"You don't have to do this."
"I seem to recall you saying something similar when your mom was late picking you up during the middle of that snowstorm last year," Sadie muses, bumping her shoulder against Max's and suppressing an almost immediate smile in response to the snort of amusement the act provokes, "When you were so determined to just walk home."
"And you made Jason drive alongside me until I finally gave in."
"Exactly."
"That was—that was different."
"Right. Jason's not here, now."
"No, that's not—that's not what I meant," Max corrects, aware of Sadie's obvious attempt to distract her with humor, though even she can see the amusement isn't entirely enough to remove all of the worry from the older girl's expression, "I mean we weren't exactly facing a life or death shitshow, back then."
"Frostbite is pretty serious, Max."
"Very funny."
Sadie manages another grin in response to the quip, but sobers not long after, not wanting to push too far in her attempts at lightening the mood and end up giving Max a reason to rebuild the walls that she kept around herself as a result. The two of them have been sitting together on an overturned milk crate for a while, both a little bit at odds with what they should be doing, while the others put together their weapons and make final plans for the fight to come.
Occasionally, Sadie tests her ability to bring the now-familiar red glow to her palms, but beyond that, she isn't too sure what she can possibly do to prepare.
More than anything, she wishes they could have convinced Vincent to rethink his decision to avoid the confrontation they were now barreling towards, but there is little that can be done to change that, now.
"I know I don't—have to," Sadie says, then, shifting to look at Max head-on, the lingering doubt on the younger girl's face causing her heart to give a painful lurch inside her chest, "But I want to."
"Why? And if you say 'because I'm just a kid', Sadie, I swear to God—"
"It isn't because you're just a kid."
"Then why?"
Sadie considers her reply for a moment, knowing that Max, of all people, will be able to root out any false optimism, or attempt at skirting around the truth in seconds, flat. She's always been like that. A straight shooter. Someone who doesn't let worry over people's feelings get in the way of divulging an honest opinion.
Narrowly avoiding a snort as she recalls Max giving an admittedly accurate synopsis of Andy's character the one time he had taken her home, instead of Jason, Sadie eyes the redhead for another moment of silence, and takes what she hopes will be a steadying breath before attempting a reply.
"Because I'm tired of sitting here forced to do nothing while innocent people are torn apart. And I care about you, Max, whether you want to believe it or not. So if there's anything I can do to make sure you aren't the next—the next—"
"The next Chrissy?"
"I couldn't help her," Sadie nods, the words coming out almost strangled because the thought of Chrissy is threatening to bring all of the emotions she is trying so hard to keep at bay to the surface, "Or Fred. Or Patrick. But if I can help you—if there is anything I can do, then you can bet I'm going to try."
"You're not—you aren't scared?"
Sadie knows exactly how much the question has to cost Max. She knows the other girl sees any hint of fear as a sign of weakness. But she also knows that Max is trying to figure out if she is alone in that fear that she is so determined to avoid admitting to…
And Sadie isn't about to give her a reason to believe that she is.
"Of course I'm scared. Terrified, actually," Sadie admits, hoping that Max will pick up on the sincerity behind the words, because she isn't entirely sure what to do if she fails, "But you know what I'm even more frightened of?"
"What?"
"Losing any one of you."
Max deliberates on that for a moment, chewing on her lower lip, and Sadie gives her that time without hesitation, her own attention shifting to track a shout and familiar laughter coming from the center of the clearing. Nancy has already moved to join Robin and Steve, perching near the RV to give Sadie and Max some time to talk, alone. Lucas and Erica are still putting finishing touches on what appear to be spears.
Eddie and Dustin, by contrast, appear to be up to their usual antics, and Sadie cannot help but smile faintly as she watches Dustin crouch down so that Eddie can vault over him, her mind momentarily caught up in the thought of what it would be like to see Eddie with younger kids before Max jolts her out of her daydream and back to reality once again.
"So—Vecna bait?"
"Yeah. Vecna bait."
"But you don't have—your cassette player is—"
"Back at the boathouse. Yeah."
"So who's going to get you out?" Max demands, the sudden ferocity in her tone giving Sadie every reason to believe that she is seizing on this potential loophole for Vecna to get the upper hand in order to distance herself from her own fears, "There's a fifty-fifty chance he goes for either one of us."
"I'll just—I'll do what you're planning on doing. Find a happy memory, and—and wait him out, there."
