Work was a slog. It was always a slog lately. Just like the rest of his life. Right now, everything revolved around trying to get money, trying to get better, trying to get his shit together. It was already almost Christmas, and every day he felt the distance between them grow greater.

It didn't help that The Hideout's patrons almost never changed. That guy that had scared Rosie was a regular - Eddie had since learned that his name was Robertson, and he was a carpenter. He kept a close eye on him, especially when there were women around. Seemed he had a bad habit of making them uncomfortable, and that led to a few scuffles between them. Joe had tried to bar the old creep, but what was the point? He just came in with the usual crowd any way, all of them acting like he did nothing wrong. And it wasn't like they could afford to be too picky about their clientele.

Murphy still dropped by every now and then - it seemed his particular gang toured Indiana pretty much exclusively. He always made sure to say hello to Eddie, and always asked about Rosie. Eddie made sure to slip him a whiskey on the rocks when no-one else was looking. Always a good idea to keep the muscle on your side.

At least they were quiet tonight. Eddie wrung the mop out into a bucket of ever-greying water. How the hell did the floors get so dirty if there was only six people at the bar? Stupid thing had a bum wheel, too, and veered to one side as he tried to steer it out into the alley. He always tried not to look to hard at whatever he poured out - once or twice there had been a dead rat. Kept his nostrils well away, too. Instead, he looked up at the cables swaying overhead. If the light hit them a certain way, they looked like tendrils. Fleshy, slithering tendrils that sought bodies to squeeze and choke. All of them connected to -

He lurched this time. Did a somersault in midair and landed the wrong way up. Or the wrong way down.

"Not again." Eddie groaned. This was twice in the one day. He was at lover's lake again, but Watergate snapped shut before he could even take a step toward it. Howls coming from the direction of the House. It seemed his flock had decided to bring some doggies along, too. He knew if he stayed, he'd just get eaten and the vision would end, so he stood still. Letting them come close. Just closed his eyes when the pack leader lunged, wide mouth closing around Eddie's, exposed throat.

The dreams had become almost mundane. Just a regular nuisance. Talking with Dr. Shelby had helped him to understand that they were really only shadows left behind in his mind. Memories of the horrifying trauma he had endured. Once he got that, he started trying to control them, with varying results. And this one felt like a victory.

Legs wobbling a bit as he regained awareness, Eddie immediately bent down to right the bucket. He had kicked it over in his daydream. As he did so, a movement caught the corner of his eye, and he turned to see something stirring behind one of the dumpsters. Too big to be a cat. He peered around, whistling cheerily.

"Here boy. You lost?"

The dog's tail wagged at the words, but it was too engrossed in whatever it was eating to look up. Eddie knew better than to touch a strange dog, so whistled and clicked again. This time, the animal turned, but there was something wrong with the face. Probably due to mange or fleas, all of its fur was gone from the neck up, and when it opened its mouth to bark the entire head split in five.

Sight of the creature stirred his curiosity, and Eddie leaned toward the dumpster to get a better view of what it was chewing on. That's when he noticed the hand, then the arm, then the shoulder. Rosie's eyes were still bright as she gazed blankly up into the evening sky, the soft parts eaten away from her nose and mouth.

A yell escaped him, and Eddie stumbled backwards over the same damn bucket, falling in a heap against the opposite wall.

"Ey! The fuck you doing, man!" Their part-time cook was standing at the back door, cigarette dangling from his lips.

"I-I...ah..." He lowered his finger. It was pointing at nothing, after all. "Er."

Paco just put his cigarette back in the box and turned back toward the kitchen, twirling a finger next to his head as his wife came to investigate.

Crazy. Eddie brushed himself off and picked up his stuff. He couldn't blame them, really. How many times had they found him in positions like this? He'd probably assume the same, if the tables were turned. They didn't know what he had seen, what he had done. He was just some weird kid to them.

Knowing he still smelled like mop juice and whatever he had just sat on in that alley, he made his way down the hall to Joe's office. The man of the hour was going through receipts, and scrunched his nose up as Eddie shuffled in.

"Munson! What the fuck!"

"I fell."

"Into what!"

"Not sure. Outside." Eddie tried not to make eye contact. "Can I use your phone?"

Joe put a hand over his nose and mouth as he passed. Checked Eddie's rear for whatever the source of the stench was. Probably stale vomit from one of the junkies that liked to shoot up back there.

"Eddie?"

He almost cried at the sound of a friendly voice. Swallowed that down instead. "Steve! Hey!"

"How're you doing, Man?"

"Good. You?"

"Good. Robin says hi, too."

"Oh, you're both working tonight. Great!"

"We work almost every night, Ed."

"True, true. Same here you know. Boston."

"So you've said."

"Yeah."

They hung on the line for a few moments.

"What is it, Eddie?"

He cleared his throat, checking the door to make sure Joe wasn't loitering. "Remember those dreams I told you guys about?"

"Have another one?"

"Two. One just now."

Steve hissed. "Same day."

"Yup. Look. I know you guys can't exactly help." Eddie's hand was turning color from how tightly he'd wrapped the cord around it. "B-b-but I was thinking once you're finished we could all...um...all of us...Nancy and Jonathan, too."

"I'm in." A pause. "Robin too. She says just one but that's a lie."

Sound of a VHS case hitting something.

"Great. I'll see you guys later."