Ellie stuck her hoofpick along the axial edge of the cow's claws and trimmed out wedges to prevent manure from packing between her toes. She released the foot, confident about the shape and cleanliness. After apprenticing under Jackson's resident farrier for four years, she knew she had his trust in this job. Kurt was still particular about his horses, but Ellie got free rein with the ruminants. It made her more confident she knew what she was doing. Hooves were just as important as pregnancies with these cows, and Jackson depended on their milk and meat for their stores.

"Thanks, babe," she told the cow. "Doc? All you."

Julie, their veterinarian, stepped up behind the cow and pushed her fist into the cow's rectum. Her eyes closed in concentration. Ellie picked up the clipboard that held a shit-stained leaf of papers and marked that 108's hooves had been trimmed and jotted a quick description. She waited until Julie said, "Pregnant, about 40 days."

Ellie marked P40 on the sheet. Julie withdrew her vinyl covered arm and inspected it: just soft brown shit, no blood. "Done."

Ellie cranked on the chute release, and the doors squealed as they opened. The cow loed and released a massive burst of gas as she stumbled through the chute and made her way back towards her herd.

It was the last cow of the day, thankfully. The heat was heavy that day, probably pushing ninety and muggy to boot. Ellie was ready to be done.

She unsnapped her farrier's apron and stowed her hoofknife inside the deep leather pocket. She needed to sharpen the knife again. She could do that when she returned to their workshop. Now she just wanted a dip in the river on this side of the compound. She was hot, sweaty, and covered in cow shit and hoof shavings. They were, despite Kurt's protest, basically fingernail trims, which was about as fucking disgusting as it sounded, no matter how much the dogs liked to devour them.

"Next time you should palpate in front of me."

"Maybe," Ellie responded noncommittally. Julie had been hinting all along that Ellie should learn her trade, but Ellie shied away from anything to do with medicine. She liked feet. She could see feet, touch them, smell them. Ovaries, not so much.

"You need me for anything else, Doc?"

"No, I think we're finished for the day."

"I'm going to take a dip in the river then."

Julie gave a slight smile and nodded. Permission enough.

It was about a half a mile to the river through cow country—no bulls in this pasture at the moment—and it gave Ellie a chance to work out the kinks in her back and shake out her arm. She'd developed some nice upper body strength from picking up cows' feet.

The grass was kept low from the cattle that grazed these fields. Beyond the fence of this field was a patch of thin forest and a shallow, running creek. It was the best running water you could get in Jackson aside from the few mile trek down to the watering hole.

The sound of the creek was music to her ears. She nearly gave a whoop just to fill the silence, but the old fear of drawing infected was still too great. The entire compound was fenced now, but fuck knew infected could crawl through any kind of gap. There was talk of electrifying the entire length of said fence. The bit around the powerplant had been electrified since before Ellie and Joel arrived, but the brightest engineers of Jackson hadn't ironed out the requirements of expanding that around their fields, forests, and town.

Quinn, one of the apprentices of the electrical division—as much as four people could be a "division"—said the men would talk circles around each other as they sketched electrical circuit schematics. Quinn, who professed she felt like a novice, once sketched one for Ellie. Ellie had puzzled over the coils, arrows, intersecting lines, triangles, letters, and numbers; and she could make no sense of it.

"I'll keep my job, thanks," she told Quinn. And Quinn's laugh had lit up her face and brightened Ellie's day.

Ellie paused when she heard a twig snap, but there were no other noises. There hadn't been an infected sighted in early two years, and each quiet day made Ellie more uneasy. Joel was the same way. He was always quiet when he came out here in these fields, his head turning to listen and watch for infected. Ellie figured he was worried about her being out here, but to Joel's credit, he didn't discourage her interest in this farrier position.

Ellie stripped out of her boots and heavy jeans. Her sweaty long sleeved t-shirt and underwear would be fixed with a dip in the river. She tossed her jeans in the cool river water and wrung them out, spreading them on a warm, dry rock. Then, with a sigh of pleasure, she stepped into the river. It was only about a foot deep, and the pebbles in this area were worn smooth enough to sit her sweaty ass on them. Ellie leaned back and dunked her head in the water. She imagined her head steaming from the heat of it.

This was heavenly, one of the best parts of Jackson County, aside from Joel, and her friends, and the horses. She loved the horses. She loved the quiet of the country. She loved that she had friends her age. She loved the library and the movies too. She loved Quinn…

Quinn, who'd arrived in Jackson quiet and pale with her equally quiet and pale twin brother. They'd both been in tow with Julie, who offered veterinary expertise for a safe haven for her children. Quinn had jumped at loud noises and shied away from men, especially deep-voiced, gruff Joel. Quinn, who turned out to have a wicked sense of humor and loved to read and joke. Ellie hadn't thought much of her when she'd first arrived, but after one conversation, they'd stuck together like glue.

She loved Quinn. And Quinn loved her.

Why the fuck did life have to be so complicated?

Ellie opened her eyes under the water, and lurched up at the sight of someone standing on the creekbed.

"Shit!" she gasped, drawing her body around in front of her right forearm instinctively. "Quinn, Jesus."

