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miniscule-meow · 10 months

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Something Unexpected (23)

Word Count: ~2.6k

Warnings: Brief mentions of non-con touch

First Part | Last Part | Next Part

~*~

“No. Absolutely not,” she says as assertively as she can muster.

“Oh, come on—” He starts, going to explain it again or beg her. She cuts him off.

“Deckard. I’m not doing it,” she crosses her arms, “it’s humiliating,” she adds with a pout.

“Well do you want to get out of here or not, princess,” he hisses with a new level of desperation. It’s as if this is the first time that he’s considering she actually might refuse his plan.

His plan.

She had promised to hear him out about it, and especially after last night she felt like she owed it to him. She was having trouble sleeping. Every time she closed her eyes, she would just see massive human’s their faces leering around her, their laughter shaking her to her core as they manhandled her. They turned her this way and that. Their calloused fingers wandering across her body, exploring her, and ripping apart her clothes to make sure they could find all of her.

Deckard stayed up with her, telling her the plot of that play he was in back at the engagement party. Her engagement party. It was the only part of the evening that she was actually enjoying until His Majesty decided he had had enough of it and took her away. She pestered Deckard to tell her about it, and he eventually did. He spoke with her until she fell asleep. It was actually nice of him to do that. So sure, the least she could do is listen to his plan.

The plan is every bit as stupid as she thought it was going to be. The way he sees it is they’ll join a traveling group of performers with some sort of act. Something that involves her. This will eventually get them to Gyldredale, a kingdom that is rumored to have open arms to all sorts of beings, human, fairy or otherwise, and everyone can live happily ever after and frolic into the sunset. It’s stupid.

“I just don’t see how this is anything more than a scheme for you to make a quick bit of coin,” she says, scowling up at him.

“Well, hey,” an easy smirk spreads across his face, “that’s certainly a plus.”

“Everyone will be… looking at me,” she says with a frown.

“Exactly, and they won’t be looking at me,” he has the audacity to wink at her.

“Deckard,” she says, venom coursing through her tone and she tries to glare at him as ferociously as possible.

“Listen. If you want to get to Gyldredale, we have to join the caravan. It’s a group of traveling performers. We have to have an act,” he explains it to her again.

“So why can’t you just do your magic tricks, and leave me out of it,” she says with a roll of her eyes.

“If we did that, you would have to be totally hidden, the whole time. That would suck. What would you do, stay in a little shoe box in my luggage? Be stuffed in my pocket the whole time? We’re going to be out there for weeks! If you’re a part of the act, you won’t have to be a stowaway. It’ll actually be more comfortable for you, believe it or not,” he says.

“I thought the whole point was for me to stay hidden,” she grumbles, not wanting to admit that he’s right, being a stowaway would be claustrophobic and dreadful.

“Sure. Hidden in plain sight,” he says with a proud grin.

“That’s ridiculous,” she mutters under her breath.

“We just need to give you a good disguise,” he says, and she doesn’t like his smile, like he’s excited to play dress up with her.

“I don’t see the point. They know they’re looking for a fairy.”

“You could just be a different fairy,” he shrugs.

“A different fairy that just so happened to turn up alongside one of the crown’s lead players. I’m pretty sure I tried something like that, and it didn’t even work on you.”

“Maybe I’m just very smart,” he says, lifting his chin haughtily.

“That’s probably not it,” she shakes her head, but she can’t help herself from laughing as he gasps and feigns offence at her words. “Do you really think it could work?” she asks cautiously.

“Yes, I do,” he nods, boldly confident.

“I suppose…. Is a disguise really necessary though. Aside from my wings, I don’t think any human paid enough attention to me to be able to tell what I look like,” she says, quirking an eyebrow. It seems pointless to change her appearance for someone that might not be able to tell the difference either way.

“Lark, you’re small, not invisible,” he says, giving her a strange look.

“I know, but I mean. I know people can see me. I just don’t think any human really took any time to actually look at me. Like I said, they know I’m a fairy. Aside from that, I don’t think anyone’s ever cared.”

“I know what you look like,” he offers, his tone is surprisingly genuine. “But I pay attention,” he says, his familiar ego immediately making an appearance once more.

“Doesn’t count. You’re looking at me right now,” she shakes her head.

“Alright, let’s see,” a sly smirk spreads across his face. He turns around, pointedly averting his gaze. “Easy stuff first. You have wings, duh. They’re a semi-translucent kind of… off-white color. They are thin, like thinner than paper-thin, thin. But they’re glossier than a butterfly’s wing. The top of…. It would be your left… the top of your left wing is an emerald-green, and black. It was a piece of a butterfly wing, so it’s more matte compared to the rest of your wings. You’re a red head. Long hair. It’s not quite curly, but it’s definitely wavy. Your eyes are green, you’ve got freckles all across your face, and your ears are pointed. You don’t like being alone, but you do like to pretend like you don’t enjoy my company. You frequently try not to smile, and you often get this look on your face that looks like you’re trying to stab me with your eyes. And, your face gets red, and you fidget with your skirts when you get nervous or flustered,” he turns back to her, his eyes flicking down, scanning her for her reaction. Her face is bright red, and sure enough, she’s balled some of her skirt into her fists at her sides. “How’d I do?” he asks, wearing that infuriatingly smug grin. With a huff she quickly smooths out the fabric she was holding in her tight fists.

“Fine. Point taken,” she mumbles, looking away from him. “What are you thinking for a disguise?”

“Well, we can do something to change your hair. Cut it short, maybe dye it. Then we can paint your wings to—” her scandalized gasp stops him in his tracks, “I mean we could do it in a way that you could still fly. It wouldn’t be permanent,” he explains.

“You know how to do that?” she questions.

