A/N: Hi there! Welcome! The character limit shortened my description so here is the real version.
Helping rebuild a town she called home but also despised was a challenge, one that Andy was only able to take on with the help of her friends and brother; all broken, all trying to mend, all burdened by the knowledge of what true evil looked like and was capable of.
And then there was Eddie - an unlikely hero, a guy she only knew in passing before and that had since taken permanent residence in her mind. Keeping to himself, still bitter (and for good reason), keeping even those he considered good at arm's length.
Well, it was a good thing Andy Harrington wasn't a quitter.
Andrea Andy Harrington is Steve's twin sister - the AU starts after the events of season 4 (half a year later) and will include flashbacks, which will be written in italic.
TW: recreational drug use, underage drinking, cursing, sexual topics, descriptions of sex (likely will include smut in later chapters)
This is a MAJOR slow-burn story, it'll actually drive you nuts. Events of Season 4 are cannon, except (SPOILER ALERT) Eddie lives. In this AU, Vecna is defeated, they all survived S4 and all major characters will be appearing throughout the story. Fair warning, this is not JUST Eddie x OC story - it'll include friendship and sibling dynamics, bad coping mechanisms, Hawkins hatred & a whole bunch of healing. TW will be added on top of each new chapter as I post them. If I miss something, please don't hesitate to reach out and let me know what you think. Looking forward to seeing your thoughts and reactions. Hope you enjoy! -N
October 1986
The right porch window holds a row of flowerpots; the very same flowerpots that were once filled with petunias in different shades of purple, pink, and red. Every time Andy would have to reach under the furthest flowerpot on the right, searching for the spare key, the smell of the blooming flowers would hit her directly, to the point of her having to turn her head away, overwhelmed with the scent.
It was a sad reminder, she realized, as she watched the petunia-less flowerpots, only dry dirt left at the bottom. Something her mother once tended to religiously now served as a metaphor for what life in Hawkins had become. Once-blooming, then dead. Quite fitting.
Shaking the thoughts away from her head, she struggled with the weight in her arms, the grocery bags making it difficult for her to reach for the damned key; served her right, seeing how keen she was to forget her own, almost as if she pretended she didn't have one.
After a brief struggle, she made her way through the first floor, turning on lights as she went. Knowing that Steve would have made some noise by now if he was around, she realized that she was home alone - she didn't like being alone, not in the house that still was, for all intents and purposes, her home.
And for once, all the supernatural, inter-dimensional bullshit had nothing to do with it. No, Andy disliked being confined to this house ever since she was old enough to wonder why. With Steve by her side, she could weather it. Alone? She'd rather just not.
Knowing that it won't be long before her brother returned home from wherever the hell he was, Andy did all in her might to pretend that she was comfortable. She started the coffee pot, pulled back a few curtains, and even took a seat at the chair that is traditionally the one that belonged to her, at least during family dinners. None of it had stopped her leg from jumping up and down with nerves - a tell-tale sign of her being on edge, even if there was no one around to notice it.
The sound of Steve's BMW approaching the driveway blew his cover, announcing his appearance even before he entered the house. He knew that Andy was there - the haphazardly thrown bike in the front yard was sign enough, even if he didn't bother checking whether or not it had a purple bell.
"The prodigal twin returns!" he announced rather cheerfully from the front door entrance, earning an eye-roll from Andy. "To what do I owe the pleasure, sister dearest?"
"Just wanted to check that the neighbourhood strays haven't started nibbling on your rotting corpse," Andy deadpanned, not even the least bit amused with Steve's antics. "I grabbed a few groceries I figured you might need and wanted to check on you."
What that really meant was, "I wanted to make sure that you haven't managed to burn the house down to the ground, and that your dietary plan isn't consisting only of microwavable dinners," but she didn't have to say it verbatim in order for Steve to catch her drift.
