When It Ends For You, It Ends For Me

The Beginning of the End

"Ellie!"

"Joel?"

The room she opened her eyes to was made of ancient yellow stone, with soaring archways and granite floors. Moss grew plentifully in the cracks of the stone, and small vines hung from the arches. It looked like something from a lost world, and she sat up, carefully, lip curling at the slimy surface beneath her. She walked around for a moment, unsure of where she was exactly.

"Joel?"

"Ellie!"

"I can't see you," she called back, moving toward the voice. "Joel? I'm over by the arches."

"Ellie!"

"Joel, come on, I'm right here! This place is not that big! Eyesight's going, old man."

"Ellie!"

She left the arched room behind and entered a corridor lined with small alcoves. Some were empty and some had odd vases and artwork posed in them. "Joel? Where are we? It looks like something out of an old movie. Not bad, but not my style, if you know what I mean."

"Ellie!"

"Joel? I'm right here, stop the damn yelling and get over here."

His voice was right there, and yet she still couldn't see him.

"I can't see you! Joel?"

"Ellie! I am right here!"

She fell to her knees, panic overtaking her. From the cracks in the stone slowly crept long green tendrils, reaching toward her hands and biting into her skin, running through her veins, and into her neck. Her vision began to blur as they scrambled around in her brain, making her feel like throwing up. "Joel! Help me!" This time her tone was desperate, frightened.

The sound of a step to her right caught her attention and she looked up. There stood Joel, face lined and drawn with dismay, fear, disgust - a gleaming black pistol aimed directly at her face. "I am sorry, Ellie."

"Joel?"

"Goodbye Ellie."

"No! No! Joel! Don't!"

A blinding flash of light seared into her eyes, and she woke, sitting up quickly. Thunder rolled outside and another streak of lightning seared across the sky. The curtains at the window shifted slightly as the smell of rain drifted into her consciousness. Her breath caught in her throat, and she slowly realized that she was gasping for air, and the room was incredibly hot.

A summer rainstorm. Nothing more.

Hands suddenly stopped her voluntary flight from the bed, and she looked around the room, blinking aching eyes. It was home, Joel's room to be exact. He sat right there beside her, staring at her with those haunted eyes, gently pushing her back down onto the cool sheets.

"Rest, Ellie, it's just a nightmare. Your fever is really high, and it is making you restless. You might see things that are not reality. That's okay, just remember they aren't real, none of it is real."

"You - you shot me." She whispered softly and his stomach dropped. Nightmare or no, he couldn't imagine doing that in any capacity, yet fate seemed determined to prove to him that the soldier so long ago had meant well – to prove that he was really no better than the man he judged for taking his daughter from him.

"Just lightning, Ellie. Told you, fevers make you see things that could never be."

"Yeah," she whispered softly, settling back into the covers. Her eyes stayed half open for a long time, before finally succumbing to the pull of sleep. There was something about his tone that unsettled her, but she was too exhausted to think about it.