author's note: I have slipped in a few headcanons of my own in regards to Ellie's history, and her own mother. Hope you enjoy!

Poet
7.

People mourn, and Ellie hasn't witnessed this kind of behaviour before––not really. Naturally the military avoided emotions such as these, and growing up during the infection, Ellie simply grew up with death. Perhaps what's shocking is the fact that these deaths weren't due to the infection, but due to people. Due to the greedy; the corrupt monsters. The amount of deaths has been counted, and it's more than she assumed. Over twenty were killed during the incident, and more injured.

That's more than half in the camp.

Ellie is fairly in touch with her own emotions, but the amount of misery which swells the place is a little too much. Once Maria excuses her from her jobs, Ellie disappears inside the barracks, and doesn't intend to come out anytime soon. The screwdriver she discovered earlier that day remains in her possession. Throwing herself down onto the bed, she twiddles with the tool between her fingers; taps the point. It has only been a little over twelve hours since the attack.

Yet it feels like days ago. Feels as if it happened days ago, and everybody is still trying to cope.

Joel survived. A minor concussion. But he survived, and the medic promised he would be up and about the following evening. Only patience is necessary at the moment. And time. Joel requires rest in order to heal, which means Ellie needs to be out of his way. This comes as a tricky task, but Ellie forces herself not to worry. Or, not to as much as she usually would.

It's hard, though. They've come to care for each other dearly.

Ellie sits upright, and leans against the wall. The room is dark. A small amount of light filters in through the window, but she prefers the lack of light. There's something comforting about the night. That is when bodies rest, and the battle ceases. For a bit. Only for a bit, but it still stops. Ellie grips onto the handle of the screwdriver, and digs the point into the mattress.

A knock at the door surprises her. The last thing she wants is a visitor. The knocking continues, and Ellie lets out an irritated sigh. 'Fuck off, please.' Ellie rolls her eyes when her visitor opens the door, but she immediately stands to her feet when she recognises Riley. 'I thought––you're out still?'

'Yeah. Nice greeting, by the way.'

'Tommy let you out?'

Riley avoids the question. 'I came to check on you; took me a while to figure out where you might be.'

Frowning at her, Ellie walks to the door and shuts it. 'Back track a little: if you're out, then what the fuck are you doing here? Don't you have your Fire Fly friends to get back to?'

'I was let out. But not outside the gates. He must have softened up to me when he saw what I could do.'

Despite herself, Ellie smiles crookedly. 'Oh, yeah? What can you do?'

'Save your ungrateful behind for starters,' Riley scoffs. 'All this time, and I'm still havin' to rush in to save you?'

The smirk instantly drops. 'Whatever.' Ellie returns to the bed, and sits on the edge. She begins to fiddle with her screwdriver again. 'Could've handled it myself. Just, y'know, pointing that out.'

'Uh-Huh.' Riley grins, and Ellie struggles to ignore how fetching she looks. 'Really seemed like you had the situation under control.' Ellie mumbles something under her breath, and jabs the screwdriver into the mattress. Riley folds her arms. 'Oh, I'm okay, by the way. Thanks for asking.'

'Yeah.' Ellie looks up at her. 'Yeah, you are.'

'And you?' Riley sits beside Ellie. Their knees bump together, and Ellie grows conscious of how close they sit together. 'Think you got more than just a broken nose.'

'Medic said I'll be fine. Bit bruised, is all.'

'The medic said that?' Riley cocks a brow. 'Interesting. I spent the whole day cartin' in wounded people, and I never saw you once; never saw you talking to any medic actually.'

'Must have missed me.'

'I must have.'

Ellie sighs. Pinches the bridge of her nose. She hisses between her teeth at the sting. Maybe she should avoid touching her nose from now on. Riley is right: if anything was broken, it was her nose, but Ellie refuses to have treatment.

She doesn't want to be tied to a bed, and made a recluse for several weeks.

That sort of thing would get unbearable. Ellie is an active young woman; lying in a bed demands too much.

And Riley has no right to criticise her for that.

'Thanks,' she mutters. 'For, uh, finding me in time.'

'Sure.'

