Chapter Text
"Please, Ben, wait!" I cried when I realized he was serious this time. He has been talking about the Fireflies for years, but I never actually took his threats seriously. I mean, he was Ben. Even though he was born first, he was always the one who acted younger. If anything, I've protected him all these years. Picking up the pieces our parents left behind, cleaning up their mess, living for both of us until he finally recovered.
"I have to," he turned around calmly, "I understand your reasons for wanting to stay here. I know you don't think there is anything worth experiencing outside these walls. But whatever is out there has to be better than this. I can't keep watching you wither away like this, I'm going to prove to you there is more."
I stand a foot away from him; he's so much taller than me now, I still need to get used to seeing him passionate about something again. I wonder what that is like... I'm still used to seeing his ass planted on the couch, lying around waiting to die.
"You won't last," I say it definitively like a reflex, a statement I’ve repeated to him over and over again every time he brings up his plans, in hopes that the repetition of my words will eventually resonate with him. He would never ask me to come with him, at least he knows I’m safer here than out there. Well, safe-ish.
“You don’t know that,” he sighs as he relents and closes the gap between us, “there’s always more.” He reaches up to brush my hair out of my face.
“Marlene is a smooth talker,” I bat his hand away, “but she’s not nearly as smart as she thinks she is. Just a person obsessed with being more important than they actually are.”
“Aren’t you tired?” He practically stamps in frustration, “If anyone should hate FEDRA and want a change, it should be you! The only way I can help you is to prove to you that there is a better way!”
I’m just used to it, I haven’t known anything different. Why should I expect any more or less than anyone else when this has been my life ever since I can remember?
I can feel myself grimace as my eyes avert away from his, “I’m treated better than most.”
“But I want more for you, for us. Just like you wanted more for me when I was stuck in the past, and you brought me back to life. Somewhere we can be free and live, not just survive day to day. Because I know how good society and the world can be.”
“Like in the old-world books you desperately cling to?” I snap at him, “That world doesn’t exist anymore! Move on!”
“But it could-“
“No! It can’t!” I stamped my foot to put emphasis on my statement, even if I looked childish.
“FEDRA has you brainwashed!”
“Said the pot to the kettle! What do you think the Fireflies are doing to you?!”
He rolls his eyes at me and crosses his arms, opening his mouth to respond, but I interrupt him, afraid of what he might say.
“At least I know what to expect from FEDRA. They don’t give false hope; they see the world as it is. That’s better than following some delusional group playing superheroes like toddlers playing dress up! Promising everyone they will restore order when all they do is contribute to the chaos.”
Ben groans as he turns away from me again, trying to exit the conversation literally and mentally, like he always does, but I won’t let him this time.
I grab onto his arm, “Ben!” I can feel tears start to well up in me, a brief slip in the mask I’ve carefully constructed over the years to protect myself, even in front of Ben… No, especially in front of him.
Ben stiffens at the unfamiliar sound of emotion in my voice. He turns to look at me, and the tension in his shoulders relaxes slightly. “Are these real tears?”
He sounded stunned as his thumbs brushed the corners of my eyes, “I haven’t seen you cry since you were a baby. I’ve been starting to think FEDRA had your tear ducts surgically removed.”
“Ben, please,” I have to let my emotions out, something I’ve always vowed never to do, “I don’t know how to live in a world where you don’t exist anymore.”
I am the little sister after all, but I feel much older than Ben. Maybe it’s the disconnect I’ve always felt with our parents, and the world he once knew. He knew them as different people than I did since he was 16 and I was only 4 when the world went to shit. I only care about him and Jane, Ben cares about the world and everyone in it. He wants to help make the world a better place. I'm still searching around our apartment for a fuck to give.
It hurt him a lot more when our mother left and our father sold me to the FEDRA soldiers, just so he could continue getting high until a particularly vivid hallucination sent him jumping out a window 12 stories up from the hard pavement that happily greeted him on his descent down, losing the battle with gravity.
