"Seriously, guys, this is some heavy shit," Lucas is saying. "We don't have to go to the facility, but shouldn't we at least go to the hospital or something?"
"Yeah, I'm actually with Lucas on this one," Dustin says. "What if we went to a newspaper? I mean, that slug right there is pretty good proof that some real insanity is going on."
The slug in question is twitching in a Tupperware container that used to hold brownies. They had held a vote on which of the snacks was most expendable, and had decided on the box of brownies that Jonathan had made for Nancy a few months ago. It had been a cute gesture but Jonathan's brownies were . . .
"OK, so where do you guys think we should go first?" Mike asks.
"Mad Magazine? Marvel Comics? Ooh, the Rolling Stones!" Dustin exclaims.
Lucas rolls his eyes. "Shouldn't we go somewhere with, I don't know, respectability? Like the New York Times?"
"Please," Dustin says dismissively. "Those places will totally be infested with government spies."
"Yeah! Because they're trusted! People believe what they say! We just need to find someone there who we know won't rat us out."
"How will we know, though? I mean, what if we just go up to someone and ask, 'Excuse me, are you secretly helping the government keep shady secrets on the down-low?' and they say 'Sure,' so we tell them about Will and he calls in the National Guard or something?"
"Guys?" a weak voice croaks from behind the three of them. "Don't I get a say in this? Cause I really think I'm OK right now."
"OK?" Lucas says incredulously. "Will, there are alien slugs coming out of your mouth!"
"Actually, we don't know for sure that they're alien in origin," Dustin interjects.
"No, seriously," Will says, a little desperately as he pushes himself to his feet. "I mean, this has been going on for a while, and I'm still alive, right?"
A sudden racking cough takes over his body, sending him down to his hands and knees. He makes a sound like vomiting and another black slug flops jerking onto the ground.
"OK, we're getting you to a hospital, Will," Lucas declares.
"If we have to drag you," Dustin adds.
"That's weird," Will says, his voice thick with confusion. "This usually only happens every few weeks, it's never happened on the same day before –"
His head suddenly snaps to look at the others. "I mean, I'm totally fine, guys, seriously! Don't worry about it!"
Mike glanced down at the ground, to see the slug determinedly pushing its way forward. "Guys?" he called out. "Does it look like the slug is trying to get somewhere?"
The others look down. "What does it matter?" Lucas complains. "Right now, we need to get Will to a hospital."
"Uh, guys?" This time it's Dustin. "Look at the first slug."
Mike runs over, followed by Lucas. Will still looks lying he's trying to gather enough strength to stand up.
The first slug is very deliberately poking at the plastic walls confining it, looking like it's trying to push its way through. Mike tilts his head directly over it, confirming his suspicions. It's pointed right at the other slug.
"Guys," he exclaims, "stay here for a second."
Will, at this point, has pushed himself to his feet. "What are you doing?" he asks, concern in his voice.
Wordlessly, Mike grabs a branch off the ground. He heads back to the second slug that Will vomited up and pushes his stick underneath it. He then raises the stick, the slug perched on the tip of the wood.
"Could you guys move out of the way?" he calls.
He carries the slug over to the Tupperware container, where the first slug is wriggling with one tip pointed at the sky. Will tilts the stick and lets the slug he's carrying drop into the container.
It splats next to first. The two slugs immediately begin squirming against each other, their ends coiling around each other. The slugs push against each other flattening out and stretching out, becoming longer and thinner as they squeeze closer together.
The single mass – it seems almost wrong to call it two different things anymore – begins to convulse, its ends flopping around the container.
A smell that distinctly reminds Mike of a gasoline spill from the family car that his dad once made him help clean up fills the air.
Now, it's jerking harder, the body thumping against the plastic. The bodies push harder against each other, the tips touching and the lengths going around each other in circles.
Then, Mike realizes that the two slugs are beginning to merge.
A slight, filmy secretion emerges at the points where the bodies meet. At those edges, the hard divisions between the two bodies between come more indistinct, slowly fading and smoothing into a single wall of black, glistening flesh.
Mike realizes that he can no longer tell where one begins and the other ends.
The convulsions have become even stronger, the thing flopping almost like a fish, even bouncing a centimeter or two into the air, leaving Mike incredibly thankful that Jonathan had made a lot of shitty brownies, so that the walls were tall enough to hold the jumping, leaping nightmare sitting in the Tupperware.
The body gives one final twitch, before stilling.
The boys look down to see a single slug, larger than either of the first two.
It stretches out, seeming almost smug in the leisurely way it moves. Then it begins to poke and prod at the walls of its prison once more.
"Uh, Will," Dustin asks. He's trying to sound nonchalant, but they can all practically taste the undercurrent of terror trembling in his voice. "How many of these did you throw up?"
-X-
They've managed to leave Pennsylvania behind and are taking another stop at a gas station. Mr. Thompson decided to get the gas this time, while Fluttershy has taken El out for a walk to a restaurant to teach her how to order food.
Which leaves Discord and Hobbes.
"You know," Discord says, finally looking up from his guidebook, "I just realized something."
"What?" Hobbes growls.
"The trip that we've made so far, crossing three state boundaries, it should have taken us about eight hours." Discord looks up. "We've made it in about six."
"Excellent traffic does amazing things."
"Did you do that?"
Hobbes doesn't reply.
"Hobbes."
"Yes, I did," Hobbes exclaims, exasperated. "I've been moving this road trip along as quickly as I could arrange. Why do you ask?"
"Well, why did you? I mean, why did you just show yourself now, instead of, I don't know, years ago?"
"Because I couldn't."
Discord stops. "Why not?"
Hobbes sighs and rubs his face with his paws. "You know, most of us, imaginary friends, spirits of childhood, persistent daydreams, whatever, we never get very strong. One child believing in us isn't much, no matter how much they believe. That's why most of us fade so easily. All of this stuff I've done, forcing people to see me, quietly moving traffic along, figuring out where guards and faxes are going, gods like Media could do it easily. I probably never would have been able to."
"So why were you?"
Hobbes gives a quiet, dry chuckle at that. "Because you believed. For so many years, after everyone else had grown up, you believed. You believed that I was your friend at that belief kept me alive for so long after all the imaginary friends that I got to know disappeared. And I horded that belief and saved as much of it as I could, starting from when you were seven, because I knew I was going to need as much of it as I could get."
"For what?"
"To thank you," Hobbes whispers.
Discord frowns. "This is thanking me?"
Hobbes sighs. "In Hawkins, assuming things go according to plan, there is a group of kids. And those kids are going to need an imaginary friend to help them through some tough times. Especially El."
"Wait, you're leaving?" Discord almost shouts.
Hobbes pauses to stare at his claws. "Yeah."
"WHY?"
"Because you kept me alive for so long!" Hobbes roars. "Because you gave me life, and hope, and a family, and adventures, so many incredible and thrilling and insane adventures to the moon and Mars and forward and back in time, and this is the only way I can thank you!"
"By leaving me?"
"No, Discord," Hobbes says, and suddenly the fight all drains out of him, from the whiskers on his face to the tip of his striped tail. "I'm letting you grow up."
"You don't need to leave, though," Discord says, but his voice is cracked, because even he knows it isn't true.
Because adulthood is about jobs and papers and forms and a family and being there for other people, and childhood is about dreams and adventures and reading and television and believing that anything is possible.
Because adulthood is about learning to deal with other people and because childhood is learning to deal with yourself.
And because, at the end of the day, when all is said and done, Hobbes is just a part of himself, and he can't focus on himself if he's going to grow up.
"I don't have to become an adult," Discord whispers.
Hobbes gazes pointedly out the window, where Fluttershy is walking back and leading El, who seems to have grabbed a dozen boxes of frozen Eggos.
"Discord," Hobbes says, "I want you to grow up. I want you to have a chance to try new adventures and see what a family feels like. I want you to find out about a different kind of world. Your parents' world, if only to see what it's like."
"My parents are boring," Discord laughingly protests, but the words choke in his mouth.
"Your parents raised you ," Hobbes says mildly. "I think they did a pretty good job of it."
Discord just laughs at that, because the only other alternative is too painful to contemplate.
He jumps across the car seat, suddenly, and wraps Hobbes in a bone-crushing hug.
"Aww, I love you, too, you softy," Hobbes says chidingly.
He hears a sob in return.
"Would you look at that," Hobbes murmurs in surprise. "I made Spaceman Spiff cry."
-X-
"Won't your parents be curious?" Hopper asks as they pull up outside of Steve's house.
"I wouldn't worry about it," he replies. "They've been off on a business trip for two weeks now. They'll be back next week."
Hopper grunts in reply and they start walking up the steps to the front door. Steve unlocks it and steps into the foyer. "Jonathan!" he shouts. "We got someone who might be able to help!"
Jonathan pokes his head out of Steve's room and does a double-take when he sees Hopper. "Chief?"
"Hey, kid."
"Where's my mom?"
"Back at the laboratory."
"You left her there?"
"It wasn't by choice. That was the only way they were going to let me leave," Hopper says in frustration. "I need to talk to your brother."
"Why should we trust you?"
