A/N:

Hello all, here's chapter 2, finished and ready for your viewing pleasure. Now I don't want to make a promise I can't keep, but I'm going to try to update the story once a week. Life is pretty busy, and I'm trying to keep a very high standard of writing and editing for myself, so I'd rather update late and have it be worthwhile, than update early and have it be lacking in quality. Anyways, as before, I hope you enjoy, and let me know what you think!

Summer 2036 – Jackson, Wyoming

Jackson loomed at her in the distance, flickering in and out of view behind dancing treetops as Ellie wound down towards it. Her steps seemed to echo on the hard packed dirt road, tiny scuffs of dust being kicked up in her wake as she jogged forwards. The sun had crept behind the horizon, a bruised purple reigning across the sky above. The town was nestled in the crook of massive, rolling hills, sitting placidly in their deep valley. To her the shadows had always seemed to stretch longer here than anywhere else - questing out like lithe fingers, always searching, always probing. The protective walls of the settlement reflected a deep, smooth gun-metal blue, the last-minute, patch-worked composition of its surfaces not yet defined. Lights had already winked on in the cabins and guard towers dotting the town, the interior lights flickering with a welcoming orange hue, the perimeter being bathed in harsh, unforgiving white. She could just make out figures tracing up and down the dusty trails between buildings. Jackson had been her home for two odd years now, and she knew every twist and turn it contained. It had never looked so empty to her before.

Her mind was a hurricane, whipping back and forth between anger, fear, and sorrow. There was no word to explain the loss she felt, and if there was she never wanted to know it. She could feel herself on the verge of collapse, of falling once more into that dark pit of despair and anguish that would leave her a husk of a being. With every ounce of herself and every step she took she fought it, and fought it for him. Joel was the one constant in her mind, the planet to which all her thoughts seemed to orbit like moons. She would bring him back; she would make him safe so they could both return to that blissful state of existence that had been there just that morning. And pity any poor motherfucker that stood in her way of getting that.

She neared the main gate, a band of blinding light swinging around to pin her in place. It transfixed her, forcing her eyes into a squint as unseen guards scrutinized her form. Vainly she raised a hand against the glare, trying to blink away the spots she saw. With a metallic clap the light was switched off, a shout of "clear" ringing out as the gate began to lumber open. She strode through the threshold, and slipped into the small crowds of people on the street. The guards at the gate were puzzled; normally she was the one all banter and smiles where Joel was the strong silent type. It never occurred to them to ask the returning girl where he was.

The path to Tommy's house was a short one – it sat dead center of the town, a looming, plantation style abode, its paint chipped and flaking from too many years of harsh living and too few of good repair. Ellie headed towards it, ignoring those who stopped and smiled at her, a single-minded drive forcing her legs forward and her gnawing terror down. She rounded a bend, and saw it. Maria was striding back and forth across the raised porch, the static chatter of a radio humming away in her hand as she attempted to manage the quiet chaos that was her town. She didn't see Ellie until she had crept up right behind her, the teen's light steps proving insufficient to make the half rotted steps groan and creek in protest like they usually did. Maria turned towards the light cough behind her, a greeting dying in her throat as she took in the state of the shivering creature before her.

The girl she saw was caked in dirt, strands of hair normally corralled by her ponytail stuck wildly across her forehead and neck, glued in place by sweat and grime. All that could be explained away by a hard day in the woods, as could the shallow cuts and scabs on her hands. But it was her eyes that gave away the fact that something was clearly, undeniably wrong. In the two years Maria had known Ellie she had seen the girl change and grown. Beyond the purely physical shifts her eyes had changed from those filled with uncertainty and mistrust to those filled with a hunger for knowledge and laughter, and from a mind shackled with guilt to one free to finally float amongst dreams and happiness. But now her eyes had changed again, and there was hardness, an edge, and a primal fear that gave them a wild glare. That was to say nothing of a battered watch she held in her hand. That watch.

Along with her husband Maria ran this town after her father had passed. She had built it from ruins, populated it with wanderers and had seen it so close to destruction so many times that it took something unexpected, something entirely unpredictable to even scratch at her veneer of calm.

