Disclaimer
I Kaien Crosszeria, do not in anyway own any aspect of the Last of Us, or the artists mentioned. The plot is my own. If a copyright holder would like me to retract their property I shall do my best to accommodate their desires. Please note that there might typographical errors.
Chapter 3
I woke up in an unfamiliar room. I looked around. It was some studio apartment, near some kind of main street based on the sound of traffic running in the background. The walls were painted a soothing cream, and based on the sudden angle of whatever I was lying on, I had been sleeping on some kind of couch.
I looked around a little more after I'd sat up. My search was mostly fruitless, until I looked over at the bed, and noticed a shape lying on said bed. As quietly as I could, I stood up, and walked up to the bed. The sight of a head of copper coloured hair brought all the memories rushing back. The show at the Jazz Club, the walk back home, the minutes of tense silence following my announcement of Marlene Callahan's death, and then the subsequent conversation over coffee and cigarettes. I shudder as I think of one facet of the conversation.
"Riley? Can you do one thing for me?" I look up."What is it?" I reply to her question. She looks right into my eyes. "Catch this sick fuck. Catch him for me, for you, for everyone one of his victims. Catch him, and make him bleed." she takes a drag from her cigarette. I nod, still staring right in those big green eyes. "I swear." she nods. "Good."
Ellie's personality shift – understandable, yet terrifying – said a lot about her. I saw it in her eyes last night. There was a lot of pent-up rage and grief in her. And last night, like a burst water pipe, the pressure of her foster-aunt's death had clearly been too much to handle.
Almost on cue, Ellie started to shift and turn. Her eyes opened and she looked straight at me.
"Oh. Hi Riley." she said. It seemed that unlike me, Ellie didn't wake up in a haze of confusion and blank memories every morning.
"Morning." I replied. "How did you sleep?" She stretched out, and yawned. "Alright. Fell asleep a little later than usual, probably because of this crazy cop chick who showed up in the middle of the night. So rude." she smirks. I stifle a laugh and play along. "Inconsiderate. Tell me her name and I'll be sure to teach her a lesson." We both start giggling. A minute or two later, my smile drops a bit. "How are you holding up?" I ask cautiously. Her smile fades. "Jesus, I don't know. Marlene never seemed to be the kind to go out this way. She would have at least taken him out with her. Least she could do." she gave out a humourless laugh, identical to the one from last night. It sends a chill down my spine. "I'd rather not talk about it by the way." she says when she sees me open my mouth. I close it soon after.
"You got anything on today?" I ask. "Just band practice at 4. A different band this time, called Lucy Leave. Ends at 6." she replies. "Why?" "I'd like to hang out with you. I meant it when I said everything that happened after I arrived at the club was authentic. I meant it. In the eyes of the NYPD this isn't happening. Their place in this ended the minute I told you… the n-news." I stutter the last part awkwardly, still unsure of where the boundaries in terms of the whole Marlene thing were. Ellie sighs. After about two or three minutes of awkward silence, she runs over to a stack of what looks like scrap paper lying near a few drum cases. She snatches a pen off of the counter, and scribbles a few lines.
"Come back here by about 6:30. Here's my phone number in case you get lost, which to be honest seems kind of like a thing you would do." her eyes shine with mirth at the last bit in the sentence.
"Hey. I resent that! Even if I kind of agree…" I mutter the last part, but the look on Ellie's face tells me she heard every word. I almost groan out loud.
"Anyway, it's Saturday, I have the day off, and thus need to get along with life unfortunately. Until we meet again, my fairest Ellen!" my faux British accent, while terrible, serves its purpose of starting a string of quips and mild insults between us, that accent underpinning the entire procedure until we almost piss ourselves laughing.
"My dear, you have a life?! I thought you just spent your days stalking random women in jazz clubs!" she responds. I snicker, and try and keep the joke running. "I just do that in my off time!"
She laughs hysterically. "In all my time running away from cops, I've never encountered one who happens to be a total dork. It's kind of refreshing." I grin. "Good to see that I'm still full of surprises." She smiles back at me. It feels good to see that.
She gets up. "What have you got going on today then?" she asks me. "Need to pick up some new pencils, and then get something for my boss' birthday on Wednesday. That should do it I think." I reply. "What do you plan on getting them?" she asks. "Dunno. Never really talked to him. I know he's into football a bit and that's about it." I say back. "He's quite the isolationist."