"Because if the lab people were right, your brother might be in a hell of a lot of trouble right now and not even know about it."
"Like what?" Jonathan has started walking down the stairs.
"Remember how your brother was the only person caught by the monster that we found? They think the monster might have left him with a present."
"What do you mean?"
Hopper groans. "They said that there's something from the Upside-Down living in the sewers."
"WHAT?" This time, everyone shouts, then immediately starts asking questions.
"Look!" Hopper yells over the rest of them, "they think Will might be the cause of the . . . the sewer monster, alright? So how about we find our kid and get him to a hospital?"
This time Nancy speaks up. "Something tells me that isn't the deal you made with the lab people."
"No, it isn't. They want me to bring Will back to them."
"Are you going to?"
Hopper snorts. "Back to those blood-suckers? Joyce would rip my guts out and use them to strangle me.
Jonathan just shrugs at that as if saying, true enough .
Steve of all people is the one who asks the next question. "Wait, how do we know they're not following you?"
Hopper finally cracks a smile at that. "Took care of that. The only things they took off me when they took me in were my badge and my gun. I searched both of them and found transponders. Left them at my house. They don't have a clue where I am."
Steve and Nancy both look at Jonathan, who slowly nods. "I believe you."
"Just like that?"
"No, but it explains a lot about Will lately . . ." Jonathan's voice trails off. "Anyway, I've been thinking about it, and if we can get in the car, I think I might know where they are."
-X-
El has gone through a box of Eggos and has started on the second when Hawkins comes into view.
It's a small town, clusters of buildings around a few streets that branch out from a town square and nothings over three stories.
"Small," El says, but she sounds confused, as if comparing the town to her memory and finding it lacking. Of course, compared to New York, it's downright puny.
"Right," Fluttershy proclaims. "Hawkins, Indiana. What now?"
"Now," Hobbes replies, "we let El take over." He pauses to sniff the air. "Well, something's certainly gone wrong around here lately. Looks like we'll have to help out with that."
"Great," Fluttershy mutters. "More problems."
Mr. Thompson suddenly leans forwards. "Is there, by any chance, a government laboratory around here?"
"Yes," Hobbes says, "It's down that road for about a mile."
"I propose we go there first!"
"No," El says suddenly. Everyone turns to her as she leans forward to Fluttershy and points down the road. "Go. Bad things." She frowns, then says, slowly and carefully, "In-fec-tion."
Discord looks curiously at Fluttershy. "Where did she learn that word?"
"I was telling her why we refrigerate things."
"Go!" El shouts, still pointing.
"All right," Fluttershy mutters, "listen to the super-powered ten year-old. Got it."
-X-
"So if he let one out every few weeks, and it's been almost a year, then that's . . ." Dustin is thinking aloud.
"It's an ass-load of slugs, we know!" Lucas interrupts.
"Hey, Will, do you think . . . huh?"
Both Mike and Lucas turn at the sound of Dustin's confusion. Will seems to have collapsed at the forest floor.
"Oh, crap," Mike says, his heart suddenly feeling like someone grabbed and squeezed it. "Is he alive?"
"I don't know how to check someone's pulse," Dustin replies.
"Move," Lucas orders and holds his finger under Will's nose. A tense second follows as Mike and Dustin both try to read the expression on Lucas's face.
"Well, he's breathing," Lucas finally pronounces.
"Uh, guys, does he look a lot whiter to you?"
Will's body suddenly twitches, which causes Lucas to jump back in surprise.
"Should we put something in his mouth?" Mike asks, trying to think of something he can do that might make this just a little sane.
"What the hell are you talking about?" Lucas demands, as Will's body gives another twitch.
"I saw them do it in Alien !" Mike shouts, now completely and utterly terrified.
"Would that help?"
"I don't know!"
"Guys!" Dustin yells over them. "I think there's a car coming."
"Mike!" he hears someone shout.
"Isn't that Nancy?" Dustin asks curiously.
"Wait," Mike orders and runs out to the road.
He sees a car that he recognizes belongs to Steve Harrington. He waves a hand and the car comes to a halt. Steve and Nancy both jump out, followed by Chief Hopper and Jonathan Byers.
"What are you guys doing here?" he asks.
Jonathan ignores him completely, instead taking off into the forest. "Will!" he shouts. "Will!"
Confused, Mike runs after him. He can hear the other three following as well.
He bursts back into the clearing, where he sees Jonathan bending over his brother's body. "What the hell happened?" Jonathan demands.
"Well," Mike stammers, "I mean, he threw up some slugs –"
"What?"
"Yeah," Dustin pipes up. "This one," and he points to the Tupperware.
Nancy frowns as she walks over. "Isn't this mine –Holy shit!" she shouts as she jumps back. "What is that?"
Hopper strides over and looks down into it. "Yep," he mutters, "that's definitely from the Upside-Down."
"What is?" Jonathan asks as he stands up to look at the box. "Will threw that up?" he asks, his voice about a pitch higher than normal.
Mike turns as he hears something coming from the road. "Is that another car?"
-X-
"Wait, stop," Discord suddenly says as they pass a building that says POST OFFICE. "Mr. Thompson, could you follow me for a second?"
Fluttershy drums her fingers on the windowsill as she waits for them to return.
It's a strange feeling, being impatient for something she can't identify. All she knows is that there's something appealing about his plunge into the unknown, something addicting about this sense of not knowing what's coming next.
"You feel it, huh?" Hobbes remarks. He grins. "Little bit of childhood left over in you yet."
While Fluttershy's puzzling over that, Discord and Mr. Thompson get back to the car. "Just sending a package with my fax and a letter explaining what's going on to New York. You know, in case we don't come back." They take their seats and they're off again.
"Left," El says.
-X-
Hopper groans and rubs his head. This is getting to be too much for him. "Right," he announces, "I'll take care of this –"
"STATE POLICE!" A voice roars from the woods.
Wait, shit, no no no no , Hopper curses in his head. "OK," he shouts as everyone starts babbling, "quiet! Or they'll find us!"
Everyone falls silent at that.
"I'm going to stall them. You, head out into the forest, you probably know it better than them . . ." His voice trails off as Dr. Owens steps into the clearing, flanked by two state MPs cradling dangerous-looking weapons in their arms.
His jaw works for a second as he looks for the right words to get them out of this mess.
He doesn't find any.
"How?" he finally manages. Keep them talking , he think desperately, wait for an opening.
Dr. Owens sighs. "If you must know, Hopper, I don't normally smoke."
Hopper desperately fumbles in his jacket and pulls out his lighter. Flips it open.
A small green light winks at him, as if it's just shared the funniest, most important secret in the world.
-X-
Fluttershy is heading down the road through the forest when she catches sight of three cars parked by the side of the road. There's what appears to be a sports car, a police vehicle, and van that bears the name "Hawkins Electricity."
"Here," El announces.
Fluttershy pulls the car over and she, Discord, El, and Hobbes all clamber out. They all pause when Mr. Thompson doesn't move.
"Oh, for goodness sake, get moving! I'll watch the car. All this running around is for young people who aren't yet considered at risk of heart attack. Go!"
Discord and Fluttershy shrug at each other and start running, Hobbes and Fluttershy following shortly.
"Do we know where we're going?" Discord asks.
Suddenly, shouts ring out from deep in the forest.
"Never mind," he mutters.
The voices get more distinct as they get. They can hear kids' voices, some teenagers their age, from the pitches, and an older man who seems to be trying to keep everything under control.
"STATE POLICE!" someone roars, and Discord sighs. "That's our cue," and they pick up the pace.
They can hear two adults talking to each other, one authoritative and cold, the other plaintive and seemingly confused.
"I don't normally smoke," someone says.
A minute later, the four of them – though the other will only see three – burst into the clearing. Immediately, two men, who look an awful lot like soldiers, swing automatic weapons at them.
"Woah!" Fluttershy shouts. "Don't shoot!"
"Mike!" El shouts.
"El?" one of the boys shouts back.
The man standing between the two soldiers, an aged man with grey buzz-cut hair, a neatly pressed grey suit, and a pair of spectacles, sighs and places a hand over his face. Fluttershy gets the distinct sensation that he's counting to ten.
"Mike!" El shouts again as she runs to the boy.
"El!" he shouts back, and Fluttershy catches a hint of desperation and longing in his tone. He's running to meet her.
They crash into each other right in the middle and stand hugging each other. Fluttershy can see the boy – Mike, she supposes – whispering something into El's ear and his eyes are wide open in disbelief and joy. Then he shuts his eyes and squeezes El tighter.
"All right, if everyone could just cease with the histrionics, please!" the man shouts. "Who the hell are you people?"
The clearing is silent, except for Mike, who's still quietly whispering into El's ear.
"Well? Chief, do you know any of these people?"
The other man, the one in the police uniform studies the two of them, Fluttershy and Discord. "No, Dr. Owens, not those two."
One of the soldiers speaks up. "Actually, sir, I recognize one of them. The girl."
"Eh?" The man – Dr. Owens – glances at El as if noticing her for the first time. He freezes, stops, and blinks. Does a double-take. "Subject Eleven?"