"What kind of happy memory? Something from—from when you were a kid?"
Sadie glances back towards Eddie and Dustin, then, the thought of using a memory that had anything to do with her family almost laughable, in light of everything they are all going through, now. She hadn't exactly realized it before, but it had been a long time since she had felt a particular connection with her parents. With Jason.
By contrast, the sort of connection she's felt with people she barely knew until this last week—the people in the clearing—is something she still hardly dares to believe is real.
"Eddie."
"What?"
"It's Eddie, right? The memory?" Max presses, unable to fully restrain the smirk that tugs at her mouth in response to Sadie's almost immediate flush, "I knew there was something going on with you two."
"It's—it's just—"
"Let me guess. Complicated?"
"Something like that," Sadie nods, her fingers flexing against her knees as a sudden idea comes to mind, prompting her to stand, and forcing Max to scramble to her feet to follow her sudden trek away from the milk crates not long after. It's a long shot. A huge long shot, and one that Sadie knows might result in a wasteful use of energy given what they are up against. But the thought of how Eddie—of how everyone in that clearing—has been functioning in one way or another as an unexpected shield between her, and what she did not have the courage to face reminds her of the small flicker of red she recalls seeing between her, and her mother back at the Wheelers'.
It was small. So very small, and quick to fade, and at first, Sadie had attributed it to the flickering of the bulbs above her head, or her own exhaustion and terror, but now?
Now she wonders if it is something else, altogether.
"Lucas! Got a minute?"
"Uh—yeah?" The boy replies, his brow furrowing as he looks from Sadie to Max, almost as though expecting some form of attack, "What's—what's up?"
"I—I want to test a theory."
"Okay—"
"Throw your spear," Sadie instructs, aware of the look shared between Erica and Lucas, both of them clearly finding reason to doubt her sanity, "At—um—at me."
"What?"
"No way!"
"Lucas—"
"No. Way," Lucas repeats, dropping the makeshift spear he holds to the ground as though it is suddenly sending electric shocks through his arm, "That's—it's insane."
"I know. I know it is, but—"
"No buts. It's not gonna happen."
"Look, as much as it looks like it, I'm not—this isn't some crazed suicide attempt," Sadie explains, not missing the skeptical look Lucas sends Max, or the shrug the redhead sends back in return, "It just—it might help Max."
"I don't really see how you taking a spear through the chest is gonna help Max."
"Why do you want him to do this in the first place?" Erica questions, ignoring her brother's incredulous look as she steps forward, looking up at Sadie with a startlingly even gaze.
"It's like I said. I want to test a theory."
"And does this theory have anything to do with you not ending up dead?"
"If it works," Sadie says, locking eyes with Erica, because somehow she knows that, of all the people in their ragtag little group, Lucas' sister is probably her best bet, "And if it doesn't, no—no hard feelings."
"Why the spear? Why not—Lucas' smelly old shoe, or something?"
"Erica!"
"What? It's a valid point!" Erica exclaims, rolling her eyes at her brother's apparent inability to follow her train of thought, and then turning back to Sadie, instead, "Why the spear?"
"Whenever I've—done things with this—ability, before, it's always been on instinct. Because of some sort of imminent threat."
"So a nasty ass shoe—"
"Doesn't really qualify as a threat, no," Sadie confirms, biting back a smile as she watches Erica ponder the thought of what she is proposing for a moment, before determination settles into her expression, and she turns to walk in a path straight to the edge of the clearing. She marvels at the girl's ready acceptance of the idea, such as it is, even with Lucas' hollered protests echoing in her ears.
This is insane. Sadie knows that it is. But she needs to know if what happened at the Wheelers' was a one time thing, or something else.
If this little act of poor judgment proves her right, she'll have another tool in her limited arsenal to help Max. And if not?
If not, this is really going to hurt.
"Ready?"
"As I'll ever be," Sadie acknowledges, keeping her attention fixed on Erica, despite knowing that by now, their actions have drawn the attention of not only Steve and Robin, but Eddie and Dustin as well, "Try not to—hit anything vital?"
"Got it."
"Max?"
"Yeah?" The redhead says, the look she and Sadie share giving the older girl absolutely no reason to doubt how insane she thinks this entire thing is.
"Go stand with Lucas."
"Your funeral."
