Spoiler Warning: Major plot points from The Last of Us Season 2 Episode 7 are discussed below, including flashbacks, emotional revelations, and important character development. If you haven’t watched it yet or played the game, this is your cue to bounce and come back later.
Here’s the thing about The Last of Us Season 2 Episode 7: “Convergence” – it’s a genuinely solid episode of television that commits the cardinal sin of being a terrible season finale. All the individual components work, but the whole thing feels incomplete, frustrating, and oddly unsatisfying when the credits roll and you realize you have to wait probably two years to see what happens next.
Let me be clear: this isn’t a bad episode, far from it. There are moments of brilliance here – gut-punch performances, top-tier direction, and some of the most intense sequences the show’s pulled off all season.
But as the emotional and narrative payoff for everything we’ve been building toward these past seven episodes? It doesn’t deliver. Unless you’ve played the game, it feels like someone ripped out the last chapter of a book and told you to just live with it.
The Calm Before the Storm
The episode opens back at the theater, and you can immediately feel how much has shifted since we left our characters in episode 5. Jesse’s playing field medic with Dina’s arrow wound, and she refuses the alcohol without explanation, which is such a small detail, but it’s loaded with subtext that pays off later.
Then Ellie comes back. And she’s not okay.
She carries what she did to Nora like a physical weight. The wounds on her back that Dina helps clean? They’re not just from a fight – they’re visual scars of the emotional rot setting in. This revenge mission isn’t just dangerous; it’s devouring her from the inside out.
“I just kept hurting her.”
Bella Ramsey delivers that line like it’s breaking out of her. Soft, raw, and shattered. You see Ellie fracturing. The fact that she left Nora alive after torturing her doesn’t feel merciful. It feels cruel. To Nora. To herself. It’s a moment that echoes her brutal takedown of David back in Season 1, but this time, there’s no catharsis. Just guilt.
But the real gut-punch? Ellie finally tells Dina the truth.
Joel. The Fireflies. The cure. All of it.
Watching Dina’s face shift from confusion to quiet horror as she realizes the full scope of what Joel did – and that Ellie knew – is devastating. It’s a lot to process: the cure was real, Joel killed Abby’s dad, and everything they’ve suffered is a ripple effect of one man’s desperate, bloody love. And through it all, Isabel Merced just crushes it. Like honestly, casting her as Dina remains one of the smartest moves this show has made.
“We need to go home.”
The way she delivers that line, barely holding herself together. She’s done. And honestly? Who could blame her?
The Weight of Consequences
It’s in the Seattle sequences that the episode really finds its groove. The tension ratchets up, not with shootouts or infected, but with conversations.
Jesse’s figured it out. Dina’s pregnant. She’s with Ellie now. And somehow, in the middle of this bloody, spiraling revenge mission, he’s about to be a father. The moment he tells Ellie he can’t die because of that … it’s such a simple line. No melodrama. Just cold, human truth.
Then comes the story about the girl who once asked him to move to Mexico. At first, it feels like a throwaway anecdote. But the subtext? He’s calling Ellie out. She’s chasing her own pain, risking everything, while the people who love her are stuck cleaning up the mess. When Jesse reveals he voted against going after Abby’s group, it reframes everything. He didn’t want this. He didn’t want to be here. But he came anyway – because that’s who he is.
What I really like about their argument is that it isn’t TV exposition disguised as dialogue. It’s two people who love each other, trying and failing to reconcile their values. So when Jesse walks away to help Tommy, leaving Ellie to hunt for Abby alone, it doesn’t feel dramatic. It feels inevitable.
Storm and Consequence
The storm sequence is unreal. Easily one of the best-looking sequences in the whole show. Yeah, it’s kind of a convenient way to push Ellie toward the aquarium, but it’s so damn good I don’t even mind.
And that aquarium? The set design is disgusting in the best way. Bloodied bandages everywhere, cots on the floor, water leaking through the ceiling – it’s clearly a place where people were trying to hold it together. A hospital cobbled together out of desperation. You can feel the fear in every corner. You don’t need exposition. The set tells the story on its own.
Then we get to the confrontation with Owen and Mel, and it’s the emotional apex of the episode. We find them mid-argument about going behind enemy lines to find Abby. These aren’t villains scheming in the dark – okay, I mean, literally they are – but morally? They’re not evil. They’re just two people trying to protect their friend.
And just like that, it all goes to hell.
The moment is so fast, so messy, so human that it almost doesn’t feel like TV. One second, Ellie’s trying to get information, the next, Owen’s been shot in the neck. Then the real horror sets in: Mel’s been shot too. Collateral damage. The look on Ellie’s face when she realizes the bullet went through? Oh my god, Ramsey plays it perfectly, pure disbelief curdling into full-blown panic. This wasn’t supposed to happen, not like this.
But then Mel says she’s pregnant.
Fuck.
Ariela Barer’s final moments as Mel are just brutal, so much so that my fiancé had to look away. Mel’s voice breaks, her hands shake, and she begs Ellie to save the baby. To make the horror mean something. But Ellie can’t. She’s frozen. Shocked. Catatonic. And honestly? Who wouldn’t be? She’s a kid – a kid who’s just killed two people, one of them pregnant, and now she’s being asked to play surgeon. It’s too much. It’s all too much.
By the time Tommy and Jesse find her, Ellie’s barely responsive, sitting in a ruined dream of vengeance, and no amount of comfort can touch what’s just happened. Tommy tries – tells her Owen and Mel made their choices – but it rings hollow.
Because Ellie knows the truth: this wasn’t justice. This wasn’t closure.
This was a line she can’t uncross.
