Work Text:
Joel doesn’t have much that he considers important.
He likes coffee when he can get it, he’ll trade everything short of his left leg for a bag of beans. He likes the itchy quilt they found in a wicker basket by the front door when they first moved to their little blue house in Jackson. He likes his trusty green flannel, his broken watch, his sturdy work boots that replaced his old dilapidated ones.
There is something he likes a lot that Ellie is not allowed to touch.
There’s an old record player he’d been elated to discover in the garage when they began clearing out space in their house. It’s a hideous brown thing, Joel thinks from sometime in the 80s when electric ones became all the rage. Neither of them really thought it would work, given the clear signs of age and the obvious time that had passed since its use. But, lo and behold, he found a few sleeves of records in a box beside the garage shelves, and after some fiddling he’d gotten it to work.
The thing is his prized possession, he uses it every night when he cooks dinner. He uses it when he’s cleaning the living room or doing laundry, he uses it when he convinces a begrudging Ellie to stand on his toes and dance around the den.
She pretends she hates it, she makes fun of him the entire time and intentionally stiffens her muscles to be difficult. It doesn’t deter him though. Maybe he can see the genuine giddiness in her eyes or hear it in the laughs she can’t suppress as he dances her around the room like an old-timey father and daughter at a sock hop. (Joel told her what that is, but he said it was before his time. She doesn’t believe him, old fogey.)
They’d done their little routine just last night, after a filling dinner of mac n’cheese and steak. They cleaned the kitchen together, singing along to the tinny sound of Led Zeppelin tinking through the record player. Ellie had hopped up on his sock-clad feet, her own perched on her toes. His large hand enveloped hers, and he’d begun to twirl her around the room, as Goin to California eased out into the air between them.
He’s never said as much, but Ellie gets the feeling he used to do this with Sarah, or something like it. Maybe in the days of CD players they’d listen to more modern stuff, her small voice giggling as her father spun her around in circles that led to nowhere. He’s been trying to find a record that Sarah used to love, some band called Fleetwood Mac. He wants to play her favorite song, Landslide, so Ellie can hear it. He says it’s a good song. Ellie is sure he’ll want to dance to it.
She doesn’t mind, really, doing this with him. It’s nice to see him relax a little, have some fun, bop his head to the rhythm of a song and move his legs in synchrony. He’s really not a bad dancer, much better than Ellie.
And even though neither of them ever talk about it after their little dances -both too emotionally stunted to admit that this little smuggler and his cargo show has kinda sorta turned into a father and his daughter show- they usually end the night grinning wide and feeling a certain type of contentment.
So, the record player? Super important to Joel. And off limits to Ellie without his supervision. Under normal circumstances, she’d never disobey him about something like this.
Sure, Ellie gives him hell. She can handle herself, so most of the time when he bosses her around she tells him to shove it up his ass. When it’s her survival, she usually listens, ‘cause he’s pretty good at keeping her alive.
Or when it’s about something that matters to him.
Despite her better efforts, Ellie’s come to care about the grouchy old smuggler who’d saved her life in that hospital. The man who’d cradled her bloody face in his palms and told her everything was gonna be okay. The man who’d brought her to this safe little haven in the middle of a demented world, joined her in trying to achieve a safe, happy life. A meaningful life.
All that said, she only borrows the record player because she has no other choice.
Here’s the thing. Making friends in a peaceful little communist society after living in nothing but shitty FEDRA dorms and on the road with a murdering old man? Not a super easy task to just grab by the reins and handle.
Ellie’s learned there are certain ways to get people on your side. Certain ways to make friends so you aren’t completely on your own. And Joel’s been wanting her to make friends anyway, to get used to this place. Their home.
It’s easier to make friends when you have something to leverage. So when she overhears Jesse and Dina during stable duty complaining that their upcoming get together won’t have any music, she spots an opportunity. Who the fuck could blame her for taking it?
“We have a record player,” she says before she can really decide if it’s something she’ll regret.
The duo both turn to look at her over their shoulders, eyebrows arched. Dina smiles, her full lips plush and her lashes fluttering. Ellie tries not to let them see how warm her face feels.
“Really?” she asks. “Your dad would let you bring it?”
