School-crazy busy. My apologies for not updating/doing anything. Thanksgiving break is a godsend XD I can't believe I'm writing this story that takes place during the end of summer when I've just had snow over here. My friends and I got together again to chip away at The Last of Us, and just finished Henry and Sam's section T_T
On that...not-so-happy note, here's another nugget of story. Left y'all hanging last time WHOOPSIES

EDIT: whoopsies this has been up for an hour and I realized I left out a scene. The one between Joel and Ellie is an old one that I wrote when just starting this story. Glad I found some place to use it! Enjoy!

They start planning a funeral for Maria. Ellie sits numbly as Dr. Mundell breaks the news to Teresa, and Joel looks as angry as Ellie's ever seen him. Mikey's face is stony, but Ellie sees a single tear streaming down the side of it, invisible to all but those who knew his pain.

And Joel keeps a hand on Ellie's shoulder as they walk out of the hospital, expecting her to cry or break down again. But she doesn't. She's grown numb since that night almost an exact week ago. When bullets streamed through her girlfriend like shards of glass.

And, in fact, Ellie's grown angry. So angry that she hasn't spoken a word to Tommy or otherwise since that night. Ellie can still hear him trying to discourage Joel from trying to save Maria. She didn't care what the circumstances were for his actions, and she wouldn't hesitate to hold that against him.

School hadn't started yet. The raid had sent numerous kids, not just Maria, into the hospital, along with their guardians. Jamie had lost her grandfather. Avery had broken his leg in an attempt to save his little brother. Stefano and Diego both took on multiple bullets apiece. But, how lucky was Maria, to be the only one whose future wasn't going to be simple. Everyone else, Dr. Mundell had assured them, was going to live. Their scabs would fade to scars and their bones would be set correctly and they'd be fine.

"They're giving her another week." Joel murmured to Ellie, who nodded, not even turning to face him, "Yeah."

"I don't know what to tell you." He admits, and Ellie turns to face him, narrowing his eyes, "Just don't bullshit me about what's going to happen. I want the truth this time around."

"Then so be it. You'll get it, I promise." Joel assures her, then grimaces, "It's not going to be the one you wanted."

"I'll survive." Ellie grits her teeth, ramming her shoulder into the door of their house, stomping up the stairs to her room. Joel hears the door slam from where he stands in the foyer, and sighs.

(-_-(-_-(-_-)-_-)-_-)

It's not fair. Ellie manages, resisting her urge to lash out, a quiet anger becoming her aura. With Riley, it was a bite. She was gone. No hope. And Ellie was supposed to go as well, but she didn't. She just got to watch her die.

And with Tess, it was a bite. No hope. And then it was Sam, and then Henry shot himself before Joel or Ellie could react. And then there was Maria, telling Ellie about how some clickers tore through her family, taking her sister and father before either of them had time to say goodbye.

It was these lives that made Ellie want to be given over to make a cure. So that no one would have to say goodbye to their best friend or little brother or sister or partner or father as they watched them get handed over to that damned infection.

And with Maria...it was a gunshot. How ironic. How funny, that in this day and age it wasn't an infection that was going to kill her. No. It was four bullets. Four little, tiny bullets.

"Want some dinner?" Joel calls up the steps, and Ellie breathes heavily, growing hot in her little room. But she stays quiet. Joel'll figure it out on his own.

(-_-(-_-(-_-)-_-)-_-)

"Looks like you haven't slept for months, kid." With this, Mitzi puts a warm mug under Ellie's nose, seeing if the auburn haired girl would perk up. Ellie brings her chin up from the table, knitting her fingers around the mug for warmth, and Mitzi sits across from her in her studio, sipping from her own mug.

Ellie takes a tentative sip, and then looks at Mitzi, "What's this?"

"Hot chocolate. There's still packets around, if you know where to look." To this, Mitzi grins, bringing her mug to her lips and drinking the sweet liquid. Then she eyes Ellie up and down, her tone not of condescension but one of sympathy, "Maria being in the hospital is really tearing you up, huh?"

