open to all!

[shittybirthday]

Characters: Joel and open!
Date: Mid-April through to... whenever??
Location: All sectors.
Situation: Joel has arrived in Keeliai and is searching for Ellie.
Warnings/Rating: PG. Will edit to a higher rating if necessary!

If you want to do anything specific with Joel, feel free to hit me up at spongebong!

Joel has been wandering lost through the city for what feels like hours.

Ellie. That's all he can think about amid the mess of bewilderment racing through his mind about where he is: Ellie. Finding Ellie. From the moment he woke up in that damn tub of water, groggy and feeling like he'd been heavily drugged and finding himself staring up at a severe looking man staring right back down at him, Ellie is all he's been able to think about. His immediate thought had been that he'd been kidnapped and that Ellie had been-- Shit, he didn't want to think about what had happened to Ellie, what they'd done to her. He just wanted to find her.

And so, with the stagnant taste of water from the tunnel still in his mouth, in his throat, with the mental image of frantically applying compressions to Ellie's chest while she lay lifeless on the wet, water-logged ground, as his strength slowly began to return to him and the heavy fog began lifting from his mind, he started to fight. He weren't gonna listen to any bullshit about some great evil or some asshole called Malicant. He needed to find Ellie, god damn it.

Where is she? The girl? he'd managed to demand, his voice weak and croaky as he was lifted out of the water. When none of the strange people around him were willing to answer his questions, he began wrestling against them with all his might. He threw clumsy punches, tried grabbing them and slamming them into the wall, tried throwing them to the ground to stamp as hard as he could on their faces. Where is she? WHERE IS SHE? All to no avail: he'd been too damn weak to do much more than grope and grab and listlessly shove at anyone who tried to come near him. He was easily overpowered. Soon, he was shoved outside, left to fend for himself with no answers to any of his questions.

And now, here he is: navigating his way through a bewildering maze of streets and crowds. He's dressed in ratty jeans and a dirty, threadbare blue denim shirt with the sleeves rolled up his muscular forearms; his skin is weathered and nicked with scars, scabs and bruises. On his left wrist is a wristwatch, the glass face cracked, the hour and minute hands frozen in time. Strapped to his back is a dirty brown backpack, laden with various weapons: a bow, six arrows, a metal pipe with scissor blades crudely affixed to the end of it with duct tape, a shotgun, a hunting rifle, a flamethrower and a military torch clipped to his backpack shoulder strap. His face is tired, world-weary, the wrinkles around his eyes and on his forehead deep and heavy-set. His dark hair is greying and there are flecks of grey in his dark beard. Not a shred of mirth can be seen in his expression; but there's a look of something resembling barely contained worry, if not panic, in his hard eyes.

It's the first time in twenty years that he's seen or been in urban civilisation. Civilisation, that is, that isn't overrun by martial law, isn't secured into quarantine zones, isn't surrounded by militia, by the constant threat of Hunters, by decayed ruin and despair. By Infected.

He doesn't trust any of it. As he walks through the streets, he keeps glancing over his shoulder in paranoia. It's all too much. Too overwhelming. Too much noise, too many smells, too much stimulation. He's grown so used to the dead, dank silence of a world torn apart by chaos and sickness and terror that a thriving civilisation is completely foreign to him now; much less a civilisation as strange and almost otherworldly as this. Sudden noises make him tense; sudden movements make him defensive; people approaching him or getting in way makes him itch to whip out his pistol from where it's tucked in his waistband and aim it point-blank at their faces.

Comments

[mightythinice]

It wasn't a good day for hunting. Which meant it wasn't a good day for selling any of her shit to the kedan, which meant she'd be eating light that night. But it wasn't like she'd never gone to bed hungry before in her life-- she'd find some way to deal with it. Walking through the city, and slowly trudging her way back to the Wood Sector, she never expected she'd see anyone she knew.

She never thought she'd catch a glimpse of-- no way.

She stopped and turned, and almost immediately her heart skipped a beat. He was back. That was Joel. It had to be, there was no way it wasn't. She didn't know what to think, after over a month of not having seen him, he was suddenly back. And finally she lunged into action. "Joel!" she practically screamed as she ran towards him.

