A/N: Content Warnings: Fear, Language, Disturbing Content, Death.

He found himself back in Byers' house again. It seemed as though something wanted him here, as this was the same place he had started the night, but he wouldn't call it fate.

He had developed two working theories about why he kept appearing with certain people based on the pattern he had noticed. One was that his subconscious ruled where he traveled in his sleep. Of course, the implication here would be that his subconscious felt that he had something of value to be gained from the people connected to Will Byers. The second was that his location was dictated entirely by the last thought that crossed his mind before he drifted into slumber. Being as how he lived a very reclusive life, that all but guaranteed that once he had seen the boy get taken, he would keep appearing around people related to the mystery.

Either way he as being drawn repeatedly to the Byers family for a reason. His gaze shifted away from them and over to the three men that had joined them.

"This the wall she was talking about, Chief?" The darker skinned Officer asked as he pointed his flashlight toward where the monster had previously burst through.

The Chief had a troubled face, indicating he couldn't see what she had and that the evidence from the invasion was gone. After a moment the man spoke to the woman, who was just staring with a broken expression at the same stretch of wall. The man began to explain what he had discovered shortly before he and his fellow officer's had arrived. But he knew Ms. Byers wasn't hearing the man. The matriarch was lost in her own head.

"A trooper found something in the uh, water that's at the quarry. Our working theory right now is that Will...crashed his bike, uh...made his way over the quarry and, uh...accidentally fell in. The earth must have given way." The Chief paused, staring at the woman's face with sympathetic eyes. "Joyce? Joyce? Do you understand what I'm saying?"

That wasn't even remotely close to what had happened to Will. He watched Joyce's face pass through a flurry of expressions, stopping on indignation. She knew it wasn't the truth either.

"No," Joyce finally said, voice trembling. "Whoever you found...is not my boy. It's not Will."

"Joyce." The Chief reached for her.

"No, you don't understand. I talked to him...a half hour ago." He and the man followed her with their eyes as she walked away from the couch, stopping and pointing down near the wall. "He was...He was here." Joyce opened the hidden compartment and pulled out a wad of Christmas lights. "He was… he was talking with these."

"Talking?" The Chief asked, clearly not believing her. And why would he? To most normal people the idea of a missing child communicating from the beyond using decorative ornamentation was far-fetched at best.

"Uh-huh. One blink for yes, two for no. And…and uh...and then I made this." Joyce gestured weakly at the alphabet painted on her living room wall in black paint. "So he could talk to me. 'Cause he was hiding...from that...that thing."

He wondered what it must feel like for her to know she was telling the truth while everyone around her thought she was on the verge of psychosis. Even the expression on Jonathan's face revealed that he didn't have any more trust in her than the officers did.

"The thing that came out of the wall? The thing that chased you?" He recognized the tone in the Chief's voice, the tone one had when talking to a frightened child.

Many times he had that tone turned his way in his own youth.

"Yeah. Yeah," Joyce replied with a node.

"Mom, come on, please." Jonathan had come to stand beside the Chief, looking at his mother in with a horrified expression. The teen moved forward to grab his mother's arms. "You've gotta stop this."

"No, maybe he's...it's after him! He's in danger!" Joyce desperately reached for the Chief's wrists. "We have to find him! We-"

"What exactly was this thing?" The Chief asked, tone still present. "It was some kind of animal, you said?" He could tell the man was trying to explain away what she had told him, like there was some way for him to show her that it wasn't real.

But it was.

And he had a sneaking suspicion that they would learn that in due time. Whatever that creature was, wherever it came from… it was as deeply connected to this family as he now found himself.

"Uh, no it was...it was almost… human, but it wasn't." Joyce's arms flailed wildly. "It...it had these long arms and...it didn't have a face." If only the woman had his drawings to show them. Not that the men would believe them any more than they already didn't believe her. Especially Jonathan, who had turned and walked away, apparently having heard enough.

