xjoel:
Dying words meme thing the symbol is a box for me

thefireflycargo--archive:

☠ Last dying words

”..Hey..Joel…”

The words were feeble, crackled and weak as they left the girl’s lips. It was the first thing she’d said in a long while; her voice had long since stopped being a luxury she could afford, and even the slightest movement drained her of any accumulated energy. Fever drove her body into terrible, fervent shivers. Sickness hung over her like a blanket, making the hair stick to her forehead and her eyes remain closed. She had to do this. She at least had to do this before she was gone.

Underneath the bandage that was wrapped tightly around her middle, an infected puncture wound beyond treatment lay just beneath her ribs. A hunter had managed to use his territory to his advantage; during an attack she had ducked down behind a crate, already trying to make a plan to get back to Joel. It was the least expected thing as he suddenly launched over the crate behind her, plunging the serrated-edged blade into her back. The first thing she noticed was how instantly numb everything went — it didn’t hurt, it didn’t burn. It only felt…wrong. Just wrong. As if it had simply been misplaced.

The first thing she heard above the ring in her ears was the loud snarl of an angry dog, and just like that she was thrown to the ground as AK rounded the tall crates and went on the offense. Blood spattered the ground as the faithful companion embedded his teeth into the man’s jaw, and just like that the immediate threat was over. With a small grunt of pain Ellie fell on her side, shaking hands covering the tip of the blade as it protruded from her side. Oh shit…oh no…

“Ellie!" 

Hazily, she looked up, shock still in her confused eyes. Joel. That’s right, Joel. Aw man, he was gonna…no…he couldn’t see her die..

Suddenly his hands were on her and he was saying something she couldn’t comprehend but something gurgled at the back of her throat and she choked and it spattered red on the ground and oh god, she was gonna die, oh god, oh god, oh god —

"—Pull it out —”

“—Stay with me, baby girl —”

Sentences came to her in small fragments, but it was the pain that hit her the hardest. A gentle hand laid firmly on her shoulder and another gripped the blade. No, don’t— But of course he didn’t know and all of a sudden he was pulling and she wasshrieking and curling up in pain as that edge came back and tore into her more and she was begging him to stop, stop, stop and he had to get it out, she knew it but oh god it hurt so badly and —

She survived. Barely.

Nightmares plagued her — the kind she always had, where she was trapped inside the restaurant again. Run little rabbit, run. Those words repeated themselves in her ear with that all too-familiar voice and she was running, she was but there was nowhere to go and she didn’t know what she was running from and just like that there was pain. Blood already seeped out of her mouth as her knees buckled, pain flaring up as the machete completely drove through her. “I told you to run, didn’t I?” A voice said, and she knew it was David but when she turned to look it was only a man with a beard and a broken watch staring down at her. “You’re not my daughter,” He hissed, staring at her as if she was something he’d find on the bottom of his shoes. “And I sure as hell ain’t your dad.”

-

Eyes cracked open at that, her traumas waking her abruptly from sleep. Immediately she noticed the pain in her middle — it burned and itched and stung. Part of her was starting to grow scared, wondering if what she had just envisioned was actually a dream — but then she saw Joel, his head tipped against the wall as he lightly dozed. Memories flooded back as she slowly blinked awake, wondering how the hell she was even still alive. 

”..Joel.” Her voice broke and cracked, a sign she’d not used it in a while. The old man startled, suddenly animating to life as he came out from sleep and stared, wide eyed, at the emerald eyes peeking warily out from half-closed lids. Slowly, ever so slowly, Joel rose from his position and quietly made his way to her side. Took her frail hand in his callused one. “Hey, baby girl.” 

“…I almost died.”

“You sure nearly did.”

“…” Ellie sucked in a breath, wincing as the pain flared up. “..I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. Just…get some rest. Alright?”

She didn’t want to. She wanted to stay and talk with Joel — to at least make him understand that she didn’t mean for this to happen at all. But her body was already tired, exhausted from simply waking out of her slumber, and beckoned for her to close her eyes again. So she did.

On the third night is when the fever set in. Ellie was reduced to shivers and often wished she could simply cocoon herself in all the blankets Joel had managed to scrounge up, but he knew better than to let her succumb to the feel that she was freezing. “I know, I’m sorry.” He would murmur, draping his arm around her as she shivered and sought warmth. “We’ll get you over this, alright? Once this fever of yours breaks I’ll give you all the blankets you want.”

It didn’t break. Through the third, fourth, and fifth night she shivered, had bad dreams, and slowly lost any ounce of energy she had. She no longer had the energy nor stamina to speak clearly; more often than not she was awake for a very few minutes each time those eyes of hers opened. Pretty soon after that she could do nothing more than breathe and shiver, those two things becoming the only signs Joel had to go on in place of her liveliness and jokes and attitude.

Now…now was almost as painful as when she got the wound. Her eyes remained closed, past the point of having the energy to open them — much less see clearly. “I uh…gotta…ask you somethin’.”

Joel’s attention was fully on her as he crouched down beside her, and even though she had long since retired to blindness she knew he had that look on his face, the grim one that he tried not to show whenever he looked at her but one she saw anyways.

A heavy, distressed breath was taken in as she forced herself to continue. “Can you just…please….promise me one thing?”

“What is it, kiddo?” The voice was gentle, soft. His hand took hers and his thumb ran over the back of it rhythmically. God, she hated it when he did that — it made her feel so useless, so weak. It made it even harder to finish what she was saying, but the real hard part was letting him go. 

“If….I die..—”

“You’re not gonna die, Ellie.” The soft tone in his voice had changed; now it was more like giving an order, or suddenly alarmed. God, she hated this. She hated doing this to him, she hated herself for doing it. But the determination was still strong enough to get through his thick head and make him understand. Life was a bitch sometimes.

“Please…” Weak desperation entered her voice, but he didn’t back down just yet.

“No, Ellie. Stop talking like that.”

“Joel. Please.”

He shut up, although the upset tension hung in the air like spores. When she was sure he wasn’t going to make another outburst, she spoke again. “Make…sure…you keep going.” At this she forced her eyes open, using everything she had to stare at him with those dead, lackluster eyes. Her skin was pale, her face sunken in.

She wished she hadn’t opened her eyes.

There it was, clear as day; his heart was slowly being etched out of his own chest, and she was breaking it. Maybe it was the eyes, or just how terrible she looked, but it seemed to break him. She couldn’t stop here. “Go to Tommy’s…live out there…”

"I ain’t goin’ anywhere without you, baby girl." 

"I’m sorry…”

“Don’t apologize. Ellie, look at me, don’t you dare say you’re so—”

“I am…I’m so sorry…”

Arms enveloped her and she shut her eyes, her oven-like forehead resting against the hollow of his throat as he pulled her to him and held her there. “Don’t,” He said quietly, and there was a thickness to it. “If it makes you feel better, I’ll promise, but don’t. You’ll get out of this, kiddo. You always have.” 

There was a moment of silence as Ellie molded to fit his arms, her fingers weakly clasping the flannel of his shirt. This was it. This was all it was. Somehow, she was strangely okay with that. “…You’re right. Goodnight, Joel…”

“Goodnight, baby girl.”

Her eyes closed and she lay there in his arms, hand clutching his shirt as he held her until in the early hours of the morning he awoke to the sudden release. Her body was heavy, her head pressed against his neck in an awkward way. “Ellie,” He breathed, trying to wake her up gently. No, no no. This wasn’t happening. “C’mon, Ellie. Wake up, come on.”

Her eyes, once so vibrant and full of life, did not open again. 

Listen to this while you read.