Ellie winces, deciding not to correct the “ your dad” thing. Too confusing.
“Yeah for sure, I can use it whenever I want. We have a few solid records.” She shrugs, trying to appear nonchalant. “You guys want me to bring it?”
“Hell yeah we do!” Jesse enthuses. “You’re a lifesaver, Ellie. This is gonna kick ass.”
“You’re still getting the booze?” Dina confirms, looking at Jesse hopefully.
“Yeah, I bribed Travis. We’re all set.”
“Perfect.” Dina glances back at Ellie, still smiling. “Thanks Ellie. I’m so excited! It’s gonna be fun. Your first Jackson party!”
“Yeah!” Ellie nods in agreement, forcing a smile on her face as she attempts to hide her anxiety. “It’s gonna kick ass.”
Surely it will kick ass. She likes Dina and Jesse a lot, they’re nice guys and she’s sure that any event they throw is going to be fun. They’d already invited her before she mentioned the record player, which she thought was pretty fucking nice considering they hardly know one another. Still, she knows that offering the music is gonna make good allies of them.
Back in FEDRA school, she used to give the biggest kids her bread roll at dinner. They’d always be ravenous and grateful for it, and sometimes they’d defend her when Bethany came around acting like an ass. It was the smartest way to survive in a place like that- sneak your way into enemy territory, ally with as many threats as you could, get people on your side. Ellie’s never been the most likable person in the world, so she’s often relied on what she could offer people to support her value, to make her too important to get rid of. Bread rolls, immunity, record players. It’s all the same, right? It all makes her matter.
She’s still trying to figure out what she offers Joel in that regard, but it gets too confusing trying to work through all of that .
The party is going to be at Jesse’s house on Thursday night. Both of his parents have evening patrol, so he’s home alone. Luckily, Joel and Tommy are gonna be working late on a contracting job on one of the nearby houses. Joel had told Ellie she could come with if she wanted to do some more apprenticing, but she’d let him know she was going to the party.
He’s happy about it, she can tell, as he prepares their breakfast Thursday morning before he leaves for his shift. She knows he’s been worried she’s not doing well making friends, constantly asking her how her stable shifts or baby patrols went, if she met anyone she liked. Her being invited to a party is surely a good sign.
“Now I know you can handle yourself,” he says as he plates her scrambled eggs and sets them on the table in front of her. They’re always just a little overdone, he’s not exactly the world’s best cook. But he does try.
“Of course I can,” she replies before he can continue, spearing her eggs with a fork.
“I know. But for my sake,” Joel looks at her pointedly, “if you’re gonna drink, don’t drink. If you’re gonna do drugs, don’t do drugs. If you’re gonna have sex, don’t have sex. If you’re gonna-”
“Commit a murder?” she suggests with a wry grin.
He rolls his eyes. “Best I can hope for is: don’t get blackout drunk and break somethin’ valuable, alright?”
“Joel, I don’t even like booze!”
“It’s an acquired taste,” he mutters, sitting down beside her with his own breakfast.
“That's what you said about coffee, and that tastes like burnt shit.”
“I happen to like burnt shit.” Joel retorts.
“Well, we all know you’re a little screwy.” Ellie crosses her eyes and sticks her tongue out to emphasize her point.
“Charming,” he bites back dryly.
“Joel.” She sets her fork down and turns to face him, expression ultra-serious. “I solemnly swear not to get blackout drunk, or have sex, or break anything valuable. I may do a bunch of drugs, it just depends what they offer me.”
“Downers, if we’re lucky,” he says, going back to his breakfast.
“What does that mean?”
“It means finish your eggs.”
It’s not Ellie’s first time borrowing something that doesn’t technically belong to her. In this world, stealing to keep yourself alive or safe is pretty common.
Still, her heart thunders erratically in her chest as she unhooks the small record player from its setup in the living room. This isn’t a dead rabbit from an old couple’s hook, or cans of food found stuffed into a shelf in an abandoned grocery store. This is Joel’s. It’s special to him. He loves this thing.
She knows she has to do it though, Jesse and Dina are counting on her to make this happen and she can’t let them down. She has to be useful, prove her worth, make allies instead of enemies. It’s important. It’s what Joel wanted, for her to fit in here, be happy, make friends.
