Charles had successfully avoided thinking about Hawkins, Indiana for the better part of fifteen years. This was largely by design; it was just easier to put it all out of his thoughts and try to get on with his life. But now, staring down at the envelope in his hands, he found it impossible not to think about. There in the return address, clearly written, was a Post Office box in Hawkins, but no name.

Who there would be sending him anything? Brow furrowed, he reached into a kitchen drawer for a knife and slid it carefully along the top of the envelope, drawing out a folded letter from inside.

I wish that I could tell you everything we saw was a nightmare, but I can't. You promised we'd protect each other, and I need you to keep that promise. I'm alone here, waiting for the nightmare to end.

Erik

The letter dropped from Charles's fingers, landing softly against the linoleum. It couldn't be. How could Erik possibly be writing to him, fifteen years after that terrible day? They'd all known he was gone, that there was no getting him back. Every single one of them had no doubt tried to put it behind them, in the hopes that one day the memory would fade. He hadn't heard from Scott or Darwin since shortly after high school. Only Hank still called every now and then.

Pain shot down his left leg as if on cue, a bright starburst in his vision that had him shifting to lean against the kitchen counter. Reaching for the cane he'd left leaning on the corner, he made it those few steps to the phone perched atop his microwave and picked it up, fingers frozen above the keys.

Did he dare call them all, to ask? What would he say? "Well, I got a letter from a dead man today; did you get anything like that in the mail, or am I the only one losing my mind?"

Scott would tease him good-naturedly, before finding a way to shift the joke back onto himself. He always had a knack for that, making self-deprecation into a unifying force. Darwin would be eminently practical, if reassuring about whatever he had to say. Hank would urge him to forget the letter, shrugging it off as a prank or a cruel joke. For a moment, Charles's chest ached, imagining what it would take to get them all in a room together again, after all this time.

Instead, instinctively, he dialed Raven's number. After several rings, she picked up, concern in her voice as she asked, "Did something happen? Are you all right?"

Carrying the phone into his living room, he sank gratefully into an armchair, setting the cane aside. "Do I need a reason to call my sister? I'm fine, I promise you." Even to his own ears, his voice sounded distant, almost hollow. It hardly made an overwhelming case for his being fine.

"The hell you are. Is the pain getting worse?" There was a quaver in her voice, one that it didn't take a mind reader to interpret as guilt. It crept in less and less as time went by, but Charles suspected she'd always look at him with some measure of it. After all, she had walked away from that wreck with nothing more than a concussion.

Biting his lower lip, he hesitated a moment. "It is, a little bit, but that's nothing I can't handle. You know it flares up in stressful situations, and today… I got a letter in the mail today, Raven. From Erik."

There was silence on the other end of the line, too long for an ordinary pause. Only the sound of his sister's breathing carried, until she seemed to steel herself and answered, "So did I. You don't think it's really him, do you?"

Reason said it was impossible. Not the kind of impossible that encompassed mutants and monsters, but the kind of impossible from which there was no turning back. Some things just couldn't be undone, and the loss of Erik, no matter how it still ate at him, was one such thing.

But something strange and dangerous was flaring up inside him, a flicker of hope that settled in the cradle of his throat. If he was wrong, if they had all been wrong, how could Charles possibly turn away from this? The idea of walking away a second time, if there was even the remotest possibility that Erik was still alive, made his stomach churn unpleasantly. Bad enough he'd left once, but twice?

"I want it to be. I want it to be true, so badly I can taste it." The admission came out softly, his eyes sliding shut. Even after all this time, he could still picture Erik's face, clear as day.

There was another long pause. Then Raven said, "Okay." Something about the way she said the word added finality to it. "Okay, I'm with you. We're going back."

As much as he dreaded the thought of setting foot in Hawkins again, there was no arguing. Charles saw it immediately: They had no other choice. Erik had said that he needed help, that he was alone there waiting. If they were going to find him, then the only course of action was to make for Indiana.

"How soon can you get here?"

Fifteen Years Ago

"Three kids go out on a bike ride in the woods alone in the middle of the woods at night, to the exact spot where a different kid mysteriously disappeared – well, this is like the start of every horror movie I've ever seen where we get eaten by monsters. Or taken by hill people."

