Archive of Our Own ^beta

I.

Ellie scowls at the massive-ass duffel bag Tommy dumps in their entryway. “What, Maria finally kick your ass out or something?”

“Ha ha.” Tommy mimics her scowl. “It’s my overnight bag, smartass.”

It’s Joel’s first two-day patrol, and he wanted someone there for Ellie. Gave Tommy a list of instructions a mile long, and he wishes it was the type he used to get for Sarah— not too many sweets, don’t stay up late, don’t you dare smoke. Nah, for Ellie it was give her space waking up from a nightmare or you might get knifed and there’s broth if she can’t keep down dinner. 

Tommy’s expecting more backtalk, so he’s completely unprepared for Ellie to dart forward and yank the zipper open. The duffel is so overstuffed that the contents immediately spill out. “Hey!”

“Huh.” Ellie sizes up the mess of snacks and games and crafts at her feet. “I was kind of expecting cool guns or something.”

“Sorry to disappoint.” 

“You know you can’t bribe me—”

“Into what?” Tommy probes. Ellie crosses her arms and looks away. Right: into not following Joel Outside, probably. “These ain’t bribes. I’m here to negotiate.”

That perks Ellie’s interest. “Negotiate what?”

“How many gray hairs I keep off my brother’s head. Look, I know you don’t need a babysitter. So— we can do whatever you want, and you won’t try anything that’d upset Joel.”

Her little face purses in thought. She likes besting Tommy, when it comes to Joel— or at least, not letting Tommy best her. She still holds a grudge against Tommy for being the brother who left and the brother Joel chased, even though they’re at an armistice nowadays.

To help her along, he dumps the rest of the bag out. A bottle of nail varnish rolls to nudge at her toe. 

“Fine,” Ellie declares, “But we’re doing whatever I want.”

So Tommy puts popcorn on the stove and Ellie fixates on it, squawking with delight each time a kernel explodes. They make a fort out of the couch and some sheets; Ellie hugs a pillow as they play Scrabble. 

She’s a filthy cheat. She only seems to misspell words in ways that lead to ridiculously high scores. But he stops correcting her when she mumbles, “Well, there weren't a lot of books at FEDRA school…”

His heart twinges. Even though he knows she’s phoning it in so he’ll let her put buttox on the triple word score. 

She grins as she adds her points up. “Fuck yeah.”

“Yeah, yeah, take those forty five points and shove it up your buttocks.”

Ellie insists on painting his nails even though she clearly has no goddamn idea how. She puts one dot of blue varnish in the center of each nail and then nods, satisfied.

“You want me to do yours?” he offers.

She shakes her head. “I’m not really a girly-girl.”

He’s careful not to ruin his manicure as he thwacks her with a pillow. 

In the late hours of the night, he doodles while she sketches. She draws a few people he doesn’t know— a young Black girl, a kid in a superhero mask, a man in a wheelchair— and some he does. Marlene. Tess.

Joel.

Joel, in profile from a passenger seat. Joel, obscured by his raised rifle. Joel, checking his watch.

“Those are real nice,” Tommy says, hushed.

Ellie flips the sketchbook closed. “What did you draw?”

“You.” He shows her his paper.

“The fuck is that?” she howls, and then he has to explain what a clown is. 

He knows she’s resisting sleep, but it takes another hour of her rubbing her face and yawning before why dawns on him. She’s not Sarah, pushing back bedtime to play games with her Uncle Tommy. She’s— scared.

For Joel’s safety? Of a nightmare without him across the hall? Hell, of being asleep around Tommy?

Tommy says, “If you want to go upstairs and sleep, I’ll wait up for Joel. Tell him to wake you when he’s back.”

“I can take first watch, I’m—” She yawns. “I’m not even— even tired.”

“Me neither,” Tommy lies. First watch. God, this kid. 

She stretches out, resting her head in her arms. “I don’t sleep much. I could— I could go on patrol with Joel. Even if it’s at night.”

Tommy hums in agreement. “When you’re older, yeah.”

“I’m older now,” she grumbles. “No one here has done what I’ve—”

“Hey. You can trust the folks Joel’s with.” Tommy pauses. Picks his words carefully. “Ellie, no one who’s made it this far is alive by accident.”

“...I am.”

He knows she means the bite mark on her arm. “Nah, that’s luck. That’s different.”

“But I’d be good out there and I want—” Another yawn. “I wanna go with him.”

“I know you’d be good out there. Hell, I’d want you at my back too.”

