Author's Note: Brief note to say I took a break from writing the last few days. I was hosting friends for the holidays. This is backlog, so it may take a bit longer to post the next chapter. Enjoy.

The first light of dawn is finally making its way up from the horizon. The LA shore is visible, but far away. Catalina looms above them. Dawn is beginning to turn it green.

Ellie had refused to stop even once. They had lost a lot in the chaos, in the water especially, but Clint still had a couple cans of food and his opener. Ellie had no interest until at Clint's determined insistence she finally put some in her mouth. She ate almost all the green beans. She didn't stop driving them.

Clint had stopped shaking finally after maybe twenty minutes. The relentless rain and freezing ocean winds did not help. Then about three quarters of the way through the night, he started shaking again. Little trembles, at first. He didn't say anything, but he was starting to get feverish, Ellie could tell. It was scaring the shit out of her.

He had been shot, cut up, and doused in lagoon, drainage, and ocean water. He had plenty of reason to be infected notwithstanding Cordyceps. They didn't have any more antibiotics. The Fireflies would have to. And they would have to still be at Catalina too.

If they weren't…

Ellie doesn't have to hold back right now. She lets the tears fall, because the rain just washes them away.

She's cold, and exhausted, and cramped, but it doesn't matter because they're almost there. She's rounding the eastern side of the island. There's no indication of where the Fireflies are set up.

Then, they see a glint. Up on a cliff, there's a spotlight pointed at them. They can't see past it, but they must be lookouts. Ellie's hackles raise.

But it has to be them, right? She tells herself it is. Then, Clint just lifts his arm and hails them. They can't see any response. But if they are Fireflies, it's about their only way to indicate they are friendly. Ellie makes herself raise her arm too.

There's no way up here, so she keeps going. In the distance, she sees a city, built into the hills above a small bay. She approaches it.

"They better have this island fucking secure," she says, voice trembling.

Clint looks back at her. She can tell he's still concerned about her. It makes her so angry. He's starting to look woozy. Clint just nods at her.

There's one central dock, a couple hundred feet long. There are boats moored that look like they are in good condition. There's a party walking down the dock, too. They have guns. Against all her instincts, she brings the boat in to the end of the dock, where there's an open space. Clint lashes a rope around the metal ring on the dock post.

The sounds of boots on wood grow louder. There are five armed men and women, led by an older man with a gray streak in his hair. He looks pretty serious, maybe a little hardass. But not cold, like hunters. They pull up and look down at them.

The rain has finally stopped and it's daylight, grayed by the cloud cover. Ellie stands up. The dock is about chest height. The group is standing over them now, looking them over. She doesn't know what to say so she kind of just waits.

"Well, you two look like shit," the older man says. The stitching on his left breast reads 'Dunford.'

"Feel like it, too," says Clint. He needs medical attention.

Dunford sniffs. "I can see that. Well—"

To Dunford's surprise, one of the soldiers interrupts by stepping around him. And when Ellie sees who it is, her entire body goes still.

Abby's shoulders are as big as they were in Seattle. Her braid is just long enough for the tip to rest on her shoulder. There's a Firefly tattoo on her left arm. Her face is a stony mask. She holds an automatic rifle casually over her torso.

"I thought I said I never wanted to see your face again," she says.

Ellie's just standing there, eyes wide. Her body gently rocks with the movement of the boat.

Dunford, clearly in command, is piqued. His eyes move between them.

Clint speaks up. "Ellie, what is this?"

Abby sniffs. "You still want to kill me?"

Ellie's lips are parted. She can't move. She doesn't understand how this is happening. Why this is happening.

Clint moves uneasily. "Jesus Christ, Ellie, is that her?"

Ellie takes a few breaths. She manages to shake her head.

"Good," says Abby. She lets go of the gun with one hand, and offers it to Ellie.

Ellie stares at it for a second. She reaches up, takes it, and Abby pulls her onto the dock with ease. Ellie turns a half step and her leg gives out. Dunford catches her.

"Whoa, there. Easy. We need to get you two inside. You been out all night?"

"Clint," says Ellie, pointing at him. She doesn't have a lot of words right now.

Abby walks over and offers her hand. Struggling to balance in the boat, Clint stands up and takes it. She pulls him up with little more effort. He's unsteady on his feet as well, but Abby supports him.