Sadie can't help but let out a strained laugh in response to Max's quip, but she forces it to the side to turn her attention back to Erica, instead. She tries to prepare herself, even though she doesn't have more than a tenuous idea of what it is she should even be preparing for. She ignores Steve's slightly harried demand to know what it is they're doing. Ignores Eddie's insistence on knowing the same.
Instead, she zeroes in on Erica. On the spear as the younger girl hefts it in her hands for a moment before taking aim and letting it fly.
Sadie doesn't even hear the panicked shouts from those not already aware of her plan, her focus entirely centered on the tingling she can already feel in her palms. The prickles across her skin where goosebumps appear. She squeezes her eyes shut in an attempt to corral whatever strength she can to place behind that strange red light, another shout breaking through her concentration as she opens her eyes, and manages to stagger a few steps back, her hand raising in front of her face as a part of her wonders if this was all some terribly stupid idea and now she is about to reap the consequences of it…
But just as the spear is about to find a new home in her shoulder, it stops, colliding with a vibrant red, translucent barrier, hanging in midair for only a moment, before it clatters uselessly to the ground.
"Erica, what the hell!" Steve yells, clearly only aggravated further by the look the younger Sinclair sends him, before his attention turns to Sadie, instead, "What were you two thinking, huh?"
"It—it worked."
"What worked?"
"She's learning."
Everyone, Sadie included, whips around to face the sudden intrusion of the extra voice, the barrier that had been between Sadie and the once-airborne spear flickering in place for a moment before disappearing altogether. They watch the approaching figure in silence, clearly not trusting that he can actually be real.
It isn't until Erica pipes up that any of the group even moves, Sadie's attention remaining locked upon her approaching uncle as the younger girl speaks.
"Who the hell is that?"
"That is the guy who said he wasn't gonna help us."
Vincent's lip curls in response to Steve's harsh description, aware of how the kid is flanking Sadie as though his approach is some sort of inherent threat. Sadie seems to be aware of the movement, too, her fingers curling around Steve's wrist as he tries to step in front of her.
She shares a look with him, and gives an almost imperceptible shake of the head before stepping forward to meet Vincent, herself, completely blind to how Eddie is now standing beside Steve, clearly wishing he would have been given the chance to pull her back.
"You came," Sadie murmurs, allowing some of the apprehension she feels to give way to relief, something about knowing she won't be alone outweighing any lingering doubt over why Vincent has suddenly changed his mind, even in light of the apparent sarcasm behind his ensuing reply.
"Well I couldn't let you kids have all the fun, now could I?"
…
Sadie remains inside the RV after the others have all ventured outside, the final stages of their plan in place—edited, now, to accommodate Vincent's arrival. And she is grateful for that. For his presence, and the idea of having him at her side when she tries to protect Max. He seems to think her chances at controlling her abilities, untested as they may be, will improve if they are actually in Vecna's world. The Upside Down.
Max, Lucas and Erica will try to draw him out in the real-world version of Creel House, while Vincent and Sadie act as backup in the alternate version of his own home in tandem.
It all seems so surreal. Vincent tracking them through his connection with her. The idea of going up against Vecna at all. The army of bats he defends himself with. Eddie as bait for those bats. Dustin, too.
Names of other creatures they may encounter are jumbling around in her brain as well, but the one thing Sadie keeps circling back to is the thought of Eddie and Dustin on their own against something they couldn't possibly outrun.
As if the thought somehow calls him to her, Sadie is aware of the slight squeak the RV door gives as it is pulled open, her fingers tightening around the countertop beside the rusted out sink in response to the familiar voice that she wishes she didn't need to hear.
"Hey."
Turning to face him, Sadie isn't exactly sure how to reply, all of the things that come to mind fighting an uphill battle against the lump at the back of her throat. He's still wearing the same jeans torn at the knees. The Hellfire shirt. The leather jacket she had given back once Max had let her borrow another shirt. But over that, is a dark green vest. The bandanna that usually rests in his back pocket is tied to keep his hair away from his eyes.
The reality of him being ready for the fight ahead of them bowls into her with the force of a mack truck, and it is all she can do to hold back the strangled sob that wants to break free in response.
"Well if I'd have known a bandanna was gonna reduce you to tears over my hotness, I would've done it a long time ago, Sweetheart."
