Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“What is he-“

All four of them shush Eddie in unison, making him fall quiet.

Steve closes his eyes, placing a hand on the vest.

Eddie’s not sure what happens, but he sees the change in Steve’s form. He suddenly goes stiff and his eyes start fluttering underneath his eyelids.

It’s not quite what happened to Chrissy, but it’s close enough to set Eddie on edge.

“Uh, guys,” he whispers, only to be shushed again.

“Let him concentrate,” Dustin hisses.

But then blood slowly starts to trickle out of Steve’s nose.

“Guys,” Eddie repeats, a little more insistent.

All of the sudden, Steve is crying out and falling to the floor.

“STEVE!" the others all shout, shock and worry coloring their voices.

“What the hell?!” Eddie exclaims, watching as Dustin and the girls rush towards Harring- Hop- Steve. They reach for him, shouting his name and asking if he’s okay, asking what’s going on.

Then the lights start flickering.

Eddie looks around with wide eyes, horror filling him because this is exactly what happened when Chrissy died.

Steve’s hands grasp at his head as he curls over on his knees, eyes squeezed shut as he screams in what sounds like absolute agony. Eddie can still see the blood pouring out of the guy’s nose, and that is decidedly not like what happened to Chrissy.

Every window in the boathouse suddenly shatters, making them all cry out, covering their heads as they duck for cover.

“What the hell?!!” Eddie repeats, screeching this time.

When the dust settles, Robin’s the first one to speak. “Steve?” she calls out. “Oh my God, Steve?!”

Eddie lifts his head from where he ducked down, spotting Buckley as she moves to Steve’s side. He’s lying on his side on the floor, hands limp but close to where he’d been clutching his head. There’s still blood flowing out of his nose and his eyes are shut.

All in all, the guy looks terrible.

“Steve!” Dustin exclaims, scrambling to the older boy’s other side, opposite of Robin. His hands hover over Steve, as if he’s scared to touch him, worried eyes scanning Steve’s still frame.

“What the hell was that?” Max asks, moving next to Dustin.

“Steve?” Robin tries again, her voice growing frantic.

“I- I don’t know,” Dustin answers Max shakily. “This has never happened before!”

“Okay,” Eddie speaks up again, staring at them with wide eyes, “I know I get accused of witchcraft and satanic rituals pretty much every day, but that? What the hell was that?” He looks at the broken windows, the shards of glass scattered throughout the boat house, then back to Steve’s bloody nose. “Like what the actual fuck?!”

“It’s not witchcraft,” Max snaps, not sparing Eddie a glance as she goes for Steve’s wrist. Is she looking for a pulse?! “Or a satanic ritual,” she continues.

“Okay, then what?!” Eddie demands.

“Shhhh,” Steve grumbles from his spot on the floor, immediately eliciting an uproar from the trio.

Robin’s hands grab his shoulders to steady him as he rolls to his back. “Steve? Steve, what happened?!”

“Are you okay?” Max asks, equally concerned.

“Steve, hey buddy,” Dustin says lowly. “You with us?”

“Yeah,” Steve whispers. “Yeah, m’kay… I’m here.” He suddenly grimaces, letting out a tiny, “ow,” as he tries to sit up.

Immediately Robin and Max are helping Steve, their hands steadying him as he sits up and leans his back against the nearest wall.

At the same time, Dustin scrambles for his backpack. Eddie watches as the kid searches through it like a madman before finally rushing back to Steve’s side. Dustin offers him an opened candy bar, of all things. “Nougat?”

Steve, in the middle of wiping the blood from his nose, looks at Dustin in surprise before chuckling quietly. “Thanks Henders’n.”

Once he’s taken a few bites, Robin speaks up again. “What did you see?”

What did he see? Eddie silently repeats, watching the scene with confusion.

“I could see Ed’ie,” Steve answers, his words slightly slurred. “It was jus’ like he said; flickerin’ lights. No particles. No Flayed, either.”

Flayed?! Eddie wonders. And what does he mean he could see me?

“But when I tried to see what… what was happenin’ to Chrissy,” he continues before shaking his head. “‘was like somethin’ was… blocking me.”

“Is that even possible?” Max asks.

“Okay, hello!!” Eddie shouts, gaining their attention. “Really tired of not being in the loop here!”

Steve sighs, suddenly looking like he has the weight of the world on his shoulders. “Long story short? Secret government project gave me superpowers.”

“Superpowers,” Eddie repeats.

“Psychometry,” Dustin clarifies, “and telekinesis.”

“Bullshit,” Eddie immediately counters before glancing back at the shattered windows.

“Yeah, that… that’s not supposed to happen,” Steve says, sounding almost embarrassed.

“Nothing’s supposed to ‘block’ you either,” Robin states. “That… Steve, that sounded painful.”

Steve shrugs, shifting his eyes so as to not look at anyone in the boat house. “I’m okay now,” he insists.

“Are you sure?” Max questions, brows furrowed.

“Nothing a good night’s sleep won’t fix,” Steve says, tilting his head back to rest against the wall.

Eddie bites his lip in an effort to keep his mouth shut. Judging by the bags under Steve’s eyes, it’s clear he hasn’t gotten a good night’s sleep in a long time, even with the benzos Eddie’s been selling him for the last month. He highly doubts that’s going to magically resolve itself tonight.

Normally Eddie wouldn’t really care about Steve Harrington-slash-Hopper’s well-being. But if Steve’s the only cop in Hawkins who thinks Eddie is innocent, then Eddie needs him to be on his A-game.

Sadly though, even with knowing about the superpowers- which Eddie isn’t sure he fully buys- when he looks at Steve, Eddie can’t help but think: I just might be fucked.

“Okay,” Steve speaks up again, moving to sit up straighter. “So far, every year we’ve done this, the D&D analogies have been pretty spot on, right?” he asks, voice sounding stronger as he addresses Dustin directly.

Henderson nods. “Yeah.”

“So if Vecna is this dark wizard, is there a spell he could use to stop me from seeing him?” Steve follows up, looking between Dustin and Eddie this time.

“Non-detection,” Eddie immediately lists.

“Private Sanctum,” Dustin adds.

“Mind Blank,” Eddie states. A second passes before the implication hits him, his eyes widening as his stomach drops.

“Oh shit!” Dustin exclaims, catching on immediately. “Shit, shit, shit!”

“What?” Max demands.

Dustin rips his cap off and shoves it into Steve’s hands. “Use your psychometry on this.”

“Why?” Steve asks slowly.

“Mind Blank is an 8th level spell,” Eddie explains, glancing at Steve worriedly. “It would make Vecna immune to all divination magic, guaranteed. In this case, that’s your psychometry. But it also causes psychic damage against anyone attempting to spy on him.”

“Which would explain… that,” Dustin adds on, gesturing to Eddie’s vest and the shattered windows.

“And it lasts for 24 hours,” Eddie finishes solemnly.

“Steve has his powers,” Max counters, though she sounds concerned. “He- he shattered the windows-”

“Maybe we’re wrong,” Dustin replies, and Eddie can hear the uncertainty in the kid’s voice. “Or maybe the damage is only to Steve’s psychometry, and not all of his powers. Either way, we have to be sure.” Henderson turns back to Steve, gesturing to the cap with an expectant look on his face.

To his credit, Steve doesn’t seem too concerned; maybe he can sense that he still has his powers or something? Still, he indulges Henderson and grips the cap, closing his eyes again.

Eddie watches as his body stiffens again, eyes fluttering beneath his eyelids. His nose just starts to bleed when his eyes snap open and he’s shoving the cap back into Dustin’s hands.

“Dude, I do not need to see you and your girlfriend making out-“ Steve grumbles.

“Oh thank God,” Robin whispers.

“Okay, so not Mind Blank,” Dustin sighs with relief as he replaces his cap. “Antimagic Field?” he suggests, glancing at Eddie.

“I mean, if Vecna’s as powerful as we think?” Eddie shrugs. “It’s another 8th level spell, so that makes the most sense.”

“It’s basically like a force field,” Dustin explains to the others. “Just specifically to ward against magic.”

“Fantastic,” Steve mutters, wiping the blood from his nose with the sleeve of his jacket.

Yup, Eddie thinks, I’m definitely fucked.

Dinner is… quiet. Tense, even.

Joyce looks between her kids, Argyle and the Wheelers, and she wonders what happened today to cause it.

Will, El and Jonathan have all been so excited for Nancy and Mike to come visit. The kids even made sure to work as far ahead as possible on their school assignments to ensure as much free time as possible during the break.

In all honesty, her kids’ energy has been through the roof the last couple of weeks as they eagerly awaited the Wheelers’ arrival. Now, though…

They seemed haunted. Nervous, even.

What the hell happened?

“So… how was everyone’s day?” Joyce asks. The kids had come home in a collective silence, save for Argyle who kept rambling about plastic and rubber wheels of all things. Her kids and the Wheelers all claimed to be tired, and Joyce hadn’t questioned it at first. As dinner drags on, though, she feels that urge in her gut to press for answers.

The kids all clam up in different ways. Jonathan scrapes his fork just a little too hard against his plate, making a tense Will jump in his seat. Nancy freezes for half a second, before taking a huge gulp of her drink. Mike’s eyes dart around the table before landing on El, who seems to shrink in her seat.

The only one unaffected, unsurprisingly, is Argyle.

After several seconds go by with zero response, Joyce arches a brow, trying to go for teasing. “Well don’t all speak at once,” she says lightly.

With a quick glance around the table, Jonathan sits up and clears his throat. “It was just a stressful day,” he says. “You know, the airport was… crazy.”

“Yes,” Nancy agrees, “and the… traffic.”

“So much traffic,” Will nods.

“And this girl got shmacked in the head today at the roller rink,” Argyle adds. He might be oblivious to the looks all the other kids are giving him, but Joyce certainly is not. “One of those vicious skate attacks. Thing just flew across the room.”

Joyce’s eyes dart over to El, who sinks even further into her seat.

Oh no, El…

“Really?” Joyce manages to ask.

“Nailed her right in the noggin,” Argyle nods. “But she looked like she’s gonna be fine.”

“Totally fine,” Jonathan rapidly agrees.

“She didn’t look fine,” Mike mumbles, poking at his food.

The kids, minus Argyle, all look at Mike in shock and Joyce knows.

El pushes her chair back and stands up-

“El,” Joyce says firmly, making the girl freeze in place. “Sit down and finish your food.”

“I’m not hungry,” El counters, her voice shaky.

“Please just try,” Joyce insists, trying her best to thread that line between firm and caring. Telling El with her eyes that everything will be fine, while her voice insists on cooperation.

El sits back down, her eyes downcast and shoulders tense. Will rubs a hand over his face, looking exhausted, while Nancy and Jonathan both look extremely uncomfortable.

The whole table is silent for the rest of dinner, El all but fleeing upstairs when she finally gets the okay from Joyce.

Mike gets up to follow, an apologetic look on his face, only to stop when Nancy fixes him with a glare. She follows El upstairs instead, and Joyce can’t help but feel relief. El might be more willing to open up to Nancy, with the girls being closer in age. Plus, it seems like Nancy is already aware of the situation.

While Will and Mike talk quietly in the living room, Will looking frustrated and Mike disinterested, Jonathan joins Joyce in the kitchen.

“Do I need to be worried about an assault charge?” she asks him lowly.

Jonathan shakes his head. “No,” he replies just as quietly. “No, we got the kids out of there. She- El didn’t have the skate in her hands,” he goes on to explain. “It flew from the rack into the girl’s face. There’s no way to connect it to El.”

Joyce nods in relief. “Good,” she sighs. “That’s good.” Still, calling Owens might be necessary. What if there are security cameras? Would the cops see how the skate just flew by itself across the room? Will this put them in danger?

Joyce scrubs at the dishes harder, trying her best to ignore the feeling that she’s failing the whole Hopper family.

“You don’t have to talk if you don’t want to,” Nancy says when they’re safely in El’s room, “but I’m here if you do.”

El sniffles, wiping harshly at her eyes. “I’m fine,” she insists quietly. She feels more than sees Nancy sitting down on the edge of the bed a couple of feet away from her.

“What is it that you and the others are always saying?” Nancy asks. “Friends don’t lie?”

El’s head snaps up to look at Nancy, her eyes widening at having been called out.

