Consciousness returned to Arthur like a slowly rising tide. First came sound—murmured voices, the creak of wooden floors, distant activity beyond walls. Then sensation—the scratch of clean sheets, a dull ache in his side, the weight of bandages. Finally, awareness—he was in Jackson's clinic, alive despite the blood poisoning that had nearly claimed him.
He opened his eyes, blinking against the midday light streaming through nearby windows. The room was small but clean, medical supplies neatly arranged on a side table. A figure slumped in a chair beside the bed—Ellie, asleep in what looked like a painfully uncomfortable position, her face marked with exhaustion.
Arthur shifted slightly, testing his body's condition. The movement, small as it was, immediately roused Ellie, her eyes snapping open with the instant alertness of a survivor.
"Hey," she said, relief washing over her features. "You're back."
"How long?" Arthur asked, his voice rough from disuse.
"Three days," Ellie replied, passing him a cup of water. "Doc wasn't sure you'd make it the first night."
Arthur drank carefully, cataloging his condition with clinical detachment. The wound in his side throbbed dully—painful but distant, likely due to medication. His muscles felt weak but intact. His mind was clear, which suggested the infection hadn't reached his brain.
"The mission?" he questioned, priorities automatic despite his condition.
"Successful," Ellie assured him. "All three sites redirected the infected toward the WLF outpost. The horde hit them hard—Tommy says they took massive casualties before retreating. No sign of them regrouping yet."
Arthur absorbed this information with satisfaction. The risk had been worth it, then. Jackson was safe, at least temporarily.
"You should have left me if I became a liability," he said, the Firefly training still ingrained despite everything.
Ellie's expression hardened. "That's not how we do things here."
The simple statement carried weight beyond its words—a rejection of the harsh calculus of pure survival, an assertion of community values over tactical expediency. Arthur found himself surprisingly comforted by it, despite years of training to the contrary.
"I should get Doc," Ellie said, rising from her chair. She paused at the door, turning back with an expression Arthur couldn't quite read. "And Arthur? Don't ever tell me to leave you behind again."
Before he could respond, she was gone, leaving him to contemplate the fierce protectiveness beneath her words. Something had shifted between them—the shared intimacy before the mission, the life-threatening danger afterward, creating bonds that neither had articulated but both clearly felt.
Two weeks later, Arthur stood on the ridge overlooking Jackson, watching the settlement come alive in the early morning light. His recovery had progressed remarkably fast—partly due to his own stubborn determination, partly due to his body's conditioned resilience from years of survival.
The wound in his side had healed cleanly, leaving another scar to join the collection mapping his history across his skin. His strength had returned rapidly once the infection cleared, though he still occasionally felt twinges when he moved too quickly. Nothing that would compromise him in the field—an acceptable limitation that would fade with time and training.
"Thought I might find you up here," came Ellie's voice from behind him. "Doc know you're climbing ridges instead of resting?"
Arthur turned, the sight of her still causing something to shift in his chest even after seeing her daily during his recovery. "What Doc doesn't know won't hurt him."
Ellie snorted, coming to stand beside him at the overlook. "Until you tear something open and end up back in his clinic."
"Won't happen," Arthur assured her with quiet confidence. "I know my limits."
"Do you?" Ellie challenged, though there was warmth beneath her skepticism. "Because from where I'm standing, you don't seem to think you have any."
The observation was uncomfortably accurate. Arthur had pushed his recovery relentlessly, moving from bedridden to walking to training in a fraction of the time Doc Matthews had predicted. Not out of recklessness, but from deeply ingrained survival instincts—weakness meant vulnerability, and vulnerability wasn't something he could afford.
"Tommy's taking a group hunting today," Ellie said, changing subjects. "Elk herd moving through Miller's Valley. Good eating if they can bring one down."
Arthur studied her, noting the casual way she delivered this information. "You going?"
"Thinking about it," she replied with deliberate nonchalance. "Jesse and Dina are joining. Could use another experienced hunter."