"You guys had a rough night," she says. But she's inspecting him carefully. All the cuts.

"It's not Cordyceps," says Ellie abruptly. The Fireflies look at her. "He just needs antibiotics."

"Yeah?" asks Dunford. He inspects Clint. "We'll see to him. Come on." With that, he turns and starts marching up the pier, and the others follow him.

Ellie moves with them. She feels so out of place. But they're safe. Right? Why doesn't she feel safe?

At one point she looks back and sees Abby supporting Clint as they walk. Abby is not looking at her, seemingly on purpose. Clint looks tired, but lucid. He meets her eyes and nods.

They make their way off the pier and along the street following the water. They pass a few narrow streets. The town is full of colorful buildings. There are people around. Normal people. They pass some trade stalls. The smell of rich food makes her stomach twist in longing. Some of the houses look unoccupied, but many aren't. There are lights. People come in and out of them.

They walk up an incline toward a large, round building with a red-tiled roof and many colored flags flying about the top of it. It stands on the top of an outcropped cliff on the West side of the tiny bay. As they approach, Ellie can see there are mosaics on the side of the building. There's one of a lithe mermaid swimming in a colorful seascape. There are soldiers about, Ellie sees a jeep depart. They get some looks of passing interest as they enter the building.

Inside, there are desks everywhere, even in the wide hallway, lined with nice, old-fashioned wood paneling. There is a pair of double doors, and Dunford pushes through them.

They enter a huge, domed room with stadium seating. It's full of people, bustling. Many are in the seats, surrounded by files and with makeshift desktops in front of them. Some are standing, talking, coming or going. Most of those guys have long guns. On the stage up front, there's a small group of people talking to one man. Dunford leads them up the steps.

"Good question, but it's your job to figure that out," the man in the center of the stage says. He's about the same age as Dunford. He's got short brown hair, unstyled. He's got light brown eyes, and a twist on his lips that says he's used to dealing with problems. He turns and regards Dunford. "Now why don't you get to it." The young woman he'd been talking to frowns with her mouth, salutes, and walks off.

"Commander," says Dunford as they pull up.

"Captain," he replies. He regards Ellie and Clint. "Howdy there, sicky and string bean, come to join the cause?"

Ellie's nonplussed.

"Uh," says Clint. Abby's arm is still under him. "Yeah."

The commander is looking Clint over. "She says it's not Cordyceps," says Dunford.

"Indeed. Marisa." One of the soldiers standing at the edge of the stage comes over. "See this one down to the infirmary. What are your names, firstly?"

"Clint."

"First and last, please."

"Clint Edwards."

"Ellie…"

Miller, she thinks for a second. She finds herself thinking of her mother, for the first time in a while.

"Ellie Coulsen."

"Excellent. Commander Neil Grayson, at your service. And you have been escorted by one Captain James Dunford." Dunford inclines his head politely. "Now Marisa, please take Clint down to the infirmary."

Marisa beckons Clint and he takes her arm. He looks over his shoulder, obviously reluctant to leave Ellie. She shakes her head, and he goes.

"Now, Ms. Coulsen," says Grayson, "is there anything I should know about you two before we get you some food, rest, and, most importantly, jobs?"

Ellie hesitates. This is happening so fast. She has whiplash. Should she say it in front of everyone? She looks over her shoulder at all the people working below.

"Just say it." It's Abby. She's watching Ellie with an unreadable expression.

Grayson's eyes are narrowing on her.

"Um…" she starts. Fuck it. "Yeah, actually. I'm immune."

He doesn't react at first. He opens his mouth to speak, then closes it again. He looks her up and down, then inclines his face forward, as if to see her better. He enunciates his next words slowly and deliberately. "You are possessed, of a proven immunity, to the Cordyceps infection." His eyebrows climb. "Is that what I am to understand?"

"It's true," says Abby. She sniffs again. "It's her. From Saint Mary's."

The seats below them are growing quiet. People are talking in low voices. "Did you hear what she just said?"

"I saw her with my own eyes," Abby continues. She looks at Ellie. "When they were about to operate."

Grayson is staring at Ellie. He scoffs. "You'll have to pardon me," he begins, "but holy fucking shit."