Ever the responsible of the two, Andy always saw it as her duty to make sure Steve was doing okay. There were, of course, certain areas in which Steve excelled more than she ever could dream of, but being responsible and reliable was never it. So, as much as she needed to metaphorically lean on him at times, now it was her duty to be the pillar. And Steve knew that well, even though he pretended not to. He too had always been a fan of denial.
"Thanks? I guess?" while he did sound confused, he definitely didn't mind her gesture, or at least he didn't show it openly. "Mrs. Adams asked about you, I saw her when she brought coffee to the construction site."
"Oh good lord," Andy released a long overdue sigh, already knowing which direction this was going in. "What'd she say?"
"Not much," Steve grinned as he plopped himself down in the chair across the table from hers. "She just very loudly wondered if my sister and I are finally going to do something with our lives."
"Ah," Andy nodded in understanding, her anger simmering. "Of course, she is oh so worried for our well-being. Why would staying in this godforsaken shithole and helping the community stand on its own two feet be useful, right? Waste of time and energy, especially compared to her playing Mrs. Homemaker with fresh pots of coffee for the workers."
Mrs. Adams had always been a bitch - there's no surprise there. However, time and time again, Andy was proven just how ungrateful the town was, and despite being on that rodeo multiple times, it still managed to catch her by surprise. They owed her more than they could ever repay her, and that's only surface level. That's only what they know, what they've seen. None of them know the true extent of their sacrifice, nor will they ever.
Many almost died. Some have died. Risks were taken, time and time again, from entirely way too many people, in order to protect so many. And yes, at times it was only in order to protect each other, to keep their very mish-mashed circle of companions safe. But many other times, it was in order to save Hawkins and everyone in it. None the wiser, the same people that should be eternally grateful apparently still had an axe to grind. Almost as if they're being asked for a formal 'thank you' and not simple civility.
"At least you get to avoid her most days," Steve pointed out and although Andy didn't feel particularly sorry for him, she did appreciate her own luck. "Something tells me she'd go twice as hard on you as she does on me."
"Of course she would," Andy snorted out before she could stop herself. "We're both major failures by Hawkins standards, Stevie; it's just that I held more promise."
"Funny," Steve answered with a glare, not taking her comment to heart. "Be glad you're in the damn bakery and helping out Nancy with the charity events. I'd gladly change places."
"Is that a legitimate suggestion or are you being dramatic?" Andy asked, already hoping that he is serious. Manual labor didn't sound too attractive to her, but neither did smiling and nodding to people she knew hated her guts. A bakery she could handle. Events? Not so much. She survived them, not seeing much of a choice in the matter, but she hated them.
"Of course I'm being dramatic," Steve rolled his eyes. "I mean, fuck Hawkins, but also god help Hawkins if you're the one re-building the community pool."
"Because that's the most important thing to have," Andy quipped, the same way she always did when it came to the town and its priorities. And how could she not, when there are people who still live in the shelters as they wait for a new roof over their heads, and the city council decides that a goddamn pool is a bigger priority? Fuck logic, because why not?
"Anyway, I'm going to be heading out there now, just came home for a change of clothes," Steve changed the topic quickly, likely sensing that his dear sister was about to go on a rant. "Do you need a lift somewhere?"
"Nah, I'll take the bike."
"You know that you could use that money we all got to get yourself a good car, right?"
They've been through this, more than once. When they were given their BMW, she was more than happy to leave it in Steve's hands for good, as one of the few things he does better than Andy is driving. He'd chauffeur her around when needed, but otherwise, she'd bike around town with ease. Getting a hefty, very hefty, sum of hush money from the big government bosses to keep her mouth shut wasn't about to change her day-to-day life more than it already has.
"I'm saving it for a rainy day," Andy shrugged, using the same excuse she's used before. No, she did not shy away from using the money completely. After all, she was paying for her one-bedroom apartment with it. But using it whilst ignoring the bitter taste in her mouth wasn't the same as splurging on unnecessary luxuries, and in her eyes, a car was just that.