Quinn's tanned face had flushed. Her eyes flickered over Ellie's body and darted away shyly. "Sorry. I just brought you some clean coveralls. Mom said you wanted a dip."

"Sure, perv. Just hoping to catch an eyeful, I bet," Ellie teased.

Quinn grinned back. Her dark eyes were always expressive, and they laughed at Ellie today. "Unlucky for me you're still wearing most of your clothes."

She'd long been teased about the fact she swam with a long-sleeved t-shirt on, but it was gentle teasing. Most of the time, her friends didn't mention it. Ellie knew they had their own theory about her having scars or being raped in the past. A disfiguring scar was technically true, Ellie supposed.

"I was just getting out."

Quinn sat down on the rock next to Ellie's wet jeans. "Uh, huh. You aren't getting up like someone about to get out."

"Feels too good." Ellie jerked her head. "You finished up for the day?"

"Yep. Not much on our to do list, thankfully."

"Come on in then."

Unlike Ellie, Quinn did shrug out of her t-shirt. Clad in her underwear and bra, she sat down in the river next to Ellie, gasping at the chill in the water. "It's always colder than I think!"

Ellie laughed, trying not to look. She knew Quinn's nipples would be visible, and if she looked down…

She knew Quinn could tell what she was thinking about, feeling right then. She could feel herself draw shallow breaths, and Quinn's gaze darkened and became more direct. She brushed shoulders with Ellie—hers were warm and dry, and they felt good against the coolness of Ellie's skin. Quinn licked her lips, inclined her head, and leaned forward. Ellie almost lost herself. She'd never kissed anyone but Riley, but she'd thought about kissing Quinn more than was healthy. She wanted so much…

What if I infect her?

Ellie dipped her chin at the last minute, and Quinn's nose bumped her cheek awkwardly.

"Right," Quinn said softly. She got up and walked back to her clothing, sliding into them without drying off. Ellie didn't know what she could say.

"Quinn."

Quinn shook her head and walked away without speaking. The sight of her wiping away tears was enough to make Ellie tear up too. This wasn't the first time, and it hurt worse every time.

"Fuck," she snarled at herself. "Fuck, fuck, fuck!"

Why did this have to be so damn complicated?

It was a selfish thing for her to love. Not when love and intimacy could result in a new fungal brain growth. It was a shit-ton more baggage than anyone was prepared to accept, not quite like a 'I was almost raped by a cannibal'.

Ellie threw her farrier apron hard into the shack she shared with Kurt. Then she hissed at herself for being so rough with equipment that was necessary and difficult to repair and make. She picked up the apron and inspected it. The many hoof knives in the pocket hadn't damaged the thick leather. Ellie brushed it down and oiled it before hanging the apron up. Then she sat down with oil and a sharpener and sharpened each one of the hoof knives in the shed. Kurt had been so kind to leave all of his knives dull on the table for her.

It gave her plenty of time to stew in self-pity and anger. Her thoughts were a mire of bitter contemplation: Why the fuck had she survived what she did only to not be able to love the person she loved? Was this some kind of twisted retribution for living?

By the time she'd finished her task, her mood was blacker than the night sky.

Jackson had no right to be so cheerful in the dawning evening in the face of Ellie's dark thoughts. Electricity was in stable supply, and movies were always on the venue after their evening meal: venison or beef, sometimes mutton, with butter, milk, cheese, and potatoes and fresh vegetables grown right in May's own greenhouse. Ellie had never tasted such good food in her whole life. Before living here, she'd never known food could actually taste like something other than a can.

Tonight was Saturday night supper, meaning there would be a side of buttery biscuits and white fatty gravy. They'd have eggs scrambled in lard and maple syrup on flapjacks. Saturday nights were the best. Even her nasty mood couldn't dampen her anticipation of the meal.

Ellie tromped up the steps to the little pink house with its peeling paint and pushed open the groaning screen door. It slammed back hard behind her as she gave a sticky step onto the ancient linoleum floor. "Joel?" she called.

Water from the cooler was wonderful. She swallowed two cups before walking by the dilapidated couch and guitars propped there gently. She tromped up the wooden stairs. The fourth one creaked painfully, as it always did. Joel usually responded at the sound of that, but he didn't tonight.

A yellow note propped on Ellie's doorknob caught her attention. Joel asked her to come to the dining hall when she was ready; he was already on his way. He'd been a little absent of late, but Ellie guessed it had something to do with Lisa, an older woman Ellie would bet her knife Joel was fucking. Well, having an affair. Whatever. Jackson was more dignified than all that, and Lisa was a nice, soft woman.

"I hope you got lucky, you dog," Ellie muttered, pushing the door to her bedroom. She stripped out of her work clothes—a little rank after spending three days in the field in them—and pulled on a fresh button-down over another long-sleeved t-shirt that she retrieved from the trunk beside her bed. New jeans, comfortable sneakers, and she was on her way.

Jackson was all-out lit now, though the packed dirt road that stretched between Joel and Ellie's house and the dining hall had patches of long darkness. It had taken her a few years before she didn't imagine a clicker lurking deep in the shadows. She was glad her paranoia was blunted; cicadas were out for the first time since living here, and their loud, whirring song drowned out a lot of noise that night. They were calling for rain, according to Joel.

