for Jackson’s residents to come together, share food, and strengthen the bonds of their small community. For Ellie, the dinners had always felt a little off—too close, too communal for her taste—but Dina had convinced her that it was worth being part of.
Maria had asked Dina earlier in the week to help with the dinner, a request that was hardly surprising given Dina’s knack for bringing people together. Dina, always eager to contribute, had agreed, deciding that she’d make the stew with Robin, Jesse’s mother. The two had bonded over their shared loss, and the act of cooking together had become something of a ritual for them, one that helped ease the weight of grief.
When Maria had asked Ellie to contribute as well, she’d hesitated, unsure of where she fit in the social dynamic of the community these days. But Dina, sensing her reluctance, had chimed in, her voice light and teasing: “Ellie can help me serve the stew. That way, I won’t be the one spilling everything.”
Ellie hadn’t argued. She rarely did when Dina asked her for something, especially when it came with that playful glint in her eyes.
Now, as Ellie moved through the hall, her thoughts wandered back to the day she had returned to Jackson—back to the moment she saw Dina for the first time after leaving her and JJ behind. It was a memory that played out in fragments, scattered like the broken pieces of her own heart.
She remembered the weight of her feet on the ground as she had walked through Jackson’s gates. The air had felt thick with tension, though the town itself was quiet, just as it always had been. But everything had felt different to her—the familiar faces that once brought her comfort now seemed distant, like echoes of a past she couldn’t return to.
Dina hadn’t been there to greet her. Ellie hadn’t expected her to be, not after the way she’d left things, but a part of her had hoped. Hope—that was the cruelest part of it all.
She had gone to their house, the one they’d shared on the outskirts of Jackson, her heart pounding in her chest. The door had felt heavy as she pushed it open, the creak of the hinges slicing through the stillness inside. It had been empty. Not just physically, but emotionally. The warmth that had once filled their home had vanished, leaving behind only traces of a life that had moved on without her.
Toys scattered on the floor. JJ’s laughter no longer echoing through the rooms. Dina’s jacket hanging by the door, untouched. The weight of it had hit Ellie like a punch to the gut.
She had stood there, staring at the remnants of the life she’d abandoned, her body frozen, unsure of what to do next. The silence had been unbearable, but the absence of Dina’s presence was worse. She had walked through the house, room by room, her footsteps echoing in the empty space, every step a reminder of what she had lost.
When she had finally seen Dina again, it wasn’t in the privacy of their home. It had been in the town square, in front of others. Dina had been holding JJ, her smile strained but still there, still the same. She hadn’t said much, hadn’t needed to. Her eyes had told Ellie everything—she was hurt, but she was still here. Not for Ellie, not yet, but for JJ and the life they’d built.
The memory twisted in Ellie’s chest, and she blinked, shaking off the thoughts as she entered the kitchen area where Dina was helping Robin. The older woman was chopping vegetables with practiced efficiency, her movements steady and methodical. Dina stood beside her, stirring the large pot of stew, her sleeves rolled up, her hair tied back in a loose ponytail.
Dina looked up as Ellie approached, a soft smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. “Hey, you made it.”
Ellie nodded, trying to muster a smile of her own. “Yeah, I’m here.”
Robin glanced up, her expression warm but laced with the same sorrow that had never quite left her eyes since Jesse’s death. “Ellie, good to see you,” she said, offering a small nod. “Dina’s making sure I don’t burn the stew.”
Dina chuckled. “We’ll see how that goes. You might want to keep an eye on me too, Ellie.”
Ellie couldn’t help the slight grin that crept onto her face at Dina’s teasing.It was easy to pretend, especially when others were watching.
Dina would smile, throw an arm around Ellie’s shoulder, brush her hand against hers as they served stew side by side. From the outside, they still looked like them—like the couple everyone remembered. Together.
But behind closed doors, those touches vanished.
Their intimacy had become rare, fleeting. They hadn’t shared more than a few brief embraces, a handful of quiet kisses that barely made it through the night. There was no real warmth to cling to, no foundation to rebuild on. Ellie felt like an empty shell, going through the motions, pretending the love she still had for Dina could fix what had been shattered.
She tried to keep calm, to push down the sick feeling that crawled up her throat every time Dina’s public affection felt performative, but it gnawed at her constantly. She loved Dina—God, she still loved her—but the distance between them had only grown since she’d returned. Each day, it felt like they were drifting further apart, like the life Ellie had tried so hard to rebuild was crumbling around her.
Maria’s voice cut through her thoughts. “Ellie, can you grab the bowls from the shelf? We’re almost ready to start serving.”
Ellie blinked, shaking herself out of her spiral. “Yeah, sure.” She moved to the cabinet, pulling down the bowls with mechanical precision, her mind still stuck in the past, stuck in the moments she couldn’t get back.
She glanced over at Dina, who was wiping her hands on a towel, chatting easily with Robin. Dina’s laughter rang out again, and Ellie felt that familiar twist in her gut. Dina looked happy—so damn happy—in front of everyone else. But behind closed doors, that happiness vanished, replaced with the silence that had haunted their relationship since her return.
“Ellie, you okay?” Dina’s voice pulled her back to the present, her gaze soft as she glanced over.
Ellie forced a small smile, a well-practiced move by now. “Yeah, I’m fine,” she lied, her heart heavy with the weight of everything unsaid between them.
Dina’s eyes lingered on her for a moment longer, and for a second, Ellie thought she might say something real, something that cut through the walls they had built between them. But instead, Dina just nodded, her smile returning as she turned back to Robin.
