She's quiet for a beat, clearly debating whether to lie or tell the truth. Eventually, she settles on truth.
"I miss dad." Just a simple thing. Nothing new, but sometimes she simply wishes she could wander over to him and pester him until he'd shoo her off to go bother Tess. But she never would leave, and he didn't seem to truly mind her lingering around whatever task he was doing.
"Yeah." She'd taken it for granted, back when she was younger, that she had not one but two parents on the train. That, and a aunt? Nearly unheard of. And Ellie was loved by all three, and she knew it.
"I don't know why but I've been thinking about him a lot, lately."
Maybe it's just something that happens when growing older. He never saw her grow up beyond fourteen.
Getting older is it, isn’t it? Tess thinks so. This year, Ellie’s as old as she was got pregnant and had her, and it’s a strange thought to have. There’s not much in the way of usual milestones here, no graduations or promotions or big weddings or any of that, so getting older is the biggest mark of time, of endurance, of survival despite it all. Joel will never see any of it. He’ll never know.
And someday, Ellie’s going to be forty-six, older than Joel ever was. Hell, maybe older than Tess herself will ever get. They can never know.
“Just one of those things,” she replies, slowly. “You’ll think about him for the rest of your life, sweetheart, because you loved him.”
Nothing to be done about it. Ellie feels her eyes burn despite having them squeezed shut. She hasn't cried over Joel in a long time, but hearing the words hits deep.
"I guess... I just wish he knew me now. I was such a brat," she sniffs, rubbing her nose not-so-subtly against Tess. "Yeah, yeah. Still one now, but I'm an adult."
An adult trying not to cry in her mother's bed, but still an adult.
Two, ten or twenty, that old poem applies: as long as I’m living, my baby you’ll be. Tess lets a hand drift up and down Ellie’s back, soothing and calm.
“He would love you as much now as he did then, brat, adult or otherwise,” she promises. “I wish he could be here to see you.”
She knows. And that's the hell of it. Joel was as good of a father as anyone could be here, and Ellie felt loved. Maybe it would have been an easier loss of he'd been a prick.
"Don't think I could fit in here with him around, though."
"You're always welcome to crawl in with me, kiddo," she replies, idly running her hand over the back of Ellie's head, smoothing down her hair. "Still will be when I'm a little old lady."
She doesn't like to think about Tess aging. Joel had been older, but she hadn't really thought about his age until he was dead. How long would he have been around, comparatively? How old will she be when both her parents are gone?
"Maybe if you were a less cool mom," Ellie grumbles. Like it's such a terrible thing. She imagines even if they lived outside the train, somehow got off and if there was hope for something similar to a normal life, she'd be lucky to have this sort of bond.
But, then again--would they even be this close if they weren't here?
"You lucked out getting a mom as cool as me," she remarks. "Some people end up with socialites who do nothing but try on shoes all day and get their hair curled."
In another lifetime, where Ellie was another man's daughter, Tess might have followed in her own parents' footprints: a provider, but not much of a parent. There's no luck in being on the train, not with everything else wrong with it, but proximity has its virtues.
"That sounds so stupid," she laughs, even if just quietly. So much of the outside world, whatever it was before, sounds dumb. "Bet those kids don't turn out as charming as me."
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"No. Can't get to sleep to have a bad dream," she mutters.
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"I miss dad." Just a simple thing. Nothing new, but sometimes she simply wishes she could wander over to him and pester him until he'd shoo her off to go bother Tess. But she never would leave, and he didn't seem to truly mind her lingering around whatever task he was doing.
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"Me too."
She hugs Ellie a little tighter.
"Things were always a little better with him around, huh?"
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"I don't know why but I've been thinking about him a lot, lately."
Maybe it's just something that happens when growing older. He never saw her grow up beyond fourteen.
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And someday, Ellie’s going to be forty-six, older than Joel ever was. Hell, maybe older than Tess herself will ever get. They can never know.
“Just one of those things,” she replies, slowly. “You’ll think about him for the rest of your life, sweetheart, because you loved him.”
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"I guess... I just wish he knew me now. I was such a brat," she sniffs, rubbing her nose not-so-subtly against Tess. "Yeah, yeah. Still one now, but I'm an adult."
An adult trying not to cry in her mother's bed, but still an adult.
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“He would love you as much now as he did then, brat, adult or otherwise,” she promises. “I wish he could be here to see you.”
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"Don't think I could fit in here with him around, though."
Her attempt to lighten the mood.
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“We used to manage sometimes, him and me, even with you tucked in with us too.”
Tess isn’t sure she would have slept a wink through her whole pregnancy without being braced up against him, either. No fancy supportive pillows here.
“Maybe you’ve gotten a little big for that now, though.”
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Which is her way of saying she's staying right where she is.
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"So... next year?" She jokes.
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"Where'd you get that sense of humour from, huh? 'Cause that sure isn't your dad's jokes."
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More a concern when Ellie was younger, really, but it still comes with the territory.
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That's mostly because Tess won't hesitate to return fire no matter who the audience, though. And she has way more ammo.
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But, then again--would they even be this close if they weren't here?
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In another lifetime, where Ellie was another man's daughter, Tess might have followed in her own parents' footprints: a provider, but not much of a parent. There's no luck in being on the train, not with everything else wrong with it, but proximity has its virtues.
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She shouldn't, but she thinks of Joel's daughter--other daughter. The one that didn't live.
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