“I just want to help,” Nancy insists.

El looks away, shifting her eyes to the pictures on her mirror above her vanity. Nancy follows her gaze before standing to examine the photos more closely.

There are several of El with the Party, in various groupings and on different days. A few she took with Max during their girls’ day at Starcourt. A couple of her and Mike.

There’s only one with Steve, taken in the Byers’ old living room during one of the Party’s movie nights.

Will took it when Steve and El weren’t looking, having borrowed Jonathan’s camera for the night. They’re seated on the couch, El leaning against Steve, both of them laughing brightly. The picture doesn’t show it, but she remembers that Dustin and Mike were off to the side, covered in flour thanks to a prank by Max and Lucas.

It’s the only picture she has of Steve, and she doesn’t have any with Hop.

“I don’t want to talk about Angela,” El finally says, regaining Nancy’s attention.

“Okay,” Nancy acquiesces. “What do you want to talk about?”

El’s eyes shift from the pictures to Nancy. “Mike said Steve has been busy,” she begins, “but that does not tell me how he is doing.”

Nancy nods, letting out a sigh. “You’re right,” she acknowledges, but doesn’t elaborate.

“Is he okay?” El asks.

Nancy hesitates, making El more nervous.

“Friends don’t lie,” El reminds her.

That gets a small huff out of Nancy. “I just don’t want you to worry,” Nancy begins, “and neither does Mike. Steve is…” She pauses, her brows coming together like she’s concentrating.

“He seems really tired,” she continues after a moment. “But I think it’s just because of his job.”

El thinks it over. Hopper worked long hours too, but he was the Chief. Maybe because Steve is a ‘rookie’ he has to work more? Joyce mentioned that might happen…

“But... the Party is looking out for him, right?” El presses.

Again, Nancy hesitates, even frowning this time. El doesn’t understand what is so difficult about her questions, or why they are making Nancy uncomfortable.

“He and Robin hang out a lot,” Nancy answers, words coming slowly as if she’s monitoring what she’s saying. “You know they’re working together at the station, right? And Steve and I chat every now and then. But… I mean, Lucas has been busy with basketball. Mike and Dustin have Hellfire, and Max… Max isn’t really spending time with anyone anymore.”

El feels a cold weight settle in her chest. No, no, Nancy is wrong, she has to be wrong.

“They promised,” she whispers quietly, fury and heartbreak swirling together in her voice.

Nancy stills. “El?”

“They promised me,” she repeats, “that they would look out for him.” El gets off the bed, beginning to pace the length of her room. “I have Joyce. Jonathan. Will. Who does Steve have?”

She’s not really asking Nancy, because they both know the answer: no one. Without El and Hop, Steve has no one.

“He has us, El,” Dustin promised. “We’ll take care of him.”

“Of course,” Max seconded.

“You can count on us,” Lucas insisted.

“The Party looks after its own,” Mike vowed.

The Party looks after its own? Is Steve not a member of the Party? Why are they not looking out for him, why are they not there for him?

He seems really tired, Nancy said. What does that mean? Is he sick? Is he just working too much?

He’s been super busy with his job, that’s what Mike said yesterday. But how would Mike know if he and the others aren’t looking out for him?

She takes in a shuddering breath, fists clenching at her sides.

“El,” Nancy says gently. “Hey, look, it’s not like they’ve abandoned him. I think they still hang out, just not as much-“

“You think,” El challenges, whirling around to face Nancy directly, “or you know?”

Nancy doesn’t have a reply.

“I want to be alone now,” El insists, arms crossed as she waits for Nancy to leave the room. Jaw clenched, El waits for the door to close behind Nancy before collapsing at her desk.

Her desire to return to Hawkins has never been stronger. She hates Lenora, she hates California, and she’s so angry with the Party.

She trusted them. After everything Steve has done for them, this is how they repay him? Abandoning him when they are all he has?

Sitting down, El runs a hand through her hair. Hot tears stream down her face as all the emotions of the day bubble over. The embarrassment caused by Angela and all their classmates. The anger and hatred she felt towards the girl. The shame and horror El felt after attacking her. The hurt from the way Mike looked at her, the way he spoke at dinner. The heartbreak and betrayal at learning that her brother is even more alone than she is.

“What did you do?” Mike asked quietly. “El! What did you do?”

“What have you done?” Papa demanded, blood splattered on his face. “What have you done?!”

“You’ll be safe,” Steve told El that last night in Hawkins.

“And you will be okay too?” El asked.

Steve didn’t answer right away, holding her closer. “Yeah,” he whispered.

“Friends don’t lie,” she reminded him.

“I’ll be fine,” he insisted.

Except he’s not fine. Nothing is fine.

“Everything that has happened in Hawkins can be traced back to Brenner’s little pet. Wouldn’t you agree?” Sullivan challenges as Owens observes the old photo of Eleven in the lab. “Doctor Brenner trained her for this very thing. Remote assassinations.”

Owens shakes his head. “What you’re suggesting is impossible.”

“Is it?”

“Eleven is dead,” Owens insists.

Sullivan shrugs. “I’m not convinced.”

“So where has she been all this time?” Owens asks. What does Sullivan know?

“There are rumors she’s alive, and receiving help from someone on the inside,” the general says. Owens is careful to not react; he can’t give anything away. Sullivan watches him closely as he continues, “There are also rumors that there may be other test subjects alive, as well.”

Owens can read the suspicion on Sullivan’s face clearly and forces himself to stay calm. He wouldn’t give up Steve, Kali and El to Brenner; he’s sure as hell not giving them up to Sullivan.

“Are you saying I’m helping her?” he asks. “That I’m hiding multiple test subjects? Is that what you’re saying?”

“If I wanted to chat, Doctor, I would’ve picked up the damn phone,” Sullivan snaps. “Now you can make this easy and tell us where she is, or… we can do this the hard way.”

The coroner slowly pulls back the sheet and Steve immediately averts his gaze.

“Oh fuck,” he whispers, the meager breakfast he managed to force down this morning threatening to come back up.

He has to step away from the table, doing his best to keep his composure. Seeing Chrissy had been one thing. It was painful, of course, to see the bright and preppy girl murdered in such a violent way, especially since Steve knew she needed someone. He knew she was struggling. But Tommy…

Tommy had been his first friend.

Eight and Eleven were his sisters, first and foremost. A pragmatist could argue they stuck together, befriended and cared for each other, out of necessity. In order to survive the lab and Papa’s tests.

Tommy met Steve, with his slow speech and struggles with social cues, and still chose Steve. For seven years, they were Steve-and-Tommy. Harrington-and-Hogan, an inseparable duo. Then Steve-and-Tommy became Steve-and-Tommy-and-Carol; they were his best friends in the whole world. They fought for each other, they protected each other, they lied for each other. That is, until Steve walked away from them.

“You’re both assholes,” Steve accused as he glared at the two of them from the hood of the Beemer. Steve continued calling them out, Tommy and Carol arguing in return. Tensions grew and grew, Steve telling them they were both miserable human beings, Carol calling Nancy a slut again-

“I told you to watch your mouth!” Steve snapped at her.

“Hey!” Tommy pushed Steve, gaining his attention. “I don’t know what’s gotten into you man, but you don’t talk to her that way.”

“Get out of my face,” Steve warned, pushing Tommy back.

Tommy grabbed Steve by the collar of his jacket, shoving him against the Beemer. “Or what?” Tommy challenged. “You’re gonna fight me too? You could barely take Jonathan Byers-“

Steve did something he hadn’t done in ages; he reached deep down to the power he tried to bury, the power he ignored for years.

Placing both hands on Tommy’s chest, Steve used the smallest amount of his powers and shoved his best friend backwards.

It sent Tommy sprawling back onto the ground, landing harshly on the pavement.

“Tommy!” Carol exclaimed. “Steve, what the hell?!”

Steve ignored her, getting into the Beemer just as Tommy scrambled back to his feet.

“That’s right, run away Stevie-boy!” Tommy shouted, banging a fist on the Beemer’s hood as Steve quickly backed up. “Run away! Just like you always do!”

Steve drove out of the lot, leaving Tommy and Carol behind while Tommy continued to shout after him.

“That’s right, Harrington, run away!” he yelled. “Run away!!”

Steve still stands by his decision to cut them out of his life, realizing they were hurtling headfirst down a path he didn’t want to follow anymore. None of that changes the fact, though, that for so much of Steve’s life outside of the lab, Tommy had been a constant.

But now…

“Yeah, that’s uh,” Steve swallows roughly as he looks at Powell, “that’s Tommy.”

Powell nods grimly as the coroner makes a small note. Steve can’t help but glance back at the covered corpse, the mangled frame of Tommy H’s limbs protruding under the sheet.

“Sorry for your loss,” Powell offers. Along with Hopper, the man busted plenty of Steve’s parties back at the Harrington house and of course, Tommy was always there. “And I’m sorry to have to ask you to do this.”

Steve shakes his head. He can’t imagine Mrs. Hagan having to see her son like that, having to confirm his identity while experiencing a mother’s grief. It’s better this way, Steve thinks, shoving down his own grief as best as he can.

“Do we have any leads?” he wonders after a moment.

Powell glances at the coroner before leading Steve out of the morgue. Alone in the hallways, Powell speaks in a low voice, “Munson’s still our primary suspect.”

“But-“ Steve tries to argue.

“I know what you said,” the Chief counters. “The truth is that we have no evidence to support that he didn't do it, Steve. No other fingerprints, no sign of forced entry or exit-”

“Victor Creel,” Steve interrupts.

Powell’s brows shoot up. “What about him?”

Wayne did say everybody knew about Victor Creel back in the day, and Eddie's uncle seemed close enough in age to Powell. Steve knows there’s not much he can say right now, not without revealing everything about the Upside Down and Hawkins Lab. He can, however, try to redirect the investigation and buy Eddie more time.

“I looked at the case file,” Steve states. “Powell, those murders are almost identical to Chrissy and Tommy.”

“Creel’s been locked up in Pennhurst for years,” Powell counters.

“But how do we know he didn’t break out?” Steve presses. Come on, Powell. We just need more time…

Powell observes Steve closely, and Steve makes sure to hold his gaze. He needs the Chief to take him seriously, needs him to divert the investigation towards Creel. The rest of the cops have to see the similarities between the Creel case and Vecna’s victims. Even if they realize Victor Creel didn’t kill Chrissy and Tommy, maybe they’ll stop looking for Eddie for a while or at least split up their resources.

“Listen, I know you’re not gonna want to hear this,“ Powell says after a moment, “but I have to pull you off the case.”

Steve freezes. “What? Why?!”

He can’t do that, he can’t, Steve needs to stay on the investigation, he needs to know what Hawkins PD knows. What use is he to Dustin and the others, to Munson and Chrissy and Tommy, if he’s unable to provide vital intel to the Party?

Dustin came to him all but begging for Steve’s help to clear Eddie’s name, and now Steve can’t even do that?

“I don’t know what kind of falling out you and Hagan had, but everyone knows you two were best friends for a long time,” Powell explains, his voice remaining steadily placating to the point that Steve wants to scream. “Plus, you’re a key witness to Chrissy’s death-“

“A witness whose testimony you’re ignoring anyway!” Steve argues.

“I’m not,” Powell counters, voice growing sharp, “but you know I can’t just take your word for it and ignore all of the evidence. Our job isn’t just to catch whoever did this; it’s to build a solid case for the prosecution. You being part of this investigation presents a conflict of interest-“

“Fuck’s sake, Powell,” Steve breathes out, turning away from the older man.

“A conflict of interest,” Powell continues as if he’d been uninterrupted, “that could lead to the killer, whoever it may be, walking free.”

Running a hand through his hair, Steve contemplates his options, trying to figure out something- anything- to stay on the case.

What would Hop do?

Well, Hop had been Chief of Police, so the man would have more options available to him than Steve does as a rookie. He’d been close to Steve’s age when the Creel murders took place, too; he probably would’ve made the connection and use it somehow to shield Eddie from blame. Who would question Chief Hopper, after all?

Not to mention, Hopper would be able to help Steve fight this Vecna creep. With Nancy in California, Steve’s the only fighter the Party has. Lucas might be an option, but the thought of putting any of the kids in the line of fire makes Steve sick. Regardless, no one’s been able to get in touch with Sinclair since the game.

