Title - Baseball Bats And Caps
Rating - T
Warnings - Swearing
Disclaimer - All components of Left 4 Dead belong to Valve. I just take their idea and mess it all up until it becomes not about killing zombies, but instead a budding romance between two of the protagonists that repeatedly insult each other. 'Tis fun, y'see.

A/N - Nick/Ellis is by far my favourite pairing in Left 4 Dead. I do also ship Bill/Francis, but to be honest I think writing about them being together would feel kind of... uncomfortable. This is the first chapter of two, and I decided to bung this one up to see the reception it gets from you lot. I will complete and put up the second chapter, but most probably after I have taken all my GCSEs. *Drowns in revision*. I therefore present you with the first chapter of Baseball Bats And Caps.

I wish I could explain myself, but words escape me.
It's too late to save me. You're too late, you're too late.
Stockholm Syndrome - Blink 182

Ellis shoved the last shell into his gun with a grubby thumb and clicked the barrel shut. He slung the gun on his back, where he strapped it on tightly to ensure that it didn't fall off or move around. Picking up one of the baseball bats provided, he strolled over to the bolted, red door that had already become too familiar a sight with his eyes.

"You guys all ready?" he asked, his thick southern accent ringing around the room. He glanced around at the other three survivors, resting his eyes for a brief bit longer on Nick, who was picking at his newly acquired machine gun and frowning slightly.

"No," Coach stated simply, snorting. Ellis knew exactly what was meant, and so lifted the metal bar off of its hook and kicked the door open. He stepped out into the zombie-ridden room first, with Coach and Rochelle close on his heels. Gun shots were soon the only noise that could be heard, as the three survivors spotted zombies on the floor, around pillars and leaning against walls. Some zombies actually realised that they were there and began running towards them, flailing their arms like windmills. They were put out of their misery with a single, neat blow to the head, or in Ellis' case, they were bludgeoned to death. His baseball bat was already stained with crimson red blood; but at least he'd saved all of his ammo for later.

They were all used to this routine: find a safe room; get in it and sleep – or at least try to; restock ammo, weapons and health packs and go out there to kill zombies and find the next safe room. It was incredibly repetitive, and Ellis sometimes wondered if this simple circle was the only thing left keeping them all sane. At least they had an objective, a purpose to exit safe rooms and enter them; so that the cycle could be repeated yet again. Unspoken communication between them all stated clearly that they could never single-handedly take out every infected in the world, but they could find the next room. That was all they had to accomplish, and all they knew that they could accomplish.

"Nick, what the hell are you doing back there?" Coach yelled suddenly, stopping his fire to look quickly behind his shoulder as he noticed the fourth member of their team missing from action.

"I'll be out in a minute, keep your head on," was Nick's scathing reply. Ellis stepped over the many dead bodies that lay around his feet - wrinkling his nose at the stench - and turned around to see Nick still in the safe room, smacking his weapon with his hand; his frown more defined. The sound of gun shots petered out as all the zombies in the room had fallen, finally dead, and Rochelle sighed with a small hint of relief. All too soon they would be doing that same process; shooting more zombies down, but for now all was quiet and peaceful.

"So, are we going or what?" Nick asked, pointing towards the automatic door on the other side of the room. He'd slipped in between them when they didn't realise, and his trademark smirk was in place on his face. Ellis cocked his head at Nick, but decided to keep his mouth shut. He knew that Nick wouldn't listen to him, whatever he said; and he felt a pang of hurt at this. The hurt seemed alien and sudden to Ellis, and he didn't really know why he felt it. Nick always ignored him or insulted him as soon as he opened his mouth. He was used to it. Sure, he always felt a little hurt, but he usually just turned his thoughts onto something else, something more carefree. So why did he find it so difficult now? It confused him, and he tried to take his mind away from it by taking note of their surroundings.

