Hi everyone!

I'm so happy to say that the story leading up to the events of "What's Right Got To Do With It?" is underway! Oh, it feels good to be in this world again, and I hope you enjoy reading it half as much as I enjoy writing it. As I said in the Author's Note of WRGTDWI this is a story shipping a 17 year-old Ellie with a 50-something year-old Joel. I DO NOT CONDONE THIS RELATIONSHIP IN REAL LIFE. I write this story because the idea of how relationships and age gaps would work in a world like The Last Of Us is fascinating to me, and it's fun to write about. I'm sorry to say that updates will probably be slow because I'm in college. As consolation, hopefully, when I do update, they will be long well-thought-out chapters. As always, please leave comments, I love feedback and talking with you guys :) Enjoy! (Disclaimer: I do not own The Last Of Us or any of the characters, I only own the storyline in this fanfiction and any OC's I create for it in the future. I am writing this story for entertainment purposes and am receiving no payment to do so. I also do not own the cover image)

"How many?" He whispered.

". . . ten . . . maybe twelve."

"Any of 'em clickers?"

She concentrated harder, causing the headache jabbing into her eye socket to worsen.

"Shit," she said. "all of them."

"Damn it . . . alright, you go around left an' take out as many as you can; I'll go through the center then we'll meet up on the other side and take the ones on the right side together."

"No. I should go through the middle, I'm smaller and quieter."

"Ellie . . ."

"You know I'm right."

He sighed. "Alright. But we still take out the last ones together. They might get tipped off from us fuckin' around with the others."

"The ones on the right?" Ellie asked.

"The ones on the right."

With agility not meant for her size-too-small-jeans, Ellie climbed over the hood of the old car and slowly made her way behind the first clicker. Small feet held strong thighs, that carefully guided themselves around anything but the softest patches of leaves. She came to where she was only a foot away and then silently raised herself, bringing both hands around the creatures neck like scissors, the one without the knife falling just a split second before the other; Just like she had been taught.

The creature croaked once and then went lax in her arms, spasming like a lover.

There was another one directly to her right and right as it started to click she did the same to it.

Ellie heard the same sound and looked to her left to see Joel a few steps ahead of her doing the same thing. They were doing good.

She moved up and did it again, and again, and each time blood would run down, tickling her forearms. After every kill she would have to stop and wipe her bloodied hands on her T-shirt, because it made her switchblade too slippery to hold.

The scouts from Jackson had spotted the little ranch with the boathouse, but didn't have enough weapons (or so they said, but really they were just chicken) to do the job themselves. So, they came back to the town and told the committee what they saw. Joel and Ellie volunteered for the mission which is how she came to be here, hands sticky with blood and spores.

This place had better be worth it, she thought. Or so she thought. But she hadn't quite thought it; she spoke it. Or more, breathed it. But she had breathed right as a clicker that had been behind a crate, clicked. It jerked it's head in her direction and clicked louder. Ellie's legs couldn't move fast enough quietly enough so she put her hand behind her to try to slither away, but her palm landed on a piece of broken glass. She gasped and it was on.

The clicker squealed to life and charged.

"Shit!" she brought both her legs up and kicked it in the stomach, scrambled to her feet and launched herself at it's throat. The knife hit it's mark and it stopped moving but there were still seven more headed toward her.

Joel grabbed the one in front of him, hard around the neck, and finished it. He vaulted over the nearest crate, wrapped his hand around another clickers neck, threw it to the ground, stomped on it's head and ran to Ellie, both of them getting into a back-to-back formation, guns drawn.

The glass in Ellie's hand was pushed in further every time she pulled the trigger, and she used three bullets getting the clicker in front of her. She saw one in her peripheral vision and used her arm to shove Joel back. She ran at it with her knife as five more came staggering and shrieking out of the forest.

"There's too many of 'em," Joel yelled, "we gotta get out of here!"

"No, we gotta get those supplies – duck!" Joel went to his knees as he felt bullets whiz over the top of his head and then a large weight fall on his back.

Whoever this clicker had been before he turned, he needed to lay off the meat, Joel thought, as he tried, unsuccessfully, to push himself up as a clicker ran towards Ellie. She pivoted her feet, spraying Joel in the eyes with dirt as the clicker crashed into her, its jaw snapping at her face. She held it back with one hand against its throat and another against its stomach, the glass now completely embedded. She staggered, and fell back onto the body of the clicker that was over Joel, all while trying to fight off the clicker still on top of her. She wouldn't have been able to if Joel hadn't grabbed the clicker's ankle, causing it to trip and roll to one side. Ellie took the opportunity and rolled backwards.