Ben never got over it, and the loss of the old world. He was very close to our father, pre- and post-outbreak. Probably because my father couldn’t profit from him. I had to pick up the pieces and put Ben back together slowly. I took care of him, and finding that purpose made me want to continue in this miserable world. To continue fighting.
“You’re scared,” Ben sighs, “I understand. I’ll never be able to pay you back for taking care of me. But I can do this; I’ll find ways to contact you. You have privileges to use the radio.”
“They won’t let me speak to you if you’re a Firefly.”
“I will write letters.”
“Cool, how will you get them to me?”
“I don’t know yet.”
“Very much like a Firefly,” I scoffed, “’ we’re going to overthrow the military and restore order!’ Cool, how? ‘We’re going to make a vaccine and save everyone!’ Neat, how? Where are your peer-reviewed journals? Where are your clinical trials? ‘We-“
“You’re more like dad than you know,” Ben half smirks at me, “always needed to know exactly how things worked, made lists, detailed plans, analyzed data, obsessed over his medical texts, he needed to know everything to help people. Suppose it did make him a good doctor in the old world.”
Yeah, until the world went to shit and he stopped caring about who lived and died. Since the good people died first, and the bad people live on, like cockroaches. Scum of the earth who will continue and spawn new deadly people who will have even less emotion.
“I’m still holding out hope it was the postman I share DNA with rather than him,” I mumble, thinking about my father.
“I understand you’re obsessed with structure and order and keeping things the same. That’s always what you’ve done, it’s the consistency for you and that gives you some comfort, you can’t dive into the unknown, it makes you uncomfortable and afraid to be hurt. But nothing changes if nothing changes.” I can feel Ben’s eyes burning into me, studying me for my reaction. Begging for me to give him something.
When I continue to refuse to look at him, he calls my name to prompt a response from me, “The world doesn’t want to be saved, Ben. Tell that to the Fireflies; their memo was clearly lost in the mail.”
He doesn’t acknowledge my words; he only pulls me in for a tight hug. Even though he was my brother, I still can’t help but tense up at physical contact. I can feel him tremble. He’s terrified, but there is nothing I can say to change his mind…. And I know it.
“Love you, sis. I’ll be in touch. I promise.”
Ben gives me one final crooked smile before he turns away from me, before he can change his mind. He left me standing in the living room, cold and alone, and for the first time ever, I broke down.
______________________________________________________________________________________________________
Tommy slowly led Joel and Ellie down the hall of the clinic, pointing out areas of interest. It was attached to the small hospital in Jackson, run by a skeleton crew of doctors and nurses. They were lucky to have 5 doctors, only 2 of them were doctors before the outbreak, trying to teach the younger ones as much as they could.
The hospital runs surprisingly well with such low numbers of medical personnel. But they have the equipment they need for the most part. They go on patrol when they can to try to scavenge more medical supplies, which leads them further and further away each patrol in all directions, looking for clinics and other hospitals.
They take a left and travel down a hallway to a small clinic. It’s more of a triage area; it has mostly been used as a non-emergent clinic. A place where everyone’s medical records can be kept. Also, a place to bring newcomers to the community to check them out. Which is why Tommy has brought Joel and Ellie here today.
They enter the clinic, and Tommy is surprised to see it empty. He hums and walks behind the counter to see who was supposed to be in the clinic today, “Ah,” Tommy chuckled when he read the familiar name, “I see why it’s so empty.”
Tommy gestures for Joel and Ellie to follow him behind the counter and search for the doctor. There are four rooms down the narrow hallway, and one of them has the door closed. Tommy knocks on the door first, in case she is with a patient already. When he doesn’t hear an answer on the other side, he opens the door slowly to see a woman sitting in a chair, head resting on her folded arms on the desk.
“Of course,” Tommy sighed before he started saying your name gently, in hopes of not startling you out of your peaceful sleep. He is weary, having heard campfire-like horror stories of your attitude toward being woken up from a deep sleep.
