paradisalogs | closed | everybody knows the world's about to end

Entry tags:

clementine,
joel

closed | everybody knows the world's about to end

Who: Clementine and Joel
What: Pestering and talking about sad things, most likely.
When: Today.
Where: Joel's room.
Rating: D for Damn Joel your life is Dark.

It's been a strange month. Since coming back from her trip home, Clementine's felt like she's been living in a haze. Nothing feels real. Lee, Ben, Carley--she's been spending all of her time with people that she had to force herself to move past, push to the back of her mind. Every morning she's a little surprised to still be in the castle. She's surprised to see them. The repeating shock to her system is more exhausting than she'd ever imagine.

When she thinks about it, the only time things felt solid was when that thing nearly killed her and Ben. Otherwise, she feels like she's experiencing everything through a dirty window.

It's not a good thing. She knows that much. But she's not really sure how to bring that up to anyone without them coddling her or worrying too much themselves. Lee, especially. They sort of talked about it, but it's not like there's an easy solution, and god, she's freaked him out enough already being the way she is now.

Clementine figures she just needs more time to readjust and get used to not living a life full of walkers and loss. It shouldn't be this hard. She'll get over it, eventually.

Eventually.

Instead of sitting around and dwelling on things she doesn't think can be fixed today, she heads out into the hall and goes over to Joel, Tess, and Ellie's room. Maybe she'll hang out with Ellie, if the girl isn't worried about giving her another concussion. Maybe she'll try to make nice with Tess, since she gave it a decent attempt lately. Maybe she'll chat with Joel. It all depends on who is home.

She lifts her hand and knocks.

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It's been a strange six months. Having an infected to deal with, that was almost the most normal part. Joel handles it part and parcel, because there's no other choice. He answers the door with less wariness than he might have just a few short weeks ago, on edge all of the time otherwise.

It's their default state. He's always on edge, but Clementine's familiar face relaxes him into the ghost of a smile.

"Hey, kiddo."

He likes her. What can he say? He's used to her and bumping into her in one way or another. Joel steps back, pulling the door with him to give her room to invite herself in.

"Hi, Joel."

No use in asking if he's busy if he's moving aside to let her in. She enters the room with an appreciative smile, looking around for signs of Tess or Ellie being around. To be honest, out of the three, it's been Joel that's been the easiest to get along with and relate to. Tess was harsh. Ellie didn't know a life before the end of the world. Joel got it, seemed to understand what Clementine went through. Probably because he remembers going through similar stuff, too.

"What are you up to?"

So very little. There's a guitar lying on the couch and half of a cold meal prepared in the kitchen, one part of the big and comfortable 3-bedroom that they wished up immediately. He tries to think up new ones, ones that are well worth it, but it feels like he ran out of ideas some time ago. As good as it is not to want for anything, he gets bored.

Not as bored as Tess, when he watches his partner crawl out of her skin sometimes. Joel is more the picture of long-suffering patience. When that Pinkman kid disappeared and took all his knowledge of meth-making with him, Tess had been frustrated and Joel had been forced to indulge a bit of worrying.

The same with Clementine, and so-- it's always good to see her face.

"Not much. Just me today," Joel drawls, closing the door and watching her check around. He's already walking to the kitchen before he asks, passing by her and touching at the back of her head once when he does, a mindless gesture of affection before he moves on. "Want somethin' to drink?"

Mindless, but Clementine soaks up affection like a sponge. Her smile brightens a little before she starts heading over to the couch.

"Soda?"

She's careful of the guitar as she takes a seat next to it, the pads of her fingers barely ghosting over the strings. The little twangs are pleasant to the ear. It's not surprising that Joel plays the guitar--she think it fits with that accent of his.

She gets to him like nobody else at this castle does, barring the people he already knew. Hell, Joel is barely this causally affectionate with Ellie, a fact that makes him wonder what it is about her.

Ellie's sudden but constant presence had forced plenty of memories to resurface, but Clem's not like any of the kids that grew up in the Quarantine Zones. Watching over her and talking to her makes him feel nostalgic in a different way. Joel takes a seat on the other side of her and his guitar (he doesn't seem to mind her fiddling with the strings), handing her a cold soda.