"You don't see me crying." Ellie retorts sharply, to which Mitzi sighs, "That's because you're all puckered out of tears. Try again, Ellie."

Ellie maintains her composure, glaring at her mug, then her lower lip begins trembling and she gives a haughty breath, wiping her eyes for what seems like the hundredth time.

"You don't want to make another friend and take all that time again. I get it. You don't want to have your heart broken again. I understand." Mizti begins, and then she brushes a stray strand of hair out of Ellie's face and tucks it behind her ear, "So what now, huh? What's your game plan? What's your motive?"

"I want to leave. I don't want to stick around to see when they bury her." Ellie admits, tears still pouring out of her eyes as she eyes her mug, expressionless.

"You remind me a lot of myself." Mitzi admits, looking out the window to the pouring rain. "I was five or six when the outbreak happened. My parents tried to act as if everything was normal those first few months, but then we started burying family and friends or watched them be turned over to the infection." She takes a long sip and cringes, as if it was more than the temperature of the drink getting to her.

"I was so grateful when we left our house. But I realized I hated being on the run more. Yeah, it seems easy, you lose places that hold bad memories. You're never anchored to some point or space because of guilt."

Ellie shrugs, her hands kept around the mug, and that's when Mitzi gives her shoulder a squeeze, smiling at the teen when she finally looks up, "But it's better to have some sort of anchor. A place that you know you can head to when things go sour. Running away every time things go bad, staying on the move constantly...it's just a cowardly thing to do. Staying here, still fighting, still continuing...it's a pretty awesome thing to be doing."

Ellie sighs, and Mitzi ruffs up her hair, "You're not being weak by crying or needing time to yourself. It's natural in the whole process."

Then Mitzi leaves to grab something in another part of the studio, leaving Ellie to her own thoughts, looking at her reflection in the remains of the mug, the murkiness brown of the hot chocolate. After studying her own face, she finally begins downing the hot chocolate.

"Here. Maria saw it beforehand. Didn't get to finish it up in time for your birthday, though." And with this, Mitzi deposits a slab of wood in front of Ellie. On it is a painting of her and Maria, Maria holding Ellie in piggyback style, Maria looking up to see Ellie smile, Ellie's eyes closed as she laughs, both arms around Maria's neck loosely. Something that screamed out to the goofiness of summer.

"Thank you." Ellie manages, after a moment of silence spent gazing at the painting. Mizti ruffles her hair, giving a smile, "You're welcome."

(-_-(-_-(-_-)-_-)-_-)

"Try the chord again." Joel encourages, gently positioning Ellie's hands on the strings of the guitar to produce the correct tone of music. Ellie gives a hesitant strum, and then another, growing more comfortable with the action.

"You're playing real nice." Tommy says with a smile, and Ellie doesn't even acknowledge him, just focused on Joel's words and instructions. The night goes by slowly, a clock ticking away in Ellie's mind One week left. Seven days. 168 hours.

She keeps playing, letting her mind slip away. Joel tries to last, but heads inside a few minutes after Tommy. Maria, however, ironically, stays on the porch with Ellie as she plays.

"You don't need to stay out here with me. I'm fine." She manages, her eyes not leaving her guitar. Maria sighs, pacing around the small porch, and then sits across from Ellie, "Maybe I want to stay out here."

"Good. I'm not playing for your pity." Ellie replies in a snarky tone, only to have Maria frown. "You're bitter. Where's that fun kid that wants to take Callus Jr. and learn barrel racing?"

Ellie stays quiet, keeping her eyes trained on the strings and her fingers, nails bitten down and blooding pooling at the cuticles where she couldn't stop picking at them.

"If I didn't know any better...I'd say you're in love with her."

Ellie's hands stiffen and she grits her teeth. Maria, however, maintains an excellent poker face, while Ellie glares at her, "Where'd you get that from?"

"A little birdy told me." Maria teases, and then chuckles, "But you being defensive proves it true."