They were in a shopping mall, so it was light and breezy, save for the smell and sight of decay and death. All the shelves that had once been stacked full of commercial products and food were completely empty; some were in disarray on the floor from bullets that had knocked them down. Blood stained the floor and the walls, and the only signs of life - save for themselves - were the unnecessary plants dotted around the mall. Ellis' eyes strayed onto Rochelle, Coach and Nick. We fit this scene all too well, he thought. They all had splatters of red somewhere on their clothes, and Nick's once smart leather shoes were muddy and scuffed. Their weapons hung from their hands and they all stood in stances that showed they were ready to kill again.

"Yeah, but I'm gonna speak for all of us here and say we wanna know what the hell you were doing, pissing around in there with your gun instead of helping us!" Coach shouted, gesticulating wildly with his arms. Ellis, who had turned back into the conversation after losing himself in his thoughts as always, was slightly taken aback by Coach's small outburst. He wouldn't usually have been so angry, but Coach hated people who didn't stick to teamwork and helping others out. The recent case with Nick was therefore no exception.

"I was trying to sort out my gun. Some shells got lodged in the barrel. I wouldn't have been any help if I hadn't been able to shoot," Nick explained sharply, marching toward the door with a fast pace that left Ellis half-running, half-walking to catch up. Coach and Rochelle peered at each other, sharing a small look of tired disdain before jogging to catch up. They were both fed up of Nick's constant selfish attitude, but knew they had to stick together.

Nick shoved the door open with his elbow and waited for no one to get out before him. He wasn't going to care about petty things like courtesy at a time where they could be ambushed at any moment. The door smacked Ellis on the head on its way back, and Ellis just stood there, dumbfounded for a second.

"Ow," he finally said, rubbing his head and frowning slightly. He glanced up to see Nick strolling on ahead outside, probably not even realising – and most definitely not caring if he had – that he was alone for the moment. There came the pang of hurt again, and Ellis knew that it wasn't caused by his new head injury. They'd survived a zombie apocalypse together, the one thing that would most definitely bring people from different backgrounds together, and yet Nick just didn't seem to care whether they lived or died.

"Come on, Ellis. I know that must've hurt but we've gotta go," Coach's booming voice ushered him from behind.

The survivors found themselves walking up quite a steep hill in the heat away from the mall, and Coach wiped his forehead with his arm. Rochelle fanned herself with her hand; Nick strapped his gun onto his back and shoved his hands in his trouser pockets. They could all see that there were no zombies for the minute, and Nick was going to revel in that fact. Those zombies are really starting to piss me off. At least they seem to only hang around buildings. Mindless fuckers, he thought, staring off into the distance with his head held high. Insults were the only refreshing thoughts that ran through his mind now. It was either that or thinking of how he was going to survive another day of killing, another day of walking, running, trying to figure out the way to another pointless dead end. Thinking of what the hell he was going to do when he ran out of ammo, or whether or not a Hunter was going to pounce on him. Nick nodded to himself. Yeah. Insults were much more refreshing.

Ellis, noticing the penetrating silence, decided to speak. "Going up this hill reminds me of the time me and my buddy Keith tried to rev some banged out cars up a really steep hill out back from my home. At first it was okay because it was a clear day and all, but soon we couldn't see or nothing, what with all the smoke coming from the tyres. We messed up the tread real good on those tyres that day, and Keith said-"

"Ellis, now isn't the time, sweetie," Rochelle said calmly, in a voice that was usually only reserved for softening let-downs. Ellis didn't notice this, however, and nodded slowly.

"Okay," he replied. Keeping his mouth shut, his thoughts started wondering. He didn't like silence; it was way too quiet for his liking. He was used to the noise of spanners and hammers chinking away on metal and plastic; the revving of old cars and people chatting and laughing away to jokes that made no sense. There was none of that anymore, and Ellis felt as if most of his hearing had been robbed of him. His fellow survivors mostly kept to themselves, and when he tried to start them talking by telling one of his stories, they told him to keep quiet. God, he missed Keith.