Ellie feels like a fugitive as she furtively makes the walk toward Jesse’s place, eyes darting around wildly as though she’s afraid someone’s gonna catch her. Joel’s across town building, so she knows she’s safe on that front, but god forbid some nosy Jackson adult see her and bring it up to Joel later.
Luckily, she makes it to the front door without being busted, banging on the door with her sneaker, since her hands are heinously occupied. She hadn’t realized how heavy this stupid thing actually is.
Dina is the one who answers, a huge grin spreading across her face as she looks down at the record player currently taking up space in Ellie’s scrawny arms. “No way! You actually got it?!”
Ellie scoffs, trying to seem nonchalant. She doesn’t want them to realize how much effort actually went into sneaking this thing away, or how nervous she is about it. They probably won't like her very much if they think she’s trying too hard to impress them. Even though that’s exactly what she’s fucking doing.
“Of course I got it!” Ellie enthuses, gesturing with her chin to the record player. “Can we go inside though? It’s fucking heavy.”
“Oh, yeah sorry. Come on in!” Dina steps aside to allow Ellie’s entrance, and guides her through the foyer of the house toward the living room, where they’d cleared off space on an end table for the record player.
“Jesse just ran over to the Tipsy Bison to get the booze before everyone shows up,” Dina explains, squatting down to help Ellie begin plugging in the player.
Ellie situates everything and selects a record from the few sleeves she’d brought. She drops it in and sets the needle down like she’s seen Joel do a million times.
In moments, the clear, crisp sound of Head over Heels begins to play. Ellie bobs her head at the familiar tune, glancing over at Dina’s inquisitive expression.
“Never heard this before,” she says before Ellie can ask.
“Oh.” Ellie nods again, sliding her hands into her back pockets so Dina can’t see how clammy they are.
“I like it,” Dina adds, smiling warmly in Ellie’s direction. The flutter of her long eyelashes and the flush to her cheeks is enough to make Ellie’s chest feel tight. She doesn’t know why being around Dina makes her act and feel so strange, but she’d love for it to stop.
Luckily, Jesse returns from his booze run just in time to save her from another awkward moment. social interaction. Ellie quickly busies herself with helping them finish setting up, mentally preparing for an evening of small talk and trying to be normal.
It’s not that she’s antisocial or something. She wants friends, she really does. It’s just…hard. These kids aren’t rough and tumble FEDRA brats, or youthful, streetwise nomads like Henry and Sam. They’re just…well, honestly they’re nice, and well-adjusted, and normal.
Ellie is not.
She’s outgoing, when she wants to be. She’s got a kick ass sense of humor (if you ask anyone besides Joel, that is) she’s decently nice. She’s…she’s not a bad person. Ignoring the murders. Most of which were pretty fucking fair.
But she’s also different, in all the worst ways. She stiffens a little when she smells meat cooking, she flinches at the sound of a door creaking, sometimes mistaking it for the distant click of an infected. She’s guarded, keeps her switchblade close and her eyes narrowed for the slightest sign of a threat to either her own, or Joel’s life.
Because most of these kids haven’t stitched up a bleeding wound in a dirty basement, most of these kids haven’t fought their way through hordes of infected, most of these kids haven’t nearly had every shred of their identity ripped apart by a monster in a burning steakhouse.
She gets that they’re all still tough , and they know loss more intimately than kids from Before did. But a lot of them have lived here most of their lives. A lot of them are…more unburdened.
Which she knows is ideal. She’s the weird one, the problem. They’re all doing it right. She’s just trying to balance her own issues with fucking keeping up. With having friends, being happy. Living .
So, she enjoys the party. She jumps in when people are having conversations, she cracks jokes and feels relief smooth through her chest when people laugh, she has one -count it, one- drink that she only half-finishes because booze really does taste like shit.
The kids all sway to the music bleeding from Joel’s record player, even though most of them have probably never heard these songs before. Conversation flows, drinks are poured, snacks are eaten, and Ellie finds herself relaxing as the night wears on.
