Something felt off. It was a kind of 'off' she hadn't experienced much in Jackson; it was the feeling that she was being watched, the kind of feeling that rose the hair on the back of her neck, that set her brain racing faster, that caused her to instinctively reach for her pistol, which, she was now realizing, was across the room from her. What did she have? The pencil in her hand was old and wooden, it would break in half before it could pierce skin. There were pens on her desk that would work better, but would she have time to reach for them? Her knife was buried at the bottom of her backpack, where she had tossed it earlier after returning home from patrol training—a waste of time, she thought, since she had more experience fighting Infected than did half of the people training her—but perhaps if she could find something to throw at her opponent, just to stun them for a moment, she might have time to grab it. What could she throw? Not her journal, which lay open in front of her; it was too light. Not the Walkman in her lap; frankly, she'd never be able to find another in as good of condition, and couldn't risk breaking it. The coffee-stained mug she'd been using as a pen holder? Perfect, if she could reach it in time.

In an instant her adrenaline peaked. She felt eyes on the back of her head, and knew her time was limited. She made her choice: Throw the mug, grab the knife, try to get to her pistol if she could. Now she just had to execute her plan. As she began to rise from her chair, she felt a kick to its legs, and a hand on her shoulder. Too late, she thought, cursing Jackson for allowing her to let her guard down. She began to reassess her options...and then she smelled the all-too familiar combination of coffee, dirt, and gunpowder. Out of her corner of her eye, she glimpsed his beard, fuller now than it had been last year, streaked with more gray.

"Jesus," she said, breathless, "you almost gave me a heart attack."

Joel looked grim, as he usually did lately. Awkward, in his clean button-down, neatly tucked in to belted jeans. His dark, graying hair was nicely combed. "I tried knockin', but…"

Ellie rose from her desk, removing her headphones. Her heart still racing, she made a mental note to keep the volume down. No one should be able to sneak up on her, even in Jackson, even if it's Joel. "Hey."

"Hey."

She didn't really know what to say to him. She hoped he'd leave soon. "What's up, Joel?"

He stared at the ground, thumbs hooked into his belt loops. Joel looked too big for the room. He did not look like a man who belonged on the clean hardwood flooring, wearing polished boots. Perhaps he felt this, and it was why he stood so stiffly. "Just checkin' in. Folks are, y'know, talkin' 'bout you and...how impressed they are with you, and how well you're helpin' out."

"That's good," Ellie said. Why was he here? She was busy—okay, she had been journaling, but she hadn't been able to all day before she got home, and she had a lot on her mind.

"Yeah." Maybe if she didn't make eye contact, he'd realize that she wanted him to leave without her having to say it.

"Tommy and I went out ridin' the other day, and he uh, he told me a joke and I thought about you, so…" Joel was rambling. Did he really come here to talk to her this late just for a social call? She knew they hadn't spent much time together lately, but it wasn't exactly unintentional on her end. She had other things to do. She had patrol training, friends, Cat, riding lessons. And Joel always made these conversations so awkward—not that Ellie helped much with that aspect. Not that she wanted to. "Shoot," Joel mumbled. "I forgot, uh...somethin' 'bout a clock, how do you—"

Ellie interrupted. "Joel, it's uh, it's pretty late, and I gotta get up in a few hours."

Joel coughed, noting her almost polite way of kicking him out. "Yeah, yeah, I know, I know, and I'm gonna get out of your hair, I just uh…" He backed towards the door. "I wanna show you something. Just gimme one second." He stepped out of the door, still facing Ellie, into the darkness outside.

It had been more than a second. Ellie thought about telling him that, but decided they were not in a moment for sarcasm. She couldn't really remember the last time they had been. Things had been weird between them since they got back to Jackson, and she was struggling to get past it.

Emerging from the darkness, Joel stepped back into the room, holding a finely polished guitar at the neck.

"What's this?" Ellie asked. It had been a while since she'd seen him play guitar, and she was certain she'd never seen this one before. It was deep brown, lighter in the center, with a silver marking Ellie couldn't quite make out towards the top of its neck. It was beautiful, really.

Joel chuckled. "Some folks call this thing here a gee-tar." He spun it slowly in his hands, letting Ellie see it in full view. It reflected the light from the lamp on her desk, and she was sure that in brighter light, she would just barely be able to see her own reflection in the finished wood.

"Funny."

He nodded. And then he stood, stiffly, still holding the guitar, with words stuck in his throat. Ellie knew to give him a minute. If she was quiet for long enough, he would convince himself to say what he needed to. Finally he did, quietly, tenderly, but Ellie heard him. "You wanna hear something?"

