"And she says, "Really?" Like it's such a chore to say "I love you". Then Bertie called me back to the game. She didn't stop me. Nothing." Steve nearly worked himself to hysterics regaling his friend with his latest tiff. Nancy had approached him at basketball practice. In between school and Billy's constant disruptions, he'd barely found the time to process it all. After school, he retreated to his junkyard paradise, population: one. Until he arrives and makes it two.

"Have you spoken since?" Filly picks absently at a thread on her knee. Steve's head is nestled on her crossed legs. The metal hood of his BMW is cool on the flesh of her left hand, propped up to look at the teen in her lap.

"No. She and Jonathan skipped the rest of the day together." Steve's black sunglasses hide his eyes, but Filly knows he's looking at her. His head hasn't moved in twenty minutes. "And that's the other thing. This new guy, Billy, thinks he's a bad dude. He's a real son of a bitch. Always giving me shit. He wants to... knock me down a peg I guess."

"That sounds... difficult. How do you know this... "Billy" is being truthful?" Her shaggy, obsidian hair blocks out the sun when she leans over him. "Should you not speak with her candidly?"

She isn't trying to confuse him as she often does. She tries to be more mindful of her speech, taking on as much as she can of the dialect around her these days, but some things never go away.

"Candidly?"

"In an honest and straightforward way."

He likes that she doesn't poke fun at him. Doesn't make him feel stupid for not knowing something. Most would. Nancy doesn't, but she's one of the few. He can't look at her right now, though. The girl had pulled out his heart, for Christ's sake. "No. I'm angry. I feel... I don't know, betrayed?"

"You should. You can't know how she feels otherwise."


She can't believe she let him convince her to do this. She had told him to talk with Nancy, but she hadn't expected to be going along.

She'd ridden in this seat only once before. Steve is on her left and the town flies by on her right. A gray hoodie from his backseat is wrapped firmly around her. She only hopes the hood conceals her face well enough.

"Tell me again why I must be here?" It worries her to leave her yard, to be seen by stangers. Possible threats.

"You're my shoulder to cry on. You know, in case things go south."

"Things will not go south." She relents, though, holding onto the fresh bundle of roses gently. That is until her curious mind spots new stimuli. "What is Reagan 84 Bush?"

"It's just a presidential campaign. And it's Reagan Bush 84," he corrects, switching off the engine once he's parked. "Now you wait here. I'll be back in a moment to tell you how it went."

"Okay," she replies kindly, thrusting out the bouquet for him to take. "You will do amazingly, Steve."

"Thanks, Fil."

She smiles at him as he closes the door, a big Before him is a hard road with many possible endings. He begins his path to the Wheeler's door and runs a hand along his hair, starting at his temples and smoothing it back. He steels himself, wishing he were as convinced as the girl in his car.

She watches him intently, following his form as it goes. Acting as naturally as a human experiment can, Filly picks at her fingernails and tries to stay calm. They've been cut short with a pair of safety scissors, courtesy of Lucas's school supplies. Their length can be irritating when she's trying to carve spears and the like, snapping off and lessening their durability. She should find a good rock to blunt their sharps and file away the parts that snag on her fabrics.

Nancy had been kind enough to give her the pick of the litter when it came to what her mother had made her discard. It was an annual obligation, as she put it, that their family was made to adhere to. As a young woman herself, she understood Nancy's need for an expansive wardrobe. Listening to Nancy complain about "mom's demands" had been a small price to pay for clothes that fit, but after it, she understood why the demand was made. The abundance of cloth was more than Filly had imagined.

Long and smooth, the dark denim compliments her fair skin. The disparity between shades is most distinctive where it hangs around her calves. At first, swallowed by the anticipation of choice, she almost hadn't found the will to pick out a few articles from Nancy's sacrificial selection. Steve had made his own gift a non-issue, bestowing upon her whatever he thought was appropriate. It was easier to accept what was given than to choose from it.

"Easy peasy," she murmurs to herself, toying with the phrase Bob had uttered to her. She couldn't be more pleased with his attitude. However she had expected him to act, he had surprised her with his stubborn hold on pep and positivity.

Will was attached, to say the least. She'd heard many tales spill from his lips involving Bob Newby, Superhero. In times of distress, he listens and shares. In times of anger, he validates and empathizes. Knowing him now, Filly shares Will's gratitude for the man, not only for his cheerful presence but the smile he put on Will's face. There is something that knots the two males together, something tentative and hopeful. Filly knows it only by name and definition.

She knows very little about love, but it is something she remembers, just beyond the din of the lab. Yesterday, she'd heard it named again, completely unlike the last time she recalls hearing it.