When calling your name didn’t work, Joel takes the initiative and kicks at the wheels of the chair you’re sitting on. This does the trick, you jolt awake and jump off the chair, rounding on Tommy, seemingly preparing for a fight as you square up, “What?!”
“I much prefer you like this,” Tommy teases you, “your fake, overly nice persona leaves something to be desired.”
“Didn’t you read the sign?” You reply irritably, “I’m on break.”
“I’m sure Wilson was the one who took it down. You know, he refuses to wake you up after the last time? I don’t think he can handle another brain injury. He is the best we have; try not to hurt him, please.”
“Pussy,” you mutter as you pull your hair back and out of your face.
Joel didn’t quite know what to make of you, though he found your weird attitude amusing. He thought it was interesting that you’re the only person they’ve met in Jackson so far that hasn’t given him and Ellie a warm, polite welcome. In fact, you still have not even acknowledged their presence.
“Where is your lab coat?” Tommy inquired as you stand and straighten out your clothes. You wore a casual button-up long-sleeve plaid shirt tucked into fitted jeans.
“I don’t wear it; it makes me look like a doctor.” You respond matter-of-factly.
“That’s the point.”
“Indeed, I’m not understanding what you’re not getting.” She squints at Tommy like he just got the easiest question in the world wrong.
“Anyway, this is my brother, Joel, and this is Ellie. They joined Jackson last week; I’m just bringing them in so you can start profiles for them.” Tommy tells them your name, Ellie greets you politely, and Joel merely nods in acknowledgement.
You grabbed what looked like a letter off the top of the desk and shoved it into your pocket, “Alright,” you resigned as you grabbed a clipboard with some charting paper already attached.
“Aren’t you a little young to be a doctor?” Ellie asks you, sitting down on one of the vacant chairs in the room.
“Aren’t you a little young to have a father that old?” You deflect, barely looking up from your clipboard as you fidget with your pen.
You could feel tension immediately enter the room after your reply. It was so abrupt that it made you look up at them for the first time, “Unfreeze, I was kidding.”
Tommy rubbed the back of his neck, “Are these 2 going to be okay with you? I need to run a few errands for Maria.”
“The reason why you ask that question is one of the reasons why I shouldn’t be allowed to wear a lab coat. My frontal lobe isn’t even fully developed yet.” You smile sweetly at Tommy.
“Yeah, yeah, just take it easy on these 2, alright? I don’t want ‘em runnin’ off before they have time to settle in. Save your ‘charm’ for later.”
“My ‘charm’ makes me special, Mr. Miller.”
“Yeah, well, stop chasing patients away to avoid clinic duty."
“Hey, I told them I could get a more accurate temperature reading from them if I inserted the probe rectally. It’s not my fault they didn’t like my medical opinion.”
Tommy chuckles and shakes his head as he closes the door gently behind him and leaves the clinic.
You take a deep breath and are about to ask them some questions when you notice the way Joel is looking at you. He was studying your face with frightening intensity. It was starting to make you uncomfortable, “Um, excuse me, sir,” you clear your throat, “my breasts are down here.”
“You look familiar.” He mumbles.
“It’s so interesting you say that I’ve been told I look like everyone.”
“You’re from Boston.” It wasn’t a question; it was a statement.
Joel knew you looked familiar; how could he forget? The circumstances were strange to say the least. You were in a bad way when he saw you, although he doubted you would remember him. You were barely conscious after all. He knew you had to have been affiliated with FEDRA in some way, which explained how you ended up the way you did when Joel found you.
“Nope, not me.” You reply coolly, trying to be nonchalant.
Ellie looks from Joel to you and back again. She can’t confirm or deny Joel’s claim; she does not recognize you.
“I have a common face.” You shrug as Joel narrows his eyes at you.
“I wouldn’t say that.”
“I mean, you’re pretty old, your eyes aren’t what they used to be when you were a paper boy slinging news about World War I. Can I start my assessment and get you out of here so we can drop this conversation?”
