Chapter Text
Part 1 (Stagnation)
The sound of the door closing behind her back makes her feel like she’s fracturing, splitting into pieces, trying desperately to hold herself together, wiping at the tears that burn her eyes.
Dina tries to steel herself, breathing softly, soaking in the pain, focus on JJ, he’s upstairs, keep it together for JJ.
She almost doesn’t hear it. A distant growl, half a groan, low and tortured. Ellie.
And then Dina is sobbing, wails that grow in pitch, in volume, guttural and chilling.
She turns then, striding to the back door and resting on her hand against it; chest heaving she can see her hand trembling but she cannot feel it, she only feels the heat of the tears on her face and the biting chill of her rattling breaths.
Dina wants to know if Ellie is still crying, groaning, struggling outside. Is she as tortured as I am?
Dina shudders. She walked away, this was her choice.
Do not go outside.
She doesn’t know how long she waits, shaking at the door, holding herself back while trying to hold herself together. She finally falls silent, biting back whimpers, and allowing her tears to fall freely. Her shoulder aches, the scar almost feels like it’s opened, deep and painful and raw.
Eventually there is only silence. Dina strains to hear Ellie as she leaves, as she walks away from her and from their family, but she hears nothing. Has she already left?
--
Just when Dina’s hand lifts from the door, her back stiff, the cold settled in her bones, she hears it. Footsteps.
Her eyes watch through the screen door, almost unseeing, as Ellie shuffles into view. She looks haggard, as exhausted as Dina feels, like she’s aged through the moments apart, hours apart, through the night.
The bag drops from Ellie’s shoulder carelessly, thumping to the ground beside her. She walks forward, eyes down, pressing her hand against the door’s edge, almost exactly against Dina’s, and Dina can feel it.
Dina rests her forehead against the screen door, feeling Ellie’s against her as the other girl mirrors her actions.
Neither speaks.
Dina hears JJ faintly; he’s awake and calling for her. She shouldn’t have left him alone for this long in their bed. He is almost seven months old now, not yet crawling but able to wiggle and reach. He could have fallen. He could fall.
Ellie’s eyes flick up and meet hers. They radiate shame, but also concern. She knows the same thoughts are going through Ellie’s head.
“I cannot do this again,” Dina says quietly, too firm to be soft. It’s harsh and judging, and everything she doesn’t want to be. She pulls away, her hand sliding down to the door’s handle, tugging it open slightly, an offering, for Ellie to take.
She doesn’t wait to see what Ellie decides as she walks upstairs to find JJ.
--
By the time Dina comes back downstairs, her heart is calmer. JJ is settled, once again tucked into bed, in the cot this time, and she feels slightly more put together. Ellie is sitting at the dining table, shoulders slumped, back to her.
And Dina approaches slowly.
“I’m sorry,” Ellie’s voice rasps.
“I said if you loved me, you would stay,” Dina says carefully, crossing the room to stand opposite Ellie, arms folded around her sides, like she’s trying to hold the pieces of herself together, keep her spine from crumpling under the weight.
“I am staying,” Ellie says quietly, eyes looking up to meet Dina’s.
Dina presses her hands on the table in front of her, leaning forward to look more closely at Ellie. “I don’t believe you,” she replies, hating herself for how vulnerable her voice sounds.
Ellie sobs dryly, brokenly, her chest heaving like she’s received a sharp blow to her back.
“I don’t,” Dina says again. “You- I-” She sighs. “I don’t believe you.”
Ellie nods jerkily, reaching out as though to touch one of Dina’s hands reassuringly but Dina pulls back.
“I need to get some sleep,” Dina says then, rubbing at her eyes as though they are only tired and not weepy. She looks at Ellie appraisingly, soaking her in like it’s the last time she’ll see her and feeling almost certain that it is. “I’m going to bed,” she turns her back on Ellie then, willing herself to walk away and stumbling upstairs before Ellie can hear her softly begin to cry.
--
Dina sleeps longer than she thought she would, and she can see from the sun outside that it must be close to midday now. JJ’s crib is empty, but she can hear him distantly downstairs.
She takes a long shower, stretching out her neck muscles. She feels like she can feel her bones creaking as she moves. She wants the water to wash away her memories of last night but she knows it won’t. She feels like she didn't sleep at all, like she's still downstairs, waiting at the door.
She feels like she’s reeling from both Ellie’s cruelty and her own. Was I cruel?
She left, didn’t she?
But she didn’t?
Ellie still looks haggard when she comes downstairs. She’s in the loungeroom, sitting on the couch with JJ sitting back against her chest. She’s reading him a book, voice quiet but playful, slipping into different characters for him. He’s giggling, hands reaching for the page, trying to trace the animals but effectively just placing his hands against them.
Dina lingers in the doorway, watching, wondering if Ellie had slept at all. Probably not if she got JJ up before he woke me, she muses.
Ellie looks up after several minutes, eyes still apologetic and wide, red rimmed, and Dina can’t stand to look at them.