She'd gotten good of weaving in and out of people. "Joel! JOEL! Over here!" Look at me, she said to herself, her hand waving out frantically as she made her way to him through the crowd.

[shittybirthday]

Jesus, parts of this town is like being caught in the damn slums back in the zone. People haggling, hassling, trying to get people to buy things from their cramped little stalls - only they're wanting money instead of ration cards. Money, heh, what a fucking concept. Joel can barely even remember the last time he'd ever used money to buy things.

Not that he's concerned about that fact right now. What he's concerned about is this asshole getting in face about buying things from his stall that Joel ain't even remotely fucking interested in. In fact, the way the guy is crowding in on him is setting Joel's teeth right on edge.

Christ, he can't handle the crowds. Can't handle the way people are constantly brushing past him, getting in his way, the noise, the endless bustle of business and people. He keeps expecting something to happen - an explosion to go off, guns to start firing, screams to erupt with panic in the air, patrol to come storming through and ordering people on their knees with their hands behind their heads--

"How many times do I gotta tell you?" Joel is saying to the man in a dangerously cool tone. His hand has curled into a fist at his side; he's moments away from throwing a punch right in the guy's ugly face, make him stop talking, make him get the fuck away from him. "I ain't interested in--"

His name. He suddenly hears someone shouting his name. He turns sharply on the spot, looks around wildly, turns back the other way, hears his name being shouted again.

His eyes land on a familiar face pushing and rushing through the crowds towards him.

"Oh, Jesus," comes a quiet, breathless, almost broken murmur from his lips.

Without hesitation, he pushes past the guy, muscles his way through the crowds, breaks out into a run when he reaches a small clearing. Back to shoving his way impatiently past people. The relief flooding through his veins is almost overwhelming, almost dizzying. Oh Jesus, she's alive. She's alive. Jesus Christ, she's alive.

[mightythinice]

She launches herself straight at him. He's here, he's back, she doesn't have to be completely alone, after losing so many people. She didn't care if this was out of character for her, if hugging wasn't his thing. She was just so glad to see him again, that she just didn't care.

"You're back-- fuck, you had me worried sick!" As though she was the one that needed to worry about him, and not the other way around.

She almost forgot about the other people, and then one of them bumped into them, and the illusion was broken. It was crowded here, sometimes. So, she looks around, before settling on an open area just a few meters away. "Over there. Looks like there's not as many of these fuckers that way."

[shittybirthday]

As Ellie slams into him with a fierce hug, Joel grabs her to him, clutching her tight and desperate to him and letting out a soft but shaky breath. Oh Jesus, is all that's going through his mind, oh Jesus, oh Jesus, thank fucking god--

He barely hears what Ellie says over the pounding rush of relief roaring through his ears and in his head. One hand grips her shirt at her back while his other hand cradles her head to his chest with his eyes squeezed shut. Everything else happening around him has faded for a split second; it's just Ellie, Ellie, that's all that matters. Ellie alive, solid, warm, real.

As she pulls back, his surroundings come back into his periphery and when she points out a less crowded area, he wastes no time in grabbing hold of her arm and steering her hurriedly, protectively through the crowd. He pulls her into a small alcove and the moment he lets her arm go, he's seizing her by the shoulders, looking right at her, making her look right back at him.

"You alright?" he demands with gruff urgency. "You hurt?"

[beunbroken]

Elizabeth had seen that sort of look about a man before. Tired, confused, and honestly, this guy looked like he needed a shower and some food and probably a beer. And the weaponry attached to his back... Well, that was some pretty heavy stuff. She could recognize it from the steps of a small shop.

On impulse, she decided to approach him, her small feet practically tripping down the steps as she approached him, her hands out in front of her. "Hey, mister?" Last thing she wanted was a gun pointed to her face, thank you very much. She'd gone quite some time now without it, and she really didn't want to go back to that.

And if she had her way, she would never go back to that. Columbia was not an option. She'd stay here, or go with Pavel. Either way, she refused to return to Columbia. But that was besides the point.

Closer to the mysterious man, she registers the look in his eyes, caution is easily the best option.

