Chapter 1: Chance Encounter
Summary:
This fanfic occurs a few months after The Last of Us Part 2 ends. Over the course of a year and a half, Ellie and Jay’s story unfolds against the bleak yet hopeful backdrop of the post-apocalyptic Last of Us world. They meet by chance in Nevada: Ellie, wounded and running from her past, is discovered by Jay when her loyal dog, Dakota, catches Ellie’s scent. Although initially mistrustful, Ellie who often pushes people away while Jay grapples with her own deep-rooted depression, they find themselves bound initially by necessity. Over time, they learn to rely on one another, fighting off infected, surviving hostile encounters, and gradually opening up about their past traumas. A bond grows between them that neither expected, deepening when they embark on a perilous journey to the Grand Canyon, and then onward to a settlement. Their bond is tested repeatedly, especially when Ellie struggles with old wounds from Jackson and Dina, and Jay wrestles with suicidal thoughts intensified by her own wounds and insecurities. The future for them both is uncertain, can they overcome their demons?
Notes:
This is an Elliexfemale OC fanfic. If that is not your thing, I understand!
Thank you for reading! Please note, I am continuously improving! I understand the first few chapters of this story are not my personal favorite; beginnings are and always have been hard for me, and I am currently working to revamp them! However, if you stick with the story until they at least get to Knoxville (chapter 13), I think you might enjoy it! I update frequently and am always open to kind, constructive criticism.
Chapter Text
The midday sun scorched the deserted streets of this Arizona ghost town. Jade Grayson pulled back on her gelding Rowan's reins, slowing the grulla quarter horse as she studied the scene ahead; three lifeless bodies sprawled near a collapsed storefront, still fresh. Her heart hammered as she tried to decide whether to turn around or press on in the direction of her destination. She pushed her wavy brown hair back behind her ears when Dakota, her large malinois mix, stalked forward, nose quivering. He’d caught a scent, and she knew better than to ignore him when he was like this.
Jade’s mind spun with possibilities. Raiders? Infected? She couldn’t see any runners or clickers, but the tension remained as thick as the heat haze rising up from the pavement. She guided Rowan around the bodies, trying not to look too closely at the bullet wounds and the dried trails of blood. Then Dakota sniffed the air again and bounded ahead with a growl, disappearing around the corner of a half-toppled drugstore.
“Dakota! Dakota, heel! Shit…” Jade hissed, glancing over her shoulder. No signs of movement. Whoever had been responsible for those bodies could still be around. Fighting the urge to turn tail, she urged Rowan forward, heart pounding.
She rounded the corner to see Dakota standing stiff-legged, hackles raised and growling in front of a narrow alley. The dog let out a short bark, clearly onto something. Jade slid down from Rowan’s saddle, keeping one hand near her pistol.
Carefully, she edged toward the alley, where she finally caught sight of a figure huddled against the wall, a young woman with a brown jacket, panting and clutching at a ragged tear in her left arm. Her eyes flashed with fierce mistrust. Jade recognized that look. It was the gaze of someone who’d learned not to trust strangers, at all, if she could help it.
“Hey,” Jade began softly. “I’m not here to hurt you.” She raised both hands in a placating gesture, taking note of the fresh blood staining the stranger’s sleeve.
The girl grimaced. She looked exhausted, thin, and pallid even beneath the dust and sweat. She said nothing, only pressed her lips together in a stubborn line. Her posture was defensive, she was ready to bolt or attack if Jade made one wrong move.
Jade’s light brown eyes glanced around warily, making sure no one else lurked nearby. Dakota sniffed the air, shifting his weight from paw to paw as though eager to help. “You’re bleeding pretty bad,” Jade said, nodding at the gash. “I—I’ve got some bandages. Maybe even some antiseptic if I can stretch it.”
The girl’s grip on her switchblade tightened. “Fucking stay back, and call off your stupid dog,” she spat, voice wavering with pain and adrenaline but gruff. “I don’t need any help.”
Jade’s heart twisted at the fear and desperation in the girl’s voice. She knew how it felt to be alone, to have nothing and no one left to trust. Hell, she’d been on the road alone for over a year now. She took a slow breath. “Look, I promise you, I don’t want to steal from you, and I’m not here to finish what those jerks started. I…only want to help.”
The sun beat down on them both, and for a moment, it seemed like the stranger might bolt. Her eyes flicked to the dog, then back to Jade. Jade thought she recognized a flicker of recognition, maybe curiosity. Dakota let out a gentle whine, his tail curling slightly between his legs, sensing the tension and following Jade’s lead.
“My name’s Jade,” Jade said finally. “Jay, that’s what everyone calls—called me. I’ve been traveling for a while now—just trying to get to the Grand Canyon. This town was on my way, and I—” She stopped, then opened one of Rowan’s saddle pouches, pulling out a half-full water bottle. “Here.”
She placed it gingerly on the pavement, then stepped back slowly. Rowan snorted, swishing his tail behind her. Dakota waited, ears pricked, tail down, ready for the girl’s move. His posture said he would defend Jay with his life.
The stranger eyed the water, the tension in her shoulders loosening fractionally as thirst overcame wariness. Slowly, she inched forward, never letting go of her weapon, and reached out with her free hand. She gulped down a swallow, grimacing from the effort. Blood trickled down her arm, staining the ragged hem of her jacket.
“Ellie,” she mumbled, her voice rough and still carrying an edge. “That’s my name.”
Jay exhaled slowly. “Nice to meet you, Ellie,” she said. “Let me help with that cut… please. I know we don’t know each other, but letting that fester in this dust and heat is a bad idea.” She glanced at the blood-soaked sleeve. “Trust me. I’ve…seen enough people lose too much over small wounds that went bad.”
Ellie tightened her jaw, scanning the empty street. “No I don’t ‘trust you’ and if you try anything, I’ll—”
“I get it,” Jay answered, cutting her off with a small, reassuring nod. “I know it doesn’t mean anything to you, but I promise, you’re safe with me right now.”
Ellie searched Jay’s face. In those few seconds, she saw a mix of weariness, concern, and something else, sincerity. With a frustrated huff, Ellie nodded. “Fine,” she muttered. “Just… don’t take too long.”
That was enough. Jay crouched down, rummaging in a weathered satchel. She pulled out a roll of bandages, a canteen of water, and a small tin of antiseptic. “This’ll sting,” she warned, pouring a bit of water over the wound to wash out the dirt and debris. Ellie hissed, breathing sharply through her gritted teeth but staying still.
Dakota pressed closer, tail wagging gently as if trying to soothe Ellie in his own way, in the way dogs always seem to do. Jay worked quickly, her hands steady despite her racing heart. She could feel Ellie’s green gaze on her, see the tension in Ellie’s posture, the mistrust that underpinned every shaky breath. Jay knew how guarded a person could be, she’d been there herself, and she’d still be there if she cared what happened to herself, but it had been a while since then.
When Jay finished, she secured the bandage snugly around Ellie’s arm. She gave a faint smile. “That should hold until you can get somewhere safer. I—I know cities and some towns can be a mess, but there might be a quiet spot or an outpost nearby.”
Ellie flexed her arm, wincing slightly. “Yep,” she said after a moment. She glanced at the dog, Dakota, as Jay called him, then eyed the large horse. “You really traveling alone out here? With only a dog and a horse?”
Jay stood, dusted off her knees, and nodded. “Yeah. It’s… easier for me than most, I guess. And they’re my friends.” Her voice turned softer. “I’ve been on the road for a long time. You?”
Ellie’s features hardened again as she considered the question. “Yea… About 3 months, I think. Had a run-in with some raiders,” she finally said. She didn’t elaborate. “They won’t be bothering anyone anymore.”
Jay’s gaze drifted back to the bodies around the corner, and a subdued understanding passed between them. The cruel world they lived in demanded these grim choices and the people were way worse than the infected.
With a careful touch, Jay placed a hand on Ellie’s shoulder. Ellie flinched but didn’t pull away. “Let’s get out of the open,” Jay said gently. “We can figure out the rest once you’ve gotten some rest.”
For a second, Ellie looked like she might object. But the pain in her arm and the exhaustion dragging at her limbs were too strong. She nodded reluctantly. “All right,” she said. “We’ll move. But don’t think I won’t kill you if you even look at me wrong.”
Jay smirked and nodded. Then, together, they headed down the deserted street. Rowan’s hoofbeats echoing off broken walls, Dakota trotting watchfully between them. The scorched Arizona sun bore witness to a chance encounter that would, in time, change them both. But for now, they were just two wanderers in a world turned upside down, neither certain they could really trust the other, but both desperate enough to try.
Chapter 2: The Road West
Summary:
Thank you for reading! Please note I am continually improving! I understand the first few chapters of this story are not my personal favorite; beginnings are and always have been hard for me, and I am currently working on revamping them! However, if you stick with the story until they at least get to Knoxville (chapter 13), I think you might enjoy it! I update frequently and am always open to kind, constructive criticism.
Chapter Text
They walked down another block of broken pavement and dilapidated buildings, the late afternoon light slanting low across a deserted intersection. Ellie gripped her newly bandaged arm, trying her best to act like she wasn’t injured or hurting, keeping half a step behind Jay as though every muscle in her body was prepared to bolt. Jay, for her part, angled her body slightly so she could see Ellie out of the corner of her eye, it was a silent offer of trust without pressing too close.
Eventually, Jay spotted a small boarded-up diner. Its windows were cracked and filthy, the once-bright sign hanging by a single rusted chain. Between the smashed glass and the eerie hush of the streets, it didn’t look like much, but it was cover and shelter. Jay led Rowan toward what remained of a fenced-in back lot where he’d be safe to graze on what little foliage there was. She untacked him, helping to steady the horse. Dakota trotted ahead, his ears perked, sniffing at every corner in search of threats.
“We can hold up here,” Jay suggested, running a careful hand along Rowan’s flank to calm him. “At least to catch our breath and clean up your arm again.”
Ellie’s mouth twitched in a half-sneer, half-grimace. “Or you could kill me in my sleep and take my stuff,” she muttered. The accusation hung in the stifling desert air. Despite having let Jay bandage her, Ellie wasn’t letting her guard down.
Jay swallowed, wiping sweat off her brow. Her gaze met Ellie’s, and she held it steadily. “Look,” she said quietly, “you don’t owe me anything—not your trust, not your story. But I promise you, I’m not gonna hurt you.” She shifted uneasily, fighting the old sense of insecurity that always knotted her insides when someone mistrusted her. “I can’t prove it except by sticking around and not doing anything… you know… shitty.”
Ellie flinched at the earnestness in Jay’s voice as if it tugged at some part of her she wanted to keep locked away. She pressed her lips together tighter, scanning the area. “Fine,” she muttered. “Let’s get in and get out. Don’t exactly love lingering in spaces like this that are right off a main road.”
She reached for the diner’s back door, pausing briefly to raise her knife hand, silently warning Jay and Dakota to stay behind. Jay nodded her assent; she understood Ellie’s need to stay in control. She gave Dakota a gentle command, and the dog obediently dropped back, sitting at her heel.
Ellie tested the door. It creaked open on its hinges, revealing a dim, narrow hallway that smelled faintly of stale grease and mold. They moved inside, keeping quiet. Broken chairs, shattered plates, and a few rotted menus from a long-forgotten time littered the floor.
With hushed cooperation, they checked the interior. Empty booth seats, a grimy counter, even an old jukebox smashed in the corner. No sign of immediate threats. Ellie finally relaxed her knife grip just a fraction. Jay, leading Dakota, laid down Rowan’s tack near the back entrance. She placed a comforting hand on the horse’s neck before shutting the back door.
A moment later, Jay turned her attention to Ellie’s arm. “Let’s take a quick look,” she said, setting down her pack. Ellie stiffened but didn’t protest outright. Jay’s movements were gentle, and deliberate, never stepping into Ellie’s space without warning. She peeled back the makeshift bandage, examining the wound. “It’s not pretty, but it’s clean. We’ll wrap you up again and change it in the morning.”
Ellie glanced away, swallowing hard. “Thanks,” she mumbled, barely audible. She stared at the boarded window as if expecting some new threat to burst through at any second.
Jay offered a small, kind smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Any time,” she said softly. She could sense the raw fear behind Ellie’s scowl, some deep hurt that left the young woman feeling like a cornered animal. Jay knew that feeling well, if she didn’t care about what happened to her anymore she’d feel that same feeling now.
Without further comment, the two settled into a tense silence, uneasy allies in a world that had taught them both to watch their backs. Immersed in an awkward silence that reflects mutual distrust.
Night settled in, the diner’s shadows lengthened, and the smell of dust and stale fryer grease thickened the air. Their makeshift hideout wasn’t comfortable, but it was safer than outside, at least for the moment. Ellie stationed herself behind the counter, kneeling down so only the top of her head was visible from the front windows. She peered out through a gap where a board had rotted away, scanning the street for any movement.
Jay was crouched on the other side of the diner’s main room, leaning her back against a torn booth seat. Dakota lay at her feet, ears up and alert for the slightest sound. Every so often, the dog would glance at Ellie, then back to Jay, as though sensing the uneasy tension hovering in the air. Still not trusting Ellie himself.
“So… how far were you headed?” Ellie asked at last, voice rough and edged with caution. It felt strange hearing her own words. She wasn’t used to starting conversations with strangers, but the silence between them was growing oppressive.
Jay looked up from where she’d been fiddling with a small can of food. “I told you before, I’m trying to get to the Grand Canyon,” she said, keeping her tone soft. She shrugged as if it might brush away any assumptions Ellie held about her. “Something I need to do there.”
Ellie’s eyes darted over Jay’s face. “That’s a long way just on a horse,” she said, curiosity and skepticism mingled in her words.
“Rowan’s tough, and thick-boned,” Jay replied. She couldn’t stop a hint of pride from sneaking into her voice when she talked about her horse. “I got him at—well, let’s just say I was lucky to get him. He’s been with me for a good long while and has carried me halfway across the country.” She held up the can, giving it a shake. “You hungry?”
Ellie’s grip on her switchblade tightened, knuckles turning white. It took a moment before she answered. “Depends on what you’ve got.”
Jay fiddled with the pull-tab, her expression still open and gentle. “Not a banquet, but…” She popped the lid off. The unmistakable smell of canned peaches drifted into the air; a sweet scent in an otherwise musty place. “Better than nothing, right?”
Ellie’s stomach clenched at the reminder that she hadn’t eaten in… she couldn’t remember how long. The tension in her arms eased slightly, replaced by hunger pangs. “I…yeah,” she admitted. Her gaze flicked to Dakota, noticing how the dog’s ears perked up at the sound of the can opening.
Jay rummaged through her pack again, producing a battered metal spoon. She held it out, handle first, and kept her free hand visible. “Here,” she offered.
Ellie rose slowly, still keeping her distance. She edged forward, retrieved the spoon without meeting Jay’s eyes, then stepped back behind the counter. Jay set the open can down on a small patch of clear floor between them, the arrangement a silent negotiation: enough space so Ellie wouldn’t feel trapped or cornered.
They ate in near-silence, trading spoonfuls of thick, syrupy peaches. The sweet juice dribbled down Ellie’s chin, and she wiped it away, feeling a mix of relief and strange discomfort. Sharing food implied some level of trust, and that wasn’t something she took lightly these days.
After a few bites, Ellie leaned back against the base of the counter. “So…” she ventured, voice still guarded, “you really on your own? No group waiting for you someplace? A flicker of bitterness. “No one to watch your back? Or to come in at night and try something?”
Jay exhaled slowly as she fed Dakota some jerky. She could almost hear the unspoken question behind Ellie’s words; how can someone like you possibly survive out here alone? “It’s just me,” she said, nodding at Dakota. “And him. Rowan, too, of course. People… they’ve never lasted for me.” Her voice caught just a bit on that last sentence, hinting at an old, painful memory. She forced a small smile. “Guess that’s why I’m still moving.”
Ellie studied her carefully. She recognized that flash of pain in Jay’s eyes. Part of her wanted to probe more, but she wasn’t about to open up her own wounds. Instead, she said, “You must be resourceful, then.”
Jay half-laughed, glancing at the boarded windows. “I’m still here, so maybe. Or maybe I’m just stubborn. I like to think there’s somewhere better, a place to settle down, even just for a little while.” Her gaze drifted over to Ellie’s bandaged arm. “It’s gotta be out there, right? Some safe spot?”
Ellie’s expression hardened. “Safe?” she echoed, her voice nearly a scoff. “I’ll believe it when I see it.” She looked down at the can of peaches, swirling the spoon in the leftover syrup. “Anyway, as soon as I can move on, I will.”
Jay nodded, accepting that without argument. She had understanding in Ellie’s posture, the hair-trigger reflex, the tension that never left her face. Jay didn’t push it. She simply finished her share of the peaches, wiped the spoon on her pant leg, and offered a weak smile.
Night fully claimed the sky outside; the diner fell into deeper shadow. The only hint of light came from the fading glow peeking in through the cracks in the boards and a small flicker of a flashlight Jay dared turn on for a moment, angled toward the floor. She wanted to check Ellie’s bandage again before they slept.
“Let me take another look,” Jay said quietly, gesturing to Ellie’s arm.
Ellie tightened her shoulders, but she offered her arm, wincing when Jay loosened the bandage. A patch of dried blood stuck to the gauze. Jay bit her lip, carefully peeling it back. “It’s…not bleeding anymore,” she said, eyes flicking up. “That’s good. But keep it still for the night, or it could tear again. I don’t feel comfortable sewing it up, it had too much dirt in it earlier and that could cause an infection.”
Ellie swallowed, nodding. Her heartbeat pounded in her ears. She wasn’t used to this kind of gentle attention, not in a long time, the way Jay’s warm hand steadied her elbow or how she took her time to avoid causing more pain. It unsettled Ellie almost as much as it comforted her.
Jay used a clean strip of cloth from her pack to re-wrap the wound. As she finished tying it off, she looked up, meeting Ellie’s gaze. A faint, sincere smile curved her lips. “All set,” she murmured. “Try to rest.”
Ellie pulled her arm back quickly, eyes darting away. “Fine,” she mumbled. She shifted position and turned her back on Jay, hugging her knees to her chest. The scuffed linoleum floor wasn’t exactly comfortable, but she’d slept on worse.
Jay hesitated, feeling the weight of Ellie’s distrust hanging in the silence. She turned off the flashlight and settled back against the booth. Dakota settled next to her, curling into the crook of her leg.
Moments stretched on in the darkness, the only sounds were their uneasy breathing and the distant scrape of the wind outside. Eventually, Jay spoke, voice hushed. “If anything… I’ll keep watch first, okay?” She didn’t wait for Ellie to respond. She just let the offer hang there, an unspoken promise to keep them both safe, even if Ellie wasn’t sure she needed the help.
From the dark, Ellie’s voice came softly but gruffly. “Don’t… don’t let your guard down for me,” she said. There was no snark in it, no bite, just a quiet warning. “I can take care of myself, and I’m not going to keep you safe either.”
Jay exhaled, nodding even though Ellie couldn’t see her. “I know,” she whispered. “Just… rest.”
Silence reclaimed the diner, each of them locked in their own thoughts and old ghosts. Yet, for the first time in a long while, the solitude wasn’t complete.
Hours that night passed in a strained but companionable quiet. At one point, Jay had taken a turn on watch, then gently roused Ellie to swap places. Now, with dawn edging closer, they both found themselves wide awake, the tension of the wasteland making true rest elusive.
The diner interior was cast in dim, cold light from the cracks in the boarded windows. Jay rubbed her eyes, trying to shake off the fatigue clinging to her every movement. Ellie noticed the dark circles under Jay’s eyes but said nothing about them. Instead, she cleared her throat, an awkward attempt at conversation.
“So, uh… the Grand Canyon, right?” Ellie asked, sounding more curious than challenging this time. “You said there was something you needed to do there. So why are you going? What is it you need to do?”
Jay’s posture stiffened for a moment. She turned her gaze away, fiddling with the band of her backpack. “Yeah,” she said at first, voice light. Then she took a breath, weighing how much she was willing to share with this stranger. “There’s a reason...”
Jay closed her eyes, taking a moment before continuing. “I’m from a settlement back in Western North Carolina. Called The Biltmore Estate. It… was… is pretty special.” She drew in another breath, reminding herself this wasn’t a story she told lightly. “My grandparents raised me there. They…well, they took care of me. They gave me whatever passed for a normal life.”
Her face hardened with a flash of some deep, painful memory. “They were killed a few years ago,” she continued, her voice quiet, measured. “Not infected. Raiders. Once they were… gone, I decided I had to do something. Some kind of closure, I guess.”
Ellie watched Jay’s hands as she spoke. They trembled slightly before she balled them into fists in her lap. “Shit, that sucks,” Ellie said softly, surprising even herself at the gentleness in her tone. “…sorry.”
Jay managed a small, grateful nod. “They always talked about traveling west someday,” she went on. “Said they wanted to see more of the country, places that they wanted to go before the world went to shit. Of all the landmarks, the Grand Canyon was top of their list.”
Outside, a gust of wind rattled the boards covering the diner windows. Dakota perked his ears but quickly settled back down. Ellie waited, sensing Jay had more to say.
Jay cleared her throat, glancing at Ellie’s bandaged arm as if to check that she was still all right. “I, uh… I have their ashes with me,” she confessed in a quieter voice. She patted the side of her backpack. “I thought I’d… spread them in the canyon. Where it’s peaceful. Where maybe they can have that view they always wanted.”
She paused. For a moment, her eyes glistened with unshed tears, but she blinked them away quickly, body tensing as if bracing for another wave of pain. “It’s stupid, maybe,” she muttered, trying to sound casual. “But it’s what I’ve got left to do for them.”
Ellie set her jaw, something unreadable flickering in her gaze. She’d seen loss; she lived it day after day. The reminder of how precious, and fleeting, family could be made her chest tighten. “That’s not stupid,” Ellie said, voice low. “It’s… kinda nice, actually. Honoring them, I mean.”
Jay nodded, her expression lifting in the faintest smile. She opened her mouth as though she might say something more, like how she had no plans beyond that final task, how she felt it might be her last. But the words stuck in her throat. Instead, she just met Ellie’s eyes and managed a small, grateful “Thank you.”
Silence fell between them again for a few moments, the hum of the outside world seeming distant and muffled. Ellie shifted her weight, picking at the peeling Formica countertop beside her. “So,” she began, not quite meeting Jay’s gaze, “you think you’ll find people out there? A new settlement or… something?”
Jay exhaled slowly, sinking back against the diner wall. “Doesn’t hurt to hope,” she admitted, offering Ellie a slight shrug. “But I figure if I’m already going all that way, I might as well see if there’s any place left along the way worth calling home.”
Ellie’s brow furrowed at that last word—home. She hugged her knees closer. The idea of a safe place to live had been more dream than reality for so long. The farm, her farm, is a distant memory now. Yet she found herself almost wanting to believe Jay’s optimism, fragile as it was.
“Maybe,” Ellie finally said, trying not to let her voice waver. “Guess we’ll find out if we keep going.” She cleared her throat again. “Or, if you keep going. I don’t… know what I’m doing next,” she added with a shrug.
Jay allowed a small smile. She pressed her palm against the pocket of her backpack, where the ashes were secured in small tin containers, sealed tight. “One step at a time,” she offered, sounding as though she was trying to convince herself as much as Ellie.
Outside, the sky started to turn from black to a deep purple. Soon, they would have to move again; to avoid stragglers, raiders, and infection. Surviving was a daily act of balancing trust and fear, caution and necessity.
They didn’t speak much for the rest of those predawn moments, but there was a subtle shift in the air. Neither of them felt quite as alone anymore. And though Jay held her darker intentions close to her chest, her unspoken plan for what she’d do after scattering those ashes, she was grateful, if only for this moment, that Ellie was here.
**************************
Morning light seeped into the diner through the cracks in the boarded-up windows, illuminating the dust motes dancing through the stale air. Jay pushed herself to her feet, rolling her shoulders to shake off the stiffness of a night spent on hard linoleum. Dakota stood up alongside her, stretching his front legs out with a soft huff. Across the room, Ellie was already awake, perched near a window as she silently watched the sun rise over the desolate Arizona street.
Jay approached cautiously, giving Ellie a wide berth. “We should, uh, probably move before this place gets dangerous,” she said in a low voice. “If there are raiders around, staying put won’t be safe.”
Ellie turned her head, eyes narrowed as though she were sizing Jay up for the hundredth time. She didn’t respond at first, just ran a thumb over the bandage on her arm. Finally, she rose, slinging her backpack over one shoulder. “Yeah,” she said, “I was thinking the same.” She paused, glancing toward Rowan, who was tethered out back. “You headed out now?”
Jay nodded, shifting on her feet. “That’s the plan. I’d like to scavenge anything useful from a couple places I saw on the way in. Then I figured…well, keep heading west.” She hesitated, almost as though she expected Ellie to vanish the moment she turned her back.
Ellie stared at her for another moment, there was a guarded wariness in those green eyes, like a wounded animal still ready to bite if cornered. But there was also a flicker of calculation. She let out a short sigh and jerked her chin toward the exit. “I’ll tag along… for now,” she said. Her tone carried no friendliness, just a flat practicality. “Don’t read too much into it. You’ve got food, and I figure that’s more useful to me than wandering on my own with an injured arm.”
Jay tried to suppress the small relief that washed through her. She offered a single nod, not wanting to press her luck. “Fair enough,” she said softly. “Let’s get going.”
They stepped out into the early morning light, squinting against the sun’s glare. The remains of the raiders still lay near the storefront where Ellie had fought them off. Jay averted her eyes, guiding Rowan to the street while Dakota trotted at her heels. Ellie lingered a moment by the broken glass and battered concrete, her face unreadable. Then, with a set jaw, she followed.
They fell into an uneasy rhythm, Jay leading Rowan by the reins, Ellie a few steps behind with her knife kept close and her eyes constantly scanning the rooftops. She didn’t trust Jay, and she made no secret of that, but she also didn’t have a better plan. Since walking away from the empty farm she’d had no plan. She had just kept moving. The emptiness of the city stretched before them, and moving as a pair, however reluctant, beat going it alone.
As they threaded through debris-littered alleyways, Jay pointed out a rundown hardware store. “Might be something in there. Tools. Maybe old batteries.” She cast a sideways glance at Ellie. “We’ll check it out quick, then get back on the road.”
Ellie just nodded, pulling her switchblade. Every movement said: I don’t trust you, but I’ll do this. Jay acknowledged that, matching Ellie’s caution with a calm patience. Neither said another word as they crept inside the store, ready to survive another day in a world that seemed determined to break them.
They had an uneasy truce, Ellie’s suspicions offset by Jay’s steady kindness, and the promise of a little more food and a safe place to rest come nightfall. In the sun-bleached ruins of Arizona, that was about as good as it got.
Chapter 3: Quiet Companionship
Summary:
Thank you for reading! Please note I am continually improving! I understand the first few chapters of this story are not my personal favorite; beginnings are and always have been hard for me, and I am currently working on revamping them! However, if you stick with the story until they at least get to Knoxville (chapter 13), I think you might enjoy it! I update frequently and am always open to kind, constructive criticism.
Chapter Text
That night, after a day of travel they found shelter in the crumbling remains of a small auto shop off a side road, its sign long since rusted over. The evening desert sky was streaked with deep purples and reds, shadows stretching across the cracked asphalt. There wasn’t much left in this shop’s garage, old tires, bent tools, and shattered glass, but it provided four walls and a roof.
Jay tugged Rowan inside the wide bay, tying him to a support beam near a pile of rotted tarps. Dakota sniffed around, checking corners until he settled by a dusty workbench. Ellie lingered a few steps back, her posture as tense as ever, eyes flicking from Jay to the open doorway and back again.
They’d scavenged a small haul earlier in the day, canned beans, some stale vacuum-sealed crackers, and a bit of first aid. It wasn’t much, but it was something. Jay crouched on a flat, mostly intact piece of concrete near the garage’s back wall. She carefully opened one of the cans, using her multi-tool to pry off the lid. The sharp tang of preserved beans was hardly appetizing, but in this world, it was enough to keep them alive.
Ellie watched her with guarded curiosity. She wasn’t quite near Jay, instead propped against a rusted car frame, switchblade in hand. When Jay offered the can out, Ellie eyed it for a moment before stepping forward. She dipped her spoon inside, retrieving a small portion.
They ate in near silence until Jay cleared her throat, a low, tentative sound that coaxed Ellie’s gaze upward. “So,” Jay said gently, resting her spoon on the lip of the can, “how’s your arm feeling? Bandage holding up okay?”
“It’s fine,” Ellie muttered. She rolled her shoulder and winced slightly. “Hurts, but I’m not fucking bleeding out anymore. Guess it’s healing.” She tried not to let too much gratitude slip into her voice.
“Good,” Jay replied, relief flickering in her eyes. She shifted so she could face Ellie more directly. “I can change the dressing tomorrow morning if you want. I… uh, still have a little antiseptic left.”
Ellie shrugged. “Sure. Whatever.” She lowered her gaze, uncomfortable with the sincerity in Jay’s expression. Every time Jay treated her with kindness, Ellie felt that subtle urge to pull back, to keep herself walled off. But it wasn’t so simple when Jay looked at her like she genuinely cared.
They returned to their quiet meal, broken only by the clink of spoons on the can’s metal edge. Outside, the Arizona night deepened, the sky a vast expanse of darkness pinpricked by stars. The wind rattled broken windows, carrying a cool desert chill through the shop.
Jay nodded toward Dakota, who was curled on the floor, resting his chin over his paws. “He likes you,” she said softly. “He can usually tell if people are good or not.”
Ellie snorted, her lips twisting wryly. “People have called me a lot of things, but ‘good’ isn’t usually one of ’em.”
Jay’s brow furrowed. “What makes you say that?” Her tone was gentle, more curious than confrontational.
Ellie shrugged again, hugging her knees to her chest. “Just… experience,” she muttered. “Seen a lot, done a lot. People change, or… turn on you. I’ve seen it happen too many times.”
“Yeah,” Jay agreed quietly. “Me too.”
Ellie glanced up, faint surprise registering on her face. “You said you had grandparents,” she said, remembering the story from earlier. “Must’ve been nice. At least for a while.”
A fond, distant look flickered over Jay’s features. “It was,” she admitted. “They did their best to make me feel safe. Taught me about the land, animals, planting… tried to keep me sheltered from everything else going on in the world.” A brief pause. “Didn’t last, though.”
Ellie shifted her weight, resting her chin on her knees. Her voice came out quieter than before. “Yeah. Nothing does.”
They fell silent again, the weight of loss pressing in on both of them. Outside, a gust of wind kicked up loose debris, skittering it across the concrete. The horse let out a low grunt, shaking his mane in mild irritation.
Eventually, Jay spoke, her voice an attempt at easing the heavy mood. “You, uh… have you ever ridden a horse?” She nodded at Rowan, who stood flicking his ears in the dim corner of the shop. “I could show you how to tack him up. Might come in handy, if we end up traveling together for a bit.”
Ellie hesitated. The easy offer, like Jay was talking about normal life lessons, caught her off guard. “Yeah I know my way around horses,” she admitted, voice guarded. She paused, then added grudgingly, “But guess… I could use a refresher. I’m sure I remember everything but just in case.”
Jay’s smile was small but genuine. “Well, Rowan’s gentle. He’ll put up with mistakes. Tomorrow, if we get time, I’ll show you. And if we need to get somewhere fast, it might help to have more than just me in the saddle.”
Ellie pressed her lips together, not sure how to respond. Part of her wanted to refuse outright, to maintain distance, remain the lone wolf. But another part of her, the one yearning for a shred of normalcy and companionship, found herself nodding. “All right,” she said finally. “But don’t expect me to play nice if it doesn’t work out.”
Jay chuckled, low and quiet. “Wouldn’t dream of it,” she said. Then her eyes flicked over to the bandages on Ellie’s arm again. “Let me know if it’s bothering you in the night. I can… I dunno, do something.”
Ellie nearly rolled her eyes but kept her exasperation in check. “I said I’m fine,” she insisted, more softly than before. “Just—seriously, don’t fuss.”
Jay nodded, clearly working to respect Ellie’s boundaries. They finished the beans, leaving half of the can’s contents for breakfast, or as long as it would last. Jay fished out a battered tarp from the corner, shook off the worst of the dust, and spread it on the floor near her own backpack. Dakota nestled down on one corner, and Jay eased herself onto another, leaning against the wall.
Ellie took up a spot on the far side of the shop, setting her back to a half-dismantled engine block. She drew her knees in tight, switchblade resting on the ground within easy reach.
The hush of night settled over them again. Though Ellie still bristled whenever Jay’s gaze drifted her way, they at least shared a sense that neither planned to do the other harm. Maybe it wasn’t trust exactly, but it was a tentative step beyond hostility.
Before they drifted off, Jay’s voice broke the silence one more time, soft, as if she worried she’d startle Ellie. “Hey,” she said. “If you need anything… just tell me. All right?”
Ellie pressed her lips together, eyes lowered. For a moment, she didn’t reply. Then she exhaled slowly, her shoulders loosening a fraction. “I said not to fuss… but I’ll keep that in mind,” she mumbled, her tone difficult to decipher, somewhere between gratitude and a reluctant acceptance. It wasn’t a promise of trust, not by a long shot.
The auto shop was still, save for the distant howl of wind and the faint metallic creaking of the battered overhead door. Ellie had dozed off against the half-dismantled engine block, her switchblade still resting on the concrete beside her, when a low, guttural growl cut through her light sleep.
Her eyes snapped open. Through the murky darkness, Ellie made out the shape of Dakota padding toward a cracked window frame. The dog’s hackles were raised, body taut, and he let out another quiet snarl, deep, insistent, and very different from the gentle whining or low warning bark Ellie had heard him make before. This was more primal with his teeth bared.
Heart hammering, Ellie rose to her feet, knife in hand. She moved carefully, sidestepping the stray tools scattered across the garage floor. At first, she didn’t notice Jay, who’d already silently gotten up from her corner and was already slipping over to her side. Ellie’s attention was on the glassless window, where the moonlight outlined a single figure shuffling and twitching in the street. It moved with a twitchy, erratic gait, a telltale sign of the infected.
Ellie tensed, her grip tightening on the knife. “Shit,” she whispered, leaning close enough to see the figure’s face through the gloom. Though it was obscured by the shadowy alley, its ragged breathing echoed softly in the night. Definitely a runner.
A gentle touch on her shoulder nearly made Ellie whirl around in alarm. She hadn’t heard Jay approach. “Easy,” Jay said under her breath, nodding at Dakota. “That’s his specific growl for infected. He’s smelled them before we’ve even heard them.”
Ellie swallowed, forcing her pulse to slow. She glanced out again, pressing her body closer to the wall. The runner jerked its head, emitting a low, clicking grunt—like it was searching for something, or listening. When it turned, they both caught a glimpse of the twisted features, the veins bulging along its neck and sprouts of fungus growing in the moonlight.
Jay’s hand hovered near the hilt of her pistol, but she didn’t draw it. She shot Ellie a questioning look, silently asking if they should risk a confrontation or stay hidden. Ellie shook her head and inched a little farther behind the edge of the window, holding her breath.
Dakota’s growl rumbled in his throat again, lower but still intense. Jay reached down to rest a reassuring hand on the dog’s back, gently urging him to remain quiet. Outside, the runner stumbled a few steps closer, then paused. Its chest rose and fell with raspy breaths as if catching a whiff of something in the air. It was joined by two other runners.
Ellie clenched her teeth, ready to leap if they came any nearer. Seconds stretched painfully, each one threatening to snap under the pressure. But after a moment, the runners pivoted away, drawn by some distant sound or scent. They dragged their feet down the street, each footstep echoing until the darkness swallowed it up again.
Only when the infected were out of sight did Ellie relax, exhaling as quietly as she could. She felt Jay’s gaze on her, concern mixed with relief. Dakota’s growl finally ebbed, and the dog let out a low sigh, ears still pricked in vigilant watch as he licked his mouth then Jay’s cheek.
Ellie settled back onto her heels, swallowing hard to steady her nerves. “That was close,” she muttered, refusing to let gratitude creep too heavily into her voice.
Jay nodded and gently patted Dakota’s flank. “Yeah. Could’ve been worse.” She tilted her head toward Ellie’s knife. “Still got that, right?”
Ellie gave a quick nod, flicking her gaze toward the window one last time as if expecting the runner to come lurching back. “I’m not letting go of it any time soon,” she murmured, stepping away to reclaim her spot. Jay lingered at the window for a moment longer, just to be sure, before returning to her makeshift pallet.
A tense hush fell over the auto shop once more, though the faint buzzing in Ellie’s ears wouldn’t let her fully relax. She sank back to the floor, blade within arm’s reach, heart still pounding from the encounter. Dakota curled beside Jay, who cast Ellie a nod that seemed to say, “We’re safe for now.”
*************************
On their journey they set out before sunrise on most mornings, hazy dawn light guiding them across battered highways and through desolate small towns. The days blurred together in a collage of cautious movement and hushed conversations.
Early on, Ellie trailed a step or two behind Jay, shoulders tensed, knife gripped in white-knuckled fingers. She would glance warily at Jay’s back anytime Jay turned her head or paused to scan the horizon. Even so, she never suggested they split.
As the sun climbed higher in the sky, they fell into a tentative rhythm. Jay up front, reins in hand leading Rowan, Dakota weaving between them, nose to the ground. They would pick through the rubble of once-busy roads, stepping around rusted cars and sidestepping abandoned storefronts. Every so often, Jay would glance over her shoulder and quietly ask, “Doing okay?” Ellie would only nod, tense but determined.
Time slipped by in sun-scorched afternoons. The pair ducked into old stores or gas stations, rummaging through debris for anything left to scavenge. Ellie watched with measured curiosity as Jay would kneel to pick locks or pry open stubborn drawers. Once, Ellie even offered to try a window with her knife, a small sign she was willing to help, not just trailing along.
When dusk fell, they made camp near rocky outcrops or in crumbling back lots. Jay would unfurl a bedroll for herself while Ellie settled a few feet away, switchblade by her side. The conversations started quietly, Jay sharing little anecdotes of the road, Ellie clamming up after a few sentences. But each evening, Ellie’s answers grew more than one word at a time.
One evening, Dakota padded over to Ellie instead of Jay, resting his chin on Ellie’s leg. It startled her, but slowly she stroked his ears before she realized what she was doing. Jay caught the moment, said nothing, just offered Ellie an understanding nod when their eyes met across the fire.
In scattered moments on the road, Jay would hum under her breath while walking, some half-forgotten tune that caught Ellie’s attention. Sometimes Ellie recognized the melody; other times she just listened. When Jay noticed Ellie’s sideways glances, she’d fall silent, unsure if she’d overstepped. Ellie never asked her to stop, though, and on one afternoon, Ellie quietly admitted, “It’s kinda…nice,” which was as close to a compliment as she’d ever given.
Whenever they encountered a stray runner or stumbled across fresh signs of infected, Ellie and Jay fell into practiced coordination. Jay raising her pistol, Ellie on lookout with her knife or revolver. Their teamwork was smooth, surprisingly so for two people who hadn’t traveled together long. After each narrow scrape, they’d exhale in relief, neither speaking but sharing the same relieved look.
By the time a week or more had passed, they still weren’t what anyone would call friends. Ellie’s guard remained firmly in place, and Jay respected the distance. Yet there was something there, small embers of trust, or at least a willingness to rely on each other’s presence. They moved side by side now, rather than a few steps apart, and more often than not, they found solace in the simple fact that neither was truly alone in the world anymore.
A soft glow from their small campfire played across the cracked walls of the old motel lobby. The night outside was cold, the wind rustling broken glass in the parking lot. Rowan was tethered in a sheltered corner, and Dakota lay near Jay, curled snugly at her side. Ellie propped her back against a splintered front desk, switchblade within arm’s reach, as always.
The meal that evening had been meager, just a can of beef stew and some dried jerky shared between them, but it was enough to stave off hunger. Now, in the comfortable lull that settled in after sunset, Jay rummaged through her backpack. She pulled out an old, battered photograph, its edges charred slightly, as if it had survived more than one brush with danger.
Ellie caught the movement. Her curiosity piqued, she nodded toward the photo. “That them?” she asked softly.
Jay nodded, a small smile tugging at her lips. In the dancing firelight, Ellie could see faded images of two older folks with a teen girl between them. Jay, a few years younger. “Yeah,” Jay said. “My grandparents.” She traced a finger over the worn paper.
Ellie stared into the flames, hesitating, then quietly prompted, “What were they like?”
Jay paused, considering. Then her face lit up with sudden humor, like she’d just remembered something. “Oh, my grandfather, he was the funniest, most grumpy guy you’d ever meet,” she said. Her eyes crinkled at the corners as a laugh escaped her, surprising Ellie with how genuine it sounded. “Stubborn as a mule, but if he cracked a joke, you couldn’t help but laugh, even if it was the worst one-liner you’ve ever heard.”
Ellie arched an eyebrow smirking, intrigued despite herself. “Yeah?”
“God, yes. He was always telling me these ridiculous puns,” Jay went on, grin widening. “He loved raising animals; chickens, horses, goats, even llamas at one point. Whenever something went wrong in the barn, he’d pop in with these terrible farm jokes. Once, the chickens escaped, and he shouted, ‘Looks like we’ve got some real free-range trouble, Jaybird!’” She shook her head, stifling a groan even now. “I rolled my eyes so hard I thought they’d get stuck. He’d always called me sweetpea or Jaybird too…”
Ellie huffed a soft laugh. “Sounds corny.”
“Oh, it was. But he was so earnest about it, you just had to laugh along.” Jay’s laughter carried a brightness that cut through the motel’s gloom. “He’d pull that goofy grin, nudge me, and say, ‘Come on, Sweetpea, you know that was a good one!’”
For a moment, Ellie found herself smiling, thinking back on Joel’s dry humor and the way he’d try, clumsily, to make a joke or lighten the mood, especially on the road. It was never exactly the joke itself that mattered; it was the shared moment. Something unexpectedly warm flickered in her chest.
Jay’s laugh died down, and she looked over at Ellie, a hint of curiosity in her eyes. “Sorry,” Jay said. “Guess I’m rambling a bit.”
Ellie fiddled with the worn handle of her knife. “Nah,” she murmured, her voice subdued. “It’s fine. I… It’s kinda nice hearing about that stuff.”
Jay’s gaze lingered on Ellie, and some unspoken empathy passed between them. The mention of a grandfather telling jokes struck a chord; Ellie’s mind tugged back to all the times Joel had shaken his head at her own jokes, or tried to feed her one of his own half-hearted quips. She could almost hear his voice muttering some half-groan, half-chuckle: “That’s terrible, kid.”
Ellie drew in a slow breath, forcing the memory aside. She nodded toward Jay. “Your grandfather… he, uh, he sounds like he cared a lot about you.”
Jay smiled again, gentler this time. “He did,” she whispered. “They both did. Closest thing to parents I ever had.”
Ellie swallowed, feeling a tightness in her throat. “You’re lucky,” she said, not unkindly.
Jay watched the fire flicker. “Yeah,” she agreed softly, the warmth in her voice tinged with sorrow at what she’d lost. “I guess I was.”
They let the silence stretch then, the flames throwing dancing shadows across the floor. Outside, the wind stirred scraps of paper and dust, but inside, for a few moments, there was a soft sense of companionship neither had expected to find. Ellie’s heart tightened at the reminder of Joel, it also relaxed in the quiet comfort of hearing Jay laugh.
*************************
They kept moving day after day, the desert plains gradually giving way to more varied landscapes. Rocky hills, scattered shrubs, winding highways that faded into dusty horizons. Their progress was steady and marked by an unspoken rhythm they’d fallen into together.
Early mornings meant quiet preparations. Jay would feed and tend to Rowan while Ellie stirred a small can of whatever rations they had left over the fire. With Dakota watching attentively panting, Ellie no longer hovered at the edge of camp. Now, she’d casually toss Jay a lighter or help pack up supplies without being asked.
As they walked or occasionally rode, Jay would point out landmarks. An abandoned wind farm, a dried-up creek bed, or the remnants of a billboard half-eaten by rust. More and more, Ellie found herself chiming in, remarking how it used to look in pictures in books she’d read, or recounting bits of old stories Joel had told her. She caught herself smiling at Jay’s quiet enthusiasm when Jay listened intently, nodding along.
They discovered small pleasures in the mundane: Jay showed Ellie how to carefully check Rowan’s hooves and reshoe him, and Ellie grinned, almost shyly, when Rowan nuzzled her. Another time, Ellie teased Jay about her “grandpa jokes,” and Jay responded with a mock-offended quip that made them both laugh. It felt almost normal.
During scavenging stops, Ellie took the lead more often, scouting ahead with her knife or revolver ready. Jay would lag a step behind with Dakota, trusting Ellie’s instincts without question. Sometimes, they’d manage to find a can of peaches or a hidden stash of water bottles, and the small triumph made them exchange rare, genuine smiles, little victories in a ravaged world.
One afternoon, they sheltered from a dust storm in an old service station. Huddled behind the counters, Jay began humming an old tune soft, lilting, half-lost to time. Ellie leaned her head back against the wall, listening without complaint. The gentle music, blending with the howling wind outside, was a comfort she hadn’t known she needed.
The nights were still guarded, especially for Ellie, but she noticed she slept a bit more soundly when she heard Jay’s quiet breathing on the other side of the camp. Dakota’s presence helped too, he’d sometimes pad over and rest his head on Ellie’s stomach when she had nightmares, making her feel oddly safer.
By the time another week had passed, Ellie didn’t realize how much their banter and shared tasks had grown into a casual familiarity. They still kept separate corners of their campsites and rarely spoke about truly personal matters. But in the flicker of a campfire or in the aftermath of a successful supply run, Ellie would glance at Jay and a small smile would cross her face.
She wasn’t entirely sure when it happened, but the unease she felt around Jay had started to fade. Not completely, but enough that traveling together felt less like a necessity and more like… something she didn’t hate.
Chapter 4: Unspoken Truths
Summary:
Thank you for reading! Please note I am continually improving! I understand the first few chapters of this story are not my personal favorite; beginnings are and always have been hard for me, and I am currently working on revamping them! However, if you stick with the story until they at least get to Knoxville (chapter 13), I think you might enjoy it! I update frequently and am always open to kind, constructive criticism.
Chapter Text
A few days had passed, and they were holed up in the skeleton of a small-town library, its once-grand shelves now mostly rubble. A half-broken skylight cast pale light across the dusty lobby. They’d been looking for anything readable. Old maps or guides that might help navigate the winding highways and state park ahead when the squeal of warped hinges echoed from deeper in the building.
Ellie stiffened instantly, knife flipping open. Jay caught the change in Ellie’s posture and grabbed the butt of her pistol, exchanging a swift nod. Dakota let out a low deep growl, hackles raised. His signal for infected.
They crept past toppled bookshelves, shoes crunching over shattered glass. A faint scratching sound led them around a corner, and sure enough, a lone runner rounded the aisle, spittle dribbling from its mouth. Ellie inhaled, every nerve set on edge, but she kept her cool. She'd done this dance a hundred times.
Before Ellie could lunge, though, the runner abruptly charged. Her heart pounded. She swung her knife arm up, but her timing was off. In that split second of opening, the runner bared its teeth in a vicious hiss.
Then Jay was there, slamming into the infected’s side with a desperate tackle. It lurched away from Ellie, giving her just enough space to surge forward and ram her blade into its temple. The runner dropped with a choked snarl. Blood spattered across the floor, and Ellie’s knife was held tightly in her trembling hand.
Her breath came fast, ears ringing from the burst of adrenaline. She glanced down, stomach churning. Slowly, she realized Jay was still on the ground, her side heaving. Ellie stooped next to her, eyes wide.
“You okay?” Ellie asked, voice tight. She reached out a hand, an instinct she didn’t often follow.
Jay sucked in a sharp breath, nodding quickly. “Y-yeah, I’m–fine,” she managed. There was a shallow cut on her forearm, likely from a piece of broken glass or the infected’s last flailing swipe. Ellie spotted the blood soaking into Jay’s sleeve.
“Jesus,” Ellie hissed, pressing her palm against Jay’s wound to slow the bleeding. “That was so fucking stupid—you could’ve—” She stopped short, the words tangling in her throat. Died. She could’ve died. Or been bitten.
Jay tried to give a half-smile. “Had it under control,” she said, even as she winced. “You’re not the only one who can scrap.”
Ellie sighed, relief buzzing under her skin. “Whatever.” She carefully helped Jay to her feet. Jay let out a hiss of pain but didn’t protest the contact.
Together, they moved to a small reading nook away from the body, Dakota trailing watchfully behind his tail swaying. Ellie found a relatively clean cloth in her backpack and pressed it to Jay’s arm. Neither spoke for a while, letting the tension ebb.
As her breathing slowed, Ellie realized how hard her hands were shaking. She’d been terrified Jay would get bitten, that she’d watch Jay die. And that fear sat in her chest like a stone. She’d seen too many people go; Joel, Tess, Jesse others, so many others. The moment that thought crossed her mind, she felt an iron clamp close around her heart.
Clearing her throat, Ellie forced herself to focus on tying off the makeshift bandage. “There,” she muttered, dropping Jay’s arm almost aggressively. “Should be good until we find a better wrap.”
Jay gave her a pained nod, brown eyes bright with gratitude despite the wound. “Thanks,” she whispered.
Ellie’s jaw clenched. The way Jay looked at her like she was genuinely glad to have Ellie around, made her stomach twist. She realized, with a quiet jolt, that she actually liked having Jay here too. Maybe she’d even started to trust her. And that scared her more than any infected close call.
She felt the old, familiar walls slam back into place, a reflex she couldn’t stop. Don’t get too close. Don’t lose someone else. No one sticks around, not forever. The library grew stifling, memories and fears crowding in like ghosts.
“So,” Ellie said brusquely, taking a small step back, “let’s, uh… check the rest of this place and get outta here. No telling how many more infected are roaming around.”
Jay, still wincing, nodded. She must’ve caught the shift in Ellie’s demeanor because concern flickered in her eyes. “Sure,” she said softly. “I’m good. Let’s go.”
They continued their search, this time with Ellie purposely keeping a slight distance, knife at the ready and face set in a hard line. Yet beneath that stoic mask, her heart still hammered from the realization: she cared about Jay, maybe just as a friend, maybe a spark of something more. She didn’t want to see her hurt.
And that truth was enough to scare her into retreat, letting fear wrap its tendrils around the fragile bond they’d formed. Ellie kept her walls high that night, even as she glanced over her shoulder to make sure Jay was still there, safe and alive.
***************************
It was nearly midnight that night in the husk of an abandoned motel on the outskirts of a dusty Arizona town. Moonlight filtered through the broken windows, illuminating the chipped gray tiles in a ghostly glow. Ellie had been turning this plan over in her head for hours: just take Rowan and the supplies, slip out under the cover of darkness, and disappear before she could lose someone else.
She’d made her move while Jay was presumably asleep in the adjoining room. Dakota was curled up near Jay’s side, and from the rhythmic sound of Jay’s breaths, Ellie guessed she was out cold. Ellie moved as silently as she could, gathering most of the food cans and stuffing them into her old backpack. Her heart hammered. She knew Rowan was tethered around back, in what used to be a fenced courtyard.
Padding quietly down the hallway, Ellie clutched her backpack straps tight to keep them from rattling. She stepped over a shattered door frame, her boots crushing bits of broken glass. She winced at the sound but continued on. Every second, she expected the soft patter of paws. Dakota coming to investigate, or Jay’s voice calling her name. But the motel remained eerily still.
Finally, Ellie slid open the back exit with a gentle push. Outside, the air was cool, and the night sky was clear enough to see countless stars overhead. Rowan stood near the remnants of a rusted chain-link fence, grazing restlessly. Ellie slipped up to him, stroking his neck. She didn’t do this out of affection so much as to soothe him so he wouldn’t let out a loud snort or nicker.
She breathed in and quietly fumbled with the knot on the gate, the knot Jay always used to secure Rowan, the doors, or the gates. It took her longer than she expected. Jay’s knots were better than any knot Ellie had ever learned. With every second that ticked by, Ellie’s pulse roared in her ears. Just a little more… come on…
At last, the rope came free. Ellie led Rowan a few steps toward the open desert, his hooves clopping softly on the cracked pavement. Her mind reeled with doubt—was this right? But the fear of losing someone else, of caring too much and getting hurt, propelled her forward. She needed to leave, had to leave before she got too attached.
Her fingers tremble slightly. She shouldn’t be doing this.
Jay has been nothing but good to her. Patient. Understanding. She never pushes, never asks for more than Ellie can give. Always put Ellie and her own animals first. She’s kind, in a way Ellie isn’t sure she deserves. And that was the problem, wasn't it? Because Ellie likes her. More than she wants to admit. More than she can handle. And it was only a matter of time before Jay realizes what everyone else has, that Ellie is too fucked up to love. So, she’ll leave first. Before it happens again. Before she loses another fucking person.
A shadow flickered in her peripheral vision. She spun around, hand darting toward her revolver, her pulse-pounding, expecting a furious Jay. Instead, there stood Jay just a few feet away, arms at her sides, no weapon drawn. Dakota, as if sensing the tension, hovered a short distance behind Jay, ears alert.
Ellie’s heart dropped into her stomach. She’d pictured this moment a thousand times, but the reality felt worse. She tensed, readying a defensive stance. “Look, I—” She didn’t know how to finish that sentence.
Jay lifted a calming hand, her expression free of anger. In the moonlight, Ellie could see only concern and sadness. “It’s okay,” Jay said softly. “You want to go.”
Ellie tightened her grip on Rowan’s reins. Guilt and frustration churned in her chest. “Yeah,” she bit out, forcing her voice to stay steady. “I… I’m not… I can’t stay.”
Jay nodded, taking a slow step forward, but not so close as to spook Rowan or Ellie. “I figured this might happen,” she said, her tone unbelievably calm. “I’m not gonna stop you.” She paused, gaze flicking to Ellie’s backpack. “But you don’t have enough supplies to last long.”
Ellie grits her teeth. “I’ll manage,” she muttered, though she couldn’t keep a tremor from creeping in. She half-expected Jay to argue or demand her own horse back. But Jay just looked sad, like she was watching something inevitable. She wants Jay to yell. To fight. To make it easy for her to walk away. But Jay doesn’t. She just looks at her; not with anger, not even with disappointment. Just a sad understanding, with eyes that lost the fight a long time ago, and that made it so much fucking worse.
“You can have more of the supplies we scavenged,” Jay offered quietly. “I’ve got an extra water canteen, a few bandages, some dry rations. Might help you get farther.”
Ellie’s jaw clenched in confusion, this wasn’t the reaction she’d expected. Anger she could handle, maybe a scuffle. This gentle acceptance was…disarming. “Why would you just give me more stuff?” she asked, voice a little raw. “I’m literally stealing your fucking horse.”
Jay let out a small breath, eyes flicking from Rowan to Ellie’s face. “Because I don’t want you to get hurt,” she said simply. “Even if you don’t want to stay… if you can’t—I still… I care about what happens to you.”
Ellie swallowed, her throat tight. She could feel that warmth rising again, that tangle of concern and guilt she was running from. “I just—” She struggled to articulate her reasons without sounding like a jerk. “Look, it’s easier if I go.”
A moment of silence stretched out under the moonlight. Jay reached into her belt pouch, pulling out a small can of medical gauze and two protein bars they’d picked up earlier. She held them out. “Here,” she said. “You’ll need these. Take them.”
Ellie’s chest constricted. She almost refused. She wanted to refuse, somehow it felt wrong to take the charity of the person she was stealing from and leaving behind. But the practical part of her knew she might need the supplies. She reached out hesitantly and took the items, stuffing them into her bag.
“Thanks,” Ellie mumbled, hating how inadequate the word sounded. For a second, she felt the urge to drop Rowan’s reins and stay, just for one more day. But fear still gnawed at her heart. I can’t risk caring for someone like that again. She’ll leave like Dina or die…
Jay offered a faint smile, though her eyes were clouded with sorrow. “If… if you ever change your mind,” she said, stepping back to give Ellie space, “you know where to find me–well, kind of. We’re both heading west. If we cross paths again…”
Ellie nodded, her throat too tight for words. She glanced away, blinking rapidly. Gripping Rowan’s reins and mounting him, she turned, leading the horse away at a slow walk, trying not to look back. Each step twisted her gut tighter, but she forced her feet to keep moving.
Jay and Dakota watched from the motel’s broken doorway, neither calling out nor following. Ellie wrestled with a surge of regret she hadn’t expected. There was a hollow ache in her chest, bigger than she ever wanted to admit.
Still, she disappeared into the night, supplies clattering softly in her backpack, Rowan’s hooves echoing against the cracked pavement. She told herself she was doing the right thing, staying safe by staying alone. But the memory of Jay’s kind, steady voice and that earnest offer of help clung to her, even as she tried to leave it all behind.
************************************
Ellie hadn’t gone far from the motel before she realized something was following her. At first, she thought it might be a stalker creeping along the empty road, but there was no screech, no frantic shuffle. Instead, she heard the unmistakable pitter-patter of paws on the pavement.
She stopped in her tracks, moonlight throwing her silhouette across the cracked asphalt. A few paces behind, Dakota stood with his head tilted, tail wagging, ears perked up in that curious way he had.
Ellie’s heart lurched. “Dakota?” she whispered, glancing over her shoulder as though Jay might be trailing too. But the motel was out of sight in the darkness, no sign of Jay’s figure or distant lantern glow.
She heaved a sharp breath, frustration warring with relief. “You shouldn’t be here,” she said, her voice low and urgent. She moved Rowan toward the dog, waving her arms. “Go on, get! Go back to Jay.”
Ellie’s frustration spiked. “Seriously? Don’t you know who your owner is?” she growled, jabbing a thumb in the direction of the motel. “That way. See?” Dakota didn’t budge. His posture said everything: I’m staying right here with you.
Dakota just wagged his tail once, then padded a little closer. His gaze seemed to say I’m not going anywhere.
Ellie swore under her breath, clenching Rowan’s reins. The horse shifted uneasily, sensing her tension. “C’mon, stupid fucking dog,” she snapped, jabbing a thumb behind her. “Go home.” Still, Dakota held his ground, letting out a small whine.
Her chest tightened. She knew how stubborn Dakota could be. Jay had told her enough stories, or she’d witnessed it herself, how he’d refuse to leave Jay’s side unless commanded in a certain firm way. And even then, sometimes he still wouldn’t budge.
“God fucking damn it dog,” She clenched her jaw, glancing around at the empty stretch of road. The only sounds were the scrape of wind across the cracked asphalt and the gentle stir of Rowan’s hooves. She tried again to wave Dakota off, half-hearted now. “Don’t you get it?” she said, voice edged with emotion she hated hearing in herself. “I’m not… I can’t be responsible for you. It’s not safe to be around me.”
She resumed riding, leading Rowan forward with brisk steps. Dakota trotted along, a comforting but unwelcome presence. Each footfall reminded Ellie that she’d tried to break away from Jay and yet here was a piece of Jay’s life, refusing to let go.
After a few minutes, Ellie let out a tight sigh and slowed her pace. She took in the sight of Dakota padding beside her, the gentle panting of a loyal companion. It echoed memories she hadn’t let herself fully process. Jay’s steady kindness, the way Jay had tackled that runner for her, the quiet sense of ease that had begun to grow between them.
She thought about how Dakota was more than just a guard dog, he was Jay’s partner, faithful and protective. As Ellie watched him trot at her side, resolute, she realized he wasn’t just some animal following her out of confusion. He’d made a choice. It dawned on her that maybe, in his own way, Dakota sensed Ellie needed a friend right now, whether she admitted it or not.
A lump formed in Ellie’s throat. It was almost like having Jay here, minus the conversation, but with the same stubborn loyalty. “You’re a lot like her, you know,” Ellie murmured, her voice wavering before she could stifle it. “She wasn’t giving up on me, either.”
Dakota cocked his head, as if to say, I know.
Ellie led Rowan off the highway and onto a dirt path, trying to put distance between herself and her own doubts. But each time she glanced at Dakota, she saw Jay’s face in her mind. Gentle, patient, the person who had given her supplies even when Ellie was stealing her horse and food. A pang of guilt clenched around her heart. Why was Jay so willing to help? Why did it feel like Ellie was turning her back on the one person she’d begun to trust in?
She swallowed hard. Maybe Jay wasn’t like the others who’d left her or died. Maybe Jay wouldn’t leave, even if Ellie pushed her away. The thought both comforted and terrified her. Caring about someone was a risk she wasn’t sure she could take again.
They walked another half-mile, the night quiet but for the wind in the brush. Finally, Ellie slowed and set Rowan’s reins down carefully. Then dismounted. She turned to Dakota, who sat under the starlight, gazing up at her. “You know, I’ve killed dogs before…You really should go back… but you won’t go back, will you?” she asked, her voice unsteady.
Dakota’s tail swept a few times along the dirt.
Ellie let out a shaky breath, stepping forward to lay a hand between his ears. “Guess you’re stuck with me, huh?” She rubbed his head, noticing how readily he leaned into her touch.
And in that moment, she realized she might actually want to be stuck, if it meant she wasn’t so alone. Slowly, she turned, scanning the horizon. Jay was somewhere back there, presumably wondering why Dakota had wandered off.
Ellie’s chest twisted at the sudden warmth that filled her thoughts. Dammit. Fucking dammit. She was scared, but she also found herself missing Jay’s soft laugh and gentle concern. Missing that feeling of not being completely alone.
Dakota leaned in, nosing and licking her wrist in comfort. “Why do you have to be so damn persistent?” she murmured, voice catching. “You’re just like her.”
Dakota licked her hand softer in response, as if in agreement, and Ellie found herself giving a short, wry laugh. The tension in her muscles eased. She could almost picture Jay’s gentle smile, the way her eyes crinkled at the corners.
“All right,” Ellie whispered to Dakota, straightening up and looking back at the direction they had come from. “Let’s go. No sense wandering off alone. Right boy?”
Ellie tugged gently on Rowan’s reins and started walking back, her steps slow at first, then picking up speed as her determination grew. A sense of conflicting relief and dread churned in her gut, but she pressed on. If Jay was still at the motel, Ellie would find her. And if Jay wasn’t… well, maybe that would be the answer Ellie had been dreading. But she had to try.
Dakota bounded along by her side, occasionally bumping Ellie’s leg in encouragement. With every step, Ellie’s resolve steadied. She wasn’t entirely sure what she’d say to Jay, or how to explain what she’d done, but she knew one thing for certain: she didn’t want to run anymore. She didn’t want to wake up alone again, haunted by the fear of losing one more person.
She swallowed hard, gripping Rowan’s reins tightly. The moonlit highway behind her felt like a path she’d already walked too many times.
*************************
The motel looked no less desolate when Ellie returned. Shards of broken glass caught the moonlight, and the tattered sign still creaked in the wind. She felt every step echoing in her chest, she was returning to face someone she’d just tried to abandon. Her grip on Rowan’s reins was tight enough to turn her knuckles white, but she kept moving, Dakota trotting alongside.
The front entrance was half-blocked by a cracked piece of plywood they’d set up earlier. Ellie slipped past it into the darkened lobby, her heartbeat thrumming in her ears. A faint glow of a small lantern flickered somewhere down the hall.
“Jay?” she called softly, trying to keep her voice steady. Each second of silence pressed heavier on her chest. She worried Jay might already have left, or worse, might not want to see her at all.
Suddenly, a quiet shuffle reached her ears. Jay appeared from around the corner, lantern in hand, looking tired and wary. Her hair was tousled, probably from a hastily abandoned attempt at sleep. The moment her eyes landed on Ellie, relief poured across her features, swift and unguarded.
“Ellie,” Jay breathed, as if she needed to confirm that Ellie was really there. Her gaze swept from Ellie’s face down to Rowan and back. Then she noticed Dakota and exhaled in a shaky rush. “Dakota—thank God.” She set the lantern on a nearby ledge, stepping forward but not too close, as if unsure of Ellie’s boundaries.
For a beat, neither spoke. Ellie could almost feel Jay’s questions piling up in the silence. She swallowed, trying to find the right words. “I—uh—” she began, voice catching. “I got… partway out. Dakota followed me, and…” Her bravado drained away. “I just… couldn’t do it.”
Jay’s eyes were soft in the lantern glow, her relief morphing into quiet understanding. “You… didn’t have to come back,” she said gently as Dakota licked her cheek. “But I’m… I’m glad you did.”
Ellie’s throat felt tight. She slipped Rowan’s reins over a broken chair to keep him from wandering. “Look,” she muttered, fiddling with the straps of her backpack, “I’m sorry. I tried to—y’know, I wanted to… leave. Because I—anyway. I just… I can’t…” She trailed off, her emotions threatening to spill out in a rush she wasn’t ready for.
Jay stepped a little closer, carefully bridging the gap. Her voice stayed steady, calm. “I get it,” she said, though her eyes glinted with concern. “This world… it’s easier to run than to risk caring about people. I do get it and you don’t have to explain.”
They stood a foot apart now, the tension in the air palpable but softened by Jay’s gentle gaze. Ellie felt the burn of tears she refused to let fall. “I told myself I was safer alone,” she admitted, voice barely above a whisper. “But the moment I actually did it, all I could think about was… was how much it fucking sucked to be on my own again.”
A small, rueful smile touched Jay’s lips. “Sometimes the fear of losing someone can be worse than being alone. But… it’s also lonely,” she said softly. Then she gestured toward Dakota, who was now leaning against Ellie’s leg, tail wagging. “Even he didn’t want you going off by yourself.”
Ellie managed a shaky laugh, glancing down at the dog. “He’s a stubborn asshole, and a fucking idiot” she said. “Kind of like you.”
“Guilty as charged.” Jay’s expression flickered, relief and worry mingling “You okay though right? Nothing happened out there?”
Ellie realized Jay had stepped back into her caretaker mode. Concerned, earnest, never overbearing but always present. Her heart twisted, and she managed a small shake of her head. “I’m fine,” she murmured. “Just… tired.”
Jay offered a tiny nod in understanding, then glanced at Rowan’s reins with an unreadable expression. “You can still take him,” she said quietly. “If you want. Or need.”
Ellie blinked, taken aback that Jay was even giving her the option. Giving her an open out. “No,” she answered firmly, surprising herself. “I’m not leaving again. If… if you’ll still have me.”
Jay’s face softened, something like relief flooding in. She laid a careful hand on Ellie’s upper arm, watching for any sign of rejection. When Ellie didn’t flinch, Jay squeezed gently. “Of course,” she said, and the warmth in her voice was genuine. “Come on. Let’s set up somewhere more comfortable. You should rest.”
Ellie turned her face away, unaccustomed to that kind of open acceptance, yet strangely grateful for it. She grabbed Rowan’s reins and led him deeper into the hallway, finding a safer corner to tie him off. Dakota padded behind, the loyal sentinel he’d always been.
They settled near a chipped, half-collapsed vending machine. Jay handed Ellie a spare blanket from her pack, something Ellie hadn’t noticed before. Ellie muttered thanks, her voice awkward, but sincere. And just like that, it felt as if the tension began to diffuse.
Neither of them spoke more about why Ellie tried to run or why Jay was so ready to forgive. Maybe there would be a time to talk it all through, or maybe words weren’t as necessary as the simple fact that Ellie had come back, and Jay had welcomed her without hesitation.
Chapter 5: Carnival
Summary:
Thank you for reading! Please note I am continually improving! I understand the first few chapters of this story are not my personal favorite; beginnings are and always have been hard for me, and I am currently working on revamping them! However, if you stick with the story until they at least get to Knoxville (chapter 13), I think you might enjoy it! I update frequently and am always open to kind, constructive criticism.
Chapter Text
A few days had passed since Ellie came back, and the tension that once hung between them like a loaded gun had eased into something lighter, almost comfortable. They found themselves on the outskirts of a small, long-deserted fairground. Most of the rides were rusted beyond recognition, their once-bright paint faded into dull, chipped scraps. Yet somehow, the atmosphere felt whimsical rather than foreboding.
Their day started out like any other, waking early, and scavenging for supplies, but something in the air made them linger around the fairground. The place seemed safe enough, or at least quiet, so they spent the afternoon poking around the dilapidated booths and old carnival stands, rummaging to see if anything useful remained.
Ellie was the first to find something unexpected: a battered old ring toss game still standing beneath a half-collapsed canopy. The rings had deteriorated, but she couldn’t help picking one up, aiming at the array of dusty bottles still lined up a few feet away.
“Hey, Jay!” Ellie called, a grin pulling at her lips. “Bet I can knock down more of these than you can.”
Jay ambled over, eyebrows raised in mock skepticism. “Oh, really?” she teased. “I’m a crack shot with a rifle, I think I can handle a few bottles.”
Ellie rolled her eyes dramatically, then flung her ring. It missed by a good foot, bouncing harmlessly to the ground. “Shut up,” she muttered, shooting Jay a playful glare.
Jay only laughed, picking up another ring. “Okay, step aside, I’ll try.” With an exaggerated flourish, Jay tossed it in a perfect arc, only to have it bounce off the nearest bottle’s neck. “Oops,” she said, wide-eyed and grinning. “Might be harder than it looks.”
Despite their clear lack of skill, they kept at it, giggling like kids as they traded quips and silly insults. Dakota bounded back and forth between them, ears perked and tail wagging as if excited by their laughter. Every so often, one of them would make a lucky shot, and a single bottle would clatter to the ground. They’d cheer and whoop like they’d just won a jackpot.
After they’d exhausted all the rings and themselves from laughing, they wandered past a deserted concession booth. Ellie perked up at the sight of a box filled with colorful plastic Mardi Gras beads and novelty hats, a relic from some carnival promotion. Most were filthy or broken, but Jay dug out a goofy, oversized cowboy hat, dusted it off, and placed it on Ellie’s head.
“Huh,” Jay mused, tapping her chin as though in serious contemplation. “Now that’s a look.”
Ellie scrunched her nose, adjusting the giant brim. “I feel like an idiot,” she said, but she was already smiling. “Check this out.” She rummaged in the box again and pulled out a neon pink sun visor, plopping it onto Jay’s head. The visor was slightly too small, making Jay look downright ridiculous.
They doubled over laughing, each pointing at the other’s hat in mock horror. “Oh my God,” Jay wheezed. “This is awful. I love it.”
They paraded around the fairground in their absurd headwear, posing dramatically in front of broken rides. Even Rowan seemed to eye them with equine amusement, flicking his ears while they took turns snapping imaginary photos with an old, broken camera Ellie found near a ticket stand.
As the afternoon light softened into evening gold, they settled on a toppled bench, hats askew, breathing heavily from their bouts of laughter. The warm breeze rustled through the carnival detritus around them. Ellie set down her oversized cowboy hat and ran a hand through her hair. “I can’t believe we wasted so much time goofing off,” she said, still smiling. “I can’t remember the last time I had… fun like that.”
Jay’s cheeks were flushed, either from the sun or the laughs. “We needed it,” she said quietly, a note of sincerity breaking through. “Sometimes we forget, you know, that it’s okay to…just enjoy something. Even for a little while.”
Ellie glanced at Jay, something bittersweet flickering in her chest. “Yeah,” she agreed, “we do forget.”
Dakota trotted over, placing his head on Jay’s knee, eager for attention. Jay stroked his ears, still wearing that silly pink visor askew. In that moment, Ellie caught herself thinking that maybe good days could still happen to her, even after everything. And Jay seemed to share the same thought, smiling at Ellie with an openness that felt almost normal.
Eventually, they’d have to move on and find shelter before nightfall. But for now, in that abandoned fairground, they let themselves be silly and free, two survivors sharing a rare day of laughter in a world that had taken so much from them.
When they did move on they found an abandoned RV lot just before sunset, a dirt clearing with a few rusted-out shells of what once were family motorhomes. Though most were stripped for parts, one vehicle still had intact windows and a door that shut, providing them a small measure of security for the night.
As the sky turned a dusty orange, Ellie helped Jay gather some firewood from a nearby tumble of scrap. Dakota wandered around the perimeter, nose twitching in the breeze. Rowan, tethered near the RV, pawed at the earth as he ate some grain, seemingly content to rest after a day’s travel.
Jay crouched to arrange the firewood into a small circle, carefully placing the kindling in the center. Her hands moved with easy efficiency, but there was a hesitance in her eyes, as though her thoughts were elsewhere. Ellie noticed, but she didn’t press thinking Jay would open up only if she chose to.
A few minutes later, the flames caught, crackling to life in soft pops and hisses. Ellie settled onto a chunk of concrete next to Jay, taking turns feeding the fire with scraps of brush. The warmth was welcome in the cooling desert air.
Jay cleared her throat softly. “Thanks for… helping gather all this,” she began, looking across the flames at Ellie. “Sometimes it’s still weird, trusting someone else to watch my back.”
Ellie’s shoulders tensed a fraction. She didn’t reply right away, just tossed a small twig into the flames. “Yeah,” she finally mumbled. “Weird’s one word for it.”
Jay nodded, smiling faintly. “Weird. Good, though,” she clarified. She leaned back, crossing her arms over her knees. “You mind if I…tell you something?”
Ellie’s gaze flickered over to her, the firelight illuminating her features. She shrugged. “Sure.”
Jay hesitated as if searching for the right words. She fiddled with a frayed thread on her jacket sleeve. “I’ve mentioned my grandparents, right? At Biltmore.” She paused, and Ellie gave a small nod. “Well, they, um… they saved me, in more ways than one.” Her voice dipped, thoughtful. “Growing up, I always felt… out of place. Even when things were good, I was scared—scared of losing people, scared of not being strong enough for this world. I guess I still am, but back then it was… really bad. My grandmother said I had anxiety.”
Ellie’s expression softened a bit. She stayed silent, letting Jay talk.
Jay offered a thin smile. “My grandma used to find me on the worst days and say, ‘Jay, life’s a hard road, but it’s still worth walking. Even if you only see a few steps ahead, keep taking them.’” She laughed quietly, though it held a sad note. “I used to roll my eyes at that. But now, I think about it a lot.”
Ellie pressed her lips together. The earnestness in Jay’s voice tugged at something inside her, an echo of how Joel used to push her forward when she felt lost. She nodded, swallowing. “Sounds like she was a good person,” Ellie said, her tone subdued.
“She was the best,” Jay agreed. “They both were. I… try to remember that whenever things get dark. Sometimes that’s all I’ve got, you know?” She cleared her throat, meeting Ellie’s eyes. “Anyway, I, uh… I hope it’s not weird to just dump that on you.”
Ellie shook her head. “It’s not weird.” She paused, weighing whether to offer something in return. A piece of herself. “I guess… in a way, I had someone like that too. Kinda.” She stared into the fire for a moment. “Didn’t have grandparents, but… someone who showed up when I needed ’em.”
Jay nodded gently, sensing the gravity of Ellie’s words. “Sometimes it only takes one person to keep you afloat.”
“Yeah,” Ellie murmured, blinking as heat pricked at the back of her eyes. She shoved down the memories threatening to surface. Dina, this time the way she’d carried her forward. She wasn’t ready to talk about any of them fully. Not yet. But for a moment, she allowed herself to feel the odd comfort in sharing this sliver of the past with Jay.
They fell into a comfortable silence then, letting the fire fill the quiet with its soft crackle. In the distance, the night insects began their chorus, and the breeze carried a subtle desert chill.
At length, Jay stretched her legs out, a small, wry grin curving her lips. “You know,” she said, “maybe someday we can tell each other all the weird, embarrassing stories from before we met. Like how I nearly got kicked by Rowan the first time I tried to saddle him… I almost got knocked into next week.”
A faint smile tugged at Ellie’s mouth. “You? Really?”
Jay snorted. “Hey, the horse is sweet but does not tolerate idiots. I was definitely an idiot that day.”
Ellie let out a soft chuckle. “That’s good to know. Maybe I’ll get you to spill the details sometime.”
“Anytime,” Jay said, the warmth in her tone making the invitation sound real.
Their laughter mingled with the sparks drifting into the night sky, and the tension, both the old kind and the new, eased its grip a little more. They weren’t exactly pouring out their hearts, but they were building something in those quiet moments, a fragile understanding, a spark of trust that might, with time, grow into something like friendship.
Somewhere in the darkness, Dakota let out a gentle woof, returning from his perimeter check. Jay patted the ground beside her, and he settled in, resting his chin on her knee. Ellie watched them, feeling that slight twinge of warmth she’d tried so hard to resist. She still had her walls, but right now, around this fire, they felt just a little less necessary.
******************************
The two were checking out an old roadside gas station at twilight, in search of anything that might keep them going, bottled water, canned goods, even half-spoiled jerky if they were lucky. The day’s heat was finally ebbing, replaced by a soft lavender sky.
Jay was rummaging behind the counter, quietly shifting through dusty boxes, while Ellie kept watch near the door. Dakota paced at Ellie’s side, ears perked for any sign of trouble. The place smelled of stale gasoline and mildew, the aisles scattered with shattered glass and faded snack wrappers.
Ellie moved her flashlight over the warped shelves, trying to keep her focus on the task. But her thoughts kept drifting to Jay. She found herself replaying moments from the past few days: the playful banter at the carnival stands, Jay’s gentle concern that never felt overbearing, the easy warmth of nights by the campfire. Some part of Ellie hesitated to label it “caring.” Every time she started to feel something for someone, life had a way of yanking that person away.
She forced the thoughts aside, scanning the outside through a crack in the front window. No movement. Good. Then a muffled “Aha!” from Jay caught her attention. Ellie turned to see Jay tugging a small crate free from beneath the dusty counter.
“Find something?” Ellie asked, stepping closer.
“Maybe,” Jay replied, shining her flashlight into the crate. “Looks like a few cans, damaged labels, but they’re sealed. Worth a shot.”
She stood up, the crate balanced on one hip, a triumphant smile ghosting across her lips. At that same moment, a low, rattling groan sounded from somewhere in the back room. Both Ellie and Jay froze, exchanging looks. Infected or some stray drifter, either was a possibility.
Instinctively, Ellie moved to the door, knife in hand, while Jay lowered the crate to free her own hands. Dakota let out a warning rumble, tail stiff. The groan came again, closer this time, shuffling footsteps moving around the back corridor.
Ellie’s pulse quickened. “Let’s just get out,” she urged in a low voice.
“Yeah,” Jay agreed. She stooped to pick up the crate, but in her haste, she fumbled, sending one of the cans rolling noisily across the tiled floor. The sound echoed too loudly in the quiet station.
A sudden crash from the back signaled the creature, an infected, a stalker by the sound of it, charging forward. Before Ellie could react, a half-fungal figure barreled through the doorway behind the counter, shrieking as it lunged.
Jay tried to back away, but she tripped on the scattered junk behind her, landing hard on her rear. The stalker snarled, flailing its arms, stumbling in the clutter but still intent on its prey.
Time seemed to stretch. Ellie felt a jolt of fear spear through her chest, fear for Jay. Without thinking, she lunged, crossing the short space in two bounds. She pivoted around a toppled rack and brought her knife up, jamming it deep into the infected’s temple just as it loomed over Jay. The creature choked, then dropped heavily to the floor, its limbs twitching in a final spasm.
Ellie stood there, chest heaving, knife still gripped tight, until she was sure it was dead. Then she turned, eyes wide, to Jay. “You okay?”
Jay pushed herself upright, dust clinging to her hair and jacket. Her eyes were big with shock, but she forced a shaky nod. “Yeah,” she breathed, pressing a hand to her chest. “Thanks, I—”
She didn’t get to finish. Ellie’s fear and an unfamiliar surge of relief hit her like a wave. Ellie moved beside Jay, eyes raking over her for any sign of a bite or scratch. Her voice trembled with urgency. “Are you hurt? Did it get you? Are you bit?”
“No,” Jay managed, shaking her head. “No, I’m all right. You…got it in time.”
Ellie let out a shuddering exhale. Her hands were still shaking, heart pounding so hard she felt lightheaded. She stared at Jay, realizing just how terrified she’d been a moment ago, not of the infected, but of losing Jay. And that startled her more than the attack itself.
She swallowed hard, pulling herself together. “Good,” she mumbled, blinking away the fear. “’Cause that thing nearly had you.”
Jay’s face softened, the panic slowly receding. “Yeah,” she said more quietly. “Guess you saved me this time.”
Ellie helped Jay to her feet, brushing the dust from Jay’s sleeve. For a moment, they stood close, breathing unevenly in the dim light of the station. Dakota came over, whining softly, as though checking on both of them.
“I, uh—” Ellie began, her voice catching. “God, Jay… I just—I was worried… fuck.” The admission was awkward, barely above a whisper, yet it held so much weight.
Jay’s gaze flicked to Ellie’s, gentle and grateful. “I’m okay,” she promised, placing a tentative hand on Ellie’s shoulder. “Thanks to you.”
Ellie forced out a shaky laugh. “Well, that’s what we’re supposed to do, right? Watch each other’s backs.”
She tried to sound off hand, but the pulse of adrenaline still coursed through her veins, and the enormity of how much she’d just realized she cared for Jay washed over her. It was scary. It was the same fear she’d had when she tried to run away, but now, it felt different. Important. Like maybe letting someone in was worth the risk after all.
They took a moment, letting the tension ebb before picking up the dropped cans and checking to be sure nothing else lurked in the station. Night was falling quickly, and they’d need to find a safer spot to camp.
But even as they left, Ellie’s thoughts churned. She’d looked into Jay’s eyes and felt a jolt of something she hadn’t allowed in a long time, concern, relief, and a fierce protectiveness. It rattled her, yet also gave her a strange, steady warmth. Ellie was starting to realize that Jay mattered to her.
Chapter 6: The Grand Canyon
Summary:
Thank you for reading! Please note I am continually improving! I understand the first few chapters of this story are not my personal favorite; beginnings are and always have been hard for me, and I am currently working on revamping them! However, if you stick with the story until they at least get to Knoxville (chapter 13), I think you might enjoy it! I update frequently and am always open to kind, constructive criticism.
Chapter Text
They had reached the final stretch of highway, with signs along the road bearing the bold lettering: GRAND CANYON—50 MILES, then 40, then 30. Each marker quickened Jay’s pulse. She and Ellie had fallen into an unusually thoughtful silence, both sensing how close they were to the place Jay had talked about for so long.
They made camp on a gentle slope just off the deserted road, the evening sky spreading out in a tapestry of orange and rose hues. Rowan stood at the edge of the campsite, nibbling on the sparse clumps of dried grass, while Dakota sniffed around the perimeter as he always did in a new place making sure it was safe. Ellie and Jay worked quietly to build a small fire against the desert’s night chill.
After a shared meal of canned vegetables mixed with some dried jerky, Jay cleared her throat. “Hey,” she said, nodding at Rowan, “you think you can handle brushing him down tonight? I’ve been at it for… well ever, and I’m beat.”
Ellie raised an eyebrow, glancing over at the horse. “Sure.”
Jay gave a faint chuckle, though her eyes looked distant in the fading light. “Use short, firm strokes. Make sure to check around his hooves; stones get lodged in there, and he hates that. You remember where the hoof pick is, right?”
Ellie nodded, standing up with a soft grunt. “Yeah. In the side pocket of your saddlebag, along with the spare brush.” She started over toward Rowan, but something in Jay’s tone made her pause. “Wait—why the sudden concern? Usually, you’re all, ‘I got it, I got it.’”
Jay’s smile faltered a fraction, but she covered it smoothly. “Just… want to make sure you’re good at it,” she said with forced lightness. “Never know when you might need to take care of him on your own. I mean, we’re almost there… Grand Canyon. Maybe something’ll come up.”
Ellie narrowed her eyes. She didn’t press, but a hint of worry lurked behind her look. “Yeah, okay,” she said finally, heading over to Rowan. “I’ll do it.”
Dakota wandered close to Jay, settling beside her with a soft huff. Jay reached down absentmindedly to scratch the dog behind the ears. She stared off at the horizon, her mind half-lost in memories and the swirl of dread-tinged relief at nearing her final destination.
Meanwhile, Ellie talked softly to Rowan. She knew how to care for a horse but was doing her best to brush him the way Jay had shown her he liked. She cast quick glances back at Jay, noticing how subdued she looked, even more so than usual. Something felt off, but Ellie couldn’t quite piece it together.
Once Rowan was squared away, Ellie returned, seating herself on a flat rock across the fire from Jay. The flames’ glow revealed a crease of worry in Ellie’s brow. “So,” Ellie said, picking hair out of Rowan’s brush, “you keep sayin’ we’re almost there. You excited to finally do…what you came to do?”
Jay tensed for a moment, forcing a small smile. “Yeah, I am,” she replied, her voice quieter than normal. “I’ve been carrying them… my grandparents’ ashes… for so long. It’ll be a relief to let them rest where they wanted to be.”
Ellie nodded, gaze drifting to Jay’s pack as if she could see the containers inside. After a beat, she cleared her throat. “I mean… what happens after that? You, uh… gonna stick around the canyon? Head to a settlement?”
Jay swallowed, unable to meet Ellie’s eyes for a second. “I guess we’ll see,” she murmured. After that… she thought grimly, but kept it trapped behind her tongue, her plan to never leave that canyon consumed her. “I’d like to check if the settlement you heard about is real, at least. Maybe it’s a place where we can grab supplies or rest for a bit.”
Ellie studied Jay’s face, picking up on some of the tension lurking there. She wanted to ask more, to pry; and part of her was afraid of the answers she might get. But she held back, not wanting to push Jay if she wasn’t ready to talk. Jay never pushed her so she was trying to do the same. Instead, Ellie forced a crooked grin. “Well, if it exists, I wouldn’t mind a break from all this travel.”
Jay’s expression brightened just a touch. “A break sounds good,” she agreed softly. Then she caught Dakota’s attention, patting the ground beside her. “Hey, buddy, c’mere.”
Ellie watched as Jay fussed over the dog, scratching his ears and murmuring small praises. Giving him a kiss on the top of his head. Then Jay spoke up, voice directed more toward Ellie now. “You probably know how to feed him, right? But if you ever need to settle him down… like if you’re alone with him and he won't settle… call his name firmly, then tap his right flank twice. That always gets his focus. My grandfather used to do that. He’s used to it. It works. And you already know how to get him to attack enemies, if you ever need him to.”
Ellie’s brow furrowed, picking up on Jay’s phrasing. “Yeah, I… I remember you doin’ that with him before. But why the sudden crash course?”
A beat of silence. Jay shrugged a little too casually. “Just… sometimes animals don’t react well to new places. If we run into trouble, I don’t want you stuck not knowing how to handle them. You’ve gotten good with Rowan…Dakota’s not that different.”
Something in Ellie’s chest tightened. A flicker of alarm. Why does she keep talking like she won’t be here? She forced a light tone. “Hey, you know I’m no dog whisperer. Probably can’t handle both at once. I’ll need your help.”
Jay’s response was a muted smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “I’ll be around,” she said, fiddling with Dakota’s worn leather collar. “Just… humor me, all right?”
Ellie’s heart stung at that, but she kept her expression guarded. She wanted to argue, to question Jay until she gave a real answer. Yet she sensed now wasn’t the time. Jay was too set on whatever plan she wasn’t revealing. Instead, Ellie nodded. “Fine,” she said, more softly than she intended.
The silence stretched between them, the crackle of the fire the only sound in the darkening sky. At length, Jay cleared her throat. “We’ve got a couple more days until we’re there,” she said, staring at the flickering flames. “Might as well get some shut-eye. I’ll take first watch.”
Ellie looked like she wanted to say something, maybe challenge Jay’s sudden aloofness, the sadness in her tone and eyes, but her words caught in her throat. She just inhaled, nodding once. Standing, she tossed a final scrap of wood on the fire, then headed for her makeshift bedroll near Rowan.
She paused, glancing over her shoulder. Jay sat by the fire, shoulders slumped in a way Ellie rarely saw, one hand resting on Dakota’s head. The sight sparked worry, but Ellie kept quiet. She told herself she’d press Jay soon, she’d make sure Jay wasn’t planning to vanish once they reached the canyon. Because the thought of losing her, after coming this far together, gnawed at Ellie like a fresh wound.
For now, though, the night gathered, and the hush of the desert enveloped them both. Jay remained by the flickering flames, gaze distant. Ellie curled up under her blanket, pretending to settle in. But sleep wouldn’t come, not with the tension thick in the air. And neither realized just how much the other needed reassurance that they wouldn’t be abandoned, not again, not after everything they’d already endured.
****************************
They all set out at dawn, the sky a wash of pale rose and dusty gold, and rode in near silence for most of the morning. Neither had slept hardly at all that night. Ellie could feel the mounting tension in Jay’s posture as they followed cracked highways and worn paths. Dakota padded close by, occasionally casting a curious glance at his human companions, while Rowan plodded along steadily, unaware of the storm brewing in Jay’s mind.
Just past midday, they came upon the final stretch of road. A battered sign reading “Grand Canyon National Park” stood leaning at a precarious angle, bullet holes piercing its faded surface. Beyond it, the land opened into jagged rock formations and sweeping plateaus, sloping toward the colossal canyon carved by an ancient river. The view was awe-inspiring and unsettling all at once, an enormous gash in the earth stretching farther than the eye could see.
Ellie slid off Rowan’s back, her breath catching in her throat at the sheer scale of the canyon. The sun glinted off distant rock layers, rusty reds, oranges, and browns. It was creating bands of color that cascaded into the vast chasm. A low wind swept across the mesa, stirring dust and making her feel tiny in comparison.
Jay dismounted more slowly, placing a reverent hand on Rowan’s flank. Her eyes were fixed on the canyon rim, lips parted in silent reflection. For a moment, Ellie saw tears glinting in Jay’s gaze, though Jay blinked them away before they could spill over. Dakota whined softly, pacing near Jay’s feet, tail low.
Ellie took a hesitant step closer, scanning Jay’s expression. “We… made it,” she said, her voice hushed by the canyon’s enormity.
Jay nodded, swallowing hard. She patted her backpack, where Ellie knew the metal containers holding her grandparents’ ashes were tucked away. “Yeah,” she managed, her tone thick with emotion. “Guess we did.”
They walked closer to the edge, each step crunching over loose gravel. At a safe distance from the precipice, Jay paused, shoulders trembling with barely contained feeling. Ellie hesitated before gently touching Jay’s arm.
“You okay?” Ellie asked, soft concern threading her voice.
Jay exhaled shakily. She looked out over the canyon’s rim, the sunlight catching the dust, dirt, and sand swirling around them. “They always wanted to see this,” she said, voice nearly lost to the canyon wind. “Said it was one of the most beautiful views you could find. I… wanted to bring them here.”
Ellie’s gaze flickered to Jay’s backpack. She nodded, a quiet empathy in her eyes. “I get it.”
They stood there for a moment, side by side, gazing at the canyon’s vastness. Neither spoke, the grandeur of the place filling the silence. Ellie felt her heart ache for Jay, sensing how heavy this moment was. She remembered all the times Jay had described her grandparents, how important they were, how this final act felt like closure for her. But Ellie couldn’t shake a clenching worry in her gut: What happens now?
Jay took a deep breath, steeling herself. She turned to Ellie, a wavering smile on her lips. “I’m gonna—” She faltered, clearing her throat. “I should find a good spot.”
Ellie nodded once more. “I’ll come with you,” she offered gently.
Jay reached down, giving Dakota a soft pat on the head. For a split second, her eyes flickered with conflict, but she didn’t argue. Instead, she let Ellie fall into step beside her as they picked their way to a smaller outcropping along the canyon rim, somewhere peaceful and open to the breathtaking view. Rowan stayed tethered safely back, and Dakota followed, his ears perked in quiet watchfulness.
As they drew close to the ledge, the wind picked up, whipping stray strands of wavy brown hair across Jay’s face. She paused, gently lowering her backpack and kneeling next to it. Ellie stood a respectful step behind, her own heart pounding with an unnamed anxiety.
With careful hands, Jay withdrew two small tin containers. She held them like they were precious treasures. Turning toward the canyon, she exhaled slowly, preparing herself for the goodbye she’d carried all this way. Ellie just watched, silent support radiating from her stance, her worry for Jay tangling with a deep compassion she couldn’t fully put into words.
The Grand Canyon stretched before them in silent majesty, waiting for Jay to find the courage to release her loved ones into its expanse. Ellie felt the wind tug at her clothes, at her hair, and realized how small they both were in the face of such overwhelming beauty. And yet, for all its vastness, this moment was intimately theirs, it was a testament to Jay’s love and some quiet, unspoken connection that was growing between them.
Jay took a moment to steady herself, resting the tins gently on her knees. The wind rustled her hair, and for an instant she closed her honey brown eyes, as though she were building courage from some internal well. Finally, she twisted the lid off the first container.
Inside were ashes, a fine gray powder that seemed impossibly light. Jay’s hands shook as she tilted the metal tin, her breath catching at the sight of her grandparents’ last remains. Her voice, when she spoke, was barely above a whisper, carried away on the canyon breeze.
“Hey, Grandma… Grandpa,” she murmured. “We made it.”
Her eyes flickered shut again, lips pressed tight in an effort to rein in her grief. Ellie hovered a step behind, not wanting to intrude but unable to hide the wave of empathy that crossed her face. Dakota, sensing the solemnity, whined softly and settled at Jay’s side, ears laid back.
Jay inhaled a trembling breath, gathering the ashes in one palm. Then, in a single, careful motion, she extended her arm toward the canyon’s open space and let the wind take the gray dust. It spiraled upwards for a moment before drifting out into the vast chasm, dissolving into the red-rock panorama below.
The second container followed the first. Jay’s hands were steadier this time, like the first act had braced her for the final one. She repeated the gesture, releasing the ashes into the canyon air. The breeze caught them, scattering the last traces of her grandparents into the place they’d dreamed of seeing. A hush fell over them, magnified by the canyon’s grand silence.
For a long moment, no one spoke. Jay’s shoulders shook, tears slipping free despite her attempts to hold them back. She bowed her head, pressing her lips together, feeling the bittersweet mix of relief and heartbreak.
Ellie eased forward, one hand tentatively brushing Jay’s arm. “You did it,” she said gently, unsure what else to say. “They’re… home now. Or—” She faltered, feeling inadequate. “They’d be proud of you.”
Jay sniffed, nodding without lifting her face. A shaky laugh escaped her, tempered by sorrow. “I hope so,” she whispered. “I hope they knew how much they meant to me.”
Ellie didn’t hesitate this time. She settled to her knees beside Jay, letting her presence speak where words failed. The desert wind tugged at her flannel shirt, and she squinted against the lowering sun. “You, uh…” She cleared her throat. “You want a minute?”
Jay swallowed hard, eyes still fixed on the canyon’s yawning depth. She considered the question, thinking of the plan, her plan she hadn’t shared with her new friend, the quiet, destructive vow she’d carried from Western North Carolina all the way here. Right now, though, looking at Ellie. She felt a pang of uncertainty twist in her chest, something maybe she wanted more than her plan.
The only outward sign of her turmoil was a subtle nod. “Maybe,” she said. “But you… you can stay if you want. I—” She cut herself off, exhaling a heavy breath. “I’m not sure I can do this alone.”
Ellie’s heart clenched at the raw honesty in those words. She rested a tentative hand on Jay’s back, feeling Jay’s sharp inhale beneath her palm. “Okay,” Ellie murmured, voice warm.
They stayed like that, side by side, gazing at the horizon as it shifted from gold to burnt orange. Dakota pressed close, and Rowan stood further back, occasionally pawing the ground with soft sighs.
After a while, Jay spoke again, eyes still damp. “I always thought… once I did this, everything would make sense,” she admitted, her tone almost desperate. “Like I’d have some… peace.”
Ellie swallowed, carefully rubbing Jay’s shoulder. “Does it feel that way?”
Jay paused, tasting the air. “I don’t know,” she said quietly, voice quivering. “It’s… not as simple as I thought.”
Ellie just nodded, respecting the tangled emotions, yet wishing Jay would keep talking to her, would confide in her fully, so that Ellie could try and help. But she didn’t push. They’d come this far together, and Ellie trusted that maybe, in time, Jay would reveal what weighed on her heart. Jay was not a closed off person like Ellie was and she shared a lot with Ellie.
Behind them, the sun dipped closer to the canyon’s rim, painting the sky in fiery bands. As darkness approached, the echo of the wind across the carved rock seemed to whisper past stories of loss, hope, and endurance.
They left the canyon and made camp. Then soon night fell over their makeshift campsite with an uncanny stillness. The soft flicker of the dying fire cast shadows on the rocky ground, where Ellie and Jay had rolled out their blankets a few hours before. Dakota lay curled near Jay’s feet, while Rowan dozed a short distance away. The day had been emotional, grappling with all they’d lost and the question of what came next.
Ellie drifted to sleep in slow breaths, exhaustion finally winning over. But Jay’s mind wouldn’t settle. She lay on her side, staring into the dying embers of the fire, thoughts whirling like a sandstorm. The ache in her chest refused to fade, fueled by the mental script she’d carried since she’d left North Carolina. Now that my grandparents’ ashes are scattered…what's left? What is there to keep going for?
She waited, heart hammering, until she heard the steady rhythm of Ellie’s breathing, slow and deep. Carefully, Jay lifted Dakota’s head from her knee and stood, pressing a reassuring palm to his back. He stirred, giving a quiet snuffle, but she hushed him with a gentle motion of her hand.
With trembling fingers, Jay loosened the holster at her belt, slipping out her pistol. In the muted glow of the moonlight, the gun’s metal glinted cold and unfeeling. She swallowed hard. I have to go, she told herself. I’m so tired. So tired of fighting.
It took every ounce of resolve not to look back at Ellie as she gathered her coat and crept away from the campsite, stepping carefully around scattered rocks to keep from making noise. A part of her, a big part, wanted to stay, to slip back under the blanket. But the old weight of her plan pressed heavier than ever. Her grandparents were gone; their ashes spread across the canyon. Her goal, her only goal she’d had for the past two years was complete. She had no future. Not really.
Moonlight guided her across the stony ground as she retraced the path to the canyon’s edge. Each step brought her closer to the precipice, and her heart thudded louder in her ears, as if trying to anchor her in this world.
It’s time, she told herself firmly, yet her grip on the pistol trembled. She’d been so certain that once she scattered those ashes, there’d be no more reason to keep going. She was tired, tired of surviving on scraps, tired of not seeing a future, tired of losing the people she loved. But as she drew closer to the edge, Ellie’s face rose in her mind. The feelings that were growing for the other woman.
She paused, breath hitching. She could almost see Ellie’s fierce green eyes and stubborn stance, the way she’d risked herself to kill that stalker in the gas station. The way she’d risked her heart by letting Jay in, even just a tiny little bit. Don’t do this, an inner voice whispered. You care about her. You’re not alone anymore. Remember what Grandma had told you.
Jay squeezed her eyes shut, tears burning the corners. She took another wavering step, the canyon yawning before her, an endless drop into darkness. The wind gusted, tugging at her longer wavy hair, stinging her cheeks. Her hand shook around the pistol’s grip.
I’ll drag her down, how can I help her when I can’t even help myself, she doesn’t need my baggage on top of her own, she insisted, old guilt warring with the fledgling hope she felt when Ellie was near.
Another gust of wind, colder this time, rattled through the desert brush. It whipped dust across her boots, forcing her to blink. And with that blink came the memory of Ellie’s voice earlier that day: “You’re not alone.” Ellie’s hand on her shoulder, warm and reassuring. The quiet promise in her eyes when she’d said.
Jay felt her knees threatening to buckle. She stood there, perched on the brink in the moonlit stillness, paralyzed by the war between her despair and the fragile new bond she’d formed with her new friend. I could end it now, she thought. But if I do… I’ll never see her again. Never know if maybe there’s something worth fighting for, something real.
Her breathing came faster, tears slipping down her cheeks. She’d thought she was ready, that she had no other path, no more fight left. But Ellie changed things. The realization was as terrifying as it was comforting: Jay didn’t just want oblivion anymore. She wanted, needed, someone… and that someone was back at camp, asleep, trusting her to still be there in the morning when she woke up.
Slowly, painfully, Jay lowered the pistol. Her eyes flickered over the canyon, as if searching for a sign from the ashes she’d released that afternoon. There was no miraculous vision, no sudden rush of warmth, just the steady presence of the wind and the quiet hum of the night.
Her tears fell freely now, and she let out a ragged sob, covering her mouth to stifle the sound. She couldn’t do it, not tonight. Her grief was too real, her despair too deep, but so was the tether that bound her to Ellie, to Dakota, to Rowan. They were the only proof she had that maybe her life still mattered.
After a few long moments, Jay exhaled shakily, turning her back on the canyon’s void. She tucked the pistol into her belt, shoulders slumped with a mixture of relief and shame. How do I face her now? she wondered, tears streaking her cheeks. She doesn’t even know what I was about to do…
She stared at the moonlit trail winding back to camp, unsure if she could bear walking it. But the thought of Ellie waking to find Jay gone, maybe discovering her lifeless body if she followed Jay’s trail, was worse than anything she could imagine.
So, with trembling legs, Jay forced herself away from the brink, each step heavier than the last. She headed back toward their small flicker of firelight in the distance, guided by the faint glow and the hope that maybe, just maybe, she wasn’t as broken as she feared.
Early dawn light tinted the canyon’s rim with delicate pinks and golds. Jay watched the sunrise from just beyond their small camp, her breath still a little unsteady from the night before. She hadn’t slept much, if at all, but she’d made it back without waking Ellie. Now she stared into the distance where the desert met the sky, trying to collect her thoughts.
Behind her, the sound of soft footsteps crunching on gravel announced Ellie’s approach. Jay turned to find Ellie blinking sleep from her eyes, one hand running through her short hair. Dakota trotted beside Ellie, licking her hand, then giving Jay a gentle bump against her leg before circling around to find a morning sniff.
“Mornin’,” Ellie murmured, voice raspier than usual.
Jay gave a small nod, a ghost of a smile on her lips. “Morning,” she replied. She tossed a quick look at the canyon, then back to Ellie, her expression torn between relief and a subdued heaviness. “Look, it’s early but I—I wanted to ask you something.”
Ellie’s brow furrowed. She stepped closer, arms folding loosely across her chest. “Shoot.”
Jay exhaled, mentally rehearsing how to phrase it. “Now that… now that I’ve done what I came to do, I guess there’s not much… anything keeping me here,” she began, gesturing vaguely to the imposing rock formations and endless desert beyond. “We could, y’know, search for that settlement. Or move on somewhere else entirely.” She paused, meeting Ellie’s eyes. “What… do you want to do?”
Ellie raised an eyebrow, glancing sidelong at the vast landscape. “Honestly? I’m kinda over deserts,” she admitted wryly, kicking a stone with the toe of her boot. It skittered into a patch of scraggly weeds. “All this sun and dust… I’m ready for greener pastures, or something close to it.”
Jay managed a genuine, if faint, smile. She rubbed the back of her neck, nodding. “Yeah, I get that,” she said softly. “It’s been… a lot of nothing but heat and sand for a while now.”
“Tell me about it,” Ellie mumbled, casting a glance at Dakota, who lifted his head as though in agreement. Then her gaze drifted back to Jay, a flicker of uncertainty in her eyes. “But I’m not sure where exactly. North-East is an option, but it’s not like we have a map full of friendly towns. And to the east, it’s more… well, cities, I guess.”
Jay studied Ellie’s face, thinking of all the times they’d stood side by side, scavenging in old gas stations or riding across empty highways. “We’ll figure it out,” she offered, her tone more resolute than she felt. “I mean, if you… if you want to keep traveling together that is.”
Ellie picked at her fingers as she looked down, a small habit she had when she felt uneasy or thoughtful. “I do,” she admitted slowly. “I mean, I’m not exactly the best traveling partner, or whatever, but… you’re not so bad to have around.”
Jay’s lips twitched in a tiny grin, relief shining in her eyes. “Right back at you. Besides, Dakota would probably disown me if I left you now,” she teased, crouching to give the dog a scratch behind the ears. “He’s gotten kinda really attached.”
Ellie’s smile widened, her gaze flicking over to Rowan, who nosed at a tuft of dry grass nearby. “We’ll need to keep him stocked with water,” she mused, patting the horse’s flank as she walked by. “Wherever we go, let’s make sure it’s somewhere with a little more… life.”
“Agreed,” Jay said, pushing a loose strand of hair behind her ear. She hesitated, remembering the turmoil of the night before, the canyon edge, the gun in her hand. A quiet wave of gratitude washed over her that she was still here, with Ellie, choosing to move on instead of ending it all. For now. “We can pick a direction, see if we can find cooler land. Rivers, maybe. Forests.”
Ellie’s eyes lit up at the mention of forest. “That’d be nice,” she said, the corners of her mouth twitching in an almost-smile. “Tired of looking at sand… and so fucking tired of sand in my shoes.”
They both chuckled quietly. The morning breeze ruffled their clothes, carrying away some of the tension that had weighed on them. After a moment, Ellie lifted her chin toward the canyon. “We, uh… you need another minute to say goodbye?”
Jay glanced back at the breathtaking view, the sun now higher and turning the canyon walls a brilliant orange. She took a measured breath, feeling a small pang in her chest. “I think… I said all I needed to,” she replied softly. Then she turned back to Ellie, meeting her gaze with a fragile kind of hope. “I’m ready to go… with you.”