Joel did not feel like pushing. If you choose to keep that information to yourself, it wasn’t up to him to call you out, as it must be a traumatic memory for you. He felt it would be hypocritical of him to force answers out of you when he has some pretty dark secrets he is carrying around as well. He decided to drop it for now and sat back in his chair.
“Miller, right? Same last name as your brother?” You confirm after clearing your throat.
You stop fidgeting with your pen and hold it up to the charting paper to write his name at the top of the page after Joel nods, “age?”
“Over 21,” Joel replies.
“Adorable, date of birth?”
“September 26, 1981.”
You did the math and added his age to the paper. You asked both of them to stand on the scale and measure their heights to add as well, “significant medical history?”
“Not really.”
“Allergies?”
“No.”
“Any chronic conditions? Past surgeries?”
“Does it matter?”
“To an extent,” you frown at the paper, “it’s a very old questionnaire, back when things like hypertension, COPD, diabetes and asthma mattered for treatment. Nowadays, medications to treat such conditions are very hard to find. But, they want me to follow the rules, so I’m going to, to an annoyingly accurate standard that no one abides by anymore and waste time. Mmmkay?”
You look up from the papers and scan Joel again, “I’m going to go ahead and put depression, PTSD and anxiety down. And, judging by the bags under your eyes, insomnia.”
“Yeah, what do you offer for that?” Joel raises an amused eyebrow at you.
“Rousing speeches about how much you should appreciate being here, like it’s some sort of gift to be alive at this point. And alcohol, we have alcohol.” You sigh as you flip to another page, place your clipboard down and grab the vitals machine from next to the desk.
You move closer to Joel, “Shirt off, Mr. Miller. I need to document any old injuries, and it will be easier to hear your heart and lung sounds.”
Joel fidgets uncomfortably; he sits frozen to the spot. He’s already thinking about what’s going to happen when you get to Ellie. They covered her bite mark with a bandage, but what if you ask to see it?
You start tapping your foot impatiently, “You want me to throw on some music, a little Pour Some Sugar on Me by Def Leppard? Throw some singles or ration cards? Strip!”
“Are you sure you’re a doctor?” Ellie laughs as she notes how uncomfortable Joel is getting.
“I’m what passes for a doctor these days.” You smirk, “Come on, Mr. Miller, I paid good money to see those tig ol’ bitties, whip ‘em out like your daddy never loved you.”
You were certainly intrigued by him; he is the only new person to the community you have met who didn’t look excited to be here. If anything, he looked more depressed and anxious to be here, like he wanted to disappear into the floor and never resurface. How interesting, you thought, maybe I won’t be bored for much longer. There's clearly more to his story.
Joel finally complies, and you start taking note of any old injuries. You pushed the vitals machine closer, wrapped the blood pressure cuff around his arm, and put the pulse oximeter on one of his fingers.
You grab the thermometer, “open your mouth like a good little whore for daddy.”
“Do people enjoy your company?” Joel takes the temperature probe from you.
“I’m an acquired taste.”
“You seem inedible.”
“Sounds like somebody wants a prostate exam, and unfortunately for you, I’m out of lube. Would you like to bite the pillow, baby?”
“Prostate?” Ellie scrunched up her face at the unfamiliar word.
“The elusive male ‘on’ switch.” You smile at her and wink at Joel, relishing his discomfort.
“Ellie, wait in the hall,” Joel mumbles as he pinches the bridge of his nose in annoyance.
“No way, this is fun!” Ellie is enjoying Joel being uncomfortable a little too much.
“Yeah! It's Fun!” You chime in.
You look over at the vitals machine when you hear the alarm go off. The yellow light was blinking, signalling that Joel’s heart rate was faster than it should be.
You frown at the machine and grab your stethoscope off the desk. You wanted to confirm it was not just an abnormal reading on the machine. You insert the earpieces and hold the stethoscope’s diaphragm against Joel’s chest, timing his heartbeat yourself.