He laughs then, and turns around raising his arms as if addressing the sky. "You still got some tricks, don't ya, you old devil! Hah! I knew you wouldn't let me down." He turns back to them. "And he owes me one, too, cause my knees are bruised to shit."

Ellie finds herself blushing. A lot of people are staring at her now.

"Well, you know what, Ellie?" says Grayson. "It's starting to sound like we ought to have a longer conversation. Let's retreat to my office. And Dunford," he points at the captain, "I hope you don't expect some kind of special credit for this."

"I most certainly do," says Dunford with a smirk. "For my men, too."

"Nope!" says Grayson, walking toward the back of the stage. "I doubt it."

"Well." It's Abby. Her jaw is too tight. She gestures for Ellie to follow. There's a sardonic drag to her words. "Come on, then, Chosen One."

Grayson's office instantly reminds Ellie of Maria's. It's midsized, a nice rug and lots of varnished wood. There are full book shelves on both walls, and a wide window behind the desk. It's a beautiful view, actually. You can see the whole coastal town nestled into the hills above the water. Lots of that deep blue Pacific, too. The sun is out now, and the water gleams.

"Go ahead and sit down, Ellie," says Grayson. He gestures to the two chairs in front of the desk. Still a bit uncomfortable, Ellie takes one. Dunford sits in the other.

Grayson is putting something in his desk drawer. He looks upward, toward the door. "Ah… Andersen."

"Sir, if you don't mind," says Abby, "I'd prefer to stay."

Grayson frowns.

"Ellie recognized her, too," says Dunford, "on the dock. Seems they have a sort of… history. Got a bit tense for a minute, in fact."

"Is that a fact?" asks Grayson. "Funny, you never mentioned that part, Andersen."

Abby looks sheepish.

"I wonder what else you didn't tell us… Doesn't matter for now." Grayson gestures, and Abby closes the door.

Ellie swallows. She keeps thinking about Clint.

Grayson sits mightily in his high backed chair, arms in the rests. Almost like he's hitting the lounge chair after a long day's work. He stops short of kicking his feet up, though.

"Well, hell, Ellie. We might just do this thing."

"Do you have a doctor?" she asks anxiously.

"Not here, no," says Grayson, "but we have one on the way."

"Where from?"

"Japan, actually." He points to a world map on the wall.

"No way…" Ellie's mouth hangs open.

"It's true."

"There are Fireflies in Japan?"

Grayson chuckles. "No, not Fireflies. Different organization. Same mission. Shiro Hebi. White Snake."

"How could you possibly hook up with them?"

"There's a dish up on the hill over yonder. Villanueva Orbital Communications Center. Still works, if you juice it. It's allowed us to collect a smattering of contacts all over the world. Some language issues, since they don't always have an English speaker and so far we've yet to recruit someone who speaks Turkish. But I've got some nice friends in Morocco who promise they'll make me the finest tajine I've ever had—which is none, for the record—if we just mosey on over there and help them liberate Rabat. Which will not be happening any time soon, unfortunately for them. Point is, we've made new friends."

"And they're sending their doctor all the way over here?" Ellie asks. "To help us?"

He frowns. "To help us?" He leans forward. "Ellie, once we're done with a bona fide cure, it's going worldwide."

"How?" she asks. She finds herself leaning forward too.

"Well, that's pretty damn complex. I could talk to you about freighter restoration, convoy operation, terms and trade deals, new recruitment, tit for tat and the whole strategic matrix. That's what we've been spending a lot of our manpower on, out here in the lonely old blue. It's been busywork, to be frank, until such a day as today."

He smiles, genuinely. "But not anymore."

Ellie is clasping the ends of her arm rests. She relaxes her hands. She glances over at Dunford, who seems tentative about the whole thing. Her eyes find Abby's without meaning to. She's leaned up against the wall, arms crossed. Her body language is defensive, but she can't hide the eager hope in her eyes.

Ellie turns back to Grayson. "When does the doctor arrive?"

His smile grows. "As it happens, Dr. Watanabe is expected to make landfall next week. Isn't that funny?"

Ellie feels a little dizzy. It could happen. It could really happen, and soon.

And she knows what that means.

"He's coming here?" her voice is a little dry.

"Nope, he will be making landfall somewhere South of Bodega Bay, from whence he and his sizable unit will travel overland to rendezvous with us in the San Joaquin Valley. And from there, we will push into Sacramento."