“Look,” Powell sighs, regaining Steve’s attention, “why don’t you take a few days off? Get some rest, maybe watch over those kids of yours. I’m sure their parents will appreciate you being around with everything that’s going on.”

Steve turns back towards his boss. “You’re benching me?” he gapes.

“I’m suggesting that you take some overdue vacation time,” Powell counters, his voice making it clear it’s not a suggestion at all.

A door down the hall slams open before Steve can argue.

“Miss, you can’t go back there!” someone shouts from the front desk.

She doesn’t listen; of course she doesn’t. There’s no one in the world who can tell Carol Perkins what to do.

Her eyes land on Steve and she continues marching forward, eyes ablaze.

Steve steps around Powell without a word, walking towards Carol.

“Where is he?” she demands.

“Carol-“

“Where’s Tommy?” Carol demands, trying to push past him.

Steve holds onto her shoulders, keeping her in front of him. “Carol, Carrie, listen to me-”

“Is he dead?” Carol blurts out, as if they’re not standing in the Coroner’s Office. “Steve, is he dead?”

Steve doesn’t say anything, holding her gaze even as sorrow fills his eyes.

Carol’s face crumples, shaking her head. “No, no-“ she cries. “He was- he was just going out for a w-walk, he was coming right back-“

Her voice cracks and shatters on the last word, sobs bursting out of her. Steve doesn’t hesitate to pull her into a hug and Carol immediately wraps her arms around him, holding on tightly as she cries into his chest.

Steve shuts his own eyes, tears leaking out for the best friend he once called his brother.

They ask Carol the expected questions. When did she last speak to Tommy? What about? What had they done the last few days, is there anything that stood out to Carol?

Carol doesn’t know why she can’t talk to Steve about this instead of Powell or Callahan. Neither of them cared about Tommy, neither of them knew Tommy. They only saw a troublemaker.

Not Steve. Regardless of how things ended between the three of them, Steve was once Tommy’s best friend.

God, Tommy… what is she supposed to do without him? Is she supposed to just go back to college without him? How? They were planning their futures together, their whole lives. And now it’s just gone.

Tommy is gone.

When they finally dismiss her, Carol is relieved to see Steve waiting for her in the bullpen with a cup of coffee and a sad smile.

She doesn’t see the Beemer when they go outside. Surprisingly, or maybe not, Steve leads her to what she vaguely recognizes as Chief Hopper’s old truck. They lean against the hood, silently sipping their coffee.

Steve speaks first. “Powell took me off the case,” he reveals, to her shock. “Some conflict of interest bullshit.”

Well, that explains why Steve wasn’t the one questioning her.

“Is it true what they’re saying?” Carol asks. “That freak, Munson… that he’s the one doing this?”

Steve shakes his head. “We don’t know that for sure-“

“Don’t bullshit me, Steve,” Carol snaps, choking back her tears. “Don’t. Just- just tell me the truth.” When Steve doesn’t reply, she presses on, “Tommy made his life hell. Fuck, we all did. And Chrissy might have been a sweetheart golden girl, but she was still one of us. Maybe the freak had enough and decided to fight back with whatever satanic shit he’s into.”

Steve flinches at her words, but Carol doesn’t care. He may have left King Steve behind, but Carol graduated at the top of the food chain. She wears that like a badge of honor and doesn’t give a shit if the reminder of who he was makes Steve uncomfortable.

“He might try to come for you, too,” she adds, voice softer. The thought sends a chill through her. “Fuck. Steve, what if he comes after you too?”

“I’m okay,” he assures her.

She shakes her head; she’s already lost Tommy. Steve dying… she doesn’t think she could bear losing him, too. Regardless of how far they've drifted, his death would wreck her.

“Eddie is not going to kill me,” Steve insists. “I don’t think he’s responsible, anyways.”

Carol pauses, staring at Steve in disbelief. One, because he truly believes Munson is innocent. Two, because he just called Munson Eddie.

Steve turns to face her directly. “Listen, I… I have a lead, but I can’t take it to Powell without concrete proof,” he tells her.

Another lead? Carol thinks. Why is he so certain it’s not Munson?

“I want to find who killed Tommy,” Steve continues, looking her in the eyes, ”and I want to make them pay. You believe that, right?”

Carol swallows roughly but nods. Of course she does, she can see it in his eyes.

Steve takes out a small notepad and pen, and Carol holds back a sad laugh. With the uniform and the notepad, he really looks the part.

“Did you notice anything strange lately?” Steve asks. “Like if anyone was following you two?“

Carol shakes her head. “No,” she answers. “No, not back at school and not here in Hawkins, either.”

“Flickering lights?” Steve asks.

“Lights?” Carol wonders, frowning. “No.”

Steve nods even as a frustrated look comes on his face.

“But I think,” Carol says after a moment, “that maybe Tommy was in trouble of some kind.”

That catches Steve’s attention. “What makes you say that?”

“It’s just… He wasn’t exactly looking forward to coming back for break,” she admits, “but as soon as we crossed the town line… I don’t know, it’s like something flipped in him. He was upset, he had nightmares every single night, and he was so… on edge. And it just got worse with every day that passed.”

Something sympathetic crosses Steve’s face when she mentions the nightmares, and he jots something down on that notepad.

“If someone back here had it out for him,” Carol continues, feeling like she’s on the precipice of something, “that could explain why he was so worried. Why he couldn’t sleep.”

“Carol,” Steve interjects, putting a gentle hand on her arm, “I’m going to figure this out, okay? I promise.”

Carol bites her lip and nods, even if she wants to slap sense into Steve. He’s not taking the threat seriously; two bodies in as many days? Munson is clearly dangerous and Steve is-

“Shit- Steve,” she blurts out, “your nose is bleeding.”

Steve looks down and a few drops splatter on his uniform. “Shit,” he groans, wiping at his nose.

“Hold on.” Carol reaches into her purse, pulling out some tissues. “Here.”

“Thanks,” Steve mutters, using some to plug the bleeding while helplessly dabbing at the stain on his shirt.

Carol can’t help the watery chuckle that escapes her. “I’m always cleaning up after you boys, huh?”

Steve looks at her, brows furrowing. “What?”

“Tommy kept getting nosebleeds this week.” Carol sniffles at the memory. “I started carrying these around for him.”

Steve stares at her for a moment before slowly lowering the tissue from his nose. “Tommy was getting nosebleeds,” he repeats slowly.

Carol nods. “Yeah.”

“...And he was having nightmares?” Steve asks.

“Yeah, but why does that matter?” she asks in return.

Steve doesn’t answer right away, a contemplative look on his face. He looks like he’s processing something, or putting pieces together in his mind.

“Steve?” she prods.

He shakes his head. “No, it’s nothing,” he replies rapidly even as he scribbles something on the notepad before putting it away. “Sorry, it’s been a long week, I guess it’s finally catching up to me.” He steps away from the truck abruptly, startling Carol as he quickly heads towards the driver’s side.

She scrambles to follow suit, frowning after him. “Steve.”

“I just remembered,” he quickly says, already halfway into the truck, “those kids I babysit- I’m supposed to pick up them up to go to the arcade.”

He gets into the truck, slamming the door and turning the engine on. Rolling down his window, he gives her an apologetic shrug. “Look, if you think of anything else, let me know. Okay?”

Then he’s putting the truck in reverse and peeling out of his parking spot and down the street, moving just as quickly as he did when he left her and Tommy at the Fair Mart all those years ago.

As Carol watches him leave, she can’t help but clench her fists.

He lied to her.

It may have been a couple of years since they parted ways, but Carol’s known Steve for years. She knows his tells. She knows how he holds himself after his dad beats him. She knows how he talks when his heart is broken. She knows what he looks like when he’s about to eviscerate someone, tearing them down and destroying them with nothing but his words.

She knows him.

And he just fucking lied to her.

“What are you guys doing?” Lucas calls out, making Jason, Patrick and Chance turn from the trunk of Jason’s car to face him.

“We’re gearing up,” Patrick replies.

“Getting ready for the hunt,” Chance adds, gesturing to a large wrench before tossing it into the trunk.

Lucas must not do a good job of a poker face, because Jason’s suddenly walking over to him, a reassuring smile on his face. “Hey Sinclair, relax. We’re not killers like Eddie,” he insists. “We just wanna talk to him. Get him to admit his crime.”

“Yeah,” Chance adds, his giddiness a contrast to Jason's words, “a little friendly neighborhood chat.”

“I know you didn’t really know Chris,” Jason continues, “so if you’re not up to this, you can go home. There’s no judgement.” Lucas doesn’t flinch as Jason claps his shoulder. “You’ll still be one of us,” the older boy promises.

“No,” Lucas counters, looking Jason right in the eyes. “I’m good. I want to help.”

He must be convincing because an approving grin comes onto Jason’s face. “All right,” he praises before turning to the other two. “Let’s capture us a freak.”

As Lucas gets into the car, he thinks about what Steve told him just a few weeks ago.

“You already have friends,” Steve insisted. “Good friends, who you can trust and that you know will never do anything to hurt you.”

If the team is hunting for Eddie, they’ll be going after Hellfire to find him. Mike might be safe in California, but Dustin isn’t.

No way in hell is Lucas going to let his real friends get caught in the crossfire.

As Steve drives back to his trailer to pick up Max, Dustin and Robin to go back to the boat house, his mind keeps replaying the last 36 hours or so. Finding Chrissy. Looking for Eddie. The Anti-magic spell, or whatever Henderson called it, and the pure agony that ripped through his mind and body.

Tommy.

Carol’s words are echoing in his mind, too. The fact that Tommy was having nosebleeds and nightmares ever since he came back to Hawkins is eerily similar to what Steve’s been experiencing the last couple of months. He can admit that the nosebleeds have been more frequent lately, though the nightmares have been pretty consistent overall.

He’s written the nosebleeds off as a result of the change of season, though, and Ms. Kelly said the nightmares were normal considering the shitload of trauma he’s experienced.

Not that she even knows the half of it, Steve thinks wryly.

It’s just a really weird coincidence. Tommy’s nosebleeds were probably for the same reason Steve’s been getting them, but the nightmares… That Steve can’t explain, not for Tommy.

“Steve, where the hell are you?!” Dustin’s voice demands over the walkie. “Over!“

“Yeah, yeah, I’m-” Steve glances around, “I’m five minutes away, be ready to head out. Tell Robin to grab me a change of clothes, please. Over and out.”

He shuts the walkie off before Henderson can argue with him further. He already knows the kid’s going to get on his case once they’re all in the car, and he’s not looking forward to it. Especially with the headache he already has brewing.

“Where were you?!” Dustin demands, scrambling into the backseat before Steve has a chance to put the truck in park. “And why did you shut off the walkie?”

“I got called in- I left a note,” Steve defends as the girls enter the car. “I know you’re worried about Eddie, I came back as fast as I could-“

“Not just Eddie, Steve!” Dustin snaps, sounding frustrated. “This is a Code Red situation; no one goes off on their own! It’s the rule!”

The statement takes Steve by surprise. He hadn’t really thought about that. To be honest, he’s gotten so used to being on his own and doing his thing without the Party. Checking in and following the buddy system hadn’t crossed his mind.

“You’re right, Henderson,” Steve nods. It’s bad enough they had to leave Eddie alone in the boat house. No reason to aggravate Dustin further. Not to mention, the last thing Steve wants is for the kids to think it’s okay for them to start going off on their own.

He continues, “It was really early when I got the call and I didn’t want to wake you guys up, but I should’ve grabbed at least one of you. I know that. Sorry.”

Once everyone’s buckled up, Steve drives off.

The kids and Robin are taken aback when Steve tells them Vecna’s killed again. At least the news gets Dustin off his back for rushing off without checking in.

“I had to ID the body, Henderson, cut me some slack!”

“You? Why you?”

“Because it’s messed up how Vecna leaves his victims, and Mrs. Hagan doesn’t need to see her son like that!”

“Tommy Hagan was Vecna’s second victim?”

“Yeah.”

Steve staves off further questions by promising to fill them all in once they get to the boat house. He doesn’t want to recount everything more than once, and Eddie needs to know what’s going on too.

The mention of Eddie gets Dustin to relax a bit, so small victories. The rest of the car ride is fairly quiet, which is a relief considering he still has a damn headache. Based on how Max winces in the sunlight, he guesses she has one too.