"Mister, you look lost. Here- my name is Elizabeth- I can help you."

[shittybirthday]

His feet are killing him.

Now, Joel can walk for hours, miles, while dead on his feet, while his feet are blistered and calloused and aching - but there's just something mighty damn tiring about constantly having to fight through crowds. Something mighty damn tiring about feeling trapped in crowds; being constantly hyper-alert of something bad happening, having no room or time to run to safety if - or when - it does.

He comes to a bench and grips the back of it as he sinks down heavily onto the seat. Elbows coming to rest on his knees, he drops his head in his hands, rubs his tired face and pushes his fingers into his greying hair. Christ, everything aches. His arms, his shoulders, his back. His damn head. Everything.

And it's beginning to sink in with sick, heavy dread that he's never going to find Ellie. Why would she even be here, anyway? Wherever the fuck 'here' is supposed to be in relation to Boston. To Salt Lake City. Even to fucking Texas.

The voice cutting into his thoughts has him quickly lifting his head from his hands to look at the person. Instant mistrust takes hold. He doesn't trust anyone he doesn't know who offers him help. Experience has taught him time and time again that no one can be trusted.

"Ma'am," he greets guardedly. Hands bracing on his thighs, he pushes himself up from the bench, takes a couple of steps back from the woman. Always best to assert distance between yourself and people you don't know or trust.

"Help how?"

[beunbroken]

This man is clearly on guard. She hasn't seen anyone that tense since, well, Booker DeWitt himself. And if her experiences with Booker have taught her anything, it's that she needs to tread carefully. And given his firearms, she'd reckon he's some sort of soldier, agent, something. Trained, without a doubt.

And Elizabeth doesn't have a gun on her. Sure, she could get one, but that requires effort and time, and if he chose to fire, she'd be dead before she got the chance to open a Tear. And even if he didn't shoot to kill, it wouldn't do well to have to explain to her father why she was coming home with a bullet wound. Or her boyfriend.

And that was one way to start a fight in the DeWitt household.

"Elizabeth," she prompts him, her hands still out in front of her in what she hopes is a peaceful gesture.

"I don't know. However you need- you seem lost, panicked, almost." She eyes him carefully. "I know that look all too well. You're new here, aren't you?"

[nowthatsfunny]

Tess worked only half the day today at the Brazen Turtle - keeping the books is good work for her in part because it's not really a full-time job. Leaves her lots of free time to pursue her own business interests.

She's walking back to her Earth Sector suite, contemplating if she should try a new color in her hair soon - the blue has started to fade a little, and while she likes it, she's all about trying new things, like this life is a big sampler platter of stuff she never would've been able to do back home.

Things like that help her push away the nightmares, the worry about Sarah and Ellie, the empty spot inside her where Joel belongs.

The thought of Joel does two things - sends a faint pang through her chest, and then, as if her thinking of him had somehow conjured him up - he's there. Looking the same as ever, maybe a little older, a little more tired and worn and worried, but always the same.

He's back. Tess wants to punch him, or maybe kiss him. Or maybe just drag him somewhere quiet so she can watch him forever and make sure he won't leave again. The asshole.

Ultimately, she opts for her usual tactic - deflecting. Making light. Acting as though it's not a big deal that he's back, like it's no surprise, like she's at most vaguely annoyed. As though he went out to get bread and milk and is a little late getting back.

"Dammit, Joel, it took you long enough. We were gettin' worried." Hands on her hips, a gesture of admonishment.

[shittybirthday]

Joel is getting mighty damn sick of this place already.

The constant throng of people. The endless activity. The overwhelming sights and smells and noise. The way people keep getting into his damn personal space with things they're trying to sell and haggle. Joel has spent twenty years wishing for civilisation the way he knew it - an organised society, predictability, the mundane life of people simply going about their business without the fear of Infected or of the military exterminating people in order to meet ration demands - and now that he's back in some semblance of an organised society--

Well, it don't help that he doesn't recognise anything. It sure as hell don't help that every nerve ending is on edge, waiting for something to happen. Something bad. Twenty years of surviving in terror and fear and martial law has taught him to expect little else.