The Point of No Return
Back at the theater, the episode starts threading what feels like the beginning of closure. Ellie’s conversation with Tommy, about whether she can live with Abby still out there, feels like the show giving her a way out. When she quietly says, “I’ll have to,” there’s a flicker of something that almost looks like peace. Like maybe, just maybe, she’s finally ready to stop running headfirst into the fire.
Then comes her moment with Jesse. He tells her she’s loyal to a fault, that she’d die for the people she loves, and it lands not as criticism, but as a kind of bittersweet praise. For a second, you almost believe it: maybe these fractured relationships will survive. Maybe they’ll walk out of this alive, together.
And then Jesse opens the door. And gets shot in the face.
Young Mazino’s performance this season has been such a quiet anchor – steady, calm, dependable – that his sudden, unceremonious exit feels like a slap in the face. There are no famous last words. No hero moment. Just a guy who showed up for his friends … and died for it.
Then comes the moment we’ve been waiting for:
Ellie and Abby, face to face.
Kaitlyn Dever is terrifying here. Controlled, but furious. Her presence is ice-cold rage, and when she tells Ellie she wasted the mercy she was given, you feel the weight of it. Abby let her live. Ellie chose war anyway. And now, Abby’s here to return the favor, with none of the grace.
But before she can pull the trigger … A gunshot and cut to black.
And this is where my issues with the episode really begin.
The Cliffhanger Problem
Here’s the thing – I get it. Cliffhangers are a time-honored TV tradition. When they work, they’re exhilarating. They keep you up at night, spiraling on what-ifs, counting the days until the next installment drops. That was me after Avengers: Infinity War – completely wrecked, pacing around my apartment, refreshing fan theories like my life depended on it.
But this? This ain’t that.
We’ve spent seven emotionally brutal episodes crawling toward this inevitable collision between Ellie and Abby. We’ve watched Ellie tear herself apart piece by piece – losing friends, shedding any last shred of innocence, making choices she can’t come back from. And right when it all comes to a head … gunshot. Cut to black. No fallout. No payoff.
It doesn’t land like suspense – it lands like emotional blue balls.
And then, to make matters worse, we cut to a flashback of Abby waking up in the WLF stadium.
Sure, it looks great. Sure, it sets the table for next season. But in the context of this finale? It feels like the show is tapping us on the shoulder to say, “Hey, we’ll tell Abby’s side of the story next time, promise.” And that’s fine – I want to see that side. But as the final chapter of this arc we’ve been riding since episode one? It leaves us with no resolution, emotional release, or sense of earned finality.
Technical Excellence, Narrative Frustration
From a technical standpoint, the episode is firing on all cylinders. The production design is stunning, especially the aquarium and Scar Island sequences, which feel tactile, lived-in, and terrifying. The action is sharp and visceral without feeling gratuitous. The storm looks incredible. And the final confrontation at the theater is paced with surgical precision – it’s tense, chaotic, and grounded in character.
Craig Mazin and Neil Druckmann still know how to write the hell out of a scene. The dialogue feels real. The character work is thoughtful and layered. But none of that craft can mask the core issue: this episode doesn’t feel like a finale. It plays like a penultimate chapter – like we’re still building toward something instead of wrapping anything up. Plot threads dangling like exposed nerves. Character arcs pause mid-sentence. Huge emotional questions just … sit there, unanswered.
And yeah, I get it – The Last of Us Part II isn’t built like a traditional story. The game unfolds in two halves, with a massive pivot to Abby’s perspective right after that big moment in the theater. That structure works in a game because you hold the controller. You live in those shifts.
But on TV? With year-long gaps between seasons? That transition doesn’t hit the same.
Ending here, at this exact moment, feels less like a bold creative decision and more like they hit their episode quota and shrugged. Like, “Welp, we’ll get to Abby’s story next season.” And sure, we will. But right now, in the present? It leaves us stranded.
It’s a season finale that sacrifices closure for setup, and honestly? I don’t like that.
Final Thoughts
“Convergence” is a good episode of television, but it stumbles hard as a season finale. It’s packed with strong character work, brutal and beautifully executed action, emotionally gutting scenes, and some of the best technical craftsmanship in the series so far.
Bella Ramsey has become the emotional core of this show, digging deeper into Ellie’s unraveling psyche with every episode. She’s phenomenal. I know there are people out there who aren’t sold on her, but I’ve been defending her all season, and I stand by it. The supporting cast also brings their A-game. Young Mazino, Isabel Merced, and Kaitlyn Dever leave lasting impressions with what they’re given.
But when the credits rolled and that was it, I didn’t feel eager for the next season. I felt annoyed. A good finale can leave you with questions. It can even leave you hurting. But it shouldn’t leave you feeling like the story ghosted you.
And I’ll be real with y’all: I’m more excited for The Witcher Season 4 – yes, that show – than I am for The Last of Us Season 3. And considering The Witcher has been through its own mess of controversy, uneven writing, and major cast shakeups, that should tell you something. Right now, The Last of Us feels stuck – like it’s holding back just to line up perfectly with the game instead of telling the most satisfying version of this story for TV.
And look, I get it – adapting the entirety of Part II in one season would’ve been a mess, rushed, uneven, probably worse. But that’s what extra episodes are for. Or better yet, do what Netflix does and split the season into Part 1 and Part 2. Let the story land where it needs to instead of jamming it into an arbitrary endpoint.
Despite all that, Season 2 of The Last of Us is still a mostly successful adaptation of one of the riskiest, most emotionally ambitious games of all time. But “Convergence” is a misstep, a reminder that television, even when it comes from sprawling, nonlinear source material, still has to play by some rules. A season needs shape. It needs a payoff. It needs to feel done.
Let’s hope Season 3 doesn’t just continue the story. Let’s hope it redeems this finale by giving us the closure this season held back.
Episode Score: 7/10
Season 2 Score: 9/10
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