Reaching into the glovebox, Steve pulls out the bottle of painkillers before handing it over his shoulder to her.

“…Thanks,” she murmurs.

Reaching Reefer Rick's, they all pile out of the truck. Max returns the painkillers, saying nothing as Steve dry-swallows two pills himself.

They startle Eddie when they enter the boat house, but the food they’ve brought is a good enough olive branch.

Once everyone’s settled in the boat house and Eddie’s gotten some food in him, Dustin starts, “So we got, uh, some good news and some bad news. How do you prefer it?”

“Bad news first, always,” Eddie replies as he continues to stuff himself. Steve can’t blame him; guy must be starving.

“Alright, bad news,” Dustin nods, then glances at Steve.

Steve steps forward, just barely holding back a sigh. “Hawkins PD is looking for you,” he begins. “They’re, uh, pretty convinced you killed Chrissy and…”

His heart beats faster, the memory of Tommy’s corpse flashing in his mind.

“And?” Eddie stresses.

“And Tommy,” Steve replies, quieter.

“Tommy… As in Tommy Hagan?” Eddie asks.

“His body was found this morning,” Steve explains. “His body, his eyes… it was just like Chrissy.” At Eddie’s questioning gaze, Steve shrugs, lowering his eyes. “I got called in this morning. To ID the body.”

“Oh shit,” Eddie breathes. “That’s… Sorry, Hopper,” he says. “I know you two weren’t exactly friends anymore, but still, that’s… Sorry.”

Steve can’t help the surprise he feels at the words, forcing himself to nod after a moment. “Thank you,” he replies slowly.

From the corner of his eye, he can see the others shuffling in awkward silence, faces covered in… is it guilt? Discomfort? Some combination of the two? Whatever it is, Steve can practically see it oozing from them.

Eddie is right; Steve and Tommy haven’t been friends in a while. It doesn’t exactly shock Steve that neither Dustin, Max or Robin offered up their own condolences. They all knew who Steve is now, but Eddie only seems to remember King Steve; Tommy Hagan was almost always by King Steve's side.

“You were a real asshole, you know that?” Robin huffed.

Robin wasn’t wrong when she said that back in Starcourt, even if it stung to hear. No one wants to be reminded of what a jerk they’d been; considering Steve had worked so hard to change and be a better person, it sucked to have his past actions thrown back in his face.

Carol and Tommy were undoubtedly a huge part of why Steve had been King Steve. He wanted to fit in, his desire to feel normal pushing him to follow Carol and Tommy in their quest for popularity. He mimicked their attitude, picked up their mannerisms and made them his own. He enabled their terrible behavior and let them influence his own behavior.

Robin probably didn’t feel any sadness for Tommy’s death, even knowing what Tommy once meant to Steve. Steve never even got the chance to tell her that Tommy and Carol asked to meet up again and talk. That they had been nice and seemed to actually care about how he was doing.

Now Steve will never get to hear what Tommy wanted to say. He can speculate all he wants, but he’ll never know for sure.

Dustin and Max, in their defense, had very little interaction with Tommy or Carol. They’re probably just as indifferent to his death as Robin, only concerned because it makes Eddie’s situation worse and it means Vecna is still on the prowl.

“What’s the good news?” Eddie asks, bringing Steve back to the present.

“Your name hasn’t gone public yet,” he answers.

“But,” Robin interjects, “it’s only a matter of time before it does. Once that happens, everyone and their shallow-minded mother is gonna be gunning for you.”

“Hunt the freak, right?” Eddie says shakily.

“Exactly,” Robin agrees.

“Shit,” Eddie whispers.

“So before that happens, we need to find Vecna, kill him, and prove your innocence,” Dustin declares, undoubtedly trying to be reassuring.

“That’s all, Dustin?” Eddie scoffs. “That’s all?”

“Yeah, no, that’s pretty much it,” Dustin shrugs.

“Listen, Eddie, I know everything Dustin is saying sounds totally delusional, but we’ve actually been through this kind of thing before,” Robin states. “I mean, they have,” she adds, pointing to Steve, Dustin, and Max, “a few times. And I have once. Mine was more human-flesh based, theirs was more smoke-related, but bottom line? Collectively, I really feel like we got this.”

“How?” Eddie demands. “How can you possibly feel like you’ve ‘got this?’”

“Well, for now,” Robin starts, “we’re more in the uh…”

“The brainstorming phase,” Max finishes.

“Yeah, exactly,” Dustin adds quickly. “Brainstorming. Plus, we have an inside man at Hawkins PD to keep you ahead of them-“

“Yeah, about that…” Steve interjects slowly. Everyone looks his way, making him wince. This isn’t going to go well, he thinks before revealing, “Powell kinda… sort of… took me off the case.”

“What?!” everyone exclaims simultaneously.

“Tommy,” Steve explains quietly. “It’s a conflict of interest. I tried to change Powell’s mind, but he wouldn’t listen to me.”

“Fuck,” Dustin groans lowly.

Steve doesn’t bother mentioning that he’s technically on unofficial leave as well. Though considering Powell never asked for his badge and gun, it’s not a suspension or extended leave.

The thought makes Steve perk up. That can work…

“But,” he says, regaining their attention, “I didn’t have to turn in my badge.”

“Wait, why is that important?” Eddie frowns.

“Because,” Steve answers, “it’s our ticket into Pennhurst.”

“What’s in Pennhurst?” Max wonders.

“Victor Creel,” Robin answers, eyes lighting up as she realizes where Steve’s going with this.

“I left the case file back at my place,” Steve apologizes before explaining to the rest of the group, “but that family I mentioned last night, where they arrested the husband but he said it was a demon? That’s Victor Creel.”

“He’s still alive?” Eddie asks in surprise.

Steve and Robin both nod.

“Maybe he can tell us what happened that night,” Dustin realizes.

“And how he survived,” Robin agrees.

“Wait, did you talk to Powell about this?” Max wonders, turning to Steve.

He sighs. “I did, but he said Victor’s locked up, so…” His voice trails off as he shrugs. “And then he benched me right after, so that pretty much ended the conversation about Creel.”

“Okay, but of everyone in Hawkins, why would Vecna kill the Creels?” Eddie asks, raising a hand as he does. “Why kill Chrissy and Tommy? Does he just… show up every thirty years or so, kill a couple of people, and then fucks off back to the Upside Down? That doesn’t make sense.”

“I mean, I don’t know about the Creels, but as for Chrissy and Tommy… maybe they were both just in the wrong place?” Robin suggests. “They were both at the game. And they were in the same social circle, right? Maybe they were hanging out at a party or something.”

Steve sighs, running a hand through his hair. “I mean, when I talked to Carol, she said Tommy seemed… on edge. Upset, even. She said… she said it started earlier this week. Like, pretty much the moment they came back to town.”

“Wait, Max- you said Chrissy was upset too,” Dustin recalls.

“Yeah, but not at the game,” she corrects. “Not that I know of. She was crying in the bathroom at school.”

“She seemed jumpy,” Eddie reveals, gaining everyone’s attention. His gaze is far away as he continues, “When she met up with me in the woods to buy drugs, she seemed freaked out.” He glances at Steve, “On edge.”

“Like Tommy,” Steve murmurs, running a hand over his face.

“Serial killers stalk their prey before they strike, right?” Robin interjects. “So maybe Tommy and Chrissy saw Vecna, before he killed them, and that’s why they were freaked out?”

“I don’t know about you guys, but if I saw some freaky wizard monster, I would… I’d mention it to someone,” Steve says.

“Maybe they did,” Max murmurs. “I- I saw Chrissy leaving Ms. Kelly’s office the day she was killed.” Her brows furrow. “If you saw a monster, you’d never talk to the cops. They won’t believe you,” Max says, then glances at Steve. “No offense.”

“None taken,” Steve shrugs; she’s not wrong, after all. He would listen, and so would Hopper if he were still alive.

Powell and Callahan, on the other hand? No chance.

“But,” Max continues her earlier thought, “you might tell your shrink. Maybe Chrissy said something to Ms. Kelly?”

“I highly doubt Ms. Kelly will tell us if she did,” Robin laments. “Patient confidentiality and all.”

Max nods. “I know, but… we don’t exactly need to ask her…”

Steve frowns, eyeing Max warily. “What do you mean?”

“Ms. Kelly always takes notes during our sessions,” Max shrugs. “We can break into her office and look at Chrissy’s file. Maybe there’s something there that will tell us how Vecna’s curse works, or why he picked her.”

Steve stiffens at the idea. Shit, does Ms. Kelly keep my file in her office at the school?

He might not be a student anymore, but it’s not like Hawkins has another therapist in business. Still though, he’s not a student; there has to be liability involved or something if she keeps a cop’s file in the school... Right?

“Well, we’re on the clock here, so let’s split up,” Robin suggests. “One kid comes with me to the school, the other goes with Steve to Pennhurst.”

“Wait,” Steve tries to interject.

“I’m with Robin,” Max immediately declares, glancing between Robin and Dustin, “since I’m assuming neither of you knows how to pick a lock and we don’t exactly have the key?”

“No,” Steve counters. “No, no, no picking locks, no breaking and entering.”

Max rolls her eyes. “Steve, can you stop being a mom for two seconds, please?”

“I was going to go with ‘cop,’” Eddie quietly mutters, eating more Cheerios.

“Or Max and I can go to the school, and Steve and Robin can go to Pennhurst,” Dustin suggests. “We don’t need to be babysat.”

Steve flinches slightly, crossing his arms in an attempt to hide the action. He knows that they’re not little kids anymore, but it still stings to be reminded that they don’t need him now.

Part of Steve also wonders if Dustin would be putting up a fuss if he got paired with Robin instead.

“Okay, Steve? We need that file,” Robin insists, “and Dustin... I’m not exactly comfortable leaving you and Max unsupervised with Vecna out there.”

“I would be unsupervised, though. We would both be unsupervised,” Dustin counters, gesturing to himself and Steve. “What’s Steve going to do? Flash his badge and say, ‘oh no it’s fine, the kid’s with me?’”

“He’s got a point,” Steve admits, hands on his hips. “If the idea is that no one goes off alone, it’s gotta be me and Robin at Pennhurst. You work at the station anyway, we can swing it. Otherwise, Dustin will be in the car alone while I’m inside.” He blows out a slow breath before continuing, “This is the technically the safest option.”

Robin frowns at the thought but nods in acceptance.

Steve turns to Max and Dustin. “The two of you, just... stick together. Okay? Don’t take any unnecessary risks, got it? You get in, you grab Chrissy’s file- and only Chrissy’s file,” he insists, the fear of them finding his own file growing, “and you get out.”

“Okay, Mom,” Max snaps, moving for the exit. “Come on, you have to drop us off.”

“Don’t worry, Eddie,” Dustin says as they head for the exit. “We’re going to figure this out.”

Eddie nods wordlessly.

“Wait,” Steve says, grabbing Dustin’s walkie from his backpack and handing it to Eddie. “Max has hers, and I have my own; this way we can all stay in contact.”

Eddie takes the walkie with a grateful nod. “Thanks man.”

“Lay low, we’ll be back as soon as we can,” Steve says in reply before nodding to the others. “Let’s go.”

“It’s gonna be real hard to play those drums with a broken hand!” Jason threatens, pressing his foot down hard on the loser’s hand.

The junior freak screams before blurting out a name. “Dustin!” he shouts.

“What?” Jason presses.

“Dustin- Dustin Henderson!” the guy yells. “He was- he was calling around, looking for Eddie. Maybe he found him!”

Finally, a lead. A real lead.

“See?” Jason says, satisfaction filling him. “That wasn’t so hard, was it? Now…” He presses down on the freak’s hand even more, earning a sharp cry. “Where do we find this ‘Dustin?’”

Doctor Owens booked the flight to Chicago almost immediately after Sullivan and his team left the Owens’ residence last night. They’re being careful and monitoring him from a distance, but the old man doesn’t give any indication that he knows he’s being followed.

To add to their suspicions, he’s traveling with nothing but a briefcase. No luggage or personal belongings.

Lieutenant Conner drew the short stick and is stuck trailing the doctor. He’s been on Owens since the airport, following in a cab to the downtown area. From there, Owens has just been… walking.