Ellie carried the bowls to the table, setting them down and glancing up at Maria. The older woman gave her a brief nod, and Ellie returned it, grateful for the small tasks that kept her busy, kept her from thinking too hard about how broken everything felt.
The dinner itself had become a big deal in Jackson, a weekly event that drew the community together, where they shared food, stories, and a sense of normalcy. Ellie hadn’t been part of it much before, but since returning, Maria had made sure she was involved. Whether it was to keep her integrated into the community or to keep an eye on her, Ellie wasn’t sure. But it kept her busy, and that was something.
As they started ladling stew into the bowls, Ellie and Dina stood side by side, serving their neighbors. The smiles they exchanged were genuine enough on the surface, but Ellie could feel the tension simmering just beneath. Every now and then, Dina would reach over, brushing her hand against Ellie’s as if to keep up appearances, as if to remind people that they were still a unit.
And Ellie would smile back, as she always did, swallowing the sickness that threatened to rise in her chest.
The stew pot emptied slowly, the bowls handed out to familiar faces who greeted them with nods and kind words. To the community, nothing was wrong. To everyone else, Dina and Ellie were fine. Maybe even better than fine.
But Ellie knew better. The cracks were still there, deeper than ever.
As the last bowl was served and the crowd started to gather at the long tables, Ellie stood back for a moment, watching the people around her. They were laughing, eating, sharing stories of patrols and hunts. It should have felt comforting, being part of something so familiar, so normal.
But all Ellie could think about was the silence that awaited her once the dinner was over. The quiet that stretched between her and Dina like a canyon, growing wider with each passing day. She didn’t know how to close the gap. And part of her was terrified that she never would.
As Ellie stood back, watching the people of Jackson gather around the tables, their laughter and conversation filling the hall, her thoughts drifted, retreating inward to a quieter time. She needed something, anything, to hold on to—some memory, some moment that would remind her that maybe there was still hope for her and Dina.
Her mind wandered to one of the rare nights they had spent together, a few weeks after she had returned. It had been quiet then too, just the two of them sitting on the couch, the warmth of the fire casting a soft glow around the room. JJ had already been asleep, his soft breaths the only sound in the house aside from the crackling fire.
Dina had sat beside her, close but not too close, the distance between them a reminder of how far they still had to go. Ellie remembered the tension that had weighed on her chest, the uncertainty of what to say, of how to bridge the gap that had grown between them. But then, without a word, Dina had leaned over and rested her head on Ellie’s shoulder.
It had been such a small thing, barely even a touch, but it had felt monumental. Ellie’s breath had caught in her throat, her heart racing at the simple, quiet connection. It wasn’t a kiss, it wasn’t an embrace, but it was something—something real.
They hadn’t said much that night, just sat together, their bodies warm and close in the soft light of the fire. Eventually, Dina had lifted her head and turned toward Ellie, her eyes soft but tired. She had leaned in, her lips brushing against Ellie’s in a kiss so gentle it felt fragile, like it might break at any moment.
Ellie had kissed her back, slowly, carefully, as if afraid to push too far. But for that moment, it had been enough. Enough to make her believe that maybe, just maybe, there was still something left between them. Something worth fighting for.
The kiss hadn’t lasted long, and neither had the quiet warmth that followed. Dina had pulled away, her gaze distant, and after a brief exchange of murmured goodnights, they had gone to bed—separately. But that kiss, brief as it was, had stayed with Ellie. It was one of the few moments in the months since her return that had made her believe she hadn’t lost everything.
That memory had become a touchstone for Ellie, something she returned to when the weight of the silence between them became too much to bear. She told herself that the softness in Dina’s eyes that night, the way her lips had felt against hers, meant something. Maybe it wasn’t enough to fix everything, but it was a start.
Now, as she stood in the busy hall, the noise of the communal dinner swirling around her, Ellie clung to that memory like a lifeline. She could still feel the ghost of that kiss, the way Dina had pressed her head against her shoulder, the warmth of her body beside hers. Maybe things weren’t perfect—hell, they were far from it—but that memory reminded her that there had been moments of closeness. Moments that gave her hope, even if they were few and far between.
She looked over at Dina, who was talking with Robin, her smile bright and effortless. From a distance, Dina seemed okay, happy even. And in public, that happiness seemed real, even if Ellie knew better. But maybe—just maybe—that public smile wasn’t entirely fake. Maybe there was still a part of Dina that wanted to find their way back to each other, even if she couldn’t show it fully.
Ellie wanted to believe that. She needed to believe that. Because without that belief, without the memory of that night, all she had left was the silence and the distance.
The dinner went on, people eating and laughing, and Ellie moved through the crowd, helping where she could, her mind never straying too far from Dina. The memory of that kiss, of that quiet night, stayed with her, a small flame of hope flickering in the back of her mind.
Maybe there was still a chance. Maybe she could still find her way back to Dina.
As the noise of the hall faded and the bowls clinked into washbins, Ellie felt Dina’s shoulder brush hers. Their hands met briefly on the same plate. Neither pulled away.
Dina glanced at her—just a flicker, soft and unsure—and something shifted. A thread tugged loose inside Ellie’s chest.
Before she could think, before she could doubt, Ellie leaned in and whispered, “Hey… want to build a fire in the backyard later? Just us?”
Dina blinked, startled by the question, then slowly smiled. It was real. It reached her eyes. “I’d like that.”
Ellie exhaled for the first time all day.
It wasn’t forgiveness. It wasn’t healing.
But maybe it was a place to start.