The invitation was clear, if indirect. Arthur considered his body's condition honestly. The hunting expedition would be his first extended activity since recovering—a reasonable test of his restored capabilities without the higher stakes of patrol duty.
"Might be worth checking out," he agreed. "If only to make sure you don't miss all your shots."
Ellie shoved his shoulder lightly, mindful of his healing wound even in her playfulness. "Says the guy who couldn't hit the broad side of a bloater last time we were on patrol together."
"I was conserving ammunition," Arthur defended, the hint of a smile touching his lips.
"Sure you were," Ellie teased, her own smile breaking through. These lighter moments between them had become more frequent during his recovery—small cracks in their usual serious facades, glimpses of who they might have been in another, gentler world.
As they walked back toward Jackson together, Arthur found himself studying Ellie with quiet appreciation. She'd been a constant presence during his recovery—first at his bedside during the critical days, then visiting regularly as he regained strength. They hadn't spoken directly about what had happened between them the night before the mission, but it existed between them nevertheless, an unacknowledged current beneath their daily interactions.
Joel was waiting at the main gate, his expression shifting from concern to relief when he spotted them coming down the trail together. His eyes immediately assessed Arthur's condition—the protective parental instinct still strange to both of them but increasingly familiar.
"Ridge climbing wasn't on Doc's approved activities list," Joel observed dryly as they approached.
"Just getting some fresh air," Arthur replied, the casual defense feeling strangely normal, almost familial.
Joel snorted, clearly unconvinced but choosing not to press the issue. "Tommy mentioned you might join the hunting party."
"If there's room," Arthur confirmed, surprised by his father's lack of objection.
"Could use the extra hands," Joel acknowledged. "Just don't overdo it first time out."
The concern was understated but genuine. Another change since Arthur's arrival in Jackson—this careful dance of parental worry tempered by respect for autonomy. Neither of them quite knew how to navigate it, but both were trying in their own way.
"We'll keep an eye on him," Ellie assured Joel, her casual inclusion of herself with Arthur not going unnoticed by either man.
Joel's gaze moved between them, his expression unreadable. "I'm sure you will," he replied finally, the simple statement somehow weighted with understanding neither Arthur nor Ellie was prepared to address directly.
Morning arrived clear and bright, perfect weather for hunting. The summer had fully established itself, painting the landscape in vibrant greens and wildflower colors, life asserting itself with stubborn persistence despite the broken world.
Tommy's instructions were straightforward—four teams working different approaches to Miller's Valley, converging on the elk herd from multiple directions to maximize their chances. Arthur found himself paired with Ellie, a decision that felt both natural and significant.
"Eastern ridge has the best visibility," Tommy told them, pointing out their route on the map. "You two take that approach, radio if you spot the herd before the rest of us."
As they prepared by the stables, Arthur noticed something was off with their assigned mounts. "There's only one horse," he observed as Ellie joined him, pack and bow ready for the expedition.
"Shimmer threw a shoe this morning," she explained, patting the remaining horse—a sturdy bay gelding named River. "Tommy says the others are needed for patrol rotation. We'll have to double up."
Arthur nodded, assessing the practical implications. "I'll take the reins, you watch our flanks?"
"Works for me," Ellie agreed, her tone casual though something flickered in her eyes that suggested she wasn't entirely displeased with the arrangement.
River accepted the double burden without complaint as they mounted, Arthur swinging up first, then extending his arm to help Ellie up behind him. She settled against his back, her arms coming around his waist with careful consideration for his healing wound.
"Good?" she asked, her breath warm against his ear.
"Good," he confirmed, ignoring the awareness her proximity triggered—a different kind of tension than the tactical alertness that usually governed his responses.
They rode out with the other hunting parties, separating at the valley approach to cover their assigned routes. The day had warmed pleasantly, summer sunshine filtering through the forest canopy as they followed game trails toward the eastern ridge.