The old man stopped at a coffee shop, then stopped again to purchase a newspaper off a street vendor shortly after. There’s no rhyme or reason to his path, and there’s been no one that stands out as a potential contact. No sign of counter-surveillance or an extraction team.

“Conner, status report,” Sullivan demands over comms.

“Target has not made any contact,” Conner replies quietly, several yards behind Owens as they continue walking. “Approaching East Jackson and Michigan Avenue.”

Conner picks up the pace when Owens turns a corner, only to stop short.

Fuck.

Conner’s eyes scan the area, looking up and down and across the street.

“I’ve lost the target,” he says into the comms. “I repeat, target has vanished.”

Leaning against a building’s exterior and sipping his coffee, Owens watches as his tail frantically searches the area. When the man rushes off, presumably to try and find him, Owens looks over to his left.

Kali silently gestures for him to follow her and they cross the street, heading into the park.

“I wasn’t sure you’d get my message in time,” Owens says several minutes later, once Kali drops the illusion concealing them and they’re deep within the park.

“Your wife made it sound very urgent,” Kali replies, raising a brow as she wipes the blood from her nose.

Owens sighs. “It is.” Gesturing to a bench, the two of them sit and Owens recounts his conversation with Sullivan and the man’s suspicions.

“They don’t know about you and Steve,” Owens tells her. “That gives us an advantage, as you just saw.”

“I just don’t understand why he’d think Eleven killed that girl,” Kali frowns.

“I think I do,” Owens says quietly, hesitating when Kali sharply turns to look at him. “Kali… what do you remember about the night you and Steve escaped?”

Eleven sits up in her bed, hearing the others eating breakfast downstairs but has no desire to join them. Why bother? The week is ruined.

She had been so excited for Spring Break, but now she couldn’t wait for it to be over. Angela humiliated her. El’s anger and rage took over, making her lash out in one of the worst ways possible. Mike could barely look at her. And now El knows that he and the rest of the Party broke their promise, and that Steve has been all alone this whole time.

Did anyone celebrate his birthday with him? Thanksgiving or Christmas? Was he alone on New Years?

She shuts her eyes, thinking of Steve sitting all alone in Hopper’s trailer, no family, no friends, no gifts-

Steve’s gift! El remembers.

With a burst of energy, she scrambles out of bed and rushes over to her desk where the package sits, still neatly wrapped. She’s just grateful she left it in Argyle’s van before going into Rink-O-Mania; what if Angela or one of her friends destroyed it?

El takes great care opening the package, careful not to rip the wrapping.

It's a cassette tape.

El lets out a small laugh, tears already blurring her vision as she looks it over. The name BON JOVI is in huge letters on the front of the case, while the name of the album is written in much smaller letters on the side. Slippery When Wet.

It reminds El of those weekly Friday night dinners, before Steve moved into the cabin with her and Hop. Steve always brought her a gift of sorts; books, snacks, but especially cassettes. He wanted her to experience the world as much as she could while hiding from the bad men. They’d sit and listen to the tapes, Steve trying to help her find what kind of music she liked.

She stills when she spots the folded up note taped to the back of the case.

Carefully removing it, El unfolds the small slip paper, a soft gasp escaping her when she realizes it’s a letter. Steve sent her a letter!

El moves to her bed, cassette in one hand and the letter in the other. Settling in against her pillows, El begins to read.

Hey El,

I’ve got limited space here, so I’m going to try to make the most of it.

First of all, I miss you kiddo. God, I miss you so much. I hope everything’s going well in California. Nance says your powers are coming back, which is great! Don’t push yourself too hard, though, okay? You’ll be back to full strength soon, just keep being patient.

Things are quiet here in Hawkins. Work is keeping me busy. It’s weird with Dad being gone, though. Every time the door to his old office opens, I keep thinking he’ll walk out, you know? But even with the long hours, I do like the job. It helps me feel closer to him in some ways. I feel like I’m helping people, too.

Be good for Joyce, okay? Give her a hug from me, and tell the guys I said hi.

Love you kiddo.

Your brother,

Steve

P.S. I hope you like the album; Livin’ on a Prayer is my favorite.

El doesn’t hesitate, grabbing her Walkman and inserting the cassette. She doesn’t pay much attention to the first two songs, though the second song is pretty catchy.

When the music starts on the third song, Steve’s favorite song, El closes her eyes and takes it in.

Once upon a time, not so long ago…

Steve drops the kids off at the trailer park, watching them grab their bikes before he and Robin drive off.

“Why couldn’t he drop us off at the school?” Dustin grumbles to himself.

“Plausible deniability?” Max suggests with a shrug as they start peddling out of Forest Hills.

The rest of the bike ride is spent in silence, Max not talking much and Dustin happy to go along with that. He hasn’t made the trip from the trailer park to the school in months; not in the truck or the Beemer, and much less by bike. Once they hit the main road, though, it’s more muscle memory than anything else.

That gives Dustin’s mind time to think. To stew.

He swore to himself, he swore, that he’d stop dragging Steve into trouble. And what does he do? He all but forces Steve to look for Eddie, which led to last night's vest-incident.

God, the way Steve screamed… It wasn’t like when the Russians collared him. That had been fear. Last night was pure pain.

If Vecna’s using an Antimagic Field, he must’ve known Steve would look for him in his flashes. Vecna was ready for it, ready for Steve, leaving a psychic trap for the older boy. One that Dustin practically pushed him into.

It’s not like Steve wouldn’t have gotten involved with helping Eddie. Even if he hadn’t originally believed it was the Upside Down, Steve was insistent that Eddie was innocent. Even went out of his way to talk to Wayne and find another lead.

Not that you gave him a chance to explain, Dustin berates himself.

The hurt on Steve’s face when Dustin accused him of throwing Eddie under the bus replays in Dustin’s mind.

“You think I’d lie about something like this?” Steve asked in surprise. “Point the finger at Munson for murder, just because I ‘don’t like him?’”

Dustin felt like the world’s biggest asshole in that moment.

It’s just that with Steve mostly out of his life, Eddie’s helped fill that void. Not to say Eddie could ever replace Steve; no one could. Just like no one could replace Eddie. They were both equally important to Dustin, just in different ways.

And, Dustin can’t help but think, you’ve never put Eddie’s life in danger and gotten him hurt.

Steve isn’t safe with Dustin, and last night just reinforced that.

Still, Dustin can be less of an asshole. Steve looks so tired and Dustin’s attitude definitely isn’t helping. He sighs; why did the Upside Down have to come back?

They reach the school, circling around to the back of the building and leaving their bikes there rather than in the front.

“Breaking and entering,” Dustin sighs as Max picks the lock to one of the gym doors. “Steve’s gotta love this.”

“I’m pretty sure Hopper did worse when it came to the Upside Down,” Max counters. “Steve will be fine, he knows what’s at stake.”

Dustin nods, but silently considers how concerned Steve looked about losing his badge. What does he have really other than his job? His family’s gone, the Party’s all pulled away, and, as far as Dustin knows, Steve’s love life is non-existent.

You didn’t learn after Starcourt, did you? Dustin asks himself.

“Are you going to keep moping over there?” Max asks, still picking the lock.

Dustin looks at her in surprise. “What?”

“It wasn’t your fault,” she insists, pausing to look his way. “The Antimagic Field, it wasn’t your fault.”

“I never said it was,” Dustin argues, feeling caught.

“But you’re thinking it, I can tell,” Max scoffs. “It’s all over your face.” She looks back at the door, Dustin following suit. “If Vecna really doesn’t want us to know what he’s doing, it was going to happen eventually,” she says. “I mean, shit, we’re lucky it happened when it did. What if Steve tried it alone at like, the morgue or something? To find out what happened to Tommy?”

Dustin frowns. It’s a fair point, but it does little to assuage his guilt.

“If Steve didn’t want to help, he wouldn’t,” Max insists. The door swings open and she stands up. “He’s doing his job, let’s do ours-“

Her walkie crackles from it’s spot in Max’s backpack, making them both jump.

“Dustin? Dustin, it’s Lucas, do you copy?”

“Is that Lucas?” Dustin frowns, grabbing the walkie and pressing the TALK button. “Lucas? Where the hell have you been?”

“Listen, are you guys looking for Eddie?”

“Yeah and we found him, no thanks to you!” Dustin snaps.

“You found him? Where?”

“A boat house out on Lover’s Lake,” Dustin answers. “Don’t worry, he’s safe.”

“You guys know he killed Chrissy, right?”

Dustin frowns; what the hell? “That’s bullshit!” he protests. “Eddie tried to save Chrissy!”

“Then why are the cops saying he did it-?”

Max grabs the walkie from Dustin, pressing the TALK button.

“Lucas, you’re so behind it’s ridiculous,” she says, rolling her eyes. “Meet us at the school, we’ll explain everything there. Over and out.”

Reaching Pennhurst, Steve finds an empty spot and parks the truck. He and Robin exit the truck, Robin putting on a blazer over her outfit.

“I can’t believe you had this in the truck,” she comments.

“Well, considering how many times it took Flo glaring at you before you adapted to the office dress code, are you that surprised?” Steve teases.

Robin gasps in fake offense. “Steven Hopper, are you saying I’m unprofessional?”

“Ugh, don’t call me Steven,” he shudders. As they approach the entrance, he glances at Robin. “Ready for this?”

Robin meets his gaze. “Only if you are,” she replies.

“In that case,” Steve breathes, “showtime.”

The two of them enter the main building. There’s an oppressive air in the lobby that Steve can’t help but grimace at.

Spotting the receptionist, Steve leads the way to the desk.

“Excuse me? Officer Steve Hopper,” he greets, flashing his badge. “This is my colleague, Robin Buckley. We need to speak to whoever’s in charge here. Now.”

The receptionist blinks in surprise but quickly reaches for her phone. “Director,” she says. “I have an officer here to see you… No, it sounds urgent.” She glances back at Steve before continuing, “Very urgent.”

In a matter of minutes, Steve and Robin are led to Director Hatch’s office, the man looking up at them neutrally when they enter.

“Good afternoon, Officer,” he greets, getting up and shaking Steve’s hand. “And Miss…?”

“Buckley,” Robin answers, returning the handshake Hatch offers.

“Please, have a seat.” Hatch gestures to the chairs across from him at his desk. “I assume you’re here about Victor Creel.”

Steve pauses, doing his best not to react.

Not noticing, or not caring, about their lack of response, Hatch continues, “As I told Chief Powell: Victor Creel is safely locked away in solitary. He did not commit either of the murders you are investigating.”

Powell actually called?

From the corner of his eye, Steve can see Robin start to squirm so he quickly speaks up.

“You’re absolutely right, we are here about Victor,” he admits, “and the department is grateful for your cooperation. However… in light of the method the killer used, we feel it’s necessary to speak to Victor directly.”

When Hatch doesn’t say anything, Steve continues, “Two people are dead, Director. Victor may have information that’ll help us catch their killer.”

“I’m sympathetic to your situation, truly,” Hatch says, “but there is a protocol to visiting a patient like Victor. You have to put in a request, and then you have to undergo a screening process at which point the board will make a decision.”

Steve and Robin exchange a glance before looking back at Hatch.

“Maybe you didn’t hear me,” Steve chuckles humorlessly. “There have been two murders. Both of which match the Creel family murders-”

“And as I’ve said, my hands are tied,” Hatch interrupts. “Surely an officer of the law would understand the necessity of following protocol. So unless you have a warrant… I’m afraid I cannot help you.”

Damn it, Steve thinks. He scrambles to come up with something that’ll get them in to see Creel; they have to talk to him. He’s the only person who survived Vecna, as far as they know. The only person who can tell them why his family was targeted-

A snort escapes Robin.

Steve looks at her with wide eyes, but Robin doesn’t seem to notice. She just keeps laughing to herself.

Except, Steve realizes after a few seconds, that’s her fake laugh.

“Robin?” he asks lowly.

“What did I tell you?” she sighs, her laughter tapering off. “I mean, I was totally right.”

Steve hesitates, before nodding. “Yup, you were.”

“And I mean, with how quickly he was able to receive us?” Robin continues, gesturing to Hatch. “Almost like he was waiting for us.”

That’s… a good point, Steve thinks as he nods along. “Suspicious as hell,” he says.

