The Last of Us Season 2 finale, “Convergence,” lands like a gut-punch. It doesn’t tie up loose ends (like The Price somewhat did) it rips them wide open and throws the pieces back in your face. Over nine episodes we’ve watched Ellie spiral from haunted survivor into unrelenting avenger, and here, that transformation snaps into focus with brutal clarity.
From the moment she steps into Jackson’s burned-out ruins, you feel the tension crackling. Ellie’s confession to Dina - “I thought it would be harder…It was easy” - comes out flat, hollow, and it burns. Dina’s eyes widen, the weight of that admission pressing down. Their bond, which all season flickered like a candle in a gale, finally meets the storm head-on. There’s no rescue, only fallout.
Then comes the showdown with Jesse, that wrenching plea for teamwork versus Ellie’s single-minded fury. He talks community, saving Tommy, keeping the pieces of their makeshift family together. But Ellie’s wrath laughs back - “My community was beaten to death in front of me.” Her grief is armor, impenetrable.
We feel her fracture, that final break from anything resembling hope or home.
The aquarium sequence is cataclysmic. Ellie barges in, hunting Owen and Mel like prey. She tries to channel Joel’s icy precision, but her hand shakes. When Mel falls - struck by a stray bullet meant for Owen - it feels accidental, horrible, inevitable.
No cinematic heroism, just chaos. And when we learn Mel was pregnant, the cruel twist lands like stones in your gut.
That life lost echoes back to Dina waiting in the theater, carrying Ellie’s own future in her arms. The symmetry shreds any last shred of righteous fury. Ellie’s revenge turns on her, a mirror showing the true cost of her path.
Back at the theater, the final act unfolds like a dark ballet. Abby returns like a thundercloud - her calm fury more terrifying than any shout. Jesse dies in an instant, a casualty of Ellie’s earlier choices. Abby’s quiet line, “I let you live, and you wasted it,” drips with cold verdict.
Mercy, it turns out, was never a gift - it was a loan to be paid in blood.
Then that ending:
one shot, cut to black.
Your chest tightens.
And just when you’re reeling in the silence, the show yanks you back with a title card - “Seattle Day 1.”
It’s a bait-and-switch, a refusal to let the terror settle. It’s telling you this story doesn’t stop here - that every wound we’ve watched tear open is just the overture to another descent.
“Convergence” isn’t neat. It asks more of us than closure - it demands reckoning. Ellie stands on the edge of her own undoing, eyes blazing with loss and rage.
We’re left asking: can vengeance ever be justified when it scythes through everyone you claim to love?
The show doesn’t sugarcoat the question.
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