The Last Of Us (Fanfic)

Joel Lives Pt. 15

Owen felt conflicted as he silently got in the back of the truck with Danny. Looking back at the FOB, at everyone he knew, he still wondered what it was all for - how so much killing could be avoided if they had kept to the agreement. He could remember the day they all made it to Washington after what happened in Salt Lake, how quiet everyone was, how on edge. it took a little over thirteen days for them to make it to Seattle, he remembered how quiet Abby was the whole way, and how hard it was for her to leave him in a grave she'd never be able to visit. The journey was harsh as the heat of summer was bearing down on them and emotions were high as everyone had to decide what they would do and where they would go. When word went out over all frequency's about what happened there, all the people they had lost, and the girl who was the answer to a cure was taken, there were mixed reactions. Some wanted to go after them and keep trying till they found her or someone like her, which would've been impossible to do as she was a once-in-a-lifetime miracle. Some decided to leave and try to integrate themselves back into the zones, maybe find what was left of their families and friends, while others chose to opt-out. He'd be lying if he said he hadn't contemplated the same, but it wasn't an option.
The system broke down after that, and the fireflies dispanded as they no longer felt there was a reason to continue the crusade without anything to show for it, their rebellion had ended and most zones were long abandoned. Settlements had popped up all over the country, some less popular the others, but the one that stood out to Owen's group was a settlement in Washington called the Washington Liberation Front. They'd heard about the group before, about how they'd taken out FEDRA and developed their own community which was run by an ex-military guy called Isaac and an ex-firefly named Marcus. He remembered how Marlene talked about them, how impressed and frustrated she was that others were making more progress than their group ever had, of course, Abby's dad would say that just because they accomplished something doesn't mean they did so the right way. He also remembered how Abby rolled her eyes when he said things like that, commending the guy she'd never met for what he had accomplished, in a way she idolized him through the stories.

After Salt Lake, there wasn't a lot of discussion that needed to be had about where to go, those who had their own plan had left before anyone could stop them and those who decided to stay with Abby knew that one day they'd find the smuggler and make him pay. Apart from how they felt for Abby and her loss, the idea of revenge was what kept them going over those next few months. At the beginning of their thirteen-day-long journey, they started with seventeen people and made it there with ten. When everyone started to settle into their new way of life in Seattle, it got easier for most of them to almost forget about what happened, or at the very least overlook it and move on as there appeared to be a new threat. For a while, Owen rationalized it as self-defense, the same as what they did in Denver, Boston, and anywhere else against FEDRA. But it didn't take long for the lines to get blurred, and it started when they found members of their group hanging from a bridge with their stomachs open. This wasn't something new, but it broke something, as it was a couple they all knew that had recently been married and taken on an orphaned child of their own. But here they were, hanging from a bridge like they were nothing because they'd gotten too close to an outpost. That's when age didn't matter anymore; the next day they found outposts that were full of families packing up to leave and slaughtered them all. Owen and Abby were a part of that and unlike Abby, Owen couldn't simply get over what they had done, what they were going to do - but then the agreement came and he felt relief. But deep down, he knew it wouldn't last and he also knew that the scars weren't the ones who shot first.

Now, he was in the back of a truck with Danny who didn't know when to shut up about the things he planned to do once they got to where they were going. He talked about the most grotesque things when it came to outsiders, scars, or even deserters - people they knew but just couldn't take this place anymore. Owen understood - he actually found himself hopeful that they made it out so that maybe one day he'd be just as lucky. After the newest firefly had joined a few weeks ago, he heard that they were regrouping and trying to find a reason to fight again, to make things better. And he realized that since Salt Lake, he'd lost the light... They all had, and he needed to find it again for himself and even for his kid so that maybe there would be a better world for him or her by the time he came back. For the most part, this was all wishful thinking, but he worked on the boat any chance he got as if the plan was already set in motion - maybe it was and he just didn't want to admit it.

"Hey man, did you hear me?" Danny asked, shaking Owen by the shoulder.

"What?"

Danny chuckled, "We're almost there. Are you with us?"

"Y-yeah, sorry. Didn't sleep well."

"Wait, you get to sleep?" He asked with a straight face before he started to laugh.

Danny was the type that always had to one-up you with anything. He'd constantly play the 'who has it worse' game, but in reality, he'd grown up here and sure, he'd lost his folks when he was a kid, but he had a decent life. Always trying to stand out to Isaac and get his approval, but even Isaac saw something in Danny that was... Unhinged. That's why he always put him in rotation to clear scar outposts as he had no moral compass to prevent him from getting the job done. Unlike others who'd just desensitized themselves to it, that didn't mean they didn't feel it later. The suicide rate was high for those constantly in these rotations as they couldn't get placed anywhere else, and even if they did it was hard to function.

Today, they were instructed to infiltrate a scar campsite on the northeast side of town, not far from the beach. With the roadblocks, it had taken them almost an hour to get there, and when they did it was quiet - Owen fell into his role as he led the group up the hill and into an apartment building that had scar adornments on the outside, windchimes and a prophet painting by the front door. They could hear them inside talking and laughing, the sound made him pause just to listen and he asked himself, 'Why am I here?'. Then Danny tapped him on the shoulder, urging him to go inside, and he did with reluctance.

They had been eating, sitting around a makeshift fire pit in an apartment down the hall on the ground floor. They were a group of six and Owen and Daddy stood outside the door and the rest quietly ascended the stairs to the upper floors; Danny could barely stay still as he shifted with excitement. He went in before Owen gave the go-ahead and there sat three men around the fire, holding bowls of food - one an old man, and the other two were barely out of their teens.
Shock and fear came over them, the old man didn't waste time as he dropped his bowl and went for his gun, but Danny thwacked him over the head before he could even get to the trigger. He fell to the ground and watched along with Owen as Danny killed the other two without so much as blinking between each compressed shot. The man just stared at him, waiting for him to do something - his gun was right there and he didn't even go for it, he just wanted it to be over. He was tired, and so was Owen.

"Kill him already."

Owen didn't move, staring into the eyes of this man, and he just felt it - the break - something unspoken between them, a mutual understanding.

He couldn't kill him.

Danny scoffed, "Fine, I'll do it." He said, and stood beside Owen with his rifle raised, ready to pull the trigger.

"No, don't!" He said, and pushed the rifle away from Danny, making it clatter to the floor.

He pulled his pistol and aimed it at Owen, but Owen went for it and they wrestled to the floor, grunting as Danny yelled at Owen to get off of him. Then a shot rang out through the room, alerting the other floors of their presence and making all hell break loose while Owen and Danny just stayed frozen, unsure of who shot or received the bullet.

Owen got off Danny and saw the blood pooling under him as the realization settled on his face. "What did you do?" Danny asked.

Owen still held the gun in his hand as panic set in. What had he done? He looked at the old man who now lay dead on the ground, his eyes open and void of him. Danny had shot him before Owen had a chance to knock the rifles out of his hands, and now Danny was shot and the rest of his team was dead. Owen ran before he even realized what he was doing, hearing more than four pairs of footsteps descend the stairs after him as he ran to the truck and hopped in the driver's seat, and drove away as quickly as he could. But he didn't go back to the FOB, he decided that he could no longer wait in his wishful thinking, that time was over. It was time for him to fix the boat and say goodbye to Seattle, and possibly everyone else he's ever known.