Chapter Text
Joel is concerned that Ellie isn’t settling in Jackson.
And the truth is: she’s not. Jackson fits Joel like a glove. He joined the construction crew to do whatever contractors do. He makes small talk with the endless stream of strangers that approach them in the canteen when they’re trying to eat in peace. He’s full of amiable smiles and says shit like “after you, ma’am.”
Jackson fits Ellie like a glove too—like one of the hundreds of gloves they encountered on the road that didn’t fit her annoyingly small hands.
She doesn’t fit into normal things.
But even though they both know that Ellie isn’t shaping up, he won’t say it to her. He won’t flat out tell her to get her shit together. He’s been endlessly patient with her since Silver Lake. Joel before Silver Lake would insist and demand. Joel after Silver Lake suggests and cajoles.
So she gets the goods by eavesdropping on him and Tommy. FEDRA taught her early and brutally how to fade into the shadows and disappear into impossibly small places. Ellie is pleased to find a year on the open road has only rusted her skills a little.
Joel knows now to check if her bedroom window is open before chatting on the porch, so Ellie waits until he tucks her in before creeping out the window and lying low on the porch roof. She props the window up slightly with a bit of wood rescued from one of Joel’s construction sites—not so far that the window looks open from below, but far enough that she can wedge it back open.
Tommy and Joel settle on the porch swing and for a moment all Ellie hears is the slight creaking.
“Did you...?” Tommy starts, but leaves it hanging. Apparently he doesn’t need to spell it out, because Joel sighs heavily.
“I’m trying, Tommy.” He sounds exhausted. “She won’t even talk about it. I swear she can sense it if I even think the word ‘school.’”
Fucking school.
Ellie should have guessed. It’s been a familiar discussion around the house as summer wanes. They’d never had a fight that lasted longer than a single screaming match before, and it’s grating on her. Joel after Silver Lake doesn’t want to fight, he wants to discuss. Calm and reasonable discussions are not Ellie’s forte. She lets out an annoyed huff before she can stop herself.
The creaking stops.
“Ellie?” Joel asks, dragging her name out dangerously.
Well, this spot is burned. There’s no way for her to get inside without being seen or heard, so she decides to brazen it out.
“Oh, hey guys,” she says as though she’s run into them at the canteen.
Another heavy sigh.
“Inside, Ellie,” Joel says in his Serious Voice. “Now, please.”
The front door opens below her and Ellie sits up with a sigh. Damnit, that was such a good spot. Sensing eyes on her, Ellie looks over her shoulder and sees Tommy walking backwards across the street. He raises his eyebrow at her before leaving them to it.
Ellie opens the window and scrambles in. She’s on her window seat toying with the stolen wooden prop when Joel knocks on the door.
“Come in,” Ellie says.
Joel opens the door and hovers a moment, eyes searching her for injury. She’s become used to these EllieChecks™ whenever she’s been out of his sight for more than five seconds. He gives her a once over and then scans for detail by quadrant. It’s weird, but also nice.
Apparently satisfied she hasn’t maimed herself climbing through the window, he comes in and sits on her bed facing her.
“We’ve talked about this, kiddo,” Joel says. He sounds tired. Or maybe weary. “You can get hurt climbing and sneaking around like that.”
They had talked about it—several times. At length. Ellie’s fine with rules that have logical reasons. Clean wounds before bandaging them so they don’t get infected. Take shoes off at the door so mud doesn’t get everywhere. Tell Joel before going somewhere so he doesn’t worry. If they make sense, she follows them.
The issue here is that she doesn’t agree with his reasoning. He says it’s a safety thing, but Ellie is an excellent climber, thank you very much.
And it’s pretty fucking hypocritical, because Joel relied on her climbing on the road. He boosted her; she scaled things; they got places. Her skills were an asset, as he well knew.
“I won’t, though,” Ellie says, toying with a loose string on her shirt. “I haven’t yet.”
“You will if you keep this shit up, Ellie,” Joel says, the slightest edge to his voice. “We don't need to do that shit anymore. You can’t be taking needless risks. You’re not invincible.”
“I don’t fall, Joel,” Ellie insists. She’s been scaling significantly more challenging targets for years. How does Joel think she got out of her fifth floor dorm room?