"Her name is El," Discord speaks up from Fluttershy's side a little testily.
"Oh, whatever," the doctor says dismissively and turns to one of his soldiers to whisper something into his ear. The man nods and heads off into the woods.
Dr. Owens turns back to them. "So, are you going to tell me who you people are?"
Discord speaks up before Fluttershy can. "Well, the thing is, we're government overseers, so we're actually your bosses, so if you could, like, tell the goon next to you to put down his gun, we won't fire you –"
Fluttershy slaps a hand over his mouth before he can say anything else stupid. "Sorry, this is my boyfriend. I'm still house-training him," she says sweetly as she tries to think of a workable lie. "Actually, we're interns at the Rolling Stones."
The man snorts. "Out here?"
"Yes, they wanted us to investigate some rumors they heard. The thing is, we're supposed to call back soon to explain what's going and how we're spending the money they lent us, so . . ."
Her voice trails off as she sees the other soldier march back into view leading a woman by a pair of handcuffs.
"Oh, there you are," Dr. Owens says irritably. "I thought I was going to have to spend more time listening to their inane chatter. Right, start digging some graves."
"WHAT?"
The soldier next to Owens frowns. "Sir, if they're really here for the Rolling Stones, shouldn't we be worried."
Owens rolls his eyes. "Teenagers run off with each other all the time. This far from a major city? No one will notice."
"Hey, Dr. Evil?" Discord calls.
"No more talking. I'm sick of it," Owens snaps. "Shoot them."
The two soldiers immediately heft their guns. Fluttershy feels Discord grab her and pull her into an embrace, throwing himself between her and the bullets as they both shut their eyes.
For some reason, she isn't scared. Not yet. The idea probably hasn't reached her head yet, that she's going to die oh wait, she's going to die oh my God . . .
Someone screams, "No!" It occurs to the Fluttershy that the voice sounds like El.
There's a sickening crunch, and two bodies fall to the ground.
Fluttershy stand still for a second, waiting for some kind of pain.
None comes.
Finally, she decides that it might be safe to open her eyes, and she does so. The two soldiers are lying on the ground, their heads at funny angles. At the edge of her vision, she sees El kneeling on the ground as one of the boys dabs at her nose with the edge of sleeve.
"Huh," Discord says, and he sounds exactly like how Fluttershy feels, confused and surprised, but mostly so damn relieved that she can't even begin to process how relieved.
As one, the two of them turn and kiss each other. They stay like that for a few seconds before they hear one of the boys shout, "Ew, they're sucking face!"
They break apart at that and start giggling like lunatics at each other. Giggling, then chuckling, and then outright laughing, because they'd forgotten how disgusting kissing used to look to them, and now they're doing it, and it's OK because they're alive , which shouldn't be such a big shock, given Discord's ability to survive basically anything, including wagon crashes and flaming snowsleds, but seriously, they're alive –
Fluttershy cuts off her train of that before she descends into hysteria. Looking at Discord, it seems as though he's doing the same.
They hear a distinct thud and look to see the police officer – Chief Hopper? – wresting the doctor to the ground.
From beside them, they can hear Hobbes cough awkwardly. "As cute as this is," he says pointedly, "you guys need to check out the Tupperware container over there. Then, make sure you get the full story from the kids."
-X-
"Why didn't you tell me?" Joyce Byers is demanding, as Will tries to stammer out an explanation.
Mike shifts in his seat awkwardly in his seat, listening to the interrogation. At least, it feels like an interrogation. Joyce had dragged herself, Will, and Jonathan behind a door in their house and left everyone else in the living room for a "family discussion," but the walls are thin enough that everyone can hear what's being spoken pretty clearly.
Joyce had stopped to put a few Eggos in the toaster, though, which Eleven is now eating with gusto.
Outside, it feels as if even the normal ambient noises of the night that come alive when the suns sets are quieting down to listen.
"We are your family, Will! You can't just lock us out whenever it gets 'awkward'!"
"So," Chief Hopper finally says, trying to break up some of the tension clogging the air, "who are you people?" He gestures to the three people – four, if you count the stuffed tiger in Eleven's arms – sitting around the living room.
"Ah," the older, sort of distinguished-looking old guy says with a beaming smile, "my name is Jerry Thompson." He sticks out a hand towards Hopper, who takes it with a little uncertainty. Mike can relate. The dude looks way to calm given . . . everything.
"I'm a journalist," Mr. Thompson continues.
"Really?" Hopper mutters. "That's worrisome."
"Why do you say that?" Mr. Thompson asks. "It seems to me that a member of the Fourth Estate would be a good ally to have in the present circumstances."
"With all due respect, Mr. Thompson, I think we're all looking for things to get back to normal right about now, not get in the middle of some national news story."
Mr. Thompson shrugs. "I will be more than happy to oblige you, if that's what you really want, but other journalists might not be so scrupulous. At the moment, I'm just hoping to let you tell your side of this story."
"Whoa," Hopper growls, "there's no story here, OK? Especially if you're threatening us."
"I'm not threatening anyone," Mr. Thompson replies, looking a lot like Mr. Clarke when he tries to explain a particularly challenging concept to a particularly slow student. "But you might need to consider the possibility of Hawkins attracting media attention soon enough."
Hopper groans. "Look, we're just trying to get our lives back to normal."
"I'd say normalcy for you vanished a long time ago."
"Well, maybe I'd like to give it another shot," Hopper growls.
Mr. Thompson raises a pretty severe-looking eyebrow at him. "And what about the bigger picture, then?"
"What?"
"Hawkins Lab isn't an isolated incident, Chief Hopper. It was funded and run by our government, which even now is trying to clamp down on its mistakes. Doesn't it bother you that, if you don't speak up, these people will escape without consequences?"
"You think anyone is going to care what happens in a Podunk little town like Hawkins?" Hopper asks with a snort.
"I think that when they find out about Eleven," Mr. Thompson shoots back while inclining his head in Eleven's direction, "a great many people are going to care."
At the sound of her name being spoken, Eleven's head shoots up.
"Wait," Mike suddenly speaks up. "What are you talking about?"
Mr. Thompson sighs and turns to him. "In the event that the information about Hawkins Lab is released, Eleven will be an important witness in the ensuing investigation. She's going to be quite the celebrity."
"Cool!" Dustin pipes up from behind Mike. "Do we get to be famous, too?"
"No!" Mike shouts. "Not cool! This is bullshit! We were supposed to get Eleven into a normal home after this was all over."
"He's right, Mr. Thompson," the brunette teenager says.
"Who are you?" Hopper demands, sounding exasperated.
"Oh, I'm Fluttershy Derkins. This is Discord," she says gesturing to the boy sitting next to her. "We're the ones who found El."
"You mean Eleven?" Hopper asks.
"No, we mean El," the guy – Discord – shoots back. "And the kid's right."
"My name's Mike," Mike snaps.
"Right. Sorry. Look, the point is," Discord says, turning back to Mr. Thompson, "I thought we were doing all of this to get El home. Now you're talking about getting the news involved?"
"Well, what do you suggest, then?" Mr. Thompson snaps, his temper finally pushed passed the breaking point. "Just let all the criminals involved with this whole program go crawling back to their labs? So they can keep doing this? Is that your idea of what we should do next?"
In the ensuing silence, Mike realizes that he's halfway pulled himself to his feet and, looking back, realizes that Dustin and Lucas have done the same.
"Shouldn't this be El's choice?" Fluttershy finally asks, her voice cutting through the silence like a knife, and Mike shifts a little uncomfortably as he turns to El who hasn't raised her voice once in this clash.
El starts as she sees everyone turning to her, seemingly shrinking into her jacket. She glances around a little desperately, seemingly searching for someone to help her out of her unwanted spot at the center of everyone's attention.
"Eleven," Mr. Thompson says, "have you been listening to us so far?"
El nods slowly, her eyes uncertain.
"What do you want us to do?"
She stares at him with an inscrutable expression. Finally, she opens her mouth.
"Be quiet."
-X-
Jonathan wants to go hug his brother right about now, but he's afraid that if moves at all, his mom will start yelling at him. Right now, she's pacing the floor, alternately clutching her head in her hands and muttering to herself.
Will looks absolutely terrible right now. His pallor and the sheen of sweat on his forehead lend an odd emphasis to the terrified look on his face. Jonathan doesn't blame him. The mom they're listening to right now is angrier than they've ever heard her before, angrier than when she found out that Lonnie had been hitting Jonathan, angrier than when Hopper had called her to tell her that Lonnie had ended up in the town jail, angrier than when she had kicked Lonnie out of their house and their lives.
Then again, Jonathan can understand where she's coming from.
Right now, the slug sitting in the bottom of the Tupperware box is just about burned into his brain.
And Will just "didn't feel like" telling them.
That had been his excuse, in the end. Couched in a thousand different phrases – "I didn't want to worry you guys," "I thought it would go away quickly," etc. – but in the end, Will had decided to keep this from them.
That was not Will Byers.
Jonathan groans and puts his face in his hands. He can't handle this right now.
His mom suddenly turns around and looks him in the eye. A flash of understanding passes between them.