Something in Eddie's attempt at humor fractures the last thread holding Sadie's careful attempts at control together, and she turns back to the sink while her shoulders start to shake with silent sobs. Adrenaline and nerves and fear are all rolling into one cohesive unit, and threatening to overwhelm her entirely, drowning her in wave after wave of sheer terror…
A warm hand on her shoulder turns her around, though, pulling her back from the edge and against a sturdy frame, instead.
"Okay. Bad joke. Got it."
"It wasn't—it wasn't bad," Sadie stammers, acknowledging a belated flare of surprise at how her arms have instinctively wormed their way beneath the vest and leather jacket, as though she needs a tangible reminder of Eddie's presence—his warmth—more than anything else, "I'm sorry, I know I'm such a mess, it's just I'm—Eddie, I'm so tired of being afraid."
"I know. If it makes you feel any better, I am, too."
"Just don't—Eddie, you can't—"
"I can't what?"
"Don't die on me."
"Woah. Where's this coming from?" Eddie asks, already knowing the answer, but needing something to say in the wake of the suddenly hopeless look in Sadie's eyes, "I'm not going anywhere, 'kay?"
"You don't—you don't know that."
"What, you think I'm going to willingly cut out on a chance to annoy the shit out of you for the rest of our lives?"
"Eddie—"
"Because I'm not really that easy to get rid of, all things considered."
"Eddie, please," Sadie begs, her voice cracking as she pulls away, a strange ache taking root in her chest at the loss of contact, "I can't—I need you to make it out of this."
"I'm sure as hell gonna try. But you've gotta make sure you survive, too, yeah?"
Once again, emotion clogs Sadie's throat and she can't seem to manage anything more than a shaky nod, her eyes locking with Eddie's for one second. Two. Three…
The pad of Eddie's thumb brushes against her cheek, and then his lips are moving against hers, but this kiss isn't like the one in Max's trailer earlier that day. It isn't like the kiss after Patrick had died, either. Those had been tentative. Gentle. Almost exploratory.
This? This is undeniably different. Desperate. Hungry.
And Sadie needs it more than she needs air to breathe.
Her fingers tangle in Eddie's hair to keep him close, and she feels his hands biting into her hips, squeezing gently while his thumbs dip beneath the hem of her shirt to brush against bare skin. And she doesn't ever want to let him go. To lose this.
Sadie is more than a little startled when Eddie's mouth breaks away from her own to move to her jawline—her neck—but the gasp quickly turns into more of a whimper when she feels teeth gently grazing against her pulsepoint.
"Eddie—"
Her fingers tighten in Eddie's hair as she presses herself closer, her nails brushing against his scalp in the process.
When he moves to nip at her collarbone, Sadie tries to get even closer to him, even though the part of her brain that is still rational knows it isn't entirely possible, her fingers giving his hair a tug as she tries to get his mouth back to her own…
"I love you, Sadie Carver. Always have, always will."
The words have her freezing in seconds, her fingers loosening their hold in Eddie's hair bit by bit. And she hates herself for it. She hates herself, because she can feel Eddie pulling back. She can see the concern in his eyes, like he thinks he's overstepped.
Sadie wants to tell him. She wants to say the words because they are practically trying to claw their way out of her by force. The lump in her throat is back, and she wants to cry because she needs Eddie to know the truth.
I love you.
I love you.
How hard is it to say?
Why can't she just say it, already?
Heavy footsteps enter the trailer, then, and Sadie ducks her head down, biting her lip to will away frustrated tears as Eddie pulls away. He probably hates her. He should hate her, because she's a coward. She doesn't deserve him and she never will.
"They're—we're ready to go."
Sadie doesn't look up until Vincent's footsteps have departed once again, her body angling backward until she bumps against the wall at her back. She can't meet Eddie's eyes. Can't look at him, because the idea of what she might see when she does terrifies her.
But then he's reaching for her hand, and giving a small squeeze, a shaky breath escaping Sadie's lungs as relief floods her almost as quickly as terror had mere moments, before.
"It's okay. We can—we can talk, after."
"After we—kick the interdimensional wizard to the curb?"
"Of course. S'like I said. I'm not that easy to get rid of."
Once again, Sadie can't say what she truly wants to—that she would never want to get rid of Eddie for as long as she lives. But she does manage to give him a tremulous smile, allowing him to wind his arm around her shoulders as they move to leave the trailer.
They only have to look at the rest of their group—at the expressions on their faces—to know that they are all about to go over the deep end, and some of them may not make it out.
…
"So—what exactly did I interrupt, earlier?"
