Chapter Text
Ellie had run back to the house, tried to make it in time, but she’d taken the long way around, trying not to lead them to Joel, trying to be careful – but she’d been too slow. They must have heard the horse or something, because fuck –
There were footprints she didn’t recognize leading up to the house.
For a moment, Ellie couldn’t breathe, choking on the frigid morning air, and she had a horrible vision of her dying here, outside, mere yards from where Joel – where Joel –
He’s not dead , she told herself firmly. And he won’t be if I have anything to say about it.
Ellie gritted her teeth and sucked in a breath, then another, and another. She needed a plan.
She had the handgun, and her knife.
There had been six men.
Okay. Okay. Fuck.
Quickly, Ellie skirted to the side of the house, kicking herself for standing frozen in the open for so long. But no one had raised an alarm – there was no one watching.
Would they all be in the basement? Had they split up?
God damnit , she needed Joel to teach her better tracking skills. The prints in the snow had all looked like one big jumble to her. Once they were out of this, once he was alright and they were safe, she’d ask him. She’d definitely ask him, because they were definitely getting out of this.
Would they have someone on guard inside the house?
She needed a plan. A plan – a distraction. Okay, it would be fine. She just needed a distraction.
Fingers shaking, Ellie tucked the handgun back into her pocket, pulling out her knife instead. She couldn’t – she couldn’t deal with all six, not at once. They’d hear the gunshots. She needed something quieter, something better – fuck –
Breathe.
They were in the basement. There were broken windows around the base of the house, and she could hear – voices. Laughter. Not the sounds of violence, which meant that Joel wasn’t fighting them. He wasn’t – he couldn’t be –
Gripping her switchblade tighter, Ellie darted past a basement window.
Silence – and then movement.
She hoped David wouldn’t send them all after her at once. Surely Joel was the bigger threat, surely they’d want to stay back with him, make sure she didn’t loop back before them – surely they were worried about that, because surely Joel was still alive to help her. He had to be.
Ellie blinked rapidly, fighting back the tears that threatened to blind her and the closing of her throat that threatened to choke her. No, she wasn’t scared, she was angry, she was so fucking angry that these men had found them, were threatening Joel, trying to separate them – how dare they, when Joel was already injured, how dare they –
The front door banged open, and Ellie threw herself behind a shed, waiting, waiting –
She didn’t know what to do about her footprints, knew they could be followed, probably had been followed to get here in the first place, but she didn’t know what to do.
Joel, help me.
“David said not to kill her.” A voice, not far away.
“Do I look like I give a fuck what David said?” A second voice, closer. Snow crunching.
Ellie tried to quiet her breathing, tried to make herself silent, tried –
Movement to her left, and she reacted, knife swinging forward, landing hard in muscle, scraping against bone – shoulder – the beginnings of a yell, but she jerked the knife out immediately, stabbed it back in, higher and to the right, and there was a choking sound, a gurgle. She held on – his gun had fallen to the ground, and she kicked it away, even as she had to stand on her toes to keep hold of the knife. The man scrabbled, against her, against his throat, against the knife, but then it was over, and she pulled the knife out, gasping, stumbling away, because he was dead, she’d killed him, and –
“Tim?” The first voice. Worried, not alarmed. He hadn’t seen, or heard – must be on the other side of the shed? Didn’t matter, he would see soon, she needed to get to him before he could call the others, before a gun could go off, before –
She ran – away from the body, away from the house. After a moment, she cleared the shed, and there was a shout – “Tim, this way!” – he still hadn’t seen, and she ran further, heard the man behind her, but no shots fired, this was the one who’d said David wanted her alive, she didn’t want to think too hard about that but it was useful right now –
The footsteps were closer, and the call of “Tim! Over here!” was almost on top of her, but Tim wasn’t coming, and Ellie skidded to a halt, spinning, knife already up, and the man behind her wasn’t expecting it, couldn’t stop in time, slid in the snow instead, and she pushed the knife forward even as he barreled into it, and they both went down, but it didn’t matter, because he went down with her knife in his heart.
Ellie lay there for a moment, panting and shaking, before – Joel. She tried to shove the man off of her, but he was huge , and instead Ellie had to shuffle awkwardly to the side, slipping out from under him and pulling her knife after her.