"Will," Jonathan says carefully, "just wait here for a second, all right?"
Will nods almost imperceptibly, his eyes focused on a point in the wall opposite from him. Jonathan and Joyce get up and step out of the room, making sure to close the door behind them. For the first time in his life, Jonathan wishes that they could lock from the outside.
Out in the hallway, Nancy and Steve – his heart leaps irritatingly at the sight of them – are having a hushed conversation with each other, which they break up the moment they see Jonathan.
"Hey," he greets them without cheer. The two nod in response.
In the living room, everyone looks away awkwardly as soon as they see the Byers, which leads Jonathan to wonder how much they heard.
"You all locked Owens in the van, right?" Joyce asks.
Hopper nods in confirmation.
"Good, because we might need his help."
Will's friends' heads snap up as one. "What?"
"We're going to need help to figure out what's going on with Will," Jonathan says tiredly, "and these guys are the closest thing we've got to experts right now."
"What about just a regular hospital?" Dustin pipes up. "One that we know doesn't do crazy experiments on people."
"Wait," Mike says as he spins around to glare at Dustin, "I thought we agreed to keep anyone from finding out about this. I thought that was what El asked for."
"Oh, come on, Mike, this could be life or death for Will."
"Uh, question." It's the blond guy. "I'm Discord, by the way, not sure if we were ever properly introduced, that's Fluttershy and Mr. Thompson, but your son, Will, he's vomiting those slugs we saw?"
"Yes," Joyce responds, her voice almost unbearably fragile.
"And you guys think he got them from being in the . . ."
"The Upside-Down," Dustin interjects. "It's this crazy whole other dimension, like the Vale of Shadows!"
"Vale of Shadows?" That's the girl, Fluttershy.
"It's a Dungeons and Dragons thing," Discord explains to her quickly before turning back to the group as a whole. "And your son, Will, he never mentioned this at all. Not once? Like, not even by accident?"
"Wait," Lucas says with a frown, "that's actually really weird, not that you mention it."
Dustin snorts. "No duh, of course it's weird he wouldn't mention that."
"No, idiot," Lucas snaps. "Remember last year, when we were attacked by the Demogorgon?"
"At the school?" Mike asks with a frown.
"No, in the campaign!"
"You know, I can't even tell if you're being sarcastic or not," Dustin mutters.
"Wait, I think I know what he's talking about," Mike says slowly. "Remember the morning after, when Lucas asked me about when we were going to finish the campaign and I told you guys that Will had told me that he rolled too low . . ."
"And then Lucas got super mad, yeah, I remember that," Dustin says, a smile starting to spread on his face.
"No, but here's the thing," Mike says impatiently. "Will didn't have to tell me what he rolled. I didn't ask him. He made sure to tell me."
"He's right," Jonathan says slowly. "Will was always honest. Always. No matter what."
He can hear the crickets chirping out in the dark as everyone chews over his words. An owl hoots, somewhere off in the dark.
"This is going to sound dumb," Discord starts.
"Seems pretty normal for you then," Fluttershy interjects. Discord glares at her and Fluttershy smiles sweetly back at him.
"As I was saying," Discord growls, "the hospital didn't find the . . . the parasite? Let's call it the parasite for now. The hospital didn't find the parasite, otherwise they would have told you guys, right?"
Next to Jonathan, Joyce nods slowly.
"So, we know the parasite has ways to protect itself," Discord continues. "What if it had some other tools to protect itself?"
"Ooh, like mind control!" Dustin shouts.
"I was building up to that," Discord mutters with a sigh.
Lucas is already nodding. "That would explain why he kept it a secret for so long."
Joyce is just staring at them, aghast. "You're telling me my boy was mind-controlled for almost a year? A year?"
"Well," Nancy says diplomatically, "it wouldn't have to be complete control. Maybe it just kept him from doing that one thing."
"Wait," Lucas cuts in. "Will told us that normally, he threw up a slug every few weeks. But he threw up two today."
"Which could mean it's getting stronger," Dustin concludes.
Mike suddenly speaks up. "Did you guys lock Will's door?"
"We can't," Joyce sighs, "but I think we would hear him getting out."
Jonathan takes a short, sharp breath as terror suddenly floods his system. His eyesight suddenly snaps into focus as an idea shoots to the forefront of his mind. "We didn't do anything about his window."
And then he's running, his feet pounding on the floor and his mom right behind him as they sprint to Will's room. It's only a few feet, but the very air seems to be clinging to Jonathan and dragging him away from his brother.
He throws open the door and sees the window to Will's room hanging open.
-X-
Will's left foot drags itself in front of him, pushing itself forwards against his will.
I should really go back to Mom now , he thinks. He keeps waiting for himself to laugh, as if thinking, how dumb is this, OK, let's get back, Mom and Jonathan are going to be worried.
His right foot jerks forward.
It's easier this way. Easier to just let the virus, the infection, the . . . whatever . . . to take him. To take control. Just one foot ahead of the other. No tough choices or hard decisions. Just one foot ahead of the other.
Just for a second, his mind snaps at the thought, rebels at the slow, molasses crawl of his mind. This isn't me , he thinks desperately and focuses on his feet. Stares at them and wills them to stop. It's like trying to slow down a bull by pulling on its horns, but Will sinks his heals into the dirt of the prairie and wrenches with all his might.
His whole body freezes, standing at the edge of the forest. Ahead, it looms, the branches and roots like the dozens of ropes that entangle to form a net that captures unwary prey.
"MOM!" he screams and it hurts to hear how scared his voice sounds. "JONATHAN? ANYONE? PLEASE –"
His vocal cords clench without direction from his brain and his shout dies in his throat, barely a croak emerging from between his lips.
A bead of sweat trails down the side of his face, in defiance of the bitter chill of the night.
He thinks about everyone he loves. He thinks about his mom and his brother, sitting around the table on Christmas night. He thinks about the Thessalhydra and his friends whooping around the table in Mike's basement. Somewhere inside of him, he finds the strength to drag his head around and look back at his house.
The open window of his room beckons invitingly.
I can't do this , he thinks, and it is a terrifying thought, as the weight of months of agony and hiding and secrets – so damn many secrets – falls on his shoulders. And the weight breaks him.
He turns away. His left foot jerks forward and carries him into the woods.
-X-
"How many cars do we have?" Mrs. Byers is asking.
"Three," Hopper replies. "The car the kids came in, the car Nancy and Steve came in, and my police cruiser. If we count the Hawkins van, that's four."
"We're in trouble," Hobbes snarls to Discord.
"You think?"
"Well, we can't just drive out into town and hope that we run across him," Fluttershy points out, trying to play at rationality.
"So we just sit here?" Joyce demands.
"Wait, Joyce, remember what we were talking about with the sewers?" Hoppers asks.
"Can we get into the sewers?" Joyce responds.
"It's the most we have to go one right now."
"Actually," everyone turns to Mr. Thompson, "if there is a county courthouse nearby, we should be able to find the schematics for the town sewer system."
"It's about ten minutes drive away," Hopper says.
"Well, let's get moving," Joyce announces.
-X-
Mike finds El sitting on the porch. "Hey," he calls out.
She scoots over and he takes a seat next to her.
"Me and the guys – you know, Lucas and Dustin – we were thinking about the time you found Will when he was in the Upside-Down."
El nods at that and takes another bite out of her Eggo.
Mike pauses, then lets curiosity get the better of him. "Look, where did you go that night? I mean, did you die or just go to the Upside-Down or . . ."
El shakes her head. "Not dead. Not here." She frowns, then points a finger at herself. "This died. Not this." She points at her head, between her eyes.
Mike frowns. "You mean your body died . . . but not your mind?"
El nods her head.
"But where did you go? The Upside-Down."
El frowns, trying to find the right vocabulary. "Not the Upside-Down. Not here. Somewhere . . . middle."
"In between?"
Mike and El turn to see Lucas and Dustin looking out the doorway onto the backyard porch. "Guys!" Mike hisses. "I asked you guys to let me do this alone."
Dustin shrugs. "We figured if we left you two alone for too long, you'd start sucking face."
El frowns. "Sucking face?"
"It's nothing!" Mike says hurriedly, before turning back to his friends. "I'm just trying to handle this delicately."
"No!" Dustin laughs. "You're trying to get some privacy so you make your undying declaration of love!"
"What? No!"
Lucas starts snickering, too. "Let's be real, Mike, you haven't left her side since you found her again."
"That's not true!"
"Uh, it totally is," Dustin shoots back.
Mike coughs, trying to hide the heat he feels rising to his face. "Back to the original point," he says loudly, turning back to El, "could you try to find Will again?"
El frowns. "Not sure."
"What if we got you the radio again?" Lucas suddenly recalls. "We fixed it last winter – well, me and Dustin fixed it, Mike was too busy moping – and we even upgraded it in spring. We could use that again!"
All three boys turn back to El with bated breath. Slowly but with certainty, she nods.
-X-
"There's a storm coming," Hobbes mutters, which makes Discord and Fluttershy turn to look at him as they wait outside on the porch.