She leaves them to it, going to the kitchen and finding a plate set out for her already. Ellie had made her breakfast.
They don’t talk at all that day.
When Dina retreats to bed that night, Ellie sleeps on the couch downstairs, words unspoken.
--
Ellie approaches her the next day, eyes low, holding out a journal for Dina to take.
Dina doesn’t know if she wants it.
“Please,” Ellie says quietly, pleading and soft.
Dina lets Ellie take JJ for most of the day, withdrawing herself and hiding away in bed, sitting up against the headboard and just looking at the journal.
It takes her a while to finally open it.
She flips through the pages of drawings, pages of her smiling, of JJ slowly growing, and of moths. Endless moths. Small snippets of pain and worry.
Happened again. Got rid of the images pretty quickly, but my skin hurt the rest of the morning. I gave up trying to go back to sleep, Dina stayed up with me. When will this stop?
The accounts are interspersed with attempted pictures of Joel, never smiling, lips pressed firmly together, almost disapproving. Some attempts were barely entertained, but they all featured scratched out eyes. Dina can feel on some pages where Ellie had pressed so hard the page had torn.
I don’t know how Dina talks so easily about Jesse. She tells JJ all about him. She thinks it’d be good for me to talk about Joel. To get it out. When she says that it makes the memories sound like food poisoning. I don’t want to talk about it. It’s just gonna hurt. And I think once I’d start I wouldn’t be able to stop.
Dina tries to take her time with reading, tries to take them in, to cherish the chance at the insight, tries to marry the entries with her time with Ellie; how many of these dark moments did she not even witness? How many times was Ellie left to cry alone?
Took JJ on a ride today. He laughed the whole time. I almost didn’t think about Seattle all day. It was nice.
Dina smiles brittlely; she knows this pain and hurt has been an undercurrent of their relationship for a long time. Moments of levity, peace and happiness shining through the birth of their son – but it’s always just been a distraction for Ellie.
It happened again. I was hunting this boar and I’d cornered it in this old gas station. It was bleeding out, screaming. Sounded like him. Then I couldn’t get the images out of my head. I left it there, dying. My skin hurts.
Dina consumes the words almost ravenously, unable to count the number of times she had wondered what Ellie was writing. She had never been tempted to ask or to check, knowing Ellie needed an outlet, and too afraid expressing interest would lead to Ellie somehow becoming more repressed.
When does it get quiet?
Time was supposed to
Suffocate the urge…Extinguish the desire…
Suffocate the desire…
Extinguish?
Haunted by your stare smiles
The mask keeps getting heavier
It’s sliding off my faceOne step forward, two steps back
There’s a noose around my neck
And the further I get
the tighter It’s harder and harder to breathe
Can I find a way to cut the cord rope cord?
I’ve been waiting for dawn
But the light is all gone
I’ve lost the lightDon’t know if I’m already
Blind…
Can I leave it all behind?
Dina’s fingers tremble as she traces the words, as she traces the moths, the cracked watch face, the braid of the woman haunting Ellie. She knows this was written in the last few days. She knows this was close to the night before last. When Ellie attempted to leave it all behind, to leave her behind.
She’s crying now, almost silently, gasping for air, hands shaky and clenched, gripping the notebook tightly, too tightly; she half tears the page.
She looks at the words again, anger hot and overwhelming, and feels it in her bones.
Can I leave it all behind?
She tears the page out, scrunching it up and clasping it so firmly in her fist that she can feel the moment her nails split the skin of her palm.
She discards it then, throwing the page on the floor beside the bed and pressing her fists against her eyes. She’s trying to hold back a scream.
This moment feels viscerally unsettling, she wishes it was cathartic to gain this insight but it just feels like a cold hand has reached into her chest and cracked open her rib cage, like all of her doubts are being dragged out from deep inside of her, bones rattled, skin prickling.
The rest of the book is empty, blank pages staring up at her.
She doesn’t know how long she spends rereading the pages; it’s almost dark when she gets out of bed. She stares at the page on the floor for several long moments before lifting it, trying to press it down and smooth it out, like it could somehow be uncrumpled, like she could somehow restore it. Some things cannot be fixed, she tells herself darkly.
It’s then that she realises Ellie had written on the other side. Another poem, surrounded by moths, and a single Hamsa symbol.
Is staying better?
Can I swallow this regret sad shame?
Can I give them what’s left of me?
Is it mine to give?
Do I have anything to give?
Can I offer her scraps?
Rust and iron, brittle and frayed.
Or will I make them sick;
Corrode their insides, cripple poison them?
I could be in the ocean,
Lost in the waves,
Left to drift,
Until the iron smell is gone,
Until I am battered and broken
Ready to dissipate sink cease
Would that be better for them?
The final line is almost illegible, crossed out repeatedly, and Dina can see how the ink has blurred from tear stains that are not her own.
She takes another steadying breath, and she smooths the page one more time, tucking it into the journal and closing it firmly. She holds the book tightly to her chest as she walks downstairs.