Two down , she thought grimly, grabbing the guy’s gun and tucking the knife away.
This time, when she returned to the house, she was careful to avoid passing in front of a window. She didn’t think the same trick would work twice, and she didn’t want to alert David and the others that she was back, wanted them to think that Tim and Goon #2 were still off chasing her around the neighborhood.
She went in through the garage, not wanting to risk the noisy front door. The door to the basement was already open, and Ellie froze, desperately trying to control her breathing, trying to listen over the sound of her own heartbeat.
Voices.
“Leave something for when Tim and Danny get back.” David’s voice, amused and indulgent. It made Ellie sick.
“They want their revenge, they should hurry up.” Another voice, accompanied by chuckles.
Then a thud, and a wheezing gasp, the sound of someone in pain, but Ellie knew the sound, knew it too well, it wasn’t someone , it was Joel, Joel in pain.
They were hurting him. Ellie saw red.
But before she could move, before she could raise her gun and sprint down the stairs and start firing, David’s voice broke through her rage.
“Alright, that’s enough.” Calm still. Not breathless. She could imagine him, just standing there, watching. She hated him. “The three of you, go wait outside. I need to say a few words to him about Alec’s death, before you finish him off.”
“David –”
“Go, James. He can’t hurt me – look at him. I’ll be fine. Go help Tim and Danny track down the girl. Alive , remember.”
At the sound of footsteps on stairs, Ellie threw herself back into the garage, holding her breath, heart pounding. It wouldn’t take the men long to find the bodies – she should take care of these three, so they couldn’t double back, trap her between them and David – but David was with Joel.
“Before you finish him off.” The very thought made Ellie sick, but it meant Joel was alive, would be alive, until these men returned, but could she leave him down there with David? Could she –
“You two go ahead, team up with the others. I’m gonna check the rest of the house, see what I find.” The voice was so close that Ellie stopped breathing. It was familiar – James, who’d been with David the day before. “And listen – “ James’ voice got quiet. “If something happens to the girl – no loss. Just make it look good, yeah?”
Grunts in the affirmative, and footsteps, then the door slammed. Ellie stood frozen, lungs burning, still not daring to breathe. The stolen gun was in her hand, but that wasn’t gonna work. She couldn’t risk the sound of a shot right now, but had no time to switch to her knife, because there was movement in the doorway to her left, and she swung the gun around, hitting James in the temple. He hadn’t been expecting her – his gun was still draped over his shoulder, which was for the best, since she had to dart forward then, clinging to her gun with one hand and catching his body with her own, trying to muffle the sound of him falling, desperately hoping that David wouldn’t hear anything.
James was out cold, but Ellie knew it wasn’t enough. She knew it, like she knew that she’d have to kill David and all the others, because otherwise they’d keep coming, coming after her and Joel.
Ellie put the gun on the ground, quietly and carefully. Then she drew her knife, still smeared with blood after she’d had time to only clumsily wipe it clean. It needed to be cleaned properly, or the blade would start to –
No, she thought fiercely. Focus. Ellie thought of the sound of the thud and Joel’s gasp from a few minutes before, thought of the way his chin had trembled when he’d told her to leave him, of the single tear track on his cheek when she came back.
She took a deep breath, and drew her knife over James’ throat.
She stood numbly, tucking away her blade again and drawing out the handgun. David or the others? Get to Joel, or even the odds more?
Sounds from the basement drew her towards the door, grip on the handgun tightening, just in case.
Joel groaned, and there was a scrabbling sound, then a strangled gasp, and David’s voice reached her ears.
“-- the fighting is the part I like the most.” There was something in the tone, something that sounded like a smile, like triumph, like the sickly sweet of poison. It made her shudder with revulsion.
Then there was another sound, and Ellie was through the basement doors and onto the stairs before she had even processed it, because it had sounded – it had sounded like a sob. And it had sounded like Joel.
The scene came to Ellie in pieces. More blood than when she’d left, seeping onto the floor. The blanket and Joel’s jacket, thrown across the room. Joel’s legs, jerking weakly. David, on top of him, leaning over him, holding him down, knee pressing on Joel’s stab wound, hand inside Joel’s –
This time when Ellie took the shot, she didn’t miss.