Chief Hopper and Mrs. Byers drove off with Mr. Thompson in tow about half an hour ago, the kids are in the backyard (leaving El alone had left Discord feeling oddly bereft, but she'd looked pretty comfortable on her own), and the three other teenagers seem to be having a fairly heated conversation inside the house.
Which leaves the two – three, actually – of them to wait.
"I think the storm has already arrived," Fluttershy replies drily.
Hobbes shakes his head resolutely. "These are just the opening shots. The actual attack is going to come soon if we can't stop it."
"I thought we were talking about a storm, not an attack," Discord asks with a frown.
"Right now, there's not much of a difference," Hobbes shoots back. He growls at the night around them that lies at the edges of the lights. "Tell me, what do you think the Upside-Down is?"
Discord shrugs. "Didn't the kids say it was like the Vale of Shadows? Some kind of alternate dimension?"
"Tell me," Hobbes begins, "what do you think the strongest faith in the world is?"
"Christianity?" Fluttershy asks with a shrug.
"Not anymore," Hobbes mutters darkly. "The strongest faith in the 20 th century was born in 1945."
"What happened in 1945?" Discord asks.
"The most powerful weapon in human history was detonated over Japan," Hobbes mutters darkly. "You know, right now, there are 4,765,657,562 people in the world. And all of those billions of people believe in a thousand different faiths and politicians and leaders and ideologies, but all of them are united in their knowledge that a few angry men in the White House and the Kremlin could kill every last one of them."
"'There is only the question: When will I be blown up?'" Fluttershy murmurs under her breath.
"Exactly."
Discord looks up at the sky, half-expecting to see a nuclear warhead streaking past the stars that very instant. "What does that have to do with the Upside-Down?"
"The Upside-Down is the child of those billions of people and their unifying, all-consuming fear. The Upside-Down is a universe where the world has already ended because Man wasn't smart enough not to kill himself."
Those few words echo in the silence, receding into the night. Discord is suddenly extremely aware of the chill on his fingers and his cheeks, the back of his neck, of the scratchy sensation of his jeans and the feeling of socks on his feet. His fingers begin impatiently tapping against each other.
"Like that," Hobbes says, breaking through Discord's thoughts. "That awareness, that fear lends the Upside-Down power. Every time you look around and wonder if a nuclear warhead is coming to blow everyone up, every time the teachers make you practice for a nuclear bombing by hiding under your tables, every time you look at a map of the world and feel a slight sense of unease at the sight of the U.S.S.R., you're praying to the bomb. And every prayer brings the Upside-Down just a little closer to reality."
Fluttershy frowns. "But then what about the stuff that came out of the Upside-Down. Like the slug inside Will Byers?"
"Survivors," Hobbes says."
"Survivors?"
"You didn't really think a nuclear holocaust would actually kill the entire human race, did you? Your species is really good at clinging to life in the face of overwhelming odds."
"Huh" is all Discord can manage.
"Actually," Fluttershy mentions, "scientists think that in the event of a nuclear holocaust, only the cockroaches will survive."
"Oh, don't worry. Humans can be a lot worse than cockroaches. You just need to find the right kind of people."
-X-
Hopper pulls the car up in front of the Byers house and catches a glimpse of the two high schoolers – Discord and Fluttershy, his brain helpfully supplies – rising to their feet as they see his car. He waves his at them to shut them up as he steps out of the car and heads into the house.
Pretty soon, he has a fairly huge map spread out across the top of the kitchen table. Joyce sets down cups at the corners – Hopper hopes that doesn't leave any coffee stains – and everyone filters in.
"All right," he announces, feeling oddly like a general about to lay out a battle plan. "There are three entrances to the sewer system large enough for a kid like Will to get in through. Two of them are on public record. The third one was caught by Mr. Thompson. It's apparently been closed for years and it's pretty out-of-the-way, at the quarry. It's pretty dangerous –"
"Called it!" Discord shouts.
"What?"
"That's what you were about to ask, isn't it? For us to split up and have different groups take a different entrance."
"No," Hopper growls, "actually, my plan was for us to . . ." His brain catches up with his mouth. ". . . To split up and have different groups take a different entrance . . ."
Discord raises an eyebrow at him.
"Shut up," Hopper snaps lamely. "Why do you want the quarry, anyway?"
Discord shrugs. "Sounds dangerous. What are the other options, anyway?"
"Two officially listed pump stations," Hopper reads off the Post-it Mr. Thompson had attached to the map.
Steve frowns and leans forward. "What about manhole covers?"
Hopper blinks. "You're still here?"
"My parents are out of town, remember?"
"Right," Hopper mutters, "let's just invite the local drunks while we're here."
"Hey!"
Suddenly, Mike raises a hand. "Which one are we going to be taking?"
Hopper snorts. "You kids, especially Eleven, are going to be staying here."
"Wait, what?!" All three kids start shouting. In the midst of the raised voices, Mike yells, "But we helped out last summer!"
"Yes," Hopper yells back, "and you almost died! I don't have time to drive you all home right now, so stay here and try not to get killed, all right? This is serious!"
One by one, the three boys turn away at his hard gaze. Mike turns last. Behind them, El watches the whole proceedings like a tennis match.
"Moving on," Hopper snarls as he tries to ignore his pounding headache, "me and Joyce can take the north pump. Mr. Thompson can take the south one."
"Wait, you're forgetting someone!" Jonathan shouts indignantly.
Hopper fixes him with a glare he normally reserves for poker games. "I'm really not."
"You're letting them go," Nancy points out, waving her hand at Discord and Fluttershy.
"Leave us out of this," Discord mutters.
"Apparently, they're technically adults. Also, if they die, I don't have to explain what they were doing in a sewer past midnight to their parents."
"Actually," Mr. Thompson interjects mildly, "I don't mind having the teens for company."
Hopper counts to 10, very slowly. Then again. Then again.
"On your own goddamned graves," he finally snarls. "You four," he stares pointedly at the three kids and Eleven, "are still staying here." He looks around. "We good?"
Mike mutinously glares at him.
"Right," Hopper says, putting his hat back on. "Let's get to work."
-X-
Discord's squinting as he tries to make out the road ahead of him. The headlights aren't very helpful at this time of night, especially with branches and roots spilling into his field of vision.
"Stop," Hobbes suddenly says.
Discord hits the brakes on the car and Hobbes jumps out of the car, bounding a few yards into the woods. Discord grabs a flashlight and he and Fluttershy follow Hobbes.
Hobbes comes to a stop before a dead drop box. He doesn't bother to open it, but closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, as if smelling the box. His tongue flicks from between his lips and licks his canines.
Discord and Fluttershy stand silently to the side, shooting questioning glances at each other.
Hobbes's eyes snap open. "Sorry about that," he says as he turns back around. "Chief Hopper came by here a few times after last fall to leave Eggos for El. He had a hunch that they might get to her in the Upside-Down, especially after they started disappearing."
Fluttershy frowns. "I thought she wasn't in the Upside-Down."
"Oh, she wasn't," Hobbes says dismissively, "but that wasn't the point. He hoped she was alive, and he felt guilty that she might be dead. The Eggos didn't sustain her, Hopper did."
He takes another deep breath, as if treasuring some fading smell of perfume in a deceased's belongings. "There's enough residual faith here to give me some extra juice right now. I'm going to need it."
-X-
"But what if the chief gets back?"
"Dustin," Mike yells, "shut up! He's not going to come back on time."
When the chief had driven them back to the house, he'd stashed all of their bikes in the trunk of his car and taken them back out at the Byers house. Luckily for the kids.
"Look," Mike says with a sigh, "you can stay here. But if there's a chance I can help Will out, I'm taking it. I don't care if the chief kills me when he gets back. Someone has to do this."
Mike hops onto his bike and feels his heart thump threateningly when El climbs on behind him. He tries to ignore that and kicks off his bike's stand. Behind him, Lucas does the same.
He heads down the road, pebbles rattling beneath his wheels and dirt lightly spraying up behind him.
Just as they pull out of the Byers' driveway, he hears a third bike pull up behind them.
"We're still dead, though."
-X-
Jonathan can't keep his fingers from bouncing impatiently as Mr. Thompson starts yet another tale about his long and "storied" career in journalism. Beside him, he can feel Steve and Nancy buckling down.
It's a relief when the sign for "Hawkins Pump Station 2" appears in their headlights.
"Wait," Steve says, "how are we supposed to get in?" He points to the padlock hanging over the fence that blocks entry into the station's driveway.
"Not to worry," Mr. Thompson says cheerfully as he fishes a ring with two keys out of his pocket. "Chief Hopper picked these up for us back at the courthouse.
Jonathan grabs the key out of the man's hands without a word and steps out of the car, ignoring his protestations. He marches up to the padlock and unlocks it, having to yank a bit from a little rust at the edges of the chain. He pushes the fence aside.
Steve and Nancy click on flashlights and the three of them walk warily into the station, with Mr. Thompson doddering behind somewhere.
The station itself is fairly small, about the size of the shed behind Jonathan's house. It's all brick, with a locked steel door. Jonathan pushes the second key on the ring into the keyhole.
"FREEZE!"