“Then let’s go,” Ellie said, her tone simple yet full of meaning.
Together, they gathered their few belongings, double-checking their supplies and adjusting Rowan’s saddle. Dakota circled excitedly, as if he sensed the new journey starting. When they finally left the canyon behind, it was with a mutual understanding: whatever came next, they’d face it side by side. Away from the desert, and all the ghosts they were leaving behind.
Chapter 7: Her Walls
Summary:
Thank you for reading! Please note I am continually improving! I understand the first few chapters of this story are not my personal favorite; beginnings are and always have been hard for me, and I am currently working on revamping them! However, if you stick with the story until they at least get to Knoxville (chapter 13), I think you might enjoy it! I update frequently and am always open to kind, constructive criticism.
Chapter Text
Their journey North-East felt like shedding old skins. Each day, the landscape grew less arid, with the once-barren stretches of desert giving way to patchy grasses, scraggly shrubs, and eventually scattered clusters of trees. The dry, scorching breeze mellowed into something crisper, and the temperature shifted by a few degrees every hundred miles, nudging them toward more forgiving climates.
One morning, they came upon rolling hills dotted with tall pines. Jay halted in astonishment at the swath of green, it was so different from the dusty roads behind them. Ellie grinned at Jay’s wonder, a flicker of satisfaction that her companion was starting to relax again.
Travel got easier, too. With more foliage came more animals, and they occasionally found small, overgrown farmsteads to scavenge. Several times, they even managed to supplement their canned goods with berries or wild greens that Jay recognized from her childhood at Biltmore. Ellie, skeptical at first, admitted the fresh tang of greenery beat almost 30-year-old canned food any day.
Eventually, they followed a winding dirt trail that promised water. Dakota’s ears perked first, and after a couple more bends through a thick stand of trees, they heard the rush of a river. When they broke through, they found a wide, shallow bank shaded by tall pines, the water sparkling under the midday sun.
Jay tossed her pack to the ground, stripping off her boots without a word. She waded in up to her calves and let out a triumphant whoop, the cold water numbing her toes in the best way. Ellie followed suit, though she was more cautious with her gear, removing her jacket and setting it atop a rock. Dakota bounded in and out, snapping at the ripples on the water, while Rowan stayed on the shore, nosing curiously at the water’s edge and drinking deeply.
Their laughter echoed along the riverbank as they splashed around; an impromptu break from the day’s grind. At one point, Jay teased Ellie, chasing her with a handful of water. Jay shrieked, thoroughly soaked, and Ellie tried to retaliate, only for Jay to trip in a shallow current and burst into giggles. For a time, they forgot the dangers that lurked in the world. It was simple, carefree fun neither of them had tasted in too long.
After they dried off and made a small fire for warmth, they sat on the pebbled bank, soaking in the late afternoon sun. Ellie was distractedly combing fingers through her damp hair when Jay casually mentioned an old story about a fling back in her Biltmore days. Ellie raised an eyebrow, curiosity piqued, and asked, “Wait—so what was her name…Lidia?”
Jay nodded with a laugh, adding, “Oh, I’ve had my share of crushes on guys, too.” Ellie blinked, a new layer of understanding settling in. “Huh. So, you like… both?” Jay shrugged, smiling. “Yeah, guess so. But I do prefer women more…”
The conversation flowed more naturally after that. Jay seemed at ease sharing little bits of her past: how she once tried, and failed, to learn how to fix the tractor from her grandfather’s best friend Jeff, how she’s always been more comfortable with animals than most people, how she nearly fell off a barn roof once just to prove she could catch pigeons. Ellie snorted at that last story, shaking her head in amused disbelief.
They made camp near that river for two nights, savoring its tranquility. Each morning, they’d wake to soft birdsong, and each evening, they’d watch the sunset paint the water in hues of gold and pink. Ellie would catch herself smiling more often, sometimes at Jay’s anecdotes, sometimes at nothing at all.
By the time they packed up and continued north, both of them felt buoyed by the quiet joy they’d shared by the river. The world was still dangerous, of course, but for those fleeting days, they’d found a small refuge in each other’s company and the sound of rushing water. It was enough to keep them both hopeful as they trudged onward through the wild, ever-changing green.
*************************
One afternoon Ellie and Jay had been carefully working their way through an old farmhouse they found in the woods, moving quietly from room to room, searching through drawers, cabinets, and closets. The air inside was thick with dust, decay, and memories; a reminder of the lives that had once filled this place, now long gone.
Ellie moved carefully into the living room, eyes scanning the space for anything valuable. Jay was just a few steps behind her, gently brushing fingertips along a collection of faded family photographs still hanging crookedly on the wall.
“Find anything?” Jay asked softly, breaking the thick silence.
Ellie shook her head, distracted by her search. “Nothing useful yet. You?”
Jay gave a faint shrug, eyes lingering sadly on a photo of a smiling family. “Just memories someone left behind.”
Ellie glanced back at her, about to respond, when suddenly there was a loud crash from the kitchen. Both women immediately froze, bodies rigid, hearts pounding.
Before Ellie could even react, Jay let out a startled scream; short, involuntary, but sharp enough to pierce the quiet house. Ellie spun instantly toward her, adrenaline surging painfully through her chest, her vision swimming with sudden, uncontrollable panic.
In a heartbeat, Ellie was somewhere else entirely.
Suddenly she was back in that lodge in Jackson, Joel on the ground, Abby standing over him with the golf club raised, that sickening crunch echoing through her head. Ellie’s breathing quickened, shallow and harsh, her chest constricting tightly. The ringing in her ear got louder and louder.
“No—Joel—stop!” Ellie shouted desperately, her voice cracking, terrified and furious, her hands shaking uncontrollably. Ellie dropped to the floor scooting back till her back hit the wall.
Jay turned quickly toward Ellie, confusion and fear crossing her face. “Ellie—?”
But Ellie couldn’t hear her. All she could see was Joel’s face; bloody, battered, lifeless on that cold floor. Abby’s face twisted with hatred and vengeance.
“Stop it—don’t you fucking touch him!” Ellie screamed again, voice raw and breaking, eyes wide and filled with tears she didn’t realize were streaming down her cheeks.
Jay stepped forward cautiously, crouching down, then reaching gently for Ellie’s arm, concern deeply etched into her face. “Ellie, it’s okay—hey, Ellie, look at me—”
Ellie recoiled sharply from Jay’s touch, eyes wide and unseeing. “Get away! Get off me! Let him go! Joel!”
Jay’s heart twisted painfully at the sight, quickly realizing Ellie was trapped somewhere terrifying, reliving a moment Jay couldn’t even begin to imagine. She reached out again, softer this time, carefully trying to break through Ellie’s nightmare.
“Ellie, please,” Jay said gently, voice soothing and calm despite her own rising panic. “It’s me, Jay. You’re safe. It’s not real. It’s only me, Dakota, and you here. Come back to me.”
But Ellie only shook her head violently, stumbling backward, nearly tripping over a broken chair behind her. Her breaths came quicker, harder, dangerously fast. Her eyes darted around wildly, trapped in the moment she’d lost Joel.
“No—please, stop! Please don’t—Joel!” Ellie’s voice cracked painfully, pleading, broken, echoing loudly through the empty falling apart farmhouse.
Jay moved slowly, carefully, her chest tightening painfully as she recognized how deeply Ellie was trapped in trauma. Dakota, sensing something wrong, approached quietly, ears back, tail lowered, whining softly.
“Ellie,” Jay murmured again, slowly lowering herself to Ellie’s level, eyes gentle, voice quiet and reassuring. “Listen to my voice. Joel isn’t here. You’re safe. You’re with me. You’re with me and Dakota.”
Ellie’s eyes flickered briefly toward Jay, confusion and pain warring in her gaze. Her breathing still came in desperate, shallow gasps, but something in Jay’s soft, steady voice started reaching her, pulling her slowly back from the nightmare.
“Jay…?” Ellie whispered, voice trembling, uncertain, the name grounding her slightly. Her hand went to her chest. “Where—Joel?”
Jay gently touched Ellie’s cheek, carefully brushing away tears Ellie hadn’t realized she’d shed. “He’s not here, Ellie. You’re safe. I promise you’re safe.”
Ellie shuddered violently, her body slowly beginning to relax under Jay’s soft touch. Her breathing evened out gradually, still shaking but no longer frantic. She blinked rapidly, her surroundings coming slowly back into focus. The farmhouse. Jay. Dakota hovering anxiously nearby.
“Jay… fuck—I’m sorry,” Ellie whispered hoarsely, voice breaking as fresh tears spilled down her face. Shame and fear twisted sharply inside her. “I—I didn’t mean—”
Jay immediately drew Ellie close, wrapping gentle but protective arms around her, holding her securely as Ellie buried her face into Jay’s shoulder, breathing still ragged but slowing.
“It’s okay,” Jay whispered soothingly, softly rubbing Ellie’s back. “You don’t need to apologize. I’ve got you.”
Ellie clung tightly to Jay, allowing herself a rare moment of vulnerability, finally breaking under the weight of the trauma she’d carried silently for so long. She shook quietly in Jay’s arms, haunted by the vision she could never truly escape.
“It’s been so long since I’ve—since that’s… happened,” Ellie whispered brokenly, voice muffled against Jay’s shoulder. “He was right there. I couldn’t—I couldn’t save him…”
Jay’s heart broke at the helplessness in Ellie’s voice. She gently tightened her embrace, quietly reassuring her.
“It’s okay, it doesn’t bother me,” Jay murmured softly, steadily, determinedly. “I’m right here, Ellie. Always.”
Slowly, Ellie’s breathing calmed fully, her trembling easing under Jay’s soothing touch. She finally lifted her head, eyes reddened and raw, vulnerable but deeply grateful.
“Thank you,” Ellie whispered quietly, voice filled with raw sincerity. “I’m sorry you had to see that. I—I hate losing control.”
Jay softly brushed Ellie’s hair from her face, gentle but firm. “You don’t need to apologize. Not for this… not to me. Ever.”
Ellie nodded weakly, sighing shakily as she leaned into Jay’s comforting touch. Dakota quietly stepped closer, nudging Ellie gently with his nose, licking her cheek, clearly sensing her lingering distress. Ellie managed a faint, fragile smile, gently scratching his ears.
Jay held Ellie a moment longer before softly whispering, “Whenever you’re ready, we’ll head out. But not until you’re okay.”
Ellie exhaled deeply, exhaustion heavy in her voice. “Yeah. Just… give me a second.”
Jay stayed right by Ellie’s side, patient and protective, refusing to move until she knew Ellie was truly steady enough to continue. For now, they sat quietly on the dusty floor of the abandoned farmhouse, Ellie slowly finding her way back.
The sky was a deep indigo when they finally set up camp near a cluster of tall pines. Twilight’s cool hush had settled in, and the forest around them buzzed with nocturnal life, crickets chirping, coyote’s yapping, leaves rustling in a soft breeze. By the embers of a small fire, Jay was carefully patching a tear in one of Rowan’s saddlebags, while Ellie paced at the edge of the campsite, fingers twitching by her switchblade.
Something was off, Jay could feel it. Ellie’s movements were tense, her gaze distant. She had that haunted look again, the one Jay recognized by now: the one that said Ellie was wrestling with some memory that refused to let go.
“Hey,” Jay called softly, pausing her stitching. “You all right?”
Ellie flinched at the sound of Jay’s voice, as if yanked out of her own head. She turned sharply, eyes narrowed. “I’m fine,” she snapped, the edge in her tone a stark contrast to the peaceful night. “Why wouldn’t I fucking be?”
Jay studied Ellie’s rigid posture, the way her shoulders hunched, ready for a fight. “I just noticed you’re… restless,” Jay tried, keeping her own voice gentle. “Thought maybe something was bothering you. I am happy to listen if you want to talk about it.”
Ellie let out a short, mirthless laugh and resumed pacing. “God, does everything have to be about me needing fucking therapy or some shit?” Her words held more bite than usual. “Maybe I’m just… sick of the trees, or fed up with traveling again. Ever think of that?”
Jay caught the flash of guilt in Ellie’s eyes as soon as she spat the words. Ellie knew she was lashing out, but she couldn’t help it. The weight of a past regret or trauma was suffocating her tonight, and everything Jay said seemed to press on that unseen bruise.
Instead of taking offense, Jay set the saddlebag aside and slowly rose to her feet. She kept her hands visible and her tone soft, as though approaching a startled animal. “I get it,” she said gently. “We’ve been on the road a while. It wears you down.”
Ellie’s jaw tightened. She turned away from Jay, kicking a loose pinecone hard enough that it skittered into the darkness. “Stop acting like you know what’s going on in my head,” she muttered, voice low with tension. “It’s… not your fucking problem, okay? What, you think you can fix me? You think if you stick around long enough, I’ll just magically stop being—” She cuts herself off, shaking her head violently.
Jay’s stomach knots, but she keeps her voice steady. “I never said I was trying to fix you, Ellie.” Jay swallowed back the ache she felt watching Ellie so wound up. She was quiet for a beat, then she ventured closer, standing a careful distance behind Ellie. “Maybe it’s not my problem,” she conceded. “But I do care. So it matters to me.”
Ellie shook her head, pressing the heel of her hand against her forehead like she could physically push away the memories gnawing at her. “You don’t understand,” she muttered, a tremor creeping into her words. “Everyone I care about—everyone—I end up losing or… hurting. So just—fucking don’t.”
Jay’s heart twisted. She reached out, slow and measured, lightly resting her fingers on Ellie’s arm. “Hey,” she murmured. “I’m not going anywhere right now. And I’m not afraid of… dealing with your nightmares, if that’s what you’re worried about.”
That touch, gentle as it was, finally broke something in Ellie. “You say that now,” she said, voice cracking. “But people always leave, or they get—die. It’s always the same story.” Her anger faltered, replaced by the brittle edge of pain.
“Ellie,” she said, speaking her name with quiet warmth. She shifted a step closer, her hand still resting gently against Ellie’s arm. “I can’t promise forever. But right now, I’m here. And I’m not leaving.”
Ellie clenched her teeth, a tremor running through her shoulders as she fought to keep it all in, frustration, fear, grief. “Why do you have to be so—so calm?” she muttered, half-resentful, half-relieved. “Shouldn’t you be pissed that I’m acting like a jerk?”
A faint, sad smile tugged at Jay’s lips. “I’m not mad,” she admitted. “I know what it’s like to push people away… and wish they’d stay anyway.”
For a long second, Ellie’s breathing was ragged, her eyes flickering over Jay’s face. Something about Jay’s unflinching kindness cut through her defenses. Slowly, she let out a shaky breath. “I’m sorry,” she whispered, her tone drained of the earlier venom. “I just… sometimes I can’t control it. The stuff that comes up.”
Jay nodded, the crackle of the small campfire the only other sound in the hush of the pines. “I know,” she murmured. “It’s okay.”
“You sure you’re not gonna bail?” she asked, her voice vulnerable as she searched Jay’s eyes.
Jay’s gentle fingers squeezed Ellie’s arm in return. “Not bailing,” she promised, softly but firmly. “Not tonight, not tomorrow.”
Ellie pressed her lips together, exhaling a breath she’d been holding in for what felt like ages. Slowly, she nodded. “All right,” she said, her voice steadier. “I… thanks.”
Jay offered a small, reassuring smile. “I got you,” she said simply, guiding Ellie back toward the campfire. Dakota stirred from where he’d been lying watchful in the shadows, ears perking at their return.
They settled near the embers, side by side, neither speaking more than a few words. But in the hush of the forest night, Ellie felt a little less alone with her memories, and Jay was content to keep close, even if it meant facing the barbs of Ellie’s pain.
Ellie’s heartbeat hammering more from the swirling emotions inside her than the chill of the forest air. After her outburst, pushing Jay away, feeling overwhelmed by old memories, she now felt an ache that wasn’t just about hurt or anger. It was need. A raw, urgent desire to lose herself in someone who cared. To not think about anything other than right now.
She stared at the campfire’s glowing embers, trying to steady her breathing. Even though she’d apologized earlier for snapping, it hadn’t eased the heaviness left behind by all the memories crowding her mind; Dina, the farm, the day she’d come back to find everything she had left just gone. She wanted to silence that ache with something immediate, something good.
Ellie shifted, turning so that her knee bumped Jay’s thigh. Jay looked up from Rowan’s bridle she was cleaning, concern gently etched across her features. “You okay?” she asked softly, ever patient.
In the firelight, Ellie studied Jay’s face, noticing the warmth in her eyes. A kind of acceptance she wasn’t used to someone giving her anymore. “I… I don’t want to think,” Ellie whispered, voice catching. “Not tonight. I just… want to forget.”
Jay’s gaze flickered for a moment, then understanding dawning in her expression. “Okay,” Jay said gently. She didn’t press for details; she never did. “I’m here.”
Ellie swallowed hard. Her fingers curled around Jay’s, and for a moment, she just savored that simple contact; a lifeline in the darkness. Then she leaned closer. She felt the slight tremor in her own chest, the leap of her pulse. Am I really doing this? The answer was yes, she needed it.
Jay watched her carefully, full realization flashing on her face but making no move to pull away. “Ellie,” she started, voice a quiet hush. “Are you sure?”
A pang of gratitude coursed through Ellie that Jay would even ask. She nodded, shifting so their foreheads nearly touched. The flicker of the fire cast dancing shadows across their faces. “Yes,” Ellie breathed. “I’m sure.”
They closed the distance, the first kiss tentative. Ellie’s lips brushing Jay’s, more question than demand. Jay responded gently, letting Ellie set the pace. Her hand slipped to the small of Ellie’s back, anchoring her, reminding her she wasn’t alone.
The kiss deepened, and Ellie let her eyes drift shut, shutting out the forest, the night, the memories. She felt Jay’s breath hitch, felt a warm palm slide up over her shoulder. There was no rush, no frantic clawing. Just a soft yielding, two people finding solace in each other, trading gentle touches in the glow of the dying fire.
At one point, Ellie pulled back, her breath coming quicker, heart pounding. She searched Jay’s face for any sign of uncertainty or regret. Instead, she found Jay gazing at her with a gentle tenderness that both soothed and ached. It made her want to cry and smile all at once.
“Ellie…” Jay’s voice was low, almost reverent.
Ellie pressed their lips together more forcefully now, wanting to say so many things; about Dina, the farm, Santa Barbara, how everything hurt. But tonight, words felt too heavy. And this was just a way to forget. Instead, she leaned in again, her hands sliding over Jay’s shoulder pulling Jay’s shirt off. “Shut up,” Ellie whispered, but the phrase held no bite this time, only a cracked longing. “Just… shut up.”
Jay nodded, her hand sliding softly over Ellie’s neck, thumb grazing her jaw. The next kiss came easier. Ellie pressed against Jay’s warmth, the steady thrum of another heartbeat offering a distraction from the ghosts she carried. She allowed herself to sink into that comfort, to just feel. Her feelings were complicated and a part she’d never admit knew she was using Jay.
In the background, Dakota lay quietly, head resting on his paws, as though sensing this moment was different. And the fire hissed softly, sending gentle sparks into the cool air. Rowan, tethered a few yards away, occasionally snorted, but the rest of the forest fell away.
They lay down together, exchanging slow, exploring touches. Neither rushed nor hesitated, the movements flowed as a shared decision, an unspoken understanding. Ellie focused on Jay’s warmth, the softness of her breath against Ellie’s neck, the solid reassurance of each small press of experienced fingers or lips. Each caress pulled her further from the ache of the past and anchored her in the now.
No words needed to fill the silence as the night wore on. Just quiet gasps, moans, and soft murmurs, a gentle unfolding of trust. In a world that had taken so much from them both, this was a brief pocket of safety, a moment to let go of guilt and heartache and simply be.
When at last they stilled, the embers of the fire had almost gone out, leaving them in a cocoon of darkness and shared warmth under Jay’s blanket. Ellie found herself curling into Jay’s side, still a bit breathless, eyes lingering on Jay’s face. In the dim light, their gazes locked, and Ellie realized with a pang that she felt lighter, maybe only for tonight, maybe just for these fleeting moments, but the memories had stopped and that’s all she wanted.
Jay opened her mouth to speak, but Ellie’s fingertips brushed over Jay’s lips, wordlessly telling her not to talk. Wanting to still pretend she was with Dina in the farm house, if only for a few seconds more. A tear slipped down Ellie’s cheek anyway, equal parts relief and sorrow for everything that once was. Jay gently wiped it away, pressing a tender kiss to Ellie’s temple.
They let the quiet settle around them like a gentle tide. Ellie stared at the dying coals in the fire pit, feeling the slow beat of Jay’s heart against her as she had fallen asleep, and for the first time in what felt like ages, she wasn’t lost in the memories of Dina or the farm or Santa Barbara. She was here, with Jay, and for one night she could breathe again.
Eventually, Ellie’s eyelids grew heavy, lulled by the warmth of Jay’s body and the steady hush of the forest. She let herself drift, clinging to that fragile comfort. In the morning, the pain might return in full force. But for now, under a blanket of stars and pine silhouettes, Ellie was content to forget, just for tonight.
Dawn broke over the forest in a quiet gray fog, the fog dancing in the clearing where they’d camped. A cool morning breeze rustled through the pines, carrying the earthy scent of damp needles. Ellie stirred from the blanket, opening her eyes to see Jay crouched by the fire, carefully tending a small pot balanced on a makeshift tripod of rocks. Dakota lay nearby, ears flicking as he watched Jay with interest. Ellie’s clothes are folded neatly by her sleeping bag presumably by Jay.
For a moment, Ellie just observed. The night before still felt like a dream, hazy and warm. She flexed her fingers, remembering the feel of last night. There was a strange comfort in seeing Jay here, the morning sun catching in her wavy brown hair as she stirred something that smelled like oatmeal.
Ellie pushed herself up, running a hand through her short tangled hair. She opened her mouth to call out, voice still thick with sleep. “Hey… Dina—” She froze. The name was out before she realized what she’d said. Heat surged in her cheeks, and she clamped her lips shut, mind reeling. Oh, God… no, fuck.
Jay turned, confusion flashing in her light brown eyes. “What did you say?”
Ellie’s stomach twisted painfully. She swallowed, shame washing over her. “I—Jay, I meant Jay,” she stammered, her voice betraying her panic. “Sorry, I—uh… I got mixed up.” She broke off, feeling unbearably stupid. “Fuck…”
Jay didn’t look angry, only curious, and maybe a bit concerned. “It’s… okay,” she said gently, leaving the pot for a moment to move closer. “I… guess that’s someone’s name? Someone important? I’ve never heard you mention a Dina before.”
Ellie cast her gaze at the ground, every muscle rigid. She hated how her name still found its way into her mouth, unbidden, like a stubborn ghost. “I… haven’t talked about her to you. Ever,” she admitted, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “She was… someone important. Someone I lost.”
Jay studied Ellie’s expression, searching. The early morning light showed shadows under Ellie’s eyes and the telltale tightness in her jaw. “I’m sorry,” Jay said softly, no judgment in her voice. “You don’t have to tell me anything if you’re not ready.”
A messy swirl of emotions tightened Ellie’s chest, grief, guilt, embarrassment. She rubbed her arms, the cool morning air prickling her skin. “Thanks,” she whispered, voice rough. Why can’t I just be normal about this?
Jay offered a small, cautious smile. “Breakfast is nearly done,” she said. “We’ve got some oatmeal… found it in that old farmhouse we were in yesterday. Thought you might be hungry.”
Ellie nodded, relief stirring that Jay wasn’t pushing further. She stepped carefully over a fallen log, seating herself beside the fire. The warm smell of cooked oats soothed some of her nerves. Dakota snuffled at Ellie’s boots, then settled next to her, as though offering silent reassurance.
They sat in companionable silence for a few heartbeats as Jay ladled the oatmeal into a battered tin bowl. When she offered it to Ellie, her eyes were kind, no trace of anger or resentment over the slip of the name. Ellie took the bowl, grateful and still mortified keeping her gaze down.
After a tentative spoonful, Ellie finally found the courage to speak. “It’s… I’m sorry about that,” she mumbled, keeping her gaze on the steam curling from the oatmeal. “I’m—still dealing with a lot. She was… part of my life before, and I guess my brain still… goes there sometimes.”
Jay nodded, considering her words. She rested a comforting hand on Ellie’s knee. “I understand,” she said quietly. “We’ve all got people we can’t forget. It’s okay if their names still slip out.”
Ellie’s eyes prickled with emotion. She took a shaky breath, feeling that old heartbreak twist inside her but grateful for Jay’s compassion. Making her feel so much worse that she used Jay the night before. “Thanks,” she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper.
They finished breakfast in near silence, punctuated only by the sounds of the forest waking up. Eventually, Jay cleared her throat and stood to stir the fire’s embers, letting them burn down for the day’s travel. She looked back at Ellie with the same gentle patience that had become her hallmark. “We can talk about Dina whenever you want,” she said, voice steady. “Or not at all.”
Ellie hesitated, then managed a small smile. “Maybe… maybe one day I will,” she admitted, her heart still heavy but just a bit lighter for Jay not being upset. For knowing Jay wasn’t pushing her away or demanding more than Ellie could give.
Jay returned her smile, a quiet acceptance in her eyes. With Dakota at her side, she doused the embers, leaving Ellie to sit in the hush of the morning, haunted but not hopeless. In the fragile light, with the ache of old memories still fresh, Ellie found unexpected solace. Jay wasn’t Dina, and she never could be. But she was there, offering understanding and warmth in a life that had been too full of loss.
Chapter 8: In The Pines
Summary:
Thank you for reading! Please note I am continually improving! I understand the first few chapters of this story are not my personal favorite; beginnings are and always have been hard for me, and I am currently working on revamping them! However, if you stick with the story until they at least get to Knoxville (chapter 13), I think you might enjoy it! I update frequently and am always open to kind, constructive criticism.
Chapter Text
It all exploded on a muggy afternoon in a quiet stretch of forest trail. The sky loomed gray, hinting at the rain that never came, and the heavy atmosphere weighed on Ellie like a physical burden. She walked ahead of Jay, muscles taut, eyes scanning the undergrowth for any threat. But her tension went deeper than that, something in her mind churned and snarled, stirring up every terrible memory.
Jay followed a few steps behind, quietly watchful, Rowan’s reins loose in her hands. She’d learned to read Ellie’s body language well enough now to recognize the storm brewing. Dakota trotted between them, ears flicking as he picked up on the tension. Still, Jay kept her distance, waiting to see if Ellie would talk or if she should give her space.
After a few miles of strained silence, they reached a small clearing where a shallow creek snaked through mossy stones. It was still, almost serene, which only seemed to heighten Ellie’s restlessness. She finally stopped, pressing a hand to her temple as though fighting off a migraine.
Jay approached slowly, voice gentle. “Hey Ellie, you okay?” she asked, a familiar concern shining in her eyes.
Ellie’s fists clenched at her sides. For reasons she could hardly articulate, Jay’s kindness felt like salt on a raw wound. She couldn’t bear the thought of losing another person, of waking up someday to find Jay gone the same way Dina was, the way so many had been. Better to cut ties now before it hurts more, her mind insisted.
She whipped around, anger sharpening her words. “Back off,” she snapped, stepping away. “I’m fine.”
Jay hesitated, taken aback by the sudden hostility, but not deterred. “You don’t look fine,” she said calmly, trying to hold Ellie’s gaze. “If something’s wrong—”
“What’s wrong is you crowding me,” Ellie spat, her voice edged with bitterness she didn’t fully mean. She gestured at the space between them. “Don’t you get it? I’m done—done letting you in, done with whatever this is, done—” Her voice broke, but she forced it back into a harsh snarl. “Go find someone else to cling to. I’m not your fucking project.”
The venom in her tone cut deep, and Jay’s face flickered with hurt. But she didn’t step back. Instead, she spoke with quiet steadiness. “I’m not looking at you like a project. I’m here because I want to be.”
Ellie scoffed, turning away. “That’s your fucking mistake, then,” she muttered. She made a show of checking her gear as if preparing to storm off. “You’re a fucking idiot… I’m heading out on my own. You should do the same.”
Jay took a slow breath, reminding herself that Ellie’s anger wasn’t about hating her, this was fear, raw and unfiltered. She thought of all the progress they’d made, the nights spent watching each other’s backs, the trust that had formed and deepened. She knew Ellie was trying to burn the bridge before it could collapse on its own. She could tell Ellie that she’s not broken beyond repair, more than the ghosts that haunt her that she won’t share. But she knows Ellie won’t hear it. Not like this.
So instead, Jay does the one thing Ellie doesn’t expect. She doesn’t get angry. She doesn’t fight back. She just steps closer, slowly, carefully, and says, “Then tell me to leave.”
Ellie’s breath hitches. “What?”
Jay meets her eyes, unflinching. Her suicidal thoughts rising in her mind. “If you really think this… you are a waste of my time, tell me to leave. Right now. Say the words, and I will. I’m not leaving unless you tell me.” Jay said, voice unwavering. Jay takes a breath. “But just so we’re clear—I’m not leaving you.” She shakes her head. “Not now. Not later. Not unless you tell me to.”
Ellie’s throat tightens.
Jay offers a small, sad smile. “So, if you need to go, go. But don’t do it because you think I’m gonna disappear on you.” She hesitates, then steps back, giving Ellie space. “I’m right here, Ellie. You can let me in…”
Ellie bristled. She spun around, her eyes flaring with desperation. “What’s wrong with you?” she demanded, stepping close enough that Jay could see the fine tremor in her hands. “Why won’t you just fucking go? Are you that desperate for a companion? You think because I fucked you the other night that I actually like you or you mean anything to me?” She barked out a humorless laugh. “I was just using you if you didn’t realize that. I’ll disappoint you just like everyone else.”
Jay’s heart twisted with hurt, but she stayed level, meeting Ellie’s gaze head-on. “I know you’ve lost people,” she said gently. “And I’m sorry for that. But I’m not going anywhere.” She swallowed, letting the breeze rustle her hair. “Not unless you’re telling me you don’t want me around at all. Truly. And even then… I don’t know I’d need a damn good reason.”
Ellie’s eyes filled with tears she refused to let fall. The mixture of rage and sorrow in her chest felt like it might tear her apart. “I don’t want you around,” she lied, voice cracking. “I don’t— I can’t— I can’t do this again.”
Jay stepped a fraction closer, respecting the tight coil of Ellie’s body without backing down. “You’re scared,” she said softly, no accusation in her tone, just an understanding that threatened to break through Ellie’s walls.
Ellie’s breath hitched, her chest heaving with the force of emotion. “Of course I’m scared,” she whispered, tears threatening to spill. “Everyone leaves. Or they die. And if I keep you around, I’ll have to watch it happen all over again.” She squeezed her eyes shut, a bitter sob escaping. “So just fucking go.”
A heavy hush swallowed the clearing. Even the wind seemed to be still as Jay reached out carefully, her hand hovering near Ellie’s upper arm. She didn’t touch her just yet, not wanting to push if Ellie truly didn’t want it. “Ellie,” Jay murmured, her own voice trembling with empathy, “I’m not going to tell you it’ll never happen. We live in a messed-up world. But I swear, right here… right now, I’m here… and I want to be here. Not because I have to be. Not because it’s easier… because for me it’s not. But because I choose to be.”
Ellie shuddered, the fight draining from her eyes. She looked at Jay’s outstretched hand, torn between rage, longing, and a fear so profound it closed her throat. Part of her wanted to shove Jay away, scream at her to run. Another part wanted to collapse into her arms.
In the end, Ellie’s shoulders slumped, tears sliding free. She let out a shaky breath, stepping back but not leaving. Jay followed that tiny move, gently resting her palm against Ellie’s trembling arm. Ellie didn’t shove her off.
Tears traced down Ellie’s cheeks as she closed her eyes, exhausted by the effort of anger and heartbreak. Jay’s hand remained, steady and present. Dakota, sidled up to Ellie, pressing his muzzle against her leg.
They stood like that for a long moment, the forest quiet around them. Then, Ellie forced herself to speak, voice small. “I don’t want to lose you too. And that terrifies me.”
Jay’s expression was full of compassion. “I know,” she said softly. “It scares me, too.”
Ellie let out a trembling exhale, nodding once. That acknowledgment ‘it scares me, too’ was enough to keep her from running. She sniffed, wiping her face with the back of her hand. Jay stayed close, still not forcing any hug or contact beyond that gentle hand on Ellie’s shoulder.
The next few moments passed in silence, broken only by Ellie’s ragged breaths. Finally, she looked up at Jay, eyes reddened. “Let’s… let’s keep going,” she murmured, voice still rough. “We don’t want to lose daylight.”
Jay gave a small, understanding nod. “Yeah,” she agreed. “Let’s go.”
They began walking, side by side, Dakota trotting at their heels. Though Ellie had tried to force Jay away, tried to cut her loose, the two of them remained together, bound by a loyalty that refused to break under fear or anger. And that was due to Jay’s patience with Ellie which seemed to have no end.
*****************************
A light rain patted gently on the mossy forest floor as Ellie and Jay paused under a broad pine for shelter. Their Jacket hoods were drawn up. They’d been walking for hours, guided by the faint promise of a clearing ahead. Now, while Dakota sniffed at the perimeter and Rowan munched on dewy grass, they took a brief respite.
Jay huddled against the tree trunk, rubbing her chilled arms through her jacket. “Ugh, my grandfather would’ve hated this,” she muttered, half to herself.
Ellie glanced over, curiosity catching her. “Yeah? Why’s that?”
Jay’s mouth quirked in a half-smile. “He was never a fan of damp weather,” she explained, voice carrying a fond note of exasperation. “He’d call days like this ‘nuisances from Mother Nature.’ You’d see him stomping around, grumbling under his breath about mud and sniffles. Total grouch.” She rolled her eyes, an affectionate twinkle there. “But when I was little, it made me laugh, watching him rant over the smallest inconvenience.”
Ellie felt a familiar ache in her chest, some echo of longing. Joel hated the cold and wet, too, she thought. He’d complain whenever it rained, something about his old knees acting up or how he couldn’t get the mud out of his boots. She remembered him grumbling while she’d stifle a grin, telling him to suck it up.
“That’s… kinda like someone I used to know,” Ellie said slowly, a hint of a wry smile touching her lips. Her gaze drifted beyond the dripping branches, lost in recollection. “Joel… he’d whine about every small ache and pain. So damn grumpy sometimes.” Her throat tightened. “But… he could be sweet in his own way. He, uh, just never wanted anyone to notice, I guess.”
Jay’s expression softened, noting Ellie’s subdued tone. She shifted, turning to face Ellie more fully. “Was Joel… family?”
Ellie swallowed, the question making her insides twist. “I guess he was… yeah,” she answered, voice quiet. “Sort of. Didn’t start out that way, but in the end, he was the closest thing I had to a dad.” She paused, mentally pushing past the knot in her chest.
Jay didn’t interrupt, sensing Ellie was opening a door she usually kept locked. The drizzle continued, a gentle backdrop to the conversation.
“Joel had this dumb sense of humor,” Ellie continued, almost smiling at the memory. “But he tried to hide it…like if he let on he was actually enjoying something, it’d ruin his ‘tough old guy’ persona.” She shook her head. “I used to bug him with corny jokes, and he’d groan every time… but I think he secretly liked it.”
Jay’s lips curved in a small, empathetic smile. “He sounds a lot like my grandpa. He used to pretend he was all serious and grumpy, but if you caught him in the right mood, he’d bust out the worst sayings.”
Ellie nodded, a flicker of warmth chasing away the sorrow in her eyes. She found herself surprisingly grateful for the comparison. “Yeah. Exactly. Joel was gruff, but he looked out for me. Showed me things, like how to take care of and play a guitar, or how to read a map the old-fashioned way. Stuff he thought I’d need.”
Jay listened intently, letting silence fill the space when Ellie trailed off. Then she offered softly, “Do you miss him?”
Ellie took a slow breath, fighting the sting of tears behind her eyes. “Every day,” she admitted, voice wavering. She pressed her lips together. “I wish… I wish I’d told him more about how much he mattered. I mean, he knew, but… things got complicated for a few years. And then…”
She stopped, unable to finish. Jay reached out, gently resting a hand on Ellie’s arm. “I’m sorry,” Jay said, sincerity in every syllable.
Ellie nodded, letting the moment settle. The patter of rain on pine needles filled the hush that followed. “Thanks,” she said finally. “I—anyway, thanks for listening. And… for sharing about your grandpa.”
Jay gave her arm a comforting squeeze, then withdrew. “Anytime,” she murmured. “I’m glad you trusted me enough to tell me about Joel.”
Ellie looked up, offering a brief, tentative smile. “Yeah. Me too.”
They sat there in the soft drizzle. The gentle rain and quiet forest bore witness as they took a small step toward healing.
They had been following a winding road through Utah’s rugged terrain for the past few days, weaving between craggy canyons and high plateaus. Now, as dusk began to settle and the sky painted itself in hues of orange and violet, Ellie and Jay paused on a rocky overlook to take in the vast expanse below. Dakota sniffed the evening air, while Rowan flicked his tail, occasionally pawing the ground in mild impatience.
As they unrolled their bedrolls for the night, Jay turned to Ellie, a thoughtful crease on her brow. “You ever think about heading back to that settlement you mentioned to me before?” she asked softly, glancing down at her hands where she cradled a tin mug of water.
Ellie shrugged, an automatic, guarded response. But the question piqued her curiosity. “I haven’t… not really,” she confessed. “I mean, it’s a long way, and there’s… complicated stuff in that direction.” Memories flickered unbidden: old ghosts, Dina, Tommy, Maria, Jackson.
Jay nodded in understanding, then took a slow breath. “I’ve been thinking about Biltmore a lot the past few days,” she admitted, her voice laced with both fondness and sorrow. “My old home, my settlement.” She let out a faint chuckle. “Well, what’s left of it, anyway.”
Ellie’s brows lifted. She settled onto a nearby boulder, resting her elbows on her knees, giving Jay her full attention. “Yeah?” she asked. “Have you ever been back since… you know?”
Jay looked over at the last sliver of sun dipping behind the mountains. “No,” she said quietly. “After…after they were murdered, I headed west, and I didn’t look back. But… sometimes, especially now, I get this pull to see what’s still there. Jeff and the community would have rebuilt, or maybe I could help them if they’re still trying.”
She fell silent for a moment, lost in her own memories. Then she cleared her throat, turning back to Ellie. “I… wanted to ask if you’d want to go with me. It’s a long haul—north and east, basically halfway across the damn country. But if we find a decent route, we might make it before winter hits. I know which routes not to take.”
Ellie blinked, taken off guard. The idea of going that far east again stirred conflicting feelings. Her chest constricted at the thought. “What’s Biltmore like?” she ventured, voice cautious.
Jay exhaled, lips curving in a small smile tinged with nostalgia. “Before it got raided, it was a thriving place, like it was an old rich dude's big estate, but was turned into a community by my grandfather and Jeff, he was my grandfather's best friend. They used to be in charge of security on the estate before the outbreak so when the world fell he turned the place into a community. It had gardens, farmland, a few old buildings people fixed up. Folks would trade vegetables, eggs, occasionally livestock. There was a wall around the main house and people with guns, so… you know. It’s been going since the outbreak.” She attempted a wry grin. “Safety with a hint of old Southern charm.”
Ellie considered that, a faint pang resonating at the reminder of Jackson, fortified walls, patrolled streets, the warmth of people growing gardens and cooking dinners. A memory flickered: sitting on a porch with Maria, sipping something hot, listening to the bustle of a real community. Her throat tightened. “Sounds… kind of like the place I knew,” she offered, voice subdued. “They had farms and patrols and… it was safe.”
Jay dipped her head, acknowledging the heaviness in Ellie’s tone. “Jackson, right?” she guessed gently, recalling a name Ellie had let slip once or twice in passing.
Ellie’s shoulders tensed, but she nodded, letting the admission stand. “Yeah. I don’t know if I’m ready to go back there,” she murmured, eyes dropping to the ground. “But Biltmore… that’s your old home, huh?”
Jay smiled, genuine but a little sad. “Yeah. I just wonder if Jeff got it back to what it was, or if they ever rebuilt Antler Village. And if they did, maybe I’d find some closure… or purpose, I guess.”
Ellie swallowed, studying Jay’s expression. She could see that flicker of longing, the same pull that once had her returning to Jackson in her mind, if not in person. “It’s a big trip,” she said at length. “Utah to North Carolina… with one horse… that’s no joke.”
“No, it’s not,” Jay agreed, rubbing a thumb along the rim of her tin mug. “But we’ve come this far together. I figured we could handle those miles.” Her lips curved in a tentative smile. “Of course, only if you want to. I’m not gonna drag you along. I am happy to just go where you want to.”
Ellie thought about it, her eyes sliding to Dakota, who’d plopped at Jay’s feet, tail thumping idly. Then she glanced at Rowan, the steady, reliable horse that had carried them through so much already. A sense of muted excitement stirred in her chest at the idea of another adventure, however tempered by the ghosts she still carried.
Eventually, she looked back at Jay. “Okay,” she said, softly but firmly. “Let’s try it. If things get too rough, we can always… figure something else out.”
Relief and gratitude washed over Jay’s features. “Thanks,” she whispered, voice catching. She set her mug aside and turned her full attention to Ellie. “We’ll take it one day at a time. Maybe we’ll find some other safe places or settlements on the way.”
Ellie managed a wry smile. “Who knows, maybe we’ll stumble across a hidden paradise.”
Jay chuckled. “If not, we’ll just have each other’s backs. Like always.”
They shared a quiet moment as the sun fully disappeared behind the horizon, leaving a dusky sky overhead. Ellie felt the old ache for Jackson and the people she’d left behind, but for once, the prospect of moving on toward a new place, sparked the faintest flicker of hope.
Chapter 9: The Roads We Carry
Summary:
Thank you for reading! Please note I am continually improving! I understand the first few chapters of this story are not my personal favorite; beginnings are and always have been hard for me, and I am currently working on revamping them! However, if you stick with the story until they at least get to Knoxville (chapter 13), I think you might enjoy it! I update frequently and am always open to kind, constructive criticism.
Chapter Text
One afternoon during their travels Jay paused at the end of the street, scanning the houses carefully before pointing toward a larger two-story house at the far end of the cul-de-sac. “That one,” she murmured, glancing at Ellie. “Looks pretty untouched.”
Ellie nodded silently, rifle tight in her hands as they approached the house. The front door was ajar, hanging loosely on rusted hinges. Ellie pushed it open cautiously, the creak painfully loud in the silence.
The air immediately felt thick, and heavy with moisture and decay. Ellie recognized the telltale scent instantly: spores. Jay noticed, too, pulling back abruptly and quickly reaching for the mask strapped to her pack.
“Shit. Spores,” Jay muttered anxiously, securing the mask firmly over her face. She glanced nervously back toward Ellie. “Mask up, Ellie.”
Ellie hesitated for only a heartbeat. She didn’t need it, but Jay didn’t know that. And Ellie wasn’t ready to explain that to her, not yet. She reached for her own mask, securing it snugly, careful to avoid Jay’s gaze as she did so.
“You good?” Jay asked softly, voice muffled slightly through her mask.
Ellie nodded firmly. “Yeah. Let’s just do this quick.”
They moved forward cautiously, stepping quietly over broken furniture and scattered belongings. The spores were thick in the air, catching the dim rays of sunlight that slipped through cracks in boarded windows, turning the room into something eerie, ghostly.
Dakota tensed suddenly, a low growl vibrating deep in his chest, ears flattened, hackles rising.
“Dakota, easy,” Jay whispered knowing what that growl meant, gripping her pistol tighter, eyes scanning sharply. “Infected.”
Ellie nodded and moved ahead slowly, heart pounding, senses on edge. She carefully opened the door to the kitchen, the hinges protesting loudly, revealing a gruesome sight: two infected stood hunched, almost completely fused to the walls, their bodies distorted grotesquely by years of fungal growth. They twitched slightly at the disturbance, guttural clicks slipping from cracked throats.
“Fuck,” Ellie whispered sharply, aiming carefully and firing twice. One infected dropped instantly, collapsing into twisted heaps on the floor. Jay shot the second on bringing it down.
Jay’s breath hitched, voice tight but steady. “Good shot.”
Before Ellie could respond, a sudden, guttural snarl erupted behind them. Ellie turned sharply, too slow to react as a stalker burst violently from the shadows of the living room, charging directly toward her.
Ellie’s heart leaped painfully, panic flooding through her. She raised her gun, the ringing in her ear getting louder and louder. Her reaction time slowed due to it and the infected was already too close, teeth snapping wildly. She braced herself; but before the creature reached her, Dakota lunged forward, powerful jaws snapping viciously onto the stalker’s arm, yanking it down with incredible force.
The stalker shrieked in rage and pain, fighting wildly, but Dakota held firm, snarling fiercely as he dragged the creature down. Jay immediately stepped forward, quickly firing a single, precise shot into the stalker’s skull, silencing it forever.
Ellie stood frozen for a moment, breathing hard, her heart still hammering violently. The ringing in her ear getting louder, and another PTSD attack coming, she could feel it, but then Jay stepped closer, gently resting a hand on Ellie’s trembling arm.
“Ellie…are you alright?” Jay asked softly, concern deeply etched into her eyes.
Ellie swallowed hard, forcing her breathing to steady, her voice firm despite the lingering panic. “Yeah…thanks. Good boy, Dakota.”
Dakota released the now-limp infected, stepping cautiously back toward Ellie, tail lowered, ears back in quiet worry. Ellie dropped to a knee, burying her hand into his fur, gently stroking the dog in gratitude.
“Good dog,” she murmured again softly as he licked Ellie's arm.
Jay carefully watched Ellie, her eyes softening as relief spread slowly through her chest. “He’s a good protector. Saved me more times than I can count.”
Ellie nodded slowly, glancing back at Jay, the ringing in her ears gone now, gratitude shining in her eyes. “He’s fucking amazing.”
Jay smiled softly, gently squeezing Ellie’s shoulder before standing again, eyes scanning the room more carefully now that it seemed clear. She moved cautiously toward the cabinets, carefully opening them to reveal stacks of canned goods, bottles of water, and even some medication neatly stashed away.
“Holy shit,” Jay breathed, voice muffled slightly by her mask but clearly thrilled. “Jackpot.”
Ellie quickly joined her, eyes widening slightly at the stash. “Damn. Someone was prepared.”
Jay nodded, already beginning to fill her pack. “This’ll last us weeks.”
Ellie felt a wave of relief and hope washing over her. For a moment, she allowed herself to smile behind the mask, grateful for Dakota’s quick reflexes, Jay’s calm presence, and the precious supplies now filling their packs.
But even as relief settled, guilt lingered silently in the back of Ellie’s mind. Jay didn’t know the truth; didn’t know Ellie was immune. Ellie hated that lie. But she wasn’t ready yet. Not now. Maybe not ever. Ellie pushed the thought away, refocusing on the present, filling their bags with supplies, safe in the knowledge that, for the moment, they had won a small victory.
That night they camped beside a small creek, the gentle burble of water offering a soothing backdrop to the hush of night. The moon was hidden by thick clouds, and only the soft glow of the campfire lit the ragged edges of their surroundings. Ellie and Jay had turned in hours ago, curling up in their respective bedrolls. Dakota, ever vigilant, lay in the space between them, occasionally lifting his head to listen for distant sounds and sniff the air.
Sometime past midnight, Ellie started shifting in her sleep, her breath growing uneven. Her face, illuminated by the dying embers, twisted in distress. Jay stirred when Ellie let out a muffled whimper, at first, Jay assumed it was just a mild bad dream. But then Ellie jerked upright with a strangled cry, eyes wide and unseeing, heart thudding so loud that Jay could almost feel it.
Dakota leaped up instantly, positioning himself beside Ellie, growling, and looking for the danger. Ellie was trembling, sweat slicking her brow, her chest heaving in short, rapid breaths. “No—no, no, no—” Ellie rasped, voice cracking. Her gaze darted around as though she couldn’t recognize where she was.
Jay scrambled to Ellie’s side, hands held out carefully. “Ellie,” she said, voice steady but gentle. “It’s okay. You’re safe—”
Ellie recoiled as if Jay’s words were a threat. She pressed a hand over her mouth, eyes brimming with panic. Her breathing came in shallow gasps, each one tighter, desperate. She couldn’t escape the images in her head: flashes of blood, the echo of a scream—Joel’s scream, the agonizing sense of loss. It was a nightmare she couldn’t wake up from.
“Hey, hey,” Jay murmured, trying to keep her own fear in check. Her heart clenched at the raw terror in Ellie’s eyes. Keeping her movements slow, she reached out to place a hand on Ellie’s shoulder but paused when Ellie flinched. “It’s Jay,” she continued, voice soft but firm. “You’re having a nightmare, Ellie. You’re here with us. You’re safe.”
Dakota pressed his warm muzzle against Ellie’s arm, then licked Ellie’s cheek his tail low, letting out a low, comforting whine. It drew Ellie’s attention for a moment, just enough for her to latch onto something real in the midst of the panic storming through her.
Ellie gulped, forcing out ragged breaths. “I—can’t… breathe,” she rasped, chest constricting so tightly it hurt. Her vision blurred at the edges. Ears ringing louder, louder and louder.
Jay, crouching just a foot away, nodded. “Okay,” she said, keeping her voice calm and measured. She gently coaxed Ellie’s hand away from her face. “Look at me. Breathe with me, all right? Together…” She inhaled slowly, then exhaled, demonstrating a more measured rhythm. “Just… follow my breaths.”
It took a moment before Ellie could even try to mimic Jay’s breathing. Her mind was screaming that she needed to run, needed to protect herself. But Jay’s presence, quiet, unwavering, offered a tether. Slowly, Ellie managed to match the count of Jay’s inhales and exhales, though her body trembled with each ragged breath.
“That’s it,” Jay murmured, inching a bit closer. “I’m right here, Ellie.” She lifted a tentative hand again, resting it gently on Ellie’s arm when she saw no sign of recoil. Dakota, sensing the shift, leaned against Ellie’s leg, adding his warmth and reassuring weight. He placed his head in her lap.
Gradually, the vice grip on Ellie’s lungs began to ease. The panic still crackled in her veins, but the immediate terror receded, replaced by an exhausted rawness. “I… sorry,” she mumbled, voice shaking. She dropped her gaze, tears burning behind her eyes. “Didn’t—didn’t mean to wake you.”
Jay shook her head, compassion filling her face. “Don’t apologize, ever. I’m just glad I could help.” She rubbed small circles on Ellie’s arm, her touch as light as she could manage. “Nightmare?”
Ellie swallowed hard, nodding. Petting Dakota’s head. Her throat ached, and the memory of the nightmare. Joel’s blood, Dina’s distant silhouette, and all her worst failures throbbed at the edges of her mind. “Yea,” she whispered, voice barely audible.
Jay nodded back, her expression deeply sympathetic. “Wanna talk about it?” she asked softly, though she didn’t push.
Ellie squeezed her eyes shut, tears leaking out, unbidden. She didn’t trust herself to speak in detail yet. After a moment, she managed, “Not… right now. But… thanks.”
Jay gently squeezed Ellie’s shoulder in acknowledgment, then reached for her own canteen. “Here,” she said, offering it. “Water helps sometimes. Just sip.”
Ellie accepted it with trembling hands, taking a small gulp that soothed her dry throat. She closed her eyes again, leaning into Dakota’s presence. The dog let out another quiet whine, as if to say, We’ve got you.
Jay hesitated before speaking. “Do you, uh… want me to stay close?” She didn’t want to impose, but she also didn’t want Ellie to feel alone.
Ellie nodded shakily, finally meeting Jay’s eyes. “Yeah,” she whispered, the single word carrying a flood of unspoken relief. “Please.”
With that, Jay helped Ellie shift her bedroll closer to the fire, so the warmth could ward off the lingering chill. Dakota settled between them, occasionally nuzzling Ellie’s hand until she gave him a soft pat or rub behind the ears.
They didn’t speak much more. The forest around them remained still, the distant call of an owl the only interruption. Over the next hour, Ellie’s ragged breathing smoothed out. Eventually, Jay took watch, leaning against a fallen log while Ellie slowly drifted back into a restless doze, one hand gripping the dog’s fur as if he were her lifeline.
Throughout the night, Jay didn’t move from her spot. Whenever Ellie stirred, she’d find Jay’s reassuring gaze waiting for her, silent acceptance shining in the dim light.
The next morning they were breaking camp after a long, mostly silent morning. The sleepless night had left Ellie raw, her nerves frayed and her mood on edge. Jay, sensing Ellie’s tension, moved gently around her, offering water or helping pack up supplies without a word. Dakota wove between them, tail low, picking up on the strained atmosphere.
As they reached the end of the clearing, Ellie paused, gazing at the road ahead. Her jaw was clenched tight, her fists curling at her sides. Jay hesitated, tilting her head in a questioning look. “You all right?” she asked softly.
Ellie bristled instantly, as if the concern were an insult. “Quit fucking asking me that,” she snapped, turning on Jay. Her eyes glinted with an anger too fierce for the moment. “You keep hovering like I’m some broken doll that needs fixing.”
Jay inhaled, steadying herself. “I’m not hovering,” she said, tone neutral but warm. “I just… worry.”
“Worry, worry, worry,” Ellie echoed, voice thick with sarcasm. She swung her pack off her shoulder and dropped it by her feet. “What good does worrying do, huh? You gonna protect me from my own brain? My nightmares?” She let out a humorless bark of laughter. “Give me a fucking break, Jay.”
Jay stood still, her expression only softening with Ellie’s harsh words. “I’m not trying to fix you, Ellie,” she said gently. “And I can’t make your nightmares stop. But I can be here—”
“Well, maybe I don’t want you here,” Ellie interrupted, her voice rising. She took a step closer, pointing a finger at Jay’s chest. “You just don’t get it. You have your little sob story, fine, but that doesn’t give you a free pass to shrink my head.”
Jay’s cheeks tinged with color, hurt flickering in her light brown eyes, but she held her ground. Dakota, sensing the tension, let out a soft whine and backed away, ears pinned. “I’m sorry you feel that way,” Jay said, struggling to keep her voice calm. “But I’m not leaving unless you truly want me to.”
Ellie’s frustration boiled over. She raked a hand through her hair, the motion agitated. “How many times do I have to say it?” She pressed her lips together, seeming to search for the nastiest cut she could make. “Why don’t you go back to the canyon? Since you wanted to end it so badly—go finish the fucking job!”
The words echoed in the still morning air. A pained expression flashed over Jay’s features, raw and wounded, but she only closed her eyes for a second, breathing through it. She didn’t know Ellie had known. “If that’s truly what you want,” she said, voice low, “then I’ll go.”
“Goddamn it, just—” Ellie’s voice shook with conflicting rage and shame. The moment the harsh words left her mouth, guilt twisted in her stomach. She hated herself for bringing up Jay’s darkest secret, but she felt powerless to stop. Pushing people away was familiar territory, like a shield against her own terror. “I… you—I don’t get you. I don’t get why you’re still here.” She floundered, arms crossing over her chest defensively.
Jay’s voice gentled even more. “Ellie,” she began, inching forward. “I know you’re scared. I’ve felt that same fear, and—”
“Shut up,” Ellie choked out, tears pricking at the corners of her eyes now. “Why can’t you just let me go? Stop acting like you’re some saint, like you care—”
“I do care,” Jay said firmly, stepping so close Ellie could see the shimmer of tears in Jay’s own eyes. “And you pushing me away won’t change that. If you really don’t want me here, say it. Say you never want to see me again, and I’ll leave.” She swallowed, voice trembling. “But I don’t think that’s what you want.”
Ellie stood there, torn between the screaming instinct to drive Jay off and the desperate loneliness that hollowed her out every night. Her throat closed up. She trembled with the force of raw emotion until finally, her voice broke. “I… can’t do it again,” she whispered, each syllable shaky. “I can’t watch… watch you leave like everyone else.”
“Ellie,” Jay murmured, carefully placing a hand on Ellie’s arm. When Ellie didn’t yank away, Jay continued, her voice gentle. “I can’t promise I’ll live forever. But I promise I’m not walking away from you willingly. Not unless you tell me you don’t want me around.”
Ellie pressed her lips together, tears slipping free in silent tracks down her cheeks. She shook her head once, shuddering. “I don’t… want you gone,” she croaked, finally surrendering the truth that hurt as much as any weapon.
Jay let out a breath she’d been holding, her eyes shining with hurt from Ellie’s biting words but also understanding. “Then I’m staying,” she said simply.
For a long moment, they stood in the hush of the pine-scented morning, both breathing raggedly. Dakota approached slowly, tail lowered but wagging, pressing his head against Ellie’s leg as though trying to comfort them both.
Ellie closed her eyes, exhausted and spent. She let Jay’s hand rest on her arm, neither pulling away nor leaning in, just existing in that fragile space where every bit of pain and fear fought for the upper hand. “I’m… sorry,” she mumbled, voice hitching.
Jay bowed her head, her own tears threatening to spill. “I know,” she whispered, giving Ellie’s arm a gentle squeeze.
The forest around them felt still as the confession lingered in the air. Eventually, Ellie drew in a quivering breath and wiped her eyes with the back of her sleeve. She turned, picked up her pack with shaking hands, and Jay silently followed. They said nothing more, words weren’t necessary right now. They resumed their journey side by side.
The gentle smell of damp earth filled the air as Ellie and Jay took a short break along a wooded trail. Over the past few days, they’d managed a slower but calmer routine, taking time to scout for safe places to rest and sharing duties with a tentative ease. The tension that once flared between them had eased some, replaced by a careful sort of understanding.
This evening, they’d stopped near a shallow pond to refill their water and rest Rowan. While Jay bent to check a loose shoe on Rowan’s hoof, Ellie rummaged in her backpack, glancing over at Dakota dozing in the warm patch of sun, laying on his back belly up. She dug past a few ration packs and found a folded paper wrapped around something small. With a quiet, determined breath, she slid it out and tucked it into her jacket pocket.
Once Jay was finished with Rowan, Ellie beckoned her over with a casual wave. “Hey,” Ellie said, a bit awkward, “can you, uh, come here for a sec? Got something for you.”
Jay raised an eyebrow, curiosity piqued. “Sure.” She patted Rowan’s flank and stepped closer, wiping the dust from her hands. “What’s up?”
Ellie rubbed at her fingers, clearing her throat. “So, uh… I noticed your old lighter was shit. You keep fiddling with it like you’re trying to coax a flame from a dead battery.” She tried for a wry grin. “Figured I’d give you this.” She pulled the small wrapped bundle from her pocket, offering it to Jay.
Jay blinked in surprise, unfolding the makeshift wrapping. Inside lay a silver Zippo lighter, worn around the edges but obviously taken care of. Tiny etched patterns ran along its side, giving it a bit of character. “Ellie,” Jay breathed, running her thumb over the metal. “Where did you…?”
Ellie shrugged, trying not to look too pleased with herself. “Scavenged it a while back,” she explained, voice gruff to hide any self-consciousness. “Kept it as a spare, in case my own bit the dust, but you need it more than I do. Works fine, tested it last night.”
Jay flicked the lighter’s lid, thumbing the flint wheel. A small, steady flame danced for a moment before she snapped it shut. “Thank you,” she said softly, sincerity in her eyes. “This means a lot.”
Ellie shrugged again, stuffing her hands in her pockets. “Yeah, well,” she muttered, a faint pink tingeing her cheeks. “You’ve shared half your stuff with me since we met. Figure it’s time I repay the favor. Besides, that old piece of junk you’ve been using was driving me nuts.”
Jay’s smile lingered. She stepped closer, tentatively resting a hand on Ellie’s arm in wordless gratitude. Ellie shifted, uncomfortable but not pulling away. They both let a moment pass, the warmth of the gesture settling in, before Jay cleared her throat.
“You know,” she said quietly, thumb brushing over the lighter’s etching, “the other day—when you said I should go back to the Grand Canyon… and ‘finish the job’…” Her voice wavered slightly.
Ellie winced. She looked away, guilt twisting her stomach. “I—yeah,” she murmured. “Look, I was out of line. It was a fucking shitty thing to say.”
Jay shook her head gently. “I’m not mad,” she said, surprising Ellie with her calm tone. “But you… you said it like you knew what I’d planned to do there. That I was going to… end it all, after scattering their ashes.” She let out a shaky breath, eyes dropping to the ground. “How’d you… figure that out?”
Ellie swallowed, hesitating. She took a slow breath. “Come on Jay, I’m not stupid,” she murmured, voice subdued. “I saw how you were, how you kept talking about Rowan and Dakota… like you were prepping me to take care of them. And you got weird quiet after we reached the canyon. I… I put two and two together.”
Jay’s lips pressed tight, memories of that night tugging painfully at her. “Yeah,” she admitted, voice hushed. “It was… my plan. But I couldn’t do it.” She shook her head, tears pricking her eyes, though she blinked them away. “I… guess a part of me wanted to stay, especially after I met you. Even if I was scared to admit it.”
Ellie nodded slowly. The shame of her earlier outburst still burned in her chest, but she stepped closer, letting her hand hover near Jay’s. “I’m glad you didn’t,” she said, voice barely above a whisper. “Just… so you know.”
A faint tremor worked through Jay, but she offered a tentative smile, meeting Ellie’s gaze. “Me too,” she whispered. Then she glanced down at the lighter in her hand, rubbing the etched pattern with her thumb. “Thank you for this. And… for everything else.”
Ellie shifted, uncertain how to respond to gratitude for which she felt she hadn’t fully earned. She just nodded, letting a comfortable hush envelop them. Dakota padded over and pressed his nose against Jay’s leg, tail wagging softly, as though sealing the moment with his approval.
Eventually, Jay cleared her throat. “We should probably move on,” she said, sliding the lighter into a pocket of her jacket. “Rain’s coming, I can smell it.”
Ellie rolled her shoulders, picking up her pack from where she’d left it. “Sure,” she said. “Lead the way.”
With that, they pressed forward into the forest, side by side.
Chapter 10: Starlight
Summary:
Thank you for reading! Please note I am continually improving! I understand the first few chapters of this story are not my personal favorite; beginnings are and always have been hard for me, and I am currently working on revamping them! However, if you stick with the story until they at least get to Knoxville (chapter 13), I think you might enjoy it! I update frequently and am always open to kind, constructive criticism.
Chapter Text
They were pushing through a thin stretch of woods on a late morning, the sunlight filtering through pine boughs in shifting patches. The air smelled of damp bark and moss, and Ellie kept an eye on the undergrowth as Jay led Rowan a few steps ahead. Dakota patrolled between them, sniffing at tree trunks and clumps of ferns.
Then Dakota let out a sudden whine, trotting off the trail. Alarmed, Ellie followed, calling his name under her breath. Jay, noticing the shift, guided Rowan after the dog. Within moments, they came upon a grim sight: a man slumped against a mossy log, eyes half-open and vacant. He wasn’t infected, no fungus showed around his face or in his eyes, but he was clearly gone, his clothes stained with dried blood.
Ellie exhaled, brows knitting. “Looks like he was attacked,” she said, kneeling at a cautious distance. A quick glance around didn’t reveal any immediate threats, but she kept her switchblade out all the same. Jay guided Rowan a bit closer, scanning the area.
Only then did they notice a horse standing a few yards away in the trees. A sleek black mare with a large single white star on her forelock still tacked with a simple western saddle and bridle, saddlebags heavy with supplies tied behind the saddle. The mare shifted her weight nervously, ears flicking at the unfamiliar faces. She looked anxious and uncertain, occasionally pawing at the ground.
Jay hummed softly, extending a hand. “Easy, girl,” she murmured. The mare tossed her head but didn’t bolt, as if somehow relieved to see other people or another horse. Ellie clicked her tongue gently, moving slowly so as not to spook the horse.
Dakota caught Ellie’s movement and stayed back, sensing the horse’s skittishness. Jay, after another look at the dead man, shook her head in quiet sympathy. “We can’t do anything for him now,” she said gently, voice laced with sadness. “But we can make sure his horse doesn’t get lost out here. Or end up as an easy meal for the infected.”
Ellie nodded grimly. “Yeah.” She rose, slipping her switchblade back into her pocket. “Poor guy must’ve been traveling alone. Gotten thrown.” A pang of regret stabbed her, it was always brutal to see someone who died without anyone by their side.
The black mare stamped her hoof, still visibly spooked. Ellie coaxed her with a soft voice. “Hey girl… it’s okay,” she whispered, reaching out slowly to let the mare catch her scent. “We’re not here to hurt you.” Her fingers found the edge of the mare’s muzzle, stroking gently. Grabbing the bridle's reins.
Jay moved around to check the saddle, loosening the girth strap that seemed too tight and pinching. “She’s a pretty one,” Jay said quietly, then checked the mare's teeth. “Young, about 5 looking at those teeth, probably not fully trained, but she’s got good muscle definition.”
Ellie’s gaze slipped to the horse’s sleek, onyx coat, the flicker of intelligence in her dark eyes. Thinking they were lucky now that they had two horses.
“Let’s keep her,” Ellie said softly, scratching the mare’s neck. “We’ve got Rowan already, and Dakota’s used to being around horses. Might as well give her a home with us.”
Jay nodded, offering Ellie a small, encouraging smile. “You want to name her?”
Ellie let out a thoughtful breath, her hand continuing to stroke the mare’s neck. The horse’s tension eased under the gentle contact, her ears flicking forward. “Yeah,” Ellie said, an unexpected warmth in her voice. “Starlight.”
“I… uh got hooked on these comics when I was younger, ‘Savage Starlight,’ they were called. They were brutal, raw, and just…wild. The main character was this fierce, unstoppable force, and her name was Starlight.” Ellie continued, a wistful smile tugging at her lips.
Jay tested the name under her breath. “Starlight,” she repeated, giving a slow nod. “It fits.”
Gently, they led Starlight away from the fallen man’s resting place, out to the trail. Rowan nickered a greeting to the mare, and Dakota wagged his tail in a cautious approach. Together, they moved on, giving the traveler a quiet moment of respect before the forest swallowed him up again.
As they walked, Ellie kept a close grip on Starlight’s reins, whispering occasional words of comfort. Jay rode Rowan at a steady pace beside them, and Dakota scouted the path ahead.
The afternoon sun filtered down through the thinning woods, creating dappled patches of light across the trail. Ellie rode at a careful pace on Starlight’s back, her knees tense against the saddle. Despite Ellie’s best efforts, the black mare shied at nearly every rustle in the undergrowth, tossing her head and snorting in protest.
Behind them, Jay rode Rowan with a worried frown etched into her features. Dakota trotted back and forth, panting in the warm air but otherwise unperturbed. The group had covered some decent ground since finding Starlight, but the horse wasn’t exactly making it easy for Ellie.
Ellie tried soothing words, murmuring “Easy, girl” in a low tone whenever Starlight twitched or pinned her ears. But the mare’s nerves seemed to escalate, and when a startled pheasant burst from the brush, Starlight bolted sideways with a squeal. Ellie clung to the saddle horn, her heart pounding.
“Whoa!” Ellie barked, gripping the reins tight. Starlight bucked in agitation, forelegs stamping the trail, ears flattened against her skull. Ellie managed to keep her balance, but only just barely.
Jay reined in Rowan, guiding him to block Starlight’s path so the mare couldn’t bolt further. “Ellie,” she called, a hint of alarm coloring her voice, “you all right?”
“Yeah, I’m fine,” Ellie snapped, frustrated, and maybe a little embarrassed, tingeing her words. She took a moment to breathe, loosening her white-knuckled hold on the reins. “She’s jumpy as hell.”
Jay gave a gentle pat to Rowan’s neck as she eyed Starlight. “Maybe you two just need more time. We can trade till she gets more miles on her if you want, I don’t mind. I used to train the horses back at Biltmore.”
Ellie’s pride flared for a moment, she hated the idea of giving up so soon. But she couldn’t ignore the dangerous unpredictability in Starlight’s behavior. Before she could respond, the black mare jerked her head, let out another fretful whinny, and hopped as if considering another buck. Ellie clenched her jaw, fighting for control.
“All right,” Ellie muttered, exhaling sharply. “Let’s… maybe we do that. At least for a little while.”
Jay nodded, voice calming. “We’ll find a good spot to switch, or maybe camp early. No sense getting ourselves, or the horses, hurt.”
They led Starlight another mile or so, maintaining a slow walk until the trail opened onto a small clearing by a shallow creek. It wasn’t ideal for covering maximum distance, but it was secluded enough to give them space to calm Starlight down without risking a runaway horse.
“Let’s stop here,” Jay suggested, dismounting Rowan with ease. Dakota padded over, sniffing at the water, then circled back around. “We’ll switch saddles if we need to. Or at least let her rest and get used to the area.”
Ellie nodded in agreement. She tried to dismount gracefully, but Starlight sidestepped, tossing her head. Ellie ended up stumbling slightly, catching herself on the mare’s flank. “Easy,” Ellie repeated through gritted teeth, steadying herself on the ground.
Jay looped Rowan’s reins around a sturdy branch and reached out cautiously for Starlight. The mare’s nostrils flared, but she allowed Jay to lead her a short distance to a clump of grass near the water. “She’s definitely got spirit,” Jay remarked, gentle humor sparking in her eyes. “But she needs some training—maybe from someone more experienced than me, but I’ll do my best.”
Ellie rolled her shoulders, trying to shake off the lingering adrenaline. “You’re probably better at this than I am,” she admitted grudgingly. “I can’t seem to keep the bitch from freaking out.”
Jay just smiled softly, examining the mare’s tack. “We’ll figure it out,” she reassured. “For now, let’s camp. No point risking another mile if she’s this skittish.”
Dakota sniffed at Ellie’s boots, tail wagging as if to say Everything okay now? Ellie huffed a small laugh, rubbing the dog’s head. “I’m good,” she mumbled, still feeling her heart thud from the near-buck moments.
They got to work setting up a modest camp. Jay tethered Starlight in a spot where the mare could graze and see Rowan, hoping the proximity might ease her nerves. Ellie tended the fire pit, gathering kindling and larger branches. Despite the tension in the air, the clearing felt peaceful enough, a trickle of water from the creek, the rustle of leaves in a faint breeze, and a golden sun hanging low above the treetops.
As the fire crackled to life, Jay dug through her pack for something to cook. Ellie cast a glance at the black mare, who stood with ears pricked, head high, still scanning the surroundings for threats. “Starlight’s a lot of trouble,” she remarked, voice quiet, “but I guess that’s how it goes with random horses you find next to a dead body.”
Jay nodded, dropping a couple of ration cans next to the fire. “She’ll settle in eventually,” she said, voice laced with quiet conviction. “We just need to earn her trust… and give her a reason to trust us and want to stay.”
Ellie smirked, feeding another branch into the flames. “That’s… basically all we can do, huh?”
“Basically,” Jay answered. Then she flicked a fond glance toward Ellie. “Same goes for the rest of us, too.”
They shared a small, knowing look, no lecture was required. Sometimes building trust took time, patience, and a few missteps along the way. And as the sun dipped behind the trees, painting the clearing in warm tones, they settled in for the night, letting Starlight’s skittish energy calm in the presence of Rowan, Dakota, and the gentle hum of a day’s end.
The night sky was clear, moonlight lit up the clearing to create soft silhouettes dancing on the grass. After the tense day with Starlight’s skittishness, Ellie and Jay found themselves keeping silent and in their own heads. Something about the quiet darkness, the gentle crackle of the fire, and the relief of making it through another day.
Then it started with tender, tentative touches. Ellie just wanted to forget again, to close her eyes and imagine it was the farm with Dina and not the middle of Colorado in a forest. Ellie slid her arms around Jay’s waist. The tension of the day gradually gave way to a hushed warmth.
Without speaking, they moved to Ellie’s bedroll, where the clearing ground felt more like a private refuge beneath the vast night sky. Their kisses were gentle at first, hesitant as they read each other’s signals. But as minutes passed, the closeness deepened. Ellie’s hands roamed carefully over Jay’s sides, seeking solace in the warmth of her skin. Jay’s soft murmurs and the press of her lips against Ellie’s throat were a balm for Ellie’s own anxieties.
The world seemed to narrow to the touch of fingers and the sound of hushed breathing. It felt safe, intimate, a moment of much-needed release after tension and guarded emotions.
But just as Ellie’s guard began to lower, a flood of old memories and tangled heartache surged up in her mind. Images of Dina, the farm, the quiet nights she once spent in Jackson, all rose unbidden. In a moment of heated closeness where Jay’s fingers moved in all the right ways between Ellie’s legs, her lips parted, and she whispered, breath catching—
“Dina.”
It’s barely a whisper, barely a breath, but the second it leaves Ellie’s lips, everything stops. Jay stilled instantly, her fingers stopping on Ellie as confusion flickered in her gaze. Ellie’s eyes flew open, horror and guilt washing over her in a single wave. She realized the name that had slipped out wasn’t Jay’s.
An awful pause stretched between them, the fragile warmth of a moment ago replaced by a jolt of cold shock. Ellie swallowed hard, mortification flooding her features, again as Jay removed her hand from between Ellie’s legs. “I—Jay, I’m so sorry—” she stammered, pulling back a fraction, her chest tight. “I didn’t mean—I was just—”
Jay’s hand remained pulled away, though her expression betrayed hurt and concern. “It’s okay,” she whispered, voice still kind despite the flicker of pain in her eyes. “Ellie… hey, look at me.”
Ellie reaches out, but Jay flinches, just slightly, but enough for Ellie to pull her hand back, chest tightening. Ellie’s face burned. She couldn’t believe she’d slipped like that, again. She knew deep down she was just using Jay, and that feeling hurt more. She squeezed her lids shut, inhaling a shaky breath. “Fuck, I… I’m sorry,” she choked out. “I just—I got lost in my head.”
Jay brushed a thumb over Ellie’s cheek, gentle but firm enough to keep Ellie from completely retreating. “You don’t have to explain if you don’t want to,” she said, though the tremor in her voice revealed the heartbreak she was fighting, it was clear that to Jay this meant more than just sex. “I’m not mad… but I’m not her, Ellie… and I just want to know if you’re okay.”
Ellie opened her eyes, tears glistening. “I’m not,” she admitted, voice tight. “Fuck… Dina was someone I—someone I loved, and I—sometimes it just… comes back.”
A wave of sympathy filled Jay’s expression. She carefully shifted, giving Ellie the space to breathe but not letting her pull away entirely. “It’s all right,” she said softly, tilting Ellie’s chin so their eyes could meet. “I understand old wounds. If you need to stop—”
Ellie’s tears finally spilled over, and she nodded, pressing her forehead against Jay’s shoulder as she tried to steady her breathing. “Yea,” she repeated, feeling the sting of guilt twist in her stomach for not being honest.
Jay nodded, then she murmured as they sat up. “It’s okay. We don’t have to do this right now.”
For a while, they stayed there like that, Jay murmuring reassurance, Ellie silently sitting with a mixture of regret and residual longing for someone she’d lost. The night air cooled around them, and the campfire hissed softly in the background. Dakota, sensing their distress, padded closer, tail low, pressing his head against Ellie’s side as though offering comfort too.
Eventually, Ellie looked at Jay, wiping her cheeks with the back of her hand. Her voice came out a rasp. “Thanks,” she whispered, not sure what else to say.
Jay offered a small, tremulous smile. “You don’t have to thank me,” she replied. “Let’s just… take tonight easy, okay? For both of us…”
Ellie nodded, exhaling in relief and shame all at once. They sat under the canopy of trees in quiet stillness, the crackle of dying embers and the soft hiss of the nearby creek filling the night air. Jay sat close enough so Ellie knew she wasn’t alone. Dakota had settled at their feet, occasionally lifting his head to sniff at the breeze. The earlier warmth between them had shifted into a different kind of intimacy: one of shared grief and hesitant truth.
After a few minutes, Ellie let out a small, shaky sigh. “I owe you an explanation.”
Jay gave her shoulder a gentle squeeze. “Only if you want to,” she said softly, her tone laced with compassion but no pressure.
Ellie stared at the glow of the embers, her voice subdued. “Dina was… everything,” she admitted, the words tumbling out with a raw kind of honesty. “She and I were together for a while. Back in Jackson. We—” She swallowed hard, remembering the warmth of that place, the scent of hay and feed, the quiet hush of nights. “We had a life there. It wasn’t perfect, but it was… it felt safe, y’know? I thought maybe we’d get to keep that.”
Jay nodded in understanding, staying silent so Ellie could continue at her own pace.
A faint tremor ran through Ellie’s voice as she went on. “We ended up on a farm. We tried to… start over. But everything I’d done, all my regrets, it wouldn’t leave me alone. I couldn’t let things go. And I ended up losing her.” The memory, harsh and unyielding, clutched at her chest. “One day, I came back from… from settling old scores, I guess. And she was gone. Took—” Her throat closed, tears pricking at her eyes as she forced herself to say it. “Took her baby we were raising and left.”
Jay’s breath caught softly, empathy shining in her features. “Ellie… That… must’ve been so hard.”
Ellie nodded, wiping a stray tear with the back of her hand. “It was. Still is.” She let out a shaky breath. “When I’m… close to you, or I let myself care too much, I can’t help thinking about Dina. How I—how I drove her away. That’s why I… accidentally said her name. My mind goes back there, like it’s stuck with her.”
Jay’s heart clenched. She tightened her hold on Ellie. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “For what you lost. For how it still haunts you.”
A silence fell, punctuated only by the crackling embers. Ellie’s eyes glistened, but she refused to fully break. “I’m sorry, too,” she said, voice trembling. “You don’t fucking deserve that, me calling you by her name. Using you so I can forget. It’s just—my head gets all mixed up when I’m… feeling something, or when things get intense. Sometimes I see Dina’s face, hear her laugh, remember the smell of her hair, and—” She trailed off, overwhelmed.
Jay stroked Ellie’s arm, gentle and slow. “I get it,” she said, voice catching. “I’ve called out for people I lost before, in nightmares or at random times. It doesn’t mean you don’t care about the person you’re with now. It just… means you’re human. You loved—love her.”
Ellie nodded, grateful for the way Jay didn’t seem threatened by Dina’s memory, just saddened for Ellie’s pain. She shifted to face Jay a bit more, searching Jay’s eyes. “I—thank you,” she whispered. “For not getting mad. Most people… shit I don’t know, they might’ve stormed off, or demanded I choose.”
A small, wry smile touched Jay’s lips, though her eyes were misty. “I’m not most people,” she said. “And I’d never ask you to erase someone who was a huge part of your life, no matter how it ended.”
Ellie felt a tangled mix of relief and grief flood her system. She let her head rest gently against Jay’s shoulder, taking in the quiet reassurance of Jay’s steady breath. “I hate that I hurt her,” she murmured. “Hate that I messed it up. Part of me wanted to pretend it never happened… but I can’t just shut it off. Sometimes I wish I could.”
“You don’t have to shut it off. It’ll hurt, maybe for a long time, but it’s part of you.” She paused, voice becoming hushed. “I can’t promise I won’t ever feel hurt if you slip up again. But I’d rather deal with that than have you hide who you are.”
Ellie’s tears finally spilled free then, a quiet release she hadn’t been sure she could offer. She said, voice unsteady. “I—fuck, Jay, I’m not used to this. Everyone else I’ve known… I guess we always had walls.”
“Yeah,” Jay murmured, leaning over to press her head comforting against Ellie’s head. “Me too. But maybe we can figure this out, one day at a time.”
They let the hush settle once more, the night wrapping around them in a gentle lull. Ellie felt exhaustion weighing down her limbs, yet for the first time in ages, it wasn’t just the weight of regret, it was the relief of being heard, of sharing Dina’s memory without condemnation.
Eventually, Jay reached for the worn blanket, tucking it around Ellie’s shoulders. “Let’s try to get some rest, okay? We can talk more tomorrow, if you want.”
Ellie nodded, eyes half-lidded with emotion and fatigue. She burrowed into the blanket, a slight tremor running through her as she attempted to calm her racing thoughts. “Yeah,” she whispered, letting her guard down just enough to believe tomorrow might be a little easier. “Tomorrow.”
And with that, they settled into a quiet stillness. The night stretched on, the embers dying down, and for once, Ellie let herself be in the present, grieving her past but not drowning in it, close to someone who understood just enough to let her be.
Chapter 11: Stand In
Summary:
Thank you for reading! Please note I am continually improving! I understand the first few chapters of this story are not my personal favorite; beginnings are and always have been hard for me, and I am currently working on revamping them! However, if you stick with the story until they at least get to Knoxville (chapter 13), I think you might enjoy it! I update frequently and am always open to kind, constructive criticism.
Chapter Text
The following morning came with a soft dawn light spreading over the trees. The birds started their chatter early, as if to remind the world it was still there, waking for another day ready to continue their slow journey toward the Biltmore community. Ellie and Jay packed up camp quietly, working in subdued coordination that had grown natural despite the emotional weight of the night before.
Once Dakota had circled the site for any signs of danger, they led their horses back to the trail. Ellie slipped onto Rowan’s back with practiced ease, giving a reassuring pat to his sturdy neck. Jay, meanwhile, approached Starlight with calm determination. The black mare pinned her ears briefly but didn’t shy away.
“Easy, girl,” Jay murmured, offering her hand for Starlight to sniff. “We’ll go slow, okay?”
Ellie hovered close enough to lend a hand if needed, but Jay managed to get her foot in the stirrup and swing up gracefully. Starlight danced a little beneath the new weight, tossing her head, but Jay kept the reins firm, speaking quiet words of assurance. But Starlight’s ears pinned, and without warning, she gave a powerful buck, nearly unseating Jay. Ellie’s heart lurched at the sight, her pulse rushing.
“Shit—!” Ellie shouted, hastily halting Rowan and swinging him to the side, trying to get out of the way.
Starlight pitched again, hooves tearing up bits of mud, a wild fear shimmering in her eyes. Jay tried to regain control, leaning back to take pressure off the mare’s mouth, trying to calm her. However, the panicked horse bucked once more, twisted sideways and Jay’s grip slipped.
She flew backward from the saddle, arms flailing as she tumbled into the muddy ditch with a loud squelch, a startled yelp escaping her lips as she hit the ground.
Ellie cursed under her breath, quickly reining Rowan to a stop and dismounting in record time. Starlight scrambled a few steps away, snorting nervously, then pranced in place, obviously rattled.
“Jay, fucking damn it!” Ellie yelled, rushing over to where Jay lay sprawled in the mud.
Jay groaned, wincing with a chuckle as she propped herself up on her elbows, mud dripping from her clothes. “Ow—shit,” she muttered, pressing a hand against her side.
“Are you okay?” Ellie demanded, skidding to a stop in front of her. She crouched down, green eyes wide with concern.
Jay blew out a shaky laugh, gingerly testing her limbs. “I think so,” she managed, grimacing. “Landed right on my side, but I’m alive.”
Ellie closed her eyes, relief rushing through her. “Jesus Christ, Jay..”
Jay carefully pushed herself to her feet, wincing again as she checked for any serious injury. Mud clung to her, her hair plastered against her face, clothes soaked. She glared ruefully at Starlight, who was now standing off to the side, breathing heavily but calming down.
“You’re lucky I love horses,” Jay grumbled under her breath, testing her weight on one foot. “That was definitely... unexpected.”
Ellie couldn’t help it; laughter bubbled up, a mixture of stress and relief. She reached out a hand, helping Jay steady herself. “You look so dumb right now.”
Jay’s lips curved into a half-smile despite her obvious irritation. “Yeah, yeah, laugh it up, Ellie.”
Ellie raised an eyebrow, still chuckling. “I am. Laughing it all the way up!”
“You done yet?” Jay rolled her eyes, though her voice carried a warmth that took the sting out of her words. She glanced back at Starlight, exhaling softly. “At she didn’t run off.”
They walked together toward Starlight, Jay murmuring gentle words of reassurance as she approached. The mare’s ears flicked, her posture still tense. Jay rubbed her neck soothingly, stepping carefully into the stirrup to test if Starlight would stand still.
Ellie watched carefully, ready to grab the reins if the horse spooked again. But Starlight remained in place, albeit trembling lightly under Jay’s hand.
“You sure you can ride?” Ellie asked, concern now edging her voice.
Jay shook her head, determination kindling in her gaze. “No, I need to get back on. If I don’t, she’ll think she’s won.” She offered a crooked smile. “Plus, horse training 101: you always end on a good note.”
Ellie smirked faintly, admiring Jay’s resolve. “Alright, horse whisperer. Your funeral.”
Jay chuckled under her breath, painfully but resolutely swinging back into the saddle. Starlight sidestepped nervously once more, but Jay’s calm presence seemed to settle her.
Ellie returned to Rowan, petting his neck affectionately before climbing aboard. The horse stood steady, as always. “What do you think happened?”
Jay let out a slow breath, gently guiding Starlight back onto the road. “Probably used to getting away with that shit. It happens. She’s not used to me yet.”
Ellie nodded, the tension easing from her chest as she watched Jay ride. “Still, you’re okay?”
Jay wiped the mud from her cheek, grimacing. “I’ll have a bruise the size of Texas on my hip, and I’m filthy but yeah. I’m good.”
“Good,” Ellie murmured, relief mixing with a small smile. “Would’ve been a shit end to the day if you broke something.”
Jay shot her a playful glare. “I’m not that fragile, Ellie.”
Ellie bit back a grin. “Of course not, Jay.”
They set off down the winding path, leaves crunching softly under hooves. Ellie took the lead on Rowan, glancing back every so often to see how Jay and Starlight were faring. Bit by bit, Starlight’s jitters settled. Jay’s gentle control, plus Rowan’s steady presence ahead, seemed to ease the mare’s nerves.
A half-hour passed before Ellie finally broke the silence. “Hey, how’s she doing?” she asked, nodding at Starlight.
Jay let out a soft breath. “Better than this morning,” she answered, stroking the mare’s neck. “I think it helps that she can see Rowan. And maybe I’m less nervous than you were yesterday, which calms her down. No offense,” she added with a wry smile.
“None taken,” Ellie replied, shifting in her saddle. Her tone carried more hesitation than usual. She cleared her throat. “So, um… about last night. I, uh… I feel like shit.”
Jay glanced up, meeting Ellie’s eyes. Starlight slowed a bit as Jay’s attention shifted, but she kept one hand firm on the reins. “Don’t beat yourself up,” she said gently. “You were honest with me. And that means more to me than you know.”
Ellie exhaled, turning her gaze forward to watch Rowan’s ears flick at the morning sounds. “It’s not just that,” she admitted. “Fuck… you might hate me but…I was using you as some I don’t know… stand-in for Dina. But I don’t want that to happen again….”
A flicker of hurt shadowed Jay’s features. “I—yeah,” she murmured, biting her lip. “I guess part of me was scared of that, and knew that. That I’m filling a void for you, but… I can’t be her, Ellie. And I wouldn’t want to try, either.”
Ellie nodded, feeling the painful knot in her chest twist tighter. “I know,” she said, voice low. “You’re not her. I don’t want you to be. I…” She paused, struggling with the right words. “You’re you. And I do care about you. I’m just messed up,” she added with a short, humorless laugh. “But you already figured that out.”
Jay offered a small, comforting smile, shifting her weight as Starlight ambled around a loose branch on the path. “We both are,” she pointed out. “It’s not like I’m the epitome of a well-adjusted person myself.”
Ellie let out a breath that was almost a laugh. “Fair.” She glanced back again, relieved to see Jay’s expression softening. “I guess I’m just scared you’ll think you're the second choice when you’re not. It’s… complicated. Dina will always be part of me, but that doesn’t mean what I’m feeling for you now isn’t real.”
A glimmer of relief passed over Jay’s face. Her shoulders eased a bit, and Starlight caught that calm, relaxing her trot. “I just needed to hear it,” Jay admitted, voice nearly lost in the soft clop of hooves. “I don’t want to be an echo of someone else. I… like what we have.” Her cheeks colored slightly. “Even if it’s messy.”
Ellie felt an answering warmth in her chest, a strange combination of guilt and gratitude. “Me too,” she said, turning her green eyes forward to the trail. “Thanks for… not running off. Not getting mad. I, um, appreciate it.”
Jay nodded. “I meant what I said before: I’m not going anywhere unless you tell me to. And honestly,” she patted Starlight’s neck, “I doubt I could get very far if Starlight didn’t want to cooperate.”
That finally drew a genuine chuckle from Ellie. “Yeah, you two better figure out your trust thing,” she teased, guiding Rowan around a fallen branch. “She’s got a serious stubborn streak.”
Jay smiled in return, leaning to murmur praise into the mare’s ear. “At least we have that in common, huh, girl?”
They rode on, the trail opening into a gentle slope. Shafts of sunlight filtered through the canopy, warming the cool air. Dakota dashed ahead now and then, investigating a rock or a cluster of wildflowers, always returning to circle near the horses.
The quiet conversation resumed in stops and starts, each of them finding a tenuous comfort in picking at the day’s details: which route to take next, where to find water, and memories of random funny moments on the road. Beneath it all, the tension of the previous night still lingered, but it wasn’t driving them apart. If anything, the shared vulnerability seemed to forge a stronger bond.
By midday, Jay and Starlight had settled into a companionable rhythm. Ellie found her own shoulders unclenching, a small sense of relief washing over her. She wasn’t sure if they’d ironed out everything, far from it, but for the moment, they were facing the road together, fear and uncertainty and all.
Maybe that was enough. Maybe, in this broken world, caring for someone meant accepting the ghosts that came with them, and reassuring them, in quiet moments, that you wanted them for who they were, not who they replaced.
And for a while longer, the horses’ steady gait and their gentle banter were all the reassurance they needed. A gentle breeze rustled through the trees, carrying the distant scent of wildflowers and old decay; a small reminder of how nature had reclaimed so much of what humans had left behind. Ellie and Jay rode side by side now, taking their time, observing each broken fence and half-buried mailbox they passed. Starlight’s ears were pricked forward with curiosity, while Rowan ambled along lazily under Ellie’s steady guidance. Dakota would bound out of the brush, sniffing something only he could sense, but always returning to trot at Starlight’s flank.
“Hey, do you see that?” Jay murmured, pointing ahead to where the road curved around a bend.
They rounded the curve and spotted a thick, moss-covered tree sprawled across their path. It looked like it had been uprooted in a storm long ago, blocking most of the narrow roadway and forcing any travelers to climb over the twisted trunk or find a way around through the underbrush.
Ellie grimaced at the sight. “Damn it. Well we can lead the horses around, I guess… but it’s gonna be a pain in the ass.”
Jay’s lips curved into a mischievous smile. “Or we could jump it.”
Ellie shot her a skeptical look. “Jump it?”
Jay patted Starlight’s neck affectionately. “She can handle it, no problem. Used to train horses back at Biltmore, remember? Starlight’s more than capable.”
Ellie narrowed her eyes, half-curious, half-dubious. “I mean, yeah, you told me you did. But I’ve never seen you jump anything bigger than a ditch.”
Jay ignored the jab, a playful glint in her eyes. “Watch this.”
She leaned forward, giving Starlight a light nudge with her heels, guiding the horse to turn around and put some distance between themselves and the fallen tree. Ellie pulled Rowan to the side, watching with folded arms and an expression that hovered between concern and fascination.
Jay sat tall in the saddle, gathering the reins firmly. “Alright, girl, you ready?” she murmured to Starlight, gently stroking the mare’s neck. Starlight flicked an ear, sensing Jay’s excitement and tensing with anticipation.
With a soft cluck of her tongue, Jay urged Starlight into a canter, the rhythmic thud of hooves on the cracked pavement echoing through the quiet woods. Ellie’s heart beat a little faster watching them gain speed, the wind catching in Jay’s hair as she aligned Starlight toward the makeshift jump.
“Shit,” Ellie muttered under her breath, impressed despite herself.
Jay’s posture was fluid; shoulders back, eyes focused, legs steady against the horse’s sides. As they neared the fallen tree, Starlight’s stride lengthened, muscles bunching under her glossy black coat. Jay shifted her weight just so, hands forward, giving the mare her head. In a smooth, powerful motion, Starlight launched off her hind legs, clearing the trunk by a foot, landing on the other side with barely a stumble.
Ellie realized she’d been holding her breath and let out a low whistle, a mixture of relief and admiration coursing through her. Jay guided Starlight in a slow circle, the mare tossing her head, clearly proud of herself. Jay’s grin was wide, flushed with adrenaline.
“Not bad, huh?” Jay called, trotting back toward the tree trunk, looking at Ellie who was still perched on Rowan on the other side of the tree.
Ellie rolled her eyes, though her grin betrayed her. “Okay, hotshot, that was… kinda awesome.”
Jay patted Starlight’s neck proudly. “Told you she could handle it.” Then, Jay’s gaze flicked to Rowan. “And, for the record, Rowan knows how to jump too, just in case you wanted to give it a go and not maneuver around it.”
Ellie tensed slightly, glancing down at Rowan. He eyed the fallen tree with mild disinterest, occasionally swishing his tail. “I don’t know, Jay. I’ve never jumped a horse over something that big.”
Jay’s smile grew softer, more encouraging. She guided Starlight closer so she could speak in a calmer voice. “If you don’t want to, that’s cool. We can walk around. But if you do, I’ll talk you through it. Rowan’s done this stuff before. He’ll do most of the work. You just have to trust him.”
Ellie chewed her lip, glancing from Rowan to the trunk, then back to Jay. She hated feeling like she couldn’t do something, especially when Jay had just pulled it off so effortlessly. “Alright,” she said, steeling herself. “Fuck it. Let’s do it.”
Jay beamed, repositioning Starlight to the side so Ellie had room to maneuver. Dakota watched the two of them, wagging his tail, as if expecting a show. Ellie took a deep breath, turned Rowan around to gain a bit of distance, and mentally prepared herself.
“Okay,” Jay said, raising her voice to be heard over the short distance. “Start him at a walk, then pick up a trot, and then a canter. Keep your eyes on the tree, don’t look down. Stay relaxed, keep your heels down, hands light on the reins. Let Rowan gather himself. He knows when to jump.”
Ellie nodded, heart pounding. She clicked her tongue, urging Rowan into a walk, then nudging him up to a trot. The rhythmic bounce jostled her nerves, but she tried to recall when she used to jump things on Shimmer, shoulders back, seat steady. She glanced at Jay, who nodded encouragingly.
By the time Rowan transitioned into a canter, Ellie’s adrenaline was spiking. The fallen tree loomed ahead, bigger than it had looked from a standstill. Her grip on the reins tightened instinctively, but she forced herself to ease up.
“Easy, easy,” Jay called, her tone calm. “Let him stretch out. He’s got this.”
Ellie swallowed, focusing on Rowan’s steady gait. The horse’s powerful muscles bunched and flexed beneath her as he locked onto the obstacle. She prepared herself, leaning forward slightly, knees snug against Rowan’s sides. She felt Rowan coil his hindquarters, launching both of them into the air.
Her stomach lurched; the jump felt higher than she’d imagined. But in a blink, Rowan’s front hooves cleared the trunk, then his back hooves, and he landed smoothly on the other side with a single, controlled stride.
“Holy shit!” Ellie shouted with a chuckle, half in disbelief, half in triumph.
She reined Rowan in, the horse tossing his head with a proud snort, clearly satisfied with himself. Ellie took a moment to process the surge of energy coursing through her, adrenaline zinging every nerve. Then she turned to see Jay and Starlight trotting toward her, beaming.
“Yes!” Jay exclaimed, raising a fist in mock celebration. “You did it, Ellie! That was twice as big as any road barrier.”
Ellie let out a breathless laugh, ruffling Rowan’s mane affectionately. “That was... that was actually kind of amazing.” She shook her head. “Didn’t think I’d pull it off.”
“Rowan’s a pro,” Jay teased, “and you’ve got guts.”
Ellie blushed slightly, trying to hide how proud she was. “Whatever. You better not expect me to start jumping every tree in sight, though.”
Jay chuckled, guiding Starlight closer so she could lean over and clasp Ellie’s shoulder. “Nah, just the ones in the way. Or for showing off,” she added with a playful wink.
Ellie rolled her eyes, but a grin tugged at her lips. “Show-off.”
Jay smiled. “No, just demonstrative.”
Soon late afternoon light slanted through the trees, warming the forest floor with lazy streaks of gold. Ellie and Jay had just finished watering the horses at a narrow creek and were setting up a modest camp for the night. Starlight pawed the ground restlessly, while Rowan stood calmly a few steps away, tail flicking at flies. Dakota, ever the sentinel, prowled the perimeter, sniffing the air.
They took a seat on a fallen log near the water, both a bit tired from the day’s ride but content in their shared company. Jay leaned back, arms draped across her knees, watching Ellie bustle about making a small fire. The tension of the previous days had lessened, replaced by an unspoken undercurrent of fondness neither of them denied anymore.
As Ellie coaxed a spark into the gathered tinder, Jay cleared her throat, breaking the companionable silence. “So, uh,” she began, her voice softer than usual, “I’ve been thinking about… us.”
Ellie paused in her work, turning her head slightly. “Yeah?”
Jay nodded, gaze dropping to her hands. “I know this thing started out as… you know, just you needed something. Comfort, sex, a distraction from yourself...” She swallowed, lifting her eyes to meet Ellie’s. “But it’s always been more than that to me. From the start, I think.”
A flicker of emotion passed over Ellie’s face. She licked her lips, setting the flint aside. “I… guess I knew that,” she admitted, voice a bit uneven. “I just wasn’t sure how to handle it. Everything’s so—”
“Complicated?” Jay supplied, giving a sympathetic half-smile. “Yeah, I get it.” She shifted. “But I want you to know, I’m not just here for the physical stuff. I care about you. More than I probably should in a world that steals everything from us.”
Ellie exhaled, the tightness in her chest easing at Jay’s candid confession. “I… care about you too… I just don’t know what that means for me.”
A gentle wind rustled the overhead branches. For a moment, they let their unspoken feelings settle in the air. Then Jay’s lips curved into a playful grin, her light tone easing the seriousness of the moment. “Besides,” she teased, nodding toward the horses, “I think it’s important we remember the boundaries in this, whatever this is, like whose horse belongs to who. Rowan’s still mine, okay?”
Ellie let out a huff of laughter, relief mixing with amusement. “Fine, fine,” she relented, grinning back. “But Starlight’s definitely mine now, no take-backs.” She glanced over at the black mare, who flicked her tail as if acknowledging Ellie’s claim.
Jay chuckled softly. “Deal.” She said, then rose to her feet. “Now, how about I help with that fire before the sun’s gone completely? I’m sure you’re dying to eat something that isn’t jerky.”
Ellie smirked, following Jay’s lead as they both reached for spare wood around the clearing. “Don’t knock jerky; it’s gotten us this far,” she retorted, but her eyes still held a gentle warmth from Jay’s confession moments before.
They resumed their routine, collecting kindling, unpacking rations, yet the atmosphere around them felt lighter. Neither pretended any longer that what they shared was just casual.
***************************
Morning light filtered through the trees in gentle, golden streams. Ellie woke with a jolt, disoriented by the hush of the forest around her. She sat up, rubbing the sleep from her eyes, and immediately noticed something was off: Rowan and Dakota were nowhere in sight. Jay, too, was gone.
Her pulse quickened. For a few seconds, she told herself to stay calm; maybe Jay was just collecting water or gathering firewood. But a glance around the small clearing revealed no footprints nearby, no gear left behind. The fire from last night had burned down to ashes. Starlight stood alone tethered to a low branch, pawing the dirt, jittering and nickering with mild impatience, the only sign of life aside from Ellie.
A spike of panic coiled in Ellie’s chest. She left me. The thought rang loud, dredging up every past betrayal and loss. She stuffed her bedroll onto her pack with shaky hands, anger raw and raging. Why would Jay leave, after everything? After what she said the day before? Not her too…Not now.
She should have seen this coming. Should have known better than to think someone like Jay would actually stick around. Maybe she just got tired of waiting for Ellie to stop pushing her away. Maybe she finally realized Ellie wasn’t worth it.
Ellie’s hands curl into fists. Fine. If Jay wanted to leave, then leave.
Minutes stretched into over an hour, and still no sign of Jay. Ellie sat, fists balled. She kept glancing at Starlight as if to confirm she wasn’t dreaming. Finally, when the tension coiled in her gut felt unbearable, she heard hoofbeats on the trail.
Jay emerged through the tree line, Rowan’s reins in one hand, Dakota trotting at her side. She carried a small string of three rabbits slung over Rowan’s flank, clearly the spoils of an early morning hunt. Ellie whips around, gun half-drawn before she sees her.
“Hey,” Jay called, voice soft with an apologetic edge, “I’m sorry I took so long, these little guys were trickier than I thought.” She dismounted, patting Rowan’s neck before turning to Ellie. “I didn’t want to wake you; you looked so—”
“You didn’t want to wake me?” Ellie’s voice trembled with rage, old fears bubbling up as she cut Jay off. “Are you fucking serious?”
Jay stiffened looking confused at Ellie’s outburst. “Ellie—”
“You really just took off?” Ellie hurled the words at her, arms folded so tight across her chest her muscles ached. “I woke up, and you were gone. No note, no sign. Nothing.” Her voice cracked in that last word, and she shoved it down, doubling down on fury instead of letting any hurt show.
Jay winced. “I didn’t think I needed a note. I didn’t go far, and I left Starlight, I wasn’t leaving. I was coming back—”
“Yeah, well, how the fuck was I supposed to know that? And who says I want a shitty half-wild horse?” Ellie snapped, stepping forward. “You think leaving me with her makes this better? Christ, Jay, for all I knew, you were pulling that canyon stunt again. Just finishing it, like I told you to.” She spat the words with ruthless precision, remembering how deeply they’d wounded Jay before.
Jay’s eyes flickered, pain mingling with frustration. “That’s not fair, and you know it,” she said, voice shaking. “I promised you I wasn’t going to—”
Ellie cut her off again. “Oh, your promises?” She let out a harsh, bitter laugh. “Yeah, right. That’s what everyone says before they bail.” She glared at Dakota, who hovered by Jay’s side. “You took the stupid dog with you too.”
Jay’s jaw clenched, tears threatening at the corners of her eyes. “Ellie, I just—I was trying to help, okay? Thought I’d bring back breakfast, let you sleep in. I didn’t realize you’d—”
“Yeah, well, you didn’t think, did you?” Ellie hissed. She hurled a glare at Rowan, at the rabbits, like it was all some big mockery. “Go hunt, leave me behind, no big deal. We’re all used to being abandoned, right?” Her voice wavered dangerously.
Jay’s composure cracked at that. She dropped the rabbits on the ground with a soft thud, her cheeks flushing. “Why are you doing this?” she asked, voice trembling with anger and hurt. “You know I didn’t leave you. I came back. You're being an asshole!”
Ellie’s hands balled into fists at her sides. “Maybe you should’ve stayed gone,” she spat, the words hitting like a whip. “It’d be easier than wondering when the hell you’ll finally ditch me for real.”
Jay took a step back, shoulders taut, eyes brimming with pained confusion. “That’s not fair,” she whispered, echoing herself. “I’m here—I haven’t left.”
Ellie scoffed. She refused to let anything but anger show, lashing out one last time instead. “Great,” she hissed. “So you come back after scaring me half to death—want a fucking medal for that, or what?”
A strained hush fell between them, broken only by Rowan’s restless stomp and Dakota’s soft whine. Jay swallowed, forcing her tone calm. “You’re being a jerk,” she managed. “I should’ve told you. But it’s not a crime to go hunting.”
Ellie tore her gaze away, trembling with residual adrenaline. “Fine. Whatever,” she muttered. “Just don’t…” She lost her words, the anger burning out almost as fast as it flared. “Forget it.”
Jay stayed put, hands shaking at her sides, tears threatening even as she fought them back. She glanced at Dakota, then at Ellie, her voice hollow. “You want me gone, Ellie? Because I’ll leave if that’s really what you want. Because I can’t keep this back and forth up with you… just… nevermind.”
Ellie’s breathing hitched, but she didn’t respond. She couldn’t, her throat felt too tight, her mind too jumbled. Instead, she whirled around and marched away from the clearing, ignoring the snap of twigs underfoot, ignoring Jay’s pained stare.
Behind her, the horse’s shifting and Dakota’s concerned whine filled the silence. Jay stood there, caught between hurt and frustration, left clutching her string of rabbits and wrestling with the sting of Ellie’s barbed words.
A tense quiet lingered in the air after Ellie stormed off. Jay remained in the campsite, gaze flicking between the spot where Ellie had disappeared into the trees and the rabbits she’d dropped. Dakota pressed close to Jay’s leg, tail low. For a long while, Jay stared into the distance, struggling to steady her ragged breathing, her mind churning over Ellie’s raw anger while trying to keep hers in check.
Eventually, Jay sighed, brushed down Rowan, and tended to the rabbits. She was tired, physically and emotionally, but she focused on the practical tasks of cleaning the catch, stoking the fire, and preparing a meal. It was easier than thinking about the barbed words that still hung in the clearing.
A few hours later. The afternoon sun had shifted, casting longer shadows through the trees. Jay had quietly gone about chores: cleaning weapons, double-checking their supplies, laying out a plan for the next leg of their journey. At some point, she heard footsteps rustling behind her. She tensed, half-expecting Ellie to hurl another verbal jab, but all that came was silence.
