The flames flickered grotesquely across his face, dancing shadows that felt like the fingers of the devil himself caressing the leering profile of the man above her. "You have a violent heart," he taunted, breath trailing heavily across her cheek. Hands grasped places they should not be, boundaries crossed with cold entitlement, and innocence shattered at will, as if she were a display in a store front window with no say in the assault that was taking place. whether she wanted it or not. Desperate pleas had dissolved into ragged cries of denial, pain, and anger, as her hands flailed above her, searching for anything, something she could grasp and make the nightmare end.

"You are just like me, baby. We are perfect, a match made in heaven, you and me. You will be my best girl, Ellie, and lead these people the way they were meant to be led. It isn't good for man to be alone, as the good book says. A strong heart like yours needs the taming hand of a man. Just like me, Ellie. My perfect, perfect Ellie..."

The nightmare looped over and over, her hands never finding the cleaver that would make it all end, letting David kill her spirit over and over and over...

"ELLIE!"

She bolted straight upright, face colliding with something hard, and agonizing pain blossomed across her face. A cry of "Joel!" escaped her lips as she pressed both hands to her face in an effort to make the blinding pain ease.

Gentle words tried to soak into the blood red terror in her head, but all she could feel was the ache in her face and the constricting tightness of her throat. It was getting harder by the second to breathe. The flames leapt up around her, in the red that blurred her vision, and smoke seared her lungs shut against any entrance of oxygen.

"Ellie!" The voice commanded, stabbing into her ear at full volume. "Breathe. Dammit, come on, baby girl, breathe. You got this. It's Joel, I'm right here."

Joel.

He was there. Her mind registered the state of undress that David had inflicted upon her, and both hands left her face to grab at her jeans. Her fingers met the rough fabric, vaguely registering that they were properly in place, before rough hands grabbed her wandering fingers.

"Ellie, baby, look. Look right here. It's me, just me, it's Joel. You are not in Silver Lake anymore. Focus, come on."

The desperation in the voice so close to her ear soaked into her terrified mind, and her eyes slowly focused, as her own ragged breathing registered in her ears.

Breath in.

Breathe out.

Breath in.

Breathe out.

The figure before her was breathing in exaggerated breaths, and something clicked in her mind that she was mirroring them. Slowly, she looked down at the hands holding her own captive, and she recognized them. Joel was there, holding her hands as he knelt beside her, his eyes wide and worried.

"There you are, Ellie. Look at me, just listen to my voice. Keep breathing, baby."

"I - I couldn't find it," Ellie gasped brushing a hand across her nose. Her palm came away streaked with blood and her face crumpled as she tried to shake it off. "Get it off, off, off!"

"Easy, easy," Joel hummed, grabbing the flailing hand again and rubbing it on the snow. The snow came away pink, and her hand came away cleaned, and she gagged at the pink stain. "Hey, hey, don't look at it'" he soothed. "You're okay. Here, turn around this way. Look away."

She let him shift her around, so her back was to the blood, her breath coming in shuddering gasps that filled the air with a broken mewling sound that brought a tender look to Joel's face.

"Baby, look at me," he directed again, softly, squeezing her hands carefully to ground her focus. "It's just me. It was a nightmare. You are safe."

She let her gaze drift from her shaking hands wrapped so carefully in his large one, up the green flannel, and to the leathery, work worn face. Blood streaked across his forehead and she panicked.

"Joel! Shit! Joel, you're bleeding, what happened! Your face, there's blood..."

"Shhhh," he shushed her rubbing a thumb across her still bruised jawline. The grey bruises were turning yellow and green, and it sickened him that her pain was not yet over. "It was only yesterday," he reminded himself. "Baby, I'm okay, it's okay. You rammed your head into me by accident, the blood is all yours."

Blood everywhere, pain in her face, as if David himself had hacked into her with the machete she couldn't find. Was this what it felt like? The image of David's head, brain splattered all over the once magnificent mahogany woodwork, flashed back in her mind and she rolled sideways, dry heaving, and wrapping one arm around her ribs. Sharp stabbing pain speared into her side with every heave, leaving her crying again, and gasping for air.

"I couldn't find it," she choked between heaves. "I couldn't fucking find it!"