"Get down!"

"I love you, sweetie."

She hadn't been able to ask him, blubbering on her shoulder as he was. Steve's emotion was understandable and likely even justified, but his distress wouldn't be eased by her curious requests for explanations or definitions. It had been time to listen. She regrets it just a little. Filly despises being left in the dark, but she choked it down when the situation called for it.

She would like to know it by more than print on paper. But it's too late for her. Her place in the world no longer permits it, she thinks, carrying with her the smell of the lab, passing its poignant aroma on to whomever she mingles with. She carries a dangerous curse disguised in spotless lab coats and fitted black suits.

"Doesn't matter." She hears the voice first, noticing the disturbance in the car after it hits her ears. "We have bigger problems than your love life. Do you still have that bat?"

"Bat? What bat?" On the plateau of the lawn, Steve's words are muffled by metal and glass. His hands swing out in a low-effort shrug.

Exasperated, Dustin twirls the rose bouquet and says, "The one with the nails."

"Why?"

"I'll explain it on the way."

"Now?"

"Now!" Dustin shuts the door with finality, settling himself in the backseat with a huff. As Steve sprints to the driver's seat, she twists her shoulders to look at the curly-haired boy.

"Dustin?" she tries, puzzled by his sudden appearance.

"Where were you, Filly?" She's taken aback by his yell, jerking her hand to her chest. His outburst is explosive and quick, his fists coming down on the upholstery on either side of him. "I radioed you all morning! Were you too busy making eyes at Steve to hear the goddamn comms?"

"I-"

"You said you would be at the junkyard if we needed you. I waited there for an hour!"

The door snaps open and the driver slides into his seat with a raised brow. "Uh, what's going on?"

"I'm sor-"

But she's interrupted again, the middle-schooler unable to contain his boiling ire.

"You couldn't leave a note or something!? I was out here looking for you! Anyone!"

His disappointment in her tears at her weaknesses, cuts at her beating heart, stills her breath as if freezing her lungs.

I let him down. It's a punch in the gut to put it so blatantly, even in her head.

Inadequate. Subpar. Substandard. Unsatisfactory. Feckless. Meager. Inferior. Lesser. Lacking. Unqualified. Unreliable. Undependable.

The guilt distills into drops of saline, tears sneaking from between her fluttering lashes.

"Dustin!" Steve's baritone severs the tense air as he scowls at Dustin. Their eyes lock, the stormy blue of the radiant ocean thrashing against the brown earth of the shoreline, as rich as the fertile soil. Filly can't keep her eyes up, opting to stare down at her toes. "What is your problem?"

"I had serious emergency, a dangerous one! And no one answered me! Not Will! Not Lucas! Not Mike!" His billed cap wavers when he shakes his head, his golden curls springing. "Not even you!"

"Jesus Christ, Dustin. Let her defend herself." Fingertips glance off her sleeve. A warm palm lays on the cap of her shoulder, tracing soft circles along the freckles she knows are under her hooded jacket.

Her ratty canvas satchel lies haphazardly between her hand-me-down Converse shoes. She extracts the Supercomm from inside, passing it shakily over her shoulder to her young friend.

Closing her eyes, she puts her words together in her mind to steel her nerve. She will not get it out otherwise. "I would have if I had heard you. I'm... sorry for my oversight, but it was with me the whole time." Sniffling quietly and willing her tears to dry, she adds, "Please, forgive me."

It's silent except for the clicking and tapping coming from the device in his hands.

Dustin shrinks inwards when his blue orbs meet hers, his remorse marked on his profile. "The batteries are dead," he says numbly.

She doesn't have to ask for him to know she doesn't understand. The confusion plastered on her face is enough.


After an awkward apology, Dustin fully informed them of his situation. "Dart", he calls it, short for "D'artagnan". Steve was highly suspicious of his intent, but the boy assured them of his honesty and his mental capacity.

In the beginning, he'd only thought of the creature as a mystery, some unknown taxonomy of fauna that happened to share his love for nougat. But as time went on, Dart grew larger, outgrowing his skin and even developing new limbs, becoming wilder as he grew. Eventually, Dart's hunger could no longer be satiated with mere candy. Dustin learned this the hard way by stumbling upon his new pet devouring his old one. Dart had become a verifiable threat when he ate Dustin's cat.

There was silence in the aftermath of his speech. Filly trusted Dustin. The concept of him lying about something so crucial hadn't even entered her thoughts and she said as much. Being the only skeptic of the two, Steve begrudgingly accepted him at his word for the time being.