"Darwin!" Hank turned to glare at him in the dim light of their head-lamps, eyes narrowing.

"Armando, you're not helping. And we're almost there now." Charles could feel it.

"I'm just saying, if this is a horror movie, we all know I'll probably get eaten first. So I just want you both to know that it's nothing personal if I hide behind you."

"Armando, shut up! Don't you hear that?"

Charles honestly couldn't say what it was he'd heard. It wasn't noise, exactly, just something pounding on his ears, like the way your heartbeat pounded in your ears sometimes, and yet it was almost words, almost like he could make out more than that. A wave of something crashed over him suddenly, fearangerpaindisgustshame and he darted forward with his flashlight outstretched, chasing it, whatever it was.

Suddenly it came clearer, like a thought that somehow, somehow wasn't his, can't let them find me nothing out here metal chasing me. Footsteps, he was chasing footsteps and the rustling of leaves, calling out, "Calm down! Wait, please!" and weaving around the trees.

Armando and Hank probably thought he was a lunatic, at this point he wasn't sure he disagreed with them, he just knew that he could practically taste second-hand fear like battery acid on his tongue, and he had to catch up.

They all kept running, veering who knew how far off course into the darkness, until the woods thinned and suddenly Charles's breath caught, because he knew where the shape ahead of him was running and he would have reached out, but he was too far away. "Don't go near there, that's the quarry, you'll fall!"

There were stories about people jumping off and making it into the water alive, but as the small shape skidded into the edge and toppled out of sight, the pit dropped out of his stomach. Panting, Hank and Armando caught up from behind him a moment later.

"Are you crazy, where did you go?"
"What the hell, man?"

Charles was too busy running to the edge, frantically trying to aim his flashlight downward, and motioning for them to do the same. "There was somebody there, someone scared, I could – I could feel it – and they were running away from me, but they fell off the edge!"

And then, suddenly, he spotted it – a shape, thrashing desperately in the water below, trying to stay afloat. It only took a split second to make the decision before he was kicking off his sneakers and handing the flashlight to Armando, even as Hank gaped at him and said, "Are you insane, that's like a hundred feet down!"

His own fear, both diving off the edge and on the way down, still didn't feel quite as potent as that strange echo had before. Hitting the water knocked the air brutally from his lungs, and for a moment, dizzily, Charles watched the surface drift further from him, sliding beneath it – but then he caught it, louder this time. Not his own fear, but the phantom edge of someone else's, twice as loud, and under that, pain.

Images, impressions, things that weren't his, didn't belong, they all came through, along with so much fear. He didn't know why or how this was happening, he just knew that there was blood and dark concrete in this person's mind, in… Erik's mind, that was the name he'd found there. Erik was drowning, would drown, without him. He had to help.

Kicking as hard as he could, Charles surged forward, refusing to let go even when the burn of that terror felt like it was singing his tongue. "It's okay, it's okay! You'll drown if you don't let me help you, Erik, please! Calm down!"

For a moment, he thought that the boy thrashing in his arms as he did his best to tread water would refuse, still alert for danger, but then he went still, allowing himself to be towed to the opposite shore. The moment they reached land, Erik bolted away from him, still dripping wet – in the moonlight, he was revealed to be wearing what looked like some adult's oversized t-shirt, hair razed down to his scalp, and a deep scowl. "How do you know my name?"

Charles blinked, eyes going wide as he considered this. "I think I heard it in your head, somehow. I'm Charles." As Hank and Armando caught up to them, making their way down the slope, he added, "And these are my friends – Hank, and Darwin. Guys – this is Erik."

Erik stared at them for a long moment, before he reached out a trembling hand. The flashlight Hank was holding rose up into the air and soared over to settle in his grasp. "I thought… I was alone."

"What does he mean, alone?" Armando blinked.

Charles grinned, despite the cold. "You're right, Erik, you're not alone."

Present Day

Fog rolled across the road in ever-denser waves as they drew near. The sign they passed, reading "Welcome to Hawkins, Indiana", was badly in need of repair, hanging crookedly on its post. From the driver's seat, Raven shuddered, turning to look at where Charles had one cheek pressed up against the cool window.

"Well, this is creepy as fuck. Is there even anyone here?"

