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Ellie, despite all of the love and joy she has with Joel, is a nervous kid. She always stands just a step behind him, sharp eyes flitting around any room she is ever in. Tommy never misses the way they land on him, the slight narrowing in suspicion, the glance at Joel for reassurance.
She circles around him whenever they are in the same room together, wary but not running, with just that barest bit of unease that tenses her shoulders and has her shifting closer to his brother. He doesn't really mind, though. Who is he to judge his niece (she's definitely his niece, because even though Joel has yet to call her his daughter, it’s evident to everybody but themselves what it is that they mean to each other) for being mistrustful of what is, virtually, a stranger. It's barely been a week since they returned, and she's hardly more than a scrap of a girl — skinny, jumpy, and with hackles perpetually raised to anybody that isn't Joel.
Tommy doesn't know what Ellie has been through, or what has changed in the months since they first arrived at Jackson dam those months ago. It's crossed his mind, of course, he's worried about the pair from the moment that they disappeared under the crest of the slope on horseback, and hasn't stopped worrying about them even though they're home. He knows that Joel was injured, incapacitated for a time during the winter, but hasn't heard a word from Ellie, and barely anything about her from Joel. His brother is cagey about details, unwilling to disclose much about what happened to the kid while on their journey to the Fireflies.
He doesn’t really have to guess. Tommy knows what the world is like, with its Infected and bandits and worse. The world that they live in will take and take and take from anybody living in it, without mercy for even the young girls living in it. In fact, it's often crueler to them. So much crueler. And Tommy Miller is no idiot, no stranger to men that will take all that they can get from vulnerable girls alone in the snow.
Ellie seems to lose herself in her own head sometimes, drifting away to somewhere he can't see as her body slows and her eyes go distant. Joel reminds her of the present with a touch, a word, a nudge to her shoulder, and she returns with a sheen in her face and some wide-eyed revery. The man is everything to her, and she keeps him so close that they are often almost touching.
And as for Joel, there is no denying the adoration that he has for the girl at his side. He holds her with tenderness that Tommy has not seen in twenty years, kisses her forehead with a sweetness that seems almost foreign from lips that have shouted and spat and bitten. Words come naturally and easily to him, murmured gently into a small ear. Even aloud it seems softer, the sharp edge that always crept in now smoothed over. His very face is changed in the sense that his gaze no longer feels painful to meet, and instead he finds himself face to face with the eyes of affection. It is strange to see his brother like this again after so long of him being a bitter husk of himself, but he would be lying if he said that this wasn't what he had wanted the whole time.
He doesn't guard Ellie from him, but Tommy notices the way that he acts as a middleman for him and Maria sometimes. And everybody else, too. It's always Ellie at his back, keeping watch on his six as he talks to somebody new. A practiced position, familiar and comfortable as she stays on his right. His eyes and ears, Tommy thinks fondly when he sees it. He wonders if Joel has told her about what happened, then stops wondering.
When he walks in once to Ellie and Joel in their own house, though, she is placed firmly to his left, speaking. Not nearly as animatedly as she had been before, as he notices with a pang of sadness. He doesn't imagine that Ellie has had much time to process anything that has happened, what with all of the traveling and fighting they must have done (shown by new scars on their faces and hands, some still red and others beginning to fade already).
They've been eating together as a family — the new Miller family — for a few days now, and those mealtimes along with the walks to the dining hall are the most he usually sees of Ellie. Joel comes to Tommy’s house most days for about twenty minutes at a time to discuss something or other, but Ellie remains squirreled inside the house, as if she is hiding from the world. Neither of them will be put on any work duty yet, what with them just arriving and Joel’s wound still being relatively new. He insists that it's healed, but Tommy doesn't miss the way he winces when he raises his arms or leans over, nor the instinctive way that his hand settles against his side. It's impressive, how good of a recovery he seems to have made despite every unfavorable circumstance (including apparently his only caretaker being fourteen years of age). When he'd asked, Joel had gotten a faraway look in his eyes and murmured that it had been all Ellie’s doing, “She fought like hell.” And left it at that.
