lumy12

Page One Hundred Fifty-Four

You don't argue with Joel when he says it's time to go home. You're more than a day and a half out, but if you don't camp for the whole night -- and don't run into any problems, since you've so recently cleared the way -- Joel thinks you can make it back by tomorrow night. Which might be in time. Neither one of you is going to sleep anyway, but the horses need to rest at least a little.

And leave it to Joel to be worried about you not getting any sleep, if you have to finish this trip without him. How you'll be more vulnerable to attack, more prone to make mistakes or to miss spotting potential hazards like you should. How maybe you'll eventually fall asleep on the horse or on a break, out in the open for anyone to stumble upon.

But Joel's always used the art of worrying about you (yes, he's made it an art form) as a means of not dealing with his own shit, hasn't he? Even now, he can't freak out like any normal person would -- nope! He has to get you home if it's the last thing he-- well, it probably will be the last thing he does.

Your emotions are all over the place... the bad places, anyway. It feels like you and Joel should be talking to each other, but when you do talk, you get upset because you just can't talk about all this -- about what's going to happen, what you 'need' to do (i.e. what Joel wants you to do), how you're supposed to feel -- it's too much. And you know Joel doesn't want to talk about it, either.

Besides, the only plan of action that makes any sense to you is to use two bullets when the time comes: one for Joel, one for you.

You're sticking to the highway now because Joel thinks it's safer for the horses in the dark (well, flashlights, but they can only do so much), although it probably adds a bit more time to your trip. Time that you don't have. Joel calls for short breaks every few hours, and you don't let him out of your sight. Even to pee. Usually you guys would at least turn your back on each other, but it's dark, and even if it wasn't, who gives a shit now? You can't leave him, even for a minute, because you're terrified that it will happen in that minute. That you'll go back and find a monster where Joel used to be. Moreover, he can't turn if you're watching him, talking to him, hugging him... he just can't. If he's in the middle of... doing Joel-type things -- human things -- he fucking can't.

You have a crazy-stupid fantasy about somehow keeping Joel with you after it happens. Like, if his hands and feet are bound, he'll be pretty helpless (provided the ropes or whatever hold). You could keep him in the house, if you make it back to Jackson first and don't tell anyone... yeah, you'd have to work out some logistics on how to keep his presence a secret and maintain the illusion of him disappearing, but you're not interested in that part right now, so you shove logic aside. You could feed him... WHAT would I feed him -- animals? Dead or alive? You'd feed him regular food and he would eat it, you decide. You'd talk to him, and he'd understand you. He might just sit there and moan, but the words would make sense to him. He wouldn't sleep standing up the way all the infected seem to; he'd sleep in his bed.

And then someone will find a cure, and you'll inject him with it, and he'll turn back into himself!

Is anyone else looking for a cure yet? Surely someone must be. If they could figure out how to use your immunity to help with that -- succeed where the Fireflies failed -- you'd be all for it. Maybe you could train Tommy in how to care for infected Joel while you're off helping with that. And until then, you'd have Joel with you every day. You just... wouldn't really be able to look at him and see what the virus is doing to his body.

And I'd miss his VOICE. His teasing... his stories... his advice... his interest in whatever I'm doing... even his stupid lectures. You would miss his love.

It was a dumb fantasy anyway.

You have no idea what time it is when Joel suggests giving the horses a bit longer of a break. It might be midnight, it might be 3am. Joel doesn't even have a good guess (which is unusual). It bothers you a little, not knowing, because the earlier it is, the more time you have left. You wish you could freeze time forever, even though it's the middle of the night, so that the sun would never dawn on the wretched day that could possibly be Joel's last on Earth.

Joel must be tired, but he says he's not. You certainly aren't; no fucking way will you waste even one precious minute sleeping. You'll be sleeping forever soon enough, won't you? Or... maybe not. Thinking about it for the past few hours has only left you more confused. The two of you are now sitting in the cab of a semi, the very front part, in the bucket seats, with Joel on the passenger side so he has more room. He does seem pretty alert for someone who looks tired... the puffiness around his eyes is probably from crying. Yours is probably worse, but with the angle of the moonlight, you can't check it out in any of the mirrors.

Joel takes your hand and turns to you; you can only see the right side of his face in the moonlight. "Ellie, I want you to make me another promise."

You should respond to that with "anything you want", but the last one he asked for sucked so bad that now you can't. "What," you ask warily.