Blinking out of the daze he'd fallen into over the last several hours, Charles straightened in his seat and brought fingers up to his temple. Raven's mind was bright with worry beside him, but as he spread his thoughts out further, he found… almost nothing. There were a few scattered others, including one mind which felt somehow familiar, but nowhere near as many people as he would have expected. Even a town as small as this one should have had several thousand inhabitants.

"It's practically a ghost town." He frowned, moving to delve into one of the minds nearest to them. Surely the town hadn't emptied this completely, even with the exodus fifteen years ago?

At that exact moment, three things happened. One: A hulking shadow moved into the road in front of their car. Two: The radio cut off into static and something like a high-pitched shriek, a tone that made them both wince. And three: Raven swerved to avoid the shape in the fog, forcing them off the road.

Adrenaline flooded into Charles's mouth, acrid and unpleasant as battery acid, fingertips gripping the door and arm rest with white-knuckled strength. Across his mind, sound and images played on a sudden loop: The circular motion of a car rolling off the highway, glass shattering, and above all else, searing phantom pain.

"Charles? Charles? CHARLES! Answer me, damn it."

Blinking away the sudden dampness in his eyes, he drew a shuddering breath in, aware all at once of the terrified train of thought running across Raven's mind. Not again I can't have done it again he'll never forgive me oh God what if I made it even worse this time he has to say something…

Uncurling his hand from the armrest with a wince, Charles blinked at the sudden stinging pain in his sinuses and looked down to see that he was dripping blood on the air bag. "I'm all right, Raven, it was nothing." Just a flashback, nothing I can't handle, he thought, but didn't say. He brought fingertips up to his nose tentatively, biting down on a yelp as pain ran through his nerves like flashfire at the sensation of touch.

"Shit, the airbag broke your nose." Guilt came off Raven in such waves that he didn't even need to read her thoughts to know she was beating herself up over this. "I've got tissues here someplace, hang on –"

While she fumbled around for something to mop the blood up with, Charles watched the fog shift and move outside their window, growing thicker by the moment. There was no way they'd be able to drive the rest of the way in to town, not in this. And what had been the thing which darted across in front of them? It brought back memories, of dark places and monsters only children could have been foolish enough to chase on their own.

Eventually, they left the car behind, Charles leaning heavily on his cane to walk while Raven handled the heavy flashlight she'd extracted from the back seat. The pain was louder now than it had been, running up and down his leg in tingling electrical shocks.

"I hate to say it, but I don't think anyone's here, let alone Erik –"

As if on queue, the same tone which had sounded over the radio began to blare all around them, like a bizarre air raid siren. It stirred something in both of them, he could tell, from one glance at Raven. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up, while his sister shifted in a sudden wave to take on the form of a large, muscular man, turning the heavy flashlight over in her hands. Every step they took into the fog seemed to bring them closer to something which hung ominous in the air.

"Charles." Hissing his name through her teeth, Raven took a step sideways, as if to shield him, turning the flashlight over in her hands. Brow furrowed, he opened his mouth to ask what she thought she was doing, when the fear-jumbled shape of her thoughts crashed over him.

From out of the mist came a hunched shape, mouth open to emit a long, wailing groan. It sounded like a voice under torture, and when its featureless face came into view, so did the decaying shape of its bent back. It looked almost like some kind of doctor, except that he'd never seen one like this, not faceless and deformed. In one hand, it held a long, wickedly curved knife, advancing as it moaned.

Hands tightening on his cane, Charles prepared to lunge should he have to, but Raven was faster. Swinging the shape of the flashlight like a weapon, she brought it down on the thing's skull with a sickening crunch. Its groans stopped abruptly, turning to a kind of keening, and only faded when Raven hit it again.

Stumbling back to wipe something that could have been blood, if it weren't black with decay, from her features, Raven's mouth set in a hard line. "Charles, I hate to say it, but –"

Watching the crumpled form of their would-be attacker burst spontaneously into flame from the head down, Charles swallowed, nodding. "It was real. That's what you were going to say, wasn't it? We never made a single thing up about this town. All of it was real."

If the Upside Down was more than just the collective delusion of a group of children who couldn't cope with the loss of their friends, if there really were things like this lurking in Hawkins – he straightened, holding on to the cane in his grasp less like a support and more like the blunt object it might need to be.

"Raven, we need to start running. Now."