Chapter Text
The first thing your brain registers, as you regain consciousness, is the burning pain in your wrists. A groan escapes your lips, your eyes fluttering open. The world spins before you as you attempt to take in your surroundings. The cold floor beneath you helps bring you back to reality. Your memories begin flooding back in an unyielding torrent.
Your patrol had been ambushed. You’d fought hard, but there had just been too many of them. There was nothing you could have done to stop the WLF soldiers from killing your friends.
A pained expression crosses your face as the memory overtakes you. It had been the first patrol you’d ever lead. It was supposed to have been an easy route. Something you’d done a hundred times. Being responsible for your team shouldn’t have changed anything. You could do this route in your sleep. Or at least, that’s what you had assured Maria.
Deep down, you knew it wasn’t your fault. No one could have anticipated the ambush. The WLF had never encroached on the patrol routes before. In fact, you hadn’t even known they existed until Ellie had left in a blind rage to take Abby down.
You supposed that even though Ellie hadn’t succeeded in her mission, the amount of soldiers that she had taken down along the way was enough to warrant retaliation. You curse yourself for having been stupid enough to not consider that possibility. Maybe if you had, things would have turned out differently.
You manage to pull yourself out of your thoughts before they can overwhelm you. It wouldn’t help anything to feel sorry for yourself, and it certainly wouldn’t help you get out of the predicament that you were currently in.
The pain in your wrists flares again and you finally glance up, realizing that your hands had been cuffed to a pipe a little ways above your head. It wasn’t high enough to keep you on your feet, but it certainly wasn’t comfortable. You flex your wrists carefully, some foolish part of you hoping that your bonds may be fragile enough to break. Your hopes are quickly dashed, however. Although you can’t fully see the skin of your wrists, you assume they’re bruised, meaning that you’ve likely been chained like this for multiple hours before coming too.
You turn your attention to the rest of the room, quickly noting one small window near the ceiling, as well as a steel door directly in front of you.
Neither seem to be particularly good options for escape. Even if you could get out of the cuffs, the window was too high, and too small to escape through, and you assumed the door was not only locked, but likely guarded as well. You had no weapons, and the earlier fight had left your body battered. Hand-to-hand combat wasn’t your strong suit at the best of times, but after the beating that you’d already endured, you had no chance.
Part of you wanted to panic, but the other part of you knew that you owed your team, and yourself more than that. You may have lost people, but right now you were alive. You had a chance to avenge their deaths, or at the very least to carry on surviving without them. Besides, it was only a matter of time before Maria and the others at Jackson realized that your patrol hadn’t made it home. They’d come looking for you. You just had to survive long enough to greet them.
The piercing sound of rusting hinges immediately draws your attention towards the door. It opens slowly, as though it takes a considerable amount of force to shove it open. The first person to enter reeks of authority. He seemed weathered, but that did nothing to take away from the strength of his build. He had darker skin, and his salt-and-pepper stood out as a clear marker of his age. You dislike him instantly.
Behind him, a young woman entered the room. She was tall, with thick brown hair pulled back into a neat braid. Although she didn’t radiate the same authority as the man, there was something intense about her. She seemed angry, sad, and weary, all wrapped up into one. The most notable thing about her, however, was the clearly defined muscles covering almost every inch of her body. Her arms were especially large, and the idea of escaping through hand-to-hand combat grows even fainter in your mind. This woman looked like she could take you down with one arm tied behind her back.
Your attention is drawn back to the man as he approaches you, crouching down so that you’re at eye level with each other. “What’s your name?” His voice is smooth, yet demanding. He sounded as though he was used to getting his way.
You raise your chin in defiance, saying nothing. You didn’t know what the WLF could possibly have in store for you, but you also weren’t quite sure you cared. If you were anything in this life, you were loyal. Nothing they could do to you would make you give up any information about Jackson. You refused to contribute towards the death of any more of your people.
The man lets out a sigh, straightening back up so that he can look down on you. “My name is Isaac,” He continues, clearly having anticipated your silence. “And this is Abby.” He adds, gesturing to the brown-haired woman.
You can’t help the look of surprise that crosses your face as you recognize the name. Abby. The woman who had killed Joel. The woman who had single-handily destroyed Ellie’s world, and brought Jackson to a halt.
She looked different than you had imagined. More human, you supposed. It was easy to view someone as a monster when all you had heard about them was their worst actions. Now, all you could notice was the emotion behind her eyes. It seemed like there was so much pain there, and you couldn’t help but wonder why.
“What do you want from me?” You direct the question towards Abby, but it’s Isaac who answers.
“Information,” His voice is level, his gaze piercing as he stares at you. “Where your people patrol, how your defense systems work, the best place to target in the event of an attack.”
You scoff at that, meeting his gaze with intensity. “You better find some other way to get that information then, ‘cause I’m not telling you anything.”
Isaac rolls his eyes, frowning. “I thought that might be your response,” He mutters, faux disappointment playing across his features. “It doesn’t matter though, Abby here will get you to talk eventually.” He moves towards the door, pausing for a moment with his hand resting lightly on the steel. “Good luck,” He adds, a smirk crossing his lips for only a moment before it falls, and he leaves the room. The piercing sound of the door closing echoing behind him.
Your eyes linger on the door for a long moment after he leaves before your gaze returns to Abby. She looks almost uncomfortable. Her arms are crossed over her chest in a defensive position, while her gaze remains trained on the ground for a moment. She lets out a soft sigh, raising her gaze to meet yours. “It would be easier if you just told me.”