“I am very confident that I could figure it out,” he replies.

“That’s not a yes,” she says with a grimace. When she doesn’t voice any further concerns, he carries on, though she does continue to eye him warily.

“We could give you a stage name too. Like… Rose or… Sparrow or… I don’t know some other kind of flower, or bird or something,” he says, nodding as he fits together the details in his mind. She rolls her eyes with a sigh.

“It’s a bad plan,” she says after a long moment.

“It’s better than no plan. We can’t stay here. They’ve certainly noticed you’re missing by now, it’s only a matter of time before they start searching and checking the people that were in attendance. If you have a better plan, I’m all ears. Oh! Can you sing? People would love that.”

Lark huffs exasperated as Deckard rambles on about different acts they can do. It seems like her choices have been made for her. It’s either, follow Deckard’s stupid plan for a chance to get to somewhere safe. Or she can stay here and wait to be caught again.

~*~

Lark holds her breath as his gigantic fingers touch against her wings, smearing a strong-smelling goo all over them. She doesn’t know what is worse, this, or when he cut her hair. The cold tip of the scissors delicately grazed against the back of her neck as he positioned himself to lob off her long locks of hair, giving her a crude bob.

If you would have told her a week ago that a human was going to hold a blade that close to her neck, she would have been certain it was going to be for a beheading.

But even then, in a position where one careless movement could have cost her head, she can’t say she was more terrified than she is now. She squeezes her eyes shut, just waiting for him to be done already.

If you would have told her a week ago that a human was going to touch her wings like this … she would have asked for the beheading.

What if he tears her wing. What if he decides to try and rip it off. What if he-

“Alright,” he says pulling away, “I’m done, you can breathe again.” He wipes his hands on a rag and looks down at her with a quirked eyebrow.

“You’re--” her voice comes out tight and shaking. She clears her throat and tries again, “You’re done?”

“Yeah. Although, you shaking the whole time really didn’t make it easy,” he says, his eyes trace over her form. His expression gives her the impression that he thinks she's being overdramatic.

“I … you could have killed me. Or- or with my wings… worse than killed me. You know that, right?” She looks up at him with wide eyes, flicking her wings nervously. They feel weird with the dye on them.

“Well, did I?” He asks.

“No,” she says quietly after a moment. In all honestly, the process, though nerve-wrecking, it didn’t hurt at all.

“There you go then,” he says with a sharp nod. “I really don’t know what else I have to do to prove to you that I’m not interested in hurting you or ruining your life,” he says. She just shrugs and gives a despondent shake of her head in reply. He sighs, “That has to stay on for a while. So just… sit tight.” He leaves her be as the dye processes.

While she’s waiting, she puts together a new dress for herself using the bodice from her ripped gown, and a piece of one of Deckard’s handkerchiefs as the skirt. By the time she’s finished, she’s ready to wash the dye out of her hair, and off her wings. Deckard comes by with a bowl of warm water and a hand towel for her, setting it behind a book for privacy like he had the other night. She washes until the water runs clear, trying her best to avoid getting any dye on her skin. She dries off, and puts on her not-so-new, but certainly improved, dress. When she catches sight of herself in the mirror on Deckard’s dresser, she stills.

Her hands tremble as she reaches up to touch the short, choppy hair that now hangs above her shoulders. The color is dark, almost black. It deeply contrasts her pale features, and makes her eyes appear more piercing in a way she’s not entirely sure she likes. She turns and looks at her wings. They’re darker as well. The green tip of her wing is nearly all black now, the details more hidden with the dark coloration, while the rest of her wings have taken on a translucent murky grey hue. Her eyes drift to her dress. The stitches around her midsection are thick, and unnatural. It’s nothing like the fine craftsmanship that was used to originally construct the garment. The cream color of her new skirt contrasts with the light blue, and the fabrics are completely different in texture, but it’s better than the tattered mess the dress used to be.

All in all, she’s completely unrecognizable. When she looks back to her face, she finds tears slowly rolling down her cheeks. She wipes them away quickly as Deckard approaches. He was stuffing clothes and things into a large duffle bag which he leaves on the bed when he comes over to look at her.

“Well. You definitely look different,” he says, nodding in approval of his handiwork. As soon as he says that, something breaks in her. She knows it’s stupid, but her gentle tears turn into full body sobs. Through her tears, she sees Deckard stiffen, his hand slowly shifts towards her. He’s been doing that a lot lately. Any time she’s upset, he reaches for her. Like that will ever do anything more than spike her heartrate and cause her instincts to scream.

Her wings are too wet to be useful, so she just swiftly turns and darts back behind the makeshift privacy wall. As she runs past it, the book wobbles, and begins to fall. She lets out a small shout, bracing for pain, but Deckard’s reflexes are faster. His massive hands shoot forward, and he fumbles to catch the book before it topples over on her. She sees his fingers wrapping around the pages, and he yanks the book to himself. He looks down at her with wide eyes, she struggles to hold herself together as now she’s even more embarrassed than she was just a moment ago.

“Hey, it’s okay princess, you’re still pretty,” he offers with a small grin, trying to make her feel better.

“Deckard,” she forces the words out, her voice quivering, “You’re not helping. I just- I just need a second.”

“Right. Sure.” He places the book back between them, his hands hovering an extra moment to make sure it’s stable. “I’m going to uh, finish packing,” he says, obviously feeling awkward. Behind the book, she’s already crumpled to the floor.

Eventually, she manages to pull herself together enough to step back out from behind the book. Deckard is zipping up his duffle bag. He must catch her movement out of the corner of his eye because he turns and offers a gentle smile.