Nick sighed, taking his hands out of his pockets specifically to rub his forehead in rhythmic circles with the balls of his palms. Ellis swung his baseball bat to and fro, to and fro… He deliberated, and bit the metaphorical bullet. He opened his mouth to speak again. He would say anything; everything and meaningless nothings to fill this silence, and he didn't care if anyone told him to shut up. However, he was quickly interrupted before he could even start by a screech, a pitiful wailing of something that was ready to pounce.

A Hunter.

The change of atmosphere was incredible. Everyone tensed; whipped out their weapons. They were all well equipped at the moment, and no one was harmed, with mostly full ammo to hand. However, that didn't cushion the horrible sensation of waiting for the Hunter to come out, realising that it may just pounce on someone before it could be killed. Being ripped to shreds by something that they couldn't get away from on their own was an experience realised so many times, and no one wanted it again. Quite literally, the life of one survivor was put into the hands of the other three. No one needed that responsibility or trust.

The Hunter's position was unknown, and it could and would strike at any minute. Another screech filled the air.

Ellis could see Rochelle out of the corner of his eyes. She was trembling like a leaf, and her finger was closing slowly around the trigger as she backed away from the rest of them. The Hunter came into view, growling, and Rochelle panicked, pulling the trigger without aiming the gun. The bullet zoomed straight past Nick and pounded into a car around twenty metres away from them; the alarm started blazing, and all hell broke loose. Coach started shouting incoherent sentences, Rochelle was whimpering and Nick just simply lost it.

"What Goddamn stupid ass thing possessed you to do that?! For fuck's sake!" Nick yelled over the wailings of the hoard that was running towards them. He was in front; he was going to have to deal with the most zombies. And there was the Hunter to think about, waiting in the wings, ready to strike at the golden opportunity. Would he have enough ammo? Would the others help him sufficiently? Fuck, thought Nick. Stupid mindless, wailing fuckers. What the holy fuck have I ever done to you bastards?

Ellis dropped his baseball bat to the ground, figuring that if he was going to be of any use he needed a gun at hand. He reached behind him and tugged his gun loose of the straps. Coach and Nick were already shooting down zombies by the time Ellis had his gun ready to use; Rochelle, however, was cowering at the back, murmuring something. Ellis took a step closer to her to hear what she was saying.

"Can't take this anymore, can't take this anymore…" were the shaken mumbles of Rochelle. Ellis, being Ellis, forgot for the moment about the zombies and the Hunter and went to comfort Rochelle. They all had their moments of doubt; they just needed to know that they all understood what was happening, and that they'd stick together, no matter what one of them may have accidently started.

"Rochelle, it'll be fine. I mean, I'm sure this mess will be sorted out soon by the army or whatever; we just need to hold out 'til then," Ellis said awkwardly, scratching the back of his neck. He never had been too good at comforting people, being the carefree, unobservant person he was. Rochelle just nodded without meeting Ellis' gaze.

Suddenly an ear-splitting screech and a scream merged together. Ellis and Rochelle whipped their heads round to see Coach frantically trying to shove zombies away with the butt of his gun. They couldn't even see Nick; he was clearly in the middle of the straggling hoard. Running over to stand by Coach, they were fully prepared to help knock zombies out of the way so that Nick would be free. However, when they got there they found out that it was a lot worse than just a hoard.

The Hunter had pounced on Nick.

A sudden fire raged throughout Ellis's entire body, filling him from head to toe. Not caring what he was doing was probably considered insane, not hearing Rochelle and Coach yelling at him to stop; he threw himself into the middle of the hoard.

I can't let Nick die, not now. Not after all we've been through. I'll help him; I'll get him outta there, whether it costs me my life or not.

Cliffhanger. Or not? You decide. But this cliffhanger (or not cliffhanger) shall be picked up again very soon, I promise. I know exactly where I'm going with this fanfiction; I just need to find the time to actually write it. Sorry if it takes a while, as I said before, I will probably get it up after my GCSEs, maybe before, I don't know how things will work out yet.