Ellie edged closer, face set in a reluctant frown. She didn’t say a word about her earlier outburst. Instead, she walked over to the firepit where Jay had been cooking a bit of rabbit. Without meeting Jay’s eyes, Ellie gathered some spare plates, rummaged in their supplies for salt, and started seasoning the meat. Her motions were stiff, her gaze pinned to the task.
Jay watched her in silence for a moment, recognizing the gesture for what it was: Ellie was trying to make amends, but without actually saying it. A knot of hurt still twisted in Jay’s chest, but she let Ellie proceed, unsure whether to be exasperated, annoyed or touched.
When the meat was ready, Ellie plated it carefully, then set one dish down in front of Jay. “Here,” she mumbled, still not looking up.
Jay took it quietly. “Thanks,” she said, subdued. She waited, half-expecting Ellie to speak, but Ellie just nodded and turned away to tend to something else, straightening up the campsite, rolling up extra blankets, tightening straps on the saddlebags. Each small action was tinged with a forced efficiency, as if Ellie were trying to prove her worth without admitting any wrongdoing.
Dakota, flitted between them both, wagging his tail uncertainly. Jay gave the dog a distracted pat before she resumed eating, still tasting the earlier conflict in every bite.
As sunset drew near they hadn’t exchanged more than a handful of words since Ellie came back. Ellie kept herself busy with menial tasks, filtering water, cleaning gear, looking for anything that needed fixing. Jay let her be, torn between wanting to address the hurt directly and giving Ellie the space to come around on her own.
As twilight fell, the forest grew quieter. Jay settled near the fire, stroking Rowan’s mane while the horse grazed. Ellie approached, posture uncertain but determined. She stood behind Jay for a moment, then rested one hand tentatively on Jay’s shoulder.
Jay turned, her gaze guarded. “Hey,” she said, trying to keep her voice neutral.
Ellie studied her face, eyes flicking with unease. She leaned closer, letting her hand slide along Jay’s shoulder toward the nape of her neck. “Hey,” she echoed, voice quiet. She closed the distance, breath brushing Jay’s cheek as she leaned in to kiss her.
Jay froze, heart twisting. She felt Ellie’s lips brush hers, warm and pleading. For a moment, she let it happen, the comfort of Ellie’s touch was tempting. But something in her chest ached, reminding her of the wounds still raw from the morning. Gently, Jay placed a hand on Ellie’s shoulder, stopping her.
“Ellie,” she murmured, pulling back just enough to see Ellie’s face, “that’s not how you apologize.”
Ellie’s eyes flashed with a flicker of guilt and frustration. She swallowed hard, drawing back, hands lingering where they’d settled on Jay’s arms. “I… I know,” she muttered. “But… can’t we just—?”
Jay shook her head softly, a sad sympathy in her gaze. “No,” she said, voice gentle but firm. “Not like this. Not when you are using it as a way to forget.”
Ellie’s cheeks flushed, and she dropped her eyes to the ground. “I’m sorry,” she managed, voice tight. But even then, it sounded more like an admission of defeat than a genuine admission of guilt.
Jay let out a soft breath, brushing a strand of hair from Ellie’s face. “Look, I’m not mad at you,” she said. “Not anymore. But what you said… it hurt, Ellie. You were nasty, and I get that you were scared and angry. But if this is how you’re trying to make it better, by jumping into bed, you’re missing the point.”
Ellie tensed, her jaw working. She looked away, eyes fixed on the dim embers in the fire. “I don’t… do this talking thing well,” she mumbled, voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t know how to say I was wrong. That you scared me. That I freaked out and… said stuff I regret.”
Jay’s expression softened. She put a gentle hand on Ellie’s cheek, guiding her gaze back. “Then just say that,” she murmured. “Say what you feel, even if it’s messy. That’s better than pretending it’s fine or trying to brush it away with sex.”
Ellie swallowed, eyes betraying her inner turmoil. “I’m sorry,” she said again, quieter this time, and more earnest. “I shouldn’t have… I mean, I knew you’d come back, a part of me did, but I panicked. And I took it out on you.”
Jay exhaled, relief mingling with the sting of earlier hurt. “I know you panicked,” she said gently. “Just… try to tell me that next time, instead of tearing me down like that.”
Ellie nodded. She lifted a hand to rub the back of her neck, then finally met Jay’s gaze. “I’ll try,” she said, voice rough.
“Thank you,” she whispered, feeling Ellie relax a fraction under her touch.
They stayed like that for a few moments, the quiet forest settling around them. Dakota trotted over, nosing then licking Ellie’s hand, and she gave the dog a shaky pat. In the fading light, it wasn’t a perfect fix; Ellie’s fear still simmered under the surface, and Jay’s hurt wasn’t entirely gone. But at least the air felt a bit clearer.
Finally, Jay shifted, motioning to the small pot near the fire. “Come on,” she said, voice softer, more at ease. “I made some stew. Let’s eat, and we can figure out… tomorrow.”
Ellie nodded, standing up and offering Jay a hand. For once, she didn’t try to dodge the conversation. She let Jay lead her back toward the fire, trying to accept the moment for what it was.
Chapter 12: Anxious Silence
Summary:
Thank you for reading! Please note I am continually improving! I understand the first few chapters of this story are not my personal favorite; beginnings are and always have been hard for me, and I am currently working on revamping them! However, if you stick with the story until they at least get to Knoxville (chapter 13), I think you might enjoy it! I update frequently and am always open to kind, constructive criticism.
Chapter Text
They’d been on the move for several more days, riding cautiously through the remnants of a small, crumbling town somewhere along the road to Asheville. The streets were eerily quiet, littered with rusted-out cars and abandoned belongings. Rowan and Starlight plodded along side by side, Dakota trotting behind them, occasionally sprinting ahead to sniff around. The afternoon sun is high, casting golden light over the forest. The sound of hooves against the earth is steady, almost rhythmic.
Jay rides next to Ellie on Rowan, her posture relaxed but alert, always scanning, always watching. Ellie now rides Starlight with ease, one hand lazily holding the reins, the other resting on her thigh.
Jay glances at Ellie. “You’re getting better with her.”
Ellie snorts. “Yeah, well, she doesn’t try to throw me off every five minutes anymore, so that helps.” She pats Starlight’s neck. “Guess she finally decided I’m not so bad.”
Jay smirks. “Took her long enough.”
Ellie rolls her eyes but doesn’t argue. The silence between them stretched again, she was edgy going through this large town, eyes constantly darting toward each shadowed doorway. Jay was quieter and more composed, her gaze sweeping calmly around the silent buildings as she followed Ellie’s tense lead.
Suddenly, Dakota paused, ears flicking forward, a low, uncertain whine escaping him.
“What is it, boy?” Jay asked quietly, looking down at her dog.
Before Dakota could respond, voices echoed softly around the corner, prompting Ellie to immediately stiffen. They both dismounted quickly. Then Ellie signaled Jay to stay back, creeping forward silently, rifle raised. Jay hesitated only a second before following close behind, Dakota quietly beside her.
Around the corner, in front of what appeared to be an old grocery store, stood three people; a middle-aged woman with gentle blue eyes, an older man leaning heavily on a cane, and a younger man, barely twenty, nervously shifting his weight between his feet.
“Whoa,” the older man said gently, slowly raising a hand when he noticed Ellie’s rifle aimed cautiously toward them. “We don’t mean any harm.”
Ellie’s eyes narrowed suspiciously, her grip tightening slightly on the gun. “What’re you doing here?”
The woman smiled softly, calm and open, despite Ellie’s hostility. “We’re just passing through. Stopped to restock some supplies if we could find anything. Maybe do a bit of trading if we found anyone.”
Jay stepped forward, gently placing her hand on Ellie’s shoulder to ease her tension. Ellie flinched slightly but lowered her rifle, not fully letting her guard down, though stepping back enough to let Jay take the lead.
Jay smiled kindly at the strangers, voice steady and welcoming. “We might have a few things worth trading. What do you need?”
The woman glanced gratefully toward Jay, her eyes softening. “We’re low on bandages and antiseptic. Anything medical, really. My dad here hurt his leg.”
Ellie scoffed lightly under her breath, shaking her head dismissively. “And what’re you gonna give us in return?”
Jay shot Ellie a warning glance but remained gentle, focusing back on the group. “We’ve got some extra medical supplies; bandages, antiseptic wipes, stuff like that. It’s not much, but we’re willing to share.”
“Jay,” Ellie muttered tensely, irritation sharpening her tone. “We barely have enough ourselves.”
The older man stepped forward slowly, voice calm, reassuring. “We have food we can trade. Some canned goods, enough to get you both through the next few days.”
Jay nodded warmly. “Sounds fair to me.”
Ellie folded her arms tightly, jaw set stubbornly. “We don’t know anything about them, Jay. How do we know they’re not gonna fuck us over?”
The younger man shifted nervously again, looking hurt by Ellie’s words. But the woman remained calm, gentle patience clear in her voice. “We’re not here to hurt anyone. We’re just trying to survive, same as you.”
Jay carefully approached, pulling a small bundle of medical supplies from her pack, and holding it out with gentle confidence. “Take it. Consider it an even trade.”
The woman’s gratitude was clear, relief evident in her gentle smile as she carefully exchanged a few cans of food. “Thank you,” she said softly, sincerity clear in her voice. “We won’t forget your kindness.”
Ellie huffed bitterly under her breath, turning sharply away back towards the horses, clearly irritated. “Come on, Jay. Let’s get going.”
Jay quickly nodded goodbye with a smile, then hurried after Ellie, Dakota trailing quietly behind. Once out of earshot of the others, Ellie stopped abruptly, rounding sharply on Jay, her voice tight with restrained anger.
“What the hell was that? Just giving our supplies away to strangers now?”
Jay paused, taken aback briefly, but quickly steadied herself, voice calm yet firm. “They needed help, Ellie. They were good people.”
Ellie scoffed bitterly. “You don’t fucking know that. For all we know, they’ll circle around and ambush us later.”
Jay sighed deeply, her eyes softening despite Ellie’s harshness. “Not everyone out here is a monster, Ellie.”
Ellie clenched her jaw tightly, shaking her head sharply. “You’re too fucking trusting. It’s gonna get you killed one day. Or worse.”
Jay stepped forward quietly, not intimidated by Ellie’s harsh words, eyes steady as she held Ellie’s gaze. “Maybe. But you know what? I’ll still choose kindness whenever I can.”
Ellie stared at Jay, frustration slowly fading from anger to something quieter, deeper; fear and hurt. She shook her head weakly, voice softer, almost pleading. “Kindness gets people killed, Jay.”
Jay reached out slowly, gently touching Ellie’s arm, her voice quiet but steady. “So does being alone, Ellie. We’ve both lost a lot. Too fucking much. But if we don’t hold onto something good, something decent, what’s the point of surviving?”
Ellie’s expression slowly softened, the tension in her shoulders easing slightly, though the fear remained clear in her eyes. She hesitated, then finally sighed, shaking her head with tired resignation. “I just don’t want anything happening to you. People out here aren’t safe.”
Jay smiled faintly, softly, understanding settling warmly in her eyes. “Maybe not. But you’re forgetting something.”
Ellie raised an eyebrow, voice softening slightly as she mounted Starlight. “What?”
Jay mounted Rowan and then offered a faint smile. “You’re here. And I trust you to watch my back, even if I’m being too damn kind.”
Ellie exhaled quietly, finally letting the tension ease fully. She looked away briefly, still unsettled, but clearly softened by Jay’s words. “Just…be careful, okay?”
Jay nodded gently, her expression warm. Together, they continued forward through the empty town, Dakota trotting quietly beside them.
By dusk, they’d made camp in an abandoned backyard close by, a small fenced area with a half-collapsed swing set. Jay, thrilled to have a break from bland rations, worked by the fire mixing spices into a pot of beans and canned tomatoes. Ellie lounged nearby, fiddling with her switchblade, trying not to think too hard about anything. For a while, the peace felt almost normal.
Then Jay hummed a tune under her breath as she stirred the pot. It was soft, melodic, and strangely familiar. Ellie’s stomach twisted. The moment the song registered, a half-remembered lullaby, she froze, recognition crashing in. Dina used to hum that exact tune in the evenings, halfway joking that it was some old favorite from her childhood. Ellie had once teased her about it, always singing or humming to fill the quiet.
The memory was like a punch to Ellie’s gut. Her throat went dry, fingers tightening around the handle of her knife. She didn’t even realize she’d been glaring at Jay until Jay caught her gaze.
Jay paused, eyebrow lifting. “What?” she asked gently, noticing Ellie’s sudden change. “What is it?”
Ellie swallowed hard, her heart lurching. “Nothing,” she muttered, too sharply. “Just… that song.” She forced herself to look away.
Jay set the spoon aside, letting it rest on a nearby rock. “Oh,” she said, realization dawning in her expression. “It’s just something my grandmother used to hum. You don’t like it?”
Ellie clenched her jaw, unable to voice the storm in her chest. Instead, she stood up, turning a half-circle as though scanning the perimeter. “Let’s just… drop it,” she snapped.
An uneasy hush fell. Jay said nothing for a moment, confusion and concern flickering in her eyes. Ellie stalked a few steps away, trying to calm the sudden onslaught of memories. Dina’s laugh, Dina’s voice at night, the smell of her hair, the way she’d grin over a half-sung line. The ache was too raw, too real.
Jay followed after a beat. “Ellie,” she ventured, voice soft, “did I do something—?”
“Don’t fucking start,” Ellie growled, stepping out of Jay’s reach. She pressed a hand to her temple, the other still clutching her switchblade. “Don’t, just don’t. I can’t—” She cut off, swallowing the knot in her throat.
Jay’s expression went from confused to pained. “Hey,” she said, gently but firmly. “If something’s upsetting you—”
“Stop it!” Ellie barked, spinning to face Jay. She lifted her blade a fraction, the gesture more about keeping distance than any threat. “Stop acting like you get it. You don’t. You—” She squeezed her eyes shut, images of Dina crashing through her mind again. That song, that voice…
Jay raised her palms, not stepping closer. She saw the distress in Ellie’s face and recognized the same fear that had made Ellie lash out before. “Talk to me,” Jay pleaded softly. “Please.”
Ellie let out a bitter laugh, anger and sadness in her eyes. “Talk to you?” she echoed. “And say what? That your stupid humming reminded me of someone who left me?” Her voice wavered, raw with hurt. “That I can’t even hear a damn lullaby without losing it?”
Jay’s brow creased. “Dina,” she whispered, the name like a puzzle piece falling into place.
Ellie’s rage flared. “Yes, Dina. Or whatever,” she spat, tears threatening at the corners of her eyes. “Is that what you want to hear? That you’re doing all these little things that make me think of her? That I can’t help comparing you every damn time you do something sweet or sing a stupid tune?”
The flicker of hurt in Jay’s eyes was immediate. She lowered her hands slowly, swallowing. “Ellie, I’m not trying to replace—”
“Shut up,” Ellie muttered, brushing at her eyes roughly, refusing to cry. “I’m not doing this again. I—I can’t let you in, and then—” She stopped, voice catching. “I told you. It’s easier if you just stay away. But you just won’t.”
Jay’s throat worked around her own surge of pain. Dakota, sensing the mood, whined low, ears pinned back. “That’s not easier,” Jay murmured, even though Ellie glared at her. “Cutting me off every time you hurt… that’s not easier for either of us, and you know that.”
Ellie took a shaky breath, her chest tight. “Just… leave me alone,” she mumbled. “For real this time, Jay. I don’t want to talk, I don’t want to feel, I just… want you to stop reminding me of her.”
A tension-ridden silence stretched between them, broken only by the quiet pop of the fire and the distant rustle of wind through the fields. Jay stood there, tears welling but not falling, wrestling with her own heartbreak. After a long moment, she nodded stiffly. “Okay,” she said, voice trembling just a bit. “I’ll give you space.”
Ellie’s shoulders sagged, relief and guilt churning. She turned her back on Jay, fists clenched, refusing to let those tears escape. In the fading light, she heard Jay step away, heading back to the fire to stir the pot, to cling to a semblance of normal despite the sting of Ellie’s words and waning patience.
Both of them felt the distance like a raw wound, uncertain how deep it would cut this time. And as the sky darkened, Ellie was left wrestling with her memories, and the painful truth that pushing Jay away wouldn’t erase Dina from her mind. It would only leave her more alone.
They hadn’t spoken much since Ellie pushed Jay away over the lullaby. Both were traveling in tense, anxious silence. The morning sky hung gray and heavy, as if it might break into rain at any moment, mirroring the somber air between them. They continued eastward, following an old two-lane highway littered with rusted cars and strewn debris. Starlight and Rowan picked their way through the wreckage, while Dakota paced restlessly panting in the summer heat.
Jay rode ahead on Rowan, shoulders slumped. Usually, she kept watch with a careful diligence, eyes scanning for any sign of raiders or infected. But today, her focus seemed distant, her gaze unfocused even as she gripped the reins. Ellie trailed behind on Starlight, unsure how to address the gulf between them, unsure if she wanted to. Thoughts about slipping out again at night filled her mind.
When they finally stopped for a midday break, Jay dismounted with slow, mechanical movements. She tethered Rowan to a dead tree near the road’s shoulder, murmuring a hoarse “Easy, boy.” Then she moved aside, her posture somehow heavier than usual. Ellie lingered with Starlight, caught between the desire to keep her distance and concern at the slackness in Jay’s expression.
Dakota, sensing something off, followed Jay as she walked to a scraggly patch of grass. Jay sank to the ground, leaning her back against a half-buried concrete divider. She rested her forearms on her knees, staring out at the horizon, at nothing in particular. The dog nudged her elbow with his nose, but she gave only a weak scratch behind his ears, her eyes vacant.
Ellie stole glances from afar, unsure if she should say something. She'd never seen Jay so… drained. The woman who’d tackled infected, who’d cared for Rowan with an easy calm, who had patiently put up with every shitty thing Ellie threw at her. She now looked like she barely had the energy to breathe. Her face was drawn, her mouth a thin line. Even Dakota’s comforting presence didn’t seem to lift that palpable weight pressing down on her.
Minutes stretched on. Jay finally exhaled a long, tremulous breath, pressing the heels of her palms against her closed eyes. Ellie inched closer, a knot of worry twisting in her gut. She remained half a dozen steps away, but it was impossible not to see the tears that brimmed at the corners of Jay’s eyes when she lowered her hands.
“Jay…?” Ellie ventured, voice carefully gentle. She hated how brittle the air felt around them.
Jay shook her head, swallowing thickly. “I’m okay,” she muttered, her voice hoarse. “Just… don’t, please.”
Memories swirled unbidden in Jay’s mind, flashbacks of moments when hope had been a fragile light, dimming too quickly in the harsh reality of the world. She recalled her grandparents, the echo of their voices in the quiet halls of Biltmore, and then the reason they were gone… the person who had murdered them. The same person who couldn’t or wouldn’t love her. The weight of it all pressed down on her chest until it felt as if she could hardly breathe. Her hand trembled as she reached down and absentmindedly traced the worn metal of her pistol, a constant reminder of her promise to herself that she’d never let the darkness claim her completely after she walked away from the canyon.
Ellie’s brow furrowed. She recognized that tone, someone on the brink, trying to keep it together. She glanced at Dakota, who whined softly. At a loss, Ellie hesitated, then took another step forward. “You’re not okay,” she said softly, trying not to let her own residual turmoil overshadow concern. “What’s going on?”
For a moment, Jay said nothing, staring off at a collapsed billboard on the horizon. Then she let out a bitter, humorless laugh, covering her mouth with her palm. “I don’t know,” she mumbled, voice choked. “One moment, I’m keeping it together, you know, making plans, getting us further east… and then the next, I’m thinking about how fucking… pointless everything is.” She dropped her hand, trembling. “Like, we could die tomorrow, or we could… linger for years, and I just… can’t see a reason sometimes.”
Ellie’s heart clenched. “Jay…” She wanted to comfort her, to reach out, but she sensed Jay’s and her own fragility. “Is this about… me pushing you away? Or what I’ve said—?”
“It’s everything,” Jay cut in, voice low but thick with emotion. “You, me, the world, Biltmore… shit, I don’t even know if we’ll find anything there. And I’m tired, Ellie. So damn tired.” She pulled her knees to her chest, burying her face for a moment. “I tried to hold it together, for me… for you… but sometimes it just… hits. Like a wave crashing.”
For a long, heavy moment, she sat there alone, the road’s quiet punctuating the steady hum of her anxious heart. Each beat was a reminder that she was still alive, still struggling to hold on to something, anything, that might make tomorrow bearable. The raw, unfiltered truth of her depression was laid bare in front of Ellie for the first time: the crushing loneliness, the perpetual fear of losing more, and the bitter taste of hate.
Ellie’s eyes looked down. She rubbed her arm then started picking at her fingers, wrestling her own guilt and fear. We can’t keep hurting each other like this. “Look,” she said in a gentler tone, stepping closer, “I’m sorry about… everything. I really am. I’m a shitty person, Jay. I keep trying to tell you…”
Jay lifted her head, tear tracks streaking her cheeks. She gave her a half-shrug. “I don’t want to scare you,” she whispered, voice hollow. “I just…some days, I wish I’d stayed at the canyon. I feel like everything’s a struggle, and I don’t know how to stop.”
Ellie’s chest twisted painfully remembering her past biting words about that night at the canyon. She dropped to a crouch beside Jay, careful to keep her voice and posture non-threatening. “Don’t say that,” she murmured. “I mean…do you really mean it?”
For a moment, Jay hesitated, as though considering her words. Finally, she spoke. “Not always,” she admitted, lips trembling. “It comes and goes. Some days I believe we can keep going, that we’ll find something worth living for. Other days, it feels… pointless. Other days you telling me ‘to finish the job’ plays in my head.” She glanced at Ellie, anguish in her gaze. “I don’t want to upset you. But I can’t pretend I’m not… drowning sometimes.”
Ellie exhaled shakily, reaching out to let her palm hover near Jay’s arm. When Jay didn’t recoil, Ellie rested it there gently. “Fuck… I never should have said that to you… I didn’t mean it… and I’m… sorry you feel like that,” she managed, voice a whisper. “And I know I haven’t made it easier. I push you away, then I freak out when you’re gone. It’s messed up. But I do… I do care about you.”
Jay’s eyes brimmed with fresh tears. She bowed her head, letting one hand settle over Ellie’s. “I care about you, too,” she murmured. “That’s half my problem… Sometimes I wish I could just stop feeling anything.”
Ellie inched a bit closer nudging her converse against Jay’s boots. Dakota slipped between them, pressing his muzzle against Jay’s arm, his soft whine echoing the tension. “We’re in this together, okay?” Ellie said, voice catching. “You've been patient with me more times than I can count, Jay. And I want to… I want to be there for you, too. I’m just not sure how.”
Jay took a shaky breath, leaning into Dakota’s warmth, the dog’s tail wagging ever so slightly. “Just… give me a minute,” she whispered, closing her eyes. “Let me feel this and… not try to fix it. Please.”
Ellie nodded, just rubbing Jay’s arm. “Okay,” she whispered. “Take all the time you need.”
They sat in silence for a good stretch, the wind rustling the tall grass near the abandoned cars. Jay’s sobs came quietly at first, then less so, raw, pained gasps that Ellie had never witnessed from her before. Ellie stayed close but didn’t force contact, letting Jay lean into Dakota instead, letting her tears flow.
At last, Jay’s breathing slowed, exhaustion weighing on her. She sniffed, rubbing her face. When she looked up at Ellie, the guilt and sorrow mingled with a faint, grateful flicker. “Thanks,” she managed, voice raspier than usual. “For… staying. For not running off when I’ve given you every reason to.”
“I’m not leaving,” Jay whispered, a fragile vow that trembled in her voice. “Not while I can still find a reason to keep going, even if it’s you, Ellie. Even if it’s just this small spark of whatever this is between us.”
Ellie swallowed, lowering her gaze, letting out a shaky exhale. “We’ll… figure it out. Like you always say ‘one day at a time’, right?”
Jay tried to smile, but it wavered, tears still threatening. “Yeah,” she murmured. “One day at a time.”
They lingered there a while longer, Dakota pressed between them like a silent guardian, Rowan and Starlight grazing a few yards away. The moment wasn’t a cure for Jay’s inner storms, those storms would likely come again. But for now, she wasn’t alone, and Ellie’s presence, hesitant though it was, offered a fragile lifeline in her swirling dark.
Chapter 13: Knoxville
Summary:
Ellie and Jay make it to Knoxville on their journey east to the Biltmore Settlement. But an attack by the infected will reveal a secret Ellie kept from Jay.
Thank you for reading. Please note that I am continually improving. I update frequently and am always open to kind, constructive criticism.
Chapter Text
The bar’s neon sign was half-broken, jutting out from a crumbling façade onto a Knoxville side downtown street. The late afternoon light cast eerie shadows through the shattered windows, illuminating overturned chairs, splintered tables, and a sticky film of dust across every surface. Ellie and Jay edged through the door, weapons at the ready, Dakota following closely. The air inside reeked of stale liquor and decay.
“Check the back?” Jay suggested in a hushed tone, flashlight scanning the tattered counter. “Might be unopened bottles or old food worth scavenging, though I think that’s a long shot.” Ellie just nodded, stepping around broken glass and dried puddles of who-knew-what. Dakota sniffed the ground deeply, growling low, ears pricked for danger.
They found more wreckage behind the bar, shelves collapsed, taps rusted, and soggy cardboard boxes. Ellie wrinkled her nose at the smell, flipping a bottle with her switchblade. “All busted,” she muttered. “Figures.” She reached for another, but her attention snapped up at the sound of skittering feet on the wood floor.
Before either could react, a blur of motion vaulted from behind the remains of the counter with a screech. A stalker, its fungal growths partially concealing a twisted face, slammed into Ellie with a guttural hiss. The impact knocked her off balance. She grunted, struggling to bring her blade up, but the infected shoved her backward, feet scrambling on broken floorboards.
“Ellie!” Jay shouted, raising her revolver, but there was no clean shot so she started running towards her. The stalker’s momentum carried Ellie across a wet sagging section of the floor. Wood gave a sickening groan, then collapsed. Ellie and the infected crashed down through a decayed hole into darkness. With a thunderous clatter, debris rained around them.
Dakota barked low and protectively, sprinting to the edge of the hole. Jay rushed after him, heart lurching at the sight of swirling dust and blackness below. A few feet away, a battered sign reading “BASEMENT STORAGE” clung to the wall. “Ellie!” she called, voice cracking. “Ellie answer me! Are you okay? I’m going to–”
A cough echoed from below, followed by Ellie’s breathless curse. “Yeah!” she yelled, half-choked. “I’m—shit—there are spores, Jay! Don’t come down!”
Jay’s pulse spiked, and she caught a glimpse of swirling spore clouds in the flashlight’s beam. “Oh, God,” she muttered, fumbling for her gas mask. Dakota continued barking, every muscle taut, as if ready to leap in despite the drop.
“Stay!” Jay commanded the dog, voice quavering. She jammed the mask over her face, adjusting the straps with shaking hands. Below, she heard Ellie’s frantic scuffle, another infected snarl, and a crash of broken crates. “I’m coming Ellie!” Jay hollered, half panicked.
“No!” Ellie’s voice cut through, more urgent. “Jay, do not—there are too many stalkers—just… get the fuck out of here!”
Another hiss, closer this time, signaled the arrival of more infected. Jay’s flashlight caught glimpses of spore-filled gloom: shadows swaying, glimpses of fungal growth creeping along moldy walls. She bit back in terror as she searched for a way to descend. “Hang on!” she gasped.
A sudden shriek from below made Jay’s stomach twist. Three more stalkers careened into view, half-falling through the broken floor, drawn by the noise. Ellie’s grunts and shots echoed, interspersed with wet, sickening thuds. Jay’s entire body shook. She leaned over, shining the flashlight down. Aiming her pistol and shot one of the stalkers that was trying to ambush Ellie as she moved that way.
In the gloom, Jay spotted Ellie’s shape, slamming a stalker to the ground with a fierce thrust. Spores eddied around them like a noxious fog. She’s going to be infected, Jay thought, panic blaring in her mind. I’m going to lose her.
But Ellie showed no sign of struggle with the air. She coughed a few times, but not as though she were choking on lethal spores, more like annoyance at swirling dust. She pivoted, slashing another stalker across the throat, flesh shredding under her blade.
Jay’s breath caught. How is she breathing that in? She readied her revolver and tried to find the next stalker. Then one of the stalkers lunged at Ellie’s back. “Behind you!” Jay shouted, aiming. The infected jerked sideways at the last second, Jay fired, the bullet tearing into its shoulder. It screeched, stumbling as Ellie finished it off.
Dakota barked the whole time, frantic. Jay leans into the hole again. Ellie should be suffocating or at the very least in dire straits. She saw Ellie shaking off the remains of the final stalker, panting heavily but otherwise moving freely, unmasked, unhurt by the spores.
Ellie’s hair was messy with dust, her face smudged, but she glared upward. “You shot that one?” she yelled, voice echoing. “We gotta move. That floor’s about to give more.”
Jay blinked, chest heaving. “But—Ellie, the spores—how are you—?” Her voice trailed off, baffled. Fear for Ellie’s safety collided with the realization that Ellie was breathing lethal fungal matter without a mask and was apparently fine.
Ellie hesitated, scanning the basement for any more infected. She spotted a faint glow from a side corridor, maybe a secondary exit. “I—I’ll explain later,” she said, swallowing. “Just… let’s get the fuck out of here.” She picked her way through the rubble, ignoring the spore-filled air swirling around her. “There’s a ladder over here.”
“Ellie, are you sure you’re not just in shock? We need—” Jay’s pulse pounded. Explain? The truth slammed into her with dizzying force. This is impossible… isn’t it?
Shaking off her shock, Jay found a safer angle, shining her light so Ellie could see. Up above, Dakota whined, pacing frenetically. “Did you find a way out El?” Jay called, forcing her voice to stay calm.
“Yeah,” Ellie confirmed, stepping gingerly around broken crates and rotted beams. “I can climb up if you meet me on the other side. Check for a back alley or something and make sure it’s clear.” Her voice quivered slightly, as though she knew the conversation to come would be as fraught as the encounter they’d just survived.
Jay forced herself to nod. “Okay,” she managed. “Just… be careful alright? We’ll find you.”
Dakota barked once more, and Jay placed a reassuring hand on his back. She cast one last stunned look at Ellie, still standing unharmed in a storm of spores, then turned away to find the exit. Questions reeled in her mind: How long has she been like this? Why didn’t she say anything?
But first, she had to get Ellie out safely. Then she could demand answers. One thing was certain: the rules of survival had just changed in ways Jay never could’ve imagined. She could only hope their bond would hold under the weight of this revelation, that once again, they wouldn’t break when the truth hit home.
Jay raced around the bar’s exterior, flashlight bobbing in her free hand, Dakota close at her side. Her heartbeat thundered in her ears. Every so often, she craned her neck upward to see if the building’s roof or façade might collapse, but aside from a few ominous creaks, it held firm.
She found a cluttered alley that ran along the bar’s backside, littered with broken glass, upturned trash cans, and a dilapidated set of stairs to a boarded-up exit. Dakota barked, bounding forward to sniff and paw at the door. “Ellie?” Jay called, voice echoing in the narrow space.
“Here!” Ellie’s voice came from somewhere below ground level, muffled behind the wooden planks. Jay pressed her ear against them, adrenaline still spiking. She heard stumbling, quiet curses, the scrape of debris.
“Are you still okay?” Jay shouted, pressing her hand to the weathered boards.
“Yeah,” came Ellie’s breathless reply. “There’s a rickety ladder, just gimme a sec.”
Moments later, Jay heard the clatter of footsteps on rungs. The door shuddered. Then the boards splintered around a thin, makeshift crowbar Ellie must’ve found. With a groan, the blocked exit popped open, revealing Ellie stooped in the dim corridor behind it. Spores drifted faintly in the air around her, but she seemed… fine. Not even wearing a mask.
Dakota rushed forward, tail swishing anxiously, jumping up on Ellie, and licked her face for a second. Ellie took a shaky breath, ruffling his fur. “Good boy,” she muttered, trying to steady herself. When her gaze lifted to Jay, apprehension flickered across her face.
Jay stepped closer, still wearing her own mask. Her eyes were wide with a mix of terror and awe, and her voice emerged muffled beneath the respirator. “You’re… not even coughing… you’re not infected,” she said, each word laced with disbelief. “There were spores everywhere. You didn’t even have a mask.”
Ellie swallowed, wiping dusty sweat from her brow with the back of her hand. “Yeah,” she murmured. “I’m not. I—never have been.”
Jay blinked in stunned silence, her breath quickening behind the mask. She swung the flashlight around, ensuring no more infected lurked. “But how—” She paused, mind reeling. “Are you saying you’re immune? Like… that’s real? You’re joking right?”
Ellie gave a halfhearted nod. “It’s a long story,” she admitted, glancing warily back into the spore-filled corridor. “I wasn’t lying about being able to breathe in that shit. I… can’t get infected.”
Dakota let out a soft huff, settling at Ellie’s feet as if relieved to have her back. Jay, still trembling slightly from the shock, reached up to slowly remove her mask. She looked Ellie in the eyes. “You… you’ve been immune this whole time? This whole time?! And you didn’t tell me?”
Guilt settled over Ellie’s features. She shifted her weight, dropping her gaze. “I don’t… advertise it okay,” she said. “Only a handful of people ever knew about it. Joel, Dina, a couple others from Jackson. It’s… complicated.”
“Complicated,” Jay repeated with a huff of laughter, disbelief mingling with a sting of hurt. She thought back to every time she’d worried about Ellie’s safety, especially around infected, and how Ellie had always taken the lead with such reckless confidence. Now it made sense. “You could’ve died in that fall,” Jay rasped, “but you still worried about me breathing the spores—”
Ellie’s eyes flicked up. “I didn’t want you coming down. It wasn’t safe for you.” She sighed, shoulders slumping with exhaustion. “I’m sorry. I should’ve told you, but… it’s not exactly easy to drop that on someone.”
Jay’s heart churned. She couldn’t deny a rush of relief that Ellie truly couldn’t be infected, yet she also felt a flicker of betrayal, overshadowed by the day’s terror. “How many times have we been in close calls—like that house with the spores? Were you wearing a mask just to keep up appearances?”
Ellie cleared her throat, glancing aside. “Yea,” she admitted. “It’s second nature. I do it so people don’t ask questions. I’ve learned to keep it quiet.”
For a moment, the alley was silent, save for Jay’s ragged breathing. Dakota’s tail thumped softly, just happy Ellie was back with them. The sun dipped lower, the shadows lengthening around them. Jay didn’t move or speak until finally, she pulled Ellie into a tight, desperate embrace, surprising even herself.
“You could’ve been ripped apart,” Jay murmured against Ellie’s dusty jacket, voice shaking. “Spore-proof or not, you’re not immune to death by stalker.” She pulled back, both hands on Ellie’s shoulders, searching Ellie’s eyes. “God, I can’t lose you like that.”
Ellie’s breath caught. She let her forehead rest against Jay’s, fighting the urge to hide her face. “I know,” she whispered. “But… I handled it.”
Jay exhaled shakily, nodding. “You did. But seeing you breathing spores—fuck it scared the hell out of me, Ellie.” Her voice trembled with relief and pent-up emotion. “I thought you were done for.”
Ellie pursed her lips, lifting a tentative hand to cup Jay’s cheek. “I know. I’ve had this secret so long, it just… becomes normal,” she confessed. “But I guess I should’ve told you.”
Jay swallowed hard, leaning into Ellie’s touch. She considered the weight of that knowledge, her heart still pounding with residual panic. “Just,” she started, voice quiet but firm, “no more hiding. If there’s something that could get you killed or me or—just… be honest, okay?”
Ellie’s eyes flickered with remorse. “Okay,” she managed. “I promise.”
Dakota leaned against Ellie’s leg, whimpering for reassurance. Ellie reached down to pat his head, while Jay blew out a breath, trying to steady herself. The building groaned behind them, and Jay cast a wary glance over the collapsed hole. “We should probably keep moving,” she noted. “Before more infected show up.”
Ellie nodded, retrieving her switchblade from her belt. “Yeah. Let’s check the area for supplies real quick, then bail. I think I saw a pharmacy sign a few blocks over.”
They started forward, Jay’s hand lingering on Ellie’s arm as if to assure herself Ellie was still there, still whole. The adrenaline still thrummed in Jay’s veins, but a new understanding settled between them. Ellie might be immune to the cordyceps infection, but she was still vulnerable to every other danger this broken world offered. And Jay, despite her shaking fear, intended to do everything she could to keep Ellie alive, secret or no secret, rough past or no past. They set off into the Knoxville streets, Dakota trotting faithfully by their side.
Later they’d found a sturdy old three story office building near downtown Knoxville, the top floor still sound enough to serve as shelter. After a long day, Jay and Ellie led the horses into the lobby, barricading the entrances with metal shelving, and climbed the fire escape to the roof. From up there, the city’s ravaged skyline lay in eerie silhouettes, and the stars overhead were strangely vivid, unmasked by streetlights that had died decades ago.
Exhaustion weighed on both of them, but neither could sleep. So they stretched out side by side on the cracked concrete roof, Dakota curled near Jay’s hip, his muzzle resting on his paws. A gentle breeze ruffled their hair, the night air unexpectedly mild for autumn’s approach.
For a while, they simply looked at the stars. Then Jay turned her head, focusing on Ellie’s profile illuminated by the starlight. “So,” she said softly, her voice carrying a note of hesitant curiosity, “earlier today… when I saw you breathing those spores…”
Ellie exhaled, pressing her lips into a tight line. “Yeah,” she said. “I guess… it’s out in the open now.”
Jay nodded, clasping her hands over her stomach. “I wouldn’t have believed it even if you told me,” she admitted, “if I hadn’t seen it myself. I mean….”
Ellie’s gaze dropped, her shoulders tense. “Yeah, well… I’m real. And so is this bullshit in my brain that keeps me alive.” She paused, measuring her words. “I found out when I was younger. Got bit.” She swallowed, remembering the haunting night in the mall. “I waited to turn, but I never did.”
Jay’s lips parted in a quiet gasp. “So you just… realized you weren’t changing?”
“That’s the short version,” Ellie said, tone tight. “I was with someone else when it happened… but she turned, and I didn’t. I thought for sure I would, but days passed… weeks…” She let out a shaky breath, heart pounding at the memory. “And nothing happened. That’s when the Fireflies got involved—long story there.”
A thoughtful hush settled, punctuated only by the distant rumble of wind through empty buildings. Jay shifted to her side, facing Ellie. “Fireflies? Is that a group?”
“Yea… they wanted to find a cure.”
“So the Fireflies… tried to figure out how to… replicate it?”
Ellie nodded grimly. “They… uh… tried. It didn’t… work out.” She stared up at the stars, a pang tightening her chest as she recalled painful details. “People got hurt. Joel got me out. My immunity is worthless, I can’t save anyone. It just made me a target.”
Jay sighed, rubbing the back of Dakota’s ears. The dog gave a sleepy huff, content to remain between them. “And that’s why you don’t tell people,” she reasoned, voice soft.
“Yeah,” Ellie said, letting her eyes flick over to Jay.
Jay swallowed hard, shock and sadness etched into her features. “I… can’t imagine. God, Ellie.” She reached out tentatively, brushing the edge of Ellie’s hand. “I’m sorry you’ve had to carry that alone.”
Ellie offered a small shrug, though it felt hollow. “We all carry heavy shit, I guess. It’s just… mine is a little weird. That’s all.”
A silence lingered, thick with empathy and unspoken worry. After a moment, Jay shifted closer, keeping her voice quiet so it didn’t echo over the rooftop. “But you’re okay, right?” she asked, pressing a gentle palm to Ellie’s shoulder. “Physically, I mean. You’re not… hurting after breathing that stuff in?”
Ellie shook her head. “I’m fine. A little bruised from the fall, but no infection. No fungus creeping into my brain.” She attempted a dry smile. “You, on the other hand, must’ve thought I was gone for sure.”
Jay’s face tightened. “I did.” She let out a sigh, gaze drifting skyward.
They fell into a companionable quiet. Beneath them, the building groaned with the soft shift of nighttime temperature, and a few stars blinked out as clouds drifted across the sky. Dakota dozed, occasionally twitching in his sleep.
Eventually, Jay reached for Ellie’s hand, tangling their fingers. “I’m glad you told me,” she said, voice quiet. “And that… I mean, I get why you didn’t. You had every reason not to trust me.”
Ellie stared at their joined hands, a subtle warmth flickering in her chest. “Yeah,” she whispered. “But you trust me with your worst… guess it’s only fair you know mine.”
Jay squeezed Ellie’s fingers gently, then let her other hand come up to stroke Dakota’s side. “I won’t tell anyone,” she promised, her voice trembling a fraction. “But… I also won’t let you face the infected alone if it happens again. You’re immune, sure, but you can still get torn apart by those things.”
Ellie managed a faint grin, amused by Jay’s stubborn protectiveness. “Well, I guess I can’t stop you. Just keep your mask on, okay?”
Jay huffed a laugh, exhaustion pulling at her eyelids. “Fair enough.”
“And you know what?” she ventured, tone somewhat playful, “I guess you’re stuck with me now that I know about your secret superpower.”
Ellie let out a soft chuckle, the tension in her shoulders releasing. “I’ll try not to make it too hard on you.”
Jay lifted a brow. “We both know you’re good at making things complicated and ‘hard on me’,” she teased, though her smile was fond.
Ellie rolled her eyes, but a small grin lit her face. She shifted closer, their knees brushing. “Might be worth it,” she murmured.
Jay let out a quiet exhale, turning onto her side to face Ellie. She could see how unsettled Ellie still looked, lips pressed tight, eyes flicking with too many thoughts. Jay decided a shift in conversation might help lighten the air. “You know,” she began softly, “if this world wasn’t so fucked up, I think…maybe I would’ve been an animal trainer. Like a real one. I love working with horses, dogs.” A small, wistful laugh escaped her. “I used to dream about giving riding lessons to kids.”
Ellie’s tense expression eased a fraction. “Yeah?” she asked, rolling onto her back to look at the stars again. “You with a bunch of kids. Now that would be a sight.”
Jay snorted, nudging Dakota’s side gently. “Yeah, well, it’s what I would have liked to do...” She shifted again, resting an arm beneath her head as a makeshift pillow. “What about you?”
Ellie swallowed, caught off guard by the question. “Me?”
Jay nodded, eyes reflecting the moonlight. “If the world was… normal. If there wasn’t any of this bullshit. What would you be?”
Ellie fell quiet, a familiar pang stirring in her chest. What would I be? She knew the answer obviously. She thought about all those times Joel had humored her obsession, all the nights she’d lost herself in space books. “I, uh…” She cleared her throat, voice low. “I wanted to be an astronaut.” Like always she almost laughed at how ridiculous it sounded in the current world. “Ever since I was a kid, I’d read these old NASA magazines or books. I thought being up there, looking down on Earth, would be… amazing.”
Jay’s lips curved into a gentle, curious smile. “An astronaut,” she repeated, softly. “You’d be good at that. You’ve got nerves of steel in a crisis. Maybe that’s required for space travel.”
Ellie chuckled, a flicker of humor lighting her eyes. “Yeah, well, can’t be worse than getting tossed around by infected.” She grew quiet for a moment, memories of Dina creeping unbidden. She recalled conversations just like this she had once had with Dina. The memories twisted in Ellie’s chest like a knife.
Jay seemed to notice the shift, the sudden tightness in Ellie’s features. She didn’t pry, just shifted closer, offering silent support. “You’d look amazing in one of those big suits,” she teased gently, trying to coax Ellie back to them. “Floating around, doing repairs. Probably cussing every time a bolt wouldn’t turn.”
Ellie forced a dry smile. “I’d probably have a few choice words for the space station, yeah.” But the humor faded quickly, and she found her chest clenching again. The image of Dina’s smile rose in her mind.
Her eyes burned, and she blinked rapidly. She could sense Jay’s concern, felt the feather-light brush of Jay’s fingers on her forearm. It was comforting, and yet, it made her guilt deepen. Dina is gone. And I’m here falling for someone else. Even the thought felt like a betrayal, but to who? Dina or to herself.
Jay’s voice was quiet. “Everything okay?”
Ellie swallowed thickly. “Yeah,” she lied, barely audible. “Just… thinking.” She shifted, rolling onto her side so she wasn’t looking Jay in the eye. “Remembering stuff.”
Jay’s hand lingered, gently, on Ellie’s arm. She didn’t ask for details. “It’s okay,” Jay said softly. “We’ve had enough heavy talk for one night. If you need space, I get it.”
Ellie exhaled a shaky breath. She recognized Jay’s kindness but felt strangled by the weight of old memories, new feelings, the knowledge she was letting someone else in, that she wanted to let them in. And Dina’s face kept dancing behind her eyelids. “Thanks,” she managed, forcing herself to say. “Maybe… let’s just stay quiet for a bit.”
Jay gave her arm a gentle squeeze before withdrawing. Dakota shifted in his sleep, tail wagging at some dream he was having. The rooftop fell into a hush again, only the distant breeze across broken city streets and the faint hum of nighttime insects.
They lay like that for a while, Jay processing her own thoughts of what might’ve been in a different world, Ellie grappling with a tangle of longing for the past and an undeniable, growing attachment to Jay. Neither spoke, but the closeness of their shared presence offered some comfort, a small solace in a universe that had denied them so much.
Chapter 14: The Cherokee
Summary:
Ellie and Jay are only a week or so out from their destination. But can they make it out alive when they come across another group?
Thank you for reading. Please note that I am continually improving. I update frequently and am always open to kind, constructive criticism.
Chapter Text
The late afternoon sun cast its long shadows down a deserted street in rural East Tennessee, broken windows and rusted signs telling the familiar story of a town long abandoned. Ellie and Jay were nearing the final stretch of their journey toward Biltmore, still weeks away but slowly closing the distance. They’d been cautious about where they stopped; some parts of Tennessee were teeming with infected, others with desperate scavengers.
Their boots crunched over broken asphalt as they scanned for any sign of movement or life around them. Dakota, trotted a few steps ahead, nose to the ground, tail stiff with caution.
It was Dakota who alerted them first, lifting his head and letting out a low, interested huff near a small store with faded lettering across the glass front. It appeared mostly intact, the windows dusty but unbroken; except for one spider-webbed crack that suggested someone might have tried looting it before.
Jay eyed the storefront suspiciously. “Could be worth checking. Think we’ll find anything worth taking?” she murmured, giving Ellie a sidelong glance.
Ellie tilted her head, peering through the grime-encrusted glass. Shelves inside still looked relatively stocked; boxes piled up near the back, and random goods scattered about in the gloom. “Could be. Looks like no one’s been here in a while.” Ellie said and glanced back at Jay, who gave a small nod of agreement.
They approached quietly, staying alert, weapons drawn. Ellie raised a hand to signal Jay to stay put while she stepped forward to investigate. Glancing through the glass again, she saw no immediate movement inside; no shapes stumbling around in the shadows. No faint clicking or groaning that would suggest infected.
A small grin tugged at Ellie’s lips. “Looks clear,” she whispered. Without further warning, she slammed the butt of her rifle through the glass near the door, the sound of shattering ringing out through the silent street. Ellie clambered through the broken window, converse shoes scraping over glass shards as she dropped into the store.
Outside, Jay stood frozen mid-step, eyebrows lifted in disbelief. “What the—Ellie!” she hissed. “Jesus, you could’ve waited for me to—” But Ellie had already jumped inside.
Jay just stood there, one brow arched, wearing an expression somewhere between amusement and disbelief. Shaking her head. Then, without a word, she moved to the door, she reached out, turning the doorknob, and pushed the door open; silently, smoothly, without a single creak. She swung it wide, stepping inside the store without resistance. “The door was unlocked,” she said flatly, crossing her arms as she stared Ellie down. “You realize that, right?”
Ellie blinked, looking from Jay to the open door. “You have got to be kidding me,” she said, groaning dramatically. A faint flush colored her cheeks. “The door was unlocked? Well… that’s.. yea.”
Ellie frowned, gesturing at the broken glass littered across the floor. “I just, uh—force of habit. Didn’t want to—”
“Didn’t want to what?” Jay asked, her tone mock-serious. “Didn’t want to take five seconds to try the handle first? Or maybe you just like the adrenaline rush of smashing windows.”
Ellie huffed, trying not to smirk. “For your information, some of us had to do stuff like that to survive. Not every door in the world was unlocked, y’know. I mean you go to Seattle, every door there is locked or a pain in the ass to push open.”
“Sure, sure.” Jay gave an exaggerated shrug, walking further into the store. “I’m just saying, sometimes a gentle push works wonders.”
Ellie shrugged, doing her best to appear nonchalant. “Takes too long to check the knob sometimes,” she muttered, nudging a discarded can with her foot. “Plus, you know… style.”
Jay rolled her eyes, stepping gingerly over scattered debris. “Right, gotta keep that badass image, huh?”
Ellie smirked, ignoring the jab. “Don’t pretend you’re not impressed.”
Dakota padded cautiously through the now-open door, sniffing at the floor with curious snorts. Jay knelt down to ruffle the dog’s ears. “I think Dakota’s more impressed with the smell of stale food than your glass-breaking, Ellie.”
Ellie smeared a face at Jay, then lifted her flashlight, sweeping a beam through the dim store. Rows of shelves stood relatively intact, dust thick in the air. “Come on,” she said, voice a little lower now. “Let’s see if any of this is salvageable.”
They moved carefully through the aisle, stepping over abandoned packaging and signs of long-ago looting attempts. While the front shelves looked picked over, the back seemed less disturbed; fewer footprints in the dust, and more intact boxes.
Jay grabbed a can of something from a shelf, squinting at the faded label. “Peaches, I think,” she murmured. “Looks old, but maybe still good if the seal isn't broken.” She shook it gently, listening for any ominous rattle.
“Ooh,” Ellie said, holding up some ammo. “Jackpot.”
Jay smirked, rummaging through another section. “At least you’ve got a knack for finding decent stuff. That I’ll give you.”
Ellie turned around, smirking. “You’re welcome.”
Ellie wandered a few steps away, rummaging through a stack of boxes. “Hey, think I found some first-aid kits.” She pulled out a dusty cardboard box, rummaging inside, a triumphant smile appearing. “Bandages, gauze… this stuff looks legit.”
Jay made her way over, setting her own finds aside. She glanced at the old first-aid kits and nodded. “That’s actually really good. We’ve been running low after helping that family.”
They continued searching in companionable silence for a while, the only sounds of their footsteps and the quiet rustle of rummaged goods. Dakota lay down near the entrance, seemingly content to keep watch.
After a few minutes, Jay’s voice echoed from a corner of the store, tinged with mild excitement. “Ellie, check this out.”
Ellie turned her flashlight on Jay, heading over to find her crouched near a small door labeled ‘Storage.’ Jay’s previous sarcasm had faded, replaced by genuine curiosity. The door was closed but not locked, and with a gentle push, it swung open, revealing a cramped back room stacked with crates.
They stepped inside carefully, the room musty and dim. Ellie flicked her flashlight over the crates, quickly scanning for any sign of infected. It looked safe; just dusty piles of stuff waiting to be discovered.
Jay pried open one of the crates, straining against old nails. “Could be supplies,” she muttered. Then, with a creak, the lid popped off, revealing a stash of dusty water jugs, some still sealed.
“Oh, hell yes,” Ellie breathed, stepping forward to check the seals. They seemed intact, with no visible leaks. “This is a score, Jay.”
Jay’s smile was bright, relief evident. They’d been close to rationing water too tightly for comfort these last couple of days. “We’ll take as many as we can carry,” she said, already pulling out her pack. “Might as well grab them all, though. The horses can handle some extra weight for a while.”
Ellie nodded, transferring the jugs into a pile they could easily haul outside. They worked for a solid ten minutes, rummaging through other crates, finding some more canned goods, a few random hygiene items. By the time they were done, they had a decent pile of loot stacked by the store’s front entrance and broken glass.
Wiping sweat from her brow, Ellie grinned. “Not bad for a random pit stop.”
Jay gave her a sideways look, a teasing spark returning to her eyes. “All thanks to your stealthy, strategic approach, right? Busting that glass in like some badass.”
Ellie glanced at the broken window again and winced. “I guess I, uh… jumped the gun on that one.”
Jay bit back a laugh, but her eyes danced with mischief. “Don’t worry. I’ll only tease you about it every chance I get.”
Ellie rolled her eyes, but a smile tugged at her lips. “I’ll find a way to get even, you know. One of these days, you’ll do something really dumb.”
Jay chuckled. “Oh, I’m sure I will. But until then… I’ll just relish the memory of you busting in like an idiot when the door was right there, practically labeled ‘Use Me.’”
Ellie rolled her eyes, but she couldn’t keep the grin off her face. “Shut up,” she muttered, loading her backpack. “You know you loved it.”
Jay shrugged, smirking. “Fine. Let’s just say next time, check the door first… or at least maybe do it quieter.”
A playful tension ignited between them, a familiar dance of banter as they slung their packs over their shoulders. Dakota rose to his feet, padding over to them, tail wagging slowly, nose nudging the water jugs curiously.
Ellie sighed, scanning the now nearly empty store. “Think that’s everything?”
Jay nodded, satisfied. “Seems like it. We did good here.”
They carefully carried their haul back outside, setting it near Rowan and Starlight. Ellie paused, a proud grin plastered on her face as she eyed the supplies. It was a good day, a lucky find.
Jay caught her expression, raising an eyebrow. “What?”
Ellie shrugged. “Nothing. Just… that was kind of fun. For once, we got in and out without everything going to hell.”
Jay softened, remembering all the times that hadn’t been the case. “Yeah. I’ll take it.” She patted Rowan’s flank gently, checking the gelding’s saddle. Then her voice lowered conspiratorially. “You know, you did actually look kind of badass going through that glass like that. Not gonna lie.”
Ellie’s face brightened, laughter escaping her. “You’re full of shit.”
Jay shrugged with an air of innocence. “Maybe. But you know, if it works, it works.”
Smiling, they both mounted up, Dakota trotting beside them. With their packs full, they guided the horses onward, leaving behind the looted store and the shattered glass that announced Ellie’s presence with a flourish.
The next day the mountains rose against the sky in rolling shades of green and gray, thick forests draping the hillsides like a patchwork quilt. Ellie and Jay trudged along a winding road that cut through a valley, the pavement cracked and lined with wild grasses pushing through the asphalt. Dakota prowled a few yards ahead, nose to the ground, occasionally glancing back as if checking on his companions.
Starlight and Rowan walked steadily underneath Ellie and Jay, hooves rhythmically clopping against the old highway. For a while, neither of them spoke, simply taking in the hum of cicadas and the soft rustle of leaves in the gentle breeze. A certain tension hung in the air, not quite fear, but an awareness that something important waited just beyond the next bend.
“So,” Ellie finally said, breaking the silence, “we’re getting close, right?”
Jay glanced over, brushing a strand of hair from her eyes. “Yeah. If I remember right, but we have to go through Cherokee lands, once we pass that ridge over there,” she pointed to a line of trees cresting a hill, “that should mark the beginning of their territory. At least, that’s how it was a few years ago.”
Ellie raised an eyebrow, sitting straighter in the saddle. “You’ve actually seen them? The people who live here?”
Jay nodded, patting Rowan’s shoulder when the horse snorted. “Some of them, yeah. Not up close, but my grandpa told me about them. They used to come by Biltmore to trade. They’re Cherokee who, after the outbreak, went back to living in ways their ancestors did. Using bows, trapping, living off the land. Like a lot of old books describing Native American life, you know?”
Ellie’s eyes flickered with curiosity. “Huh. And they just live here, like, wild? No fences, no big walls?”
“That’s what my Grandfather said,” Jay replied. She guided Rowan around a large pothole, the gelding sidestepping with easy grace. “He always said they’re not hostile unless you give them a reason; like hunting their land, or looting their settlements, or setting up camp without permission.” She paused, remembering. “A few times when I was a kid, they’d show up at Biltmore with pelts, herbs, sometimes pottery. We traded them tools, medicine, stuff like that.”
Ellie whistled softly. “Shit. So, you’ve actually seen them, like… out here?”
Jay nodded. “A year ago, when I was heading out west, I spotted a couple of their riders on a distant ridge. Didn’t dare go close. I figured if they recognized me or my horse, they might approach, but they never did. And I wasn’t about to wander onto their territory alone.”
“Smart,” Ellie said, lips twitching into a small grin. “You do have some common sense in there, then.”
Jay huffed a laugh. “Once in a while, I manage.”
They rode on, the road curving gently around a stretch of dense forest. The canopy overhead thickened, filtering the waning afternoon light into shifting patterns across the cracked asphalt. Dakota caught sight of a squirrel and bounded ahead, but returned quickly when Jay gave a low whistle; she didn’t want him wandering off where the land might be watched by unseen eyes.
Eventually, they reined in at a spot where the road split; one fork climbed into the hills where tall pines and heavy foliage blocked any easy view. The other route stayed lower, skirting along the edge of a wide meadow. Jay guided Rowan to a stop, squinting into the tree line.
“From what I remember, that,” she pointed to the fork leading uphill, “heads deeper into Cherokee territory. We should avoid that if we don’t want to risk pissing them off. The other route takes us around the edge. Might add a day or two to our trip, but I’d rather not go deeper in if we don’t have to.”
Ellie nodded, scanning the dim path leading uphill. She couldn’t see much; just tangled branches, a quiet gloom in which anything, or anyone, might hide. “You really think they’d just… come after us?”
Jay shrugged, a thoughtful crease etching across her brow. “Not necessarily. But it’s their land. If they consider us a threat, they’d warn us off. And if we didn’t listen…” She trailed off, letting the implication hang in the still air. “Anyway, no point risking it. We have our own destination. Biltmore’s not too far now.”
Ellie adjusted her seat in the saddle, patting Starlight’s neck. “Alright, so… we take the longer route.”<
Jay nodded firmly, turning Rowan onto the lower road. “Yeah. Better safe than sorry.”
As they picked their way along, Ellie couldn’t help glancing back toward the hills, half-expecting to see a silent figure on horseback watching them from a ridge. She thought about the stories Jay had told her, imagined a group of skilled hunters living off the land, quietly observing any outsiders who ventured too close.
“It’s kind of wild,” Ellie said eventually, eyes still lingering on the distant treetops. “People living like that. The old ways.”
Jay gave a soft, wistful smile. “Grandpa told me they were some of the first to adapt after the outbreak; just reverting to methods their ancestors used for generations. And apparently, they’re pretty organized too. They have their own systems, traditions, ceremonies.”
Ellie’s imagination fired up, trying to picture it. “Might not be so bad, living off the land. No cities, no infected.” She paused, remembering the untold dangers that lurked everywhere in this world. “Though, guess they still have to deal with raiders… or worse.”
Jay’s grip tightened slightly on the reins thinking of the Raiders that took her family. “Yeah, but from what I know, they’re tough. Fiercely protective of each other. If you don’t mess with them, they won’t mess with you.” She glanced at Ellie. “They’re living proof that some folks managed to preserve culture, despite everything.”
Ellie let out a low exhale, impressed despite herself. “Your grandfather must’ve had some real interesting stories.”
A fond light warmed Jay’s eyes. “He did. Told me about how a few times, they’d share songs or legends at Biltmore’s gatherings. Just glimpses of their culture. I always thought it was the coolest thing.”
They rode in companionable silence for a while, the rhythmic sway of the horses relaxing Ellie’s shoulders. Even Dakota seemed more at ease, occasionally darting off to sniff a bush or scuttle after a stray rabbit, but never straying too far.
Jay broke the quiet again. “We should be careful about camping. Even down here. They might have scouts.”
Ellie cast a wary glance around, imagining unseen eyes peering from every cluster of trees. “Right. So keep moving, don’t stop until we’re well clear.”
Jay nodded. “Exactly. If we do stop, we don’t set up a big fire. Keep it small, show respect. Don’t try hunting anything.”
They continued along the lower road, the sky slowly shifting into dusk, painting the clouds in soft oranges and pinks. A hush fell over the woods around them, broken only by the steady clip of hooves and Dakota’s panting. Ellie listened intently, half expecting to hear the twang of a bowstring or the rustle of undergrowth that signaled an observer.
But the forest remained still, as if the Cherokee watchers, if any were indeed there, had decided these two travelers weren’t worth confronting. Ellie found herself somewhat relieved, yet a small part of her was curious, almost wishing she could glimpse this reclusive settlement, see for herself how they lived.
“You look thoughtful,” Jay commented, studying Ellie’s pensive expression.
Ellie shook her head slightly. “Just… wondering what it’d be like, you know, living a life that’s… simpler, in a way. Not that anything’s simple in this world.”
Jay offered a lopsided smile. “Probably still complicated, but maybe with clearer rules. Grandpa said they valued family, tradition. That they don’t trust outsiders much, but they were fair if you treated them right.”
Ellie nodded. “Can’t really blame them for not trusting us. I wouldn’t trust us.”
“Yeah,” Jay agreed softly. “People get territorial. It’s how they survive.”
As the daylight faded further, they nudged the horses into a brisker pace, eager to put distance between themselves and the hidden edges of Cherokee territory. Eventually, the darkening sky prompted them to slow, scanning for a safe spot to camp. They found a small clearing beside a gently sloping hillside, out of direct line of the forest above.
Ellie dismounted first, patting Starlight’s flank and murmuring a few soothing words. Jay followed suit, carefully removing Rowan’s saddle and gear, running a hand along the horse’s neck to reassure him. Dakota sniffed around, then settled, seemingly content.
“You think we’re far enough away?” Ellie asked, eyeing the looming trees with lingering caution.
Jay exhaled, glancing back the way they came. “I don’t know but I don’t think they’ll bother us if we keep to ourselves. Just… let’s keep the fire low and, you know, no hunting. We’ll eat what we have.”
Ellie gave a small grin. “Deal.” She paused, raising an eyebrow. “You think maybe, one day, we might get to see them for real? Like, talk to them? Trade with them or something?”
A soft wistfulness touched Jay’s features. “Maybe. If they remember me, or Biltmore. I doubt they’d roll out the welcome mat, though.”
Ellie snorted. “Probably not. They’d see me, think, ‘She looks sketchy.’”
Jay chuckled, but there was a sincerity beneath it. “I think you’d do alright, so long as you don’t smash any windows or cause a ruckus.”
Ellie shot her a mock glare. “You’re never letting that go, are you?”
“Never,” Jay teased.
They set about making a small camp, sparking a low fire to ward off the early night chill. Shadows lengthened around them, but with the knowledge they’d skirted the Cherokee territory without incident, relief settled in. As they munched on canned beans and peaches, Ellie caught Jay staring thoughtfully into the flames.
“You okay?” Ellie asked quietly, remembering Jay’s earlier somber mood.
Jay shrugged, half-smiling. “I’m just… thinking. About what’s left in this world, you know? Places like Biltmore. Places like the Cherokee settlement. It’s crazy how people adapt.”
Ellie nodded, lowering her voice. “Yeah, we do what we gotta do, I guess.”
Jay’s gaze drifted from the fire to Ellie, gratitude evident in her eyes. “I’m glad we’re in this together,” she admitted softly. “Sometimes, I think about how it would be if I were alone. I don’t think I’d have gotten this far.”
Ellie felt warmth spread through her chest that had nothing to do with the fire. She gave a small, almost shy smile. “Yeah… me too.”
The next morning the valley stretched out before them like a quiet cradle, gentle hills rising on either side. A narrow path cut through the center, just wide enough for two horses to ride abreast. Ellie and Jay took it slowly, trying not to look like a threat in the last stretch of Cherokee territory.
Morning sunlight slanted down, turning the dust motes golden. Jay felt a knot of tension tighten in her chest; she could sense how close they were to leaving Cherokee land, but she also knew that if something were to happen, this was exactly the kind of place it might. The hills on either side were perfect vantage points for watchers; riders could appear in an instant, impossible to outrun if they had the higher ground.
Jay glanced over, quietly adjusting her grip on Rowan’s reins. Dakota trotted behind them, head low, nose occasionally testing the air. Starlight snorted and tossed her head beneath Ellie, sensing her rider’s unease.
“Almost there,” Jay muttered. “Just a bit farther.”
Ellie was about to respond when Starlight’s ears pinned back suddenly, and Rowan jerked his head up, nostrils flaring. Both horses froze, muscles tensing beneath the saddles. An electric jolt of fear shot through Jay. She turned in the saddle, scanning the ridges. Something was off, that much was clear.
In that same breath, the silhouettes of mounted riders emerged at the top of each hill, dark shapes against the sky. There must have been a dozen or more. A flicker of sunlight caught on steel or stone weapon tips; hard to tell from the distance. Jay’s heart thumped erratically. She could feel Ellie stiffen, turning Starlight in a slow, anxious circle.
“Shit,” Ellie breathed. “This is bad.”
Jay swallowed, lifting a hand to show she meant no harm. Her voice came out steady, but laced with tension. “We’re leaving your land,” she called up to the ridges, hoping they recognized a gesture of peace. “We’re just passing through. We’re almost out, and we won’t come back.”
For a moment, time seemed to slow. The riders remained still, poised on the crest of each hill, horses shifting restlessly. The valley felt impossibly small beneath that many watchful eyes.
Then, without warning, a high-pitched war cry shattered the silence, echoing off the hills. It sent a chill straight down Jay’s spine. The lead rider; a tall figure astride a powerful chestnut horse, lifted what looked like a spear or lance, and the entire group kicked their mounts into motion, galloping down the slopes on both sides.
“Fuck!” Ellie hissed, panic flashing in her eyes.
Jay didn’t need to be told to run. She dug her heels into Rowan’s flanks, the gelding leaping forward with a startled snort. Ellie snapped Starlight’s reins, and the two of them flew down the narrow path, dust kicking up behind them in thick clouds.
The thunder of hooves rumbled across the valley, sending birds screeching from the trees. Ellie risked a glance back to see the Cherokee riders fanning out behind them; some were already sliding to the sides, trying to flank them. The strategy was clear: chase them out, fast, or take them down. She clenched her teeth, urging Starlight faster.
Jay leaned low over Rowan’s neck, the wind snapping her hair across her face. Adrenaline pumped hot in her veins. She could hear the riders yelling, chanting, the pounding of hooves growing ever closer. Dakota bounded desperately to keep pace, barking in alarm. This was no casual threat; if they slowed, if they hesitated, they’d be surrounded in seconds.
“Come on, Rowan,” Jay breathed, hands steady on the reins. The gelding responded with raw speed, muscles bunching under his sleek coat, legs churning against the uneven ground. Rocks and patches of wild grass blurred beneath them.
Ellie was just a few feet to Jay’s right, Starlight’s mane flapping as they pounded along the narrow path. She could feel the horse’s power surging through the reins, but the Cherokee riders had the advantage in numbers and position. Every time she glanced back, they were closer, cutting off any chance of turning aside.
Another chilling war cry rang out, this one from the left ridge. Ellie’s heart nearly leapt from her throat. They’re going to trap us, she thought wildly. They’re funneling us forward. But forward was the only option, away from Cherokee land. She grit her teeth, spurring Starlight harder.
The sound of hooves grew deafening, the roars of the riders echoing off stone and trees. Jay could see them in her peripheral vision now; dark shapes sprinting parallel along the hillside, trying to converge at the valley’s exit. She urged Rowan with everything she had, feeling the gelding’s breath come in sharp, heaving puffs.
Dakota lagged slightly, struggling to keep up, but he was a determined protector. He veered off to the side momentarily, barking at a rider who dared to come in too close, snapping at the horse’s hind legs. The rider reined back, allowing Ellie and Jay precious seconds to surge ahead.
“Good boy!” Jay shouted, her voice snatched away by the wind. Her pulse hammered in her ears. The valley exit loomed ahead, but it still felt too far; like a distant rectangle of light at the end of a cavern.
Ellie felt Starlight nearly slip on loose gravel. She gasped, shifting her weight to keep the mare balanced. The horse righted herself, never losing stride, adrenaline fueling her every step. “Almost there!” she yelled, voice cracking with tension.
Jay glanced up at the ridgeline. Another wave of riders was descending, cutting across the slope in a diagonal line that threatened to intercept them. Her stomach twisted. We’re not gonna make it…
But then, the lead Cherokee rider pulled slightly on the reins, either misjudging the terrain or deciding not to push the horses too recklessly. The line of riders slowed enough for Jay and Ellie to cut through the gap.
Ellie caught the moment instantly. “Go, go!” she roared, leaning into Starlight’s neck. The horse stretched out, galloping full tilt, hooves hammering the earth in a breakneck sprint.
Jay held her breath as Rowan matched Starlight’s pace, the scenery blurring around them. She saw the exit narrowing, the slope on the left rushing closer. We have to beat them to the boundary. And she prayed the stories were true, that once they crossed out of Cherokee land, the chase would end.
Hooves pounded relentlessly behind them. Ellie forced herself not to look back, focusing on each stride. She could practically feel the riders breathing down her neck, their voices and calls so close they seemed about to engulf her.
Just when she thought the noise was at its peak, the valley opened out into a broader space; a shallow stream crossing the road, cutting through a low patch of grass. Jay recognized the subtle change: this should be it, the boundary. She guided Rowan through the shallow water with a splash, Ellie and Starlight hot on her heels, Dakota darting between them, water spraying everywhere.
The second they were clear of the water, Jay risked a glance back. The Cherokee riders had come to a collective halt at the edge of the stream, horses stamping and snorting, some rearing up. One rider let out a final, piercing war cry, brandishing a spear overhead. But none of them pursued further.
Ellie pulled Starlight up, nearly doubling over with breathless relief. Rowan stumbled a few paces, sides heaving, foam streaking his neck. Jay swallowed hard, trying to calm her racing heart, adrenaline still crackling in her veins.
Dakota circled around, barking and shaking water from his fur, then trotted back to Jay’s side, tail wagging in anxious triumph. They could both see the riders silhouetted on the other side of the stream, watching, but making no move to continue the chase.
“Holy shit,” Ellie breathed, voice trembling with the aftershock of fear and exhilaration. “That— they just… we almost didn’t make it back there.”
Jay forced a nod, wiping sweat from her brow. “They were showing us we don’t belong on their land,” she said quietly, swallowing the dryness in her throat. “Guess the stories were right.”
Ellie’s pulse was still pounding so hard it felt like it might rattle her bones. She looked back at the silent line of riders, the group turning their mounts away now, disappearing back into the valley’s shadows. “They could’ve killed us, if they wanted to.”
Jay exhaled, sliding off Rowan to check his legs for injuries. The grulla gelding was shaking with adrenaline, eyes wide, but uninjured. “They didn’t, though. They just chased us off.”
Ellie dismounted too, her legs weak as they touched the ground. She stepped toward Starlight, murmuring soothing words, running her hand along the black mare’s sweating flank. “You did so good, girl.”
Dakota let out a small, tired huff, padding around to sniff the horses. Jay patted Rowan’s neck, resting her forehead against the gelding’s damp mane. “Yeah, boy, you did great.”
Silence settled for a moment. The only sounds were the labored breathing of the horses, the soft gurgle of the stream, and Ellie’s own pounding heartbeat gradually slowing. Jay turned to face Ellie, a flicker of relief and apology in her eyes.
“I’m sorry,” Jay began quietly. “I knew we were close to the boundary. I thought we’d be safe if we just—”
Ellie shook her head. “Not your fault. We made it, right?”
Jay let out a shaky laugh, the tension uncoiling in her chest. “Yeah… we did.”
Ellie looked back once more, seeing no trace of the riders now, just the empty valley, a memory of pounding hooves and echoing war cries. “Let’s, uh, not fucking do that again.”
“Agreed,” Jay sighed. She stroked Rowan’s neck, then met Ellie’s eyes. “We should find a place to rest, away from here. Our poor horses need it, and so do we.”
Ellie nodded firmly. The chase had left her arms feeling like jelly, her heart hammering even now. “Let’s keep moving until we find a safe spot.”
So they remounted, each carefully coaxing their horses forward, slower, calmer now. Dakota trotted close, occasionally glancing back at the valley behind them. Jay and Ellie rode in tense silence, the thrill and terror of the chase still dancing on their nerves.
Yet, for all the fear, a strange sense of awe settled in Ellie’s chest. They let us go, she thought, feeling gratitude for the sudden mercy. And Jay, though her body felt ready to collapse, found a flicker of renewed determination to reach Biltmore.
Chapter 15: The Biltmore Estate Community
Summary:
Thank you for reading. Please note that I am continually improving. I update frequently and am always open to kind, constructive criticism.
Chapter Text
The crisp autumn air carried a faint chill as they pressed onward through the rolling hills of the Appalachians. Five days had passed since they’d left Knoxville behind, and each day brought them closer to Biltmore, and deeper into a kaleidoscope of fiery reds, burnished golds, and deep oranges. The mountains seemed alight with color, leaves drifting in gentle spirals across the winding back roads. Ellie found herself pausing more than once to take it in. Even after all she’d seen, this felt almost magical.
Jay led the way on Rowan, her eyes scanning the forested slopes. She’d grown quieter with each passing mile as if bracing for whatever they’d find at Biltmore. Ellie followed close on Starlight, her mind split between the breathtaking scenery and the swirl of her own emotions. Dakota trotted between them, ears perking at every rustle in the undergrowth. The rhythmic clip-clop of the horses echoed softly between abandoned buildings and rusted-out cars.
Ellie suddenly pulled Starlight to a slow stop, her attention caught by something off to the side of the road. Jay halted Rowan gently beside her, following Ellie’s gaze toward rows of old brick buildings covered in elaborate painted murals and vibrant splashes of color. Some were faded, paint peeling in places, but they still seemed to glow defiantly against the ruins of the world. Tattered tarps hung from windows, and old banners advertising art shows or festivals drooped in tatters.
“Whoa,” Ellie murmured softly, her voice tinged with surprise and quiet admiration. She tilted her head slightly, drinking in the vivid colors, intricate patterns, and scenes painted across the crumbling brick. It felt oddly alive, like stepping into a fragment of a world that might have existed long ago.
Jay couldn’t help but smile, noting the faint sparkle in Ellie’s eyes, something she rarely saw. “The River Arts District,” Jay said softly, leaning forward on her saddle. “My grandmother used to talk about it a lot. Said it was a special place, especially before everything went to shit. Artists used to come here, live here, and just…create.”
Ellie tore her gaze away from the murals for just a moment to glance sideways at Jay. “You’ve been here before?”
Jay nodded slightly, her expression softening as memories surfaced. “A few times, when I was younger. On supply runs mostly, sometimes just passing through with my friends. It never really meant much to me back then, but…” She paused, meeting Ellie’s eyes. “Seeing it now, it’s different.”
Ellie cleared her throat quietly, shifting in her saddle before speaking again, voice quieter now, a little hesitant.
“I, uh…used to paint. Sketch, too,” Ellie admitted slowly, keeping her eyes locked on the painted bricks ahead. “Back home—back in Jackson and the farmhouse. Used to draw people, places, stupid little things, whatever caught my eye.” She exhaled softly. “I still do, sometimes. In my journal. Helps me…remember, I guess.”
Jay’s heart caught slightly at the admission, hearing the gentle vulnerability in Ellie’s voice. Carefully, not wanting to push too far, she offered softly, “I think that’s really great, Ellie. Being able to hold onto something like that, something beautiful, it matters.”
Ellie finally glanced back, something shy yet hopeful stirring behind her eyes.
“My grandma always told me art was like…hope. It’s what people hold onto when everything else falls apart.” She paused thoughtfully, looking back at the murals. “She loved this place.”
Ellie felt herself relax at Jay’s words, the quiet sincerity touching something deep within her. Her eyes lingered on Jay for a moment longer than usual, noticing the soft way the sunlight played across her features, highlighting freckles Ellie had grown quietly fond of. She looked away, smiling to herself before speaking again.
“You think…maybe there’s supplies in there?” Ellie ventured, nodding toward one of the buildings. “Paint, brushes, that sort of thing?”
Jay smiled knowingly, seeing Ellie’s cautious hope. “Probably. Most people who scavenged wouldn’t care about art supplies, they’d be after food or meds. If it’s like I remember, there might be a lot of stuff left untouched in there.”
Ellie’s lips tugged into a shy grin, eyes shining just a little brighter. “You think it’s safe to check?”
Jay’s eyes swept the surrounding area thoughtfully, carefully gauging the shadows. “I’ve passed through here a few times. Biltmore’s scouts used to say this part of Asheville got cleared pretty good years ago. Shouldn’t be any infected unless a stray wandered in.” She tilted her head gently toward Ellie, her voice softening further. “We’re less than a day from Biltmore now. Why don’t we get settled first? Then we can come back here, take our time, really look around. Maybe get you set up with some supplies.”
Ellie’s heart skipped slightly at the quiet promise in Jay’s words. She felt a strange, unfamiliar pull toward the warmth and safety Jay offered. “I’d like that,” Ellie murmured quietly. “It’s been a long time since I got to just…paint.”
Jay nudged Rowan closer, their knees now brushing gently as they sat in their saddles. “Then we’ll definitely make it happen,” Jay promised, her voice quiet but determined.
Ellie studied Jay’s face carefully, the soft freckles again catching her attention, the gentle warmth behind Jay’s honey-brown eyes making her feel strangely safe. Ellie swallowed, she wasn’t used to trusting easily, and even less used to caring deeply since Santa Barbara. But Jay had somehow slipped past every defense she had.
“I…” Ellie started, then hesitated, suddenly unsure what she wanted to say. She shook her head slightly, smiling a little embarrassed. “Thanks. You know… for giving a shit.”
Jay chuckled softly, the sound warm and genuine. “Always, Ellie.”
They sat quietly for another minute, just absorbing the stillness, the murals, the peaceful colors of fall surrounding them. Dakota sat quietly at Jay’s side, eyes closed and ears relaxed, as if sensing the gentle moment shared between them all.
Finally, Ellie sighed, nudging Starlight forward reluctantly. Jay followed suit, Rowan moving alongside Starlight easily. Ellie cast one last glance at the murals, feeling lighter than she had in a long time.
They rounded a bend into the old Biltmore Village in Asheville, the trees thinning, and the high, sweeping vista opened before them. Beyond the patchwork hills and tops of hotels, a plane dipped low in the sky. Ellie almost missed it at first; a small, single-engine craft buzzing across the clouds, glinting in the autumn sunlight.
“Holy fucking shit,” Ellie breathed, drawing Starlight to a halt. She lifted a hand to shield her eyes from the glare of the sun, gaping at the distant speck as it banked lazily toward the southwest. “Jay, is that…?”
Jay craned her neck hearing the plane, a faint smile tugging at her lips. “Oh my God, that’s Jeff,” she said, as if it were the most normal thing in the world. “Ellie! That means they’re still there! Biltmore’s still there!”
A moment passed in silence as Ellie’s jaw dropped. She blinked, glancing from Jay to the plane and back again. “You—he— what?” she sputtered. “You guys have a plane and you didn’t mention this until now?”
Jay gave a small, bemused shrug. “Never came up,” she said, looking faintly sheepish. “I mean, we had a lot on our minds. Jeff’s got a plane, an old Cessna. He does trade runs for Biltmore. Takes stuff to trade to some settlement near Richmond, and in return, they give us fuel, ammo, and sometimes fresh batteries.”
“He’s flying! Like-like in the air!”
Jay barked out a laugh. “Yes, Ellie. That’s how planes work.”
“No, fuck you, that’s not—!” Ellie took a deep breath, gripping her saddle like the sky itself had betrayed her.
Ellie let out a breathy laugh of disbelief, pushing Starlight forward a bit. “A plane,” she repeated, her voice hitching with excitement. “That actually flies? You realize how insane that is, right?”
Jay couldn’t help but grin at Ellie’s reaction. “It’s a big deal, I guess, yeah,” she admitted, glancing once more at the speck in the sky. “Jeff’s a damn good pilot. He said learned from his dad before the outbreak, I guess. Keeps the engine going with spare parts and mechanical know-how.”
Ellie’s eyes sparkled as she tracked the plane’s trajectory. “That’s the coolest fucking thing I’ve heard in ages. Why the hell didn’t you tell me about it before?”
Jay shrugged again, amused. “I don’t know—maybe I was worried you’d try to hitch a ride to the moon or something. Spacegirl.”
A burst of laughter escaped Ellie at the playful jab. “Don’t tempt me,” she said, cheeks still warm with excitement. “Just no fucking way, you can fly to places. That changes everything.” Her mind whirled with possibilities, reaching settlements far away, reconnecting with the idea of flight.
They watched as Jeff’s plane dipped below the tree line in the distance, heading for the rudimentary landing strip near the Biltmore Manor Jay knew was there. The autumn wind carried a hint of woodsmoke, drifting through the forests as if guiding them forward. Ellie’s grin hadn’t faded. “Next, you’re going to tell me Biltmore has a rocket out back.”
Jay chuckled. “No rocket, sorry. But they do have a decent orchard, a forge, and a huge fancy greenhouse. A plane’s about as high-tech as we get. I mean unless you count the few working Range Rovers and two tractors.”
Ellie kicked her heels softly against Starlight’s flanks, resuming their trek down the narrow road. “Still, a plane,” she repeated, shaking her head in wonder. “I can’t believe you left that out.”
Jay smiled at Ellie’s enthusiasm. “Didn’t think it was relevant.” She cast a sidelong look, brushing a stray hair from her face. “And we’ll be there soon enough.”
Ellie was still gaping at the sky, looking like she was trying to rewrite everything she knew about the apocalypse. “What the fuck,” she muttered under her breath. “Planes. Fucking planes.”
Ellie felt a surge of anticipation, her earlier anxieties momentarily eclipsed by excitement. She glanced up at the canopy of brilliant leaves overhead, the entire world tinted in autumn’s warmth. For the first time in a while, hope pushed away her fears. Biltmore. A plane. A new life. Maybe, just maybe, this journey would bring something good after all.
They continued onward, the horses’ steady hoofbeats echoing through the quiet hills, Dakota bounding ahead he was in familiar territory and his tail kept wagging. Above them, the broad sky stretched, and in it, the promise of possibility.
After that they rode at a brisk canter through the winding roads, orange and gold leaves whipping past in a blur. Ellie’s excitement radiated off her, urging Starlight into a faster pace until even Rowan tossed his head, matching the mare’s eager stride. Jay couldn’t help but smile at Ellie’s anticipation, like a weight had lifted, making the long ride almost exhilarating. The chill in the air was bracing, and the crisp scent of fallen leaves filled their lungs.
Dakota bounded alongside them, tail high with excitement. The mountains were a beautiful backdrop to the rolling foothills, and between the autumn foliage, Jay caught glimpses of familiar landmarks: a mossy stone wall here, a rusted fence line there. Home, she thought, her stomach twisting in a mix of nerves and relief. It had been two years since she had left, an entire lifetime in this brutal world. She had no idea what awaited her at Biltmore.
Eventually, the road crested a gentle rise, and there it was: the grand archway that marked the estate’s entrance. Though weathered by time, it stood imposing, carved stone columns draped in creeping ivy and half-hidden behind trees of fiery red. Ellie let out a low whistle, slowing Starlight as they neared.
“Damn,” Ellie murmured, eyes sweeping over the ornate arch. “So this is it?”
Jay nodded, heart hammering. She reined Rowan to a stop, letting the horse blow off some steam after the canter. “Yeah,” she confirmed, voice tight with emotion. “That’s the Biltmore entrance. Sort of, it marks the entrance to the property line—”
Before they could move another step, a sharp whistle pierced the air. Two figures appeared on the elevated lookout post built into the side of the arch. One was a rugged man in his late-twenties, Jay recognized him instantly as one of her childhood friends. Mark. He wore a faded cap, rifle at the ready, but his posture was less hostile than alert.
Next to Mark stood an older man Jay didn’t know, gray beard framing a weathered face. He was peering down with narrowed eyes, assessing the newcomers.
“Hold it right there!” Mark’s voice echoed, firm but not aggressive. “Name yourselves!”
Jay inhaled, heart pounding. She lifted a hand in a cautious wave. “Mark?” she called, trying to keep her voice steady. “It’s… Jade Grayson. Jay. I’m… I came back home.”
She spotted the moment of recognition on Mark’s face. His eyes went wide, and he fumbled the rifle slightly before steadying it. “Jay?” he echoed, disbelief lining every syllable. “Holy fucking hell—you’re alive?”
A flood of emotion washed through Jay, relief, sorrow, guilt. “Yeah,” she croaked out, leaning forward in the saddle. “I am.”
The older man beside Mark clapped a hand on Mark’s shoulder, murmuring something. Mark nodded, clearing his throat. “Come closer, but easy, all right?” he called down, rifle resting, though not aimed at them. “Need to be sure you’re not—well, we gotta keep protocol, you know how it is.”
Jay dismounted Rowan, her knees weak, and gave Ellie a quick glance. Ellie, caught between curiosity and concern, did the same with Starlight. Dakota trotted around the horses’ legs, giving anxious whines.
As they approached the base of the arch, Ellie could see Mark more clearly: he had sandy blonde hair and dark brown eyes, a few lines of stress carving into his features. But his eyes shone with a spark of humor. The older man with Mark kept his rifle angled in a cautious posture, but his gaze wasn’t unkind.
Finally, Mark lowered the rifle entirely, turning to the other man. “It’s her,” he said quietly, voice carrying down. “Jade was a close friend, she's been gone a couple years, we thought she was…” He shook his head, unable to finish the thought.
The older man nodded. “All right,” he said in a heavy southern accent. “We’ll let ’em in, but you know the drill, check for bites, run the usual questions.”
Jay exhaled. The usual questions; stuff about infection, weaponry, loyalties. She could handle that, had done so to others herself countless times back when she lived here. But she felt a lump form in her throat at the thought of truly crossing that threshold, seeing faces she’d left behind.
Ellie nudged her gently. “You okay?” she whispered, voice low.
Jay managed a shaky smile. “Not really,” she admitted under her breath. “But… I’m here.”
Ellie nodded but stayed close, offering silent support. They led Rowan and Starlight forward, stopping where Mark indicated. The older man climbed down a short ladder, rifle slung over his shoulder, while Mark hopped down more quickly.
“Jaybird,” Mark said using his old nickname for Jay, stepping toward her. He hesitated, then reached out, gripping her arms in a rough, relieved gesture. “Never thought I’d see you again. Damn good to know you’re not dead.”
Jay swallowed, emotions threatening to overwhelm her. “Yeah,” she said softly, meeting his gaze. “I… missed you too.”
He cleared his throat, pulling back before turning his attention to Ellie with a polite nod. “Your friend?”
Jay found her voice. “This is Ellie,” she said, placing a hand on Ellie’s shoulder. “She’s with me. She’s safe, I promise.”
Ellie gave a small, awkward wave. “Hey.”
Mark nodded, then stepped aside to let the older man do a quick inspection. It was all routine; checking arms, looking at faces for signs of infection. Ellie tensed, but she complied, more curious than anything. Dakota sniffed at Mark’s boots, tail wagging once.
“And Dakota! I’ve missed you too buddy!” Mark said as Dakota jumped up to lick Mark’s face.
With the formalities over, Mark gestured to the estate’s interior roads. “We’ll need to announce you at the main gate, get your horses stabled. Lot’s changed in two years, Jay.” His grin faltered, eyes flicking over her face. “But maybe not as much as you thought.”
Jay forced a wavering smile, heart thrumming with the realization that she was finally home. “Lead the way,” she managed, glancing at Ellie. “You ready for this?”
Ellie, full of her own swirling emotions; excitement, anxiety, a flicker of awe at the grand estate that lay a few miles beyond, just nodded, heart hammering in her chest. She’d followed Jay here for better or worse, and now they were crossing a threshold into a place that could change everything. She looked up at the grand archway, carved stone leaves clinging to real vines above them, and took a shaky breath.
“Yeah,” she said, steeling herself. “Let’s do it.”
Mark led them the two miles up to the Biltmore house and community proper. Through the estate grounds along a curving drive, its once-pristine gravel now chipped and patched with soil. The late-afternoon sun lit up the sprawling lawns and gilded the grand façade of the Biltmore mansion in a soft, golden glow. Ellie glanced around, mouth parted in awe at the sheer scale of the place. Even worn by decades of neglect, the mansion was breathtaking, columns rising, windows framing glimpses of life behind them.
“Welcome to Biltmore, Ellie, and Welcome back Jay.” Mark said, a touch of pride in his voice. He gestured to the long, open green space stretching from the gate to the mansion itself. Where once ornamental gardens must have been, rows of pens and small enclosures now housed livestock; goats and sheep milled about, and a small cluster of pigs snorted in a muddy pen further down. Beyond them, a few cows ambled lazily, flicking their tails against flies.
Ellie blinked, taking in the sight. “Holy shit,” she breathed, watching as a couple of people in worn coveralls wrangled a goat that seemed determined to chew through a fence rail. The goat bleated, but the two, smiling and patient, kept it under control.
Mark chuckled. “We’ve quite the operation here. Food’s a priority, obviously. We’ve got the livestock, plus fields out back for corn, potatoes, cabbage… whatever we can manage. The big greenhouse handles more delicate stuff.”
Jay rode in silence, eyes scanning her old home with a mix of nostalgia and apprehension. Her grip on Rowan’s reins had gone tense; her heart thrummed at the changes she saw, yet most things looked much the same. She forced a small smile as they neared the mansion’s impressive steps. “You’ve done a lot,” she said quietly. “This is… more livestock than I remember.”
“Kept expanding,” Mark replied, guiding them around a cluster of people tending to a collapsed portion of the wall that surrounded the house and gardens proper. “We even refurbished the old fountain ponds for fish.” He nodded to the left, where Ellie spotted a series of wide, circular basins carved from stone. Water trickled in and out through makeshift channels, and she could see the quick flash of silver in the depths, trout darting about.
“Fish ponds?” Ellie said, eyebrows lifting in surprise. “That’s… pretty fucking impressive.”
“That’s new,” Jay added.
Mark grinned, clearly relishing the chance to show off to Jay after two years. “We’re raising trout. Not easy, it took months to figure out the right filters, how to feed them. Shit ton of supply runs for things it needs. But worth it cause now we’ve got a decent supply of fish to add to the diet.”
They continued around the house toward a large, well-kept stable block. Rows of stalls opened to the outside, with a few horses looking out over half doors. It was busier than Ellie expected, a few community members moving about, brushing horses, or hauling bales of hay. “This is where we keep all the working horses,” Mark explained, looking fondly at the stables. “We only have two cars that run, the two tractors and Jeff’s plane that still work, so the horses are essential.”
Jay dismounted, running a soothing hand along Rowan’s neck. Dakota, who had been trotting alongside them, sniffed at the stable’s threshold, tail wagging in recognition. “You’ll be all right here, boy,” Jay whispered to Rowan. “You remember this place, huh?”
Ellie slid off Starlight, patting the mare’s flank. Starlight’s ears flicked at the sounds and smells of the bustling stable area. She nickered uncertainly, but Ellie ran a calming hand along her muzzle. “Easy, girl,” she murmured. Then she turned to Mark. “So you, uh… have room here for them?”
Mark nodded. “We have a few extra stalls, some older horses have passed on, so we can shuffle around. Misha”—he gestured to a tall, broad-shouldered woman in the stable—“runs the stables. She’ll help you get your horses settled.”
Misha approached with a friendly smile, though her eyes widened in recognition when she caught sight of Jay. She hesitated, glancing between Jay and Mark, but seemed to decide that was a conversation for later. She simply reached to take Rowan’s reins, offering a gentle pat. “Hey there, old friend, remember me?” she murmured, her voice low. Then to Ellie, “We’ll get your mare fed and brushed down, no problem.”
Ellie handed over the reins, a twinge of nervousness in her chest. She trusted Jay’s old community, but handing over your best chance of travel was never easy. Still, she nodded, letting Misha lead Starlight inside.
Mark motioned them toward the main house. “Come on,” he said. “Let’s get you to Jeff and set up. Jay knows this but you don't Ellie, we’ve turned most of the big rooms in the house into shared apartments, makes it easier to heat, and it builds camaraderie. The kitchens are central, too, everyone eats together if they can.”
Ellie stole a glance at Jay, noticing the tension tightening her jaw. “You all right?” she asked under her breath, remembering Jay’s mixed feelings about returning.
Jay offered a tight smile, laying a hand briefly on Ellie’s arm. “Yeah,” she whispered, sounding unsure. “Just… weird being back.”
They climbed the broad steps, passing large wooden doors propped open to let fresh air circulate. Inside, the mansion’s grand foyer lay illuminated by sunlight streaming through tall windows. What was once a luxurious space was now lively with people going about daily chores, a few children running underfoot, their laughter echoing in the vaulted ceilings. The walls bore signs of age; peeling wallpaper, cracks in the plaster and stone, but there was an energy of warmth and purpose everywhere Ellie looked.
“That’s the main dining hall down there,” Mark pointed to an expansive room to the right, a very long table set up inside, a faint clatter of pots and pans echoing out. “Kitchen’s through there and down the stairs. Apartment suites are upstairs and in some of the side wings. We do have a hospital wing—well, a clinic, anyway—on the second floor near the library. It’s in the old ‘breakfast room’ as it was called.”
Ellie marveled at the sheer scale, noticing how some ornate furniture had been repurposed, stacked with supplies or used as storage. The smell of cooking food wafted from somewhere, making her stomach growl. Real cooking, she thought; maybe fresh veggies or even fish from those ponds. It felt almost surreal.
Jay took it all in, eyes darting about the familiar corridors, her lips parted in silent reminiscence. Mark turned to them, clearing his throat. “I know you two must be tired. Let me get you to Jeff and then get you in a room. Tomorrow, we can show you around more thoroughly. The greenhouses, the orchard, the outbuildings, there’s a lot to see.”
Ellie exchanged a glance with Jay, nodding gratefully. Already she felt overwhelmed by the bustle after being away from people for so long. This place is huge, she mused. They really turned a mansion into a whole community. Dakota pressed against Ellie’s leg, tail thumping, probably as hungry as they were.
“Sounds good,” Jay said softly, her voice taut but determined. “Lead on.”
Mark gestured for them to follow him to Jeff, and they weaved through the foyer’s activity. Here and there, people paused to stare, some murmuring in hushed recognition of Jay, others just curious about new arrivals. Ellie’s heart fluttered in her chest at the magnitude of it all. Despite the uncertainties, a seed of hope sprouted; maybe Biltmore was exactly what Jay had needed to be a part of, and maybe it’d be a place where they both could rest from the constant struggle of the road. Somewhere Ellie wasn’t surrounded by ghosts of her past.
They passed under high-arched ceilings, the ghosts of a bygone era whispering in every carved detail. But new life thrived here, a testament to how humans adapted and persevered. And as Jay and Ellie walked deeper into the mansion, side by side, they couldn’t help but feel the pulse of potential in these halls.
Mark continued to guide Jay and Ellie through a wide corridor lined with faded tapestries and cracked portraits. The hustle of the main foyer faded behind them, replaced by muted echoes of footsteps along polished floors. Jay’s heart hammered, memories swirling of running these halls as a kid with her grandfather, now she was coming back under such different circumstances.
They reached a large set of double doors. Mark paused, glancing at Jay with a small, reassuring smile. “Jeff’s in here,” he said, then looked at Ellie before continuing. “He…well, he’s sort of in charge now. I mean the Council is still a thing, but Jeff’s the one who keeps it all running.”
Jay swallowed hard and nodded. She could feel Ellie shift beside her, Dakota pressing close with a low whine. For all Ellie’s bravado, there was no denying the nervous energy she shared. Both of them took a breath as Mark pushed open the doors.
Inside was a spacious room that must have once served as a grand library. Shelves lined the walls, still packed with dusty books. Sunlight streamed in through tall windows, catching motes of dust in the golden beams. At a worn wooden desk near the center stood a tall, broad-shouldered man with short-cropped gray hair. He was sorting through a stack of papers, but looked up the moment they entered.
The man’s eyes widened in disbelief. “Jade?” he murmured, voice cracking as he set down the papers.
Jay felt a storm of emotions well up. This was Jeff; her grandfather’s best friend, the one who used to sneak her candy he’d found when she was little, who’d taught her how to drive the tractor and car. The last time she’d seen him, she’d been a grief-stricken teenager. She forced a shaky laugh, stepping forward. “Hi, Jeff,” she said, her own voice trembling with a mix of relief and sorrow.
Jeff inhaled sharply, crossing the space in a few strides. He grabbed Jay’s shoulders, scanning her face as if to confirm she was real. Suddenly, tears brimmed in his eyes, and he pulled her into a crushing hug. Jay clung to him, tears stinging at her own eyes. “Sweetpea,” he whispered, voice choked. “I thought I’d lost you after… everything.”
“I’m sorry,” Jay managed, burying her face in his shoulder for a moment, inhaling the familiar scent of old cotton and wood smoke. “I know. I just… I had to go.”
He nodded, pulling back but keeping one hand on her shoulder. “I wish your grandparents were here to see you walk through that door.” A tear slipped down his cheek, and he brushed it away with a quick motion. Then, clearing his throat, he turned a gentle gaze on Ellie. “And who’s this?”
Ellie straightened, swallowing hard. She offered a faint wave. “Ellie,” she said quietly.
Jeff gave Ellie a kind smile. “Ellie. Well, any friend of Jay’s is welcome here. This place is as much yours as it is ours now.” He paused, noticing the dog. “And Dakota! I’d recognize that old mutt anywhere,” he added with a soft chuckle.
Dakota wagged his tail, trotting forward to sniff Jeff’s hand, tail swishing quickly back and forth. Jay let out a watery laugh, stepping aside so Ellie could approach more comfortably. “We’ve been on the road a while,” Jay said, voice still shaky with emotion. “Ellie… she saved my life more than once. Couldn’t have made it back without her.”
Jeff’s expression filled with gratitude as he turned to Ellie. “Then I owe you, Ellie,” he said sincerely. “Jade’s family to me.” He let his gaze linger on Ellie, noticing the signs of wear from life outside. “So, you’re both here for good now?”
Jay nodded, taking a shaky breath. “If you’ll have us,” she admitted.
Jeff nodded emphatically, warmth flooding his features. “’Course we will. We’ll get you both settled, put you in rotations so you can help out.” He glanced at Mark, who’d been quietly standing by, absorbing the reunion. “Mark, see that they’re given the usual orientations—defense drills, supply runs, patrols, stable chores, whichever suits them best.”
Mark offered a quick nod. “Sure thing, Jeff. I’ll see they get up to speed.” He hesitated, allowing Jay a thankful smile.
Jeff returned his attention to Jay and Ellie. “Also,” he said, voice gentling, “you can take your old family space, Jay. Edith Vanderbilt’s room. We’ve turned most of the house into shared apartments, but we kept the suite for you… if you ever came back.”
Jay’s breath caught, tears threatening again. “You kept it available?”
Jeff gave a nod. “Didn’t have the heart to change it,” he said softly. “It’ll be a bit dusty, but it’s yours.” He shot Ellie a brief grin. “Hope you don’t mind sharing a room with her, Ellie—unless you need separate quarters. We can arrange that if you prefer.”
Ellie shook her head quickly, cheeks flushing. “No, that’s fine,” she murmured. “We… we usually stick together. Thanks.”
Jeff clapped a hand on Mark’s shoulder. “Then let’s get these two a proper meal, some rest, and tomorrow we’ll show them everything that’s changed.”
Jay nodded, clearing her throat as she tried to compose herself. She looked to Ellie, heart still fluttering. We’re really here, she thought, the weight of her long journey settling into relief and exhaustion. She gave Jeff’s hand a final squeeze. “It’s good to be home,” she whispered.
Jeff’s eyes shone with emotion. “Damn right it is, kid,” he whispered back, before turning to Mark with a purposeful nod. “All right, let’s let them get settled before the dust makes my eyes water anymore then it already is.”
Mark, smiling and shaking his head as though he still couldn’t believe Jay was back, gestured for the two of them to follow. Ellie rubbed Dakota’s ears, keeping close to Jay as they left Jeff’s makeshift office. Outside, the halls bustled with a few curious passersby, but Jay’s mind whirled in a fog of relief and apprehension. We made it, she thought again. I’m finally home.
Jay led Ellie herself for the final part, through a winding corridor, past high-arched windows veiled by worn velvet drapes. Each step brought them deeper into the mansion’s upper wings, the sounds of daily activity below fading into muffled echoes. The heavy door at the end of the hallway bore a tarnished brass plaque, faintly reading “Edith Vanderbilt.” Jay paused there, hesitating with her hand on the ornate knob.
“You ready?” she asked, voice hushed.
Ellie swallowed, nodding. Her eyes still shone with wonder at the sheer scale of the place. “Yeah,” she said, trying to sound casual, though she couldn’t hide the excitement in her voice.
Jay pushed the door open, revealing a large bedroom with tall windows overlooking the estate’s rolling lawns. Dust motes danced in the late-afternoon light, illuminating furniture shrouded with worn sheets. The bed stood against one wall, its four-poster frame imposing yet elegant. Off to one side, a small second room that was a sitting area included a faded loveseat, carved end tables, and a fireplace that looked like it hadn’t been used in ages.
Ellie’s gaze swept over the room. “Wow,” she breathed, stepping inside. “I guess I shouldn’t be surprised. This place is huge. It’s uh… everything is really gold in here.”
Jay managed a small laugh, though an undercurrent of emotion tightened her throat. “Yea… and it’s even bigger than I remember,” she admitted, crossing to the windows. She tugged a sheet aside, revealing long curtains behind it, heavy with dust. “We used to stay here if we needed a break from Antler Village or needed to come up and stay at the main house for some reason. My grandpa loved bragging about the history of this place.”
Ellie wandered over to the bed, pressing a palm to the mattress. Despite a layer of dust, it felt sturdy. “So… we’re just gonna live in here now?” she asked, arching a brow. “Feels like… stepping into a movie.”
Jay tugged the curtain fully open, letting more light stream in. “Yep,” she said, trying to keep her voice steady. “If you, uh, want to. Jeff said it was ours.”
With the room revealed in all its worn grandeur, Ellie exhaled. She caught sight of a door leading to an adjoining bathroom. “Wait, you guys have a working bathroom up here?” she asked, a hint of eagerness in her tone.
Jay nodded, a faint smile tugging her lips. “We’ve got plumbing here, some is old, patched-up pipes, but it does the trick. For hot water, we usually have to heat it on the stove or rely on solar-heated tanks. We don’t have electricity for everything, just some lights and charging stations that run off solar and generators. But the water runs to most of the bathrooms. You can get a shower, though it might be a bit lukewarm.”
Ellie’s eyes sparked. “A shower,” she echoed, her tone downright reverent. “God, it’s been so long since I had a proper one. A real shower, not just a bucket bath.”
Jay smiled, understanding that sentiment all too well. She gestured to the bathroom door. “Go ahead. I’ll find us some clean towels.”
Within minutes, Ellie had disappeared into the bathroom, the dull rush of water soon audible through the door. Jay busied herself shaking dust off sheets and stacking a few personal items; things she and Ellie carried. She found a cabinet with some musty linens, pulling out towels that might still be serviceable. I’ll need to wash these properly later, she thought wryly.
A while later, Ellie emerged, hair damp, wearing fresh clothes from her pack. She looked lighter somehow, as if the simple act of a real shower had washed away a layer of tension. “That was amazing,” she said, ruffling her wet hair and grinning like a kid. “The water pressure’s not bad, either. Couldn’t get it more than warm, but I’m not complaining.”
Jay chuckled. “I’ll take lukewarm over ice-cold any day.” Gathering her own clothes, she slipped into the bathroom for her turn. The water’s mild warmth soothed her road-weary muscles, and though the old plumbing groaned and rattled, she couldn’t help but feel grateful for this small luxury. Home, she reminded herself, still not entirely convinced it was real, that she was back.
By the time she finished and returned, the sun was low, orange light spilling across the floorboards. Ellie stood by the window, gazing out at the estate. Dakota dozed in front of the couch, snout resting on his paws.
Ellie glanced over as Jay stepped in, steam rolling off her damp hair. “So,” Ellie ventured, her voice subdued but curious, “is it usually this… big, this busy? I mean, I saw all the livestock, the fish ponds… how many people live here?”
Jay considered. “Over a hundred now, I would guess,” she replied, drying her hair with a towel. “Maybe more. When I left, it was around eighty up here at the house. People join, people leave. We do trade, sometimes rescue. Jeff’s plane helps with that.”
Ellie let out a low whistle, mind reeling at the idea of so many survivors in one place. “It’s… impressive,” she said, turning back to the window. “It reminds me of Jackson a lot… minus the plane and mansion.”
Jay nodded, pulling on a comfortable shirt. “We’ve got the manor, plus some cottages out back and farmland. It’s like its own ecosystem. But we all have to pitch in, there are chores, rotations, patrol shifts. It’s not perfect… raiders, infected, rival communities sometimes. But Jeff’s done a good job keeping everyone safe.”
Ellie rubbed her arms, a mix of awe and uncertainty flitting across her face. “Do you… want to stay?” she asked quietly, glancing over. “Like, for real, long-term?”
Jay paused, folding her towel and setting it aside. “I think so,” she said softly. “This was my home. And… if you’re okay with it, I’d like to make it our home now. But the decision is really yours Ellie… If you want to stay here.”