The Chief held out his arms, as if to sooth her. "It didn't have a face?" He even adjusted his body language for her as if she was a scared child. "Joyce."

He found this whole thing rather patronizing, actually. But the men were starting to wear Joyce down, and she began to withdraw into herself. "It didn't have a face," the woman whispered.

"Listen to me," the larger man sat her down and kneel before her, peering up into her petrified features. "After Sarah...I saw her, too. And I heard her. I didn't know what was real. And then I figured out that it was in my mind. And I had to pack all that away." Images of the blonde girl he had seen in the man's mind again flashed through his head, most likely the one in question. Joyce's eyes closed as the man continued to whisper. "Otherwise, I was gonna fall down a hole...that I couldn't get out of."

When he had first met the man… when he had sat in that truck with him, he could see that he was on the verge of breaking. And when he scanned the Chief's memory for an indication of how children were supposed to behave and act in normalized society, he had seen flashes of the man's late daughter. But he hadn't cared enough to connect two and two together.

It explained much. The man's clear codepence on alcohol, his guarded exterior, and his belief that the woman was going through the same process he had been.

"No you're...you're talking about grief." He had to admire the woman's resolve. It was then that he decided that Joyce might have been the most favorable of the people he had observed. "This is different."

"I'm just saying that you-"

"No, I know what you're saying Hop. I swear to you, I know what I saw. And I'm not crazy."

Hop? That was a rather silly name. "I'm not saying that you're crazy," Hop replied. Semantics,he was definitely implying she was insane.

"No,.. You are. And I understand, but...God, I...I need you to believe me. Please," Joyce begged. "Please."

"Listen...I think you should go to the morgue tomorrow and see him for yourself. It'll give you the answers that you need. But tonight…" Hop trailed off.

"Oh, God."

There was an emotion to which he could identify. Loneliness. He knew fear, but the only other emotion that had never been foreign to him was loneliness. Emptiness. It tasted like stale bread. Smelled of dust.

Joyce Byers, alone even in a crowded room.

"...I want you to try to get some sleep, if you can," Hop finished.

The woman's body slouched over, a clear indication that she was giving up on convincing them she was telling the truth. He saw Hop walk away, and Joyce stepped back toward where the monster had come through.

A loud sniffle pulled him away from her. He walked a little bit in the direction it had come, feet sloshing as he moved, until he noticed Jonathan laying in his bed against his pillows. The boy was wearing headphones over his ears, playing an audio he could not identify while crying and hugging himself. He imagined the older brother was trying to cope with what he believed was the death of his younger sibling.

Sometimes he experienced a form of camaraderie with Others. Times like these. He understood more than most how it felt to be alone. Moving toward the boy, he sat down on Jonathan's bed next and watched with a blank face as the older brother's world seemingly shattered. Out of the corner of his eye he observed Joyce standing there with a raised hand, looking like she wanted to interrupt her son's grieving.

Instead her face shifted, and he decided to follow her as she turned and marched to the same shed he had witnessed Will get taken from. Joyce disappeared momentarily only to stomp back out carrying an ax. She stormed into the house and sat on her couch, gripping the ax tightly with a murderous look in her eye.

He wandered off until he was alone again before sitting down and wrapping his knees up with his arms. There wasn't anything left for him here.

Not on this night.

On the sofa in the basement of his home, Mike sifted through crayon drawings of dragons, mythical creatures, and other characters Will had created for their campaigns. He used to be slightly jealous that he didn't have the same skill, but now he would have given anything to ask Will to draw another picture. He didn't know what a life without Will would be like. He didn't want to know. Static from the radio that Eleven sat fiddling with in her den interrupted his thoughts.

"Can you please stop that?" Mike asked. She switched the radio off, but as he went back to the drawings she turned it back on and the static continued.

It was bad enough that she had lied to him, but now she wouldn't even let him grieve.

"Are you deaf? I thought we were friends, you know? But friends tell each other the truth." Mike leaned toward her and slapped his hand on the couch. "And they definitely don't lie to each other. You made me think Will was okay, that he was still out there, but he wasn't. He wasn't!"