"Find what, Ellie?" Joel prodded, one hand releasing her hands to rub her back. "What couldn't you find?"

"The cleaver! I couldn't find the fucking cleaver and he wouldn't fucking stop!" she nearly yelled, and Joel pulled her close, tightly against his chest, mindful of her ribs.

"Baby, shh, I am so sorry, baby, so so sorry. Shh, it's okay, it was just a dream. He is dead, Ellie, fucking dead and burned to ash, he can't hurt you anymore."

"Promise?" She wailed softly, shoving her head tightly into his shoulder. He carded a hand through her tangled hair, and she felt him nod above her.

"I promise, Ellie."

She raised her head, the knowledge washing over her that it was all over, and the nightmare, although grotesque and terrible, was not reality. She nodded in acknowledgement of his comfort and slumped weakly against him. He carefully took her upper arms in his hands and sat her up, examining her face.

"Joel," she whimpered in protest, trying to lean back into his embrace. He held her back, shaking his head.

"Hang on, kid, got to look at your face. You slammed it into me pretty good, wasn't broken before, but I need to see if you managed to finish the job or just reopen that cut."

She poked her lower lip out slightly, and he grinned at the indication that the real feisty Ellie was still inside that shattered little girl. "Now stop it," he rumbled, warningly, pointing at her. "You always have to get your way, don't you? No pouting at the moment, kid, I'm still in charge of you, you know. If anything happened to you, Tommy'd drag me out into the wilderness and leave me for the infected. That's if I survived Maria's wrath first." Joel pretended to shudder, and Ellie's face lit up.

"You're afraid of Maria too?" Ellie asked, her voice slightly raspy from the last few traumatic moments. But her eyes gleamed with this new revelation.

"'Course not," Joel scoffed, eyeing her nose. He reached calloused fingers to palpate the skin around the bruising gash across her small bridge and glanced at her eyes. "Hurt?"

"Of course it fucking hurts," she grumbled back, stiffening as his touch triggered sharp stabbing that felt like it was traveling all the way into the back of her head. She winced and jerked her head away.

"Okay, wrong wording," he sighed, passively, regaining his hold on her face. "Does it fucking feel like someone is sledgehammering the shit out of your head when I press here?"

"No sledgehammering," she replied sarcastically. "More like a fucking pickaxe."

He winced at that, her humor falling flat. He always looked so distant and broken when she was hurt. She didn't like that at all. His eyes were so soft and tender as he examined her face.

"Joel," Ellie asked conversationally, trying to distract him. "How can you tell if someone has hurt their back?"

"Hmm?" Joel grunted, his lips curling at the edges. "No idea, but he's probably going to be making a shit ton of noise."

Ellie laughed. "He's being disc-hurteous!"

Joel rolled his eyes. "That's a seven out of a ten, you little shit. Come on, want to get some more sleep?"

Ellie froze, her face drooping at the suggestion. Go back to sleep? Where David was waiting?

"No."

"Ellie," Joel started. "Kid-"

"Why don't you go to sleep, Ellie," a soft voice spoke from the other side of camp. "Joel, sleep next to her, and I will keep watch. It's only a few more hours until dawn."

Joel and Ellie frowned at Hannah, who sat in her sleeping bag watching them. Her face was ghostly pale in the light of the campfire, and Joel wondered for a moment how many of these same situations she too had endured.

Sixteen weeks.

Sixteen weeks of her own nightmares, with no one to help her.

It didn't matter. He couldn't do anything about all that. He felt sorry for her, and would protect her with every bit of strength he had. But he didn't trust her with a gun yet, and for good reason. He had killed her father. He knew what he would do if someone killed his father, or more recently, if someone killed Ellie. He wouldn't want anyone to trust him either.

"Not about to put you on watch," Joel argued. "Not a chance. Go back to sleep."

"And I'm not sleepy," Ellie added. Joel turned and frowned at her, and shook his head.

"Well, neither am I," Hannah replied, lifting her chin in the same way Ellie did when she was defying orders.

"Fine," Joel grumbled, holding up both hands in mock surrender. "I'm gonna start some coffee."