The four of them all spin around to see a group of state troopers climbing out of the woods surrounding the station and into the driveway.
-X-
Fluttershy ends up being the one who finds the footprints in the sand at the edge of the water.
"We should really have brought radios," Discord remarks. "I mean, shouldn't the chief have handed out radios? Then we could have told the others that the kid had been here and they could all have just headed over here."
Fluttershy shushes him with her hand when she sees that the tracks lead into a small cave at the shoreline. When she glances in, she sees an odd combination of nature and manmade infrastructure coexisting. It's fairly obvious that the cave was here first, but there are steel beams set into the stone at regular intervals and two flat horizontal concrete layers that jut out about a foot from the walls of the cave, providing a way to walk down the sewer without stepping into the water.
If anyone had ever put in lights, however, they had never been repaired.
Hobbes growls at the darkness, looking a little unnerved. Fluttershy can relate.
A sudden clap has Fluttershy jumping into the air, her flashlight wildly searching for the source of the noise.
Discord cracks up behind her and doesn't let up even when she starts glaring at him.
"You have to admit," he says with a chuckle, "that was pretty good."
Fluttershy rolls her eyes as she tries to get her jackhammering heart under control and turns the flashlight back down the sewer.
"Guess we should probably start moving," she says. Her voice sounds oddly small in the dark.
Discord grabs her hand. "Guess so," he says cheerily.
Hobbes just growls again, and the three of them start walking.
-X-
It only takes them a few minutes to get into the school, and soon they're hurrying through the empty hallways, looking for the AV room.
"It's always weird seeing the school empty, isn't it?" Mike hears Dustin mutter as they push their way into the room and flick on the lights.
"OK, El, you remember how to use this, right?" Mike asks.
El nods, takes a seat, and puts the headset on.
It takes a few more minutes for the boys to set up, as they click on the power and tune the radio's audio settings.
El closes her eyes, and for a few seconds, there is no noise but the quiet, comforting hum of the radio.
Suddenly, all the lights turn off. A slight rustle to Mike's left causes him to turn his head.
He screams.
-X-
"This will all go a lot easier if you tell us where Dr. Owens is," the trooper is repeating.
Hopper, meanwhile, is trying to ignore the dull throb in his head from where one of the troopers had hit him with the butt of a rifle when he had gone for his gun.
"How would we even know where the man is?" Joyce demands.
The two of them are currently sitting against the chain-link fence surrounding Hawkins Pump Station 1, being menaced by three of the state's best and brightest. Four others seem to be playing with the machinery inside the pump.
The trooper turns his cold stare to Joyce. "Ma'am, Dr. Owens went out with two officers to deal with you two and any of your associates. He failed to check in several hours later, and we ran into you breaking into a sewer pump station. Give us some credit in connecting these dots."
Joyce defiantly glares back at him.
One of the officers leans over to the man currently speaking to them and whispers something in his ear. The man nods and turns back to them.
"You should know that we've also arrested the teenagers you sent to the second pump station, as well as the old man. You've got nothing to gain by not cooperating with us."
He looks down at them and observes their continued silence. The trooper slowly lets out a breath between his teeth.
"Look you see those troopers in the pump right now? They're flooding the whole sewer with natural gas."
He grins when he sees Hopper's and Joyce's heads jump up immediately.
"We're going to ignite the whole system in about ten minutes, so if there's anything we should know, you should probably tell us right now."
"My son's in there," Joyce blurts out.
The trooper frowns. "You mean the one who went into the Upside-Down? The one carrying the infection?"
She nods hurriedly.
"Good," the trooper snaps. "Two birds with one stone."
-X-
Following Will's trail isn't particularly difficult. The sewer only has one tunnel big enough for a person to walk down.
Fluttershy stops and sniffs the air. "Do you smell something?"
Discord pauses as well. "Yeah, smells like gas. Wait." He pulls off his jacket and quickly rips two lengths of cloth from it. "Come here," he beckons to Fluttershy.
When she complies, he rapidly wraps the cloth around her nose and mouth, then does the same for himself.
"Will that actually help?" she asks curiously.
Discord shrugs. "It makes me feel better. Do you think there's a gas leak going one somewhere?"
"Probably," Fluttershy replies. "This place is ancient."
"Prehistoric."
"Venerable."
"Paleolithic."
"All right, you win that round," Fluttershy says with a laugh. She freezes as her flashlight catches the shape of something lying down on the walk a few yards ahead. "Come on," she orders.
As they get closer, they see Will Byers lying on the ground. His skin looks so white it could pass for paper and there's filmy layer of sweat on him.
"OK," Discord whispers, "we'll just grab him and get the hell out of here, right? Easy does it now . . ."
His voice trails off as Fluttershy's light dances over the wall that Will is lying next to.
The whole wall is covered in a glistening black mass that writhes between two vertical steel beams. Wherever the flashlight's beam touches, the whole structure shies away as if avoiding a flame.
There are no eyes or tongues or ears or anything about the wriggling black shape that seems even remotely human, and Discord can't shake the feeling that the whole thing is watching her.
"We're a long way from home, aren't we?" he whispers and glances back for Hobbes's reply.
There a stuffed tiger lying on the ground a few feet behind him.
-X-
"Don't panic!" the tiger says hurriedly, raising its hands placatingly.
All three boys are currently frozen in shock.
That's a tiger , Mike's eyes whisper.
No way that's a tiger , his brain replies.
That is absolutely a tiger , his eyes say insistently.
And it's talking to us , his ears add.
Mike's brain feels like it's about to start melting any second now.
And then El leans over and waves. "Hi, Hobbes."
"Hey, El!" he (is it a she? Mike's not sure if he wants to know) replies cheerily.
El turns back to the three boys, seemingly just realizing how shocked they look. "Friend," she says with a shrug.
"Right," the tiger responds. "My name is Hobbes, by the way," and offers his hand.
The three boys just stare at it dumbfounded.
"Well, I don't think there's any call to be rude," Hobbes mutters peevishly. "I mean look at me, possibly the end of the world, and I still have time for a tie."
Mike would literally have bet his life that Hobbes hadn't been wearing anything, but suddenly the tiger is stroking an expertly knotted tie.
"Girls flip for ties," he says with a wink. "Trust me on this."
Mike's brain finally finishes its internal debate on his sanity and picks out a phrase.
"End of the world?" he squeaks.
Hobbes shrugs. "Just about. Don't worry, though, we're going to stop it. After all, everyone knows the best way to fight pure evil is with a group of prepubescent kids on bicycles."
Mike feels a bit like a rocket that – two seconds before liftoff – has realized that it is pointed straight at the ground.
"Seriously," Hobbes says hastily, seeing the expression on everyone's faces, "don't worry about it. I've got a two-part plan that's going to handle everything, but I'm going to need your guys' help."
Mike, Dustin, and Lucas all exchange glances that say, "Are you all having the same hallucination as me?"
"By the way, did I mention the astral projection?"
"Wait, really?"
"Woah, you can do that?"
"That's so cool!"
Hobbes nods, looking pretty pleased with himself. "It is pretty cool. So, can I count on you guys to save the world?"
Mike scratches the back of his head, feeling a little awkward when Hobbes spells it out like that. "I guess so?"
"Great! First thing, how would you survive a gas explosion?"
-X-
"You can't do that!" Joyce screams. "My son is in there!"
"With all due respect, ma'am," the trooper grunts as they push here back to the fence and handcuff her in place, "your son is carrying an alien infection that could potentially threaten the security of the United States. This is necessary –"
Joyce spits on him and the man backhands her.
That's about all Hopper sees before everything goes red.
By the time he comes to, he's handcuffed next to Joyce and one of the troopers is lying spread-eagle on the ground, blood gushing from his nose.
"That didn't really change anything," Joyce whispers, "but thanks anyway."
Hopper frowns as he clenches his fist and unclenches it. "I think I broke my hand," he whispers back.
-X-
"Hobbes?" Discord whispers. It's odd how much he sounds like a boy again in that instant, with his voice almost cracking and low enough that it's barely audible in the dark. He pokes the stuffed tiger gently. "Hobbes?"
"Discord?" Fluttershy calls from somewhere off in the far distance. Everything feels far away now, except for Discord and the doll lying in a heap on the dirty concrete.
"Discord!"
"What?" he shouts as he spins to her voice. His retort catches in his throat.
The black shape has begun to split open in certain areas, with streaks of dusty light spilling from the cracks and into the sewer.
Fluttershy has grabbed hold of Will by his shoulders and his dragging him back to Discord. "We should get out of here," she hisses.
"Yeah," mutters as he grabs Hobbes and stuffs him into his belt. It's weird, stuffing his closest, dearest friend into the loop of his belt. The words don't make much sense in his head.
The smell of gas is getting stronger.
-X-
Hobbes frowns. "So, you guys want to fight an explosion with . . . another explosion?"
"Yeah!" Mike says, "But with water!"
"Mr. Clarke told us about this once," Dustin is saying. "We were hoping to make . . . Anyway, airborne natural gas burns up really quickly."
"If we can douse these guys with clean water really quickly, the fire should pass over them," Lucas explains.