"Oh shit." The older woman breathed.

It had started out as a poker night, played with tattered cards and worn chips. It was something Tommy liked to do, a nice routine way to let off some steam, have a drink or four, and end the day on a good note. Seeing as how the table was filled with Jackson's most influential and powerful, it also worked as a nice way of cutting through the red-tape bullshit to get to the core of any problems.

"Tommy, take a swig of this. I brewed it myself. Managed to get some apples in there for flavor."

The man to his left, Eric, passed the blond haired man a mug and he took it up to his lips, knocking back a swig. The moonshine burned its way down this throat, not a hint of apple to be found, spreading fiery warmth through his stomach. It was almost unbearably strong. Eric's mouth, crisscrossed from scars, twitched into a smile as Tommy set the cup down with a deep exhale. He slid it back to the weathered man and nodded approvingly, the hint of a grimace on his face.

"Good stuff. You're going to have to give Maria the recipe."

A quick laugh echoed around the table, the sound of clattering poker chips synching up with the tick-tock of a miraculously intact grandfather clock nestled in the corner of the den. The man across from Tommy – a short, brutish man with the gnarled hands of a farmer who went by the name of Natley, cleared his throat, a pale blue chip twirling between his fingers.

"Talk and deal, boys; it's a poker game, not a knitting circle." A new hand of cards was tossed out, each of the players glancing at their hands before summing up the opposition. Natley continued on with an almost imperceptible snort of annoyance. The dealer was out to get him. "If the weather keeps up we'll be able to put apples in just about anything we fuckin' want. Land's been good to us this year."

An appreciative murmur spread through the group. From harsh experience they knew most winters came down to the wire, the town's foodstuffs always dangerously close to running out when conditions got severe. Jackson's soil was finally offering up its bounty to the hard working farmers under Natley's tutelage.

Eric spoke up, not a man to easily allow himself to be outdone.

"Hunting's good too. With all those bastard infected and scavengers gone, for the most part that is, the pickings have been real nice. Hell, at the rate that those animals are screwing out there we stand to have a Thanksgiving to remember. A chicken in every pot and all that."

The man smiled to himself, a reptilian air about his face, not noticing, or not caring, about Natley's lingering gaze. They played cards together, even worked together if needed, but each man though the other was a royal prick.

It was then that the front door banged open, Maria swooping in with Ellie trailing behind. The two women stopped to take in the situation, and the men seated at the table twisted in their chairs to gaze at the interlopers. Tommy broke the momentary silence.

"Maria. And is that the wonderful Miss Ellie I see there? Evenin' girl, you look haggard as all hell."

He went to continue, before Maria cut him off, a sharp slice of her hand in the air demanding silence.

"The military's been nosing around in the hills." With a flick of her hand she tossed the watch at the table, and it landed with a slight thump, knocking over Eric's pile of chips. "They got Joel."

It was as if the air got sucked out of the room, a heavy silence blanketing it like a fog. Those seated seemed to react the same, to a man picking up their glasses and taking a long pull of whatever they had brewed up for the night, the light air of entertainment dead and gone. With a deep sigh Tommy tossed his cards onto the table, leaning back and running a hand through his hair, looking Ellie in the eyes with a heavy gaze.

"Christ…When'd it happen? How?

His wife opened her mouth to speak, partly to remain in control, partly to shield Ellie from having to delve back into those memories.

"She was out hunting with Joel-"

"He went one way, I went the other," Ellie interrupted, stepping around the older woman to face the table. Maria meant well, but she wasn't a child that needed to be coddled. She could keep herself together, for the moment at least. "We were about two hours out from the walls, and figured our chances were better if we split up. Fucking stupid in hindsight, I know. I heard gunshots; too many to just be Joel finding dinner, so I took off towards it. I thought maybe it was a stray runner or something. When I got there he was, well, he was on the ground, bleeding and…look, the military took him, bundled him up and dragged him into this big metal thing that appeared out of nowhere. It went south-east and disappeared. That's all I got. How do we find him?"

Another man spoke up, leaning forwards to look her in the eyes. His gaze wasn't nearly as severe as the other men, with eyes more akin to a doting teacher than a survivor, and he drummed his fingers on the table in thought as he sized up the situation.