"Don't tell Joel." Ellie murmurs, her eyes finally meeting Maria's, filled with pain, a hurt, something deep and bleeding that could never be repaired, despite the number of bandages and stitches applied.

"I will never tell him. But have a little faith in the old man. Bill's gay." Maria points out, grinning.

"I...kinda guessed." Ellie admits, giving a cough as her face turns red. "He, um...I'm actually not gonna go into details."

"Good. I don't want them." Maria says, laughing, and Ellie feels herself smiling. Exhaustion finally overrides her, and she gives a great yawn.

"You should be in bed, kiddo. Never know when school's gonna start." Maria teases, and Ellie nods, rubbing her eyes.

"Maria?"

"Hm?"

"Thanks. For, um...y'know."

Maria nods, "You can come to me for whatever. I know Joel's a big brick wall, and he means well, but...he's just not a girl."

To this, Ellie laughs, feeling the weight in her chest lifting.

(-_-(-_-(-_-)-_-)-_-)

You're not a monster. Ellie thinks to herself, unwrapping the bandages that had been encasing her arm for over a year. The scars from the teeth of the clicker who had lunged for her arm were fading, but at a painfully slow pace.

One day, you'll be able to keep the bandages off. She tries to be encouraging to herself, but lets out a rueful laugh. Who am I kidding.

And there was something else as well. A scar skimming the surface of her shoulder, white and baby pink with new skin. Some thing from the night when her and Maria were gunned down, with Maria taking most of the force. The bullet that fell just below her hip went through, etching out a mark on Ellie's shoulder as she crouched behind Maria.

I mean, I'm happy she took her first shot. Ellie sighs. Just f—king pissed it turned out like this.

(-_-(-_-(-_-)-_-)-_-)

"Ellie? You up there?"

Silence follows, and Joel sighs, walking up the staircase to Ellie's bedroom. Pushing the door open, he's seen the same scene since the following day of Maria's attack.

Ellie sits on her bed, leaning back against the wall, her white earbuds in as she listened to music from her old Walkman. What a sorry piece of machinery it had been when she first pulled it out of her backpack. Whatever state it's in, Joel ignores it, and takes a few steps into the room.

Ellie glances up, her eyes desolate and blank and…sad. Just sad and lost and alone, all the emotions she's put aside since living here with Joel and Tommy and Maria…and the other Maria. She's done fighting with him.

She pauses the song with a finger poised over the thick plastic buttons, pulling out her earbuds and letting them fall into her lap with the Walkman.

Joel comes to the side of her bed, "Scoot."

And Ellie obeys, pulling her legs up and her knees to her chest. Joel sits on the edge of the bed, observing the worn and faded comforter on it, and then his eyes trail up to Ellie's face.

"Can we talk?" She asks, her voice thick, and Joel sees her blinking hard. He glances down as he lays his hand on his knee, and then turns to look at her, nodding, maybe even a bit hesitantly, "Yeah. We can…we can talk."

Ellie nods, then glances down at the screen of the iPod. Joel notices her lower lip trembling, "Oh…baby girl."

He envelopes her in his arms as she begins to whimper before finally crying against his chest. Joel rests his chin on her head, holding her tight, "It's okay."

"It's not." Ellie manages, her voice muffled by the fabric of his button-down shirt. Joel lets her get out a few good cries before he holds her out by her shoulders, and his heart almost breaks.

Never since David had Ellie let him see so much raw emotion again. She had been quiet and moody and…and not the girl he was tasked to smuggle, the girl that wore down that tough outer shell of twenty years with corny jokes and sarcasm and saving his life…just as she gave him a reason to fight for.

Now, seeing her sink back into the girl she was right after winter, he feels his heart pounding in his chest. He wipes away her tears with the edge of his thumb as she keeps sniffling, her eyes rimmed with red and the corners welling up with salty and bitter tears.
He sits back a bit farther on the bed, leaning back against the wall and letting Ellie rest her head against his shoulder as she took in shuddery breaths, each one more harrowing than the last.