A lot of the houses were converted from old shops: yawning wooden porches supported drooping second stories, and sturdy railings separated street from building. Paint had chipped, faded from red to pink and blue to gray, and removed signs marked buildings with their faded tattoo. Ellie paused on her walk to rub the ears of an old scarred tomcat lounging on one home's porch railing. His eyes caught the light from a house across the way and glowed orange.

"Creeper," she told him. He purred in reply.

Most of the houses were dark, their insides on display through wide glass panels that remained intact. Broken glass was removed, leaving holes in the heat of summer; they'd be patched with wood in the winter to keep the warm in and the snow out. Though all the houses had energy, everyone was careful not to use too much. Saturday movie nights were times when no one wanted to cause a brownout.

This place was safe, as safe as this world got. Ellie was surprised that she liked it here so much. Seemed so quiet, but this was the kind of life she'd always wanted—a sense of community, with friends her age and a place in society here that meant something.

Ellie waved to an older couple and stepped aside to hold the door to the dining hall for them. Some families chose to eat their share in their homes, cook their own meals, but the older and younger folks usually always were found in this place for three hots a day.

The line wasn't too bad; she'd come at just the right time when the food was still hot but most people were seated eating. Jess and Liza—who were about Ellie's age, one married, the other not—were stuck with serving duty that night. Jess nodded a greeting to Ellie as she spooned out scrambled eggs, one thick piece of beef sausage, and a thick spoonful of ground corn—grits, Joel called them—onto a plate. Liza was more vocal. "You stink," she told Ellie. "Playing with your cows again?"

"Don't you know it." Ellie made a show of lifting up her arm to offer Liza a bigger whiff of her armpit sweat. Liza rolled her eyes, grinned, and gave Ellie a generous helping of gravy on her biscuit. "Never change."

When Ellie turned, she glanced over at the table that the young adults of Jackson sat. She'd known Quinn was there from the start. Quinn glanced at her and then back down to her plate neutrally. Well… That hadn't been particularly welcoming. Frank saw her and grinned, waving for her to take a seat next to him.

Frank was an uncomplicated buddy, but he happened to be sitting next to a very complicated Quinn. So Ellie waved him off, hoping he didn't take it personally. She walked in the opposite direction to settle next to Joel. He was sitting with Tommy and Maria, making talk about the risk of a group of traveling men—that is, bandits—finding their community.

"Hey, baby girl." Joel gave her a one-armed squeeze before taking a long drink from his coffee mug.

"Where were you last night, huh?"

Joel cleared his throat, shifting uncomfortably. "We'll talk about that later."

Maria and Tommy exchanged glances but didn't comment. Too bad. Ill at ease Joel was pretty funny.

"Was thinking about taking a little scouting trip up along the river," Joel said. He glanced up at Tommy. "Just to make sure no one stumbles in on us accidentally."

"No," Tommy said predictably.

"I'll go," Ellie offered.

"No." This time, Tommy, Joel, and Maria all agreed at once.

Ellie rolled her eyes. Though she liked living here and had her stomach of traveling for the rest of her life, she did miss getting out of this place with Joel, just walking together. Oh well. Maybe Ellie could sneak out to go poke around at the ranch houses in the valley. It was close and safe enough if she stayed quiet but away enough to satisfy the itch in her to get out.

The conversation was stilted after that. Joel finally asked, "What's the movie tonight?"

"The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly," Tommy responded.

One of Ellie's favorites, but she wasn't feeling a movie that night. "Any new books come in with the last trader?"

"No," Maria said with a sigh of regret, and the conversation went from there.

Ellie loved Joel, but he didn't carry on a very interesting conversation. Ellie finished her food quickly and got up to drop off her plate and fork at the washing station. She had that duty next week and wasn't looking forward to it.

Quinn stepped up beside her and dropped her plate on Ellie's. She sighed. "Can I walk with you?"

Ellie glanced at Quinn's profile. She was so pretty and soft and so much different than Riley. It smarted that Riley had become such a quiet memory; Ellie felt filled to the brim with Quinn. "Sure."

They were alone on the quiet, softly lit streets of Jackson. Quinn walked with her hands in her pockets, a clear nervous habit. Ellie realized she was clasping her own hands and let them go.

"Why do I keep screwing us up?"

Ellie was startled by those frustrated words. "What? What do you mean?"

"This. Us." Quinn ranked her hands through her thick hair. It shone golden in the soft light of Jackson's street lamps. "We're so good. We're us, and we joke, and I love talking to you. And then I do what I did today, and we aren't good, we don't talk to each other, and it gets too awkward."

"That's not your fault. Quinn, come on. I—" Ellie turned away. "Shit. Let's talk about this someplace else."

They sat across from each other at the roughly-made kitchen table in the small house Ellie shared with Joel. It felt combative, almost, except Quinn started to smile at the same time Ellie did. She had dimples, dark brown laughing eyes, and her face lit up with that slow grin. Then it crumpled as she started to cry.

Her sorrow was a twisted blade in Ellie's chest. "I hate myself sometimes," Ellie said.