It’s pretty fun, she has to admit, just hanging out with other kids her age and no pressure . They’re laughing and dancing and conversing as if there aren’t treacherous dangers just outside the walls their parents are patrolling every night. As if there’s more to life than just survival.
She’s having fun , dancing with Dina and Jesse who are being really fucking nice about including her in everything they do. Jesse twirls her around in a circle and she laughs giddily, not even bothering to push him away and make fun of him. Dina takes her wrist and dances her around like they’re doing some sort of jig. She should feel stupid, but she doesn’t care.
Because she’s having fun .
That is, until the music screeches to a stop.
Lingering laughter echoes, the tail ends of conversations becoming hushed, beating shoes slow to a stop. Silence, cruel and encroaching, begins to descend upon Jesse’s house.
“What happened to the music?” someone asks.
“My bad!” another voice squeals.
Ellie’s heart stops in her chest, throat tightening as she begins to push her way through the crowd to get to the record player. Sweat dews on her temples, praying to whatever imaginary fucking deity that’s listening that the record player is okay.
Joel will kill her if it’s not.
She stops short, eyes going wide as she realizes someone’s knocked it over. The record player is lying flat on the floor. The vinyl is broken in half, and the needle has snapped off.
No no no no no no!
Ellie drops to her knees beside it frantically, picking up the discarded needle with wide eyes. This can’t be happening, this isn’t happening. This thing is Joel’s prized possession. And she stole it. And broke it.
Fuuuuuuuuuuuuck.
“Ellie?” Dina is squatting beside her, a worried hand on her arm. “Can you fix it?”
“I don’t know,” she replies helplessly, “Joel already had to fix it up when we first got it.”
“I have some wood glue?” Jesse offers from behind her.
Ellie blinks rapidly, trying to keep her eyes dry. She can feel everyone’s eyes on her, knows she’s making a fucking fool of herself. She has to get out of here. Everyone’s staring and Joel’s record player is broken and she looks like an idiot.
Hurriedly, Ellie gathers up the discarded pieces and the player, clutching it against her chest. “I have to go.”
“Ellie,” Dina objects, “it’s okay! We can still party without music.”
“Yeah don’t worry,” Jesse assures her. “I was pretty much ready to go acapella anyway.”
“I have to fix it before Joel gets home.” She brushes past them, beelining for the front door and trying to ignore the prying eyes of everyone else.
So much for being normal.
The walk home is far more treacherous than the walk there had been, with the record parts loose in her arms and vinyls spilling from her grasp every few feet. She is quick to catch them before it can get worse.
She makes it back to the house in an impressively slow time, dropping the record player and the scattered records on the kitchen table with a huff. She steps back, examining the damage and mentally running through her options.
- Glue everything back together with the special glue Joel keeps in the shed out back. Hope he never uses it again.
Not exactly foolproof.
- Come clean, pray he doesn’t actually blow your head off with his shotgun.
Considering how much he loves this thing, and the fact that Ellie still hasn’t figured out exactly why he’s keeping her around, that’s not her favorite choice.
- Make a break for it, sneak out of the walls and never look back. Brave infected and hunters over admitting to Joel you broke his prized possession.
Hm. Best of the three, really.
Before she can contemplate exactly how she’s going to pull off her escape plan, a noise at the front door catches her attention. Ellie whirls on her heel, eyes going wide with alarm, as the front door creaks open.
“Damn it Ellie!” Joel calls from the front entry. “Didn’t I tell you to lock this door?”
She can’t let him see this, she can’t let him in the kitchen.
Ellie darts forward, intercepting him in the living room before he can make his way toward the tiled floor of the kitchen. She offers him her very best, most cheerful grin, bobbing up on her tippy toes to distract his attention from the kitchen doorway.
“Hi!” She greets him in a voice so high pitched it makes her own ears ring.
Joel’s forehead creases, eyes narrowing as he looks down at her speculatively. His voice is flat when he replies. “Hi.”
“Sorry I forgot the door,” she says with a breezy laugh, “just…had so much fun. Partying.”
At this, his eyes grow even more wary. He drops his tool bag by the couch, closing the distance between them to take Ellie’s chin in his hands. He tilts her face up, wrinkling his nose as he studies her confused expression.
“Uh….I got something on my face?” she asks.