She places the journal on the dining table, looking tiredly at Ellie feeding JJ his dinner. She knows her eyes are puffy, cheeks tearstained and flushed; her head feels like it’s pounding and her throat is so dry it aches.
She runs her fingers through JJ’s hair, trying to smile at him but failing, and she lingers there for a moment. Only a foot from Ellie, and she can tell from how Ellie’s actions falter and her hands twitch that the other girl wants to reach for her.
Dina sighs, dips her chin like an acknowledgement, her hand fleetingly brushing Ellie’s back, before she retreats again.
I need to keep it together.
--
That night after JJ is tucked soundly in bed, Dina gathers the scraps of her courage together to face Ellie.
She searches for several moments, unable to find Ellie in the lounge room or at the dining table or on the front porch. She does find her though. Back slumped against the kitchen counter, legs splayed out in front of her; there’s an unopened bottle of beer beside her and she’s fiddling with her bracelet. My bracelet.
Dina takes the drink, placing it back into the fridge before sitting down across from her, her legs crossed underneath her.
They’re both fidgeting with their hands, two sets of eyes wary and fatigued. Trying.
“We aren’t okay,” Dina says quietly.
Ellie nods, eyes trained on Dina’s face. Dina can almost physically feel how much Ellie is pleading for her touch.
“I want to be, though,” Dina continues, her head dropping back on the wall behind her with a soft thud, eyes on the ceiling. “I want us to be okay.”
Ellie shifts, half crawling to sit beside Dina now, and the inch between them feels like it burns.
“I-” Dina’s voice shakes. “I feel like you’ve had one foot outside the door this whole time.”
Say something.
“Like you’re- like you were going through the motions with me until you finally left.”
Please, Ellie, say something.
“I’ve been trying to hold myself together for us, but I’m struggling too,” Dina says softly. “Maybe not as much,” she adds. “But things are hard for me and I just-”
She can see Ellie’s hand twitching in her lap, eyes uncertain, mouth shaping words she doesn’t speak.
“I’m here and I’m trying. And you were thinking about walking away,” Dina says softly. “Is-” She swallows against the bile in her throat. “Is she more important than our family?” She turns to Ellie now, asking, pleading for a response.
“No,” Ellie says hoarsely, her voice like gravel, tears on her cheeks, shame in her eyes. “She’s not,” she affirms, offering a hand, palm up, out to Dina.
Dina studies her, allowing the hand to waver between them, earnest and trying, Dina waits until she allows herself to believe Ellie – and when she does, she takes Ellie’s hand. Do I believe her?
“I’m sorry, I was wrong,” Ellie murmurs, barely a whisper between them but Dina feels it in her chest.
Dina doesn’t reply.
Their clasped hands sit between them, both girls looking forward now, eyes intense on the darkness outside the kitchen window.
With light, there is a sense of calm.
Where do we go from here?
--
They orbit each other for another week. Dina calms enough to focus on JJ, and she feels like they’re taking turns being a parent while the other person hides away.
Ellie spends most of her alone time on the porch, looking at the tree in the distance. Sometimes she takes her guitar out there, but Dina never hears her play a chord.
Dina spends her time alone in her bed, limbs heavy, a weight on her chest. Sometimes she’s able to sit up and knit, but she loses count of the stitches as quickly as she loses herself in her thoughts.
When Ellie isn’t using her journal, it is laid open on the dining table, an offering that Dina does not take.
Ellie sleeps on the couch, and Dina aches for her embrace.
--
One day, the following week, Tommy returns.
Dina has just laid JJ down for his nap, stroking his hair gently as she watches his eyes drift shut.
When she looks up, she sees Tommy at the gate.
She sees red.
She’s downstairs by the time Tommy has led his horse through, and she’s halfway to him by the time he has closed the gate behind him.
“What did I fucking say Tommy?” She spits at him, vitriol and venom. “What the fuck did I say to you?”
His eyes are hard, and she can see his spine stiffen when he registers something behind her. Ellie was probably on the porch, maybe closer to them now than before. She doesn’t fucking need this, I don’t fucking need this.
“I told you to not bring that shit to my house ever again,” Dina hisses. “Fuck off.” She draws herself up to her full height, hands shaking in her anger as she points to the gate behind him. “Leave us the fuck alone.”
He looks past her for a long moment, before huffing and turning back around.
He slams the gate behind him.
Dina watches him leave, only moderately calmer by the time he has disappeared from view.
When she turns back to the house, she sees Ellie, eyes wide and guilty, sitting on the porch, guitar in her arms and trembling. She hadn’t moved.
Dina trudges back to the house, almost determined to say nothing to Ellie but when she approaches, she realises that Ellie’s eyes are fixed on her and not the gate.
She pauses in front of Ellie, breathing in the sight and wondering why her chest is still burning.
“Can- can we talk?” Ellie asks in a small voice.
“Maybe later,” Dina mumbles. She feels battered and broken, and wants to go back to bed. She wants to disappear.