"It's not your fault you don't love me. It's not my fault I love you. I can be your friend, but then I think about what I'll feel when you find someone else. Every time you're with Frank, I—"

"Frank?" Ellie was shocked. Frank was about five years older than them, and he was a buddy. A good buddy and nothing more. "There's no one. There never will be anyone. If there is ever anyone, it would be you, okay?"

"Then why?!"

"I can't tell you." Because if Ellie did, Quinn would tell her to fuck her fears and take the risk. Ellie couldn't do that; she couldn't survive if she infected Quinn. She couldn't take it if she lost her.

Quinn set her head on the table and began to laugh through her tears. "You're crazy, you know that? You're insane, and you're driving me nuts."

"What do you call a dinosaur with a great vocabulary?"

Quinn sighed deeply. She stared at the wall for a moment, then said, "A thesaurus?"

Ellie gasped in outrage. "Fuck you! That took me forever to think up."

Quinn's laugh was no longer tainted by tears. "You're such a dork."

By the time Joel got back, Quinn and Ellie were sitting next to the each other on the couch playing poker. They failed at it miserably because it ended up in a vague wrestling match to see each other's cards. Joel raised one eyebrow and then shook his head in shame. "Girls, that's not a card game."

Quinn had eight cards at that point, and Ellie couldn't remember which ones were hers. Quinn won by default, having a four of a kind—two of which were surely Ellie's cards. Joel grunted his way upstairs to his bedroom, and there wasn't much noise after a few minutes. He'd been working hard at the plant recently so Ellie and Quinn lowered their voices.

"Jess wants to go to the old quarry watering hole tomorrow."

"Yeah? I might go."

Quinn bit her lip. "My brother's going. I wasn't, but if you are…"

"Yeah, sounds like fun."

She took a long breath. No doubt she was going to worry about what could go wrong through the night. Ellie watched Quinn walk into the shadows of the streets and leaned against the door frame for a few minutes, breathing in the warm night air. She was here, in a place she wanted to be, with the person she wanted, but not in the way she wanted.

And yet, there was happiness in this life.

Joel's lie thumped through her sometimes, and it snapped through the quietness of coming sleep that night as she lay in bed. There are a whole bunch others like you— Not true. It wasn't true. There was no testing done, no way to know if her bluff with David was true or not. I infected you.

She'd shared water and food with Joel more times than she could count. They'd probably bled all over each other at some point, but… She didn't know. She just didn't know if she could infect someone. And maybe Joel knew; maybe he'd come across something with the Fireflies that could answer her question. Ellie just didn't know if she could trust him.

I swear.

He'd sworn, and he'd lied. He must know that she knew his lie. But they carried on. It was more comfortable. He'd stripped her of her noble choice, but he hadn't abandoned her. How could she find fault in that?

Through the wall, she heard Joel grunt and shift in bed. His breath emerged as a soft snore.

She loved Joel. He was her home, and for some reason, he'd decided she was his home a long time ago. She wanted to be here with him, lie or not. She wanted to believe him, but she couldn't. She wished it mattered; maybe she could have a little more self-respect.

Ellie closed her eyes and tried to think about something else.

She was startled awake by a click on her window. Ellie realized she'd been dreaming about that sound for a while. She got to her feet and peeked out into the gray of early morning. Quinn waved at her from the street below.

"What the fuck, man?" Ellie asked as she peered out the front door a moment later.

"Grace foaled."

Ellie was in her clothes in record time and jogged out after Quinn as they darted through the streets to stables. The sound of the horses shifting around in the quiet morning was comforting. Ellie took a breath at the sweet scent of horse, manure, and hay.

There was nothing quite like the sight of a spindly-legged foal lying on the paddock floor. Grace, a ten year old sorrel Quarter Horse, nuzzled at her baby. Her ears flicked up, and she lifted her head to nicker at Ellie and Quinn. She'd always been a sweet girl and was usually quick to ask for treats. Today, she was content to lick at her foal.

The foal was bay, which surprised the hell out of Ellie. "I thought Chief was the sire."

"He'll probably gray as he ages. Chief was probably a bay as a foal."

"I didn't know they did that."

Quinn shrugged. "I've been hearing Mom talk about the genetics of coat colors for years. Don't ask her about cats; take it from me."

"So he's a boy?"

"Yep, a little colt."

"He's beautiful."

Quinn smiled and nodded. "Mom already checked him over. Intact palate, no hernia, the umbilical cord looks good, no murmur, already nursed like a champ."

"So perfect, basically?"

"I think so." Quinn leaned against the stall door. Grace finally turned from her foal to approach. She accepted some alfalfa hay from Quinn's hand and nuzzled her palm before stepped back. As usual, her ankle popped as she rotated on it.

"She'll be a good—"

Something grabbed the back of Ellie's shirt and pulled. She turned and met the accusing gaze of her fat dun mare. "Hey! Rainbow, you bitch." She reached in her pocket for precious oats and held her hand out, palm barely cupped. Rainbow's velvety lips and soft tongue lapped up the oats immediately. Then she snorted as if Ellie had gypped her.