At first, they maintained a professional distance despite their physical closeness—Ellie sitting slightly back from Arthur, her hands resting lightly on his sides rather than embracing him fully. But as the trail narrowed and the terrain grew more challenging, practicality overcame hesitation. She pressed closer, arms wrapping more securely around his midsection, her chest against his back, thighs against his.
"Sorry," she murmured when a particularly steep section forced her to tighten her hold. "Don't want to fall off."
"It's fine," Arthur assured her, hyperaware of her body against his but keeping his voice steady. "Do what you need to."
What began as necessity gradually evolved into something more comfortable, more deliberate. Ellie relaxed against him, her body molding to his back with increasing ease as they navigated the forest trails. The summer heat made the contact both pleasant and slightly distracting, her presence a constant reminder of their growing connection.
By mid-morning, they'd reached a vantage point overlooking Miller's Valley—a lush expanse of grassland bordered by forest, with a clear stream cutting through its center. They dismounted, Arthur extending a hand to help Ellie down, the contact lingering slightly longer than strictly necessary.
"Should be able to spot the herd from here," Ellie said, retrieving the binoculars from her pack.
They scanned the valley methodically, eventually locating the elk grazing peacefully at the northern end—perhaps fifteen animals including several impressive bulls. Without discussion, they settled into a comfortable routine, taking turns watching the herd's movements while planning their approach.
"If we circle around to the eastern edge, we can get within bow range," Ellie suggested, mapping the route with her finger. "Wind's in our favor."
Arthur nodded, already calculating angles and approach vectors. "Good sight lines, multiple retreat options if something spooks them. Smart approach."
The easy collaboration felt natural, their hunting partnership an extension of the connection that had developed during missions and recovery alike. They worked in tandem, anticipating each other's thoughts, communicating with glances and minimal words—a synchronicity that felt both tactical and personal.
As they prepared to move to their hunting position, Arthur secured River to a sturdy tree, ensuring the horse had access to grass and shade during their absence. When he turned, he found Ellie watching him with an expression he couldn't quite interpret.
"What?" he asked, checking himself for some overlooked detail.
Ellie shook her head slightly. "Nothing. Just... glad you're here. That you recovered."
The simple admission, understated as it was, carried weight beyond its words. Arthur understood what remained unspoken—how close he'd come to death, how his loss would have affected her, how much his presence mattered.
"Me too," he replied, matching her tone.
They held each other's gaze for a moment longer than usual, something unresolved humming between them. Then, with wordless agreement, they refocused on the mission at hand, beginning their careful approach toward the grazing herd.
The hunt proceeded with methodical precision. They moved through the forest with practiced stealth, their years of survival experience making them nearly invisible despite the summer undergrowth. When they reached the valley's edge, they settled into position among tall grasses, wind carrying their scent away from the elk.
Ellie nocked an arrow, her movements fluid and confident as she selected her target—a young bull separate from the main group, positioned for a clean shot. Arthur watched her prepare, appreciating the calm focus that transformed her features, the steady hands that had once cared for him during fever now poised to provide for their community.
Her shot flew true, striking the elk precisely behind the shoulder. The animal bolted, running perhaps fifty yards before collapsing. The rest of the herd scattered, moving north away from the perceived threat.
"Nice shot," Arthur complimented as they rose from cover, approaching the fallen elk with appropriate caution.
Ellie's smile held the satisfaction of a skilled hunter. "Not bad for someone who 'misses all her shots,' right?"
Arthur conceded the point with a nod, helping her field dress the animal with efficient movements. They worked in comfortable tandem, the gruesome but necessary task made easier by shared effort. Once complete, Arthur radioed their success to Tommy, arranging to meet the others for transport assistance.
"We've got about an hour before they reach us," Ellie noted, wiping her hands clean on a cloth from her pack. "And I'm not sitting next to elk guts the whole time."
"Stream's nearby," Arthur suggested, indicating the water glinting through trees to their east. "Could clean up properly."
They made their way to the stream, finding a spot where the water pooled clear and cool, shaded by overhanging trees. Without ceremony, they washed the blood from their hands and arms, the cold water refreshing after the exertion of the hunt and field dressing.