--
Dina doesn’t know what she was doing before now, before this new routine. How she summoned the ability to get out of bed.
She feels like she’s barely dragging herself through the motions of showering and eating, is this how Ellie feels?
It seems like JJ has the biggest appetite out of the three of them now, growing and learning, and earnest. Ellie is wonderful with him, sometimes quiet and contemplative, but she’s attentive and makes him laugh, tickles his feet, reads to him, cares for him.
Dina cannot describe how much she loves her son, she knows she loves her son, she makes sure he is fed and warm and cuddled, but she feels wrong.
Off.
Disconnected.
She stays in bed.
--
Several more days creep by.
Dina is awake but not fully there, lying on her back, breathing in the quiet of the room. The sun rose a while ago, and distantly she can hear JJ start to fuss in his crib. He’s not upset at first, just stirring, then babbling, then whining, and then he is upset.
Dina feels like she’s in a fog, drained and nauseous, unable to sit up with the weight on her chest. Am I holding my breath?
By the time Ellie rushes in, JJ is crying, tears rolling down his cheeks, and Dina is laying pitifully on the bed, gasping for air as she rubs at her chest. At her scar. At the ache. At the pressure.
“Dina?” Ellie asks quietly, searchingly, and Dina can feel her gaze but refuses to meet it.
Ellie leaves, focused on soothing JJ, and Dina is left to herself.
She curls into her pillow and just drifts.
--
When Dina finds herself next the room has darkened, and she is crying. It takes her several moments to feel the firm hand rubbing soft circles soothingly into her back.
She lifts herself, meeting Ellie’s gaze, before a cracked sob escapes her and she falls into Ellie’s arms. Ellie holds her tightly, arms lean but secure. She is pulled onto Ellie’s chest, solidly resting on her, and Ellie’s hands rub up and down her back soothingly.
Dina presses her face into Ellie’s neck, kissing there and tasting the salt from her own tears. She laughs brokenly. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” she mutters.
Ellie rubs soothing circles into her hips. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me either,” she replies earnestly.
We do though, Dina thinks. We’re being haunted. We’re not moving on.
They lay silently for some time, breathing in the quiet of the room.
“When things are hard,” Dina starts slowly, her lips moving gently against Ellie’s neck. “I- I think about Seattle. And I- I can’t sleep and when I finally do… I wake up with this sense of- of dread in my stomach. Like something terrible is about to happen, like I’m going to wake up and find you gone, or dead, or near-death.” I can’t forget that night.
“I always feel helpless,” Ellie offers quietly. “When I wake up and the dreams are still- I- I always felt like my biggest fear was being alone, but I think being powerless is worse. Not being in control, losing others, losing myself…” Her voice trails over, and Dina presses a kiss to her shoulder, attempting to offer her some comfort. She can feel Ellie’s hands flexing on her hips. “Unable to stop it.”
“I’m scared,” Dina replies.
“Of?” Ellie asks.
Of you leaving. Of losing JJ. Of being a bad mother. Of everything.
Dina’s head is loud and confusing, overwhelming waves of anxiety rippling through her stomach at the cacophony of thoughts.
“Of my life,” Dina says quietly.
“For your-” Ellie begins to ask.
“Of my life,” Dina affirms.
“O-oh,” Ellie chokes out, her hands pause briefly before continuing their comforting movements.
Dina’s face burns with her shame. “I- I just feel like this fear is always going to sit with me,” Dina mumbles. “I feel like I was holding it together for you and for JJ, and it was hard but bearable, and I- I felt happy at times…” Her voice trails off.
“And now?” Ellie asks softly.
Dina shifts so she’s only lying partially on Ellie, half on her side and still tucked into Ellie’s frame. She lifts her head to look into Ellie’s eyes and despite the low light in the room she can see them clearly. She knows that they are green, she loves the green of Ellie’s eyes, but the amber ring around her pupils seems to be glowing, more gold than anything else, so concerned they make Dina ache.
“Now?” Ellie repeats, her words barely a whisper in the air.
“I- I don’t think I’m sad,” Dina mumbles. “I don’t know- I don’t feel that way, I just feel- tired,” the word is broken by a whimper as it leaves her lips, and Dina can feel her eyes prick with tears. “I don’t want to feel like this.”
Ellie is crying now, silently, and she looks tired too.
Dina closes her eyes, unable to look at Ellie. Fuck. “I-,” Dina twists her hands in Ellie’s shirt, grasping onto her tightly as though Ellie is an anchor. “I’m so fucking tired, Ellie. I can’t- what is wrong with me?” She is sobbing now, struggling to breathe, “He was- he was crying and I couldn’t get up. I’m meant to be okay, to be solid. Why couldn’t I get up?”
Ellie rubs her back soothingly. “As much as we want to be okay,” she says softly, almost timidly. “It’s okay that we’re not?” It’s a question, and Dina can tell from Ellie’s tone that she doesn’t entirely believe it.
