The infirmary buzzed with activity as Jackson prepared for the oncoming threat. Medics gathered supplies, cleared beds, and prepared for potential casualties. In a small examination room at the back, Ellie sat perched on the edge of a bed, wincing as Doc Matthews cleaned and re-dressed the wound Arthur had sutured in the field.
"These are good stitches," the doctor commented, inspecting Arthur's handiwork. "Clean, even. Military training?"
"Firefly," Ellie replied absently, her mind elsewhere. The approaching horde, the mysterious figures guiding it, Arthur's unexpected gentleness as he'd carried her through the forest—all of it swirled in her thoughts, making it hard to focus.
Doc Matthews nodded, applying a fresh bandage. "Well, whoever taught him knew what they were doing. You're lucky—missed the major blood vessels. You'll need antibiotics and rest, but should heal clean."
"Rest isn't really an option right now," Ellie said, already reaching for her pants.
"I figured you'd say that." The doctor sighed, handing her a bottle of pills. "Take these every six hours. And try to stay off that leg as much as possible. I've got enough to worry about without you reopening this wound."
Left alone to dress, Ellie moved gingerly, testing how much weight she could put on her injured leg. Not enough to fight effectively, she realized with frustration. The timing couldn't have been worse.
A soft knock interrupted her thoughts. Joel stood in the doorway, concern etched into his weathered face.
"You okay, kiddo?"
"Fine," Ellie replied automatically, then softened. "Just pissed I won't be much use in a fight."
Joel entered, closing the door behind him. "Maria's putting you on watchtower duty. East side, coordinating our shooters."
Ellie nodded, accepting the compromise. At least she'd be able to contribute something.
"Arthur told me what happened," Joel continued, his voice dropping slightly at the mention of his son's name. "Said you spotted the horde together, that you got hurt when the observation platform collapsed."
"Yeah," Ellie confirmed, busying herself with lacing her boot. "He, uh... he took care of it. The wound. Got me back here."
A silence fell between them—not the angry kind that had dominated their interactions recently, but something more contemplative.
"I'm glad you weren't alone out there," Joel said finally.
Ellie looked up, meeting his gaze directly for the first time in days. "Me too."
Something passed between them then—not forgiveness exactly, but a step toward it. The approaching danger had a way of putting other conflicts into perspective.
"Joel," Ellie began hesitantly, "if Arthur hadn't been there that day, with Abby..."
She couldn't finish the thought, the possibility too painful to articulate. Joel's death—his torture at Abby's hands—would have been her fault in a way. Her last words to him would have been spoken in anger.
"But he was," Joel said gently. "No point dwelling on what-ifs."
Ellie swallowed hard. "It's just... after everything I said to you, the night before..."
"Hey." Joel moved closer, his hand hovering near her shoulder before settling there cautiously. "We both said things we didn't mean. It's what people do when they're hurting."
Ellie nodded, throat tight with emotion she couldn't express. The weight of what almost happened—losing Joel without ever making things right—pressed down on her chest.
"I'm still mad at you," she admitted, meeting his eyes. "For lying. For Salt Lake. But I don't... I couldn't..." She struggled for words.
"I know," Joel assured her, understanding what she couldn't say. That despite her anger, she couldn't bear the thought of losing him.
A commotion outside drew their attention. Through the window, they could see people rushing to defensive positions, Tommy shouting orders from horseback.
"I should get out there," Joel said, reluctance evident in his voice.
Ellie nodded, grabbing her rifle. "East tower, right?"
"You got it." Joel paused at the door. "Be careful, Ellie."
"You too."
As Joel left, Ellie stood alone for a moment, steadying herself against the examination table. Her leg throbbed, but the pain medication was starting to take effect. She thought of Arthur, of how he'd carried her through the forest without complaint, his hands steady as he stitched her wound. Something unfamiliar fluttered in her chest—not quite gratitude, not quite attraction, but something that contained elements of both.
Before she could examine the feeling too closely, Dina burst into the room.
"There you are! Jesse said you were hurt." Dina's eyes swept over Ellie, worry evident in her expression. "How bad is it?"
"I'll live," Ellie replied, touched by Dina's concern despite their recent awkwardness. "Just a gash. Arthur stitched me up."
Dina raised an eyebrow. "Did he now? Interesting."
"Don't start," Ellie warned, but there was no real heat in her words.
"Just saying." Dina helped Ellie gather her things. "He's cute, in that intense, broody way. Like father, like son, I guess."