"After... I want you to promise me you won't do somethin' stupid."

You snort. "You're gonna have to be a little more specific." But you know what he means; you're just stalling for time to formulate a response.

"Somethin'... self-destructive. Either on purpose or... by bein' careless. Reckless. You understand? I want you... to look out for yourself, take care of yourself the way I would if--" His voice hitches, and you know you're going to start crying again. You've got a crying-headache now, which will probably be permanent because how can you ever stop?

He gives you a minute to answer, perhaps thinking you need the time to compose yourself, but you haven't answered because you just don't know if you can make that promise. Or if you can promise when you don't mean it... it's not like you'll have to live with the guilt for very long... not if the guilt would disappear when Joel does. And it would give Joel comfort now, in his last hours (...fuck, these really are his last hours!). But could you make him believe you?

"Can you promise me that, baby girl?" he whispers. He's squeezing your hand super-tight. Like, cut-off-circulation-tight. His wet eyes glisten in the moonlight.

"I don't know. I really don't," you say honestly. And then you're crawling into his lap, because you want to feel his arms around you again, while you still can. Might as well get tears and snot on the remaining snot-free portions of his shirt.

He holds you quietly for another few minutes, petting your hair... gathering up more words. "Listen... I told you before, how I've only lived as long as I have 'cause of you. You've made the last two years... maybe not always happy, but... better. Loads better." He clears his throat. "You know I ain't so good with words... I know what I wanna tell you, but I don' know if I can say it right."

Joel always sells himself short there. "You're not that bad," you tell him. "Usually. I'm not always that great myself, but I think we understand each other pretty well, don't you?"

He squeezes you. "Well, I hope you understand now. None of us knows what happens, when we die. We don' know if we... unite with the souls of our loved ones, or if there's just... nothin'. Or maybe somethin' else entirely. Point bein'... you can't follow me, thinkin' we'll be together. Odds are that we--" He pauses. Sighs. "We just don' know. What I do know is... you're too young. You need to go on. An' maybe it's... vain, or egotistical, or somethin'... 'specially seein' as how you ain't my biological daughter... but as long as you're alive, I feel like part of me will be, too. 'Cause you'll remember me. All the memories you have, the memories of me an' you together... memories that no one else has... those'll keep me alive. You'll think of me sometimes... maybe you'll hear me, either tellin' you what to do, or maybe cheerin' you on... you'll see me smilin' at you when somethin' good happens... when you're happy... I'll be with you. When you get Tommy to tell you some story from our childhood, 'specially one that embarrasses me -- your favorite kind -- I'll be with you. Only... this time, I won't be able to put a stop to the proceedin's."

That almost makes you laugh. Except actually it just makes you cry a little harder.

"Tommy an' Maria love you as their own," Joel continues. "You go to them an' tell 'em what happened, an' they'll help you. You won't be all alone."

He says it as if that's just as good as him being there himself. "But I want you," you sniffle. "It's different. Tommy's not... like you. Like a dad."

"I don' know about that. He's awfully protective of you. Think I've heard him lecture you once or twice, too. He's a better person than me... he'd do a better job. I know he'd step right into that role, if you let him. Ellie, I... I want you to let him. All right? You understand?"

You know Joel and Tommy have mostly worked out their issues from the past, but they still have certain differences of opinion... and you've never heard Joel say that Tommy would be better at anything, let alone this. You know he's only saying it due to the circumstances... that he's trying to give you hope for the future. He can't very well say "nothing's ever going to be as good as when we were together" -- even though that's the fucking truth -- and expect you to feel better about things! So he has to lie. "I want you," you insist stubbornly.

"I'm sorry. I wish we had a choice here, but... you have to accept--"

"I don't have to accept shit," you spit out. This is the point in the conversation where you would get up, stomp off to your room and slam the door... or maybe leave the house... but even if you had a door to slam here or a house to leave, you can't. Because this time, Joel won't be waiting for you when you cool off. You stay put. "I'm sixteen now anyway. I don't need parents. I'm all grown up."

"Ohhhh baby girl. You're wrong about that. Kids outgrow their parents in some ways, sure, but they don't stop needin' 'em. Not just parents -- you have a lot of friends in Jackson. Becca... Travis... that girl with the funny name..."

"Greer." You think Joel only pretends to never remember her name, for some perverse reason. Because he has a weird sense of humor... and fuck, you're going to miss it so bad!