“Excuse me?” Hatch demands.

“Come on, Director,” Robin says. “We don’t need to spell things out for you, do we?”

“I’m afraid you’ll have to,” Hatch replies, his tone turning curt and tense.

Robin smirks, “Two murders in two days, matching the MO of one of your most notorious patients. Then you get a call from the Chief of Police asking if Creel is still in custody, as he should be. If he is, then there’s no need to worry. If he isn’t… I’d panic if the cops showed up unannounced looking for him.”

“Almost 30 years ago, Victor Creel murdered his wife and two kids, breaking their limbs, cutting their eyes out, destroying their bodies in such an unimaginable way, that the case file had to be sealed,” she continues; the fib about the case file is a good touch. “But time makes memories fade, right? No one really knows or thinks about the name Victor Creel anymore, much less what he did. Or how he did it. But now, now we have two murder victims who look exactly like the Creels, down to the eyeballs, and you want to play politics?”

“So when you look at all the facts, Anthony- may I call you Anthony- we either have a copycat in Hawkins, which means Officer Hopper here has every right to speak with Creel to help the investigation,” Robin declares, “and denying him access to a vital person of interest would be obstruction of justice. Or Victor Creel really did escape and you’re covering it up which, by the way, would not only be obstruction of justice, it would make you an accessory to both murders.”

“Now hold on a second,” Hatch says nervously.

“And yes, a warrant would be ideal, but two murders in two days? What’s to say there won’t be a third today? Time is of the essence. But, if you insist on playing this game, then I’m sure the press would love to know all about how your fine institution shows little regard or sympathy for the grieving families,” Robin continued. “I mean, the very least you can do is allow Hawkins PD to investigate with no obstacles. Then again, maybe Creel really did escape. That would explain why you won’t allow us to verify his whereabouts and question him directly.”

“I’m sure the press would eat that story right up,” Steve adds with a thoughtful nod. “I actually have a friend at the paper; she wrote that article exposing the chemical leak at Hawkins Lab.”

“That one got national attention,” Robin states, as if just now remembering.

Hatch stares at both of them, mouth agape.

“10 minutes with Victor,” Robin finishes, “that’s all we ask.”

Breakfast is quiet the next day. Jonathan makes waffles, eggs and bacon, entrusting his mom only with the coffee. She takes a plate to the den, promising to stay out of their way for the day while she worked for a few hours.

El finally emerges downstairs a little after 10am; not bad at all for a day off of school, but still late for El.

“Morning sleepyhead,” Jonathan greets, keeping his tone light. “Sleep well?”

“Fine,” El replies quietly. She has her headphones around her neck, the Walkman Jonathan got her for Christmas clipped to her belt.

As Jonathan sets a plate of breakfast in front of El, he can just make out the drums and bass playing from the headphones. “Wait, I think I recognize that song. Bon Jovi, right?” he wonders.

“Yes,” El answers. “It’s a new cassette, from Steve.”

“The gift he sent with Nancy?” Jonathan checks.

El pokes at her breakfast, nodding. “Livin’ on a Prayer is his favorite song.”

“It’s a good song,” Jonathan agrees. “I mean, it’s not The Clash or anything, but…”

The comment doesn’t get a chuckle or even a smile from El like he hoped.

“You know,” he begins after a moment, “if you want to get something for him to send back, maybe we can all go to the mall. Or, I could drop off you, Mike and Will if you’d prefer.”

El considers the offer as she takes a bite of her waffles. Then, after she swallows, “Yes, please. Thank you.”

Jonathan nods in agreement, feeling a small sense of victory. “Great,” he agrees.

He lets the conversation fall silent, giving El some space as he bustles around the kitchen.

Once she's finished with her breakfast, El stands up, putting her plate in the sink.

“Can we go today?” she asks.

“To the mall? Yeah,” Jonathan assures. “Yeah, we didn’t really have anything planned for today, anyways.”

He follows her to the living room where Will, Nancy and Mike are gathered, talking quietly amongst themselves.

“Hey,” Jonathan interjects. “El and I were thinking about checking out the mall today. What do you guys think?”

“Yeah, that sounds fun,” Will nods, brightening up a bit.

Nancy and Mike also agree-

The doorbell rings, making them all pause.

“Is that Argyle?” Mike asks.

“Ringing the doorbell?” Will jokes. “No, he usually just makes himself right at home.”

The doorbell rings again.

“Jonathan, can you please get that?” his mom calls out from the den.

“Yup!” Jonathan calls back, already heading towards the door.

The doorbell rings yet again, repeatedly and insistently.

“I’m coming, I’m coming,” Jonathan mutters to him.

He unlocks the door and swings it open.

A man nods at him in greeting. “Is this the Byers residence?”

“Um, yeah,” Jonathan confirms. “Can I help you-?”

He sees the gun a split second before the world goes dark.

The gunshot rings throughout the house, making them all jump and flinch.

“Jonathan?!” Will shouts.

“What the hell was that?” Mike yells simultaneously.

“Shit!” Nancy exclaims. “Stay here!” she orders the kids as she races towards the front of the house.

A man is entering the house, gun drawn- Jonathan’s on the floor, not moving, blooding pouring from his shoulder- the gun lifts and aims at Nancy-

Nancy freezes.

An enraged scream comes from behind her; the man goes flying back, crashing into another person- a soldier- before the door swings shut.

The lock turning by itself snaps Nancy out of her stupor.

“Jonathan!” she cries out, rushing to his side.

She hears Mike’s “Oh my God,” and Will’s “Mom!” as she rips a jacket off the coat rack. Bunching it up into a ball, Nancy presses it against the wound, but blood is still pouring out.

“Jonathan? Jonathan!” Will cries out as his knees hit the floor hard next to Nancy.

Jonathan doesn’t respond, unconscious but thankfully still breathing.

Mike runs to the front of the house, ignoring Nancy’s “Stay away from the window,” and peers through the glass.

“Shit!” he exclaims, quickly backing away. “Military!”

“Will, keep pressure on the wound,” Nancy orders, letting Will take over before running to the dining room where she left her bag.

“Kids?!” She hears Joyce runs into the foyer, a scream ripping from her throat. “Jonathan!”

“We have to get out of here!” Mike shouts as Nancy pulls out her Russian pistol.

Good thing Mom and Dad weren’t there when I had to check this at the airport, she thinks a bit hysterically.

She reaches the others seconds before the window in the living room shatters.

“Shit! Shit!” Mike shouts.

“We need to go!” Nancy orders.

Joyce and Will both lug Jonathan up, supporting his weight between them as Joyce does her best to keep the pressure on Jonathan’s shoulder.

Mike grabs El’s hand and pulls her along while Nancy brings up the rear.

They duck behind one of the walls just as the front door is broken down.

“Shit- Nancy!” Will shouts, pointing towards the den.

Nancy immediately lifts her gun, firing two shots and hitting both of the soldiers approaching from the den. She then leans around the corner, firing at the soldiers coming through the front door.

“El- no-!” Mike exclaims.

“I can help,” El argues.

“No, save your strength,” Nancy counters, ducking back behind the wall. “Just in case.”

The side door leading to the garage bursts open and Nancy opens fire. “Get down!” she barks at the others.

Joyce pulls Jonathan and Will down, covering them with her body as much as she can. A near impossible task, considering how much taller Jonathan is than her.

She can see Mike and El ducking down too, though El’s keeping her head up and watching their surroundings carefully. Watching Nancy’s back.

Nodding gratefully, Nancy pops out of their hiding spot. She fires off two shots; one of the soldiers falls to the floor and Nancy ducks down again.

“I’m going to cover you, understand?” She replaces the pistol’s magazine, reloading. “When I give the word, you all run!”

“Nancy-“ Joyce worries, eyes wide even as her hands are covered in Jonathan’s blood.

“Do you have your keys?” Nancy demands.

“What-“

“Car keys, where are they?!”

“By the side door, by the garage-“

“Mike, grab them on the way,” Nancy orders. “We run for the car and we get the hell out of here!”

“I can help,” El insists.

“Okay, I’ll take point,” Nancy declares, “and you knock back anyone who comes behind us, okay?”

El nods her agreement.

“Now!” Nancy shouts, jumping up and firing her gun. She clears them a path, leading their group to the garage.

The garage door is open, no doubt thanks to the military, but the Byers’ car seems untouched.

“Get in the car!” she shouts.

It’s a mad scramble; Mike takes over for Joyce and helps Will get Jonathan into the back seat. Joyce gets in the driver’s seat, Nancy in the passenger seat, while El climbs in the back with the boys

“Drive!!” the Wheelers yell.

“I’m going- I’m trying!” Joyce exclaims.

“Mom, drive!!” Will shouts.

Joyce jams the key into the ignition.

“DRIVE!!!!” all the kids repeat.

Joyce throws it in reverse, slamming on the gas and speeds back.

The remaining soldiers jump out of the way, ducking behind their vehicles.

Nancy rolls down her window, firing at them and the wheels of their trucks.

“Go, go, go!” Will shouts as Joyce switches to Drive, peeling down the street.

Reloading her gun, Nancy’s eyes widen at the sight of a military truck turning onto the block and driving straight towards them.

“We’ve got company!” Mike exclaims.

“No shit!” Nancy snaps.

“Keep going,” El orders, head poking in between the front seats. “Don’t stop.”

“El,” Joyce worries.

“Don’t. Stop,” El orders.

Joyce lets out an anguished breath, pressing down on the accelerator and staying on course.

“El,” Nancy wonders.

Joyce keeps driving.

“El,” Mike insists.

Still, she does nothing and the distance between them and the truck narrows.

“El?” Joyce shouts.

The boys scream in the back, Nancy flinches, while Joyce lets out a “Please!”

El jerks her chin-

The van jolts, flying up in the air.

Nancy cranes her neck, looking up through the windshield at the van soars over them.

She turns in her seat, seeing Mike and Will doing the same, to look out the rear window.

They all turn just in time to see the van crash into the ground behind them.

Joyce doesn’t stop, doesn’t slow down. She just keeps driving.

Entering Ms. Kelly’s office, Max heads straight for the filing cabinets, opening the drawer labeled A-D.

“It’s like a mini Watergate,” Dustin murmurs as he closes the office door behind him. “Hawkinsgate!”

“Those guys got caught, remember?” Max scoffs. She finds and pulls out the file labeled Cunningham, Chrissy. “Got it,” she announces, handing it over to Dustin.

Closing that drawer, she pulls open the drawer labeled E-H.

“Hey, what are you doing?” Dustin asks. “Steve said Chrissy’s file only.”

“I just want to see if Tommy was seeing Ms. Kelly, too,” Max says, fingers shifting past the E and F files.

“He’s not a student anymore,” Dustin counters. “Even if he was seeing her, I doubt his file is still here.”

“I don’t know!” Max retorts, pausing halfway through G to glare at Dustin. “Maybe she holds onto to them for a while! And if it is here, we can compare the notes to what Carol told Steve. You have the notepad, right?”

Dustin nods, setting Chrissy’s file down on the desk to dig in his backpack for Steve’s notes.

Turning back to the filing cabinet, Max gets through the G files, finally reaching H. She thumbs through the files, searching for Hagan, Tommy- or would it be Thomas-

“Oh shit,” Max breathes.

“What, you found it?” Dustin asks, hope filling his voice.

Max shakes her head, pulling out a file with shaky hands.

“Max?” Dustin steps away from the desk, concern etched on his face. “What is it?”

She doesn’t say anything; she simply hands over the file.

Dustin spots the name and freezes.

Hopper, Steven

“Steve was seeing Ms. Kelly,” Max says.

Dustin’s face is stricken. “I… I had no idea,” he whispers. “It’s listed as Hopper… but he didn’t change his name until halfway through his senior year. He… he could’ve been seeing Ms. Kelly as late as a year ago!”

Max stares at the file. She debates with herself, both her and Dustin’s eyes fixed on the closed folder. After a few moments, she lifts her gaze, seeing Dustin’s guilt-ridden expression still on the file.

“We…” Dustin manages, “we can’t invade his privacy like that.”

Max nods slowly. They’re here for Chrissy’s file, after all. To find any hint or indication of Vecna and his curse.

They can’t betray Steve’s trust.

Max puts the file back where she found it, closing the cabinet drawer.