Joel doesn't ask what's wrong, because it's been there. Her actions and the way she sits up in her bedroom all the time, listening to music and pushing aside those comics, leaving the meal table as quick as she can to escape back to her safe haven. Her lame excuses to not go to the stables, to not go and hang out with the other kids on movie nights, to not…act the way she is. Or would it be 'was'?

I don't want to lose her again. Joel thinks to himself, which seems silly. But he means it in the sense of he doesn't want to lose the real Ellie, the one who cracked jokes and smiled and laughed and had Maria by her side and insisted horses have names and loved Callus Jr. The cargo turned girl turned family.

The person who convinced him he hadn't failed, that second chances existed so long as you were ambitious enough to find and seize them.

Finally Joel hears her silencing a bit, and wrapping an arm around her, "We can talk about anything you want."

Ellie nods into his side, holding onto his arm around her. Finally, in a voice thick from unshed tears and the occasional hiccup, "Why…why is death so hard from me t—to accept now?"

He doesn't speak, and Ellie goes on, as if she's running down a hill and can't stop the speed and atmosphere from letting the words be pulled out of her mouth, "I got over Riley and Sam and—and…"

She drifts off, and Joel pulls her in a little tighter, "What do you think it is, Ellie?"

Ellie pauses, sniffling and wiping her nose. Then she gazes up at Joel with lime eyes so watery they seem as if they can wash away with the barest of touches, "I guess…I have a chance."

Joel nods, taking it into consideration. Ellie sniffles once more, then, "With Riley…I knew she, and I, wouldn't make it. There was no chance. And with Sam…well, he attacked me."

Joel gives her shoulder a squeeze, and then says, "You only knew Sam for a few days, though. And Riley…you knew her for a few weeks, right? So there's more of an understandable loss there."

Ellie nods, and then Joel gives a shrug, "Maybe…maybe it's because you actually know Maria better, with you two spending all that time together goofing around."

He pauses, knowing he should stop while he's ahead, worried about making assumptions, and then Ellie surprises him, "We do goof off a lot, don't we?"

Joel glances down and sees her eyes bright, and a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth, probably thinking about all the stupid things her and Maria had done together, whether it was jumping off the boat or Ellie riding on Maria's back or lying down in the bed of the truck and talking out everything they had been through or—her eyes well up with tears and she squeezes them shut, "Damnit, Joel."

Joel pulls her back into a tight embrace as her small form shakes with sobs and cries.

He blinks hard, wishing he could be more.

"I'm sorry, baby girl."

(-_-(-_-(-_-)-_-)-_-)

Her hand still feels cold encased in Ellie's, her oxygen mask fogging with each somewhat hesitant breath. Her eyes have not opened in a week, and Ellie bows her head.

"Why won't you choose?" Ellie asks Maria, eyeing the floor as her eyes burn with tears. "Die or live. Just choose."

She's silent, as she's always been since the bullets and blood loss put her like this. And Ellie's cries grow harder as her tone grows harsher, "What the hell are you waiting for? I want you to live, but every time I've wished that everyone that I've loved has died and I'm so sick of this limbo. I'm so f—king sick of it. Just go already, dammit."

And Ellie cries, holding a hand to her eyes, thinking How sick am I to wish someone dead already.

A few minutes pass, and Ellie wipes her eyes and nose, looking at Maria, still sleeping peacefully, like she's oblivious to the turmoil she's putting Ellie through just by that. As if this is really a conscious choice.

"You have to wake up." Ellie pleads. "They're gonna let you go otherwise. They're gonna put you into the ground, and then it's over. It's done."

Still no response, and Ellie gives her hand a squeeze, a voice choked back with tears, "Don't make your mom lose another kid."

And that's what I hear when my eyes open, not quickly, not rapidly, but languid and soft and I look around the dark hospital room to Ellie holding my hand and crying.

"That'd...be insane." I croak, and her head snaps up, hand dropping from her eyes, but one still wrapped tightly around me, "Maria...?"