She smiles a little, eyes fully closed now. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Tommy says. “Look, everyone who patrols knows they’re risking their lives. But they’ve decided this community is worth it. And part of being worthy is protecting kids. Even ones who can protect themselves.”

She doesn’t respond. She’s asleep. 

*

It’s just before dawn when Joel returns. He looks tired but— satisfied. Purposeful. More like the man Tommy knew before the Outbreak, even stinking of horse and with a gun in hand. Joel goes a little misty at the sight of them curled together on his living room floor.

“You impressed I managed to wrangle her?”

“Impressed she allowed herself to be wrangled.”

“There was some minor bribery involved.” 

Joel widens his eyes, looking at the evidence strewn about his home. “Clearly.”

“Told her you’d wake her up.” 

Joel kneels in the wreckage of their pillow fort. His hands are so gentle stroking Ellie’s hair that Tommy can almost forget the violence he’s seen them do. Ellie stirs. “Hey, babygirl. I’m back.”

“Good,” she mumbles, and then she’s smiling in her sleep. Joel cups her head; she leans into his touch. And Tommy would give a thousand sleepless nights for this.

II.

There’s fresh-caught fish frying on the stove, a bottle of Jackson’s finest moonshine on the table, and Maria reading Goodnight Moon to their giggling baby. About as idyllic as a post-apocalyptic scene could get.

Of course, that’s not what Joel notices when he shows up for family dinner. He hasn’t even finished unlacing his boots before he’s inhaling sharply and hurrying to Ellie’s side. “The hell happened to your face?”

Ellie’s grin isn’t diminished by the scrape on her temple. “Tommy threw me into a tree.”

Goddamn tattletale.

Joel rounds on him. “Explain.”

And Tommy knows he’s the only man alive who’d get the benefit of the doubt here, but sheesh. “Out by the river there was an Infected. I got her behind me.”

“I’m immune and you threw me—”

It’s possible Tommy had overreacted, yes.

But Joel’s not going to mourn a second little girl because his brother ain’t fast enough on the draw.

Joel relaxes, ignoring Ellie’s continued protests that the Infected was ten thousand feet away and not even a Clicker, Joel and going to scar my good eyebrow. “Okay. The fish biting today?”

“I caught a few. Your girl was distracted by some tadpoles.”

“Fishing is fuckin’ boring,” Ellie agrees. “Hunting’s better.” 

Boredom aside, Ellie’s delighted by the break from venison. She races through the meal like she’s afraid the fish will flop back into the river. Tommy eyes her curiously. Usually when she rushes like that, it’s to go get into (Joel-approved) trouble with her friends. But even with an empty plate, she just stays at the table with them, twiddling her fork.

Joel even offers, “You can be excused.”

“I’ll keep hanging out,” Ellie says. The tips of her ears are pink.

Huh.

They’d had a bit of a heart to heart at the river, but he hadn’t thought she was ready to—

“Somethin’ on your mind?” Joel asks.

“Nah.” Ellie stretches her arms, all fake nonchalance. “Why, something on yours?”

Joel looks faintly amused. “Nah.”

She squirms in her chair as they finish their dinner. Tommy starts eating even slower, just to fuck with her. Maria kicks him under the table and starts pouring the adults each two-fingers of moonshine. 

Ellie doesn’t even ask for a sip. Joel’s due for a haircut; his raised eyebrows straight up disappear into his bangs.  

“Soooo…” Ellie says, “Uh, Maria, how did you and Tommy end up—”

Tommy chokes on his moonshine in delight. “You wanna hear how I wooed her?”

“Just making conversation!”

“Well, being a prosecutor means Maria could smell a bad boy a mile away.” Tommy waves his glass around for emphasis. “And not to brag, but I was a real jailbird Before.”

Joel, who’d been valiantly attempting to wrangle his scowl, gives up. “A real pain in my ass is what you were.”

“I got sent to the Hole a lot,” Ellie offers, “At FEDRA school.”

“Hell yeah. Certified hooligan. And that’s how you get—” Tommy cuts himself off before finishing that sentence and landing in the doghouse.

Maria chides, “You’re a bad influence.”

“Yeah she is,” Tommy says, and high fives Ellie. Her smile could light up Jackson better than the dam. 

Ellie turns to Maria. “But that’s not really…”

“More or less,” Tommy says.

“Less,” Maria corrects. “It started because we spent a lot of time together, and we trusted one another. That made it easy to fall in love. And… he made me laugh.”

A very PG rendition. They jumped each other’s bones like, immediately. 

Tommy reaches across the table to squeeze Maria’s hand. 

Joel looks like he’s in physical pain. “But other people, you know, they date around. You… you could…”

“Not me,” Ellie says quickly.