Ellie splashed water on her face, sighing with evident pleasure at the coolness against her skin. When she looked up, droplets clinging to her eyelashes, Arthur found himself struck by how beautiful she was—not in any conventional sense, but in the vital, authentic way that defined her entire being.
She caught him watching, a question in her eyes that neither had quite articulated since that night before the mission. The charged silence between them grew, filled with unspoken possibilities.
"We should talk about it sometime," Ellie said finally, her directness cutting through the tension. "What happened. Before the mission."
Arthur nodded, studying her for a moment. Something shifted in his expression – a decision made, a barrier lowered. Instead of his usual careful restraint, he took a step closer to her.
"It meant everything to me," he said, his voice low but steady. "That night. You."
The directness of his response caught Ellie off guard. She'd expected his usual measured caution, not this unfiltered honesty.
"Arthur—"
"No, let me finish," he continued, words flowing with an intensity that surprised them both. "My entire life has been about survival, about missions, about the next objective. Nothing permanent, nothing... mine." His eyes held hers, unguarded in a way she'd never seen before. "Until you. Until that night."
Ellie stood motionless, transfixed by this revelation from a man who rarely revealed anything of himself.
"I've thought about it every day during recovery," Arthur admitted. "Not just the physical connection, but what it meant. What you mean to me." He took another step toward her, close enough now that she could feel the warmth radiating from him. "You're not just someone I want to protect or fight alongside. You're someone I want a future with, whatever that looks like in this world."
The confession hung between them, more revealing than any physical intimacy they'd shared. Arthur had laid himself bare in a way his training had taught him never to do – vulnerability as the ultimate risk, the ultimate trust.
"I don't know how to do this," he continued more softly. "I've never had the chance to learn. But I want to, with you. If that's what you want too."
Ellie's eyes had widened during his declaration, genuine surprise giving way to something deeper, more profound. When she finally spoke, her voice carried an emotional weight that matched his own.
"I didn't think you'd..." she began, then paused, collecting herself. "I've been afraid to hope for anything beyond survival for so long. Afraid to want something that could be taken away." Her hand reached up to touch his face, fingers tracing the line of his jaw with wonder. "But I want this. I want us. Whatever comes with it."
The honesty between them felt almost dangerous in its intensity, more exposing than their physical vulnerability had ever been. This wasn't just desire or comfort in darkness before a dangerous mission – this was choosing each other deliberately, with clear eyes and full awareness of what it meant.
The moment stretched between them, filled with potential. Then, with characteristic decisiveness, Ellie closed the remaining distance, her hand coming up to rest lightly against his chest. Arthur remained still, letting her set the pace, aware of how significant this deliberate choice was for both of them.
When she kissed him, it held none of the desperate urgency of their pre-mission encounter. This was thoughtful, exploratory, a conscious decision rather than an emotional release before potential death. Her lips were soft against his, slightly cool from the stream water, tasting faintly of the wild berries they'd gathered during their approach.
Arthur responded with equal care, one hand coming up to cradle her face, thumb tracing the curve of her cheek with a gentleness few would have believed him capable of. For a man trained in warfare and survival, tenderness was its own kind of revolution—unfamiliar territory navigated by instinct rather than tactical planning.
They separated slowly, foreheads resting together for a moment before Ellie pulled back enough to meet his eyes.
"Okay?" she asked, the question encompassing far more than just the kiss.
"Very," Arthur confirmed, a rare smile touching his lips.
The radio crackled to life before they could say more, Tommy's voice announcing their group was approaching the valley's northern entrance. With silent agreement, they stepped apart, though something fundamental had shifted between them—acknowledgment replacing uncertainty, intention replacing happenstance.
They returned to the elk kill site, meeting Tommy, Jesse, and Dina as they arrived with pack horses for transporting the meat. The successful hunt put everyone in good spirits, practical satisfaction at the resource acquisition blending with the simple pleasure of a day spent outside Jackson's walls without incident.