Ellie rolled her eyes, ignoring the warmth that crept up her neck. "There's an infected horde about to hit our walls, and you're playing matchmaker?"
"End of the world's the best time for romance. Limited options, heightened emotions..." Dina grinned. "Besides, I saw how you two looked at each other when you came through the gates."
"He was supporting my weight because I could barely walk," Ellie protested.
"Uh-huh." Dina's smile turned knowing. "Come on, I'll help you to the east tower. Maria wants all hands on deck. Well, except yours, apparently."
As they made their way through Jackson's increasingly frantic streets, Ellie spotted Arthur across the square, deep in conversation with Tommy and a group of Jackson's more experienced fighters. He looked different somehow—more present, more integrated into the community. Less like the solitary hunter who'd stalked the perimeter days ago.
As if sensing her gaze, Arthur looked up, eyes finding hers across the distance. He gave her a slight nod, which she returned before continuing toward the east tower.
"Definitely something there," Dina murmured beside her.
"Shut up," Ellie replied without malice.
---
Arthur studied the maps spread across the planning table, Joel and Tommy at his side. The years of Firefly tactical training had proven useful, earning him a place in Jackson's hasty defense council.
"The approach from the east is steepest," Arthur pointed out, indicating the terrain. "If we funnel them through here, we can pick them off more effectively."
Tommy nodded. "We could set charges along these ridges, cause controlled avalanches to narrow their approach further."
"Good," Maria agreed. "But we need to know who's controlling them and why. Arthur, you said you saw figures directing the horde?"
"At the edges," Arthur confirmed. "Keeping the infected contained, guiding them this way. Too coordinated to be random."
Joel's expression darkened. "Could be Abby's people. The ones who escaped."
"Maybe," Arthur agreed, though something felt off about that theory. "But this is different tactically. More people, more planning. Abby's group was small, focused on you specifically."
"Whoever it is," Maria cut in, "we need to be ready. Joel, you're coordinating the western barricade. Tommy, take the south. Arthur, I want you with the eastern scouts—you've seen these controllers, you'll recognize them again."
Arthur nodded, accepting the assignment.
"I've got Ellie in the east tower," Joel added. "Good eyes, good shot, even with that leg."
"Let's move," Maria ordered. "We've got less than an hour before they hit our perimeter."
As the group dispersed, Joel caught Arthur's arm. "A word?"
They stepped aside, Joel's face grave. "I need you to keep an eye on Ellie. That injury's worse than she's letting on."
Arthur nodded. "I will."
"Thank you," Joel said, the words weighted with meaning. "For bringing her back."
"You don't need to thank me for that."
"Still." Joel held his gaze. "Be careful out there. Both of you."
Something unspoken passed between them—concern, respect, the beginning of trust. Arthur felt the weight of it, the unfamiliar warmth of having someone care whether he lived or died.
"You too," Arthur replied, finding he meant it.
They parted, each to their assigned positions. As Arthur jogged toward the eastern section, he spotted Jesse organizing a group of spotters.
"Jesse," he called. "I need your best people watching the perimeter. We're looking for human controllers at the edges of the horde."
Jesse nodded. "Got it. Dina's up there with Ellie already, best eyes we've got."
Arthur climbed the wooden steps to the eastern watchtower. The platform was crowded with lookouts and sharpshooters, Ellie at the center with a radio and binoculars, her injured leg propped on an ammunition crate. Dina stood beside her, rifle ready.
"Arthur," Ellie acknowledged as he approached. "Any updates?"
"Charges being set to the northeast to narrow their approach," he reported. "Maria wants us watching for the human controllers."
Ellie handed him the binoculars. "Been scanning the tree line. Nothing yet."
Arthur scanned the horizon methodically, noting the eerie stillness of the forest beyond. The wildlife had gone, fleeing the approaching threat. Behind him, he could hear Ellie directing the spotters, her voice calm and decisive despite the tension in the air.
"There," Dina said suddenly, pointing east. "Movement in the trees."
Arthur shifted his focus, catching the first, shambling figures emerging from the forest. Runners at first, then clickers, their distinctive sounds carrying even at this distance. Behind them, more and more infected appeared, a wave of corruption flowing toward Jackson's walls.
"Radio Maria," Arthur instructed. "First wave visible from the east. Estimate two hundred, mixed types, bloaters in the rear."
