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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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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