"Ever learn how to play an instrument?"

She's about the right age for her school to start bugging her about it. That is, before a good chunk of them turned into the Dead.

She takes the soda with a small thank you, taking a careful sip before setting it aside. Joel's imposing, but Clementine's never really been afraid of him, even when he was being violent. Joel was safe. He was a dad once, and she could see it in the way he handled Ellie and in the way he talked to her. Twenty years of monsters couldn't wash it all away. Clementine liked that familiarity that he seemed to have. Not only did he understand where she came from, he understood how to connect.

"No," she replies, shaking her head. "I wanted to learn how to play the flute, I think."

A shrug.

I think. She's already storing those memories somewhere else. Joel wants to encourage that into a habit, silent with nothing but a grim nod.

But then: "Well, I dunno much about flutes, but," and he tilts his head in the direction of the guitar. "I taught Ellie."

The offer is there, unspoken. To be taken or disregarded as she pleases. Kids tend to pick those skills up quick at her age. Tess might protest that it's more important for her to learn how to shoot, and Joel might agree. He remembers how uneasy he'd felt handing Ellie a gun even in the worst of situations. Impersonal weapons paired with her bright and young face.

Joel might agree, but something trips him up. Maybe he's not a smart man, not booksmart or collge educated, but he's not dumb enough to feel that same unease with Clem and not understand where it comes from.

Clementine can read between the lines enough to see the offer, but doesn't immediately take it. There's a lot about Joel she doesn't know. Now might be a chance to ask.

"Is Ellie the only person you've taught?" It's a shot in the dark, but an obvious inquiry.

A shot in the dark that lands on a certain mark. Joel doesn't answer for a pause, mulling over if he wants to or not. He keeps the photo Ellie retrieved for him in his pocket. He remembers accepting it, talking about it a little and how much lighter he'd felt just for that.

"No," he answers, finally. "My, ah, my daughter. Her name was Sarah."

By the time he'd come around with Ellie, it was like she slipped off somewhere when he wasn't looking. By the time he was breezily mentioning hiking trips, crawling an inch out of the stubborn rut he kept himself in, she wasn't as easy to keep track of anymore.

Clem has an active interest that he hasn't betrayed with lies, so he goes past no.

There we go. Clementine feels a little bad, like she baited him into saying it, but she nods and frowns all the same. He'd said he was a father once. Sarah, a girl. She reaches for her soda and lets it rest between her knees so she can focus on not spilling it instead of Joel.

"I'm sorry," she says. Had she said that before? She can't remember. Those early conversations seem so long ago. "I wouldn't mind learning, too. If you don't mind."

And then, she can't help but ask.

"How old was Sarah?"

She had.

"Twelve," he adds, passing a hand over his eyes just once when the memory flashes to the front of his mind. Somehow Joel doesn't feel like he's weighing her down with too much, though he probably should. "It's okay."

It's okay. The same tone he used to talk to Ellie about it, gentle without betraying too much. What else can he say? If it's not okay, then nothing ever will be. She needs to feel like things can be alright, for herself if no one else. He turns his head to look at Clem, because she's around the same age now.

Christ. "I don't mind."

She's glad her parents died first. It's a thought that startles her a bit, even if it's not the first time she thought it. She's always hoped that it was quick and that they didn't have to be too afraid or suffer before things got bad. That they didn't have to worry about her for too long. She wonders if they'd be proud of her for surviving for so long.

"She didn't have a mom?" It's asked carefully, quietly. She'd like to learn more about Joel, but she doesn't want to discover he was like Kenny. He lost Duck and Katjaa in one of the worst ways possible.

And that was about the point he'd stopped before. Joel glances back at his lap and considers his options quietly, once again. Clem isn't just being cautiously respectful, he knows. She's worried about hearing more bad things.

"She left a long time ago," he decides to say.

It sounds strange coming out of his mouth. Joel has only ever spoken to Tess and Tommy about Sarah's mother, and he tries not to think about her much, though he can't help but wonder how she died when he does. It doesn't really matter -- it can't, in order for there to be room enough for everything to fit without coming apart.

"My brother helped me out." Joel offers instead, steering the conversation elsewhere. It's easier: "He's still around."