“Princess, I know you don’t want to do this,” he says stepping over to the dresser. “Honestly, I don’t really want to be in this situation either. But if we are going to get through this, and actually get you somewhere safe, this is just how it has to go. I just wanted to let you know that… I’m not going to let anything happen to you. It might not mean much, but I’m giving you my word. Okay?” He places his hand down flat on the dresser, an invitation for her to step on.

“What if you’re lying,” she frowns at his hand, nervously balling her skirt in her fists by her sides, then stopping herself as she remembers that he notices stuff like that.

“I’m not.” It’s all he says in response. She really wants to believe him, that he’s going to whisk her away to her happily ever after, and nothing bad is going to happen to her. It just seems so unlikely. He’s right, “his word” doesn’t mean much to her, not after he’s lied to her so many times now. She’s simply more afraid of her other options. It’s enough for her to step up onto his waiting hand. His fingers curl in around her in response to her settling down into the center of his palm.

“Now listen,” he says, lifting her slowly. “We’re going to have to get pretty close for the next few weeks. So, just try not to fall in love with me… if you can manage it.” He winks at her, grinning his devilish lopsided grin, and slips her into his pocket before she has a chance to protest.

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owl127 · 1 year

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Winter Bloom, chapter 10

read on Ao3

Wind sang loudly in Dina’s ears as her thighs pressed into her horse to go faster, faster, faster. The animal protested but obeyed, snorting and puffing in its desperate escape. After the shots, Dina did not hesitate to grab her child and yell for everyone to do the same and run back home.

Don’t look back. Ellie will be fine.

She always is.

Debbie’s toddler hands gripped with all their tiny might at the back of Dina’s shirt, her whimpering low but constant.

"Try to keep quiet, sweetie," Dina warned, one hand on the reins and another holding her pup tight against her chest. "Remember, we need to be quiet out here."

It could be a horde: flocks of clickers and runners taking over the forest like a disturbed, uncoordinated hive. Or worse, it could be humans. Thirsty hunters, cannibals, and thieves: everything bad that arose from that broken world. It could be anything, and the only thing Dina knew for sure was that she needed to run to save her daughter.

Flying past Jackson’s gate was an immense relief, but it was short-lived, as the other horses made the journey back and they started a headcount.

"All the kids are here," one of the mothers said, herself carrying a crying three-year-old. "But only one patrol team is back."

As if summoned, Jonah crossed the gate, his mare shimmering with sweat, its mouth foaming in exhaustion. "Mary is checking Jackson’s perimeter, but there's no sign of the other two patrols."

Dina did not want to think the worst, but something deep in her gut told her otherwise. Something dark and twisting whispered that Ellie wouldn’t be coming back home. Not tonight.

"We need to go back," Dina said, patting the back of Debbie’s head as the girl joined the chorus of crying children as soon as they made it to the safety of the walls. Pups were sensitive to the discharge of hormones from their parents, and everyone was on edge.

"It’ll be dark soon. Let's go in the morning," Jonah argued, his cheeks flushed from the gallop. Dina closed her fists, shaking her head, but ultimately she knew he was right.

"Meet me at the gate at first light," Dina ordered, and the scout nodded.

"I’ll send news if anyone comes back during the night."

But no one did.

Dina awoke early the next morning and prepared her horse as the sun rose to the east. Jonah met her at the stables, unshaved and with bloodshot eyes—the poor man must not have slept. They all ran at the sounds of gunshots, and four scouts missing was not good news. As they prepared to leave, a watchtower guard called for a halt.

"Someone’s coming! Two Jackson horses!" The alert came from the tower, and Dina tensed. She grasped the reins until her knuckles were white, allowing evil, disappointing hope to take root in her heart. It could be Ellie. It had to be Ellie. Along with the rising sun, the gate opened to allow two panting horses inside, but that was it—only two horses, no riders.

Dina recognized Japan, and hope dried and died in her chest like old spores in a long dead body.

Japan was unharmed, if not scared, sweaty, and jumping at the guards who tried to calm him down. The other horse, a white stallion that Andrea favored, had a large, stark bloodstain on his flank, and he had the same terrified, jumping eyes as Japan. Stuck to the stirrup, a lonely boot. Andrea’s.

"Shit," one of the guards said, touching the blood. "It's dry; it must have been from yesterday."

It couldn’t be Ellie’s blood. Could it?

"Dina?" Jonah asked, leading his horse behind her. "Should we go?"

"Yes." She shook her head, but her gaze was drawn to the dried red in the white fur. "And send another patrol behind us." That bloodstain and the dangling boot were all Dina could think about as they rode to the lake.

The sun was fully up when they found the first bodies. They picked runners feasting on the carnage; one of the horses was also down. Their guns were holstered, which showed there was no sign of a fight.

"Snipers?" Jonah asked as he closed the eyes of one of their fallen companions. "They would've fought infected otherwise."

"The shot we heard was high caliber. It could be." Honestly, Dina was relieved that none of the bodies were Ellie's. "We’ll need to send a team to pick up the bodies." They continued on the trail that led to the next scouting spot.

Dina only recognized Andrea because of the missing boot, since a clicker had found her first. Dina hit the clicker with an ax, toppling down her horse to hit it again and again, melting the molded crown to pulp. It hissed in its death, a final staccato noise gurgling from the back of its disgusting throat. Dina hit it one last time. Blood spattered on her cheek, and she didn't bother cleaning it.

Her mate was missing, and they couldn’t stop finding bodies.

Wiping blood from her face, she looked for any sign of Ellie, anything that would lead her to her mate. For good or bad, they didn’t find anything besides Andrea.

The second patrol duo joined them mid-morning and helped with the corpses and fighting off random runners that had gathered through the night. By midday, they had fully scouted the area and were headed back to Jackson.