Eleven stared at him blankly, seemingly unphased by his outburst. He clenched his jaw, looked back down at his late friend's artwork, and began to regret ever finding her.

"Maybe you thought you were helping, but you weren't." Mike turned another glare on the girl. "You hurt me. Do you understand? What you did sucks. Lucas was right about you. All along."

Eleven now looked back at him with an expression of sadness. Not that she had anything to be sad about in his opinion. His best friend was the one who's body had just been fished from the quarry. His best friend was the one who's life had been stolen from him. He felt his eyes begin to sting and he blinked rapidly. Eleven returned her concentration to the radio, quickly switching between channels once more.

Mike looked down at the sketch that Will had recently brought over. It was a picture of their campaign characters standing as a united front. He ran his finger over the drawing of himself and decided that this one was his favorite. A memento to the bond that he and Will have… had.

The static over in the small den he had helped create for Eleven grew louder before transforming into the sound of a soft voice singing.

"So come on and let me know."

Mike slowly ripped his focus away from the drawing and looked at Eleven. The girl was clutching the radio tightly, returning his gaze with an intense look of her own and bleeding from her left nostril.

"Should I stay or should I go?" He knew that voice..."Should I stay or should I go now?"

Mike wanted to cry. He threw the drawings aside and ran over to kneel in front of Eleven, reaching out to take the radio from her hands.

"If I go there will be trouble, if I stay it will be double."

That was definitely Will's voice. Will was okay. He was actually okay.

Bringing the Supercomm to his mouth, Mike desperately yelled into it, "Will, is that you? It's Mike! Do you copy? Over." He released the button, heart dropping when he heard nothing but crackling static. He pressed the button once more. "Will, are you there? Will!"

Again, nothing but static answered. He peered back at Eleven and her bleeding nose. She closed her eyes, shaking her head so softly that he barely noticed. He lowered the radio, knowing he wouldn't get another response.

"Was that...was it…?" Mike asked.

Eleven smiled faintly at him and nodded. "Will."

He let himself cry this time.

Part Four: The Body

Jonathan opened his eyes and stared at the ceiling above his head. For a second, a blissfully brief second, he forgot the night's events were real. But no sooner than the second had passed did it hit him. It hadn't been a dream.

Will was dead.

Will was dead and they needed to go to the morgue. Jonathan tried to muster up the willpower to get out of bed, but there almost didn't seem to be a point. To say he had been a happy child would be an overstatement. From an early age he had been picked on and treated poorly, mostly due in part to how reserved he was. But when he was four, and his mother brought home his little brother, everything had changed. When he had looked at Will's cherubic face, those big eyes blinking back at him, he had finally felt happy.

Nothing had brought him more joy than being a big brother... and now. Now he wasn't a brother at all.

He was nobody.

Jonathan wiped the tears from his eyes and turned over to look at the clock on his nightstand. A bright '7:30AM' flashed back at him. Using every bit of strength that he had, he pulled himself from his bed and exited his room. In the living room he saw what had become of his mom. She was slumped back on their living room couch, an ax across her legs.

He sighed heavily and bent over in front of her sleeping form. "Mom…" She shifted slightly but didn't wake up. "Mom!" Jonathan said again, more sternly. With a gasp she awoke, clenching the axe before groggily looking around. "Mom! Wake up."

"What? What time is it?" She croaked.

Jonathan gently grabbed her knee and answered, "It's almost eight. We have to go."

"Go where? Where?"

He didn't want to say it. But he had too. "To see Will," Jonathan whispered.

"Michael…"

Mike watched as his mom cautiously opened his bedroom door and found him lying in bed with the covers pulled up to his chin. She walked over to sit on the edge of the mattress.

"Hi, honey. How are you feeling?" She asked, rubbing his leg over the blanket.

Emotionally, he was going through it. But at least now it wasn't because Will was dead. No, it was the constant chaos that was giving him whiplash. And he had a plan… but for it to work he needed to stay home.