"Excuse me lil' Miss. This big thing you said picked Joel up, what'd it look like?"

Ellie gave a slight shrug, her shoulder blades aching from the movement, and recalled the few details she could. It was just now hitting her how tired and bruised she was. The man nodded at each detail, his fingers never ceasing their rhythmic tapping. When she finished he leaned back, giving a slight cough.

"Thank you. I'm sorry if that was unpleasant to recollect." He turned to address the seated group. "That explains everything. She saw a helicopter, of that we've got no doubt I'm sure." A chorus of nods confirmed his suspicious, and he took another sip of his drink before continuing. "Now way back when before my engineering days I was a young, dumb military man. Served five years in the army, three of those as a crew-chief stuffed in the ass of a Blackhawk. I'd bet everything I've got that that's what she saw. And there's only one place that the government would have the facilities to still launch those ugly birds: Denver. You strap a pair of extended-range fuel tanks to it and the mileage it can travel is just into our territory."

"Denver?" Eric butted in once more, a sharp, guttural laugh punctuating his words. "I thought Denver went to shit years ago."

Natley cleared his throat, his chance to get one over on his bastard accomplice too much to resist.

"Went to shit, yeah. Doesn't mean it's not still there. The military pulled back to the core areas of the city, regrouped and rearmed before taking back quite a few slices of town from the infected and…whatever those freedom-fighter are called – Butterflies or something."

"Fireflies." Tommy breathed, and Ellie stiffened at the mention of their names. The farmer inclined his head towards Tommy, a few fingers pointed towards him to concede the name.

"Fireflies, right. Last I heard, and this is from one of my new boys who showed up 'bout a month ago, is that they were hurting for food and electricity. Things this happy little town is starting to have in plenty."

"Alright, so that answers why and how. What the hell are we going to do about it?" That got a few dirty looks shot at Eric, the hunter seemingly slipping into a foul mood. He had had a winning hand.

At this Ellie perked up, tossing her hands in the air, palms up, annoyance and anger tinting her voice.

"What do mean what are we going to do? We're going to fucking get him back, right Tommy?"

Her eyes burned into him and he gave a deep groan, standing up and stretching his legs. He chewed at his lip as he slowly walked around, stopping when he was behind Ellie, his eyes cast down towards the floor.

"Going toe-to-toe with the military ain't something this town can afford to do. We've got close to a thousand souls here counting on us to keep them safe."

Wheeling around to face him the young girl shot a withering stare, venom mixed with disappointment dripping in every word.

"What the hell? He's your fucking brother!"

His gaze shot up, locking with hers.

"You think I don't know that, girl? But there's only so much we can do against the goddamned army." A frustrated whine had entered his voice and he dug a hand into his jacket pocket, determined not to let anyone see it tremble. Ellie backed away from the group, shaking her head in disbelief, her head pounding at the betrayal. Maria looked away, unable to even gaze at the stricken girl, as did those at the table. Only Eric seemed to give a slight snort, reaching for his drink and taking another deep sip before talking.

"The man's right."

It took every ounce of composer Ellie had not to put a bullet through his head, and her fists balled up, fingers digging into her skin deep enough to almost draw blood. She began to tremble, eyes darting to the door, unable to tolerate the present company or the situation.

"Fine. Fucking fine. I'll get him on my own then. Thanks for nothing, assholes."

That drew another chortle from the veteran hunter and he locked eyes with Ellie, a dark amusement smoldering in them. He had nothing against Joel personally, but he hadn't lived as long as he had by being overly sentimental.

"You're what, a 17 year-old girl? About the only thing you can do on your own is wipe your ass and tell bad jokes"

The girl's nostrils flared and she took a single step towards him, grabbing the watch off the table in the process. Maria moved halfway between them, fearing more for Eric's wellbeing than Ellie's.

"Oh yeah? Want to hear one then? Knock-knock."

He rolled his eyes, deciding that he'd humor the brat. "Who's there?"

"Fuck. You."