And there were no signs of Ellie.

"Maybe she escaped," Jonah offered on their trot home, the two of them behind the main cart that carried what remained of the lost scouts. A mangled foot hung from the cart, bumping along the road. Dina might have been comforted by the idea that Ellie: one, wasn’t in that cart; and two, might have escaped if she didn’t know there were people who wanted her mate dead... or cut open in a lab, or burned alive, or whatever else those sickos wanted to do with her.

Breaking the monotone crackle of hooves, she heard a whistle in the early afternoon air. Dina cocked her pistol and nodded at Jonah, who did the same. "Keep going," she ordered at the cart, "it came from behind us." She guided her horse to do a 180 to check their perimeter. "No growling or crying," she noted as Jonah followed, and he understood: whoever was out there was human.

In a way, it made them more dangerous.

Dina dismounted at the tree line, her nose twitching at a somewhat familiar scent. Her heart galloped in the hope it could be Ellie, but she would have identified her mate already. Still, the scent didn’t scream danger. Another low whistle, closer this time, and Dina pointed her gun at a shadow beyond the trees.

"Who’s there?" she demanded, eyes scanning for movement. "Identify yourself, or I’ll shoot."

A gurgle, and the shadow materialized from behind the dense summer trees—a head covered by a tattered hood. It fell to show familiar eyes, and Dina holstered her gun.

"Holy shit."

0000

The acrid smell of piss brought Ellie back to consciousness. She moved with the telltale rhythm of a car, the engine humming and well-maintained. She was being transported, she cataloged next, along with pinpricks itching around her legs and arms. She opened her eyes to darkness, but light bled through the thin cloth over her head. Her breathing accelerated, and she kicked at hands that shadowed her face.

"It’s alright," an unfamiliar voice said, ragged and tired. "They’ll come here if you keep fighting. Let me take this off ya."

Slanted light made Ellie wince as the sack was removed from her head. Her hands were bound behind her, but her feet were free. Three other people were in what appeared to be a cattle cargo truck, and the pricking around her skin was straw. The piss—well, her travel companions seemed to have had better days.

"Where am I?" she growled, her eyes looking for an exit, but the only one at the back was sealed shut.

"Somewhere north of Wyoming, if I had to guess," said the person who freed her from blindness, a middle-aged man with a missing front tooth. "They picked you up yesterday."

"How long have we been traveling since they took me in?" Ellie struggled with the rope around her wrist, feeling it give slowly. In her mind, she was already planning how to get back to Jackson. First, she would need a distraction, and then she needed to get her hands on a gun, and next—

"Ellie?" someone called from the back of the cart, and Ellie turned so fast her neck ached. "Fucking hell, it’s you."

The voice was not exactly happy to see her, and Ellie felt the same. She wished their reunion would be in a happier environment. Laura looked thinner, her cheeks cutting deep lines in her face. Her long hair was matted and dirty, and Ellie wondered how long she had been stuck in the back of a cattle wagon. But her smile was the same, always kind, and Ellie nodded.

Her plan came back to life as a result of the new information. She already had an ally; with two, the chances of escaping were higher.

Laura crawled her way to Ellie, and the other people in the wagon did what they could to give her space, which wasn’t much. "Were you in Jackson?" Laura asked through cracked lips, her amber eyes tinged with red.

"Yeah," Ellie nodded, finally freeing herself from the ropes around her wrists. "I was on patrol when they got me."

"They’re smart about their traps," added the missing-tooth man, his dark eyes amused while watching the unexpected union. The last person on the cart, who was crouching in a corner, didn’t bother looking at Ellie, her back to them.

"Did they make it?" Laura’s nails were long and ragged as she grasped Ellie’s arms. "Did they make it to Jackson?"

"What? Who?"

Ellie could as well have shot Laura because life left her eyes at that.

0000

The baby gurgled happily in Dina’s arms, all amber eyes and a messy blonde mop of hair. Dina cooed at the one-year-old, his tiny teeth showing as he bumped Dina’s nose with a giggle.

Even in the wilderness, Katherine made sure her son was happy and safe.

Katherine swirled her tea mug with a newly bandaged hand. "I like your new house," she said as she took a sip and winced at the hot tea.

"Ellie wanted more space for Debbie." Dina continued to move slowly around the table, coaxing the little boy in her arms into sleep.

"She’s huge, by the way, and a carbon copy of Ellie. Like Laura and Eric," Katherine amended, a soft smile crossing her freckled cheeks. "He’s all Laura. It’s like I was just a clone machine."

"He really does look like her," Dina agreed, watching as tired amber eyes fluttered in their losing battle against sleep. "But he has your lips and your nose."

"You think so?"

Dina moved to the living room to place the napping baby in Debbie’s old crib. "Oh, yes. But Katherine, what happened? I know you debriefed Maria, but is there anything I can do to help?"

"I’m sorry about Ellie, Dina. But I’m afraid whoever was hunting my family might have gotten her too."

Dina sat in front of Katherine, and for everything her old friend could have said, that was what she feared the most. "What do you mean?"

"Hunters came for Laura, and then Eric." Katherine sighed, blew on her tea, and took a sip without flinching. "They think she might be immune."

Immunity. Ellie’s blessing and curse

"Katherine." Dina reached for her hand. "Tell me what happened."

Whoever they were, they played the long game. Katherine didn’t know who had conjured the gossip about Laura being immune. She had her burning scar, but that could have been anything. One night, a month ago, while the late spring hordes gathered, Laura had left to check the traps.

They had ambushed her team in the tunnels.