“Are you sure this is the place?” Jason asks him.

Lucas nods, feeling his heart rate start to skyrocket.

“And you’re sure Eddie was here?” Jason follows up, growing more agitated.

Lucas nods again, not trusting himself to speak.

Jason looks away, surveying the cabin again. “Let’s check around back!” he orders, Patrick and Chase immediately jumping into action and following their captain.

Only when he’s sure he won’t be noticed does Lucas turn and run in the opposite direction.

“Isn’t there a safe house or something?” Mike wonders. “A place to go if things went bad?”

“No, there’s no safe house, Mike,” Joyce insists. “The whole point of moving to Lenora was that no one would find us-“

“How did they find us?” Will asks, still holding the jacket against Jonathan’s shoulder. The bleeding has mostly stopped, but Jonathan is still unconscious.

“It’s my fault,” El murmurs, toying with her Walkman. “The skate. Someone must’ve seen.”

“We don’t know that for sure,” Nancy counters, voice gently.

“What else could it be?” El challenges in return.

The car falls silent.

After a few moments, Joyce shakes her head. “We just need to get to a payphone and call Owens,” she says. “He’ll know what to do.”

“A payphone?” Will questions. “Mom, Jonathan needs a doctor-“

“Hospitals have to report gunshot wounds, Will,” Joyce counters. El can see how her chin trembles, her knuckles turning white as she grips the steering wheel. “They’ll find us.”

“Too late,” Mike whispers.

Following his gaze, El looks back through the rear window. Three black vehicles that practically scream government are trailing behind them.

“Mom,” Will worries.

“El, how’s your battery?” Nancy asks.

Feeling inside of herself, El lets out a frustrated breath. Flipping that truck drained her.

“Low,” she admits.

Two of the cars speed past them, screeching to a halt and forcing Joyce to hit the breaks.

“Oh shit,” Mike whispers. “Shit, shit, shit!”

One of the car’s passenger doors opens up-

“Owens?” Joyce breathes.

El looks through the windshield, eyes widening. It’s Owens alright, a hand up in a friendly wave.

El follows Mike out of the back of the car, Joyce and Nancy stepping out of their seats as well.

“Hey kiddo,” Owens greets with a smile. “I’ve got someone who wants to see you.”

The backseat door opens up, someone quickly exiting the car-

“Kali!” El shouts, running forward.

The girls meet halfway, embracing each other tightly.

El lets out a sob upon contact, burying her face into her sister’s shoulder. “I don’t understand,” she cries. “How are you here?”

Kali holds her tightly even as Joyce calls out to Owens for help, telling him Jonathan’s been shot. There’s a flurry of motion around them, Owens’ men scrambling to get to Jonathan, checking over all of them, and securing the area.

El just focuses on her sister.

After a moment, Kali pulls back, looking at El with a sad expression.

“What?” El whispers. “What’s wrong?”

Is it Steve? Why else would Owens bring Kali here, let them reunite? Why would Kali have that look on her face, if not because something’s wrong with their brother?

“It’s back,” is what Kali says.

El’s breath catches.

“And this time?” Kali continues, a haunted look in her eyes. “It’s really bad.”

Flipping through Chrissy’s file, Max pauses on one page in particular.

Past trauma, it reads. Terrible nightmares/difficulty sleeping. Headaches. Nosebleeds.

Max stills. Nosebleeds…

“Can I see Steve’s notes?” she asks.

Dustin hands them over without a word, pouring through his own half of Chrissy’s file.

Nightmares every night since coming back to Hawkins, Steve wrote. Jumpy and on edge. Nosebleeds.

“Your nose,” Max frowned, watching as Steve wiped the blood away.

“Shit, not again,” he sighed.

A ringing in Max’s ear made her wince, a single drop of blood dripping from her nose and landing on her desk in the middle of class.

Headaches… Carol hadn’t mentioned that to Steve, but Chrissy was having them…

Inside the restroom, Max pulled out her bottle of Tylenol and popped two pills with the hope that they’d help her headache.

Max stopped by her locker between third and fourth period, taking a Tylenol to ease the headache she could feel brewing.

Sat in the back of Steve’s truck, Max winced at the sunlight streaming through her window.

Reaching into the glovebox, Steve pulled out the bottle of painkillers before handing it over his shoulder to her.

“…Thanks,” she murmured.

They reached the boat house and Max returned the painkillers. She didn’t say anything when Steve dry-swallowed two pills himself.

Max gets up, going back to the filing cabinet.

“Max?” Dustin wonders. “What are you doing?”

She pulls out Steve’s file without a word.

“Woah, wait!” Dustin protests upon realization. “That’s Steve’s file- we agreed we wouldn’t read it!”

Max ignores him, opening the file and searching for Ms. Kelly’s latest notes. They’re at the top of the file, dated the day Chrissy died.

Severe headaches, nosebleeds, constant nightmares.

Past trauma.

“Steve, are you okay?” Nancy asked.

Steve tensed, standing there with buzzed hair and a metal collar on full display for the others to see.

Alexei worked on the collar as Steve remained perfectly still, eyes screwing shut as Alexei moved to cut through a wire.

“Steve?” El asked. “Steve, where is Dad?”

Mrs. Byers shut her eyes.

Steve let out a choked gasp.

“I’m not some replacement for El!” Max snarled. “And you aren’t my brother!“ She felt equal parts guilt and satisfied at the hurt that flashed across Steve’s face. “I don’t need you. So leave me alone.”

“Billy,” Max whispered as he stalked down the hall towards her. “What did you do to Steve?” she asked, terrified.

He didn’t stop his progress forward.

“Billy, you don’t have to do this,” Max pled. “Billy- your name’s Billy, Billy Hargrove. You live on 4819 Cherry Lane. Billy, please! I’m Max, I’m your sister-“

He backhanded her, knocking her unconscious-

Steve and Kali knelt next to Billy’s body in the food court. Blood flowed out of Billy’s ears, along with blood and more of that black goo all over his chest.

Steve looked up at Max with guilt-ridden eyes. “I’m sorry.”

“Max, what you’ve been through… it’s a lot for anyone,” Ms. Kelly said. “And it’s okay to not be okay.”

She lets out a shaky breath.

They all have the same exact symptoms.

“Max, what is it?” Dustin asks. “Max?”

“Chrissy’s headaches started a week ago,” she begins slowly, “and Carol told Steve that Tommy started getting headaches six days ago. When he got back to Hawkins.” Max swallows roughly. “I started getting headaches five days ago.”

“What?” Dustin frowns.

Max lays out all the evidence on the table so Dustin can see. “Chrissy and Tommy had almost the exact same symptoms,” she explains, “but… so do Steve and I.”

She watches as Dustin looks over the damning evidence, his eyes lingering longer on Max and Steve’s files than Chrissy’s.

“No,” Dustin whispers. “No, no, no.”

He can deny it all he wants, but Max knows the truth.

“Steve and I are his next targets,” she says.

Dustin’s hands go to his head, gripping his hat. “Holy shit,” he breathes shakily. “Holy shit, holy shit, holy shit.”

Max glances at the time. “Chrissy was killed two nights ago,” she recalls. “And Tommy last night. Which means…”

“Vecna’s going to kill again tonight,” Dustin realizes, he glances at his watch. “Oh shit!”

Max glances at the clock on the wall; it’s already well into the afternoon. If Vecna’s going to strike again, it’s going to be in a matter of hours.

Dustin rushes for his walkie, pulling it out. “Steve, Robin, do you copy? I repeat, do you copy? Do you copy?! Over!!”

“Max…”

Max stiffens at the name whispered in her ear. Slowly glancing over her shoulder, Max exits the office, walking towards the echoes of a ticking clock.

A chime.

Max whirls around in the direction of the sound, walking towards it.

Turning a corner, Max pauses when she sees a grandfather clock, embedded into the wall.

A second chime.

She walks towards the clock.

It chimes again.

She can only stare at it in confusion.

A fourth and final chime.

Crossing the courtyard, Steve and Robin follow Hatch inside into another building.

“This is one of our more popular areas: the listening room. We found that music has a particularly calming effect on the broken mind,” Hatch explains. “The right song, particularly one that holds some personal meaning, can prove a salient stimulus, reaching parts of the brain that words cannot. But there are those who are… beyond a cure.”

They reach the high-security wing, going down the stairs to a single door guarded by one man.

“We’ll be speaking to Victor alone,” Steve states as the guard starts unlocking the door.

“Alone?” Hatch frowns.

“There are sensitive details about the case that I’ll have to bring up,” Steve replies. “Can’t exactly have anyone overhearing.”

Hatch frowns with displeasure, but nods all the same. “Of course,” he says. “I’ll leave you to it.”

He lets them walk past him, and Steve and Robin follow the guard into the wing.

“Do not startle him,” the guard instructs. “Do not touch him. Do not pass him anything. Stand five feet away from the bars at all times. Is that clear?”

“Crystal,” Steve replies.

“Victor,” the guard greets. “Today’s your lucky day. You got visitors.”

The guard walks off, leaving them standing outside of Victor’s cell.

Victor’s back is to them, not even bothering to acknowledge their presence.

Stepping forward, Steve speaks, “Victor, my name is Steve Hopper. This is Robin Buckley.”

“We have some questions,” Robin adds.

“I don’t talk to reporters,” Creel growls, “Hatch knows that.”

“Luckily for you, we’re not press,” Steve replies. “I’m an officer with Hawkins PD; Miss Buckley is a… civilian investigator, helping on a case.”

“We’re here because… we believe you,” Robin says. “And we need your help… whatever killed your family? We think it’s back.”

Creel turns towards them, both of his eyes sewn shut and scarred over.

They start going over what they know; the trance, the jumpiness, the bodies and eyes.

“When the first victim was attacked, our friend said it was like a trance,” Steve explains. “Nothing he did would wake her up.”

“Does any of this, anything we’ve told you, sound like what happened to your family?” Robin asks.

Victor breathes shakily.

Steve clenches his jaw. “Victor, I know this is hard-”

“You don’t know anything!” Victor roars.

“You’re right, we don’t know,” Robin agrees. “That’s why we’re here. To learn. To understand.” Robin swallows roughly. “We need to know how you survived that night.”

Victor laughs humorlessly. “Survived… Is that what you call this? Did I survive? No, I assure you, I am still very much in hell.”

“I had been back from the war some 14 years. Her great-uncle had died, leaving us a small fortune. Enough to buy a new home, a new life. It was magnificent home. Alice said it looked like it was from a fairy-tale.”

“Alice… your daughter?” Steve asks.

Victor nods. “But Henry, my boy… he was a sensitive child and I could see he felt something was wrong.”

Creel continues, “We had one month of peace in that house, and then it began. Dead animals, mutilated and tortured, began to appear outside our home. Rabbits, squirrels, chickens, even dogs. The police chief, Hopper… your grandfather,” he says to Steve. “He blamed the attacks on a wildcat, but this… this was no wildcat. This was an evil, an evil neither animal nor human. This was a spawn of Satan. A demon. And it was even closer than I realized.”

Steve and Robin glance at each other nervously.

“I suppose all evil must have a home. And though I had not a rational explanation for it, I could sense this demon. Always close. I became convinced it was hiding. Nesting, somewhere within the shadows of our home. Cursing our town. Cursing our home. Cursing us.”

“My family began to have encounters conjured by this demon,” Victor says. “Nightmares. Waking, living nightmares.”

Steve woke up with a sharp breath, eyes darting to take in his surroundings.

“You look like shit.”

“Because I can’t sleep,” Steve snapped. “That’s why I need the benzos. Happy?”

In the safety of his trailer, Steve takes one of the benzos he bought from Eddie.

“I’m sorry,” Steve sighed, looking down at the table. “I didn’t mean to snap, I just…”

In the middle of cleaning the trailer one night, Steve paused on discovering an old Tuinal prescription of Hopper’s. The bottle was still half-full… Side effects listed were dizziness, impaired coordination, slurred speech… and drowsiness.

“I’m just tired, man.”

Steve didn’t hesitate and took two of the Tuinal.

“This demon, it seemed to take pleasure in tormenting us. Even poor innocent Alice. It wasn’t long before I began to have encounters of my own. But it wasn’t just the nightmares,” he recalls. “The headaches were constant. Terrible, excruciating headaches that wouldn’t go away.”

