Disclaimer: All characters portrayed in this chapter belong to Valve. If they belonged to me, "suck the heads" would mean something a little different.

This is my very first Nellis fan fiction and I'm putting a lot of effort into it! Unfortunately I'm a terribly slow writer so the next chapter probably won't be up for a bit... I'm aiming to have this story be over 15,000 words once completed, but we'll see how far along I get. :]

Cosmo Jarvis - Wrong Kind of Happy

It is my honest belief that ever good story should start with an explosion. As it just so happens, this one does.

Nick sits towards the back of the chopper cradling his bleeding forearm as the explosion shakes the air around him. He watches as Ellis raises a fist into the air, shoulder bare on account of a missing, torn off sleeve. Rochelle is tucked under Ellis's other arm. Her hair tie lost somewhere on the bridge, her thin braids are frizzy and falling disorderedly onto her face. Ellis is saying something to her, but Nick can't hear his words over the noise. Tears roll messily down Rochelle's smiling cheeks.

Coach has one hand on his knee and the other pressed against the helicopter's steel wall for support. He's grinning and laughing and shaking his big bald head is disbelief. Nick thinks he hears a tank far below them.

The helicopter ride lasts too many hours. After a few unsuccessful tries to strike up conversation with the pilots through the intercom, the survivors tucker down and doze off, exhausted and safe. Nicks runs his knuckles over Rochelle's back as her eyes close. He feels the warmth of tired bodies all around, but sleep doesn't find him.

Ellis's head lolls onto Nick's shoulder. His breath tickles Nick's ear. He's mumbling in his sleep. Nick wants to reach out and hold his callused hand. Run his hands over Ellis's stupid tattoo. Smell his dirty hair. But he doesn't. Nick knows how this ends.

It's already dark night when the cruise ship comes into view. It's silent and benighted except for a few lights that reflect on the black water below. The survivors begin to stir just as a voices cackles through the intercom.

"-decontamination. You will then be escorted to a designated medical site for testing. You will stand down."

Stand down. Nick smirks. This wasn't going to be pretty.

As they draw closer to the landing pad, faces begin popping up in the windows of the ship. They look like little black silhouettes agains the small squares of light.

"I ain't never seen so many people!" Ellis says, eyes darting all over the place. He takes the silence that follows as a reply. "Well, not since 'afore this damn apocalypse."

Again silence.

"I wonder if that Zoey girl and her people made it here. That sure would be a nice surprise. I'd like to see them all again real soon. I hope they're alright..."

"Ellis, honey. Please." Rochelle's bittersweet voice cuts in. "We're all nervous enough as it is."

"Yeah. Okay." His eyes never leave the ship.

The chopper touches down with a soft bump and the intercom buzzes again.

"Place your hand behind your head before exiting the helicopter."

"Well, tits." Nick mumbles. "Here we go."

The exit ramp lowers and they step out into a bream of blinding light. There are uniformed people everywhere. They scream at the survivors to drop their weapons. Ellis holds onto his beloved shotgun for a second too long and a nightstick finds his wrist. The gun falls with a clatter. Nick winces at the sound.

"Hey, what the hell man!" Ellis yells, rubbing his wrist. As Nick's eyes adjust, he notices the gas masks and raised weapons. The survivors are quickly ushered into a long hallway.

"I dun think I like these folks." Ellis mutters.

"Keep your chin up, boy. We'll be alright." Coach says, nudging Ellis's head with his elbow.

"Worst is yet to come." Adds Nick. Ellis glances back at him but Nick avoids his eyes. Rochelle gives him a light kick in the shins.

"Don't say that."

After a few minutes of silent walking, they're escorted into a medium-sized, empty room. The walls are blank and white and paneled.

"Remove your clothing." A guard instructs, holding a brightly colored plastic basket towards them. For a moment nobody moves.

"'Scuse me, sir." Ellis says slowly. Nick sees he's eyeing the guard's nightstick. "We have a lady here."

"The lady will not receive any special treatment."

Ellis looks so horrified it's almost funny. Almost. Rochelle stops him before he can raise another objection.

"It's alright, sweetie. I wasn't expecting anything better." She reaches for her top and Ellis looks away, red up to his ears.

'What a kid.' Nick thinks to himself as he begins to unbutton his own shirt.

Underneath their clothes the survivors are skinny and scarred. They've all lost quite a bit of body mass what with the scarce food and all the constant running.

Some of the scars on Nick's torso are old ones, placed there far before any zombie claws had gotten anywhere near him. Just by noticing this, Nick feels the gap between him and his teammates widen. It was just by chance that they had all ended up on that roof together. Nick still didn't really understand why they had all stuck together. Or rather, why they had stuck with him. He was different from them. They were respectable people and he wasn't a people person. And, even though he had become so fond of them, there was no way they would want anything to do with him once this was all over. They would leave. He would be alone again. It's was clear as air.

Nick is shaken from his thoughts as another person enters the room. The man is entirely covered in a rubber body suit and mask and Nick subconsciously reaches for his missing gun. He hears a recording of Ellis's voice replay in his head.

"Watch out for the ones in the hazmat suits."

The basket of clothing has been removed and steaming hot water has begun to rain down from the shower heads hidden in the walls. Nick hadn't noticed them earlier but is grateful for the heat. His muscles don't ache quite as badly anymore.

The man instructs them to stand with their hands pressed against the wall. Though his mask, however, the order just sounds like a bunch of muffled moans. When the survivors don't move the man makes a grab at Rochelle, pulling her towards the tiled wall. She tries to shake him off but he makes another move to restrain her. That's when Ellis explodes.

