Chapter Text
Gareth was hallucinating.
That was the only explanation that made sense. He wasn’t sure he’d ever gone this long without sleeping, so it made sense that his brain had gone a little wonky.
Steve Harrington had just burst into Eddie’s hospital room, reached under the couch by the window, pulled out a bat full of nails, and dashed back out into the hallway.
Gareth stared at the door for a moment and then looked over at Jeff who was sitting on the other side of Eddie’s bed. Jeff was looking at the door, mouth open and appearing just as confused as Gareth felt. Wayne, who’d been standing beside Gareth’s chair near Eddie’s head, had flinched when the door slammed open and raced to the foot of the bed, but paused when Harrington had made for the couch instead of Eddie.
Gareth had only spoken to Wayne once during the week after the first murder and before Eddie turned up at the hospital. He’d been stoic and silent since Gareth had shown up at the hospital yesterday, and other than a quiet greeting and a few questions about how Gareth’s family was holding up after the earthquake, he’d stayed that way. Jeff got the same treatment when he’d shown up a few hours later. And Dustin Henderson had popped in a few times to sit with them for a while, but other than that, they’d been left alone.
Some of Hawkins was clearly still under the impression that Eddie was responsible for the killings, the image of his missing poster graffitied with devil horns and accusations coming to mind, but the police had seemingly backed off. There was no officer posted outside the door, nor had any stopped by the room since Gareth had arrived. There was no way that could last, even if they’d dropped Eddie as a suspect. Someone was bound to come by at some point, asking questions none of them had answers to.
Or for something worse.
But Harrington hadn’t stuck around, hadn’t even looked at any of them in the scant few seconds he’d been in the room.
And where the fuck had that bat come from?
“What in the–”
The door swung open again, cutting Jeff off mid-sentence. Robin Buckley stood in the doorway this time. She glanced around the room, focusing in on Eddie for a few seconds before walking up to Wayne.
“Mr. Munson, right?”
Wayne stared at her, but did nothing to respond. Buckley didn’t seem to care.
“There’s a bit of a situation downstairs. I don’t think… it should be okay. We shooed them off earlier, and it shouldn’t be any different. Except this time Lucas said he saw two trucks pull up instead of just the one, and he couldn’t see super clearly because it’s dark out, but he thinks they were holding…” She trailed off and then shook her head. “Anyway, the cops aren’t really around, so maybe that’s why they came back. But like I said, it should be fine.” She looked at Eddie again and her eyes hardened.
Gareth moved toward her. “What are you even talking about? Who’s downstairs? What’s going on?” What was she doing here? What was Harrington doing here?
She looked up at Gareth and then back to Wayne. “Nothing good.” She reached behind her back, moving her shirt aside to grab at something. “Like I said, we should be able to handle it. But just in case…”
She held out a handgun, grip pointing toward Wayne, who gave her a baffled look. Buckley shook the gun a bit, waving it in Wayne’s direction until he slowly reached out to take it from her. She nodded and backed away.
“It should be fine. And one of us will come back and let you know that everything’s good. But I should… yeah.”
And with that, she bolted out the door, presumably following Harrington.
Gareth felt like he’d been hit by a bus. Jeff didn’t look much better.
Wayne stared down at the gun in his hand for a moment, before doing something with it that Gareth couldn’t put a name to, but made it clear he knew how to handle it. He looked back at Eddie for a moment before walking over to the door and locking it.
“What the fuck?”
.
Jonathan was sober for the first time in what felt like ages, but was likely just several days. Or maybe a week. Probably several weeks.
Being friends with Argyle just kind of implied regular weed access. Jonathan had always preferred smoking to drinking. And Nancy was all the way back in Indiana, unable to give him that look she always gave him whenever she smelled it on his clothes.
Going through the latest Upside Down bullshit half high and desperate not to come down from it had been weird in the moment, but slightly terrifying in hindsight. He remembered a muddled conversation with Steve after Starcourt, both of them standing behind an ambulance while Robin sat in the open back doorway. Steve had been covered in blood, and both he and Robin had been pale and shaky.