"All right," Hobbes says, rubbing his eyes. "Astral projection time."
There's no sudden tilt in the world or anything. It's just, one second Mike is at school in the AV room, the next, he's standing in a sewer.
"Woah," he mutters as his eyes adapt to the lighting.
He catches sight of two people running down the hallway. One of them seems to be carrying another person.
"Wait," Lucas shouts, "that's Will! Hey, stop!"
"They can't hear or see you," Hobbes says quietly. "Astral projection remember? Well, not exactly astral projection, more like piggybacking off of El's powers, but close enough. Just warning you, you'll all have nosebleeds when you get up."
As Mike looks down the hall, he sees El, who's standing in front of . . . in front of . . .
"Is that it?" he whispers. He can't figure out a way to describe the wall of nightmare in front of him.
"Yes," Hobbes answers darkly. "We need to close the gate before the government ignites the sewer, or the infection will just start with Will again."
"How do we do that?" Lucas asks. None of them are able to take their eyes off of El and the black monstrosity in front of her.
"A sacrifice," Hobbes says.
"Hey, we are not sacrificing any of us!" Dustin shouts.
Hobbes rolls his eyes. "Not you guys."
"Not El either!" Mike yells.
Hobbes looks at them with something odd shining in his eyes. "You really are credits to the human race, you know that?"
They all blink, trying to figure out if that's an insult or a compliment.
"All right," Hobbes says, "I want you all to look."
And Mike looks.
He'll never be able to describe it afterward, but in that instant, he can look at the walls of the sewer, see the pipes running along the stone, and just, somehow, see what running through the steel cylinders.
He can tell, instantly, which ones are carrying sewage and which ones are carrying toilet water and which ones are carrying –
"There," he announces, and the other boys look, too. It's exactly what they need, several parallel pipes carrying clean drinking water. Just as the boys think it, the water runs into a mysterious obstacle right where Discord and Fluttershy are carrying Will.
-X-
"Preparing ignition," the trooper announces. "Station two, ready."
"You can't do this!" Jonathan screams, His voice is hoarse from yelling and his throat feels like someone has dragged a serrated knife along it. "Please!"
-X-
Hobbes stands next to El.
He's tired, he realizes, tired in a way that he's never been before.
He's been running off of the fumes of Hopper's dead drop box, and now he's almost out.
Around him, he can still see a few golden strands of time stretching around him. The systems and matrices that they form call to him.
If he squints, he can still see the points where his plan began to fly off the rails.
Not that it matters now. He's a spent god.
Still , he muses, a death that means something. How many gods get that?
He looks back at Discord, still trying to get away, still clinging to life. There's something beautiful in that.
This might not be the end , a voice in his head reminds him.
Still, best to assume the worst, so that if he turns out to be wrong, he can be pleased by it.
El is still trying to beat the portal to death with her powers. She has power, but she lacks the finesse needed to close this. If she had been a little older, a little more skilled . . .
Stop. No use focusing on those possibilities that never happened.
As he watches, a few more of those strands of time fade from view.
He's dying, he knows. This is a way for him to die game.
"El," he whispers. "It won't work."
She looks up to glare at him. She knows, of course, but she's still looking for another way out. Bless her little child heart.
"There needs to be someone on the other side to close it," he whispers.
"No!" she yells, and there's desperation in her eyes. The desperation of a deer that's been cornered in the woods. A player that knows she's holding a losing hand.
"You know it's true," he says.
A tear drips down from the corner of El's eye and down the side of her face. Something inside Hobbes breaks at the sight of that.
"It'll be OK," he whispers and places a kiss on her brow. "Just remember this . . ." He pauses. It's a risk, of course, but right now, what isn't? "I've always liked lions," he says finally.
He stands tall. Fixes his tie (girls flip for ties, he reflects with a smile).
Hobbes steps forward.
-X-
Mike hears the unmistakable hiss of a gas fire. "Now!" he shouts, and suddenly his head feels like it's been lit on fire.
Three pipes explode from pent-up water pressure, dousing Discord, Fluttershy, and Will with dozens of gallons of water.
And the world turns to flames.
. . .
He sniffs the air and, for a second, is terrified to realize that he can still smell smoke. Mike sits bolt upright, then sees El take off her headset. A small wisp of smoke curls from the wrecked radio.
"Sorry," she whispers. "I broke it again."
Before Mike can tell her that it's OK, Dustin whoops behind. "That was so cool!" he shouts and exchanges a high five with Lucas. "Can we do that again, Hobbes?"
The three boys look around for the tiger.
Mike hears El start crying.
-X-
The first thing Discord is aware of, as he spits water out of his mouth, is a stinging pain at his hip. He looks down.
There are bundle of waterlogged, charred rags loosely held in the loop of his belt.
When Fluttershy looks up, she sees Discord sobbing, clutching a handful of ashes like his life depends on it.
-X-
Darkness.
Is this death?
Boring.
-X-
Somewhere, somewhere very far away, Discord thinks he can hear someone calling his name. He thinks anyway. He's pretty sure he's dreaming.
He hopes he's dreaming. That he's having a nightmare and, any moment, Fluttershy's going to push his shoulder and he's going to wake up.
And the sun will be shining and the sky will burn gold with the light of the dawn and Hobbes will look across the room and raise his eyebrow and . . .
The engine that runs Discord's brain falters.
And Hobbes will look across the room . . .
It falters again.
And Hobbes . . .
He's like a broken record, some distant part of him reflects.
Broken . That seems like the right word. Because how could he possibly be fixed and proper and functioning and whole when his world has just cracked down the middle? When one of the central axes of his life has just slipped out from beneath him?
He's crying, he realizes dimly. He's crying and he hadn't even noticed. He's crying and he hasn't cried in years. He's crying.
As he watches, the ashes crackle in his hands. He grips them too tightly, tries to hold on too hard and they break apart in his hands, brittle. They turn to mush and run between his fingers and Discord tries to catch them but they slip onto the wet concrete and get carried away by the water into the sewer.
He needs to follow them. He needs to follow the ashes and find Hobbes and put him back together and . . .
He needs to be six again. He needs to be six and have no troubles in the world and be able to laugh and run and scream and cry and explore those missing edges of the map.
He needs Hobbes back.
He realizes, a little belatedly, that he isn't getting closer to the sewage, but further away. He looks down and sees an arm looped around his waist. Fluttershy is taking him away. Away from Hobbes.
"No!" He wrenches out of her grip and surges forward, then slips on the concrete and falls to the ground.
"Discord!" She shouts as she grabs him by the shoulder and pulls him up. "We have to go!"
"No," he sobs.
"We do!"
"No," he sobs again and then she grabs him and he falls into her chest and cries.
He cries for a long time.
-X-
Dr. Owens futilely presses against the handcuffs around his wrist again. By this point, he's cut long grooves around his wrists and there's crusted blood around the edges of the cuffs.
He jumps as the door to the van rattles and swings open. The teenager walks in. The girl – Fluttershy Derkins.
She inclines her head to him in greeting. He doesn't bother to return the gesture.
She sits down on the bench opposite from him. She doesn't say anything. Neither does he.
She starts tapping her foot on the metal of the van floor.
Dr. Owens waits patiently.
She finally sighs. "Your people set off the gas explosion."
"The infection?" he demands. Job first, no matter what.
"It's dead," she says shortly. "Will Byers should be clean."
"We'll want to verify that," Dr. Owens says quickly.
She gives him a strange look. "You should know something."
He tilts her head towards her. I'm listening .
"The old guy who came with us? His name is Jerry Thompson. A retired journalist."
Dr. Owens raises an eyebrow. So what?
"Last evening," Fluttershy says carefully, "he and Discord sent a package through the mail to one of his associates. It contains everything we've found out about your organization. About El."
"You're bluffing," Dr. Owens says immediately, though a cold, light drop of fear has just run down his spine.
Fluttershy smiles humorlessly at him. "Then call my bluff."
Dr. Owens does some mental calculus. On one hand, he could bury these people. Just kill them, incinerate the bodies, wipe his hands and be done with this whole business. On the other hand, if she's telling the truth . . .
He can imagine the media firestorm.
"I'm assuming you're going to offer your silence, in exchange for a deal."
She nods.
They can survive a deal. They can regroup, reorganize, and come back harder and stronger someday. They can't survive an investigation. They can't survive the fickle anger of the public.
He crosses his legs. "I'm listening."
-X-
Fluttershy Derkins walks out of that van with several guarantees:
Everyone involved in this debacle will be allowed to go home, no charges filed and no investigations.
Any medical problems, physical or otherwise, will be covered by federal dollars.
Eleven will be getting her own identity as soon as she decides where she wants to stay.
The Department of Energy is going to be getting the hell out of Hawkins.
In exchange:
Will Byers and anyone else who went into the Upside-Down will be checked by federal examiners.
Any incidents involving Subject Eleven and her powers will warrant federal intervention.
It's not perfect.
But, overall, Fluttershy thinks she's gotten a good deal.
-X-
Discord is sitting on the Byers' couch when Fluttershy gets back into the house. He doesn't look up when she comes in. She considers going to him, trying to talk to him.