"In Boston?" She puts her drink aside again in favour of pulling her legs up on the couch, turning to face Joel and the guitar. He deserves her full attention.

She's a good kid. It's a shame what two years alone can hold in store for a person.

"Ah, no," he mumbles, tone laced with something closer to frustration now. An edge there, a little biting and sarcastic when he speaks the last word. "He -- moved."

Joel considers Clementine. He hasn't heard a word from her about this, but asks anyway.

"Any brothers or sisters?" Past or present.

Joel doesn't sound happy about that, so she looks down at the guitar. "I'm sorry you couldn't stick together."

She'd like to think that even five, ten, fifty years into the end of the world, she'd stick with her family no matter what. If she had any to stick with, of course. Anything is better than being alone. Nothing really ever fills that void.

Clem shakes her head at his question. "No, it was just me and my parents. My mom and dad were always busy. They had enough time for me, but that was about it."

It's incredible how much they continue to fight straight through to the end of the world, but maybe it's a sign that some things don't change. They found their way back to each other, thanks to the unexpected mission of moving Ellie, but would it have happened without that?

He wonders what Clem's life was like growing up with her parents, only child. If they'd spent their sparse free time together in the same ways Joel and Sarah had -- probably. Of course. He thinks he can sense that longing, sometimes, when he unconsciously slips back into that mindset and she responds to it.

"They're good for some things, but they'll drive you crazy too." Trying to find the light angle in a conversation with a lot of dead people in it. "But I found him again. We're alright."

Edited 2014-02-14 05:48 (UTC)

"Ben's... sort of like a big brother, if that counts," she admits, a little shyly. Now more than ever she saw what Ben struggled with. He didn't believe in himself or see his own worth. It drove Clem crazy sometimes, made her angry, but she still wouldn't trade him for the world.

She smiles hearing that Joel and his brother were alright. It's good. Her hands goes out to gently pluck at the guitar strings again.

"I'm sorry if I'm making you talk about things that are difficult," she says. "I'm just curious. I know who you are, but I... don't really know a lot about you."

He can see that gangly kid counting. Angry as he was in that moment when the both of them were in danger, he didn't miss the part where Ben tried to look after her. There's a hint of appreciation on his face when she brightens up and reaches for the guitar again, idly plucking at the strings.

"I know," Joel replies. "It's fine. As long as it stays between us."

He gives her a side-look, faint smile returning. "I can trust you with that, right?"

There isn't even a beat of hesitation before she responds.

"You can trust me. I won't tell anyone." Just as she trusts Joel not to tell anyone what she's confided in him.

"Is it okay to ask about Sarah?"

Even if she spoke about matters shared privately, Joel suspects any irritation he felt would flicker away with time. Eleven years old. More importantly, he believes her. He meets her expectant, careful eyes for a moment before busying himself with the guitar.

"If it's not, I'll give you a heads up."

Before biting her head off about it, that is. He tunes the instrument, splitting his focus while covering a few of the basics that he anticipates: "I had her at nineteen. Never went to college, like Lee."

She nods. That sounds fair. The last thing she'd ever want to do is upset Joel by being too nosy or insensitive. She's learned to be decent at stepping around landmines when she's aware of them, so she reminds herself to be careful and considerate, even with his permission to ask questions.

Nineteen is really young to have a baby. That's about Ben's age, isn't it? If Sarah had lived and things maybe not be as bad as they are, Joel could probably be a grandpa by now. It's weird to think about.

He'd be a good one, though.

"Some of my classmates had parents that had them when they were young, I think. They were pretty cool," she says, smiling a little and watching Joel work on the guitar. "They were always fun to talk to."

He can't help a small smile at that. Joel fiddles with the start of a tune and lets it peter out, murmuring something wordless. It's easier to talk about and think about the past if he's busying himself with something as harmless as this. Remembering what a clean conscience feels like will prove impossible, he's sure, but having these little visits with Clementine helps.

"Pretty cool, huh?"

He can almost hear Sarah's voice in his head, scoffing a rebuttal. Yeah, right. And he can picture Clementine that young and charming while chatting up adults, almost too easily.

"I only knew her friends, and I didn't see them too often. There was barely ever any time in the day."