"What's in Sacramento?"

"The UC Davis Medical Center. He was very particular about the equipment he would need on hand. Stuff that's not easy to find anymore. Even Saint Mary's didn't have all the shit he wanted. We tried to talk him down…" he scratches his short beard ruefully. "Ended up launching our largest operation in years. After considerable toil and loss of life, my team found the Med Center intact, and defensible. Some trouble in the area… But when we hit, we're hitting heavy and hot."

Ellie nods. She looks at her lap. Her hands are all bruised up. One of her fingernails is purple. She plays with her thumbnail. She looks at Grayson. "So what now?"

"Well," he replies, "I will be getting back to work. Got a lot more now that you've showed up. I'll need to raise Watanabe, too. He's gonna go ballistic when he finds out we're bringing an immune with us. We leave, as it happens, in three days' time." He laughs again. "Is that a miracle or what? Still don't believe in fate, Dunford?"

The captain smiles dimly and shakes his head.

"Well…" Grayson looks at Ellie. "You, I imagine, will take a hot meal and get some recuperation, after what you've been through. Which is what, I wonder. You came here from Jackson?"

She blinks. "You knew I was in Jackson?"

"Abby did, yeah."

Ellie glances at her. Abby looks back, but her face reveals nothing.

"Once we were established in Sacramento, you were our best lead. We might have collected you sooner, but we feared resistance from Jackson, and we simply did not have the manpower to take you by force. And even if we did, we couldn't risk you dying in the effort. But… shit, once again. I can't believe you walked in our door like that." His brow furrows. "How many did you leave Jackson with?"

Ellie didn't expect the question. "Well, just me and Clint."

His eyebrows jump up. "Just you two? And you both made it, all this way?"

Ellie nods. "We're careful."

"I'll damn well say! Shit!" He supports his jaw on his fist. "Could use soldiers like you two, once this is over."

Ellie's brow pinches for an instant. He doesn't know?

"And that's all I have for you, Ellie."

She nods. Then she realizes she needs to get out of their hair. She nods again.

"Anything from you, James?"

Dunford regards Ellie. "Not really."

"We read your note," says Ellie suddenly.

Dunford's brow furrows, thinking for a few seconds. "You were in Portland?"

She nods. "For the record, your blessing was worth even less than your sympathy."

He guffaws. "Well, apparently you didn't need either one. But you still have both of them."

"You got your people here okay?"

"Yes. Yes I did. Just like you, it would seem." He regards Grayson. "No, I don't believe in miracles. But I've got a healthy appreciation for good old fashioned luck."

"Me too," says Ellie.

Grayson is watching her. There's a sadness somewhere in his smile. "Abby?" he says. He looks at her. "Anything from you?"

Abby is watching Ellie, arms still crossed. Expression cold, and otherwise unreadable. "Nope."

"Then you will have no problem escorting Ellie to her temporary chambers."

Abby's eyes snap to Grayson, then to Ellie. She fumbles for words for a second. "Yes, sir," she says reluctantly.

When they stand, Dunford gestures and leads Ellie out the door first. When Ellie looks back, Abby is having an inaudible conversation with Grayson.

"Ellie," Dunford says.

She looks at him. He's not wearing the eyes of a captain, now. They're softer.

"Sorry about not leaving you a boat."

She scoffs. "I don't blame you. You had to take care of your people." She looks past him. Grayson is close to Abby, talking in low tones. Between the half-heard dialogue and his mouth movements, she can make out a question.

Blood between you?

"You came by land, then? The whole way?" Dunford asks.

Ellie snaps out of it. "That's right."

"Wow. And I bet you didn't know where you were going when you left Jackson. How could you? How much of the country would you say you traveled?"

She thinks. "About half, I guess."

"Wow," he says again. He rubs his chin. "You know Ellie, I'm an old man, right?"

She smiles. "You're not that old."

"Not pre-outbreak, no. These days… Ellie, you won't like this but I'm gonna say it anyway. If this was pre-outbreak, do you know what I'd be seeing, as someone my age, looking at someone your age? 'Specially if I was your dad?"

She doesn't know so she doesn't say anything.