Ellie’s cheeks flushed slightly, and she nodded, heart fluttering at the implication of “our” home and “her” decision. “It’s amazing,” she murmured. “Kinda terrifying in how big it is, but… yeah, I think I could get used to this.”
Dakota let out a soft huff, rolling onto his side as if in agreement. Jay offered a small laugh, moving to the bed to peel back the dusty sheets. “We’ll need fresh linens,” she muttered, wrinkling her nose. “For now, I’ll sleep on the couch so you can have the bed.”
Ellie blinked, glancing at the grand four-poster. “You sure? It’s big enough for two.”
Jay shrugged, forcing a neutral expression. “Yeah, I’m sure. Don’t worry about it—I used to crash on that couch sometimes anyway.” She shot Ellie a reassuring look, a flicker of fondness in her eyes. “Get a good night’s rest. We’ve earned it.”
Ellie hesitated, but eventually relented, giving a small nod. “Okay,” she said, moving toward the bed. Her eyes swept over the antique furniture, the unfamiliar normalcy of a real bedroom making her chest tighten with unexpected emotion. So much better than sleeping on the ground or in some rundown building. “Thank you, Jay.”
Jay just gave a quiet smile, patting Dakota’s flank as she settled on the couch. The night was still, and through the tall windows, the autumn moon illuminated the estate grounds below.
As Ellie climbed into the bed, the old springs creaked, and a sense of surreal calm washed over her. This is real, she thought, closing her eyes. We’re safe. And as Jay’s soft breathing filled the quiet, Ellie let herself drift, thoughts turning over everything they’d seen, everything they’d lost, and the new future that might lie behind these grand old walls.
Chapter 16: Rotations
Summary:
Thank you for reading! Please note I am continually improving! I update frequently and am always open to kind, constructive criticism.
Chapter Text
A week into their new life at Biltmore, Ellie and Jay had settled into a comfortable routine. Patrol and guard duty rotations took up most of their days, and Ellie, who knew her way around weapons, sometimes helped in the armory. Jay spent her free moments brushing down Rowan and Starlight or doing stable chores. Their nights ended in the old Vanderbilt room, where they’d share stories about the day or how each other was settling in, the flicker of the single lantern casting a soft glow across the antique walls.
Today, Ellie walked the corridor leading to the armory, her Converse shoes echoing on the old floor. Dakota padded at her side, though the dog would have to wait just outside per the rules, no animals in the armory. Ellie liked the armory; it was calm and methodical, and she appreciated the sense of purpose it gave her.
When she stepped inside, she found Helena already there, hunched over a crate of spare parts. Helena was a tall, lean woman in her late forties with cropped black hair, hazel eyes, and an ever-present frown. She wore a frayed denim jacket over her turtleneck, sleeves rolled up to reveal lean, muscled arms. Ellie’s first encounters with Helena had been civil enough, brief nods, a few words of greeting. But Helena never quite warmed to Ellie the way others had.
“Morning,” Ellie said, trying to keep her tone friendly.
Helena didn’t look up from her work, rifle components laid out on the table. “Hey,” she said briskly, pointing to a stack of rifles. “Check if these need parts replaced. Springs, bolts, you know the drill.”
“Sure thing,” Ellie said, setting her backpack down. She joined Helena at a low bench piled with mismatched magazines, loose bullets, and odd-caliber rounds. The air smelled faintly of gun oil and metal, a scent Ellie found oddly reassuring.
They worked in silence for a while, the quiet hum of activity from the hallway drifting in. Ellie tried to focus on the task, separating rifle parts, and setting aside the ones that needed cleaning. Dakota lay outside, occasionally poking his nose around the doorframe making sure Ellie was still there.
Helena hovered nearby, occasionally darting her attention between Ellie and some ledgers she was cross-referencing. It was quiet, not entirely comfortable, but not openly hostile, either, just that slight tension Ellie often noticed in Helena’s presence.
About half an hour in, Helena cleared her throat. “So. How’re you finding Biltmore?”
Ellie shrugged, keeping her eyes on the weapon parts in her hands. “It’s… fine. Quiet. Not what I’m used to, but it’s okay.”
“Hm,” Helena murmured noncommittally. She scribbled something in her ledger, then glanced back at Ellie. “You’ve picked up the patrol rotations quickly.”
Ellie arched a brow, setting the rifle parts aside to examine the spring. “Yeah, well, guard duty’s guard duty. I’ve done it before.”
“Sure.” Helena pushed aside a crate, moving a step closer. She fixed Ellie with a keen stare. “You’re good with a gun,” she said simply.
Ellie didn’t look up. “I guess so,” she replied, voice cool.
Helena folded her arms. “Where’d you learn to shoot like that?”
Ellie’s hands hesitated for a fraction of a second, but she didn’t turn around. She didn’t owe Helena details on her life. “Picked it up on the road,” she said curtly.
“I see,” Helena murmured, unconvinced. Another pause stretched before Helena continued, tone sharper. “You’re not like Jay. You’ve… had to do things.”
Ellie’s jaw clenched, mind flashing with memories she’d rather keep buried; blood, guilt, the nightmares she carried. “So what?” she said, voice tight.
Helena let out a humorless chuckle. “You know, I’ve been around a long time, Ellie. I’ve met lots of survivors. Some are broken, some are scared, and some are hard but decent. And some… they’re cold killers.” She paused, flicking her gaze to the rifle parts on the table. “You’re… interesting. You’re not a monster, but you’re not innocent either.”
Ellie turned her head, finally meeting Helena’s gaze. Her green eyes flared with a defensive edge. “Lady, I don’t know what you think you see, but—”
“Oh, I see it,” Helena interrupted quietly. “Jay might not. Or maybe she does and doesn’t care. But me? I’ve seen your type. Seen other ‘Ellies’ You carry death around with you like a shadow.”
A burst of anger flared in Ellie’s chest. “You don’t fucking know me.”
“No,” Helena conceded. “But I know your type. I know the tension in your shoulders when you’re cornered. You’ve killed, Ellie. More than once, I’d wager.”
Ellie set the rifle down hard, the clang echoing in the armory. “Everyone here’s killed,” she growled, stepping around the table, bristling. “It's not the before times, lady. Jay’s killed. You’ve probably killed. Don’t pretend you’re special.”
Helena didn’t flinch, her face impassive. “I never said I was.”
Ellie’s temper flared. She wanted to yell, to lash out. Except a small, bitter part of her remembered the times she’d killed with numb efficiency; sometimes for revenge, sometimes just to survive. She snapped back, “You have no idea what I’ve done or why I’ve done it.”
Helena’s eyes narrowed. “You’re right, I don’t. But I know I’ve seen others like you. Driven, hardened, pushing everyone away with that anger. Some find redemption…some lose themselves. Jay might be fooled by your half-smiles, but I’m not.”
Ellie felt her heart pound, a red flush creeping up her neck. The accusation stung more than she wanted to admit. “So what, you want me to say I’m sorry for surviving. For doing whatever the fuck it took?”
“No.” Helena’s voice was flat, unyielding. “I’m saying you need to prove to me you’re not just another killer. Maybe you mean something else to Jay, but that doesn’t mean I trust you around the people in our community. Girls like you are trouble, probably been trouble your whole life.”
Ellie’s breath came quicker, adrenaline spiking. “You think I’d hurt people here? Hurt Jay?”
“I think you’d do whatever you believed you had to,” Helena replied coldly. “And I’m not convinced your conscience would stop you. Jay might think otherwise, but until I’m sure, I’ll keep one eye open.”
Ellie let out a shaky exhale, anger warring with an unexpected wash of hurt. She turned away, gripping the edge of the table, trying to steady herself. “You know what?” she muttered after a tense pause. “Fine. Keep your eye open. I don’t need your trust.”
Helena studied Ellie’s rigid back, the controlled anger in the set of her shoulders. There was a flicker of something like pity in Helena’s eyes, but it was gone in a blink. “That’s your choice. But if you care about Jay, if you want to be part of this place, you’ll show me differently.”
Ellie let out a strangled laugh, bitter, her voice tight with emotion. “You act like I owe you something. I’m not here to impress you. I’m here because Jay wanted to come home and I… I wanted to come with her. I’m not here to cause trouble. If I wanted to, I’d have done it already.”
Helena raised an eyebrow, leaning back slightly. “That supposed to reassure me?” she asked, sarcasm dripping from her words. “It doesn’t. All it says is you’re capable of a lot more than you let on.”
A taut silence filled the armory. Ellie felt her hands clench, fury sparking. She forced herself to breathe, remembering the counsel Jay had given her: Keep calm. You’re here to make a new life, not pick fights. “Look,” Ellie said carefully, “I’m not proud of what I’ve done in the past. But I’m not going to apologize for surviving. If that makes me a killer in your eyes, so be it.”
Helena nodded, seemingly satisfied that she’d made her point. She stepped away, organizing some supplies on a nearby shelf. “Then we understand each other,” she said coolly. “Now, let’s finish this inventory and move on.”
Ellie swallowed the lump in her throat, blinking hard. She forced herself to pick up the rifle pieces, returning to her task with mechanical precision. Her mind churned with Helena’s words, her accusations, the glimmer of truth in them that Ellie couldn’t completely deny. She didn’t want to harm anyone; she wanted to be here with Jay, to carve out a life that wasn’t ruled by violence or vengeance. But she was also keenly aware that her past was stained with blood, that the boundaries she once thought impossible to cross had been shattered again and again.
Silence weighed on them like a heavy blanket for the next hour. They worked without speaking, the scratch of pens on paper, the metal clink of weapons being checked. Ellie’s anger simmered, but she kept it contained, focusing on the mindless tasks as a way to ground herself.
Eventually, Helena closed her ledger with a quiet thump. “That’s it for today,” she said, her tone not unkind, but distant. “You can go.”
Ellie nodded curtly, dropping a few last pieces of gear into their proper crates. She hesitated for a fraction of a second as if considering saying something else, but then she clamped her mouth shut and turned on her heel, heading for the door. Her boots echoed on the tile as she left.
Outside the armory, the corridor felt slightly warmer, the distant chatter of other residents drifting through. Ellie leaned against the wall, exhaling shakily. She closed her eyes, replaying Helena’s words—“You’re a killer.” “Prove you’re not just another murderer.” A bitter taste filled her mouth.
**********************************
By the time Ellie made it back to their shared suite that evening, her mood was foul. She stomped through the doorway, slinging her backpack onto a nearby chair with more force than necessary. Jay looked up from where she was tending to Dakota, checking a small burr tangled in his fur. One glance told her something was off.
“Ellie?” Jay asked, voice gentle. “Everything all right?”
Ellie let out a harsh scoff, pacing near the ornate fireplace. “Great,” she snapped, words heavy with sarcasm. “Just fucking fantastic. Day couldn’t get any better.”
Jay frowned. She set aside the burr and stroked Dakota’s head before rising. “Want to tell me what happened?” she ventured carefully.
Ellie spun around, eyes flashing. “I got stuck in the armory with Helena,” she said. “She basically called me a killer, said I was fooling you, that I’d have to prove I’m not some fucking psycho.” Her words came faster, fueled by anger. “Like she knows a damn thing about me.”
Jay’s shoulders tensed. “That’s… harsh,” she murmured. “But Helena’s kind of a hard-liner, always has been. She doesn’t—"
Ellie cut her off, raising a hand. “I don’t need a lecture on how Helena is,” she bit out. “I need—” She stopped, clenching her teeth looking down at her hand with her missing fingers. “I don’t know what I need. I just—”
Frustration twisting in Ellie’s chest. She doesn’t know me. She doesn’t know what I’ve lost. But the fierceness inside her was easier to direct at Jay than to keep bottled up, so she let it out. “I came all this way, with you, trying to make something work,” she spat, “and now I’ve got people telling me I’m no better than a damn raider. So thanks for dragging me here, Jay. I really fucking appreciate it.”
The words hung, acidic, in the air. Jay inhaled sharply, stung. She stepped closer, voice gentle. “Ellie… I’m sorry Helena said that. But you know I didn’t bring you here to get judged. I wanted—”
“Yeah, well,” Ellie snapped, cutting her off again, “you should’ve warned me your people are all suspicious assholes.”
Silence fell. Dakota let out a worried whine, tail tucked. Jay reached out, resting a tentative hand on Ellie’s arm. This time, Ellie didn’t pull away, she just stood there, trembling with pent-up fury and wounded pride.
“I know you’re angry,” Jay said softly, voice carrying an undercurrent of patience. “But this is us, remember? You and me. If Helena’s upset, we can fix it—give her time, show her you’re not who she thinks you are. Or we can leave… your choice.”
Ellie let out a shaky exhale, her gaze dropping to Jay’s hand. Her anger flickered, replaced by a pang of guilt for lashing out. “I hate it,” she mumbled, voice thick, “people looking at me like I’m some bomb. I didn’t come here to… cause problems.”
Jay’s fingers slipped down to Ellie’s wrist, a comforting pressure. “I know you didn’t,” she said. “And you’re not. You’ve survived things others can’t even imagine, that’s all. Helena will see that eventually.”
Ellie’s shoulders slumped. “Fuck, Jay, I’m sorry,” she whispered, tears threatening. “I shouldn’t have taken it out on you.”
“It’s okay,” Jay murmured, gently tugging Ellie closer. “I get it. Really.”
A raw tremor ran through Ellie’s body as she let Jay pull her into a slow embrace. The tension in her muscles eased, replaced by the warmth of Jay’s hold, the steady thump of Jay’s heartbeat against her ear. For a moment, Ellie just pressed her face into Jay’s neck, breathing in the faint scent of hay and soap.
They stayed like that, Dakota circling anxiously until finally settling at their feet. Ellie’s anger dulled, replaced by a profound weariness. She lifted her head, meeting Jay’s eyes. A fragile vulnerability shone in her gaze. “I’m sorry,” she repeated, quieter this time.
“I know,” she whispered. “It’s okay.”
Ellie swallowed hard. The knot in her chest loosened a fraction, replaced by something else, an ache for comfort. She leaned in, capturing Jay’s lips in a fierce, desperate kiss. Jay responded without hesitation, letting Ellie pour all her turmoil and longing into that moment.
Clothes rustled as they backed toward the bed. Ellie’s fingers curled into Jay’s shirt, pulling it off then pulling her closer, seeking the release that only Jay’s warmth could offer here in this place. Jay’s hands slid over Ellie’s arms, then up to cradle her face, guiding her gently, wanting Ellie to know she was safe.
Everything else, Helena’s accusations, the community’s doubts, faded away, replaced by the hush of breath and the soft press of lips on skin. Ellie clung to Jay, needing that closeness to drown out the voices in her head. Their kisses deepened, and the tension that had fueled Ellie’s anger shifted to passion, a raw yearning to feel connected, alive.
Jay’s murmured reassurances threaded between the gasps, telling Ellie that she mattered, that she was more than the sum of her regrets or what she’s done. Ellie’s pulse pounded, heart hammering in her chest as she let Jay’s touch ground her, anchor her to something warm and real.
Later when they finally stilled, breathing ragged, they lay curled under a blanket, the soft lamplight bathing their tangled limbs. Ellie ran a hand through Jay’s hair, her anger and fear soothed by Jay’s presence. Jay pressed a gentle kiss to Ellie’s temple, voice still husky with leftover emotion. “Feel better?” she asked, quiet but tender.
Ellie nodded, shifting to meet Jay’s gaze. “Yeah,” she admitted softly. “I’m sorry for being a jerk.”
Jay offered a small, understanding smile. “Apology accepted,” she murmured. “Just… remember, it’s you and me. No matter what Helena or anyone else thinks.”
Ellie’s chest tightened with affection, tears threatening again, for different reasons this time. “Thanks,” she whispered, resting her forehead against Jay’s. “I… guess we’ll figure it out. One day at a time, right?”
Jay closed her eyes, wrapping her arm around Ellie’s waist, pulling her closer. “Right,” she agreed, her breath a soft promise against Ellie’s skin. “One day at a time.”
*********************************
Late-afternoon light filtered in through the wide stable doors, dust orbs swirling in the air as Ellie methodically scooped fresh hay into the stall of a large gentle draft mare. The autumn chill seeped through the old timbers and iron, but the steady movement of her pitchfork kept her warm enough. Jay was in the next stall over, humming under her breath while she worked, occasionally stopping to rub down a horse or collect extra hay the horse hadn’t eaten or trampled.
Somewhere along the line, one of the stall doors in the row behind them hadn’t been bolted properly. Every time a breeze swept in, it slammed the door against its frame with a hollow bang, then silence, then bang again. Ellie tried to ignore it at first, just the ordinary sounds of a stable. But as the minutes passed, the repetitive pounding began to fray her nerves.
She paused, pitchfork in hand, teeth clenched. Her pulse throbbed in her ears. Each slam of the door felt like a jolt, tugging her from the present into a flash of old horrors. Bang. She saw a golf club descending. Bang. Joel’s bloodied face, the terror in his eyes. Bang. Abby snarling, her arms straining as she brought the club down again, echoing that same fatal blow.
Her breath quickened. Bang. Another memory. Ellie’s chest seized with raw panic. She tried to focus on the straw at her feet, on the sounds of the horses stomping in their stalls, but the door slammed again, snapping her mind back to Joel’s final moments. She felt her heart pounding so hard, she thought it might burst.
Suddenly, her vision blurred at the edges. She gasped, dropping the pitchfork with a clatter. The world spun, shadows flickering in her periphery. Bang. She half-expected to see Abby materialize out of the corner of her eye. Fear strangled her, tearing at her lungs, and she let out a raw scream without meaning to.
As her knees buckled, she scrambled back, pressing herself against the wooden stall wall. She clutched at her head, breath ragged, tears burning her eyes as the memories crashed down. She couldn’t drag her focus back, she was trapped in that moment, the echo of the door’s slam transforming into the sickening crunch of a club on bone.
In the next stall over, Jay heard the screams, her head snapping up in alarm. She dropped the brush she’d been using on Starlight’s coat and rushed across the narrow passage. Dakota, sensing Ellie’s distress, barked and bounded after Jay, whining as they reached Ellie’s stall.
Ellie huddled in a corner, knees drawn up, shoulders shaking with each ragged breath and scream. Her face was pale, eyes wide with terror, tears leaving tracks in the dust on her cheeks. “No—no, no, no,” she babbled, voice choking on sobs. “Please… not again, please…”
Jay’s heart twisted. She darted forward, carefully setting a hand on Ellie’s shoulder. “Ellie,” she said, voice low and urgent. “Ellie, look at me. It’s Jay. You’re safe. With me. Here. In the stables.”
Ellie flinched at first, still trapped in the memory, but her eyes darted toward Jay’s face. “J-Joel,” she gasped, words tumbling out before she could stop them. “I keep seeing—s-seeing him—he’s—I can’t—”
Jay lowered herself to her knees beside Ellie, gently cupping Ellie’s face with both hands. “Hey, hey,” she murmured, her voice trembling with her own surge of worry. “Ellie, it’s not happening now. Breathe with me, okay? You’re at Biltmore. The stable. We’re together. You’re safe.”
Tears spilled from Ellie’s eyes as she let out a shuddering sob. The slam of the stall door echoed once more in the distance, making her jerk in panic. Jay glanced over her shoulder, teeth grit. “Aidan!” she called out to the young man walking over to see what was happening. Her voice rang sharply, urgent. “Can you latch that door? Right now!”
Aidan didn’t need an explanation; he sprinted off, and a second later the banging ceased. Ellie’s breathing was still ragged, but with the noise gone, Jay could see a spark of recognition begin to return to Ellie’s eyes.
“It’s quiet now,” Jay murmured, gently stroking Ellie’s hair back from her face. “No more banging, okay? We’re safe.”
Ellie forced a painful swallow, blinking away tears that refused to stop. She grabbed onto Jay’s arms as if Jay were a lifeline. “S-sorry,” she choked out, shame mingling with the lingering terror. “I—I freaked out.”
“Don’t apologize, not ever,” Jay whispered fiercely. “You’re allowed to freak out. You went through hell, remember?” Carefully, she pulled Ellie into a tentative embrace, giving her space if she needed it but hoping she’d take the comfort.
Ellie collapsed against Jay, gasping for air. The pitchfork lay forgotten on the straw-covered floor. Dakota nudged Ellie’s leg, letting out a low whine, as if to say I’m here, too.
Jay just held her, heart aching with empathy. She pressed her lips to Ellie’s hair, murmuring soft words of reassurance. “It’s over,” she breathed, voice steady despite her trembling arms. “You’re here, with me, and it’s gonna be okay.”
The minutes ticked by, each ragged sob easing into slower, steadier breaths. Ellie clung to Jay’s jacket, her face buried in the crook of Jay’s neck. Gradually, the images receded from her mind’s eye. All that remained was the steady heartbeat against her ear, the scent of hay and horse sweat, the warmth of Jay’s arms.
When she finally pulled back, her eyes were red and puffy, but the terror had lessened into exhaustion. She avoided Jay’s gaze, feeling raw and vulnerable. “I—I thought I was past that,” she muttered hoarsely, voice thick. “Guess not.”
Jay brushed a thumb over Ellie’s damp cheek. “Hey,” she said softly, “This isn’t a straight line. It’s two steps forward, one step back. You’re still doing good.”
Ellie sniffed, shoulders slumping. “Doesn’t feel like it,” she mumbled.
Jay shook her head, offering a small, wobbly smile. “Trust me, Ellie, you’re the strongest person I know. You faced things that would break anyone. A stupid door banging in the wind can bring it all back.” She sighed, squeezing Ellie’s hand. “But you survived this before, and you’ll survive it again.”
Ellie let out a ragged breath. “I… thanks,” she managed. She glanced around the stall, noticing the pitchfork on the floor. “Fuck, I’m sorry, I was… the hay…” she repeated grabbing at her chest, shame edging back in. “I didn’t mean to freak out in front of everyone.”
“No one’s judging you, and ‘everyone’ is Aidan and Misha. They understand.” Jay murmured, then hesitated. “If you need to call it a day here, we can talk to Mark. He’ll cover for us.”
Ellie’s first instinct was to refuse, to soldier on. But her limbs felt heavy, and her mind swam. She nodded reluctantly. “Yeah, maybe that’s best. I just… need to clear my head.”
Jay helped Ellie to her feet, Dakota trotting anxiously alongside, tail wagging in relief that Ellie was upright again. Together, they left the stall, Ellie leaning on Jay’s steady presence. Outside, Misha and Aidan cast them concerned looks, but no one said a word. Aidan caught Jay’s eye, and she nodded in silent thanks for latching the door.
As they stepped into the cold late-fall air, Ellie felt the lingering panic lift bit by bit. Jay’s arm remained around her waist, guiding her gently, and Ellie realized, amid the swirling guilt and exhaustion, that at least she wasn’t alone. She had Jay.
Chapter 17: The Sky’s The Limit
Summary:
Thank you for reading! Please note I am continually improving! I update frequently and am always open to kind, constructive criticism.
Chapter Text
Mid-morning sunlight poured through the tall windows of Jeff’s makeshift office, an old study off the mansion’s second-floor corridor. The scent of bourbon filled the air, a precious commodity they managed to trade for occasionally, and Jay inhaled deeply, steeling herself before stepping across the threshold. She found Jeff at a large wooden desk, sorting through crates of dried produce and scribbled manifests.
He glanced up, a warm smile tugging at his weathered features. “Jay,” he greeted, standing. “Everything all right?”
She offered a slight nod, shoulders tight with anticipation. “Yeah. Mostly. I, uh… needed to ask you something.”
Jeff shifted an inventory list aside, turning his full attention to her. “Alright. Let’s hear it.”
Jay drew a breath. “Your next trade flight, when’s it happening?”
Jeff arched a brow. “In a couple of days, if all goes well. I’ve got to run supplies over to Richmond, smoked fish, produce, and some medical items. Why?”
She hesitated, fiddling with the hem of her jacket. “I… was wondering if Ellie and I could come along. As passengers. Or just Ellie, if you can only take one.”
Jeff’s surprise was evident in the quick blink of his blue-gray eyes. “Passengers?” he repeated, folding his arms across his broad chest. “Jay, you know space is tight. The plane can only carry so much weight before it’s unsafe.”
“I know,” Jay agreed hastily, voice hitching with emotion. “I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t important. Ellie… she loves the idea of flying. She’s always dreamed about space, about the sky. I… I want to give her this, Jeff. She’s been through a lot, and I think seeing the world from up there would do her good. If nothing else, give her a good day.”
Silence followed. Jeff pressed his lips together in thought, his gaze flicking to the half-packed crates on the desk. “You realize,” he said carefully, “that’s less weight for supplies we can take. And you two will have to pitch in; loading, unloading. Possibly some of the flight checks. Running errands in Richmond.”
Jay nodded quickly, relief and earnestness flooding her face. “We’ll help. All of it—whatever you need. Just… please, let me do this for her. She’s never been in a plane. I think it’ll… well, it’ll remind her she can be… happy.”
Jeff was silent for a moment, then let out a slow breath. “You care about her.”
Jay met his gaze. “Yeah, I do.”
Jeff studied her for a moment, expression softening. “You’ve always had a heart for others, even to your own detriment,” he said quietly. “Guess that hasn’t changed.” He exhaled, a hint of a smile curling his lips. “All right. I’ll make it work. Might mean fewer crates of produce or cutting back on something else, but… I’ll figure it out. For you.”
Jay felt a tightness in her chest ease. “Thank you,” she breathed.
Jeff cast her a wry grin, shaking his head. “Don’t thank me yet. If I’m taking on two extra bodies, I expect you two to work for it. We’ll need the plane stocked, the run prepped, and you’ll need to be prepared if something goes wrong up there or at Richmond.”
“We can do that,” Jay promised, her voice firm. “Ellie’s tough, and I know my way around your plane from before, right?”
“Vaguely,” Jeff teased, remembering how Jay once helped him fix a loose wheel strut when she was a teen. “But I appreciate the can-do attitude. Just watch out for the engine’s quirks, okay?” He paused, then admitted more quietly, “You know I’d do anything for you, kid, even if I grumble about it.”
Jay’s eyes glistened with gratitude. “Thanks, Jeff,” she whispered. “It means a lot.”
He gave a small shrug, picking up the inventory list again. “All right, let’s keep it hush until the day of. Don’t want half the community asking for a joyride,” he joked. Then his tone sobered. “And, Jay, we have to be careful. Richmond can be… unpredictable sometimes.”
Jay nodded, relief blossoming in her chest. “I will. We both will.” With that, she turned to go, already envisioning Ellie’s reaction when she heard the news: she’d get to feel the sky beneath her feet, a small piece of her astronaut dream brought to life, if only for a moment. And if it took extra effort or a bit of risk, Jay figured it was well worth it.
************************************
Dawn crept over the horizon, a faint orange glow lighting the edges of the Biltmore Estate. Jay gently nudged Ellie awake well before the usual morning bustle, urging her to dress quickly. She refused to elaborate, only muttering something about “a little adventure” when Ellie pressed for details. The anticipation in Jay’s eyes was enough for Ellie to shrug off her grogginess and follow without complaint.
Dakota trailed them halfway across the grounds until Jay asked him to stay, something about “no dogs allowed where we’re going.” A little puzzled, Ellie watched Jay scratch behind his ears, then lead her through a back path that snaked past the orchard. The sun hovered just above the tree line, gilding the leaves in pale gold. Ellie breathed in the crisp autumn air, her curiosity growing with each step.
After a short walk, they rounded a corner of the old farmland where Ellie spotted movement. The forest opened up into a large field, and in the center sat the plane. Ellie froze, breath catching in her throat. It was a single-engine Cessna, wings streaked with chipped paint, but to Ellie’s eyes, it might as well have been the sleekest rocket on Earth.
“Oh my God, Jay. What the fuck?” Ellie whispered, voice hushed with wonder. She turned to Jay, heart pounding. “You—you’re kidding me, right?”
Jay grinned, stepping forward, her own excitement shining in her eyes. “Surprise,” she said softly. “Remember how you said you’ve never flown? Well… Jeff’s heading out today on a trade run. He’s letting us tag along.”
A loud whoop of joy burst from Ellie, so uncharacteristic that Jay couldn’t help but laugh. Ellie rushed forward, practically bouncing on her toes, hand flying up to point at the craft. “We’re actually—I can’t believe—Jay, this is insane!”
Just then, Jeff’s voice cut in from the far side of the plane, where he was directing two younger men heaving crates into the cramped cargo area. “Keep it balanced, Matthew,” Jeff barked, turning his head to eye another man. “Cristian, watch that latch. We don’t want any accidents mid-flight.”
Matthew, a lanky man with a cap pulled low over messy hair, gave a little wave to Jay and Ellie. Cristian, shorter and stockier, nodded in greeting before refocusing on the crate.
“Morning,” Jeff called out, arms folded, a faint smirk on his face as he spotted Ellie’s wide-eyed stare. “We’re on a tight schedule, so if you two are set, come on over.”
Ellie moved as if magnetized, approaching the plane, eyes roving over the wings, the propeller, every detail she could take in. “This is incredible,” she whispered, voice betraying her awe. “I mean, I knew you had a plane, but seeing it so close… It’s so real.”
Jay followed, placing a reassuring hand on Ellie’s shoulder. It was maybe the most open and thrilled she’d ever seen Ellie, her face alight, her usual guardedness forgotten.
Jeff cleared his throat, gesturing to a small stack of fuel canisters and supplies. “All right,” he said, businesslike. “You two want to come along, that means you gotta help. Matthew, Cristian, show them what’s left to load.”
Matthew flashed a grin at Ellie. “We’ve got some produce boxes and a couple crates of smoked fish going to Richmond. Nothing too heavy, but it’s gotta be strapped down tight.”
Cristian nodded in agreement, unspooling thick straps from the cargo hold. “Plane’s finicky if the weight’s not balanced. C’mon, I’ll show you the tie-down points.”
Ellie’s eyes gleamed. “Yeah sure—whatever you need,” she said, stepping forward with eager energy. Jay couldn’t help but watch with a proud smile. She’s more excited than I’ve ever seen her, she thought, heart swelling at how Ellie’s protective shell had all but vanished.
As they helped load, Jeff kept a watchful eye. When they finished lugging the last crate, he beckoned them to gather under one wing, where he pointed to the plane’s door and the engine cowling. “All right,” he said seriously, “few rules. One: This plane’s older than you two combined. Treat her gently—no slamming doors, no messing with dials. Two: We’ve weighed everything, so don’t go adding anything extra last minute. Three: In the air, you listen to me. If I say sit down, buckle in, or hold on, you do it. Got it?”
Ellie and Jay both nodded. Ellie practically vibrated with excitement. “Got it,” she echoed, trying not to grin too wide. “Promise I’ll be on my best behavior.”
Jeff’s gaze settled on Jay, a flicker of warmth in his eyes. “You’ve flown with me before, well kind of,” he teased. “But I’ll go over the preflight checks one more time. Then we’ll take off. Should only take an hour, tops.”
They followed him around the plane as he pointed out the ailerons, the rudder, the flaps; explaining what each did, though Ellie soaked it in with rapt attention. Jay hung back slightly, content to watch the pure joy on Ellie’s face. This is what I wanted, she thought, chest tight with emotion. Something good for her. Something beautiful.
At last, Jeff clapped his hands, turning back to Ellie and Jay. “Okay, we’re about set. You two help Matthew and Cristian finish securing the cargo, and then we’ll board. Should be wheels up in about twenty minutes, if all goes well.”
Ellie nodded fervently, dashing off to help Cristian tighten the straps in the cargo hold. Jay stayed a moment longer, exchanging a small, grateful smile with Jeff. He shrugged, as if to say You’re welcome, then turned to check the plane’s propeller.
We’re really doing this, Jay thought, adrenaline mixing with anticipation. The sky was streaked with early morning light, a promise of the day ahead. And now, Ellie was about to see the world from a vantage point she’d only ever dreamed of.
They huddled in the cramped cabin of the Cessna, the cargo strapped tight behind their seats. Jeff ran through final checks, flipping switches on the small control panel. Ellie couldn’t stop tapping her foot, jaw set in a breathless grin, she’d bite her lip every so often and look at Jay. Jay, wedged in beside her, found herself grinning too, Ellie’s excitement was contagious.
“This is fucking insane,” Ellie muttered, shaking her head, her knees bounced slightly as Jeff ran through final checks.
Jay sat beside her, far more relaxed, watching Ellie with quiet amusement. “Nervous?”
Ellie scoffed, masking the excited anxiety creeping up her spine. “No. Pfft. Just… making sure this thing isn’t gonna fall apart midair.”
Jay chuckled. “You’ll be fine, El. Just wait.”
“Seat belts on,” Jeff instructed, eyeing them from the pilot’s seat. “And no messing with the controls.” His gaze lingered pointedly on Ellie, whose eyes drifted longingly over the dash of levers and dials.
“No promises,” Ellie shot back, though she obediently fastened her belt. She felt the hum beneath her feet as Jeff started the engine. “Holy shit,” she whispered, practically bouncing in place. “We’re really doing this.”
Jay reached over, pressing a playful hand on Ellie’s shoulder. “Don’t hyperventilate,” she teased, though her own heartbeat pounded at the prospect of flight. “You’re making me look calm, and that never happens in this thing.”
Ellie snorted, twisting to peer out the small window. “Yeah, right,” she said. “Just wait till we’re in the air, then you’ll see me in full freak-out mode.”
Jeff released the parking brake, taxiing forward down the makeshift runway, an old stretch of corn field cleared of debris. With a rumble, the plane gathered speed. Ellie let out a soft squeal as the wheels bounced, then lifted free of the ground. Her stomach lurched deliciously.
Ellie let out a laugh, not forced, not bitter, but pure.
She turned to Jay, eyes wide, shining. “Holy fucking shit.”
“Oh my God, we’re up!” Ellie half-shouted a minute later, voice lit with wonder. Jay stifled a laugh, a wave of warmth sweeping through her. She’d never seen Ellie so openly thrilled, her usual melancholy nowhere in sight. Outside, the estate shrank beneath them, the patchwork fields and autumn-hued forests stretching into the horizon.
“Been a while since I took passengers,” Jeff announced over the headset, adjusting the yoke. “Try not to puke on my instruments, or the trade goods”
Ellie turned back to the window, pressing her fingertips against the glass. She was too enthralled to quip back, her face nearly pressed to the window. “Look at the trees, Jay,” she said, voice awed. “They’re… like a painting. All those reds and golds…”
Jay glanced out her own window, breath catching at the sight of the appalachia mountaintops rising from a fiery sea of leaves. The sky felt vast, cool air streaming through a small vent. “It’s gorgeous,” she murmured, stealing a look at Ellie’s beaming face. “Worth the early morning, huh?”
Ellie let out a low, incredulous laugh. “Completely. I owe you one, Jay.” She reached out to give Jay’s hand a squeeze, her eyes shining. “I’m serious—one of the best days ever.”
Jay squeezed back, feeling the plane’s vibrations rattle pleasantly through the seat. “This is the closest I could get you to space. Just don’t forget to breathe,” she teased quietly. “Still got a whole flight ahead of us.”
They soared over the rolling hills, mountains and tiny towns, weaving between scattered clouds, the sun rising higher at their backs. Ellie’s gaze hardly left the window, her grin never fading. And Jay couldn’t help but watch her, heart brimming with contentment.
A couple of hours later, the Cessna touched down on a stretch of farmland turned makeshift airstrip just outside the Richmond settlement. Ellie craned her neck to see out the window as they bumped along the rough landing, her grin still firmly in place. Jay couldn’t stop smiling at the sight, this was a side of Ellie she had never seen, a spark of pure excitement that seemed unburdened by past grief.
“We made it,” Jeff announced, cutting the engine. The propeller slowed to a halt with a final sputter. Beyond the runway, Ellie could make out tall fences, a scattering of buildings, and a handful of sentries on watchtowers. It wasn’t as large as Biltmore, but it looked well-fortified and organized, clearly a community that had managed to thrive just like Jackson and Biltmore had.
Ellie unfastened her seatbelt with fumbling eagerness. “God, that was so fucking cool,” she blurted, cheeks flushed. “Did you feel that crosswind on landing?”
Jay let out a soft laugh. “I’m not sure how we stayed in the air with you bouncing around like that,” she teased. “Come on, let’s help offload.”
They climbed out to find a small group of locals waiting. One was a tall woman with a shotgun slung over her shoulder, another a wiry man with oily coveralls. They greeted Jeff with nods of familiarity, eyeing Ellie and Jay with polite curiosity. The plane’s cargo hatch opened, revealing the crates of produce, medical supplies, and smoked fish strapped inside.
Ellie joined Jay in hauling them down. Despite the warm sun, Ellie moved with a buoyant energy that kept a smile on Jay’s face. She noticed how Ellie’s eyes darted everywhere, taking in the perimeter fences, the watchtowers, and the activity around them. She’s soaking it all in, Jay thought, heart warmed by the sight.
After unloading, Jeff introduced them around as the new arrivals from Biltmore. The locals spoke about their own fields, a little workshop where they salvaged electronics, and a blacksmith’s forge. They discussed trade terms with Jeff, fuel canisters, a box of batteries, and some mechanical parts in exchange for Biltmore’s produce and smoked fish.
Ellie’s excitement never waned, even when the talk turned dull and technical. She asked questions about Richmond’s layout, its defenses, and how many people lived there. Jay found herself standing back to watch Ellie, chattering with the locals as though she’d known them for years. The guarded tension that usually hovered around Ellie’s shoulders was nowhere to be seen.
At one point, they took a short walk just inside the settlement walls. Ellie gawked at the variety of small workshops and rigs set up, people tinkering with old generators, kids learning to wire simple circuits. “They’ve got a little bit of everything here,” Jay said, smiling as Ellie peered into a workshop. “Kinda like Biltmore.”
Ellie nodded quickly. “It’s amazing,” she breathed. “I mean, I know we can’t stay, but it’s just… wow. People really do find ways to survive anywhere.”
Jay rested a hand between Ellie’s shoulder blades. “They do,” she agreed softly.
Ellie’s cheeks warmed, and for a moment she looked like she might say something more. But a shout from Jeff broke their reverie—“Hey, you two! Wrap it up; we gotta get these crates squared away so we can take off and get home before dark.”
They returned to the small runway, helping the Richmond folk tie down the final parts of the trade. Ellie beamed like she was on cloud nine. As they secured the last crate, Ellie turned to Jay, eyes shining.
“Thanks,” she said quietly, voice trembling with gratitude. “For bringing me along. Seriously, I… I can’t remember the last time I had a day this good.”
Jay’s heart twisted, affection surging. She smiled at Ellie. “I’m glad,” she murmured. “Ready to fly back?”
Ellie smirked, rolling her shoulders in excitement. “Absolutely.”
With that, they boarded the plane once more, waving farewell to the Richmond crew. As the engine sputtered back to life and the propeller spun, Ellie settled into her seat. She stole a glance at Jay, smile unwavering.
Jay caught that look, warmth flooding her chest. She deserves so much more of this—this sense of wonder.
The return flight from Richmond was smoother than the morning’s run, fewer crosswinds, with the afternoon sun warming the cockpit. Ellie was still buzzing from everything she’d seen, recounting details of the settlement’s workshops and small forges while she tried to peer out every window at once. Jay, seated beside her, listened with an amused smile.
Not long after they took off, Jeff leveled the plane, leaving them with a gentler hum of the engine. Jay leaned closer to Ellie, speaking just loud enough to be heard over the drone. “Hey,” she said, tapping Ellie’s knee, “close your eyes a second.”
Ellie frowned in playful suspicion. “Why?” she asked, but she did it anyway, snapping her eyelids shut.
Jay’s voice grew soft, taking on a conspiratorial tone. “I want you to imagine we’re not in a little Cessna. Picture it’s a rocket, some huge shuttle, just after racing off the launch pad. You’re strapped in, counting down the minutes before you get to the moon, the engines roaring as you blast away from Earth.”
Ellie’s brows twitched, and the corners of her mouth lifted. “That’s… kind of amazing,” she murmured, eyelids still shut. She let her breathing slow, trying to feel the subtle vibrations of the plane’s engine as if they were the thunder of rocket boosters.
Jay grinned, eyeing Ellie’s expression. “Think about the moon,” she continued, pitching her voice low. “Look out the window in your mind and see the black sky, the stars so bright they’re like diamonds. You’re weightless, floating. Just like you always dreamed, right?”
Ellie let out a breathy laugh, her smile deepening. “Yeah,” she whispered. “I can see it… see the curve of Earth below.”
Jeff, in the pilot’s seat, cast them a curious glance, but he said nothing; just gave Jay a slight, knowing smirk. He adjusted the throttle, and the plane shuddered a little. Ellie gasped, her eyes still closed, feeding the fantasy Jay was weaving.
“It’s a hell of a view,” she added quietly. “A hundred times better than scrounging in old ruins, huh?”
Ellie nodded, a flutter of excitement coursing through her. “God, yes,” she said, voice hushed in wonder. “I feel like I’m really there.” In her mind’s eye, she was no longer cramped in a small plane. She was an astronaut, the hum of the engine replaced by the roar of rocket fire, stars just a whisper beyond reach.
Jay let the moment linger before gently nudging Ellie’s shoulder. “All right, spacegirl,” she teased, “time to come back down. I think Jeff might like us to help watch for any trouble.”
Ellie opened her eyes slowly, still caught in that haze of wonder. She blinked at the small plane’s interior, at the rumbling controls, the crate of supplies behind them, and let out a soft sigh. “Wow,” she muttered, letting her hand curl around Jay’s. “Thank you...”
Jay’s gaze glowed with fondness. “Anytime,” she said. “We might not be reaching the moon in this thing, but at least we got close, huh?”
Ellie grinned, giving Jay’s fingers a light squeeze.
They landed in a swirl of dust on the same makeshift runway they’d left that morning. The sun was just dipping behind the mountains, painting the sky in lavender and orange. Ellie hopped down from the plane, still half-buzzing with excitement, while Jay paused to hand Jeff a final thanks. A few community members appeared to help with the cargo, directing the supplies onto horse drawn carts bound for the main house.
As Ellie stepped off to the side, taking in the sight of Biltmore’s rolling pastures drenched in twilight, a wave of emotion washed over her. She’d been away only hours, yet returning felt like coming home. And in that instant, she realized why: Jay.
The older portion of herself, the one that carried Dina’s memory, tugged in her chest, reminding her of the life she’d once cherished. But this present reality with Jay felt… just as important to her. Ellie’s eyes slid to where Jay was chatting briefly with Jeff about the flight, both of them sharing a few grateful words before parting. As Jay turned away, the warmth in her eyes when she spotted Ellie caught Ellie’s breath.
“Hey,” Jay murmured, approaching. “You still flying high from earlier?”
Ellie laughed, a soft, breathy sound. “I might be for a while,” she admitted, tucking a stray hair behind her ear. “That was… definitely in the top five days of my life.”
Jay’s lips curved in a gentle smile. “Glad to hear it.” She paused, scanning Ellie’s face. “You, uh… good to head back? We can help unload these crates, or—”
“No,” Ellie said, cutting in gently. “I mean, yeah, we can do that, but… I want to talk to you first.” She inhaled, ignoring the nervous flutter in her stomach she started messing with her fingers anxiously. “Can we… walk, maybe?”
Jay blinked, curiosity and concern flickering across her features. “Sure,” she said, nodding. “I’ll tell Jeff we’ll be a minute.”
A quick word to Jeff, and then they strolled away from the runway, down a dirt path that skirted one of the estate’s sweeping lawns. The sky shifted into deeper blues and purples, the last of the season's fireflies beginning to twinkle in the tall grass. Ellie sucked in a steadying breath, heart thudding.
She glanced sidelong at Jay, who walked with a calm ease despite the day’s excitement. She did this for me, Ellie thought. All of it. The gentle hush of evening cocooned them, distant sounds of the community winding down for the night, clinks of tools, soft laughter.
At last, Ellie stopped by a low wooden fence, resting her arms along the top rail. Jay mirrored her, leaning close. “What’s on your mind?” Jay asked, voice soft.
Ellie’s chest tightened with a rush of feeling. She looked at Jay, really looked, taking in the gentle crinkle of her eyes, the warmth beneath the slight tension of her posture. Fuck, she really loves me, Ellie realized, and the certainty washed away her doubts.
“I…” Ellie began, her voice catching. She swallowed, pressing a hand to her brow. “I’ve been thinking about us. And about Dina—my old life.” She flinched slightly, as if expecting Jay to pull away. But Jay stayed still, concern and patience in her gaze.
Ellie took another breath, forging on. “I still love her, y’know,” she said, voice trembling. “And I probably always will. But I… Fuck, Jay, I love you, too. Or—I’m starting to. And it’s not just because we wound up traveling together or because you saved me, or I saved you.” Her throat tightened. “You’re more than just… some fling, some situationship I’m stuck in. I’m here because I want to be.”
A hush fell between them, night air whispering through the fence posts. Ellie forced herself to meet Jay’s eyes. “You did all this for me,” she murmured, gesturing back toward the plane, the orchard, the entire estate. “Made me feel like I mattered enough to deserve… it, I guess. And I realized that I—”
She cut off when Jay’s hand found hers, fingers threading gently. Jay’s voice was hushed, thick with emotion. “Ellie,” she said, the single word carrying all the affection, relief, and tenderness she’d been holding back. “I… you have no idea how much that means to me—hearing you say that.”
Ellie exhaled, a shaky laugh escaping her. “I guess it’s my way of saying… I’m not going anywhere. Not unless you tell me to.”
Jay swallowed, tears threatening as she squeezed Ellie’s hand. “I’d never,” she managed. “I can’t tell you how many nights I’ve wondered if you’d find a reason to leave—like I wasn’t enough. I know you lost so much, that maybe a piece of you is always somewhere else or with her…”
Ellie nodded, feeling a prickle behind her own eyes. “A piece of me might be, but the rest…” She closed the small gap between them, letting her forehead rest against Jay’s. “The rest is right here.”
A tear slipped free down Jay’s cheek, and she gave a choked laugh, pulling Ellie into a gentle hug. “You have no idea how long I’ve been trying not to hope for this,” she whispered, voice wavering. “I didn’t want to push or make you think you had to choose.”
Ellie’s arms wound around Jay’s waist, her heart pounding with a mixture of relief and the lingering ache of old memories. “Thank you,” she murmured. “For letting me figure it out on my own. For… everything.”
Jay breathed a shaky breath, pressing a soft kiss to Ellie’s temple. “One day at a time,” she said quietly, echoing their familiar refrain. “But now… we’re not just traveling companions, or… ‘situational’ whatevers, right?”
Ellie gave a rueful grin, pulling back to look Jay in the eyes. “No,” she agreed, voice firm despite the slight quiver. “We’re just… us.”
A broad, tearful smile lit Jay’s face. “Of course,” she whispered, then leaned in, capturing Ellie’s lips in a tender, lingering kiss. The world around them seemed to dissolve, the orchard, the settlement lights, the hush of night, leaving only the warmth of each other’s presence.
When they finally broke apart, Ellie rested her head on Jay’s shoulder, inhaling her scent, letting the moment anchor her in the present. She felt a faint pang of guilt for Dina’s memory, but it was gentled by the realization that love wasn’t a finite resource, she could carry her past with her while still embracing new life, new love.
“That was… a long day,” Ellie said softly, smile tugging at her lips. “Flying to Richmond, going to the moon, then coming back to Earth.”
Jay let out a soft chuckle, brushing a thumb across Ellie’s cheek. “We have tomorrow to look forward to,” she said. “And the day after that. As many as we can get.”
Ellie nodded, letting her eyes drift shut for a moment. “Yeah,” she breathed, feeling Jay’s heartbeat steady against her own. As many days as we can get, she echoed in her mind, chest fluttering with a fragile, profound hope. She’d found something here, someone, worth holding onto, and, finally, she was ready to embrace it.
Chapter 18: Bigfoot or Bloater?
Summary:
Thank you for reading! I update frequently and am always open to kind, constructive criticism.
Chapter Text
Twilight settled gently over the Biltmore mansion, the grand long balcony illuminated by the warm glow of lanterns and a string of solar-powered fairy lights that flickered along the ornate railing. The fall night air was balmy, carrying the distant sound of animals and a soft hum of crickets from the estate grounds below. Around the long wooden table gathered a lively group: Ellie, Mark, Jay, Sadie, Jeff, Helena, Aidan, and Kady; each nursing a mug of hot soup or gnawing at chunks of fresh bread and cheese.
Ellie and Jay sat close together near one end, Dakota dozing at their feet under the table. Aidan and Kady were across from them, discussing the best ways to fortify the greenhouse windows. Helena was quietly polishing a small blade, her expression less icy than usual but still reserved. Mark leaned back in his chair, boots propped against the balcony rail, sipping a cup of tea, telling a story. Sadie, a late twenties woman with red hair, kind eyes, and a quick laugh, was humoring Mark.
A small smile tugged at Jay’s lips as she listened to Mark dramatically recount a hunting trip gone wrong, complete with wild hand gestures and exaggerated sound effects.
“So then I turn around, right?” Mark continued, eyes wide with faux horror. “And this damn buck is just standing there… like, full-on staring into my soul. I swear it was judging me, like it knew I missed that shot on purpose.”
Sadie scoffed. “You didn’t miss on purpose.”
“I did,” Mark insisted, pointing a finger at her. “Because I felt bad! It had this little limp—"
Ellie snorted. “That’s called survival, dumbass. The deer didn’t give a shit about your moral dilemma.”
Laughter rippled through the group, even Jay chuckled, shaking her head as she passed Ellie a piece of cheese from the shared plate between them. Ellie took it without thinking before Jay shifted her gaze back toward the mountains stretching far into the horizon.
Jay had always liked nights like these, where the weight of the world felt just a little bit lighter, where the quiet fear that always lingered in the back of her mind could be drowned out by laughter and good company.
The laughter and teasing had settled into a comfortable hum of conversation, the lanterns burning lower as the night stretched on. The group had moved closer together, their bodies relaxed against the worn stone of the Biltmore’s long balcony. Aidan had just finished telling a story about a storm that nearly swept him off a rooftop back in Atlanta before he and his dad came to Biltmore, when Mark leaned over and nudged Ellie with his elbow.
"Come on, Ellie. You gotta have a good story in you," he said, reaching for another piece of dried fruit. "Something wild. Something we haven’t heard before."
Ellie leaned back against her chair, running her fingers absently along the seam of her jeans. She hesitated for a second, then exhaled.
"Alright," she said. "I got one."
The others leaned in slightly, the quiet anticipation settling between them. Ellie glanced up at the sky, at the vast spread of stars, then back down at the darkened trees that stretched beyond the estate.
"There was this time… a long time ago, back when I was traveling west," she began, her voice softer than usual. "I was with someone, and we'd been through a lot of shit together. I mean, a lot. We were worn down, hungry, almost to the place we had been traveling to."
"But then," Ellie continued, her expression shifting as she got lost in the memory, "we were in the city—Salt Lake. Place was wrecked, like everything else. We were cutting through some old buildings when we turned a corner and suddenly, right there in front of us, was this giraffe."
Mark blinked. "Bullshit."
"I’m serious," Ellie said, smirking. "A real, live giraffe. Just standing there, eating from a vine that had grown over one of the buildings."
Kady shook her head, grinning. "No way."
"I swear, I pet it," Ellie insisted, sitting up straighter now. "And not just one, there was a whole herd of them, just living in the ruins of the city. No fences, no people… just them."
The group was quiet for a moment, taking it in.
"What did you do?" Jay asked, her voice gentle.
Ellie glanced at her, the flickering lantern light catching in Jay’s honey brown eyes.
"Joel walked up to it and pet it, then I went up to it too," she said. "I reached out, and it just... let me touch it. Its fur was smooth, but it was real. And for the first time in a long time, everything…everything else just stopped." She swallowed, looking down at her hands. "It was like, for a second, none of the bad shit mattered. It was just that moment, y'know? Like proof that the world could still be… beautiful."
Jay’s hand squeezed Ellie’s hand, firm but soft.
Mark let out a low whistle. "Damn. A giraffe."
Aiden chuckled. "And here I thought the wildest thing I’d see was that white deer last winter."
The group laughed again, but Ellie stayed quiet, her gaze distant. Jay watched her, seeing the way her jaw tensed, how her fingers flexed slightly like she was holding something back.
Jay didn’t push.
Instead, she leaned closer, her voice barely above a whisper. "Sounds like that moment meant a lot to you."
Ellie looked at her then, really looked at her, and nodded once.
"Yeah," she admitted. "It did."
Mark stretched his legs out in front of him, smirking as he popped another piece of dried fruit into his mouth. “Alright, Jay. Ellie gave us a damn giraffe. Now you gotta give us something. What’s the wildest thing you’ve ever done?”
The others murmured in agreement, turning their attention to Jay. She blinked, suddenly feeling the weight of their gazes and leaning back on her chair.
“Oh, man,” Jay muttered, rubbing her jaw. “I don’t know if I can top a giraffe, but—”
“Come on,” Kady grinned. “You grew up out here. You’ve got to have some crazy story.”
Jay exhaled, thinking for a moment, before a small smile tugged at the corner of her lips. “Alright,” she said. “This was back when I was a kid, probably ten or eleven. This was before my mom… well before everything. My grandparents still ran the settlement with Jeff, and my grandma, she—” Jay’s voice faltered for a second, but she cleared her throat and pushed forward. “She had this massive dog at the time named Hank. Dumb as a rock, but the sweetest thing in the world.”
Ellie smirked. “Sounds like Dakota.”
Jay nudged Ellie playfully at the insult to her dog, but kept going. “Anyway, I was always getting into shit, climbing places I shouldn’t, running off when I wasn’t supposed to. One day, my grandma takes me out to the old winery, y’know, the one we definitely weren’t supposed to go near because it was ‘too unstable.’” She rolled her eyes. “So, obviously, as soon as she went to check something, I climbed the scaffolding inside.”
Mark let out a low chuckle. “Of course you did.”
“Yeah, well, turns out rotting wood and stupid kid logic don’t mix. It broke underneath me, and I fell… probably twenty feet straight down into one of the old fermentation vats.”
Ellie winced. “Shit.”
“Yeah,” Jay laughed dryly. “Landed right on my ass. And of course, the vat’s empty, so now I’m just stuck in this giant barrel, screaming my head off. My grandma’s losing her mind, trying to figure out how to get me out, there’s no ladder, and the walls are too smooth for me to climb.”
“So how’d you get out?” Sadie asked, intrigued.
Jay smirked. “Hank.”
Mark frowned. “The dog?”
“The dog,” Jay confirmed. “Grandma ran back to the horses, got a rope, but she couldn’t climb down without risking the whole thing collapsing. So what does she do? Tosses the other end of the rope down, tells me to tie it around my waist, and Hank pulls me up.”
“No way,” Ellie muttered, her brows raised in amusement.
“I swear to God.” Jay grinned. “And this dumbass does it. He just leaps forward and pulls like a sled dog, wagging his tail like we’re playing a game.”
Kady burst out laughing. “That’s insane.”
“I know,” Jay laughed, shaking her head. “I was covered in bruises, my grandma was furious, and Hank got an entire roasted chicken for saving my sore ass.”
Ellie chuckled, shaking her head. “I can’t believe a dog pulled you out of a fucking wine barrel.”
Jay shrugged. “Hey, man. Sometimes your guardian angel is just a big, slobbery idiot with paws. Like Dakota, who has saved my life more times on the road than I can count.”
The group settled into comfortable chatter again, but Ellie was still looking at Jay, something soft and warm in her eyes. Jay caught her gaze, tilting her head slightly.
“What?” Jay asked quietly.
Ellie just shook her head. “Nothing,” she murmured. “Just like hearing you talk about them.”
Jay swallowed, her throat tight for a moment. But she didn’t look away.
“Yeah,” she whispered. “Me too. I enjoy getting to tell you stories about them, so in a way it’s like you’ve met them.”
Eventually, Jeff cleared his throat. He rested his mug on the table with a theatrical sigh. “All right, kids,” he said, flashing a grin that made Jay narrow her eyes. “I think it’s time to share a little story about me and Jade’s grandfather, my late best friend Bruce.”
Jay immediately stiffened, rolling her eyes. “Jeff,” she warned, “don’t you dare tell the story I think you are about to tell.”
Ellie perked up, curiosity piqued. “Oh, this sounds good,” she teased, nudging Jay’s knee under the table with her own. “Please continue, Jeff.”
Mark smirked. “Oh, this is good,” he agreed, slouching more comfortably in his seat. “Go on, Jeff.”
Jay shot both of them a glare, crossing her arms. She muttered something under her breath about traitors, but didn’t stop Jeff from launching into his tale.
Jeff rapped his knuckles on the table for effect. “So, this goes back to the early days of the outbreak, long before most of you were born,” he began. “Jay’s grandfather, Bruce… bless him, I miss that old coot… anyway we were scoutin’ way up near the Smokies, looking for supplies, seeing if there were any other groups out there or good people who needed a place. Supplies were low, life was chaotic, and we were half scared to death of every noise in the forest, thinking it might be infected.”
Helena leaned forward, elbows on the table. “Oh, I remember that time. We could hardly sleep at night.”
“Right,” Jeff nodded. “Anyway, we’d been tracking something big… broken branches, weird footprints, the works. Could’ve been a bear, we figured. Or maybe a bloater, since those were just starting to show up.” He paused dramatically. “Then, just before dusk, we see this huge, hairy silhouette standing on a rock, maybe forty yards away. Almost twice as tall as me, arms swinging at its sides…”
Aidan’s eyes widened. “Wait—like, actually Bigfoot?” Kady snorted, half in disbelief, half enthralled.
Helena made a noncommittal noise, still tinkering with her blade. “Oh, brother, not this again,” she muttered, but her lips twitched in a faint grin.
Jay sighed dramatically. “It was a fucking bear, Jeff.”
Ellie glanced at Jay, whose cheeks were slowly reddening. Jay huffed, leaning forward over the table. “It was not Bigfoot,” she said firmly, glaring at Jeff. “It was a bear on its hind legs, or maybe, yes, a bloater... it was too dark for you to see. My grandpa was half-blind by that point, and Jeff was freaked out like a little kid who’d seen a horror movie.”
“That’s not how I remember it,” Jeff retorted, waving a hand in dismissive flourish. “Your grandpa insisted it had arms longer than any bear’s, and it let out this unholy howl, nothing like a bloater’s grunts and croaking. We ran for our lives, nearly dropping our guns in the process.”
Mark guffawed, clearly amused by Jay’s expression, played along. “Are you telling us you and old man Bruce believed in Bigfoot? That’s crazy, Jeff.”
“Jay’s grandfather believed it,” Jeff corrected, eyes twinkling with mischief, “and maybe I did… for a solid three minutes.”
Jay threw up her hands in exasperation. “Oh my God,” she groaned, shaking her head as the others chuckled. “It was not Bigfoot. Y’all found fresh bear scat the next morning when he dragged grandma out there. End of story.”
Sadie laughed, her voice lilting above the warm chatter. “Or maybe Bigfoot poops like a bear,” she teased, stirring the pot.
Kady’s eyes sparkled, nudging Aidan. “I so want to go look for Bigfoot now,” she said, making him grin back in agreement.
Helena tapped the table with her blade’s hilt. “Well, if we ever do see him, let’s hope he’s friendlier than the infected,” she drawled.
Jay, face flushed, slid a look at Ellie, who was biting her lip to hide a smirk. When their gazes met, Ellie let out a chuckle. “Sorry,” Ellie said, grinning, “but I can’t believe this is a thing. You gotta admit, it’s hilarious. Bigfoot or bust.”
“We are not making that a motto, Ellie,” Jay muttered under her breath, though a faint smile tugged at her lips. She rubbed her temple in mock despair, playing up the embarrassment for laughs. “Thanks for sharing, Jeff. Really. Glad the newcomers could get this gem of Biltmore and Grandpa’s lore. I promise Ellie my grandfather wasn’t crazy, he just was half blind.”
Jeff chuckled, leaning back in his seat. “Just letting ‘em know that even in the darkest times, we had a little… excitement.” His expression gentled. “Your grandpa was a good man, Jay. He’d laugh if he heard us telling this story now.”
Jay’s posture softened at that. She exhaled, the tension easing from her shoulders, and gave a small nod. “Yeah,” she said, quieter. “He would’ve.”
Helena, who had been quietly working her knife, finally leaned forward with a knowing smile. “You all laugh,” she said, her voice smooth and deliberate, “but Jeff’s not wrong about these mountains. The Appalachians have always been mysterious. Long before the world went to hell, people had said there were things out here that couldn’t be explained.”
Sadie, ever the skeptic, scoffed. “Like what? Besides Bigfoot?”
Helena smirked, setting her knife down. “Oh, honey, so much more than Bigfoot.” She looked around the group, her voice lowering just enough to make them lean in. “These mountains have always had stories. The Wampus Cat, for one; a huge, panther-like beast that can walk on two legs and mimic human voices. Or the Mothman, up near West Virginia; a creature with glowing red eyes, seen right before disaster strikes.”
Mark scoffed. “Come on. That’s just folklore.”
“Is it?” Helena tilted her head, amusement in her eyes. “Tell me then, Mark. Why do travelers report seeing strange lights weaving through the trees, only to follow them and find nothing?”
Jay shifted, rolling her eyes. “I remember my grandmother telling me stories like that. Said people would go missing all the time out in the deep woods following those lights, no explanation.”
Ellie, intrigued despite not believing any of this herself, raised an eyebrow. “And ghosts?”
“Oh, plenty of ghosts.” Helena replied, clearly enjoying herself. “My personal favorite…” She let the silence stretch before continuing. “The Lost Woman of Roan Mountain; said to be a mother searching for her child, long after she died. Travelers hear her sobbing at night, but if you get too close?” Helena tapped her fingers against her armrest. “She screams.”
Then, Kady exhaled sharply. “Great. As if we didn’t already have enough to deal with, now we gotta worry about ghosts and monsters.”
Helena chuckled. “Hey, I just tell the stories. It’s up to you whether you believe them or not.”
Aidan shivered dramatically. “Alright, well, thanks for that, Helena. Can’t wait to do patrol in the dark tomorrow.”
Mark nudged Ellie. “Bet you wouldn’t last a night alone in the deep woods now, huh?”
Ellie smirked. “Oh, please. I’ll take a ghost over a Bloater any day.”
Mark huffed. “Speak for yourself. If I hear one weird noise in the woods, I’m shooting first and asking questions later.”
Laughter broke the tension, and the group settled back into easy conversation.
Eventually, the group began clearing dishes, the evening settling into a comfortable murmur of laughter and shared memories. Ellie sidled up to Jay, bumping her shoulder lightly. “Guess Bigfoot’s out there somewhere,” she teased, dropping her voice low.
Jay rolled her eyes with a good-natured laugh. “I’ll make you come on the next hunt if you don’t stop. Then you can see the bear too and call it Bigfoot.”
Ellie grinned. “Deal,” she murmured, contentment settling in. She exchanged a glance with Jeff across the table, who tipped his mug in a silent toast.
Night had settled fully by the time Jay, Ellie, and Dakota made their way back through the mansion’s dim corridors. The scattered candle lanterns along the walls cast elongated shadows, and the distant hum of conversation from the balcony faded away behind them. Dakota trotted ahead, nails clicking on the old floor.
Ellie walked with her hands tucked into her sweater pockets, gaze shifting to Jay as they turned into the long hallway leading to their suite room turned apartment. “That was… something,” she said, the faintest smile tugging at her lips. “Bigfoot, huh?”
Jay let out a huff, shaking her head. “I swear, Jeff picks the most embarrassing stories. They saw a stupid black bear and called it bigfoot.”
Ellie’s laugh was soft. “I thought it was kinda great,” she admitted, stepping aside to let Dakota nose the partially open door. They followed him inside, and the familiar warmth of the old Vanderbilt suite surrounded them. Ellie flicked a small lantern on, the glow casting gentle light across the antique furniture.
After a little bit Ellie sat cross-legged on the floor, her back pressed against the old, worn sofa, meticulously sketching in a sketchbook they'd scavenged in Asheville a few days ago. Her fingers moved with practiced ease, the image coming to life. Jay lay stretched out on the sofa above Ellie, idly flipping through an old book she'd found in the library, Dakota curled at her feet.
The quiet of the night surrounded them, comfortable and familiar.
Ellie paused, leaning back to rest her head against Jay’s knee. The touch was subtle, grounding. Jay glanced down, noticing the thoughtful look in Ellie’s eyes as she stared out into the gentle darkness of their room.
"You okay?" Jay asked softly, setting the book aside.
Ellie nodded slowly. "Yeah, I was just thinking." Her voice was low, reflective, almost heavy.
"About what?"
Ellie hesitated for a moment, fingers softly moving her pencil. "Joel."
Joel was a name Jay didn’t hear from Ellie too often, and when she did, Ellie wore that same haunted expression. The name hung gently in the air, and Jay remained silent, giving Ellie the space to continue in her own time.
"I think he would have liked you," Ellie finally said, her voice barely above a whisper, eyes still fixed on the paper in front of her as though it might anchor her.
Jay smiled softly, touched by the quiet sincerity in Ellie’s voice. "You think so?"
Ellie nodded, thoughtful. "Yeah, I do." She turned slightly, tilting her head up to meet Jay’s eyes. "He didn’t like most people. Hell, he didn’t trust most people. But he would have trusted you."
Jay’s expression softened, encouraging Ellie to go on.
"Joel was… complicated," Ellie said quietly, a faint smile flickering at the edge of her lips. "Stubborn, grouchy, sarcastic as hell sometimes. But he was also fiercely protective, incredibly loyal." Her voice caught slightly, emotion thickening her throat. "He respected people who were strong enough to look out for themselves but kind enough to look out for others, too. And that’s exactly how you are."
Jay reached out gently, brushing a lock of hair from Ellie’s face, quietly absorbing Ellie’s words.
Ellie continued softly, eyes serious now. "He would’ve liked how patient you are, how you never let people’s darkness push you away… even when I’ve tried pushing you away. Joel respected resilience. He'd have admired the way you keep fighting, even on your worst days."
Ellie’s gaze drifted toward the window again, moonlight catching her eyes. "He would've acted like you annoyed him, but secretly, he’d love you. He used to give me so much shit, teasing me all the time. You two would’ve ganged up on me."
Jay chuckled softly, imagining it vividly.
"And the way you handle yourself out there," Ellie added quietly, looking back at Jay with earnest warmth, "Joel would’ve respected that. The way you always stay calm, even when things get rough. He valued bravery like yours… real bravery, not the reckless kind like mine."
Ellie’s voice dropped lower, almost a whisper now. "Mostly though, I think Joel would’ve liked you because you make me happy. He always… he always wanted me to be happy. It wasn’t easy for him, watching me struggle. He never really knew how to fix things or make it better, but he tried. I think if he could see me now… see me with you… he'd feel okay. He'd trust that I'd be alright. Know I had someone who wasn’t scared of who I am or someone who doesn’t leave me when I push away."
Jay felt a gentle ache in her chest, deeply moved by Ellie’s words. She slid down from the sofa, settling onto the floor next to Ellie, their shoulders pressing comfortably together.
"I wish I could’ve met him," Jay whispered gently, sincerity thick in her voice.
Ellie leaned into Jay slightly, letting the warmth of their closeness soothe the bittersweet feeling in her heart. "Me too."
Chapter 19: Old Ruins
Summary:
Thank you for reading! I update frequently and am always open to kind, constructive criticism.
Chapter Text
A biting wind swept through the trees, sending fallen leaves skittering over the frozen ground. The early winter chill seeped into Ellie’s joints, but she hunched her shoulders and trudged onward, eyes on Jay’s back a few paces ahead. They’d been assigned hunting rotation together, something they’d usually approach with easy banter, but today, Jay had been subdued, distant.
Ellie let her gaze sweep the quiet woods around them: bare branches twisting upward, occasional evergreens providing a splash of color in the otherwise stark landscape. Dakota padded at Ellie’s side, tail lowered, as if sensing the somber mood. Jay marched forward at a brisk pace, her rifle slung over her shoulder, posture tense.
They walked in silence for a while, the only sounds their careful footfalls on frosty leaves and the occasional snuffle from Dakota. Ellie tucked her gloved hands under her arms for warmth and watched Jay’s body language. She’s somewhere else today, Ellie thought, brow creasing.
Ellie was still struggling with handling Jay’s bad days without ignoring them or getting annoyed with Jay. She couldn’t even manage her own bad days, how was she to manage Jay’s? Jay was supposed to be the one that wasn’t closed off.
Eventually, Jay slowed, her attention drifting in a way that made Ellie’s gut twist. She wasn’t scanning for tracks or game sign, just moving as though pulled by a memory. A hush fell over the woods, the broken sunlight dimming beneath heavy clouds.
“Jay?” Ellie tried, her voice gentle. She got only a vague hum in response. “Where are you going?”
Ellie noticed burnt stumps jutting from the underbrush, charred wood scattered like old bones. At first, she didn’t register what she was seeing, just a sense that something terrible had happened here. Then they emerged on open land, blackened debris littering the ground, half-crumbled foundations of what might once have been homes and barns.
Jay stopped abruptly. Ellie halted beside her, looking out at where Jay was looking. The remnants spoke of a violent end, hunks of twisted metal, scattered beams, a scorched sign post half-buried. The air felt heavier, colder here, as though the forest itself was holding its breath. Everything was quiet.
“Shit,” Ellie breathed, eyes scanning the devastation. “Jay… is this… Antler Village?”
Jay’s silence was answer enough. She lifted her gaze to the sagging skeleton of a farmhouse at the far edge of the burned buildings; a once-sturdy structure collapsed inward, its roof caved, walls scorched to blackness. The few broken pillars that remained had old, peeling paint. It must have been beautiful once.
Dakota whined, pressing his snout to Jay’s leg, but Jay barely moved. Her hand trembled on her rifle strap. Ellie felt a jolt of realization: This is the place Jay never talked about, her family’s farm. Antler Village, The raider attack.
Ellie stepped closer, gently wrapping a hand around Jay’s arm. “Hey,” she whispered, voice catching. “This was… your old home, wasn’t it?”
Jay swallowed hard, eyes glistening with old pain. “Yeah,” she whispered, barely audible over the wind. “My grandparents and I lived here. This used to be Antler Village, too, some tourist spot, the part of Biltmore my grandpa helped maintain. Then the raider group came… everything burned that night...” Her voice shook on that last word.
Ellie’s stomach twisted, imagining the terror, the loss. She glanced around, noticing the outlines of multiple buildings that once formed a small community, now reduced to ash and rubble. “Jay…” she started, not sure what to say that could possibly help. Jay was so unlike Ellie when it came to her pain and past. She carried it and handled her trauma in different ways from how Ellie carried hers.
Jay’s posture was rigid, gaze distant, chest rising and falling with shallow breaths. “I don’t even know why I came here,” she admitted, more to herself than to Ellie. “I just… started walking, and I guess my mind brought me back. I haven’t been here since… the aftermath.” She closed her eyes, tears threatening to spill.
Ellie’s heart clenched, and she decided to be there for Jay in her pain, just like Jay had been there for Ellie in hers. She set her rifle aside, stepping in front of Jay, hands coming up to rest gently on Jay’s upper arms. “It’s okay,” she murmured. “We can leave if you need to. Or we can stay.” She hesitated, swallowing hard. “I’m sorry,” she said, voice trembling with empathy. “I never realized how bad it was.”
Jay shook her head, tears slipping free. “We lost… everything. I—my grandparents died. Couldn’t fight off the raiders. I couldn’t do anything.” Her breath hitched. “I still see it sometimes, in nightmares.”
Dakota left their side and began to rummage through some fallen debris of the house and found an old dog toy. He picked it up, shook it with a playful growl a few times, then brought it to Ellie's feet.
Ellie’s fingers tightened around Jay’s jacket. “You survived,” she whispered, voice raw. “You got out and… found a life. You came back to Biltmore, found me.” She cupped Jay’s cheek softly. “I know it doesn’t fix what happened, but… you’re not alone anymore.”
A shaky sob escaped Jay, and she let Ellie guide her into an embrace. Dakota hovered, toy forgotten and tail limp, uncertain but wanting to comfort his person. The wind whipped around them, stirring the ghostly remnants of the past. The weight of Jay’s grief was palpable.
They stood there, letting the cold bite into them, letting the sorrow for what was lost flood through. Ellie finally realized how much Jay carried daily, how her depression wrapped around these memories like twisted briars. No wonder she has bad days, Ellie thought, heart aching.
After a moment, Jay exhaled shakily, pulling back just enough to meet Ellie’s gaze. Her eyes shone with tears, but also with a flicker of gratitude. “Thanks,” she managed, voice raspy. “For saying that... For letting me not be put together every day.”
Ellie brushed a gentle hand against Jay’s cheek, wiping away a tear. “Always,” she promised.
Then, noticing Jay’s shiver, she cast a glance at the darkening sky. “Come on,” she said, voice hushed but firm. “Let’s head back before the weather turns worse. We’ll… we’ll handle this place another time.”
Jay nodded, swallowing. She took one last, lingering look at the burnt farm, as if saying a quiet goodbye to ghosts she hadn’t visited in years. Then she reached for her rifle, letting Ellie’s steady presence guide her back toward the woods. Dakota, toy in his mouth followed, ears pinned back sympathetically.
Though the path ahead was cold and uncertain, Ellie stayed close, her arm brushing Jay’s now and then, a silent vow of support. And as they left that scorched scar on the land behind them, Ellie felt the gravity of Jay’s past settle more concretely into her heart. She tightened her grip on Jay’s hand, letting her know that, no matter the memories or the depression, she was there with her.
They returned to the estate in somber silence, neither quite ready to speak about what they'd seen at the burned-out farm. By the time they reached their suite in the mansion, dusk had settled, painting the windows in a dull purple glow. Ellie led the way inside, a gentle touch on Jay’s arm guiding her toward a seat on their old couch. Dakota set his old dirty toy at Jay’s feet, circled once, and lay down by their feet with a soft huff.
A single lantern cast flickering light across the antique room. Jay’s eyes were distant, still haunted by the images she’d revisited that day. Ellie sank beside her, uncertainty tightening her chest. She reached out and took Jay’s hand, brushing her thumb in small circles across Jay’s knuckles, waiting patiently for Jay to speak.
After a long moment, Jay exhaled a trembling breath. “Ellie,” she began, voice thick with emotion, “I—I want to tell you what really happened that night.” Her gaze flickered to the window, tears gathering as she recalled the last time she stood in the now-burned barn, the smell of smoke invading her lungs.
Ellie shifted closer, her own heart pounding. She squeezed Jay’s hand. “I’m here,” she whispered. “Take your time.”
Jay nodded, swallowing hard. Her shoulders shook as she tried to form words. “When the raiders came… it was dark. My grandpa and two of the men from Antler Village had lanterns, old rifles. They tried to fight back, but there were too many of them, all armed to the teeth.” She paused, lip quivering. “The leader—she had this voice I recognized, even though I hadn’t heard it since I was barely walking.”
Confusion flickered in Ellie’s eyes. “You… recognized her?”
Jay closed her eyes, and a tear slid down her cheek. “My mother,” she whispered, voice cracked by grief. “She was the one who led them in. She pointed her gun at my grandparents—her parents—and shot them down without hesitation.” A sob shuddered through her. “They begged her to spare them, but she just… pulled the trigger.”
Ellie felt a jolt of horror crash through her chest. “Fuck, Jay,” she breathed, releasing Jay’s hand only to wrap her arms around her, pulling her into a gentle embrace. “I— I had no idea.”
Jay pressed her face into Ellie’s shoulder, tears soaking into Ellie’s shirt. “I barely remember her—I was so small when she left me,” she managed between ragged breaths. “She abandoned me with my grandparents, and then years later… she came back in the worst possible way. Shot them, set the farm and village ablaze. Everything was gone in one night.”
Ellie’s throat tightened. She caressed Jay’s hair, letting her cry, letting the weight of that betrayal sink in. Your own mother, Ellie thought, feeling anger and sorrow on Jay’s behalf. “How did you… get away?”
Jay shook her head against Ellie’s shoulder. “My grandmother told me to hide in the root cellar with Dakota. I heard the gunshots. I heard my grandpa shouting, then it all just… went silent. After the raiders left, the place was on fire. I crawled out at dawn to find it all… gone.”
Ellie held Jay tighter, her own chest heaving at the heartbreak in Jay’s voice. “Shit, Jay,” she whispered, mind reeling at the cruelty. “I’m so sorry.”
For a while, Jay just clung to Ellie, tears flowing silently. Dakota let out a soft, empathetic whine, lifting his head to rest on Jay’s knee. Eventually, Jay pulled back, wiping her eyes with the corner of her sleeve. “The worst part?” she said, voice thick with anger and grief. “She’s still alive. I found out from rumors, from travelers. She kept raiding other places. There was never any real justice.”
Ellie’s stomach churned at the thought of that woman running free, causing more destruction. “She… left you with them and came back to murder them,” she echoed, disbelief tainting her tone. “You must hate her.”
Jay let out a watery laugh, more of a sob. “I do,” she whispered. “But I hate myself, too—for not stopping her, for still being haunted by her. I had my pistol… I could have...” She swallowed. “It’s like, I know she’s out there somewhere, alive and just…living after everything she did.”
Ellie placed her palms on either side of Jay’s face, guiding her gaze upward. “Hey,” she said firmly. “You were a kid, Jay. None of that is on you.”
Jay closed her eyes, leaning into Ellie’s touch. “I’ve tried telling myself that. But thought always creeps in. Some days, I’m okay, and others… it’s like I’m back there in the burning farm.”
Ellie drew in a sharp breath. “I’m so sorry,” she repeated softly, heart aching for the unimaginable betrayal Jay had endured. She stroked Jay’s cheek, voice thick with empathy. “I’m not going anywhere, all right? I swear.”
Jay nodded, tears slipping anew. But there was something steadier about her breathing now, like letting Ellie in had loosened the tight coil of pain in her chest. “Thank you,” she whispered, voice trembling. “For listening, for… letting me finally say it out loud.”
They stayed like that, foreheads touching, tears shared, letting the quiet hush of the old suite envelop them. Outside, the wind rattled a window, but inside, Ellie held Jay, anchoring her in the present. Jay realized in that moment that admitting the truth hadn’t scared Ellie away. And despite the sorrow, a flicker of hope burned in her chest: she wasn’t alone in this burden anymore.
Chapter 20: Dakota’s Useful Unusefulness
Summary:
Thank you for reading! Please note I am continually improving! I update frequently and am always open to kind, constructive criticism.
Chapter Text
The sun was high, casting the Biltmore estate in a golden haze. The quiet hum of life buzzed around the edges of the settlement, gardeners pulling weeds, someone hammering softly on the roof of the greenhouse, the distant echo of laughter from one of the ponds where kids were skipping stones.
In the heart of it all, Bailey, one of the community’s kids, a twelve-year-old and absolutely full of life, darted across the main courtyard, her two long braids bouncing behind her and a battered old Polaroid clutched in both hands like it was a relic of power.
Click.
The shutter snapped loudly as she took a picture of an older couple laughing on a bench as they were sorting herbs, the film whirring out like magic. Bailey pulled it free and waved it in the air like she was trying to dry a painting.
“Got you!” she grinned.
The old woman laughed. “You’re gonna run out of film, sweetheart.”
“I have three packs saved! Uncle Mark traded for them last week for me!” Bailey yelled over her shoulder, already sprinting off.
Jay stood nearby, arms crossed, as she leaned against the fencepost outside the stable, watching Bailey with an affectionate smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. Her hair was tucked up into a messy bun under her ballcap, sleeves rolled up from helping unload hay earlier. She looked dusty, warm, and quietly proud.
“She’s got an eye for it,” Jay murmured.
Ellie, sitting cross-legged on an overturned water trough with Dakota’s head resting in her lap, looked up. “You sure it’s not just that she likes to surprise people?”
Jay smirked. “That too.”
Bailey spotted them and made a beeline, nearly tripping over her own feet in excitement. “Jay! Ellie! Don’t move!”
Jay raised an eyebrow. “We weren’t.”
Click.
Bailey snapped the photo just as Dakota lifted his head, ears perked.
The picture spat out with a soft mechanical whir. Bailey caught it and held it up, grinning widely. “You two look so cool. Like a cowboy movie, cool. And Dakota’s just a big fuzzy goof in the background, it’s perfect.”
Ellie chuckled softly. “Can I see?”
“Nope. Not yet. Gotta dry it.”
Jay gently tugged one of Bailey’s braids, pulling her close. “That one’s going in the Hall of Fame?”
“Obviously,” Bailey said proudly. “I’m gonna start a wall in the lodge, pictures of everyone. I already got Grandma Diana in her garden, Jeff sleeping in his chair, and Sadie on guard duty, and Ellie cleaning her guns yesterday like a total badass.”
“You’re gonna drive everyone mad one day,” Jay said, grinning down at her.
Bailey shrugged. “I just like catching people when they look happy.”
Ellie blinked at that, struck by the quiet weight in those words.
Jay seemed to hear it too. She knelt down to Bailey’s height. “Hey, you still wanna ride Rowan later? I think he’s in the mood for a little trail walk.”
Bailey’s face lit up. “Yes! Can we go soon? Please?”
Jay looked at Ellie. “You good to hang back a bit, we’ll meet you after we saddle up?”
Ellie waved her off, smiling. “Go be a horse girl.”
Jay rolled her eyes at Ellie as Bailey threw her arms around Jay’s neck in a quick, tight hug. “You’re the best.”
Jay hugged her back, grinning. “Don’t forget it.”
Ellie watched them walk toward the stables together, Bailey bouncing on her toes, still asking questions a mile a minute about saddles and reins and how fast she’d be allowed to trot. Jay answered everyone with patience, her voice soft and even, hand resting on Bailey’s shoulder as they walked.
Ellie looked down at the Polaroid Bailey had set beside her, now fully developed.
It showed Jay looking down at her with the smallest, softest smile; Ellie grinning up, one hand tangled in Dakota’s fur, and the sun painting them both in gold. She smiled, tucking it carefully into her jacket pocket. Yeah. Bailey had an eye for it. She caught them exactly as they were.
It wasn’t 30 minutes later when Rowan stood patiently while Jay adjusted the stirrup length for Bailey, who sat tall in the saddle, grinning like she’d just been crowned royalty. They were out of the stables and in the courtyard now.
“You look good up there,” Jay said, giving Rowan’s neck a pat. “Natural seat, straight spine. Just remember, don’t death-grip with your knees.”
“I’m not!” Bailey beamed, proud. “I’m relaxed!”
“You’re vibrating,” Ellie said from where she leaned on the fence rail nearby, arms crossed, teasing.
Bailey stuck out her tongue, which only made Jay chuckle. “Alright, kid. Just a lap around the courtyard, okay? No racing.”
Bailey gave a dramatic salute. “Yes, ma’am.”
Jay stepped back and let Rowan lead Bailey forward at a careful walk, the horse calm and steady beneath her. Ellie just watched them. But before she could say anything, the quiet shuffle of boots on gravel caught her attention.
Jeff, Biltmore’s head council member, was approaching from the main mansion’s side path, his aviator jacket half-zipped and his brow furrowed in quiet concentration. He held a coil of something frayed in one hand.
“Hey, girls,” he called, voice low but clear. “Hate to interrupt, but I could use a favor.”
Jay turned, wiping her hands on her jeans. “Yeah, what’s up?”
Jeff held up the frayed coil. “Transmitter cord blew out on me this morning. Can’t reach the outposts past the main gate, and even that’s cutting in and out. I’ve got backup parts for most of this junk, but not this. And the last time I saw a match for it was… hell, maybe three years ago, in Montford.”
Jay squinted. “That the district north of downtown Asheville? With all those big old houses?”
Jeff nodded. “Yeah. Used to be a guy living there, ran salvage on old radio and TV tech. Kept bins of wires, cables, tubes. Hoarder type. Good kind of hoarder.” He gave a small shrug. “Might be a long shot, but it’s worth checking before I have to think of someplace else.”
Jay nodded, already falling into that familiar rhythm, mission mode. “You want us to go?”
“If you’re up for it,” Jeff said. “I know it’s not exactly next door, but it’d mean getting comms back online a hell of a lot faster. Could mean the difference between us hearing an SOS or missing one.”
Ellie pushed off the fence. “We’re in.”
Jay glanced at Bailey, who had just turned Rowan back toward them, cheeks pink and glowing from the ride. She didn’t want to cut the lesson short, but she also didn’t hesitate. Not when something like this mattered.
“Hey, sweatpea,” she called gently.
Bailey reined Rowan in, slightly disappointed but understanding. “You gotta go?”
Jay nodded. “Duty calls. You did amazing, though.”
Bailey brightened a little. “Promise we’ll finish the lesson tomorrow?”
“Swear on Dakota’s life,” Jay grinned. Dakota barked once like he accepted the terms. Ellie came to Jay’s side, adjusting her pack.
Jeff handed Jay a rough, hand-drawn map. “It’s this house here; big yellow one, red shutters, overgrown porch. Wires strung across the yard. You’ll know it when you see it.”
Ellie gave him a nod. “We’ll bring you back your wires, old man.”
Jeff chuckled. “Just bring yourselves back in one piece. And hey—thank you.”
As Jay and Ellie walked off so Ellie could saddle Starlight, Bailey shouted from behind them, lifting the Polaroid in one hand. “I’m getting a ‘before the mission’ picture!”
Late afternoon, they made it to the Montford district, which was eerie in the late afternoon; quiet in a way that made you speak softer, like the neighborhood itself was holding its breath. Ivy-strangled iron fences bordered wide old houses with peaked roofs and sagging porches, their paint long faded, their bones still somehow proud. These houses were old even before the outbreak.
The old yellow house stood at the end of a cul-de-sac, leaning slightly to one side as if tired of waiting to collapse. Red shutters dangled off their hinges. A half-rotted “Beware of Dog” sign hung askew on the porch railing, long forgotten.
Jay and Ellie dismounted Rowan and Starlight at the end of the drive. Dakota sniffed the air and gave a low, curious whine, but he wasn’t alerting them to the infected.
Jay glanced up at the house, then at Ellie. “This place has haunted energy, for sure.”
Ellie snorted. “Bet you’re lucky I’m here then.”
Jay handed her a flashlight with mock solemnity and sarcasm. “Oh yes, what would I do without you?”
Inside, the house smelled like dust, mildew, and stale paper. There were wires everywhere; bundled, coiled, tacked to walls, trailing from old radios and VHS players like technological entrails. Somewhere in this mess was the transmitter cable Jeff needed.
“I’ll check the upstairs,” Jay said, she was holding Jeff’s busted one for reference and stepping over a cracked floorboard. “You and Dakota work your first-floor magic or whatever you do.”
Ellie replied. “Yep.”
Jay disappeared up the stairs, and Ellie stayed on the main floor, poking through old boxes by a half-collapsed entertainment center. Dakota stood at her side, ears up, nose twitching.
“You think this guy watched Curtis and Viper on repeat?” she muttered, pulling out a cracked DVD case. “God. He had four copies of the second one, that wasn’t even the good one.”
Dakota barked once, as if he agreed.
Ellie crouched down to check a heavy old radio receiver, and as she did, a small pouch fell from her coat pocket, her compass. A real one. One Joel had given to her.
She didn’t even realize it had slipped until she heard it clatter.
Right through a jagged puddle-sized hole in the floor.
Straight into the pitch-black basement.
“Shit,” Ellie muttered, crawling over and shining her light down through the gap. The beam caught concrete, shelves, and cobwebs, and then her compass, glinting sadly between two broken crates next to what appeared to be a dead infected.
“Goddamn it. Jay?” Ellie called out.
From upstairs a muffled voice from Jay, “Yeah?”
“I dropped something.”
Pause. “Is it alive?”
“No.”
“Then you got this.”
Dakota padded over, curious. He sniffed the edge of the hole and gave a questioning whine.
Ellie sighed and turned to Dakota. “Hey, buddy. You feel like being useful?”
Dakota tilted his head.
She sighed and pointed. “Go get my compass, buddy. It’s right there.”
Dakota sniffed the air, then without hesitation, stepped back and launched himself through the gap jumping down stacked boxes that couldn’t hold much more weight then him.
Ellie startled. “Wait—shit! I didn’t mean right now!”
Thump. Dakota landed with a grunt and a little shake on the concrete floor now, completely unharmed, tail wagging like this was a game. He began sniffing around, tail wagging like this was the best thing that had ever happened to him, clearly nothing alive was down there.
Ellie crouched shining her light, trying to see. “Do not fucking eat my compass dude.”
Dakota nosed around the floor, then vanished behind a shelf. There was some rustling. A low bark. A thump.
Then he trotted back into view, triumphant, and leapt back up to the ledge, tail wagging wildly.
In his mouth was… a used paintbrush.
Ellie blinked. “That’s not it.”
Dakota dropped the brush at her feet and barked proudly. Ellie sighed, biting down half hearted frustration. “Thanks, but no. Try again.”
He disappeared once more walking right past her compass. A few seconds passed. Then, thud, rustle, clink, and Dakota returned…with a coaster. A single wooden coaster with a lighthouse painted on it.
Ellie couldn’t help but chuckle. “You absolute fucking moron.”
Another bark. Another gift. A shoe.
“No, no, thank you for the... vintage footwear,” she said, patting his head. “But try again.”
He hopped back down off the boxes and disappeared into the shadows walking right past Ellie's compass again.
Jay’s voice floated down the stairwell. “Everything okay down there?”
“Your dog’s gift shopping in the basement,” Ellie called back.
A few seconds later, Dakota returned—this time with a crumpled cereal box in his teeth. Half-molded, completely empty.
Ellie sighed. “Dude! That’s worse!”
Jay appeared at the top of the stairs, holding a spool of thick gray cable. “Found the cord, I think. What the hell are you doing?”
“Dakota’s in the basement,” Ellie called back. “I dropped my compass. He’s trying to help.”
Jay walked halfway down, raised a brow, and peered over the railing. “What’d he bring you?”
Ellie gestured beside her. “A coaster. A shoe. A cereal box. Possibly someone’s missing dentures. Not my fucking compass.”
Jay started laughing.
“Stop encouraging him!” Ellie said, barely containing her own laugh.
Dakota bounded up again, looking especially proud this time. Puffed up like he’d just completed the most important mission. In his mouth was Ellie’s compass.
She blinked, stunned. “No way.”
Jay grinned from the stairs. “Told you he’s a genius.”
Dakota dropped it delicately into Ellie’s lap, tail wagging like a metronome on overdrive.
Ellie picked it up, examined it, still in one piece not even a new scratch. “Good boy, you’re lucky I don’t kiss dogs on the mouth.”
Dakota leaned forward and licked her nose.
Ellie groaned. “Okay, that’s fair.”
Jay came down the last few steps, looping the cable over her shoulder. “So, we got the part, Dakota’s apparently a treasure hunter, and you’re up one haunted lighthouse coaster. Win win I’d say.”
The air had shifted by the time they stepped back out onto the street, warmer now, wind rustling through the tree canopy overhead, the sun just beginning its slow descent into late afternoon. The yellow house loomed behind them, satisfied and slightly less cursed now that they’d looted it.
Jay adjusted the coil of wire on her shoulder and glanced down the road at the string of still-standing homes, porch railings sagging, vines creeping up siding, windows like tired eyes watching the end of the world unfold one cracked pane at a time.
She looked at Ellie. “We’ve got time. Want to hit a couple more? See if we find anything useful”
Ellie stretched her back with a grunt. “Sure.”
The porch of the next house creaked with every step as Ellie pushed through the rotted front door. It swung inward with a groan, revealing a cluttered living room filled with overstuffed furniture and floral wallpaper still barely hanging on. She kicked aside a pile of magazines and made her way toward the kitchen, flashlight sweeping.
Dakota trotted in a moment later and promptly disappeared into a side room.
“Don’t steal anything this time,” Ellie called.
He returned thirty seconds later. With a toilet seat cover. Fuzzy. Pink. Still very much a toilet seat cover. Ellie froze, and just stared at him. “...Why.”
Dakota dropped it proudly at her feet, tail wagging like he’d just solved the world’s problems.
Ellie blinked at the offering. “You’re fucking ridiculous.”
She left it on the floor and moved on.
Jay met her on the sidewalk five minutes later with two cans of peaches and an unopened bottle of rubbing alcohol. “Kitchen was ransacked, but the pantry was wedged shut by a collapsed cabinet.”
Ellie held up her prize: a set of brand-new wool socks and a can opener that actually worked.
“Look at us. Civilized.” Jay said, nodding, squinting as Dakota came galloping up.
In his mouth: an old sequined high heel.
Ellie groaned. “Dude. What in the actual hell.”
Jay leaned down. “Where’d you even find this?”
Dakota wagged his tail and dropped it directly in Ellie’s hand.
She held it up like it might bite her. “I don’t wear heels. You think I’m gonna strut wearing glitter stilettos dog?”
Dakota barked once, proud.
Jay tried not to laugh. “You probably would look hot in those.”
Ellie shot her a glare. “Shut up. You’re not helping.”
They kept moving house to house, weaving through the streets on foot now, letting Rowan and Starlight rest beneath a big oak near the edge of the cul-de-sac. It was quiet, eerily so, but they didn’t mind. It made talking easier. Laughing easier. Jay was a few steps ahead, checking the frame of a busted garage door for stability, when Dakota padded up beside Ellie with another item clutched proudly in his jaws.
She looked down and stopped mid-step.
“…Is that a bra?”
Dakota’s tail wagged wildly as he deposited the large, beige underwire monstrosity directly at her boots. One cup was still mostly intact. The other looked like something had nested inside it.
Jay, from across the driveway, looked over just in time to catch Ellie staring down at it like it had personally offended her.
Ellie bent to pick it up by two fingers. “Seriously, mutt?”
Dakota just wagged harder.
Jay laughed. “Maybe he thinks you need more support.”
Ellie turned slowly, holding the bra out in Jay’s direction. “Me? More like you do. You want it? It’s vintage. Post-outbreak couture.”
Jay put her hands up. “Respectfully declining.”
Ellie dropped the bra with a shudder. “If he brings me one more thing, I swear to God—”
Before she could finish, Dakota barked once and trotted off into the house like he was on a mission.
Jay smiled to herself. “You know he’s gonna bring something worse now.” She was trying so hard not to laugh she looked like she might pass out. “I think he’s trying to communicate.”
Ellie started walking into the house with Jay. “Yeah. He’s saying ‘Ellie, you need therapy.’”
Jay moved past the door frame, grinning. “He’s not wrong.”
Ellie narrowed her eyes. “We’re going to move on from that…You know what I think? I think he’s trying to mess with me. Like a weird fetch-based form of psychological warfare.”
Dakota appeared once again, tail wagging.
He had a fake plant in his mouth.
Ellie just stared at him. “I give up.”
Jay was crying laughing now, covering her mouth with her sleeve. “You look like you’re about to explode.”
Ellie picked up the fake plant and dropped it in Jay’s hand. “There. You deal with him.”
“Hey, who knew Dakota’s love language is ‘random trash.’”
Ellie sighed, throwing her hands up walking off. “This is my life now.”
This old house had been preserved strangely well. Most of the windows were still intact, and though the smell of mildew lingered, it was less pungent than usual. Dust motes floated in the beams of fading sunlight through the living room window. Everything was still. Untouched. Like whoever had lived here had walked out one day and never looked back.
Jay moved toward what looked like a home office, and Ellie headed for the den, flashlight in hand. Dakota padded after her, nose twitching.
Ellie passed an old couch, some crumbling bookcases, a fireplace lined with dusty photographs of smiling kids and grandparents frozen in time. The TV sat half-sunk into the floor, the carpet around it warped from water damage. She rounded the corner into what must’ve been a playroom or spare bedroom, the walls still had hand-drawn pictures taped up, yellowed at the edges but somehow, sweet.
Dakota nosed past her, sniffing under a low wooden dresser, then growled softly, not out of threat, but discovery. He barked once and pawed at the side.
“What is it now, genius?” Ellie muttered rolling her eyes, walking over.
Dakota looked up at her, tail wagging, and then reached beneath the dresser with his paw. He hooked something and dragged it out slowly, scraping across the floor with a metallic squeal. A small metal tin. Ellie crouched beside him, eyebrows drawing in.
It was surprisingly clean, sealed with a clasp, the front decorated with faded comic book decals and peeling red tape. She popped the latch open and pulled the lid back.
Her breath caught. Inside, perfectly arranged in sleeves… was a complete set of Savage Starlight trading cards. Every single one. Immaculate.
“Holy fucking shit,” she breathed, staring.
There was Dr. Daniela Star, The Enigmatic Esharrah, The Spark Twins, Big Blue. Even the Lunar Lurkers Expansion Pack; the rare one. She ran her fingers over the laminated sleeves like they were ancient relics. Because in some ways, they were.
“Jay!” she called, voice cracking slightly.
Jay appeared in the doorway, brow furrowed. “What’s wrong?”
Ellie turned the box toward her like a sacred offering. “Look at this.”
Jay walked over, took one look, and her face broke into a questioning smile. “What’s that?”
Ellie let out a strangled half laugh. “Only the greatest, most emotionally devastating, science fiction comic series ever made. Are you kidding me?!”
“Oh the… the ones you named Starlight after.” Jay raised her brows and stepped closer. “This is… good?”
Ellie held up the foil-stamped card like it was proof of a higher power. “This? This is better than good. This is my favorite issue—the one where Luna sacrifices herself to save the Quantum Rift.”
Jay looked at her blankly. “The what.”
Ellie shook her head. “Never mind. Just know that this is the first time I’ve seen a full set since…” Her voice faltered for a second. The card in her hand shook slightly.
Jay didn’t press.
Ellie just whispered to herself, stunned. “Even the special edition crossover card with The Unstoppables.”
Ellie sat back on her heels, staring down at the box, and for a moment, she looked… young. Younger than she’d let herself be in a long time. She carefully picked up one of the cards, smiling faintly at the sharp colors and cheesy catchphrases.
“I used to collect these back in Jackson,” she said softly. “Dina and I would dig through supply bins and abandoned corner stores looking for them. I had this little binder... almost filled it.”
Her smile faltered.
Jay didn’t speak, just stood beside her, hand lightly brushing Ellie’s back.
Ellie exhaled, gaze falling to her lap. “I even would grab ones I found in Seattle…. I used to on slow nights draw them.”
Jay stayed still. Letting her have the memory.
Ellie’s jaw tightened. “I left all of it behind. Didn’t even take the binder. Thought it didn’t matter. Thought none of that shit mattered anymore.”
There was a long pause.
Then Dakota, quiet this whole time, pressed his nose into Ellie’s hand and gave her one slow, deliberate lick along her tattooed arm. She looked down, and he barked once, tail thumping, as if reminding her, I found this for you. Ellie blinked… and then smiled. Genuinely, this time.
“You are such a ridiculous little freak,” she whispered. “God, you are the best fucking dog.”
Dakota whined gently and licked her face again. Ellie smiled, small and wobbly, and set the tin aside long enough to wrap her arms around his neck, burying her face into his fur. “You’re such a good boy. You’re the fucking best damn dog.”
Jay, quiet beside them, rubbed her back gently, letting her take the moment.
Ellie pulled away just enough to look back at the tin, eyes glassy but lit with something real. “Can we build a shelf? Somewhere? Just to put these up?”
Jay smiled. “You can put whatever you want on our wall Ellie.”
Ellie laughed again, this time warm. Real. “You’re such an enabler.”
Dakota barked once in agreement.
And a few minutes later as they headed back toward their horses, Dakota following with a pair of Mardi Gras beads in his mouth.
**********************
The sun was setting by the time the gates of Biltmore came into view, their wooden slats casting long shadows across the field as two sentry rotation guards waved from the tower. The gates creaked open slowly, and Rowan and Starlight trotted through, hooves soft on the packed dirt path. Dakota padded along beside them, tail relaxed and tongue lolling like he was proud of a job well done.
Jay glanced over her shoulder at Ellie. “Home sweet fancy home.”
Ellie gave a tired grin. “I still find it weird we live in a literal castle.”
Jay smirked. “Hey, if the end of the world gives you a chance to sleep in a 250-room estate, you take it.”
Ellie nodded, shifting slightly in her saddle. The tin box in her pack pressed gently against her back, a weight that, for once, felt good. Like a piece of her had been stitched back in place.
A couple kids called out greetings as they rode through the courtyard, Bailey among them, sprinting across the gravel in her oversized hoodie with a camera swinging around her neck.
“You’re back!” she cried, practically vibrating with energy. “Did you almost die? Did you fight anyone? Did Dakota save the day?”
Jay laughed, swinging down from Rowan. “No, no, and absolutely yes.”
Ellie slid off Starlight with a grunt. “He brought me a toilet seat cover and a haunted bra. Does that count?”
Bailey gasped. “A bra?!”
Jeff emerged from the greenhouse path a few moments later, wiping his hands on a rag. His expression was calm as always, but his eyes flicked immediately to the coil of wire Jay pulled from her saddlebag.
“Well, damn,” he said, walking up. “Didn’t think you’d actually find it.”
Jay handed it over with a grin. “You need to have more faith in me.”
Jeff inspected it, nodding to himself. “This’ll might work. I hope to have us back in the airwaves before tomorrow evening.”
Ellie leaned against Starlight, arms crossed, boots caked with dried dirt. “So next time someone’s screaming for help fifty miles out, you can hear it.”
Jeff gave her a sharp look, then softened. “Exactly.”
Jay’s voice was lighter. “Also, we didn’t die. That part’s cool too.”
Jeff gave them both a quiet nod of gratitude, his version of a thank-you speech, and turned to head back toward the radio shed, already unwinding the cable as he walked.
Bailey lingered behind, hands clasped behind her back.
“What’s in your bag, Ellie?” she asked suddenly, eyes narrowing.
Ellie blinked. “Uh. Supplies?”
“Liar.”
Jay snorted. “She’s got nerd stuff.”
“I knew it,” Bailey beamed, hopping from foot to foot. “You did find something fun!”
Ellie sighed and unzipped her pack, pulling the tin box out slowly.
Bailey gasped so hard it was almost a wheeze. “Savage Starlight?!”
“You know it?”
“My uncle used to read me the issues when I was little!” Bailey’s eyes went huge. “Wait, is that the Enigmatic Luna card?!”
Ellie raised her brows in surprise. “Okay. Respect.”
Jay leaned in toward Ellie with a grin. “I think you just found your protégé.”
Bailey looked up at her, practically vibrating. “Can we read them later? Like all of them? In order?!”
Ellie hesitated, then gave a faint, crooked smile. “Yeah, kid. We’ll do a reading marathon. You bring snacks.”
Bailey squealed and bolted off toward the dining hall, yelling something about popcorn and starlight comics.
Jay laughed under her breath. “You’re not going to shake her now.”
Ellie shook her head, watching the girl vanish around the corner. “Feels weird being the one with something to pass on.”
Jay touched her elbow gently. “Doesn’t mean it’s wrong.”
They walked side by side toward the room they shared on the second floor. The door creaked open with a familiar groan, and Ellie tossed her bag down by the dresser with a sigh.
Jay peeled off her jacket and dropped it onto a chair. “Home.”
Ellie stood in the center of the room for a second, just taking it in. Then she sat on the edge of the bed, pulled the tin into her lap, and opened it again, slow, like maybe she still didn’t believe it was real.
Jay sat beside her. “You okay?”
Ellie nodded, voice quiet. “Yeah. I’m good.”
Jay bumped her knee. “You sure?”
Ellie looked over at her, a glint of something soft behind her eyes. “I was just thinking... not that long ago, the idea of coming back here didn’t feel like home. It felt like hiding.”
Jay stayed quiet.
“But now...” Ellie rubbed her thumb across one of the foil cards. “I dunno. I guess I’m starting to feel like I belong. Like this isn’t just a place I sleep. It’s a place I stay.”
“You don’t have to earn a home, El. You just get to have one.”
Ellie exhaled, long and quiet. Then she nudged Jay’s shoulder. “Still not sharing my cards though.”
Jay grinned. “Rude.
Chapter 21: Context
Summary:
Thank you for reading! Please note, I am continually improving! I update frequently and am always open to kind, constructive criticism.
Chapter Text
The Savage Starlight tin sat closed on the nightstand. The room had gone still hours ago, the lantern snuffed, the fireplace burned low to a faint orange glow. Outside, the wind whistled through the shutters, and the trees rustled like they were whispering old secrets to one another.
Jay slept soundly beside Ellie, her breath soft and even, one hand splayed across her stomach under the blanket. She looked peaceful. Whole. Like she didn’t carry a single scar. Ellie wasn’t sleeping. Or at least, not anymore.
The dream had broken like glass, sharp and sudden.
She hadn’t even realized she was back there until she felt the cold again. Heard the snow crunch under boots. Heard the golf club being pulled back. Heard her voice. Heard Joel’s. Then the scream. The sickening crunch of a metal club. The ringing that never stopped in her ear.
She sat bolt upright, breath ragged, sweat beading along her back like cold rain. The blanket clung to her, damp and heavy.
Dakota lifted his head immediately from where he slept near the foot of the bed. He didn’t bark, just stirred, ears pricked, golden eyes already on her.
Ellie turned away from Jay, careful not to wake her, and swung her legs over the edge of the bed. She sat there, hunched, hands gripping her knees, staring into the dark like it might offer her a way back into silence.