“I don’t think it’s completely out of our systems yet,” Steve had said, pinching the bridge of his nose. Jonathan had hoped he didn’t have another concussion, unlikely as that had seemed.
“What did they give you guys?”
“No idea.” Robin had looked like she was about to either pass out or throw up. Steve had moved closer to her so she could lean against him. She’d buried her face in his side when he tugged her closer. “It was bright blue, like fucking Kool-aid. But scarier.”
“I thought it might’ve been LSD or something, but neither of us started hallucinating.” Steve had looked close to passing out himself, wincing when Robin pressed into him, but wrapping his arms around her anyway. “Now I think it was probably some sort of benzo mixed with who knows what.”
Jonathan thought seeing them both crash like that would put him off drugs forever. But less than a year later and he’d been voluntarily, and eagerly, high during a shootout and cross-country rescue mission. He wasn’t sure how to feel about it, but they’d all made it out mostly alright, so he did his best to ignore the creeping guilt.
It was hard, especially when his mom could sometimes read him like a book. She, Hopper, and Murray had just gotten to Hawkins, only a few hours after Jonathan, Will, El, Argyle, and Mike had. They’d met up at their old house, the only place they’d been able to get to without much trouble. Hawkins looked like a bomb had gone off in it, and Jonathan wasn’t eager to drag the kids around anywhere they didn’t absolutely need to go.
Will and Mike were trying to get in touch with the rest of the group in Hawkins, sending out periodic messages using the walkie. Mom was fussing over Hopper, who was fussing over El, who was napping fitfully in Hopper’s lap. Murray had disappeared somewhere down the hallway.
“Your house has a wicked vibe.” Argyle was sitting on the floor across from Jonathan, leaned back against the wall his mom had once strung Christmas lights across to speak with Will across dimensions.
Sometimes Jonathan wished he was perpetually high.
“Do you mean that in a good way or a bad way?”
Argyle shrugged. “Neither, I guess.” His eyes were closed. He seemed far too relaxed compared to the rest of them, but considering this was his first time dealing with all of this, Jonathan couldn’t really hold it against him. “Just feels very present, ya know?”
Jonathan didn’t know, but maybe it wasn’t so strange that someone could pick up on the house’s ever present connection to the Upside Down. “Technically not my house anymore.”
“Doesn’t look like anyone’s moved in, my guy. Think that means it’s still yours.”
The bank probably thought differently, but Argyle had a point. The house looked frozen in time, like no one had stepped foot in it since they’d left at the end of last summer. Jonathan wondered if they’d even tried selling it. Maybe the house would always be theirs, intrinsically linked to his family and the monsters they’d been fighting since ‘83.
“We’ve got them!”
Mike’s shout was jarring, making Jonathan jump to his feet without even realizing it. El jerked awake and scrambled out of Hopper’s lap to crowd around the walkie with the boys. She hadn’t said much about what had happened with Max when she went under, but Jonathan could read between the lines enough to know that it was bad. Bad enough to make El the most anxious out of all of them to get back to Hawkins. Hopper’s miraculous reappearance had been the only thing keeping her from tearing into town on her own.
She grabbed the walkie from Mike. “Hello. Who is there?”
“Hi, El. It’s Nancy.”
“Is Max okay?”
The silence was deafening. Jonathan already thought it was odd that Nancy was the one on the other end of the walkie. Why wasn’t it Dustin or Lucas? Were they hurt too?
“She’s… We’re at the hospital. Everyone’s here.”
“We’ll go there now.” His mom’s tone left no room for argument. Will relayed the message and everyone made their way outside, including Murray, who’d reappeared just in time to load into one of the cars.
They pulled up to the Hawkins General twenty minutes later, having had to take a few detours around the destruction. Most of the town seemed to be without power, so the hospital stood out like a beacon in the middle of the night. Nancy was waiting for them in the empty lobby. She was in clean clothes, but it looked like she hadn’t slept in days. She was twitchy in a way she only got when she was anxious about something out of her control.
Jonathan couldn’t remember the last time he’d talked to her.