A thirteen-year-old boy had escaped and warned Katherine, who ran from the Idaho farm before they could get to her and their son. By the time she left, there was no sign of Laura besides the message from the tunnel survivor: Run to Jackson. Katherine didn’t sleep for a solid 64 hours the first few days. Chewing tea leaves and avoiding main roads, she zigzagged her way south with a one-year-old baby wrapped against her chest.

She hadn’t seen Ellie, Laura, or any of the other hunters on her way back. That didn’t mean they weren't out there.

"I avoided any encampments. It didn't matter if it was families," Katherine said, wrapping her hands around her mug. "All I wanted to do was make sure he was safe."

"Do you think they’re alive?" Dina regretted her question at the painful look Katherine gave her.

"If anyone is stubborn enough not to die, it would be those two."

0000

"What’s wrong with her?" Ellie asked as they shared the meal the hunters had offered—it happened once a day: two guards would bang on the metal door, one always heavily armed, and they would shove a bag of old bread and a dirty pitcher of water inside their mobile prison. She had to chew the bread for longer than anyone should chew bread to make it edible.

Laura looked at the girl hunched in the corner; she had barely moved since Ellie woke up. Her wrists were bound, but she didn’t make any effort to free herself. Laura grimaced, and the man who had freed Ellie from the sack on her head—Jaime—made a ticking noise with his full lips.

"She was infected more than a week ago," he said, and Ellie pulled back in an automated response. Jaime moved his head left and right, as if to assure Ellie that having an infected three feet away was not a problem. "It’s slow, but we all know she’s slipping. Stopped talking two days ago."

The woman in the corner flinched, her breathing ragged and loud, but she didn’t turn to face them.

"What happened? Why is she here?" Ellie eyed the woman carefully, and she turned enough for Ellie to see bloodshot eyes. The woman whimpered and hugged herself closer to the corner.

"The same reason we’re all here," Laura responded, chewing on her bread for the second minute straight and counting.

"Truth or not, someone told these fuckers we’re immune," Jaime said, biting into a rather large piece of dry bread. "I have a biting scar, but it was from a crazy dude, not one of the infected. I tried to tell them, but they didn’t listen. Laura here has a burning scar, I guess?"

Laura nodded, and Ellie remembered that fateful night and how Laura had saved their lives.

"And her," Jaime continued, pointing at the woman at the corner with his chin, "someone said she had been bit and hadn’t turned. But we think it was just a slow process. You see her hands shaking? Started this morning. It’ll take longer, but she’ll turn."

The woman in the corner whimpered but otherwise didn’t move.

Ellie chewed on the information with the same vigor she chewed on her bread. Over the last 24 hours, she noticed a pattern with their hunters: shift changes, other vehicles, and meal times. There would be an opportunity; she only needed to wait for it.

"Laura, how long have you been here?"

"Four weeks or so."

"I’ve been here the longest," Jaime said, eyes cast down.

"What can you tell me about their guard shift? Fuel stops?"

"We stop for whole days," Jaime said. "I think most of the time they do a long reckoning before catching someone else. But we haven’t stopped since they got you."

Ellie grunted, hissing softly. Maybe they had more information on her than she thought.

"Okay. I have an idea," Ellie said. "But we need to work together."

Jaime stared at Laura, who nodded.

00000

It was at the end of Ellie’s first week that they noticed the change. The truck stopped more frequently, but not for fuel or reckoning. They heard the horrific noises of the infected, the loud blast of rapid-fire guns, and the usual shouting of orders. The group was organized and armed. They knew what they were doing. The scenery changed from open roads to scattered buildings, and that was a sign that they had a chance. They must have reached a large city, probably brimming with infected, to distract the group enough for a chance at freedom.

The only time one of the hunters would open the wagon would be to shove food in, take off some of the old, dirty straw, and collect the waste bucket. This happened once a day, but with the ongoing attacks, Ellie knew they would probably miss it. Fighting infected would be a priority. However, they would eventually come to give them food, more on edge due to the aggressive environment, stressed and under pressure, ready to make a mistake. That would be their shot.

It was nighttime when the rattle on the metallic door woke them up.

"Sir," Laura said when a man opened the back door. It was not one of the men who had captured Ellie. "That woman is turning." Laura had her hands behind her back but used her head to point at the woman haunched at the corner. She wouldn't stop crying. "You need to take her away from here."

The guard grunted and looked at his companion. The other man shrugged and stepped closer to the infected woman. He kicked at her side, and she whimpered, growling low on her throat. "Call the doc," he told the first guard, the one carrying food and a bucket. "We need to shoot this one."

It was a small window. A fraction of a second to attempt an escape that could end in their deaths. But wasn’t that going to happen if they didn’t do anything? And the worst kind of death: surrendering your sanity to fungi that kept defeating humanity again and again.

Ellie saw that window and acted.

In the slim moment the second guard looked at his companion to assess his reaction to the order, Ellie, who was positioned behind the infected woman, kicked her in the direction of the guards with both her legs and all that was left of her strength. The woman didn’t exactly attack the hunters, but the shriek that came out of her mouth was a runner’s sound, and the guards reacted on instinct, shooting her multiple times.

But the dying infected wasn't their main problem.

Jaime used their waste bucket to hit the second hunter in the face, the wood cracking with the impact. Laura and Ellie jumped at the other guard, hitting him on the throat and between the legs. He fell to the ground, choking. The second guard recovered from Jaime’s blow and shot blindly at the attacking trio, but Ellie had bitten his arm and Laura used one of the discarded ropes that once bound the prisoners to strangle the man. Ellie stepped on the throat of the guard on the ground again and again and again until it gave with a sickening crack.

It happened fast, in the dark, and soon voices could be heard around them. Ellie lifted her head, blood in her mouth. She locked eyes with Laura, who was holding the rope against the man’s neck even though he had stopped struggling. Laura finally let him go, his eyes bulging and mouth agape in death. On the ground, they saw the infected woman, the two guards, and Jaime. He had been shot and wasn’t moving.