Being dazed for only a second, she jumped back to it, grabbing the shoulder of the dead clicker and, using all of her strength and momentum, hauled it off Joel, right as the live clicker got back up.

Joel jumped up, and stabbed the clicker in the eye, shoving it into the other two behind it. Then he turned, grabbed Ellie's hand, and ran.

They weaved in between broken cars, crates and barrels. Ellie gritted her teeth against the pain in her hand, feeling as drops of her own and clickers' blood dripped down her finger-tips. They sounded like they were inches behind them, and when Ellie felt a tug at her hair she ran until she was pulling Joel behind her.

Ellie got to the boat-house door first, opening it without stopping. The two went flying in, and Ellie tripped over the lip of the door, but Joel swung around and slammed it shut, sliding the dead-bolt into place. He flinched as the loud banging and clawing sounds started rattling the hinges.

"This ain't gonna hold long, Ellie," Joel said, still looking at the door. "You see any way outta here?"

He spun around because he heard no answer, so he spun around expecting Ellie to be in the choke-hold of some bandit or clicker, but she wasn't. At first he thought she was looking at the body of the man who (Joel assumed) had previously inhabited this boat-house, but she wasn't even looking at that; she was looking beyond him, to the back of the boat-house wall where, stretching the entire length of the building, was cans of beans, soups, meats, and jams, bags of salt-cured beef, flour, and sugar, packs of sodas, beer, wine and almost anything else you could imagine as long as it was preserved.

Ellie looked back at Joel, smiling through the blood and dirt on her face.

"Told you it was worth it." She said.

Joel started to smile, but a loud cracking sound from behind made he and Ellie jump. They whirled around to see a large crack splitting down the length of the plywood door and old, cracked fingers shove their way through.

"It ain't gonna be worth it if we die, you see a way outta here?" Joel asked as they both looked around. There were four windows, but they were all boarded up, and it would take too long to get the boards off. The crack in the door got larger, splinters of wood flying.

"There," Ellie pointed, "There's a trap door!"

Sure enough, there was a small cut-out in the ceiling covered by a piece of old plywood; plenty big for Ellie and maybe just doable for Joel.

"Come on," Joel said, putting his hand on her back, "up the crates."

There were two large shipping crates that some of the supplies was stacked on, and Joel jumped on these, pressing his palms against the plywood while Ellie stood with her eyes and gun trained on the door.

"What's taking so long?" Ellie yelled, as a clicker managed to get half of its body through the crack in the door, almost being bifurcated by the force of the others pushing behind it.

"It's tied from the other side, well have to cut the cord."

"Well, do it then, where's your fucking knife?!"

"Outside in some clicker's head, gimme yours."

Ellie reached behind to her belt and groped for her knife.

"What the fuck," She said, "It's not fucking here-"

The clicker's head broke through the crack, its skin almost pulled part from being shoved through the splintering wood. Ellie pulled out her pistol and shot it, but she knew its body wouldn't plug the hole for long. She kept her gun drawn and her eyes on the door as Joel jumped down, taking the same stance beside her.

"You must've dropped it when we ran," he said. "S'all right, though. We can fight em' off as they come. How many bullets you got?"

Ellie's eyes darted from the door in front her her, to the trap-door behind her.

"Hold them off." she said, as she swung around, sprinting to the crates and jumping on top below the trap door.

"Ellie-" Joel looked behind him, but heard a screech and shot and a clicker that had broken through the window. "What are you doing?!" he yelled, keeping his eyes trained on the door.

Ellie was looking at the rope keeping the trap-door closed. It was more of a string, but made from paracord, so it was strong; it wouldn't take a very sharp object to cut it.

Ellie shoved her pistol into her belt, and brought her injured hand palm-up, so she could see. There was a deep, red gash, that slowly oozed dark, red blood. The glass had gone in deep and at an angle, but as she winced, wiping away the blood, she could see its sharp, shiny edge. Taking a deep breath, she thought of Angel Knives, pushed two grimy fingers into the gash, and screamed.

Joel whipped around, "Ellie, what the hell-"

"Don't look at me, look at them!" Ellie screamed back. She kept feeling the edge of the glass, or at least she thought she did. The air seemed to get very thin, and the world just a bit too real.

Joel was about to run to her, but heard shrieks and turned around to take out more clickers.

Ellie pushed her fingers in deeper, which caused the entire injury to grow larger, but when she final felt her fingers get a grasp on the hard, smooth surface, she bit her lip, hard, and pulled the piece of glass from her hand, about an inch and a half in size.