They fall silent. Time ticks. Ellie can still hear the gunfire, the screams; and she's not sure why this event has affected her more than any other. She thinks it might be because Joel was involved. That out of her own stupidity, he was wounded. Maybe it's because it's been so long since something like this has ever occurred. Or, it could quite simply be about the girl beside her.

Ellie glances down at her hands. Scratched and sore from handling too much artillery, too much violence. Dipped in too much blood. Ellie follows from her wrist, further down her arm. She's rolled up her sleeves, and very rarely does she notice the bandage. The bite. The bandage is old, and in need of changing, but this bite has been with her for so many years, she just forgets.

Forgets that feeling of giving up. When you know you're about to die in only hours.

When you know, you know, you'll turn into one of those things.

Death from a bullet is mercy. The people who died in this camp had the easy way out. They don't know what horror is; what dread is. What it's like when your entire world crashes around you, and you're helpless. Completely and utterly helpless.

There are cures for bullets. For bleeding.

There are no cures for infection.

Except her. Men and women die every day. But, maybe they wouldn't have to––not if Ellie consented to the experiment, allowed her skull to be pried apart, and allowed herself to die.

'Say, Riley.' She touches the bandage, idly, and the words tumble from her lips. 'Would you rather I was dead?'

'Wh––' Riley blinks. And then there's nothing. No comment, no response whatsoever. Bravely, Ellie meets her line of gaze, and it couldn't be clearer. It couldn't be more obvious what Riley is thinking, and Ellie can't blame her. She can't blame her for that.

Ellie slips off the bed. 'Sorry.' Maybe. Maybe if Joel didn't rescue her, the vaccine might have succeeded; the population would grow. Yes, Ellie would be dead, but, in the long-run, her life would amount to nothing. The rest of mankind outweighs her own life.

Just as Ellie reaches for the door, Riley hurries forward, and bars her exit. Surprised, Ellie widens her eyes, and steps back. Riley's expression is troubled––close to anger, but Riley hasn't ever been the angry type. She gets frustrated, but never angry.

Yet her voice is soft when she speaks.

'Before we go into this, I just wanna ask you a question.'

Ellie waits.

'What would you do in my position? If you were me, and I were you: what would you do?'

'Leg it.' Riley frowns. 'I'd get out of here, and go. Seriously. This place sticks of dead meat.' Ellie chortles, but the humour dies when she sees Riley's face.

'You're gonna joke? Now, of all times, you're making jokes? You're really fucking funny, Ellie.'

Ellie snorts. 'I dunno what I'd do, okay? I don't give a shit.' She shrugs. 'This whole thing is bullshit. If you want me, Riley, then do it now. Knock me out cold, and take me to one of your fucking labs. Oh. Oh, hey, how about this? I'll go willingly. Saves you the extra effort, right?' She offers her wrists for Riley to cuff. 'Come on: I'm genuinely giving myself to you.'

'That's really noble.'

'Yeah, well… my mum would want it, wouldn't she? It'd make her proud.'

Riley stiffens at that. Ellie knows Riley has more information on her mother than she's letting on. Marlene has undoubtedly told her things Ellie has not heard about. Ellie's mother is a sensitive topic, and Ellie isn't pleased with her mockery.

That doesn't negate her curiosity, though.

Dropping her hands to her sides, Ellie says, 'Can't say I didn't help you––'

'Did Marlene tell you that?'

'… Tell me what?'

'That you, giving yourself in––that would make your mother proud?'

Ellie swallows. 'She inferred something like that. The two were close, so I just assumed––'

'All your mother wanted was for you to be safe.'

A second passes. Those words sink in, and Ellie is speechless for a short moment. 'What?'

Riley looks away. She may not have known Ellie's mother personally, but the things she's saying; the things Marlene said to her––they're lies. And even if Riley has devoted most of her life to the Fire Flies, she's not stupid. She's aware of the delusions, the false promises Marlene shared. The fact that she swore to Anna to keep Ellie safe, keep her out of harm's way, but had to break such a promise eventually.

So desperate to make sure her daughter wasn't touched, Ellie was taken to military school.

And if she hadn't met Riley, if they never happened, then maybe Ellie wouldn't have to deal with what she's faced with.

Being special. Gifted. Nothing sounds more ugly.