“JJ deserves better,” Dina says resignedly. Than me. Than you. Than us.
“You and JJ deserve the world,” Ellie affirms, running her fingers through Dina’s greasy hair.
“JJ deserves better,” Dina repeats. If Ellie had left, what would have happened? Why didn’t I get up?
“You should have a shower,” Ellie says quietly, rubbing Dina’s neck softly. “It might help you relax.”
“It’s not going to fix anything,” Dina says bitterly. I’m slipping.
“I know,” Ellie nods. “Come on.”
She leads Dina to the shower, smiling softly at JJ sleeping in his crib on the way. Dina watches vacantly, not really present throughout the process. Ellie removes Dina’s clothes and her own. She washes Dina’s hair and rubs the knots out of her shoulders. Hands strong, tender and unwavering.
She helps Dina towel herself off, hands her fresh pyjamas, strips their bed quickly and quietly, before remaking it and returning to Dina to help into the clothes she had barely registered holding.
Ellie returns with a mug of tea before Dina realises she had left the room. She’s sitting up in bed now, swaddled in the warmth of the blankets and the tea, and Ellie’s care.
Dina feels like she’s looking at the scene from the outside, like there’s a sheet of film over her vision, foggy and unclear, disjointed.
What would have happened if she had left?
Have I left?
Can we take care of JJ like this?
She’s present now, in the moment and feeling bright and sharp with her pain. She almost spills the tea as she gasps but Ellie holds her hand steady. Ellie takes the mug from her, setting it on Dina’s bedside table and sitting beside her on the edge of the bed.
“Just breathe, it’s okay,” Ellie says quietly, her hand is warm and steady on Dina’s chest. It’s above her heart, placing a reassuring pressure there, fingers tucked inside the collar of Dina’s shirt, and Dina forces herself to breathe with Ellie.
Her chest is tight, and for a moment- for a moment, her skin hurts.
When she catches her breath, she feels more exhausted than before. Like she’s survived something.
“I can’t stay here,” she pants, watching as her words settle against Ellie. “I need to leave.” She sits up then, trying to calm her breath again. What is wrong with me?
“Dina,” Ellie says softly, pleadingly. “I’m trying, I’m going to keep trying, I’m sorry.”
“Ellie,” Dina repeats. “I can’t stay here. I need to leave.”
“I- but this is our home?” Ellie asks; she’s confused and fraying, wiping stubbornly at her tears.
“I want to go back to Jackson,” Dina affirms, her chest tight. “Please.”
Ellie nods stubbornly, “It’ll- okay, I’ll always be here.”
“Will you?” Dina asks sharply and without thinking, standing to move away from Ellie, her voice low, conscious of her sleeping son.
Ellie winces, sitting up and moving to the edge of the bed, fidgeting with her hands in her lap, but she doesn’t meet Dina’s eyes.
Dina waits only a moment for her response before continuing. “You weren’t even going to leave a note.”
Ellie is still, chin still against her chest.
“Ellie,” Dina says again, her voice louder now. “What did you think would happen if you left? To me?”
Ellie shrugs. “I thought you’d be happ-”
“Don’t,” Dina almost hisses at her. “Fuck, Ellie,” she groans, she turns and for a moment her chest burns so bright she wants to put her fist through the wall. She doesn’t though, clenching her hands by her side. “You think I just wouldn’t notice?” She says quietly. “I’d just wake up and carry on?”
Ellie looks at her then, finally, her eyes pained.
“I-” Dina feels nauseous, her head is light, and for a moment she staggers under the weight of her emotions. “I think you trying to leave without saying goodbye hurts the most.”
“I didn’t leave,” Ellie replies quietly. “I’m not leaving, not as long as you want me.”
“I’m leaving, Ellie,” Dina tells her. “Right fucking now,” she grabs a bag then, ignoring harsh rattle of the drawers as she stuffs clothing into her backpack. “I’m fucking leaving.”
“Dina,” Ellie says, trying to offer her hands to placate her. “It’s- it’s night time, you should get some rest-”
“You were going to leave in the middle of the night,” Dina snaps. She zips her bag shut, shouldering it as she pulls another bag out. She tries to ignore Ellie’s gaze as she begins collecting clothes for JJ. “Why can’t I?”
“Dina,” Ellie says, almost warningly. “It’s not safe, please.”
“I need to go to Jackson,” Dina says resolutely. “You can’t change my mind.”
Dina feels both electric and absent. She feels like all the energy she had been drained of is suddenly sparking and screaming in her blood, move, move, move. She feels removed from it all somehow, there’s a strength in her anger, but also a level of weakness in her light-headedness. She feels faint. JJ needs to be in Jackson.
Her hands shake when she reaches for JJ, stopped by Ellie’s firm hands.
“I’ll take him,” Ellie says quietly, brow furrowed. “Can I ride with you? Please? I don’t have to stay, I just- I’ll make sure you get there okay.”
