Standard Disclaimer: Unfortunately, the Last of Us is not mine. If it was, David wouldn't have walked away half as easily as he did.

o~O~o

The night was a sticky blanket. It clung to Joel's every pore and lined the back of his throat, making his breath come in quick, short, sharp bursts. Against his ribs his heart, still fuelled by the naked fear those … those things … had inspired within him, pounded powerfully. Joel was a grown man; he would not have thought it possible to succumb to fear the likes of which had afflicted him that evening. Yet now, watching the soldier mutter into his com-unit and thus decide their fate, he would be lying if he tried to deny the terror still broiling within him.

"Daddy, what about Uncle Tommy?"

In a really perverted way, Joel was glad that Sarah was there to ground him. Yes, she was injured, and yes, it would be better for her if the world hadn't spontaneously decided to go to shit, but the sensation of her nuzzling his chest helped stay the mania of his twanging instincts. Around her he had to be the strong one – following her mother's death it was a role he had fallen naturally into; a warm and wise figurehead he hoped she looked up to and would someday want to emulate. To counteract that image in the face of fire would only undermine Sarah's own confidence, both in herself and him. Who was he to frighten his baby girl further? No, it was a line Joel was not willing to cross. So he stood there, fingers digging in to Sarah's pyjamas, trying to reassure her that all was well. That come morning they would still be standing, hand in hand, ready to move on and face every last one of the trials the world was already hurling their way.

"We're gonna get you to safety and go back for him, okay?"

Sarah's eyes briefly lifted from the soldier before them. In those misty pools Joel saw raw fear, already tinged with the agony of loss and stained with the grim reality of their new world. Sarah seemed older, somehow, more mature, less a child and more a weathered veteran whose spirit had been rubbed raw over the course of countless calamities. Instinctively, he tightened his grip on her. It's alright baby girl, it's okay, I won't let anything happen to you. We're gonna make it out of this, I promise …

"Sir." The soldier's voice cut across Joel's thoughts. "There's a little girl."

Joel's heart missed a beat. Hardly able to believe his ears, he chanced a panicked glance at the soldier who, despite having received a direct order, was clearly dithering.

"But …"

The word hung on the deadened air, a pivotal declaration, a macabre sign of what was to come. Silence. Then, a tired sigh.

"… yes, sir."

The soldier lowered him com-unit. A warning panged in Joel's mind; somehow, he knew it was now or never. With Sarah still in his arms – a fatal mistake – he took three steps forwards.

"Listen buddy, we've just been through hell. Okay? We just need –"

The indifferent glare of the rifle-torch silenced him as effectively as a gag. It was bright as what Joel imagined the light at the end of the One And Only tunnel to look like; a place, he abruptly realised, he might be visiting a bit ahead of schedule … and taking Sarah with him. Fear driving him backwards, a mindless curse slipped between his teeth.

"Oh, shi –"

BANG.

A single gunshot tore the lifeless air in two as the soldier slumped forwards in a shower of blood, his face planting in the dust and his hands, devoid of animation, released their hold on the lethal weapon. It clattered over to Joel and rested between his feet as would a faithful dog. Startled, he looked up. Emerging from the surrounding bushes were three burly men dressed in baggy tracksuits, cigarettes dangling from their lips and revolvers clutched tightly in the hands. The leader of the group, the tallest and decidedly the most muscular, spat in the direction of the dead soldier. In Joel's arms, Sarah "eep"ed softly.

"Motherfucker," said the head tracksuit. He turned and, to Joel's surprise, stared Sarah straight between the eyes. "You alright, Sares?"

"F-fine," Joel's baby girl squeaked. The head tracksuit laughed.

"'Course you are. Couldn't let our best dealer be shot down now could we lads?"

The supporting tracksuits laughed. Flabbergasted, Joel turned his bewildered gaze on his daughter. Sensing his confusion, yet seeming to brace herself for some sort of backlash, Sarah grinned sheepishly up at him.

"I, uh … huh. I wasn't lyin' earlier, Dad."

"Lyin'?" Joel echoed blankly, transferring his gaze to each of the tracksuits in turn. They stared calmly back. "Lyin' about what?"

"When I told you I sell hardcore drugs."

Joel couldn't help it; his mouth dropped wide open. Over the knowing chuckles of the tracksuits, Sarah's sweet voice rose like the cadenced song of an angel.

"Guess I really can help out with the mortgage now, huh?"

o~O~o

A/N: Yep. I'm awful. Just awful. But hey, this was fun to write. Betcha didn't see that coming, now did ya?

I've had this one in my head for a while now. I realise that Sarah's death was an unmitigated tragedy, but somehow I just couldn't shake the idea of her being saved by drug mules. Consequently, this – my first venture into the realms of LOU crackfiction – arose. I hope you enjoyed it as much as I enjoyed writing it – trying to find a balance between the game's raw emotion and my own little spin on the scene proved quite a challenge.

Reviews, as always, are welcome. Hope the weather's nice wherever you are – I've had a run of three days where the temperature hasn't dropped below 40 degrees Celsius. A heatstroke in January? Where else but good old Australia?