"That's exactly what you shouldn't be waiting for," with a finger raised in warning, Steve gave her a knowing look. "One of these days, you'll be caught on that bike in the middle of an Indiana storm, and then you'll be sorry you didn't listen to me."
"When that happens, I'll be sure to give you an opportunity to tell me that you've told me so," Andy reassured him with a fake smile, one that Steve recognized with ease, as his response to it was to flip his sister the middle finger. "Thanks for the offer, but I'm going in the opposite direction anyway - I promised to help Max pack her things for the move."
"How's she holding up, I haven't seen her in a few?"
"Ask me tomorrow, I haven't seen her in a while either," Andy shrugged. As much as she tried to keep an eye on Max, and the rest of the kids for that matter, she also wasn't about to become a helicopter adoptive parent that followed their every move. Whenever she felt her grip on them was slowly suffocating, Andy would step back and wait for them to come to her. Thus far, it hasn't failed her and she sure as hell hoped it'll stay that way.
"We'll talk later," Steve nodded as he stood up, making his way out of the kitchen. "Stay safe."
Once upon a time, their goodbyes consisted of waves, blurted-out words, or simply just inarticulate grunts. Andy couldn't remember when exactly it had changed, but without fail, one of them always tells the other to stay safe. What from? Neither knows, not anymore. Everything and anything, really. It's just another finer detail that most wouldn't even think twice of, but that reminded Andy of the massive changes their lives have suffered.
On her way out, she returned the house key to its designated place. Looking down at the damn flowerpot, she realized with a sigh that the petunias hadn't started withering only when Hawkins went to shit. Much like with her own children, their mother stopped caring about those flowers quite a bit before. It's just that it had become more easily noticeable.
About three months ago was the last time that Andy stepped foot into the trailer Max Mayfield called home. It was a rainy Saturday, and Max herself wasn't home, as she had just started physical therapy. Andy knew her schedule and she hadn't made a mistake when she showed up that Saturday. She was there to speak to Max's mother.
The understanding she once had for the woman was non-existent by then. A drink here or there was something worth ignoring. Just like her working two jobs to make ends meet was as admirable as it was concerning. But once Max ended up in the hospital, broken like an old china doll, and her mother wasn't able to be fully sober, all the time, Andy snapped.
Doing her best to make a clear threat sound somewhat civil, she promised Susan Hargrove that if she doesn't sort herself out, social services will be called. When Andy said her aunt is a social service worker, she wasn't bluffing, just as she wasn't bluffing when she promised that she will call if something doesn't change. Suffice it to say, Susan didn't take it kindly.
Looking back at the way the two were screaming at each other, Andy felt more than awkward knowing that she was in her vicinity again. They were polite, and Susan didn't try to meddle in the plans she made with Max, but Andy could sense the iciness coming from the woman, one that wasn't there before. Or maybe it changed because she was sober.
And it wasn't just Susan that made it awkward; god, how much Andy wished it was only Susan. There were too many memories that anchored her to this trailer park - none of them nice, or particularly enjoyable to re-visit. It was difficult not to look through the window, to not gaze upon the rubble that was once the Munson trailer. And when doing so, it was impossible not to remember the events that changed their lives forever. From the hole in the ceiling, the stolen Winnebago, right down to the pure and utter panic that consumed Andy as she tried to rush a broken Max to the hospital… Even being there for one afternoon was overwhelming, and she could hardly imagine what it must have been like for Max to live there. Luckily, she won't have to do that anymore.
"They knocked it to the ground in the summer," Max broke the silence between the two of them, obviously noticing what Andy was looking at. The younger girl shrugged, nodding towards the window as she continued explaining. "Haven't seen him around since. Nobody comes there anymore."
"Can't say that's surprising," Andy admitted, deciding that the boxes in front of her were a much better view than the pile of rubbish outside. "After the shit that Eddie and his uncle went through this March, I can't find one good reason for them to want to come back."
"Did Eddie tell you that or are you just coming to your own conclusion?" Max asked. And on the surface, it was a genuine question, a girl wanting to satisfy her morbid curiosity. Not to Andy, as she could tell from the tone of Max's voice that she was trying really hard to act casual, which in turn told Andy that the question was of importance for some reason.