“Your heartbeat is really fast,” you note, more to yourself than to Joel as you sling your stethoscope over your shoulders, “are you nervous because no one has touched your bare skin in decades? Just the general healthcare-ish environment? Or perhaps nervous about the other questions in the intake forms? Hmmmm?”
“I can help, Joel,” Ellie giggles as she goes into her bag and pulls out a book. “Did you hear about the guy who went to the doctor with a headache? The doctor examined his ear and found money. The doctor kept pulling and pulling it out until he had $1999.00. The doctor said ‘No wonder you’re not feeling two grand!"
You blink slowly as your gaze shifts from Joel to Ellie to the book she is holding, No Pun Intended Volume Too.
“Oh god, no.” You mutter under your breath.
“Here’s another one you’ll like, Joel!” Ellie beams and clears her throat, “Why did the coffee taste like dirt? Because it was ground just a few minutes ago!”
“What does a dad say when he puts the car in reverse?” she continues, “’Ah, this takes me back!’”
You look back at Joel, almost like you were waiting for him to stop this. But he just sits there quietly, like he’s used to it.
“Justice is a dish best served cold. Otherwise, it’s just water!”
You recoiled from that one, as if her words burned you and your body is trying to tell you it’s dangerous and can cause you physical harm if you continue listening.
“How do you make holy water? You boil the hell out of it!”
You straighten up and start making your way over to Ellie.
“Why should you never throw Grandpa’s false teeth at a vehicle? You might denture car!”
Ellie smiles up at you innocently when she notices you standing in front of her.
“You are a menace, and you belong in federal prison.” You scold her as you quickly swipe the joke book from her hands.
“Hey!” Ellie protests.
“I am excising a malignant tumour,” you shrug as you lean against the desk, “now, for your chemo/punishment.”
You flip to a random page in the book and pick a joke, “Why can’t dinosaurs clap their hands? Because they’re extinct! Get it?! Because dinosaurs have been extinct for about 65 million years, so obviously they are no longer able to clap! Cause they are all dead!” You laugh as you turn the page again.
“Oh, I gave my handyman a to-do list, but he only did jobs 1, 3 and 5. Turns out he only does odd jobs! Ha! Get it?! Because odd jobs refers to the phrase meaning one does a series of unrelated or unspecialized jobs. But in the case of the joke, it is referring to odd numbers that cannot be evenly divided by 2, such as 1, 3 and 5!”
“Please, stop!” Ellie groans.
“I’m so upset – my barber said he can’t cut my hair any longer. He can only cut it shorter! Get it?! Because we originally think that his barber is refusing to take him on as a client any longer, but then, it’s revealed that what he means is that it is impossible for him to cut his hair in order to make it shorter!”
“Oh my god,” Ellie covers her ears.
“What do you call a dog that meditates? Aware wolf! Get it?! Cause meditation involves one becoming aware of their body, their feelings and reactions in the moment. And ‘aware-wolf’ sounds like ‘werewolf’, the mythical creature that is described to be a human/dog hybrid in popular folklore and urban legends!”
She closes the book as she sees Ellie recoil from her words, “Shall I continue? I will ruin every joke in this book if I must.”
“Please, no!”
You nod curtly and turn your attention back to Joel, who seems to be rather amused by your stunt. You continue on with your assessments as Ellie sits quietly watching from the other side of the room.
“Now,” you clear your throat as you pick up your clipboard again, “any recent stresses in your life? Financial? Mental? Familial-“
Joel yanks the clipboard from your hands and squints at the page, “the hell is with these questions?”
“I told you, they are old charting papers, before the outbreak, usually we skip those questions, but, as we’ve established, I like wasting people’s time.”
Joel holds his hand out silently for your pen. “Okay,” you relent, “but if you don’t give that back the second you’re done, I will be on you like a puma.”
While Joel was going through the papers and filling out what he could, you attached a smaller blood pressure cuff to the machine so you could document Ellie’s vitals as well.
“Where did you guys come from?” You ask her as you wrap the cuff around her arm.
“Originally or recently?”