Dakota padded over, pressing his nose against her elbow. He nudged her gently and whined once.
“I’m fine,” she muttered. He just nudged her again stubbornly.
“I said I’m fine,” she whispered harder, rubbing her face with both hands. But her voice cracked at the end. Just enough to betray her.
Dakota leaned his full weight into her side, then, warm and unmoving. She didn’t push him away.
For a long while, Ellie just sat there in the dark, one hand absently buried in the thick fur of his neck. Her breathing slowed, but the pounding in her chest lingered.
It had been weeks since a nightmare hit her like this. And she knew why. The cards. The memory. Jackson. She’d let herself remember it too clearly tonight, let the light back in, and the dark had come with it.
She could still see Dina’s handwriting on a note left on the kitchen table. Could still feel the empty place beside her when she realized she wouldn’t be coming back. Could still hear Joel’s laugh echoing in the barn.
It’s just stuff, she told herself. It’s not real anymore.
But it was. The grief had weight, even in a place like this. Especially here, where she was starting to let her guard down. Starting to believe she deserved peace. Starting to let someone fully in. And that, that’s what really scared her.
Ellie stood slowly, careful not to wake Jay, and moved toward the window. The moonlight spilled across the wooden floor, silvering everything in quiet lines. She leaned her forehead against the cool pane and closed her eyes.
Dakota sat beside her.
“You ever get tired of this shit?” she whispered to him.
He blinked up at her, expression unreadable but present in the way only dogs could be.
“I’m tired of dreaming about blood. Tired of waking up like I’m back in it. Like the bad parts are realer than the good ones.”
Dakota huffed and sat down again, his tail gently thumping against the floor.
Ellie crouched and put her forehead against his, her voice quieter now. “Thanks for not leaving. Not like you’d ever.”
She scratched behind his ears, and he closed his eyes, leaning into her touch.
After a moment, Ellie stood and climbed back into bed, facing away from Jay. She lay stiff, eyes wide open in the dark, hands curled into the blanket like she was bracing for impact. Sleep didn’t come again. And when morning finally spilled pale light into the room, it found Ellie already dressed, sitting in the windowsill, arms crossed and face unreadable.
Jay stirred behind her, blinking awake.
“Ellie?” she murmured.
Ellie didn’t answer right away. Just stared out at the Biltmore settlement and said, voice flat, “We have separate rotations today.”
Jay sat up slowly, watching her. “You okay?”
Ellie’s jaw clenched, but her eyes were hard. “Yeah.”
Dakota lay near the door, head on his paws, watching them both.
Jay didn’t press. Not yet. She just said, “Okay. We’ll head to breakfast after I get dressed.”
Ellie nodded once, her fingers tapped against her arm, her knee bouncing slightly, telltale signs that something was boiling just beneath the surface. She didn’t want to talk about it, but it was there. She knew Jay would notice if she hadn’t already.
The morning sun slanted through the old windows of the Biltmore dining hall, painting golden rectangles across the long wooden tables. The smell of fresh bread and frying eggs filled the air, mingling with the low buzz of conversation as the community trickled in for breakfast.
Ellie sat near the end of one table, poking around a plate she barely ate off, her body still heavy from the emotional crash of the night before. Jay sat beside her, close enough that their arms brushed occasionally, offering a silent tether that Ellie appreciated even if she hadn’t said much yet.
Dakota snoozed under the table, his tail occasionally thumping against Ellie’s boots whenever she shifted.
Sadie flopped down across from them with a plate piled high with scrambled eggs, grinning as she grabbed a biscuit. Mark slid in next to her, already mid-conversation about something that had happened during training a year or two back.
“—I’m just saying,” Sadie said between bites, “you used to be way better at stealth, Mark. What happened to you? You used to sneak around like a damn shadow.”
Mark chuckled, raking a hand through his messy, dirty blonde hair. “Yeah, well, age caught up to me. And maybe back then I had… more incentive.”
Sadie laughed. “Oh please, like that time you and Jay used to hook up wasn’t half your motivation to show off.”
The words slipped out so casually, so carelessly, that it took Ellie a second to even register them. Her hand tightened around her fork until her knuckles whitened.
Jay went still beside her.
Sadie, oblivious, kept talking. “Seriously, you two were the worst. Thought you were being all sneaky. Meanwhile half the damn settlement knew.”
Mark gave an awkward laugh, looking between Jay and Ellie. “Sadie—”
“What?” Sadie blinked, finally noticing the shift in energy. She glanced at Ellie, who was staring down at her plate like she wanted to burn a hole through it. “Oh. Shit.”
Jay cleared her throat quietly, her voice low. “Sadie, maybe drop it.”
Sadie grimaced, realizing too late the minefield she’d stumbled into. “Right. Yeah. Sorry.”
The table went uncomfortably silent.
Ellie’s mind raced, that sick, hollow feeling blooming in her gut. Jay and Mark. She hadn’t known. Jay had never told her. Maybe it wasn’t a big deal. Maybe it had been forever ago. Maybe it didn’t even mean anything anymore. But the knowledge sat there like a stone in her stomach.
Jay shifted beside her, leaning in slightly, her voice quiet, meant just for Ellie. “It was before I ever met you, before the raiders. A long time ago. It didn’t—”
“Don’t,” Ellie said sharply, pulling away just slightly, enough that Jay’s arm no longer brushed against hers.
Jay’s face fell, but she nodded, respecting the boundary.
Mark muttered something about needing more tea and practically fled toward the kitchen. Sadie poked at her food, clearly feeling like shit but wisely keeping her mouth shut.
Ellie didn’t say anything. She just sat there, her jaw clenched, staring at her barely touched plate, feeling the fragile peace she’d built around herself start to crack again.
Jay sat there in silence, too, her posture tense, giving Ellie the space she seemed to need, even if it hurt. Dakota lifted his head from under the table, sensing the tension immediately. He whined softly and nudged Ellie’s knee with his nose.
Ellie blinked rapidly, she scratched Dakota’s ear absently, needing something, anything, to keep her hands busy.
Across the room, breakfast chatter continued, oblivious to the quiet implosion happening at their table.
Ellie pushed her plate away and stood abruptly, scraping the chair back. Without looking at Jay, she muttered, “I’m gonna get some air.”
Jay watched her go, her heart heavy, knowing this conversation wasn’t over. Not by a long shot.
The crisp morning mountain air hit Ellie’s face the moment she pushed through the heavy front doors of the estate. The grounds were quiet now, the buzz of breakfast chatter muffled behind her. She made her way down the stone steps, her boots scuffing against the worn stone, and stalked toward the low stone wall that bordered part of the courtyard.
Ellie leaned her palms against it, her head down, trying to ground herself. The cool stone beneath her fingertips helped a little, but not much. The ugly twist of emotion in her gut stayed stubborn. Footsteps crunched on the gravel behind her, soft but unmistakable. She didn’t need to turn to know it was Jay.
Jay stopped a few paces away, giving Ellie room, just like she always did.
“Ellie,” Jay started, her voice low, careful. “Can I… can I explain?”
Ellie didn’t look at her. She just stared out at the morning mist curling along the distant forest.
Jay took a slow breath, shoving her hands into her jacket pockets. “It was a long time ago. Before… before everything happened. Before the raiders, before I ever left Biltmore.”
Ellie’s jaw tightened, but she still didn’t say anything.
“I was a dumb teenager,” Jay continued, her voice steady but laced with a quiet urgency. “Mark and I… we were stupid. Lonely. We didn’t love each other. Hell, we barely even liked each other half the time. It wasn’t serious. It was just…” She trailed off, searching for the right words. “It was just messing around.”
Jay stepped a little closer, careful not to crowd Ellie. “It didn’t mean anything. Not the way—” She stopped herself, swallowing hard. “Not the way what you and I have does.”
Ellie exhaled slowly through her nose, gripping the edge of the wall tighter. Her voice, when it came, was tight and low. “I don’t care Jay… but you could’ve told me.”
Jay closed her eyes for a brief moment, the guilt slamming into her harder than anything else. “I know. I should have.”
Ellie finally turned to face her, and Jay flinched a little at the look in her eyes. Hurt. Not about Mark, not really. About the fact that Jay hadn’t trusted her with it. This was just the reason Ellie was using as an excuse to channel her anger.
“I’m not mad about Mark,” Ellie said, her voice shaking slightly with the effort to keep it controlled. “I’m mad because you kept it from me. Like you thought I couldn’t handle it.”
Jay stepped closer, her heart pounding. “It wasn’t about you not being able to handle it. It was me. Being scared.”
Ellie frowned, confused. “Scared of what?”
Jay gave a weak, humorless laugh. “Scared that if you knew all the ways I’ve been stupid and selfish… you’d think less of me.”
Ellie stared at her for a long moment, her fists clenched at her sides.
Jay swallowed hard, the words catching in her throat. “You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me, Ellie. And sometimes… sometimes I’m still terrified I’ll fuck it up.”
The vulnerability in Jay’s voice chipped away at Ellie’s anger. A little. But the hurt was still there, raw and aching. The hurt from last night, it was more than just Jay not telling her about Mark.
“You should’ve trusted me,” Ellie said, her voice low.
Jay nodded immediately, no excuses, no defenses. “You’re right. I should have.”
The silence stretched between them, heavy with everything unsaid. Dakota padded out of the house behind them, sensing the tension, but this time he didn’t try to wedge himself between them. He simply sat nearby, watching.
Ellie looked away first, staring out over the forests again, her shoulders rigid.
Jay stayed where she was, waiting, giving Ellie the space to decide what came next.
The morning breeze stirred the hem of Ellie’s jacket. For a long time, neither of them spoke.
The brittle silence between them was still hanging in the air when the dining hall door creaked open behind them. Mark stepped out, squinting into the morning sun, a half-eaten biscuit still in one hand.
He caught sight of them immediately, the stiff tension between Ellie and Jay, the too-wide space that normally wouldn’t exist.
“Hey,” Mark called out, his voice a little too casual, like he was trying not to step into the minefield he sensed before him. “Ellie, come on. We’re up for patrol. Jeff’s already divvied out the sectors.”
Ellie didn’t move for a second. Then she finally pushed off the stone wall with a heavy sigh, rubbing the back of her neck. “Yeah. Alright.”
Mark glanced briefly at Jay, then at Ellie again, and seemed to pick up instantly on the tension crackling between them. His shoulders tensed slightly. Guilt flickered across his face. He caught Jay’s eye and mouthed silently, ‘Sorry’.
Jay gave a tiny shake of her head, a soft, weary smile that said she wasn’t mad at him. This wasn’t really Mark’s fault. It just… was what it was.
Ellie slung her backpack over her shoulder and started past Jay without a word. She didn’t brush against her like she usually would. She didn’t even meet her eyes.
Jay, heart sinking, instinctively reached out, catching Ellie’s wrist lightly, not to stop her, but just to get her to look at her for a second. Ellie hesitated, glancing down at where Jay’s fingers touched her.
Jay leaned in, intending to press a quick kiss to Ellie’s temple like she always did before a patrol. A silent “be safe” that had become part of their rhythm.
But Ellie tensed at the last second, not pulling away exactly, but stiffening just enough that Jay caught it. Enough that Jay felt it.
Jay stopped herself halfway, her lips barely brushing Ellie’s hair before she pulled back. It was enough of a crack in the facade that it hurt worse than any fight would have.
Ellie stepped away without a word, adjusting the strap of her pack like nothing had happened, her jaw tight.
Mark stood a few paces away, awkwardly pretending not to notice, staring intently at some invisible point out across the paddocks.
Jay cleared her throat, forcing her voice to stay steady. “Be careful, alright?”
Ellie gave a curt nod but still didn’t look at her. “Yeah.”
Dakota, confused by the coldness between his two favorite people, whined softly at Jay’s side, nudging her hand.
Mark clapped his hand lightly on Ellie’s shoulder. “Come on.”
Ellie finally moved, setting off toward the stables where the horses waited, her figure tense against the backdrop of the misty fields.
Jay watched her go, her heart aching.
Today, she wasn’t riding out with Ellie. Her rotation was stable duty, breaking a few half-wild colts they had recently managed to corral from the far pastures. Hard, exhausting work that usually cleared her head.
But today, no amount of work would clear the hollow feeling starting to gnaw at her chest.
Jay stayed by the wall for a long moment, Dakota pressing his weight against her leg. She rubbed his ears absently, never taking her eyes off the shrinking figure of Ellie until she disappeared beyond the stables. With a heavy sigh, Jay finally turned back toward the barns. There was work to be done. And a long, long day ahead.
The morning sun had risen higher by the time Ellie and Mark rode out beyond the stone walls of Biltmore, the soft clop of their horses’ hooves muffled by the dirt trail that led toward the southern boundary. The woods stretched out around them, the branches rustling softly in the breeze. It should have been peaceful. Should have been easy.
Ellie was stiff in the saddle, her jaw locked tight, her gaze fixed ahead like she was daring the world to throw something at her.
Mark rode beside her in silence for a while, giving her space, letting the trail’s quiet settle between them. But eventually, he shifted in his saddle, clearing his throat awkwardly.
“You, uh,” he started, keeping his tone light, “wanna talk about it?”
Ellie didn’t even glance at him. She gave a short, dirty look. “No.”
Mark scratched the back of his neck, unfazed. “Didn’t think so.”
They rode on a little farther, the silence growing heavier, thicker.
Finally, Mark sighed. “Look, just ‘cause we both… y’know…” he trailed off, glancing at her from the corner of his eye.
Ellie cut him off with a sharp, biting tone. “Just because we both fucked the same girl doesn’t mean we need to talk about it.”
Mark winced slightly but didn’t argue. He let a beat pass, giving Ellie time to cool down if she was going to.
When she didn’t say anything else, he spoke again, this time quieter, more serious. “You know… I get why you’re pissed. I do.”
Ellie shifted in her saddle but kept staring straight ahead. Rolling her eyes, no he really didn’t get it.
Mark continued, his voice steady. “But Jay’s not that kid she was back then. And what you two have… it’s nothing like that was.”
Ellie’s hands tightened on the reins, knuckles whitening.
Mark slowed his horse a little, giving them both some breathing room. “I’ve known Jay most of my life, El. Seen her at her best. Seen her at her absolute worst.”
He paused, glancing at her, but Ellie didn’t interrupt. She just listened, tense and silent.
“There was a time after the raid… after her grandparents were killed—” Mark shook his head, voice roughening, “We all thought she wasn’t gonna make it. Not because of raiders or infected. Because she didn’t want to.”
Ellie finally glanced at him, something flickering in her eyes.
Mark nodded grimly. “She left. Took off west. Didn’t say goodbye. None of us knew if we’d ever see her again.”
The woods rustled around them, but Mark’s voice stayed steady, low and sure.
“Honestly, Ellie?” he said. “I’m still surprised she’s alive.”
Ellie swallowed hard, the anger in her chest giving way to something heavier, something that pulled at her ribs.
Mark met her eyes now, serious and honest. “I’ve never seen her the way she is with you. Never seen her laugh like she does around you. Never seen her fight the way she fights now.”
He shifted in his saddle, giving her a small, almost apologetic shrug. “Whatever’s got you tied up in knots right now… just remember that. She’s here because of you.”
Ellie looked away quickly, blinking hard against the burn behind her eyes. She hated how easily Mark’s words dug under her skin, how much truth she could hear in them.
“Just…” Mark said, letting the reins loosen a little in his hands, “don’t throw it away over something stupid. Jay sure as hell won’t.”
They rode in silence after that, but it wasn’t the same brittle silence as before. It was heavier, weightier. Filled with all the things Ellie couldn’t quite find the words for yet. The steady rhythm of the horses’ hooves is the only sound between them. The trees swayed lazily in the light breeze, the sky above starting to clear into a soft, brilliant blue. Mark kept glancing over at Ellie, giving her room but clearly waiting if she wanted to say more.
Ellie stared ahead, jaw tight, fingers tightening and loosening around the reins. She fought the urge to bury it down, to lock it all up like she always had. But for some reason, maybe because of what Mark had said, maybe because she was just too damn tired of carrying it alone, she finally let the words start slipping out.
“She found me,” Ellie said quietly, almost too soft for him to hear.
Mark turned his head slightly toward her, listening.
“I was…” Ellie shook her head, searching for the right words. “I was living like an animal out there when she found me. Barely sleeping. Barely eating. Just… surviving.”
She bit her lip hard enough to sting, forcing herself to continue.
“We met at some half collapsed town in Arizona. Just two drifters crossing paths. I didn’t want her around at first… only went with her that day to steal her supplies and horse. I was an asshole to her. Worse than I am now. Pushed her away and used her every chance I got.”
Mark stayed silent, letting her unravel it at her own pace.
Ellie’s throat felt tight, but she kept talking, the memories tumbling out.
“She didn’t tell me her plan she had at first,” Ellie said. “But after she scattered her grandparents’ ashes at the Grand Canyon… she left that night.”
Her voice cracked slightly.
“She snuck out while I was lying there, pretending to sleep. I was awake.” Ellie swallowed hard, her hands trembling slightly on the reins. “I heard her leave. I didn’t care. I didn’t…” She shook her head angrily. “I didn’t fucking care.”
Mark’s jaw tightened, but he still didn’t interrupt.
Ellie wiped her nose roughly on her sleeve, blinking hard against the sting in her eyes.
“She was going to end it. That night. She had it all planned out. Leave me there, not even a goodbye, just—” Ellie’s voice caught. “Gone.”
The horses moved quietly through the woods, unbothered by the heavy human emotions above them.
“But she came back,” Ellie whispered. “She came back because she knew… she knew I didn’t have anyone. She stayed because she thought I needed her.”
Mark exhaled slowly through his nose, the weight of what Ellie was saying settling heavy in his chest.
Ellie clenched her jaw, voice thick with emotion. “And the worst part?” she forced out. “The worst part is a few weeks later, after a bad fight, I told her… I told her she should have killed herself. That she should have finished the job.”
The confession hung heavy in the morning air, raw and brutal.
“I told her that,” Ellie said, her voice hollow. “And she still stayed. She still fucking stayed.”
Ellie’s voice was rough with emotion. “But those words...I know they stuck with her. I can see it sometimes… on her bad days, when she thinks I don’t notice. It’s like I can see it replaying in her head, the things I said to her. Or through her quiet words asking for reassurance from me…”
Mark listened carefully, giving Ellie all the space she needed, his expression quiet and serious.
She finally turned to look at Mark, her eyes burning with self-loathing. “How do you even live with yourself after that?”
Mark’s throat bobbed, emotions tightening his chest. He leaned over from his saddle and reached out slowly, placing a firm, steady hand on Ellie’s shoulder, a rare gesture from him.
“You live with it,” he said quietly. “By trying every day to be better for the people who love you.”
Ellie stared at him for a long moment, her breathing shallow and uneven.
Mark squeezed her shoulder once before letting go, steering his horse back toward the trail. “And Ellie?” he said without looking back. “She didn’t stay because you needed her. She stayed because she loves you.”
Ellie sat there for a long second, the words hitting harder than any blow.
Slowly, she nudged her horse forward, following Mark along the trail, the weight of guilt still heavy. He waited a moment longer, letting the quiet settle between them before finally speaking again. His voice was low, careful, filled with a seriousness Ellie hadn't heard from him before.
“You know, Ellie, Jay was struggling long before she lost her grandparents,” he began softly, keeping his gaze forward as they rode. “I don’t think many people realize just how long she's been fighting this. The depression didn't start with losing them. It just got worse after.”
Mark sighed deeply, his shoulders slumping a bit as he recalled memories he clearly hadn’t wanted to revisit. “When we were younger, before the raiders, Jay had some rough patches. She’d disappear for hours, sometimes days. She wouldn’t eat. Wouldn’t talk to anyone. She’d hole up in the stables or wander out into the woods alone. None of us really knew what to do.”
He paused, his voice becoming even softer. “One night when we were about sixteen, she went missing. It was cold out, middle of winter. Jeff and her grandfather got everyone together, practically the whole community searching all night. We thought something bad had happened to her, maybe she’d gotten lost, maybe infected got to her.”
Ellie glanced at Mark now, the image painful to imagine. “Did you find her or did she wander back?” she asked, voice barely above a whisper.
Mark nodded slowly, his expression grim. “I found her. She was way out near the old bridge by the river. She’d climbed onto the railing, just standing there in the freezing wind, staring down at the water. I thought she was going to jump. Hell, Ellie, I’m still not sure why she didn’t.”
He drew in a shaky breath. “I remember begging her to come down, and she wouldn’t even look at me. She just kept staring at the water. Eventually, she climbed down. But it never got easier for her. And then when she lost her grandparents—” Mark’s voice caught slightly, and he cleared his throat before continuing. “It broke her. Losing them, the raid, knowing it was her own mother who did it… she just couldn’t handle it.”
Ellie felt her throat constrict, her hands shaking slightly on the reins. “She never told me… never told me it was that bad,” she managed quietly.
Mark shook his head gently. “She wouldn’t. She doesn’t like burdening people with her problems, Ellie. You know that. But seeing her now, the way she is with you—” he glanced at Ellie seriously, sincerity clear in his eyes, “I’ve never seen her fight so hard to live.”
Ellie felt a sting behind her eyes and quickly blinked it away, swallowing down a surge of painful emotions. “I’ve said terrible fucked up shit to her,” she murmured roughly, guilt heavy in her voice. “I just want to take it back.”
Mark offered her a gentle, understanding look. “Jay knows that. She sees through your bullshit better than anyone. That's why she stays. That’s why she keeps fighting, even on the days when it’s hardest for her.”
Ellie stayed silent again, her breathing uneven as they rode slowly through the quiet woods. The weight of everything Mark had shared hung heavy between them, a painful truth she could no longer deny or ignore.
Deep down, Ellie knew Mark was right. Jay was fighting harder than ever now, and Ellie realized with a pang of sharp clarity how much Jay had fought to stay alive, just to be there for her.
And the hardest part to admit was that she didn’t feel worthy of that kind of love or sacrifice. But she couldn’t afford to push Jay away again. Not after everything she’d just learned. Not after knowing what Jay had endured and overcome just to remain by her side.
**********************************
Jay was exhausted by the time she finally made it back to their room. The day in the stables had been brutal. Her arms ached from wrestling with stubborn colts, her jeans were caked with dirt, and sweat plastered loose strands of hair to her forehead. All she wanted was a hot shower and to collapse into bed, but she couldn’t bring herself to move just yet.
Instead, Jay sank heavily into the old armchair near the window, leaning forward with her elbows on her knees. She stared at the fading sunlight as it dipped below the treeline, casting the room in a warm golden glow. Dakota was curled quietly by the foot of the bed, occasionally lifting his head to look at her with soft, concerned eyes.
She couldn’t stop replaying the morning over and over in her head, the hurt that flashed across Ellie’s face when Sadie had brought up her history with Mark, the cold distance Ellie had put between them, the tense silence as Ellie left on patrol. Jay knew it wasn't really about Mark. It was about trust, and honesty, and all the things she still struggled to share openly with Ellie.
Time ticked by slowly, the shadows deepening in the room as evening crept in. Jay had begun to drift into anxious thoughts when the familiar sound of footsteps echoed down the hall. Dakota perked up instantly, tail wagging hard against the floor. Jay’s heart jumped nervously.
The door opened softly, and Ellie stepped inside. Her hair was slightly messy from the ride, her shoulders visibly tired, her expression uncertain. She stopped in the doorway, hesitating as her eyes found Jay’s.
Jay stood slowly, her muscles protesting as she moved toward Ellie. She kept a small, cautious distance, not wanting to crowd or pressure her. Her voice came out gentle, sincere. “Ellie, listen—”
Ellie shook her head softly, cutting her off. “Jay, wait. Let me go first this time.”
Jay fell quiet immediately, her chest tightening with apprehension. Ellie rarely initiated conversations like this, in fact it was mostly out of character for her and the gravity of it wasn’t lost on her.
Ellie took a deep breath, looking down at the worn floorboards for a long moment before meeting Jay’s eyes again. Her voice was steady but laced with vulnerability.
“I’m sorry,” Ellie began softly, stepping closer. “Not just for today, or for being an asshole this morning. I know I’m fucked up, Jay. I know I’m not okay. I’ve known it for a long time. But what scares me most isn’t that I’m messed up… it’s knowing I’ve hurt you because of it.”
Jay opened her mouth to respond, but Ellie shook her head again, continuing quietly.
“I know what you’ve done for me. How you stayed when I didn’t deserve it. I know what you’ve been through, and I know you’re fighting your own battles every day. Mark told me some things on patrol today. Things you never told me yourself. I understand why you didn’t. I wouldn’t have either.”
Ellie took another shaky breath, her eyes brightening with unshed tears as she stepped even closer, finally within reach. “I need you to know that I’m grateful you stayed. I don’t say it enough. I probably never said it before today—but I’m saying it now.”
Jay’s eyes burned hotly as Ellie’s words washed over her. She felt her throat close up slightly, overwhelmed by the unexpected honesty and tenderness. She reached out slowly, gently touching Ellie’s arm.
“Ellie, you don’t have to—”
“No, I do,” Ellie said firmly, reaching out to take Jay’s hand. She squeezed it gently, her expression softer now. “I’m not okay. But you being here, you sticking with me—just look any other person would have left me….”
Jay let out a shaky breath, relief flooding through her as the tension that had gripped her heart all day finally loosened.
Ellie looked at her seriously for a moment longer before the corners of her mouth curled into a slight smile. She wrinkled her nose and took a small step back, raising her eyebrows.
“But just for the record,” Ellie teased lightly, “you stink. Like, really stink. You smell like the wrong end of a horse. You should probably take a shower or something.”
Jay’s face broke into a relieved laugh, genuine warmth filling her chest as Ellie’s familiar teasing pulled them both back onto steadier ground. She playfully shoved Ellie’s shoulder, rolling her eyes.
“Oh yeah? That’s funny coming from you.”
Dakota whined softly from the floor, nudging against both their legs as if urging them to stay close. Ellie chuckled, looking down at him.
“See?” she murmured lightly, looking back at Jay. “He agrees about the shower, too.”
Jay smiled again, warmth spreading through her chest, finally feeling something approaching peace after the long, tense day. She nodded toward the small bathroom, gently squeezing Ellie’s hand.
“Fine, I’ll get a shower,” she said teasingly. Ellie laughed, rolling her eyes, but didn’t pull away.
Chapter 22: The Grove Park Inn
Summary:
Thank you for reading! Please note, I am continually improving! I update frequently and am always open to kind, constructive criticism
Chapter Text
A low winter sun slanted through the windows of the Biltmore mansion’s great hall, casting elongated shadows on the polished floor. Jeff stood at the head of a long table, arms folded, his expression solemn. Gathered around him were Jay, Mark, Aidan, Sadie, and Ellie, each looking expectant, a little tense. Dakota sat by Jay’s feet, ears perked, tail gently thumping when Jay scratched him behind the ears.
“Thanks for coming on short notice,” Jeff began, cutting straight to the point. “We got a problem with the radio coms—they’re down. I couldn’t fix them with the cord Ellie and Jay scavenged a few days back. The ones we rely on to talk to Richmond and a few other trade sites. That’s how we coordinate flights, keep up with news, with every settlement within 500 miles. Without them, we’re basically blind.”
He shifted his weight, exhaling a low sigh. “The other spare parts we need to fix it… I don’t have them. And they wouldn’t be at that house in the Montford district, Jay and Ellie went to. The only place locally we might find what we need is the old Fedra base they tried to set up at the Grove Park Inn. Y’all know that place. Overrun and abandoned.”
Mark exchanged a knowing glance with Jay, brows furrowing. “Yeah, we’ve heard stories—Asheville got hit pretty hard early on. Military tried to hold that hotel complex. Didn’t end well.”
Aidan looked uneasy, fingers tapping his thighs. “So it’s crawling with infected, right?”
Sadie gave a small nod, arms crossed. “Probably. Clickers, for sure. Maybe even a bloater or two.”
Ellie swallowed, feeling a twist of nerves and excitement in her gut. She’d faced infected plenty of times, but a half-crumbled base teeming with them was never good news. She cut her gaze toward Jay, who wore a guarded look, her mouth set in a grim line.
Jeff continued, rubbing a hand over the back of his neck. “We lost the last team who tried to go in there a year ago. They got pinned down. The place is big, lots of corridors. If we go in guns blazing, we’ll draw every infected in the area.” He paused, glancing at Jay, then Mark, then Ellie. “Which is why we’re using a different tactic.”
He reached under the table and dragged out a scuffed plastic bin. Opening it revealed a battered old boombox and a large battery. “We tested this here boombox last night—still works. If we play music full blast, y'all can lure a chunk of the infected out. Like… pied piper style.” He grimaced slightly, remembering past attempts. “Last time we tried something similar, the infected swarmed and destroyed the speaker before we could do much. This time, we find a place to set it up out of their immediate reach. Some roof, or maybe an old bus roof, somewhere, they can’t just smash it.”
Mark nodded, crossing his arms. “So the plan is to lure them, let them run after the noise, then we slip in and grab what we need?”
“Exactly,” Jeff said. “Y'all will have a narrow window once they start going toward the sound. They might still leave some stragglers inside, but it won’t be the entire horde. Y’all get the radio equipment—transistors, boards, cables, all the stuff I need—and then you hightail it out of there. Understood?”
Aidan and Sadie exchanged a glance. Sadie spoke first. “Do we know exactly where the equipment would be?”
“Best guess is the old comms room Fedra had set up,” Jeff answered. “In the Grove Park Inn’s main conference center. You’ll probably have to check a few rooms, though. Military left in a hurry.”
Jay shifted, her heart thudding. “And we’re definitely expecting spores?”
Mark nodded grimly. “Those are old infected. Some might be bloaters by now. We bring masks, be careful. We can’t let them corner us.”
Jeff let the weight of that sink in. “So the group is: Jay, Mark, Aidan, Sadie… and Ellie.” He glanced at the dog at Jay’s side. “Dakota, too, I assume.” Jay nodded. “All right, then. You know the drill: load up on ammo, masks, gear, but travel light. Bring the battery, the boombox, and plan the drop spot carefully. No heroics, just in and out.”
He placed a hand on the battered boombox. “You break this, it’s all for nothing. Got it?”
A murmur of agreement went around. Ellie stole a look at Jay, who appeared resolute, her jaw set, clearly not thrilled at the idea, but determined. Mark offered a comforting pat on her shoulder, receiving a half-smile in return. Aidan’s foot tapped anxiously, Sadie looked steeled for the task ahead, and Dakota wagged his tail, sensing the gathering momentum.
“Get saddled up, then,” Jeff said, a note of finality in his voice. “Horses are ready in the stable. Safe travels, and come back alive. We need that radio fixed, but we need ya’ll more.”
They dispersed quickly, retrieving packs and weapons. Jay gently lifted the battery pack and boombox, setting them in her pack. Ellie and Mark strode behind, double-checking ammo belts. Sadie and Aidan tagged along, quiet but focused, while Dakota trailed at Jay’s heels, ears perked.
In a matter of minutes, they were leading their horses out from the stable, the sky overhead a wintry grey. Jay swung onto Rowan, cradling the boombox carefully in her backpack. Ellie mounted Starlight, meeting Jay’s gaze. Here we go again, Ellie thought, another trip into danger. But this time, she didn’t feel alone. If they could secure that radio equipment, Biltmore’s lines to Richmond would be restored, and maybe the next crisis could be averted in time.
As they rode through the gates, the cold breeze nipped at their faces, horses’ hooves echoing on the gravel. Dakota trotted alongside Jay, nose to the wind. And so they set off.
They rode along the winding roads beneath a cold, gray sky, barren trees creaking in the breeze. Despite the chill in the air, the group managed to keep spirits fairly high, teasing one another, occasionally tossing quips back and forth. Their small caravan; Jay, Ellie, Mark, Aidan, Sadie, and Dakota, moved at a steady clip, the horses’ breath steaming in the frosty air.
Aidan rode near Mark, discussing the last time they’d gone on a run for supplies. “You remember that time a clicker nearly got you in that basement?” Aidan asked, grinning.
Mark rolled his eyes. “Hey, I remember you running off and leaving me to fend it off alone,” he retorted.
Sadie let out a bark of laughter. “That’s why we keep you around, Mark… you’re clicker bait.”
Jay smirked at their banter, then glanced back at Ellie, who rode Starlight just a half-length behind. Ellie had a small smirk on her face, though her eyes kept darting to Jay.
“So,” Ellie called, nudging Starlight to sidle up next to Jay’s Rowan, “this boombox thing…it really works on the infected?”
Jay half-shrugged. “Worked well enough last time I had seen it used. It’s loud, it’s weird, and they stumble after it like drunken moths to a flame. Of course, we don’t, uh, stick around to watch it up close,” she added with a grin.
“That’s where we messed up last time,” Mark put in, shaking his head. “Left the damn stereo on the ground, so the infected just smashed it to bits. So keep it high, out of reach.”
“Lesson learned,” Sadie chimed, adjusting the rifle slung across her back. “Hence the brilliant plan of slapping it on a bus roof or something. Or maybe an overturned dumpster.”
“No, the infected will just climb on a dumpster,” Ellie replied.
“True… bus then,” Sadie added.
Ellie arched an eyebrow. “So…what tunes are we blessing the infected with today?”
Aidan grinned from the front of the group. “I found some old cassettes in the basement archives. Mostly ‘80s rock. Stuff like Survivor, Journey… maybe a little Bon Jovi.”
Mark let out a mock groan. “Oh, God, Bon Jovi. Might as well just kill me now.”
Sadie snapped her fingers, leaning in her saddle. “Excuse you, I happen to enjoy ‘Livin’ on a Prayer.’ It’s a classic.”
Jay chuckled, glancing at Ellie. “Just imagine it: big, ugly clickers wandering around while ‘Eye of the Tiger’ blares. Really sets the mood, don’t you think?”
Ellie chuckled, lips curving in a small smile. “Right, because that’s just what I wanted, my nightmares accompanied by an ‘80s soundtrack.” Her voice carried a lightness that had been missing lately, though.
Dakota bounded alongside, tail wagging as though feeding off the group’s energy. A stiff breeze rattled the trees overhead, but no one seemed to mind the cold. For a moment, it almost felt like a casual road trip, except for the rifles and the tension coiling beneath their jokes.
As they rode on, Grove Park Inn’s battered outline emerged in the distance, a hulking silhouette against the overcast sky. Even half a mile out, they could see shattered windows, collapsed walls, and the faint suggestion of movement; whether it was infected or just the wind, no one could yet be sure.
Mark slowed his big gray gelding, taking in the sight. “We’ll probably face a bunch of runners,” he said grimly. “The boombox works on them fine, draws them out like magnets. Same with clickers, usually.”
Jay’s face fell a notch. “Stalkers, though, they’re more cautious.”
“And a bloater,” Sadie added, her tone more sober now. “A bloater won’t give a damn about the music; it would just smash everything in its path.”
Jay inhaled, scanning the building’s silhouette. “We’ll have to keep our eyes peeled. Let the boombox lure out what it can, deal with any that remain inside quietly.”
Ellie patted the shotgun strapped to her horse. “Quietly might be… aspirational,” she muttered.
Jay shot her a sidelong glance, a faint smile ghosting her lips. “Well, if we want to get fancy, we could do a little stealth. But yeah, let’s stay flexible.”
Sadie drew her bay gelding, Hamlet, up beside Jay on Rowan, pointing to a ruin of a bus half-toppled near the hotel entrance. “That might be the perfect place to plant the music,” she suggested. “They can’t just waltz up and smash it if the bus is tall enough, and the front of the bus is smashed in.”
Mark nodded. “Good call. Then we just hold a perimeter until the majority of the horde files out. Aidan, you keep watch from a higher vantage, maybe? That old guard tower over there.”
Aidan raised a hand in acknowledgment, shoulders set with a faint but determined posture. “Yeah, I can do that.”
As the group paused briefly, Ellie couldn’t help but share a final quip. “Just think,” she said, “the last sound these infected get to hear before we put them down is an eighties rock anthem. They might die with their heads banging—metaphorically.”
Jay rolled her eyes, but a grin broke through. “Let’s hope for a big finish, then. We can dedicate it to them.”
With that, they left their horses on top of the hill, forging closer to the long-abandoned Grove Park Inn.
Quickly they found an old city bus, one side caved in, the front smashed to bits, parked at a slant near the Grove Park Inn’s crumbling entrance. A perfect place to stash the boombox above the infected’s easy reach. Mark and Aidan climbed onto the roof, carefully tying the battery pack and boombox down. Sadie and Ellie stood guard below, scanning the dilapidated hotel facade for any flicker of movement, shadows that might mean trouble. Jay checked the volume dial one last time, glancing at her watch.
“On my mark,” Jay said quietly. She took a breath, then pressed play on the boombox’s cassette deck. After a brief hiss of static, the opening guitar riff of Mötley Crüe’s “Kickstart My Heart” blasted through the chilly air, the sound echoing off the cracked walls and broken windows.
A grin spread across Jay’s face. “Oh yeah,” she muttered, bopping her head to the driving beat. “That’ll do it.” She exchanged a quick nod with Mark, who hopped down from the bus roof, rifle in hand.
“Now we wait,” Mark said, eyes darting around the courtyard. Aidan took up position on the metal lookout with his crossbow, just in case any infected came too close to the group.
The first thirty seconds felt like a standoff with empty air. Then, from somewhere in the depths of the Grove Park Inn’s dark corridors, an eerie chorus of growls, clicks and screams began. A shape lurched through a shattered window, then another, and another. The music pounded on, guitars wailing, as the infected, runners and clickers, emerged, stumbling, staggering, drawn by the cacophony.
Jay took up a spot behind a broken stone planter, muzzle of her rifle pointed outward. “Ellie,” she stage-whispered, cutting her eyes over with a mischievous gleam, “come on, tell me you’re feeling this.” She mouthed along with the chorus, bobbing her head in exaggerated fashion, even breaking into an impromptu air-guitar riff.
Despite the seriousness of their mission, Ellie found a laugh bubbling up. “You’re ridiculous,” she hissed, unable to resist a small grin. The sight of Jay quietly jamming to the 80s hair metal anthem was too funny not to appreciate, even as the horde converged.
The group crouched low, adrenaline spiking. Mark and Sadie gestured to each other, coordinating a fallback route. Ellie risked a glance over their hideout spot. The courtyard filled with shuffling runners and clicking silhouettes, all converging toward that blaring boombox. With each thrum of the drums and guitar, more infected spilled out, arms twitching, heads snapping side to side. A few took wide arcs around the bus, uncertain and screeching.
Jay mouthed another lyric, eyes shining with a reckless humor. She shot Ellie a grin, stepping away from the planter enough to mime a final dramatic guitar solo. “Come on,” she mouthed again, “kickstart!”
Ellie stifled a chuckle, still scanning for stragglers. Dakota, crouched at Jay’s feet, gave a deep low growl. Once the majority of the infected had stumbled or lurched past the bus, fixated on the source of the noise, Sadie signaled. ‘Now’.
They moved quickly, hugging the side of the building. Aidan remained perched on the watch tower with his crossbow, keeping an eye on the horde. Mark led the way to a side entrance, stepping lightly through broken glass. Jay followed, rifle raised, Dakota at her side, while Ellie and Sadie took up the rear.
Through the cracked windows, they could see the infected mass shuffling into the open parking lot. The pounding rock track thundered on, reverberating over the screeching and clicks. Ellie couldn't help one last peek at Jay, who caught her eye, lips curved in a confident smile as if to say: We got this.
Outside, the unstoppable beat continued. Inside, the group moved with tense caution, searching for the equipment Jeff needed. They pressed deeper into the Grove Park Inn, hearts hammering in time with the music’s pulse.
They slipped inside through a battered side entrance, the heavy metal door creaking on its hinges. Outside, the boombox still roared, Kickstart My Heart reverberating off broken walls. A few straggling infected wandered aimlessly nearby, but the bulk of the horde drifted away from the entry, chasing the sound.
“Keep close,” Mark murmured, scanning the dim corridor. Dust coated the floor, footprints from old raids crisscrossing in the gloom. Broken light fixtures dangled from the ceiling.
Aidan, who’d joined them after stashing the crossbow back on his horse, took point with Mark. Sadie hung back, her rifle at the ready, while Jay and Ellie edged in, Dakota trotting at Jay’s side, ears alert. The hallway branched off into smaller rooms, each lined with cracked plaster and black mold creeping at the corners.
“Comms room should be deeper in,” Sadie said softly, gesturing to a partially collapsed sign reading Operations with an arrow.
They moved carefully, stepping over toppled desks and debris. The faint reek of old infection lingered, fungus, decay, stale air. Ellie cradled her shotgun, eyes flicking left and right. The tension in the air was tangible, but the echoes of the rock anthem outside kept the mood strangely buoyant. “Any minute now, the song’ll end and we’d better be gone,” she whispered, adrenaline humming in her veins.
They passed a corridor where sporadic moans and clicks echoed. Then, a stalker appeared from a side door. It let out a guttural hiss, launching at them.
“Got it!” Aidan whispered fiercely, lifting his pistol with his silencer on it. A single shot rang out, dropping the infected before it could raise the alarm. Ellie suppressed a grin, nodding approval. They pressed on.
At a fork in the hall, Jay paused. “Wait,” she said in a low voice, ears straining. She caught the unmistakable series of clicks; clickers, only a few steps away in a shadowed conference room. She gestured for everyone to spread out, raising a finger to her lips. Dakota’s hackles rose, but he remained silent at Jay’s command.
Mark took one side, Ellie and Jay the other. The clicker emerged in a quick jerking shuffle, fungal growth covering its eyes, head twisting as it clicked and listened for prey. Ellie’s heart pounded. Jay, calm as ever, swung her rifle’s butt around in a silent motion, right into the clicker’s fungal plate, cracking it with a dull thud. Ellie followed up with a quick slash from her knife. The creature gurgled once, then slumped.
Another clicker skittered into view, flailing toward the commotion. Sadie lined up a shot with her bow, arrow flying in the gloom. The clicker dropped, twitched, then went still. The group exchanged relieved looks, so far, so good.
They found the Operations Center sign further in, a large double door sagging from warped hinges. Inside, half the ceiling had collapsed, exposing metal rafters and letting in a weak trickle of daylight. Old filing cabinets lay tipped over, and wires and smashed monitors littered the floor. A skeletal corpse in Fedra fatigues slumped against a console, fungus sprouting from its rib cage, long since dead.
“Bingo,” Jay whispered, stepping forward. She spotted a dusty comms station behind a glass partition. “That’s probably where they kept the parts.”
Carefully, they picked their way across the debris. Ellie’s caught sight of old dried blood smears along the walls and gritted her teeth. They had to do this fast. The boombox’s track might repeat once or twice, but eventually, it would run out or be destroyed.
Aidan, nimble-footed, hopped over a fallen beam and crowbarred open the partition door. Inside, dusty machinery and tangled cables covered a desk. Jay moved in, flicking away old manuals and shifting wires around. “We need the transistors, the boards… anything that looks intact,” she muttered.
Sadie rifled through a small metal cabinet. “Here,” she said, pulling out a sealed plastic box marked Spare Radio Parts. Mark helped pry it open, revealing circuit boards, sealed in a foam cushion. “Perfect.”
Jay beamed, relief flooding her features. “Yes!” She grabbed the circuit boards, tucking them into her backpack. Ellie found a bundle of coaxial cables and what looked like a power converter, carefully coiling them up.
“Got everything?” Mark hissed, glancing nervously at the corridor outside. The music had changed tracks, some other pounding 80s riff, still drawing the infected away. But no one knew how long it would last.
“Think so,” Jay said, double-checking the rummaged parts.
A muffled snarl echoed from the hall, prompting them to freeze. Dakota let out a low growl, his ears pinning back teeth bared. Then a runner stumbled past the doorway, lured by the faint music. They held still until it vanished, then collectively exhaled.
“Time to go,” Ellie urged, nodding toward the exit.
The group slipped back into the corridor, hearts hammering. Ellie felt a triumphant rush, We did it. She caught Jay’s eye, sharing a fleeting grin as they hurried down the hall, footsteps echoing. At the building’s exit, they encountered a couple of straggling runners. Mark and Aidan dispatched them swiftly, no fuss, just a quiet adrenaline-laced efficiency.
But then the groan came first, low, wet, close. Then the screech. Three stalkers burst from the side of the building like they’d been waiting there all day, nestled in the dark, mouths open wide in unnatural, human-but-not-human snarls.
One of them charged Aidan and Mark, the second veered for Sadie, gunfire cracked through the air as they fired back on instinct, but the third moved faster, more unpredictable. It went for Jay.
She had just enough time to turn before it slammed into her, tackling her to the old dirty carpet. Her head hit the ground with a sick thud, her gun flying from her hand as claws raked at her jacket.
“JAY!” Ellie screamed, raising her shotgun. Then dropping the shotgun and just running towards her.
But Jay was pinned, the stalker was on top of her, snapping inches from her face, fungal growths pulsing on its neck. She could feel its breath, hot and reeking of rot, as it screeched in her face and clawed at her shoulders.
Jay kicked, pushed, tried to squirm away, but the weight of it was crushing, its teeth snapped shut just shy of her throat. Panic rose in her chest like bile. She couldn’t get a grip, couldn’t move, was losing strength to keep its teeth from her. Then, out of nowhere, snarling.
A blur of brown and black fur slammed into the stalker from the side, sending both it and Jay sprawling apart.
Dakota.
He was on the stalker in an instant, all teeth and fury. His jaws clamped down on the stalker’s neck with a horrible crunch as he dragged it away from Jay’s body, snarling like a creature from hell.
Jay scrambled back, coughing, heart hammering, eyes wide in terror. Dakota didn’t let up.
The stalker flailed beneath him, shrieking, claws flailing wildly, but Dakota held, shaking his head violently until the infected went limp beneath him.
Jay pressed herself against the floor, stunned, her breathing ragged and sharp. Blood smeared her collar and one sleeve. Her ribs screamed. Her pulse was everywhere.
Ellie was there seconds later, helping Jay up. “Jay—fuck, are you okay?!”
Jay nodded, but it was shaky, her voice barely a whisper. “Y-Yeah. Yeah. I’m—fuck, I’m okay.”
Ellie looked her over quickly, hands moving to check her sides, her shoulders. “You’re bleeding.”
“Not bit. Just—just scraped up. He got the jacket.”
Dakota trotted back over, blood on his muzzle, still tense but not growling anymore. He pressed himself right up against Jay, nudging her arm, whining low in his throat.
Jay wrapped her arms around him and buried her face in his fur, holding him like he was the best dog in the world.
“Good boy,” she whispered hoarsely. “God—you good, good boy.”
Mark and Sadie finished off the other stalkers, gunfire echoing a few more times before it finally stilled.
“We’re clear!” Mark shouted, jogging over with Aidan.
Sadie holstered her weapon and crouched beside them. “He just tore into it. I’ve never seen him like that.”
Ellie exhaled hard. “That was fucking close.”
Jay nodded, her voice still shaking. “Too close.”
Dakota whined again, licking her face insistently.
Jay laughed through a tear, still holding his scruff. “Yeah, yeah, I get it, you drama king. You saved my life.”
Ellie reached over and scratched behind Dakota’s ear, eyes still flicking to Jay like she couldn’t stop checking that she was really okay.
“You’re alright?” Ellie asked again, softer now.
Jay looked up at her, eyes glassy but steady. “I am now.”
Ellie didn’t say anything. Just reached out and squeezed Jay’s lower arm.
Mark gave a low whistle. “Remind me not to piss off your dog.”
“You should be more worried about Ellie,” Jay mumbled.
Sadie raised a brow. “Noted.”
Finally after they got back moving, they burst back outside, the cold air hitting them like a slap. The boombox still roared, some high-pitched guitar solo shredding into the open courtyard. Most of the infected ran uselessly around the bus, some pawing at the metal sides, yelling at the unreachable noise.
Ellie couldn’t help the grin that tugged at her lips. They’d pulled it off. She swung around to look at Jay and found Jay’s eyes bright with relief. Jay stepped forward, and before Ellie could register what was happening, Jay cupped her face and pressed a swift, fervent kiss to her lips, right there in front of the entire group.
Surprise jolted through Ellie, but warmth flooded her. She kissed back, just a second of stunned happiness, ignoring Aidan’s startled look and Sadie’s muffled laugh. When Jay pulled away, both were breathless.
“Hell yeah,” Ellie murmured with a grin, a little dazed, cheeks flushing even in the cold.
Sadie laughed softly, eyebrows arched in amused approval. “Hey, if that’s how you celebrate, I’d say let’s do more supply runs together.”
Even Mark, who’d guarded the rear and appeared from behind a broken pillar, smirked at the sight. “Glad somebody’s having a good time,” he quipped dryly, though the hint of a smile lingered on his face.
Jay gave Ellie’s hand a squeeze, voice cracking with adrenaline. “We got the parts, we got the cables… let’s get out of here before they figure out how to smash that damn boombox. We’ll come back and get it on a supply run day after that battery is long dead.”
Mark nodded. “Right. Horses are this way, come on.”
With one last glance at the courtyard teeming with running infected, the group hurried back across the parking lot. A swirl of debris blew past their feet, but they clutched their hard-won equipment. Ellie felt a smile bubble up, fueled by nerves and the high of success. She could still taste the echo of Jay’s kiss on her lips.
They mounted up, Aidan offering a cheeky salute from his saddle. The group rode away from the Grove Park Inn in high spirits, triumphant after their successful run. The chilly afternoon sun broke through scattered clouds, illuminating the abandoned streets of Asheville with a gentle, golden glow. Sadie and Mark traded stories of past scavenges, Aidan chiming in with the occasional quip. Ellie and Jay rode side by side, Rowan and Starlight matching paces at a casual trot. Dakota trotted alongside, nose low, as if still sniffing for any leftover infected stragglers.
“I still can’t believe we pulled that off so smoothly,” Aidan said, shaking his head in disbelief. “I mean, the boombox? Genius. Also glad Jay didn’t get her head bit off.”
Sadie laughed, adjusting the rifle on her back. “Worked better than I expected. Maybe we should start a band—go on tour, lure infected to their doom.”
Ellie grinned. “We’ll need to come up with a stage name. ‘Infected Noise Cancelers’ or something equally cheesy.”
Jay rolled her eyes playfully. “You’re all crazy,” she joked. But her gaze slid to Ellie, warm and brimming with unspoken affection. Ellie caught it, cheeks coloring at the thought of that impulsive kiss earlier. And she awkwardly looked away.
They meandered through what had once been bustling Asheville streets, now littered with abandoned cars, moss creeping over cracked sidewalks. Occasionally, they’d spot a scurrying rat or a lone, distant runner, but none challenged them. Wordlessly, Mark took point, scanning the route. Soon, the roads cleared into the rolling hills leading back to Biltmore’s grand domain.
Mark slowed his horse, turning in the saddle to grin at Jay. “So,” he said, raising an eyebrow, “you still remember those trick-riding stunts you used to do when we were kids? Like that drag thing or that backbend one you did on Rowan?”
Sadie’s eyes lit up. “Oh, I saw her do that once, years ago. She was nuts.”
Jay scoffed, but a smug smile tugged at her lips. “You mean am nuts,” she corrected. She patted Rowan’s flank. “This big guy knows the moves as well as I do. Why? You want a show?”
Mark shrugged, smirking. “Just curious if you’ve still got the skills or if you’ll eat shit. Maybe Ellie wants to see you do it?”
A smoldering blush rose in Jay’s cheeks, but she turned to Ellie with a quick grin. She’d never admit it outright, but she loved the idea of showing off for her. “Well,” she said, carefully slipping her rifle’s strap more securely on her saddle, “I guess it couldn’t hurt to prove I’m still cool.”
Ellie rolled her eyes, but an amused smile crept across her face. “You’re ridiculous. You don’t need to prove anything.”
Jay felt a flutter of warmth in her chest but nudged Rowan into a canter anyway. “Hold my beer,” she joked, even though none was in sight. “Or, y’know, just watch.”
With a confident nudge, she urged Rowan forward. The horse lengthened his stride, hooves thundering over the worn pavement. Jay held the reins loosely, leaning into the rhythm of the canter. Then, with practiced dexterity, she shifted sideways, one foot balanced in the stirrup, her body sliding off Rowan’s flank as if she might slip off entirely. Instead, she gripped the saddle horn with her other hand, forming a bold arc, suicide drag style.
“Fuck—” Ellie murmured, eyes widening. Dakota barked in excitement, bounding a few steps as if wanting to join the gallop.
“Damn,” Sadie exclaimed, equally impressed. “She’s still nuts alright.”
Jay, half-upside-down beside Rowan, stayed that way a few strides, then pulled herself upright with effortless grace. Still riding at a canter, she shifted seamlessly into a backbend trick, arching her spine across the saddle, letting her hair trail in the wind. Rowan snorted, maintaining his pace, well-used to Jay’s antics.
From behind, the others burst into cheers and whistles. Aidan whooping, Mark clapping his gloved hands. Ellie couldn’t help a smirk and shake of her head, admiration twinkling in her gaze. “So maybe showing off is a bit ridiculous… but it's also pretty damn cool,” she said.
Finally, Jay eased Rowan back into a slower gait, guiding him around in a half-circle. Her cheeks were flushed from the cold wind and the exhilaration. She pulled up alongside the group, panting slightly, an unabashed grin plastered on her face.
“Told you I still had it,” she teased, patting Rowan’s neck.
Ellie shook her head, a warm smile tugging at her lips. “You’re such a show-off,” she scolded lightly, but her eyes sparkled with genuine appreciation. “But yeah… that was pretty badass.”
Jay chuckled, leaning over to pat Rowan, ignoring the smirks from Mark and Sadie. “Just wanted to impress you,” she admitted in a low voice.
Ellie’s laughter came out softly. “You don’t have to impress me, Jay,” she murmured back awkwardly, meeting Jay’s gaze.
With that, the group continued homeward, chatter and banter echoing through the crisp air. As the familiar silhouette of Biltmore’s estate rooftops came into view, Ellie couldn’t help the lingering grin.
Chapter 23: Radio Warning
Summary:
Thank you so much for reading! Please note, I am continually improving! I update frequently and am always open to kind, constructive criticism.
Chapter Text
A day later, the atmosphere in Biltmore shifted from celebration to tense vigilance. Jeff had spent the early morning hours reassembling the radio with the new circuit boards, transistors, and cables. By midday, the long-distance comm system flickered back to life, crackling with static as he fine-tuned the frequency. Jay, Ellie, Mark, and a few others hovered nearby in the makeshift radio room, a repurposed study lined with old maps and antenna diagrams.
At first, the static hissed and crackled, broken only by faint murmurs. Then Jeff’s eyes went wide when a panicked voice cut through the interference:
“…help—anyone… This is Richmond. We’ve… hit. Raiders…massacre…”
Everyone in the room froze. Jay felt her heart hammer in her chest, a sick sense of déjà vu prickling her skin. Jeff twisted a dial, raising the volume. Ellie clutched the back of a chair, knuckles whitening.
“Richmond, we read you,” Jeff said, voice taut. “Repeat your last. Who attacked you?”
More static, then the voice returned, a woman, raw with fear and urgency. “They call themselves The Wraiths… horrifying… they came at dawn… we lost so much. Half our settlement’s gone… they’re heading south… we think Biltmore is next…”
A ripple of dread surged through those listening. Mark exhaled a curse under his breath. Sadie, standing behind him, pressed a fist to her mouth, eyes full of concern. Jay felt a cold rush from her head to her feet, memories of Antler Village’s scorched remains flashing in her mind. She found Ellie’s gaze across the room and saw the worry mirrored there.
Jeff leaned closer to the microphone. “Richmond, this is Jeff. The Wraiths—are you sure? Was Rebekah with them? Do you have any description of the leader? Any details?”
The radio hissed, cutting in and out. Finally, the voice broke through again, trembling, “They wore masks—skull designs… The leader was a woman, tall, with curly dark hair. She never removed her mask, but she was calling the shots, killing without mercy. God… the screams…” Static swelled, then the voice steadied for a moment, “They said they’d head for Biltmore next, now that they had the firepower. Please—warn everyone… they’re unstoppable. Stephanie from Richmond out.”
A final burst of static overtook the transmission, then silence.
In the room, nobody moved for several seconds. Jeff’s hand hovered over the dial, jaw tense. Aidan, hovering at the back, swallowed audibly. Sadie cursed under her breath. Mark covered his face with one hand, thinking fast. But Jay… Jay just stood there, rigid, her eyes distant as shock bled into a simmering rage.
Ellie took a tentative step closer, voice barely above a whisper. “That’s them, isn’t it?” she asked, though she knew the answer.
Jay nodded, tears burning at the corners of her eyes. “Yeah,” she breathed. “My mother, Rebekah… and her raiders. The ones who killed my grandparents and Antler Village. She’s leading them here.” Her fists clenched at her sides, knuckles going white.
Dakota, sensing Jay’s distress, nosed her leg. She placed a trembling hand on his head, trying to steady herself. Ellie edged closer, a protective arm hovering near Jay’s back. Everything we built here, everyone we care about, is now threatened by the same monsters who haunted Jay’s nightmares.
Jeff exhaled slowly, setting the radio mic aside. “All right,” he said grimly, meeting everyone’s gaze. “We have to prepare. We hold Biltmore. Fortify, gather supplies. Warn the entire community. They’re not unstoppable… we just have to be ready.”
Mark’s eyes were hard as flint. “We’ll do it. We won’t let another settlement fall to them.”
Jay’s voice was quiet but firm. “We have to fight. I’m not… I won’t let them destroy another home.”
Ellie placed a hand on Jay’s shoulder, feeling the tremor there. “We won’t, babe,” she promised, gently squeezing.
The group exchanged sober nods. The radio crackled once more, but only static. Outside, a cold winter wind rattled the mansion’s old windows, as if echoing the looming threat. And in that moment, an unspoken vow sealed among them: They would do whatever it took to defend their home against the raiders, Jay’s mother or not.
They reconvened in the old library, a space that had become a tactical planning room overnight. After Jeff delivered the news to the council and the rest of the settlement, Biltmore was abuzz with preparations, people collecting weapons, barricading weak points, and rationing supplies. But amid the activity, Jay slipped away, her mind spinning with too many memories and fresh fears.
Ellie found her tucked in a corner near one of the tall bookcases, Dakota by her side. The thick carpet muted Ellie’s footsteps as she approached. She crouched down in front of her at first. “Hey,” she said softly, voice echoing in the stillness.
Jay looked up, eyes haunted. “I… needed a minute,” she murmured. She gestured vaguely around the library, where centuries-old volumes lined the shelves. “Guess I just couldn’t breathe out there.”
Ellie nodded, eyes full of concern. She sank down beside Jay, close enough so their shoulders touched. Dakota let out a soft whine, resting his chin on Jay’s knee. “What can I do?” Ellie asked gently, her voice low.
Jay swallowed hard, pressing the heels of her palms against her eyes. “You’re already doing it, El,” she admitted, letting out a shaky breath. “Just… being here.” She paused, then exhaled. “Not everyone in Biltmore knows that my mother was the leader of the raid on Antler Village. Some of the older residents know, but we never really talked about it. She’s about to do it again, to us, and I—” Her voice cracked, and she shook her head.
Ellie’s protectiveness surged. She took Jay’s hand, lacing their fingers. “You’re not alone,” she said, the weight of her words carrying unwavering conviction. “And this time, Biltmore’s prepared. You’re prepared.”
Jay squeezed Ellie’s hand, tears pricking her eyes. “I know,” she said. “But it’s just… You have no idea how terrible she is, Ellie. She’s… savage. She doesn’t hesitate. Rebekah’s not just a raider, she’s a monster.” She forced a bitter laugh, eyes reflecting old pain. “And the worst part….she’s my mother.”
Ellie’s heart twisted at the raw despair in Jay’s tone. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “She hurt you, and your family…she deserves what’s coming to her.”
Jay looked away, swallowing. “I didn’t really know her,” she continued quietly. “She abandoned me as a toddler—my grandparents took me in. Then she showed up years later with her gang of raiders, burned everything, killed everyone.” Her breath shook. “When she shot my grandparents…I can’t get that image out of my head.”
Ellie rested a comforting hand on Jay’s thigh, wishing she could take that memory away. “She’s not going to take Biltmore from you,” she said firmly. “Not now, not ever.”
Jay nodded, tears slipping free. “I’m… I’m done letting her steal any more from me. This is my home. Our home. And I want to fight back—she’s not taking this place.”
They fell into a heavy silence, the library’s musty scent wrapping around them. Dakota nudged Jay’s leg, as though sensing her turmoil. After a moment, Jay let out a trembling sigh. “I don’t even know who my father is,” she confessed, voice cracking with an old hurt. “Honestly, I doubt Rebekah even knew. It was always about survival or her own gain with her. She—she never cared who she slept with, who she screwed over just as long as she got what she wanted.”
Ellie winced at the harshness of Jay’s reality, her hand tightening around Jay’s. “Jay,” she murmured, voice thick with empathy. “It doesn’t matter… not really...”
Jay’s jaw tensed, tears glistening. “I know… You're right… Grandpa and Grandma were enough, y’know? They were my real parents.” She shuddered, a tear rolling down her cheek. “And she killed them.”
Ellie felt anger coil in her stomach, for Jay’s sake. Carefully, she pulled Jay into a hug, letting Jay’s head rest on her shoulder. “I won’t let her win again,” she promised fiercely, her fingers stroking Jay’s hair. “She’s not unstoppable. Biltmore’s strong, we’ve got each other, and… I won’t let her hurt you anymore. I’ll kill her before that could happen…”
Jay allowed herself to be held, allowing a few sobs to escape. She breathed in Ellie’s warmth, the old library’s musty quiet settling around them like a protective cocoon. Eventually, she pulled back, gaze meeting Ellie’s with a weary, grateful look.
“Thank you,” she whispered. “You’re probably the only reason I haven’t lost it completely.”
Ellie brushed away a tear from Jay’s cheek with her thumb. “I’m here,” she repeated, gently cradling Jay’s face. “We’ll kill them… together.”
Jay nodded, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand. “Right,” she said softly, a shaky resolve filling her voice. “We’ll stop them.”
They lingered there a moment longer, Dakota curled at their feet, breathing softly. Outside, the estate bustled with preparations for war, but in that small, still corner among the books, Jay and Ellie found a moment of solace.
***********************************
Night crept over Biltmore without a sign of Jay returning. The hunting patrol had been straightforward, or so everyone believed, but only Aaron, a tall older man in his fifties, showed up at the gates, silent and stricken. By the time he stammered out that Jay had taken a different route and never rejoined him, Ellie was already grabbing her pack, her rifle, and heading out into the cold darkness.
The estate’s watchmen yelled after her, but Ellie ignored them, a knot of dread tightening in her stomach. Jay wouldn't just vanish. She saddled Starlight in record time, Dakota snarling anxious barks as if to say Hurry up, let's go. Together, they galloped off into the moonlit countryside, heart pounding.
Every thought that battered Ellie’s mind fed her terror: What if the raiders caught her? What if she was injured, alone? But an even uglier idea loomed: What if her depression pulled her back to the edge?
She guided Starlight toward the husk of Antler Village, Jay’s old farm, where she’d once before found Jay wandering in grim silence. The wind bit hard, scattering dead leaves across the scorched dirt. Ellie sighed deeply as she spotted a faint glow from a camp lantern near the collapsed barn.
There she was: Jay, seated on a broken foundation block, her shoulders hunched, jacket pulled tight revolver in her lap. Dakota bounded to her, whining and licking her face. Jay blinked slowly, looking at him before letting her gaze drift to Ellie.
Ellie dismounted in a rush, practically stumbling as she lunged forward. “Fuck, Jay,” she breathed, heart hammering. “You scared the shit out of me—why didn’t you come back from hunting? I’ve been out here looking everywhere.”
Jay didn’t move for a moment, her eyes distant, as if lost in old nightmares. Then she swallowed, voice a broken rasp. “I… couldn’t face it all tonight. Needed to breathe. Came here.” She gestured at the blackened remains. “I’ve been… remembering.”
Ellie’s chest ached at the haunted look in Jay’s eyes. She knelt beside her, cradling Jay’s face gently between her palms. “Why didn’t you tell someone? Me?” She pressed her lips tight. “Aaron said you just walked off.”
Jay shook her head, tears threatening. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I… today is a bad day... That day you said—” her voice caught, “—‘go back to that canyon and finish the job.’ Sometimes I hear that in my head, when it’s bad like this.” Jay wasn’t angry. She didn’t say it to accuse Ellie. She said it like a fact. Like she was tired of holding it alone. A bitter laugh escaped her. “I know you didn’t mean it, not really. But it stuck, y’know? On bad days. And I think maybe I should have listened to you…”
Ellie’s stomach twisted in guilt. “Fuck, Jay, I— I was angry, I don’t even remember who I was angry with that day. You were just... there. I never should have—You know I didn’t mean that… I was so fucking stupid.”
“I know.” Jay nodded, drawing a ragged breath. “I know you didn’t mean it. But it stuck, Ellie. Every time it gets bad… I think maybe you’re right. Maybe I should have.” Her words choked off, tears rolling silently down her cheeks.
Ellie’s hand trembled as she cupped Jay’s cheek, forcing her gaze up. “No,” she said, voice firm despite the tears in her eyes. “I was wrong—so, so wrong. I think you’re the only person I’ve ever met who didn’t give up on me. Even when I gave you every reason to. You’re not better off dead. I need you, Jay. We need you. Biltmore needs you. Dakota, me… none of us want to lose you. I was such a fucking asshole to you.”
A shaky sob escaped Jay. She let Ellie guide her into a fierce hug, clinging to her jacket. Dakota pressed close, licking at Jay’s arm. The quiet ruin surrounded them, the hush of the evening broken only by Jay’s choked breaths.
“I’m sorry,” Jay whispered, tears soaking Ellie’s jacket. “I didn’t want to worry anyone… but I can’t get it out of my head. I can’t stop seeing them dead—and then I hear your voice telling me to—and I just—”
Ellie threaded her fingers through Jay’s hair. “I’m here,” she murmured, voice trembling. “I’m Fuck… I’m sorry I ever said that. You don’t deserve that in your head. You deserve so much more. Please… come back with me, okay?”
For a long moment, Jay just sobbed against Ellie’s shoulder. Finally, she nodded, a slow, tentative motion. “Yeah,” she rasped. “I… okay.”
Ellie stroked Jay’s hair, heart still racing. “Let’s get out of here,” she said gently.
Jay swallowed hard, pulling away enough to meet Ellie’s gaze. “Thank you,” she whispered, voice almost inaudible. “I… I’m trying, Ellie.”
Ellie pressed her forehead to Jay’s. “I see it,” Ellie replied, wiping Jay’s tears away with her thumb. “We’ll figure it out, one day at a time.”
Jay’s breath shuddered, but a tiny glimmer of relief flickered in her eyes. She let Ellie help her up, and Dakota nudged Jay’s leg, tail wagging slightly. Together, they made their way back to Starlight. The sky had deepened to a cobalt dusk, a few early stars peeking through. Ellie guided Jay onto the horse’s back, climbing up then Jay climbed up behind her holding onto Ellie.
The journey back was slow and quiet, the moon rising overhead. Jay leaned against Ellie’s back, exhaustion dragging at her. But in that closeness, Ellie could feel Jay’s heartbeat, still beating, still here.
By the time they reached Biltmore’s gates, the watchers on the walls opened them with anxious faces. Aaron was there too, relief washing over him at the sight of Jay returned. Ellie dismounted carefully, helping Jay off as well. Jeff stood by, wordless but concerned, as they guided Jay inside.
No one asked questions just yet, they all sensed the fragility in Jay’s posture, the way Ellie hovered protectively. For now, it was enough that Jay was back, safe, and clinging to the promise that she had something, someone, to live for. And as the cold night air gave way to the warmth of the mansion’s interior, Ellie vowed never again to let her words to Jay cut so deep.
When they got back Jay started undressing for the day; as though shedding her clothes would also shed her mental state.
She turned to Ellie “I just want you tonight,” she said simply and reached over cupping Ellie’s cheek, her thumb brushing along the edge of her jaw.
Ellie’s hand found Jay’s waist, warm beneath her shirt. “Okay. Then let’s forget.”
Jay smiled, soft, brave, a little shy, and leaned in to kiss her.
It wasn’t a desperate kiss. It wasn’t hurried. It was warm, slow, and sweet, like a reintroduction to something sacred. Her lips tasted faintly of mint tea, and the steady exhale from her nose as they kissed told Ellie that Jay wasn’t in her pain. She was present. Choosing to stay.
Jay’s fingers slid up under Ellie’s shirt, not demanding, just exploring. Ellie kissed her jaw, her temple, her shoulder, letting Jay guide the moment. No agenda. Just trust.
Ellie deepened the next kiss slowly, lips parting just enough to taste the breath between them. Her fingers slid beneath the hem of Jay’s shirt, calloused hands warm against the skin of her back.
Jay sighed softly into her mouth.
They moved together like they were remembering, like they were relearning the shape of each other. Jay’s shirt came off first, Ellie’s hoodie joining it at the foot of the bed. They climbed under the covers, Ellie hovering over Jay as their mouths met again, slow and open and wanting.
Jay’s hands traced over Ellie’s back, palms pressed to bare skin. Ellie groaned low in her throat, her hips rolling gently as her lips moved from Jay’s mouth to her jaw, down the line of her neck.
Jay gasped when Ellie’s teeth grazed her collarbone. “Fuck…”
Ellie pulled back just enough to look at her, her voice hoarse. “Tell me if I need to slow down.”
Jay shook her head, eyes dark and sure. “Don’t stop.”
Ellie kissed her again, harder this time, like she’d been holding something back. Clothes fell away in pieces between kisses, between soft laughter and shaky exhales, their hands mapping skin like it mattered.
Jay arched into Ellie’s touch, her body hot and open beneath her. “Ellie…”
Ellie also whispered Jay’s name like a prayer, sliding her hand down, slow and deliberate, watching Jay’s face shift with every careful movement. Jay’s breath caught, her fingers curling into Ellie’s shoulders.
They moved together like that, desperate but unhurried, mouths meeting between quiet gasps and broken moans, hands finding the rhythm they’d learned about each other. Jay held onto her like she was something real, something safe.
When they took their turns and came, it wasn’t loud. It was breathless. Intimate. After, Ellie collapsed beside her, their chests rising and falling in tandem, skin flushed and limbs tangled beneath the blankets.
Jay turned her head toward her, eyes heavy with sleep. “You okay?”
Ellie looked at her, brushing damp hair from Jay’s cheek. “Yeah,” she said quietly. “You?”
Jay nodded. “Better.”
They lay like that for a while, the silence warm and full. And when Ellie finally closed her eyes, Jay was still there, curled into her side. Not running. Not hiding. Just… home.
Chapter 24: Tensions High
Summary:
Thank you for reading! Please note, I am continually improving! I update frequently and am always open to kind, constructive criticism. I appreciate you all so much!
Chapter Text
A tense hush fell over the Biltmore estate. Days had passed since Richmond’s warning, yet no raiders had shown up at the gates. The stillness was unnerving, like the eye of a storm. People went about their chores with their shoulders drawn tight, eyes constantly flicking to the horizon. Supplies were rationed, watch shifts doubled, and every so often, a false alarm rattled the community. One week in, tempers were fraying, anxieties high.
Word had spread swiftly that it was Jay’s mother leading the raider group, the same woman who’d slaughtered Antler Village. The revelation weighed heavily on the settlement’s mood: some pitied Jay, others distrusted her, and a few outright resented her. She noticed the sideways glances, the hissed whispers whenever she passed by.
That morning, she stood in the stables, helping replace old hay in the stalls. Her movements were mechanical, face set, trying to ignore the stares. Ellie was close by, lugging a fresh bale. Dakota stuck to Jay’s side like a sentinel, ears perked.
Nicholas, a burly blonde-haired man in his late thirties with a scowl etched into his features, stomped into the stable corridor. He paused near Jay, blue eyes narrowed. Ellie tensed, recognizing the hint of hostility in his glare. “Here we fucking go,” she mumbled under her breath.
Jay kept her head down, focusing on her work, but Nicholas cleared his throat with a derisive snort. “So,” he said, voice dripping with contempt, “heard your mommy is about to send us all to hell. Nice going, Jade. Great fucking family you got there.”
Jay’s hands stilled on the pitchfork, knuckles whitening. She swallowed, refusing to rise to the bait. “That’s not my fault, Nic,” she said quietly. “I’m trying to protect Biltmore, my home.”
Nicholas scoffed, stepping closer. “Protect? More like you lured them here,” he sneered. “Maybe you’re some spy, waiting for them to strike, or feeding them information.”
Jay’s jaw set, chest tightening. The coldness in Nicholas’s eyes stung more than she expected. She tried to keep her voice calm. “I’d never betray this place—my friends,” she said. “You’re wrong.”
Before Jay could say more, Ellie dropped her bale of hay with a thud, stepping forward, anger rising in her chest. “Back the fuck off asshole,” she snapped at Nicholas, green eyes flaring. “You got a problem with the raiders, take it to them. Leave her the fuck alone.”
Nicholas barked a harsh laugh. “Oh, look, the girlfriend swoops in,” he spat. “Guess it’s easy to defend your little carpet muncher when you’re not the one who’s about to lose everything again. Some of us lost family last time—”
“We’ve all lost people,” Ellie cut him off, voice trembling with fury. “Jay lost her own grandparents to that cunt. You think she wants them here?”
Nicholas’s lip curled. He stabbed a finger toward Jay. “Her mother is the reason we’re in this mess. If she’d never shown up again, maybe we’d have peace.”
“It’s just strange how she shows up, then a few months later, her mother is coming back to attack Biltmore. Whiny bitch should have killed herself when she left here like we all thought she did.” Nicholas spat each word like it was poison in his mouth.
Ellie felt her blood boiling. She stepped between Nicholas and Jay, hands clenched into fists. “Say another fucking word you piece of shit.”
Dakota gave a low growl, shifting at Jay’s feet. Jay looked stricken, wanting to speak up, but Ellie’s outrage left little room.
Nicholas sneered. “Oh, so you’re gonna protect her? What, you worried she’ll off herself now if you’re not playing guard dog?”
Ellie’s vision went white-hot with anger at that cruel remark. In a flash, she shoved Nicholas hard, forcing him back against the stable wall. The impact rattled the wooden boards, startled horses nickering in alarm. “Don’t you fucking dare talk about her like that!” she hissed, voice trembling.
Nicholas recovered, face twisting with rage. He started forward, fists rising. “You want to go dyke?” he growled, but a few others nearby rushed in, pushing them apart.
“Enough!” Mark’s voice rang out, having just entered the stable. He wedged himself between Ellie and Nicholas, arms raised. “Both of you, calm the hell down.”
Sadie, who’d also been passing by, grabbed Ellie’s arm gently, pulling her away before things escalated further. Jay stood off to the side, tears burning at the corners of her eyes at the cruel words. Wanting to react, but everything played out in slow motion for her after Nicholas’s cruel words. Dakota pressed close to her leg, snarling low at Nicholas.
Nicholas glared at Jay, his disgust palpable. “We’ll see if you’re singing a different tune when her mother’s raiders are burning these stables,” he spat bitterly. Then he stomped away, brushing off Mark’s attempts to calm him.
Ellie breathed hard, eyes still blazing. Sadie held her in place, voice soft. “Let him go, Ellie, he’s not worth it,” she said quietly, meeting Ellie’s gaze. “We don’t need more fights inside these walls.”
Ellie jerked her arm free with a grunt, still seething, but her attention snapped to Jay. Jay looked utterly shaken, hugging her own arms. Ellie’s anger gave way to instant concern. She crossed to Jay, gently placing her hands on Jay’s shoulders.
“Hey,” she whispered, voice ragged, “I’m sorry. Probably should’ve handled that better.”
Jay shook her head, tears slipping down her cheeks. “No, I love you for doing that,” she managed, her voice wavering. “Thank you. Just… hate that it’s like this.”
Ellie sighed, pulling Jay into a quiet embrace. “It’s not your fault,” she murmured against Jay’s hair. “And just so you know I’ll fuck anyone up who wants to do that shit again.”
*************************************
Morning light seeped through the curtains of the old suite, illuminating dust motes in a gentle glow. But Jay hardly noticed; she lay motionless beneath the covers, eyes open yet unfocused. The weight of her depression pressed down like lead. She couldn’t summon the energy to do anything; she could barely bring herself to breathe.
Ellie hovered nearby, perched on the edge of the bed, worry etched across her features. Dakota rested at Jay’s feet, muzzle perched on his paws, watching her intently. The dog had been whimpering softly.
“You need to eat,” Ellie said quietly, a bowl of oatmeal in her hands. She reached out to touch Jay’s shoulder. “I brought you something from the kitchen.”
Jay swallowed, staring at Ellie. Her voice was barely more than a whisper. “Not hungry,” she mumbled.
Ellie set the bowl aside on a small table. “Jay,” she murmured, brushing a strand of hair from Jay’s face. “You’re supposed to be on rotation today, you know.”
Jay closed her eyes, tears threatening at the reminder of her duties. “I can’t today, Ellie,,” she admitted, voice quivering. “They hate me, or they blame me… and my mother’s out there… she’s tearing us apart without even attacking. Making everyone paranoid, tired, and angry.”
Dakota let out a low whine, nudging Jay’s leg. She shifted slightly, reaching to rest a hand on his fur. “This is exactly what she wants,” Jay said bitterly, tears slipping down her cheeks. “All of us at each other’s throats, too worn out to defend ourselves when she does strike.”
Ellie leaned closer, heart aching at the resignation in Jay’s tone. “Then she hasn’t won,” she said softly, placing a gentle hand on Jay’s cheek, “not yet. Don’t let her.”
Jay let out a hollow laugh. “I can’t even leave this bed. I just… everything hurts. I’d rather just stay here with you and Dakota and… not exist today.”
Ellie’s smoothed her thumb across Jay’s cheek, wiping away a tear. “I know it’s bad right now,” she murmured, voice thick. “But you need to get out of bed...”
Jay’s lip quivered. She swallowed, eyes sliding shut. “Everything they said… Nicholas, the others… maybe they’re right. Maybe I’m a liability. The daughter of a monster… maybe that’s all I’ll ever be in their eyes.”
Ellie shook her head, refusing that line of thought. “That’s fucking bullshit,” she said firmly. “You’re the one who’s been trying to protect Biltmore, remember? You’re the one who helped me, who helps all of us.”
Jay opened her eyes again, tears pooling. “I’m so tired,” she whispered, voice wavering. “I don’t want to talk to anyone. I just… want you.”
Ellie leaned in, kissing Jay tenderly. “Then scoot over,” she said. She glanced at Dakota, giving his ears a soft rub. “We’ll figure out the rest later.”
A stretch of silence followed, the room hushed save for the faint footsteps and muffled voices passing in the hallway; Biltmore going on about its day. Ellie gently tugged the blankets around Jay, then lay beside her on top of the covers, propping her head on her hand. She met Jay’s gaze, letting her see the care there.
“We can just rot here today,” Ellie whispered.
Jay exhaled shakily, nodding as fresh tears trickled down. “Thank you,” she managed, voice raw.
Late that night, darkness shrouded Biltmore’s watchtower in darkness, the moon only a faint sliver overhead. Ellie and Jay stood side by side on the high rampart, rifles slung across their backs, scanning the tree line for any sign of movement. The wind cut cold across their faces, carrying a hush that set both their nerves on edge. Mark paced a few steps away, his silhouette barely visible against the night sky.
A sudden crackle from the radio set on the nearby wooden crate shattered the silence. All three turned in unison as static hissed and a woman’s voice emerged; a sneering, cold tone that carried more malice than any static could veil.
“Hellooo, Biltmore…” the voice drawled, a mocking singsong that froze their blood. “Thinking you can hide behind your walls? Hide behind your… community? Your little council? How sweet.”
Ellie felt Jay stiffen beside her. Her mother. A ripple of anger twisted in Ellie’s gut. She swallowed, tightening her grip on her rifle. Mark edged nearer, one hand lifting in a silent caution. The voice continued, dripping with scorn:
“You can try and fight,” she said softly, voice almost intimate. “But you’ll lose. I’ve seen your attempts at unity. Such a joke. Biltmore was once great, my parents built it up, but they’re dead now. And so will all of you be very… soon.”
Jay inhaled sharply, fighting the impulse to speak. Ellie saw her trembling fingers, rage and horror warring in her eyes. Mark reached for the radio’s transmit button, but the voice spoke again, sending a chill down their spines:
“Oh, and if you’re wondering about your two watchmen at the arch gate… well, we said hello.” A cruel laugh crackled through the static. “They didn’t last very long. Pity we like to play longer than that.”
Mark’s face paled. “Oh God,” he breathed, already fumbling for his walkie-talkie to raise the alarm. Heart pounding, he pressed the button, voice shaking. “Entrance Gate crew, respond, anyone, do you copy?” Nothing but dead air answered him. “Arch gate, do you read?!”
Ellie clenched her jaw, adrenaline spiking in her veins. Jay let out a soft gasp, tears stinging her eyes at the mention of her grandparents, these raiders defiling even their memory. She swallowed hard and forced herself to stand straighter, rifle at the ready.
Mark cut the radio feed, hissing, “They’re here. Someone get to Jeff—ring the bells! Sound the alarm!”
At once, a bell began to peal from a distant tower; someone else, hearing Mark’s frantic call, had rung the old iron bell that signaled a raid. Its clang reverberated through the mansion grounds, rousing Biltmore’s residents from sleep. Footsteps thundered in the courtyard below; voices rose in urgency.
Ellie’s heart hammered. She exchanged a charged look with Jay. This was it, the confrontation looming for so long. Outside the walls, shadows flickered in the moonlight, figures moving among the trees.
Jay drew a quivering breath, shoulders squaring as she gripped her rifle. Ellie placed a hand on Jay’s arm, anchoring her. “We’ll fucking kill them,” Ellie whispered fiercely. “We won’t let them take this place.”
Jay nodded, tear-laced determination in her eyes. “Not again,” she said, voice low but resolute. “We fight.”
Below, gates rattled, and a flurry of activity erupted; Biltmore braced for the onslaught. The female voice over the radio had gone silent, but her threat lingered in the icy air. Ellie and Jay stood ready, side by side, hearts racing, for the battle that was about to begin.
Chapter 25: The Wraiths
Summary:
Thank you for reading! Please note, I am continually improving! I update frequently and am always open to kind, constructive criticism. I appreciate you all so much!
Chapter Text
Lights snapped on across the settlement. Lanterns flared. The entire perimeter jolted to life. Jay stood rooted to the wall, breathing hard, her face pale and rigid. Her hands trembled, not from fear, but a growing rage.
Mark was already shouting into the second radio. “Main gate: shut it down! South tower, eyes on the tree line! West wall, rotate your spotters—NOW! This is not a drill!”
Across the settlement, people poured from the manor half-dressed, grabbing weapons, sprinting to stations. Jeff’s voice came through another radio line, barking orders from the radio room.
Jay finally moved, grabbing Ellie by the arm as she returned to her side. “We need to get down there.”
“Yea… but you okay?” Ellie asked quickly.
Jay’s eyes burned. “No. Because I know what she’s capable of.”
Mark pulled his rifle off his chest and racked a round. “Jay, I know… I promised you once, two years ago, we’d get her. Tonight we will.”
Jay looked to Mark for a second, history flashing in her eyes, then the tree line. The forest stared back. “They’ll hit hard, fast, like Antler Village. It won’t be a siege… it’ll be chaos. Smoke, fire, screaming. She doesn’t take prisoners. She makes examples.”
Ellie’s gaze narrowed as she looked out to the treeline.
Mark’s jaw tensed. “Then we kill every one of those sick bastards that touches our community.”
Jay nodded slowly. Her voice shook, but her spine stayed straight. “She’s coming to finish what she started. I know it. She’s not here to take Biltmore. Not really.”
Ellie stepped in front of her, voice fierce. “Then we don’t let her get what she wants.”
Jay looked at her, just looked, and something behind her eyes cracked. This time, it wasn’t just about surviving like she had survived the first attack a little over two years ago. It was about finishing it.
The alarm bell still screamed across the compound, its metal bangs bouncing off every wall, every rooftop, until it filled every inch of Biltmore with that raw, primal message: danger was here.
Jeff’s voice came crackling over the wall’s command radio again, firm and clipped. “East towers, check for breaches. Patrol teams Alpha and Beta move to secondary defense lines. Everyone not armed, get to the shelters now. We hold the line.”
The entire settlement had shifted in minutes, gardeners turned into riflemen, mechanics into barricade guards, kids herded underground with their mothers while old soldiers barked orders from rooftops. Lights flashed across the wall. The heavy steel gates clanked shut behind reinforcing beams and layers of welded scrap. The smell of wet earth and oil filled the air.
Jay stood at the top of the northern wall with Ellie and Mark, watching the woods where the Wraiths would come. Her eyes hadn’t blinked in what felt like minutes.
Ellie stood beside her, rifle slung over her shoulder, pistol in her holster. The rain had stopped, but the air was heavy and thick. She could hear the faintest noise from the trees' movement. Leaves shifting. Shadows crawling.
“You said she makes examples,” Ellie said quietly, glancing sideways at Jay. “What kind?”
Jay didn’t look at her. Her jaw was clenched so hard that the muscle jumped in her cheek. “She cuts out their tongues, then burns people alive. Strings 'em up from the road signs. Sometimes she leaves 'em for their own people to find. Sometimes she waits to see who’ll try to cut them down.”
Ellie’s stomach turned. “Fuck.”
“She calls it theatre,” Jay whispered. “Says the world got dull with little entertainment after the fall, and it’s her job to make people feel again.”
Mark, crouched by a mounted scope, swore softly under his breath. “You never told me that part, Jay… I’ve met sick bastards before, but this is a different level. Did she do that at Antler Village? Jeff never told us…”
Jay swallowed hard but said nothing. Her fingers drummed on the hilt of her knife.
Then, down below, one of the eastern towers fired. A single shot, sharp and echoing.
Ellie straightened. “That’s the stable side—”
Jay’s head whipped toward the dark stretch of woods southeast of the main gate. She could see faint movement now, masked shapes darting through trees, fast and wide, like shadows tearing through mist.
More gunfire. Another tower answered. Then screaming. The Wraiths had arrived. From the treeline, something was thrown. It sailed in a high arc, then smashed down against the outer wall with a metallic clang. A second object followed.
Smoke exploded into the air, thick, oily, orange.
Ellie coughed, staggering back, eyes watering. “Fuck—”
Jay grabbed her and yanked her back behind one of the steel firing slits. “They’re using phosphorus smoke bombs. Stay low, cover your mouth.”
“Where in the fucking hell did raiders get phosphorus?” Mark shouted, yanking a scarf over his face.
Jay didn’t answer. She already knew. It was from the attack on Richmond. Rebekah had been growing her group stronger, watching and waiting to attack Richmond so she would have the firepower to then take Biltmore out.
More masked shapes charged from the trees now, screaming, howling like madmen. Most were masked, a select few were not. Some painted with tar and blood, some shirtless and tattooed in swirling sigils. Wraiths. Jay recognized them instantly.
The floodlights hadn’t yet rotated far enough to catch the whole ridge. But Jay saw her before anyone else did. At the front, on horseback, riding slow like a nightmare carving through the smoke, was her. Rebekah.
The mare she was on was black. Massive. Blood-matted mane. Whose eyes glinted pale and mad in the light of the fires starting to rise around the edge of the fence. A beast out of bad dreams and battlefield legend.
Jay’s breath hitched. The rifle in her hands dropped an inch. Her fingers forgot their grip.
Her mother hadn’t changed since that day when she burned down Antler Village. She wore leathers, layered and dark, still tight to her body like armor, her black coat moving in the wind like a banner made of bones. Her hair braided down her back like a crown of thorns. She rode with one hand resting on the reins and the other resting on the machete at her hip like she already knew she'd need it.
She had dark smears across her jaw and cheeks, and that necklace of bullets and teeth catching in the floodlight like a threat.
And she smiled as if she saw Jay. Slow. Wide. Predatory. Jay’s stomach turned.
Rebekah pulled the mare to a halt, just far enough from the wall to avoid a clean shot. And then she raised her head, eyes catching Jay’s like she’d been hunting her across time. She lifted two fingers in a mock salute. Grinned wider.
And mouthed: “Evenin’, baby girl.”
She didn’t shout. She didn’t charge. Jay felt it like a blade through her chest.
Ellie followed her line of sight, murder in her eyes. “That’s her?”
Jay nodded once, stiffly. “That’s her.”
Jay’s hands trembled around the rifle. Her stomach clenched like it remembered that woman’s hands before her brain did. Dakota barked sharply beside her, snapping her back into her body.
Ellie moved close, her voice low and firm. “I’ll fucking kill her. She doesn’t get to have you. Or this place”
Jay nodded once. Swallowed hard. And when she looked back to the gates, her hands steadied. Her grip returned.
“They’re riding with murder. Let’s return the fucking favor.” Jay said, voice sharper now, colder.
Rebekah raised her right hand and snapped her fingers. All hell broke loose. Wraiths swarmed the wall. Gunshots rang out. Arrows hissed through the air.
One exploded against the post, Mark was behind, sending wood and shrapnel flying. He ducked, coughing, and returned fire, hitting two masked raiders in the chest before ducking back down.
Ellie fired her first shot through the slit in the wall, clean, fast. One of the Wraiths fell, twitching.
Jay didn’t fire. She was watching her mother but aiming for her. She could shoot her now, but her finger was frozen on the trigger. Rebekah never drew a weapon, not yet, just watched with sick glee. She just rode the line slowly, letting her people storm the gates. Watching like a god, waiting to see if her ‘too kind’ daughter would finally grow cold.
“Jay!” Ellie shouted, ducking and pulling her down just before another arrow snapped over the ledge. “More and more just keep coming! We need to move!”
Jay blinked, taking her rifle's sights off Rebekah. Snapped back. “Right—yeah.”
The wall shuddered as something heavy rammed the main gate. Screams erupted from the south tower. Dakota was barking loudly but did not leave Jay or Ellie’s side.
Ellie grabbed her hand and pulled her toward the stairs. “Come on! We fall back to the second barricade!”
Jay followed, but just before she turned the corner, she looked back once more. Her mother was still smiling.
They barreled down the narrow staircase from the northern wall, boots thundering against rain-soaked wood. Gunfire cracked like lightning overhead. Smoke crawled in along the ground like a living thing, choking, stinking of phosphorus and burning cloth. The Wraiths had found the weak points in Biltmore’s outer defenses, and they were exploiting them with terrifying precision.
Dakota, who had run ahead, met them at the bottom of the stairs, fur bristling, teeth bared, blood splattered across his muzzle, and a dead raider to the left of the stairs. He barked once, loud and sharp, then fell into stride beside Jay and Ellie as they sprinted toward the second barricade line.
“Second line!” Mark shouted to a few of the younger guards scrambling past them. “Get back behind the truck wall!”
A string of firecrackers went off in the distance… no, not firecrackers. Several Molotovs. The side of the stables erupted in flame behind the northwestern corner, setting off a ripple of shouts. Horses screamed. One bolted free into the smoke running past them, eyes wild and white with terror.
Jay’s heart twisted. “That’s the decoy,” she said through gritted teeth to Ellie and Mark. “They’ll hit the south side while we’re watching the fire or getting the horses out!”
Sadie’s voice crackled in over Ellie’s radio, nearly drowned by the chaos:
“They’ve breached the outer gate—falling back to the main yard now. South wall’s taking heat!”
Jay grabbed Ellie’s sleeve and jerked her toward the interior path. “We cut through the community garden, it’ll put us at the south tower in half the time.”
Ellie nodded without hesitation. “Go.”
They sprinted, ducking low through makeshift alleyways lined with solar lights and scrap metal, the once-peaceful lanes of Biltmore now lit by fire and gunshots. Lanterns swung violently from hooks. The smell of burning herbs and scorched plastic filled the air. A body lay slumped near the corner, an older man, face barely visible through the smoke. It was Lyle.
Jay flinched but didn’t stop. She couldn’t.
They burst out into the garden clearing, rows of half-ripped tomato plants and overturned rain barrels. And that’s when Jay heard it, her voice. Soft. Crooning.
“Jade… Oh little bird, I see you…”
Jay stopped cold.
Across the garden, on the far fence line, Rebekah stood. No horse. No army. Just her and two men beside her.
She was smiling. That same, sweet, rotted smile. Her blade dripped with something thick and dark red. She held the pistol in her other hand, hanging loose by her thigh like she barely needed it.
“Shit,” Ellie breathed, raising her rifle. “Jay—”
“Don’t,” Jay said sharply, putting out a hand. “She won’t shoot yet.”
Rebekah tilted her head, mock-curious. “You didn’t come out to greet me proper. I expected better from my little girl.”
Jay’s jaw locked. “You’re not my anything.”
Rebekah tisked. “That’s not what you said the day you begged me not to kill them, baby. You said, ‘Please mom stop.’ or something like that.” She chuckled. “You gonna beg me this time too? Na… you ain’t. You have my look tonight. That look for blood, for death. Not as intense as this one.” Rebekah pointed to Ellie with her machete.
Ellie took a step forward, raising her rifle, body taut with fury. “Get the fuck away from her.”
Rebekah’s eyes shifted. “Oh? You must be someone important. You’re dragging my daughter around like she's a lost puppy. She’s about as dangerous as a puppy. But you… you’ve got attitude. I like that.”
Jay stepped in front of Ellie now. “You’ve got five seconds to leave, or I swear I’ll kill you, right here, right now.”
Rebekah’s smile vanished. Her voice dropped low. Flat. Icy.
“I didn’t come here for you to finish anything, baby girl.” Her eyes glittered. “I came to burn it all down.”
Gunshots cracked across the yard.
Rebekah spun, firing twice. Two of Biltmore’s guards dropped behind the storage shed without a sound. In the same moment, another wave of Wraiths came pouring over the south fence, ropes, grappling hooks, screaming like banshees. Smoke bombs clattered onto the dirt, erupting in thick, blinding clouds.
Jay didn’t think. She grabbed Ellie by the collar and yanked her backward, ducking behind a collapsed trellis. Bullets whined past, splinters flying. Dakota barked furiously, lunging at a masked raider who came too close, tearing him down with terrifying force.
Ellie turned on her heel, fired three quick shots into the chaos. Two Wraiths dropped.
Jay shot one of the Wraiths as well then popped up just long enough to see her mother vanish back into the fog. Gone. Like she was never there at all.
“Fuck!” Jay shouted. “She’s playing with us. She always fucking does this, hits and vanishes.”
Ellie spun her around, breath ragged. “Then we change the game.”
Jay stared at her, smoke and fire reflected in her eyes.
“Yeah?” she whispered. “How?”
Ellie chambered another round and nodded toward the main road. “We take the fight to her.”
The smoke had become a living thing. It slithered through every crack in the community, wrapping around rooftops, curling through gardens, rising in dense clouds around burning sheds and fences. Screams tangled with the sound of gunfire, boots slamming on wet dirt, blades meeting bone. The night had turned to hell, and Biltmore was its burning altar.
Jay and Ellie ran shoulder to shoulder through the choking fog, Dakota darting between them like a phantom, his hackles raised and teeth bared. They were making for the main road, cutting through the livestock pen as shouts rang out behind them.
“We flank right, up by the tractor line!” Jay yelled, coughing through the acrid haze.
Ellie nodded, gripping her rifle tighter. “Once we hit the road, we find her. We end this.”
But fate cracked sideways. An explosion tore through the far side of the pen, blinding white flash, deafening BOOM, a handmade charge planted beneath the water tower, now reduced to twisted, flying steel. The shockwave knocked Jay off her feet and sent Ellie tumbling in the opposite direction.
“Ellie!” Jay screamed, disoriented, her ears ringing.
Dakota barked furiously, circling Ellie’s still form as she struggled up onto one elbow, dazed. More raiders swarmed in through the breach, the explosion had punched a gaping hole in the outer fence.
Jay scrambled to her feet, blood trickling down her temple, heart hammering. She saw Ellie, saw Dakota, but a surge of Wraiths pushed between them, half-feral, masked, blades swinging, howling curses.
“ELLIE!”
Ellie’s head snapped up, locking eyes with her through the chaos. “I’m okay! I got them! Go!”
Jay surged forward towards Ellie, but a burst of gunfire from the right pinned her down behind a wagon. Ellie was already moving, grabbing Dakota’s scruff and ducking behind the wreckage of the feed shed, disappearing into the rolling smoke.
“No—no, fuck, no,” Jay gasped, slamming her hand against the wagon’s charred wood. “Ellie—!”
She shoved off the wall and started to move again when a voice slid like a knife behind her ear.
“You always did like to run straight into the fire.”
Jay froze. Turned. And there she was.
Rebekah stood maybe twenty feet away in the courtyard’s center, calm amidst the storm. She wasn’t armed this time, no pistol, no blade in hand, but she didn’t need to be. The Wraiths behind her moved like shadows, encircling the open space, letting this become something intimate.
Jay stepped forward, fury eating every inch of her. “You’re fucking done. This is over.”
Rebekah tilted her head. “Over? Sweetheart, but we’re just getting started here.”
“You came here for what? For me,” Jay growled. “Well, here I am.”
Rebekah took a slow step forward, smiling with something almost… pitying. “I didn’t come for you, Jade. That would mean I give a shit about you. Here’s a little secret. I don’t. You are nothing… nothing special… a nothing that no one wants. Just a… nobody… Jadey”
Jay raised her pistol. “Then a nobody will be your end.”
Rebekah’s smile never faltered. “You still don’t get it. I came to finish a job, to burn this judgemental boring place to the ground. To make my parent’s sacrifices mean nothing. You should remember which womb you came from. You can dress yourself up in community gardens and high walls, but it’s in you. That fire. That violence.”
“I am nothing like you.”
“Oh?” Rebekah said, stepping even closer, her voice syrupy and soft. “Then why are your hands shaking like they remember?”
Jay’s grip tightened. She pulled the trigger.
But Rebekah was already gone, ducked behind cover, two Wraiths diving in her place. One took the bullet to the throat. The other lunged forward and tackled Jay to the ground.
Jay hit hard. Scrambled, twisting, knife drawn, slicing open the attacker’s arm before kicking him off with a cry of rage. She rolled and came up ready, but Rebekah was gone again.
Smoke. Shadows. Blood. Her mother knew how to vanish like a ghost.
Jay panted, blood on her lips, blade clutched tight. She was alone. Separated from Ellie. Surrounded by enemies. And she could feel the weight of her mother’s gaze somewhere just beyond the fog, watching. Waiting. This wasn’t a fight anymore. It was a reckoning.
Jay stumbled to her feet, boots skidding on wet earth slick with blood and ash. Her pulse roared in her ears, louder than the gunfire and the distant screams. She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, smearing blood across her cheek, her eyes burning with fury and smoke.
Ellie. Where the fuck is Ellie.
She spun in place, heart pounding, blade gripped tight in her right hand, pistol in the left. The smoke curled around her like a living thing, turning every shape into a threat, every flicker of shadow into a Wraith. But there was no Ellie.
Only the memory of her voice, yelling through the chaos, “I got them! Go!”
And then she had disappeared. Jay’s throat tightened, nausea clawing at the back of her mouth.
Rebekah was still out there. Playing games. Moving through the battle like a specter, using the Wraiths as weapons, distractions. Jay could feel her somewhere in the smoke, just beyond sight.
“Fucking bitch planned this,” Jay muttered aloud, voice ragged. “She wanted us all split up.”
She took a step toward the last place she saw Ellie but froze when a figure rose in the mist ahead. Not Ellie. A Wraith. Painted face. Tar-black hands. Grinning like death itself. He lunged.
Jay didn’t think, she ducked the blade, slammed her knife into his side, then drove her pistol up under his chin and pulled the trigger. His body collapsed with a sickening thud.
She didn’t pause. Didn’t breathe. She turned and ran into the smoke.
Find her. Find Ellie.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Ellie’s shoulder ached from the fall. Her ribs throbbed. But she didn’t stop moving. She crouched behind the feed shed, Dakota pressed tight against her side, growling low and steady. His hackles were up, ears flat, body coiled like a spring.
“I’m okay,” she whispered, reaching down to stroke the side of his neck. “I’m okay, buddy. We’re okay.”
Another scream cut through the fog, followed by gunfire way too close. Ellie adjusted her grip on the rifle, peeking around the ruined corner.
Wraiths swarmed the courtyard. The ones by the garden had begun torching buildings, one of the greenhouses was already a tower of flame. Others were dragging people from buildings, and some trying to breach the manor doors.
She had to move. She had to find Jay. Dakota shifted suddenly, head jerking toward a side path, and let out a warning growl.
“Shit,” Ellie muttered. She turned just in time to see two Wraiths closing in on her position, one with a club, the other with a hunting knife.
Dakota didn’t wait for a command. With a furious bark, he launched himself forward, teeth flashing, catching the first Wraith mid-charge. The man screamed, crashing to the ground as Dakota tore into his shoulder. The second Wraith lunged for Ellie.
Ellie rolled sideways and came up with her rifle raised, but it was too close to aim. She smashed the butt of the rifle into the woman’s jaw.
They grappled, fell into the mud, Ellie snarling as she fought for control of the knife.
The woman was fast, slippery, grabbing Ellie’s arm and trying to force the blade down. Ellie kneed her in the stomach, flipped them both, and drove her elbow into the Wraith’s throat. The knife fell.
Ellie grabbed it, and buried it deep in the woman’s neck. The Wraith choked, gurgled, then went still.
Ellie sat there panting, blinking through sweat and smoke, hands shaking around the hilt of the knife buried in the woman’s chest.
Dakota returned to her side, panting hard, muzzle dark with blood. He whined, nosing and licking at her arm.
“I’m okay,” she breathed again, voice cracking.
But she wasn’t. She was alone.
Where’s Jay?
Ellie stood, chest heaving, and looked toward the northern wall. Firelight reflected off the thick smoke, painting the entire courtyard in flickering gold and red. Wraiths moved in flashes, violent and fast. Too many to count.
She had to get to Jay. She didn’t care how.
“Let’s go,” Ellie whispered to Dakota.
He didn’t hesitate. Together they disappeared into the smoke.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Jay turned a corner by the old leather workshop and nearly collided with a dying man, kind Hugo.
He was slumped against the wall, Hugo was a scout from Biltmore. He had been one of the people who had found her in Antler Village after everything. His brown eyes wide and glassy. His chest no longer rising. His radio crackled softly at his belt.
Jay snatched it up and keyed it.
“Ellie?!” she shouted. “Ellie, do you copy?!”
Static.
Then a garbled voice, maybe Mark, yelling about the south side being breached. But no Ellie.
Jay’s hand clenched the radio so tight it cracked. She threw it down and turned toward the main road. There Rebekah stood. Waiting. Alone again. That smug smile plastered across her face.
Jay raised her pistol. “No more games.”
Rebekah tilted her head. “Oh, baby girl. This isn’t a game.”
Behind her, the night burned.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The world was fire and shadow. Every breath Ellie took scraped the inside of her throat like sandpaper. Smoke curled through the pathways like snakes, hissing through broken fences, over garden beds now turned to ash.
She kept low, her rifle slung and her knife and pistol drawn, moving from wall to wall as the sounds of battle thundered through Biltmore. Gunshots. Screams. Explosions somewhere near the boat house. But none of it mattered, only one thing did.
Jay wasn’t with her.
Dakota padded beside her, muzzle streaked with dried blood, eyes wide, chest heaving. He didn’t make a sound now, no bark, no growl, just an eerie, charged silence as he moved with her. He kept glancing back, stopping every few steps to sniff the air, turning in circles like he couldn’t settle.
“Jay’s okay,” Ellie whispered, as much to herself as to him. “She’s okay. She’s gotta be.”
Dakota stopped. His ears flattened, his tail stiff as he stared back toward the north garden. He let out a low, high-pitched whine, the kind Ellie had never heard from him before, distress, confusion. He circled around Ellie twice more, then planted himself in front of her, blocking her path. Not barking. Not growling. Just guarding and whining.
Ellie crouched beside him. “Hey, hey buddy—it’s okay.” She touched the side of his face, the soft fur between his eyes. “I know you want her. I do too. But we can’t run blind.”
He whined again, pressing into her hand, tail giving one slow, hesitant wag.
“She’s smart. Tougher than we give her credit for. We’re gonna find her.” Ellie swallowed hard, knuckles white around her blade. “But I need you, Kota. I need you to help me get there.”
He looked at her, those deep golden eyes full of something that made her heart twist. Then he licked her hand once and turned, leading her toward the plaza, toward the chaos.
And toward Jay.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The firelight flickered along the edge of the courtyard, dancing across shattered windows and the burned-out hull of the forge. Jay moved slowly now, measured, blade in hand, pistol lowered but ready. Her blood roared in her ears.
Rebekah stood in the center of the square, framed by the inferno behind her like a vision out of the very apocalyptic nightmare they lived in. Her long black coat swayed in the breeze, ash collecting on her shoulders like snow. Her expression was calm. Casual. Happy. Like she was waiting for a reunion that should’ve happened years ago.
Jay stepped into the open, shoulders squared. “I’m not running from you anymore,” she said, voice low but unwavering.