"What?"
"Earlier. In the trailer," Vincent clarifies, aware of how Sadie is pointedly avoiding his gaze, his mouth curving into a knowing smirk as a result, "With the uh—metal kid."
"Eddie."
"Hmm?'
"His name is Eddie," Sadie repeats, surprising herself with the vehemence behind the words, though she would be the first to admit she is more than a little on edge. It isn't the plan for dealing with Vecna that has her anxious, anymore. Not really.
Now, it's the surroundings they find themselves in. The darkness. The chill in the air, making it difficult to breathe.
She can't stop eyeing the little white flecks that float down around them. Twitching at every noise not created by their trek toward Vincent's home.
Sadie is holding everything together with a fraying thread, torn between wondering if a conversation with Vincent will either help distract her, or only make things worse.
"You like him. Eddie."
"I want—I need you to promise me something."
"What?" Vincent asks, clearly caught off guard by the sudden shift in the direction of their conversation, his steps slowing as he watches Sadie, who is staring resolutely ahead, as though a look at him will rob her of her ability to follow through with her request, "Listen—"
"I need you to promise that if—if it looks like things are going south for me, you'll help the others."
"Sadie—"
"Promise me, Vincent. I know you don't—that we don't know each other well, but—but I just—I need to know you'll help them. Please."
"I am helping them by helping you."
"That's not—that's not what I meant," Sadie sighs, coming to a full stop, suddenly desperate to know that Vincent understands what this means—what the weight of her failure could mean, if it impacts everyone else as well, "I don't want anyone else paying for my—for my—"
"Stop."
"But I—"
"Stop," Vincent says again, sparing a glance for their surroundings to ensure nothing nearby is a threat, before turning his attention to Sadie, instead, "If you doubt yourself like this, you will fail. And if you're set on that course, you may as well go back to the trailer right now."
"I'm not going anywhere."
"Then start believing in yourself. Believe that you can do this, because everyone else that is in this with you already does."
"You can't know that."
"Eddie does."
Sadie's mouth opens but absolutely nothing comes out, a part of her hating how Vincent is clearly using Eddie as a means of getting under her skin even as she realizes it is working. Because she can't find a means of disputing it. Not when Eddie made such a point of drilling it into her head without even trying.
"You know I'm right, don't you?"
"I thought it was impolite to—to rub someone's face in something like this."
"Yeah, well, I'm a bit new at being an uncle. You'll have to excuse the shortcoming for now."
"You don't have to be, you know. An uncle, I mean," Sadie begins, frowning as soon as she says the words, though she tries to rearrange her expression into something more neutral, terrified that Vincent will feel some sort of pressure to look after her in any way at all, "I'm—"
"Fine on your own?"
"I'm figuring it out," Sadie corrects, risking a look at Vincent and lifting a brow as he seems to mull over her words, his expression settling into something she can't quite read for a moment before he replies.
"Do you want me to be? An uncle?"
Sadie's eyes widen in response to the question, and for what feels like the hundredth time that day, she isn't entirely sure how to respond. But before she gets the chance to even consider what she might want—from Vincent, or Eddie, or anyone—the breath is knocked from her lungs as something solid collides with her right side. The impact causes her to tumble to the ground, and roll with whatever it is. And Sadie emits a startled yelp as soon as the sensation of something sharp digging into her sides registers in her mind…
The yelp quickly turns to a horrified scream as she gets a better look at the thing pinning her down, its face—if it can even be called a face—opening like the petals of some sick, twisted flower to reveal row upon row of razor sharp teeth.
…
Ugh, okay, so I know I promised no filler and then came back with…filler. And I hope you all don't hate me for that. But I wanted to sort of set the stage just a tiny bit more for what happens in the next few chapters of this story, and in the sequel I've been working on as well. I promise (for real this time!) the actual action will start off with a bang in the next installment! So please (pretty please, with sugar on top?) bear with me?
I feel like a special shoutout is needed for mistyagami, not only for always leaving such amazing reviews, but for the comment about the other critters Vecna had in his arsenal as well! That inspired the little cliffhanger we see this time around, and I am so excited to see where the muses take this little nugget of an idea ;).
As always, I thank each and every one of you for taking the time to read, follow, favorite and review this story since it started! I appreciate the support so, so much more than you know, and I cannot wait to hear your thoughts!
Until next time, my loves
MOMM