David went down hard, and Ellie cursed as she heard Joel’s strangled cry. She rushed forward, dragging David away, trying to ignore everything else: the mess that was the dead man’s head and the spatter of gore that had landed mostly on the floor but also on Joel; the way Joel’s arms were still above his head, where David had been holding them; the way that Joel’s pants –
Ellie jerked her eyes away, focusing on getting David as far away from Joel as she could – this fucking man hadn’t thought she could drag a fucking deer, well look at her now, fucker – but then her eyes caught on David’s unzipped pants, slowly being pulled down his hips as she dragged him, and she dropped him as a wave of revulsion hit her, so strong that she swayed.
Movement from Joel, but she was afraid to look, afraid to see – she didn’t know what to do.
Ellie grit her teeth, and turned around. Joel was lying on his back still, arms now tucked against his chest in a way that made him seem somehow small as he stared up at the ceiling. She could see him shaking.
His cheeks were wet.
When she threw herself towards him, Joel flinched away.
Ellie froze on her knees, then shuffled back slightly, eyes locked onto Joel’s face, still looking up towards the ceiling.
“Okay,” she said. Her voice felt distant. She felt like the entire world had frozen, leaving just the two of them and this horrible fucking situation. “Okay.” She didn’t know what to do.
Joel’s belt was undone. His jeans were unzipped, pulled low around his hips. Ellie reached for the blanket, then carefully draped it over him, trying to move slowly, maintain her distance.
After a moment, one of Joel’s hands slipped under the blanket, and she heard the sound of a zipper being done up. She kept her eyes locked on his face. He didn’t look at her.
“Joel.” Ellie stopped. Her voice sounded wrong. She cleared her throat, tried again. “Joel, where are you hurt? I know they –” Ellie stopped, choking back the words. I know they hurt you, because I heard them. Because I was upstairs, listening, and I did nothing. She couldn’t say it. She couldn’t let him know how badly she’d failed him.
Just then, the front door banged, and there were shouts. The last two men, drawn by the gunshot.
Joel’s head snapped towards her, face so afraid it made Ellie’s heart stutter in her chest.
“Run.” She saw his lips form the word, so soft she could barely hear it. She shook her head.
Then she noticed that one of his eyes was rapidly swelling shut, and Ellie was almost bowled over by a wave of rage. She hated that they’d hit him when he was down, when he couldn’t fight back. She thought that she might hate that swollen eye more than she had ever hated anything before in her life.
Deep breath. Hands steady as she grabbed the gun.
“It’s okay, Joel,” she whispered. More shouts from above – they’d found James. Ellie stood silently, stepping towards the stairs, positioning herself between Joel and danger. “It’s gonna be okay.”
The men came through the basement door cautiously, guns in front of them. But they needed to get partway down the stairs to see where the threat was, and Ellie knew exactly where they’d be. Two shots. She didn’t miss this time either.
When she turned back to Joel, he was staring at her still, cheeks wet, chin trembling.
She walked back to his left side, pausing next to him to set the gun aside carefully, easily within reach.
“It’s alright,” she told him. “That was the last of them. They’re gone, Joel. They’re dead. We’re safe, I promise. It’s okay now. You’re gonna be okay.”
He stared at her for a moment longer. Then he breathed out, and turned his head to look back up at the ceiling. “Okay,” he said, and then he went silent, eyes blank.
He wasn’t dead, Ellie knew that. He was breathing, and blinking, and it was fine, it was fine, but –
She sat back on her heels, clenched her jaw. Blinked rapidly. Stared up at the ceiling.
“Okay,” she said when she felt like she could speak. “Okay, great.” As though they were in agreement about something. As though she didn’t feel like she were talking to a fucking corp– no. Fuck that.
“Joel, I – I really need – I’m gonna –” Another deep breath. No response from Joel. “Joel, I really need you to tell me where you’re hurt.” Nothing. “Please, Joel.” Her voice broke on his name, and Ellie felt a tear slide down her cheek.
Silence. Ellie didn’t know what to do.