Riley steps past Ellie, and sits on the bed again. She fiddles with the cuff of her sleeve, and goes through the hundred of things she could say. But the years before they met, and then the years they were apart––too much happened. In the past five years, especially, Riley doesn't know where to start. What she discovered, what she learnt about the Fire Flies; about how the infection spread in the first place.

Raising her gaze, she looks at Ellie––and looks at her properly. She might be as small as before, but her face is more angular, and her body has changed slightly due to her adult years. Ellie is thin, but all of this time trying to survive has made her sturdy and fit. The scars written across her face, and the rest of her form are evidence of the amount of trials she's been through. Perhaps during a time when the infection didn't exist, Ellie might not be considered pretty or necessarily clean, but––

––as it's always been, Riley hasn't witnessed anybody more perfect.

Ellie wears her wounds. And they make her who she is. They make her beautiful.

'For the record, Marlene told me a load of bull too. Just took me a while to figure it all out. She was a good leader, but after working under her for so long, I found it difficult to cooperate. If you wanna know what your mother wanted, she just wanted you safe––she didn't know you were immune. No one did until we found out together. Marlene only called you special 'cos she promised to watch out for you.'

Ellie hasn't moved, and she listens intently. Riley wonders if anybody has revealed so much about her mother, if anybody has stilled her with their words, and what's remarkable is that Riley hasn't even started the whole story yet. She sighs, but the way Ellie watches her still makes her lungs ache; makes her want to scream.

'I was there when six people were experimented on. They were immune as well. Marlene wanted me to observe the surgery. Each time, she made me observe; to see where we went wrong, what we needed to watch out for. Sometimes, the patient died immediately on the operating table. Other times, they survived right to the end. But I watched them die and after so many, I just––I didn't want you to be next.'

Their faces haven't left her mind. She remembers each one as clearly as she sees Ellie today.

'Marlene told me about… about how you were conceived. What happened to your mum. I'm sorry.' Riley stops, but Ellie still hasn't reacted. She hasn't been informed about her birth either, how her mother became pregnant, but it's a topic Riley believes should be avoided for now. 'She took you in, and when you were sent off to military school… you were supposed to stay there. I guess I ended up fucking her plans, because I got you out of the quarantine zone––multiple times. Once you were out for good, once you were bitten, we had to smuggle you out. Take you to one of the labs, and she hoped you'd be the last experiment.'

When Ellie replies, her voice shakes. 'What did you want?'

'Back then, I was desperate to be a Fire Fly. That was all I wanted. After everything that's happened since I last saw you, I… I really do think there is only one right way: you're the cure, Ellie.' She inhales. 'But I can't––I can't take you. Because maybe Joel's right: it'd be pointless. It could be a failure, and if it was a failure, I wouldn't be able to fucking live with myself.'

'And if it's not? If it did work?'

'That's the funny part. Sometimes, I don't care anymore. Sometimes, I just don't give a fuck about the vaccine, because when I look at you, you're all I want––' Riley stops, and mentally curses herself for that dumb remark. She rolls her eyes. 'That was gross. Sorry.'

'Oh.' Ellie clenches and unclenches her fist. Her heart flutters, and she catches her breath. 'Yeah, that was… that was…' She's motionless for a moment longer, staring at the wall above Riley's shoulder. She doesn't know what shocks her the most. What part of Riley's speech startles her, or whether it's her words at all, but just her. Just her, here, right now, alive.

And wanting her. Not a cure, not a vaccine; just her.

'I led you out of the quarantine zone. That's how all of this started. How can you forgive me?'

Forgiveness? Ellie stirs, and looks at her, puzzled. 'What're you talking about?'

'You were a kid. I suppose you didn't know any better, but I liked you. You were fun.'

'Were?'

Riley pulls a face. Then she chuckles slightly, and considers shrugging it all off. To forget it. Just move on. But she knows that's not possible.

This will stick.

'I guess you could say I guided you right into the infected––you got bitten because of me.'

'Riley.'

But there's nothing. Nothing Ellie can deny.

She remembers that moment. Remembers it all too well. The sting as its teeth buried into her skin. The bullet which went through its skull. Riley grabbing her by the arm, and seeing the mark. The look of pity on her face, and that fear––

There are too many things to admit to, to confess, to say. Ellie goes blank, and does the only thing which makes sense.