“Are you drunk?” he demands.
“ What ?”
“You smell like booze,” he points out, “and you’re actin’...weird.”
“I had one drink,” she admits, “but I didn’t even finish it. Tasted gross.”
“You’re too young to be drinkin’, Ellie.”
She smirks. “You know I’ve like, literally killed people before.”
He scowls, releasing her face and crossing his arms over his chest. “Too young for that too, kid.”
“Well, you’ll be delighted to know I did not get drunk or murder anyone tonight,” she replies with a shrug.
“And the other two?” he asks with an arched eyebrow.
“No sex, no drugs, sir !” She salutes him mockingly, putting a stern inflection in her voice at that.
Joel grimaces. “I always forget you were a military brat ‘til you bust out some of that obedience just to make fun of me.”
“It takes comedic timing.”
“You’ve got oodles of that, kid.”
“Don’t worry Joel, I’m sure someday it’ll rub off on you.”
“God willing.” He rolls his eyes again, voice dry. “Alright then, if you ain’t stumblin’ drunk, what’s wrong with ya? Why’re you acting so…”
“Brilliant?” she suggests.
“Obnoxious,” he replies flatly.
“I take offense to that, you know,” Ellie replies with a scowl.
“Wouldn’t doubt it for a second.” Joel sighs, throwing his hands up in defeat. “Alright, I give up. Somethin’s goin’ on, clearly, but if you ain’t gonna tell me.”
“You’re so negative,” she mutters.
“Hey, actually.” Joel turns on his heel, as if he’s just remembered something. “Forgot. Tommy found somethin’ on patrol yesterday goin’ through a music store outside of town. Got it for us.”
Ellie watches as he moves back toward his tool bag, bending down to rifle through it for a moment. It takes him a bit, due to the disorganization of the bag, and she’s just about to tease him again, when he produces what he’s looking for.
And her blood runs cold.
“Finally found the goddamn album,” he says as he holds up the vinyl sleeve for her to read the name FLEETWOOD MAC. “You’re gonna like this one.”
Of. Fucking. Course. He finally found the album of Sarah’s he’d been wanting to play for her. Tonight of all fucking nights.
Panic blooms in her veins, spreading throughout her entire body like tendrils of cordyceps taking over. She’s no longer a functioning human, just a host body in complete fight or flight mode.
When Joel turns to walk toward the den, where the record player is supposed to be, all she can do is scream.
“No!” She cries shrilly, racing forward to tackle him to the floor.
Joel hits the hardwood with a surprised oof noise, the vinyl skittering out of his hand across the floor. Ellie finds herself splayed out across his back, eyes crazed, completely unsure of what the fuck she’s just done.
“Ellie what the fuck?” Joel growls, rolling over so she slides off of him onto the floor. It’s a gentle movement, but she’s so shell shocked she can hardly brace her landing.
Suddenly, she’s overwhelmed. She’s terrified of what he’s going to do when he finds out, so afraid. Will this be the final straw? Will he want her to leave?
More than anything, she feels guilty. This was the one thing that’s brought him happiness. All he wanted to do was listen to his dead daughter’s favorite song. And Ellie stole from him and ruined any chances of it ever happening.
All he’s done since she’s met him is protected her, prioritized her safety and her wellbeing over his own, gave her food off his own plate and would probably give her blood from his own body if she needed it. She doesn’t understand why, but she does know that it’s a debt she’ll never be able to repay.
And what has she done with it? Brought his happiness to some teenage party and broken it.
“Joel,” she faces his perplexed, annoyed expression, lip trembling, overcome.
“Ellie?” he asks, voice softer this time, still confused but less angry.
“Joel I’m sorry,” she manages before a few tears spill from her eyes. She wipes them away angrily with the back of her hand. “I-I-”
“Hey.” He moves closer, reaching out to brush a lock of hair from her face, run his thumb along the damp skin of her cheek. “Kiddo, you’re startin’ to scare me. Now what’s going on?”
“I didn’t mean to!” Ellie insists, sniffling and clenching her fists to try and get a handle on her spinning out emotions.
“Christ Ellie, what happened?”
