I don't own Left 4 Dead.

A/N: I'm not sure if this is going to be romance or friendship. It all depends on what you people want I guess. Anyway, please review this story because lately no one has been reviewing my stories and it makes me sad and think that they're lost causes so please, if you read this story, it doesn't matter if you're a member or not, please review. It keeps my spirits up and I continue with the story.

Back to the Beginning

Summary: Nick remembered escaping. He remembered crossing the bridge while the city was being bombed. He even remembered getting on that damn helicopter and taking off. So why did he suddenly find himself back in Savannah, Georgia all alone and without his guns and completely scar free?

Prologue: "Name's Nick"

Nick remembered escaping. He remembered crossing the bridge while the city was being bombed. He even remembered getting on that damn helicopter and taking off. So why did he suddenly find himself back in Savannah, Georgia all alone and without his guns and completely scar free? It was just like it was when he got stuck in the infection breakout, when he first met the only man he could call "Best Friend". It was impossible. It shouldn't have even happened. Yet here he was. Standing in a casino in the middle of Savannah. People who should be long dead, brushed past him and out of the casino to escape the hunter that had wondered in and mauled a poor woman that had been selling fruity alcoholic drinks.

The conman cursed to himself and ran to the casinos bar and grabbed the magnum pistol under the bar counter and leapt into action, shooting the hunter with one bullet to its head. Memories poured into his head of past times he had killed infected as the hunter made a gurgling noise as it slumped to the floor dead. After killing the hunter, Nick ran to the crying woman, scanning her body for any hint of the disease. Sighing, his head dropped. He had been too late. A large, bloody bite wound on her shoulder oozed black muck and her veins darkened quickly as she sobbed.

"I'm sorry." Nick whispered as he grabbed her hand in comfort, not sure if she heard him. But she had and she cried harder from the horror and the pain the infected had caused her. His thumb ran over her knuckles gently. "It will be quick." He told her. Seeing her nod in understanding, he placed his gun to her temple and squeezed her hand in attempt to calm and apologize to her.

"Thank you..." The woman responded softly. Without flinching, Nick pulled the trigger. The bang echoed throughout the now empty casino.

The infected had spread quicker than Nick had ever thought possible. The second he stepped out the doors, he was bombarded by the foul creatures. 'Just like old times.' He thought as he shot his way through the crowd of infected. Familiar faces of people from the casino that passed him earlier, were now the faces of the undead he was shooting.

Jumping inside a nearby car, he reloaded the pistol in his hand, cursing at how low of a stock of ammo he had. Glancing around the car worriedly as the infected now began to mob the car he was in, he spotted something in the back seat. It wasn't the best but it would prevent using ammo. In the back seat, was a crowbar.

Now armed with a pistol and a crowbar, that he now held in his hand, Nick fought his way out of the broken car. Next thing he knew, he was bolting down the street, not knowing where he was going, ignoring his bleeding arm from an infected that had gotten a lucky hit on him during his struggle to escape the car. Nick had no clue how long he had been running or how far he had gone but the further he kept on, the less common the undead were until he could not spot a single one. His legs were now burning and his suit covered in blood of the infected, the crowbar in his hand felt heavy and he was tired. Nick was so very tired and he knew why. It had been morning since he spontaneously appeared in the casino he could have sworn was bombed or destroyed weeks before he first met Ellis and now it was late at night. The further down the road he ran, the less he saw of buildings except for a lone mechanic shop with a single light on that looked to be about to close. Nick then felt his heart clench at the sight of the shop.

Ellis had worked and ran a mechanic shop before the Green Flu hit. The thought of his best friend hurt to think about. Ellis had been killed by a tank while rescuing both Nick and Coach. The conman felt his body shudder in despair, remembering the sight of the hick's mangled body under a car the tank threw at him. Nick had cried for days before Coach and Rochelle managed to convince him to be strong for their dead friend.

Now staggering, Nick fought to stay awake. He was a lone survivor and any infected that came his way would find an easy meal. He shook his head, fighting the drowsy feeling that tried to take over his mind. He had to stay on his guard. He would not give in. For Ellis. Staggering, Nick failed to notice how close he had gotten to the lone shop. His breath now coming as rough pants; his mind all foggy.