“Recently is fine, thanks.”
You can feel Joel’s eyes on your back as you work on Ellie. You note that he seems to be the very protective type when it comes to Ellie. She may not be his biological child, but he sure acts like she is.
You note that and file it at the back of your mind for later analysis.
“Um, Salt Lake City,” Ellie answered uncertainly.
You take your stethoscope and have a listen to her heart and lungs. Her heart seems to be pounding as well. Your thoughts are confirmed when you hear the same alarm and yellow light flash, indicating her heart rate was fast.
“You do know I’m not here to probe the inner depths of your psyche, right? These are very basic and simple questions, they are not tricks,” you raise your eyebrows at them, “I’m just trying to get accurate data so we can treat you the same as everyone else. This isn’t an interrogation. Calm down.”
Ellie and Joel share a look; clearly, they are hiding something. You don’t really care what it is, but you thought maybe if you separated them, it would help.
“Alright,” you clap your hands and detach Ellie from the machine, “Ellie, you wait out in the hallway, daddy and I need to have a chat.”
“Huh, but I-“
“You are both so tense, you sit in the hall and read your evil book. Mr. Miller, you stay in here without any distractions.”
You pass Ellie her joke book back and shoo her into the hallway. She looks back and gives Joel a look before you close the door behind her.
“So,” you say as you sit back on your chair and wheel it closer to Joel, “what were you guys doing with the Fireflies?”
You study his reaction, and are unsurprised when he tenses up again immediately. Joel thinks he can hide his thoughts well. His demeanour is always tense, but you can see all the subtle shifts most people can’t see.
You allow Joel to stir in his thoughts, you just sit there quietly, hands relaxing in your lap, posture open, inviting him to talk. Joel starts fidgeting with the pen he took from you earlier, mouth set in a thin line, mind racing.
Joel doesn’t know what to say; he can’t exactly tell you what happened in Salt Lake City, but you seem to know about the Fireflies' whereabouts. Were you one of them? Did you know what the Fireflies were doing in Salt Lake?
Joel hadn’t even told Tommy what went down with the Fireflies, so how was he going to navigate this conversation? He decided his only option is to test the waters a little bit, see what you may share.
“You know the Fireflies are over there? Know what they're up to?”
You bite at your bottom lip, trying not to fall into a rant, so you decide to keep it simple, “Arkham Asylum? Yeah, I’ve heard of the hospital.”
Joel furrows his brows at you, not understanding the reference. You sigh, realizing not everyone had access to a brother who held onto 100s of comic books from his old life.
“Look, I can understand their motivations, but to me, they are just a bunch of crazy bastards who think they are smarter than they are, and want to use knowledge they don’t have to bring about a future that cannot exist.”
You realize you’re losing your composure a little, you take a breath and calm yourself down.
“Not a fan of the Fireflies?” Joel studies you carefully.
“We’ve acknowledged we have irreconcilable differences. Good thing we signed a prenup, it’s better for the kids this way. I’m not bitter, though, I swear.”
“Don’t think there is a cure out there somewhere?”
“It doesn’t matter,” you mutter your reply, waving your hand as if you were trying to wipe away the conversation.
Joel was satisfied enough to move on; it seemed like you had your own problems with the Fireflies you didn’t want to talk about. And that worked just fine with him.
“Anyway, have you been able to answer the questions?” You ask as you reach for the clipboard in Joel’s hands, noting that he hadn’t written anything for a while.
“There’s not much to report,” he says, handing it back.
“That scar looks fresh,” you note as your eyes travel to his right lower abdomen, “how did you get that?”
“Fell on some rusty metal,” Joel explains as he looks down at the new scar, “Ellie stitched it up for me. Even injected antibiotics.”
“Good thing you weren’t allergic, that could have killed you faster.”
Joel’s tense shoulders seem to relax ever so slightly when he talks about Ellie. You decide to try taking his vitals again now that he seems to have calmed down a bit.