"I uh...I don't think I can go to school today," Mike replied, trying to sound as depressed as possible.

"Oh, that's fine, sweetie. I need to drop off Nance, then I'm gonna check in on Barb's parents." Karen smiled gently at him. "Why don't you grab a book or something and come with me? We can stop by the video store on the way back, pick out whatever you want. Even R-rated." Normally that would excite him, but he didn't feel normal. What he wanted was her out of the house for a decent chunk of time.

Mike declined, answering, "I think I just want to stay home today. I mean, if that's okay?" He felt bad manipulating her. His mom was a great mom. She was loving, and caring, and she tried her best to make sure he and his sister were taken care of. But he really needed her to not be so great... just once.

"Well, are you sure you're gonna be all right here by yourself?"

"I think so."

"Okay." Karen sighed and smiled at him again. "But if you need anything, call Dad at work."

"Okay," Mike whispered.

"Okay." His mom pressed a kiss to his forehead before getting up and leaving the room, pulling the door closed behind her. "Bye, sweetie."

Now alone, Mike let his body relax. He thought she would never leave. Not that he didn't love her. As soon as the door was closed he threw aside his covers and grabbed the radio from his bedside table.

"Lucas, do you copy?" He hurriedly spoke into the mic. Silence filled his room as the question went unanswered. "Lucas, come on, I know you're there! This is urgent. I'm serious!"

It was time for him to get childish.

"I'm not gonna stop until you answer. Lucas. Lucas! Lucas-Lucas-Lucas-Lucas-Lucas-Lucas..."

"Go away, Mike," His friend's voice interrupted his tirade. "I'm not in the mood, all right? Over and out."

"No, not 'out'," Mike quickly replied. " I'm not messing around, okay? This is about Will. Over." He knew Lucas was trying to grieve, but there was nothing to grieve about.

"What about Will? You mean about his funeral? Over."

"No, not his funeral. Screw his funeral!"

"What?"

Okay in hindsight, that probably made him sound like a total asshole. But Dustin and Lucas needed to know that Will was still alive! "Just get over here stat! And bring Dustin. Over and out." Mike sat down the radio and prepared himself for the headache that was soon to come.

Hopper waited in the lobby of the Roane County coroner's office, sheriff's hat clenched tightly between his hands. He turned to the woman behind the desk, seeing her apathetically filing her nails. "What's taking so long?"

"Well, everything's been a bit chaotic around here without Gary," she replied.

"Without Gary?" Hopper asked, brows furrowing. "Where's Gary?"

"Well, I thought you knew," The woman admitted, equally confused. "Those men from state, they...they sent Gary home last night."

Hopper narrowed his eyes."So who did the autopsy?"

"Someone from state."

He looked away from the woman and the hold on his hat tightened. In the morgue, Jonathan and his mom stared apprehensively through a window at a cold, steel exam table upon which a body lay.

This was it. The time had come.

Jonathan looked to his mother and then back to the body. The coroner standing in the room leaned forward and pulled the sheet covering the body away, revealing the head and torso of Will's lifeless corpse.

It was really him. It was really Will. His baby brother. He felt like his knees were going to give out. His breathing became staggered and a jolt went through him as if he had stuck his hand in an electrical socket. Never again would he get to see Will smile, or hear him laugh. Never again would he get to make Will a new mixtape. He wouldn't get to show him how to drive, or go to his graduation.

An entire future, one where he was happy, had been stolen from him.

Jonathan gagged and coughed before turning away, leaving his mother standing there to stare at her youngest son's corpse. He barely made it to the bathroom before he vomited into the closest toilet.

It was too much. This wasn't supposed to happen.

Not to Will.

He couldn't go back there. Instead, he rinsed his mouth in the sink and made his way to the lobby to sit next to Hopper. They didn't talk for a few minutes, letting the silence permeate the otherwise empty room.