And I let my head loll back with a release of breath as if it's my last one, and Ellie starts hyperventilating, "No no no! You can't be dying! Please!"

And I can't help myself from laughing, eyeing her in the dark, giggling like a schoolgirl watching her reaction. Her expression of fear and concern is replaced with one of anger, glowering at me, frowning and punching me, "You are a f—king asshole! I hate you! F—k you!"

But her punches are meant not to hurt, and I grab her wrists, cringing at the needles of pain running up and down my arms, forcing her eyes to meet mine, "You think I'd give up that easily?"

And her eyes well up with tears and her anger fades instantly and she squeezes me with a hug, burying her face into my good shoulder as she cries, and I hold her just as tight, tears burning in my eyes as well, and we say nothing.

Finally, she pulls away, wiping her eyes.

"You're awake." Ellie murmurs, tears brimming along the edges of her eyelashes, hanging precariously before they dribble down her face. I nod, "Yeah. I'm...awake."

"You've been out for ten days."

"What?!" I fight to sit up and nausea instantly overtakes me. Ellie pushes me back down, "Get your strength back and calm the absolute f—k down."

"Has school started?" I ask, and she shakes her head, "No."

"Thank goodness."

"You're such a nerd."

"Dork."

"Assclown."

"Bitch ass ho."

To this, we both laugh, and then Ellie eyes me up and down, "You cold?"

"No."

"You're shaking." To this, she crawls into the hospital bed beside me, on the side without the IV and monitors strapped to me. Then she holds my hand in hers, and sure enough, I'm trembling like a little leaf.

"Are you scared?"

i was gonna die i was gonna be gone they were gonna put me down surgery mom mikey ellie joel tommy maria mitzi i was gonna lose them all and they were gonna lose me. Thoughts run through my head rapid fire, and I feel the pain of the bullets sizzling through my skin, feeling nauseous again.

I force myself to breath normally, and that's when Ellie cups my chin, forcing my skittering eyes to focus on hers, pressing her forehead to mine, "Just focus on me. Breathe, Maria. Just breathe. It's over and done."

I nod, both of our hands cold, and Ellie gently wipes the tears away from the side of my face, "Thanks for hanging in there."

Raising my eyebrows, "What do you mean—" I'm interrupted as Ellie kisses me, not meant for making out or anything like that but it's the way she's shaking that tells me why, tells me that she just needs reassurance I'm still here, that I haven't gone yet.

I only stay up for about an hour before I grown exhausted, and Ellie helps to adjust pillows and such so there isn't that much pressure and pain on my side.

"I'll be back tomorrow." Ellie promises, and I nod. She gives me one last hug, and leaves.

(-_-(-_-(-_-)-_-)-_-)

I surprise everyone with just being awake the next day. My mom is so happy to see me it almost makes up for all the pain I'm in. Dr. Mundell just shakes his head at me, and asks the nurses to cut my IV back. The biggest worrier of everyone now is whether or not the wounds will become infected, although I doubt it at this point.

I make everyone leave the room once the nurses give me my sponge bath, wiping away the layers of sweat and blood caked in my pores from days past. Once I'm clean, they gingerly peel back the bandages, and I feel as if they're peeling away my skin rather than just the tape holding layers of cotton down to my wounds.

They have me lie down to remove the stitches from the wound on my stomach, and it's all I can do not to squirm or cry out. Feeling the synthetic thread running through the holes in my skin sends chills running up my spine and yet brings sweat to the small of my back.

"You're alright." A nurse murmurs, after slowly tugging out the last stitch, and I can only nod. They dress me in something of a gown, and ask if I want to allow everyone into the room again. I nod, and of course they all file back in.

Ellie and I spend the day playing an array of board games she's dug out of the dusty corners of her house and mine, along with things other people have donated to the hospital. Nurses come in hourly, switching out equipment and redressing my bandages. Ellie's cool with turning her back to me every time they have to do all that stuff.