It’s meant to be a threat, you think, but it doesn’t come across that way. In fact, it almost comes across as a plea. She sounds exhausted.
“My name is Y/N,” You say after a moment’s consideration. There’s not much that either she or Isaac could do with your name. Besides, part of you wasn’t sure Abby even wanted to hurt you.
Abby’s eyes widen slightly, as though she was shocked that you had told her. After a short moment, she crouches down in front of you, mimicking the position that Isaac had been in only moments ago. However, while with Isaac it had felt almost mocking, Abby made the movement feel as though the playing field was being leveled. After all, the two of you were almost equals. You appreciated her acknowledgment of that.
Part of you curses yourself for feeling this way. Abby had killed Joel, and nearly killed Tommy. She wasn’t an equal, she was an enemy, and you needed to remember that. However, some of you also looked at it from a different perspective. Since you hadn’t known Joel particularly well, his death hadn’t affected you the way it had affected others in Jackson. You’d seen its effect on Ellie, and you’d wanted nothing more than to take the pain away from her, but you’d never been fully supportive of her plot for revenge.
Joel had killed hundreds of people, and as awful as it sounded, his death hadn’t surprised you. It had only been a matter of time before someone snapped and came after him. If Ellie had gone after Abby, and Abby alone, perhaps you would have understood, but from what you’d been told, she had taken out every single person that Abby cared for. It didn’t seem fair to you. Abby wasn’t any more of a monster for seeking revenge than Ellie was.
“Do you know her?” Abby’s gaze is piercing. “The… girl who came after me.”
You wonder if this could be a trap. If this information could possibly be useful to the WLF. “Yes,” The answer slips out before you can give it too much consideration.
Abby’s head dips in an almost imperceptible nod. She’s silent for a moment, her gaze falling to the ground in consideration. “Has she given up?”
The question sets off alarm bells in your mind. That kind of information could be used, you supposed. “I won’t answer that,” You reply, watching her expression with a fierce curiosity.
You’d been interrogated before, when you’d first arrived at Jackson. They hadn’t tortured you, but the experience had given you a general idea of how things of this sort usually went. From what you knew, interrogations were never gentle. They were meant to intimidate, and in some cases to hurt. Anything to get the information needed. Could this be a different tactic? One meant to lower your guard? You couldn’t be sure.
Abby only nods, lowering herself into a seated position a few inches away from you. She’s close enough to kick, but you quickly push the thought from your mind. Maybe it would grant you the temporary satisfaction of proving to your captors that you weren’t going down quietly, but that wouldn’t change anything.
“I can’t leave until you’ve given me some information,” Her voice begins to harden, an expression of resolve settling over her face. “She managed to take out nearly half of our soldiers. Those actions can’t go unpunished.”
It takes you a moment to realize she’s talking about Ellie again. The realization that Abby doesn’t even know her name hits you like a truck. All Ellie had talked about in the days after Joel’s death was Abby. Her name had been brought up in every conversation. Ellie had been utterly obsessed, and Abby hadn’t even known her name.
“I’m not going to help Isaac and the rest of you attack my home,” You answer, spitting the words out through gritted teeth. You hated how much the world revolved around violence. Of course, you understood it. Violence was the only option in a world as desolate and dangerous as this one. But god, you couldn’t help but wish the bloodshed had stopped with Joel. Then Jessie wouldn’t have died, Abby’s friends wouldn’t have died, your patrol members wouldn’t have died. Life could have gone on as it was. Didn’t you all deserve that? Why did a full-blown war have to come of it?
“We’re retaliating after what YOUR people did,” She sounds as though she’s trying to convince herself.
“What ONE person did,” You correct, shifting slightly to try and relieve the pain in your wrists. It had only been growing as time went on. You wondered how long it would take before you lost feeling in them altogether.
Abby lets out a breath through her teeth, her arms flexing as she rolls her shoulders. “What intervals do the patrols run at?” She asks, the bit of gentleness that you had sensed in her before fading into obscurity. She gets to her feet, crossing her arms in an effective attempt at intimidation.
“Why didn’t you kill her… the girl who came after you?” You ask, doing your best to ignore the increasing likelihood of you getting beaten within an inch of your life.
The question seems to surprise her. She seems to ponder it for a moment, perhaps trying to decide whether it’s worth wasting her breath on. Her chest deflates, and a sigh escapes her lips. “I don’t know.”
You’re surprised at how truthful she sounds. You had expected her to lie, or to simply ignore your question altogether.
“I guess I didn’t see a point. There was enough loss, on both sides.” She continues, glancing around the cell with a frown.
You can’t help but scoff. “And yet you want to attack Jackson,” Your words are bitter, and you glare at her. “Guess it’s never enough loss, is it?”
The wind is knocked out of you suddenly as Abby lands a kick to your stomach. Your ribs scream in pain at the sudden impact, and you’re forced to gasp for air. It takes you a moment to regain control of your breathing as the pain fades to a dull ache.
“Stop acting like you’re in charge here,” Abby snaps. “Isaac is doing what needs to be done.” Even through her anger, her words sound unsure.
For a moment, the two of you sit in silence, only staring at each other. You can’t help the fascination that you hold for her. Why was she still here? From what you knew, she had been given a chance to leave and go wherever she wanted. She clearly didn’t love it here. And you didn’t think she truely wanted to witness anymore bloodshed. But something must be keeping her here.