Lanterns flashed at the side of the truck, and Ellie and Laura ran down the street, entering the first alley they found. They were in a city. Not a major city as Ellie expected, but the clustering of buildings was enough to offer protection. But other things might be hidden in dark, abandoned buildings.

Ellie wouldn’t know how long they ran. She had her boots, but Laura was barefoot, struggling through debris and broken windows. The hunters were shouting behind them, but they weren’t alone; their flashlights had attracted infected, and the shots would attract more. Ellie and Laura kept running, crossing a covered parking lot, an abandoned restaurant, and finally stopping at the entrance of a shopping mall. The walls were banged shut, and they could hear the sickening breathing of the almost-dead inside.

"Let’s separate," Ellie said, her mind racing with adrenaline. "We have better chances that way. We can meet east of here, where we entered the city, in two days. Lay low; don’t get caught."

Barking from the hunters' dogs cut through the night's air. The hunters were closing in on them.

"They’ll catch us," Laura said, looking behind her shoulder. She had bound her long hair in a dirty knot at the top of her head. "Let’s cross the shopping mall."

"It’s crawling with infected," Ellie argued, pointing at the door. "They will tear us apart."

"What about the roof?"

"We need to slow them down." Ellie wiped at her mouth, the back of her hand coming back bloody. "If they think we went inside because we’re immune, they’ll waste their time here."

"We can open the door and go somewhere else. Let them deal with the horde."

"And then we separate and meet at the east entrance where we stopped for fuel this morning."

Laura nodded. Distract, separate, run, and hide. It wasn’t a bad plan; it wasn’t a great plan either, and half the people who were with them this morning were dead, but it was the only plan they had.

Ellie knew Laura was desperate to reach Jackson since she had left a mate and a pup behind. But so had Ellie. In shared despair, the alphas nodded.

Barbs from old wood stuck in Ellie’s palm as she and Laura worked on taking down the rotten panel on the mall’s front door. The sickening chatter of clickers echoed when the panel hit the ground with a loud thud. The barking from the hunters’ dogs was closer, too close, and Ellie and Laura continued their run, but now away from the mall. They crossed the street under the moonlight, climbing on the side of an old convenience store. The barking from the dogs stopped abruptly, followed by gunshots and a whining dog.

"It takes more than 48 hours for a horse to pass." Laura breathed heavily, her hands on her knees. She crouched to look down the street at the flood of uncoordinated bodies flowing from the mall. Ellie sat next to her, watching the scene with a hard set of brows.

"We need to lay low," Ellie said.

"They’ll focus on the hunters first." If there was one thing Laura was good at, it was dealing with infected hordes. "There were more hunters on their way here. We can take opposite sides and cross the town. Keep quiet as the horse spreads."

"Do you remember where we stopped for gas when we reached this town?"

"A brick building with white FEDRA graffiti." Laura closed her eyes. "You pointed it out. Did you already know we would need a meeting point?"

"You know about hordes, and I know about hunters." Ellie spat blood on the ground. She wasn’t sure if it was hers or from the guard they had killed. "I’ll see you in two days. First light."

They stood up on the forgotten rooftop, avoiding anything that would make a noise as they headed for the fire escape stairs. Laura held Ellie’s arm before she could leave. "If only one of us makes it..."

"I was on patrol, Laura. Katherine could have arrived while I was out."

"But if she didn’t."

"I’ll search for her myself. You have my word. And Laura." Laura looked up at her, already a couple steps down the stairs. Should Ellie say something about Dina? About her daughter? All she came up with was a tired "Good luck."

They parted ways without any other promises.

00000

Ellie knew hardship. She knew the way to survival, no matter the cost. As she hid in a kitchen cabinet while two clickers looked for her in a house, she knew how to remain calm and quiet. She controlled her breathing until she heard the clickers scramble away, hours later.

Not everyone knew what motivated Ellie. What kept her going in the middle of the night as a runner trashed a wall away from her; what gave her hope as she strangled a lonely scout barehanded, watching his eyes bulge, redden, and eventually dull; what justified her actions as she butchered a hunter dog for meat with a makeshift blade. Long ago, it had been revenge. Revenge brought her to Seattle. But lately, her motivation has been something completely different.

000000

Dina’s fingers played with her daughter’s hair. It was lighter than when she was little, but it could be the summer sun. Freckles painted her nose and her back, a summer tradition for the entire family. Tucked under Dina's chin, the pup rose and fell with her breathing. Another night and another nightmare: Debbie would wake up and make her way into her mothers’ room, eyes full of tears, dragging an old blanket and a makeshift dinosaur plushie—Dino the Dinosaur. God bless a four-year-old’s creativity.

"Will mommy come back?"

Dina was startled by the voice, not expecting her daughter to still be awake.

"She’s trying to come back right now," Dina said, hoping Debbie wouldn’t notice the sudden speeding of her heart.

"Why did she leave?"

Dina sat up on the bed, helping her daughter to face her. She turned on a bedside lamp and found curious, sad eyes.

"Your mom is doing everything she can to come back to us. I promise."

"Can’t we go after her?"

Dina had tried. Scouts had looked for clues for days but didn’t find anything. It was as if Ellie had disappeared with no trace. If Japan hadn’t come back, Dina’s darkest part of herself would have doubted if Ellie hadn’t run.

"We tried, baby. But now we need to have faith in your mom, okay?" Dina ignored the way her voice broke, forcing a smile. Debbie’s little eyebrows knotted, but she nodded, lying back on Dina’s chest.

"Can we leave the light on?"