“How are your headaches?” Ms. Kelly asked.

“Manageable.”

“And the nightmares?”

“They come and go,” Steve said, a half-truth.

Closing the door behind him, Steve plopped down onto the couch.

Maybe the game was a bad idea, he thought to himself as his head began to throb with yet another headache.

“You’re practically dead on your feet,” Powell points out. “That can’t be helping your headaches.”

“And then…” Creel continues. “Then, there were the nosebleeds.”

Steve freezes at Creel’s words. From the corner of his eye, he can see Robin’s head snapping towards him.

Parked in front of the station, Steve grabbed a tissue out of the glove compartment, pressing it against his nose.

“Your nose,” Max frowned.

Steve wiped the blood away, sighing. “Shit, not again.”

“Your nose is bleeding,” Carol remarked.

Steve looked down, a few drops splattering on his uniform.

“Tommy kept getting nosebleeds this week,” Carol sniffled.

A trickle of fear goes down Steve’s spine.

Victor murmurs, “Henry seemed to have the worst of it, but Virginia, Alice and I weren’t spared.”

He sits down on his bed, all but collapsing. “It took Virginia first. I tried to get the children out, to save them… But I was back to France, back in the war,” Victor breathes. “It- it was a memory. I thought German soldiers were inside. I ordered a shelling… but I was wrong.”

Victor lets out a shuddering breath, “This demon, it was taunting me and I was sure it would take me. Just as it had taken my Virginia. But then… I heard another voice. At first, I believed it was an angel and I followed her. Only to find myself… in a nightmare far worse. While I was away, the demon took my children. Henry slipped into a coma shortly after that, and a week later he died... I tried to join them. I tried,” Victor sobbed. “Hatch stopped the bleeding. He wouldn’t let me join them.”

“The angel you followed,” Robin demands, her voice hard, “who was she?”

Creel starts humming, and Steve vaguely recognizes it. Dream A Little Dream of Me.

“Victor?” Robin presses. “Victor, how long did you have after the symptoms started?”

The man doesn’t respond.

“Robin,” Steve murmurs, “I think he’s done-”

“Victor,” Robin snaps, ignoring Steve entirely. “How long did the symptoms last before it attacked your family?!”

Creel keeps humming, rocking back and forth on his cot.

They stand there silently, Victor clearly gone.

“Come on, birdie,” Steve sighs. “Let’s go.”

Robin doesn’t say anything. After a few seconds, she starts marching down the hall.

The two of them walk out of the wing, Hatch waiting for them just outside the door.

“Well?” Hatch asks. “Are you satisfied?”

Steve gives him a withering stare. “Stay close to your phone,” he orders. “Just in case.”

Hatch frowns. “Of course, Officer,” he mutters.

Steve and Robin quickly make their way out of the building, heading back towards the parking lot.

“Well, that was all kinds of creepy,” Steve murmurs to Robin, trying to shove away the feeling of unease he got from Creel’s story.

She doesn’t reply, a look of concentration on her face.

“Any theories?” he wonders, itching for a distraction. “I mean, it’s no Russian code, but-“

Robin walks faster, moving to be in front of him rather than next to him.

“Robin?” Steve frowns.

She gets into the truck without a word, slamming the passenger door shut.

Steve stares at her for a moment before moving to the driver’s side, a modicum of dread swirling in his chest. Getting into the truck, Steve closes his door, glancing at Robin.

She’s staring out the windshield, but Steve’s heart stops when he notices the tears welling up in her eyes.

“Robin,” he says gently, “hey, what’s wrong?”

“You’re joking, right?” Robin demands, turning to face him.

Steve blinks, leaning back a bit. “What is going on with you?”

Robin scoffs, opening up the glovebox. She pulls out his bottle of painkillers, shaking it aggressively. “Headaches,” she snaps, tossing the bottle at him.

“Hey-“

She pulls out a handful of the old and bloodied tissues Steve had stuffed in the cupholder.

“Don’t touch those, they have blood on them!” Steve protests.

“No shit, Steve! You’ve been getting nosebleeds!” she exclaims, throwing the clumped up tissues at him too. “And those bags under your eyes?” she continues, practically challenging him to argue. “You’ve been exhausted, more so than usual. Are you having nightmares?”

Steve stares at her, the evidence plain to see and impossible to explain away.

“Steve,” Robin whispers, her voice cracking, “you can’t tell me you don’t see it.”

He can’t help it; Steve lets out a humorless chuckle.

“Is this funny to you?” Robin demands. “Steve, this is serious!”

“Yeah, I know,” Steve says, his voice growing a little sharp. “It’s just…” He cuts himself off, chuckling again. Running a hand through his hair, Steve looks straight out the windshield.

“Tommy started having nightmares when he got back to Hawkins,” he reveals. “Carol said she’s been carrying around tissues because he was getting nosebleeds all week.”

“Steve...” Robin whispers.

“I thought it was just a coincidence,” Steve murmurs. “I wanted it to be a coincidence.”

They sit there in silence for a moment longer.

“If I didn’t know you were having symptoms,” Robin begins, rubbing her eyes roughly, “if I didn’t know about the- the nosebleeds, or headaches... would you have even told me?”

He can feel her eyes on him.

“Would you have told anyone?”

Steve swallows roughly, and answers her honestly. “I don’t know.”

A whimper comes from Robin and Steve shuts his eyes, hating that he’s hurt her.

“I, uh, I think I should drive,” Robin says. “Just in case you are…”

She doesn’t seem to want to say it, so Steve finishes her sentence for her.

“Cursed.”

Owens and his men take the Byers, Wheelers, Kali and Eleven to a safe house not too far from Lenora. It's off-the-grid and off-the-books, so they'll be safe here for now.

With Jonathan being treated by the medics, and thank God the bullet went straight through without shattering any bone, Owens gathers the others into a meeting room.

“Sorry about all the theatrics out there. I didn’t mean to scare you,” he apologizes. “But you got yourselves into quite the little predicament, didn’t you?”

No one answers, the table silent as they all look at Owens expectantly.

“You know,” he continues, “I relocated you guys to Lenora because I thought, you know ‘safe town, small, dull, far from Hawkins. Nothing could happen here.’” He shakes his head before looking at El. “What was it? A roller-skate or something?”

“Am I in trouble?” El asks quietly.

“For the roller skate?” Owens asks. “No. No, no, we’ll make that go away.”

“If you’re not here about that… then why are you here?” Nancy asks.

Owens pauses. “Last night, I saw something. Something I’ve been dreading… for some time. I don’t know how to say this other than just to say it. Hawkins is in danger."

He turns to El and Kali. "The two of you and your brother have fought this evil before, and you’ve won. But this evil… it’s like a virus. Each time it returns, it’s come back stronger, smarter, deadlier... A war is coming to Hawkins.”

They all exchange a glance.

“There are good people, brave friends, who have helped you fight your battle in the past, including those sitting at this table with you. But they alone can’t win this war. Not without you." Owens sighs, "I know it’s not fair to ask more of you, but I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t think this was the only way. If I didn’t think you three were the only ones who might have a shot, to hit this thing so hard it can’t get back up.”

“My powers… they haven’t come back,” El says. “Not completely.”

“What if I told there’s a way to fix that?” Owens asks.

“How?” Kali asks, raising a brow. To be fair, he hadn't told her about this part.

“I feared this moment would come, so I’ve been preparing," Owens begins to explain. "Developing the means to restore your abilities to what they once were. Maybe even make you stronger than before. But there are others who don’t believe in you, who think you are the cause. I believe they’re wrong. I believe you, the three of you, are the cure. That’s why if we’re going to do this, I’m gonna ask that you leave with me now.”

“They're not going anywhere,” Joyce interjects. “Not without me.”

“Not without us,” Will adds on.

“It’s too much of a risk,” Owens counters.

“You’re asking her to put her life on the line, to put herself in danger, and you don’t even want her to have a support system?” Mike demands. “And we’re just supposed to trust you?”

“Steve did,” Owens says.

“No, Steve trusted us,” Joyce reminds him. “And I’m not going to let him down. If El and Kali want to go with you, fine. But we will go with them.”

Owens holds Joyce’s gaze for a moment longer before nodding in agreement. “Alright,” he acquiesces. “If that’s what they want.”

“My friends in Hawkins… our brother,” El wonders, “are they in danger?”

“I’m afraid your friends in Hawkins are in fact… in the eye of the storm. You may feel like you need to go to them now, but if you do, you will risk everything. Risk everyone." Owens leans forward, trying to stress the severity of the situation. "Your friends… they’re not the only ones in danger. It’s life as we know it. This is why I’m here. Because I believe you two and your brother are our best hope. Our only hope.”

“What if I’m not good?" El whispers after a moment. Then to Owens shock, she asks, "What if I’m the monster?”

“I know you’ve spent too much of your life being told what to do by people like me,” Owens says, giving her a gentle smile. “And I know, I played my part in that. So you say the word, and I will walk out that door and I will not ask anything of you ever again. Or… come with me now, and find out for yourself.”

“This training, how long will it take?” Joyce asks.

“It could be weeks, it could be months,” Owens replies, his face remaining impassive as they all start shouting.

“Months-“

“Absolutely not-“

“That’s insane!”

“Our friends are in Hawkins!” Will protests.

“Our family is in Hawkins!” Nancy adds on, pointing to herself and Mike.

“So is Steve,” Owens reminds them. “And he is more than capable of protecting your friends and family for now.”

“For now?” Mike repeats, eyes narrowed. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“Until El is back to full strength,” Owens explains.

“Which you said could take months,” Nancy recalls with barely concealed suspicion.

Joyce’s hands clench into firsts. “You promised he’d be safe,” she accuses. “You said he would be safe, that staying in Hawkins was the best thing for him to do-”

"I lied."

The silence that fills the room is deafening.

"What?" Joyce demands, her voice hard and angry.

“It’s why El and Kali cannot return to Hawkins,” Owens continues, his own voice pained. "Your friends may be in the eye of the storm... but Steve is very much the target."

The Byers residence is a whirlwind of chaos as the military methodically rips each room apart.

Nothing is left untouched; every drawer is emptied, every surface dusted and photographed.

Lt. Colonel Jack Sullivan enters the room that belongs to test subject Eleven. It’s where he has his most trusted men; the answer to tracking Eleven down is in here.

He steps towards the vanity; there are a number of pictures taped to the mirror. Eleven is in all of them, with a variety of kids in each of them. A redhead girl, four young boys; one boy in particular is in more than the others. A boyfriend, perhaps?

There’s one of Eleven with an older boy; she’s leaning against him and they’re both laughing at something unseen by the camera. They’re an odd pairing, though they seem extremely comfortable with each other.

“Sir,” a Major salutes, stepping up to him. “I think you’ll want to see these.” He hands Sullivan a stack of papers. “They were tucked away in the desk.”

Sifting through the papers, Sullivan skims through the writing.

Dear Steve, Today is day 1… Lenora seems nice…

Dear Steve, Today is day 7… I can’t believe it’s been a week…

Dear Steve, Today is day 35… I’m nervous about starting school…

Dear Steve, Today is day 79… my powers still haven’t come back…

Dear Steve, Today is day 171… I hope you’re having a good Christmas…

Letters. And every single one of them are addressed to this ‘Steve.’

Finding the newest letter, noted as day 250, Sullivan skims through its contents.

I wish I could go visit you back in Hawkins… of course I miss you the most… maybe you can visit… I will ask Doctor Owens again next time he comes for a check-in.

Then the section the girl crossed out.

Does he check-in on you back home?…  there is no one to protect you from Papa. I know he is still out there.

And the signature at the end…

Your little sister,

El

A brother, Sullivan realizes. He glances back at the pictures. An older brother.

He rips the photo of Eleven and the older boy, Steve, off the mirror, studying it closely.

On the boy’s left wrist is a watch with a wide band. The perfect size to conceal a numerical tattoo.

Another experiment, also being secretly aided by Owens. Hiding in plain sight, right underneath the government’s nose back in Hawkins.

“Major,” he barks. “Get me everything we have on Steve Hopper,” he orders, handing the man the picture and stack of letters.

“Yes, sir,” the Major nods as Sullivan exits the bedroom.

“And somebody find Owens, damn it!” he shouts, storming down the hall.