He's staring across the room at nothing in particular.
She sits down next to him and lies back on the couch, letting out a small groan. It's been a long day.
Slowly, he unwinds. Slowly, he leans back.
They scoot closer together, trying to enjoy each other's warmth.
Fluttershy knows that this is just a short reprieve. Pretty soon, the rest of Hawkins people are going to be released and she's going to need to explain what happened. Mr. Thompson, she can already guess, won't be too happy she promised him to silence.
But right now, the sun is beginning to show hints of itself at the edge of skyline, streaks of light beaming through the trees. It's surprisingly peaceful.
At some point, they fall asleep.
-X-
Mike wakes up screaming from where he had fallen asleep in Will's room.
All the other boys are sleeping from where Fluttershy had dropped them the night before and he manages to cut off his scream.
He looks over and sees El staring at him with wide eyes.
Suddenly, Mike feels so incredibly angry at himself. It's over, isn't it? Why can't he move on?
Slowly, silently, El walks over next to him and sits down.
"Nightmare?"
Mike considers denying, then decides against it. "Yeah."
She looks at him with large, open eyes. "Talk about it?"
Mike swallows. He wants to say "no." He's been saying "no" to his parents, his friends, to everyone if they ever asked him wanted to talk about his nightmares.
"Yes," he decides.
El had been there. It had been about the night, last year at the school, when she had disappeared after she fought the Demogorgon. Except, in his nightmare, she doesn't disappear. She lies there on the ground, dead, and the Demogorgon laughs and carries her body off and Mike screams but it doesn't come back.
It's a fairly common nightmare.
"And I thought that now that you were here, they wouldn't happen anymore, but it happened again last night and . . . And I didn't want you to think I was weak or something."
El turns to him, something like shock in her eyes. Then, she shakes her head. She points at him. "Not weak," she says insistently. "Strong."
"I just . . ." Mike's hand start shaking. "I'm afraid of them. And I don't know what I'll do if they keep happening."
"Mike," El interrupts. "I'm here."
"I know you're here!" Mike exclaims. "And that's why I don't get why the nightmares are still happening!"
El shakes her head. "No. Here to listen."
"We're here, too, you know," a voice says behind him.
Mike looks back and sees Lucas and Dustin sitting up and looking at him.
"Idiot," Dustin mutters. "We're always going to be here."
Mike realizes something, at that moment. This – this thing he has with them – isn't conditional.
Maybe his nightmares won't stop tonight. Maybe they'll never stop. Maybe he can't cure them, and maybe he'll just have to learn to live with them for the rest of his life.
Or maybe they will stop, eventually.
And Mike realizes that he doesn't actually care all that much, because his friends will be here for him. No matter what. Just like they all were with Will.
"Friend," El says softly.
"Friend," Dustin and Lucas repeat.
Friend . The word hangs in the air, shimmering and ethereal and so fragile that Mike is afraid to say anything for fear of disturbing it.
Then Dustin cracks up. "Could we sound anything more like a cult right now?"
They're still laughing when everyone else comes home.
-X-
Will has to sit through six hours of examination before the lab declares that he's clean.
(Joyce spent the whole time pacing the waiting room – apparently government torture chambers have honest-to-God waiting rooms – and asking Fluttershy, "Are you sure this doctor is reliable?" Fluttershy had pleaded the Fifth.)
El is another matter.
Eight different doctors, scientists, orderlies, and lawyers sit in front of Joyce, Hopper, Discord, and Fluttershy and try to convince them to let them take "Subject Eleven" back.
They talk about the danger of her mental instability. ("And whose fault is that?")
They talk about her importance in ensuring national security. ("She's a girl, not a weapon!")
The last one even has the balls to imply that Joyce would be a poor mother figure for El.
They give up after the reaction to that one.
As it turns out, however, they needn't have worried about that. Hopper is going to be moving in Joyce. (According to him, in his best Lonnie impression, "The boys need some proper masculine influence." Joyce is too busy laughing to slap him.)
As they're getting ready to leave, El grabs Fluttershy by the sleeve and pulls her down to whisper something into her ear.
-X-
The cell is exactly the same as she had left it.
There's the tiny bed – no , she thinks, cot , and she's proud of the extent of her vocabulary – she slept in for over a decade. There's the drawing of herself and Papa, made with the best artistry she could muster at that age. (She feels sick when she sees that now.)
And there, on the bed, is a stuffed lion.
"Hobbes?" she whispers hopefully.
The lion obstinately remains a stuffed lion.
She's not old enough – not yet, at least – to feel silly about wishing a lion to life.
She closes her eyes, then opens them again. It's still a stuffed lion.
She closes her eyes again, but this time she lets her need overwhelm her. She recalls the girl who had once lived here, someone who had been so incredibly desperate for any hint of friendship. She feels the hope and desire and want float in her and bubble and boil and rise to the surface.
When she opens her eyes again, Hobbes is sitting on the edge of the cot, marveling at his new pelt. "You know," he says with a grin, "I could get used to this new color."
-X-
Everyone does bit of a double-take when they see El walk out of the elevator with a stuffed lion.
"Well, you see," one of the doctors hopefully starts, "Eleven was never deprived as a child. She had as many amenities as she –"
"Don't even start," Joyce snaps and walks out before he can finish his sentence.
As they leave the entrance for the last time, Joyce stops to take in the sight. Steel doors and clinical, white walls. An ID required for every entrance. Bustling people all wearing white, fading into the walls. And now almost empty.
Joyce turns and feels a sense of relief as she steps outside. There's a light breeze that's just a little too cold and the sun is just a bit too bright and there's bird poop on the sidewalk, but those little accidents and imperfections are how Joyce knows that this is all real .
"So, El," she says as she bends over to get a better look at the doll clutched in her hands, "what's that?"
"Who," El corrects. "Name is Hobbes."
A few feet behind them, Discord looks up in surprise.
-X-
Fluttershy finds Discord playing with a cigarette between his fingers behind the Byers home. The parents came to pick up their kids and the Byers and Hopper have all gone to the school to see what can be done about El's education.
Mr. Thompson has been irritably avoiding Fluttershy since she told him about the deal, which she supposes is only fair. Right now, he's gone for a drive. Apparently, his doctor had recommended long drives in the countryside to deal with stress.
That leaves the two of them.
"I thought you stopped smoking," she calls out.
Discord starts at her voice, then tosses the cigarette out into the grass in the backyard.
"And now you're littering," she observes.
"I only stopped because El was with us. Didn't want to smoke in front of a kid."
"And now?"
"Now I just don't feel like it."
"That's good. Taking charge of your own health."
"Shut up."
Fluttershy waits patiently. Discord has never really been able to keep his feeling under wraps around her, even if that manifests in snowballs.
"Do you think El actually saw Hobbes when she looked at that lion?"
"Well, I don't think Hobbes would be happy as a lion," Fluttershy says diplomatically.
"I'd be happy if I knew he was alive," Discord growls.
"You don't control that, Discord," Fluttershy says mildly.
"Don't I?" he mutters darkly.
"You don't. You can play at being God with your snowmen and your dinosaurs and your time machines and Transmorgifiers, but you can't bring him back."
Discord nods slowly at that.
"It's just . . ." he starts with a sigh. "It's just that the Media god said that people like her and Hobbes were made by us believing in them. Maybe if I wanted Hobbes back more, then he would be alive."
"I don't think I works like that," Fluttershy says gently.
He looks up angrily at her. "And how the hell would you know?"
"Well," Fluttershy snaps, "because maybe you can't just bring people back to life by wishing for them! Could you possibly want Hobbes back more, Discord? Maybe there are limits to how much our wishes can do, and maybe that's all there is to it!"
Discord whimpers, as if Fluttershy has wounded him. "I know."
Fluttershy sighs. "You know, I used to blame myself for my mom's death."
Discord grunts in reply.
For a few minutes, the wind whistles quietly through the trees around them.
"I just feel like," Discord says, and Fluttershy can see how hard he tries to get those words out. "I just feel as though a part of me just died."
"Well, it did. The part of you that belonged to Hobbes died with him."
Discord lets out a breath. "Did you ever talk to you dad about this?"
"Once," Fluttershy replies. "I asked him if I was mad because I was alive and mom wasn't. He said that a part of him was. He said that a part of him had died when the doctor told him the news and he said that the hole that left in him never really got better. He said it still hurt sometimes."
Discord stares out into the trees, but Fluttershy knows that he's listening.
"He said that, no matter what, he just had to keep living with that hole in him, and over time, it started to hurt less. I asked if that was the best way to live after someone died. He said 'no'."
Discord looks up at her curiously, a wordless question in his eyes.
"He said, 'That's the only way to live after someone has died. Otherwise, you just die with them, one way or the other.'"
Discord turns his head back to the trees.
"You think I'm not sad that Hobbes died, too?" Fluttershy asks softly. "But he wouldn't want us to mope around about him. He would have wanted us to live."
For a second, she wonders if Discord heard her. Then, he turns back to her.
"Then that's what we'll do," he says. "Live."
Fluttershy holds out a hand. "Together."
Discord takes it.
"Together."
THE END