"Right. Her. An' a slew of other people. I see the way people look at you. You're a bright spot in their lives. You'd leave a big--"

"But that's only because of you! I'm not going to be 'bright'... without you."

Joel sighs. "You will. I... like to think I've helped you become the person that you are, but... you were already a force to be reckoned with when I met you. You've helped me more than I've helped you, truth be told."

"Bullshit," you mutter. Joel hardly ever says shit like this; it's uncomfortable yet awesome at the same time.

"It's true. You're gonna be fine. Look at me." He lifts your head off his shoulder. "You'll be fine. I promise. There'll be times when you're not... when you're in a really dark place... before you do somethin' stupid I want you to think of me, all right? Remember how much I love you... an' know that things'll look better tomorrow."

You lose it when he says he loves you. All you can do is nod dumbly while he uselessly wipes (more like smears?) your tears with his thumbs.

"Can you promise me now? Please? If you can't do it for yourself, do it for me. For all the reasons I said."

Maybe if you could actually speak over the huge lump in your throat...

"This is more important than the first one. If you can't... end it for me, all that really matters is you get away from me before I hurt you. You don't let me hurt you, no matter what."

"You would never," you blubber. Surely even Runner-Joel wouldn't hurt you, after he spent so long protecting you...

"But I will, when I'm gone. It won't be me. You know that. Now promise me you won't do somethin' stupid. Please. We don't got a lot of time left."

You nod a little, then lean into his left palm and close your eyes. "Okay."

"I need to hear you say it. Look me in the eye."

You know 'in the eye' is an expression, but you really can only see his right eye, as the left side of his face is engulfed in shadow. Tears look extra shiny in the moonlight... You look at him steadily. Honestly. "I promise." And you mean it.

He kisses your forehead and pulls you close again. "Atta girl. Thank you. You have no idea how much that... thank you."

You can tell that he believes you. It feels good to do something for him, even if it doesn't actually help him in any real way. He's still going to turn. Still going to leave you. You're so tired of feeling this pain already, and you know it's only just the beginning. I have to remember this moment... remember it forever. Joel holding me, stroking my hair, being so sweet... It's the last time I'm ever going to feel this safe. This wanted. This LOVED.

"You can take a little nap if you want," Joel whispers.

"I don't want," you mumble sleepily. I'm not trying to fall asleep... just trying to memorize you... so I don't forget... Sleep would be a welcome refuge from the pain, but you don't have time for that. I need to keep an eye on Joel... he can't turn if I'm watching him every second, but if I fucking fall ASLEEP...

And yet, even the terrifying thought of waking up to find him gone doesn't stop you from dozing off.

You wake with a start -- you don't know how long it's been, but the sky is just barely starting to lighten. For a moment, you don't remember where you are and what's going on. You're in Joel's lap, and it feels like you just woke him up, too. You slide off his legs into the little space in between the two front seats. "Ow," you mutter, more out of habit than pain.

Then it hits you. It hits you as hard as... Joel hits your enemies. Nearly knocks the wind out of you, until you realize that it was just a dream. It was all a bad dream!

...and then you realize the truth: it wasn't. "Joel!"

He swipes at his face groggily. ...He wouldn't do that, if... right?!

"Joel, are you..."

"I'm awake."

You feel relieved at those two words, because what he means is "I'm still here" -- and it's a stupid feeling to have because it's still going to happen soon enough... probably today... there IS no relief... "Are you okay? How do you feel?" You notice a sheen of sweat on his forehead... and it's not hot in here.

"Fine," is all he says.

You think he's lying, but hope that he's not. His eyes look a little glazed from sleep, that's all. Or from all the tears or something. You wonder if he just went through the ups and downs that you did, forgetting-then-remembering-then-denial-then-REALLY-remembering.

"Shit. Can't believe I dozed off. We should get goin'."

"Wait." You press your palm to his forehead. "You're really warm."

He slithers out from beneath your hand and pushes the passenger door open. "That's 'cause you're s'posed to feel it with the back of your hand."

You clamber out after him. "Whatever -- I think you have a fever. Maybe we should--"

"We need to go. Five minutes."

"Joel--"

"And you should eat somethin'."

You haven't eaten a bite since it happened. But Joel hasn't, either. "Only if you do."