Tommy doesn’t need details. Ellie’s business is her own, and he’s not one to pry. But it hurts somewhere deep in his chest to think of all of the pain that she’s endured, everything she must’ve had to fight tooth and nail through to get out of. She’s still so small, so young, and protectiveness aches something fierce inside him.
It only makes sense for her to be uncomfortable, despite everything that he and Maria try to do to make it not so. He won't force his fondness onto her, won't pretend that she has no reason to be afraid. She's just a kid.
Ellie keeps her distance, but Tommy doesn't mind. She will come to him when she is ready, and only when she is ready. He can wait.
—
Tommy doesn't expect her to come around quite so literally. It's been more than a month since she arrived, and over the past weeks he thinks they've got some kind of relationship going on. She snickers at most of his jokes, looks him in the eye when they talk, and even sits next to him at the table instead of Joel. Once. Sort of.
Ellie talks to him, straightforward and direct and without all the flair that she sometimes reserves for Joel, but they talk nonetheless. She brought out her joke book over dinner one night, much to his brother’s delight. The girl giggled before even reading it out, and Tommy felt his heart swell just hearing it. Her laugh was a pure, sweet sound devoid of the weight that lingered in her every word, that dragged her limbs down to the hard earth. It caught him a little off guard, and he realized faintly that it was the first time he had heard her like this. Joel seemed a little stunned too, but when their eyes met, all Tommy could see was an endless, aching adoration for his girl.
With each day that passes, the mist that shrouds his niece seems to burn away ever so slightly, etches of personality and spark coming to life before him. It’s a wonder to witness, to see her overcome and return from whatever hell lay in Colorado, and slowly he learns more about this miracle girl. During the second week, he discovered that she was an artist, and the very next day he brought her a blank notebook and a collection of pens. Tommy has always loved to give gifts when he could, but sometimes he can’t help but feel like he’s buying (not literally, since money doesn’t exist anymore) Ellie’s affections. The feeling is dispelled when she shyly passes him a torn out page with a sketch of him on a horse. He beams at her and she ducks behind Joel, but she’s definitely starting to warm up to him. He wonders how much she trusts him, then, to want to present him her work. The thought comforts him, and he sticks the page on the corkboard in his house.
From what little he has seen, Ellie is a perfect girl. He knew that she was perfect from the second that he saw her with Joel, saw how much had changed in his big brother and how desperate he was to keep her safe. She’s even tempered, funny, and so incredibly sweet that he doesn’t even need to question for a second how it was that a man like Joel learned to love again in her presence. Anybody that could help his brother like that… well, he’d give them his whole heart.
It’s why it shocks him half to death when she appears on his porch one afternoon, pounding on the door.
He heaves himself from his spot on the couch where he was fiddling with his scope (despite Maria groaning constantly about him getting grease on the cushions, which isn’t even remotely true) to open it, wondering who the hell is knocking so fiercely while he's on his day off. Tommy swings the door open, an eyebrow already raised, and finds himself face to face with none other than little miss Ellie, dripping blood from her arm.
It takes a long second for him to even process what he is seeing, eyes jumping from her face to the arm to her face again. “Ellie?”
Her eyes are rimmed red and she’s sniffling, looking every bit the scared kid that she must be, with what looks like a massive fucking burn on her forearm. She presents the injury to him, whimpers when he takes it as carefully as he can in his hands.
“Ellie, what happened?” He fights to keep the panic out of his voice, tries to smooth out his face so as not to scare her, but damn is it a nasty wound. As he lifts it a little higher to inspect, he notices the acrid, stinging scent of… bleach?
Ellie’s lip wobbles, her other hand wipes at her eyes. “Burns,” she murmurs, and it spurs him into action, wrapping an arm around her and leading her in.