Of course Clementine thinks Joel is pretty cool, but she also thinks Ben is pretty cool, too. Take it with a grain of salt.

"My parents didn't see my friends a lot, either. I think I used to get really upset when they forgot their names, but..." She shakes her head. "I feel like I've forgotten a lot of stuff. Like how my mom would put on her make up in the mornings, or how my dad would have his coffee, too. I have to actually think about it. When I think about them, the first thing that comes to mind is... the last time I saw them."

As walkers. She wishes there were some way she could go back and somehow cut down those two shambling corpses, because the thought that her parents' decaying bodies were still out there somewhere hurt.

She's glad she doesn't have to worry about that with Lee.

Joel realizes that he's staring a couple of seconds after she finishes speaking, dropping his chin with a frown. He wishes he could change it for her -- not just to protect her, but because those words cut close to the bone. There aren't too many people left with similar memories who are also able to be so forthcoming about them. He knows Tess has those blurry spots too, but goddamn, they don't really talk about it. About any of it.

That's mostly Joel's fault, but really, what would be the point? Clem is younger, much younger. Maybe that's why she just says it.

"Yeah, I know what you mean," he says, stilted and stifled. Like it's a real effort, because it is. He has to work really damn hard just to verbalize the truth. "The longer you go on, the hazier it gets."

That's not good news, but what else can he say? Sorry doesn't do a damn thing and he's not going to waste time pretending it'll be different.

"I'm sorry," but he says it anyway. So unlike himself, but she's so young and life is so very long. And if second chances exist, they exist in children like Clementine.

She wonders what Joel's last memories of Sarah are, but she doesn't ask out of not wanting to see him look any more sad than he is That crosses a line. And Clementine's sure one of her hundreds of guesses are correct. Dead is dead, and it doesn't really matter how because it's horrible no matter what, losing someone you love. She just hopes he didn't have to see her turn into something terrible.

"Me, too. I'm sorry, that's... too much." It's comforting to hear that it's normal, but reminding him about the things he's likely forgotten wasn't Clem's intent. "I don't think it makes me a bad daughter, if I can't remember every little thing about them anymore. So... it doesn't make you a bad dad. It's just what we have to do."

They have to keep themselves safe. Sometimes that means letting go of things. Like memories.

He doesn't have time to feel guilty. Or he never used to.

Joel slows to a complete stop with whatever he's trying to do with the guitar, unable to run away from those words. Clementine is such a bright, articulate little kid. He tries to think about that instead of what she's saying, but he keeps revisiting it, his face far away. It doesn't make you a bad dad.

He pinches at the bridge of his nose, squeezing at the corners of his eyes to keep away an annoying, thin film of water. He knows, for Christ's sake. Holding onto too much is a bad idea.

"Yeah," he agrees, voice a little scratchy. He's sure Clem's parents' last thoughts were of her and her safety. They'd been separated at the time -- they must've been worried sick. "Though I dunno if she would even recognize me at this point."

"I wonder that, too. Like... if my parents came here. I don't know how I could tell them that I've killed people. What I've seen, or--any of it, really. Any of it. I'm so different, now." She was no longer an eight year old girl. She was a survivor of something terrible, and spent every day for the past few years trying to stay alive. That meant running, killing, scrambling for any sort of advantage.

She hopes it's a good thing that she still feels guilt, even if she had to do bad things to stay alive. There wasn't a lot of choice left in the world if you wanted to live.

"You saw what a few years did. I told you what I had to do," she glances over at him, frowning. "I'm glad you recognized me, though. And... I know it's been longer for you, but I want to think that Sarah would recognize you, too. You still seem like a dad."

To her, anyway. It's obvious once you look for it.

Joel doesn't look away, as heavy as his face feels. He tries not to think about what Sarah would have had to go through if she lived. About how she'd have to change too, but this is it. This is every kid who made it that night instead of all the ones who didn't.

He doesn't know what to say. That last sentence digs right under his skin, but coming from Clementine, he feels relieved to hear it. A weight off his shoulders. Joel breaks eye contact to rub a hand over the length of his face.

"Thank you," he offers. Very quietly. "Your parents, they, ah, they wouldn't forget you. They wouldn't think bad of you, no matter what you've done. Trust me."

