Chapter Text
The sun crept through the trees, washing the clearing around Skull Rock in soft shades of gray and lavender. Julie jolted upright with a gasp that scratched its way up her raw throat, sharp and painful, like broken glass dragging behind her breath. Her pulse thundered in her ears as pieces of her nightmare clawed their way out of the dark—Chance’s burning eyes, the crushing weight on her windpipe, his skin charred and blistering as it scorched the skin around her neck.
She turned her head, heart stuttering, expecting to see Eddie’s shape curled beside her—but he wasn’t there, just the denim vest he’d draped around her shoulders, slightly less damp now, but still too cold. Her chest seized. She swallowed hard and tried to speak, but the word caught behind the bruising.
“E—Ed…” It came out a rasp, barely audible. She winced at the pain and swallowed again, forcing herself upright despite the dull ache echoing through every joint. Her legs were stiff. Her lungs felt like they were re-learning how to work properly.
No answer, just the hush of wind through branches and the soft, distant trill of morning birdsong. The clearing felt too still and empty. Her chest tightened painfully, breathing quick and shallow. “Eddie—?” she tried again, louder this time, but it came out wrecked and broken, her voice fraying at the edges. She reached for her neck on instinct and flinched at the tenderness under her fingers. She could feel the bruises swelling deep in her throat, each word a fresh wound. Panic surged in her chest. She turned in a circle, eyes scanning the clearing, feet stumbling backward in the dirt. “No,” she whispered hoarsely. “No, no, don’t do this—don’t—”
“Hey!” She spun so fast her vision went white at the edges. Eddie was limping out of the treeline, a walkie-talkie clutched in one hand, his hair tangled and sticking to his face in the morning damp. His expression shifted the second he saw her—relief, guilt, confusion all crashing into each other at once. “Jesus, Juls, what’s—?”
“What the hell is wrong with you?” she rasped, the words scraping raw across her throat. The sound tore its way up from deep inside her, too loud for what her voice could bear, and she winced, hand flying to her neck as a fresh wave of pain seized her. Her eyes brimmed hot, her glare cutting through the haze. “You—You can’t just—just go off—” She broke off in a cough that rattled her whole body, her breath catching and clawing its way out in stuttered gasps.
Eddie froze, the walkie in his hand lowering slightly. “Shit—Julie—shit, your throat—” he said quickly, stepping forward with a limp that made her stomach turn. His free hand stayed pressed to his ribs as he got closer to her, his movements stiff and awkward, like every muscle in his body screamed with protest, “I didn’t mean—I was trying to find a way to reach the others—”
Julie shook her head, slowly, like every motion had to be forced through a field of static. “You should’ve said something,” she whispered between laboured breaths,, barely audible. “You don’t get to just leave like that. Not after last night.”
“I know,” he said, the words thick and remorseful. “I just—Dustin’s walkie is probably burnt to a crisp right now. I left it in the shack. I remembered this construction site near the bypass, figured I’d try snatchin’ a new one before anyone got there. We have to get through to the others.” He searched her gaze, his tone now straight up pathetic. “I thought I could sneak out and back before you noticed, and you were finally sleeping, I—I didn’t want to wake you up.”
She kept her hand still pressed to her throat as she gave him a once over, finally free from her panic induced rage. His face was all different shades of purple and black, his lips were chapped and bloody, and his left eye was nearly swollen shut. He was looking at her like he’d been afraid she wouldn’t be there when he got back and that made something twist inside her chest.
“Well,” she rasped, barely more than a whisper, voice shredded to the point of disappearing, “you should’ve.”
Eddie’s shoulders sank, the guilt dragging him down as much as the limp did. He nodded once, slow and heavy, like the weight of it belonged entirely to him. “Yeah. I know. That was... dumb.” His voice stayed quiet, like he was trying not to rattle the air between them. “I’m sorry, I just—” he paused, pressing a hand to his side “I needed to feel like I was doing something that wasn’t just... sitting here waiting for the sky to fall on my head again. I needed to not be useless for five minutes, okay?”
Julie didn’t answer. Her jaw locked tight as her eyes dropped to the dirt between them. She couldn’t speak—wouldn’t, even if she could. Her throat felt like it was splintered from the inside out, every breath rough, every swallow sharp.
Eddie had stopped a few feet from her, the walkie still clutched loose in his hand. He didn’t reach for her right away, just stood there like the space between them might close on its own if he kept still long enough. When it didn’t, he moved slowly, almost cautious, one hand lifting like he meant to touch her shoulder.