"Of course, love." Dina kissed the top of hair that smelled like tea leaves and took a deep breath of family. She concentrated on her breathing, in and out. From all the things Dina had to do in the past few days, not breaking down in front of her daughter was the hardest task.

00000

It had been days since Debbie had laughed that hard. Dina watched her daughter dance and play with friends in Jackson’s town hall, the sound of music and laughter bringing her a kind of peace she hadn’t felt since... since. Katherine, as uncoordinated as ever, led the kids on the dancefloor, her own pup asleep on Tommy’s lap a few feet away—the old man had taken a liking to the little boy, always eager to babysit him.

"Another one?" Jonah was working at the bar, and he pushed a glass of liquor in Dina’s direction.

"I shouldn’t."

"That’s exactly why you should," he insisted, topping off the glass. "Please enjoy the night, Dina." She nodded and accepted the glass, her fingers warm against the smooth surface. It burned the back of her throat, but it burned good. She turned her back to the crowd, stretching her neck.

"That new group that arrived yesterday," she started, not meeting Jonah’s eyes. "Did they all go through interviews?"

He scratched his dark scruff, moving his head sideways. "There was no info on anyone in their group being taken. Maria would’ve told you if she had anything."

"She doesn’t want me to know anything at all, it seems," she mumbled, going for another long pull of moonshine. It burned a little less.

"You were out there every day for days, Dina. She’s trying to protect you." He picked up an empty glass, using the rag on his shoulder to dry it. "We all are." He didn’t meet her eyes when he said that, but Dina blushed all the same. People were worried about her. People were talking; Ellie didn’t have the best history of disappearing, and suddenly it was as if Dina was a lonely, pregnant omega left behind again. She downed her glass and hissed. Her glass hit the counter with a loud click of glass on wood.

"People should learn to take care of themselves. Thanks for the drink."

"C’mon, Dina, that’s not how I meant it," Jonah argued, but she was already walking away from the bar. There was a group of people playing cards on a table, and she joined them, accepting a new glass and joking about bets.

It took Debbie another couple of hours to get sleepy as the dancing slowed down. By the time she tugged on Dina’s pants, her eyes heavy with sleep, Dina had won a hat and lost a belt in poker. As Dina stood up, she realized she might have had a cup too many as Debbie was suddenly heavier than usual.

"Hey, let me." Someone touched her forearm, and Dina gladly handed over the sleepy pup, who would soon throw a fit if she didn't get to bed soon.

"Thank you," she said, meeting Danny’s eyes. The other woman adjusted Debbie against her chest.

"You alright?"

Dina nodded, tight-lipped. It wasn't that she disliked Danny; on the contrary, the young alpha would always have a special place in her heart. She was Jesse’s sister, and she had been there for Dina when she needed a friend. But Ellie and Danny were oil and water, and at every single opportunity, they would bicker and give Dina a headache.

"I’m okay. Thanks, Danny."

Dina waved goodbye to Maria and Katherine and followed Danny to Jackson’s main street. It was a humid Saturday night, and the heat made Dina’s cheek feel warm. Her blouse was sticky with sweat, and the leather hat she had won at poker was not helping.

"She exhausted herself," Danny said, bumping Debbie so she would rest her head on her other shoulder.

"She had a lot of fun." Dina stepped closer to them, placing one hand behind her daughter’s head. "It’s been a while since she smiled like that." Danny frowned but didn’t say anything, and Dina was thankful for that. She was already a little tipsy, and she did not want to get angry too.

Danny carried Debbie all the way to her bedroom, despite Dina’s reassurances that she could do it. Honestly, Dina wasn’t sure she could do it, but there was a red flag that always peaked in her head whenever there was a chance of Danny being close to Ellie.

But tonight, Ellie wasn’t home.

"Thanks for the help," Dina said while water boiled for tea. She needed something to wash down all the alcohol. "She’s getting so big," she added, chuckling while adding dried mint leaves to the fresh-boiled pot.

"Yeah." Danny played with her empty mug, her nails ticking on the porcelain. "Dina?" Dina took a deep breath at the sound of her name; even drunk, Dina knew that tone. "How are you holding up?"

She could lie. She could say that she’s doing great, that her hands are full with her perfect daughter, that everything would be fine, and that Ellie would be back for sure when they least expect it. She wanted to lie, to not be the person everyone in Jackson pitied (again). Instead, she breathed a low, "Not so good."

Encouraged by the honesty, Danny stood up, hands still around her mug. "Dina," she said, her dark eyes focused and earnest. "You don’t deserve this."

Dina raised an eyebrow and poured tea for herself. "I really don’t want to talk tonight, Danny. Please." She was drunk, tired, and not okay. She just wanted to go to bed and cry while sniffing her mate’s shirt. She might touch herself if she had the energy, but that was something she would not admit to Danny.

"You deserve someone reliable," Danny insisted, taking a step closer to Dina. "I know it's been a while, but I'm sure you remember what dating someone reliable feels like."

Dina laughed, dry and bitter. "We’re not going that route, Danny. I loved Jesse, and I miss him every day. But I’m mated, and my mate is reliable."

"So why was I the one carrying your pup home tonight?"

"Please don’t start this." Nausea rolled in her stomach, angry and hot. Dina wanted anything but to talk about Ellie with Danny. "She didn’t choose what happened to her."

"Whether she wanted it or not, does it really matter? Even if she comes back, what's to say she’ll stay?"

Dina breathed hard, her jaw aching. "This." She pulled down her shirt enough for her mating scar to shine through. "Ellie would never leave us."

"She seems to do that a lot, though. I’m not saying she ran away." Danny placed her mug on the table. "But won’t people always come back for her? For your pup?"