With a spin of the heel she stormed out, cutting a path towards the small cabin she had shared with Joel. Only once her steps were the only things she could hear did she allow tears of frustration to well up. She had expected more from them. So, so much more. In a few minutes' walk the house was in front of her - a cozy two story building nestled in the shadows of one of the higher parts of Jackson's wall. With a resounding thud she slammed the door behind her, locking it to keep out anyone she didn't want to see, which basically amounted to everyone.

The interior was suffocatingly dark, every object just a different shade of black in the gloom. She closed her eyes, navigating into the living room by memory alone, threading between chairs and tables as she headed towards the couch. With each step she blew a little more air out of her lungs, feeling her chest press inwards, willing the anger and fear out of her with each passing second. Her rifle clattered to the floor first, and with a shrug her backpack followed shortly after. Legs brushed against heavy cushions and she reached the couch, falling down onto the worn fabric before expanding her lungs with a gasp. The springs squeaked in protest under her, and Ellie could hear the pounding of her heartbeat. The house was too goddamned quiet. There had been a routine to life just this morning. But like a piece of glass it was shattered into a million fragments, each one cutting deep into her when she wrapped her mind around it.

Reality and fantasy collided and she could almost hearing the comforting sound of the door opening and closing, with Joel's heavy footsteps echoing down the hall as he shuffled in from a hard day of work. If she beat him home she'd be sprawled out on the couch with a blanket over her legs, book in hand. That was also one of the few times her jacket would be tossed up and away, the ghastly bite mark exposed, raw and pink on an otherwise alabaster skin. He would, every single time, walk over to the couch and gently shove her off to one side before collapsing on it with a groan. To play her part in that great game she would always give him some kind of hell, before dropping the act and asking how his day went, shifting just a little closer to him as he spoke.

"Shit, Joel. Why us - why you - after everything?" Her voice peeped out into the dark and though she knew there would be no answer some tiny, irrational part of her mind held out hope. But there was nothing, and her shoulders dropped. Taking another deep breath she peeled away from the couch, steering into the kitchen, and yanked open the refrigerator door. A rheumy, yellowed light spilled out of its innards as she began her search for dinner. Ellie pulled out a plate of food, tossing it onto the table as she fished for the pitcher of water buried in the back. Finding the chilled metal container she backed away, shoving the door closed as she leaned over the table. Despite a lack of appetite she picked at the cold meat, each bite tasting like ash. She wouldn't find him any better on an empty stomach.

Everything – every goddamn little thing – brought back memories of them. They had built the table together. They had built the chairs together. It seemed like she couldn't even take a shit without something reminding her of Joel. Her spirits dropped even further and she pushed the now empty plate away with a weary sigh, stumbling up the stairs to the bedrooms. The steps deposited her at a junction. To the left was her room; to the right was Joel's. Without thinking the worn girl turned right and marched down the short hallway to his door. It was unlocked - it was always unlocked, had always been unlocked, just in case she needed him. The air seemed stiller in his room, and she glided across the floor to the edge of his bed. A small lamp sat on a nightstand and she flicked the switch, the bulb heating up and casting long shadows on everything it touched. She looked around the room, seeing it in a new light without his presence. It was Spartan, devoid of majority of the creature comforts her room contained. No desk for writing or reading, no chair for changing or relaxing, just four walls, a closet, the nightstand, and a bed. She lay back on the stiff mattress, twisting her head into the pillow, inhaling what was left of his smell. She closed her eyes as she bent her head more, burying her face into the feathers. It smelled safe. It smelled like home. She loved the cabin, but to her home was a person, not a place. Joel was her home, and Ellie was achingly homesick.

With a flutter eyes opened, and her gaze focused on the small bit of clutter at the bottom of the lamp. The first and most obvious thing was a fully loaded pistol. Such a Joel move, she thought, entirely glossing over the fact that she kept a pistol just like that under her bed. Her eyes traveled a little further, and rested on a dog-eared photo taken long ago. It showed a much younger man than the Joel she knew, his arm around a young blond girl, all carefree smiles and levity. Ellie never thought much of Sarah. She only hoped that he had finally come to peace with her loss.