"One horse between you didn't slow you down any," Tommy observed as they loaded the butchered elk onto the pack animals. His tone was casual, but his eyes missed nothing—including the subtle ways Arthur and Ellie oriented toward each other, the unconscious synchronicity of their movements.
"River's a strong horse," Ellie replied noncommittally. "And we travel light."
Tommy's knowing smile suggested he heard what wasn't being said, but he didn't press further. "Let's head back before the day gets any hotter. Maria's organizing a cookout tonight if we brought back something worth eating."
The return journey felt different, the unspoken tension between Arthur and Ellie replaced by something more settled, more certain. When they mounted River again, Ellie's arms came around Arthur's waist without hesitation, her body fitting against his back with comfortable familiarity.
"This okay?" she asked quietly as they set off, her chin resting lightly on his shoulder.
"More than okay," Arthur assured her, one hand briefly covering hers where it rested against his stomach.
They rode like that all the way back to Jackson, Ellie gradually relaxing against him until her cheek rested against his shoulder blade, her breath warm through his shirt. The rhythm of the horse's movement created a gentle rocking that felt almost hypnotic in the summer heat, lulling them into a shared peace that neither had expected to find in this harsh world.
Tommy rode ahead with Jesse and Dina, giving them space without making it obvious he was doing so. Arthur appreciated the subtle consideration, another example of how Jackson's community functioned at its best—respecting connections without making them matters of public discussion.
As they neared Jackson's walls, Ellie straightened slightly, though she didn't fully separate from Arthur. The change was subtle but meaningful—not hiding their closeness, but transitioning from private intimacy to public presentation.
Joel was waiting at the gates when they arrived, his expression shifting from watchful concern to relief as he confirmed Arthur's condition. When his gaze took in their shared horse, Ellie's arms still around Arthur's waist, something flickered across his features—recognition, understanding, perhaps even a hint of approval beneath his usual stoic façade.
"Successful hunt?" he asked as they dismounted, his tone carefully neutral.
"Ellie took down a bull elk," Arthur confirmed, extending a hand to help her down from the horse. Their hands remained clasped a moment longer than necessary, a small but deliberate signal. "Clean shot, perfect placement."
"Nice work," Joel acknowledged, his eyes moving between them with quiet assessment. "Both of you."
The simple statement contained volumes—acceptance of what he was seeing develop between them, approval of their partnership both tactical and personal, acknowledgment of Arthur's recovery and return to active contribution.
"Tommy's organizing a cookout," Ellie informed him. "Fresh meat tonight."
Joel nodded, falling into step beside them as they led River toward the stables. "Maria mentioned it. Community's looking forward to it."
The conversation turned to practical matters—the elk's size, the meat yield, the distribution plans—but undercurrents flowed beneath the surface. Joel's occasional glances toward where Arthur and Ellie walked close together, their hands occasionally brushing, spoke of parental awareness that neither young adult was quite ready to address directly.
As they reached the stables, Joel cleared his throat slightly. "Arthur, mind giving me a hand with something at the house before the cookout? Won't take long."
The request wasn't really a request. Arthur recognized the tone from his own Firefly training—the sound of a superior officer creating an opportunity for private conversation. He met Ellie's eyes briefly, a silent communication passing between them.
"Sure," he agreed, turning to Ellie. "See you at the cookout?"
"Save me a seat," she replied, a small smile playing at her lips.
As Arthur walked with Joel toward the house they now shared, he prepared himself for whatever conversation was coming. Questions, perhaps. Warnings. Concerns about divided focus or emotional vulnerability in a world where such things could prove fatal.
Instead, when they reached the porch and were seated in the familiar chairs overlooking Jackson, Joel simply passed him a mug of what passed for coffee these days.
"You look better," Joel observed after a comfortable silence. "Recovery's going well."
"Faster than Doc expected," Arthur confirmed, accepting both the drink and the opening for what it was—Joel's way of expressing care without smothering.