She steps over, takes Riley's face in her hands, and kisses her deeply. All too quickly, Ellie breaks from her, but she can barely focus. Barely register what she's done. What this could possibly mean. Whether this is a mistake, or right, or whatever the fuck she ought to know.

It doesn't matter. It doesn't matter. Riley gently pulls at Ellie's collar, and they kiss again. A shudder travels up Ellie's spine, taken by how warm Riley's breath feels against her lips, across her cheek. She leans into her, presses her hands onto her shoulders, and responds with equal enthusiasm. This is all so new to her, so different; but it's wonderful and soft and delicate.

Ellie inhales sharply when Riley's palms hold her sides, travel upwards, and then down to her hips. No words are exchanged between them, and their kiss is temporary disturbed when Ellie falls into her lap. She can barely think, breathe, anything. Her heart is pounding in her ears, and she fears it might explode. Riley's warmth, her touch, feels like one wave of electricity after the next.

Wrapping her arms around the back of Riley's neck, Ellie tilts her head, deepening their kiss. She shudders, breathes, when Riley carefully buries her hands beneath her shirt. Spreads her palms across her back, her fingertips passing a scar, and another. Ellie is littered in them. Littered in grazes, bruises, blood and scars she won't reveal to anybody else. These past five years are painted across her body, and Riley is gentle with her.

The two of them slowly fall back into the mattress, Riley holding Ellie around the waist, and they continue to kiss. Her hands are so soft, so hesitant, and Ellie feels a rush of pleasure. It nearly makes her gasp out. Makes her excited in ways she hasn't endured before. She kisses her for what seems like hours, days; she doesn't know, but she kisses her and kisses her, and doesn't want to stop.

Eventually, they break apart. Ellie exhales, and rests her forehead against Riley's shoulder. They catch their breath for a moment, holding each other. Riley reaches over, tucking a few strands of hair behind Ellie's ear. This causes Ellie to react, to come back to her senses, and she sits upright, expression illegible. Riley wishes now more than ever that Ellie would tell her what she's thinking, what exactly she's feeling.

'You okay?'

Okay is something so temporary. Something undetermined, and okay is what Ellie has felt for too long now. But during all of that; kissing Riley––it's more than just okay.

Due to her lack of response, Riley sits up as well, concerned.

'Ellie?'

It's a silly question. Asking if she's okay.

Okay is barely what she feels right now.

Ellie rubs her eye with the heel of her palm. Lowers her hand. Winces. She glances at Riley, and shuffles closer, before burying her face into the crook of her neck, and cuddling her. She digs her nails into Riley's shirt, and cuddles her so tightly, so dearly, she barely allows them room to breathe. Their lungs are crushed together. Riley returns her embrace, speechless.

Then Riley feels every sob shaking through her, feels Ellie cling onto her shirt, and just cry.

'I want this all to end already.' Her voice is muffled against Riley's shirt, but she hears.

Riley is familiar with that emotion. That desire. That need.

When will the nightmare fucking end? They were born into the infection. The infected, the hunters, the Fire Flies––all of these people who hate each other. It's all they've known, and it's so draining. So much. For all of this to end, it would be… it would be impossible. This is their life. This is the life which will ultimately kill them, and it won't end. Even if it keeps them up at night, even if it haunts their every footstep, this horror won't come to an end anytime soon.

Riley kisses Ellie's forehead, rubbing her back soothingly. She knows this is the first time Ellie has allowed herself to break a little; to stop and mourn. Because nobody should have to go through what she's been through. Nobody should be overwhelmed by the slightest bit of affection, because they receive it so rarely.

If ever.

Riley's comfort seems to calm Ellie down. The trembling stops, and Ellie lets out a long exhale. Tired and exhausted and beaten. She leans back to look at Riley, eyes sore from crying, from fatigue, from everything she's been forced to see.

They hesitate, and lean in to kiss each other. This time, it's much softer than before; less rushed and intense.

'Do you need to go?'

Even if she had orders, Ellie wouldn't follow them. Just for a little while longer, she'll stay. Heal some more, keeping Riley close––for as long as it takes.