Ellie's face takes on a pondering look as she gets the butter out of the fridge. "Well, like I said, band practice isn't until 4. It is..." she looks up at the clock on the wall. "11 o'clock now, which gives us 5 hours to get ready, leave, and then come back before I have to go to my practice." I look at her in confusion. "You're coming with?" I say. She shrugs. "Haven't got much else to do. That alright with you?" I nod.
"How many bands are you in anyway?" I ask teasingly. "Honestly?" she starts, "3 or 4 as a member. But I'm a session musician for a whole load more." "So what, you're famous in the New York scene? Is that why so many bands ask you to play for them?" She snorts at my, admittedly, childish and naive question. "Hardly. I just play a lot of different styles, genres. Having a versatile player is good for any band." she says. I continue. "So are drums your only instrument?" "Main instrument. Been playing drums longer than any of the others. I play some harmonica, some guitar. There are a few novelty and ethnic instruments I play, butt most are percussive, so I don't know if they count apart from drums." she answers. I finish my breakfast, and take my plate over to the kitchen sink.
"So, how am I supposed to get ready? I haven't got any toiletries here." I ask as I wash up. "I need to go out to get more milk. I can get a toothbrush and anything else you need while I'm out. Just write them down, give me the list and I'll try and get a hold of them." she says.
After I finish cleaning, I head over to Ellie's massive pile of scrap paper. I shuffle through the pile of newspapers, old notices, advertisements and sex line number slips, until I find a blank piece. I take it out, grab a pen from the pen cup in the corner and I start writing.
I only needed a few things. A toothbrush, some mouthwash, and some painkillers. I really ought to get my back checked. Anyway, I take my list and head over to Ellie, who seemed to be losing a war against her own hair.
"Stay down, motherfucker! Jesus Christ, what the hell is wrong with you today?" she says while staring indignantly at a stray strand of her own hair that had made its way onto her face.
"Do you usually have arguments with your own hair?" I snicker. Her glare turns from her fringe to me. "Only when weirdos hang around my apartment." she replies in monotone. "You really gonna keep that going?" I smirk. She sighs. "Just give me the damn list." she replies. I hand her the scrap of paper. She looks over it. "What the hell do you need painkillers for?" she says. "Back pain." I reply. "Been having it for the last few weeks." she looks at me oddly. "You should see somebody about that." she replies. I shrug it off. "It's not too bad. Nothing some pills won't fix." the look on her face says otherwise.
"After we get your pencils and your boss' gift, I'm checking you into a doctor's. Ah, ah! No ifs, no buts, We're doing it." I try and stare her down. A minute later, I realise that I've lost this battle of will.
"Can I at least ask why?" I say. I notice her grip on my list tightening. I sigh at the sight, turn round, thinking I've lost this thread as well before I hear her speak.
"When I was in an orphanage further up-state, there was this guy who just about showed me the most care and affection I had received up until that point. He let me ride his horses, fed me when the matrons wouldn't, and gave me warm clothes the first winter I was there. He would constantly complain about stomach pains, but every time I told him to get it checked, he laughed it off as indigestion and would just swallow a tablet." Although her voice had been trembling when she had started to speak, tears were now freely falling from her shadowed face.
"One day during early spring, he doubled over. I ran to his neighbour's house, begging for an ambulance. Once he came out of hospital he revealed to me that he had stage 4 stomach cancer. Fatal. All because the idiot wouldn't get it checked." she finished.
She looked at me her face glistening. I soon realise my own had followed suit. "His name was Winston. I know that it probably isn't as serious as that, but ever since then, I constantly push the people in my life to check chronic pains, no matter the size, just so I can try and avoid another Winston situation."
She suddenly collapses into my arms, sobbing into my chest.
"Sh, sh, don't worry." I say, my voice just as hoarse. "I'll get it checked when we're out." she looks back up at me.
"P-promise?" she says hopefully.
"Promise." I reply quietly.
End Chapter
A/N: Sorry if the chapter seems slow or short. I wanted to focus on the characterisation of Ellie, and an active, "out and about" chapter probably wouldn't do it for me in that regard. Hope you enjoyed. All reviews are appreciated.