"You spoil that horse rotten."

"Someone has to."

Rainbow wasn't technically Ellie's horse, but Ellie was about the only person who rode her and definitely the only person who liked her in Jackson. Rainbow had some attitude; that was true. She might have some Morgan in her, but she was probably just Quarter Horse with less muscle and more fat.

Ellie stepped closer, and Rainbow dropped her head against her shoulder. She nuzzled Ellie's shoulder as Ellie rubbed her withers. "You want a good brushing? We can watch the cute baby while I do it."

Rainbow always wanted a brushing. Quinn leaned against the stall door and turned her attention between Ellie and the new foal. Grace was Quinn's horse in as much as any horse was a particular person's in Jackson. She'd been anticipating this birth for the eleven months that preceded it.

"You still want to go to the watering hole?"

"Yeah. It'll be nice and warm today. Jim, Frank, and Jess are going to meet us here."

In maybe a quarter hour, three cheerful voices echoed down the stables. They caused the horses to stir. It was about time for them to be let out for the day and all the stalls to be mucked out. Ellie sometimes volunteered for that thankless jobs on her off days. Not today.

Jim—as blonde and dark-eyed as his sister, nodded at Ellie in greeting. "Morning, El."

"What's up, Jim?"

He gave his cursory one-shouldered shrug. Beside him, Frank rubbed his beard and wagged his eyebrows at Ellie. "Good day for a skinny dip, eh, shorty?"

"Yeah, limpdick. Great day for a skinny dip for people who are not you or me."

"I'll have you know, my dick ain't limp."

"Too much info, bro," Jim muttered.

"What, she started it!"

"Always the mature man of the group, huh, Frank."

Jess sighed loudly. "Can we go before we get forced to muck stalls?"

And so they went. The hike was lovely; it was still too early to be hot, but the sun sharpened the air enough that the bugs were kept a bay. The path wasn't too hard—and bit up and down half a mile outside Jackson to a fairly popular waterfall and pools.

The trip to the watering hole ended up going off without a hitch. They spent the morning and most of the afternoon swimming and lounging. No one thought to bring beer or booze so they made do with water and hard-loafed bread with slices of dry cheese and sausage. They talked, horsed around, and bemoaned forgetting a pack of cards, from which sprang the promise to meet up for a card night the following week. It was a good day, full of laughter and happiness.

By the time they got back, it was time for dinner. Joel met them a mile outside the fence, his face set in an unhappy cast that took Ellie back to their journeying days. Usually he didn't care if they went down to the watering hole. Quinn and Jess had both told their families. They carried several guns between them all, though Ellie wasn't sure Jim or Frank were good shots. They'd never needed to shoot anything.

She could hear Joel say all gruff in her head, "Fucking tell me when you go outside the wall, baby girl!" But she didn't spare the breath to apologize, only shifted to show him the pistol tucked in her waistband.

Joel held the fence open for their small group of five before following them in more silence.

"We need to electrify that thing."

"Keep pests inside, I reckon," Joel said.

Ellie realized the reason for his unease when they arrived in town to find a trader with his family there. He wasn't one of their usual trusted traveling traders—claimed he did a loop between Utah and Colorado every year trying to dodge the worst of winter. He was a big, scarred kind of man, with a cold quietness that was frightening. His wife or slave—there wasn't much difference in some places—was soft-spoken but seemed content to stay with the trader. They sat at the table with Joel and Tommy and exchanged a few bits of information about the movement of infected or any new raiding bands.

Derrick, the trader, set his eyes on Ellie as his potato-laden fork traveled to his mouth, and his movement paused for half a second before continuing. He didn't look at her unnaturally after that, but his wife was not so subtle. She stared outright.

It was eerie and agitated Ellie until that emotion boiled over in anger. She finally set down her fork and met the woman's eyes. "Do you have something to say to me?"

"What?" The woman gasped as Joel said, "Ellie—" in sharp warning.

Derrick put his massive hand over his wife's and cleared his throat. "Don't see too many red-headed girls your age. What are you, about eighteen?"

"Ever heard it's rude to ask a woman her age, fucker?"

"Ellie!" Joel said sharply.

"You ever traveled through Colorado? Met a man half a dozen years ago named David. I heard he died a few years back—that a little red headed girl, maybe twelve or thirteen, killed him."

"What the fuck is it to you?" Ellie's voice cracked. Through her bluster, she smelled the char of wood, the leaded scent of blood, and the stink of David's sweat and sour breath.

"Oh, honey. Did he rape you?" the woman gasped out almost painfully.

Ellie paused and stared at her as her mind shifted through the woman's automatic assumption. She was maybe ten years older than Ellie. Ellie realized she'd never thought to the girls that surely existed before her. "You were one of his pets."

The woman nodded jerkily. Her eyes darted back and forth across Ellie's. Again she asked, "Did he rape you?"

The mess hall had gone deadly silent, and Quinn—sitting next to Ellie—was caught in the unnatural stillness. "No," Ellie replied. Her own voice should have shocked her, but she felt like she had cotton plugging her hears. "Because I hacked his fucking face off with a machete. He screamed like a dying sheep."