Then, after an eternity, Joel spoke, voice monotone, still not looking at her. “Ribs. Wrist. Ankle. Stitches.”
Okay. Okay.
“Ellie – go to Tommy, before more of them come.” His voice was rough, desperate, but it made something in her relax, to know that he was still in there, somewhere.
“Shut up, Joel,” she replied reflexively. Horrifyingly, he did.
Ellie started with the extremities. His right ankle was just sprained, she thought, and she wrapped it as best she could with a spare t-shirt. But his left wrist was broken, and Ellie had to bite her lip bloody to keep from flying into a blind rage, because the sleeve of his shirt was ripped and there were bruises on his forearm that looked like boot treads, and what had those bastards been doing to him while Ellie had wasted time with Tim and Danny? She’d led them far enough away she’d hoped no one here would hear any shouts, but the thought that that distance had worked in both directions made her feel sick. Had Joel yelled when they’d – no. She couldn’t – she couldn’t do this, couldn’t think about it.
She dealt with the wrist as best as she could, binding it to a stray piece of wood she found nearby, but she knew it wasn’t good enough, and Joel had gone silent again, wasn’t answering her when she asked him what she should do, if the wrist needed to be set somehow.
“Joel,” she said eventually, when she couldn’t put it off any longer. “Joel, I need to see your ribs. And your stitches. Can I –”
Joel didn’t answer. Deep breath.
“Joel, I really –” She couldn’t stop remembering how he’d flinched away from her, when she’d first moved towards him. How he hadn’t been able to look at her after he’d fixed his jeans. “I really need you to tell me that I can look at your ribs. Please.”
A small, sharp nod.
Ellie clenched her jaw, then reached for the blanket. Joel was so tense he was practically vibrating as she pulled the blanket down to just above his waist, then lifted his shirt. He’d been more relaxed when he’d been fighting her as she’d pressed a towel to his still-fresh wound, for fuck’s sake.
Ellie had to breathe deeply through her nose when she saw the damage. The bruising was worse on his left side, and she poked him for a moment before deciding that nothing was so obviously broken that she’d notice, but also that she didn’t actually know what she was looking for. His right side was also freshly bruised, and she suddenly knew how he’d popped his stitches. The bastards had been kicking him in his stab wound.
About half of the stitches had split open, and it must have been agonizing. The wound was a mess of blood again, and in some places it was clear that the thread had held but the skin had not.
“Alright,” she said, trying to keep her voice even. “Gonna need to redo some of these. Then find something to wrap your ribs, alright?”
A small nod was all the response she got, and Ellie grimly set to work.
The sewing was easier this time, because she’d done it before. But it was also harder, because her hands were shaking with fury and adrenaline and leftover fear. And Joel was trying so hard not to scream, every muscle tense, and he didn’t scream, not quite, but every breath was a gasp of agony, air forced in and out of his lungs in whimpers and pants and then, towards the end, something that sounded horribly like sobs. He’d been able to hold back the first time she’d done this, Ellie realized, and the fact that he couldn’t now was terrifying. Ellie didn’t look at his face, because she couldn’t bear to see it, but also because she was afraid that any movement on her part would dislodge her own tears, and she needed to see what she was doing, just for another few seconds, just – there. Done.
“Okay, Joel,” she said, trying to make her voice calm, soothing, the way he did when she was scared. “Okay, we did it, we did it, we’re done, it’s done.”
They would have to wrap his ribs, but that could wait until they had to move, right? Which, Ellie realized, would have to be soon — they had maybe a couple of hours before the rest of David’s cult began to wonder where their leader and his goons had gotten off to, and they needed to be gone before a search party could find them.
But – not yet. They could have a few minutes, Ellie told herself. They needed a few minutes.
Joel’s breathing was evening out slightly, now that the stitches were done, and Ellie quickly wiped away the tears that had begun to fall as soon as she was done sewing.
Only then did she look at Joel’s face. He was staring at the ceiling again, and Ellie wished he’d look at her, so that she’d know he was alright, that they were alright. His eyes were red-rimmed, and his chin trembled slightly in that way she’d never seen before yesterday and now wished she would never see again.
“It’s okay now, Joel,” she said for maybe the hundredth time, wishing desperately that she knew how to make it true.