Pushing a hand through his hair and wiping away sweat beading along his hairline, he pushes his way through the crowd, his other hand ready to reach behind him for his pistol at any sign of danger. Earth sector. He's trying to find his way back to the Earth sector but damn it, these streets are like a maze, and the endless confusion of people bustling everywhere doesn't help.

There, he suddenly realises, craning his head to peer over the tops of people's heads. He can see what looks like the beginnings of the Earth sector just ahead in the distance, if the sandstone buildings are any indicator. Jesus, about fucking time.

He pushes through another unnerving bottleneck of people and makes himself let out a steady, even breath to calm his nerves as he walks as quickly as his tired, blistered feet will take him. His eyes cut here and there, watching for any danger, his gaze skimming across different people's faces - and his eyes land on a woman staring back at home. Someone who looks a dead ringer of--

He stops in his tracks. And as the woman (Tess?!) approaches him, comes to a stop before him, hands on her hips, admonishing him with a familiar brusque tone, Joel takes a hasty step backwards, his usually hard and steely eyes wildly looking her up and down.

"Jesus," comes an absent, bewildered utterance from his lips, "what the hell--"

[nowthatsfunny]

The first thing that she realizes when he looks at her is - he doesn't remember.

Tess knows that people come and go from the turtle sometimes. She's heard people talk about it, knows that sometimes they remember being here, and sometimes they don't, and that there doesn't seem to be any rhyme or reason to it. But somehow, she was expecting - or maybe just hoping - that he'd remember.

He clearly doesn't.

The second thing she becomes aware of, in light of his apparent memory loss - or reset, whatever - is how very different she must look from when he last saw her. She wasn't exactly a fan of mirrors back in Boston, but she knows she's gained weight, at least five pounds, since showing up here - just enough that she's got a little more meat on her bones, a little more curve to her hips instead of the sharp angles she was. Her clothes are new and clean. Her skin has a healthy glow. Her hair, apart from the bright splash of blue in it, is shinier and healthier. Hell, she even smells better than she ever did in Boston - a fruity scented soap and lotion she's been using today has her smelling faintly of something citrus.

So not only is she alive when she should be dead, but she's changed, too. She can't imagine how disoriented Joel must be. She almost feels guilty, as though she needs to explain herself. Her look softens in sympathy, her arms drop to her sides, and she motions him forward.

"C'mon, Texas, you look like you could use a drink." Only she ever calls him Texas, it's like she's saying yeah, it's me, it's really me. "Have you seen Ellie yet?"

[starcharter]

Chekov is out doing some shopping for scrap components for his latest project. A lot of 23rd-century technology is out of reach here in Keeliai. It makes his work more challenging and, therefore, more fun. But other areas, like medicine, could do with an upgrade or two. In any case, he's checking his usual shops during 'rush hour' in the city. Most of the kedan travel by foot, so it can get somewhat crowded.

He has to dodge a rickshaw, which unbalances his footing just enough that a passerby bumping into him pushes him firmly into Joel's personal space.

"Ah, sorry!"

[shittybirthday]

Joel is beginning to give up hope of ever finding Ellie.

It doesn't sit well with him. At all. There's a deep, unnerving twist of apprehension clawing its way through his gut and up his throat, a sickening sense of dread that Ellie didn't make it. That Ellie had fucking died on him when-- Jesus. Jesus. He can't bear to think of it.

The crowded streets and the unsettling reality of civilisation thriving all around him already have his nerves teetering right on the edge. The thought of not being able to find Ellie, of not being able to push his last memory out of his mind of her lying unconscious and lifeless in front of him is what's going to push him right over it.

He's lost deep in panicked, grief-stricken thought about her when someone suddenly comes barging right into his personal space. Sends Joel staggering to the side. The apology rebounds off his ears unheard; alarmed anger spikes in him, fight response suddenly taking over, and he slams his hands against the assailant to send them sprawling backwards, as far away from him as he can get them before they get a chance to shoot him, or before they get a chance to sink their infected teeth into his flesh--

[starcharter]

The shove really didn't help Chekov's current situation. He's already just regaining his footing when someone much bigger and stronger than him shoves him back as hard as he can. Chekov's usually graceful enough not to fall, but not this time. He falls hard.