Dina hated that she might be right. "That’s not your concern."

"I worry about you." Danny moved in closer, the kitchen feeling cramped. Dina didn’t move and allowed the other alpha into her space. "I hate seeing you and your daughter suffering like this." For a long, horrible moment, Dina thought Danny was going to touch her. She felt the ghostly touch of her fingers on her forearm and held her breath, but the girl shook her head and took a step back. "Ellie is brave, and I’m sure she can handle herself out there. But if it was because of her that we had snipers with you and Debbie on the other side of their scope, I’d rather that she never return. Have a good night, Dina." She left without looking back, and the front door opened and closed with a soft creak.

Dina vomited on her kitchen sink and cried for most of the night.

0000

Ellie would be late. She had thought most of the mall horde had broken, but some infected had gathered in an old supermarket. Going around it had not been easy, and that added half a day to her plans. Even after two days, her mouth still tasted like blood, and she kept spitting on the ground to get rid of the taste. As dehydrated as she was, that wasn’t the smartest idea, but her hope was to find Laura and gather provisions before their long journey to Jackson. If the map in the convenience store was correct, they were in northern Montana, and the trip around the summer wild life would provide them with food but also dangers.

She saw the building after midday, the sun unforgiving on her face. Her lips, chapped and bloody, tightened in appreciation at the silence. She scanned the area from the second floor of an old barber shop and saw three runners on the street, dead. Their blood was dried out, a pool of sickness that attracted flies and rats.

With a piece of broken steel cable, Ellie made her way in the direction of the building with the FEDRA graffiti. FEDRA had lost control of the city long ago, but their scars remained. The door on the building had been broken open, with a rotten panel discarded next to it. Ellie cracked her first smile in 48 hours; Laura had to be there. There were no signs of hunters or dogs.

"Hello?" Ellie knocked on the broken door; the inside was dark and humid with heat. "Laura?" It was a store, with a small room on the far right. The door was open. She caught a glimpse of Laura's hair as she peered from the room's window. A wave of relief washed over her.

Finally, things were going their way.

"There are no hunters around," Ellie assured her when she saw Laura’s wide, searching eyes.

"D-Don’t!" Laura raised a trembling palm and pulled the door closed. There was a window that covered most of its small wall, and Ellie could see her locking the door from the inside.

"What the fuck?" Ellie murmured to herself, hands tight on her makeshift weapon, ready for a danger she couldn't see. "Laura, what’s going on?"

It downed on Ellie in small, incrementing pieces, like a puzzle coming together in her sleep-deprived mind. To start, Laura’s shaking hands in a rhythmless tremble when the doctor was known for having a sure, stable touch; her eyes, wide, so wide Ellie could see the full white of it tinged with sickened yellow and bleeding pink; her teeth, chattering as if in a winter storm, besides the suffocating heat. Then, to crown their ultimate defeat and failure, a bloody and oozing bite on her upper arm.

Laura, sweet and kind Laura, was not immune at all.

0000

"Oh, shoot." Katherine used a kitchen towel to clean Eric’s spit. The pup was being exceptionally stubborn that night—pulling hair, spitting out food.

"Try the warm tea again," Dina said, giving a new towel to Katherine. Maria had given Katherine her own house, but she spent most of her days at Dina’s.

"He’s almost never this fussy." As if to confirm his mom’s statement, the boy increased the volume of his crying, banging his little fists on the feeding chair. Dina tested the temperature of the tea on her hand before pouring it into a bottle.

"What do you do to calm him down?"

Katherine smiled softly while cleaning Eric’s cheeks. "Laura was always better at it. She’d tuck him under her neck and he’ll be out like a light."

Dina placed the bottle on the table, one hand under her chin. "Do you have anything from Laura? A shirt, or a jacket?"

Katherine shook her head.

"I was wearing her jacket on the way here, but I had to wash it."

"I have an idea." Dina went upstairs and dug into her closet for Ellie’s shirts. She came back with a flannel. "I know it’s not his sire, but the scent of an alpha might calm him."

Katherine carried her crying pup to the living room, where Debbie was playing with wood blocks. The young girl frowned at the crying baby, gathered her blocks, and went to a different room. "She’s getting used to not being the only pup around," Dina explained, but not before sending her daughter that we’ll talk about this later look.

Eric fussed and fussed in the crib, his pudgy fists pushing Ellie’s shirt around. It didn’t seem like it would work until Katherine picked him up again and tucked him, wrapped around Ellie’s shirt, under her chin, close to where her mating mark was. Slowly, the pup calmed down, his big, light eyes blinking and blinking until he finally surrendered to sleep.

Dina saw Katherine’s silent tears but didn’t comment on them. She understood that pain. Katherine laid her sleeping son on the crib, taking a deep breath of his baby scent before turning to Dina. Dina offered a comforting hug, unsure if she was fit for that, but Katherine accepted it nonetheless, biting down on a sob.

"She’ll come back," Dina promised. "They’ll both come back."

0000

Ellie grunted as the cable dug deeper into her palms. Broken nails left bloody marks on her forearm, but Ellie didn’t stop; she kept pulling, pulling, pulling. Her hands shook violently, but she bit through sorrow and pain.

"I got you," she whispered between gritted teeth, holding the body thrashing against her chest. Skin reddened and turned purple around the neck under the cable Ellie grasped. "I got you." She held firm until the trashing slowed, the chattering stopped, and one last tremor ran through the motionless body. A final, wheezing breath from a chapped mouth. "I got you," Ellie said one last time, checking for a pulse.

She found none.

#the last of us #the last of us part 2 #the last of us part ii #the last of us fanfiction #the last of us part ii fanfiction #dina x ellie #finally an update #yay #but this one got me people

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