“You’re going to be so angry,” she breathes, eyes squeezed shut so she doesn’t have to look at his disappointed face. “You’re going to hate me, Joel.”
“ Ellie, I could never h-”
“I broke your record player!” She interrupts his nonsense reassurances, words spilling from her lips in a frantic stumble. Her eyes are still clenched shut, terrified to look at his expression, to know that he’s truly and completely had it with her.
It’s quiet, so she keeps babbling.
“I took it to Jesse’s party. They needed music and I-I- I just wanted them to like me. To be my friend. I was trying to fit in, make allies, like you said. But it got knocked over at the party and it’s broken.” She wipes at her closed eyes again, humiliated to find more liquid there. “Fuck, man, I’m so sorry Joel. I understand if you hate me now.”
“Ellie,” he says her name so quietly she almost doesn’t hear it, “open your eyes.”
Reluctantly, she pops an eye open, waiting to see the anger that will surely be present on his face.
To her surprise, his expression is neutral. His eyes are calm, brows relaxed on his forehead, gaze focused on her face.
“Relax,” Joel tells her, voice even and collected. “Take a breath. It’s alright.”
Ellie’s eyebrows screw together, confused. What?
“It’s okay,” he repeats softly, “I ain’t mad at you, Ellie.”
Fucking what ?
“Stop lookin’ at me all confused,” Joel says, “it was an accident, darlin’. I ain’t mad at you for that. I know you didn’t mean to break it.”
Ellie blinks slowly, trying to comprehend his words. On the road, especially at first, if she stepped too loudly he’d tear her a new one. At military school, if she’d been caught stealing, let alone breaking what she stole, she’d be thrown in the hole or whipped with a belt.
This is…weird?
“I don’t understand,” she manages weakly, “I stole your stuff, and I broke it.”
“I get it, you were tryin’ to make friends, just what I told you to do,” he replies easily, “accidents happen, kiddo. I’m just glad you’re alright. Much rather have a broken record player than a broken Ellie, hm?”
Fucking what?
“Come on.” Joel reaches over and takes her by the arm, carefully helping her to her feet. “Where’s it at?”
“Kitchen,” she replies lamely.
With a nod, he walks her toward the kitchen doorway. Ellie grimaces, trailing behind as Joel leads them through toward the kitchen table. She hears his breath inhale at the sight of the broken needle and strewn about records, and she flinches, afraid seeing the damage will officially be too much.
But Joel just nods, looking down at her with a determined expression. “Pretty sure I can fix that.”
“R-really?”
“Yeah, just a broken needle? Probably gonna take a bit, but I think I can do it.”
Relief floods her chest so swiftly it nearly bowls her over. Ellie grips the back of the nearest kitchen chair to keep herself upright. She breathes in, shaky, startled when he lays his hand across her upper back.
“Ellie?” Joel asks in a tentative voice.
“Yeah?”
“Why were you so…jumpy about tellin’ me?” he wonders.
“Uh…” She struggles to find the words. Why was she so jumpy? Because she doesn’t know why the fuck you keep her around and she was afraid this would be the final straw and you’d get rid of her?
“You know I’d never hurt you, right?” Joel’s voice is lower when he asks this, like he’s afraid of the answer.
“Yeah, I know that.” And she does. Despite all her illogical fears of retribution, and all the abuse she’s faced in the past at FEDRA and on the road from hunters, one thing she can count on is that Joel would never lay a finger on her. He does the opposite, really. He protects her.
“You sure?” he asks, looking down to meet her eyes. She notices then how heavy with worry his own look. “You seemed…scared.”
“I-I wasn’t. Not of that.”
“So then what were you worried about?”
Ellie fumbles to try to explain herself. “It’s just that you’ve done a lot for me, saved my life and brought me here and…and you put up with me. Take care of me. So I feel like I owe you. And if I do something wrong…well, I already don’t really understand why you keep me around. So if I’m breaking your shit…what reason would you have to keep me?”
Joel exhales loudly, nodding like he’s considering her words. He leans back, one hand clasped around the kitchen chair opposite to hers. She’s afraid she’s stepped on a nerve here, that maybe her admitting it aloud will be the thing that makes him decide to kick her out.