“Okay, honey, let’s wash this off, okay?” They make their way through the house, and he figures that she must be in shock, with how easily she lets herself be pulled and her glossy, vacant look.
Tommy doesn't remember much from middle school science, but one thing that’s stayed with him is always, always putting chemical burns under running water. And, well, he's burned his hand enough times while cooking to know that it helps too. He brings Ellie to the sink, twists the faucet up to a gentle stream, and guides her arm under the cool water.
She whimpers at the contact, pulling her arm back before Tommy tightens his grip on her wrist and keeps it firmly in the flow. “I'm sorry, darlin’, I know it hurts but we gotta wash this off, alright? Then we're gonna get you all fixed up.”
Ellie makes another sound but doesn't fight, allowing him to hold her in place. Tommy chews on his tongue, thoughts racing a mile a minute. God, what had she done? And of course she did it on the one day that Joel was gone — away on his first patrol of Hoback, and he wouldn't be back until evening. Damnit, Ellie.
And Joel… Joel was gonna fuckin’ kill him. Letting Ellie get hurt (even though it wasn't his fault, how the hell was he supposed to expect the girl was gonna burn her damn arm off with cleaning supplies, of all things) was going to result in at the very least some kind of verbal beating. Joel had always been overprotective, but a chemical burn? Sarah had never pulled any kind of stunt like that. Oh, he was screwed.
Tommy fixes his attention back on Ellie, watching the red of her forearm fade ever so slightly. Small victories. A few more minutes pass before he deems it long enough, his body itching to drag her to the clinic. His gaze lands on her pale face, sees her stare helplessly at her damaged arm. “You feeling alright?”
“Uh-huh.”
He nods, not thoroughly convinced, and puts a tighter arm around her. “Let's get you to the clinic, alright?”
They don't make it to the door before Ellie’s legs give way beneath her, knees buckling.
“Whoa there,” he says, catching her before she hits the ground. Poor girl, how didn't he notice that she was five steps from falling over? “I got ya. Can you walk?”
She nods, and promptly tips over again. Tommy grabs hold of her again, shaking his head.
“Alright, little miss. C’mere, I’m gonna pick you up, okay? We're gonna go to the clinic, and I’m gonna get your daddy home. That sound alright?”
He makes sure to dictate every part of his plan, wary of the fact that this trust that she's extending to him is still fragile, like the tail end of that glass drop. The last thing he wants to do is spook her or make her think him a liar, but at the same time, he really wants to get her looked at by somebody that actually knows what they're doing.
She nods in assent, but he's not sure how much of what he said was actually understood. “Ohhh-kay. I've got you.” Tommy scoops her into his arms, her weight disturbingly light for a growing girl. They start out the door and down the porch, trekking the short distance between his home and the makeshift hospital. All the while, he continues to worry and fret and agonize on what the hell even happened, considering the fact that she still hasn't given him a proper answer as to why she was even playing with such dangerous chemicals anyway. Ellie isn't stupid, and she was raised in the QZ. Surely she knows what bleach can do to flesh.
She startles him for a second time that day by leaning against him, settling in the crook of his neck. Tommy blinks, before a small smile spreads across his face despite himself. “Okay, Ellie. Almost there.”
The two of them receive a couple of strange looks as they walk down the road but are uninterrupted on their journey. It only takes a couple of minutes for him to make it to the clinic, and once he does it seems that he is just flooded with a million and one questions from doctors and assistant staff. He shields Ellie from all of it, answering curtly, and only places her down onto a cot once he insists that somebody find Joel.
Tommy stays within reach as Henrietta cleans the wound and a trainee injects Ellie with a (carefully measured and checked over) sedative painkiller. The girl looks up to him and he nods encouragingly, feeling so incredibly proud of how brave she's being. She flinches only slightly when the wipe is pressed to her skin, and remains still as layers of clean white gauze are wrapped neatly over the oozing blood.