Filly couldn't help the theories pinging around in her head in the absence of chatter. She was loath to admit it, but she fears it. She'll work herself into a tizzy imagining its appearance, shaken already by the brief licks of the Demogorgon's maw and talons flickering in her mind's eye when she ruminates too intensely on the subject. It's too similar to the fight from last year, the one that was nearly her last.

In place of the coming conflict, she compels herself to listen to the whispers of a song filtering through the speakers.

It's not like anything Filly has heard in the past. Her parents would play music in the car often enough that it stuck with her, but nothing like this. They usually played soft, rolling tunes without lyrics. That's what she remembers most clearly. Hours of car rides, forced to tolerate the neverending bore. Composers like Mozart, Beethoven, Tchaikovsky, and Schubert filled the family vehicle at almost all times. Both of her parents were quite fond of classical music, but they had sometimes turned on the radio. The news would play until they tuned it to another channel. There was only one other, but she couldn't recall the name of it nor the words in the songs. There was something calming about their enjoyment of them, something hopeful that churns her heart. Her mother favored the humble and low tones of hymnal music while her father craved the belting voices of the more exuberant gospels.

Although it was turned down low, she could hear it just enough to focus on the sound. A male's bright tenor intoned over the instruments, too quiet for her to catch anything but the melody. The pounding drums struck her as shockingly pleasing, their rhythm intriguing her. The poignant chords of the guitar strummed in her heart. It made her jerk physically. She'd thought that music was only what she knew. Predictable. Boring.

But it wasn't. Instruments could play rough, distinctive music. Vocal cords can implant emotion into the listener, injecting a notion right into their bloodstream.

"That looks familiar," Filly remarks, peering into the open trunk of the BMW. Her hand snatches the keys from the air without her permission, reacting on instinct. She hadn't even seen Steve toss them to her. The same bat used once to save her from certain death was back in the teen's hands.

The brunette is stiff, his back straight as a rod. He meets the eyes of his two companions and shuts the boot of the car. He prompts Dustin with a raised eyebrow and the middle-schooler turns on the spot, leading the teens around his house.

The backyard is bereft of grass, the ground cover swamping it with the shades of the fallen leaves. The dirt mixes with the decomposing matter, becoming a thick mat of dead foliage and muck. Red parts the dull sea of warm gray. Set into the ground at a faint incline, the faded metal of the double doors seems out of place to Filly. Dustin shuffles toward them but lets Steve go ahead of him.

Flashlight in hand and bat hanging low, Steve slopes up to the passageway. Filly follows closely, angling herself between Dustin and the cellar entrance when they come to a halt before the doors. A chain wraps around both handles, secured in place by a dense padlock. He pauses, leaning over the underground entrance in silence for a few beats. "I don't hear shit," he says, but watches the doors like a hawk, ready to react to whatever may lie within. "You see anything? Is there some kind of monster mash going on under our feet?"

"I'm not sure what that means, Steve." But she still reaches inside and ignites her ability, peering through the metal and earth below. Through thick concrete and sturdy steel, she sees the barren room. There are no furnishings to speak of. Only the most practical line of shelves butts up against the wall, an impressive amount of odds and ends filling its surfaces. Piles of miscellaneous objects clutter the space, proving impossible for her to look inside. Each bit of metal flares to life in her sight, their figures bright against the dim, gradient blues of all organic or porous matter. "I can't... find it. It's a possibility. Are we certain that Dart has a skeletal structure?"

Steve's taken aback, his head tilting at her in befuddlement. "Wait, what do you mean? You're not sure?"

Dustin raises his brows, emphatically pronouncing, "He's in there." Steve brushes it off, scanning Filly's visage for any hint of an answer.

"My sight isn't... It's not a great boon. I suppose you truly could compare it to an X-Ray." The dirt gives way for her toes to push it around, making a shallow dent in the soil. "There are materials I can see and there are some that I cannot, like flesh or wood. It's all blue to me except metal and bone." She can't raise her eyes, training them on her feet that shift the dirt and leave crosshatched patterns in their wake. "I'm not as powerful as I may seem."

Dustin and Steve are the two people she's become closest with, Hopper and Will trailing them by a thin margin. She doesn't want either of them to think poorly of her. She doesn't want to disappoint them, the incident from this afternoon weighing heavily on her mind, though she forgives the boy for jumping the gun. She's especially worried about Steve's reaction for some reason, one that escapes her whenever she tries to pin it down, some fluttering thing that flies in her stomach and tightens her chest at times. Faculty and subject alike had spent years ridiculing her and worse. She'd been spit at, stomped on, disparaged by her peers, and faced many cruel and unusual punishments in Hawkins lab. She has lived through all of it and yet she's still pained by the thought of Steve sneering down his straight nose at her, his sleepy eyes gazing at her like she's something obsolete.