“C’mere,” he murmured. “You shouldn’t be shouting with your throat like that. Not after what he—”
“Don’t,” Julie breathed, and her whole body flinched when the word left her. It wasn’t loud, but it hit like a shot. Eddie froze, and something in his face cracked clean down the middle.
“Okay,” he murmured quickly, backing off an inch, hands lifted like he’d touched fire. “Okay. I won’t.”
She kept her eyes down, blinking hard. Her voice was a thread, brittle and frayed, but she forced the words out anyway. “I just…I can’t—Let’s not talk about that again, okay? At least for now.” She paused, swallowing hard, the burn in her throat worse with every word. “I’m sure I’ll have to once the others show up and get a good look at this mess...” Her gaze flicked up to his face—just for a second, just enough to see the damage still written there—then dropped again, like she couldn’t stand to look at it too long. “How’s your head?”
Eddie stared at her, confused for a second like he hadn’t expected the question. Then, with a lopsided smirk that was more out of instinct than out of confidence, he shrugged. “Haven’t had any complaints yet.”
“Munson.” she warned, her glare weak but real, and even now—burned out, bruised, and exhausted—she still sounded pissed off in that very particular Julie Emerson way that made his grin twitch wider.
“It’s fine,” he said, but the moment he shifted his weight, his body reminded him otherwise. He grunted as he limped toward the nearest boulder and dropped onto it with a thud that made his ribs scream. “Or, like... maybe not. Kinda hard to tell. Pretty sure every part of me’s filing separate pain reports at this point. Most of them involve strikes and walkouts.” He glanced up at her, patting the space beside him as he tried to soften the edge in his voice with the sweetest grin he could muster up, considering the busted face. “C’mere? Let’s see if the Scooby Gang’s still on the air.”
Julie hesitated, arms still crossed tight over her chest like she was holding herself together with sheer force of will. But something in his voice—gentle, hoarse, that quiet strain beneath the words—made her chest ache. She glanced at the spot he’d cleared beside him, then at his face, and the tension in her shoulders loosened just a little. “Yeah. Okay.”
As she sank down beside him, she winced at the tug in her muscles, but didn’t complain. She just sat close—closer than she meant to—and let her arm brush his for a second before resting her hands in her lap. She realized Eddie was looking at her, his grin faded into something quieter, more sincere, and he gave a tiny nod. Her eyes stayed fixed on the walkie in his grip, but she leaned ever so slightly into the warmth of his side, head resting lightly on his shoulder.
“Thanks,” she murmured, voice barely there.
She felt Eddie nod beside her, then he raised the walkie and clicked the dial. The speaker sputtered, static crackling through the still morning air before he spoke.
“Dustin, can you hear me? Wheeler?” His voice was low but sharp with urgency, roughened by pain and exhaustion. Beside him, Julie’s leg bounced in a tight, restless rhythm, her hands clasped in her lap to keep them from shaking.
For a moment, there was nothing—just crackle and hiss—and then a voice broke through, hushed and breathless.
“Eddie—holy shit!” Dustin’s whisper was sharp, urgent, and somewhere behind him came the unmistakable thud of hurried footsteps. “Is Julie with you? Are you guys—are you okay?”
He bared his teeth in anger and frustration, before clenching his fists and flexing his fingers. “Naw, man, we’re pretty goddamn far from okay!” Julie gently took the walkie from his hand, cradling it between her palms like it might break. “I’m here,” she said, voice rough and croaking. She tried to keep it low, steady, as if the machine wouldn’t pick up how shredded her throat still was. “What’s going on?”
“We’ll explain later,” Dustin said quickly, his voice rising with urgency. “Where are you?”
“Skull Rock.” she answered without hesitation. “Do you know it?”
“Yeah, it’s near Cornwallis and—”
“Garrett,” Steve’s voice cut in, slightly winded but focused. “I know where it is, let’s go.”
“Hold tight, guys, we’re coming—” Dustin added, breathless again. “We’re coming!”
Eddie nodded, shutting his eyes and pitching himself forward with a grunt, while Julie picked back up the conversation with urgency. “Hey, Dustin, you’re still there?”
“Yeah,” came the reply, clearer now—they were probably in the car.
“We need you to make a stop downtown,” she said, her voice quieter but no less firm. “Painkillers, bandages, antiseptic and dry ice. Anything you can get your hands on.”
There was a pause. Static filled the space between heartbeats, then the walkie crackled back to life.
“Guys... What the hell happened?”
Julie tightened her grip around the walkie, her thumb white against the side.
“Just move,” she said softly, her voice raw. “We’ll tell you when you get here.”