"Ay! I said I was sorry!"

Usually he takes these things in stride but that hurt. His expression softens when he sees Joel-- this guy isn't trying to be a jerk. He looks on-edge, anxious. A little like a trapped animal.

"Are you alright?" he says as he stands up again.

[akito]

Crowds never used to bother him. Then again, he was never completely alone when walking through crowds, either. Being four inches shy of five feet tall makes crowds somewhat intimidating - without Agito in his mind to help him, Akito is always worried about something happening. Fighting is something he knows how to do... Used to do. He used to be a weapon. If need be he's sure he could defend himself... Probably.

So, crowds are a bit intimidating. He's small and easily knocked around by rushing traffic. Some days, like today, Akito feels as though the only thing he ever says is 'sorry'. Everything is mumbled apologies for being shoved into someone else, all while trying to regain his balance before another body bumps into him. It's why he's all but running out of the busy street he was on, making a mental note to avoid going there during busy hours. There was nothing there of interest anyway. Or, if there was, he was too short to see over the crowds.

When Akito bumps into someone next - moving so quickly that his momentum causes him to fall over onto his ass - it's entirely his fault. Nobody pushed him, bumped him, or chased him. It was all Akito and his anxiety-filled self. He bites back the wince that wants to come out and ignores the new tear in the knee of his leggings.

"Ah, I'm sorry! I wasn't watching where I was going."

[shittybirthday]

Joel is trying to find his way back to the Earth sector.

It's the only place he, so far, only tentatively knows; but the directions the guy who'd brought him into the city had given him don't make a lick of sense when he's caught in the busy, disorienting throng of crowds and noise and discomfiting hubbub. He's been searching for Ellie for what seems like hours and now - now, he's just so damn tired that he needs to head to somewhere where he can get the hell away from everything happening around him, collect his thoughts, clear his head, try to shake off the hyper-vigilance searing through every nerve-ending and putting him right on edge.

Just as he's pushing his way through another bottleneck of people, hands balled into tight, nervous fists, he lets out a grunt as someone bumps hard into him. He swings around to the person, ready to fight back - and finds himself staring down at a kid.

Well. At least the damn kid recognises he weren't watching where he was going.

"You alright?" he asks, gruff and curt.

[akito]

"Un, yeah..." If his hand hovers over his thigh where he may or may not keep a small cutting knife, he tries not to make a big deal out of it. He's small and at a disadvantage compared to this man who is big, and heavily armed with weapons he clearly knows how to use effectively.

"I would rather get a skinned knee than be stuck in the crowds here. It's..." Waving a hand as though it helps explain what he's trying to say. "Claustrophobic."

[iwannabeadragon]

Hawke is on his way back home from the Welcome Center. After finishing a show for the kids there, he's still in full costume which means that right now he's armored and armed to the teeth with his axes and knives. To be honest, he prefers it that way. Things have been tense lately. Being prepared, even if it's overly so, helps.

As always, Notch trots beside him. The dog's mouth hangs open in a constant doggy grin. Being two hundred pounds of fierce war hound, it's important to look friendly as much as possible. When he's not it scares the bejeezus out of people. Fortunately Notch is smart enough to know when the situation calls for it.

They notice Joel almost immediately. The man looks paranoid out of his mind, like a terrified animal ready to pounce on someone. In other words, just the kind of person you don't want wandering down a crowded street. Without much consideration, Hawke decides to once again stick his nose where it probably doesn't belong. This guy might be trouble. Who knows, maybe he's the one actually in trouble, books and their covers after all.

"You alright?" he asks as they draw closer. "Nice beard," Hawke adds a beat later with a smirk. You see so little proper beard care these days after all.

[shittybirthday]

Joel really fucking hates these crowds. He's been wandering lost through the crowds for, Christ, he's got no idea how long. Long enough that his blistered, tired feet are killing him, he knows that much. Everywhere he looks across the sea of people - and to him, it really is a sea of people; he hasn't seen this many people since… hell, since before the infection first broke out - he keeps spotting people that look like Ellie. Red-brown hair, short, skinny, and he starts charging his way through the crowd towards her, intense paranoid be damned - only to find it's not her at all.