"That would be nice," Hannah replied sincerely. The expression of panic, shock, and selfishness that crossed Joel's face made Ellie snicker. He glanced at her, unappreciatively, and then back to Hannah.

"You drink coffee?"

"Oh yes," she replied. "I have some in my backpack too, if you want. It's pre-infection, so pretty crappy but it does the job."

"Now you gotta share," Ellie taunted playfully, smacking at Joel's knee.

Joel rolled his eyes. It was going to be a long trek back to Jackson.

He left Ellie bundled in his jacket and set about cooking breakfast. He had been able to get some supplies from the storehouse that he had been able to identify as non-human, and he was grateful for that. It wasn't much, but he hoped it could get them to Jackson. He was worried about Hannah. He and Ellie could survive on whatever they came across. But Hannah had a little one to think of. That required more nutrients and care than she could get out here. He was grateful that Jackson had normal people in it. Maria could take care of her, and they even had medical supplies and people who knew medical treatments. But getting her there would be his burden to bear.

"Beans and venison good for everyone?" he asked conversationally.

"Good with me," Hannah replied. "I have some canned turnip greens in my pack. Not the best tasting thing ever, but it's good for you." She dug in her backpack and rolled a can toward Joel. He stopped it with his foot and picked it up, turning it over in his hands. Instinctively, he checked the date, finding it safely old enough for consumption, and nodded at Hannah.

"Thanks."

"Welcome," she replied quietly. "I have a few more, some canned spaghetti and meatballs, a couple cans of ravioli, and a can of chili. You are welcome to them."

Joel considered. With what he had for him and Ellie, in addition to Hannah, it was enough to get them to Jackson without starving. He could supplement with game along the way. It still wasn't enough, but it had to do.

"No venison for me," Ellie spoke softly. Joel glanced at her, brow furrowed.

"They were cannibals."

"It's not people, Ellie."

"I know," she whispered. "In my head I know. But my stomach doesn't understand that."

Last night's reaction to the chili ran through his mind and he shook his head slightly. He wasn't going to put her through that again.

"Will you eat the raviolis?" he asked.

Ellie considered for a moment, running the possibility through her brain. No bad feelings arose, only fond memories of that night under the stars after a long day of riding in Bill's truck. Right before everything went wrong.

She shuddered at the memories of shooting a man to save Joel, his desperate, pleading cries for his life, then meeting Sam and Henry, then fighting the infected, then losing Sam and Henry...you have a violent heart...

"Ellie."

She raised her head at the urgent call from Joel. He raised his eyebrows and tilted his head. "Ravioli or no, the morning's not getting any younger."

"Yeah, that's fine," she replied, and from her tone, Joel knew it was okay.

"Alright."

Hannah withdrew the can from her pack and nodded once, rolling it toward Joel. He took it and pried the lid off with his knife, before dumping it into a small pan to warm by the fire. "I have two more of those," she said to Joel. "She can have them."

He nodded a polite thanks, and stirred the kettle of ravioli and the skillet of venison. Ellie watched him closely, her eyes on the venison, and he glanced at her every so often.

"Stop watchin' it," he commanded gruffly.

"I have to watch it cook," she replied faintly. "Otherwise, it feels like it will turn into people and that's what you will be eating."

Joel sighed long-sufferingly, and continued cooking. Hannah milled around the camp, tying up sleeping bags and packing their backpacks, also under Joel's watchful eye. She did not have her jacket on this morning, and he could clearly see the baby bump now. It was an odd sight on someone so young, but in spite of the fact that she was every bit the same age as Ellie, there was also a confident way that she walked, almost like Tess.

"Save who you can save, Joel."

Hannah piled everything together, clipping the sleeping bags to their respective owner's packs, then dropped them all into a heap. "Ready when we are," she commented, sinking down to sit next to Ellie. Joel nodded his head in her direction.

"Still have morning sickness?"

She raised her eyebrows at him and he grimaced, an expression of weariness and loss. "Used to be married," he explained. "Had a little girl. She died when she was fourteen. I remember what it was like when my wife was pregnant. Morning sickness was no joke. Just wondered."

Hannah blinked a few times before answering, and when she spoke, her voice was not overly compassionate, but civil. "I am sorry for your loss, Joel. No, morning sickness has passed. Just have some kicks every so often. He is quite active at night. Refuses to sleep, must be stubborn like his father."

