They stumble onto a beach in the middle of the night, wind whipping at their hair and biting into their skin. Joel is bleeding somewhere – not that he's even sure where 'somewhere' is – and Ellie is shivering against the breeze that threatens to blow her into the trees. High in the sky, the moon filters through the clouds, letting in light like a boat that's sprung a leak. Beneath their feet, sand crunches down, wet and packed together tightly.

"It's cold down here."

Ellie's voice is just loud enough to be heard over the wind. There's nothing else on the beach but the wind whistling past, shaking the rusty poles of a quarantine fence, and the sound of the waves lapping at the shore. Joel steps softly onto the sand behind her and swings his tattered bag off his shoulders.

"Here." He hands her the plaid jacket she always wears, but this too is worn and ratty. Ellie grabs it from him and slings it loosely over her shoulders, revelling in the way that the flannel warms up her skin. Gradually, the goose bumps on her arms begin to fade back into nothing.

Neither of them realize it at first, but they're standing on the edge of the Atlantic Ocean. They both know it's a large body of water – that much is evident. Joel stares out at the line of the horizon in the distance, barely visible; the sky melts into the water like ice into fire, creating waves the billow out gently towards the shore. There's no sign of land in the distance, at least from where he's standing. Just an endless, calm current.

"Know where we are?" Joel asks her, breaking away from the ocean. His eyes are bloodshot and tired, lids heavy from lack of sleep. Ellie meets his glance and notices just how much he's aged in the past year. She can't decide whether or not it's a good thing.

Ellie shrugs her shoulders, tightening her jacket around her middle. Every now and then the wind breaks, just like the crests of the waves yards away from her feet. It's a welcome relief from her hair flapping around her head.

"Well, it looks a lot like water to me, to be honest."

Cringing from pain that he thinks is in his side, Joel still manages to roll his eyes. Despite everything that's happened, Ellie still has that dry humor of hers. He drags himself closer to her and smacks her gently on the back of the head.

"Not cool, asshole!"

She feels the weight of his hand clap against her backpack, and she hikes it up onto her shoulders. Ellie eyes Joel curiously as he stares back out over the water.

"Got any water puns in that stupid book?"

Rather than answering him, Ellie looks around. The beach is nothing special. The sand is a dark brown, packed in from the afternoon's rain, and the shore is littered with driftwood and filth. In a different place, maybe at a different time, it would have been nice. At least, she can see the appeal to it. Lying in the sun, feeling the heat on your skin, listening to the breeze move the tree branches off in the distance. Ellie closes her eyes and tries to imagine it. There are some things she knows she can never have.

"Atlantic Ocean."

Joel only says the two words, and they're huffed out quickly in that rough voice she knows so well. He knows they're in North Carolina, on the coast, right at the tip of the North Atlantic, but he doesn't tell her that. Ellie deserves more than that – he figures she deserves the wonder of seeing the ocean for the first time without him spoiling it.

The girl's eyes flicker open, and suddenly she's back from sunny days and gentle oceans to the cold night air. She looks at Joel, and he knows exactly what she's going to say. That's something that's been happening quite a lot lately – sometimes, he just knows what she's thinking.

"First time seein' the ocean." It's not a question. He says that, Ellie notices, like it's just been checked off on a list. She makes a face at him.

"You sound like some kinda travel book." She says, and she weaves her way through the broken quarantine fence. The chain link is rusted and torn, and Ellie wonders what kind of monstrosity must have come through there, and what must have happened to the people on the beach. She shakes the though away and steps towards the waves.

"The hell do you know about travel books?"

Joel's voice is off in the distance now, but she knows that in minutes he'll be following her down, keeping his eye on her. He's been like that ever since the winter. At the edge of the water, Ellie crouches down and puts her hand into ocean. The waves seem to suck the dirt and blood off her hands, carrying it back with it into the centre of the ocean.

"More than you think," she says, though her voice is merely a murmur under the wind, "I like to read. Y'know that."

"I know."

There's a quiet understanding between them as they stand at what feels like the edge of the world. Ellie looks out onto the water, still crouched, the waves further out enveloped in shadow. They rock back and forth until they reach the shore, where they crash at her feet, soaking into her shoes. There's something about the ocean that's more beautiful than any other body of water she's ever seen. For a second, Ellie finds it hard to believe that the world ever came to an end.

Joel is watching the waves when he feels the first sprays of water hit him. He blinks rapidly, and turns to face the direction that it's coming from.

"The hell—"

Ellie is standing up, a wicked grin on her face, her hands cupped in front of her like a bowl. It takes a moment for Joel to process what's happening before he realizes that Ellie has thrown another handful of water at him. He feels the droplets slide down the side of his face this time, soaking into the collar of his shirt.

"Ellie," He starts. The tone in his voice is familiar, because it's the tone he uses to scold her, "The hell're you doin'?"

"That's what you get for scarin' me earlier!"

He takes a minute to think it over, wondering if he really did scare her.

"What the—"

Another handful of water, salty and cold, splashes him in the mouth, and when he clears his eyes he can see Ellie getting a head start across the grainy sand of the beach. Joel is bleeding, tired, and now he's cold, and more than anything he wants to grab Ellie by the shoulders and talk some sense into her.

Instead, he lets her run ahead of him, and he picks up his own jog, ignoring the pain in his sides.

"Get back here!"

"Try and catch me, old guy!"

He follows her, of course, watching her run and smile and laugh, and Joel wonders if this is anything like what normal is supposed to be. He can't bring himself to remember, and he's not sure he wants anything to be normal again.

They leave the beach when sky melts back into dawn. The sun creeps up slowly that morning, shedding thin tendrils of light on lines of footprints in the dark, grainy sand.