Rebekah gave a slow, amused smile. “I never thought you were.”
Jay’s fingers curled tighter around the hilt of her blade. “Then why? Why here? Why now?”
Rebekah’s eyes drifted around the courtyard, at the burning homes, the blood in the dirt, the bodies. “Because everyone chose them over me. Because they all built this little fantasy of normal life. Gardens. Fences. Mercy. Even you forgot where you came from.”
Jay’s jaw tightened. “No. I escaped what I came from.”
Her mother took a step closer. “Escaped?” She laughed softly. “Oh, baby girl… you’re still mine. You’ve got the same blood in your veins. The same storm. All you’ve done is paint it up pretty and give it rules.”
Jay didn’t move, but her breath came faster now. “What you call a storm was just trauma. What you call strength was just cruelty. And what you call family—” her voice cracked “—died the day you fucking murdered mine.”
Rebekah’s eyes flashed.
“You think that old man and woman made you strong? Made you soft, more like. Made you a little house pet. I should have raised you to survive, to kill. But no, they taught you to beg and roll over like a kicked puppy.”
Jay stepped forward, close now, hatred and grief in her eyes. “They loved me.”
Rebekah’s smile fell. And for a second, her eyes, the same eyes Jay saw in her nightmares, the same eyes her grandfather had, were cold and furious.
“That was your mistake,” she hissed. “You don’t love in this world. You use. You take. You have fun!”
Jay’s blade twitched in her hand. Her other gripped the pistol tighter.
Rebekah spread her arms, voice rising over the fire behind her. “So come on, Jadey. Show me. Show me what they taught you. What you chose instead of my path.”
Jay stared at her. And for the first time in years, she didn’t feel afraid. She felt clear.
“I’m not fighting you because you want me to,” she said softly. “I’m fighting you because I have something to protect.”
Her mother’s smirk deepened. “Go on then,” she mocked, “shoot me if you can. Or is my own daughter even too soft for that?”
Jay felt her breath hitch, tears burning hot at the corners of her eyes. This was her mother, the person who’d left her to die, who only ever came back only to kill the people she loved.
Her mother’s lips quirked as if savoring Jay’s turmoil, like a cat playing with cornered prey. “That’s right,” she purred, “still the scared little girl, huh? You never were strong enough to survive without me.”
Jay’s eyes hardened. The world seemed to narrow around them, each breath loud in her ears. No more, she told herself, finger hovering on the trigger. No more.
She pulled the trigger.
Rebekah dodged, fast, but not fast enough. The bullet grazed her shoulder, spinning her with a snarl. She ducked behind cover and barked an order, and two Wraiths surged forward from the smoke.
Jay didn’t flinch. She charged.
But the sound of the second gunshot, not her own, rang out like thunder in the still air. Jay barely had time to register the muzzle flash before pain exploded in her side. She gasped, the force of the impact knocking her to one knee. Blood bloomed across her jacket, hot and slick. A broken gasp escaped her lips as she struggled to maintain her balance, eyes wide with shock and agony.
Her mother stood there, pistol still smoking, a triumphant sneer curling her lips. “Soft… I’d say I hate this is how it had to end, but I’d be lying.” she hissed, shaking her head. Then, as if on cue, a raider emerged from the twisted remains of a garden wall; tall, masked, and armed to the teeth. Rebekah’s second-in-command. He whispered something in her ear, and Rebekah’s expression changed just enough to anger that it was obvious. The Wraith’s were losing.
Her mother’s voice carried in the hush that followed the shot. “That’s enough for today,” she snapped, flicking her gaze over the ruin of the courtyard. The sounds of the raiders’ retreat echoed faintly from somewhere behind them. “We withdraw. Another time. Another day.”
Jay forced herself upright despite the fire in her side. Adrenaline blurred her vision; her ears buzzed. With a ragged breath, she lifted her pistol, determined to get a final shot. Now or never. Her finger squeezed the trigger, but the bullet went wide, zinging off a chunk of broken masonry.
Her mother turned, eyes flashing in annoyance. She marched over in two swift strides, snatched Jay’s pistol from her trembling grip. “You always miss the mark, little bitch,” she spat, leaning in close enough that Jay could smell the gunpowder clinging to her clothes.
Jay’s mouth worked, trying to form words. Tears stung her eyes, either from the pain or surfacing grief, maybe both. The older woman just smirked in her face, twisted satisfaction dancing in her gaze. “Pathetic.”
She kicked Jay squarely in the abdomen, right where her bullet had torn into flesh. White-hot pain seared through Jay’s body, ripping a strangled cry from her. She crumpled to the ground, clutching her side as blood leaked through her fingertips.
“Move,” her mother barked at the second-in-command. She tossed the rifle aside, striding away without another glance. Footsteps faded as they slipped back into the night, leaving Jay gasping in the moonlit clearing, half-sunken in rubble.
Seconds ticked by in a blur of agony. Jay’s vision blurred at the edges. So cold, she thought, struggling to keep her eyes open. She became distantly aware of barking, Dakota’s frantic yaps, and then her own name, echoing through the stillness.
Chapter 26: Scorch Marks
Summary:
Thank you for reading! Please note I am continually improving! I update frequently and am always open to kind, constructive criticism.
Chapter Text
The air was poisoned with smoke and the copper stench of blood. Gunfire had gone quiet. The courtyard was torn up, shell casings glinting in the dying firelight, blood smeared across stone and grass. The Wraiths had retreated, but they’d left chaos behind. Death, screams, and fire. But Ellie wasn’t hearing anything, she was hearing ringing. Ringing getting louder, drowning out all other sounds. That high-pitched, shrill buzz that came when the world cracked just a little too loud.
Dakota ran ahead of her. She ran fast after him. Past the wrecked ATV the raiders must have used, past the splintered barricade. Boots pounding, breath burning. Her hands clenched her pistol so tightly that her knuckles had gone white. She didn’t even realize she was calling Jay’s name until her voice broke.
“Jay!”
There was no answer. She turned the corner by the south stable and stopped cold.
Jay was down. Crumbled in the dirt like a discarded rag, blood spreading out beneath her in a slow, ugly pool. Her jacket was soaked through. Her hand weakly pressed against her side.
And Dakota was there now, whining, pawing at her with growing panic. His ears were flat against his head, his tail low, but his entire body screaming to protect his girl. He barked over and over, sharp and broken, when he saw Ellie, then turned back to Jay, licking her face, circling her in tight, anxious loops.
Something inside Ellie snapped. The ringing in her ears got louder, high-pitched, shrill, like her brain was turning against itself. Her chest squeezed, heart galloping so hard it was painful. Her steps slowed. It felt like Riley again. Like Joel. Like Dina. Like fucking everybody.
When Ellie got to Jay’s side, stumbling over the debris, Jay mustered the faintest attempt at a smile.
Ellie dropped to her knees, hands flying to press over the wound on Jay’s side. “Jesus-Fuck,” she breathed. “You’re a fucking idiot! You went alone?! You went after her by yourself like you’re invincible or some shit? What the fuck is wrong with you?!”
Her hands trembled as she pressed them against Jay’s wound, flannel already soaking red. But she couldn’t stop the anger. She couldn’t stop herself. The fear in her chest was curdling into something meaner, sharper. Something familiar.
Ellie turned, yelling over her shoulder for help, her voice cracking in the darkness. Dakota barked again, as though urging someone to come.
Jay’s head lolled against Ellie’s arm, consciousness flickering. Ellie guided Jay down onto the ground for a second. Jay’s face was pale, too pale, sweat slicking her forehead. Blood seeped through her shirt, dark and too much, and Ellie could feel her hands shaking as she reached for Jay’s jacket, trying to get it off.
Jay hissed in pain, barely able to move her left arm.
Ellie clenched her jaw. “Yeah, well, maybe if you hadn’t gone running after your fucking psychopath mother, you wouldn’t be in this mess. So suck it up.” Her voice came out harsher than she intended, but she didn’t take it back. She couldn’t.
Jay didn’t argue. Didn’t even flinch again. She just let Ellie pull the jacket off, wincing as her side was exposed to the air. The wound was bad. Bullet clean through, but she was losing too much blood. Ellie exhaled sharply through her nose.
Jay’s head lolled back against the ground, her breathing shallow. “Ellie…”
“No,” Ellie snapped, grabbing the alcohol from her backpack and unscrewing the cap. “You don’t get to say my name like that. You don’t get to make this some soft moment where we talk about our feelings or whatever the fuck.” She pressed down on Jay’s wound without warning, trying to stop the bleeding.
Jay sucked in a sharp breath, eyes squeezing shut as pain ripped through her. Ellie didn’t apologize.
Instead, she pressed harder against the wound with Jay’s Jacket, her hands still trembling. “You were stupid for going after her alone. Like, what the hell were you thinking? You weren’t, that’s the thing!”
Jay swallowed hard, blinking through the pain. “She was… going to hurt people. I had to—.”
“No, you didn’t.” Ellie’s voice cracked, and that made her even angrier.
Jay opened her mouth to respond, but Ellie didn’t let her.
“No, you didn’t! You didn’t have to be a fucking hero!” Ellie shouted, voice ragged. “You could’ve waited for me. But no, you had to go run off—!” Her breathing was ragged now. “Then what?! I’d be the one finding your fucking body, and I’d—” She cut herself off, forcing the lump in her throat down.
Jay’s eyes fluttered, her breath hitching with pain. Her blood-soaked Ellie’s hands and the ringing in Ellie’s ears just got louder. Like a fire alarm that wouldn't stop.
Jay watched her, her expression unreadable, but there was something soft in her eyes. Understanding. Ellie hated it. Realizing no one was coming to help, she grabbed under Jay’s good side to help her up, forcing herself to focus. “This is gonna hurt,” she warned.
Jay let out a weak, humorless chuckle. “Everything already hurts.”
Ellie ignored that. She helped Jay onto her feet, her anger a poor mask for the fear still clawing at her chest.
Jay’s good hand hesitantly rubbed against Ellie’s shoulder as it was draped over it. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t say you’re sorry! I don’t want your fucking apology, Jay—I want you to be okay!” Ellie swallowed hard, her jaw clenched so tight it ached. She wanted to yell at Jay some more, to tell her how reckless she was, how stupid she had been. But the words didn’t come. Instead, Ellie let out a sharp breath and started walking.
“I’m still fucking mad at you,” Ellie muttered.
Jay huffed a tired laugh. “I know.”
“You promised,” Ellie whispered, so quiet it barely came out. “You promised you’d be smarter. That you’d stay with me.”
Jay’s head lolled slightly. Her lips moved, but Ellie couldn’t hear it. The ringing had reached a crescendo, blotting everything else out. Just that high, endless screech in her ears and the pounding of her own heart. Her vision tunneled, blurring at the edges. For a split second, Jay’s face shifted. Her movements were frozen.
Dakota stayed right at their sides, whining, his paws thudding heavily as he tried to get Jay’s attention. Ellie barely registered him until he nudged her hard in the thigh. Her feet started walking again with Jay, desperate.
Ellie half-carried, half-dragged Jay across the battered courtyard, every step jostling Jay’s bullet wound and drawing gasps of pain from her. The moon hung low, its silver light revealing the trail of blood soaking through Jay’s shirt. Dakota trotted close, anxious whines punctuating Ellie’s ragged breathing.
“I’m sorry,” Ellie muttered frantically. “I didn’t mean it—I didn’t mean any of it. Just don’t die, please—fuck, I didn’t mean it.”
Jay’s eyes opened again, cloudy but present. “Ellie…”
Jay’s breath shuddered. She tried to speak more, but her voice faltered. Ellie shook her head. They were nearly to the edge of the courtyard now, where a small path would lead them inside the safety of the manor, if there was any safety left at all.
“Don’t you ever, ever, do that shit again,” Ellie rasped, hoisting Jay’s arm over her shoulders, practically dragging her forward.
Tears blurred Ellie’s vision, feeling Jay’s body sag, her blood sticky and hot under Ellie’s palm. “Stay awake,” Ellie commanded, though her voice shook with desperation. “You’re not going anywhere, got it?”
With a weak nod, Jay pressed her face against Ellie’s neck, a ragged breath escaping her. Then footsteps behind them.
Diana and two others rushed toward them, gear in hand. Ellie clung to Jay’s arm like a lifeline, even as the medic tried to pull her back.
“No—no, I’m not leaving her!”
“Ellie,” Diana said firmly, “You’re in the way.”
“She’s all I fucking have,” Ellie said through gritted teeth, her voice hoarse, bloody with emotion.
Diana’s hand came to Ellie’s shoulder. “Then let us keep her alive.”
Ellie froze. Jay’s blood was on her hands, up to her forearms. She was shaking. Pale. The world felt sideways. And she let go. Barely. As they lifted Jay onto the stretcher, Ellie followed a few feet behind, silent now. Her face was stone, but her jaw twitched. They disappeared into the main medic wing. Ellie finally stopped walking as they rushed Jay into the surgery room.
The only sound was the faint ring still screaming in her ears. And the hoarse whisper under her breath, “Don’t you fucking dare leave me.”
A day later, the medical wing of Biltmore was quiet, the bustle of the wounded now past. Jay lay on a narrow bed near the end of a row of makeshift cots, swathed in bandages around her midsection. Dakota lay at her feet, chin draped over Jay’s leg, refusing to be coaxed away. Ellie sat slouched in a wooden chair, arms folded over her chest, shadows under her eyes betraying the lack of sleep.
The quiet hum of an old ceiling fan filled the room, slicing the heavy stillness with a slow, rhythmic whirr. Sunlight filtered weakly through the curtains, casting long gold bars across the floor and bed. The smell of antiseptic clung to the air, mingled with something earthy—blood and sweat and bandages.
Ellie’s gaze rested on Jay’s still face, pale, bruised, lips pressed together in a silent slumber. She’d heard Diana say the bullet tore through flesh and muscle, missing vital organs by luck alone. But the blood loss was bad. Jay’s body was fighting a mild infection, or so they feared. For now, she remained unconscious, drifting in feverish sleep.
She was too pale. Too still. Ellie had checked the bandages twice already, pressing a hand against Jay’s forehead to make sure she wasn’t burning up. No fever, at least not yet. But her breathing was slow, shallow, and every now and then, her body would shudder like she was cold.
Ellie sighed, leaning forward, elbows on her knees. She’d barely eaten, too wired and exhausted to face the rest of the settlement.
Quiet minutes ticked by, broken only by the soft rustle of cloth as Dakota shifted, or the distant footsteps of medics in the corridor. Ellie’s eyes kept darting to Jay’s bandaged side. Each breath Jay took felt like a miracle. But the swirl of fear inside Ellie curdled into anger; anger at the situation, at Jay’s mother, at Jay for risking everything to chase that monster.
She clenched her fists on her thighs, exhaling shakily. “Damn it,” she muttered under her breath. “You just had to be a hero, didn’t you?” She forced out a laugh, bitter and quiet. “You always think you know what’s best. You think throwing yourself in front of a bullet is some kind of goddamn solution?”
Dakota lifted his head at her tone, blinking as if worried. He licked Jay’s wrist, gentle. Ellie glanced at him, her chest tight. “Don’t look at me like that,” she whispered, half to the dog, half to the still form of Jay. “I’m mad. So what?”
Jay didn’t stir, face slack and unknowing. Ellie’s eyes stung with tears she refused to shed, a twisting knot of frustration rising in her throat. I can’t keep doing this, she thought. Not again. She bit down on the inside of her cheek, letting the sting anchor her.
“You didn’t even think,” Ellie said softly, voice edged with pain. “You scared the shit out of me. You went after your fucking mother like it didn’t matter what happened to you. Like I didn’t matter.” She let out a harsh breath. “Now look at you. Half-dead. And I’m stuck here, alone. Again.”
Her mind flickered to old memories; Dina, Joel, the farm. Walking away is easier, a voice hissed in her head. She pressed her lips together, glaring at unconscious Jay as if she might hear. “I could… I could leave right now,” she said, hating how her words trembled. “Ride off, vanish. Never see this place again. You’d never know.”
Dakota whined, tail thumping in a slow, anxious rhythm. Ellie felt a wave of shame wash over her. She dropped her head, voice tight. “But I’m still here,” she admitted, the anger mixing with tears she tried to blink away. “Still can’t fucking leave you, can I?”
Silence enveloped the room once more, punctuated by Jay’s shallow breathing. Ellie scrubbed her face with her palm, trying to banish the swirl of bitter thoughts. She’s unconscious, she reminded herself, guilt prickling. I shouldn’t be taking it out on her. But the fear was too raw, the prospect of losing Jay too horrifying.
Unable to speak more, Ellie hunched forward, crossing her arms. Dakota jumped off the bed and walked up to Ellie, placing his muzzle on her knee, as if trying to console her. She stroked his fur absently.
“You better wake up,” she whispered, voice cracking. “Don’t you dare give up. Because if you do…” She drew in a shaky breath, eyes locked on Jay’s bandaged side. “Then everything falls apart… again.”
Ellie didn’t move from Jay’s side. Not when Jeff came in to check on them. Not when Mark and Sadie hovered in the doorway, their faces tense with worry. She barely acknowledged when Diana came back, rechecking Jay’s bandages, murmuring something about her needing rest and fluids.
None of it mattered to Ellie. Jay was still out, barely responding, her breaths shallow, her skin cool to the touch. Every now and then, she’d stir, muttering something under her breath, broken fragments of words Ellie couldn’t understand. It was killing her.
She hated this feeling, this helplessness. The same kind that had eaten her alive in Santa Barbara, the same kind that had drowned her when Joel—She squeezed her eyes shut. No. Don’t go there.
The chair she sat in was uncomfortable, but she didn’t care. Then a soft knock at the open door. Ellie barely turned her head as Jeff stepped inside. His usual hard old man expression was softer now, like he was looking at a wounded animal.
“You should get some rest,” he said quietly.
Ellie didn’t answer.
Jeff sighed, stepping further in. “I get it. But you sitting here all night, running yourself into the ground, won’t help her.”
Ellie exhaled sharply, gripping her crossed arms a little tighter. “I’m not leaving.”
Jeff was silent for a moment, then nodded like he expected that answer. “Alright.” He glanced toward Jay, his gaze unreadable. “She’s strong. Always has been. She’ll pull through.”
Ellie swallowed hard. “Yeah.”
Jeff didn’t argue with her. Just gave a slow nod and walked back out, leaving her alone with Jay again. The silence stretched, broken only by Dakota moving and the faint wind outside.
Ellie sighed, leaning forward. “You’re a pain in my ass, you know that?” she murmured.
Jay didn’t answer.
Ellie let out a quiet, shaky breath. “You better wake up,” she whispered. “I’m not doing this alone.”
Anger and love tangled together, fighting the urge to run from the grief she feared was coming. The night wore on, but Jay didn’t stir, her body clinging to life while Ellie clung to the fragile hope that tomorrow might bring her back.
*********************************
Jay stirred with a soft groan, eyelids fluttering under the warm glow of the lantern. Another day had passed in the makeshift medical wing, and Ellie sat exactly where she’d been for hours, slumped in a chair beside the bed, arms crossed, anxiety etched into every line of her posture.
Jay’s eyes opened slowly, lashes fluttering like leaves in a breeze. Everything was blurry at first. White ceiling. A dull ache blooming across her side. Her body felt leaden, and the dryness in her throat scraped like sandpaper.
She turned her head slightly. Groaned. Her ribs screamed in protest.
Then she saw her.
Ellie.
Sitting in the chair by the bed, elbows on her knees, hands clenched together so tightly her knuckles were pale. Her brows were furrowed, jaw tense, mouth set in a hard line. She wasn’t looking at Jay. Just the floor. But her entire body radiated a quiet, furious energy, like a wildfire trapped in glass.
“Ellie…” Jay croaked, voice barely audible.
Ellie looked up. Slowly. Her eyes were bloodshot. Ringed with exhaustion. She looked like she hadn’t slept, because she hadn’t.
“Jay?” she whispered, voice hoarse.
“Hey,” Jay rasped, trying to smile. “Guess I’m not dead.”
Relief surged through Ellie like a tidal wave, tension flooding out of her limbs. “God,” she breathed, tears stinging her eyes. “Finally.”
Jay tried to push herself up, wincing at the pain. “Guess I’m… alive,” she mumbled, letting out a shaky breath.
Ellie rose and gently placed a hand on Jay’s shoulder, guiding her to lie back. “Hey, easy,” she scolded, her tone shot through with anger that masked worry. “You nearly killed yourself, remember? Torn flesh, blood everywhere… ring a bell?”
Jay blinked, guilt flooding her face. She glanced away, her voice low. “I remember chasing after my mother… She shot me.” Her tone wavered, old grief mingling with fresh pain. “What happened afterward?”
Ellie’s jaw tightened, a swirl of fear and fury in her chest. She crossed her arms over her chest, pacing a step away from the bedside. “We managed to push the raiders back. We won, if you call it that. They retreated with their tails tucked. But they’ll try again… your mother doesn’t let go that easy, right?” Her words came out harsher than intended.
Jay’s face fell. “We lost people,” she whispered, voice wavering. “Didn’t we?”
Ellie exhaled a shaky breath, anger easing as she saw Jay’s stricken expression. She forced herself to nod. “Yeah,” she said softly, dropping her gaze. “Two at the front arch gate, like she bragged about. A dozen more, and a lot more wounded, but they’ll recover. Jeff’s calling it a victory, but… it was a close one.”
“You’re so goddamn stubborn, you know that?” Ellie’s voice broke as she continued, and she wiped away the stray tear before it could fall. “I can’t lose you. I just… I can’t do this again. I can’t… I’m fucking pissed at you.”
Jay closed her eyes, tears slipping free. “Shit,” she breathed, one hand curling into the sheets at her side. “I’m sorry.”
Ellie let out a bitter scoff, though her voice trembled with emotion. “You should be. You ran off and got shot, leaving me to fight a damn battlefield just to drag your stupid ass back.” She crossed her arms again. “Do you have any idea how I felt?”
Jay swallowed thickly, chest aching from more than just the wound. “I do,” she said quietly. “And I’m sorry. I… acted on impulse. I didn’t mean to hurt you. I just... I thought I could stop her. Thought I could stop them.”
Ellie shook her head, her chest tightening. “You’re not the only one who’s been through hell, Jay. I’ve lost enough. I can’t lose you too.”
Jay let out a breath, her head turning slightly on the pillow, and Ellie watched as her eyelids fluttered closed again.
Silence lingered between them, the only sound Jay’s ragged breathing and Dakota’s faint shuffle as he dozed on the floor. Finally, Ellie rubbed her forehead, eyes squeezed shut. “Well, you’re awake. That’s good. No… bullet fragments left, as far as we know. Diana said you’ll mend… if you behave.”
Jay opened her eyes again and tried to smile, but it faltered at the sight of Ellie’s tear-bright eyes. “Thank you,” she managed. “For saving me hun.”
Ellie shook her head, crossing the small space in a few steps to set a tentative hand over Jay’s. She still trembled with anger, but the sight of Jay awake, conscious, coaxed out her softer edge. “Don’t ever scare me like that again, I need you,” Ellie whispered, almost as if it was a secret, something she hadn’t said out loud in a long time.
Jay’s lips curved into a small, tired smile, though her eyes glistened with unspoken emotion. “You’ve always had me, Ellie.”
A shaky breath escaped Jay’s lips. She squeezed Ellie’s hand. “I’m not leaving,” she whispered. “I swear.”
Ellie didn’t respond immediately. After a beat, she pulled back, wiping at her cheeks. “Rest,” she said quietly, the anger in her tone giving way to concern. “You need it. We’ll handle the rest when you’re stable.”
Jay nodded, eyes half-lidded, exhaustion creeping in. “Stay?” she asked, voice small.
Ellie gave a faint, crooked smile. “Yea…,” she replied, settling back into the chair. And as Jay drifted off, Ellie sat there, arms folded again; fear, anger, and love warring behind her eyes, the weight of survival pressing them both forward into whatever came next.
Chapter 27: A Grand Tour Ellie Style
Summary:
Thank you for reading! Please note, I am continually improving! I update frequently and am always open to kind, constructive criticism. I appreciate you reading!
Chapter Text
The community was just starting to wake up again.
The damage from the Wraiths’ raid was mostly cleaned up now, burned-out carts had been hauled away, busted fences patched, and the lingering sense of dread had dulled into routine watchfulness. Biltmore’s residents were finding their rhythm again. Life didn’t stop just because it had been threatened.
Except for Jay.
Jay had been stuck, inside, on her back, under constant scrutiny and soft-voiced instructions from Diana and scolding glares from Ellie. And though she loved her girl more than anything, if she had to spend one more day listening to the creak of her bed springs or the rhythm of Dakota’s sighs as he tried to nap away his boredom, she was going to scream.
So this morning, when Ellie came in with a tray of food from the dinning hall and that same guarded expression she'd been wearing since the raid, Jay sat up slowly, looked her square in the eyes, and started with her plan.
“I’m losing my mind in that bed. We’re going out today.” Jay insisted, wincing a bit but forging on.
Ellie froze mid-step, frowning. “Out? Like outside-out? What, are we chasing raiders for sport now?”
Jay grinned, still pale but bright-eyed, her hair pulled back loosely in a bun and a flush on her cheeks from the excitement of even saying the words. “Not chasing anything. I was thinking something fun. Explore more of the estate with you. You can take the lead, find cool spots, and I’ll tell you about them. Come on, let’s do something exciting El”
Ellie narrowed her eyes, setting the tray down. “This some ‘fun’ doctor-approved plan, or are you just going rogue again?”
Jay shrugged. “Well, I didn’t ask, so…”
Ellie crossed her arms. “Jay.” She was ever the worrywart lately, gave a half-scoff. “You’re supposed to be healing,” she muttered, but the flicker of intrigue in her eyes betrayed that she was at least curious.
Jay said, stepping closer. “I want you to just wander.” She gestured toward the door. “This place is huge, and you haven’t really seen half of it. You explore, I follow you around and tell you about the estate, what used to be what, what the rooms were, the tunnels, the weird-ass old places. You’ve never really seen it all. So just… explore. See what you find.”
Jay held up her hand. “Before you say no, think about it. We’ve both been miserable. You’re climbing the walls. I’m practically welded to a mattress. It’ll be slow. We won’t go far. I’ll let you pick the path, and I’ll just trail behind and play tour guide. If I start to hurt or get tired, I’ll tell you. And if I pass out, Dakota’s better than a radio.”
Dakota let out a short bark as if to affirm that, standing at her side like he’d been waiting for a week for someone to break her out.
Ellie’s brow furrowed. “And what? You’re just gonna follow me as we play tourist?”
Jay smirked. “Yeah. And I’ll tell you what you find as we go. Remember I was born here, Jeff and my grandfather taught me about this old place.”
Ellie hesitated. Her jaw twitched. She looked Jay over, noting the fading bruises, the way her left hand subtly guarded her side even as she tried to play it cool. She narrowed her eyes at Jay. “So you’re giving me free rein to just poke around wherever I want?”
Jay shrugged. “Why not? No infected here, nothing dangerous. Just you, being you.”
“This is a dumb idea,” Ellie said flatly.
“Yep.”
“You still look like shit.”
“Also true.”
Ellie sighed, running a hand down her face. Her green eyes then flickered with something; curiosity, maybe a little excitement. She chewed her lip, glancing toward the door. “Fine. But if you start limping, wheezing, wince too hard or drop from exhaustion halfway, don’t blame me.”
Jay just rolled her eyes, smiling fondly. “Deal. Let’s start in the basement, near the produce storage.”
Dakota padded alongside them, tail swishing, as they ambled through the quiet corridors. A few Biltmore residents nodded hello in passing, but for the most part, people minded their own business. Still busy with rebuilding and fixing the damage from the raid. Some residents still cast uncertain looks at Jay, though she tried to ignore it. Ellie noticed each sidelong glance but kept her focus on Jay’s well-being.
Ellie walked a few feet ahead now, hands shoved in her jacket pockets, glancing over her shoulder every thirty seconds with a look that said I’m tolerating this, but barely.
Once they reached the basement’s arched entry, Jay gestured grandly to the wide flight of stone steps. “After you, my fearless explorer.”
Ellie snorted and rolled her eyes. “You’re ridiculous,” she said, but she did lead the way down. The air grew colder as they descended, the faint smell of stored produce lingering in the hall. Crates of potatoes, apples, onions and squash lined one wall, a testament to Biltmore’s agricultural success.
They passed can storerooms and grain pantries, Jay explaining in hushed tones how her grandparents once converted these old wine cellars into makeshift storage for the community. Dakota sniffed at every corner, as though searching for hidden treats. Their footsteps echoing softly against the cool stone floors. The dim lanterns flickered as they passed the carefully stocked supplies tucked into shelves and crates.
Then Jay moved to a side corridor, half-hidden behind a stack of barrels. “This way,” she said. Ellie, curiosity piqued followed.
Ellie glanced around, confused. “Okay… not that I don’t love a romantic stroll through the.. um… cellar, but where the hell are we going?”
Jay smirked but didn’t answer. Instead, she stopped in front of an old wooden door, thick dust coating the handle.
Ellie raised a brow. “Is this where you kill me?”
Jay snorted, rolling her eyes. “Would’ve done that a long time ago if I was gonna.” Jay, placing a gentle hand at the small of Ellie’s back whenever she paused. Ellie pretended to huff at the protective gesture, but she never actually brushed Jay off.
Ellie smirked. “Fair.”
Sure enough, the corridor ended at a set of dusty double doors. Ellie shouldered one open with a mild grunt. The stale air inside smelled like old varnish and grease. Flicking on the flashlight she’d carried, Ellie’s eyes widened. She stepped in, revealing the room that stretched long and narrow, two old bowling lanes running from one end to the other. The lanes were polished, remarkably intact despite the dust covering everything. At the far end, a row of wooden pins still stood upright, frozen in place like they’d been waiting decades for someone to knock them down.
“It’s a bowling alley,” Ellie let out an exhale from her nose, shining the light around the length of the place. “No fucking way.”
Jay grinned. “Told you this place had history.”
Ellie stepped forward, running her hand along the smooth surface of the ball rack. “The Vanderbilts actually bowled?”
Jay grinned, leaning against the doorframe. “Vanderbilts loved their indoor entertainment,” she said. “As far as I know, it’s all manual since it was from when they built this place, but it’s a pretty awesome relic, right?”
Ellie let out a low sigh, pacing down one of the lanes, her flashlight revealing the scuffed wood. “This is weird,” she murmured. “I never thought I’d see a bowling alley in this place's basement.”
Jay shrugged. “Rich people had to kill time somehow.”
Ellie huffed a laugh, shaking her head. “You’re telling me that in a house full of priceless art and gold chandeliers, they were down here just… knocking over pins?”
Jay smirked, grabbing a ball from one of the racks along the wall. It was heavy, old, covered in dust, but still had some shine beneath the grime.
She rolled it lightly to Ellie. “Guess we better honor their legacy.”
Ellie barely had time to move out of the way before it hit her ankle, stumbling back a step. “Shit. You could’ve warned me.”
Jay chuckled, grabbing another ball. “Where’s the fun in that?”
Ellie picked up the ball in her hands, eyes still gleaming as she took it all in. “You ever actually do this before?”
Jay shrugged. “Once. A long time ago. I was shit at it.”
Ellie smirked, lining up at the start of the lane. “Bet I can beat you.”
Jay arched a brow. “Oh, we’re making it a competition now?”
Ellie grinned. “Unless you’re scared.”
Jay snorted. “Ellie, you just learned this existed five minutes ago.”
Ellie squared her stance. “Yeah, and I’m about to make history.”
Jay shook her head, stepping back to watch. Ellie rolled the ball down the lane with way too much force. It thumped hard against the wood, veered immediately to the left, and crashed into the gutter without touching a single pin. Ellie just stared. While Jay burst out laughing.
Ellie turned, pointing at her. “That was a warm-up.”
Jay was still laughing, grabbing her own ball with a wince. “Right. Let me show you how it’s done.”
She lined up her shot, took a breath, and rolled the ball down the lane with absolute focus. The ball made it halfway down before it also swerved straight into the gutter. Silence.
Ellie’s smirk returned. “Ohhh, so we both suck at this.”
Jay sighed dramatically, shaking her head. “I don’t think the Vanderbilts would be proud.”
Ellie grinned, nudging Jay’s arm. “Well, good thing they’re dead.”
Jay laughed, grabbing another ball. “Alright, best of three?”
Ellie cracked her knuckles. “You’re on.”
After way too many failed attempts at bowling and a lot of shit-talking, Jay led Ellie further down the winding corridors of the basement, through a section of the estate that most people didn’t bother exploring. Jay laughed, the sound echoing in the dim space. “Wait until you see the next stop.” She offered a sly wink.
Dakota scrambled behind them as they left the bowling alley, climbing a short flight of stairs. Eventually, they arrived at a large set of swinging doors, windows smeared with dust. Ellie pushed through into a cavernous room, to a room with a giant empty pool sunk into the floor; the indoor pool stretched before them, long and deep. Its white-tiled walls were perfectly intact despite the decades of abandonment. The place was eerily beautiful, its empty depth creating a sense of stillness, like a memory frozen in time.
Ellie stepped inside, her voice automatically lowering as her shoes echoed softly against the tile. She whistled, stepping closer to the edge. “This is huge… it’s all dry now?”
Jay nodded. “Been empty since long before the outbreak, I think. Something about maintenance issues Jeff told me. But the acoustics in here are wild.”
“Right? The acoustics in here are insane.” Ellie tilted her head, testing it. A grin spread across her lips. “Hello?”
Her voice bounced back at them, soft but clear, the echo stretching just long enough to feel otherworldly.
Ellie’s eyes widened. “Okay, that’s pretty cool.”
Jay chuckled, placing a careful foot on the pool steps. She winced slightly, her side still tender. At once, Ellie shot forward, an arm around Jay’s waist. “Hey, easy,” she murmured, concern lacing her tone.
Jay’s lips curled into a grateful smile. “Thanks,” she whispered. “But I can handle it, promise.”
Ellie shook her head. “Yea, sure you can.” Still, she didn’t let go until Jay was steady at the bottom beside her. Dakota padded around, sniffing the tile.
They spent a few more minutes examining the tile patterns, testing the echo with quiet laughs or whispered words. Then, letting the newly discovered spaces linger in their minds, they headed out once again.
Exploring the mansion’s hidden treasures, Ellie felt her tension unwind, bit by bit. Jay consistently found excuses to slip her hand into Ellie’s, or plant quick kisses when they walked, little reminders of her love and being alive. Even the occasional reminder of Jay’s injury didn’t mar the warmth of the moment.
Eventually, they emerged back into a well-lit corridor, Dakota trotting ahead. “How about we check the next hallway?” Ellie suggested the spark in her eyes that Jay had missed so much beginning to return.
Jay gave her a playful nudge. “Lead on,” she said, grin tugging at her lips. “This is your adventure. I’m just the commentary track.”
Ellie chuckled softly. “Alright then,” she said. Jay’s gentle gestures of affection serving as a welcome balm to Ellie’s lingering fears.
Ellie led Jay next through another set of dimly lit hallways in the lower level of the estate, the stone walls cool and damp. The deeper they went, the more Ellie felt it, the weight of history pressing in, the eerie stillness of a place long forgotten.
Ellie narrowed her eyes, her shoes scuffing against the stone floor. “Alright, crazy, where the hell are we now?”
Jay shot her a grin, the flashlight in her hand casting flickering shadows along the narrow corridor. “Do you trust me?”
Ellie snorted. “Not when you ask me that.”
Jay laughed but kept moving. “Just wait. You’re gonna love this.”
Ellie huffed but followed her now deeper into the passageway. The further they went, the older it felt; the walls were rougher, the ceiling lower, the air thicker with dust and age. This wasn’t part of the tourist sections of Biltmore. This was something else.
They finally reached a heavy iron door, rusted with time and locked with a thick chain. It looked like it hadn’t been opened in decades.
Ellie frowned. “Okay… creepy locked door in a hidden hallway. Yeah, this totally isn’t a horror movie.”
Jay smirked, setting her flashlight on a nearby ledge. “Relax. This tunnel leads to the winery storage in Deer Park. Back when this place was up and running, they used it to transport wine barrels underground instead of hauling them through the estate.”
Ellie’s brow lifted. “A secret tunnel full of booze? And you’re only showing me this now?”
Jay chuckled. “Well, unless you feel like busting through a rusted-out iron door, we’re not getting in.”
Ellie stepped closer, trailing her fingers along the chains. “No one ever tried to open it?”
Jay shook her head. “Not that I know of. My grandpa used to tell me about it, but I don’t think anyone’s actually been down there since before the outbreak. The way he told it, once Biltmore shut down as a tourist attraction, they stopped using it, and eventually, it just got sealed off.”
Ellie tilted her head. “Sealed off… or locked for a reason?”
Jay arched her brow. “What, you think there’s some ancient wine mutated infected down there?”
Ellie smirked. “I’m just saying, secret tunnels? Locked doors? Creepy as hell. Might be something dangerous down there.”
Jay huffed a laugh, leaning against the wall, Dakota sitting next to her. “Yeah, I’m sure it’s just haunted by drunk old rich people.”
Ellie grinned but gave the chains one last rattle, the sound clanking through the tunnel. After there was almost the echo of a moan in the stillness of that tunnel. “Still. Would be cool to see what’s in there.”
Jay shrugged. “Maybe one day. If we ever get bored enough to break in.”
Ellie shot her a mischievous look. “Don’t tempt me.”
Jay smirked. “Oh, I fully expect you to try at some point.”
Ellie let out a small chuckle before stepping back, looking around the tunnel again. “Y’know, I gotta give it to you, Jay. You keep showing me shit that makes this place feel like something out of a damn storybook.”
Jay’s smile softened. “It kind of is.”
Ellie exhaled, looking back at the locked door, the past hidden just behind it.
Jay and Ellie continue their exploration of Biltmore. As they step into a hallway, they notice a concealed door, sparking intrigue and eager anticipation of what's to come.
The late afternoon light slanted through the high windows, golden rays illuminating dust motes as Ellie and Jay strolled through another corridor of the mansion. Their impromptu tour had led them from hidden cellars and decrepit pool rooms to narrower passageways filled with antique curios. Dakota padded along, occasionally pausing to sniff a crack in the walls or investigate a cobwebbed corner.
Jay's steps were becoming slower than earlier, a faint wince marring her features now and then, but she kept a determined pace. Ellie walked beside her, casting glances of concern whenever Jay's expression tightened. Still, she didn't push the matter; Jay wanted to reclaim a piece of her life, and Ellie was learning to respect her pace.
Ellie then took the first few turns aimlessly, her shoes scuffing against the polished floors as she glanced around at the old paintings, the high-arched ceilings, the eerie way light filtered through the glass windows along the hallways.
She suddenly stopped, her head tilting. “What’s that?”
Jay peeked past her and smirked. “That would be the old trophy room.”
Ellie shot her a look. “Trophy room?”
Jay nodded watching Dakota go up to Ellie waiting for her to open the door. “Yeah apparently. Back in the day, rich assholes loved killing things and stuffing them for decoration. That’s what grandpa told me anyway.”
Ellie pushed open the door, stepping inside, and immediately wrinkled her nose. “Jesus Christ.”
The room was lined with taxidermy animals; deer, a bear, some weird-ass birds. One particular elk stared down at them from the wall, its glassy eyes too intense.
Ellie pointed at it. “That one looks like it knows all my sins.”
Jay laughed. “Yeah, it’s creepy as hell. Wanna keep moving?”
Ellie nodded way too fast. “Yup.”
They kept going then paused at a cluster of doors that looked more ornate than the others. The wood was carved in swirling designs, and the brass doorknobs, though tarnished, still hinted at the wealth Biltmore once housed. Ellie cocked her head, curiosity sparked.
“These look fancy,” she murmured, reaching for a doorknob. “Some private rooms?”
Jay shrugged, leaning against the wall, arms folded. “Could be. My grandpa once mentioned some part of the house we barely used. Might’ve belonged to guests at one point, or a caretaker’s suite… not sure.”
Dakota let out a small bark as if encouraging Ellie to go in. Ellie twisted the knob. It gave easily, hinges groaning as she pushed the door open. Inside was a small sitting room furnished with draped furniture; chairs and a loveseat hiding beneath dusty sheets. She stepped in, footsteps muffled on an aging rug.
Jay followed, wiping her hand along a side table, leaving a clean streak in the thick layer of dust. “No one’s been in here for ages,” she observed. “Might as well see what’s behind door number two.” She gestured to an inner door leading further in.
Ellie grinned, carefully setting aside a dusty sheet from a nearby chair. Then she turned the next doorknob. The door creaked open, revealing a room that was massive, stretching beneath the old wooden beams with furniture covered in sheets, ornate rugs, and portraits of people long gone leaning against the walls. It smelled like aged wood and something faintly floral, like the ghost of perfume that hadn’t been worn in decades.
“Holy shit,” Ellie muttered, running a hand over the nearest covered chair before pulling the sheet off in one fluid motion. A beautifully carved wooden armchair sat beneath it, its cushions only slightly worn. “This place is a damn time capsule.” Ellie breathed. She ran her flashlight over the bed, the walls, an ornate vanity. “This place looks like someone just… walked out one day and never came back.”
Jay lingered taking in the scene with a distant sadness. “That’s basically what happened, Grandpa said,” she said quietly. “So many rooms ended up abandoned when the outbreak hit. Biltmore’s big, bigger than our community can fully use. But I figured…” She trailed off, watching Ellie’s expression shift as she took everything in.
Ellie turned to her, head tilting slightly. “You figured what?”
Jay shrugged, trying to sound casual. “I figured we could go through some of this. See if there’s anything we wanna add to our room.”
Ellie blinked. “Wait… you want us to redecorate?”
Jay smirked. “Why not? We live here, Ellie. Might as well make it feel like it.” She stepped closer, nudging Ellie’s side with her elbow. “C’mon. Let’s just look around. Humor me.”
Ellie sighed, but there was a small smile tugging at the corner of her lips. “Fine.”
Jay grinned and pulled a sheet off a massive wooden trunk, coughing as dust billowed into the air.
Ellie smirked. “You’re so smooth.”
Jay shot her a look before kneeling down to open the trunk. Inside were folded quilts, old tapestries, and a stack of framed photographs. Jay picked up one, staring at the black-and-white image of a family standing on the front lawn of the estate, dressed in clothes that looked way too fancy for everyday life.
Ellie peered over her shoulder. “Man… rich people were so weird.”
Jay snorted. “Yea, they sure were.” She headed for the wardrobe, an ornate piece with carved wooden panels. Slowly, she opened it. Inside hung a few moth-eaten gowns, delicate lace collars frayed with age. Jay brushed the fabric, then glanced back at Ellie. “These must be, like, two hundred years old.”
Ellie nodded, stepping beside Jay, gingerly lifting a sleeve.
“Probably. Part of the house’s old costume or clothing collection. My grandpa mentioned there were rooms they just never bothered to clear out.”
Dakota nudged Ellie’s calf, tail wagging gently. Ellie scratched behind his ears, then turned to Jay with a smirk. “So, do we just spend the rest of the day playing dress-up?”
Jay laughed softly, wincing at the tug in her side. “Don’t tempt me. I’d love to see you in that suit. But I might not have the stamina to get into a ball gown.”
Ellie’s playful grin softened into concern. “You good?” she asked in a quieter tone, eyes flickering to Jay’s bandaged torso under her coat.
Jay exhaled, giving Ellie’s hand a reassuring squeeze. “I’m okay. Hurts, but I’m better than being stuck in bed.”
Ellie nodded, letting a beat of silence pass. Then her expression brightened with an idea. “I wonder if there’s anything else behind that vanity.”
She headed over to the large piece of furniture, Jay following at a measured pace. As they peeked behind it, they found a narrow door partially hidden by the corner. Ellie’s eyes lit up. “Ooh, secret door.”
Jay raised a brow. “Classic Biltmore,” she said, rolling her eyes affectionately. “We going in?”
Ellie shot her a wry grin. “Well, let’s see if it’s locked.” She gave the knob a tentative twist, and it swung open with a dusty creak. A narrow passage lay beyond, steps descending into the dark. Dakota’s ears perked at the stale air drifting upward.
“Another basement?” Ellie joked, shining her flashlight down. “Or maybe another wine cellar?”
Jay shrugged, a hint of that old adventurous spark in her eyes. “Only one way to find out. But let’s not go far, my side’s starting to remind me it’s not up for climbing a thousand stairs.”
Ellie snickered. “Noted.” She started down a couple of steps, Jay right behind her, one hand lightly on Ellie’s shoulder for balance. Dakota followed, sniffing every inch of the narrow walls.
After a few steps, the air grew stale, and Ellie decided that was enough exploring for one day. They backed out, closing the door gently behind them. “We can come back with better lights, and when you’re feeling better.” she said, stifling a cough at the dust swirling in the air.
Jay smiled. “This feels like the first breath I’ve taken since I got shot.”
Ellie glanced over. “You sure you’re not pushing it?”
“Maybe a little. But this… this was worth it.”
Ellie’s expression eased, the tension in her shoulders finally dropping a notch. “Alright. I admit it, this was kind of fun.”
Jay looked at her, eyes warm. “Told you.”
Ellie shook her head with a reluctant smile. “You’re gonna crash hard tonight.”
Jay’s grin turned sly. “Good. I’ll make sure to do it dramatically.”
Ellie rolled her eyes. “If you faint, I fucking swear—”
Jay hooked her arm through Ellie’s and rested her head on her shoulder for a moment. “No fainting,” she murmured. “But thanks for indulging me. I needed this.”
Ellie pressed a soft kiss to Jay’s temple, ignoring the faint blush that rose at the intimate gesture. “Anything to keep you from going stir-crazy and annoying me,” she teased, her voice a tender undercurrent. “Now, how about we head back before you can’t make it back?”
Jay’s chuckle was low, a grateful smile ghosting her lips. “Lead the way,” she murmured, content to lean on Ellie a bit. “I’ll let you drag me home this time.”
Ellie didn’t reply. Just looked at her for a long moment, then said, quietly, “Don’t scare me like that and get shot again.”
Jay’s smile faded into something softer. “I’ll try.”
They made their way back, slipping into the hallway from the dusty suite, hearts lighter for a small adventure shared. And despite the looming threats beyond the mansion walls, for these moments, Biltmore felt almost magical, a cavern of forgotten wonders and secret paths, a place where they could carve out bits of wonder amidst the darkness.
Chapter 28: Grandpa’s Guitar
Summary:
Thank you for reading! Please note, I am continually improving! I update frequently and am always open to kind, constructive criticism. I appreciate you for giving this story a read!
Chapter Text
Dusk settled gently over the mansion, the last streaks of pink and orange fading from the sky. In the old Edith Vanderbilt suite that Jay and Ellie called home. Ellie sat cross-legged on the edge of the bed, idly picking at the frayed quilt. Across the room, Jay rummaged through the large closet and several antique trunks, her bandaged side still sore, but her restless energy refusing to let her settle.
Dakota snoozed in a patch of lantern light, occasionally lifting his head to keep an eye on Jay. Ellie leaned back on her palms, watching Jay’s methodical work. She’d pull out an item, examine it for a moment, then place it in a neat stack or set it aside. Mementos of a life long gone.
“You sure you don’t want to lie down?” Ellie asked for what felt like the tenth time. Her tone was more exasperation than genuine scolding, though she couldn’t hide her worry; she could tell Jay was hurting.
Jay shook her head, shooting Ellie a half-smile. “I’m okay,” she insisted, voice holding a note of quiet stubbornness and pain. “Besides, I’ve never really taken the time to see what’s in this trunk. Feels like if I don’t do it now, I never will.”
Ellie arched an eyebrow but didn’t press the issue. She fiddled with the loose edge of the quilt again, a pensive expression on her face. The soft clink of metal buckles and the rustle of old cloth filled the room as Jay gently lifted the lid of the bottom of the trunk. Dust puffed into the air, caught by the lantern’s golden glow.
Jay carefully shuffled through documents, faded photographs, and clothing from a bygone era. A small smile touched her lips when she unearthed one of her grandfather’s old hats, the brim stiff with age. But then her hand slipped along the trunk’s side, and her fingers closed around a worn leather handle.
“I think there’s something else here,” Jay murmured. With a light tug, she pulled free a guitar case, scuffed edges peeling, and a faded ‘Keep Asheville Weird’ sticker on it, but still intact. “Oh. My grandfather’s old guitar,” she murmured more to herself. “God, I forgot he even kept it in here.”
Ellie’s posture straightened, her gaze locking onto the battered case. “Whoa,” she breathed, sliding off the bed and padding over to Jay. “Your grandfather played guitar?”
Jay nodded, carefully wiping a layer of dust from the top of the case. “Yeah. Well, sort of… always messing around with chords. Played with Mike Cowan when he played his banjo.” She set it down gently, almost reverently, and flipped the latch. The lid gave a creak, revealing a well-worn acoustic guitar nestled in faded red velvet.
Ellie’s eyes widened. Memories flickered; of an old guitar Joel had given her that she once cherished, chords she used to strum, before Santa Barbara and everything that followed. A dull ache settled in her chest as she traced a finger along the guitar’s neck, noticing the orientation.
“Wait a second,” she whispered, realization dawning. “The strings are reversed. Was he left-handed?”
Jay’s lips curved into a small, fond smile. “Yeah. Grandpa was left-handed, so he reversed everything. He always said he was too stubborn to learn the right way. Said ‘you either play the hand you're dealt or learn to flip the whole damn deck.’”
There was a long pause. Jay glanced at Ellie, sensing the shift in the room. “What?” she asked gently.
Ellie let out a soft laugh, but it was tinged with a sad note. “I used to play. But… you know.” She held up her left hand. Showing the scar where her ring and pinky fingers used to be, gone since Santa Barbara. A permanent absence. “I tried once or twice since then. Couldn’t quite manage it the usual way.”
“Wait, what? You know how to play?” Jay paused what she was doing and gave Ellie her full attention. “And you never told me?”
“Yea well, I can’t anymore so it doesn't fucking matter.”
Jay looked down at the guitar again. Turned it in her lap. “Well,” she said softly, “this one’s backwards. Just like you’d need it. Maybe you could switch things up. Re-learn to fret with your right hand… strum with your left. I mean, if you want to. No pressure.”
Ellie blinked, caught off guard.
Jay smiled a little. “Maybe it’s a sign. Or just dumb luck. Either way, it’s here. If you ever wanna try.”
Ellie opened her mouth to deflect, to say ‘nah, I’m good,’ but Jay held up a hand.
“Again, no pressure, hun,” she said gently. “Really. We can hang it on the wall if you want. Or tuck it away again. Just… thought I’d offer.”
Ellie swallowed, a swirl of longing and fear clenching her stomach. She remembered when she tried to pick up a guitar after losing her fingers, how the chords sounded off. How the frustration nearly broke her. But the thought of playing again, somehow, differently, lit a tiny spark of hope.
“You think so?” she asked, voice tremulous. She lifted the guitar from Jay’s lap, feeling the weight of it. It looked older than hers had been, but well-loved. And it smelled faintly of polished wood and dust.
Jay nodded, offering Ellie an encouraging smile. “Grandpa would want someone to play it. Maybe it’s not exactly the same, but… You could give it a shot.”
Ellie let out a shaky breath. She turned the guitar, running her fingers across the strings, timidly plucking a note. It buzzed, a bit out of tune, but the sound resonated softly in the suite’s hush. “I… might try,” she said, a fleeting smile pulling at her lips. “Wouldn’t sound good, though.”
Jay’s eyes gleamed. “I’ll help if you need someone to pester you about practicing,” she teased lightly, though her voice held a rare sincerity. “But if it’s too painful, we don’t have to keep it around. I understand, babe…”
Ellie shook her head, setting the guitar back in its case for the moment. “No. I… I want to try,” she insisted, brushing a lock of her auburn hair behind her ear. Then her gaze wandered to Jay’s side, mindful of the bandages. “But only once you’re fully rested, deal? Seriously, you are overdoing it.”
Jay chuckled softly, wincing at the pull on her side. “Fine, boss,” she joked, gently closing the guitar case. She let out a small, contented sigh. “Thanks for not pushing me too hard to go to bed,” she added, eyes lowered. “I just… needed to be out of bed today.”
Ellie nodded, setting a gentle hand on Jay’s arm. “I get it,” she said. “But… maybe let’s call it a day for real? We can climb into bed, Dakota’s already stolen your spot, I think.”
A faint, genuine smile touched Jay’s lips. “Deal.”
Ellie’s heart felt unexpectedly warm. She lifted the guitar case, handling it like something precious. “Now get in bed,” she murmured, and together they turned off the lamp, letting the suite fall into a calm darkness.
Night had settled in comfortably, the lamplight dimmed to a soft glow. Ellie lay behind Jay on their shared bed, one arm draped lightly over Jay’s waist. Dakota curled at the foot of the bed, already half-asleep. Everything felt calm, aside from the faint throb in Jay’s wound and the ever-present tension haunting Ellie’s thoughts.
Jay shifted slightly, exhaling a quiet sigh. She carefully took Ellie’s left hand in hers, the one missing its ring and pinky fingers, and traced her thumb over the scarred stumps. She’d never asked, always given Ellie her space, but the question lingered now. As she rubbed with gentle care, she could feel Ellie stiffen, a ripple of old pain crossing Ellie’s face.
“It’s okay,” Jay whispered, voice low in the hush of the night. “You can tell me, or not. No pressure.”
For a moment, Ellie just breathed, her heart pounding with a swirl of memories. She closed her eyes, leaning her forehead against Jay’s shoulder blade. I do want to tell you, she realized, feeling Jay’s warm body pressed to hers.
Taking a shaky breath, Ellie spoke, her words muffled against Jay’s shoulder. “It happened… in Santa Barbara.” She paused, throat tightening, unsure where to begin. “I—I went after someone. A woman. We had a… complicated history. I was obsessed with revenge. It took me across the country, cost me everything, and in the end… I lost my fingers in a fight with her.”
Jay’s hand stilled in its gentle caress. She swallowed, tension radiating from her body. “You were alone?” she asked softly.
Ellie inhaled, tears pricking the corners of her eyes. “Mostly. I’d… I’d walked away from everyone else. Dina, JJ, Jackson, that life. All for revenge, I thought I needed. And by the time it all ended, I had these two fingers gone.” She gave a soft, bitter laugh. “I couldn’t even play guitar the same… Joel’s songs, they… they felt unreachable.”
A heavy silence stretched between them, broken only by the soft rustle of sheets and Dakota’s slow breathing. Ellie felt Jay’s grip tighten around her hand, warmth anchoring her in the present.
“You left your life behind for it?” Jay asked, voice full of gentle sadness. “That must’ve hurt more than losing your fingers.”
Ellie nodded against Jay’s shoulder blade, blinking rapidly to hold off tears. “It did,” she murmured. “But I… I thought I needed justice for Joel. In the end, I realized revenge just took everything from me. I went back to the farm, and Dina and JJ were gone. Everything fell apart. I just left… just kept walking… then… I think it was three months later you found me.”
Jay turned carefully, rolling onto her back so she could see Ellie’s face. The movement cost her a wince from her side, but she didn’t complain. She reached up, brushing Ellie’s cheek with her free hand. “I’m so sorry,” she whispered, eyes wet with empathy. “No wonder you never want to talk about any of it.”
Ellie blinked, a tear slipping free. “I—I’ve told you bits of it before, but never the whole story.” She sniffed, a tiny tremor in her voice. “That final fight… I… I lost a lot more than my fingers that night. I lost who I thought I was.”
Jay leaned up, pressing a soft kiss to Ellie’s forehead. “You’re still you,” she whispered, voice trembling with compassion. “Different, maybe, but I didn’t know you before. And this Ellie is still the woman I love. Still strong, still here with me and Dakota.”
The words soothed something raw inside Ellie. She let her forehead rest against Jay’s, tears finally slipping free, relief and sorrow mingling. “Thank you,” she breathed. “For listening. For being here.”
Jay’s fingers laced with Ellie’s once more, carefully skimming the missing digits. “I wish I could make it so it never happened, El,” she said, tears shining in her own eyes. “But I can… do everything I can to help you heal. If you want to re-learn guitar, or anything, I’m with you.”
Ellie gave a fragile smile, pressing her lips to Jay’s. “Thanks,” she whispered, a heaviness lifting from her shoulders. “I guess… I just needed you to know.”
Jay’s arm curled around Ellie’s waist, pulling her close. The night wrapped them in a gentle hush, a balm for old wounds. And in that intimate darkness, Jay’s warmth against her, Dakota’s soft breathing at their feet, Ellie found a small piece of solace. She’d carried the story of her missing fingers like a burden for so long, but now, sharing it with Jay felt like a step toward truly letting go.
*********************************
Early morning light filtered through the high windows of the old bedroom, painting the dusty beams in a gentle gold. Ellie stood near the small dresser, tugging on a dark green sweatshirt. Her hair was damp from the quick sink-wash she’d taken earlier, and she ran her fingers through it absently. Her utility knife sat next to her belt, already sharpened. She moved with unconscious ease, precise, practiced. Jay sat on the bed, propped up by pillows, Dakota was curled at her side like a stubborn guardian. One arm rested across his back. Despite the chill in the air, the atmosphere felt strangely warm, an unspoken peace settling over them in the quiet hush.
Ellie looked over as she spoke through a yawn. “Rotation starts in like thirty, so I’m gonna grab breakfast and—what?”
Jay was watching her. Not just glancing. Watching. Eyes thoughtful, fond. Not in a teasing way this time, either. Something more tender behind it.
“You know,” Jay said softly, eyes traveling over Ellie, “you look… better these days.”
Ellie paused mid-motion, eyebrows arched in mild surprise. “Better?” she repeated, shooting Jay a quizzical look. “What, like less beat up?”
Jay’s lips curved into a small, lopsided smile. “I mean, you’re sleeping more. Eating decently. Not staring at the ceiling half the night or skipping meals. You just seem… healthier.”
A faint blush crept up Ellie’s neck. She glanced away, shrugging like it was no big deal. “Yeah, well,” she said, fiddling with the frayed hem of her sweatshirt, “I guess I realized starving and not sleeping wasn’t helping anybody.”
Dakota let out a lazy huff, rolling onto his side next to Jay. She gave the dog a fond look, then her eyes returned her gaze to Ellie. “It’s more than that, though. You’re, I dunno… calmer. Like you’re not carrying the whole world on your shoulders.”
Ellie tugged one sock up, scuffing the wooden floor with her boot. She didn’t respond right away. She stared at her reflection. She didn’t feel all that different. But Jay wasn’t the type to say things she didn’t mean. “Not carrying the whole world,” she mumbled, a hint of sarcasm mixing with sincerity, “but still dealing with a chunk of it.”
Jay shifted a little, propping herself up more, careful not to tug at her stitches. “I’m glad,” she said, voice laden with genuine warmth. “I know it isn’t easy, after… everything. But seeing you like this makes me happy.”
Ellie looked at her then, really looked. Jay in the morning light, brown hair a little messy, freckles dusted across her nose, Dakota’s head in her lap. The way she spoke, not with pity, but quiet truth. Love, unforced.
Ellie walked over and sat on the edge of the bed. She leaned down, pressing her lips to Jay’s. She then swallowed, shifting her weight. “Yeah, well,” she said, lips quirking in a half-smile, “don’t get sappy on me. I can still be an asshole if you push my buttons.”
A teasing glint lit Jay’s eyes. “I’m counting on it,” she quipped. Then her expression softened, gentle lines crinkling at the corners of her eyes. “Just… wanted to say thanks for sticking around. And I’m glad you’re taking care of yourself.”
Ellie shoved her hands in her sweatshirt pockets, a faint flush coloring her cheeks again. She huffed a small laugh, refusing to meet Jay’s gaze for a beat before giving in. “Yeah, yeah,” she murmured, but the gratitude in her voice was unmistakable. “Not like you’re getting rid of me anytime soon.”
Jay smiled, fingers grazing Ellie’s wrist one more time in a tender gesture. Dakota thumped his tail on the floor. Ellie might not be all the way healed, but she was on her way, and for once, she let herself be proud of the progress she’d made.
Chapter 29: Ups and Downs
Summary:
In the wake of the devastating Wraith raid, the Biltmore council convenes to assess the community’s fragile state and prepare for future attacks. With fourteen dead, defenses compromised, and their key trading partner Richmond in ruin, the council faces grim realities.
Thank you for reading! Please note, I am continually improving! I update frequently and am always open to kind, constructive criticism. I appreciate you for giving this story a read!
Chapter Text
The council hall inside the estate’s western wing had once been a sunroom. Now, it served as the community’s meeting chamber, long arched windows on both sides, lined with thick curtains for blackout use if needed, and a large oval table hand-built from salvaged oak. The air inside carried the faint scent of wax, ink, and aged wood. A few hanging lanterns flickered dimly even during daylight hours, habit, or precaution. The center of the table was cluttered with maps, notes, and a few mugs of half-finished herbal tea. Tension in the air felt nearly palpable as people filed in, taking seats or hovering around the edges.
Ellie followed Jay inside, Dakota at their heels, feeling everyone’s eyes flick their way. Jay offered a polite nod to the council members: Diana, Helena, Mike, and three others: an older woman named Harriet, a young man named Lucio, and a middle-aged mechanic called Felicity. Jeff stood at the head of the table, arms folded, his expression grim but resolute.
“Thank you for coming,” Jeff began, motioning for Jay and Ellie to grab chairs near one corner. “I know our nerves are shot after the raid last week, but we need to plan how to handle the threat going forward.”
Jay sat near the end of the table beside Ellie, her back mostly straight despite the healing ache on her side. She didn’t want to look weak. Dakota sat quietly at her feet, alert, his head resting between his paws, but his eyes constantly scanning the room. Ellie was tense beside her, arms crossed and boot tapping in an irregular rhythm. She didn’t like meetings. Too many people talking, not enough doing. Because things were shifting. And no one could afford to ignore it anymore. But she was here because Jeff had asked her to be.
The council members quieted. Jeff stood at the head of the table, a worn leather map of the region spread out before him, pins and notes stabbed through it like an autopsy in progress. He looked tired, more gray in his beard than there had been even a month ago, but steady. The kind of quiet leadership that came from years of surviving without losing his soul.
“We all know why we’re here,” Jeff began, voice low and calm but carrying easily through the room. “Two weeks ago, the Wraiths hit us. Hard. We lost fourteen people. Eight wounded. South wall damaged. Most of our outer watch stations compromised. If not for fast response, and some damn bravery, this would be a very different conversation.”
Jay felt Ellie’s gaze flick to her, then away again.
Jeff placed his palms flat on the table, exhaling. “But we can’t pretend they won’t try again. We can’t lock the community down indefinitely, though… the tension’s too high, and folks need some semblance of normalcy.”
Murmurs of agreement rippled through the group. Helena leaned forward. “Morale’s already low,” she said softly. “We’ve had fights break out, blame thrown around. Another lockdown would only fan the flames.”
Mike Cowan nodded grimly. “And half our farmland sits outside the gates. If we shut ourselves in, we lose half our crops and livestock, or at least can’t tend them properly.”
Ellie exchanged a glance with Jay, remembering the cold stares and whispered doubts. Jay kept her gaze on the table, shoulders tense.
“We need to maintain standard patrols,” Harriet chimed in, her voice shaking with lingering fear, “but maybe beef up the perimeter. Tripwires, alarms. Something to give us warning if they come back in force.”
Felicity cleared her throat. “I can rig some additional defenses; spike strips, maybe, or basic electric fences in some spots. But that’ll need supplies.”
“That leads us to the next point,” Jeff continued, pointing at a section of the map. “We confirmed yesterday: Richmond’s not able to continue trade. Their eastern wall was breached. Half their leadership dead. They’re on emergency lockdown until they can regroup, if they even can. They’re barely surviving after the raiders hit them. That cuts off thirty percent of our regular food and medical supply intake.”
A murmur of unease rippled through the council. Jay’s fingers flexed in her lap. Ellie’s jaw twitched.
Jeff held up a hand again, inhaling and letting it out slowly. “That means we need more supply runs ourselves. Ammunition, medical supplies, spare parts… we’re basically on our own now.”
“I’m not panicking. I don’t want anyone to panic. But we have to talk reality. The Wraiths are organized. Strategic. They weren’t raiding blind. They’re trying to soften up communities before moving in. Richmond was first. We were second. We won. But that won’t be the end of it.”
A quiet hush fell across the table. Jay and Ellie both felt the weight of that realization: no more easy plane deliveries or bartered goods. Biltmore would have to fend for itself.
“And the plane?” Mark, who was fresh off patrol, dirt still on his boots and a smear of ash on his cheek asked quietly, glancing at Jeff. “Without the trade route, do we even have the fuel to keep it running?”
Jeff grimaced. “We still have some stockpiled, but it won’t last forever. We’ll ration it for emergencies.” His gaze shifted to Jay and Ellie. “Any thoughts from you two? You’ve been in the thick of it.”
Jay straightened, ignoring the slight tug in her side. She cleared her throat. “We can’t hole up and wait,” she agreed, voice subdued but steady. “We should keep normal routines, keep the settlement functioning. But we also need to be ready… more watch rotations, maybe do a sweep of the surrounding woods for raider camps. And… we have to show people we won’t fold just because she’s out there.”
She didn’t say ‘my mother,’ but everyone knew what she meant. A brief wave of sympathy and discomfort flicked across some faces.
Ellie, quiet until now, let out a breath. “I can help with supply runs,” she offered, chin lifting. “I’m decent at scavenging and scouting. If we’re short on ammo or meds, I’ll find them. Maybe we can form smaller teams, more frequent trips, harder to spot, less risk of a big confrontation.”
Heads around the table nodded in agreement, a small spark of hope in the tension. Harriet spoke up softly, “We’ll need to coordinate those trips carefully… avoid routes the raiders might watch. We can set up rotating schedules.”
Jeff tapped his knuckles on the table, eyes scanning the gathered faces. “All right,” he said, voice firm. “We’ll go with that: improved perimeter defenses, keep daily life normal but alert, and we start planning more frequent scavenging runs to secure ammo, meds, and any building materials.” He looked at Jay and Ellie. “If you two can scout some possible locations for supply runs, that’d be helpful. Mark, Sadie, assist them.”
Sadie leaned forward. “You think they’ll really hit us again?”
Jeff nodded grimly. “Yes. Maybe not tomorrow. Maybe not next week. But they’re not done. And I need this council and team leads ready to act like that’s a certainty.”
A general rumble of assent passed through the room. Despite the tension, a sense of purpose filled the space. Outside, the winter sun glinted off frosted windows, and Dakota gave a soft wag of his tail.
“One last thing,” Jeff said gently, gaze shifting to Jay. “If you need anything… or if the settlement gives you trouble, come to me. We stand together in this, no matter who’s leading those raiders. You’re our family sweetpea.”
Jay offered a wobbly smile, eyes a bit bright with emotion. “Thanks, Jeff,” she murmured.
With that, the meeting wound down, plans scribbled, tasks assigned, relief and apprehension tangling as the group prepared for life under a renewed threat. Ellie and Jay lingered a moment, sharing a private glance. Then they stepped out into the corridor, Dakota following closely.
***************************************
It was raining. Not the kind of storm that came screaming through the trees, but a soft, misting drizzle, the kind that made the world feel quieter. Dimmer. Like the earth had exhaled and didn’t want to breathe in again just yet.
The fire in the hearth had gone out sometime during the night, and the room was colder than usual. The soft groan of the old floorboards echoed as Ellie moved around, pulling on her navy blue hoodie over a threadbare tank top, steam rising from her tea mug in lazy spirals.
She glanced at the bed. Jay was still in it.
She hadn’t moved since Ellie had gotten up over an hour ago. Not when Dakota nosed around for breakfast, not when Ellie tried to shift gently beside her before giving up and getting dressed. She was curled on her side, her grandmother’s quilt pulled up to her shoulders, one hand tucked under her cheek. Eyes open. Staring at nothing.
Ellie set her mug down on the edge of the table and quietly padded back toward the bed. Jay didn’t blink. Didn’t move. Just kept staring out the window, even though the glass was fogged.
“Hey,” Ellie said softly, stopping beside her.
Nothing.
She wasn’t surprised. Jay had days like this. Not often. But they came, just like the rain. Slow, gray, and weighty.
Ellie didn’t speak again at first. She just sat there, one hand braced on the edge of the mattress, watching Jay’s face. Her skin looked paler than yesterday. Her lips were slightly chapped. Her eyes were dull, not like the fierce, clever fire that usually lived behind them.
Ellie exhaled. Sat down fully on the floor.
Dakota came over and laid down beside her with a soft grunt, resting his chin on Ellie’s thigh, his tail thumping slowly. Even he seemed to know what kind of morning this was.
“You want some tea?” Ellie asked eventually, her voice low.
Jay didn’t answer.
Ellie picked at the edge of a frayed thread on her sleeve. “Didn’t think so.”
She leaned back against the bedframe, legs stretched out, staring across the room now.
“I get it, y’know.”
Still silence. But Ellie kept going. Not gentle, not coddling, but real. Honest. Her way.
“You ever feel like there’s a fog in your fucking skull? Like even breathing’s too loud? You just wanna lie there and sink into the bed and hope the whole world forgets you exist?”
Jay’s eyes shifted slightly. Just barely.
“Yeah. I get that. I’ve had days where I wanted to punch a wall and curl into it at the same time.” Ellie glanced at her. “So if that’s where you’re at right now, that’s okay.”
Jay blinked. A slow, aching blink. Ellie looked down at her hands.
“You’re not broken, Jay,” she said, almost too quiet to hear. “You’re just… tired. And the world’s been heavy. Heavier than usual for you lately.”
Dakota let out a soft huff. Ellie reached down and scratched behind his ear. Her hand was shaking a little. She wasn’t good at this. She wasn’t built for this kind of softness. But she tried, for Jay.
“I’m not gonna sit here and tell you to get up or smile or ‘look on the bright side,’” Ellie muttered. “That’s bullshit. And you’d see through it anyway.”
Jay let out a quiet sound, a half breath, a half laugh, maybe. Her hand twitched under the blanket.
Ellie turned, climbing onto the bed slowly, propping herself up beside her. She didn’t touch Jay. Not yet. She just lay down facing her, a few inches apart.
“You don’t have to talk,” Ellie said. “But I’m not going anywhere.”
Jay’s lip trembled. Barely. Her eyes finally blinked like she was waking from a fog.
“I’m tired,” she whispered, her voice so small it felt like it barely survived the space between them.
“I know,” Ellie said.
“I don’t even know why. I just… everything feels so heavy.”
Ellie nodded. “Because it is heavy. You’ve been carrying it for a long time.”
Jay’s eyes welled. “I feel stupid.”
“You’re not,” Ellie said firmly. “You’re one of the strongest people I’ve ever met. And if all you can do today is breathe, then that’s still strong and good enough for me.”
Jay’s hand reached out under the blanket. Ellie didn’t hesitate. She took it, weaving their fingers together gently, holding on like she could anchor Jay there with just her grip.
“I don’t wanna be this way,” Jay said softly.
“I know. But it doesn’t make you weak.”
Jay didn’t reply. But she squeezed Ellie’s hand once. They lay there for a long time like that, quiet, the rain whispering against the window, Dakota curled at their feet. Ellie didn’t try to fix it. She just stayed. Held her hand. Let the silence settle.
Then a faint smile graced Jay’s lips. “I was thinking about my grandpa, he used to wake me up early, sing these ridiculous songs while making breakfast. I miss that. Miss having a world that simple.”
Ellie nodded, the ache of empathy throbbing in her chest. “Yeah. My best moments with Joel felt like that, too. Simple. Not… not the fighting or the road.” She swallowed, forcing the memories not to overwhelm her. “Feels like a different life… a different me.”
Jay turned, meeting Ellie’s eyes. “You’re right, it does,” she murmured. “When it’s bad, I try to think about fishing in Antler Village’s ponds, or the times Grandpa’d give me rides around the fields on that old tractor, telling me dumb stories of the world before the outbreak.”
Ellie gave a small chuckle. “Joel was a sucker for lousy stories, too. I used to groan, but now I’d give anything to hear him toss one more my way.” Her voice wavered, but she fought off tears.
A comfortable hush fell, each lost in reflection. They laid that way, Dakota occasionally stretching his legs, the warmth of each other’s company banishing some of the day’s chill. Jay exhaled, feeling the knot in her chest ease a fraction, buoyed by Ellie’s closeness.
After a few minutes, Ellie let out a tiny laugh. “Remember how you tried trick-riding Rowan just to impress me?” she teased, her voice light.
Jay flushed, hiding her grin. “Shut up, that was for me, too, showing off feels good,” she joked back. “And you liked it, admit it.”
Ellie shrugged, feigning indifference. “It was… all right,” she teased. “Could use a better soundtrack, though.”
Jay let out a genuine laugh, her tension dissolving. “Next time…”
Ellie rolled her eyes but look at the other woman. “Jay,” she whispered, voice turning serious, “I love you. You do get that, right?”
Jay’s breath caught. She brushed the hair from Ellie’s face, gaze full of affection. “I love you too,” she admitted, voice soft, “and I’m grateful. Every day that you didn’t leave….”
Ellie’s heart fluttered at the raw sincerity in those words. She pressed her lips to Jay’s in a tender kiss, Dakota letting out a quiet huff at being momentarily ignored. When Ellie pulled back, her smile returned. “Yes, I love you too mutt….”
Chapter 30: Needing Closure
Summary:
Thank you for reading! Please note, I am continually improving! I update frequently and am always open to kind, constructive criticism. I appreciate you for giving this story a read!
In the quiet hours of night, old memories and fears claw their way to the surface, leaving frayed edges in their wake.
Come morning, thoughts of the past begin to stir, unfinished business, unspoken regrets, and a place left behind. A decision takes shape, uncertain but necessary. Promises are made, even if the road ahead is unclear.
Not everyone understands. Not everyone agrees. But sometimes, the heart knows what it needs to heal. And sometimes, you don’t walk backward to stay, you walk back to let go.
Chapter Text
Night’s hush clung to the Biltmore mansion, shadows pooling in the corners of the old suite. Ellie tossed and turned on the bed, sheets twisted around her legs, her breaths coming in ragged gasps. Moonlight fell across her face, illuminating the flicker of horror etched there.
In her dream, she stood again in that familiar hellscape; Joel on the floor, blood pooling around his head, his eyes pleading. She screamed but couldn’t move, pinned by dread and guilt. Then, in a flash, the scene shifted. She was at Biltmore, but it was burning, the walls collapsing. She saw Jay lying still, no breath, no heartbeat, and Dakota whining helplessly, trying to get Jay to get up with his muzzle. Others, faces blurred and unrecognizable, were gone, leaving her alone in the flames. Again, always alone.
Ellie jolted awake with a cry, bolt upright and drenched in cold sweat. Her heartbeat thundered, a ringing in her ear that wouldn’t stop, and for an instant, she couldn’t tell where she was; hospital corridors? The old farm? Then the soft lamplight revealed the carved, ornate furniture of their suite in Biltmore, the gentle slope of the covers beside her. Jay, stirring from Ellie’s outcry, blinked bleary eyes open.
“Ellie?” Jay murmured, her voice rough with sleep. She reached out, finding Ellie’s hand shaking on the blanket. “Another nightmare?”
Ellie swallowed hard, forcing her breathing to slow. Her mind still swirled with images of Joel, Jay’s lifeless body, and Biltmore in ruins. She wanted to recoil, to run from those visions. Hot tears stung her eyes, and she snatched her hand away, shoulders rigid.
“Yeah,” she grated, voice shaky. “It’s—doesn’t matter. I’m fine.”
Jay’s brow knitted in concern. She pushed upright, pressing a palm to Ellie’s arm. “Hey,” she said softly, “you’re not fine. Talk to me.”
Ellie wrenched her gaze away, heart still hammering. In the moonlit room, she felt the suffocating fear that everyone she loved was destined to die; that she’d lose Jay just like she lost Joel, Dina, everyone. The urge to push away, to run, swelled inside her, as though distancing herself could spare her the inevitable heartbreak.
She pulled her arm free of Jay’s gentle grip, jaw clenched. “Just—drop it, okay?” she snapped, tears glimmering despite her anger. “I’m tired. I… I can’t do this right now.”
Jay’s face softened, but her voice stayed steady. “Okay. Then don’t explain. But don’t shut me out either, El.”
Ellie laughed bitterly. “That’s rich coming from the girl whose mother came back, so now she’s been moping around. Don’t fucking talk to me about shutting people out.”
Jay blinked. The words landed hard and hurt her.
Ellie immediately looked away, jaw tightening. “Shit,” she muttered. “I didn’t mean that.”
Jay swallowed, nodding slowly. “Yeah. You did. But I get it.”
Ellie’s breath hitched. She wanted to lash out more, tell Jay to stay away, keep a safe distance so Ellie wouldn’t watch her die too. But the memory of standing alone in that dream’s inferno weighed on her, making her skin prickle with dread. She felt tears escape despite her best effort to hold them back.
Dakota whined from the foot of the bed, sensing the tension. Ellie squeezed her eyes shut, biting down on her lip hard enough to taste blood. “I—” she began, voice broken. “I keep seeing you… dead. I can’t—I can’t lose you, too.”
Jay moved closer now, slow, careful. She didn’t get too close. She knew Ellie’s edges when they were sharp like this. “You weren’t. I’m right here.”
“You could’ve not been,” Ellie hissed. “All it takes is one second. One fuck-up. And then—” She squeezed her eyes shut, voice dropping into something low and broken. “And then I have to live with it. Again. Alone.”
Jay softened, her own honey brown eyes misting. She inched closer, hesitating before placing a tentative hand on Ellie’s shoulder. “Nightmares lie,” Jay said softly. “They show us what we fear most and call it truth. But they’re just echoes.”
Ellie trembled, every cell in her body wanting to push Jay away. If she just left, maybe the nightmare wouldn’t come true. But the warmth of Jay’s hand and the gentle press of her forehead against Ellie’s temple cut through the panic. She closed her eyes, leaning into that touch.
“I hate it,” she choked, tears spilling over. “Hate that I’m so scared of being alone again. Hate that a part of me wants to shove you away just so it won’t hurt as bad if-if something happens.” The confession tore itself from her, raw and painful.
Jay’s breath caught. “I get it,” she murmured, tears glistening in the moonlight. “I’m scared, too. But I’d rather take the risk… than lose you by pushing you away. You understand?”
Ellie let out a shaky breath, pressing her forehead to Jay’s shoulder. She felt the tension in her muscles refusing to let go, but slowly, carefully, she lifted her arms and let Jay pull her in, let Jay’s warmth steady the trembling.
They stayed like that for a long minute, Dakota creeping closer to lay his head on Ellie’s shin. Finally, Ellie sniffed, lifting her gaze to Jay’s. “Can we…?” she whispered, not finishing that sentence, her voice a raw plea.
Jay answered without hesitation, voice soft as a vow. “Yeah,” she said, brushing away Ellie’s tears with her thumb. “Just lie back.”
Still trembling, Ellie nodded, swallowing the lump in her throat. Letting the rhythm of Jay’s breathing soothe her. Despite the nightmares, despite the fear, she realized she’d choose this, choose Jay, over going back to the lonely road of pushing everyone away.
“You don’t have to do anything,” something in Jay’s voice, the softness, the steadiness, broke through the noise in Ellie’s head. Ellie pulled off her sweat pants slowly, eyes still heavy, breath shallow.
Jay moved gently between her legs, sliding the blanket aside, not rushing; she never rushed. Her touch was warm and grounding, her fingers gliding softly over Ellie’s inner thighs like she was checking for bruises that weren’t there.
“Just breathe. Let me.” Jay whispered, pressing a kiss just below Ellie’s navel.
Ellie swallowed hard. Her hand drifts down, fingers threading through Jay’s soft brown hair, and she starts stroking her scalp gently. Not controlling. Just connected. She didn’t speak. Just nodded.
Jay slid two fingers slowly between Ellie’s folds, already finding her slick, not from arousal, but from the heat, from the adrenaline still humming in her blood. Jay leaned in, licked a slow stripe up the center of her, and Ellie exhaled like she’d been underwater too long.
Jay didn’t tease. She didn’t ask for anything. She just gave.
Mouth soft and steady. Fingers curling gently, just enough. She listened to every twitch of Ellie’s hips, every hitch in her breath, adjusting without a word. She knew Ellie’s body. She loved it. Revered it. And tonight, she was going to remind Ellie what it meant to be held in love. That she loved her.
Ellie whimpered, hips rising involuntarily.
Jay pressed a hand gently to her stomach. “I’ve got you, baby,” she whispered.
She came with a broken gasp, her thighs trembling, hand fisted in Jay’s hair. Her other hand gripped the blankets like she was bracing for the world to fall apart, but it didn’t.
Because Jay was there. Kissing her softly, sliding up beside her, arms wrapping around her as if Ellie hadn’t just shattered in front of her.
Ellie was still catching her breath when she mumbled into Jay’s neck, “You didn’t have to…”
Jay kissed her temple. “I know. But I wanted to.”
They lay in silence for a long time after that. Ellie, breathing easier. Jay, fingers tracing lazy circles on her back. As the moonlight faded, Ellie let her eyes close, letting her fears ebb. Jay’s hand combed gently through Ellie’s hair. And in that fragile moment, with the lingering terror of her nightmare still present, Ellie found enough courage to stay, despite every instinct that told her to run, because the only thing worse than losing Jay would be never letting herself love her in the first place.
****************************
Morning broke with a thin winter mist clinging to the fields. The call for patrol had come early, and Ellie and Jay rode out along Biltmore’s perimeter, Dakota jogging between Rowan and Starlight. Despite the cool air, Ellie felt hot and fidgety, a turmoil she couldn’t shake. She kept adjusting her grip on the reins, alternating between leaning in close to Jay or nudging her away.
Jay noticed, of course. “Ellie… you okay?” she asked at one point, voice soft. She held her bandaged side carefully, still healing but eager to be useful.
Ellie scowled, not meaning to aim her frustration at Jay. “Fine,” she muttered, eyes scanning the distant treeline. But her chest felt tight, filled with the push-and-pull of stay close, go away. She hated it, hated how her nightmares left her raw and uncertain.
They rode mostly in silence, checking the usual vantage points. Dakota sniffed around the underbrush, occasionally letting out a low growl when he caught a scent of something. But there were no fresh raider tracks, only old footprints and scattered signs of wild game.
Ellie’s thoughts churned, replaying the dream of losing Joel, losing Dina, losing Jay, the fear that wrapped around her throat. She felt a rising urge to flee; yet the thought of leaving Jay behind sent a jolt of pain through her gut. She clenched her jaw, focusing on her surroundings. Not the time, she told herself. We’re on patrol, keep your head in the game.
Jay slowed Rowan to a stop near a broken fence line. “Hey,” she said softly, shooting Ellie a sideways glance. “Seriously, what’s up? You’re… I don’t know, you keep drifting.”
Ellie flinched.
Jay sighed, adjusting her reins. “El…”
“I don’t know,” Ellie muttered. She clenched her jaw, shaking her head like she was trying to physically push the thoughts away. She swallowed. The words tumbled out before she could stop them. “I want to go back,” she blurted, voice tight.
“Back?” Jay echoed, brow furrowing. “To Biltmore? Or… do you mean somewhere else?”
Ellie breathed a shaky exhale, staring at the horizon. “To Jackson,” she admitted, each syllable forcing a knot in her chest. “It’s just… I feel like I should go back. But I can’t go back. And even if I could, what would I even do?” She let out a bitter laugh. “Apologize? To Dina? To Maria? Tommy? Like that would mean anything after all this time.”
Jay’s grip on her reins tightened, but she kept her voice steady. “I think it would mean something.”
Ellie scoffed, looking away. “Yeah, well, I don’t even know if I’d be welcome there. Probably not. I just don’t know. It’s like… I can’t shake it. Feels like I left so much undone. I’m stuck with one foot in that past. Maybe I… need to face it.”
Jay studied her for a long moment before finally saying, “Do you want to be welcomed back?”
Ellie hesitated. She opened her mouth, then closed it again. Did she?
For so long, she had convinced herself that she couldn’t go back, wouldn’t let herself go back. But now, after everything, after healing in ways she hadn’t thought possible… the weight of it all pressed down on her chest.
“I don’t know,” she admitted quietly. “I really don’t.”
Jay shifting in the saddle. “Then maybe that’s something you need to figure out.”
Ellie looked at her sharply. “You want me to leave?”
Jay’s eyes widened. “No! God, no, that’s not what I meant.” She exhaled, clearly frustrated with herself. “I just mean… if this is eating at you, El, you have to deal with it. You deserve to deal with it. Whether that means going back or just finding a way to make peace with it here.”
Ellie swallowed, gripping the reins tightly.
Jay hesitated before adding, softer, “And… for what it’s worth, I don’t think they hate you.”
Ellie laughed humorlessly. “Yeah? And what makes you so sure?”
Jay gave her a sad, knowing look. “Because I know you.”
Ellie stared at her, something tightening in her chest. She shook her head, shoulders slumping. “I don’t know,” she replied, voice trembling. “I just… The nightmares… Maybe if I saw Joel’s grave, talked to whoever’s still there, I could… get some closure. I’m so tired of feeling like I’m halfway running from something.”
Jay considered that, her expression contemplative. Dakota padded around them, tail swishing, as though giving them space to talk. “Then let’s do it,” Jay said softly. “We’ll figure out the best route, supplies—”
“You’d come with me?” Ellie asked, a touch of vulnerability creeping into her tone.
Jay looked almost surprised at the question. “Duh, of course,” she said quietly. “And I know it’s a long trip. It’d be dangerous. But if it’s something you need to do…” She swallowed. “I don’t want you to do it alone. Unless… unless you wanted to do it alone.”
Ellie stared at her, completely thrown. Ellie’s lips parted, conflict rippling over her face. The old instinct to go solo battled with the realization that she wanted Jay’s presence. She closed her eyes for a beat, letting the clang of her heart subside.
“Why would you do that?” Ellie asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
Jay let out a breathy, almost disbelieving chuckle. “El, come on.” She shifted in the saddle. “Because I love you. And because I know what it’s like to have unfinished business.” She looked down. “I know what it’s like to not have closure.”
Ellie’s throat tightened. She thought about all the times she had asked Jay about her past, about her mother, about the people she had lost. She thought about the pain in Jay’s voice whenever she spoke of them. And now Jay was willing to walk back into Ellie’s past with her.
Ellie looked away, shaking her head. “I don’t even know if I want to go.”
Jay nodded. “I know.”
“I don’t know if I can.”
Jay hesitated, then said. “You don’t have to figure it out right now,” she said. “And if you decide you don’t want to go, that’s okay too. I just… I don’t want you to feel trapped.”
Ellie squeezed Starlight’s reins, her jaw working. She wasn’t used to this. Someone choosing her. Someone willing to go with her, no matter how far, no matter how painful. She wasn’t sure she deserved it. “Yea, I… want you there If we go. If that’s okay.”
Jay’s honey brown eyes softened, and a gentle smile tugged at her lips. She reached over and gave Ellie’s hand a light squeeze. “I’m with you,” she promised. “We’ll talk to Jeff. Make sure Biltmore’s covered. Then we go find your closure.”
Ellie nodded, tension leaking from her posture. She turned her gaze to the broken fence, exhaling. “Thanks,” she murmured. Her voice still held a note of uncertainty, but the decision to share her burden felt like a small weight lifting. “You… you have a way of making things feel less heavy.”
Jay smirked faintly. “That my special skill?”
Ellie chuckled, shaking her head. “One of ‘em.”
Jay relaxed a little, nodding. “Good.” Jay gestured toward the path ahead, gently nudging Rowan into motion again. “We still gotta finish this patrol,” she said softly, “but after, we’ll talk details.”
Ellie squeezed her heels into Starlight, falling into step beside Jay. The morning’s light felt a bit kinder, the crisp breeze a shade less biting. They rode on, Dakota weaving between them.
I’m done running alone, Ellie thought, risking a small smile at Jay. And in the quiet of that realization, she felt closer to home than she had in years.
The next day a pale winter sun streamed through the mansion’s tall windows, illuminating the bustle of people moving through the main hall. Ellie and Jay wove between them, arms laden with supplies; extra food rations, bandages, some spare ammo. Dakota trotted close at their feet, his nose brushing their legs every so often, as though sensing the tension that clung to both of them.
They paused by a wide table near the entrance hall, setting down their gathered items. Ellie sighed, raking a hand through her hair. “We still need, like, bedrolls, right?”
Jay nodded absently, glancing around to make sure no one was waiting on them. “Yeah. And a few extra canteens. Winter’s a pain, you can never be too careful.”
Her gaze skated across the busy hall, noticing the uneasy expressions on some faces. A couple of the council members nodded politely but looked askance at Jay, the rumor of their journey having spread quickly. This trip’s stirring curiosity or suspicion, Jay thought, pressing her lips together. “You want to grab the bedrolls from the supply closet? I’ll track down Jeff.”
Ellie gave a faint grunt of assent. “All right,” she said. “Meet you back here in a few?”
Jay lifted a hand in agreement, then turned on her heel and headed down the corridor toward Jeff’s office. She found him by the door, speaking softly with Mark about something concerning the farmland. The moment Jeff spotted Jay approaching, he paused, sending Mark off with a quick nod.
“Jay,” he greeted, arms folding across his chest. “Heard you were planning a trip?”
Jay swallowed, forcing her nerves to stay calm. “Yeah,” she said, voice subdued but determined. “Ellie wants to go back to Jackson… tie up some loose ends, see a few folks she left behind. I’m… going with her.”
A long silence stretched between them before Jeff sighed, rubbing a hand down his face. “Damn it, kid.” His voice wasn’t angry, just heavy. Tired. “You sure about this?”
Jay nodded. “Yeah.”
Jeff crossed his arms. “You know what kind of risk you’re takin’. It ain’t a short trip. Ain’t an easy one either.”
“I know,” Jay said, her voice firm. “But this is what Ellie needs. And I—” She swallowed, shifting on her feet. “I want to be there for her. No matter what happens.”
Jeff studied her for a long moment, then let out another deep sigh. “Stubborn as ever. Just like your granddad.” He shook his head. “When do you plan on leavin’?”
“A day or so,” Jay said. “Gotta get supplies together, make sure the horses are ready.”
Jeff was quiet, his gaze flickering with something unreadable before he finally nodded. “We could really use you both here but, alright. I won’t try to stop you. How long will you be gone?”
Jay drew a breath, shifting weight onto her healthier side. “Not sure. Maybe eight months, maybe more. Depends on travel and… how things go. We might come right back.” She hesitated, biting her lip. “Or… I guess she might decide to stay in Jackson. And if that’s what she wants, then… I don’t know.” Her voice trailed off.
Jeff’s brow furrowed in concern, reading the conflict on her face. “And you’d stay with her, if she chose that?”
Jay exhaled, a shaky attempt at a laugh escaping her. “If she wants me to. If she doesn’t…well, I’ll come back here. This is my home, but Ellie’s—” She paused, heart twisting. “She’s important, Jeff. But I won’t force her into anything.”
He regarded her kindly, sympathy in his gaze. “I see,” he murmured. “Well, you know we’ll keep Biltmore running just fine while you’re gone. We can handle things. But… do you want to come back? This place is your home. Always will be.” He asked it gently, as though already knowing her answer.
Jay closed her eyes for a moment, forcing back the knot of insecurity tightening her chest. Yes, she thought, of course I want to come back. But the gnawing fear of Ellie deciding to remain in Jackson, of reuniting with Dina, or finding a future Jay couldn’t be part of, buzzed in her head like a hornet. What if I’m just a rebound? What if she leaves me behind?
“Yeah,” she whispered at last, clearing her throat. “I do. This place is still my home. But ultimately, I… I’ll do whatever Ellie wants. If she needs me in Jackson, or… if she decides to be with her ex again—” Her voice caught, the old insecurity flaring. “I’ll deal.”
Jeff’s expression softened. He set a hand on her shoulder, giving a supportive squeeze. “Don’t think like that,” he said quietly. “Ellie’s made it pretty clear she cares about you. Maybe this trip’s something you both need, to face old ghosts.”
Jay mustered a tight smile, nodding. “Yeah,” she managed, chest aching. “Maybe.”
Jeff then pulled her into a quick, firm hug. “Be careful out there, sweetpea.”
Jay closed her eyes for a second, grounding herself in the moment. When she pulled back, she managed a small smile. “Always am.”
Jeff huffed out a laugh, shaking his head. “Bullshit.”
Jeff gave her a brief pat on the back, then stepped back. “All right. We’ll see you off in the morning. Take what you need, food, supplies. Just… come back safe if that’s what you decide.” His voice gentled. “You’ve always got a home here, Jay.”
She swallowed past the lump in her throat, offering a nod of gratitude. Without another word, she turned to leave, relief and anxiety mingling in her heart. He’s right, she told herself, Ellie does care. But the old fear remained: What if, at Jackson, she realizes Dina’s the one she wants?
Returning to the entrance hall, Jay spotted Ellie piling up bedrolls, looking mildly exasperated as Dakota nosed one out of her arms, leading Ellie to say. “Dakota, seriously knock that shit off, you're so annoying sometimes.”
Jay forced a light tone. “Going for the record in bedroll collecting?” she teased, stepping close.
Ellie gave a half-smirk, passing a bundle of blankets over. “Just preparing, Ms. Over-Prepared,” she teased back. Then she caught sight of Jay’s uneasy expression. “Everything okay with Jeff?”
Jay nodded, slipping the bedroll onto her backpack. “Yeah,” she said softly. “He’s supportive. Told me to bring what we need.” She hesitated, eyes flicking to Ellie’s. “He asked if I’d come back, and I…well, I said hopefully, yeah. But… I told him it’s up to you, really.”
Ellie tensed slightly, her grip tightening on the bag. “I’m not gonna force you to stay in Jackson if that’s not what you want,” she said, a trace of defensiveness creeping in. “We’ll figure it out.”
Jay inhaled, a ghost of a sad smile tugging at her lips. “I know,” she murmured. “Just… letting you know I’m open to… wherever this leads and whatever makes you most happy.” Her words were soft, tinged with uncertainty and hope both.
Ellie shifted, glancing away, then nodded. “Let’s just survive the trip and see,” she mumbled, voice hitching. Her gaze flicked back to Jay, worry mingling with determination. “I’m not… I’m not looking to ditch you. Okay?”
That single reassurance made something in Jay’s chest loosen. She let out a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding, then offered a small, genuine smile. “I didn’t say you were going to. But all right,” she whispered. “Thank you.”
That evening the sun had barely started its descent when Jay and Ellie made their way toward the courtyard, knowing they had to break the news sooner rather than later to their friends. Jay felt the weight of it pressing down on her chest. Mark and Sadie had been their closest friends here, hell, practically family, and telling them they were leaving wasn’t going to be easy.
They found them near the main hall, sitting on the stone steps, arguing over a deck of cards. Sadie threw her hands up, exasperated. “I know you’re cheating, Mark. There’s no way in hell you won that many hands in a row.”
Mark smirked, shuffling the deck effortlessly. “Sounds like sore loser talk to me.”
Jay cleared her throat, shifting on her feet. “Hey.”
Both of them looked up, their playful energy immediately dimming when they caught sight of Jay and Ellie’s faces. Sadie’s brows furrowed. “Uh-oh. That’s the look of someone about to say something I don’t like.”
Jay exhaled. “We… need to tell you both something.”
Mark set the cards down, eyes narrowing slightly. “Alright. What is it?”
Ellie shoved her hands into her pockets. “We’re leaving,” she said bluntly.
There was silence for a few moments then Mark blinked. “Leaving? What do you mean leaving?”
Jay shifted uncomfortably. “We’re heading west. To Jackson, Wyoming.”
Sadie let out a disbelieving laugh. “You’re fucking with us.”
Ellie shook her head. “No. We’re serious.”
Sadie’s expression darkened, and she shot to her feet. “You just got better, Jay. What the hell are you thinking? Or Ellie for dragging you out there!”
Mark was quieter, studying both of them carefully before exhaling sharply. “So that’s it, then? You’re just gonna leave… again?”
Jay winced. “It’s not like that—”
“The hell it’s not,” Sadie cut in. Her jaw clenched as she crossed her arms. “Jesus, Jay. We just almost lost you. You’ve only been back for what…? Four or five months. And now you wanna take off on another suicide run? By the way, while your crazy mother is still out there!”
Ellie’s expression hardened. “We’re not asking for permission.”
Mark let out a slow breath, rubbing the back of his neck. “Look. I get that Jackson is important to you, Ellie. I do. But you’ve got a life here. People who give a shit about you both.”
Jay swallowed hard then she said quietly. “This is something Ellie has to do. And I want to go with her.”
Mark looked at Jay, his lips pressing into a thin line. Then he shook his head with a wry, sad smile. “You always were stubborn as hell.”
Sadie wasn’t as composed. She let out a sharp, bitter laugh, shaking her head. “Unbelievable.” She turned away, pacing a few steps before muttering, “You know what? Do whatever the hell you want.”
Mark sighed, finally stepping in to break the silence. “Just… promise you won’t be stupid about it. Take what you need. Plan it right.”
Jay nodded. “Of course we will.”
Mark gave a slow nod, but Sadie just stood there, tense and quiet. Then, without another word, she turned and walked off. Jay’s chest tightened as she watched her go. She knew she’d come around. At least, she hoped she would.
Mark exhaled, looking back at them. “You sure about this?”
Ellie met his gaze. “Yeah.”
Mark studied her, then sighed. “Just survive, then.”
Chapter 31: Late Night Attack
Summary:
Thank you for reading! Please note, I am continually improving! I update frequently and am always open to kind, constructive criticism. I appreciate you for giving this story a read!
Content Warning: This chapter contains depictions of sexual interaction and graphic violence, including scenes that may be distressing to some readers. Reader discretion is advised.
Chapter Text
That evening, the suite was dim, lit only by the slow flicker of firelight casting streaks across the worn carpets and peeling paint of their shared suite. In the soft glow, Ellie and Jay found each other again in a tangle of arms, fingers, and blankets. Dakota, senses tuned to the energy of the room, had retreated to a corner, curling up discreetly, tucking his nose into his tail.
For Jay, each touch felt charged. She was leaving in the morning, and might be saying goodbye to their home. In the back of her mind, those insecurities gnawed: The fear that she was just a placeholder, a rebound, that Ellie’s heart still belonged somewhere else to someone else, threatened to surface. But every graze of Ellie’s lips on hers, every breathless whisper, every move of her fingers, reminded her that, at least for now, in this moment, this was real.
Jay’s grandmother’s old quilt was half-kicked down toward the foot of the bed, tangled with limbs and soft gasps, the room heavy with the sound of breath and skin against skin. Rain tapped gently against the windows, a soft rhythm in stark contrast to the feverish one pulsing between them.
Jay’s shirt was off, the scars along her ribs catching the firelight in pale contrast. She slid a hand along Ellie’s shoulder, letting out a ragged exhale. “I need this,” she confessed, voice quivering. “I need you…”
Ellie responded by pulling Jay closer, their bodies aligning under the sheets, sharing warmth and whispered promises. Ellie lifted Jay’s face and kissed her, messy, breathless, her mouth open like she couldn’t get close enough. Then soft moans and gasping breaths filled the quiet, a gentle hum of connection as they let themselves forget, just for a moment, the raiders, the unresolved guilt, the looming journey to Jackson.
In the dim lamplight, Jay found Ellie’s green eyes, searching for any flicker of hesitation in them. Instead, she saw only unwavering affection. Ellie curved her free hand around Jay’s cheek, guiding her now into a slower, lingering kiss this time. Her other hand slid down Jay’s body and between Jay’s thighs.
Jay let out a choked breath, overwhelmed by gratitude and fear both. Please don’t leave me… The plea echoed in her mind, old dread and fear surfacing. But Ellie whispered against her lips, “Love you,” so softly Jay nearly missed it.
Ellie had her hand between Jay’s thighs, working slow, deliberate circles over Jay’s clit, then sliding two fingers inside her, crooking just right until Jay gasped and clung tighter.
“I love you too,” Jay managed, her voice thick. She pressed her face into the curve of Ellie’s neck, letting that confession wrap around them, a fragile balm to her anxieties.
Jay arched beneath Ellie, her head thrown back against the pillow, jaw slack with pleasure. Her hair was damp with sweat, curls clinging to her temples. Her thighs trembled around Ellie’s wrist where it moved slow and steady, two fingers buried deep, palm pressed firmly against the base of her pelvis. Ellie’s mouth was on her neck now, teeth grazing just enough to make Jay shudder.
Jay wasn’t shy tonight. She wasn’t hesitant anymore. She needed this, needed Ellie. There was something urgent in her touch, the way her nails curled against Ellie’s shoulders, the way her hips rolled up into Ellie’s hand like she was trying to fuse them together.
“Ellie,” Jay gasped, one hand gripping the back of Ellie’s shoulder, the other tangled in Ellie’s hair. “Please, don’t stop—”
“I’m not fucking stopping,” Ellie murmured against her skin, her voice low, her breath hot. Her fingers worked deeper now, curling just right, slow and rhythmic. Jay’s legs trembled. “Not when you’re like this. Look at you…”
Jay’s hips bucked up into her hand, legs shaking as the pressure built fast and deep. “El—I’m so close—”
“I know, babe,” Ellie said, her teeth grazing over Jay’s collarbone again. “I got you.”
They drifted in that closeness, hearts pounding, breath mingling, finding solace in each other. Jay moved her soft, gentle hands down to unbutton Ellie's jeans, then ran her hands back up Ellie’s bare torso. She then, overwhelmed in a good way, squeezed her eyes shut, her whole body taut, heart pounding so loud she could barely think. Every muscle in her body pulled tight as that slow, sweet edge crept higher.
Jay moaned, hips continuing to rise to meet each of Ellie's touches, her body starting to tighten and clench. But just as Jay felt a sense of calm settle into her bones, and coming close to the finish line, an echoing clang of metal ripped through the night, followed by the pounding of the Biltmore Community’s alarm bells.
Everything stopped.
Ellie froze, tension snapping back in a flash. Jay’s eyes flew wide, panic clenching her chest. She gasped, jerking upright like she’d been hit with cold water, her body still half-poised on the edge of release. Ellie had already pulled away, the heat of her body vanishing in an instant. Outside, faint gunshots cracked in the distance. The old corridor light flicked on, voices shouting from somewhere below.
“Fuck!” Ellie barked, already moving. She yanked her hoodie from the floor and pulled it over her head in a single motion, moving with the precision of someone who’d trained for this.
Jay blinked, still catching her breath, her thighs still twitching, her brain trying to catch up to her body. A thousand thoughts slammed into her—The raiders… The Wraiths… again.
“No—they wouldn’t… not this soon, again?!”
Ellie tossed Jay her jeans, adrenaline twisting her features. “Raiders, they’re fucking back,” she snapped, shoving her boots on, lacing them with hands that were fast but shaking. Her knife belt was already looped and buckled. “They’re trying to hit us fast. While we’re off-balance.”
Dakota was already up, barking at the door, pacing with his tail high and hackles raised.
Jay scrambled to pull her pants up, wincing as her still-healing ribs pulled tight. She was still wet, her body still humming with unfulfilled tension, but adrenaline was flooding in now, drowning it.
Ellie tossed Jay’s bra at her from across the room next, eyes already focused and fierce. “Come on! Get your shit on, we have to move.”
Jay caught it and yanked it on with practiced urgency, her body aching in more ways than one.
Ellie grabbed her rifle from where it leaned near the dresser. She loaded the chamber with a single, sharp click, then turned to Jay with fire in her eyes. Whatever moment they’d been in before, it was gone. Now they were soldiers again.
Dakota pawed the door, letting out a low growl. Ellie gave Jay a nod, love and anger both in her eyes. “We handle this, then we handle Jackson,” she said quietly.
Jay nodded, jaw set. “Let’s go,” she said, and together, they flung open the suite door, bursting into the corridor where chaos already reigned.
Night engulfed the mansion in deep shadows, lanterns and torches casting erratic light across the courtyard. Alarm bells echoed through the corridors as Biltmore’s residents rushed to pre-planned positions; no one was caught off-guard this time. Barricades had been set, extra patrols on high alert, defenses newly reinforced. Alarms rang, people dashed about, and the muffled thunder of gunfire carried through the mansion’s ancient walls and gardens.
The winter wind ripped through the trees like a beast unleashed.
Ellie ran through the door onto the outer wall walk, rifle in hand, boots skidding slightly on the rain-slick stone. The bells still rang in long, pulsing waves across the estate, though now other sounds joined them: shouts, gunfire, screaming, the deep, gut-punch boom of someone firing the old mounted shotgun turret near the southern tree line.
Jay was right behind her, panting from the run, her knife and pistol already in her hands. She wasn’t fully healed, but she was here, and Ellie didn’t have time to tell her to go back.
They ducked low against the edge of the rampart, rain spattering against their faces, mixing with the sweat and adrenaline and dread already forming like ice in Ellie’s stomach.
“Where are they?” Jay hissed, eyes scanning the black tree line beyond the wall.
Ellie scanned through her scope. What she saw made her blood go cold.
“They’re not grouped,” she muttered. “They’re coming in from all sides. Separate… like they’re not working together.”