“Right. I meant, like, someone could. Go on a date. Birdwatching. Don’t the kids your age go birdwatching?”

Tommy snorts.

Ellie mutters, “No one goes birdwatching.”

“No, I’m sure I’ve heard—”

“Joel.” Tommy takes mercy on his dear brother. “They’re not birdwatching.”

Joel’s face becomes one giant frown line. “Ah.”

“God, you don’t understand anything,” Ellie snaps, all teenager. She stomps away from the table, then comes back to clear her plate, then stomps away again. Fuck. Tommy loves that kid.

Joel stares, bewildered, as she flees out the front door and into the night. “Jesus, which one of these little asshole boys has got her all—”

Of course, Tommy knows something Joel doesn’t. The little asshole isn’t a boy.

At the river this morning, Ellie had said, “ So, Joel had these friends. Bill and Frank?”

III.

Ever since the baby was born, the late-night knocks on their door have decreased. Minor squabbles or new arrivals get directed to other Council members. Of course, that means that every time there is a knock nowadays, it sets Tommy’s heart to racing. It means something has gone wrong enough to need them. 

“I got it,” Tommy whispers to Maria, who’d also bolted upright in bed. 

“Get me if you need me.”

“Always.”

And so Tommy closes the bedroom door behind him as his wife soothes their stirring baby back to sleep.

His heart falls right out of his ass when he sees it’s one of Ellie’s friends pacing his porch. 

“Jesse? What’s wrong?”

“Ellie—” Jesse begins.

The back of Tommy’s neck prickles. Already he feels a thin shell of serenity descend upon him, the type that helps him pick up a gun and not hesitate until what’s done is done. The type he learned from Joel. It’s impossible to be ashamed of in moments like these, when it can be wielded to protect his family. He distantly hears his own voice say, “I’ll get Joel.”

Jesse looks terror struck. “Whoa, it’s okay, she’s fine. Tommy. She’s fine. But she’s asking for you.”

It’s impossible to come up for air, not without seeing Ellie for himself. He tries to process Jesse’s words. “So which is it? She’s fine, or she’s asking for me?”

“She’s just too drunk.”

Tommy scrubs his face with both hands. She’s fine she’s fine she’s fine. She’s too drunk. She’s asking for him.

“Okay.” Tommy takes a deep breath. Tries to clear his hand. Takes his hand off his holstered gun. “Okay. Take me to her.”

Jesse looks about ready to piss himself as he leads Tommy through the darkened streets. Tommy can’t say he minds. Jesse is older than Ellie. The younger teenagers look up to him; he should be a better example. He’s known around town for being responsible. He’s a star on patrols.

Ellie looks up to him.

But there’s some parenting shit about letting kids off the hook when they’re asking for help in dangerous situations. And Jesse is here, braving Tommy’s wrath to help Ellie. And Jesse looks up to Tommy.

“Thank you for getting me,” Tommy manages. 

It’s immediately obvious where they’re headed. There are a few unused barns, but only one that has a hanging banner with a glittery HBD ELLIE!!! over the entrance.  

Tommy lets out half a chuckle. “Did she at least have fun?”

Jesse hesitates, clearly wondering if this is a trap. But he says, “Yeah.”

“Good.”

There’s only a handful of kids left inside. There must have been a lot more in attendance, maybe all of the teenagers in Jackson, based on the numbers of bottles littering the floor. Dina, Jesse’s girlfriend, is wringing her hands in the doorway. Then there’s Cat, sitting beside Ellie, who’s slumped across a haypile.

“Hey.” Cat rubs at Ellie’s back. “Ellie-girl, your Uncle Tommy is here.”

Ellie manages to sit up. There’s puke down her front and a paper crown listing sideways on her head. She looks at him, wide-eyed and fervent. “Tommy? I do nooooot feel so good.”

Tension releases from Tommy’s body like a snapped rubber band. He squats beside them. “Yeah, you don’t look so good, kiddo.”

Ellie objects, “Hey, I’ve got a— fuckin’ great face.”

“You do,” Cat agrees loyally.

Tommy smooths Ellie’s hair away from her sweaty forehead. “Can you walk?”

“Obviously.” Ellie flounders on the hay for a moment, then stops. It’s unclear whether she thinks she’s standing now, or if she’s forgotten that’s what she was trying to do.

“Okay. Birthday girl gets carried.” It’s obvious she won’t be any help holding on, so Tommy puts her over his shoulder. He starts walking out of the barn and the kids follow like sheepdogs. 