He's at a crossroad now, looking this way and that, eyeing people with careful suspicion, moving quickly out of the way when people get close, almost pushing people out of the way when they get too damn close. His heart is beating at a quick, unpleasant pace; his mouth is dry, his throat is tight, his nerves are right on fucking edge. In amongst the chaos of noise swimming all around him, he keeps expecting gunfire to go off. Or patrol to suddenly sweep in. Or sirens to suddenly start blaring. Or fucking Infected to start stampeding through the crowds.

Over there, he realises. A girl with red-brown hair. Short. Skinny. He starts charging through the crowds again, pushing past people, eyes sharp and locked on the girl - and comes to a sudden and abrupt halt at some guy with a giant dog suddenly cutting into his path.

Is he alright? Nice beard? He ain't got time for this shit. "Outta my fuckin' way," he demands with a growl, shoving his way past the guy and his big ass dog - and he comes to an abrupt stop again when he sees the girl has turned around and… it ain't Ellie.

Fuck. Fuck.

[iwannabeadragon]

What a lovely personality, fortunately Hawke is used to people like that. So far this guy appears to be only mildly worse than Anders. Being shoved aside does little to affect the smirk on his face. Instead he whistles sharply and Notch moves to position himself in front of Joel. Nothing about the hound appears aggressive, yet. Meanwhile Hawke approaches Joel again.

"Maybe things are different where you're from, but normally a very angry man approaching children tends to give people the wrong idea."

His voice takes on a more serious edge as he continues. "You're scaring them."

[alphatar]

The problem with the kedan that are criminals is that they are still kedan, able to shapeshift into practically anything. Which is why Korra’s not caring who’s in her way as she chases down the kedan that pickpocketed her juulan. Thirty juulan wasn’t anything to just wave off, but for the passionate eighteen year old, she would have done so even if it’s only one juulan.

The Avatar gave little leeway to thieves.

But when she turns a corner hot on his, or her, heels she is met with a crowd of people, none of them in a hurry like the person she was hunting down.

Her baby blue eyes scornfully scrutinized each kedan she passed, trying to see if they reacted to her gaze as she looked for the string that contained her chunk of juulan. "Playing this game isn't going to work." She muttered under her breath as she kept her eyes peeled.

Then she saw it. That look of paranoia, the one person looking over their shoulder.

"Gotcha. Looking like a foreigner won't work." Korra knew most of them from checking the network, and his face didn't look familiar. Taking her chance when he wasn't looking behind him, Korra dashed up behind him and gripped onto his shoulder.

"Give it back." She ordered sternly, a menacing look on her face.

[shittybirthday]

Wood sector. Right. Tess had said something about Ellie living in the Wood sector; and so, that is where Joel is trying to find his way to.

The hustle and bustle of the crowds hasn't gotten any easier to contend with. Never mind the fact that Joel is struggling to wrap his mind around the fact that Tess is alive. In fact, the revelation of Tess' existence is setting Joel even more on edge as he's heading down the street, lost, hyper-vigilant, paranoid.

He'd locked Tess away in his mind as someone who was gone, someone to never let himself think deeply about again. Not that that ever truly worked - there have plenty of times during his trek across country with Ellie where he's found himself thinking about Tess. But the moment he realised he was, he clamped down as hard as he fucking could on those thoughts and even harder on the grieving ache threatening to spill over in his chest, and locked them away again somewhere dark and tight where those thoughts and that grieving ache couldn't haunt him. That is, until the next time they did.

And now, she's fucking alive. How the hell is he supposed to compartmentalise that? What the hell is he supposed to do with that? What the fuck is--

A hand clapping down on his shoulder snaps him violently out of his thoughts. Survival instinct kicks in: noise all around him becomes muffled and garbled as he rips himself away from the person and whips around. And without thinking about it, his hand is on his pistol, hard and heavy and cold in his palm, and he grabs it out and trains it right on them.

[alphatar]

Dealing with the gangs in Keeliai had practically become a hobby for Korra and she was expecting him to not give up easily. When he wrests away, she took a half a step back and waited for the punch or kick that would surely come.