He can say that with confidence, as scratchy as his voice remains. It's like they can speak for the dead through each other, knowing what life on the other side is like and having lost it all from opposite points.

Edited 2014-03-08 20:44 (UTC)

She's not sure how much she believes that, but for Joel's sake she nods. And, even with the guitar in the way, she still scoots in to wrap her arms around his neck in a hug. They could both use one.

She's done that before. He's prepared this time.

Joel moves the guitar all the way to the side and catches Clem in his arms. He can't even pretend it's just for her sake, holding on with a little too much force.

"It's alright, kiddo." But he says it anyway, defaulting to the words he knows best. "Gonna be fine."

"I know." The both of them will be fine. He still hugs like a dad. "Sorry if I made your day weird, that wasn't really what I was planning on doing when I came to visit..."

Sometimes talks like these just happen.

That gets a low laugh out of him, the sound barely anything but air. Joel rubs at her back before loosening his grip. God, she's so little.

"Don't worry, I believe you."

The conversation has helped, honestly, and he can feel it. He's not sure if there's anyone else he could share this much with and feel this easy about it. Even Ellie, who tries, but will never have the perspective of someone born before the outbreak. Even Tess, who does, but both of those relationships are complicated.

"Thanks for takin' the time to visit an old man."

She settles back down into her own seat, but stays close.

"It's not like you're in a retirement home or anything," she replies with a smile. Not even close. "I like visiting you."

More than Tess, more than Ellie. Joel is the easiest to talk to and relate to, which is sort of sad considering the age gap there. But, of course, Clementine doesn't mind.

Compared to Clem, he's ancient. Joel doesn't point that out, though, just shoots her a look that implies it. One that is both fond and amused.

He would agree. Despite their age gap, she's one of the easiest people around here to talk to. Go figure.

"You must, for all the times it's meant runnin' into Tess."

Lee's given her that look a few times, so she knows it well. It's met with a knowing smile.

"It's worth it. I think we're getting along better, now..." Now that she's older, and now that she doesn't take shit as easily or let it get to her. Tess isn't the worst person she's met. "And I guess she can't be that bad if you like her."

Yeah. Clem knows.

Smart little kid. Not that they've done a great job of hiding it. Joel rubs at the back of his neck.

"She's alright," he jokes, dryly. "Glad you're gettin' on better. She's really not as bad as she wants people to think."

Edited 2014-03-14 01:15 (UTC)

"I think she had fun putting make up on me," Clem says, making a face. "Maybe we'll do more stuff like that."

Joel makes a face too. Kid's eleven, Tess. "She put make up on you?" A pause. "Did you like it?"

A foreign activity to him, but hey, if it helps them bond.

Clementine pauses, too.

"Not that much."

Joel moves his hand to his face, hiding a quick and low chuckle under it.

"Well, she tried."

And she might be trying just for his sake. He doesn't want to explain to Clem what their jobs were before and how smuggling almost never involved children. Until the one time it did. He can talk about Sarah a bit, about Tess and Ellie, but he can't talk about any of the in-between that would horrify his own daughter if she was alive.

After seeing how Joel could easily disarm and kill a man, Clementine wouldn't be surprised. Sad, maybe, but not frightened. They all had to do terrible things to survive. You just don't kill dogs Luke had said. She'd killed more than just dogs and walkers. People, too.

What matters is that right now, in this moment, Joel is kind and friendly and safe. She knows he'd fight to keep her safe, just like she'd fight to keep him safe as well.

"It got her points."

He absolutely values certain lives over others. Clementine's would be one of them. He shoots her a side-glance, smirking as he as says something completely unlike himself but true.

"Don't tell anyone else, but I like bein' your favorite."

Joel knows that out of Tess and Ellie both, he's won that title. He just knows.

Clementine laughs. He's right, he's the favorite, and she can't see that changing anytime soon. Sure, he reminds her of what she's lost--a father, even her surrogate--but he's a reminder of what could be. She could survive.

And it's comforting to know that should Lee ever leave, there would be someone she could rely on to take care of her. She knows by now that she can take care of herself, but that doesn't mean she doesn't want someone to fill in that role.

"I figured it was obvious."

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