The woman collapsed against the table and wept harshly. She reached out blindly to grab at Ellie's hand. "Thank you. Thank you. Thank you."

"Hard to make the world a better place by killing, but you did it," Derrick said with a gravely tone. "I traded David a deer carcass for Veronica. Loved her ever since, but I hate that man for what he did to her." His eyes flickered to Joel. "Y'all know anything about the Firefly facility around those parts? In Utah, I mean. Word is someone went in and massacred everyone a few years ago. They were hoarding a lot of technology there—went in myself to scavenge what I could. The Fireflies are well and truly dead based upon that place."

Ellie got up and walked out of the cafeteria. She felt oddly light and wondered at it—light of pain, burning and unhappiness, all partly because she wasn't more upset. Because it wasn't a revelation.

She found the knot in an old oak that she'd started climbing on her first day here. The seat was narrow for her hips now, but it was snug and she liked the cool anonymity of the darkness. She could look to one side to see the cheery lights of Jackson and look to the other to see the ghost of those lights shining into utter darkness.

Joel made no pains to hide his footsteps. He stood at the base of the tree and spoke in a thick, fearful voice: "Baby girl."

"I'm not mad at you," she said quietly. "I knew you were lying from that first day."

"Christ." Joel released the expletive with a burst of air, and his heavy form sagged against the tree trunk. His shoulders shook—a gasp or sobs.

"I needed to pretend I believed the lie for a long time. To justify not regretting it, maybe. I don't regret it. It just seemed cheap to be okay with living." Ellie realized she was wringing her hands and stopped. "So many people died to get me there, and I was happy to be able to live my life apart from this." Ellie wrapped her hand around her own arm.

"Ellie," Joel said softly. "Why aren't you happy?"

"Getting in my own way, maybe." Ellie leapt down from the tree and bounced up, feeling a twinge in her ankle from the fall. Joel just looked at her, face half in shadow.

"I keep thinking, 'What if I infect her?' but I think it may just be an excuse…because I'm afraid. What if it doesn't work out? What if she doesn't love me like I love her? What if she gets sick or falls off the catwalk at the hydraulic plant and I'm left with just me again after being me and her?"

"Quinn?" he asked.

Ellie nodded in confirmation.

Joel put his hand over her shoulder. "Love is a risk. You have to fight for it, just like anything else, but mostly you have to have a fucking lot of faith."

Ellie stepped into his arms and just stood with her face against his shirt, smelling his hardworking scent, enjoying the comfort and safety of his embrace.

"Ellie, that girl you were bitten with, Riley… Did you love her?"

"Yeah."

"Did you have to kill her?"

Ellie nodded against his shoulder, trying not to think. But even not thinking put the feeling inside her—that dark, pulsing guilt and pain. She hadn't felt it in a while, but it all came pouring back. She choked out a sob. "Why was it me? How is that fair?"

"Baby girl, I love you. There's no fair, only what is, and I would be dead without you. You hear me? I made that choice—you over them. You had no part in it. Don't feel guilty for being glad to be alive."

After a moment, Ellie was able to cut off her crying and nodded again.

Joel's grip tightened slightly. "Now you need to start living."

"Yeah?"

Joel pushed her back by her shoulders and looked her in the eye. "If you could infect someone, I'd be dead already. We've shared food, drink, bled all over each other, and I'm not infected. You hear me?"

Ellie nodded, feeling the dull pulse of a headache. "Yeah. I hear you."

"Come on then. I think we could both use a nip of whiskey before bed."

His arm was heavy and comfortable over her shoulders. It was on their walk back that she thought to ask, "You don't mind then? That I'm gay."

"I just want you happy, baby girl. I'd wondered about you and Frank. I like Quinn better. She's good people."

The luxury of a bath was not something Ellie would ever take for granted. She usually took a quick scrub in a small stream for actual bathing, but once a week, she and Joel would boil up enough gallons of water to fill an the old tub in their house. Joel said he reckoned it was a night for a bath and set it up.

Joel gave her the tapes he'd stolen from the Fireflies. She rewound one and listened to one statement again, "As we've seen in all past cases, the antigentic titers—"

All past cases.

There were others like her. Or this implied it, at least. Though maybe he was talking about infected in general. Maybe Joel's words hadn't been all a lie, but most of them had. It was okay though. It felt good that that was out.

She wanted to believe that there were others like her. She wanted that so badly it ached. She wanted there to be no hope for a cure or a vaccine.

She set the recorder on the table beside the tub and picked up the glass of whiskey instead. Ellie sat in the tub long enough for her fingertips to prune. Her whiskey slowly disappeared in sips as the water cooled. Her mind was blessedly, darkly silent.

She braced her naked right arm against the edge of the tub and traced the bite with her fingertips. She knew these scars more than any other part of her body. She knew the faint rippling of fungus beneath her skin that seemed to have spread an inch along the vein of her arm. It spread, slowly, even as the bite itself softened to normal pink skin. Didn't hurt. Was kind of pretty in a grotesque way.

This scar was so much a part of her. It took away Riley, brought her to Joel, and now she was here in Jackson. She couldn't regret it.

"Ellie."