“Elles,” Joel says softly. “Can you look at me?”
It’s still his Serious Voice, but he’s using her favorite nickname, so Ellie peers up warily.
“If there’s something you want to know, all you have to do is ask,” Joel says. “It’s not kind to listen in on people.”
Ellie feels a twinge of guilt at that. Joel is super fucking respectful of her privacy, even though she affords him none of the same treatment. He always knocks before coming into her room. She’s pretty sure he doesn’t dig through all her clothes the way she does his, and he definitely doesn't steal half of them. He never looks at her sketchbook or journal the way she paws through anything he’s left lying around (or, you know, in locked drawers).
“I’m sorry,” Ellie says almost sincerely.
She’s not sorry she listened in—that was the right move; she needs intel—but she’s sorry she was unkind to Joel. Joel is always kind to her, even when she doesn’t deserve it. She’s obviously not going to stop eavesdropping, but she can at least apologize about it.
“Thank you, baby girl,” Joel says, holding out his arms. Ellie crosses the space between them and lets Joel pull her into a hug.
Ellie breathes in his Joelness for a minute before she pulls back and climbs next to him on the bed. She scoots back so she can hug her legs to her chest. Joel settles in next to her.
“Why do you care so much if I go to school?” Ellie asks her knees quietly.
“Pretty sure astronauts need to know science and shit,” Joel says.
“Pretty sure there aren’t going to be any more astronauts without a vaccine,” Ellie says a little bitterly.
“It’s important to spend time with other people your age,” Joel switches tack. “Socialize with your peers.”
“Socialize with your peers?” Ellie giggles. “Did you read a fucking parenting book?”
Joel stiffens; Ellie does too.
“Oh shit,” Ellie says, looking at him in shock. “You read a parenting book?”
A parenting book? For her? If she weren’t positive beyond a shadow of a doubt that Joel Miller isn’t capable of such a thing, she might think he was blushing.
“How do you even know what those are?” Joel asks gruffly. He avoids eye contact by reaching for her hand and intertwining their fingers.
“I know things!” Ellie objects. “So... This school thing matters to you? It’s not just Maria making you?”
“I can handle Maria, kiddo,” Joel says, squeezing her hand. “Yeah, it matters to me. I want you to spend time with kids your own age. You might even find you like hanging out with them more than an old dinosaur.”
“I like hanging out with you,” Ellie says, in a tone one might uncharitably refer to as sulky.
“And I like hanging out with you.” Joel nudges his shoulder into hers. “But it wouldn’t hurt you to try kid stuff sometimes.”
Joel looks so genuine and encouraging that she really doesn’t fucking get it. He’s super protective and paranoid about keeping her safe, even from things she can obviously handle (like porch roofs). But when she’s actually facing serious danger, he’s this blasé? It doesn’t make sense.
“You don’t make any sense,” she informs her knees.
“Because I want you to try kid stuff?” Joel asks, raising an eyebrow.
“Because you lose your shit over me being, like, eight feet off the ground on the chance I could get hurt,” she says the last two words mockingly. “But you’re willing to send me to school.”
Ellie sees something cross Joel’s face before he puts on the careful blank expression he uses to hide what he’s thinking.
“D’you—” Joel starts, then hesitates. “Do people hurt you at school?” Joel’s tone is as carefully blank as his face.
She narrows her eyes at him. Is he fucking with her?
“What the fuck do you think happens at school?” she asks incredulously.
“What the fuck do you think happens at school?” Joel responds.
“It’s fucking school, Joel,” Ellie says. “They have classes and drills and shit.”
“I’m thinking they probably don’t do drills here, but, yeah, classes and shit,” Joel says. “Why do you think someone will hurt you?”
Ellie gives her most put-upon sigh. The idiocy she has to deal with.
“I’m a bad kid, Joel.” She says, like she’s saying the sky is up. “I’m insubordinate, disrespectful, disruptive, blah, blah, blah.”
“Ellie—” Joel starts.
“No,” she interrupts. “I know—I know it’s my fault. They punished me because I was bad and I deserved it. But… I can’t help it at school. I always start shit and get into fights. I can’t—I can’t go back to the Hole.” Ellie trails off into a whisper.