When you step closer, Joel pays more attention to you now that he’s not constantly looking over at Ellie to make sure she is okay, and hoping she doesn’t say anything she shouldn’t. He notices you smell kind of like lavender.
You wrap the cuff around his arm again and put the pulse oximeter back on. You didn’t want to say anything to make him nervous and give exaggerated readings again.
“How long have you been in Jackson?” Joel was surprisingly the one who broke the silence. He can’t explain it, but there is something different about you, something that makes him feel, not exactly comfortable, but at least not uncomfortable.
“As long as your brother,” You reply, grabbing your stethoscope again to listen to Joel’s lungs, “deep breaths, please.”
He does as you ask, and you are able to get more accurate data for your files. You jot down his baseline vitals and note his lungs sound clear, and his heart sounds are normal, no murmurs or extra sounds that should not be there.
“Thank you, Mr. Miller,” you disconnect him from the machine and allow him to put his shirt back on, “I think I have what I need for now.”
As you moved the vitals machine back, the letter you tucked hurriedly into your pocket snuck out as you moved around. You automatically bend down to reach for it as Joel also leaned down reflexively. His hand brushes yours, and you recoil immediately.
He figured whatever that reaction was probably didn’t have much to do with him personally. Although coming back from Salt Lake, he is a little more hyper-aware of how people are interacting with him and what his reactions are.
Your demeanour only slips briefly, with the skill of a person who is used to putting on a mask, you return to your composed self, “Do you have any questions before I file your assessment, Mr. Miller? Anything I may have missed that you feel should be included?”
“No,” he straightens himself up and looks down at you, “Although, could you call me Joel? Mr. Miller is weird.”
“I certainly could,” you reply curtly as you approach the door and open it for him.
He narrows his eyes at you, “Will you?”
“No.”
Joel walks past you and looks to the right of the door, seeing Ellie leaning against the wall, joke book in hand.
“Ellie,” you greet her, “your turn, come in.”
“Shouldn’t I be with her too?” Joel steps closer to you again, perhaps in an attempt to intimidate you a bit.
But you remain unbothered as you look up at him coolly, “Ellie can speak for herself. Is there a reason why you need to be in here answering questions for her?”
Joel knows he can’t say anything that wouldn’t sound suspicious in this scenario, other than waiting outside the room like you want. He feels like Ellie won’t say anything unnecessary; he has trusted her to keep her immunity a secret, and he has no reason to think she will do anything different now.
“No.”
“Then, please,” you gesture to where Ellie was leaning just moments ago, “pull up a sliver of wall and brood against it silently. Or, wait in the waiting room, your choice.”
You step out of the way to allow Ellie in and close the door behind you. “Please, have a seat.” You gesture to the spot Joel had vacated only a moment ago.
“Full name?” You flip the chart paper to a new section.
“Ellie Williams, 14 years old, no known allergies, originally from Boston QZ, ma’am!” Ellie recites as if you were a FEDRA superior.
“At ease, soldier,” you smirk and salute her, “any injuries I need to document?”
“No, not really,” Ellie shrugged, looking away from you as you hooked her back up to the vitals machine.
You frown at her, and notice the bandage on one of her forearms, “and that?”
“Oh, this is nothing to worry about. I’ve already taken care of it.”
“Regardless, I would like to have a look at it. I still need to document it.”
Ellie pauses, frozen in her seat. You noted her reaction and decided against turning the machine back on; you know it will only give you another false high reading.
“Trust me, I’ve looked after it.” Ellie tried to reassure you again.
“Oh! Perfect! When did you graduate from medical school? I’ll put you in the rotation.”
“When did you?” She counters.
“Fair,” you laugh, “seriously though, I need to have a look.”
Ellie didn’t know what to do; her mind was racing too fast to come up with a reasonable explanation as to why you couldn’t look under it. She only swallows hard and holds out her arm, defeated.
At the same time, she almost wanted someone else to know. After what she believed happened in Salt Lake. Or rather, what she was told happened. It left her mind in a weird place. Joel won’t really talk about it; all he has to do is give Ellie that look, and she’ll stop. But she can’t deny the pit in her stomach and how heavy it feels.