It was the second photo that took her by surprise. It was right next to the first, framed in a shabby wire holder. It was a picture of her. Ellie sat up, reaching out to lift the photo off the stand, bringing it closer to her face to study the details. It had been taken a few months after they had arrived in Jackson, and long enough after her little breakdown over his lie that she had felt at least something like her normal self again. It was a snapshot of the first proper guitar lesson he had ever given her. A weak smile graced her lips and she remembered him making her strum the same chords over and over until her fingers ached, before disappearing for a moment, only to rematerialize with an ancient looking Polaroid camera, instructing her to simply "act natural," whatever that had meant. So she had tried her best to smile, which after studying the picture looked more like she was trying not to fart, and let him click away, a developing picture shooting from the camera. For some strange reason it never occurred to her that he kept that photo, never mind keep it next to the one of his deceased daughter. There was meaning in that, though in her ruined state her mind simply couldn't fathom what it could be.

Anxiety and exhaustion were a strange combination and she fell into a mad twilight land, drifting in and out of consciousness, unable to tell what was real and what was not. Waking fever dreams assaulted her depleted psyche, the darkness molding and contorting, an outlandish, almost theatrical replaying of the day's events happening at the foot of Joel's bed. Ellie watched in muted detachment, her body seemingly frozen in place as she heard his screams echo from the walls. Her eyelids would close and reopen to another scene, the shadows only too happy to produce an encore. Days started to mesh together, with happier moments entwining with the sadder ones. Figures twitched and the scene changed, suddenly Joel was giving her that guitar lesson, smiles stretching across both of their faces, each figure seemingly oblivious to the blood pouring down his knee, and the tears streaking down her face. She felt nothing but an aching hollowness. The hallucinations continued on and on until eventually her mind could take no more, and sleep claimed her.

Morning came, the sun dragging itself above the horizon, bands of light questing around the sleepy town. Ellie lay wide awake, the picture Joel had taken of her still clasped tightly against her trembling chest. Some cosmic act of mercy had spared her after sleep took her shuddering form. Dreams - real dreams - had woken her before the sun crested the hills – happy dreams, for a change - dreams where she and Joel were safe and joyful and content, and as reality refocused before her, her mind worked over every aching detail, grasping onto every flash of his face and every echo of their laughter. Of course it was in this fucked up situation - where she stood the greatest chance of losing him - that her mind decided to relive and create so many happy times. It was torture for her to picture him, but she did it anyways. The thought of not seeing him hurt even worse.

Aching limbs dragged her up and out of bed, and she set the picture down on his pillow before turning to face the rest of his room. Her brief respite was over, and it was time to prepare. She retreated to the family room and began a systematic search of the house, emptying it of bullets for her weapons and food for her travels. Everything useful was piled up on the kitchen table, and Ellie stood back to take stock of her situation. Plenty of food, and plenty of bullets for a change. Jackson really had been safe if they managed to stockpile more ammo then she could carry. Every corner of her pack was filled with the necessities, the books and other nonessentials being tossed out without a second though. With a grunt she hefted it up, feeling the ammunition and cans of food readjust their positions as her back pressed against them. It was time, and she was ready.

With a morbid sense of finality the door closed behind her, and Ellie began to trace her way towards the stable. Denver would come by much faster on horseback. The building in question was located at the entrance of the town, a long, rectangular structure with high walls and a slanted roof, the light that leaked in through the open door and opened windows shimmering in the dusty air. The smell of stale hay permeated the area, and her nose crinkled involuntarily. She had beaten the stable-master, quietly relishing the small victory of not having to argue and threaten her way to taking one of the many beasts of burden.

Her steps led her down the rows of horses, each creature being studied with a careful eye. The last thing she needed was a lame mount. Jackson had been lucky though, the stock of horses they started out with had quickly increased, good blood-lines ensuring that the animals were the prime of their species. Ellie stopped in front of one, a sturdy looking, chocolate colored horse. It gave a lazy snort of acknowledgement at her presence, and slowly walked towards her in its stall as she extended a hand. Nostrils flared and exhaled as the horse smelled her, and she reached forwards to scratch at its nose. It would do.