He deliberates quietly for an agonizing amount of time before he speaks again. “I know you didn’t exactly have…a childhood. FEDRA n’ then on the road with me…well, I know I wasn’t exactly the nicest guy.” He clears his throat, brows furrowing as he looks at his feet. “I’m tryin’, Ellie. To do better. To be better, here. Do you wanna know why I’m tryin’?”
She nods.
“For you,” he answers immediately. “That’s the whole reason I’m givin’... life another shot, kid. Because of you.”
Oh.
“Let me just get one thing clear,” Joel says in a firm voice, “you ain’t goin’ anywhere, and neither am I, alright? We fought too damn hard to get here. We’re in this together. I got your back. You’re my kid. Nothin’ you do is unforgivable to me. Don’t forget that.”
Ellie swallows thickly, trying to process all of his words. They’re floating around in her head like a tornado of confusing phrases.
You’re my kid.
We’re in this together.
Nothing you do is unforgivable.
And it strikes her then, as his words wash over her and soothe the panic in her chest, just how badly she’s needed to hear these exact things. She looks up at him, wide-eyed and pliant, disbelieving that he’s actually saying these things to her. Soaking up the essence of his words, clinging to the surprising warmth from the only adult who’s ever treated her like more than a nuisance.
“I know I ain’t the best with words.” He sighs. “Sorry, kid. Just, I promise I ain’t mad. And you’re safe here with me. And we’re family. This is forever, if that’s what you want of course.”
Overcome, she nods rapidly, trying to quell another round of fresh tears. She won’t let them come, won’t let herself cry again in front of him. As bad as he is with words -really, not as bad as he thinks- she’s about ten times worse.
“I don’t know what to say,” she admits, the words shaky and frail.
“Don’t gotta say nothin’,” he assures her with a gentle smile, “just tell me you’ll help me fix this needle. Hm?”
She’s quick to nod her assent. Joel nods back, reaching over to pat her arm reassuringly.
And even though it’s stupid, lame and embarrassing, she takes the opportunity to throw herself at him and wrap her arms around his waist in a vice-tight grip. He seems surprised by the hug for only a beat, before he quickly submits, wrapping his arms around her. His palm cups the back of her head, and his other hand lands between her shoulder blades.
Ellie squeezes him so tightly he coughs, and then she pulls back to brush hair from her face bashfully. “You’re super lame.”
Joel snorts, but there’s a fondness in his eyes that’s hard to ignore. “Likewise, you little rat.”
She giggles, shaking her head as she turns to look at the broken record player. “So…think I’ll ever be able to dance on your toes again?”
“I think we can make it happen.”
Super corny. But still, she hopes he’s right.
It takes two weeks for her to work up the courage to go see Dina and Jesse after the party. She’s pretty sure neither of them will want to see her again, but she knows she has to own up to everything and clear the air. They left off somewhere…awkward.
She knocks on the door with shaking hands, knowing they’ll be together right now. They always spend Wednesday afternoons together after stable duty.
The door opens and Dina answers, her expression quickly going soft and gentle at the sight of Ellie.
“Hey,” she says with a smile, “I’m so glad you’re here.”
Hard to fucking believe, but Ellie forces herself to smile in return. “I just wanted to-”
“Someone there?” Jesse appears behind her, looking surprised. “Ellie!”
“Hey, man.” She waves awkwardly at him.
“You wanna come in?” Dina offers.
“Yeah, come hangout, we just discovered Dina’s double jointed.” Jesse grins.
Ellie pulls a face. Too much fucking information.
“Oh don’t be gross, not like that!” Jesse scoffs. “Show her, babe.”
Dina sighs, rolling her eyes before she bends her elbows inward. Ellie gasps, recoiling.
“Holy shit!” she exclaims, momentarily distracted from her apology attempt. “Dina what the fuck?!”
“I didn’t know this was weird!” Dina insists.
“You should go as a clicker for Halloween,” he teases lightly.
“Fuck off,” Dina warns him, though there’s a smile hinting at the corners of her lips.
“It’s impressive,” Ellie assures her, resisting the urge to shudder.
“Yeah yeah yeah,” Dina rolls her eyes again, righting her arms. “You guys can be disgusted on your own time. Did you wanna come in, Ellie?”