"You guys can never make this easy, can you?" Not that she minded getting a chance to stretch out her martial arts abilities.

But when the strike doesn't come, Korra halted for a brief moment to take in what he was doing. While she wasn't familiar with what he was holding, she knew that having it pointed at her didn't make her feel any more comfortable.

So she spun around to execute a roundhouse on his wrist. Both to disarm and potentially break his wrist. Disabling him, getting her juulan back, and turning him over to the police was her plan.

[nowthatsfunny]

Tess gives him a day and a half. Well, she'd been planning to give him two full days, but by mid-morning on the second day, she loses patience. It's been known to happen - Joel usually yells at her, or at least growls, when it does, but she thinks this time she can probably be forgiven.

It doesn't help that she knows he's in the building right next door to her - she only has to step out a few feet to basically be at his door. And goddammit, she's missed him. He's been the one solid constant in her life for a long, long time, and while she can get along fine without him, she prefers not to. She likes Joel. That's the long and short of it. They were partners because they work well together, they get along most of the time, and they like each other. So fucking sue her.

As she knocks on his door, Tess finds herself almost hoping that Ellie might've done her job for her, and told him about Sarah already. She still needs to figure out a way to get him and Sarah together - hopefully a way that will be private and won't end in Joel being pissed off at her.

WALL OF TEXT sorry

[shittybirthday]

It's been almost a day since Ellie told Joel about Sarah. A day and a half since discovering Tess is alive. A few hours since realising that Ellie is right: they're trapped. There is no way back home. No way back to Tommy's settlement.

He doesn't sleep that night. He hasn't eaten since waking up in this place. In the middle of the night, he finally finds the courage to watch the video of Sarah again; he makes his way, quiet as he can, down to the room where the console is, fumbles around for a little bit acquainting himself with the technology, finds the video, opens it, and watches it. And watches it again. Each time he watches it, the twisting ache of grief in his chest slowly morphs into desperate longing.

The fifth time he watches it, he gingerly touches her face on the screen when Sarah exclaims about ice cream. A lump forms in the back of his throat, thick and choking. Joel hasn't cried in years. He hasn't allowed himself to; he's kept it locked away tightly inside him, turning his grief and pain into cold, hard survivalism. But as he touches the screen, listens to Sarah's voice, watches her light up while talking about ice cream, he breaks down for the first time in almost twenty years. His grief is silent and harrowing as tears run down his cheeks. He cries until there's nothing left.

Deep, cold numbness eventually settles in and stays there as night slowly turns into morning. By the time he hears someone knocking on the door come mid-morning, he looks like a wreck. There's a bruise on his chin under his beard from the kick that crazy woman in the street had thrown at him. There are dark, tired bags under his eyes. He's still dressed in the ratty, blood-stained jeans and even rattier denim shirt with sleeves rolled up his bruised, scratched and scarred forearms that he'd arrived in. The same clothes he was wearing when he pulled Ellie out of the water in the tunnel. There's a steely emptiness to his eyes when he pulls the door open only as wide as the door chain will allow.

Tess. Jesus Christ, it's like staring at a ghost. He swallows as a moment of benumbing surreality passes through him, almost like a spell of vertigo at seeing Tess standing there. The same way she'd stand at his door whenever she came pounding on it back in Boston.

After staring at her for a moment, trying to process that it's really her, he shuts the door enough to be able to pull the chain off, then opens the door wide. And because he's at a loss for words, he just stands there awkwardly for another moment, then just as awkwardly takes a step back for her to enter.

never apologize

[nowthatsfunny]

All it takes is one look at him, and Tess can tell. He knows. He clearly hasn't slept, or bathed, and probably hasn't eaten, either, because Joel is just like that. He also looks like he's been in a fight, which if anything makes Tess frown even more deeply.

She's glad she brought some food with her - nothing too rich, just some sandwiches she threw together - all of it fresh, none of it canned or stale.

"Did you get into a fight? Already?" Tess is a bit of a hothead, but even she has managed to avoid most physical altercations - her first week here, anyway. "C'mon, big guy, you'll scare the kids if you don't clean yourself up."