"I ain't hungry. I'll get the horses ready." He doesn't look too steady on his feet. Not to mention he looks like absolute shit. To be fair, you probably do, too.

...but not THAT bad. He looks like... You can't even finish the thought. You frown at him. "You're obviously not feeling good. Just sit in the truck and I'll take care of everything, okay?"

Joel shakes his head. "It won't help. Just... be ready. I'd say maybe we should... do it now an' get it over with... then you wouldn't have to--"

"No!" you cry, horrified. You hurl yourself into his arms again as you feel the first tears of the day spring forth. The first of many, you have no doubt.

"--but I knew you'd say that." He pats your back. "It's all right. We just need to get as far as we can."

He feels normal. He's okay. He's OKAY. "We're going to make it all the way back." You try to sound convincing.

"I hope so."

He doesn't sound like he believes it.

* * * * * * *

It doesn't happen when your back is turned, the way you imagined it would. You're not actually sure of the exact moment, but you've been paying close attention to him all morning... around midday, he wants to take a break. But then he doesn't walk around, or pee, or eat something, or even relax... other than to take his gear off. Not only take it off, but... secure it to his horse. It's exhausting, carrying that shit around, especially when you're not feeling your best, you tell yourself.

You don't know why you keep telling yourself shit like this... making excuses for the anomalies. You know what's coming, and that there's no stopping it. Joel seems to have a pretty good idea of when...

He leans one hand against a tree and just stands there, kind of wobbly-like, staring at the ground.

Thinking he must've gotten dizzy or something, you rush to his side, but he pushes you away -- hard. So hard that you actually fall on your ass. It hurts... but not really physically. Why did he do that? You thought he seemed weaker, but that was... a really strong shove just now.

You don't want to think about what it means -- but you do anyway. If he was turning, he'd want to kill me, so he must NOT be... but if he's not, why is he being so weird... "Joel, you're scaring me," you tell him weakly. You get up and dust yourself off.

You wait for his "sorry, kiddo... just trying to take a leak" or something. It doesn't come. He stands there, silently, trembling...

You come up behind him and run your hand over his back in a soothing gesture. He doesn't react. ...At least he's not pushing you away? "It's okay," you say -- for some unfathomable reason. "You're okay. Take all the time you want. I'll wait. I'll wait here forever, if you just... it's okay. It's okay."

You babble on like this, saying stupid shit that makes no sense, and Joel doesn't acknowledge your presence at all. He keeps trembling, and his breathing sounds labored. He's not replying to me because he's just trying to breathe -- like I was yesterday. It will pass... You keep chattering on, rubbing his back... you put a hand on his shoulder in a lame attempt to calm the shaking, to no avail. He can't turn if we're talking, you remind yourself (as if it's actually true... and as if you're actually having a two-sided conversation right now). You keep babbling.

Then you stop and listen. ...He's not moaning or anything, so he's okay. Somewhere in your brain, you realize how futile this is... you know you can't will this away. You can't delay the inevitable forever, and the inevitable is clearly fucking happening now. Still... Joel could still be in there... he hasn't given you definitive proof that he's not. And you're too scared to move in front of him and look at his face, to look in his eyes...

...because I won't SEE him if I do. He's not THERE anymore...

You're trembling now, too. You step back and pull your gun out of its holster. Get it ready. Because you promised. Because you don't want Joel to become one of those--

He'd want me to shoot him now, you realize. Before it gets ugly.

When he pushed you away roughly, you believe that was still him. Just doing one last thing to try to protect you. Maybe his brain was... compromised, because he wouldn't have shoved you so hard, otherwise... or maybe he thought he was going to lose control of himself immediately, and you wouldn't stand a chance, being that close to him. But now... he's not even there. He hasn't said a word in like ten minutes. He also hasn't made any kind of move to attack you, though, so maybe...

Somehow, even though you've surely used up your lifetime supply by now, your body is still manufacturing tears. You back away from him to a respectable distance... then you stand there, rigid, holding your gun with a trembling hand, dumbly staring at his back while the never-ending tears slide down your cheeks. "I love you, Joel," you squeak. You wish you'd thought to tell him earlier.

Your words do seem to penetrate... just not in the way you would have liked. He finally turns around and looks at you.

Oh God-- OH GOD OH GOD--

There's no doubt that it's time! He's lunging at you!

If you shoot him like you promised, turn to page 158.

If you just can't force yourself to pull that trigger, turn to page 160.