"Guess we'll just do this the old-fashioned way then." Steve's tone brings her head back up as he taps the tip of his weapon on the metal. No response comes from the cellar. His lack of concern shocks her but it also soothes her fears. He makes it seem like a trivial matter. As though, possibly, her ability to perform and her worth are unrelated. As though one doesn't impact the other. He lets a moment pass by before knocking again with intent. The result is the same. Rounding on the boy who stands behind her shoulder, Steve shines his light in Dustin's face. "All right, listen, kid. I swear, if this is some sort of Halloween prank, you're dead. All right?"

Before she can think better of it, Filly interjects, "What's a prank?"

"It doesn't matter, because it's not." Dustin blinks irritatedly, pointing his eyes up and away from the light, and insists, "It's not a prank. Get it out of my face."

Relenting, Steve shines it elsewhere. He tips his head at the chained doors. "You got a key for this thing?"

Dustin retreats to his home. The key is in his kitchen, purposefully placed so as to not be misplaced, leaving Steve and Filly to watch for disturbances. In the time it takes for him to return, Steve explained the art of pranking and gives her one such example. He spins a short story for her, one of him replacing the cream center of all the sandwich cookies he'd brought to school with toothpaste. He makes a caveat for her benefit to inform her of what exactly an Oreo is.

"Everyone started spitting them out and one guy even threw up. But this girl, Tammy Thompson, she's going crazy for them. She goes, "Where did you find these Oreos? They are so good" and packs in another."

Brash and humorous is how he seems in the story to her. His squeaky imitation of his classmate strikes a giggle from her throat. Covering her mouth with her hand, she says, "How cruel of you. Here I was, thinking you to be a good and noble young man."

"Whoa. Was that- Did you just make a joke?" Stars shine down on her, not from the sky but from Steve's brown eyes that look almost black in the dark night. He's openly gawking at her, so shocked at her unprecedented humor that laughing honestly did slip his mind. "I'm proud of you, Fil." He slips an arm around her shoulder, grinning down at her with a closeness she doesn't recognize. Goosebumps break across the nape of her neck and trail down her arms. Her tongue feels big or maybe it just feels heavy, she isn't sure. The atmosphere is charged, some incorporeal force zapping her with a strange tingling feeling in her gut.

"Hey! Focus, guys." Dustin's voice splits them, the teens jumping away from the contact at the sound. "Here."

The keys pass from person to person and Steve unlocks it swiftly, the chain tinking against the handles when it drips into a steel puddle on the ground. When he opens it, Filly expects the beast to be at the door, lunging at them viciously and ripping her boys to shreds. She imagines it would be slimy and lean like the Demogorgon that came before it. Its gullet looks like a carnivorous lily when its jaw separates. She knows if that came to pass, she would be failing them again. Seeing feels like the only useful thing about her sometimes, and she can't even do it adeptly. The doors creak open one at a time. What lies beyond them is a complete absence of noise and not a soul in sight.

Steve's on one knee before the open passage. Dustin and Filly stare over his shoulder, taking their places at his back. He slips the light from Dustin's grip, demanding, "Let me see that." Illuminating the stairwell down to its concrete foundation, there's only silence to greet them.

"He must be further down there," Dustin supplies faintly. "I'll stay up here in case he tries to escape." It earns him a sigh and a stink eye from Steve, but Filly knows he'd rather have Dustin stay anyway. He's safer up here.

"I'll accompany you," she decides, knowing her sight would be better used in the dark recess ahead, at least until they find a bigger light source. That and she would be able to watch Steve's back. If it were up to Filly, she'd make sure he and Dustin remained unharmed for eternity.

He stares at her dumbly before standing abruptly. "No, no way. Stay with Dustin," he orders, jabbing a finger at the curly-haired kid.

She stiffens at his swift refusal. Does he really think her so helpless? "If I was asking for permission, you would know." There is a long list of things she savors about her escape from Brenner. The air, the scenery, the food, and her sleep were all markedly improved, but other factors rise above. The chance to be her own master was nominal among them. It drives her to rekindle her sight and creep down the stone steps as quietly as a mouse. "I can choose to go or not go wherever I please."

The steps are difficult to traverse without her eyes trained down on them, so she trails her hand along the wall to help guide her steps. The long room is a real mess, with bits and bobbles littering the cement floor at random intervals. Nothing she could see was animated. A tire iron hangs on the hook of a workbench. Paint cans are stacked up and tightly packed onto one unit of shelving. One pile houses a few different screwdrivers and saws, as well as some things that she just can't place. She thinks there must be nothing to find down here.