Ellie relayed the message while Arthur continued scanning the edges of the horde, looking for the human element. There—a flash of movement too controlled to be infected, too purposeful. A figure in dark clothing, moving parallel to the horde, staying just within the tree line.
"Got one," Arthur reported. "Northeast corner, keeping pace with the front runners."
Ellie shifted position painfully, taking the binoculars. "I see them. Wearing some kind of mask."
"Gas mask," Arthur corrected as the figure emerged briefly from cover. "And that's military gear. Old school."
A distant explosion thundered across the valley as Tommy's charges detonated, sending rock and earth cascading down the northeastern slope. The front line of infected was buried instantly, creating a natural barrier that forced the rest of the horde to funnel toward the prepared killing zone.
"Opening fire," came Maria's voice over the radio. "East quadrant, green light."
The sharpshooters on the wall opened up, their shots precise and measured. Each bullet found its mark, dropping infected one by one, but there were too many. For each one that fell, three more emerged from the trees.
"They keep coming," Dina muttered, reloading her rifle.
Arthur's focus remained on the controllers. He'd spotted three now, working in coordination, using sound and movement to direct the infected. Their tactics were familiar somehow.
"East gate!" came a shout from below. "They're grouping at the east gate!"
Arthur looked down to see infected beginning to mass against the outer barrier, their collective weight testing the reinforced wood.
"Molotovs!" Ellie ordered into the radio. "East gate, now!"
Within seconds, burning bottles arced over the wall, exploding among the tightly packed infected. Screams and the sickening smell of burning flesh filled the air as fire spread through their ranks.
"That won't hold them for long," Arthur observed grimly. "There are too many."
Ellie nodded, her face set in determination. "We need to take out the controllers. Cut off the head."
"Agreed," Arthur said. "But they're staying well back, using the infected as shields."
Ellie studied the tree line, strategizing. "If we could get someone behind them..."
"Too risky," Dina interjected. "They'd be cut off, surrounded by infected."
"Not if they know what they're doing," Arthur replied, a plan already forming. "I can circle around through the western ravine, come up behind them. If I can take out even one or two, it might disrupt whatever control they have."
Ellie's eyes widened. "Alone? That's suicide."
"I've done worse odds," Arthur said with grim confidence. "Besides, I know these tactics. I've seen them before."
"Where?" Ellie demanded.
Arthur hesitated. "Later. There's no time now."
Before Ellie could protest further, the radio crackled. "East wall compromised! Infected breaching sector seven!"
Below them, a section of the outer barrier had given way. Infected poured through the gap, met by a desperate line of defenders.
"Go," Ellie decided suddenly. "But take Jesse with you. Two guns are better than one."
Arthur nodded, already moving toward the ladder. "Keep an eye on those controllers. If they change position, I need to know."
"Be careful," Ellie called after him, their eyes meeting briefly.
"Always am," Arthur replied, descending rapidly to where Jesse waited below.
"What's the plan?" Jesse asked, checking his weapons.
"Western ravine, circle behind, eliminate the controllers. Quick and quiet."
Jesse nodded, face grim. "Lead the way."
---
Ellie watched Arthur and Jesse disappear around the western bend, a knot of worry tightening in her stomach. From her elevated position, she could see the battle unfolding across Jackson's perimeter—defenders holding the line, infected pressing forward in unnatural, coordinated waves.
"They'll be okay," Dina assured her, reading her expression. "Jesse knows these woods better than anyone."
"It's not Jesse I'm worried about," Ellie muttered, returning her attention to the binoculars.
The controllers had changed position, moving closer to the settlement as the infected breached the outer wall. Something about their movements nagged at Ellie's memory—the precision, the coordination. Like a military unit.
The radio crackled again. "South wall holding! East section needs reinforcements!"
"I should be down there," Ellie said frustratedly, shifting her injured leg.
"You're more useful up here," Dina countered. "Besides, Doc would kill me if I let you fight with that leg."
A flash of movement caught Ellie's eye—Joel crossing the central yard, shotgun in hand, headed toward the east wall breach. Despite his own injuries, he moved with purpose, organizing defenders as he went.
"Joel's heading to the breach," Ellie reported, unable to keep the concern from her voice.
Dina squeezed her shoulder. "He's tough. And he's got Tommy with him."
Ellie nodded absently, attention divided between the battlefield below and the shadowy tree line where Arthur and Jesse had disappeared. The minutes stretched into an agonizing half hour. The infected continued to press against Jackson's defenses, but the flow seemed less coordinated now, more chaotic.