She turned as they all walked in. Mike was quickly enveloped in a crushing hug he seemed mildly surprised by, but returned nonetheless. El and Will got quick shoulder squeezes before Nancy made her way to him. He thought it might be awkward, but they’d always done best in high stress situations. Sometimes Nancy and Jonathan didn’t feel like NancyandJonathan until the Upside Down started causing issues again. This was no different.
He hugged her tight, burying his face in her neck and breathing her in. She smelled like laundry detergent and gun oil. It wasn’t unusual, but it probably meant she was armed. Which meant the danger had very recently passed.
Or that it wasn’t fully over.
He pulled back, still holding her but wanting to catch her eye. Her mouth tightened and she tilted her head a bit, looking behind him for a second, before meeting his eye again.
So they weren’t in immediate danger then. But she was still on guard.
Then her whole face shifted into blatant shock.
“Hopper?!”
The former chief was hobbling his way in, assisted by Murray. He just shrugged in Nancy’s direction before collapsing into one of the chairs near the front desk.
“He’s been in Russia apparently,” Jonathan tried to explain. “Mom and Murray went and broke him out of prison.”
Nancy whipped her head back around to stare at him, opening and closing her mouth a few times without actually saying anything. She finally shook her head. “That makes absolutely no sense.” But she didn’t seem concerned about figuring it out.
Which was odd. Nancy always wanted to figure things out.
Something was definitely still wrong.
He quietly introduced her to Argyle, ignoring the confusing look the other man was sending him. They said polite hellos and then she pulled him in the direction his mom and the kids had gone, toward the front desk to talk to the nurse sitting behind it.
“Are they with you dear?” she asked Nancy with a small smile, obviously knowing the answer already.
“Yes. They’re here to see the same people.”
It would have been funny, seeing all three kids spin in unison to look at Nancy, except nothing was funny about any of this.
“People?” Will’s voice cracked and Jonathan felt his stomach swoop in response. “We knew Max… who else is hurt?”
Nancy, rather than answer Will directly, turned to look at Mike. “Eddie’s pretty banged up.”
Mike looked baffled, and then confused. “What do you–”
“He’s not too bad off,” Nancy cut him off. “Well, he was, for a while there. But he’s better now. We got him here in time.”
“How'd he get mixed up in this shit? He wasn’t supposed to!” Mike looked mad now, which probably meant he was trying not to cry. Will and El both clocked it, and each grabbed one of his hands.
Nancy reached forward to squeeze his shoulder gently as well. “Wrong place, wrong time. But he’s going to be alright. I promise.”
Jonathan nudged her when she pulled back from Mike. “Who’s Eddie?” he asked quietly.
Nancy opened her mouth to answer, but the sound of screeching tires echoed through the lobby, effectively silencing all conversation. They all looked out through the glass doors into the dark parking lot. Two pickup trucks had just skidded their way into the lot, thankfully stopping a good distance from the building.
“Fuck.” Nancy turned quickly toward the desk, but the nurse waved her off, picking up the phone.
“I’m calling them now.”
Nancy nodded and turned to face the front doors again. “Fuck, fuck, fuck. Why won’t they just give up?”
“What’s going on?” Hopper was struggling to his feet using Murray as leverage despite the other man’s quiet instances that he should stay sitting down. Nancy ignored him, so he asked again, slightly more frustrated. “Wheeler, what the hell is going on?”
Nancy pushed Jonathan behind her and grabbed Argyle’s arm, dragging him back as well so that she was between everyone and the front doors. She glanced back, not at Hopper, but at the nurse again. “Are they–”
“Already on the way down. They saw them from the windows.”
Hopper pushed his way forward, nudging Jonathan out of the way, and grasping Nancy’s arm. “Wheeler.” She finally looked up at him, steel in her eyes. “What is–?”
She shook his arm off none too gently and turned around again. “Nothing good.” Jonathan turned as well and saw six men making their way across the parking lot. The two in front were each holding something.
One had a wrench. The other had a shotgun.