She's wrong.


Fuck.

Steve had fucked up. He couldn't have imagined such a terse reaction from Filly before he'd seen it. Her normally bright eyes had turned to ice, drilling holes into him while her brows lowered minutely. Her lips thin into a harsh line, dragging her usually tender smile down below the surface. It was enough that Steve had almost tasted her simmering rage.

She'd given him a lot of grace in the past, be it forgiving him transgressions of his own or those close to him. Just this afternoon he'd seen Filly near hysterical when Dustin yelled at her and yet she forgave him instantaneously. This one is different. He's never seen her jaw tense or heard her tone go cold. It was the kind of anger that was so hot, it's cold. It's chilling enough that he thinks she could freeze over Lover's Lake with nothing but a stern look. Despite all that, he jerks upright and starts to move when she disappears, her figure melding into the shadows. He couldn't even hear her footsteps. His body starts the descent of its own accord. He points the light at his feet, watching his step while trying to catch up to her.

They'd been doing so well. She liked hanging out with him, chatting with him while they watched the night sky on the hood of his car. She held him while he cried, something he hadn't done since his dad's affair. His mom started following him everywhere and she was gone as much as he was, but before that she'd been like a real mother to him. The last time he cried into her blouse, he was eight years old. He'd had a nightmare, something about a monster that pretended to be his friend and then scared him. He'd cried his little heart out on her sleeve and then the next time he'd needed her, she was in Egypt with his dad. The time after that, they were in Japan. After that, Finland.

He stopped crying after a while. His underdeveloped mind had concluded that he pushed her away with it and that she'd come back if he stopped doing it. Nothing changed, nothing had ever changed. Nowadays, there were only a few weeks a year that he sees them. They feel like strangers.

Filly's support was the kind he'd been craving. He'd never have that again now. There's always a way for Steve Harrington to make things worse with his giant mouth. He'd done it so many times with Nancy. He just prays he hadn't dashed his own hopes for a long and fruitful friendship with the strangest person he'd ever met. "Fil?" he whispers, but there's no answer. The light swinging from the ceiling does bolster his courage a bit. He turns it on and he can see her. Filly stands with her back to Steve, her arms at her sides while her head slowly pans her surroundings. Her pupils are diminutive again and her temples pulse at the beat of her heart. She's using her powers again, looking for Dart in the wreck that is Dustin's cellar.

"Hey." He's closer now, his voice loud enough to turn her around. She keeps looking at him, through him, like she'd rather not look at his face and it stings. "Filly, please. I-I didn't think. I was just... I'm sorry, really. I thought..."

She speaks before he can continue, but there's no longer that ripple of distaste in her melodic voice. Her eyes have gone back to their clear blue, pupils dilating to their proper size. "I know. You want everyone to be safe. I did..." She sucks in a deep breath, shifting slightly. "I may have overreacted. I wasn't allowed to make my own decisions under Brenner's thumb. We were made to obey our keepers." She spits the word out like a curse. "I-In the future, maybe... maybe just ask?"

"Yeah." He nods his head. Her request is simple enough that it's easy for him to agree. "Yes, I can do that. No hard feelings?"

"None," she confirms, returning to the task before them. Her eyes narrow at the space between their feet. "Steve..."

Something like skin sits in the middle of the room, slimy and translucent. Using his bat to lift it up, he and Filly examine what they've found. Clear sludge actively drips down from it, pooling on the cold floor below. Over her shoulder, Steve can see a deep hole with no obvious end drilled into the side of the cellar. He tilts his head to it, saying, "Look."

"Steve? Filly?" Dustin calls down the stairs, waiting for them in his place above. "What's going on down there?"

Filly goes to investigate the gap in the wall while Steve moves back to the stairway, telling Dustin shortly, "Get down here." He holds up his weapon, showing Dustin one of two things that necessitate his presence.

"Oh, shit," the boy says, gazing upon the oozing mess of skin on the bat. "Oh, shit!" he says again, finding Filly staring down a deep tunnel in his cellar wall. It's the only explanation for Dart's disappearance. If he can dig through concrete, maybe imprisonment isn't logical after all.

They'd just have to kill him.


A/N: To Noel23 who reviewed chapter 8, you're welcome! I also haven't read it in several years, so I figured it would be smart to give a little explanation for people that are in the same boat, as well as those who've never read the book. I used the cliffnotes version for most of it so far, but I really want to get myself a copy soon. As you say, there will be a lot of awkward moments where Filly doesn't understand romantic inclinations and the like, but I can't give away too much. You'll have to see for yourself when those chapters come out. I can't wait to share them with you!