"Good." Joel took a sip from his own mug, gaze directed across the settlement rather than at Arthur directly. "Ellie too. She was... pretty torn up. When you were sick."
The understated description hinted at deeper concerns than Joel was expressing directly. Arthur understood what his father wasn't saying—that Ellie's vigil during his illness had revealed feelings neither had been ready to acknowledge, that Joel had witnessed this connection developing and had concerns about what it meant for both of them.
"We're figuring it out," Arthur said finally, offering honesty rather than deflection. "Whatever this is between us."
Joel nodded, seemingly satisfied with this approach. "That's all anyone can do," he replied simply. "Just... be careful with each other. Both of you have been through enough."
The warning was gentle but clear—not against their developing relationship, but against the potential for unintended harm given their respective histories of loss and survival. It spoke of Joel's care for both of them, his desire to see them find connection without adding new scars to those they already carried.
"We will," Arthur promised, the commitment extending beyond the immediate conversation to encompass everything their growing bond might become.
Joel seemed to accept this, their discussion shifting to practical matters—the upcoming cookout, community projects, training schedules for newer Jackson residents. But something had been acknowledged between father and son, a line crossed in their still-developing relationship.
By the time they joined the community gathering that evening, the summer sun casting long golden light across Jackson's central square, Arthur felt strangely unburdened. His recovery, his growing connection with Ellie, his gradual integration into Jackson's community—all were evolving naturally, without the rigid strategic assessments that had governed his entire existence until now.
He found Ellie waiting near the communal fire pits, her hair still damp from a recent shower, a relaxed ease in her posture that mirrored his own emerging comfort. When she spotted him approaching with Joel, her smile held none of the guardedness that had characterized their earlier interactions.
"Saved you a seat," she confirmed, indicating the space beside her on a wooden bench.
As Arthur settled next to her, their shoulders touching lightly, he felt Joel's knowing gaze before his father moved to join Tommy and Maria across the gathering. The subtle granting of privacy without obvious withdrawal spoke of respect that Arthur hadn't realized he'd been seeking.
The evening unfolded around them—elk steaks grilled over open fires, vegetables from Jackson's gardens, even a small batch of Tommy's infamous moonshine making careful rounds among the adults. Stories were shared, laughter rippled through various conversations, and for brief, precious hours, the dangers beyond their walls seemed distant concerns rather than immediate threats.
Ellie's hand found Arthur's as darkness fell and lanterns were lit around the square, her fingers intertwining with his in a public acknowledgment of what was developing between them. No announcements were made, no declarations offered—but the simple gesture, visible to anyone who cared to notice, spoke volumes.
"Thank you," she said quietly when he looked at her questioningly.
"For what?" Arthur asked, genuinely puzzled.
"For staying," Ellie clarified, the simple words carrying layered meaning. For surviving the infection. For remaining in Jackson when his instincts might have driven him to leave. For allowing this connection between them to grow despite all the tactical reasons to avoid such vulnerability.
Arthur's response was equally simple, equally weighted. "Thank you for giving me reason to."
As the celebration continued around them, Arthur found himself observing Jackson's community with fresh appreciation. These people had aspects his Firefly upbringing had never prioritized—joy alongside vigilance, connection alongside capability, hope alongside practicality. Life, not just survival.
The distinction mattered more than he'd realized. And as Ellie leaned slightly against his shoulder, her presence both comfort and promise, Arthur acknowledged that perhaps this—not vengeance, not answers about his past, not even tactical advantage—was what he'd been seeking all along.
A place to belong. People worth protecting. A future worth building, however uncertain it might be.
For the first time since awakening from his fever, since arriving in Jackson, perhaps since his earliest memories, Arthur felt something that had been foreign to his survival-focused existence: contentment. Not the absence of danger or the completion of a mission, but the quiet satisfaction of being exactly where he was meant to be, with exactly the right person beside him.
It was, he reflected as the stars appeared overhead and Ellie's head came to rest against his shoulder, not a bad feeling at all.