He saw the moment everyone else in the room registered it as well. His mom quickly grabbed the kids and shoved them all behind her, Murray stepping forward as well. Hopper snagged Jonathan and Argyle, shoving them that direction as well. But in his weakened state, he only managed to make them stumble backwards slightly.
“Dude, what the hell?” Argyle whispered in Jonathan’s ear. “I thought we were in the aftermath bit now. Like the part of the story where everyone starts healing or whatever. You didn’t say there’d be more guns.”
Jonathan didn’t know what to say. He’d thought they were too.
The men finally made it to the lobby doors, marching through them and coming to a stop just past the threshold. He recognized some of them, in the way that you always recognize people from the town you grew up in. The guy with the wrench was definitely related to the new mayor, one looked young enough to still be in high school, and two of the others made him think of his father. Which probably meant they’d run in the same circles.
Shotgun guy stepped forward and pointed at Nancy, thankfully not with the gun. “We talked about this, girl. Now you’re just going to let us through.”
“Fuck you.”
“You’re going to let us through, and no one else will get hurt. We’re finishing this. Now.”
“It’s already finished. It’s over, and everyone was wrong. The police were wrong, the town was wrong. Just go home. ”
Nothing was making any sense. Jonathan looked over at Hopper, but he looked just as confused, but a lot angrier. He was eyeing the gun warily.
The guy laughed, stepping forward slightly. “We’re not going anywhere, until that fucker is dead.”
A door suddenly slammed open to Jonathan’s right, the one leading to the rest of the hospital.
Steve Harrington stood framed in the doorway, backlit by the blue tinted fluorescent lights of the hallway. He, like Nancy, was wearing fresh clothes, though they looked like scrubs. A ragged looking mark encircled his neck, and the dark circles under his bloodshot eyes were identical to Nancy’s. He was barefoot.
The nail bat dangled from his right hand.
He took a second to look at the men by the door before walking to the front desk and leaning his bat against it, and marching forward past Nancy.
“I told you this would be strike three, Danny.”
“Oh fuck you, Harrington. You should be–”
Steve punched wrench guy right on the nose.
Jonathan was shocked enough that he missed the next few seconds. When he tuned back in, Steve was holding the shotgun by the barrel and using it to bash the owner’s knee. He quickly spun around and slid the gun across the ground until it stopped near the door he’d emerged from. In the same turning motion, he brought an elbow up to clock a third guy in the chin. He went down hard.
What the fuck?
Hopper stepped forward, but Nancy, without taking her eyes off the scene in front of them all, held a hand out against his chest, easily keeping him back. She turned slightly, just enough to shake her head at him before taking a couple steps forward herself. She didn’t join in, much to Jonathan’s relief. However, she did bring her right hand around to hover at her back, just above the waistline of her jeans. She gripped something underneath the hem of her sweatshirt, and Jonathan felt Hopper tense up even more beside him.
Steve continued beating the shit out of the rest of the men.
Jonathan had always thought of Steve as good at taking hits, good at protecting, the one to step forward and take the heat so that someone else didn’t have to. It had been annoying at first, something that didn’t fit the mold for what Jonathan expected him to be. But the longer they orbited each other, the longer it started to make sense. Steve could be mean, but not really violent. Or at least he wasn’t usually the one to initiate it.
That had clearly changed.
He could still take hits, and he was right now. Wrench guy had popped back up and managed to clip his arm before Steve had disarmed him. A trail of blood had made its way down his arm to pool in the crease by his elbow.
But he was giving as good as he got, and more. All six of the guys were on the ground, in various states of injury. Steve stood above them, breathing slightly labored. One of the guys tried to reach forward to grab the discarded tool, but Steve simply nudged it away and then landed a solid kick to the guy’s sternum. He didn’t try again.
Then it was quiet, broken up only by the quiet groans of the still conscious men on the floor. Steve was still keyed up, the tense line of his shoulders blocking the path between the negated threat and the rest of the group. Nancy seemed to relax a bit, not letting her guard down, but at least releasing her grip on the gun tucked into her jeans.
Jonathan wanted to look back at the kids, wanted to check with Argyle and his mom, but he was frozen. He couldn’t take his eyes off Steve.