"Hey, man. You ok?" He heard a nice voice with a simple southern accent nearby. Nick frowned slightly, feeling his lips move but he no longer had control over them. The voice sounded familiar but he couldn't place it. "Hey, c'mon man. It's ok." The voice spoke again and a heavy hand was placed on Nick's shoulder. Looking up, he faced the concerned man, only to go pale. It was the same man he had watched die. The same man who had comforted him. The very same man who made him so angry that he wanted to hurt. It was too much. Nick felt his breath hitch and tears stung his eyes as his body began to submit to the exhaustion he had been fighting.

"Ellis?" Nick gasped and watched as the hick's eyes not only grow in surprise but watch him, concerned. That's when Nick finally gave in to the darkness and passed out, Ellis catching him as he fell.

Chapter 1: "Hi, I'm Ellis"

Ellis didn't know what to think when he saw the man in a suit walking to the shop that he and Keith owned. At first, Ellis thought the man had broken down and was looking for help. So when he saw the man outside his window, he went out to see if he needed help. Then Ellis saw it, blood covering the once considered white suit with a blood stained crowbar and a gun in the holster on the man's leg. Ellis could tell that he was as pale as a man could get and he froze on the spot.

Slowly, Ellis began to creep back to the shop, away from the possible murderer when he got an even better look at the stranger. The guy was staggering and stumbling with each step in a way that told the mechanic that this guy was defiantly not drunk but hurt and tired. As if he had been fighting for his life.

Ellis wanted to go back inside the shop and lock the door so this tired and bloody stranger wouldn't get in and pass the place but something stopped him in his tracks. It was a weird feeling in his gut that told him that the messy stranger wouldn't hurt him. It was that same feeling that told Ellis to help him and to care for him. It was as if he knew this man. Fear fled from his body as the stranger got closer. Gathering what courage he could muster, he stepped up to the bloody man before his bravery could flee from him as well.

"Hey, man. You ok?" The mechanic asked and almost slapped himself. Of course the man wasn't alright! He was covered in blood! The man stopped walking and his mouth moved as if he was trying to say something but no words came out. Just pants. "Hey, c'mon man. It's ok." He found himself trying to soothe the other man, placing a hand on the man's shoulder; which wasn't as bulky as the suit made it look. His shoulder felt a bit smaller than his own. The stranger froze at the contact and his head rose to face Ellis'. The mechanic watched as his eyes went wide and his face paled.

"Ellis?" The man breathed out rapidly before his eyes rolled back and he collapsed into Ellis' waiting arms. The brunette froze. That man knew his name. He didn't know how considering the people in the northern part of the country don't usually spend time to learn a southern's name. And the strangest part was, was that this man knew Ellis' name but the mechanic didn't know his. He shook his head from that thought for the moment and looked at the man in his arms. He was going to regret this but he was never the one to turn a person in need away. Lifting the man up under his legs bridal style, Ellis carried him into the building and into the lounge to set him on the couch gently. Once that was done, he reached into his pocket for his phone and dialed in a number.

After two rings, the person on the other end answered. Ellis snorted. "Hey, Keith. Can you come pick me up? I'm not gonna be able to use my bike today."

As Ellis expected, Keith arrived twenty minutes after the call in his old pickup truck. "Ya' know Ellis, you always pickin' up strays" Keith spoke with a heavy accent as he fixed his cap and watched Ellis come to the truck with the unconscious man in his arms. Keith watched as Ellis brought the bloody man to the truck and opened the door. That's when Keith began to protest.

"Woah, Hey! He's all Bloody Ellis! Hose 'em down at least." It was a weak protest but Keith really didn't want blood on his seats and Ellis knew it. "I don want no blood on this leather."

This caused Ellis to pause and think for a minute while examining the passenger seat. If he angled himself right, he'd be holding the man so the seats didn't get messed up. He turned to his friend and smiled. "Don't worry none, Keith. He won't even touch your seats. I'll be holding him the entire way. This satisfied the red head and he nodded, grabbing the unknown man's stuff and tossing them in the back before hopping in the drivers seat. Ellis did was he promised and situated himself on the seat with the man in his lap. It was a bit awkward to hold the man who was sitting on his lap like a lover with the man's head on his shoulder and black hair in his face. But if it got them home, he'd handle it.

The ride home was bumpy and Ellis was beginning to lose feeling in his legs from the bloody stranger's weight but he held on. Every once in a while, the man would shift and groan. Ellis wished that he'd stop moving all together until they reached home. Keith had the radio on to some old style rock song and he was banging the palms of his hands on the steering wheel while singing to the song off key. Laughing, Ellis couldn't help but join in, ignoring the lack of feeling in his legs as the man shifted once again.