Leaning against the rough wall of the boat-house, breathing too fast and too shallow, she swiftly shook her head and grabbed the cord holding the trap-door in place cutting it loose in less than a second. She pushed it open and called to Joel as she climbed out, "Hey, I got it open, get over here!"

With ear-splitting shrieks and cracks, the infected had finally managed to tear down the door and Joel shot one right before it got to him. He kicked the next one so it fell into the rest, knocking them over, and scrambled up the stack of crates. He got his head and torso through the opening, and Ellie was right beside him with her hand underneath his arm helping to pull him up, when he suddenly got dragged down - what would have been all the way if Ellie hadn't been holding on.

"Fuck!" they both yelled, as Joel kicked and pivoted so he and Ellie could see down to where the last clicker had grabbed a hold of his leg. He violently shook it off before it could bite him and pulled himself up with help from Ellie, until nothing but his right foot dangled, and still the clicker managed to grab him again, it's jaw snapping at his boot.

"Oh, fuck this shit . . ." Ellie said, as she took her non-injured hand, brought it up into a fist, and punched the clicker as hard as she could. When it still didn't let go, she put her hand on its face, feeling its teeth scrape her palm and drawn blood, put her pistol against what was left its temple and pulled the trigger. She pulled her hand back, staggering until she fell on her ass, breathing hard. Joel was doing the same, and they both stayed that was for a long time.

While Ellie was by-far the more injured of the two, she flopped onto her back and started laughing, holding her hands awkwardly over her stomach and letting the bright rays of the setting sun wash over her dirt and blood-smeared face.

"I can't believe we fucking did it, Joel," she said. "From now on, every time you say something's too dangerous, I'm gonna bring up what went down today."

Ellie didn't hear anything, so she raised her head, squinting at him. He was sitting perpendicular to her, about three feet away, with on arm draped over his bent knee, not looking at her. She could see the rise and fall of his chest was faster than normal, but he didn't seem that winded.

"Hey," she said, raising up slightly, "you okay?"

It still took him a few seconds to respond, but even when he did he still didn't look at her.

"It was too dangerous."

He looked at her, then at her hands and winced, although she couldn't tell if it was in sympathy or anger. He got up and walked over to her, kneeled beside her and took one of her hands.

"You let yourself get bit," he said.

Ellie looked at him, her brow growing furrowed.

"I didn't 'let myself' get bit, I got bit saving your ass from getting bit, and we both know it doesn't matter if I-"

"Yes it does matter, it matters a hell-of-a-fucking-lot," Ellie looked at him as if he had started flirting with infected.

"We don't know how much of that infected shit can get into your tiny-ass body before it starts to do somethin', and I have told you, time and again, that just cause you've been ok a couple'a times, don't mean you can run in, gung-ho and let yourself get bit like it's no big deal!"

Ellie scooted back and fumbled getting up without using her hands.

"So was I just supposed to let you get bit?! I don't think so, cause we sure as hell know what'll happen when a tiny amount of infected shit gets into you; you die, that's what! I saw you were in trouble, I knew the risks and I used the safest method I could think of. God, why are we even arguing about this? I saved your life, I got us through the trapdoor, I'm hurt, and now you're lecturing me?"

"Uh huh," Joel nodded, backing up slightly. "You took the 'safest method,' that being to punch it a few times, lettin it get real cozy with you, give ya a couple of love bites, then you decide to use your gun, is that your idea of safe? Why didn't you use your gun to begin with?" Ellie opened her mouth to speak, but Joel kept going, "And also, who's fault you think it is you are so roughed up, who fucked up with the plan and sent a hoard of clickers down on us?"

Ellie laughed in his face.

"You're right," she said. "I fucked up the plan. I fucked it up cause I didn't see the one close to me, and I made a little noise, but you know what? If it had been you going first, you and your fat, lumbering ass woulda tipped em' off a hell of a lot sooner than I did."

"Don't you talk to me that way, Sarah-"

He and Ellie both froze, and the air buzzed with tension. The sun had almost set, and it seemed like it was pulling the world taught as it did so.

"I'm not Sarah, you asshole," Ellie said. Joel didn't answer, he just kept looking at her, his fists clenching and unclenching at his sides. She looked out over the small field where the dead clickers lay, then she turned around and headed for the trap door, talking without looking back, "I can't carry stuff with my hands; put some in my backpack and some more in yours. We'll bring enough to show the committee it's worth sending out a gathering party to get the rest of it," she said as she dropped down the hole. Joel took a deep breath and followed after her.