.
This was like something out of one of those shitty action movies Robin hated. Standing between a group of people he cared about (plus some new guy, and fucking Chief Hopper?) and the ‘villains’, slightly ruffled and just bloody enough for it to start dripping lightly onto the floor, Steve looked like an avenging hero. Robin had no intention of ever telling him this, but judging by the looks Will, El, and Mike had on their faces, she had a feeling this moment would slot itself right beside Demodog Fighter Steve in the party’s ever-evolving lore.
Steve would hate it. Monster fighting was one thing. Cutting a group of people down like he just had was going to make him shifty and off-center for ages. Robin wasn’t looking forward to it. She hated when he felt guilty for protecting people.
Danny Hawthorne looked to be collecting himself for another confrontation. Robin doubted it’d be anything physical, his nose was streaming blood and his shoulder looked very dislocated. And being Mayor Hawthorne’s son had awarded him the ability to use his words as effectively, if not more so, than his fists. She didn’t want to take any chances though.
Moving away from the door enough to catch Will’s eye, she waved him over, indicating wordlessly that he should drag Mike and El with him. Robin wanted them out of range, and she knew Steve would too. One of the kids in a hospital bed was already one too many. If Jason had still been alive, Robin was pretty sure the bruises on Lucas’s face would have guaranteed an even bloodier encounter with Steve than this was turning out to be.
The kids shuffled past with no issue, but crowded right behind her so they could continue watching. Joyce was the only one who seemed to notice the movement, nodding in Robin’s direction before shifting to stand more firmly next to Murray.
Robin glanced around, noticing the shotgun on the floor only a few feet away. She picked it up gingerly, not quite confident enough to hold it right, but knowing enough to keep it pointed at the ground. Guns were definitely not her forte, the limited knowledge she did have coming from Steve, who only knew how to use the one his father usually kept locked in the safe at his house. He’d pressed it into her hands just a little while ago, saying a quick “just in case” before sprinting out of Max’s room.
She’d maybe been a little too happy to foist it off on Wayne Munson, but it honestly seemed like he’d make better use of it than she would if things got desperate. Grabbing the shotgun was more about getting it further away from the people who’d brought it than actually using it herself.
Speaking of which, Hawthorne had finally managed to get to his feet. He was cradling his arm against his torso, clearly in a good amount of pain, but the hatred in his eyes was enough to make Robin tense up.
“You are dead, Harrington. Fucking dead.”
Steve looked down at himself consideringly. “I think I’m alive actually, despite everything that’s happened the past week and a half.”
“My father is going to–”
Steve scoffed. “Your father is barely less corrupt than Kline was. And twice as skeevy.” He looked Hawthorne up and down, mildly playing up the petty mean girl persona that always made Robin giggle. “He may have been able to bribe your way through a degree from Purdue, but I doubt he’s got the kind of pull to sweep away a murder charge.”
“Oh, but Munson does?”
“Eddie had the good sense to just not fucking hurt anyone.” She could tell Steve was trying to temper his anger, making it seem more like disdainful irritation. The bruises, blood, and probable broken bones of Hawthorne and his crew didn’t really help. “He’s innocent and you know it. Everyone knows that now. It’s blatantly fucking obvious. Even without the police spelling it out for everyone, which they did.”
“He is not innocent. He’s a goddamn monster.”
Steve stilled.
It was like the temperature had dropped a few degrees. Robin felt goosebumps pop up across her arms, and behind her she felt one of the kids shiver. Murray took a small step back, and then looked around, seemingly confused before zeroing back in on Steve with a look in his eye that Robin wasn’t sure she liked.
She had never bought into the whole King Steve thing, even when they were actually in school together. Steve Harrington was a person, just like everyone else. Sure he was an asshole but so were a lot of people. Hell, she was kind of an asshole. It’s part of why they clicked so easily at Scoops. And sure he lived in a big house out in Loch Nora and his parents had money coming out of their ears, but he still went to Hawkins High. Joined the same sports teams, drank from the same kegs at house parties, sat through the same bullshit history classes.