"I thought I'd find you here." The voice made her freeze, and she saw Tommy and three other men blocking the entrance. A cold, bitter anger welled up in her, her fingers instinctively balling into fists. She didn't have time for this stand-off crap. Before she could open her mouth to release some very creative threats he continued speaking. "Look, I ain't here to stop you. Just give me the decency of letting me talk without your eyes telling me how bad you want me dead."

She decided she would let him talk, but she wasn't about to let him off the hook.

"Oh, I only want you as dead as you seem to want Joel."

He nodded, soaking up the abuse. His hands moved to his hips and he kicked at the dirt.

"Don't think for one second that I want to see any kind of harm come to my brother. Now I know you know it's more complicated than just riding out and saving the day like you're in a goddamn movie. I thought you were smarter than that, Ellie."

She bristled. He was in her way and insulting her.

"Yeah, well that's what it looks like to me. You're making a girl who can only 'wipe her ass and tell bad jokes' charge into a fucking quarantine zone by herself. Not many other ways to see it." She threw up air quotes as she recounted Eric's description, disdain clear in her voice.

He held up his hands, conceding the point. Joel had told him, more like warned him, about how she got once her mind was set on something. Part of him had just thought the man was exaggerating for effect. But here was a five foot three, hundred pound force of nature staring him down. Right then she scared him more than the infected did.

"Ellie, I've got plenty of other people whose lives depend on me being right here every day. I can't help you, as much as I want to. But I happened to find three gentlemen who will."

He gestured towards the men who had accompanied him, men who up until that ad-hoc introduction had been content to linger in the shadows of the doorway, unwilling to intervene in the argument. They stepped forwards and Ellie scrutinized the volunteers, slowly letting the anger dribble away as Tommy walked past her and deeper into stable.

The first was an aged man resembling what she thought Bill - an old acquaintance, if you could call him that - would have looked like if he was half balding, and hadn't looked like such an asshole. He gave her a nod, a slight smile on his face.

"You've got spirit, girl. I like that." His voice was raspy but kind, though a slight twinge of mournfulness stained his words as heavily lidded eyes peered at her from beneath a head of graying hair. "I was in something of your predicament, once. I lost a son a few years ago. I was given the chance to go get him, and well, I never took it. Instead I just buried my head in the sand like a damn coward. Was just too damn afraid of everything back then. You're braver than I ever was. The name's Wallace."

The second man shifted from foot to foot as Ellie sized him up. A sense of impatience permeated his figure, and he oozed potential energy like a coiled spring. A disgusting scar ran up his cheek and a large chunk of his right ear missing where the old wound ended, the remaining portion a mangled hunk of scar tissue. He tried to smile at her as well, her eyes being drawn to the scar which twisted across his face like a serpent with every tick of his muscles.

"Caleb. Name's Caleb." The man seemed unwilling or unsure of what else to say, so Ellie shifted her gaze to the third and final man. A crooked smile crawled up her face. This one, at least, wasn't a complete stranger.

"Really, Harmless? You?"

The man gave a slight shrug, his face locked in its perpetual mask of neutrality. His name was Harmless, or rather he hadn't given any other name but Harmless to go by. The story went that when he first wandered up to the gates the guards had asked who he was, his only reply being 'a harmless stranger.' So it stuck. She had met him shortly after his arrival, trailing along with Tommy as he gave the newest resident a tour. Most people that showed up were filled with questions and gawked like tourists, seemingly unable to process that a society like Jackson could still exist. Harmless hadn't spoken a word the entire tour, only waiting until the end to ask Tommy to volunteer him for wherever help was needed the most. The man had secrets - secrets that he was couldn't or wouldn't share. Perhaps that's why he and Ellie got along; that, and his interesting choice of expressing himself.

"No one should have to go on a suicide mission alone."

A dark chuckle emanated from the girl, and she rolled her eyes as she spoke.

"Glad to see you remembered to pack your fatalism. Does wonders for morale."

The sound of stamping hooves and sliding metal cut short any further introductions, and Tommy led four horses out of their stalls and down the long hallway, saddles already prepped and fixed to the beasts' backs, bringing them to a halt before the small group. The co-leader of Jackson shared a look with each of those present, before nodding to himself, passing the reigns out to the ad-hoc rescue party.