“Oh, uh, no thanks. Thanks though. I’ve gotta get home. I just wanted to apologize for…what happened at the party.” She winces.
“Oh. That wasn’t your fault, Ellie.” Dina shakes her head. “Some idiot broke your record player. If anything, we should be-”
“No, no I left all in a hurry and made it weird, and-”
“Dude, I’d totally freak if I broke something of my dad’s too,” Jesse interjects, “we totally get it.”
Ellie glances between them in disbelief. Seriously? It’s this easy? Are they fucking with her?
“Are you sure?” she asks anxiously. Having friends can’t possibly be this simple.
“Yeah man.” Jesse waves a hand dismissively. “We’ll do a redo party to make up for it soon. I’ve been practicing my vocals.” He clears his throat obnoxiously.
“Dear god,” Dina groans.
“On that note.” Ellie nods at them, relief flooding her chest like a tidal wave. “I gotta get going. Um…thanks, guys. Seriously.”
“See you tomorrow?” Dina asks, meeting her gaze with those warm, dark pools of mahogany. God, Ellie could just melt into her eyes if she really let herself.
“Uh-huh,” she manages.
“See ya tomorrow!” Jesse waves at her again, then turns to march back into the house, calling out for first dibs on something called Uno.
“I hope you know it’s fine,” Dina says softly to her once they’re alone, reaching out to press a gentle palm against Ellie’s bicep. “You’re our friend. You don’t have to apologize for like…being a person sometimes.”
Ellie can’t help the grin on her face. Dina just makes her feel fucking giddy. “Thanks, Dina.”
“I will see you soon.” Dina presses a quick kiss to her cheek, then whirls around and heads into the house, shutting the door with ease.
Ellie’s left standing on the porch dumbstruck for more than a few minutes.
The walk home is cheerful, and she opens the front door expecting to see Joel where he usually is in his free time lately, fiddling with the record player. To her shock, when she enters, the house is echoing with soft, trilling chords of a song.
“You fixed it!” she squeals, slamming the front door shut and meeting him in the doorway of the den. He’s grinning, already nodding.
“Yep.” Joel sweeps his hand back toward the record player on the table, currently tinking out a soft, even tune of guitar. “She’s back to some of her original glory.”
“You’re fuckin’ amazing, dude.” Ellie shakes her head in disbelief. “I’m starting to think there’s nothing you can’t fix.”
She really is. Record players, old houses, shitty childhoods. He’s just a fixer, Joel. She’s really fucking lucky.
“May I?” he holds his hands out for her to take, smiling.
She doesn’t even fight it, all too eager to accept his hands and prop her toes up on his as they begin to sway to the music. She doesn’t recognize the song, or the low, raspy voice of the woman on the record.
“Is this Feetwood Mac?” she asks as he moves them in tune to the music.
Joel scoffs. “ Fleetwood .”
“What’s that even mean?”
“It- it don’t matter. This one was Sarah’s favorite. Just, go ahead and listen to the words.”
…well I’ve been afraid of changing’ cause I built my life around you….
….but time makes you bolder, even children get older…
….I’m getting older too…
Ellie leans in, resting her head on his chest, content at the slow beat of the music. It vaguely occurs to her that this would probably look weird to anyone else, a teenage girl slow dancing with an old man to a crinkly sounding record of some band named Feetwood.
But she really can’t find it in her to care.
This is the man who saved her life, who’s cared for her when no one else would even give her a second glance, who protected her across an entire country of danger. The man who protects her, who comforts her when she’s upset, who reassures her when she’s afraid, who loves her even when she feels unlovable.
It wasn’t easy to get here, either of them, to this place where they can slow dance across the living room and enjoy the favorite music of a little girl who’d been lost so many years ago. But everything they’ve been through together, all the danger and terror and uncertainty…all the moments that forged their family, well, those things make it hard not to want to move forward.
They’re here to live a life together. And Joel is right. They’ve fought too damn hard not to enjoy it.
So she lets him steer her along to the music. He holds her little hands like he’d created them, loves her like she’s his own blood, dances her around the room like she’s his child and all he wants is for her to live a happy life.
Maybe time does make you bolder, after all.