Jay followed her gaze. The flood lights mounted on the corners of the estate’s walls flickered in the stormy dark, casting eerie beams across the muddy grounds. Figures moved through the mist, shadows sprinting through hedgerows, ducking behind collapsed wagons, creeping up the tree line in ones and twos.
“Fuck,” Jay breathed. “That’s not like them. That’s not Rebekah’s style.”
“I know.” Ellie gritted her teeth. “They’re panicking. Or they’re desperate.”
Below them, someone screamed. A moment later, the sound was cut short, sharply. Gunfire rang out near the stables.
Ellie was already climbing down the ladder. “Come on.”
Jay followed, slower, her side clearly bothering her, but not enough to stop her. She landed with a grunt and took off with Ellie through the main courtyard, Dakota streaking beside them, ears pinned back, teeth bared.
They passed two Biltmore guards dragging a bleeding man toward the infirmary wing, and Ellie’s stomach twisted when she saw it was one of the teens from Richmond who joined Biltmore after Richmond was attacked. He was barely seventeen, wide-eyed, holding his stomach with both hands as crimson leaked between his fingers.
“Where the fuck is Mark?!” Ellie shouted as they ran.
“South field!” one of the guards, Matthew, barked over the rain. “They hit the patrol bunker and split off!”
“Fucking hell,” Jay muttered. “They’re trying to peel us apart.”
As they reached the main gate area, Ellie pulled Jay behind the low stone wall for cover. They crouched low, side by side, breath fogging in the cold night air.
Across the field, three Wraiths sprinted toward the greenhouse, no coordination, no signals. Just brute force. One of them was shirtless, face smeared with black paint, howling something guttural. Another lobbed a Molotov, glass shattered, fire bloomed across the courtyard’s edge.
“They’re not working as a unit,” Ellie said. “But they’re fucking feral.”
Jay’s expression was grim. “Do you think Rebekah’s dead?”
“Or pissed off. Either way, they’re not waiting. They want chaos.”
Ellie looked over at Jay, her face hard. “You okay?”
Jay nodded. “Adrenaline’s doing the work right now.”
“Good.”
Ellie popped up over the stone wall and fired once, clean. One of the Wraiths dropped like a sack of bricks, spinning out in the mud. Another veered, shouting, and ducked behind the garden shed.
Jay turned to Ellie. “We need to cut them off before they get to the cellar tunnels. If they hit the east entry—”
“—they’ll flood the lower levels,” Ellie finished. “Fuck.”
She stood, reloaded, then pointed. “We flank through the orchard. We take the side path down by the irrigation ditch, get eyes on the lower gate.”
Jay gave her a sharp nod. Dakota took off ahead of them, almost ghost-like in the dark. As they ran, boots splashing through mud and water, Ellie felt the world narrow. All the static in her chest, the memories, the guilt, it sharpened into focus now. The enemy was here. The past would have to wait. Jay was right behind her, pistol in hand, her breath ragged.
Rain lashed sideways as Ellie and Jay sprinted through the narrow orchard path, feet pounding through slick mud and soaked dead leaves. The skeletal trees stretched above them like broken fingers against the gray-black sky. Lightning flashed distantly, lighting up the estate in sharp, white pulses.
Ellie’s rifle was slung across her chest, her grip steady, eyes cutting through the darkness like a blade. Jay followed close behind, one hand pressed to her healing side, the other gripping the cold, wet steel of her pistol. Her jaw was tight, focused, determined, not reckless.
Dakota sprinted just ahead of them, occasionally glancing back to make sure they were still behind him. He was soaked, his coat dark with rain and blood already, not his, not yet, but he moved like instinct had taken over. Fast, silent, ears low, ready to strike.
As they rounded the bend, the orchard gave way to the sloped hill behind the estate, a series of moss-slicked terraces that led down to the heavy stone cellar doors built into the rear wall. These doors connected to the sub-level tunnels beneath Biltmore, meant originally for food storage and servant passage. Now, they served as secure access routes in and out of the house, and if the Wraiths got through them, they could infiltrate from below.
Ellie skidded to a stop near the overlook and ducked behind the crumbling edge of a retaining wall. Her eyes scanned the area below.
Four Wraiths were already there, two crouched near the entrance trying to force the old locks with a crowbar, another pacing behind them with a machete in one hand and a torch in the other, the fourth standing watch with a hunting rifle, his body half-hidden in the underbrush.
“They’re already on it,” Ellie whispered, her voice sharp and low. “They’re not even trying to be quiet.”
Jay pressed in beside her, panting lightly. “Desperate. They want inside.”
Ellie glanced at her. “You good?”
Jay raised her pistol and chambered a round with a practiced click. “You cover left. I’ll take right with Dakota.”
Ellie hesitated, just for a breath.
Jay caught it.
“I can do this, El.”
Ellie gave a curt nod. “Watch for the rifle.”
With no further words, they broke.
Jay peeled off to the right, staying low, moving like a shadow against the overgrown hedges. Dakota stayed tight at her heel, crouched and quiet, eyes locked forward. Ellie ducked left, flanking wide through the trees, circling toward the rifleman’s position.
The Wraiths below were frantic now, one of them shouting something guttural as he slammed the crowbar again. The old hinges creaked but held.
Ellie spotted the lookout, tall, broad-shouldered, face obscured by a tattered hood, standing with his back to the slope. She lined up the shot, exhaled, and squeezed.
The rifle barked once. The man dropped instantly, neck snapped back, body crumpling sideways into the wet underbrush with a thud.
The others reacted immediately, chaos blooming like wildfire. One shouted. Another raised his machete. The torch was dropped and sputtered in the wet grass. Jay, seeing the opening, surged forward.
“Dakota—go!”
The dog shot forward in a blur of muscle and fury, leaping at the man with the machete just as he turned. The Wraith barely had time to lift his blade before Dakota collided with him, teeth sinking deep into his arm with a sickening crunch. The Wraith screamed and went down, blade skittering out of reach.
Jay stepped out of the shadows, aimed, and fired twice.
The man trying the crowbar took a round to the chest and dropped backward, gasping, his back hitting the stone wall with a wet slap. The second turned to run, Jay’s third shot caught him clean in the thigh. He dropped to one knee, screaming, trying to crawl away.
Ellie sprinted downhill, rifle raised.
One last Wraith tried to retreat toward the far trees, Ellie didn’t hesitate. One shot. Then another.
He dropped face-first into the mud, unmoving.
Dakota released his grip, the Wraith beneath him whimpered and writhed, blood pouring from his arm. Jay stalked closer, pistol raised.
The man looked up, young. Barely older than a teen. His face was streaked with paint and mud, wild-eyed and shaking with pain and panic, mouth moving. “Please—don’t—” he croaked.
Jay hesitated for the briefest second. Then raised her voice. “Ellie?”
Ellie jogged over, rifle still trained on the crawling man nearby.
Jay’s jaw flexed. “He’s done. What do we do with him?”
Ellie looked at him, then at Jay. Her voice was hard, cold steel in the rain. “We don’t take prisoners.”
Ellie spun her rifle around and fired once, clean into the young man straight in the skull. The body dropped limp beneath Dakota’s paws. Splattering Jay with the man’s blood. Jay flinched, looking over at Ellie almost in shock.
Ellie then stepped over the other Wraith who was trying to crawl away, dragging himself across the wet grass, wheezing. Already half-dead from blood loss. He didn’t even get a full plea out before Ellie walked over and fired again.
No hesitation. No words. Just the dull, wet thump of the shot landing.
Jay stood frozen for a second, water mixing with the young man’s blood streaming down her face, hair clinging to her cheeks. The sharp scent of gunpowder bit at her throat. The silence that followed was deafening. The rain began to pick up again, heavier now. The orchard soaked in blood.
Jay exhaled slowly and turned toward Ellie, water dripping from her chin, her hair clinging to her face.
“The door?” she asked.
Ellie slung her rifle over her shoulder and jogged to the cellar doors and checked the locks. Still intact, reinforced from the last time they'd been hit. The Wraiths hadn’t gotten through.
“Secure,” she said, then looked back. “We’re clear.”
Jay stayed where she was, staring at the bodies, her hand still trembling slightly around the pistol grip. Her heart was pounding, not just from the fight. From Ellie.
Ellie turned to her. “You good?”
Jay blinked. “Yeah. Just…”
Ellie’s eyes met hers, dark and unreadable. Rain trickled down her temple. “Just what?”
Jay swallowed. “You didn’t even blink, El.”
Ellie’s jaw twitched. “They were going to get inside.”
“I know. It’s just—” Jay paused, trying to find words that wouldn’t sound like judgment. “You were fast. Brutal.”
Ellie’s face barely shifted. “You hesitated.”
Jay looked away. “I didn’t.”
Ellie’s voice was quiet and cold. “You did, and you’re too soft to people who wouldn’t blink at killing you.”
Dakota nudged against Jay’s leg like he felt the tension rising. She reached down, running a shaky hand through his soaked fur.
Ellie looked back out into the trees. “They’re not like us, Jay. They don’t stop. They don’t show mercy. You hesitate, you die… you should know that by now.”
“I know,” Jay whispered. “Doesn’t mean it’s not hard to see.”
Ellie didn’t reply. The storm howled around them.
Mud clung to their boots, thick and wet, sucking at their steps as they moved uphill along the back trail that curved behind the orchard. The storm hadn’t let up, rain sheeted sideways through the trees, the wind bending limbs until they groaned like old bones. Every leaf and blade of grass glittered wet, every shadow shifted like it might move.
The orchard behind them was scattered with bodies, smoke curling faintly from the torch that had guttered out in the wet grass. Lightning flashed overhead, casting the estate grounds in brief, violent bursts of blue-white light.
Jay moved stiffly, her side aching with every breath. Her clothes were soaked, her fingers sore from the pistol’s grip, but she kept pace. She kept close to Ellie’s side, pistol lowered but ready, her free hand brushing against Dakota's damp fur whenever the dog pressed into her. He stayed low and quiet, alert, ears pinned, and his nose twitching in the dark. The dog’s body radiating tension like he was a wire stretched too tight.
Neither of them spoke.
Ellie was ahead of them, rifle up, eyes sharp, her steps measured and fast, too fast. Jay watched her move through the storm like it didn’t touch her, didn’t matter, like there was something inside her burning hot enough to ignore the cold.
They passed the rose garden, trampled, half burnt from the last raid. The smell of wet petals and plant decay filled the air, mixing with blood and smoke. A haze floated along the ground like ghosts dragging their feet.
Jay saw the smoke first. Then the light, not just lanterns or flashlights, but the low orange glow of open flame licking at the sky. They rounded the edge of the east wall and crested a slope where the estate opened up again into one of the cultivated sections: the greenhouses.
“Shit,” Ellie muttered, crouching instinctively.
Jay pulled in beside her, eyes wide. “That’s our food supply.”
“No,” Ellie said tightly. “That’s everyone’s food supply.”
Jay’s stomach dropped.
The second greenhouse, the one built from salvaged glass and timber years ago, was a beacon of survival and new growth for Biltmore. It fed the settlement through winters and droughts alike. Now, flames crawled up one corner, black smoke billowing from where glass panes shattered inwards from heat. A cluster of Wraiths, five of them, moved around the structure, shouting to each other. One lobbed a torch onto the greenhouse roof with a guttural laugh. Another poured something flammable from a tin can, creating a flickering trail toward the beds of heirloom vegetables and citrus trees.
Ellie didn’t hesitate, she exhaled through her nose. “We fucking end it here.”
Jay nodded, swallowing down her exhaustion. “Plan?”
“You and Dakota loop wide left, cut across the stone retaining wall. There’s an old barrel cache you can use for cover. Wait for me to hit the one with the torch.”
Jay glanced at her. “You’re going alone?”
Ellie didn’t answer right away. Then, with that eerie calm, “Yeah.”
Jay started to protest, but Ellie had already moved, disappearing like smoke into the dark. She melted between the rows of hedges and outbuildings, every step purposeful, silent.
Jay looked down at Dakota. “Go,” she whispered, and the dog obeyed immediately, vanishing into the black ahead of her.
Jay broke left into a low sprint, ducking behind a rain-slick barrel cache, heart hammering. She spotted two Wraiths near the tomato beds, trying to set the irrigation system on fire. Idiots.
From her position behind the old water barrels, Jay crouched and watched as Ellie reached the far side of the greenhouse, hidden in the shadows of a rain-beaten trellis. The Wraith with the torch stepped forward, crouched low, trying to light another rag soaked in fuel. His hands shook too hard. The flame wouldn’t catch.
And then, Ellie was on him.
She moved like a whip crack, bursting from cover and driving the butt of her rifle into his face. There was a wet crunch of cartilage and bone as he went down screaming, blood spurting across the soaked grass. Another Wraith turned, barely had time to shout before Ellie slammed her knee into his gut, knocked his legs out from under him, and jammed her boot down on his neck, hard. Once then twice.
Jay watched from her position, chest tight. It was violent. Controlled. Precise. But something in it made her stomach clench.
Two more Wraiths rushed at Ellie with blades. She moved fast, too fast for them. Shot one in the leg, the other in the throat. The second gurgled and went down clawing at his windpipe. Ellie didn’t even watch him fall. She spun on the first, who was trying to crawl away, and fired again. Close-range. Brutal.
Jay moved then, ducking behind the stone and firing at the remaining two Wraiths. One went down instantly, chest blooming red. Dakota lunged from the shadows and latched onto the last man’s arm, dragging him down as Jay advanced with the pistol raised.
But before she could pull the trigger, Ellie was there, already behind him.
She yanked the man’s head back by his hair and slid her blade across his throat. Clean. Ruthless. No hesitation. Blood poured down the front of his shirt as he choked on it.
Jay froze.
Ellie’s expression didn’t change.
She wiped the blade on the man’s jacket and turned the flicker of firelight in her eyes like something feral, something older than her twenty-two years.
Jay stood there, breathing hard, her pistol still up, but now it felt almost unnecessary.
Ellie walked past her, not looking, not speaking. She crouched near the greenhouse wall and started smothering the flames with the wet burlap she pulled from a storage bin.
Jay finally moved, stepping beside her, helping.
It was only after the fire was out that Ellie sat back on her heels, soaked to the bone, hands stained red, face unreadable.
Jay stared at her for a long moment, rain still dripping from her brow. Eyes never leaving her.
Ellie didn’t look at her.
Jay swallowed. Her voice came low. “Ellie…”
Ellie didn’t answer right away. Her eyes were wild. Flat. Focused, but empty.
Jay stepped closer, touching her arm.
Ellie flinched, then looked at her, rain trailing down her face, mixing with the blood at her jawline.
“You okay?” Jay asked.
Ellie blinked once, twice. Like waking up.
“…Yeah, they tried to burn our home,” she said hoarsely. “They don’t get mercy for that.”
Jay nodded slowly. “You stopped them.”
Ellie glanced at the greenhouse, one side still smoking, but the rest intact. She exhaled, then finally started moving.
“Come on,” she said. “We’re not done yet.”
Jay followed, but her eyes lingered on the crimson smear across the glass where Ellie had left her mark.
And something inside her stirred, not fear, but something colder. Something like worry.
The rain had eased into a steady mist, but the world was still soaked, steaming from the heat of fire and blood. The climb back toward the main house was long and now treacherous in the dark, roots and slick stone underfoot, the trees thinning out into a wide, open stretch of stone path lined with old garden walls. The garden path was littered with chaos: a broken wheelbarrow still smoldering, two rain-slick Wraith bodies slumped over the wall near the tall stone garden wall, the distant thud-thud-thud of gunfire echoing across the south field.
Ellie moved fast, her rifle low and eyes sweeping every shadow. Her jaw was tight, her sleeves soaked and pushed up to her elbows, knuckles scraped raw. Jay stayed close behind, her pistol gripped tightly, her limp subtle now but worsening, pain flaring beneath her ribs with every breath. Dakota trotted between them, mud caked to his legs and chest, eyes sharp, alert. Every few steps, he glanced up at Ellie like he was reading the air, sensing something.
Because something was wrong.
They were too close to the main house for there to be this little movement. Where were the patrols? The guards at the rear doors? The check-ins over the comm line?
Ellie was quiet again. Focused. Jaw clenched, fingers twitching slightly at the trigger of her rifle. She hadn’t said anything since the greenhouse. Jay didn’t press. Not now. Not with the silence so full of ghosts.
They crested the last bit of slope before the upper path, just beyond the terraced wall that led to the east entrance of the main estate.
That’s when everything changed.
Something massive slammed into Ellie from the left with the force of a battering ram. It happened too fast for words.
One second she was walking, the next, a wall of muscle and rage came barreling out from behind a half-collapsed tool shed. The figure slammed into Ellie’s side with a grunt of exertion, grabbing her by the torso and lifting her clean off the ground like she weighed nothing.
“EL—!” Jay shouted, already pulling her pistol up, she fired but just grazed his shoulder.
But the man didn’t even seem to notice, he hurled Ellie sideways like a sack of meat. She flew back with a thud that cracked bone against stone, her rifle skittering across the wet cobblestone path. Her body slammed into the terrace barrier and over, disappearing into the drop below.
“ELLIE!” Jay screamed, her voice ragged with panic. She rushed forward, but another figure moved faster.
Dakota launched forward, barking savagely, tearing toward the figure now climbing over the same barrier after Ellie. The man was massive, broad, face smeared in war paint, eyes wild with something that looked like ecstasy. He was shirtless despite the winter cold, with jagged scars down both arms and an axe strapped across his back.
Jay recognized him. Luther. Her mother’s second-in-command. Her enforcer and butcher.
Dakota collided with him mid-step, his teeth sinking into the man's thigh. Luther roared in fury and stumbled, grabbing for the dog. Dakota twisted, dug in deeper, refusing to let go. Luther roared, punching wildly at the air, but the dog was relentless, biting, snarling, refusing to let go even as the man staggered and slammed a fist down onto Dakota’s back.
Jay raised her pistol, took two quick steps to line up another shot. But then a hand like iron clamped around her long hair and yanked. Too fast, too brutal. She hit the ground hard, her pistol flinging from her hand and sliding out of reach into the wet dark.
She hit the ground hard, her back slamming into the wet stone path, her lungs folding in on themselves. She gasped, trying to scramble, to reach her weapon, but the weight landed on her, straddling her chest. A knee pinned her injured side, and a sharp blade pressed against the hollow of her throat. Cold and biting.
Rebekah. Her mother.
Wild-eyed. Hair matted to her temples with rain and sweat and blood, with the same cruel sneer twisting her face. Her expression was a mixture of hate and glee, madness roiling just beneath the surface. Her clothes were torn, a long jagged fresh cut down the side of her neck that hadn’t been there before. Her eyes had gone meaner. Wilder.
Jay blinked through the pain and rain, gasping for air as the knife bit just enough to break skin. She cried out, arching in pain, trying to push her away, but Rebekah was stronger than she looked.
“I should’ve drowned you in the river like your father wanted when you were born.”
Jay gritted her teeth, hands clawing at her mother’s wrists. “Get the fuck off me—”
Rebekah slammed her down again, and then the cold kiss of steel touched her throat harder. A long, curved hunting knife. Familiar.
“Still got the little girl eyes,” Rebekah sneered. “All that fire in you just to end up beneath me again. You’re nothin’ but soft bark and borrowed teeth.”
Jay’s vision blurred. She could barely breathe. Her old wound, now bleeding through her bandage and shirt.
“You always did cry too easy,” Rebekah whispered, pressing the blade in more just enough for Jay to bleed harder.
Jay tried to twist, buck her off, but her strength was bleeding away. Her side screamed with pain, her lungs barely pulling in air.
“Look at you,” Rebekah spat, pressing her lips almost to Jay’s ear. “Even playing house with that filthy little dyke in this stupid old mansion.”
Rebekah laughed. Not joyfully, nothing about her laugh held warmth. “Oh, sweetheart. One thing you should know. Your mama doesn’t mind getting her hands dirty, she'll gut you herself.”
Jay’s fingers dug into the wet stone beneath her. She could feel the blood running down her neck now, a thin, hot line tracing her pulse.
“You always were the weakest of the litter,” Rebekah whispered, leaning in. “Soft. Sentimental.”
Jay’s heart pounded, her muscles tensing. She couldn’t get her arms up. Rebekah’s weight pressed heavy on her chest. But she could feel the rage rising, molten and hot, cutting through the fear.
Rebekah’s eyes narrowed. “I’m gonna carve that sweet little face up. Then hers.” She pointed with her chin in the direction Ellie had been thrown. “And then I’ll slit that mutt’s throat, too.”
Jay let out a defiant snarl.
“Go on then,” Rebekah said. “Beg. Like you used to.”
Jay didn’t beg. But she did scream.
“Ellie!”
Somewhere, just beyond the broken wall, Ellie was rising from the dirt, blood trickling from her forehead, teeth clenched around the copper taste in her mouth.
And she heard her.
Chapter 32: Is Water Is Thicker Than Blood?
Summary:
Thank you for reading! Please note, I am continually improving! I update frequently and am always open to kind, constructive criticism. I appreciate you for giving this story a read!
Content Warning: This chapter contains depictions of graphic violence and animal violence, including scenes that may be distressing to some readers. Reader discretion is advised.
Chapter Text
The world rang in Ellie’s ears like a cracked bell. She heard Jay’s voice pierce the air, ragged, terrified, raw. It cut through the ringing in her ears and the pulsing in her skull like a knife.
She clawed her way up from the shattered remains of the planter she’d landed in, dirt and clay sticking to her already soaked clothes. Her ribs throbbed with every breath, her side seizing from the fall, but none of it mattered. Not with that scream.
Her hand groped for her rifle, fingers skimming the wet stone path before finding it. She scrambled to her feet, half-slipping on the wet flagstones as she picked up her rifle, mud-caked but intact, and surged forward to vault back over the garden wall. Then she saw him.
Luther.
Towering, broad, covered in muscle like a slab of concrete with a pulse. He leapt the wall in one fluid motion and landed hard, soaking the space between them in muddy water. He then came at her like a freight train, shirtless, soaked to the skin, his chest scarred and broad and covered in black war paint.
Dakota had latched onto his thigh again, teeth buried deep, growling savagely, but the man barely seemed to notice. He reached down mid-stride, grabbed the dog by the scruff and shoulder, and threw him. Dakota yelped loudly as he slammed into a large planter, rolling hard into the hedgerow.
“You son of a bitch!” Ellie snarled, raising her rifle and firing two rounds straight at Luther’s chest.
The bullets hit, she knew they hit, but he kept coming. He staggered, sure. His shoulder jolted back, blood spraying, but it was like shooting a charging bull. He didn’t scream. He didn’t even flinch. He just grinned, blood already mixing with the rain down his chest, and kept advancing, arms wide like he was inviting her to try again.
“Fuck—!” Ellie fired again.
He swatted the muzzle aside with a single swing, and the fourth shot went wide, ricocheting off stone. Then he was on her.
He grabbed the front of her jacket and lifted her like she weighed nothing, slammed her back against the ivy-covered wall so hard the breath exploded from her lungs. Her feet dangled. She kicked, punched, and clawed, but he barely budged.
“Little rat with a loud bark,” Luther growled. “Your girl’s up there cryin’ for help, and you’re down here throwin’ pebbles at me.”
Ellie spat blood in his face. “Fuck you, you piece of shit!” He didn’t even blink.
With a roar, he hurled her across the terrace. She slammed into a stone bench, the edge catching her ribs, and she collapsed to the ground in a heap. Her rifle clattered clear out of reach now.
She tried to get up, hands trembling, breath wheezing, but he was already striding toward her again. A slow, deliberate march. His footsteps were so heavy they vibrated the ground. Like this was nothing to him. Like, crushing her was a simple errand.
“Come on, then!” Ellie rasped, dragging herself upright. “You wanna kill me? Fuckin’ try it!”
The rain fell heavier again, as if the sky itself was holding its breath, only to exhale with cold dread. Lightning carved the clouds above Biltmore in jagged lines, briefly illuminating the battlefield in stark whites and blacks, before plunging everything back into the oily dark of war.
Ellie’s vision blurred from the blood dripping into her eye. Her knife was slick in her palm. Every inch of her screamed in protest, ribs bruised, shoulder searing, lungs burning. Luther loomed in front of her like some mythic beast, half-man, half-ruin, his face split by a sick grin beneath wild, wet black hair.
The bullet wounds in his shoulder and chest bled freely, but the man didn’t slow. He was soaked in it, his, others’, it was hard to tell, but he walked through pain like it was nothing. Like it was his fuel.
Ellie adjusted her stance, knife low, ready. She wasn’t going to win in strength against him. She had to be quicker. Meaner. Dirtier.
“Should’ve stayed down, little bitch,” Luther growled, his voice gravel wrapped in oil.
Ellie gritted her teeth and said nothing.
But it was Dakota’s growl that rose again from the hedges that broke the silence. Ellie’s eyes flicked to him, limping, one shoulder drooped, ribs heaving. But his eyes were locked on Luther. Dakota limped to her side, chest heaving, one ear nicked and bleeding. It was clear Dakota would protect his girls with everything he had.
“Don’t,” she whispered hoarsely. “Dakota, stay—”
But it was too late. A blur of motion.
With a deep-throated snarl, Dakota launched himself forward with everything he had, leaping through the rain-choked air and slamming into Luther’s upper back, slamming into him mid-step. His claws raking across the raider’s broad back. This time, he didn’t go for the legs. He went straight for the face, jaws snapping around the side of Luther’s neck and cheek, clamping down just beneath the eye, fangs digging in with a wet, visceral crunch.
Luther screamed. A ragged, enraged, inhuman sound. He dropped to one knee, swinging wildly, punching Dakota over and over, trying to rip the dog from him. Blood gushed from the gash along his cheek where Dakota held on, snarling, refusing to let go.
“FUCKING—ANIMAL!” he roared, grabbing Dakota by the neck with both massive hands.
“NO—!” Ellie lunged forward.
But it was too late.
Luther slammed Dakota down, once, twice, his body arcing with violence, spine cracking against the wet stone. The final slam was a sickening crunch that echoed under the rain. Dakota’s body went limp. The sound his body made, wet, limp, final, was worse than any gunshot. He crumpled to the ground in a heap, his legs twitching once before going still.
“DAKOTA!” Ellie screamed, voice shredding at the edges.
Ellie saw red. Everything else, her aching ribs, the cold, the storm, her bleeding head and mouth, vanished. Her heart snapped. Rage boiled over grief in an instant. She ran at Luther without thought, without fear, without mercy.
Luther turned, blood pouring from his face, one eye half-hanging, ruined, and grinned. He was wild-eyed, blood still pouring down his face, and Ellie drove her knife deep into his side, up and under the ribs.
The blade was buried to the hilt. She twisted. He tried to swing at her. But he missed.
“Fucking bitch!” he roared.
Luther bellowed, grabbing for her, but his arms weakened mid-swing. His knees buckled. He stumbled back, blinking like he couldn’t believe it. Ellie followed through with her whole body, shoving the blade in deeper, then wrenching it out.
He staggered, fell to one knee.
She didn’t stop. She stabbed him again. Once in the gut. Then the chest. He was still trying to speak, some final threat, some grunt of defiance, but all that came out was blood. Thick and bubbling.
One final thrust, in the throat.
And Luther collapsed, his huge frame fell like an oak tree, weight shaking the earth, his final breath a rasp against the cold stone. Limbs twitching, breath rattling out in wet, horrible gasps. Blood pooled around him, seeping fast into the terrace cracks.
“Fuck you,” she whispered.
Ellie stood there, shaking, panting, soaked in blood, not all of it hers, and stared at his body.
Dakota wasn’t moving. She wanted to drop to her knees, wanted to crawl to him, hold him, check for breath, pulse, something. But she couldn’t. She didn’t have time.
A new sound pierced the storm. Not metal. Not gunfire. Screaming.
Her eyes snapped up toward the upper terrace, and there, under the flicker of a guttering torch and the eerie wash of lightning, was Jay.
Jay was pinned beneath a smiling Rebekah, her hands slipping in the mud, trying to push her mother off. Jay’s arms were splayed, her head tilted painfully to the side. And Rebekah was crouched over her, A knife pressed at her daughter’s throat, whispering poison through clenched teeth. Rebekah was laughing. Cold. Delirious.
Ellie’s rage froze, sharpened.
Ellie’s body moved on instinct. She vaulted over the stone wall, boots slipping, body screaming in protest, and sprinted into the courtyard. She didn’t feel the stone beneath her boots. She didn’t feel the rain or the ache in her bones, or the sting of blood running down her temple. All she felt was the hard, cold grip of purpose, the raw clarity that only came when everything else fell away, leaving nothing but instinct and survival.
She reached the terrace faster than she thought possible, her breaths sharp and controlled. Her eyes flicked briefly to the ground, where Jay’s pistol lay gleaming and slick from rainwater. Without hesitation, Ellie bent down in one smooth motion and picked it up, her grip steady, familiar.
Just ahead, Rebekah was still pinning Jay to the cold flagstones, knife pressed against her daughter’s pale throat. Her dark brown hair was a tangled mess, plastered to her forehead, rain mixing with blood and mud. She leaned in close, spitting words into Jay’s face like venom. Rebekah’s storm blue eyes looked wild and filled with nothing but destruction.
“You always were weak,” Rebekah hissed, her eyes wild, face twisted in something darker than hate. “Even when you ran, you couldn’t hide from the truth. You’ve always belonged to me. My blood, my stupid fucking mistake.”
Jay struggled weakly beneath her, hands trembling, eyes wide with a fear Ellie had rarely ever seen there.
Rebekah laughed bitterly, pressing the knife a fraction harder, drawing a thicker trickle of blood that blended into the rainwater pooling beneath Jay’s head. “I’ll take your life back, now. Tell Mom and Dad I said hi.”
She never saw Ellie coming.
Ellie didn’t speak. She didn’t shout a warning or offer a chance for surrender. She lifted Jay’s pistol, leveled it at Rebekah’s head, and pulled the trigger without ceremony, without hesitation.
The shot rang out sharply, echoing across the terrace and down into the garden below, cutting through the rain and the wind like a scythe.
Rebekah jerked violently, storm blue eyes widening in shock for one brief, confused moment before going completely slack. The knife fell from her fingers, clattering harmlessly onto the stone beside Jay’s face. Rebekah’s body slumped sideways, lifeless and heavy, rolling slightly off Jay, leaving her sprawled and gasping on the wet stone.
Ellie stood for a second, breath steady, gun still trained on the corpse. Only when Rebekah didn’t stir did she lower it slowly.
Jay’s breaths came shallow, ragged, uneven. Her brown eyes stared at the sky, blinking rapidly, as if she couldn’t process what had just happened. Her mother lay dead half on her, eyes wide open, unseeing, the side of her face shattered by Ellie’s shot.
Ellie stepped toward Jay cautiously, moving slowly, afraid of startling her. “Jay—”
But Jay wasn’t there, not entirely. Her vision was blurred, her ears filled with the deafening rush of her own heartbeat. Rebekah’s blood seeped into the stones beside her, mingling with rainwater as her breaths sped up, became frantic, turned desperate.
Then Jay’s eyes closed, and the world around her fractured.
Three years earlier…
It was a hot early summer afternoon, the kind where the air hung thick like syrup, cicadas buzzing loudly in the trees. Jay stood quietly near the old oak kitchen table, slicing peaches for jam. The juice ran sweet and sticky down her fingertips as the warm breeze drifted lazily through open windows of the farm house.
Her grandfather stepped inside quickly, his face tight, the screen door slamming behind him hard enough to shake the walls. Jay jumped slightly, nearly dropping her knife.
“Grandpa?” she asked softly, setting down the fruit. “What’s—”
His gaze was intense, burning with something she’d rarely seen in the gentle man who’d raised her. Worry. Fear. Urgency.
“Jaybird, honey, listen close. You gotta take Dakota and get to the cellar. Now. Don’t ask me why, just go.”
She stared at him, the peach juice still clinging to her hands. “The cellar? Why, what’s wrong?”
He shook his head sharply, grabbing her shoulders firmly but gently. “Ain’t no time to talk, girl. Just do as I say. Get down there, lock the doors, don’t open for nobody. You hear me?”
She felt her throat tighten, her heart starting to hammer in panic. “But—Grandpa—”
“No ‘buts,’” he snapped, his voice uncharacteristically harsh, even though his gray eyes stayed soft, pleading. “This ain’t the time for stubbornness. You take Dakota and you hide. Keep quiet, no matter what you hear. Promise me, Jaybird.”
She swallowed hard, fear beginning to crawl up her spine like ice. “I—I promise.”
He squeezed her shoulders once more, eyes misting briefly with something he wouldn’t let fall. “Good girl. Now go.”
She didn’t know why she was running, why her grandfather had shoved her toward safety. She just remembered the urgency in his voice, the heaviness in his eyes. Her heart thundered as she sprinted toward the cellar, Dakota close on her heels, barking softly with confusion.
She reached the heavy wooden cellar doors, yanked them open, felt the cool underground air rush to meet her face. Dakota slipped past her, ears perked up, watching her anxiously. Jay turned once, glanced back toward the house, and saw her grandfather standing there in the doorway, silhouetted by the sun.
Jay rushed down the old cellar stairs, her boots thudding against the wood, the dim light from the narrow basement window casting long, uneven shadows along the stone walls. The cellar smelled of earth and dust, faintly sweet from dried herbs hung in bundles from overhead beams. She could hear Dakota’s claws scrabbling slightly on the ground ahead, his shape disappearing into the far corner, tail low, ears flicking nervously at every sound.
She turned fast, only to find her grandmother coming down after her now, barefoot, breath short from hurrying, her loose silver braid damp with sweat. She held a canvas bag in one hand, worn at the seams, already packed to bursting. Her other hand reached out and pressed the bag into Jay’s chest with quiet urgency.
“Take this,” she said firmly. “Water, food, bandages. Hunting knife tucked in the side.”
Jay’s hands trembled as she took the weight of it. “What’s happening?” she whispered.
Her grandmother’s blue eyes darted toward the cellar door, as if she were listening for something. “Raiders. Your grandfather heard the dogs, then the scout bell. It's them.”
Jay felt her breath vanish. “The Wraiths?”
Her grandmother nodded, just once. “Your mama’s people.” The way she said it, ‘your mama’s people’ sounded like venom laced with grief. “They’re coming in hard, and they’re not stopping for talk.”
Jay took a step closer, bag clutched tightly. “What about you? And Grandpa?”
“We’ll hold the house,” her grandmother said softly, though the fear cracked at the edges of her voice. “She won’t hurt me and your grandfather, not really.”
“No, I’m not—you can’t stay here!” Jay protested, already reaching for her hand. “Come down with me, please, just come—”
Her grandmother cupped her granddaughter’s face with both hands, thumbs stroking her cheeks gently, grounding her.
“You are the sweetest most stubborn girl I’ve ever loved,” she murmured, voice catching. “But you are smart, and you are worth something more than this land. You go, and you live, sweetpea. That’s how we win.”
Jay bit back a sob, nodding frantically as tears welled in her eyes. “I don’t want to leave you.”
“I know, baby. I know.”
She kissed Jay’s forehead, soft and slow, like it was the last prayer she'd ever whisper.
Then… Gunshots. Shouting. Screams.
It sounded distant and close all at once, a surreal thunder rolling across the sky. The Wraiths had descended, howling war cries that shattered the stillness of the valley like glass. Dogs barked wildly in the distance, and the crack of wood splintering echoed up from the farmland.
Jay’s grandmother jerked toward the sound, her eyes hardening. She turned back, forced herself to smile through the fear.
“Go,” she whispered. “Now.”
Jay didn’t want to. Her feet stayed rooted.
But Dakota barked once, loud and sharp older puppy bark, and Jay finally turned and stumbled into the dark corner of the cellar. She crouched beside him, one hand buried in his fur, her body shaking as she listened.
The door above creaked closed again. A bolt slid into place. Then silence, except for the gunfire and the growing sound of people dying.
Jay clamped a hand over her mouth and in the dim flicker of the cellar's oil lamp, she curled into Dakota’s side, breathing in time with him, waiting for the nightmare to pass, not knowing it was only just beginning.
The cellar air hung heavy, thickened by the scent of damp earth, crushed lavender, and Jay’s own silent tears. Each ragged breath caught sharply in her throat, chest tight from holding back sobs she couldn't allow. Dakota lay pressed against her side, his warm flank rising and falling in nervous rhythm with her own. His golden eyes shone softly in the thin sliver of light that bled beneath the cellar doors, wide, alert, but gently trusting, as if he believed that no matter how dark it got, she would keep him safe.
Jay wished she could believe the same.
Above her, outside, the world had erupted into chaos. Gunshots punctuated screams and shouts, sharp staccato bursts that ripped through the soft fabric of the day. Every echo made her flinch, pressing closer into the rough stone wall as if she could disappear within it. Her grandmother’s supply bag lay forgotten beside her feet, a silent promise of survival, a hope that seemed absurdly distant.
Just when Jay thought the world couldn’t splinter any further, she heard it, a voice, sharp and cutting, laced with bitter cruelty.
Rebekah.
Her mother’s voice sliced through the air, carrying clearly despite the growing storm outside, familiar enough to tighten Jay’s stomach and leave her breathless with dread. Dakota’s ears flattened immediately, a low growl rising in his throat.
“Quiet, boy,” Jay whispered, trembling fingers gripping gently at his loose older puppy scruff, heart hammering wildly. Dakota fell silent, still as stone, but his muscles stayed taut beneath her hand.
Unable to stop herself, Jay slowly rose, legs trembling beneath her. She stepped hesitantly toward the cellar door, crouching low. There was a crack, barely wider than the edge of a blade, just enough to see the front porch clearly, framed by summer sunlight that felt perversely golden against the horror unfolding.
She pressed her eye to it, unable to breathe.
Her grandparents stood together on the farmhouse steps, facing down Rebekah like weary sentinels. Her grandmother, small and silver-haired, chin lifted defiantly even as her shoulders trembled. Her grandfather, well built, tall and weathered, eyes blazing beneath a heavy brow, one hand reaching protectively across his wife’s shoulders.
Rebekah stood before them, flanked by two Wraith raiders Jay didn’t recognize then but later she’d come to find out it was Luther and Derek. Her posture was loose, arrogant, her long dark curly brown hair tangled across her shoulders, face gaunt and sneering, stained with dirt and blood. The pistol in her hand hung casually at her side, almost forgotten. Her gaze was colder than Jay had ever seen, colder than she thought possible from a mother’s eyes.
“You really thought hiding her was gonna help?” Rebekah drawled, voice dripping disdain, her mouth twisted into a vicious smirk. “That weak little runt won’t last five minutes out there in the world alone.”
“She ain’t yours, Bekah,” her grandfather said, voice gruff with barely suppressed fury. “You lost the right to her a long time ago.”
Rebekah’s eyes narrowed sharply, amusement dying instantly, replaced by a flare of dark rage. She stepped forward slowly, deliberately, the gun shifting slightly in her grip.
“I want to turn her into one of my Wraiths. I have that right, she’s mine because I brought her into this world,” she hissed. “And if I want her out of it, I’ll take her. To make her a soldier. Nobody here strong enough to stop me.”
“Yes you brought her into this world… brought her in addicted to the drugs you were taking the whole time you carried her. Your mother and I were the ones who spent countless sleepless nights while she screamed and shook violently in our arms, going through with withdrawals at just a few days and hours old,” Jay’s grandfather’s voice held controlled angry. “She has been ours ever since.”
“Darlin’ please,” Jay’s grandmother reached out suddenly to stop Jay’s grandfather from continuing, then spoke pleadingly to her daughter. “Please, Bekah. Whatever you want, whatever you need, we’ll give it. Just leave Jade alone. She’s still your daughter.”
Rebekah laughed bitterly, shaking her head, eyes glittering dangerously. “That girl ain’t ever been mine… not truly. You stole her from me, filled her head with all your weak-hearted bullshit. Now look at you, begging like dogs.” Her gaze hardened, voice lowering to a cruel whisper. “Pathetic.”
Her grandfather stepped forward, blocking Rebekah’s view of his wife, chest rising and falling in tight, angry breaths. “Get off our land. Go back to whatever dark hole you crawled out of. You’ve done enough damage.”
For a single heartbeat, the world seemed frozen, tense and fragile like glass held tight between trembling fingers.
Rebekah’s eyes flashed sharply, her hand rising with sudden brutal swiftness. “I ain’t even started.”
Two shots, quick and ruthless.
The sound cracked through the air like lightning splitting stone. Jay jerked violently, pressing her hand over her mouth to smother a scream as she watched her grandparents collapse, first her grandfather, knees buckling instantly, eyes wide in shock. Then her grandmother, falling slower, a startled cry cut short as she crumpled against him, one frail hand still reaching desperately toward the daughter who had ended their lives.
Jay’s entire body shook violently, vision blurred by tears that spilled over, unchecked. Dakota pressed tightly against her legs, his warmth the only thing keeping her anchored as her knees buckled.
Outside, Rebekah stood calmly above her parents’ bodies, staring down at them with detached contempt, pistol still smoking in her hand.
“Waste of fucking bullets,” she muttered bitterly, stepping over them without a second glance. She gestured sharply to the Wraiths behind her. “Kill anyone you find and burn it all. We’re done here.”
Jay sank slowly to the cellar floor, back sliding down the wall, her heartbeat a frantic, terrified drumbeat in her ears. Her world had shattered, she felt it breaking, splintering apart, taking every last shred of safety and love she'd ever known.
She curled herself into Dakota’s trembling warmth, shaking and silent, the cellar walls closing in tight, feeling smaller and colder than ever before.
The sound of flames crackling and the sharp cries of the raiders faded into a numb, pulsing silence as Jay clung desperately to her companion.
And somewhere, in the cold shadow of that cellar, Jay felt her life end.
Present Day…
The darkness of the cellar was still pressed against her eyelids when Jay’s breath hitched, sharp and disoriented, and the world began to bleed back in.
But it wasn’t wood beneath her anymore, it was cold stone. It wasn’t the scent of earth and crushed lavender surrounding her now, but the copper tang of blood.
Warm, sticky, and Fresh.
Her eyes blinked open in slow, fractured movements. Her lashes were wet, not just from the storm, but from tears that had tracked down her face unnoticed. Her body felt miles away, like it had been sunk into the earth, and it wasn’t until the heavy weight across her torso shifted slightly that the memories of the last few minutes came crashing down like a hammer.
Her mother, dead.
Rebekah’s body still lay half-sprawled over her, unnervingly warm despite the limpness in her limbs. Her dark brown curly hair, matted and soaked, clung to Jay’s chest and neck. Her blood, thick, arterial, fresh, was splattered across Jay’s cheek, dripping down into her collar, smeared at the base of her throat. It had sprayed with the shot. Ellie’s shot.
Jay could feel it cooling now, seeping into her shirt, into her skin. She didn’t move. Couldn’t move.
Her eyes stayed locked on the rain-slicked sky overhead, where lightning cracked in the distance, illuminating the black clouds like veins of fire. The thunder was distant now, further away, but its echo still lingered in Jay’s bones.
There was no more shouting. No more gunfire. Just the low murmur of rain as it softened again, falling gently now like it was mourning. And footsteps.
Jay heard them more than saw them, light but sure, approaching from across the terrace. She didn’t need to look to know it was Ellie. She’d know that walk anywhere.
The scuff of boots. The weight of someone always bracing for a fight, even after it was already over.
Jay’s head turned slightly, neck stiff with tension. She saw Ellie’s figure emerging through the haze of rain and smoke and memory. Her silhouette was rimmed in the soft orange glow from the guttering torch still clinging to the far wall. Blood streaked her temple. Her hair was plastered to her face. Her eyes, those deep, furious, haunted green eyes, locked on Jay’s honey brown ones like they were the only thing in the world she could see.
Ellie didn’t speak. She just dropped to her knees beside her, her chest rising and falling in uneven breaths, eyes darting quickly between Jay and Rebekah’s motionless body. Her hands hovered, uncertain, like she didn’t know whether to lift her, hold her, or just be there.
Jay finally found her voice, but it came out hollow. “You… killed her.”
Ellie didn’t blink. “Yeah… She was going to fucking kill you.”
Jay’s throat worked, something like a sob trying to rise, but getting caught halfway. “I know.”
Slowly, Ellie reached out. Her fingers curled under Rebekah’s shoulder, gently lifting her off Jay’s chest and rolling the body away with a grunt of effort. It flopped heavily onto the soaked flagstone with a dull thud, her lifeless arm stretched across the stones like she might still reach for something. Her knife glinted wetly nearby, abandoned.
Jay sat up stiffly, arms trembling. The moment she was upright, Ellie was there, her hand coming to the small of her back, steadying her, grounding her like she always did when Jay didn’t know how to be.
“It’s over,” Ellie said softly. “She’s gone. The few remaining Wraiths retreated. We’ve got control again.”
Jay didn’t answer. She just stared at the blood on her hands. On her chest. Her mother’s blood. And then she looked at Ellie.
And her voice, when it came, was quieter than she’d ever heard herself speak. “I saw her kill them. My grandparents. I’m glad I saw her death…”
Ellie’s face didn’t change, but her hand gripped her just a little tighter.
“It was three years ago,” Jay whispered, staring through her own memories. “I heard it all. From the cellar. I saw it through the door. She laughed after she murdered them.”
Ellie didn’t say ‘I’m sorry’. She didn’t offer some hollow comfort. She just pulled Jay closer, resting their foreheads together, letting her breathe. And Jay did. For the first time in years, she really, truly breathed.
Chapter 33: R & R
Chapter Text
only sounds the gentle hiss of the last few drops of rain and the distant, muffled voices of Biltmore’s defenders regrouping.
Slowly, Jay’s eyes lifted from Ellie’s steady green gaze, scanning the battle-ravaged terrace. Her heart suddenly lurched, the fog of shock thinning rapidly as she remembered… Dakota.
Her breath seized sharply in her chest. “Dakota—Ellie, where—”
Ellie’s eyes darkened instantly, her mouth tightening, and she gently squeezed Jay’s shoulder before helping her rise. Jay’s legs were weak, muscles still shaky from adrenaline and lingering trauma, but determination drove her forward, toward the edge of the terrace where she’d last seen him.
She moved quickly now, urgency chasing away her numbness. Ellie stayed beside her, walking protectively close, ready to catch her if she stumbled. Or when Jay found him.
They crossed to the lower garden wall, stepping over fallen debris, shattered pots, and the wet stone slicked with blood, some theirs, some not. Jay’s pulse quickened painfully, her eyes frantically scanning the shadows along the broken hedge line for any sign of him.
Then she saw him.
Dakota lay sprawled awkwardly against the ivy-covered base of the stone wall, his body curled at an unnatural angle, breathing shallow and ragged. Mud streaked his beautiful black and tan coat, and blood matted the fur along his flank and shoulder. He wasn’t moving. Not at first.
“Dakota…” Jay’s voice was a trembling whisper, breaking slightly as she dropped heavily to her knees beside him, ignoring the pain that shot through her side. Ellie knelt beside her, tense and silent, a hand gently touching Jay’s back.
“Hey, my good boy,” Jay murmured softly, her throat tight. Her fingers hovered anxiously over his coat, afraid to touch him, afraid to hurt him even more. “We’re here, buddy.”
For a terrible, endless moment, Dakota didn’t respond. His sides rose and fell weakly, his breaths shallow and labored. Jay’s heart began to splinter in her chest, panic clawing its way into her throat as she tried to choke it back.
Then Dakota stirred slightly, just a faint shift of his head. His eyes opened slowly, glazed at first, blinking up at her as if confused. It took a moment for him to fully see her, and when he finally did, recognition flooded his gentle gaze.
His tail twitched weakly, softly thumping against the muddy stone, he was wagging his tail, and that sent a quiet sob shuddering from Jay’s chest.
“There’s my good boy,” she whispered, voice thick with tears, as she finally dared to rest her hand gently on his head, feeling the comforting warmth of his soft fur beneath her fingertips. Dakota gave a soft, pained whine, his muzzle moving just enough to nuzzle against her palm, tongue flicking out weakly to lick her wrist.
Ellie shifted closer, eyes dark and unreadable, but her voice gentle, careful. “He saved me. That fucker had me pinned, and Dakota helped me take him down. I thought that man killed him...”
Jay swallowed thickly, tears sliding freely down her cheeks, mingling with the dirt and blood streaking her face. She carefully checked Dakota’s injuries, hands trembling as they brushed along his body. His ribs seemed bruised, possibly broken, his shoulder swollen badly and at a weird angle. His breathing was labored, but his heartbeat was steady beneath her palm.
Ellie’s voice softened further, her hand resting gently on Dakota’s side. “He’s tough. He’s not done yet.”
Jay nodded, wiping her eyes roughly with her free hand. “We all need Diana… or her student Karliene.”
Ellie nodded immediately, shifting to rise. “I’ll get one of them. Stay here, keep him calm. I’ll hurry.”
Jay looked up quickly, her gaze catching Ellie’s with fierce gratitude. Ellie hesitated just long enough to gently squeeze Jay’s shoulder again before sprinting with a wince toward the main house, her figure disappearing swiftly into the lingering mist.
Left alone with Dakota, Jay leaned down, pressing her forehead gently against his warm fur, her tears soaking softly into his coat. “You did so good, Dakota. You saved us. Just hang on, okay? Please, buddy, just hold on.”
Dakota whined again softly, eyes slipping briefly shut before reopening slowly, still focused on her, still trusting, licking Jay’s tears away.
Jay’s heart clenched, but she held firm, stroking him softly, whispering gentle assurances as they waited for help.
“You’ll be okay, Kota. We’re here. We’ve got you now.”
And as she spoke, Dakota’s tail thumped again and again, softer now, but still there. Still fighting. Still alive.
***************************
The hallway leading to the infirmary smelled of alcohol, blood, and damp wool, every inch of it steeped in the aftermath of triage and war. Lanterns flickered against the walls, casting dancing shadows over peeling paint and water-darkened wood. The occasional groan or cough echoed from side rooms, a grim reminder that not everyone who fought had made it through clean.
Jay walked beside the stretcher, her hand resting gently on Dakota’s side as Aiden and Misha wheeled him ahead. He was barely conscious, his tongue lolling slightly from the side of his mouth, eyes fluttering open and closed. His breathing was more stable now, but still ragged, sharp on every inhale. His shoulder jutted at an unnatural angle, and his flank had already started to swell with bruising beneath the gauze Misha had hastily wrapped.
He didn’t whine anymore. He didn’t need to. His tail, though, thumped faintly each time Jay whispered to him, her voice broken and raw, like each word was threaded with guilt and love in equal measure.
Ellie trailed behind her, limping slightly, one arm pressed to her ribs where a band of purple-black bruising spread beneath her shirt. Her head throbbed in time with her heartbeat, and the gash above her left brow had refused to stop bleeding until Diana slapped a compress against it and told her to ‘sit the fuck down and breathe’. But Ellie wouldn’t sit. Not until she saw Jay and Dakota safe. Only once she’d gotten them inside the infirmary’s main ward did she finally lean hard against the wall, breathing like her lungs didn’t know how to work anymore.
Jay turned to look at her, noticing the sway in her posture. “El, baby,” she said softly, “you look like shit.”
Ellie gave her a crooked, dry smile. “You’re bleeding out of the neck. So, literally shut the fuck up.”
Jay’s hand rose slowly to her throat, fingers brushing against the raw cut that still wept sluggishly beneath the pressure bandage. The skin was swollen and red, and the edge of the wound gaped slightly where Rebekah’s knife had pressed too deeply.
“You think it’ll scar?” she asked, mostly to distract them both.
Ellie shrugged, wincing. “Probably. But it’ll look badass, babe.”
Jay tried to laugh. It came out hoarse and wet.
Diana stepped in then, her sleeves rolled up, hands already stained from a dozen other emergencies that night. Her eyes swept over them, calculating, efficient, and deeply tired.
“We’ll take Dakota and start putting him under first,” she said, voice clipped but kind. “He’ll need sedation before I can reset the shoulder. We’ll treat the rib after he’s under and I’ve treated you two. You’ll have to wait outside while I work on him, but I promise, we’re not letting him go anywhere.”
Jay hesitated, but Ellie touched her arm lightly. “Let them take him, Jay. He’s safe now.”
Jay nodded once and stepped back as Aidan wheeled Dakota behind the curtains and out of sight. Her hands trembled slightly when she let go.
Diana turned to Ellie. “You. Sit.”
Ellie didn’t argue. She dropped onto the edge of the nearest cot with a heavy breath, hand still clutched over her ribs.
Jay moved to sit across from her, but Diana turned sharply. “Nope. You’re next. Shirt off. That cut on your neck is too close to the jugular for me to let it wait.”
Jay blinked, surprised. “I… okay. Jesus, bossy.”
“Trauma and late-night raids make me charming,” Diana muttered dryly, already gathering her kit.
Jay winced as she peeled her shirt off, stiff fingers struggling with the blood and rain-soaked fabric clinging to her skin. When it finally slipped free, she shivered against the cold air, exposing the bruised, stitched flesh of her side and the raw, angry wound along her neck. The skin around the bullet scar was red and inflamed, signs of irritation, maybe infection. She hadn’t let anyone retend it in days.
Diana’s expression didn’t change, but her voice softened. “We’ll clean everything. Get fresh antibiotics in you. Six stitches for the neck, maybe seven.”
Jay exhaled. “Lucky number.”
Across the room, Ellie watched her, jaw clenched tightly. Not just from pain, but from helplessness. Watching Jay bleed, again, twisted something sharp in her gut.
“I’ll be fine,” Jay said softly, eyes locking on hers. “We’re all here. We made it.”
Ellie didn’t speak. She just nodded once. Then, finally, let herself close her eyes, just for a moment.
Diana’s hands were quick but careful, threading the needle with practiced ease as she began to close the wound on Jay’s neck. Each tug sent a pinch of pain sparking across Jay’s jaw and down her shoulder, but she barely reacted. Her eyes weren’t on Diana. They were across the room, locked on Ellie.
Ellie sat slouched on the edge of the cot, elbows on her knees, head bowed slightly beneath the low amber light. The blood on her temple had dried into a rust-red streak down the side of her face, and the bruising along her ribs was visible even through her white wet tank, a dark bloom of pain beneath the thin fabric. She was still, too still for someone like Ellie, and her fingers twitched restlessly against her knee, as if they missed holding a weapon.
Jay wanted to reach out. Say something. Thank her. But her voice felt distant, hoarse from smoke and panic and that scream she’d let loose when Rebekah’s knife kissed her throat.
“You’ll have a scar,” Diana said softly, breaking the silence as she tied the last stitch.
Jay blinked and looked down. “Good,” she murmured. “I’d rather carry it than forget it.”
Diana didn’t respond to that. She simply pressed a clean cloth gently to the wound, then leaned in to examine the bullet site at Jay’s side. Her fingers prodded gently, but even that made Jay hiss and flinch. “This is angry,” Diana muttered. “Did you let someone check this before tonight?”
Jay shook her head, guilt flickering in her eyes. “Didn’t want to slow anyone down.”
Diana shot her a look that could’ve melted steel. “You don’t do anyone favors by bleeding quietly. Don’t be noble. Be alive.”
Ellie looked up then, her eyes catching Jay’s across the space. That look again, equal parts frustration, fear, and need. She didn’t say anything either, but the way her jaw set, the flicker of her fingers tightening around her knee, said enough.
Jay swallowed, nodding slightly toward her. “She doesn’t say it, but she agrees with you.”
Ellie looked away again.
Diana cleaned the old wound, swabbed the area with something cold and stinging, and redressed it with clean gauze. “Antibiotics now, and in the morning. You miss a dose, and I’ll staple the pills to your forehead.”
Jay gave the faintest ghost of a smile. “Got it, Doc.”
Diana finally stepped back and exhaled. “You’re stable. No internal bleeding. Just bruised to hell.”
Then she turned to Ellie. “Your turn.”
Ellie raised an eyebrow. “Thought I was off the hook.”
Diana crossed her arms. “Concussion and bruised ribs. Want me to knock you out to make it worse?”
Jay chuckled dryly as Ellie muttered something under her breath and stood.
Diana gently touched Ellie’s jaw, tilting her head toward the light to examine the wound above her brow. Her fingers were deft, but Ellie winced anyway as she wiped it clean and pressed gauze to the split skin.
“You’re lucky,” Diana said. “Could’ve been a skull fracture.”
“Was a big guy,” Ellie murmured. “Real asshole.”
“Don’t get up too fast. Don’t sleep without someone nearby. And don’t pick any more fights for a couple days.”
Ellie gave her a tired smirk. “Define ‘a couple.’”
Jay watched all of it quietly. The way Ellie tensed at every touch. The way she resisted leaning back, even when she clearly needed to. The way her jaw trembled just slightly, not from pain, but from everything else.
From what she’d done.
Jay’s voice came gently through the hush. “El.”
Ellie looked over. Jay reached out her hand.
Ellie stared at it for a long second, like it might burn her. Then she took it. And sat beside her.
The infirmary walls held them in gentle silence, the flickering lantern light softening the edges of exhaustion and war. Outside, the estate still mourned its wounded and counted its dead. But here, in this quiet corner of Biltmore, Jay and Ellie were still breathing.
The lantern above their heads sputtered, throwing soft, irregular waves of amber across the infirmary walls. Somewhere down the corridor a nurse murmured directions, and the muted clink of glass vials drifted past, but otherwise the ward had settled into that stunned hush that follows a night of battle. Ellie felt every heartbeat reverberate through the bruises lacing her ribs; each throb seemed to remind her that the danger was past, that her body could finally register pain instead of adrenaline. Yet the ache of her injuries was distant background noise compared with the strange, raw weight now filling the space between her and Jay.
Jay kept Ellie’s hand woven firmly with hers, thumb brushing the back of Ellie’s knuckles in slow, absent circles. Diana had retreated behind the curtain where Dakota lay sedated, and soft medical murmurs—“shoulder’s back in…the rib’s clean, no puncture, but definitely broken”—floated through the canvas folds. Occasionally a quiet canine whimper seeped out, but it was followed by Diana’s low, reassuring hum. Jay’s shoulders eased a fraction every time she heard Diana speak; her tension tightened again in the stretches of silence.
Ellie studied Jay in the lantern glow. The fresh stitches along her neck stood out as neat black punctuation against skin made paler by blood loss and shock. Bandages wrapped her torso snugly; clear antiseptic tape crisscrossed the re-dressed bullet wound. Yet it was Jay’s eyes, still glassy, reddened at the edges, that made Ellie’s ribs squeeze hardest. Jay’s gaze kept drifting to the empty cot across the aisle, then to the curtain where Dakota lay, then down to their joined hands, as if checking repeatedly that none of it might vanish if she looked away too long.
“Hey,” Ellie whispered, voice hoarse from smoke and screaming. She flexed her fingers around Jay’s. “You’re here. I’m here. Dog’s gonna be okay. We can breathe for a second.”
Jay’s throat bobbed; she breathed in through her nose, shaky, then let it out slow. “I keep smelling smoke,” she murmured, eyes flicking toward the far wall though she clearly wasn’t seeing it. “Can’t tell if it’s tonight or…Antler Village from that day.” She dragged in another breath, steadier this time, and her shoulders rose and fell. “Feels like everything’s overlapping. Present keeps sliding into the past and back again.”
Ellie nodded, her own heartbeat picking up in sympathy. “Yeah. Sometimes the lines blur till you don’t know which nightmare you’re in.” She reached with her free hand and lightly brushed a damp strand of hair off Jay’s temple. “But we crawled out, you and me. Doesn’t erase the shit that happened, but we’re out now.” Her voice cracked soft on the last word.
Jay closed her eyes, pressing their interlaced hands to her sternum as if anchoring them both. For a long moment the only sounds were the low hush of rain beyond the shattered infirmary window and the gentle creak of bed springs from unseen patients shifting in sleep.
When Jay spoke again her voice was almost too quiet to hear. “I wanted to hate her,” she confessed, lashes trembling as she opened her eyes. “I thought when it finally ended, I’d feel…relief? Justice? Something clean.” Her throat tightened. “But all I felt was that I was a kid again, locked in that cellar, listening while she—while she—” She stopped, swallowing hard. “I wanted to run, and I wanted her to hold me, and I wanted her gone forever, all at once. I don’t even know what to do with that.”
Ellie squeezed her hand. “You don’t have to do anything with it tonight. Let it be messy.” She hesitated, then added, voice barely a whisper, “I shot her because she was about to kill the person I love most. I’d do it again in a heartbeat. But I’m sorry it had to be you who saw it. Sorry it had to be your mom.”
Jay’s breath caught, and something warm and wet slipped down her cheek. She didn’t wipe it away. Instead, she leaned forward until her forehead rested against Ellie’s, their brows touching, their breaths mingling in the narrow space between. The contact was feather-light but unbreakable, as though they’d erected a small shelter of skin and shared air where nothing else, no alarms, no ghosts, could intrude.
From behind the curtain Diana’s voice called softly. “Dakota’s stable. He’ll sleep for a few hours. You can see him in a minute… quietly.” The canvas rustled, and Diana stepped out, rubbing the back of her neck. Her weary gaze softened at the sight of the two women folded together. “You,” she said to Ellie, gentler than her usual clipped tone, “still need those ribs wrapped and a concussion check.” Then to Jay, “And you’re drinking every drop of that antibiotic tonic, understood?”
Both women nodded, reluctant to part but knowing the lecture served as a lifeline, a promise of routine, of tomorrow.
Diana lingered another beat, then turned to prepare fresh bandages. The sound of water sloshing into a basin and the metallic clink of instruments settled into the hush, strangely comforting. The ward smelled sharply now of iodine and boiled herbs, overtaking the earlier scent of blood.
Ellie pulled back just enough to press a kiss to the curved edge of Jay’s jaw, careful of the stitches. “Stay with me while she pokes at my head?” she murmured.
Jay managed the faintest curve of a smile. “Try and stop me.”
Together, hand in hand, they stood, slowly, gingerly, ready to limp across the short space dividing one cot from the next. Outside, dawn’s first gray blush crept into the sky, brushing the shattered estate with the tentative promise of light.
******************************
The rains finally broke two days after the attack, leaving Biltmore beneath the dazzling.
North Carolina blue sky that felt almost mocking in its serenity. Morning sun slanted through shattered greenhouse panes and puddled against the marble floors of the main house, painting bright bands across corridors still littered with sandbags and spent shell casings. The estate smelled of damp soil, charred wood, and fresh lumber, an uneasy fusion of ruin and renewal.
Ellie was the first of the trio released from strict bed rest, though Diana’s sharp warnings trailed her everywhere: no lifting, no patrol duty longer than two hours, no sparring for at least a week. She hated the leash, but obeyed, mostly, by redirecting her restless energy into practical tasks that didn’t require brute strength: sorting salvageable ammo, cataloging pantry stores, and redrawing patrol rotations on a chalkboard in the council hall. The act of re-organizing defenses gave her bruised body something to do and her shaken mind a grid of tangible order.
Jay’s wounds demanded slower movements. Even with fresh stitches and antibiotics, the knife gash across her neck tugged stiffly when she spoke, and her re-dressed bullet wound glowed angry red if she overreached. She set her frustrations aside by working with Diana in the infirmary: comforting the newly injured, delivering herbal compresses, learning to mix salves. Her steady presence and soft encouragement were balm to the younger fighters who’d never seen war up close until that awful night. More than once, Ellie paused outside the ward to watch Jay binding someone’s cracked knuckles, voice a gentle hush, and felt a swell of quiet pride that eclipsed her own throbbing ribs.
Dakota lay on a padded mat in a sun-warmed corner of the ward, his chest wrapped and his foreleg secured in a sling fashioned from an old cavalry bandolier found in Biltmore’s historic storage. Diana relocated a spare cot there so Jay and Ellie could sleep near him. Each dawn, Dakota fought through groggy pain meds to greet them with thumps of his tail against the floorboards, proof of life that made Jay’s throat ache with relief. By day five he could stand long enough to hobble outside for supervised walks and potty breaks; by day eight he could manage a dignified trot, wearing his sling like a soldier’s sash.
On the ninth morning, Jeff called a meeting in the library that doubled as Biltmore’s interim command center. Sunlight poured in through tall arched windows, catching dust motes that drifted like lazy embers. Half the long mahogany table was covered in hand-drawn maps riddled with push-pins. The other half held stacks of ledgers and seed catalogues, evidence that survival here required as much planting as it did gunfire.
Jeff himself looked older, gray peppering his beard more heavily after the sleepless week. Yet his voice remained calm as running water when Ellie and Jay stepped in, Dakota limping faithfully behind.
“Glad you two could make it,” he said, gesturing them toward empty chairs. “Diana signed off on light duty?”
Ellie grunted assent, easing down carefully. “Light as she’ll allow.”
Jay sat slower, touching the healing wound at her side. “What’s the situation?”
Jeff exhaled through his nose, fingers drumming on a ledger edge. “Repairs are under way. We’ve got the western wall patched, greenhouse glass scavenged and patrol towers reinforced. But we’re thin on leadership while the wounded recover and half our runners escort refugees from Richmond to here.” He paused, glancing at them with a grave, pragmatic warmth. “I need people who know defense and logistics. People our folks trust.”
Jay followed his gaze to Ellie, then back to Jeff. “You’re asking us to stay.”
“At least until we get this place standing tall again,” Jeff confirmed. “Two, three months… long enough for the next planting, long enough for everyone’s bones to mend.” His eyes softened. “And long enough for you three to do the same. You saved a lot of lives. Let us return the favor with some stability and a roof that doesn’t leak.”
Ellie’s jaw worked as she weighed the request. She glanced at Dakota, who sank onto the rug with a sigh, then at Jay, whose quick, silent nod answered before words did. Something loosened in Ellie’s chest. The road west could wait. Closure would still be there. Right now, healing, real healing for everyone, required stillness.
Ellie met Jeff’s gaze. “We’ll stay,” she said, voice rough but clear. “Until this place, and all of us, are solid again. But after we are going out west.”
Relief flickered across Jeff’s lined features. “Good. Then let’s get to work.”
He slid a fresh patrol chart toward Ellie and an inventory ledger toward Jay. Outside the window, the first full rays of spring sunlight touched new scaffolding rising along the greenhouse frame, an echo of the rebuilding to come.
And inside, beneath high vaulted ceilings smelling faintly of gun oil and plaster dust, the three of them bent over maps and numbers, forging the next quiet step from survival toward something that might, with time, resemble peace.
Chapter 34: Spring Journey
Summary:
Thank you for reading! Please note, I am continually improving! I update frequently and am always open to kind, constructive criticism. I appreciate you for giving this story a read!
Chapter Text
The sun had long since dipped below the horizon, casting the estate in the soft hush of evening, its silhouette quiet against the now fully-repaired western wall. Most of Biltmore’s residents had turned in early, tired from rebuilding, planting, and training, but the soft golden light in the high windows of the old Edith Vanderbilt suite still burned, stubborn and steady.
Inside, the room was warm from the hearth. The large bed was half-covered in supplies: rolled maps, two spare jackets, folded pairs of socks, jerky, dried fruit, and hard tack all wrapped in wax paper, and worn canvas pouches already half-packed. An open trunk sat at the foot of the bed, its lid propped open like a waiting mouth. Jay knelt beside it, checking a saddlebag’s stitching, pretending she wasn’t stalling.
Ellie stood near the window with her back turned, sharpening her knife in long, slow strokes. The sound echoed through the room, steady, meditative. She’d barely spoken since they started packing after dinner. But Jay knew her well enough by now to understand that silence didn’t mean distance. It meant processing.
And Jay? Jay couldn’t quiet the noise in her own head.
She paused, hands tightening on the saddlebag strap as she watched Ellie out of the corner of her eye. The way she held the blade, the tension in her jaw, focused, but tense. Like this trip was weighing heavy. Like maybe Jay wasn't the only one wondering if leaving now, or at all, was the right thing to do.
Jay cleared her throat. “You sure you want me to come?”
Ellie didn’t turn. The rhythm of the whetstone slowed, but it didn’t stop.
Jay pressed on, quieter now. “I know this started out as something you needed. Closure, right? Going back to Jackson, facing what’s left of it.” She shifted where she knelt, her voice thick with a forced lightness. “You didn’t ask for someone to tag along. You definitely didn’t ask for someone with enough baggage to rival a packhorse.”
Now Ellie stopped. The knife lowered slightly.
Jay gave a small, self-conscious laugh. “You could do this quicker without me. Hell, probably safer. You move faster alone.”
Ellie turned then, slowly. She leaned the knife against the windowsill and crossed her arms, studying Jay with an unreadable expression. The firelight painted gold across her freckled face, casting her green eyes in shadow. For a long moment, she said nothing.
Jay swallowed and looked down at her hands. “I just… I don’t want to be the thing that slows you down. That keeps you from doing what you need to do. Or keep you from what or who you need…”
Ellie stepped forward, barefoot, quiet, and crouched in front of her, knees cracking slightly as she lowered herself. She didn’t speak right away. She just looked at Jay, really looked, until Jay’s nerves started to fray.
Then Ellie said, soft and even: “You think I’d want to go out there alone?”
Jay blinked, caught off guard.
Ellie’s gaze didn’t waver. “You think I could?”
Jay opened her mouth, but Ellie shook her head.
“I’ve done a lot of things on my own. Too many things alone. And maybe I used to think that’s how it had to be. One girl. One knife. One fuck-up after another.” She leaned in slightly, her voice lowering. “But then you came along, and I don’t want to do things alone…. can’t do them alone anymore…”
Jay stared at her, heart hammering.
“I don’t just want you there,” Ellie said, voice gruff and quiet and hers. “I need you there.”
Jay’s throat tightened, and before she could respond, Ellie added, gaze dropping briefly, “And if I haven’t said it outright, it’s not ‘cause I don’t feel it.”
Jay tilted her head, brow furrowing.
Ellie cleared her throat, looking suddenly shy in a way that didn’t match the girl who’d stabbed a man in the throat three weeks ago. “You know I suck at saying shit. But... I love you.”
Jay’s breath hitched.
Ellie reached out and tapped her chest gently. “Right here. It’s been you for a while now. Even when I didn’t know it.”
Jay didn’t cry. Not really. But her eyes burned, and her voice cracked when she said, “Say it again.”
Ellie smirked softly. “Don’t push your luck, babe.”
Jay leaned forward and kissed her, slow, deep, and shaking just a little. And when they pulled apart, Jay whispered, “I love you, too.”
Ellie nodded with a soft exhale. “Then let’s pack up, ride out, and burn whatever ghosts are left. Yea?”
Jay nodded. “Yeah.”
*****************************
The sun had barely crested the ridgeline when the front gates of Biltmore groaned open on their iron hinges, parting like the jaws of some ancient beast reluctant to release what it held. Mist clung to the ground in low wisps, curling around the wheels of a supply cart waiting near the stable entrance. The air was still, thick with dew, the scent of wet hay and saddle oil filling the space between silence and farewell.
Jay adjusted Rowan’s bridle while Dakota paced restlessly behind her, already sensing the journey ahead. His shoulder was mostly healed now, though he still bore the occasional stiffness in his gait. She rubbed between his ears, offering a quiet, reassuring murmur before turning toward the stable door.
Ellie emerged from the shadows there, adjusting the strap on her rifle, her expression unreadable beneath the brim of her hood. She looked every bit the part: leather jacket, jeans, boots. Her pack was tight, Starlight, freshly brushed and restless under saddle. But it was her eyes Jay watched most closely. Because Ellie hadn’t really looked at her since breakfast.
The small crowd that had come to see them off stood quietly nearby. Diana offered Jay a pouch of herbs and firm instructions to ‘take your damn antibiotics on time’. Sadie clapped Ellie’s shoulder with a grunt that might have meant good luck or goodbye. Mark hugged them both. Even Jeff stood at the gate, arms crossed but face open with quiet approval.
“We’ll hold the line,” Jeff said, offering a nod to both of them. “Don’t worry about us. Just… come back in one piece.”
Jay smiled and squeezed his arm. “We will.”
Ellie offered a noncommittal grunt and nod before swinging into the saddle with practiced ease. Her eyes scanned the tree line beyond the gate, already measuring distance, threat, escape routes.
Jay lingered a moment longer, brushing a hand over the stone pillar of the gate, as if committing it to memory. Biltmore wasn’t just a place anymore. It had become their anchor. Their home.
When she mounted up, Rowan tossed his head and gave a soft snort, and Dakota loped ahead toward the trail like he couldn’t stand another second of goodbyes.
Jay turned toward Ellie and raised a brow. “You ready?”
Ellie’s reply was quiet. “Let’s go.”
And with that, they rode out, under the gate, past the last watch post, into the quiet pine-lined trail that would, in time, curve west toward Tennessee, and many states beyond that… Jackson.
On Day 3 – Blue Ridge Foothills
The first days were cold, clear, and largely silent.
They passed through forest paths thick with fallen branches and frost. Mornings started slow, with the hiss of the cook stove and the distant call of birds. Evenings ended in cautious campfires and quiet chewing. Ellie kept her focus forward. Her mouth was set in a tight line most of the time, her hands busy adjusting saddle straps or sharpening her blade even when they didn’t need it. She answered questions with nods, short phrases. Her eyes drifted to the distance more often than they met Jay’s.
Jay noticed.
At first, she said nothing. Gave her space. Knew this trip wasn’t easy. But by the second night, when Ellie barely touched her food and rolled away before Jay even finished her story about the trading post woman who mistook a deer for a dog, Jay’s own nerves began to fray.
So on the third morning, as they rode across a ridgeline beneath a sky the color of riverstone, Jay started humming.
A soft, meandering tune. Something old and half-forgotten. She let it carry over the wind and between the horses as they moved along the leaf-scattered trail.
Ellie didn’t react at first.
Then, after a long pause, she muttered, “That a real song or just something you made up?”
Jay smirked. “Bit of both. My grandma used to hum it while she picked blackberries. Said it kept the snakes away.”
Ellie snorted, barely, but it counted.
Later that afternoon, as they set up camp near a stream, Jay tried again. She lobbed a bad joke over the fire as she stirred the beans: “What did the mountain say to the trail? ‘I’ll never take you for granite.’”
Ellie didn’t laugh. But her lips twitched.
That night, Jay lay on her back beneath the stars, Dakota curled against her side, and pointed up toward the Milky Way, glittering faintly in the distance.
“You ever think the stars look like bullet holes in the sky?” she asked.
Ellie didn’t answer right away. Then, quietly: “No… but I guess I do now.”
Jay glanced toward her, their bedrolls only a foot apart.
“You’d tell me if this is too much, right?” she asked gently. “If I am being too much.”
Ellie turned her head slowly, eyes unreadable in the firelight.
“You’re not… I just don’t want to talk,” she said, soft and rough.
Jay nodded once. Didn’t press. But when Ellie rolled onto her side toward Jay that night, closer, not touching, but near enough to feel the heat between them. Jay let herself smile. Just a little.
Because Ellie hadn’t said thank you. Or I need you. Or I’m scared as hell about what we’ll find.
But she hadn’t shut her completely out, either. And sometimes, with Ellie, that was the loudest kind of love.
Week 4 in West Tennessee – Abandoned Highway 64
The landscape had gradually shifted from the gentle hills of Appalachia to a harsher, flatter world, scattered with forgotten towns, skeletal barns, and rusting cars overtaken by weeds. The air was warmer, heavier, carrying a lingering silence punctuated by the distant hum of insects and the occasional far-off howl of something wild.
Jay felt the shift too, not just in their surroundings, but in the subtle distance Ellie maintained as they rode west. Ellie still rode beside her, still shared meals by their campfires, still checked Dakota’s limp when he started to tire. But her silences grew longer, her glances shorter. Conversations about their destination, Jackson, stopped almost as soon as Jay brought it up, cut off by Ellie’s quiet grunt or simple, deflective responses. It made Jay feel like a passenger rather than a partner, tagging along on someone else’s painful pilgrimage.
She tried to dismiss the insecurity creeping beneath her skin like a splinter, but every evening spent sharpening blades or checking traps in heavy silence made the feeling harder to ignore. Jay found herself second-guessing simple things: the jokes she told, the paths she chose, even the way she set up the camp each night, wondering if Ellie regretted bringing her along.
Then, on a muggy, oppressive afternoon at the end of their fourth week, their quiet journey fractured.
They were moving slowly down what had once been Highway 64, now reduced to little more than cracked pavement overrun with scrubby growth. Jay wiped sweat from her brow, glancing at Ellie, who rode slightly ahead, eyes narrowed at the road ahead, always alert, always ready.
Dakota suddenly stiffened at Jay’s side, his hackles rising. He growled low, a warning.
Ellie halted instantly, raising her hand. Her voice was sharp, quiet. “Stop.”
Jay felt her heart thump sharply, tension flaring through her muscles as she scanned the overgrown brush lining the road.
Then… chaos exploded from both sides.
Four raiders burst from the cover of the roadside trees, armed with bats, machetes, and a rusted revolver. Their clothes were filthy, their faces gaunt with desperation and aggression. They moved fast, coordinated, eyes wild with hunger and fury.
Ellie dismounted Starlight in one fluid motion, drawing her pistol and dropping the first attacker before his foot touched pavement. The sharp crack of her gun echoed harshly through the air. Her face was utterly calm, cold, almost bored, as she took down the second with a precise headshot.
Jay’s pulse surged as a third raider lunged at her with a rusted machete. She ducked sideways, stumbling off Rowan and falling hard onto the gravel. Dakota snarled furiously, lunging at the attacker, jaws locking around the man’s arm as Jay drew her own pistol, her arm flying up to fire.
Before she could fire, Ellie appeared out of nowhere, grabbing the raider from behind and plunging her knife brutally into his throat, twice, fast and savage. Blood sprayed hot across Ellie’s cheek, dripping down onto her shirt. She shoved his body aside without a second glance, her expression eerily blank, as if she’d simply cut down weeds blocking their path.
The last raider turned to run, panic overtaking bravery, but Ellie calmly lifted her gun and shot him in the back. He fell face-first into the dirt, twitching once before going still.
Everything went quiet again.
Jay pushed herself slowly up from the ground, shaking slightly, heart hammering in her ears. She stared at Ellie, breathing raggedly, the adrenaline leaving her chest tight and her mouth dry.
Ellie stood still, gun lowered at her side, staring impassively at the bodies scattered across the broken road. Her eyes were vacant, detached, as though she’d been briefly possessed by something colder, something older than herself.
“Ellie?” Jay’s voice came soft, hesitant.
Ellie blinked slowly, as if only just registering Jay’s presence. When she spoke, her tone was flat, distant. “You hurt?”
Jay shook her head slowly, still processing. “No. No, I’m fine. Thanks to you.”
Ellie just nodded, not meeting Jay’s gaze. She moved mechanically, holstering her pistol and wiping blood from her blade on the grass without flinching.
Jay watched her carefully, swallowing hard. The killing itself didn’t shake her, not anymore, but the empty calm in Ellie’s expression, the clinical way she’d dispatched the raiders, sent an icy chill through her bones. Ellie had fought before, fiercely and brutally, but always with raw emotion; rage, fear, desperation. This new Ellie, the silent, detached Ellie, felt like a stranger.
Jay stepped closer, voice softer, cautious. “El… you okay?”
Ellie still didn’t look at her. Her eyes were distant, locked on some point beyond the horizon. “Fine,” she replied flatly. “Let’s loot these bodies and keep moving.”
Jay hesitated, feeling something small and sharp twist inside her chest. But she said nothing else. Instead, she silently helped Ellie search the corpses for anything useful, her stomach turning quietly as they worked.
Afterward, they remounted their horses, the silence heavier, thicker now. Ellie resumed her place slightly ahead, eyes scanning the road, shoulders stiff with tension, her walls higher than ever.
Jay followed silently behind, chewing on her lip, chest aching softly. Her insecurities, briefly silenced by the violence, came roaring back louder now.
She couldn’t shake the feeling that maybe she really was just along for the ride. A temporary passenger. Someone Ellie just needed so she wasn’t lonely for the moment.
Week 7 – Southern Missouri – Abandoned Farmstead
The air had shifted again by the seventh week, the crisp bite of early spring giving way to the warmer, humid days of deeper country. Fields once tended were now overrun with tall grasses, untamed and swaying softly in the breeze like whispered promises of lives forgotten. They moved slower now, careful of Dakota’s still-tender leg, winding their way through the dense maze of rural back roads that bore no signs, no clear paths, only echoes of humanity.
Late one afternoon, under a sky darkening softly into dusk, they spotted a barn nestled beside a collapsing farmhouse. The structure was still mostly intact, weathered gray wood, doors hanging slightly ajar like an invitation or a warning.
Ellie raised a hand, silently signaling Jay to halt.
“Looks quiet,” Jay whispered softly, eyes scanning for danger as Rowan shifted restlessly beneath her. Ellie’s eyes narrowed, taking a careful measure of the barn, then nodding slightly.
“Worth a look,” Ellie murmured, sliding off Starlight with practiced grace, rifle raised in a fluid motion. “Stay close.”
Jay dismounted cautiously, Dakota padding softly beside her, his ears alert. They crossed quietly through tall grass, blades brushing softly against denim and leather, until they reached the wide barn doors. Ellie pressed a finger to her lips, then stepped forward slowly, pushing the door open just enough to slip inside.
The barn was dim, thick with dust motes dancing through the slivers of fading sunlight. Old hay scattered the floor, smelling faintly sweet but mostly damp and rotten. Rusted tools leaned forgotten against the far wall, and cobwebs stretched thickly across shadowed rafters.
Then Jay heard it, a faint, trembling sound from a stall toward the back. A soft, labored breathing.
Ellie’s muscles tightened visibly, eyes sharp, ready. But Jay moved first, gently touching Ellie’s shoulder, silently communicating her intent. Ellie hesitated, jaw tightening, but she stepped aside to let Jay pass.
Inside the far stall lay a man propped weakly against the rough wooden boards, his clothes torn and stained darkly with blood. He was older, gray beard flecked with dried mud and blood, eyes half-glazed with pain. His breathing was shallow, ragged, each inhale a struggle.
Jay knelt carefully beside him, voice gentle. “Hey. It’s alright… we’re not here to hurt you.”
He flinched slightly, blinking rapidly to clear his eyes, gaze darting nervously between her and Ellie, who stood at the stall’s entrance, rifle still half-raised.
“Bit… me…” he rasped weakly, his eyes squeezing shut briefly in a surge of pain. “This… mornin’… runner. Came from nowhere. I wasn’t quick enough.”
Jay’s heart sank, eyes darting instinctively to the torn, bloody fabric on his forearm, the unmistakable jagged bite mark beneath. It already looked angry, swollen, veins darkening rapidly around the wound.
She swallowed thickly, voice soothing. “What’s your name?”
“Samuel,” he replied softly, almost ashamed, as if his name wasn’t worthy of the compassion in her voice. “Was just… passin’ through. Wanted… find some food, somewhere safe. Guess it’s my last bad decision.”
Jay shook her head gently. “No bad decisions. Just unlucky.”
Samuel managed a weak, grateful smile. “You’re kinder… than most who find me.”
Ellie shifted uncomfortably near the stall door, her jaw set tightly, gaze shadowed and unreadable. She’d seen it before, countless times. So had Jay. But for Ellie, each of these moments was a knife’s edge, a memory of the fact she could have been a cure, that no one would have had to die like this again.
Jay reached slowly, taking Samuel’s trembling hand in hers, squeezing gently. His skin was clammy, fever already starting to take hold. “It won’t be long,” Jay whispered softly. “But you don’t have to be alone.”
Samuel’s breathing stuttered softly, tears slipping from the corners of his eyes. “Thank you…” he rasped weakly. “For this. For stayin’. You don’t owe me shit.”
Jay squeezed his hand again, throat tight, then slowly lifted her eyes to meet Ellie’s gaze across the shadowed stall. Ellie saw the look immediately, familiar, heartbreaking, the gentle request that she hated, yet understood.
Ellie’s jaw clenched tighter, frustration flickering briefly in her eyes, but beneath it was pain. Resignation. She lowered her head for a moment, exhaling slowly, then stepped forward, boots crunching softly on old hay.
“I’m sorry,” Ellie said quietly, kneeling on Samuel’s other side. Her voice was gruff but sincere. “Wish there was another way.”
Samuel nodded slowly, accepting. “Just make it quick, girl. I’ve seen enough pain.”
Ellie reached into her jacket slowly, pulling her pistol free. Jay held Samuel’s hand tighter, blinking away tears she refused to let fall, not yet. Ellie’s breath was steady, but Jay saw the slight tremble in her hand, the tightness in her throat, as she pressed the barrel gently against Samuel’s temple.
“Close your eyes,” Jay whispered roughly, her voice barely audible. “Think of somewhere good. Of the people you love.”
Samuel’s eyes closed, his lips moving silently, perhaps a prayer, perhaps a memory.
“You’ll see them, they'll be there… It will be beautiful there, Samuel. You won’t be in pain… or hungry ever again…” Jay whispered, rubbing his hand that was starting to shake and twitch in hers.
The shot cracked through the barn, startling birds from the rafters, echoing harshly in Jay’s ears long after the sound faded.
Silence settled once more, heavy and mournful.
Jay’s breath shuddered softly, eyes closed briefly in sorrow, still holding Samuel’s limp hand. Ellie stood slowly, wiping her pistol clean with mechanical precision, her gaze distant again, locked somewhere Jay couldn’t follow.
Jay finally opened her eyes, gently setting Samuel’s hand across his chest, smoothing the dirtied shirt gently, giving dignity in death. She rose slowly, looking up to Ellie with quiet pain and gratitude mingling in her gaze.
“Thank you,” Jay said softly, voice thick with emotion.
Ellie looked away, jaw tight, emotion hidden behind walls she refused to lower. “Don’t thank me,” she muttered quietly. “Let’s just… get moving.”
Jay nodded slowly, watching Ellie step out of the barn without another word, her silhouette dark and solitary against the fading daylight.
Jay lingered just a moment longer, whispering a quiet goodbye to Samuel before turning to follow Ellie outside, where the world waited, beautiful, broken, and endlessly cruel.
Week 8 – Ozark Plateau – Along the Black River
The road had taken them into higher country again, where steep ridges folded one into another like green-gray blankets and creeks cut shining ribbons through clefts of limestone. The spring leaves have fully returned now, and summer’s warmth was creeping into the air; cicadas droned lazily over the hush of the river, slipping past gravel bars mottled with sun and shadow.
Jay rode slightly ahead, guiding Rowan along a narrow deer track that paralleled the water. Ellie followed on Starlight, Dakota trotting open–mouthed between them, ears swiveling at every distant rustle. The day had been kinder than most, no storms, no raiders, no infected, just long miles and the occasional startled deer bounding across the trail. With quiet came space to think, to remember, and Jay found her thoughts drifting unbidden toward the people who had first shown her how to survive by living, not simply by fighting.
She slowed Rowan and let the gelding pick his footing along a flat stretch. “My granddad used to fish these kinds of rivers,” she said, half turning in the saddle to catch Ellie’s eye. “Said clear water was good for the soul, made you honest, ’cause you could see right to the bottom.” She smiled faintly. “He was always worried folks would drown in their own secrets.”
Ellie grunted a soft acknowledgement, but her posture eased; she nudged Starlight up beside Rowan. “Yeah? What else did he say?”
Jay’s brows arched in mild surprise, Ellie hadn’t asked for more in weeks. Warmed, she went on. “He kept a journal every night. Page after page, crop notes, stories, warnings, prayers… little poems he’d never admit were poems. I used to sneak it from his nightstand after they thought I was asleep. That’s how I learned half of what I know, mending fences, identifying edible plants, tracking weather by cloud shape. He wrote it all like he was leaving breadcrumbs through the dark for someone.”
Ellie listened quietly, her face turned toward Jay yet angled just enough that shadows hid her eyes. “He knew you were reading it… didn’t he?”
“Oh yeah,” Jay chuckled. “Found me on the porch once, lamp still burning at two a.m. Thought he’d be mad, but he just poured us both some herbal tea, sat down and answered every question I had. Even the hard ones.” Her voice softened. “That’s how I learned I’d been born addicted. Rebekah was deep into pills before she had me…painkillers, whatever she could trade. Granddad wrote it plain: ‘Baby came early, crying like her heart was on fire. Shook violently for days. Took four weeks before she could breathe easy.’ He never lied about it. Said the truth was a seed… hard, but you plant it, and something honest grows.”
Ellie’s jaw shifted; her fingertips drummed restlessly on the saddle horn. She seemed to chew on the words before speaking. “Do you remember any of that?”
“No,” Jay admitted, “but I remember feeling different. Like my engine revved louder than other kids’. Grandma said I was restless because the world was waiting for me to run.” She smiled, nostalgic pain flickering across her features. “She’d sing hymns at night. Said the stars were the angel choir’s audience.”
Ellie fell silent for several strides of Starlight’s hooves. When she did speak, her voice was low, sincere. “Your grandparents were… good people. Like the kind you wish everyone got.”
“They were.” Jay swallowed, blinking away sudden dampness. “I hope I made ’em proud before… before everything.”
The path veered uphill then, climbing through white sycamores toward a squat stone building half-swallowed by kudzu. A sign lay facedown in weeds, but the domed roof poking above the treeline gave it away.
Ellie pulled Starlight to a halt, brow quirking. “An observatory?”
“Looks like.” Jay’s smile brightened with curiosity. “Wanna check it out?”
They tethered the horses to a fence post still sturdy beneath its vine wrap and picked their way up the creaking steps. Inside, the air smelled of dust and rusted steel. Broken glass crunched underfoot, but the central spiral staircase remained surprisingly intact, winding toward the yawning mouth of the dome above.
Ellie led the ascent, sure–footed. At the top, night had started to fall, the roof’s rot exposing a half clear view of the heavens. The great telescope still loomed, its brass gears frozen mid–turn like a relic from a civilization that once believed stars were within reach.
They laid their bedrolls on the stable portion of floor and switched off the lantern to let darkness reign. Above, the sky unfurled, a scatter of diamond chips across ink. The Milky Way cut a cloudy spill overhead, bright and ghostly.
Ellie lay back, hands pillowing her head, voice hushed in the cathedral silence. “See that crooked W?” She pointed with a slow lift of her finger. “Cassiopeia, queen in a chair. Joel liked that one. And there, Orion’s belt, three in a row. Easy one.” She traced them all for Jay, murmuring half remembered lore: hunter, dog, nameless river of light. Under her words, the tightness usually pinching her features melted, and for the first time in weeks her eyes held unguarded wonder.
Jay turned onto her side, propping her head on her elbow to watch Ellie illuminated by starlight. Resilience remained etched in every freckle, every line carved by loss and stubborn hope.
“You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen,” Jay said, the words escaping without rehearsal, so soft it was a whisper but unwavering. “Even under a sky like this.”
Ellie’s breath caught; she didn’t look away. In the hush, constellations wheeled slowly overhead, silent witnesses. A faint, crooked smile lifted Ellie’s mouth.
“Shut the fuck up,” she whispered, but her voice trembled with something warm. She rolled her eyes. “Keep talking, though.”
So Jay did, about star myths her grandmother read aloud, about pages of her grandfather’s journal describing meteor showers over empty fields. Ellie listened, eyes half closed, thumb brushing the back of Jay’s hand in lazy circles. Outside, the world remained dangerous, unpredictable. But inside that crumbling dome, with galaxies spun above and hearts unshielded below, they found a moment suspended, weightless, luminous, infinite.
Week 11 – Southeast Kansas – Wind-Carved Prairie
The land had flattened into waves of tawny grass that rolled toward every horizon, broken only by the skeletal remains of fence posts and the distant silhouettes of grain silos long since emptied. Under an expansive sky scudded with gauzy clouds, Jay and Ellie spotted a plume of thin smoke curling above a low fold in the earth. Dakota lifted his muzzle, sniffed, and whined, a mingling of caution and curiosity.
Ellie’s hand went automatically to the pistol at her hip. “Could be trouble,” she muttered, narrowing her gaze. The last random encounter on this journey had ended in blood, and she still remembered.
“Could be shelter,” Jay countered gently, nudging Rowan forward. “Smoke that small means they’re hiding, not flaunting.”
Ellie grunted, skeptical. Still, she rode beside Jay as they crested a shallow ridge and spotted a cluster of canvas lean-tos tucked inside the windbreak of an old drainage ditch. A makeshift corral held three ragged horses. A battered solar panel angled toward the west, powering what looked like a single LED lantern strung between two posts. Five figures milled about, a middle-aged woman chopping root vegetables, a man mending a net, two children collecting kindling, and a lanky teen boy stationed like a sentry on an upturned milk crate, clutching a hunting bow far too large for him.
At the sight of strangers, every pair of eyes snapped alert. The boy’s bow wavered up, arrow nocked but trembling.
“Whoa.” Jay raised both palms, reins slack in her fingers. “Not here to hurt anyone.”
Ellie kept a hand on her gun, body half-shielding Jay by instinct. “You alone out here by choice?” she called, voice flat but carrying.
The woman wiped her hands on her apron and stepped forward, chin lifted. “Choice’s a funny word these days. We passin’ through same as you, ’til winter. You two hungry?”
Jay shot Ellie a quick, hopeful glance. Ellie’s shoulders stayed tense, but she inclined her head almost imperceptibly: ‘your call.’ Her eyes said.
They dismounted. While Ellie unsaddled Starlight under Dakota’s watchful eye, Jay helped the woman, Mae, she introduced herself, stir a pot over a low, smokeless fire. The stew smelled of rabbit, wild onion, and corn scraped from desiccated cobs. The boy with the bow, Caleb, hovered near, eyes wide behind too-long bangs. He couldn’t stop glancing shyly at Ellie’s tattoo.
Over the next hours, wary stares softened. Ellie sat apart on an overturned bucket, scanning the horizon between slow bites of stew, while Jay fell easily into conversation, trading stories of horse care and seed saving, offering to restring Caleb’s bow, listening while Mae spoke of a husband lost to fever the previous winter. The two younger kids, twins maybe eight or nine, giggled when Dakota rolled over for belly scratches.
By lantern light that night, Caleb sidled up to Jay while Ellie patrolled the camp’s perimeter. He fidgeted with a fraying bracelet of braided grass. “Can I ask you somethin’?” he whispered, voice cracking.
“Sure thing.” Jay crouched so they were eye-level. The lantern cast warm pools of gold across his anxious face.
Caleb’s gaze darted to be sure the others were out of earshot. “If… if you liked—like, really liked someone the same… you know… would you tell your parents? Even now? When things’re already so hard?”
Jay’s heart pinched. She remembered being that age, terrified of every secret housed inside her chest. “I’d wanna,” she said gently. “But only if I felt safe. You deserve safe. You deserve people who’ll still love you after every word.” She tapped his bracelet, smiling. “And you’ve got time. No rule says you gotta spill your guts before you’re ready.”
Caleb’s shoulders sagged with mingled relief and longing. “You think there’s still… space for that kind of truth?”
“I do,” Jay said. “Because you just asked me.” She squeezed his wrist. “And I’m glad you did.”
He blinked fast, nodding, a shy smile blooming. “Thanks, ma’am… I mean, Jay.”
Across the fire, Ellie watched, sharp eyes softening as Caleb’s tense posture eased under Jay’s kindness. Something shifted inside Ellie then, an almost physical click: Jay wasn’t simply good in a brutal world; she made pockets of safety where none should exist, a capability Ellie had never seen outside of Jay.
Late that night, camp quieted under a silvered sliver of moon. Mae offered them a faded canvas tent at the edge of the ditch. Ellie followed Jay inside, ducking beneath the flap. The narrow space smelled of clean hay and woodsmoke. Jay unrolled their shared blanket; Ellie removed her jacket, but instead of settling back-to-back as travel fatigue often dictated, Ellie reached for Jay’s wrist, thumb brushing the inside pulse.
“Thank you,” Ellie murmured, voice low, rough with vulnerable awe. “For what you said to that kid. For… doing what I don’t know how to do.”
Jay’s breath hitched. “You do plenty babe.”
“Yeah, I shoot things.” Ellie’s smirk was self-deprecating, but her eyes shone. “But you… you make people brave enough to breathe.”
Jay tried to speak, but Ellie kissed her instead: soft, deliberate, unhurried. She loosened Jay’s bun, fingertips combing gently through long wavy strands, mouth mapping tender paths along jaw and throat, avoiding the scar with reverence. Jay’s pulse thrummed beneath every feather-light touch, blooming warmth where fear had lingered for weeks.
Ellie’s usual urgency was absent. Instead she traced slow circles at Jay’s waist, lips grazing collarbone like a promise. When their clothes finally pooled silently onto the canvas floor, Ellie guided Jay down, palm splayed over her heartbeat, whispered, “We’re safe tonight.” Softness, rare, precious, unfurled between them in measured waves: hushed sighs, gasps caught like fireflies, bodies twining under moon glow filtering through patched canvas.
After, Jay nestled against Ellie’s chest, listening to the steady drum of her heart. Outside, the prairie wind sang through bent grass, but inside the tent, only their synced breaths filled the space.
Ellie pressed a last kiss to Jay’s temple. “You keep showing me things worth fighting for, I don’t know how you keep doing that…” she whispered.
Jay’s answer was a smile against Ellie’s skin, one part gratitude and one part love.
Week 18 – Central Wyoming – Flooded Sweetwater River
The eighteenth week on the road opened its jaws with a storm. For two days straight, rain lashed the prairie, turning dirt tracks into ribbons of mud and swelling every creek in their path. By mid-morning of the third day, Jay and Ellie reached what had once been a steel-and-timber bridge spanning the Sweetwater River. Half of it was gone, warped beams and torn planks dangling over a roiling flood. The only usable section was a narrow spine of rusted girders still lashed together by fraying cables. Water thundered beneath, brown and frothing, carrying whole tree limbs downstream in violent sweeps.
“We should look for a ford,” Jay said over the noise, wind whipping stray strands of wet hair across her face. “Backtrack a mile—”
“We’ve burned half the day already,” Ellie cut in, voice flat. “Storm rolls in, this river doubles. We jump it now or add two days searching.”
“With both horses? With a dog that can’t swim strong yet?” Jay’s voice rose, fear disguised as reason. “It’s a gamble, Ellie.”
“Everything’s a fucking gamble,” Ellie shot back, standing. She tested the remaining planks with her boot; it bowed but held. “I’ll lead. Get Starlight across, then throw a line for Rowan.”
Jay’s pulse hammered. “Ellie—”
But Ellie was already moving, agile as a cat, stepping across the beams to the center of the east span. Rain spray hit her face; boards slick with algae gave under her boots. She crouched, coiled her body, and leapt over the gap, boots skidding on the receiving platform but finding purchase. She straightened, exhaling a tight breath. The river snarled below, taunting.
“See?” she called, forcing a grin that didn’t reach her eyes. “Easy.”
Jay’s relief flooded so hard it left her dizzy, and then her breath caught again. A support beneath Ellie’s platform groaned, wood splitting with a sick pop. The beam lurched. Ellie pitched sideways, arms windmilling, once steady again. Ellie glanced back just long enough to throw a grim smirk. “It’s fine. Just keep—”
The sentence snapped in half with the sound of creaking steel. A girder lurched downward, pitching Ellie forward. She caught herself on a cable, legs dangling briefly over open air, boot soles skimming water spray. By pure reflex, Ellie slammed her body upwards, crashing onto the deck as the outer third of the span sheared away, plunging into the river with a thunderous splash. She clung to a rebar rod jutting from the remaining timbers, chest heaving.
Jay’s scream tore from her throat before she could think: “EL, HOLD ON!”
Jay was grabbing the rope she had on Rowan's saddle when Ellie hauled upward, muscles straining, and rolled onto the beam again, chest heaving. Without pausing, she scrambled the last few yards to stable ground on the far side. Ellie stared at the river below, expression hollow. When she turned, adrenaline still blazing, Jay was already storming toward her across the remnants of the deck, fury and terror battling in her eyes.
The moment Jay’s boots hit solid earth, words exploded.
“What the hell was that? I told you it wasn’t safe!” she shouted, voice raw, rain plastering hair to her cheeks. “You could’ve died! And for what? To shave a few hours? You don’t get to just—just charge ahead and leave me watching!”
“I knew the damn beam would hold,” Ellie snapped back, her face hardened though her hands trembled. “If we waste hours on every broken path, winter will hit before we even reach Jackson.”
“That’s bullshit and you know it!” Jay jabbed a finger toward the river. “You slipped because you were rushing, because you’d rather risk dying than let me see you’re scared!”
Ellie’s eyes flashed, a wounded animal backed into a corner. “I’m not scared of a bridge.”
“No?” Jay’s voice cracked under the weight of weeks of worry. “Then what? Scared of letting yourself need me?” Her breath came fast, chest tight. “Tell me… are you just going back to her? Back to Dina? Back to some life where I’m a stopgap?”
Ellie reeled like she’d been struck. Rain pelted her skin, masking tears she refused to shed. Her voice thundered out, equal parts rage and grief: “I don’t know what I’m going back to, Jay! Joel’s gone, Tommy might still hate me, Dina… she could slam the gate in my fucking face or… god, I don’t know!” She raked her hand through wet hair, breathing hard. “Jackson is ghosts and questions. I have no fucking clue what’s left—if anything is! I just know I need to see it with my own eyes before I can breathe again!”
Jay’s anger softened into exposed hurt, shoulders sagging. “Then what am I, Ellie? Am I just another question? Something to just make you not lonely until you can have what you really want.”
Ellie opened her mouth, closed it, turned away, fists clenching at her sides. Neither spoke again as they retrieved the horses and led them upriver to a copse of cottonwoods for shelter. They set camp in loaded silence, only the hiss of wind through wet leaves and Dakota’s subdued panting filling the space where conversation used to live.
Night crawled over the flooded landscape, and the storm finally ambled east, leaving a wide smear of clear sky. Their small fire spat and crackled, drying damp socks hanging from a line between branches. Jay sat hunched, rubbing Dakota’s ears, eyes reflecting firelight but distant, still replaying Ellie’s near fall, the snap of rage in her own voice.
Ellie sat opposite, legs crossed, gaze fixed on the flames. Shadows carved hollows beneath her cheekbones; fatigue and guilt pressed her shoulders low. The fight’s words twisted inside her chest like barbed wire. After a long stretch of silence, she cleared her throat.
“Jay.” The name came out hoarse. Jay looked up warily. Ellie forced her gaze steady. “Back there… I was reckless. You were right. I wasn’t thinking—” She swallowed. “Seeing you scared… it hits harder than bullets.”
Jay’s expression softened but stayed guarded. Ellie leaned forward, elbows on knees.
Minutes stretched. Finally Ellie spoke, voice barely above the crackle. “You were never supposed to matter to me,” she said, voice nearly a whisper, confession molten in her throat. Her eyes stayed fixed on the fire, expression haunted. “I didn’t let myself plan for that. I’m… shit at plans.” She swallowed. “But you do matter. More than Jackson. More than answers. And that scares the fucking shit out of me.”
Jay’s breath trembled. Firelight danced over her shocked face. Ellie continued, words fragile but unstoppable. “If I lose you—if that bridge had taken me, at least it’d be on me. Not you. But if you got hurt because I froze, or because I couldn’t make a call—” She shook her head, staring into the blaze. “I can’t carry that.”
The admission hung between them, warm and aching. Jay rose slowly, circled the fire, and sat beside Ellie. She reached, laid her hand over Ellie’s scraped knuckles, a silent forgiveness, wrapped in shared ache. Ellie turned her hand palm-up, lacing their fingers.
Ellie exhaled, a shuddering release. “I’m sorry. That was stupid.”
“I know,” Jay murmured. “And I’m here.”
They stayed like that until the fire burned low, silence no longer a gulf but a shared blanket. Outside, the river kept raging, but within the small circle of light, the turbulence settled, replaced by a wary, deeper trust.
Tomorrow they would ride on, toward answers or more loss, but tonight they stayed, hands clasped, letting the fire’s small light stitch their jagged edges back together.
Chapter 35: Jackson
Summary:
Thank you for reading! Please note, I am continually improving! I update frequently and am always open to kind, constructive criticism. I appreciate you for giving this story a read!
I'm sorry for the delays, life has been rough this week!
Chapter Text
They topped the ridge just as late-afternoon sunlight broke through a lace of high clouds, spilling bronze across the valley below. Far off, the Grand Teton range knifed up from rolling foothills, granite peaks dusted with early snow, their serrated silhouettes gleaming like hammered silver against a sky rinsed crystalline blue. Pockets of green aspens flickered in the folds of the land, catching light with every gust. Jay reined Rowan to a halt, breath leaving her in a soft exhale that was half prayer.
“God, Ellie,” she whispered, eyes wide and damp. “It’s… It’s ridiculous. You didn’t tell me Wyoming was this beautiful.”
Ellie, astride Starlight, sat slightly hunched, fists tight in the reins. She regarded the mountains the way someone stares at an old photograph: fondness blurred by dread. “Yeah,” she said after a beat, voice rough from lack of use that day. “Jackson’s just through that pass, Snake River cuts around the west side. Town’s down in the basin.” She gestured vaguely. “You can’t see it yet. But it’s there. Power from the dam, watchtowers, the whole deal.”