"I haven't seen him in weeks, haven't spoken to him even longer," Andy answered honestly, frowning at her young friend. "Why, though? You sound… I don't know. Weird?"
"Yeah, I actually found something," Max admitted - if there was a casual act earlier, she had dropped it as she took slow steps to reach one of the boxes that were neatly placed on the bed, where her mattress once was. Andy felt a twitch of pride in her chest at the realization that she could still read Max as easily as she could when she was younger. Puberty was one hell of a drug, but it hadn't managed to drive a wedge in their unlikely friendship thus far. "I can distinctly remember you wearing this, you know, when it was all going down," Max told her, offering her a piece of black and white cloth that was completely unfamiliar to Andy's eyes. "But it's not your style though, is it?" she joked.
It's then that Andy noticed the white skulls and realized that she was holding Eddie's bandana in her hands. One of many of his possessions, she knew, but this was the one that he had given her that March - the one she used to stop the bleeding in the giant gash on her right forearm. The very same gash that had become a very noticeable and distracting scar.
"Yeah, it's his," Andy confirmed. "I used it… then."
"I figured, you must see him more often than I do - it's better you give it back than I. If you don't plan on keeping it, that is," Max added, frowning at Andy's expression. She knew that the bandana wasn't something she should throw away, but she couldn't figure out what warranted this kind of reaction from Andy. It was as if the time had slowed down for her the moment she had it in her hands. Physically, she was there, but mentally, Max could tell that Andy was miles away. Or to be more precise, months away. Likely in March of 1986.
"Yeah, I'll give it to him," Andy smiled as she looked up at her, putting the bandana in the back pocket of her jeans. "And if I don't see him around, I'll give it to Dustin, or Steve or someone - they're bound to see him eventually. Anyways - should I start loading up the car?" Andy asked, pointing at the boxes that cover pretty much every surface area of Max's tiny room.
They weren't even halfway through with loading up the car when Andy realized that this should have been a task for Steve. Neither she nor Susan felt comfortable with Max carrying anything heavier than a feather, which meant that all the heavy lifting was up to them.
It was worth it, though. By the time they were done, Andy knew that she had helped her friend start a new, fresh page of her life, away from the place that held so many rotten nightmares. And when she caught Susan's eye in the rear-view mirror of their car, she saw acknowledgment that she wasn't even aware she was after. The two shared a nod and Andy could tell what it was - a solemn, silent thank you.
While her approach might not have been the friendliest, the results were worth it. And as much as Susan might hold said approach against her, Andy knew that she was thankful for the epilogue. At the end of the day, the awkwardness was something Andy could live with. Guilt, on the other hand, wasn't. And knowing that she did something good for that family, both that summer and that afternoon, made her smile. For the first time in a while. And that smile was still on her face as she biked away from the trailer park.
May 1986
"Why am I letting you draw this much on my casts?" Max sighed, rolling her eyes dramatically. "You're shit at drawing - I should have given Will more real estate."
"Oh, shush it," Andy hissed at her, smiling down at the artwork she left behind on the cast of Max's right arm - a pathetic excuse for a daisy. She lacked talent, that much she'd be willing to admit, but the intention was pure. "He has the whole right leg - I'm taking your damned arm."
"Even if I wanted to, I couldn't stop you."
When first met with Maxine's snarky attitude, Andy knew she was looking at a smaller, more compact version of herself. A little more impulsive, she will admit, but equally as hot-headed and no-bullshit type of person. When Max started using dark humor to cope with her predicament, Andy took it as a warning. And every time Max made a joke at her own expense, every time she tried to alleviate the tension with a comment, Andy was on guard, going over every moment of their conversation, looking for any sign she might have missed.
Most of the time, if not always, she was overthinking, and too worried. She won't change it, though. She took Max's word for it, once, and she nearly lost her in the aftermath. As long as Andy was kicking and breathing, that won't be happening again.