"Does it bother you," Joel asked, pouring the beans into three plates.

"What?"

"That bastard being' the father, does that bother you?"

Hannah's face blanched slightly, and she rested a hand protectively on her stomach. Joel sighed through his nose. He saw in her the same expression that Ellie had when she hinted that she might be pregnant. The shame was obvious, the fear of ridicule because of David's horrible actions, the fear of rejection.

"Don't mean nothing to me," he added, to smooth things over. "It's your kid, and no one can take that away from you. Just wondered if -"

"If I have nightmares too? If I feel revolted that David stole every bit of innocence I had at a mere fourteen years old? That for two fucking years I dealt with his 'teachings' and tried to be a 'good girl' like he said I had to be? Does it bother me that he forced me into this situation by his own vile desires and unmet needs? Does it bother me that the child growing inside of me might come out of me looking exactly like its father and I will have to see that every single day of its life? What do you think Joel?"

With every question she fired at him, her voice raised a little higher until she was standing there, in tears, nearly shouting at him. After she finished her tirade, she whirled around and strode off, but Joel called her back firmly.

"Get the hell back here, Hannah. You've got every right to be mad. But this ain't the damn time to be wandering off and the food is ready. Sit your ass down and channel that anger into feeding that kid. Cause goodness knows its got one heck of a curse to break when it gets here. And I am sure its mom is gonna make sure it never ends up like the bastard its dad was, no doubt about it, cause she's gonna show it how to love the right way, and be good the right way, and be a human the right way with feelings and compassion and that fire inside that will defend the weaker ones. You'll raise it right, Hannah. I believe in you. Now, sit. Eat."

Hannah stopped walking, her shoulders slumping at her side, and she turned and came back to the fire, dropping to a crouch and taking the plate Joel offered. The beans and venison smelled good, and she was hungry. But the confession of her inner struggles that had just spewed out of her left her throat constricted and her insides shaking.

"Eat," Joel said more gently, tapping her knee as he stood to move to Ellie's side. He handed her the plate of ravioli and he himself had beans and venison like Hannah. Ellie glanced at his plate, noticing that he had poured his beans over the venison. She couldn't see it, and she smiled at him. He was trying to help her. Each of them also had a small mound of the greens that Hannah had, and Ellie scooped them onto her fork and ate them all at once, grimacing. Yep. Tasted like grass. Joel smirked at her face, and proceeded to eat his without expression. Ellie stuck her tongue out at him, and he chuckled.

The next few minutes were quiet as Joel and Ellie ate and Hannah tried to eat quickly. Hannah suddenly found it a difficult task. The venison she recognized, but each bite was harder than the next as the thought of the stew they had been forced to eat after her father's death kept rolling over and over in her mind. She knew venison when she ate it, and that hadn't been venison.

The thought sent nausea through her, and she set the plate down, breathing heavily to keep from vomiting in the snow. Keep it down, keep it down, keep it down.

"Hannah." Joel's voice was soft, like he had called Ellie's name that morning. It was a new experience, and she wasn't sure what to make of it. She turned toward him, blinking back through the tears that gathered in her eyes from the nausea.

"Fuck David," he said quietly, shoving himself slowly to his feet and tossing his own empty plate next to the fire. "Here, come on, kid, you can do this." He took her plate and crouched next to her, taking her fork and cutting the venison into tiny pieces. He was silent as he worked, and Hannah studied him. A short scar from his right eyebrow to his hairline was the only defining feature on his face, other than the tanned skin, wrinkled with time, and the salt and pepper hair, beard and mustache. He looked strong, and him kneeling so close made her uneasy. Men didn't usually get this close to her or do things to be nice, without asking for favors.

But Joel hadn't asked for any.

"Because I am pregnant," she reasoned within herself. "He's just being nice because I am pregnant. Wait, he's actually being nice..." The concept was foreign, and so was the plate of mush he handed back to her.

"Here. Feed the baby, Hannah."

She nodded, and began shoveling the conglomeration into her mouth. Joel nodded, satisfied, and shifted sideways to pour coffee.