He was just like everyone else.
But then she met Steve. Not Steve Harrington, just Steve.
And Steve was goofy, and caring, and acted like some sort of cross between a single mom and a fun older brother. Steve was her best friend, the person she told practically everything to, the person who knew her inside and out, the first and only person she’d ever told that she liked girls. Steve was who the kids bugged for rides, and free meals, and sleepovers.
Steve was also the person who ran back into a house with a demon crawling out of the wall. Steve was who the kids called when they had nightmares, who Robin went to when she had them too. Steve made himself a target in the Russian bunker under Starcourt because he understood the situation enough to realize they were going to hone in on one of them, and he’d do anything to keep it from being Robin.
Steve was a protective force of nature. But when he directed that energy in an offensive way… The pile of dead bats in the Upside Down version of Hawkins was a testament to just how much he could do. The fact that Eddie wasn’t among them was another.
Steve was staring at Hawthorne, not glaring, just staring. It seemed to have more of an effect on the rest of the guys Hawthorne had brought with him. She saw one stagger back, bumping into another who had just gotten back to his feet. One who was still on the ground gripping his knee started shuffling backwards, damn near crawling in the direction of the parking lot. Hawthorne himself was holding his ground, but Robin noticed a slight tremor in the hand cradling his injured arm.
After an uncomfortably long minute, Steve stepped forward so that he was barely a foot or two away from the other man’s face. “You don’t know what a monster is.” His tone was flat, unemotional in a way that Steve rarely got. “You’re going to scrape your buddies up off the floor, and then you’re going to leave.”
“You think you can just–”
“You are going to leave.” Steve stepped forward again, forcing Hawthorne back. “If you don’t, if you make me drag you out of here, it’ll be in pieces.”
Hawthorne shot him a disbelieving look. “Is that a threat?”
“No one would care enough to do anything about it. Your father hates you, would sell you out in a second if it meant advancing his political career. Your mother’s been doped up on oxy since you were in high school. Kelly is only going to marry you because of the family money, which isn’t even yours because like hell would the mayor leave you in his will. He restricted access to the family accounts as soon as you got back, right? And you’ve been living off your mom’s credit cards?” Steve took another step, forcing the other man back again. “You are nothing. To me, to everyone here, to everyone you know. I’ve already spent too much energy on you tonight, more than you’re worth. So you’re going to walk out of here, get in your truck, and go the fuck home. Otherwise, your fiancé will have to find a new dumbass to start cheating on.”
Robin’s mouth dropped open, and she saw Jonathan’s and his long-haired friend’s do the same. She heard Will choke back a quiet laugh behind her. Joyce’s eyes were wide and her lips were pressed together tightly, like she was trying to control her expression. Hopper looked uncomfortable, and made to step forward again. Nancy held him back.
Hawthorne was furious. He opened his mouth a few times, but nothing came out. Robin didn’t think the shakiness she saw in him was all anger. One of his buddies tugged on his arm, motioning toward the door. He glanced once at Steve before looking away quickly, nearly flinching.
“Come on, man. They’re not worth it.”
“He can’t just fucking say that shit to me, and think he can get away–”
“I know, but come on.” He gave Hawthorne another yank, leaning close to whisper in his ear. Robin couldn’t hear what he said, but Steve clearly could.
He laughed mockingly, tossing his head back in a loud guffaw. “You can kiss that baseball scholarship goodbye if I see your face in here again, James. Bit hard to pitch with an inverted elbow.”
It was quiet again for a few seconds before Murray piped up. “That’s called hyperextension.” Joyce elbowed him hard in the gut.
Steve didn’t turn. He kept his eyes fixed on James. “I didn’t mean hyperextended. I meant inverted.”
James’s eyes widened and he dropped Hawthorne’s arm. He turned on his heel and marched quickly out the front door into the parking lot. The other guys followed suit, some more quickly than others, a few with significant limps. Hawthorne was the last to go, sending Steve a withering glare that fell a little flat with the way he was still shaking and clutching his immobile arm.
Steve stared back. “Tick tock, Danny.”