"DON'T YOU TOUCH HER." Then his fist finds the masked man's face. He falls and Ellis follow, knuckles first. Then everyone is yelling and more rubber men are running into the room and Ellis is stark naked and he's punched the man's mask off and a stream of blood is being swept into the drain beside Nick's foot. The steam in the room impairs Nick's vision and he doesn't see the gloved hand until it's twisting his hair and smashing his face into the floor.

Nick's sure that, looking back on it later, seeing five guys tackling a naked Coach to the ground would probably make him tear up with laughter, but at the moment he's just angry and his arm is aching from being twisted harshly behind his back. He hears Ellis yelling and screaming as a group pulls him off the beaten man. They reach for their blunt weapons. Nick flinches with every sickening thump of wood on bare skin.

Once they've been restrained, after Rochelle pegs at least three of the guys square in the crotch, they're scrubbed down with alcohol and soap until Nick feels that his very skin has been stripped from his survivors are given medical scrubs to wear are are taken into a room full of white-wearing medics. The pricks of the needles don't bother Nick nearly as much as Ellis's silence does. As soon as they remove his IV, Nick scoots himself closer to where the boy sits on his examination chair.

"How you holding up, champ?" Nick doesn't look directly at him, instead opting to stare at the 3-inch needle making it's way into Rochelle's arm.

"Man..." Ellis rolls one of his shoulders. "I hurt all over."

"Probably should have kept those knuckle sandwiches to yourself." He scratches at the bandage wrapped around where his IV needle had been. When he glances at Ellis and notices the hurt-puppy look strewn across his face he quickly adds, "But that bastard had it coming." which earns a small chuckle from Ellis.

Nick didn't really want to admit it, but he had grown strangely attached to the young hick. Ellis's overly optimistic attitude and constant grinning had eventually gotten the better of him. He liked that they were complete opposites, and yet Ellis didn't dislike him. No matter how many insults he threw out or how many times he had told the kid to shut up, Ellis just kept coming back. Nick had never heard anybody talk so damn much.

Ellis was also one of the most sentimental guys Nick had ever met. He remembered the first night they had all stayed in a saferoom together, and Ellis had broken down sobbing over that 'crying blonde lady' he had taken out with a crowbar. At the time it had been obnoxious as hell, but also comforting. None of the other survivors ever let their internal thoughts overflow like that. Ellis embodied their weaknesses and turned them into something that could be overcome.

Even just by looking at Ellis's profile, Nick could see how much he had grown up over the past couple weeks. The cuts and bruises on his tanned skin certainly added to that. The scrape across the bridge of his nose was healing nicely and quite a bit of stubble had grown in since that last time the survivors had found a sealed package of razor blades.

"Hey, Nick." Ellis says, turning his head to look at the man. "What do you reckon happens next?" He looks a little nervous and Nick doesn't blame him. Out of all the people they had run across in their travels, the only person to really show them any kindness had been a crazy old geezer on a boat. To say the group had developed some trust issues was putting it lightly.

"I really don't know, kid." Nick has to answer honestly. "All I know is that we're safe from those zombie shits here. That's enough for me."

"Guess you're right."

"Am I ever wrong?" Nick gives him a look and Ellis laughs.

"Well, there was that one time you said you heard a tank right 'round the next corner and you got us all worried like and then-" Nick chuckles and cuts him off with a punch to the arm, making Ellis wince.

"Don't remind me." He says with a shake of his head.

As the physical examinations come to an end, the survivors are briefed on the ship's protocols. They would all be given new clothing and assigned a job onboard the ship. Jobs would be assigned based on assessed physical and mental ability and no monetary compensation would be given. All work aboard the ship is for the good of the people and for the survival of the people. Sickness and infection of any kind is to be reported immediately and diseased persons will be quarantined in a dedicated sector of the ship.

The list of rules goes on and on and eventually Nick tunes out. Ellis subconsciously grips the hem of Nick's shirt between his fingers. Rochelle holds Ellis's other hand.

The guard finishes his orientation just as a messenger slips into the room. He whispers something into the officer's ear and then backs away to stand against the wall.

"We've had word from the higher ups." The guard says. He gestures towards Ellis. "The young man will be joining the Defense and Rescue team. Squad 7. Please step forward. You will be escorted to your lodging." Nick feels Ellis's grip on his shirt tighten.

"What all is this Defense and Rescue?" He asks the officer, not moving.

"You will be returning to the main land on regular missions to recover survivors and reclaim infected territories with other immune personnel." He rattles off this description so easily that it hardly registers in Ellis's head. He's reminded of his high school teachers, who always used big words to confuse him into submission. He does now as he did then, he just nods silently.

"You've got to be shitting me." Eyes quickly turn towards the speaker. Without his white suit coat, Nick seems so much smaller than he usually does. "You rescue us, and then you send us back into zombieland?"

"If it weren't for the Defense and Rescue team, you yourselves would not be here at this time. Additionally, only the young man will be departing."

"He's just a kid!" Nick growls.

"These are official orders."

Two of the guards seize Ellis under his arms and begin quickly pulling him out of the room. The boy lets out a yelp and tries to grab onto the doorframe. He asks them to wait. He still has questions. He hasn't said good-bye.

Good-bye. That thing that Nick has been dreading. It wasn't supposed to be like this, though. So forced.

"Hey!" Coach's huge voice booms about the room. Rochelle's hands are covering her mouth.

Then Nick is moving. Running out the door. Shoving guards left and right. He makes it to the hallway and staggers, his sea legs haven't adjusted to the rock of the ship yet.

Ellis is yelling and squirming as the guards hurriedly drag him down the hallway. He looks up and their eyes meet for a short second. Blue meets green. Boy meets man. Mechanic meets conman.

"Nick!"

But then his world goes black.