"How about next time, I try to draw a puppy or something? You want that?"
"Please stop drawing on my casts," Max deadpanned. "Andy, I love you, but you're really shit at drawing. Just… sign your name a thousand times, huh? That sounds good?"
"I could do… two thousand?"
"Deal - just no more drawings," Max looked relieved. It made Andy question her own artistic ability. Yeah, she knew she wasn't good, but the kid was in a full-blown crisis. "Could you please bring me a glass of water? I'm super thirsty."
"Sure thing, kiddo," Andy smiled at her as she made her way out of the room and into the kitchen. It was impossible not to notice the way Max's mood would shift whenever she had to ask for something. Andy wondered if the kid is even aware of the fact that Andy, and a whole bunch of other people, too, would be willing to do just about anything to help her out.
Not that long ago, Andy had Max in her arms, crying as she was running to get towards the nearest car, screaming at Lucas and Erica to follow her, and panicking as she couldn't afford to stop and check if she was hurting Max's arms or legs even further. The girl was half dead, and every step Andy took broke her heart. She still wondered if she could have cradled Max with more care, or if some movement made her hurt further and eventually made healing more difficult.
It was hard not to think about it, especially when she was in the trailer park. In the very same room where they came up with one of the many plans they had that week. Across the road from the trailer that once held a portal to another dimension. She hated being in the trailer park and the only person she'd do it for is laying in her room, unable to get out of bed on her own. So, she'll bring her the damned water whenever she needs it.
If Max notices a shift in Andy's behavior, she says nothing. What she does notice, almost immediately, is that Andy looks out the window, and it isn't difficult to guess what she is looking at. At times, Max wished that her bed wasn't turned in the direction of the window, giving her the perfect view of the Munson trailer. But she didn't have the heart to ask her mom to move her around - she already caused too much trouble to her as is.
"They moved," Max's voice broke the silence that settled between them, startling Andy. Still keeping her eyes on the trailer, Andy said nothing. "Mom told me they moved as soon as Eddie was released from the hospital. I haven't seen him since."
"Do you know where he went?" Andy asked. Why, she couldn't say. Of all the people that could have that information, Max is likely the last one. Aside from, maybe, her.
"I was too busy in the hospital to ask," Max joked, smiling empathetically at the guilty look Andy gave her. "You should probably ask Hopper, I'm sure he knows. Maybe Dustin? I can ask him when he comes to visit?" she offered.
"Nah, it doesn't really matter," Andy smiled at her gently, shaking her head. "I'm sure someone will let me know at some point. Wherever it is, I hope it's better than here."
"Can't be hard to find someplace better than here," Max replied, and for a while, the two stayed silent. Andy knew that Max didn't need fake reassurance at that moment, and Max appreciated it. It was just one of those times when silence was the most comfortable solution. And in Andy's eyes, it was the least she could do for the girl.
October 1986
Growing up, both Andy and Steve heard their father say, numerous times, that as much as education matters, so does mastering a skill. In his view, education was good, great even, but there were no promises that it'll put food on the table while having a skill was almost a guarantee.
Of course, his tone changed once he realized that neither of the twins was yet ready to attend college. For Steve, his expectations were lowered, so the surprising act wasn't bought. But Andy? Andy was always the more studious of the two, the one who could get a scholarship from whichever college she set her eyes on. When she asked for a year off, Mr. Harrington still held hope it'll be just that - a year.
In all honesty, that's exactly what Andy thought it would be, too. Just a year, nothing more, nothing less. A little time to learn what it's like to work, make a living, and maybe travel a bit here and there. Except then it all, like it always does, went to shit.
That's how she ended up starting her shift in Hawkins' most popular bakery at 11 PM. With the town falling apart, every able-bodied person was supposed to help pick up the pieces, and while that meant Steve was working on tiling the community pool, Andy was stuck working nights in a bakery.