Hopper finally spoke, asking gently, "How's your mom doing?"

"I don't know," Jonathan replied after a brief moment. He didn't even know how he was doing.

"How long's this stuff been going on? With the lights and uh...Will and the thing in the wall?" It was a loaded question, and he had a guess as to why the man was asking. But he couldn't even think straight, so he answered truthfully.

"Since the first phone call, I guess. You know, she's had anxiety problems...in the past. But this…I don't know. I'm worried it could be...ugh, I don't know." Jonathan was exhausted on so many levels. He had already lost his brother, and now he was losing his mom. He glanced at the man, seeing his concerned expression and quickly adding, "She'll be okay. We'll be okay. My mom...she's tough."

A grim chuckle betrayed him, causing Hopper to reach over and place a hand on his shoulder. "Yeah, she is," the man replied. "Hey. She is." Jonathan smiled back, feeling a little less alone.

"Ma'am!" The doors to the morgue burst open, startling both him and Hopper. "Ma'am, I need you to sign!"

"I don't...I don't know what you think that thing is in there, but that is not my son!" Jonathan's mom came flying through door in a rage, whirling around and shoving her finger in the mortician's face.

"Joyce, wait a second." Hopper slowly approached her, attempting to ease the tension.

"No!" His mom flashed the man a look of warning before storming out of the office.

Jonathan chased after her, ignoring the sounds of the coroner still yelling behind him as he called out, "Mom!" What was happening to his family?

Steve had barely been on campus for five minutes before Nancy had approached him and asked to speak to him behind the gym. Admittedly he hoped that she wanted a quick make out session, but her serious expression shut that thought down quickly. He had been pretty frustrated the night before when she had ditched him. Sure, he wasn't playing in the basketball game himself, but it had kind of been a date.

Unofficial, but a date nonetheless.

Instead he had spent the evening standing next to Tommy and Carol, pretending not to notice as they struggled to avoid getting arrested for public indecency. And when he got home... nothing. No voicemail, no phone callJust him and his hand.

"So," Steve started, looking expectantly at his girlfriend. "What's going on."

She sighed and clutched at her bag, gazing into his eyes pinched brows. "Yesterday, when I told you I had to do something..." Nancy paused without finishing, fidgeting back and forth. He wasn't sure if it was anxiety, or what, but now he was feeling a bit fidgety himself.

"Nance," Steve quietly assured her, "you can tell me."

"I lied."

Oh. Well, that wasn't what he had been expecting, that's for sure. But maybe she had a good reason to ditch him.

"Go on," he replied.

Nancy took a deep breath. "I've been really worried about Barb and I hadn't heard from her and her parents hadn't either so I went back to Loch Nora and I saw this crazy guy in a mask with no face but I don't think it was-"

He raised his right hand to interrupt her, left arm crossed underneath his right for support, and blinked rapidly. Was she being serious?

"So, wait a sec. I don't understand." The school bell rang, signaling that class would soon start. Steve ignored it and the football players that ran behind them towards the field nearby as he tried to make sense of what she said. "You went back to my house?" He knew the excuse she had given the day before had been a lie.

"To look for Barb," Nancy added quickly.

"Yeah, okay, but-" Steve shifted and rested his hands on his belt. "-why didn't you just talk to me? That's crazy." He knew his friends were jerks, but he wasn't like that… was he?

Nancy's answer was quiet as she softly shook her head. "I don't know, I…I was scared."

Unsure how to feel about that reasoning, he switched focus. "You seriously think you saw a guy in a mask just hanging out in my yard?" That was the craziest thing he had heard in a while. And he had recently heard that mute kid laugh.

"I don't think it was a mask."

Try as he might, Steve couldn't stop the expression that passed over him. "But he had no face?" People had faces. They couldn't just… not have faces.

"I don't know! I don't know, I just..." Nancy closed her eyes and composed herself before staring at him intently. "I have a terrible feeling about this."