“Will she be okay?” Dina asks, right over Cat’s, “It’s not her fault, we were playing dumb drinking games and—”

Jesse’s voice rises above both of theirs. “I’m sorry. We just— she’d never had a birthday party before.”

Whatever anger he had left drains out of him. If his arms weren’t full, he’d drag them all into a hug. “You’re good friends to her, okay? She’ll be fine and no one is in trouble. All of you go straight home. You’ll see her at lunch. Probably not at breakfast.”

Even so, the kids seem hesitant to scatter until he physically shoos them away. 

Urgently, Ellie says, “Tommy, don’t jostle.”

He tries to shift so he can look at her. “What?”

“Don’t—” Ellie says, and then pukes down his back.

Tommy tries to summon his past self from about fifteen minutes ago, who was ready to rip apart a hundred men with his bare hands to see her safe. What’s a little puke to that?

“Blegh,” Ellie says. “Tommy, you smell bad.”

Tommy’s sleep t-shirt clings wetly to his back. “Bet I do,” he mutters. “You didn’t wanna ask for Joel?”

Joel knew she was spending the night with her friends, but Tommy’s surprised he’s not already pacing the streets, waiting for her to return. 

“He’d be diss’pointed.”

Tommy was there when Joel sent her off with a be responsible and a furrow in his brows. Still, he knows: “He won’t be disappointed.”

In her, at least. He’ll find some way to blame himself.

Like he did every time Tommy was the drunken mess.

Tommy’s memories of those nights are blurry, obviously, but not so much he doesn’t know every beat of what Joel would do. Did, time after time, for Tommy. 

He settles Ellie on the couch. He gets her a bucket. He brings her a change of clothes. He wipes at her face with a damp cloth and fixes her ponytail. He holds a glass of water to her mouth and orders, “Drink so much water. Even if you puke it up. So much water, Ellie.”

He makes her a sandwich. His eyes burn as he stares down at the plate. He’s cut off the crusts, like Joel always did for him as kids. He’s an idiot. Of course Ellie would eat them. 

He waits, sitting on the ground by her side, as she eats and keeps it down. Then he says, “Try to go to sleep.” 

“Can’t.” Ellie groans. “Everything is spinning.”

“Yeah, that’ll happen.” He reaches up a hand for her to clutch. “Good night, though?”

“The best,” Ellie sighs. 

“Cat was being awful nice to you.”

It’s a long beat of silence. Tommy is starting to think that Ellie’s passed out, until she whispers, “Scared.”

“Of the spinning?”

“Of Cat.”

Tommy’s heart sears in his chest. “Why?”

“We were drunk at the mall. Riley and me.” Ellie sniffles. “When we kissed. When we got bit.”

Tommy climbs onto the far side of the couch, an offer; she still only lets Joel hug her. But she tucks herself into his side.

Face against his arm, she says, “Riley doesn’t get another birthday.”

Tommy cries with her. For her. And for Riley, and for Kevin, and for Sarah; god, always for Sarah.

It’s a while before their tears dry into hiccups. Ellie wipes her nose on his sleeve. She mumbles, “What a fuckin’ mess.” 

“Loving someone else won’t make you love her any less, I promise,” Tommy says. “There’s so little good left. Ellie, you can’t begrudge yourself any.”

*

He wakes up when she does around dawn. Somehow she looks rougher than she did last night. “How we doing, sunshine?”

“I’m going to shit my pants,” she says and takes off like a shot to the bathroom.

He calls after her, “Welcome to your first hangover!”

They’ve got a precious container of coffee beans, saved for dire circumstances. Tommy brews enough for him, Maria, and Joel. 

Ellie’s a little worse for the wear when she returns. She curls in a ball on the kitchen floor, face pressed to the cool tile. “I’m never drinking again.”

Tommy’s said that lots of mornings too. “Ellie…”

“Spare me,” she pleads.

He wishes he could. “I’ve spent my fair share of years lost in the bottle, okay? It’s good to let loose with your friends every now and then but… if it ever starts feeling like more than that, promise you’ll tell me?”

“Ugh.” Ellie rolls onto her back to look at him, still curled up like a pillbug. “I promise. It was dumb. There was Spin the Bottle, and you had to drink if you didn’t want to—”

“I see.” Tommy suppresses a laugh as he pours three mugs of coffee. “If you’re worried about telling Joel, that’ll win you some points.”

“Ew. He’ll wanna. Talk about it.”

“Yep, that’s my brother. Man of many words.” He sets a glass of juice and some dry toast by her head for fortification. 

Joel’s not already out on his porch, but he answers the door with a speed that suggests he was waiting on the other side. 