And she didn't mind it. Of all the jobs, this one had to be the most relaxing. She would come in when the bakery was closing, go to the back, and work with Ms. Juliet on getting everything ready so that she will only have to bake and sell throughout the next day. Ms. Juliet was a good teacher and a kind woman, and Andy was a quick learner - in no time, the two of them got into a good rhythm, and that made nights working at the bakery more enjoyable for both.
Most of the time, Ms. Juliet was there with her; sometimes, Andy managed to convince the woman to go and get some rest. Tonight was one of those nights, and Andy knew that she can look forward to playing music and doing her work in silence. Faster, too, as talking to Ms. Juliet tends to slow her down quite a bit.
"Make sure to lock up, okay Andrea?"
"Sure thing," she answered with a smile. "Oh, can I take the leftovers and hand them out?"
"Of course," Ms. Juliet smiled at her. "You know you don't have to ask every time, right?"
"I'd rather continue checking," Andy stood her ground. "Go get some rest Ms. J. I'll take care of it."
And she did. With the recipes written down and hung on the walls of the kitchen, it was easy to avoid mistakes. Andy was never a first-class baker, but with the right instructions, she could do just about anything. And now, she was doing exactly what her father once said was needed - honing a skill that can help her put food on the table. Quite literally, too.
She was finished with everything by 3 AM. Checking that everything was spotless and ready for tomorrow, she packed a little bit of the leftover pastry from the day before. It was still good and decently fresh, of course - it just simply wasn't something they would sell.
Throwing it into a brown paper bag, Andy grabbed her things and turned off the lights, making sure to lock both locks on the front door. She paused only to light a cigarette before hopping on her bike and making her way down the dead streets of Hawkins.
Ms. Juliet didn't like her biking home alone at this time of the night, but Andy had reassured her time and time again that it won't be an issue. It was difficult to describe to strangers, to someone who had remained so sheltered through everything that happened in Hawkins in recent years, that whatever can jump out at her in the middle of the night, wouldn't be the worst thing she had seen.
Once she had turned from the main streets and onto the side roads, the only light Andy had was the one hanging on her bike. The first time she took this road, she was uneasy and biking very slowly, paying attention to her surroundings and memorizing the way back. By then, she had learned this area like the back of her hand, and despite going directly through the woods, there was no fear in her.
It's become a routine of hers, in a way. Once done with work, she'd sometimes pack the leftover pastry, just as she did tonight. Then, she'd bike in the opposite direction of her apartment. Once close enough to the cabin, she would slow down and continue on foot, as in the dead of night, she'd undoubtedly attract too much attention.
She normally didn't bother sneaking around the cabin, as the lights were almost always off, anyway. Once or twice, one light on the first floor was on, but other than those times, the cabin could have been empty, for all she knew. She always hoped it wasn't, though.
Every time she walked onto the porch, skipping the third, creaking step, Andy would hope that what she was doing wasn't for nothing.
In the corner stood two wooden chairs and between them, one old, plastic table. A lone ashtray was there, sometimes empty, sometimes full, which Andy took as a promising sign. She'd always leave the bag of pastry on one of the chairs.
A note would always be in the bag, never on, in case the wind blows it away. She'd always scribble a similar message, hoping it doesn't read as awkward as it sounded to her.
Had a bit left. Hope you enjoy! - H
She knew what she was doing whenever she signed that paper with H - hiding her tracks, making sure to make someone other than her a suspect in the potential game of 'find-the-good-samaritan'. She just couldn't for the life of her understand why, and was too scared to unpack everything in search of an answer.
Just a good deed. Nothing more, nothing less. A good need she didn't need praise or thankyous for. Simple as that.
Like always, a part of her wanted to risk it all and knock on the front door. If for nothing else, then just to do something differently, just to change one little part of her routine and see where it would take her. And like always, she walked away without doing so.
Quiet and avoiding dry leaves and twigs as much as possible, she found her bike on the side of the road where she let it drop to the ground, and without wasting time, she headed back to town, looking forward to a hot shower and soft bed.