Ellie glanced back at Julie, who wasn't suited up in her faded coveralls and boots to go out into the field. They usually left around sunup, but not today apparently. Julie leaned against the door to her small veterinary clinic and motioned Ellie inside with her chin.

Ellie had a sinking feeling about what this conversation would be about.

"Have a seat, please."

She sat down in the rickety wooden chair, and Julie settled across from her. Julie's old, precious microscope had been moved to the counter beside the centrifuge, freeing up the table between them. They faced each other now across the dusty surface of that table. Most of Quinn and Jim's features came from their mother: blonde, dark eyes, small in stature though Julie's face was harder from age and circumstance. Not that either of her children had it easy before she'd gotten out of their last life.

"My daughter loves you."

Ellie jerked her eyes away, stunned to hear Julie say those words so directly.

"There are many things about you that I don't approve of. Your language for one."

That tone had some humor in it.

"Your terrible jokes too."

"Hey, fuck you!"

"I think if you were pushed to kill, you could do it without hesitation."

Ellie lost her smile. She judged Julie for a moment. "Haven't you done the same?"

Julie smiled tightly. "Touche," she murmured. "Joel scares me more than you, and you love that man more than anything."

"He's the only person in my life who hasn't left me."

Julie leaned back. "It wasn't a compliment."

"Oh."

"But I think you're a good person at heart, and I think you care about my daughter. She was upset to hear what she heard last night."

"All of fucking Jackson heard it."

"Ellie, dredging up memories like that with her could cause her a great deal of harm. She went through more than any woman—much less any girl—should go through." Julie paused as her breath caught. She touched her face and swallowed. "I couldn't protect her. But you can't… Please don't reopen those wounds."

"There's no reason to," Ellie said. "I wasn't raped."

Julie winced. "She thinks the reason you won't… You don't pursue something with her—whatever you want to call it—is because of that. If you don't love her like that, please just tell her so she can get over you."

Ellie laughed harshly; the thought hurt. "Yeah. Sure, doc."

"Ellie." Julie took Ellie's hand, and she held it hard. Her dark eyes no longer seemed soft in this context. "I love that girl so much, and I have fought so hard to make her happy. I thought your friendship with her would help, but right now it's hurting her. Do you understand?"

"Yeah," Ellie admitted. "Yeah, I do."

"Then do the right thing."

Easier said than done. Nothing seemed right in this situation.

Quinn was waiting for her when Ellie shuffled into the farrier's hut after work that afternoon. She didn't smile, but her gaze was steady. Ellie nodded to her and stored her gear. For once she let Kurt take care of the cleaning and sharpening. She'd deal with his anger the next day.

Her clean button up shirt was tucked in a locker, and she shook it out and pulled it on over her long-sleeved t-shirt. She kicked off her shit-covered boots and pulled on her sneakers.

"Tree house?" Quinn suggested.

Ellie nodded and followed her back out into the cloudy muggy heat of the afternoon.

The tree house was just that—an old serviceable hut that had been built at least twenty years ago for children. Jim, Quinn's brother, had scavenged lumber and building materials to turn it into a rain-proof hut. It was barely six by six feet, but there was enough room for a small group to sit and talk. At least when they were all a little younger than they were now. Anymore, they played cards in the top story of an old three-story building on the edge of town.

Ellie followed Quinn up the sturdy ladder and settled onto the old mattress that covered one corner of the hut. There were a few bottles of moonshine, a few of water, and strips of jerky hanging in the east window. Best of all, an old pack of cards. Quinn's game of choice was Gin Rummy, and she was good at it. Ellie tended to win poker.

Though it was dark from the rolling rain clouds that approached, Quinn didn't reach for the lamp. From the look on Quinn's face, she hadn't suggested they come here for drinks or games.

They sat in silence that thickened with the heat.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

Ellie put her cheek on her knee and studied Quinn.

"Don't you know that I get it? I understand. No matter how much you don't want to talk about it, pretending it didn't happen isn't going to fix anything. Rape… Ellie, it doesn't make you any less of a person. You aren't tainted."

"Quinn." Ellie put a hand on her arm. Just the thought that Quinn believed it with her own history hurt. "I wasn't raped. The reason I've been so scared is…"

She couldn't go on. The words were caught and her brain couldn't supply them.

"Do you care about me at all that way?" Quinn choked out.

"Yes! Fuck yes. I want you so much. I just…"

Ellie took a deep breath but had trouble sensing the air in her lungs. Her sight pinpointed, and her fingers trembled and went numb. Yet she caught her sleeve between her fingers and tugged it up, exposing her right forearm. Then she cursed because it was too damn dark for Quinn to see.

"The lamp," she said as she crawled to the corner. She wasted three matches lighting the damn thing. Ellie adjusted the flame to cast a bright, cheerful light within the tiny hut. Then, slowly, she held out her arm.

Quinn took a sharp breath beside her. Her fingers hesitantly reached out to touch the bulbous scar. "Is this…?"

"I was bitten five years ago." Ellie finally lifted her eyes, and Quinn's face was open in shock.

"This is…?"

"I was bitten by a runner."

"Runner?"