“What’s the Hole, Elles?” Joel asks, somehow both coaxing and tense.
She sees a flash of horror break through his blank facade. She was tough on the road, so he probably thinks she’s weak for being such a little bitch about this.
“You know, solitary,” Ellie explains. “I can take the beatings. But the Hole is just... it’s so dark, and it’s too small to stand or lie down so it’s always cramped and it feels like weeks even if it’s only a few days.”
“Days?” Joel chokes out. Ellie looks at him and tilts her head quizzically.
“Sure, for minor infractions,” Ellie says casually. “How do you not know this, dude?” Ellie asks. “You’re the one who's all Team Ellie Goes To School.”
“None of that will happen here, Elles,” Joel says earnestly. “There won’t be a Hole at school, and no one will ever hit you.” She narrows her eyes in confusion.
“What do they do when kids are bad?” Ellie asks.
“Well, first, I think we need to talk about what counts as bad,” Joel says. “You are not a bad kid, Ellie. You’re kind and generous and even occasionally funny by accident.”
Ellie bumps his shoulder with hers and keeps it pressed against him
“I am insubordinate and disrespectful, though,” Ellie says quietly. “Even you say I’m a little shit.”
“You’re my little shit,” Joel says. “And yeah, you’re an insubordinate brat. I wouldn’t have it any other way.”
Joel wraps his arm around Ellie and pulls her in closer to his side.
“You are not a bad kid, Elles,” Joel says. “You’re a good kid. The best. And if anyone touches you, I’ll kill them.”
“You can’t do that, Joel,” Ellie says, rolling her eyes.
“I most certainly can,” Joel assures her.
“Obviously you can.” Ellie rolls her eyes again. If he keeps being this dense, her eyes may get stuck in her head. “But that just makes it worse. The kids whose parents were high up in FEDRA didn’t get punished—the other kids took it out on them. Worse.”
“Ellie, they don’t punish anyone like that. I promise you.” Joel sounds deadly serious.
Ellie looks at him searchingly. He seems so genuine, but also so very obviously wrong.
“Do you trust me?” Joel asks, cupping her face with one hand.
“Mostly,” Ellie says honestly. She trusts him more than anyone else in the world, but Ellie knows better than to ever completely trust anyone.
“Do you trust me to not let you get hurt?”
She nods. One thing she knows for certain is that Joel won’t let anyone hurt her.
“I would never send you somewhere where people would hurt you, baby girl,” Joel says softly.
Ellie groans in frustration.
“I know you’d never let raiders or Infected or anything hurt me,” Ellie says exasperatedly. How is he not fucking getting this? “But teachers are supposed to hurt kids when they’re bad. It’s the only way to learn. They’re teachers. They teach, dumbass. It’s literally their job.”
Joel takes a deep breath, and then another. He’s trying to keep his face blank, but not entirely succeeding. His jaw is twitching and he’s clenching his fist in a way Ellie recognizes as a precursor to extreme violence, but she knows it’s not directed at her. It makes her feel oddly safe.
“That’s not what teaching means, kiddo,” Joel says in his gentlest voice—the one that’s only for her. “I’m sure they said that at FEDRA, but it ain’t true. If anyone lays a hand on you, it will be the last thing they do.”
The grim certainty of his promise—and it is a promise, Ellie knows, not a threat; she’s seen it play out dozens of times—is like a pebble in the whirring cogs of her brain, jerking them to a stop. Joel does kill anyone who hurts her. Hell, Joel’s killed people for looking at her funny. So maybe...
No. Ellie knows what happens at school. Her brain cogs push against the pebble.
“They have to do something when we’re bad,” Ellie insists stubbornly.
“They’ll send a note home, kiddo. Maybe give you detention,” Joel explains.
“What’s detention?”
“You stay after class and clean blackboards or something,” Joel explains (almost certainly incorrectly). “We’ll ask, okay, kiddo? We’ll check out the school together. If there’s a Hole, I’ll never mention school again.”
“Just like that? After all of this?” Ellie looks at him suspiciously.
“Just like that. There won’t be a Hole. And if there is, I’m sure as fuck not letting you near it.” He says it like a promise, and the pebble wins.
“Yeah... okay,” Ellie says slowly. “I’m not saying I’ll go. But we can ask.”