She had a terrible feeling? He had a terrible feeling. The images that flashed through his head as he stared at the ground and thought about his parents finding out were the things nightmares were made of. No life, no money, no car.

"Oh, this is bad. This is really bad," Steve groaned and leaned back against the wall behind him.

"What?" Nancy asked, stepping closer to him.

He flashed her another judgemental face because… wasn't it obvious? Like, hello! "The cops...they're gonna want to talk to all of us now." Steve began counting on his fingers, "Tommy, Carol, everybody who was at the party." He was freaking out. Barb going missing could ruin his whole image. His whole life!

Nancy crossed her arms and gave him a strange look. "So?"

What did she mean 'so'? His life was over! "My parents are gonna murder me!" Steves snapped, throwing his hands up in the air.

"Are you serious right now?"

He brought his eyes back to her and furrowed his brow. "You don't understand. My dad's a grade-A asshole."

Nancy glared at him, eyes so cold they could freeze water. "Barb is missing! And you're worried about your dad?"

Well, when she put it that way… But still, there was no reason to make things worse for everyone else! He needed to think of a back-up plan pronto. "Okay, just…when you talk to the cops-" Steve pushed himself off the wall and moved forward, attempting to charm her. "Just...don't mention the beers."

Yeah, he felt bad that her friend was missing. But that wasn't his fault. And he shouldn't have to be potentially punished for it. Nancy was supposed to be smart, why was she having such a hard time understanding where he was coming from?

"It's just gonna get us both in trouble, and Barbara's got nothing to do with it, okay?" He reasoned.

"I can't believe you right now." Nancy shook her head and walked away from him. "I can't believe you."

Wait, how was he the bad guy? "Nancy." Steve called after her retreating back. "Nancy, wait!" He couldn't help but feel like he had done something wrong... again. "Nancy!"

His mom had surprisingly made it quite far after storming out of the morgue. Luckily, Jonathan had the car keys and was able to chase her down on wheels. He didn't think he would have had the energy to do it on foot.

"Mom, will you get in?" He asked as he pulled up to the curbside next to her.

"No, I-I-I-I need to think." Joyce flashed him a quick, waving him away and refusing to stop. "Just go on home."

"Mom, will you just get in, please?" Jonathan asked once more. But when she waved her hand again and kept walking, he pulled over and threw the car in park. He was reaching his limit.

"Mom. Mom!" He jumped out of the car and sprinted after her as she crossed the intersection. "Mom! Stop!" He reached her and grabbed her shoulder, spinning her around to face him.

"Just go home, Jonathan," she napped, pulling away from him.

Jonathan glared at her and shoved his left hand forward, snapping back. "No, this is not an okay time for you to shut down." He understood.

His brother was dead.

Will was dead, but….what about him? Who was going to look out for him? He wasn't dead and he still needed his mom.

"Shut down? What…" Joyce scoffed at him.

"We have to deal with this, Mom!" Jonathan felt the vein in his neck throb and he gestured at her again for emphasis."We have to deal with the funeral!" He knew she was hurting but Will's death wasn't fair to just leave at his feet. He was still a teenager. It was too much pressure.

But it didn't seem as if his mom was going to hear anything about a funeral.

"The funeral? For...for who?" Joyce loudly asked, brows furrowing as she pointed toward the morgue. "For that thing back there?!"

Jonathan couldn't believe his ears. That thing was his baby brother. Her son! She was losing her mind, and if nobody else was going to do something about it, he would.

"Okay, let me get this straight," he replied, vibrating with frustration like he was going to explode. His voice grew louder as he repeated her crazy theory. "Will, that's not his body, because he's in the lights, right? And there's a monster in the wall? Do you even hear yourself!?"

"I know it sounds crazy!" His mom was shouting at him at this point, a passerby pausing to watch the scene. "I-I-I sound crazy."

"Yeah," Jonathan nodded, continuing to glare at her.