Dina brings the horses around, fixing their saddles before Ellie emerges from the house, still frowning. She’s put JJ in warmer pyjamas, placed him securely in the sling around her chest, and has Joel’s tan jacket half zipped up around him.
Dina has to blink through her tears to realise Ellie is holding a jacket out to her.
“I’m fine,” she says, trying to brush it off but Ellie holds it out insistently and Dina lets Ellie help her into the jacket.
She only notices absently in the moonlight that the far tree in the paddock now stands alone. It’s silhouette unaccompanied by the broken down shed. When did Ellie take that down?
--
They make it most of the way in silence. JJ had stirred with the movement of the horse but he was secure in the sling and cradled with a sure arm. How can I trust you like this when I don’t trust you?
The trip isn’t long; their home was less than an hour from Jackson’s gates. It’s only when Dina sees the lights in their approach that she turns to Ellie and speaks again. “What did you think would happen if you left?” She repeats. “To you?”
Ellie bows her head, Dina can see the tremor of a shrug in her shoulders but Ellie is still and careful of JJ. “I would have tried to finish it,” she says darkly.
“What does finishing it even mean?” Dina asks, sounding distant to herself.
“Kill her or myself,” Ellie says quietly, her eyes almost glowing in the moonlight.
“You said you didn’t plan on dying,” Dina says softly.
“No one ever does,” Ellie says under her breath, but Dina hears it clearly.
There’s a coldness that settles in Dina’s chest then, and it doesn’t fade or shake until she’s wrapped in Helen’s arms. Jesse’s mother was confused and worried at the sight of Dina on her doorstep but welcomed her warmly.
“I just want to go to bed,” Dina says softly, ignoring Helen’s questions. “Can we please just stay here?”
Helen nods hesitantly, leading Dina to the guest room and Dina barely notices Ellie in the corner, standing over the crib Jesse’s parents had gotten for when JJ stays the night.
“What’s going on?” The low voice of Jesse’s father, Robin, can be heard from outside the room.
“They need a place to stay, I think they just need some support,” Helen says, her tone worried. “It’s good they came to us, you know that.”
“Are they alright?” Robin asks, and for a moment Dina thinks they will return to the room but they don’t.
Dina lies in bed, staring at the ceiling and waits for things to stop, to slow, to pause. How the fuck do you fall asleep? She thinks, feeling so beyond tired that she doesn’t really feel her eyes begin to close and her thoughts begin to cease.
--
Dina wakes to JJ talking to himself, his little mumbles and laughs filling the air. Dina reaches without thinking for Ellie and finds nothing but cold sheets.
She doesn’t know what she expected.
They hadn’t shared a bed since the night Ellie tried to leave, the night Ellie left. She walked out, the door closed, it counts as leaving.
Did she leave last night?
Dina gets out of bed slowly, feeling heavy, and approaches JJ with a smile that comes easier than it should after last night. “Hey, buddy,” she coos softly. “Did you sleep okay after all that excitement?”
She hears Ellie then, groaning from behind her. She turns and finds Ellie on the floor, face haggard and rubbing her neck.
“You slept on the floor?” Dina asks.
Ellie shrugs, rolling her shoulders restlessly as she stands. Dina realises then that she used her coat bundled up as a pillow.
“Ellie, you should have slept in the bed,” Dina says, her eyes focused on the untouched second pillow that Ellie didn’t use. Or at least used a pillow.
“I didn’t want to assume anything,” Ellie says quietly, and she presses herself against the side of the crib, running her fingers through JJ’s hair and trying to smile at him.
I didn’t even realise you didn’t get in the bed.
“I- I want to give you space, I- I thought that was kinda the point of leaving last night,” Ellie continues. “You said you needed to leave.”
“I felt like I was suffocating,” Dina offers, her words feeling uncertain in her mouth. “I keep feeling like I can’t breathe.” I feel like I can’t trust myself with JJ.
“I know what that’s like,” Ellie says softly.
“It fucking sucks.”
“Yeah,” Ellie agrees, almost breathlessly. “Anyway,” she says softly. “I should get going.”
Dina looks at her sharply, stomach twisted nervously.
“I- I’m going to go back to the house,” Ellie says softly. “I- you were so tired last night… I didn’t want to leave without saying goodbye.”
“Goodbye?” Dina hears herself say.
“I need to take care of the sheep, feed the chickens, water the crops,” Ellie tells her. “It won’t take me long, and I’ll come back. I promise.”
“I don’t- I don’t want you there by yourself,” Dina says softly. “I know- I know you aren’t okay either, and you’ve been doing so much-”
“It’s always easier to take care of someone else,” Ellie interrupts, placing a warm hand on top of Dina’s. “Than yourself.”
I kept myself together for her, but not really. She’s keeping herself together for me, but not really. How could we possibly raise a child together?
“I love you,” Ellie says softly. “Can I- can I kiss you?”
Dina nods, so focused on the tears in Ellie’s eyes as Ellie leans closer that she barely feels the soft kiss that Ellie places on her cheek.