Dakota padded ahead, nose twitching at scents carried downslope on the wind, pine, distant smoke, maybe elk. Jay nudged Rowan forward again, letting the horse pick a cautious descent while she stole sideways glances at Ellie. The skin under Ellie’s eyes had gone bruised from nights with almost no sleep; her cheeks had hollowed after a week of skipped meals, and she was starting to look like she did when Jay first met her again. Jay had resorted to bribery, honey from a trade they got a few weeks ago, peaches they found on a tree at an old farm, anything to coax Ellie into swallowing more than herbal tea and jerky. If it wasn’t for Jay, Ellie would be much worse.
Now, under the wide open Wyoming sky, those shadows looked starker, as though the approaching valley siphoned every ounce of color from Ellie’s face.
“Tell me about it,” Jay coaxed gently, pointing toward the distant basin. “How’s the place run? What should I expect?”
Ellie drew a slow breath and began, words clipped but steady, as if reciting facts kept the weight of feelings at bay. “It’s a commune. They vote on shit, rotating council, patrol captains, ration committees. Much like Biltmore, honestly… Maria she’s who heads most of it, or she did. She is…or was, the backbone.” A muscle twitched near her eye. “Tommy’s… well, Tommy’s Tommy. Last I heard, he and Maria weren’t together anymore. Stuff got complicated after…” She stopped, throat bobbing. “After Joel… after Seattle….”
Jay’s fingers tightened on the reins. She waited, saying nothing.
Ellie cleared her throat, pushing through. “They’ve got greenhouses, real ones, goats, chickens, a hydroplant that harnesses river current for power. They show movies on Fridays in the converted barn. It’s, you know… civilized.” She tried to sound cynical, but the word emerged laced with yearning.
“And who’s running patrols?” Jay asked softly.
A humorless huff. “Probably Greg or Bonnie now. They both lived for that shit, planning routes, scrounging for ammo, feeling useful.” Her gaze drifted toward the valley floor. “Not sure how they’ll all feel seeing me….”
They rode in silence another quarter mile, hooves crunching over stiff sage. Wind whipped through Jay’s wavy brown hair, carrying the resinous scent of pine and woodsmoke. Finally, Jay spoke, voice low. “You’ve barely slept in days, El. And you’re shrinking. I can almost wrap my hands around your waist.” She reached over, touching Ellie’s sleeve. “Talk to me.”
Ellie flinched but didn’t pull away. Her throat worked. “Every mile closer, the memories get louder,” she confessed, eyes fixed on the distant peaks. “Joel teaching me guitar on the porch. Dina handing me a mug of tea at dawn. JJ crawling on the rug.” Her voice cracked. “I keep replaying the look on Dina’s face when I left that night… like she already knew I was choosing the ghosts over her and there was nothing she could do to stop me. Now I’m back to… what? Apologize? Pick through rubble?” She swallowed hard. “What if there’s nothing to come back to? What if I’m the last living ghost?”
Jay guided Rowan closer until their knees brushed. “Then we say goodbye to the ghosts and walk through the memories... But you’re not alone in this valley, Ellie. I’m walking in with you.”
Ellie met Jay’s gaze at last, eyes shining with unshed exhaustion. The vulnerability there cut deeper than any bullet wound. She exhaled shakily and gave the smallest nod.
That night they made camp in a sheltered notch framed by granite boulders. The sunset painted the Tetons a bruised purple, then smoldered out into a silver-black night pricked with stars. Jay forced Ellie to eat half a tin of peaches, her half of the jerky, and a chunk of hard cheese, waiting until Ellie choked down each bite before settling beside her on the bedroll. Dakota curled on Ellie’s other side, warm weight anchoring her to the present.
Ellie lay awake long after Jay’s breaths evened out, eyes reflecting starlight, listening to the hush of wind through juniper branches. Her heart beat fast, anticipation, dread, something like hope, tangled painfully with fear. She reached across the small space, fingertips brushing Jay’s hair, and whispered so softly even the night barely heard:
“Don’t let me run.”
Jay stirred, half-dreaming, and turned toward her, murmuring, “Love you.” Her hand found Ellie’s and held tight.
Just beyond the fire’s dying embers, dawn hovered like a held breath, waiting to reveal whatever awaited them in the valley below.
When dawn finally seeped into the notch in gradual strokes of pale gold, turning the dew-rimmed sage into a field of tiny mirrors. Somewhere down-slope, a magpie sang a staccato warning; otherwise, the world was hushed, as if it too sensed they were on the cusp of something fragile. Jay woke first, coaxing a small flame in the embers and warming water for some tea, and pulling out some food from her pack, so she made sure Ellie ate. When she finished and turned, she found Ellie sitting upright on her bedroll, knees pulled close, face bruised with fatigue but unreadably calm, eyes fixed on the silhouetted peaks.
Jay passed her the tin mug. “Morning, hun.”
Ellie accepted it with a faint nod, fingers curling around the heat. Steam drifted across her face, catching the swelling light. For a long minute, she didn’t sip, just stared into the dark swirl as if searching for patterns. Then her shoulders rose on a deep breath, and she spoke without looking over.
“I never told you how I knew to go to Santa Barbara,” she said, voice low, gravelly from the cold and from words kept too long. “When I went after Abby.”
The name fell heavy, like a stone dropped into still water. Jay said nothing, only shifted closer, letting the silence invite the rest.
Ellie’s thumb traced the rim of the mug. “After Seattle… the nightmares got worse. Couldn’t hear guitar strings without tasting blood.” She swallowed. “Tommy showed up one day, limping and bitter as hell, waving rumors. I chose them. Chose—” her brow pinched “—chose vengeance over the family I had. I thought if I finished it, if I killed Abby, I’d plug the hole inside.”
She finally met Jay’s gaze, and the rawness there made Jay’s chest ache. “I tracked her using Tommy’s rumors to Santa Barbara. Found her strung up by these sick fucks, half-starved. Freed her just to drag her down to the beach for a fight.” Ellie’s fingers tightened; tea sloshed. “We were both barely human, skin over bones, injured. She tried to walk away, but I forced it. Needed it.”
Jay’s voice was a quiet anchor. “This is when you lost your fingers…” Jay remembered the night Ellie had told her about that.
Ellie’s eyes slid to the scarred tips of her left hand. “I got my blade in her shoulder, here.” She tapped a spot on her own shoulder. “She bit my fingers off. I nearly drowned her. We traded blows ’til neither could hardly stand. Then I pinned her… underwater.” Her breath hitched. “And I saw Joel. Not dying. Just… playing guitar, waiting for me... I realized if I killed Abby, it wouldn’t bring him back… wouldn’t change a damn fucking thing…”
She blinked hard, moisture gathering. “So I let her go. Sat in the surf, bawling like a kid while she drove off with that kid.” A rueful exhale. “Thought maybe that choice… mercy… would save me. But when I got back, Dina was gone. House empty. Guitar Joel gave me left… and I couldn’t even play it right.”
Jay set her own mug aside and reached, covering Ellie’s clenched fist with warm fingers. “You carried all that alone.”
Ellie’s voice cracked. “Didn’t know how to put it into words that weren’t poison.”
Jay squeezed gently. “You just did.”
Wind whisked over the ridge, fluttering loose strands of Ellie’s hair across her cheek. She let out a shaky laugh devoid of humor. “All those bodies behind me, and the one I let walk away is the one that I was hunting to begin with. How fucked is that?”
“It’s human,” Jay murmured. “Killing her wouldn’t have filled the hole, El. It would’ve dug it deeper.”
Ellie studied Jay’s face, the earnest empathy, the steadiness. “I’m scared the hole’s permanent.”
“Maybe it is,” Jay allowed softly. “But we can shore up the edges together. Dirt won’t cave as easily if two people hold the walls.”
For the first time in days, the tight line of Ellie’s mouth eased. She drained the tea, ate the nuts and dried fruit Jay handed her, set the mug aside, then leaned forward until her brow met Jay’s. The contact was feather-light, world's heavy.
“Thank you,” she whispered. “For listening. For not fixing—just… hearing.”
Jay’s answer was a soft smile. “Always.”
Later that day pine shadows striped the trail as it wound through foothill timber, the air thinning with altitude yet scented richly of resin and damp soil. Far behind them the plains stretched flat and sun-burnt; ahead, the Tetons loomed like a wall of gray knives, their peaks mantled in snow that glittered under a brittle blue sky. Jay rode abreast of Ellie now, Rowan’s hooves crunching over last winter’s fallen cones. Dakota padded ahead, nose twitching, tail low but wagging, he sensed people, fresh horse signs, woodsmoke curling faintly on the up-slope breeze.
Ellie’s posture had shifted the moment they crested the final ridge. Where exhaustion had bowed her shoulders for weeks, something taut and electric now strung her spine straight. She raised a hand, pointing through a gap in the ponderosas. “See that tree line break? Lookout Alpha.” Jay followed her finger to a narrow platform high in a spruce, camouflaged in burlap. Through binocular flare, she caught the glint of a mirror, signal glass, maybe, then it vanished.
Ellie guided Starlight a little left, voice low but more alert than Jay had heard in days. “They rotate every six hours. Two-man teams: one on scope, one on rifle. That ravine down there?” She jerked her chin. “Trip-wire chimes strung under the brush. You can’t ride through without rattling a can.”
Jay’s eyes swept the undergrowth, recognizing now the subtle, strategic scars of defense: logs dragged lengthwise to funnel travelers, false deer trails that dead-ended at blocked choke points. Quiet admiration stirred in her chest. “You helped design this?”
Ellie shrugged, but pride flickered through the guarded mask. “I was on patrol a lot. Maria called the shots. I just—” She broke off as Starlight’s ears swivelled forward. “Hold up.”
A metallic clack echoed, faint, unmistakable. The trip-wire chimes. From the treeline ahead, three mounted figures emerged at a trot, rifles strapped but barrels angled down in that wary, ready posture. They wore mismatched coats and riding gaiters.
The lead rider, broad-shouldered, early forties, face half-obscured by a fleece neck gaiter, raised a hand. “That’s far enough you two.”
Ellie eased Starlight to a halt, palms visible on the horn. Jay followed suit, sensing the tension coil through Ellie’s frame like a drawn bowstring.
“Names?” the rider called, voice steady.
Ellie cleared her throat. “Ellie Williams. Returning.”
A ripple of recognition jolted through the trio. The second rider, a younger woman with cropped hair, shifted in her saddle, eyes narrowing. “Ellie? We thought you were dead.”
Ellie’s jaw ticked. “Not dead, Bonnie.”
The first rider dismounted with practiced ease, rifle still slung. As he approached he tugged down the mask, revealing a square face furrowed by concern rather than hostility. “Greg,” he introduced curtly, gaze flicking between Ellie and Jay. “Maria will wanna see you. Until then, standard intake.” He nodded toward Jay. “She a friend?”
“Jade Grayson,” Jay answered, lifting a hand in greeting. “Passing through with her.”
Greg’s assessing eyes softened a margin at Dakota’s calm presence by Rowan’s foreleg, though the dog’s hackles bristled subtly. “Dog’s staying leashed on entry,” he warned. “No exceptions.”
“I know the drill,” Ellie said, the edge in her voice equal parts defiance and relief. She slid from the saddle, knees absorbing impact. A slight sway betrayed lingering weariness, but she steadied immediately.
Greg gestured to his companion, who rode forward to take Starlight and Rowan’s reins. “We’ll escort you to the South Gate. No weapons drawn, safety straps on. You know protocol.”
Ellie unbuckled her holster, flipped the retaining strap snug over the pistol’s grip, then set her rifle’s safety. Jay mirrored her, handing her revolver butt-first to the younger guard, who secured it in a saddle scabbard.
Only when Dakota allowed a rope slip-lead over his neck did the patrol relax marginally. Still, watchful eyes tracked every gesture as the small convoy turned west onto a broader trail, packed dirt marked by fresh hoofprints, recent wagon grooves, and the faint scent of livestock.
As they moved, Ellie remained silent, gaze flicking between familiar terrain markers: an overgrown signpost warning “STOP: Identify Yourself Before Approaching Gate.”
Jay edged her horse alongside Ellie’s. “How are you doing?”
Ellie’s throat bobbed. She didn’t answer immediately, eyes fixed on the outline of watchtowers rising ahead like sentinels against the blue. Finally, voice barely above a whisper: “I’m… home, I guess.” A beat. “If they’ll let me… us in.”
Jay reached across the gap, brushing the back of Ellie’s hand. The patrol’s eyes were on the road; no one saw the fleeting touch, but Ellie felt it, and some of the shadow lifted from her shoulders as they rode the last mile toward Jackson’s fortified gate.
The South Gate yawned open with a grated rattle of chain and pulley, revealing Jackson. Once the patrol signaled clear, a second gate, this one timber-planked swung inward. Warm air laced with woodsmoke and hay eased over them, carrying the din of hammers, distant children’s laughter, and the sounds of livestock.
Greg dismounted first and handed Starlight’s reins to a blonde-haired teenage who hustled forward with a polite, stunned grin. “Take ’em to the south barn,” Greg instructed. “Fresh water, half ration oats, they’ve come a long way.” The kid nodded, eyes flicking once to Ellie with obvious curiosity before leading Starlight and Rowan down a packed-dirt lane. Dakota followed on his rope lead, sniffing at feed buckets as he went; the sight tugged a small smile from Jay despite the knot hardening in her stomach.
Inside the walls, Jackson bustled like a living time capsule. Every step deepened Jay’s awareness that this was Ellie’s world, not hers. Each familiar nod the patrol offered Ellie felt like another subtle reminder: she belonged, and eventually she’d slot back into these rhythms. Jay felt the ground under her feet tilt, as though the town’s gravity was already pulling Ellie away from her.
They crossed the main street, dirt packed hard by wagon wheels, where market stalls overflowed with jars of tomato preserves, game meat, woven blankets, and early-harvest squash. Residents paused in mid-barter to stare; some mouths fell open at the sight of Ellie, whispers curling behind her back like campfire smoke. Jay watched Ellie’s shoulders tense but her face remain unreadable, focus pinned forward on the double doors of the old town hall.
Two guards opened them. The building’s foyer remained austere: clean plank floor, a single quilt depicting mountain peaks on one wall, and at the far end a heavy office door cracked ajar. Greg rapped twice and ushered them in.
Maria sat behind a broad desk littered with ledgers and scouting maps. Gray now threaded prominently through her dark blonde hair, but the hawkish acuity of her eyes hadn’t dulled. When she looked up and saw Ellie, it was like a match struck: shock first, then a roiling sequence of grief, anger, fierce relief. She stood slowly. “Well, I’ll be damned.” Her voice was soft, dangerous, cracking around the edges.
Ellie froze three paces inside the room. “Hey, Maria.”
Silence stretched. Jay could feel Ellie’s pulse throbbing through the space, though Ellie’s face remained stone. Maria rounded the desk with measured steps and stopped, arms folded, eyes shining but hard. “It’s been three years,” she said. “We thought… we all thought you were dead...”
Ellie’s throat bobbed. “I know.”
Greg cleared his throat, easing some tension. “Brought her in on standard intake. This is Jade Grayson… um a travel companion.” He gestured. Jay offered a polite nod; Maria’s gaze flicked to her, briefly assessing, before returning to Ellie.
“Tommy will want to see you too,” she said, voice steadying into command. “He’s living in Joel’s old house now. We can… figure it out.” The flicker of pain behind her eyes at Joel’s name was brief but unmistakable.
Jay felt Ellie’s subtle flinch and her own stomach twist tighter. Joel’s house. Of course. Roots thick as tree trunks here. Things Jay could never replicate or help Ellie with she would have wade that water on her own.
Maria stepped back, gesturing to benches flanking the office walls. “First, we debrief. Patrol schedule, medical screening, weapon registration, you remember.” She finally addressed Jay directly: “We’ll get you quarters in guest housing. Separate or together; up to you two.”
Jay managed a smile she hoped looked steadier than she felt. “Together’s good.”
“Fine.” Maria motioned Ellie toward a chair. “Sit Ellie. You look about ready to drop.”
Ellie obeyed, bones heavy with fatigue, and Jay settled beside her. As Maria summoned a medic and a council member, Jay folded her hands to mask their tremor. Inside, a fear whispered: once Ellie re-anchored, what place would there be for the girl from North Carolina who carried Appalachian stories and borrowed courage? She pushed the thought deep, locking it behind a practiced smile.
Ellie’s knee bumped Jay’s under the table. Slight, maybe accidental, but when Jay glanced over, Ellie’s tired green eyes met hers with a flicker of reassurance. I’m still here, the look seemed to say.
For now, Jay held on to that. For now, she bottled the fear tighter, rooted her boots to Jackson’s floorboards, and prepared to weather whatever reunions came next. She was here for Ellie, it wasn’t about her.
The guest quarters sat on the north side of town, a row of small, timber-framed cabins. Maria escorted them there herself, stride brisk despite the lingering limp Jay hadn’t noticed in the council hall. Late-season sun poured over the cabins’ porches, where window boxes overflowed with marigolds and hardy mint. The contrast, riotous color, children’s chalk drawings on the stoop, tidy stacked firewood, to the miles of desolation they’d crossed to get here made Jay’s chest ache with something between yearning and disbelief.
Inside, the cabin smelled faintly of cedar and soap. A pot-bellied stove occupied one corner; two narrow cots flanked a small table set with a chipped enamel basin and pitcher. On the sill, a jar of honey and a folded scrap of linen hinted at hospitality carefully rationed but genuine.
Maria set a canvas duffel on one cot, basic linens, toiletries, two fresh towels, then straightened. “You’ve got this place until we figure long-term,” she said, voice slipping into efficient council mode. “Meals are at the mess hall, but I brought you something to start.” She ducked back through the door and returned moments later with a tray: a loaf of dense rye, a crock of goat butter, and a tureen of steaming vegetable stew. The aroma, rosemary, carrot, a hint of venison, made Jay’s stomach clench with sudden, embarrassing hunger.
Behind Maria, a lanky young guard, Kevin, Maria called him, hovered with two battered rucksacks and Jay’s saddlebag. “Set them by the stove,” Maria instructed. “Then head to west tower, relieve Parker.” Kevin obeyed quickly, but before he left, she added, “And bring Miss Jade’s dog from the stable when the vet clears him. He’s part of this team.”
Kevin grinned, Dakota had already charmed half the patrol, and nodded before slipping out.
With the cabin door closed, silence settled, broken only by the soft hiss of the stove. Maria turned back, her expression loosening now that duty was momentarily done. She gestured to the table. “Eat while it’s hot. I know what trail food tastes like.”
Ellie sank onto the bench, fatigue carving deeper lines around her mouth, but she managed a wry huff. “Yea I wouldn’t call jerky and dried fruit cuisine.” She reached for the ladle.
Jay hovered at the edge, unsure, this felt like a reunion meant for old family scars and private grief. She backed toward the door. “I’ll let you two catch up,” she murmured. “I should check on Dakota and—”
Ellie’s hand shot out, fingers brushing Jay’s wrist, subtle but insistent. She didn’t speak, only met Jay’s eyes with a look that said ‘please stay’. The simple touch, the barely perceptible shake of her head, rooted Jay where she stood.
Maria’s gaze flicked from Ellie’s hand to Jay’s startled expression, and some unreadable emotion passed across her face, curiosity, maybe relief. She motioned to the opposite bench. “Plenty for three,” she said, tone neutral but kind. “Sit.”
Jay obeyed, sliding onto the bench across from Ellie, who began tearing bread, passing a thick butter-coated slice without a word. For a moment they ate quietly, the only sound the clink of spoon against crockery and the cabin timbers creaking in a light breeze.
Maria folded her arms on the tabletop, gaze fixed on Ellie with a measured gentleness. “I’m not here to grill you about what happened after you left,” she said. “Just want to know how you are, really.”
Ellie stared into her stew, jaw working. Jay laid her hand on Ellie’s knee beneath the table, grounding her. Ellie exhaled and gave a grateful, almost imperceptible tilt of her mouth. Maria did not miss the gesture; her brows lifted a fraction, but she said nothing, waiting, patient.
“Alive,” Ellie answered, voice low. “Been…a long road.” She forced herself to meet Maria’s eyes, green against gray, both holding years of losses. “And I’m…not the same person who left the farm.”
Maria nodded, accepting. “None of us are the same people we were years ago.”
Silence expanded, broken only by the soft clink of spoons. Jay’s presence, though wordless, felt like a stabilizing beam across Ellie’s spine. Ellie set her spoon down, shoulders sagging a notch. “I made mistakes,” she admitted, words rough. “A lot of them. Cost me good things.” Her fingers tapped the rim of the bowl once, twice. “Been trying to figure out if coming back…made…. makes any sense.”
Maria leaned back, arms crossing loosely. “It makes sense if you need community. It makes sense if you need a roof and supplies. You served and helped this place more than once, Ellie. That earns you a seat by the fire, no explanations necessary.”
Ellie’s throat bobbed. “Appreciate that.” She flicked a glance toward Jay, then down at Dakota. “We—uh—we could use a roof for now.”
“Then a roof you’ll have,” Maria confirmed, voice warm but still carrying that leadership steel. She reached for the unused tray, sliding it toward Jay. “For the dog. Plain meat and broth, vet-approved.” She smiled when Dakota’s ears perked.
Jay exhaled a small laugh. “He’ll love you forever.”
Maria’s gaze softened fully then, settling on Jay with genuine kindness. “Glad you’re both here.” She rose, hooking her coat over her arm. “I’ll give you two the evening. Council will want a formal debrief tomorrow, Ellie. Nothing aggressive, just routes traveled, any dangerous factions. You know the drill. And I need to know what happened after you left the farm.” Maria’s voice softened further “...for closure.”
Ellie stood as Maria reached the door. “Thanks… for not leading with the lecture.”
Maria paused, hand on the latch. “Lecture is for another time.” She glanced back at the two of them: Jay passing the dog’s bowl down, Ellie pinching a crumb of cornbread to share with Dakota. Something like relief flickered in Maria’s eyes. “Rest tonight, Ellie. You look beat.”
When the door shut, night folded around the cabin, and the hush felt almost sacred. Ellie sank onto the cot, shoulders dropping as if Maria had given permission to let the weight slide off. Jay moved to sit beside her, hips touching. Neither spoke for a long minute.
The stew’s steam mingled with cedar and horsehair. Outside, Jackson’s community hummed softly, and somewhere distant a banjo plucked an old tune, the sound drifting in lazy tendrils through the clear late August air. For the first time since crossing the ridge, Jay felt Ellie’s hand slip into hers with deliberate certainty, fingers twining firmly.
Beneath the fragile glow of a new refuge, the doubts that had gnawed at Jay’s ribs eased, if only for tonight, as Ellie held on, making silent clear.
Outside the cabin walls, Jackson started to slowly drift into quiet, a patchwork of soft murmurs fading into the hushed night, and occasional distant laughter from someone headed home late. Inside, Ellie and Jay had let the stove die down to embers, leaving only the warm glow of a lamp on the nightstand, casting long shadows that danced across the ceiling beams.
They’d moved from the table to one of the narrow cots, backs propped up by rolled blankets and pillows. Ellie had stripped down to her undershirt and worn jeans, the faint light illuminating every line of tension still coiled tight beneath her skin. Jay sat cross-legged beside her, watching quietly, waiting until Ellie was ready to speak. Dakota lay curled at their feet, breathing deeply, a calm presence grounding them both.
Ellie stared ahead, gaze fixed on the wall, her voice quiet and raw when she finally broke the silence. “Coming back here feels... wrong, in a way I didn’t expect.” She swallowed thickly, eyes never wavering from the wall. “It’s like I’ve stepped back into someone else’s life. A life I used to have, but now I don’t know if I can ever fit into it again. Or if I want to…”
Jay nodded softly, her gaze steady and gentle. “What about Tommy? Dina? Are you ready to see them?”
Ellie exhaled a heavy breath, shoulders slumping slightly. “Tommy... I have to. I owe him a lot. He got hurt because of me, because of what I set in motion. And Dina…” Her voice caught, a flicker of pain crossing her features. “I don’t even know what I’ll say. I left her, Jay. When I did… she looked at me like I’d already disappeared.”
Jay reached out, brushing a gentle hand over Ellie’s arm, fingers trailing softly over familiar freckles. “Do you want to see her?”
Ellie’s brows knit, and her lips pressed into a thin line. She looked down, flexing her fingers slowly. “I’ll always care about her. She was the first person who really saw me, after Joel. But being back here, being in this cabin with you, I realized I’m different now. She might not even recognize me. Hell, I barely recognize myself.”
Jay’s chest tightened at the quiet honesty in Ellie’s voice. She shifted slightly closer, the mattress creaking softly beneath them. “You said before we came here you weren’t sure what you were coming back to. Do you have any idea now?”
Ellie shook her head slowly, eyes haunted as she finally met Jay’s gaze. “I don’t. This place feels like... a dream I’ve had before. But it’s changed, and so have I. It doesn’t fit anymore. It’s like trying to put pieces of a puzzle back together when half the pieces got lost along the way.”
Jay’s expression softened, empathy radiating from her as she reached out, her fingers gently interlacing with Ellie’s. “Maybe you’re not supposed to put the old puzzle together. Maybe you start a new one. Maybe you started a new one… that day in Arizona when Dakota and I found you.”
Ellie’s lips tugged into a faint, almost fragile smile. She rubbed a thumb slowly over the back of Jay’s hand, the rough pads of her fingertips tracing small circles, seeking comfort in the familiar warmth. “Maybe. But there are pieces here I still need to face. Ghosts that won’t rest until I do.”
Jay nodded quietly, her voice a tender whisper. “Then you face them, and I’m here for you, whatever you need Ellie.”
Ellie felt her heart clench painfully in her chest. It was something she hadn’t expected to feel again, a deep, unsettling tenderness that both soothed and terrified her. She’d become so used to the cold, to the numbness, that feeling something real and alive again was almost overwhelming. Something she only felt with Jay for years , since everything.
She leaned closer, eyes locked onto Jay’s, searching for grounding. “You don’t have to say that, you know. You don’t owe me fucking anything. Not after everything you’ve seen me do. Or what I’ve put you through.”
Jay’s fingers tightened around Ellie’s hand, anchoring her. “I’ve seen the worst of you, Ellie. And the best. I chose to be here. I’m still choosing it. I’ll always choose you… I hope you know that.”
Ellie’s throat tightened, emotions surging to the surface with an intensity she couldn’t voice. Her hand trembled slightly in Jay’s grip, and she found herself leaning forward, forehead softly meeting Jay’s, their breaths mingling in the small space between them.
“I don’t know how to make sense of this,” Ellie confessed quietly, voice shaking just a little. “You make me feel safe. And I still don’t know how to trust that feeling… after all this time I still don’t.”
Jay closed the small gap between them, pressing a slow, tender kiss to Ellie’s lips, soft and reassuring. Ellie sighed against her, feeling the quiet reassurance Jay offered, and leaned into it, her own lips moving gently, hesitant at first, then gaining quiet certainty.
When they parted slightly, Ellie’s voice came rougher, barely audible. “I need you.”
Jay met her gaze again, a quiet, fierce tenderness reflected back. “I’m here.”
And Ellie, driven by a need she couldn’t fully articulate, a desire for closeness, for grounding, for warmth after weeks of feeling unmoored, kissed Jay again. This time it was deeper, more insistent, her hands finding their way to Jay’s hips, pulling her closer, seeking comfort in familiar warmth and softness.
Jay responded gently, understanding that Ellie needed control in this moment, needed to guide this into something that made sense to her. Ellie shifted, easing Jay back onto the cot, her kisses trailing along Jay’s jaw, her neck, finding comfort in the quiet gasps and shivers she drew from Jay’s lips. Ellie was slow, intentional, every touch a question, every whispered breath a promise she desperately needed to believe.
She moved deliberately, fingers tracing Jay’s skin like she was committing it to memory, needing to reassure herself of Jay’s solid, real presence beneath her. Ellie’s eyes remained half-lidded, focused, intense, her breathing heavy but steady, as she found comfort in the rhythm of Jay’s heartbeat beneath her fingertips.
Jay cradled Ellie’s face, guiding her back up gently, meeting her eyes with quiet clarity. “I’m not going anywhere, Ellie. I don’t ever want to….”
Ellie’s breath hitched, her walls finally lowering completely as she pressed her forehead to Jay’s, fingers trembling slightly as they intertwined. Her voice, when she spoke, was a soft, broken whisper.
“I don’t know how to stop feeling like I could lose you. Like everything and anyone good slips away from me.”
Jay pressed a slow, tender kiss to Ellie’s forehead, holding her tightly, voice soothing and steady. “Then don’t think about tomorrow. Just tonight.”
And Ellie, finally accepting that comfort, let herself settle completely against Jay, letting warmth, reassurance, and quiet acceptance fill the spaces that fear had once occupied.
Chapter 36: Settling Into Ghosts
Summary:
Thank you for reading! Please note, I am continually improving! I update frequently and am always open to kind, constructive criticism. I appreciate you for giving this story a read!
Chapter Text
Rain rattled softly against the cedar shingles, a gentle, rhythmic drumming that echoed through the small cabin. A small nighttime shower. The stove had burned down to a soft red glow, casting long, lazy shadows that swayed across pine planks and patched quilts. Ellie and Jay lay tangled on the bigger of the two cots, blankets half-kicked to the floor. Their earlier intimacy still warmed the air, bare skin cooling slowly, breaths mingling in the hush.
Ellie rested on her back, flannel shirt unbuttoned to mid-chest, her tattooed forearm draped over her eyes as if shielding her thoughts from the ceiling beams. Jay lay on her side, facing Ellie, tracing light patterns on Ellie’s stomach with the tip of her fingers. Dakota slept near the door, flank rising and falling in a steady cadence. The only other sound was the faint hum of Jackson’s power somewhere across the dark, wet streets.
Jay broke the silence first, voice husky, searching. “What’s going on in that head, El?”
Ellie lowered her arm, turning to meet Jay’s gaze. Candlelight flickered over the freckles on her cheeks, highlighting the dark circles beneath her eyes. She hesitated, then sighed. “I should feel… something more. Relief? Closure? But being here… It’s like the second I stepped inside those walls, the ghosts lined up to punch me in the gut.” She rubbed at her sternum absently. “I keep seeing him everywhere. Joel. Little flashes. And Dina… every corner reminds me she’s… somewhere else now.”
Jay’s chest tightened. She kept her hand gentle, brushing over Ellie’s scar-lined skin. “Do you want to find Dina? Talk to her?”
Ellie’s jaw clenched. “Part of me does. Part of me’s terrified. What if she’s moved on, like… fully moved on? What if seeing me just rips her open again? I don’t want that for her.”
A long hush settled. The rain intensified briefly, then softened again, like the sky couldn’t decide how hard to fall.
Jay’s throat worked. “And us?” She forced her tone light, teasing at the edges. “Where do we fit in the ‘Ellie Five-Year Plan’?”
Ellie’s breath hitched with a short, humorless laugh. “Five-year plan? Jay, I barely have a five-minute one.” She turned on her side, mirroring Jay’s position, and propped her head on her hand. “Truth? I thought we’d roll in, I’d apologize to Tommy, talk to him, maybe leave a letter for Dina if she was gone, and then get the hell back to Biltmore. You and me, Dakota. Our people need us there when winter breaks.”
Jay’s pulse fluttered unexpectedly. That had always been the loose plan, but hearing it aloud rubbed at the bruise of her insecurities. She swallowed, burying the sting. “Sounds solid,” she said, voice softer than she intended. “But if you need longer here, if it helps, you should take the time. I want you to do whatever makes you happiest.”
Ellie studied her. Candlelight painted gold in Jay’s eyes, but something shuddered behind them. “Hey.” Ellie’s voice softened. “Talk to me.”
Jay forced a small smile. “Just… making sure you’ve got what you need. That’s the... my priority.”
Ellie reached, sliding a hand to cup Jay’s jaw. “You keep doing that… pushing your stuff down to prop me up. But I need to know what you need, too.”
Jay hesitated, heart thudding. The words pressed at the back of her throat, I need to know I’m not just a placeholder for Dina. I need to know I’m just as important to you. But she couldn’t speak it, afraid naming it would grant it power. Or upset Ellie. Instead, she shook her head lightly. “Right now, I’m good. Really.”
Ellie’s brow furrowed at the evasive answer, but she didn’t push, didn’t have the energy to. Instead, she leaned forward, kissing Jay slowly, gratitude, apology, longing all tangled in the tender press of lips. Jay melted into it, letting the reassurance seep into her bones even as doubt lingered in quiet corners.
They parted, breaths mingling. “I’m not staying here forever,” Ellie whispered. “Whatever Dina decides, whatever Tommy or Maria needs… I’m not losing what we’ve built. You hear me?”
Jay closed her eyes, letting the hush settle around them. “I hear you.”
But a small voice inside her wondered whether Ellie’s heart might still wander these streets in the nights ahead, searching for echoes of a life she’d left behind. Jay tucked the thought away, pressing closer, willing her warmth to anchor Ellie in the present.
They lay awake for hours, trading stories in low murmurs: the first snow Jay remembered at Biltmore, Ellie’s favorite watchtower prank with Jesse, the way the sky looked from a rooftop in Seattle just before dawn. Outside, the rain eased to a soft patter, then to nothing, and inside, they held each other.
The next morning broke with Jackson’s customary bustle: chickens clucking in a nearby coop, the steady thunk of an axe from the woodlot. Ellie and Jay left the guest cabin just after dawn, Dakota trotting at their heels. Town hall loomed ahead, its log walls freshly restained, sun glinting off a new copper weather vane fixed to the gable. Inside, the foyer smelled of pine disinfectant and old paper.
Sunlight slanted through the wide office windows, dust motes drifting gently in golden streaks, landing quietly on stacks of worn ledgers, patrol maps, and neatly folded ration charts. Maria sat behind her desk, elbows propped on the polished wood surface, fingers lightly steepled beneath her chin. Her gaze was steady, attentive, patient, but also deeply perceptive, as she watched Ellie settle into the chair across from her. Jay took the seat beside Ellie, silent but observant, quietly noting the subtle tension still coiled tight in Ellie’s posture.
Maria waited for them to get comfortable, then offered a small nod. “Alright, Ellie. Fill me in. I don’t need all the details, but I do need enough to understand what happened out there and if you’re okay.”
Ellie took a measured breath, shoulders rising and falling slowly, eyes fixed on a spot just past Maria’s shoulder. “Santa Barbara was… rough. I’m sure you heard that Tommy found rumors… said Abby had been spotted down there… so I went after her.” Ellie’s jaw clenched, the muscle working as the memory flashed fresh through her mind again. “Tracked her down to a slaver group calling themselves the Rattlers, near the coast. I freed her and fought her. Almost ended it. But…I let her go. Didn’t find peace there, either.”
Maria’s brow tensed and she scribbled a note. “Are these Rattlers still active?”
“Probably,” Ellie admitted, shrugging. “I killed a handful. Doubt it crippled them.”
Maria watched Ellie carefully, a faint line appearing between her brows. “What changed your mind with Abby?”
Ellie hesitated, eyes briefly flicking toward Jay. “Killing Abby wouldn’t have fixed it,” she admitted quietly, meeting Maria’s eyes again. “It wouldn’t have brought Joel back. I knew if I did it, I’d lose whatever little piece of myself was left.”
Maria nodded slowly, absorbing this. “And after?”
Ellie’s lips twisted faintly, almost bitterly. “Went back to the farmhouse. Dina was gone. Packed up, moved her and JJ back here, I’m guessing. Can’t blame her. So, I headed South. No real plan. Just… running…hoping something would finally get me….”
Maria leaned forward slightly, gaze softening a little. “And that’s when you found Jade?”
Ellie glanced at Jay again, something gentler, almost vulnerable, flashing briefly in her eyes before she turned back to Maria. “She found me, really. I got ambushed in Arizona by hunters. I was in pretty bad shape, arm bleeding, half-starved in the desert. Jay was on her way to the Grand Canyon to scatter her grandparents’ ashes. She patched me up, shared her supplies.”
Maria’s attention shifted to Jay, quietly curious. “And from there?”
Jay smiled softly, comfortable despite the scrutiny. “I’m from Asheville… the Biltmore Estate Community in Western North Carolina. Fortified farms, greenhouses. It was my grandparents’ home before…” Her voice trailed off briefly, then steadied again. “Ellie came back there with me. We settled there. They are good people. Strong leaders, decent resources, allies to other communities.”
Maria listened intently, her eyes brightening with genuine curiosity. “Tell me more about Biltmore. How’s it structured?”
Jay relaxed a little, appreciating Maria’s evident interest. “Well, the estate’s fortified, old stone walls, cleared farmland. Working tractors that cut hay and harvest grain. We have patrols, trade routes, and alliances. Jeff, he’s who is in charge, similar structure to here, actually. Rotations, shared labor, communal supplies. A small council oversees decisions. It’s stable and has been established since the early days of the outbreak. Jeff and my grandfather built the community and made the Estate what it is today. They used to work security there before the outbreak.”
Ellie added quietly, voice a bit softer, “We helped rebuild after raiders hit us hard this winter. Lost some people, had to regroup. Jay has saved my ass more than once.”
Maria’s mouth twitched into a small, knowing smile, eyes flicking between the two women. “Sounds like a solid community. Why’d you leave?”
Jay’s gaze softened, her voice measured. “Ellie needed closure here. We left Biltmore secure, and Jeff knew we’d come back eventually… if things allowed. Ellie needs Jackson, at least for a while.”
Maria’s expression turned thoughtful, her gaze landing gently on Ellie. “And now that you’re back, Ellie… what do you need or want from Jackson?”
Ellie’s shoulders rose slightly, tension returning to her posture. “Just… a place. For now. Maybe a chance to set some things right.”
Maria blew out a contemplative breath. “All right. Here’s where we stand.” She flipped to a fresh sheet. “You two have free rein inside the walls, no curfew beyond standard patrol protocols. Ellie, you know them. Jay, you’ll shadow her until you’re cleared. As for duty: we’re short on seasoned riders this summer. I’m adding both of you to patrol rotations, three days on, two off. Ellie paired initially with Astrid, she knows the southern ridges. Jay, you’ll pair with Greg while we evaluate skill overlap.” She met Ellie’s wary eyes. “You good with that?”
“Yeah,” Ellie replied, voice steady but subdued. “Whatever the settlement needs.”
Maria’s gaze softened briefly. “We also need you both at the training range twice a week. Jade, your background makes you prime for teaching farmhands. Ellie, sharpen their close-quarters. You both up for instructing?”
Ellie and Jay nodded, the faintest spark of purpose flickering.
Maria capped her pen. “Good. Lodging stays in the guest cabin until you decide if this is permanent or not. Meals at the mess or cook for yourselves. Supply chits will be in your box by evening.” She paused, studying them with a leader’s practiced empathy. “Jackson’s not the same town you left, Ellie. Folks will stare. Some will judge. But that seat by the fire’s still yours if you want it.” Her eyes flicked to Jay. “And yours, too, Jade, if you’ll claim it.”
Jay felt a flutter of hesitant gratitude. “Thank you.”
Maria stood, signaling the meeting’s close. As they rose, she added quietly to Ellie, “Tommy’s on guard duty till dusk. He’ll know if he doesn’t already know that you’re here.” Her tone held no directive, only caution.
Ellie’s face closed like a door creaking shut. “Right.”
Maria’s gaze was steady. “Glad you’re home, Ellie.”
Jay stood too, offering Maria a warm nod of gratitude. “Thank you for the hospitality. It means a lot.”
Maria opened the office door. “Get some air. Unpack. Training range tomorrow at nine.” She managed a ghost of a smile. “Welcome home.”
They stepped into the hallway, Dakota trotting ahead. Jay exhaled a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. Ellie lingered a beat, staring toward the lobby where sunlight spilled through. Jay slid her hand into Ellie’s as passersby bustled around them, and Ellie squeezed back, small, fierce, grateful.
The noon bell had just rung, releasing a trickle of residents from morning duty when Ellie guided Jay beyond the town-hall’s porch and onto Aspen Lane. The crisp mountain air smelled of split pine, fresh bread cooling on windowsills, and the faint tang of manure from distant paddocks. Jay let the sensory warmth of community sink into her bones while Ellie pointed out landmarks with a practiced, almost tour-guide cadence, neutral, efficient, carefully impersonal.
“That building with the tin roof?” Ellie nodded toward a squat structure adorned with colorful handprints. “Woodshop. After a blizzard about 6 years ago, they cranked out three hundred stove parts in like a week. Kept the whole community running through winter.” She steered Jay down an adjacent walkway before the shop’s open doors spilled sawdust-scented chatter toward them. “Over there’s the infirmary extension, Diana would nerd out over the solar water heaters.”
Jay smiled, picturing the Biltmore middle aged grumpy medic muttering happily over copper piping. She watched Ellie’s profile: jaw set, eyes scanning but never lingering. Every pivot of Ellie’s shoulders seemed timed, as though she’d rehearsed routes that skirted invisible tripwires. Jay quickly realized Ellie avoided turning left, toward the lane branching to larger residential plots. That likely led to Joel’s house.
They passed the greenhouses, newer than those at Biltmore, where volunteers in straw hats pruned tomato vines and swapped jokes about the coming frost. Ellie waved to a lanky teenager who called, “Ellie! Heard the rumors were true.” She offered her a half-smile but didn’t slow.
Jay noticed they also bypassed a wide log building at the settlement center, from which savory stew aromas wafted. Laughter floated out as families queued with enamel bowls. Ellie didn’t mention it, and Jay guessed it was the communal dining hall, once a safe haven for Ellie and Dina’s shared dinners. Ellie’s strides lengthened unconsciously as they skirted the crowd.
She directed Jay instead to the orchard behind the mill, where gnarled apple trees were full of fruit. Sheep grazed between trunks, bells chiming softly. “Spring blossoms here smell wild,” Ellie murmured, brushing a hand over a low bough. “Whole field goes white.”
Jay sensed it was easier for Ellie to talk about trees than about people. She listened, heart softening as Ellie described pruning days, cider presses, long-ago harvest dances she’d watched from shy distances.
They looped back toward the education quad, schoolhouse, library, and preschool cottage ringed by a tiny cedar-picket fence. Children’s shrieks of delight burst through open windows. Ellie started a subtle detour to avoid the walkway, but a sudden gust carried a familiar voice across the courtyard, a gentle alto sing-songing “Circle time, little sprouts, let’s line up!”
Ellie froze mid-step. Jay, half a pace behind, felt the jolt ripple through her like static. She followed Ellie’s gaze.
Dina stood beneath the preschool’s awning, arms laden with painted wooden blocks. Her dark curls were pulled into a messy knot; a few loose tendrils framed a face flushed from laughter. She turned to usher toddlers inside, her expression bright, absorbing their constant chatter. A small boy, JJ, unmistakably wiggled out of line, giggling. Dina bent, wrangled him deftly back to the doorway, kissing the top of his head before guiding him through. The door swung shut, and she disappeared.
Ellie’s breath hitched, shoulders all at once rigid. The hand at her side curled into a fist so tight her knuckles whitened. She seemed to shrink and lock up simultaneously, as though every muscle remembered the exact weight of her choices.
Jay’s heart clenched at the sight, instinct urging her forward, but she stayed still, giving Ellie space, letting the moment settle without crowding it.
Ellie breathed, one, two, shallow inhales, then forced her hand to loosen. She did not move toward the preschool, did not speak Dina’s name. Instead, she cleared her throat, words emerging hoarse but level. “Library’s that brick building.” She turned her head slightly, though not enough to look at Jay. “Good place to trade books if you’re short on sleep.”
Jay heard everything unsaid in the brittle edge of Ellie’s voice. She stepped closer, brushing the back of her hand against Ellie’s in a fleeting gesture saying, I see, I’m here. Ellie’s fingers twitched but didn’t take the comfort. Not yet.
They continued walking, leaving the preschool behind, Ellie’s gait resuming but stiffer, like every joint had rusted. Jay kept pace, silent witness to the internal storm Ellie masked behind pointed commentary about the tannery, the goat pens, the rebuilt movie barn. Each description was crisp, informative, and utterly devoid of emotion.
At the edge of the compound, Ellie finally paused, eyes fixed on distant mountains. “That’s the west patrol route. My rotation’ll probably be out there.” Her voice steadied once more, as though the physical distance between herself and the preschool was measured in heartbeats, not yards.
Jay swallowed, wishing she could thaw the ice settling over Ellie but respecting the fragile shell she’d drawn. “Looks peaceful,” Jay offered gently, gaze on the peaks beyond the wall.
Ellie gave a noncommittal hum. She lifted a hand, brushing a stray lock from her brow, then turned to Jay. The mask slipped, just an inch, enough for Jay to see the swirl of longing and loss underneath.
“Let’s head back,” Ellie said softly. “Plenty more to see tomorrow.”
Jay nodded, matching Ellie’s measured step as they retraced the path toward Aspen Lane, leaving the day’s emotional minefield unexploded for now, but not forgotten.
The sun was dipping low by the time Ellie and Jay turned up the gravel path toward their guest cabin. Shadows lengthened across the yard, stretching like fingers between juniper bushes. The hush of evening chores drifted from distant barns, clank of milk pails, low murmur of stable hands. When they stepped onto the porch, Jay felt Ellie’s energy coil tight again, silent and inward, as though the controlled tour had drained whatever reserve she’d mustered. Dakota padded ahead and flopped onto the braided rug inside, letting out a weary groan.
Ellie shrugged off her jacket with stiff fingers, dropping it over the back of a chair. She hovered by the stove, gaze distant, jaw working, no words, just that brittle quiet Jay recognized as Ellie’s version of holding herself in one piece. Jay touched her arm lightly. “Mess hall will have dinner on soon,” she said, voice kept intentionally light. “I’ll grab us plates.”
Ellie’s eyes flicked to her, a quick flare of conflict, gratitude tangled with guilt. “You sure? I can—”
“It’s okay.” Jay squeezed Ellie’s wrist. “Stay. Rest. I’ll be back.” She unhooked Dakota’s lead from the nail by the door, then hesitated. “Mind if he keeps you company? Good excuse not to pace.”
Ellie looked down at the dog, warm golden eyes, tail thumping once, then back up, something softening in her shoulders. “Yeah. We’ll wait here.”
Jay smiled and handed her the looped rope. “He loves your belly rubs.” Dakota rose, nudging Ellie’s thigh like he understood the trade. Ellie’s fingers threaded automatically into the thick fur at his scruff.
Jay grabbed her coat and stepped into the cooling twilight. The cabin door shut behind her with a gentle thump, leaving Ellie and Dakota bathed in stove-light hush.
The mess hall, the log lodge Ellie had skirted earlier, was alive with supper bustle. Lights hung from rafters cast golden pools over long plank tables crowded with residents passing bowls of venison stew, mashed root vegetables, and fresh cornbread. Laughter mingled with the scrape of wooden benches and the thrum of conversation that spilled warmly into the entry alcove.
Jay paused inside the threshold, absorbing the buzz, the rich smells, the lull of communal comfort she hadn’t felt since leaving Biltmore. Heads turned, curiosity bright in eyes that didn’t yet know her story. She offered a friendly smile and slid into the chow line.
Behind the serving counter, a stout woman with silver braids, Beth, she said her name was, ladled generous scoops of stew. “Don’t think I’ve seen you,” Beth noted, eying Jay’s travel-worn coat.
“Just arrived.” Jay accepted the tin tray. “I’m Jay. That cornbread looks heavenly.”
“Wait ’til you taste it.” Beth winked and added an extra piece. “Welcome to Jackson, friend. Grab whatever you need.”
Tray in hand, Jay scanned for the take-away stack near the exit, planning to return to Ellie quickly. But before she reached it, a lanky young man with windburned cheeks intercepted her, balancing a tray of his own. “Hey, new face. You from one of the Wyoming settlements?”
“Western North Carolina actually,” she answered, adjusting her grip on the tray. “I’m from the Biltmore community in Asheville.”
A few nearby diners perked up; whispers braided through the air.
“You came all the way from there? Damn.” The young man’s surprise morphed into admiration. “I’m Noah. That’s Lark,” he said, nodding to a woman with close-cropped black curls who angled a curious grin at Jay. “What’s the Biltmore community like?”
Jay sensed the genuine interest, the communal thirst for news beyond their own valley. She offered a warm smile, settling her tray on a waiting crate. “Big stone estate, heavy walls, greenhouse tech scavenged from old universities. We brew the best apple cider east of the Mississippi, no offense to whatever’s fermenting here.”
Lark laughed, sliding closer. “We’ve got more goats than apples these days, so you’re safe.” She cocked her head. “Heard from Maria y’all took on raiders there.”
Jay nodded, tone sober but steady. “Winter…We lost folks, but we held, they won’t be a problem anymore. Community’s strong.” She gave a quick, sincere rundown, how Jeff structured council, how patrol rotations mirrored Jackson’s systems. Most of the residents in the mess hall now clustered nearby, leaning in, drawn by her easy cadence, her honest warmth. Questions flew: trade routes, seed varieties, infected hotspots along the Blue Ridge. Jay fielded each with calm clarity, sprinkling dry humor that coaxed grins even from stoic old-timers nursing mugs of herbal tea.
Beth returned, brandishing a small tin. “Take some berry jam for that cornbread, harvested this morning.” She slipped it onto Jay’s tray with conspiratorial pride.
“Thank you,” Jay beamed. “Ell—my partner will appreciate this.”
At the mention of Ellie, a hush threaded the group, curiosity sharpening. Noah leaned in, voice low. “She really back? Ellie?”
Jay recognized the weight of unspoken history between these people and the woman waiting back at the cabin. She held Noah’s gaze, gentle but firm. “Yeah. She’s back. She’s been through hell and found her way here again.” A beat. “Good to see a place ready to welcome her home.”
The tension eased; nods of understanding passed around. Beth patted Jay’s arm. “You tell her Beth saved a slice of peach pie for later. That girl needs to eat more.”
Jay laughed warmly. “She does and I will.”
Arms laden with two trays and the jam tin nestled safely atop, she excused herself. Voices trailed affectionate farewells, “See you on patrol, Jay!” “Catch you at target practice!” She’d been in Jackson less than a day, yet already her open smile and storyteller’s gift had woven invisible threads to the community, much like at Biltmore.
Back at the cabin, Jay nudged the door open with her knee. She found Ellie sitting cross-legged on the floor, Dakota’s head in her lap, her hand absently stroking the dog’s ears. Candlelight flickered over her thoughtful face, softening angles hardened by years of grief. She looked up, lips twitching at the mountain of food. “Make any friends?”
Jay set the trays down on the table, the warm scent filling the room. “Maybe a few.” She dipped a finger into the jam, tasted, and grinned. “And we have berry jam for the cornbread. Courtesy of Beth, she was nice.”
Ellie smirked faintly, shaking her head as she rose. “Of course, leave it to you to charm an entire dining hall.”
Jay caught her wrist gently, stealing a quick, quiet kiss before they sat. “Didn’t have to try. They’re good people. And I will force feed you if you don’t eat everything on your plate El. I’m not joking.”
Ellie’s gaze softened, gratitude unspoken but shining. She glanced down at Dakota, now sniffing eagerly at the stew bowl Jay slid his way, and exhaled. For the first time since they’d crossed into Jackson, Jay saw the tension in Ellie’s shoulders ease, if only a fraction.
Outside, night settled deep and star-drenched over the valley. But inside the cedar-scented cabin, warmth spread, thick with stew steam, candle glow, and the simplest comfort of shared bread between the two.
Chapter 37: Tommy
Summary:
Thank you for reading! Please note, I am continually improving! I update frequently and am always open to kind, constructive criticism. I appreciate you for giving this story a read!
Chapter Text
The August summer sun had climbed high enough to pour warmth through the guest cabin’s windows, chasing away the night’s chill. Ellie and Jay had spent the early hours finalizing details with Maria, filling out patrol rosters, sorting through supply logs, and listening to Maria’s detailed instructions on Jackson’s new security rotations. The morning had felt purposeful but heavy, each checked box a quiet reminder that this place was real again, that settling here, even temporarily, required facing old, sharp-edged truths.
When they finally returned to the cabin, Ellie felt the careful order she’d constructed start to fray around the edges. She shrugged off her jacket and tossed it onto the bed, movements restless, unable to disguise the unease coiling tight beneath her skin. Jay stepped inside after her, quietly closing the door with a gentle click. Dakota, sensing the shift in Ellie’s energy, trotted over immediately, pressing his weight reassuringly against her legs and licking at her hand.
Ellie glanced down, startled for a moment, but then she lowered herself onto the bed, reaching out a hand to gently stroke Dakota’s soft fur. He settled comfortably at her feet, his warm weight grounding her anxiety.
Jay moved around the small room quietly, giving Ellie space but staying near enough to be felt. She glanced toward Ellie, noticing the quiet stiffness in her shoulders and the tense set of her jaw. Ellie had been putting off this next step, Jay knew, going to see Tommy. The weight of it had grown heavier every day since they arrived, but now the inevitability was upon them.
Jay folded her arms loosely, leaning back against the worn wood dresser. She watched Ellie carefully, heart squeezing at the subtle signs of nerves, Ellie’s fingers tapping restlessly against her thigh, the tiny crease between her brows. “You feeling ready to go see him?” Jay asked softly, her voice gentle enough to be safe.
Ellie’s gaze snapped up, startled out of whatever internal place she’d drifted. She swallowed, hesitated, then nodded slowly, voice rough but quiet. “Not really. But… it’s gotta be done… we didn’t travel across the whole country to just do patrol and training rotations.”
Jay’s heart twisted at Ellie’s vulnerability, the rare admission pulling her even closer. She pushed herself off the dresser and approached slowly, sinking onto the bed beside Ellie without crowding her. She kept a careful distance, sensitive to Ellie’s complicated layers. “I’m here, you know,” Jay offered, eyes steady and open. “You don’t have to do any of this alone. But if you need to—”
Ellie’s head snapped up quickly, eyes searching Jay’s face. She reached out instinctively, gripping Jay’s wrist gently, needing the solidity of contact for just a moment. “No. It’s not…” Ellie paused, exhaling softly, her gaze dropping briefly. “I don’t want to do this completely alone. But seeing Tommy, after everything, it feels like something I have to face on my own. At least at first.”
Jay nodded slowly, understanding settling deeply within her chest. She gently shifted her wrist in Ellie’s grip, threading their fingers together instead, squeezing Ellie’s hand gently. “Believe me, I get it. I don’t want to crowd you in this or—” She broke off, trying to find the right phrase. “—hover over you. I’ll be here, stepping in only as much as you want. I don’t need to be your shadow in this.”
Ellie’s eyes softened, gratitude briefly breaking through the anxiety in her expression. “You’re not crowding me,” Ellie said quietly, her thumb brushing lightly over Jay’s knuckles. “But I have to talk to him myself. He deserves at least that.”
Jay squeezed Ellie’s hand gently in silent understanding, offering the reassurance Ellie needed. “Then that’s what you’ll do. And I’ll stay close enough that you know I’m here. Just far enough that you have space.”
Ellie exhaled deeply, relief and gratitude mingling visibly in her expression. “Thanks, babe.”
Jay smiled faintly, her voice softening even further. “You don’t have to thank me for that, never.”
Ellie reluctantly released Jay’s hand and stood slowly, feeling steadier now, her nerves still coiled tightly but softened by the warmth of Jay’s quiet support. Dakota rose with her, leaning against Ellie’s side, his fur brushing comfortingly against her thigh. She sighed softly, allowing a brief moment to gather herself.
She reached for her coat again, slipping it over her shoulders with deliberate care, her fingers fumbling briefly as nerves spiked once more. Jay stood quietly, stepping just close enough to touch Ellie’s shoulder gently, steadying her with a brief, calming pressure. “We’ll take it slow. No rush. No matter what, you are in control.”
Ellie nodded once, silently grateful for Jay’s calming presence. Then she moved to the door, Dakota following closely at her heels, as though sensing that this was a moment when Ellie needed every bit of reassurance possible. Jay stepped out after them, closing the cabin door softly behind her, the gentle sound echoing through the morning stillness.
Outside, sunlight spilled generously over the familiar pathways of Jackson, but Ellie hardly noticed. Her focus was narrowed tightly onto what came next, the confrontation with the past, the weight of things left unsaid. Tommy’s home, Joel’s old house, was just up the lane, visible even from here, the front porch casting shadows that seemed darker, heavier than any she’d seen before.
They moved quietly toward it, Ellie’s steps deliberate but cautious. Dakota stayed near, occasionally nudging Ellie’s hand gently, grounding her with the steady, silent reassurance of his presence. Jay kept pace slightly behind, her support tangible but carefully unobtrusive.
When they reached the foot of the steps, Ellie hesitated, her breathing quickening slightly. She stared up at the familiar, weathered front door, memories clawing uncomfortably at her throat. Ellie took a slow, deep breath, steadying herself before turning back to Jay, her voice low but certain. “Wait here for me? Just… until I know how this goes.”
Jay offered a gentle, understanding nod. “Of course. Deep breath…you've got this.”
Ellie exhaled again, tension briefly easing in her posture, gratefulness clear in her eyes. She reached down, rubbing Dakota’s ears gently. “Stay with Jay, boy,” she murmured softly. Dakota sat obediently at Jay’s feet, eyes watching Ellie carefully.
Ellie turned back toward the door, steeling herself. She climbed the stairs slowly, each step feeling heavier than the last. At the porch, she paused, briefly looking back down at Jay, silent strength waiting patiently below. Jay gave her a small, encouraging smile and nod.
Ellie’s hand hovered briefly, then knocked firmly, three sharp raps that resonated loudly in the stillness, marking the beginning of something she could no longer avoid.
The moment Ellie knocked, silence pressed heavily from the other side of the weathered wooden door. She held her breath unconsciously, pulse pounding hard in her ears as the seconds stretched long and anxiously. Ellie shifted on the porch, picking at her hands, feeling the ancient boards creak slightly beneath her weight, a sound so achingly familiar that it sharpened her nerves further. Jay settled on the bottom step, petting Dakota and looking out onto the street.
Then footsteps echoed softly, measured but uneven, approaching slowly from within. The handle turned, and the door swung open, framing Tommy in the soft light of the interior. For a second, neither spoke. Tommy stared at Ellie, eyes widening in disbelief, the lines in his face deepening as shock and emotion overtook him.
“Ellie,” he breathed softly, voice roughened by surprise and relief, the edges of grief still visible in his weary expression. “God almighty, girl… some of the others said you were here, damn, kid, you really are here.” His gaze roamed her face, disbelief dissolving into cautious warmth. He moved forward without hesitation, wrapping Ellie in a tight hug, holding on like he wasn’t entirely convinced she was real yet.
Ellie felt a rush of conflicting emotions as Tommy embraced her: relief, guilt, warmth, loss, all tangled messily inside her chest. She hugged him back, unsure, eyes squeezing shut, heart pounding painfully at the familiar scent of leather, gun oil, and coffee that clung to Tommy. It was a stark reminder of Joel and the life she’d once had here, a life forever changed by grief and rage.
When Tommy finally released her, stepping back slightly, his hand lingered briefly on her shoulder, his good eye bright with affection tempered by years of hard loss. “Come on inside,” he said gently, moving aside to let her pass. Ellie stepped through, her boots echoing quietly on the wooden floor, the room dimly lit by afternoon sunlight filtering through dusty curtains.
The living room was almost exactly as Joel had kept it, same worn couch, same tin of guitar picks on the shelf, only darker, curtains half drawn against the midday glare. Sun-shafts sliced the motes in perfect stillness. It was all painfully familiar. Photos lining the mantle. Ellie’s throat tightened instantly, emotions surging again, threatening to overwhelm her. She turned slowly, eyes absorbing every detail, memories crowding her mind.
Tommy closed the door, limping heavily as he walked in to join her. His gaze followed hers, understanding clear in the quiet way he stood nearby, waiting patiently for her to speak. When Ellie turned back to face him, Tommy finally broke the silence, his voice softer but eager.
“I wasn’t sure you’d come back,” he admitted. “After everythin' that happened, after all the pain, hell, Ellie, after the last time I saw you…I thought maybe you’d left all of us behind for good after going after Abby.” His eyes searched hers, hopeful but cautious. “But you did it. You did what needed doin’, and came home.”
Ellie’s chest tightened uncomfortably, sensing immediately where this was headed. She shifted, eyes dropping briefly before meeting his gaze again, wary. “Tommy, I—”
But Tommy’s voice picked up momentum, urgency and premature joy overtaking caution. “How’d you find her? My lead was solid, right? How’d you finally get it done?” He leaned forward, expression intense, almost feverish. “You tracked Abby down in Santa Barbara, didn’t you? Caught up to her at last? Put it all right, finished what we started in Seattle?” His voice cracked slightly, raw with emotion. “I gotta know, Ellie. I gotta know Joel finally got his justice. How’d you do it?”
Ellie’s stomach twisted sharply, her jaw tightening. She saw the desperation in Tommy’s eyes, the consuming need for closure, for revenge that had haunted him since the day Joel was murdered. Ellie had lived in that same desperate, dark place herself, but she knew the truth would break something fundamental between them. She swallowed painfully, trying to gather strength from deep within.
“Tommy…” Ellie began again, voice steadying but quiet, almost gentle. “It didn’t—”
Tommy pressed forward, oblivious to Ellie’s quiet hesitation. “Did you let her know exactly why it had to end like that?” His eyes hardened, years of grief and anger coalescing into fervent hope. “She deserved worse than what she gave Joel, worse than what she gave all of us. I wish I could have joined you and seen it first hand.”
Ellie felt her chest constricting, the intensity in Tommy’s voice burning like acid in her ears. She clenched her fists slightly, forcing herself to meet his gaze directly, knowing she couldn’t avoid this moment any longer.
“Tommy,” Ellie said louder and firmly, interrupting his spiraling questions. She saw him falter slightly, confusion flickering in his eyes as he registered her tone. “I found her. I tracked Abby down to Santa Barbara, just like you heard, using your map.”
Tommy leaned closer, eyes searching her face desperately, waiting for the next part, the victory, the revenge he craved.
Ellie exhaled slowly, her voice steady despite the heavy weight pressing painfully against her chest. “We fought. It was brutal. We were both half-dead already. But when I had her pinned down, when I could’ve killed her… I didn’t…I let her go.”
The silence that followed was brittle, painfully sharp, instantly shattering the fragile warmth between them. Tommy stared at her blankly for a moment, as if he’d misheard her. His expression flickered rapidly, confusion, disbelief, anger starting to build.
“You… what?” Tommy’s voice was low, dangerously quiet, the softness edged in growing fury. “You… fucking…You tellin’ me you let her live, Ellie? Just walk the fuck away?”
Ellie straightened her spine, holding steady beneath his gaze, despite the ache in her throat, the painful weight in her chest. “Yeah. I let her go.”
Tommy took a step back, eyes narrowing sharply, his face transforming into a mask Ellie had never seen before on Tommy, betrayal, disbelief, fury, all warring behind his hardened stare. “You—” he began again, words loud and biting hard as realization hit fully. “You let Joel’s killer just walk away?”
Ellie held his stare unflinchingly, but chewing at her cheek, despite the sting of his anger, her heart pounding hard. “It didn’t bring him back, Tommy. It didn’t fix anything.”
Tommy’s jaw tightened sharply, the room’s temperature dropping, his voice cold and brittle. “Didn’t fix anything?” He repeated her words like they were poison, eyes narrowing. “You came all this way back here after years of being gone to tell me you couldn’t fucking finish it?”
Ellie stood firm, even as her heart cracked slightly beneath the weight of his accusation. “I came back because I needed to face you, to tell you the truth.”
Tommy stared at her, silent fury burning behind his eyes, and the fragile, hopeful reunion between them splintered painfully into jagged, raw-edged fragments of unresolved grief and anger.
The silence stretched between them, brittle and sharp, splintering under the weight of Tommy’s disbelief and building fury. His chest rose and fell in shallow, ragged breaths, eyes narrowed, burning hotly with pain and resentment as he stared Ellie down. The warmth of their initial reunion had completely vanished, leaving only cold hostility in its wake.
Tommy shook his head slowly, incredulous, his voice tight with barely restrained anger. “You had her right there, Ellie. Right in your grasp…and you let her go?” His jaw clenched visibly, muscles tightening beneath weathered skin. “Joel’s dead, and you had one god damn fucking job… to make it right, and you couldn’t even do that. You said you’d make her pay. Said it to my face.”
Ellie’s chest constricted painfully, the weight of Tommy’s disappointment settling heavily on her. She fought to keep her voice steady, her posture strong, though each accusation stabbed deeper than she’d anticipated. “Killing Abby wouldn’t have brought Joel back. It wouldn’t have changed anything.”
Tommy’s eyes flashed angrily, his tone dropping to something dangerously quiet. “It would’ve changed everything. Justice would’ve changed things. But I see it now… you were too damn weak to finish what you started. Too cowardly.”
Ellie flinched at the venom in his words, the accusation landing sharply. Her heart hammered hard, adrenaline searing painfully through her veins, but she forced herself to stand firm, refusing to crumble beneath the weight of his bitterness. “You’re wrong, Tommy,” she responded, voice low, brittle. “I chose not to become exactly what she was.”
Tommy scoffed bitterly, stepping closer, his face twisted harshly by anger and grief. “What she was?” he repeated, voice laced with contempt. “What about what you are? You’re a damn traitor, Ellie. A traitor to Joel, to me, to every bit of family who took you in. You let that woman live knowing exactly what she took from us.”
Ellie’s eyes burned, and she clenched her fists tightly, pain radiating sharply through her chest. “I did what I had to do,” she repeated softly, struggling to keep control of her emotions. “It nearly destroyed me, Tommy. You don’t understand—”
Tommy cut her off sharply, voice rising with an intensity that filled the entire room. “Don’t you dare tell me I don’t understand! You didn’t just fail me, you failed Joel. You betrayed Joel’s memory. You spat on his grave. All the suffering, all the pain we went through, it meant nothing to you, did it?” His voice cracked slightly, grief warring openly with fury. “You’re selfish, Ellie. Always have been. Joel made the mistake of lettin’ you in too close, thinking you were family. But you ain’t family. You never were. He should have left you on that table!”
The words cut Ellie deeper than she thought possible, slicing clean through the tenuous threads that bound her to this place, to Tommy, to all she’d once called home. Her breath stuttered in her chest, her heart seizing painfully as Tommy’s accusations echoed harshly in her mind.
“Tommy, just listen—” she started softly, desperately trying to reach some part of him that hadn’t yet hardened entirely. “Listen to—”
“No!” Tommy roared, cutting her off violently, his finger stabbing angrily toward her face. “You should’ve stayed fucking gone, Ellie. You should’ve stayed wherever the hell you ran off to. You ain’t got no place here anymore. You’ve broken everything good you ever touched, destroyed every chance at peace any of us had. If it wasn’t for you in the first place Joel would still be here. You‘re no good for anyone.”
He stepped closer still, eyes blazing fiercely. “God help me if I ever see your fucking face again, Ellie. I swear—” His voice shook with barely-contained fury and pain. “I swear, Ellie, I’m done with you.”
Ellie felt something inside her fracture irreparably at those words, at the finality in Tommy’s voice. Her throat burned sharply, emotions clawing desperately up her chest, but she couldn’t find words to fight back. Tommy’s grief and rage formed a wall impenetrable between them, leaving her stranded, isolated.
Tommy turned away abruptly, fists clenched tightly at his sides, his breathing harsh and ragged. He spoke one last time, voice rough with finality. “Get the fuck out of my house, Ellie. Now.”
The stark command hung between them, painful and heavy. Ellie stared at Tommy’s turned back, feeling a wave of desolation crash through her, threatening to drown her. Without another word, she slowly turned toward the door, the floorboards creaking accusingly beneath her steps.
Ellie pushed through the front door as though the house itself had become an iron lung squeezing her out. Her boots caught on the threshold; she half-stumbled onto the porch boards, every nerve ablaze from the flaying she’d just endured. The afternoon light felt too bright, the valley’s sweet pine air suddenly thin and sharp in her lungs. Her legs threatened to fold.
Jay was already on the top step, where she’d waited with Dakota at her feet. She’d heard Tommy’s voice crescendo into fury, each accusation carrying through the timber walls like hammer blows. Jay’s face showed the price of listening: eyes rimmed red, jaw tight, worry and outrage braided into a fierce protectiveness for Ellie. Ellie’s request for her to wait was the only thing that had kept her out on the porch. She caught Ellie’s elbow before the stumble became a collapse, steadying her with both hands and a grounding, whispered “I’ve got you, El.”
Ellie’s eyes, overbright, unfocused, flicked up just long enough for Jay to see the raw ruin inside them, then slid away, staring at nothing. Her chest heaved; words tried to surface but broke apart before reaching her tongue. She looked smaller than Jay had ever seen her, like the weight of Jackson itself had compressed her ribs.
Behind them, Tommy’s shadow filled the doorway. He hadn’t followed to help, but anger, still hot, drove him to the threshold. He stopped there, shoulders squared, one fist clenching the doorframe as if it were the only thing keeping him from shaking apart. His gaze raked Ellie’s back, unforgiving.
Jay turned, keeping a hand on Ellie’s arm. She met Tommy’s eyes, no aggression, just a steady, mourning appraisal that forced him to pause. Jay’s old soul wisdom and non confrontational steadiness met Tommy’s rage. Her voice, when she spoke, carried no shout, yet each word cut with her calm precision. “You think you’re the only one Joel left behind,” she said, tone low but resonant in the quiet porch air. “But grief isn’t a ledger you get to balance by taxing someone else’s soul. Joel loved Ellie like his own, and she loved him right back, best she knew how. You can’t erase that… no matter how much it hurts to remember.”
Tommy’s face twitched, pain, rage, something unspoken flaring, but the retort stalled on his tongue. Jay didn’t wait for it, her eyes didn’t leave his. “Hurt doesn’t have to be a weapon. You choose that.”
She dipped her head once, a curt goodbye, a line drawn, then guided Ellie down the steps. Dakota fell in at Ellie’s other side, pressing close, his presence a silent barricade.
At the foot of the path, Jay glanced back only long enough to add, softer but no less piercing, “Joel would want her to be more than his vengeance. Maybe remember that.”
Jay’s words hung in the air, a gut punch not of anger, but of simple, undeniable truth. There was no judgment, just a reminder of everything Tommy, in his pain, had thrown aside. Tommy’s jaw worked, but no words came. He turned away, retreating inside, and the door shut with less force this time, a surrender, or maybe just exhaustion.
Jay turned her attention back to Ellie, steady and present. She stepped in front of her, voice soft enough for only them. “I’m here, El, and I’m not going to ask if you’re okay 'cause I know you aren’t.”
Ellie shook her head, fighting for composure, her voice raw as broken glass. “He meant it. Every word.”
Jay brushed the hair gently from Ellie’s cheek, thumbing away the fresh tear tracks. “He’s angry and lost, and he’s wrong. You did what you had to do, what you could do.” She cupped Ellie’s face, meeting her eyes. “None of this changes who you are to me. Or to yourself. Or what you meant to Joel. And I know you’ll say I’m being sappy, but we’ve been together long enough you should know I’m going to tell you the truth.”
Ellie let out a shuddering breath, some of the tension bleeding away as she clung, wordless, to Jay. The ache in her chest eased, just a fraction, under the weight of Jay’s steady arms and words, Dakota’s warm presence, and the hard-won certainty that, family or not, forgiven or not, she was not alone on this porch, in this town, or in her own story.
Ellie pulled in a breath sharp enough to sting and pushed off the porch rail. The boards creaked in protest under her boots as she descended, quick, tight movements that made it clear she needed distance from that doorway and the memories piled behind it. Jay shadowed her, not close enough to crowd but near enough that Ellie could feel her presence like a guardrail. Dakota trotted at Ellie’s opposite side, muzzle brushing her hand every few strides, his silent reassurance as palpable as Jay’s.
They cut across the patchwork of front gardens, leaving the house behind. Late summer light fell slantwise through branches, dappling the dusty lane with shifting gold. Ellie headed toward the orchard on instinct, somewhere semi-secluded but still open to the sky, boots kicking gravel, jaw clenched so hard it hurt. Jay matched her pace, letting the rhythm of movement do the first work of calming.
When they reached the rows of gnarled apple trees, Ellie finally stopped. The cool scent of fruit and leaves hung thick in the air. She braced a hand against a trunk, shoulders shuddering once, twice, a silent quake rolling through her frame. Jay halted a few paces back, hands sliding into her back pockets, giving Ellie the space of her own grief while remaining tether-close.
Minutes passed, wind rattling branches, a lone raven croaking overhead. Ellie’s breaths gradually lengthened, smoothing at the edges. She glanced sideways, meeting Jay’s eyes. The anger was still there, raw and pulsing, but the sharpest edge had dulled in the orchard’s quiet.
“I thought I was ready for that,” Ellie rasped. Her voice sounded foreign, scratchy, small. “I thought… Maybe he’d yell, yeah, but we’d talk. Get it out.” She gave a humorless huff. “Didn’t expect him to cut me out like a fucking tumor.”
Jay’s throat tightened. She stepped forward, stopping when her boots filled Ellie’s shadow. “People lash out loudest at what scares them most,” she said softly. “Your mercy scares him, El. Means his anger doesn’t have anywhere to go.”
Ellie’s mouth twitched, torn between bitterness and a reluctant nod. “Wasn’t mercy,” she muttered. “Was me… being emptied out. Couldn’t swing one more blade without losing the last good piece of Joel I carry.” Her hand absently scraped bark. “Tommy can’t see that.”
“He will,” Jay said, even though she knew it might never be true. “Eventually hurt settles, makes room for other things. Till then, he’s the one who has to carry the weight of today… not you. Don’t you dare carry any of that.”
Ellie looked at Jay, something like gratitude flickering behind exhausted eyes. Then, abruptly, she pressed her forehead to the tree trunk, letting out a sound halfway between a breath and a sob. Jay stepped in, sliding arms around Ellie from behind, cheek resting gently against the back of Ellie’s shoulder. She felt Ellie’s body stiffen, then sag as the tension leaked out in a long, shivering exhale. Dakota nudged between their legs, curling against Ellie’s shin in a furry cushion of solidarity.
They stayed like that while clouds drifted across the sun and the orchard shifted from green to gold and bronze. Ellie finally straightened, swiped at her damp cheeks, and turned. Jay loosened her hold but didn’t step away. Their faces were close enough for Ellie to see the flecks of golden brown in Jay’s irises, the quiet assurance written there.
“What now?” Jay asked gently.
Ellie blew out a shaky breath, glanced back toward the town. “Not going back to the cabin yet. Need to walk this off.” She hesitated, eyes darting to Jay’s. “Come with?”
Jay’s reply was wordless; she simply slipped her hand into Ellie’s and squeezed. Together they started down a side path that wound deeper into the orchard, leaves crunching underfoot. No destination, just forward motion, letting silence and the rhythm of steps start stitching new seams over fresh tears.
Behind them, beyond the rustling branches, the house where Tommy’s anger lingered receded from sight. Ahead, the orchard opened toward the river trail, where cool water hissed over rocks and the late-day sun painted the Tetons rosy. There, perhaps, Ellie could let grief breathe without choking on it, and Jay could hold the threads of her steady until Ellie was ready to weave them back into something that felt like hope.
Chapter 38: Tomorrow
Summary:
I apologize for the delay on this chapter. I have been going through some tough things in my personal life lately, and my mental health has been in the dumps. I will try my best with updates, but I just can't promise quick ones at the moment.
But thank you for reading! I appreciate you for giving this story a read!
Chapter Text
The path beyond the orchard sloped gently downward, thinning into a ribbon of packed earth bordered by willow and sage. Late light spilled through the branches in streaks of amber, gilding Dakota’s coat as he loped ahead, sniffing the breeze. The hush of the settlement faded behind them until only the distant, faint hammering of repairs remained, a dull, predictable percussion that could not reach the deeper places of Ellie’s mind.
Ellie walked with her head bent, fingers threading and unthreading with Jay’s as if she couldn’t decide whether to hold on or let go. Each time the grip loosened, she would squeeze again, desperate for the anchor, and Jay would answer with a gentle pressure that said I’m here, take what you need. Last fall's fallen leaves rustled beneath their boots; once, a jackrabbit bolted from the underbrush, sending Dakota into a halfhearted chase before he returned to heel.
They reached the riverbank as the sun slid behind the western ridge. Water higher than normal hissed over stones polished smooth by decades of spring runoff. The current was fast and high for this late in the season. Ellie led them to a flat boulder at the edge where cattails bowed in the breeze. She dropped into a crouch, elbows on her knees, staring hard at the darting flashes of trout beneath the surface.
Jay eased down beside her. She let the silence pool between them until the river’s murmur felt like a third voice, steady, unjudging. When Ellie finally spoke, her words came low, almost lost beneath the water’s rush.
Ellie kept her eyes on the current. “He said Joel’s dead ’cause of me.” The words came out flat. “Feels like losing him twice… It’s stupid….”
She flicked a pebble. It pinged off rock and vanished. “Maybe he’s right. Maybe I don’t fit here. Maybe I don’t fit anywhere. I don’t know.”
Jay’s fingers brushed the back of Ellie’s sleeve. “That’s not his call,” she said, steady. “Belongin’ isn’t something folks hand out. You pick your people. They pick you back. That’s family.”
Ellie’s jaw tightened; a muscle jumped. “I picked revenge.” A bitter huff of a laugh. “Twice.” She swallowed. “Blew up everything around me. Blew up my ‘family’, that’s what I did. Tommy’s not wrong about that.”
Jay turned fully, folding her legs beneath her. “Choices aren’t simple in a world like this. But facing the consequences doesn’t erase your right to healing. I don’t have the answers, and I probably don’t have the right words to say. ” She touched Ellie’s forearm lightly, feeling the tension vibrate beneath scarred skin. “But you’re here now, trying to do better. That matters. And Tommy is just a bitter old man… unfortunately. My grandmother used to say ‘Don’t let anger pitch a tent in your chest. It’s a terrible tenant. And once there it’s hard to get out.’"
Ellie stared at Jay’s hand, then let her gaze drift to Dakota lying nearby, chin on paws, amber eyes watching them with quiet loyalty. Wind rustled the willow leaves overhead. “What if Dina won’t talk to me?” Ellie whispered, fear raw in the admission. “What if JJ doesn’t even remember me?”
Jay’s fingers slipped down Ellie’s arm to lace with hers again. “Then you speak your truth and let them decide. I can’t speak on Dina, but kids remember love, Ellie. Even if it’s buried, they remember.” She squeezed Ellie’s hand gently. “No one gets to erase you from their life but them. Don’t do it for them.”
For a moment, Ellie didn’t breathe. Then she exhaled, shoulders sagging as though the words loosened a knot pulled tight around her ribs since the day she’d left the farmhouse. She turned her head toward Jay, eyes shining in the fading light. “How do you always know what to say?”
Jay’s smile was small, crooked. “I don’t,” she said. “Mercy isn’t weak. It’s how you hang on to what’s worth keepin’.” Her gaze stayed on Ellie. “So we hang on to you, too.”
Ellie swallowed, throat working. She looked upriver, toward Jackson, hidden behind trees and ridge line, but close enough that campfire smoke curled faintly against the dusk. “Tomorrow,” she said, voice steadier. “I’ll find Dina. I’ll try to talk.”
Jay nudged her shoulder. “I’ll be where you need me. Tonight we just… sit. ’Til it’s dark.”
Ellie huffed. “No star-wish crap of yours.”
“Wasn’t gonna call it that.” Jay tipped her chin at the sky. “But do you have anything you want to say to the stars anyway?”
Ellie watched the river shine and go black. “I don’t know… guess I want the people I love to know I’m sorry. And that I still… y’know.” She swallowed. “That’s it.”
Jay nodded. “Mine’s that you remember you’re not a lost cause. Even when your head says you are.”
Ellie’s breathing stuttered, and she leaned over, pressing her shoulder to Jay’s. For long minutes, they sat entwined while dusk folded into night. Overhead, the first star pierced the dark, to the west, as bright as possible. Ellie lifted her chin to it. Watching the storm clouds behind it rolling in.
Dakota roused, stretching before settling nearer, his presence as reassuring as the steady rush of water. The sky had deepened as thick clouds rolled in by the time Ellie and Jay followed the river path back toward the light of Jackson’s inner streets. Woodsmoke drifted on the cooling air, mingled with the faint savory scent that meant supper was already steaming in the mess hall crocks. Ellie’s shoulders had begun to droop again under the weight of exhaustion and the raw echo of Tommy’s words. As they reached the split in the lane, one track heading toward the guest cabins, the other toward the dining lodge, Jay slowed her stride and touched Ellie’s arm.
“Why don’t you head back, get the fire started?” she suggested in a tone that managed firmness wrapped in gentleness. “I’ll grab us food.”
Ellie rubbed at her eyes with the heel of her hand, the gesture of a much younger self. “Jay, I’m not hungry. Let’s just–” The quiet defeat in her voice scraped at Jay’s heart.
Jay’s reply was soft but unyielding, interrupting her. “I don’t care if you only manage three bites. You need something warm in you after today.” She tipped her head toward Dakota, whose ears perked as though awaiting orders. “He and I will fetch it. You go back and breathe.”
Ellie opened her mouth to argue, then stopped, eyes flicking from Jay’s steady gaze to Dakota’s patient amber stare. The corners of her lips twitched, a tired, grateful, almost-smile. “Fine. Cabin key’s under the flowerpot. Don’t forget peach pie if they have any left.” It was an attempt at levity, but Jay heard the tremor in her voice.
“Consider it done.” Jay squeezed Ellie’s wrist, a silent promise, before they parted ways at the junction.
The mess hall’s heavy timber doors framed a familiar scene: benches crowded with residents trading stories, candlelight licking gold over reclaimed tables. Conversations hummed, a tapestry of who found extra seed potatoes, whose goat had finally kidded, which patrol spotted fresh elk sign, or infected. Jay wove through the throng with Dakota trotting politely at her heel, drawing friendly double-takes. She collected two bowls of venison stew, a heel of sourdough, and, victory, one wedge of the coveted peach pie Beth had hidden behind a flour tin for her.
As she balanced the tray, a handful of locals cornered her with easy curiosity. A wiry older man, introduced as Arturo, wanted details about Biltmore’s windmill rig; a young woman named Piper asked if Jay could talk about the route to Biltmore, her family was from Western North Carolina, and she wanted to know if any of them lived at Biltmore. Jay’s drawl and open laughter warmed the cluster, and soon they were swapping jokes.
In the middle of this easy chatter, a small figure broke from the queue near the far wall where he had been standing with an old woman, black-haired, cheeks sticky with berry juice. The toddler toddled across the plank floor, drawn perhaps by Dakota’s wagging tail or Jay’s bright storytelling. He paused beside Jay, wide brown eyes blinking up at her and the towering shepherd mix dog.
“Well, hey there, cutie,” Jay greeted, setting down her tray and then crouching. She offered a gentle palm for a high-five. The little boy giggled and slapped her hand, then pointed at Dakota with a delighted squeal.
“This old guy?” Jay chuckled. “His name’s Dakota. He likes ear scratches and long naps.”
The child obliged, small fingers disappearing into thick fur. Dakota went statue-still, tail thumping softly, eyes half-closed in bliss. Laughter bubbled around them from onlookers.
“What’s your name, little man?” Jay asked, keeping her voice playful. The boy mumbled something that sounded like “J-J”, though she couldn’t be certain over the ambient noise. She flashed him a grin. “Well, J.J., you’re a natural dog handler. He’s yours any time you want to borrow him.”
The child beamed up at her; Dakota leaned in, saintly-patient, while small fingers disappeared into a storm of black-and-tan fur. Jay’s mouth was already shaping another gentle joke when the footsteps stopped close enough for the room’s hum to thin to a wary hush.
“JJ,” a woman’s voice said, soft, loving, instantly firm. “Hey Buddy, back to Mama.”
Dina stood a few feet off, apron still tied at her waist, a dish towel slung over one shoulder. Her curls were pinned haphazardly; a streak of flour grazed the back of one wrist. She didn’t look theatrical, didn’t try to make a scene. She simply held out her arms, and the boy went to them like a tide pulled by the moon.
Jay rose slowly, palms unconsciously open, the universal signal for I mean no harm. “He came over for my dog,” she said, voice pitched low, friendly. “We were just saying hi.”
“I can see that,” Dina answered. Not cold but measured. Her eyes ticked from Dakota to Jay, then to the trays of food, and back. Up close, you could see how tired she was in the way she carried her shoulders. JJ wrapped both arms around her neck. Dina kissed his temple without looking away from Jay. “Thanks for not letting him yank the dog’s ears.”
“Dakota’s a pushover,” Jay said, patting Dakota’s head. “Name’s Jade, uh Jay, by the way.”
“I know,” Dina said. She adjusted JJ higher on her hip; the boy’s fingers found the towel and played with the edge. “Welcome to Jackson.”
A dozen conversations in the hall resumed with forced casualness, the way people talk when they’re absolutely listening. Beth behind the counter was suddenly fascinated with ladles. Arturo’s spoon hovered midair.
Dina kept it simple. “Is Ellie with you?”
“She’s… nearby,” Jay said carefully. “We’re taking it slow today.”
“Good,” Dina said, and that single word was so much more: I’m still angry, I’m glad she isn’t alone, not here-not-now. She shifted JJ to her other hip, and the boy peered over her shoulder at Dakota, murmuring something that sounded like “dog.”
“Dakota,” Jay supplied softly.
“Dog,” JJ declared, satisfied, then buried his face in Dina’s collar.
Dina’s mouth tugged. She swallowed whatever else rose up, then chose the manageable thing. “Tell Ellie I’d like to talk. Not here. Tomorrow after morning lessons. Garden behind the preschool, when the kids go down for a nap.” Her gaze grew flintier by a hair. “If she wants that. If she doesn’t—” She let the sentence hang and blinked once, slow, as if cutting the thread herself. “Then I still said my piece.”
Jay nodded awkwardly, “O-Okay… yea, sure I’ll tell her.”
“Do,” Dina said. She started to turn, then stopped, that tiny war between grace and hurt flickering across her face. She found the thread again. “And uh… thank you. For the dog. For…” She gestured vaguely at Jay’s whole self. “For getting her this far.”
“You don’t owe me thanks for anything,” Jay said with a smile.
For a heartbeat something like reluctant respect passed through Dina’s eyes. Then the hall doors banged open behind Jay and a ripple ran through the room, heads turning toward the threshold like cattails leaning with a shift in the wind.
Ellie stood there, her hair damp from the washbasin, jacket half-zipped, cheeks wind-stung. She shouldn’t have come; she’d meant to wait. But empty rooms had teeth, and Jay was here, and the mess hall’s light felt like something like safety.
The moment she saw Dina, she stopped moving.
It wasn’t cinematic. It was small, like a gasp you don’t let yourself make. Dina straightened a fraction, the instinctive brace of a person keeping their own ribs from collapsing inward. JJ, feeling it, lifted his head to look.
None of them moved first. Then Ellie did, one step into the room, then another, until she stood opposite Dina across the three feet of scuffed plank floor that still felt like a fault line. Her hands were empty. She didn’t reach for anything or anyone. Her voice came rough, steady because she forced it to be.
“Hi.”
Dina’s mouth softened around the edges. “Hi.”
Silence. The town pretended to chew.
Dina rocked JJ gently. “Tomorrow,” she said to Ellie, making it clear she wouldn’t negotiate the where or the when she’d already chosen. “Garden behind the preschool, after morning lessons.”
Ellie nodded once. Her throat worked. “Okay.”
Another silence flowered and died. Ellie glanced at JJ, and the boy blinked back at her, neutral in that toddler way, a face he knew from a life he almost remembered. Pain flashed across Ellie’s features like lightning far off a ridge. She didn’t try to smile. She didn’t try to be clever.
“Can I—” she began, then stopped herself and shook her head minutely. “Tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow,” Dina repeated, a little softer now. She anchored the word for both of them and for the watching room.
Jay stepped to Ellie’s shoulder without touching her, as if she’d built a railing where there wasn’t one. “I got pie,” she said, and though the line was small, it was a rope thrown across a swollen creek.
Ellie’s eyes flicked to Jay, distance surfacing and retreating. She nodded. “Yeah.”
Dina took half a step back, giving them physical space like a teacher parts bickering kids, except there was no bickering, just a thousand-pound history that would not fit through a doorway all at once. She set her palm on JJ’s back. When she spoke again, she aimed it at Jay, and at Ellie through Jay.
“I don’t want a scene,” Dina said quietly. “Not in front of him. Not in front of the town. We talk tomorrow.”
Ellie’s chin dipped. “Got it.”
Dina held Ellie’s eyes a beat longer, then broke the stare herself, mercy or strategy, it was impossible to tell. She turned with JJ and threaded back through the queue. A few people murmured her name. Beth slid a little tin of berries across the counter for JJ like a peace offering to a god no longer worshipped.
The hall exhaled. Voices found their old volume a notch at a time. Ellie’s knees almost went traitor on her, but they didn’t. Jay angled the tray to one hand and nudged the door with the other, a silent, let’s go before we spend whatever’s left of you.
Outside, evening had tilted toward pink. Ellie blinked hard, then breathed. “Tomorrow,” she said under her breath again, testing the word like a tooth she expected to hurt.
“Tomorrow,” Jay echoed. “And tonight is a bowl of stew, two bites of pie, Dakota sighing on your boots and sleep.”
The cabin’s door when they got back clicked shut behind them with that soft, hollow sound old wood makes after decades of weather. Jay set the tray on the table without clatter and went straight to the stove, coaxing a low flame back to life. Ellie stood for a beat in the middle of the room like she’d forgotten why she’d come in here; then the muscle memory kicked in, she shrugged out of her jacket, hung it on the chair back, checked the latch, checked the curtain gap, checked the window lock. Dakota nosed her knee until she almost tripped, then planted himself on her boots as if he could pin her to the floor and keep the whole day from shaking her loose.
“Sit,” Jay said gently. Not a command so much as a hand at her ribs, reminding her to breathe.
Ellie didn’t answer. She pulled her pistol out, thumbed the safety twice, re-holstered, then finally lowered herself to the table, forearms braced like she was taking a hit. Jay slid a bowl into the circle of her hands. Venison stew, steam curling fragrant with onion and thyme. Ellie stared at it like it might stare back.
“Jay… I’m not hungry,” she muttered.
“I know El.” Jay tore a hunk of sourdough in half, set one piece near Ellie’s fingers. “Three bites. That’s the deal. Then you can tell me to shut up.”
One corner of Ellie’s mouth twitched, something like a ghost of a smile, but it died quick. She scooped a spoonful, blew on it, and swallowed. The heat hit her empty stomach like a fist and eased just enough to let the next spoonful follow. By the third bite her shoulders had come down a notch from her ears. She tore a small corner of bread and used it to mash a carrot into the broth, more motion than appetite, but it counted.
Jay didn’t ask. She just set her spoon down, tapped a fingertip against the map folded beside the bowls.
Ellie’s eyes flicked up. “He looked at me like he half-knew,” she said, voice rasped thin. “Then… nothing.” She studied the grain in the table. “Maybe that’s better.”
“You don’t have to decide what ‘better’ is tonight.” Jay slid Ellie's bowl closer. “Eat a little more so tomorrow isn’t running on fumes.”
Ellie took another spoonful, slower. A beat passed. “You handled that in there,” she said, not quite looking at Jay. “With Dina. With J.J..”
“You would’ve too,” Jay said.
Ellie huffed a small laugh through her nose. “I would’ve set something on fire.”
“Mm. True.” Jay nudged the tin plate she’d covered with a folded cloth. “Peach pie. Two bites, same terms.”
“I really hate you,” Ellie said, which, tonight, meant ‘thank you’. She forked off a tiny corner of crust, then another, and let the sugar sit on her tongue. It brought her back to a porch, summer, coffee, Joel’s bad jokes. She swallowed hard and chased it with stew.
They ate without ceremony, spoons nicking tin, Dakota’s deep, satisfied groan as he puddled down on top of Ellie’s feet. When the bowls were mostly gone, Ellie’s by stubborn inches, Jay lifted them to the wash basin, the soft clink of metal an ordinary sound that felt like mercy.
Ellie drifted, restless as a caged animal. She hit the door again, cracked it, checked the porch shadow, shut it. She checked the window latch a second time like she had dreamed doing it the first time. She lined her blade and pistol on the table parallel to the edge, squared the holster strap, squared it again. Jay didn’t interrupt. She stacked the bowls to dry, set the pie tin aside, and lit the lamp on the nightstand.
“Do you want noise or quiet tonight?” Jay asked finally, voice low.
Ellie rubbed both hands over her face. “Noise.” She looked at the bed. Then at Jay. “Can’t sit in my head right now.”
Jay took that in. She crossed the short space and sat on the edge of the cot, leaving a palm’s width of invitation. Ellie stood there a long second like her boots had roots, then sank beside her and let herself lean, just enough that Jay’s shoulder picked up some of the weight. Dakota, sensing the shift, heaved up, circled once, and flopped with a sigh so dramatic it dragged a real, tired huff of a laugh out of Ellie.
“Tommy,” Ellie said, and stopped. The name was a bruise. She picked at her fingers. “He can hate me. I’m not… whatever… I don’t have the room left to hate him back.” A beat. “Feels like that’s the one thing I can still do right.”
Jay angled to see her face. “You don’t owe him anything... Not his feelings. Not an answer. Not a defense.”
Ellie swallowed. “He said I’m not family.” The admission was almost noiseless. “I thought I was ready to hear that or whatever he’d say. Guess I wasn’t.”
Jay didn’t go for platitudes. She let the words sit, then nodded once. “It’s gonna keep hurting, babe. Doesn’t mean it’s true.”
Ellie’s throat worked. She tipped her head until it found the curve of Jay’s shoulder, until the backs of their hands touched on the blanket. The stove ticked softly as iron settled. Outside, some late-shift joker laughed too loud and was shushed, and quiet draped itself again.
“You want me to talk?” Jay asked. “About anything that isn’t Jackson?”
Ellie’s answer was barely a hum. Jay obliged, low, meandering, a story about a stubborn lamb at Biltmore that tried to adopt a wheelbarrow, about how her grandfather pretended he didn’t cry when it finally followed him like a puppy. The words weren’t important; it was the cadence, something to put in Ellie’s ears besides the aftershock of Tommy’s voice and the preshock of Dina’s.
Ellie breathed with it. Some part of her that had stayed braced since the porch eased by degrees. When Jay’s story crossed a quiet lull, Ellie spoke without lifting her head. “Tomorrow I’ll go. I’ll listen. I won’t—” her mouth twisted “—won’t make it about what I need.”
“You can still need, El,” Jay said. “You just don’t have to bleed it on her.”
That got another ghost of a laugh. “You say that like I’m not a professional bleeder.”
“You’re a lot of things.” Jay squeezed Ellie’s hand. “Mostly stubborn.”
They moved then, not far. Boots off. Socks thunked near the stove to half-dry. Ellie lined her knife and pistol within reach on the nightstand, then slid down on the cot, back to Jay the way a wary person sleeps, but she reached a hand back until Jay found it. Jay lay in behind her, careful of space, close enough to be there, not so close Ellie had to be soft if she couldn’t. Dakota relocated to the foot of the bed and dropped his head across Ellie’s ankles, a warm, reassuring cuff.
In the dim, Ellie stared at the wall and let the day play in her head. Dina’s “hi.” JJ’s neutral blink. Tommy’s door. The high river’s hiss. Pie that tasted like a life she didn’t get. Her chest pulled tight and then let go in small increments, like a fist remembering how to open. When sleep didn’t come, she counted breaths, hers, Jay’s, the dog’s, and matched one-two-three to “tom-or-row” until the word stopped tasting like dread and started tasting like a thing you could actually survive.
“Jay?” she said into the near-dark.
“Mmm?”
“If I want to bolt in the morning, don’t… don’t let me.”
Jay’s thumb stroked once over Ellie’s knuckles. “I’ll walk you there. I’ll walk you back.”
Ellie’s eyes burned, then cooled. She nodded once into the pillow, not trusting her voice. Outside, the wind changed and brought the faintest tinge of sprinkles on the roof. Inside, the fire guttered and went to smoke. Ellie held Jay’s hand until, at last, her body remembered how to shut down, fitful, shallow, but sleep all the same. Dakota sighed like a door closing softly.
The storm rolled in after midnight and didn’t stop. Rain hammered the roof in thick, percussive sheets, so loud it blurred into a kind of constant, smothering hiss. Every gust rattled the window frame and pushed a cold draft through the gaps in the chinking. The stove ticked, then went quiet. The world outside the cabin vanished behind water.
Ellie lay on her side, eyes open to the black seam where wall met ceiling. Sleep wouldn’t come. Her body was wrung out, but her head wouldn’t shut up; every time she tried to ride the sound of the rain down into nothing, it shifted, became surf, became the crash of Santa Barbara waves, became blood-salt and sand sticking to her teeth. The old ringing started low in her left ear, faint at first, then a steady pure tone that hovered just high enough to make her jaw clench.
She gave up pretending. She eased out from under the blanket and sat on the edge of the cot, elbows on her knees. She checked the pistol, again, thumbed the safety twice, set it down exactly where it had been. Her fingers touched the knife, turned it a few degrees, then turned it back. The room smelled like wet wool and cedar oil. Dakota stirred at her side and heaved a put-upon sigh, as if to say ‘really’?
The mattress rustled behind her. “Is that normal for Jackson?” Jay’s voice was gravel-soft with sleep. “Rain like that?”
Ellie didn’t turn. “Wyoming does what it wants,” she muttered. “Storms get trapped in the bowl. They pound you all night. But this is a bad one…”
Jay propped herself on an elbow; in the dim, her hair was a dark brown river across the pillow. “Good to know.” She shifted, then added, gentler, “You okay?”
“Yeah,” Ellie lied, too fast. The rain hammered a reply: liar liar liar.
They both tried to settle after that. Jay scooted up behind Ellie, not touching at first, just letting her warmth spread like a low fire. Ellie closed her eyes and counted breaths. The ringing in her ear held. A seam in the window frame let a trickle through; somewhere to their left there was a drip, slow and maddening. After a while Jay huffed and gave up too.
“Alright,” Jay said, a little breathless laughter in it. “New plan. We think out loud. Sometimes my dumb questions help you line things up.” She nudged Ellie’s shoulder with her forehead. “What are you going to say tomorrow?”
Ellie made a face the dark couldn’t see. “I don’t… do speeches, you know that.”
“Lucky for you, you’re not giving one,” Jay said. “You’re talking to a person who knows when you’re full of it. Start with what’s true.”
Ellie scratched at a scar on her forearm, thinking. The question tugged something tight and useful inside her, painful, but steadying. “I’ll tell her I’m sorry I left.” The word rasped in her mouth. “Tell her it wasn’t about her not being enough. It was me not being… okay. I’ll tell her I know I don’t get to ask for anything. Not forgiveness, not time. I just want to make sure she’s safe, and JJ’s safe, and that I’m not a threat to that.”
Jay nodded slowly; Ellie could feel it in the slight shift of the mattress. “Good start,” Jay said. “Then what?”
“I’ll tell her I won’t push into their life,” Ellie said, the words coming quicker now that they had a path. “If seeing me messes with JJ, or her, I’ll stay out of sight. If she wants to ask me things, I’ll answer. If she wants me gone, I’ll go.” Ellie’s throat worked. “And I’ll tell her the truth about Santa Barbara. All of it. She deserves that much….”
Jay was quiet a beat. Rain gnawed the roof. “Do you want to ask for anything?”
Ellie swallowed. The answer was in her chest; it hurt to say. “Just to see JJ. Once. Not to… not to make anything weird. Just to see if he—” Her voice caught. “If he’s happy.”
Jay’s hand slid up, the backs of her fingers tracing the line of Ellie’s shoulder blade through the shirt. “That’s honest,” Jay said. “And you can handle a no.”
“Yeah,” Ellie said. “I can handle it. I’ve had practice.”
Jay let a breath out through her nose. “What about ground rules? Though you never do good with rules.” There was a smile in it, but it wasn’t teasing.
Ellie almost smiled back. “No yelling,” she said. “No touching unless she starts it. No… no asking about you and me. It’s not about us.”
The sentence hung there, bare as wire. Ellie heard it as she said it, the way it sounded out loud, and winced too late.
Jay didn’t move, but something in the air shifted, the smallest tightening, a held breath. “You mean… you don’t want me there,” she said softly, careful with the words like she was testing thin ice. “You mean don’t bring me up.”
Ellie swore under her breath. “That’s not—” She scrubbed her face with both hands, suddenly furious at her own mouth. “I meant, this isn’t about—” She groped for neutral ground and found none. “I don’t want to make it harder on her. Or on you.” She hated the way the last part sounded like an afterthought. That her words made Jay sound like an afterthought.
Jay’s hand withdrew from Ellie’s shoulder; slow, polite, the way people move when they don’t want to spook a wild thing. “Right,” Jay said. “Because it’s complicated and I’m me...”
“It is complicated,” Ellie snapped, then flinched at the bite in her voice. She softened, tried again. “I mean… Dina doesn’t need to meet my… my new girlfriend in the first five seconds of seeing my face.” The word came out awkward, like a shirt that didn’t quite fit yet, true, but still new. “That’s all I meant.”
Jay took that in without comment. The rain filled the space where her reply might have gone. Ellie turned, finally, to look at her. Jay was a shadow, eyes darker shadows within it, fixed on Ellie with that steady, patient attention that usually calmed her. Tonight it made her feel seen and judged in equal measure, Ellie’s old enemy, guilt, taking the judge’s chair.
Jay’s voice, when it landed, wasn’t sharp, just gentle. That almost made it worse. “When you say ‘this isn’t about us,’ it sounds a lot like ‘you don’t count here.’” She lifted a shoulder. “I know you didn’t mean it that way.” A beat. “Doesn’t mean it didn’t land that way.”
Ellie’s chest pulled tight. “Jay—”
“I’m not asking to be there,” Jay added quickly, palms up, as if warding off a blow. “I wouldn’t do that to her. Or to you. I’m just… trying to make sure you’re not carving me out of your story while you’re not looking. Unless that is what you want…”
Ellie had a hundred answers, the defensive kind, the mean kind, the “fine then, leave then” kind, old reflexes that flared when she felt cornered. She swallowed all of them. The ringing in her ear spiked and then dropped, like a warning siren deciding to give her one last chance to do it right.
“That’s not what I want,” she said, rough. “You’re in it. You’re in it even if this town swallows me up or spits me out.” She grimaced, because the next part scared her to say. “I brought you because I needed you. Not for miles, not just for… holding my shit together. I needed you.” She shook her head. “I just said the wrong thing… like always.”
Jay didn’t smile. But some of the braced lines in her shoulders eased. “Thank you,” she said simply.
Ellie nodded, small and stubborn in the dark. Then, because she felt the need to hurt herself apparently hadn’t burned out yet, she added, “And if Dina needs me not to be… with anyone around JJ for a while, I’ll respect that.”
There it was, the second landmine. Ellie felt the explosion as soon as she’d stepped on it: the way Jay’s inhale went thin, the empty inch she put between their bodies. Nice job, the worst part of Ellie hissed. Two for two.
Jay smoothed her face fast, the way she did when she’d been cut and didn’t want anyone to see the blood. “Sure,” she said softly. “Boundaries.”
Ellie’s throat worked. She wanted to claw the words back, tear them into pieces, build better ones. “I don’t mean hide you,” she pushed out, tripping. “I don’t mean pretend you’re not… you. I’m just trying not to blow up a life that isn’t mine to blow up.”
Jay nodded, once, slow. The rain drummed harder; somewhere far off, thunder rolled. Dakota thumped his tail twice in his sleep and snored.
“I know what you mean,” Jay said after a moment. “And I know this place is full of rooms I don’t belong in.” She let out a breath that might have been a laugh if her ribs didn’t hurt. “Just… promise me you won’t make choices for me to spare me. I’ll tell you when I need distance. I’ll tell you when I’m okay. Deal?”
Ellie looked at her and saw it then, not accusation, not performative hurt, just the thin line where courage and fear lived side by side. She reached for Jay’s hand and found it, their fingers knotting in a grip that was more handshake than cuddle.
“Deal,” Ellie said.
They stayed like that for a while, rain beating time on the roof. The cabin felt both too small and the only safe place left on earth. Ellie’s ear-ring climbed again; she closed her eyes and rode it like a train cresting a hill, breathing until it ebbed.
Jay leaned her head on Ellie’s shoulder, cautious, as if asking. Ellie let herself tip her cheek against Jay’s hair.
They didn’t manage sleep, not really. The storm had other plans. But the edge dulled, enough for Ellie to lie back and let Jay’s arm drape over her middle like a seatbelt, enough for Jay to breathe without that small, hurt hitch.
When the darkest hour finally bent toward gray, the rain eased from pounding to steady. The leak found a new path and stopped its taunting drip. Dakota snuffled and resettled. Ellie stared at the ceiling and touched the place on the blanket where Jay’s words had stung and then settled.
“Tomorrow,” she whispered into the thinning dark, trying the word again.
“Tomorrow,” Jay answered, half-asleep, her palm warm over Ellie’s sternum.
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AgentBeyonce on Chapter 6 Tue 18 Mar 2025 05:09AM UTC
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27? Never heard of her (Guest) on Chapter 30 Tue 20 May 2025 11:47PM UTC
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