It's all over in a matter of minutes, and soon enough, Ellie is posted up in a nearby room to rest. He enters with her, halfheartedly mourning what would have been his ‘fun uncle’ status. Not much fun when he's snapping at clinic staff and taking care of chemical burns on his off days. Well, hopefully this is just a one time thing. He can go back to ragging endlessly on his big brother once Ellie is okay. Plus, he would much rather have her come to him than stay in the house on her own. If she hadn't come out, and just kept in the house while injured, scared and alone until Joel returned? It could've ended so much worse.
She extends her uninjured arm to him, and it takes a moment for him to recognize the gesture. Twenty years, it's been, since somebody reached out like that to him. Still, he takes his chair and moves it to the bed, lets her wrap her fingers around his. Her touch is warm and childlike, and he can feel her pulse threading through thin skin. Tommy holds her carefully, like her bones will shatter with too much force. He rests his arm on the mattress so that she can lay comfortably, takes a couple of deep breaths. She's okay.
Ellie’s blinks grow slower, but her gaze turns to him, searching his face for safety. He gives her a smile, and dares to let his other hand ghost her face, gently sweeping the sweat-slicked hair from her forehead. “It's alright, honey. I've gotcha.”
Her eyes finally close, and Tommy watches as her soft features settle into something peaceful, unburdened. “I've gotcha.” He murmurs once more, sighing loosely into his seat. This girl was going to be the death of him, really.
He's not sure how much time passes, but he remains at Ellie’s side the whole time, hand in hand. When Joel arrives, there is no secret or subtlety. Tommy hears his brother’s frantic shouting from the moment that he enters the building, hears every furious bootstep on the way to their room until the flimsy door bangs open to reveal a heaving, agitated Miller.
The man doesn't spare Tommy a glance, moving swiftly towards his kid’s side. Ellie stirs, her whole face scrunching as slitted eyes open. An incoherent groan escapes her, and Joel hushes her instantly, cupping her chin. “I'm here, baby, it's okay.”
Tommy watches them move like two pieces fitting together, filling the temporary absence with words he can hardly make out and feather-light touches. It's only then that Joel looks up from her, eyes flickering first to the hand that holds his before landing on Tommy. He shoots him a look, an accusatory eyebrow, but neither are able to get a word in because Ellie whines a high, keening sound that has them both face her, immediately seeking to soothe. Joel presses a kiss to her forehead and Tommy runs his thumb along Ellie’s, and they are united once more in their love for Joel’s daughter.
Joel talks properly to her once she's a little more lucid and has let go of Tommy’s hand, worry thick in his voice when he asks her what happened. Ellie makes a face and twists to look at her wrapped arm. Her eyes well up and Joel is immediately pulling her close into his chest as she cries. “I'm sorry, I’m really sorry.” The words are muffled by his shirt, and a large hand wraps around her back, brushing the nape of her neck until she calms. Joel moves so easily, like every little action is instinct and memory.
“Uncle Tommy helped me.” She mumbles suddenly, and Tommy swears that he finally understands the grinch, for he really does feel like his heart has grown three sizes just then. Uncle Tommy. He hasn't heard that name in a long, long time.
His brother seems surprised when he hears this too, but the expression melts quickly into a warm smile. “Okay, baby.” It doesn't stop him from sending another sharp look in his direction, though, and it's almost all Tommy can do to not roll his eyes. Typical.
He clears his throat and gets to his feet when Ellie is finally let go, flashing a quick wave. “Well, I'll leave you both be.” He says, stepping to the door. His brother gives a dismissive shake, then a moment of eye contact and a nod of gratitude.
Tommy slips out the door, but not before catching one last glimpse of them. Ellie is still leaned against Joel’s shoulder, almost cherubic in appearance despite all of the grief she'd just given him. He smiles as he walks down the hall, because he has his family again and really, he wouldn't have it any other way.