Dina grasps Ellie’s shirt and pulls her forward then, kissing her firmly on the lips. It’s chaste and lingering.
Dina’s thoughts drift when Ellie takes her hand, squeezing it gently, and distantly she can feel her place a kiss there. She doesn’t watch Ellie leave, trying to focus on her son.
It’s only after Ellie has left that Dina feels the bracelet now sitting on her wrist.
--
If Helen and Robin want to ask what’s going on, they do an admirable job of hiding it. Dina spends most of her day looking at JJ; she tries to eat food but cannot taste it until it sours in her mouth; she thinks about Ellie, and she thinks about Seattle.
She never sees it in her dreams but she feels it. She wakes to the dread, the apprehension, straining her ears to hear the screaming and grunting that’s just out of reach. She feels like she’ll turn a corner and find Abby beating Ellie down, like she’ll walk into a room and hear herself screaming, all desperation and futility.
She knows what happened that night, she knows what she remembers and what Ellie has told her, she knows which blood stains were hers and which weren’t.
It happened so quickly.
Waking to agonising noises, finding nothing but a knife, screaming and slashing at the demon, a sharp pain blooming from her shoulder, seizing her chest, making her fall, and then concrete.
She’s not sure how many times her face was smashed into the ground - she only remembers two.
She traces the scar on her forehead absently. It never aches as much as her shoulder but it’s there; a reminder of what occurred.
There had been a cut on her throat too, and she remembers looking at herself in the mirror as the skin slowly knit itself together. A tiny wound for something that would have been so much more. She was so close to dying, and Ellie’s pleas had been worthless. It was the boy who had stopped her. A child’s mercy.
She almost wishes there was a scar on her neck.
Pulling themselves together was almost impossible. Ellie wanted to focus solely on Dina, and almost refused at first to let Dina find the others.
Find the bodies.
Tommy had been clinging to life.
She doesn’t know how they made it back to Jackson.
--
The day disappears quickly, Dina’s mind drifts through a fog and she only briefly notes the lingering stares from Jesse’s parents. She appreciates that they hold only concern, and occasionally she feels that concern for herself as well.
“I’m going to go for a walk,” she tells Helen softly, letting her feet lead her through the town.
Maria finds her at the diner a couple of hours later. It’s dark outside now and Dina is sitting by herself in the corner, slumped into a booth table, three beers settled in her stomach, a fourth in her hand, staring at her wrist blankly, eyes tracing the Hamsa symbol on her bracelet.
“Interesting to see you here,” Maria tells her, and she takes Dina’s drink and has a long pull of it.
Dina huffs but sits back, waiting for Maria’s judgement.
“Ellie’s at my place,” Maria says. “Found her on her way out of town this morning, and told her she’d be staying with me for a bit once she returns.”
“Don’t let Tommy near her,” Dina says darkly, protectively. He shouldn’t fucking look at her.
“I’m not going to let that idiot near her,” Maria tells her, placating. “I know what he said to her.”
Dina sniffs, rubbing her tired eyes. “He said you two were taking some time apart.”
“I asked him to leave,” Maria says plainly. “There’s only so much time you can spend waiting for someone to want to heal.”
Dina hums in response.
“I know you and Ellie both want to be better,” Maria tells her gently, reaching out to take Dina’s hand gently. “But you probably can’t do it by yourself.”
“We’re fine,” Dina lies. “I mean… she’s not, but I’m just- I’m tired and need a break.”
“You’re not okay, Dina,” Maria tells her. “Have you thought about speaking to someone?”
“I’m speaking to you,” Dina says with a half-hearted smile, reaching to take her beer back but Maria moves it out of reach.
“I’m talking about someone who you can talk to regularly, as a professional, not a friend,” Maria’s eyes soften. “Who you can say whatever you want to, and who can maybe help you build your capacity to cope in healthier ways.” She punctuates her sentence by holding the beer bottle up like a salute and then tipping the rest of the drink back.
“Sounds like you got a pretty good pitch prepared,” Dina laughs. “You practice that beforehand?”
“Yeah,” Maria grins, sliding to get out of the booth. “About an hour ago with Ellie.”
“How’d it go?”
“Jury’s still out,” Maria shrugs. “The name is Irene Thompson, she lives three houses down from the carpentry workshop. Blue painted house at the end of the street, flowers in the front yard. She’s nice, you can trust her.”
Dina nods absently, processing the words but still focused on Ellie. “Ellie’s back?”
“I believe she went to look for you,” Maria says. “I imagine she wasn’t successful with that.”
Dina shakes her head. “I should go back.”
“Irene Thompson, blue house, three down from the carpenter’s,” Maria repeats.
The words loop in Dina’s head as she walks back to Jesse’s parents house.
--
Ellie is sitting on the porch, a soft blanket spread out beneath her, her legs crossed at the ankles, bracketing JJ, who is sitting with her. They are rolling a ball between them, a smile on Ellie’s lips as she looks at her son.
Dina approaches slowly, overly aware of the smell of alcohol on her breath. “Hey,” she says nervously.