She remembered the last time he'd played for her. It had been months. He was always a private person, and she figured that performing for people was a bit too personal for him to make a habit of it.

Joel sat down on the box behind him, where Ellie stored her clothes. He grunted as he lowered himself, and Ellie wanted to crack a joke about him being old. She decided not to.

"Promise me that you won't laugh," he said as he settled in.

"I won't laugh," Ellie said. Joel gave her a stern look. "I won't."

Joel sighed. "Trustin' you." He closed his eyes, probably convincing himself to go ahead and play. And he did, strumming a slow tune that Ellie vaguely recognized from one of the records Joel had played for her before. It was an old song, she knew, from long before the outbreak. Joel played, quickly gaining his confidence, and Ellie found herself swaying to the music, remembering all at once how much she loved to hear music played right in front of her. She felt each note hitting her skin like a light rain, and she noted each time she heard Joel's callused fingers scraping the guitar strings when he changed his fingering. She was surprised when he began to sing, quietly, in his deep, rasping voice.

If I ever were to lose you

I'd surely lose myself

Everything I have found here

I've not found by myself

Try and sometimes you'll succeed

To make this man of me

All of my stolen missing parts

I've no need for anymore

'Cause I believe

And I believe 'cause I can see

Our future days

Days of you and me

It was, of course, exactly what she needed him to say to her. It was exactly what he needed to tell her, to remind her how much she cared about him, and how she liked how much he cared for her. Ellie was disappointed when he stopped playing. She knew there were more verses, but she figured he already felt a bit exposed. That was alright with her.

For a moment they sat in silence across from each other, letting Joel's music settle in. It wasn't the awkward silence that had permeated their conversations as of late. It was much calmer, and Ellie could tell that Joel didn't mind it either.

Finally, she closed the silence. "Well…" Ellie struggled to find the words. "That didn't suck."

Joel laughed, a more sincere laugh than she had heard from him in a while. "I'll take what I can get." He rose from his seat, groaning as he did. He held the guitar, twisting it around again in his hands, the light glinting off its surface. He took a step towards Ellie and held out the guitar. "She's yours."

Ellie put her hands up defensively. "No," she said, "no, no, no, I don't know the first thing about this."

Joel placed the guitar in her hands. "I promised I'd teach you how to play."

And he had. That was ages ago, before they had settled down here in Jackson, before they had even crossed the Mississippi on the way out here. "You did," Ellie conceded. She took the guitar, holding it gently as though she might break it. It was lighter than she thought it was, and she could finally make out the marking glinting on its neck—a moth, finely painted in silver.

Joel took a step back, distancing himself from the guitar as if Ellie was going to try to give it back to him. Right then, Ellie knew—and she knew that Joel knew—that they were okay again. They had to be. "So what do you say?" Joel said, continuing to back towards the door. "Tomorrow night, first lesson?"

Ellie didn't even remember if she had plans. At the moment she wasn't concerned. "Yeah." She smiled at him, faintly, but sincerely.

"Okay." Joel was at the door now, and suddenly, Ellie no longer wanted him to leave. "Okay.

Just as his foot crossed the door frame back into the darkness, Ellie spoke. "Did you, uh…Did you remember the joke?"

Now Joel smiled. Ellie could barely see it, since his face was in shadow, but she could tell from his eyes. "What is the downside to eating a clock?"

Ellie could think of a million. Splinters, for one. Glass shards, for two. But she didn't want to give a snarky answer. She shrugged.

"It's time consuming." Joel's hand rested on the door jamb, and though Ellie wanted him to stay, she had nothing else to say to keep him there. So she laughed.

"That's so dumb." She twisted side to side in her chair. The guitar—her guitar—still sat in her lap, her hands clasping it now like it was all she had.

"Yeah." They were silent again for a moment. For the first time all night, and for the first time in months, for that matter, their eyes met, and they shared just a second of understanding. Ellie knew that Joel loved her, and she also knew—for better or for worse, and whether she wanted to or not—she loved him too. She had to. And she knew, just like he did, that he was always going to look out for her, whenever and however he could. They needed each other. And for the first time in a long time, Ellie felt like that was okay.

Joel finally took the last step out of the door, shielded now, again, by the night's darkness. "G'night, kiddo," he said, shutting the door as he took a step back on the ground outside, and finally, just as the door closed, turned around to face the night.

Ellie faced the door for another moment, holding her guitar, wishing that it were tomorrow already so she could start to play. She felt excited like she hadn't felt in ages—not as excited as before Jackson, but maybe a better sort of excitement. Excitement without chaos.

She laughed, to no one. "Time consuming," she muttered, only a little upset that she hadn't thought of that. She shook her head, gently set the guitar against the wall beside her, and returned to her journal.