She feels like she needs to talk to someone, since the person she needs answers from is not giving her any.
You unwrap the bandage to reveal a bite on Ellie’s forearm. You raise her arm closer to your face to get a better look. “It’s a bite mark.” You say quietly.
“Yeah,” Ellie replied quietly. She can’t explain why she trusts you, but she feels like she can.
“From an infected or non-infected person?”
“Infected.”
“You’ve been here for a week, yes?” You confirm with her.
You mull something over in your head, and Ellie looks nervously up at you, trying to interpret your silence and the subtle changes your face is making.
“It’s an old bite,” you note as you walk over to the desk and grab fresh bandaging from one of the drawers, “you didn’t clean it very well, those cysts look kind of rough. Human bites are always nasty, infected or uninfected. Though one could argue all mouths are infected one way or another, just some happen to make us turn into mindless fungal folk.”
Ellie is too stunned to speak; she couldn’t believe how much you didn’t seem to react to the fact that she is immune.
You start wrapping her arm up again, “Best to continue not to tell people about it,” you warn her, “most people won’t know how to deal with it. And some people can have some pretty… Awful ways to handle something like…. Nevermind.” You break off the sentence uncomfortably, bad memories you have been trying to suppress bubble to the surface, threatening to overwhelm you again.
“That’s it?” Ellie raises her eyebrows at you as you finish wrapping her arm back up.
“What? You want me to interrogate you further?”
“… No.”
“Okay then. I’m assuming that’s why you and Mr. Miller were so nervous. Now, I’m going to try this again.”
You reach over and press the on switch for the vitals machine. While it is reading her blood pressure and heart rate, you grab your chart and note the bite mark Ellie has, but in the chart, you just call it a scar from a chemical burn.
Ellie reads it as you’re writing, “a chemical burn?”
“It’s an event that could lead to your skin looking like that around the bite. Just don’t let people look at it for too long. Most people will be willing to accept that as the mechanism that caused the wound. Otherwise, they would have to accept that it is the result of an infected bite. Though, I guess you could also say you had a run-in with some cannibals or something.”
Ellie fidgets uncomfortably, “Do… Do you know other immune people?” Ellie asks you in a soft voice, as if she were afraid Joel could hear her.
“Not personally.” And you left it at that.
Ellie wanted, needed, to know more. But she knew this wasn’t the time to inquire; she didn’t want Joel to get suspicious.
You got through the rest of your exam, and Ellie answered all of your questions. Until finally you reach your last question, “Are you an innie or an outie?”
“Huh?”
You go into your desk again and pull out a couple of small boxes of pads, tampons and a Diva cup.
“… You’re strange,” Ellie mumbles as she takes the boxes from you.
“A strange girl just called me strange,” you raise an eyebrow at her. “Also, what did you expect, didn’t you see the empty waiting room? My job is more fun when I make people uncomfortable, because it’s kind of the opposite of what you may expect from a healthcare professional. The people here are so friendly and polite, sometimes I just want to piss them off enough to get some sort of negative reaction out of them.”
“You live in a QZ before you came here or something?” Ellie gives you a half smile.
Your mouth tightens into a thin line, “I guess I’m just mainly made up of bitterness at this point.” You mumble as you fiddle with the letter in your pocket.
You hear a knock on the door and open it for Joel, “I got what I need for a base report on both of you. And don’t worry, Mr. Miller, I didn’t see the old bite mark on Ellie’s arm, and I made sure to put ‘immune’ on her chart,” you smile and curtsey sarcastically at them, “Welcome to Jackson, where everyone is a liar and a faker, you'll fit right in."
You don’t wait to hear from them; you turn on your heels and leave the clinic. Surely, it’s time for someone else’s shift. Joel didn’t know what to do; he stood there frozen to the spot, looking at Ellie, waiting for her to explain to him what the hell that was all about.