"You think I don't know that? It is crazy! But I heard him, Jonathan." Joyce flailed her arms wildly and broke down, becoming unhinged with emotion. "He talked to me! Will is...is calling to me! And he's out there, and he's alone, and he's scared, and I...I don't...I don't care if anyone believes me! I am not gonna stop looking for him until I find him and bring him home. I am going to bring him home!"

"Yeah, well, while you're talking to the lights, the rest of us are having a funeral for Will!" Jonathan's voice broke, tears pooling in his eyes as she turned to walk away. " I'm not letting him sit in that freezer another day!"

Fine, if she couldn't do this for her son, for his brother, then he would. He was used to being the only one who cared for Will anyway. He let out a breath as if he had just been running and glanced over at the various people staring and whispering among themselves. Had they no decency?

"All right, show's over," Jonathan growled. He made his way back to his mother's car, yelling when the bystanders kept staring. "What?!" That seemed to do the trick and the crowd dispersed.

Reaching his car, he threw open the door and let his body fall into the front seat. He leaned his head on the steering wheel and let the tears begin to flow. It wasn't fair. Will was just a kid.

He was just a kid.

A sudden tap on his driver window drew his attention and he lifted his head, turned to see none other than his mute would-be-savior from the school parking lot standing there and staring at him with a strange expression.

"What in the…" Jonathan hastily rolled the window down with one hand, wiping his tears with the other. "What do you want?"

"Don't cry," the boy said.

Really? First off, why wasn't this guy at school? Secondly, where did he get off telling him not to cry?

His brother was dead!

"Look, you can stop checking on me now, okay?" Jonathan choked out. The other boy nodded like he understood, but didn't leave, keeping his empty gaze focused on him. In response, he unleashed his frustration on the guy. "Will is… he's dead. They found his body yesterday. So this weird twisted need you have to insert yourself into my life? Just stop, okay. Stop."

He watched the strange boy's face for any sign of change, like remorse or surprise, but saw nothing. Just that same vacantly sympathetic look. The way his mom used to look at Will when he had a hard time with his homework. The kind of look you give someone when you think it's what they want to see but you don't actually mean it.

"Sometimes people struggle to accept the truth." The boy's voice startled Jonathan from his thoughts. "Because they find it easier to accept the lie that is in front of them."

He felt his temple throb. It was clear that the wierdo had heard his argument with his mom. And he understood that she sounded crazy, but that didn't give a complete stranger the right to judge her!

"Y-you..." Jonathan's hands gripped the steering wheel tightly as he leaned toward the boy to tell him off. "Shut up! She's not crazy, she's just having-"

"No," the other teen interrupted with a shake of his head. The blond then moved his hand forward, placing a black-nailed pointer finger against Jonathan's chest and pushing lightly. "Start seeing with this-" His finger then travelled up to his forehead, repeating the same action. "And stop seeing with this."

The fight left him. Mostly because he was now very confused. He didn't even know the guy. And yet here the blond stood on the side of the street giving him cryptic and vague advice. And on top of that, the boy was clearly crazy. Why else would he be implying that he was the one who was being willfully blind and not his mother.

"W-what's wrong with you?," Jonathan asked, slapping the boy's hand away from him. He had too much on his plate to deal with some stranger with a lack of respect for personal space. "Why don't you make any sense?"

The other boy's expression finally shifted, changing from forced sympathy to disappointment to no expression at all. Just blank.

"It would be so nice if something made sense for a change," was all he got in response.

Jonathan watched as the blond boy returned his hand back to his side and back away, leaving him alone in his car. He sat there slack-jawed for a moment and started to question if maybe he had actually gone crazy too.

One thing was for sure though… he liked the other teen way better when he didn't speak.

A/N: I think one of my favorite things about the characters of the show is how real and sympathetic they are despite handling things so differently. I struggle to think of another cast of characters where I like pretty much everyone.

Except, I'm going to be honest, I really don't like Nancy. And my opinion has not changed over the 4 seasons of the show. But I'll try very hard to not let that affect my interpretation of her once we hit areas that are completely original.

Until our stars next align!