"A little girl." His eyes are a cool blue, and there are creases worn into his forehead, eyes, and cheeks. "A young woman, at best. Instead, I'm looking at someone with the guts, the grit, and the bloodied wisdom to travel across this hell-wracked country with a sole companion."

She feels small again and she doesn't like it. She doesn't know what to say.

He leans in. "And if we're successful here, in this thing… Maybe someday, a hundred years from now, two hundred, things can go back to the way they were before. Because I believe kids should be allowed to be kids."

With that, he pats her shoulder and walks away down the hall. Ellie's still digesting that when all of the sudden Abby is standing in front of her.

They're both surprised again, for a second. Then Abby's eyes find their cool.

"After me," she says.

Abby's braid sways slightly as she walks in front of Ellie. It's just the two of them. Abby's boots make clump sounds every time they strike the carpeted floor. For some reason the wall lamps aren't lit in this section of the hallway, and the windows are sparser. It's uncomfortably dim.

Ellie clears her throat. "I want to see Clint."

"You'll see him soon enough."

Ellie wrings her hands. She had told herself a hundred times last night that Clint was going to be okay. But she needs to see it. She needs to know she was right.

The curved hallway circling the building opens into a sitting area with a wide window. There are plastic plants flanking it. Abby stops halfway across the room.

Ellie stops too. "What are you doing?"

"That's your room." Abby gestures with her head to a door along the outer wall, just past the open area. Her gun is slung over her shoulder now, arms down by her sides. Her right fist clenches in a familiar way.

Ellie's starting to get nervous. She takes a half step back. Abby wouldn't… she wouldn't do anything. Not ever everything she and Clint had been through. Not after that conversation.

"Abby, I want to see Clint. I don't need food, or rest, not before I see him."

"Ellie…" She sounds exasperated. She takes a deep breath, and sighs. She walks over to the window and crosses her arms again.

She doesn't say anything. While the silence carries on, Ellie thinks about going into her room just long enough for Abby to leave. Then suddenly Abby starts speaking, and when she does, it is loud and plain.

"You might not like this, and I sure don't want to do it, but Grayson was right. It should be now."

Ellie shifts her weight uncomfortably. "W… What are you talking about?"

Abby turns her head so Ellie can see her profile. "I don't know Ellie, is there anything you think I might want to say? Does nothing come to mind?"

Ellie starts picking at her nails again.

"You know," Abby continues, "that was the first time I ever addressed you by name. I'm not sure I like how it feels." She tilts her head idly, looking out at the seagulls over the water. She sighs again.

"Do you remember what it smelled like?"

Abby waits for an answer. Ellie is frantically thinking about how to get out of this, that she doesn't know what Abby is talking about, when Abby shatters that possibility.

"The pillars?"

Ellie swallows. If she were honest, she can see and smell that filth-smeared sand right that very instant.

"Blood, and shit, and rot," Abby says. "Those guys were really monsters. You stray into their territory? You're a slave. You say the wrong thing, to the wrong person? You get the shit beaten out of you. You try to escape? They cut pieces off you. You kill a couple of them?"

At that, she has a particular reaction. She bunches up her shoulders, takes a breath, and releases it. "Then up you go."

"And it might not be so bad…" she scratches her jaw. "Your arms hurt, ooh, they hurt. But then you stop feeling your arms. Your legs hurt, bad, but you stop feeling your legs. You're hungry, thirsty. But you've been those things before. But they're clever… they're so clever, how they do it. Because then you look up, and you watch Lev dying…" Her voice finally breaks. She wipes away a tear.

"And that just keeps on going."

Ellie's not moving anymore. She's just witnessing with haunted eyes.

Lev. The one whose throat she'd been ready to cut, while he lay there like a sleeping boy.

"After Seattle, he was all that I had," says Abby. "We're family now. Blood, practically. Watching him die was like…" Words seem to fail her. Her arms tighten across her chest and she shakes her head, several times.

"You spared me from that," expels Abby, finally turning on her. The tears in her eyes are almost more than Ellie can take. Abby unfolds her arms. She bares her teeth and points at Ellie, cheek twitching. She prods at her once, twice. But she doesn't say anything. In the end, she closes her lips and pulls her finger back into a fist, lowering her arm. She takes one last breath.

"And for that, and that alone, you have my forgiveness."

The sounds of her boots echo as she walks out of the room and down the hall, out of sight.