Quinn hadn't been around very many infected. Her life was a different sort of hell. "The newer infected…still kind of look like people."

Quinn's fingers traced over the scar again, her finger dragging along the arcade that was a perfect crescent of a human mouth. "You're immune?"

"Guess so. Looks like it's spread a little, but… I'm not infected."

"You…" Quinn drew her hand back and sat back sharply. "You can infect others then? Is that why you never let me kiss you?"

"It was an excuse."

Quinn shook her head as if dislodging at thought. "We've shared drinks."

"Yeah."

"I don't— Is it because I was—"

"No," Ellie said more sharply than she meant to. "No. It was because I'm a coward. The only person in my life that hasn't abandoned me or died is Joel. And I think about what it would mean to be with you and love you and you leave or die or stop loving me, and I get so fucking scared."

"Leaving you is the last thing I want to do. Ellie, I love you. I kept telling myself it was stupid to get my hopes up, but all along I've had this dream, this hope that we'll be like Tommy and Maria one day—still together, everyone knowing it, comfortable, thinking about starting our own family. Jesus, that sounds pathetic."

"No. It doesn't. I want that too."

Quinn cupped Ellie's cheeks. Her fair face was flushed with emotion, but her eyes were sharp. "Tell me about when you were bitten."

"Riley was bitten too. She said… She said, 'Let's be all poetic and lose our minds together.' I'm still waiting, I guess."

"Riley," Quinn said softly. Quinn had found Riley's Firefly pendant and the picture in Ellie's things one day several years ago, but Ellie had never responded to her curiosity. The line of Quinn's shoulders softened, and she gently pulled Ellie's face to her shoulder. Ellie slowly gave up her weight and sighed into Quinn's shoulder.

"I'm not a good person," she said softly.

"You're going to have to do a lot of convincing for me to believe that."

"I was supposed to be a cure. That was… We were there at the Firefly facility. They wanted to make a vaccine from the fungus on my brain. It would have killed me. Joel chose me instead."

"Why does that make you a bad person?"

"Because I'm glad! My life for many, and I'm glad I didn't die."

"Screw them," Quinn said abruptly. "I've seen humanity, and it's ugly. Why should you give up your life for strangers—for people who're more likely to turn out murderers, thieves, rapists. Don't you know you do good, Ellie? How is all the good you do for us worth losing for some stupid dream the Fireflies have? What did the Fireflies do for me and my family? What will a vaccine do for me? It won't make me want to wake up to face the next day. But you do." Quinn shook her head and pulled Ellie tighter.

Ellie heaved a shaky sigh, feeling some of that guilt ease.

"I love you," Ellie said quietly.

Quinn tightened her grip. "You're not going to run away from me?"

"Not anymore. Kind of tuckered out. This is pretty comfortable right here." Ellie hesitated. "Will you tell me one day? About you?"

Quinn released a long sigh. "One day."

"David. What the trader was talking about… Joel and I killed some of his men that were out looking for supplies in Colorado. Joel was hurt real bad so I had to scrounge for supplies and lie low. I got mixed up with David, and his group tracked me back to Joel. I led them away and got captured.

"David meant to take me in as his…" Ellie's voice trailed off as she attempted to put to words the oily sleaziness of David's intentions.

"Pet."

"Yeah. I broke his finger so he decided to eat me instead."

Quinn made a noise of shock, and Ellie laughed in reply. "Yeah, disproportionate response, right? Long story short, I ended up hacking his face off with a machete. Joel found me, and we got out, moved on to go to Salt Lake City."

"To the Fireflies."

"Yeah."

"And then what?"

"I woke up in a car with Joel driving. We were back here a few days later. I chose to not think about why they'd let us go. It was easier to pretend it made sense." Ellie paused. "I've killed people, Quinn. A lot of people."

"If it means you're here, then I'm okay with that."

Ellie laughed quietly. "I kind of feel that way too. Don't know if that's bad either."

Quinn pushed her back gently. "Does this mean we get a happily-ever-after?"

"I sure as fuck hope so."

Then Quinn smiled, leaned close, and kissed Ellie. It was just a soft brush of lips against lips, catching gently, but it was so much. Quinn pulled back, and she studied Ellie silently as if she couldn't quite believe it.

"Everything you dreamed about?" Ellie asked, brushing her nose against Quinn's.

"Mm." Quinn leaned closer, still without a smile.

Ellie leaned back just slightly as she tightened her grip on Quinn's hand. "Wait, I have to say something."

Quinn's soft gaze shifted into shock, then annoyance. "Don't you dare! This is not the time for one of your stupid jokes—"

"What do you call a watermelon that's not allowed to marry?"

"You're an idiot." Quinn leaned her face against Ellie's shoulder and heaved a sigh of exasperation.

"A cantelope."

Quinn burst into laughter and pulled Ellie into another embrace. Ellie kissed her through her laughter, liking this kiss so much more. She meant to make Quinn laugh as often as she could, even as a quiet part of her still wondered if Quinn would wake up herself the next day. One day became two, then many, and Quinn was still herself and still had plenty of kisses left—and she offered plenty of smiles too. That was as close to happily-ever-after as Ellie had ever hoped for.