"Something's changed," Ellie observed. "They're not moving in formation anymore."
Dina nodded. "Arthur and Jesse must have found the controllers."
A sudden commotion at the western gate drew their attention. Figures approached at a run—one supporting the other.
"That's them," Dina said, raising her rifle to cover their approach.
Through the binoculars, Ellie could see Jesse supporting a limping Arthur, blood darkening the side of Arthur's jacket. The gates opened just enough to admit them before slamming shut again.
"Arthur's hit," Ellie reported, unable to keep the worry from her voice. "East tower to command, Arthur and Jesse are back, requesting medical at west gate." She handed the radio to Dina. "I need to get down there."
"Ellie, your leg—"
"I don't care," Ellie cut her off, already moving toward the ladder. "Cover for me."
The descent was painful, each rung sending shards of agony through her injured leg, but Ellie pushed through it. By the time she reached the ground, sweat beaded on her forehead and her wound had started bleeding again. She limped across the compound, ignoring the chaos around her, focused solely on reaching the western gate.
She found them in the makeshift medical station that had been set up near the stables. Jesse sat on a bench, being treated for superficial cuts. Arthur lay on a table, shirt cut away, a medic working on a nasty gash across his ribs.
"What happened?" Ellie demanded, approaching them.
Jesse looked up, relief crossing his face. "We got them. Three controllers, using sonic devices to guide the infected."
"Who were they?"
"Former Fireflies," Arthur answered through gritted teeth as the medic cleaned his wound. "Specialized division. Used to experiment with controlling infected, using them as weapons."
Ellie's eyes widened. "Fireflies? But why attack Jackson?"
"Revenge," Arthur winced as the medic applied antiseptic. "For Salt Lake City. They recognized me, called me traitor. Said they'd been tracking me since I left Seattle."
"Jesus," Ellie breathed, the implications sinking in. "They used you to find Joel."
Arthur nodded grimly. "I led them straight here."
The guilt in his voice was unmistakable. Ellie moved closer, her own pain forgotten as she looked at his wound. "How bad is it?"
"Knife caught me when I took down the leader," Arthur explained. "Clean cut, missed anything vital."
"He saved my life," Jesse added. "One of them got the drop on me. Arthur took the hit."
Ellie's eyes met Arthur's, something unspoken passing between them. "Seems to be a habit of yours," she said softly. "Saving people."
A ghost of a smile touched Arthur's lips. "Trying to balance the scales."
The medic finished bandaging Arthur's side. "Keep it clean, change the dressing twice daily. No patrol duty for at least a week."
Arthur nodded, sitting up carefully as the medic moved on to other patients. Outside, the sounds of battle were changing—more organized, less desperate. The infected, without their controllers, had reverted to their normal, chaotic behavior, easier to predict and counter.
"The horde?" Arthur asked.
"Breaking up," Ellie confirmed. "Still dangerous, but not coordinated anymore. The walls are holding."
Relief washed over Arthur's features, followed quickly by exhaustion. The adrenaline was wearing off, leaving pain in its wake.
Jesse stood, testing his weight. "I should check on Dina, see where else I can help."
As he left, Ellie moved to sit beside Arthur on the examination table, both of them injured, both exhausted.
"So," she said after a moment, "more Fireflies out there who want Joel dead."
"Probably," Arthur admitted. "But this group won't be a problem anymore."
Ellie studied him, taking in the blood-stained bandage, the weariness in his eyes, the set of his jaw. "You risked your life to stop them. Even after everything the Fireflies taught you about Joel."
Arthur met her gaze. "I made my choice when I saved him from Abby. No going back now."
"Why?" Ellie asked, the question that had been burning in her mind for days.
Arthur was silent for a long moment, considering. "Because I wanted to know him," he finally admitted. "Because I wanted to understand why Tess loved him. Why you forgave him for what he did in Salt Lake City."
"I haven't," Ellie corrected softly. "Not completely."
"But you're still here," Arthur pointed out. "Still fighting alongside him. Still care what happens to him."
Ellie couldn't deny it. Despite everything, despite the anger and betrayal she felt over Joel's lies, the thought of losing him remained unbearable.
"After my mother died," Arthur continued quietly, "I had no one. The Fireflies were training me, not raising me. For twenty years, I've been alone." His eyes met hers, unexpectedly vulnerable. "I didn't save Joel