“Hey,” Ellie says, her smile more shaky now but still in place.
JJ gurgles up at Dina, reaching to be picked up. She had barely spent time with him today, and she scoops him up gently, settling him against her hip and hugging him close. “Hey baby, I love you,” she murmurs, pressing kisses against his cheeks as he laughs.
Ellie stands awkwardly, hovering, and Dina can see the moment Ellie smells the alcohol on her, her eyes narrowing slightly, her smile slipping before she can change her expression to be more neutral.
“How was the farm?” Dina asks.
Ellie shrugs. “Felt odd to be there, which feels dumb.”
“You’re, uh, you’re gonna stay at Maria’s?” Dina asks, adjusting JJ slightly, letting him tuck his face into her neck.
“Maria found me this morning on my way out, essentially told me I would be,” Ellie smiles. “I take it she spoke to you too?” Dina nods, and Ellie plays with her hands. She adds brittlely, “Tommy won’t be there.”
“You gonna talk to that woman?” Dina asks, rubbing JJ’s back gently and bouncing him on her hip.
“Mrs Henderson?” Ellie asks.
“I thought her name was Thompson?”
“I don’t know-”
“I think you should,” Dina says quickly. Ellie looks at her with wide eyes. “I- I think it would be good for you to actually talk about things, and not-” Dina’s voice trails off, gesturing uselessly. Not writing about dying in your journal.
“I meant I don’t know a Thompson, but Maria told me about Mrs Henderson,” Ellie says quietly, tucking her hands in her pockets now. “I already spoke to her, she’s married to that builder, John, who used to yell at us for drinking in the abandoned houses they were repairing.” Ellie rocks on her feet. “I’ve already got a ‘session’ booked for tomorrow,” she says with a smile.
“Oh,” Dina hums. “That’s good then.”
Ellie follows her inside, nodding when Dina asks if JJ had eaten and loitering in the doorway of the guest room as Dina changes JJ into his pyjamas.
She still feels guilty, and the taste of alcohol in her mouth seems to sour. She places JJ gently in his crib, before heading to the bathroom for a long shower, and she brushes her teeth twice before she returns.
Ellie is sitting on the edge of the bed, and stands stiffly when Dina comes back. “I, uh, should I go?” Ellie asks softly, “Or can we keep talking?”
Dina hums as she dresses, thinking about Ellie’s words, about Ellie trying. This is progress, this is trying.
It’s not the first time something like therapy had come up; they had been pushed toward it before. After Seattle, after they had dragged themselves back in pieces.
Jesse’s parents had rushed to the gate and had known with one look what had happened.
Both Dina and Ellie had pushed others away, hiding from the world in Ellie’s old garage, and slowly, with the change of seasons, their anger had calmed. Ellie began repairing the farmhouse in Dina’s third trimester, JJ was born at the end of Autumn, and they had moved fully into the farm before he was three weeks old.
They had made it six months at the farm, seeking shelter from Jackson and their past.
It was what they both had wanted, and Maria had told her back then that it sounded like they were hiding still.
Maria’s suggestions weren’t entertained then, but they are now.
If Ellie is going then I will. We owe it to JJ.
“Yeah,” Dina says softly. “We can talk more.” She lifts the sheets on Ellie’s side, climbing into the bed and shuffling across to the middle, holding the sheet up for Ellie to follow. “Lie down with me, please?”
Ellie nods, and joins her. She is warm and solid, and in moments like this, pressed together tightly, Dina thinks about how much softer Ellie used to be. Her skin is still smooth, her touch still light, but she is all bone and hard edges.
“Do you think you’ll ever get your appetite back?” Dina asks tiredly, her head resting on Ellie’s chest, a hand tucked under Ellie’s shirt, resting on her hip.
“What?” Ellie asks, her voice is soft but surprised.
“I don’t know,” Dina mumbles. “You’re so skinny, I just- Do you think you’ll start eating properly again?” Dina has thought about this a lot, about the skinny girl who had arrived in Jackson, who spent her first three weeks in town hording the jerky and eating herself sick. Food used to be scarce, and at times it was on their journey, but Ellie’s lack of appetite had been steady for over a year now and she seemed to keep fading away.
“I-” Ellie shrugs, a hand absently rubbing circles into Dina’s lower back. “I hope so?” She offers weakly.
“Me too,” Dina replies.
“I’ll, um, I’ll keep trying,” Ellie offers awkwardly. “So, um, are you going to go see the Thompson person that Maria told you about? Do you- do you think you would?”
Dina’s gut reaction is no, and her second thought is of JJ, her third of Ellie and the future she had seen for them at the farm. “I’d like to try,” Dina says softly.
Dina presses her lips to Ellie’s chest, right above her heart and lets herself linger.
“I will try,” she affirms. “I promise.”
--
Later, when she’s closer to sleep and Ellie tries to slip from the bed Dina hugs her tighter. “Please,” she mumbles and Ellie stays.