"Alright, meet and greet's over, now y'all saddle up and get going. I'm sure Joel's missing Ellie something fierce by now."

One by one each member of the group hoisted themselves up onto a mount, Ellie landing heavily in the saddle of the brown horse she had chosen earlier. The others gently spurred their horses forwards, trotting them out of the gloom and into fresher air. She made to follow, but Tommy reached out an arm to block the animal's path, his eyes centered first on the straw-covered ground, slowly rising up to meet hers. He reached into his pocket and produced a pistol, the metal scraped and well worn from years of use. He offered it to her, grip first.

"This gun here has gotten me through more close calls than I'd care to remember or admit to. It's got quite the bit of good luck built up in it. I want you to take it." His tone dropped, the usual levity being replaced by something much more somber. "Look, I want you to know that I'd go with you if I could. I did the best I could to get these men to follow you. I know this is hard, and I feel damn guilty I'm not riding out with y'all. It's probably scary as hell to not have him with you. But I've watched you two, Ellie. That man has taught you everything he knows about surviving. Hell, I'd wager that you're tougher than he is now. So go bring him home, alright?"

She coughed and fidgeted, unsure of what to say. He had one more question, a tinge of uncertainty in his voice.

"We okay now? I don't want any bad blood between us."

She shifted in the saddle, breaking eye contact to gaze around her. Without a word she extended her hand, letting Tommy place the pistol in it, before giving a slow nod of her head.

"Yeah, we're okay."

Anxiety drained out of the man as he released a long breath, the habitual smile he almost always wore returning to grace his features. He gave her leg a gentle slap, before motioning her to follow him outside.

The men had lined their horses up in a semi-circle, waiting for her to appear. All eyes were on her, and she shifted uncomfortably, not used to being the center of attention. She cleared her throat, unconsciously brushing another strand of hair away.

"Look, I don't want to sound like a bitch, but this is my Joel we're going after. We do things my way, alright?"

Wallace gave his horse's neck a scratch, running his tongue across his lips as he processed her words. She was half expecting a fight, until she saw a gleam of sincerity in his brown eyes.

"Of course, miss. I'll go ahead and speak for everyone here; you're in charge. He's your pa, after all."

"My what?" He had completely lost her on that last part. Joel had feet, not paws. The aging man scratched his head, his words suddenly less sure than they were a second ago.

"He is your pa, ain't he?"

She looked at him quizzically, her head slightly cocked, mimicking the movements of his lips.

"P-ah-wh? What's that?"

The man blushed slightly, his vernacular getting the best of him once again.

"Pa - you know - paternal. Padre." He shook his head and gave a slight shrug. "Dad. He is your Dad, right?"

Ellie remembered a nursery game for kids back in Boston - the one where they had to mach big, blocky wooden shapes with the right outlines. Match the right shape to the right hole and it would slide in, smooth as silk. The little ones had loved that game, whooping in triumph as triangles slid into triangles, squares into squares, stars into stars. She had never understood their elation at something so simple – so cosmically obvious. And yet there she was, being stared at by four pairs of eyes, a bittersweet grin spreading across her face despite the situation as she recalled exactly where Joel kept that picture of her, and something in her mind simply clicked.

"Yeah. He's my Dad."

A long whistle echoed out, and everyone's eyes shifted to Tommy, who stood there with a grin to match hers. He opened his mouth to speak, a slight chuckle escaping before his words could.

"Hell, it's about time y'all started being honest about the situation."

The gates began to grind open and Tommy stepped back, the time for talking over. With a certain sense of finality he shook each of the rider's hands, before stepping into the shade of the stable. The gates squealed to a stop, opening up to a vast, untamed wilderness. With a final, furtive glance back at the town Ellie spurred her horse forwards, exiting Jackson in a flurry of hooves and dust. Three other riders galloped out in her wake, winding their way up narrow paths into the hills. The towers and cabins receded from view, the rolling land quickly swallowing the small sanctuary. She felt no pangs of regret, no longings to turn back and give up. Her mind was made up – she would come back with Joel, or not at all.