As we move plastic pieces and roll dice, the conversation runs wild. Not making eye contact or being able to check each other's expressions take the pressure off. She tells me about living in the orphanage, the struggle of military schools and all the crazy obstacles they had to do, and the escapades she went on with Riley. I tell her about Rachel, about the stupid things me and her and Mikey all used to do when we were little, and most importantly, the warehouse.

"I don't get it. What's so important about the warehouse?" Ellie asks, moving her player across the board. I move mine, "Well, for starters, it was filled to the brim with boxes."

She gives me a frown to me defeating her ploy while I snicker, and then goes on, "The boxes were important...?"

"They had stacks about seven feet tall, and nobody cared about them. So me and Rachel and Mikey...we would play with them. We'd make forts or houses or castles with this giant supply of boxes." I grin, remembering all of us being hooligans, thinking ourselves of engineers creating these forts, these giant structures to climb on and see the entirety of the warehouse.

Ellie's quiet, making her moves, and I realize she wants me to keep talking when she asks, "So...what happened to them?"

"Every week we'd go into the warehouse, and every time they'd disappear a little more. People needed supplies, and we couldn't hold them back. It became harder and harder to use our imagination with the lack of boxes, to make all these giant things we could accomplish easily before. Mikey and I stopped going after Rachel died." I sigh, propping my chin up on my hand, my elbow on my knee as I crossed my legs on my bed.

"What happened to the warehouse?"

I make my move, knowing it's a bad one, but wanting to finish the story, "Mikey and I visited the warehouse a few days before we left Baltimore for good. It was barren. Completely empty." And even now, I remember standing beside my brother as we saw how barren the wasteland of our childhood was. The magnitude of the sight hitting us as we understood then, standing in the doorway of the space, that it was over. We were no longer children bound by boxes and imagination. Now we had lost our father and sister. Now we were grown.

"In the orphanage, we used to take sheets and beds to make forts. We'd turn the entire bedroom into forts, and play soldiers with BB guns, ducking in and out of the forts, hiding underneath the beds. People would play clickers or runners, too, and it'd be their job to tackle the soldiers as they ran between forts." Ellie says, pushing a stray strand of hair behind her ear. "They'd also have Fireflies too."

"What'd you play as?"

"I fought to be a soldier." She laughs at herself ruefully. "I thought they were the good guys, and I wanted to be like them. I pitched a fit whenever they gave me the position of Firefly or clicker or runner."

"Ironic, huh?" I offer, and we both crack smiles. We eat dinner, and then Ellie raises her eyebrows at me, "Are you gonna be okay, y'know, here tonight?"

"I'll be fine. Honest." I try to be reassuring, but already I feel something sifting and stirring my my mind, old memories threatening to resurface. Ellie studies my face, then scrunches up her own, "I call bullshit, you chickenshit."

I sign, rolling my eyes, "Fiiine."

So Ellie gets some blankets and a pillow and makes a pallet on the floor, calling up Joel on her walkie-talkie to tell him. He's agreeable, I have to give him that, but still a bit gruff.

"Is everything alright between you and him?" I ask as we get ready for bed, the nurses turning out the light to my room to signal us to shut up. Ellie shrugs, finger-combing her auburn hair, face lit by the waning moon outside, "More or less."

"Don't tell me you've been being an assclown to him since I've been out."

Ellie avoids my eyes, and I roll mine, "You don't have to throw away your life or push everyone away just because of me."

"Don't tell me how I'm supposed to act when you're dead." She spits back at me, and we glare at each other, me from my hospital bed and her from her pallet.

We're a dead match for each other, neither of us relenting, and go to bed silently.

(-_-(-_-(-_-)-_-)-_-)

I wake up in the middle of the night with an enormous ache in my stomach, something that made me feel nauseous and hungry at the same time, pangs of pain running through me with every minute. I try to hold my breath in a futile attempt to stop the pain, but it's no use.

"Ellie." I call out softly, and then a bit louder, "Ellie!"