“Good morning,” Tommy sing-songs. “You need to come peel your girl off my kitchen floor.”

Joel blinks at him about a dozen times. Then, finally, “Wha?”

*

An old, familiar look crosses Joel’s face when he sees her. The last time Tommy saw it was when Sarah was a baby and she’d scare herself with her own farts. It’s a look of so pitiful and cute it’s breaking my heart. “Aw, baby, you’re hungover as hell.”

“If you wanna kill me it’d be a mercy,” Ellie croaks. She uncurls to reach for him, arms outstretched. He picks her up easy as anything and snuggles them into the couch.

Tommy sets a mug on the side table and Joel eyes him gratefully. “Thank you.”

He knows Joel isn’t just thanking him for the coffee.

It’s probably just because he’s so fucking tired and hungover emotionally from last night, but suddenly there’s a lump in Tommy’s throat. He tries to smile. “Bet she was a lot easier for me to carry home than I ever was for you.”

Joel lifts his arm, the one that’s not around Ellie’s shoulders. Tommy sinks beside him on the couch. After a moment, he even lets himself lean into Joel’s embrace.

Joel presses a kiss to Ellie’s hair. “What happened to ‘it tastes like shit’ huh?”

“Oh it did. Both ways.”

“Jesus, girl.” 

Tommy squints at them. “Joel, reckon she killed enough brain cells for us to beat her in Boggle?”

“I killed more than the two of you have put together,” Ellie retorts, then winces at her own volume. “Ow.”

“In this weakened state, I think we have a chance,” Joel says gravely. Then he tightens his arms around both of them. “Don’t get up now, though.”

“Later,” Tommy agrees, and within a few moments they’re all asleep.

&.

Ellie shouts, “Fuck off, Joel!”

“It’s me, Ellie.”

There’s a beat. The sound of a lock turning in a door. “Fine.”

Tommy steps into the garage. There’s a foam target leaning against the far wall, and a dozen knives sticking out of it. Ellie’s got another knife in her hand and she’s flushed with exertion. “What do you want, Tommy?”

“Just checkin’ on you.” 

Ellie grunts and throws the knife. It doesn’t land on the bullseye, but it’s easy to see that’s because she’s making a complicated spiraling pattern instead. “I’m fucking fantastic, obviously.” 

“This about Ava?”

Ava was a few years older than Ellie. She’d gotten bit on patrol. Just on the ankle; she was able to come back to Jackson with the patrol group. Said goodbye to her folks and her boyfriend through the wooden slats of the fence, then shot herself.

“I still haven’t been scheduled for patrol.”

“You will,” Tommy says, like he had before she turned sixteen, before school let out for the summer, before before before. There aren’t any excuses left. 

And she knows that. She picks up another knife. Weighs it in her hand. Throws it. The knife sinks to the hilt into the target. “I live in Jackson just like everyone else and I don’t want to be protected—” 

“I know.”

Ellie wipes the sweat from her forehead. “There were kids in FEDRA school with important parents. And they got real bedrooms, and enough to eat, and they never got hit—” 

That’s what any kid deserves, Tommy doesn’t say. It doesn’t matter. It’s not what she had. 

Finally, she looks at him. Her eyes are blazing. “Do you know what that did to the rest of us?” 

He shakes his head. “I’m sorry.”

“You can tell Joel I’ll leave Jackson before I let him—”

That shouldn’t catch Tommy off guard. 

But it does. 

Of course she thinks it’s Joel. For her, everything comes back to him; he may as well be gravity itself. It’s clear she hasn’t even wavered long enough to consider that Joel is not in charge of Jackson’s patrol schedule.

That the specific nightmare of Ellie dying by Tommy’s orders isn’t what keeps Joel up at night. 

It’s selfish. At the end of the day, Tommy’s still not a very good communist. 

Tommy says, “It ain’t Joel who’s kept you off patrol.”

Ellie stills.

After a minute, she says, “You’ll put me on the schedule tomorrow. Get out.”

*

So Ellie gathers with the patrol by the gates at dawn. She’s sharp and serious atop her horse. When she speaks, the others lean in to listen. She’s furiously ignoring Tommy and Joel watching her, banished as they are to the dining hall. Still, Joel is shining with pride. 

It’s the first time Tommy notices that she’s outgrown the kid who first arrived in Jackson. She looks like an adult. Like a danger.

Like a Miller.

“Gonna be a long day,” Joel sighs. “But she’ll come back to us.”

Tommy nods. “She will.”

At the last moment, before the gate closes behind her, Ellie turns back to wave goodbye.