She doesn't respond, still heavily in sleep, and I feel tears pricking the corners of my eyes, feeling helpless, rousing my old instincts, sitting up, pushing back my blankets, swinging my legs out as if they'd work after being dormant for so long. Sure, I had gone to the bathroom, but that was always with about five nurses holding me up so I wouldn't pass out with stars in front of my eyes.

"What the hell," she pauses for a yawn, "are you doing?" Her hand drops from rubbing her eyes, seeing me about to put my feet on the ground.

"Can you get a nurse? Please? I'm in a decent amount of pain." I go for a laugh and end up with tears in my eyes. So weak and helpless and I want to get back to normal.

Ellie comes around the side of the bed, stretching, and gently moves my legs back onto the bed. She makes a curious expression, pressing cold fingers to my forehead, "You're burning up."

"I'm not. I'm freezing." To simply show me the fault in my point, she holds the fabric of the gown between her fingers, "You're sweating like crazy."

She heads into the small bathroom attached to my room, and comes back with a wet cloth, placing it across my forehead, "I'll get a nurse."

It seems like eons before she returns, but I grit my teeth and toughen up. I've been through worse before. I've got to get through this now.

Ellie does return, but with another gown (really, they're just big t-shirts, if you're curious), and some medicine.

"The nurses out?" I ask, as she begins untying the back of my gown.

"Yeah. Someone's giving birth."

"The nerve." I tease, and we both laugh. Her fingers are hesitant as she slips the gown off of me, putting a new one on. Still embarrassing, but...oh well.

I dress in the new gown and she ties the strings up in the back, then heads back into the bathroom, emerging with a glass and the bottle of medicine, "They gave me this to keep your fever down."

I nod, and Ellie sits on the foot of my bed, pouring the purple syrup with hesitancy, "Does this look like one thousand M-G's?"

"What the hell are M-G's?" I reach for the bottle, much to her exasperation, "I don't know this shit!"

"I'm gonna die on an overdose that you gave me." I cry out, and she punches me, "Shut up!" To this I laugh, and she gently pours the syrup into the cup, "Oh."

"What's the 'oh' for?" I ask, and Ellie clears her throat, "The, um...the M-G's are on the side of the cup."

"Dumbass."

"Shut the hell up." I see her face reddening in the dim light, and she continues to pour meticulously to the thin black line.

Ellie finally turns to me with the cup, "Bottoms up, assclown." I follow instruction, surprised that unlike other medicines before, this one isn't that hard to down.

Down the hallway, we hear crying, and Ellie puts the medicine away.

"Do you want to have kids?" I ask her, her back turned, and she laughs, "Yeah, me with a kid on my hip. That'd be great. They'd weigh me down running."

I narrow my eyes in code for a serious answer, and she shrugs, "Birds and the bees. I don't enjoy the bees immensely, so I'll stick with the birds."

"Do you think they'll make us have kids? Re-population and all that?" I go on, because it's a concept I've heard before. Ellie rolls her eyes, "If that's the case, then why hasn't Maria popped out a kid or two? Nah. This place isn't like all the other crazy camps that...do that."

Her tone goes low and she seems antsy to stop talking. I remember why, "Sorry."

"Stop apologizing." Ellie's voice is harsh, and she turns back to face me, leaning against the counters in the hospital room. We hold our gaze, and I nod in truce.

"Scooch over." She murmurs, sitting beside me as I oblige. I pull the blankets up to our shoulders, and we share my pillow as best we can.

That's when I notice her arm, "You've stopped wearing your bandages."

"Yeah." Ellie smiles, and I reach for her hand, giving a squeeze.

"Why'd you help me?" I offer, and Ellie snuggles underneath the blankets, "Just because you're angry at someone—" she kisses me forehead gingerly, "doesn't mean you stop caring for them."

(-_-(-_-(-_-)-_-)-_-)

"Good morning, er...girls."

There's nothing that wakes you up quicker than having Joel walk in on you as you sleep beside his surrogate daughter.

But I've faced worse.

Not much worse, but worse.