Steve lifts a hand to cover his eyes as flames consume Vecna's half-suspended figure almost entirely, the effect nearly blinding while a gust of scalding air rushes against his face. He can feel Robin stumble slightly against his side, and a hand reaches out to steady her not long after, their eyes locking for a moment before movement out of the corner of his eye diverts his attention once again.
Vecna is no longer suspended in any way, the flames that engulf him somehow making him look even more monstrous than before. He takes one step towards them. Then two. Almost a third, and Steve glances at Robin in time to notice she is lighting the rag sticking out of her own bottle and preparing to launch it as quickly as she can.
She isn't going to have time. Vecna is too close. A hand is stretching out towards them, and Steve reaches out to yank Robin back but before he can do so, a blinding flare of red light zips past him, hitting Vecna in the center of the chest, and spreading outward…
Stopping him in his tracks.
"If you intend to do something else, I would do it now."
Robin doesn't seem to need any further encouragement than what Vincent's warning already provides, her arm arcing forward to lob the second bottle, with its rag now fully lit, directly at Vecna's torso. Whatever Vincent has done holds him in place, and the bottle strikes true, engulfing him in still more flames.
This time, Steve looks at them head-on, almost transfixed in spite of the rush of heat against his skin. He recognizes an almost grim rush of satisfaction at being able to inflict even a hint of the pain Vecna has caused others on the monster, himself. Chrissy. Fred. Max. Patrick. Sadie. It's all too much. Burning the asshole to a crisp is suddenly no longer enough.
Steve would give anything to tear Vecna apart with his own hands. To have a go at him with his bat. The ax. But he knows he would probably be beaten away like an overly obnoxious fly in next to no time at all.
Monster killing, at least of this magnitude, is probably more Vincent's area of expertise than his, and Steve doesn't particularly enjoy the surge of bitterness that bowls into him as a result of that realization in and of itself.
He used to be the one taking care of everyone else. Pulling them together. Keeping them safe. And it surprises him, but Steve would be the first to admit that suddenly being forced to give up that role to a practical stranger stings.
And Steve knows that is ridiculous, because Vincent is obviously the only one of them capable of keeping Vecna in place as he burns. He is the only one that can keep him stationary while Nancy steps up, shotgun leveled straight ahead, preparing to fire. Steve should be grateful. Without Vincent, Nancy would probably be tossed aside like she was nothing of consequence at all.
But a sudden groan from the man in question has Steve's gaze snapping towards him, terror clawing at his throat as he recognizes the sudden shift. Vincent is no longer truly focused on Vecna. In fact, he has gone utterly still, his eyelids fluttering. Fluttering in an eerily familiar way.
Steve has seen this before. With Max. And he doesn't have a clue how in the hell Vecna has managed to get into Vincent's head while burning to a crisp but he does know that their window of opportunity is fading fast.
"Nancy, now!"
As Nancy steps forward, Steve and Robin move to Vincent's side, sharing a look that reflects their fear—their frustration over how quickly their plan has blown up in their faces—in one another's eyes. Neither of them know how to reach him. How to get him back.
"Stay with him."
"What? Steve—"
"Just stay with him," Steve repeats, his voice cracking over the words as he wrenches the bat free of the bag secured to his back, and moves to flank Nancy as she fires one shot directly at Vecna's shoulder. It drives him backward, but he is advancing again far too soon for their liking. And as Steve gives the bat studded with nails an experimental twirl, pointedly ignoring Nancy's questioning side eye, he prepares for the moment he will invariably throw himself in front of her. Reconciles with the fact that it will be the stupidest decision he ever made.
Robin can tease him for it all she likes, but if it comes down to Vecna getting Nancy, or him, Steve knows the choice will be the same every single time.
And Robin may or may not wind up teasing a corpse.
Nancy fires another shot and the sound effectively drags Steve's attention back to the present. Vecna lurches back another step or two, and Steve gives the bat another twirl, this time out of nerves, more than anything else.
He doesn't dare look back to check on Vincent and Robin. Not even to reassure himself they are still alright, or as close to alright as they can be, given the circumstances. Instead, Steve keeps his attention glued to Vecna as he lumbers forward once again, arm outstretched as though he intends to rip Nancy away with his bare hands.
Steve's muscles go taut. He feels them coiling, ready to leap forward. But before he can make a move, Nancy is firing a third shot, this time straight at the center of Vecna's chest. And he catapults backward as a nearly blinding ball of red light meets the bullet just as it strikes, the force of the joint impact sending him crashing out through the window and falling to the ground below.
Steve stands beside Nancy for another moment after, simply staring at the place Vecna had once occupied, bodies ready for another attack as though they half-suspect everything they have just done is still not enough. But then reality sets in. Or rather, Robin's voice brings them back to it, her words almost shrill because clearly none of them are ready to leave their panic behind just yet.
"What the—what the hell was that?"
…
When Sadie's eyes open again, it takes a moment for her to realize where she is, her lungs dragging in air that never seems to be enough. Her entire body feels fuzzy. Leaden. Like she isn't really there at all.
Of course, as soon as she attempts to shove herself upright by putting pressure on her right arm, nothing is fuzzy. Everything is thrown into focus in seconds, flat.
And she is in agony.
Pain rips through her right arm like wildfire, and she falls back to the floor with a shriek, her body curling in on itself while her mind tries to piece together what might have gone wrong. As Sadie tries to breathe through the throbbing of her arm, realization sets in. She is back in Vincent's home. Or rather, the version of it that exists in the Upside Down.
Vincent isn't there, and Sadie allows herself a small dose of relief, because that means he has to be with Eddie and Dustin, the feeling giving her enough courage to crack open an eye to try and assess the damage to her arm now that the pain has ebbed, even if only a little.
Tentatively testing how her left arm holds up against a bit of her weight, and finding that she feels no pain there, Sadie slowly moves until she is sitting upright, the movement starting the throbbing of her right arm back to its former persistence. She takes a moment, squeezing her eyes shut for just another second to gather her nerves.
What Sadie sees when she looks down at her arm, mere moments later, nearly turns her stomach.
The bone has somehow been twisted. Bent backwards at the elbow in a way that is nowhere close to natural. And as Sadie tries to navigate another change in her position so that she can rest on her knees, her right arm dangles uselessly at her side, the pain flaring so suddenly that she only just has time to slam her left hand down, palm-flat on the floorboards before bile burns its way into her throat.
She stays in that position for a moment, heaving and trembling, tears burning their way down her cheeks as she fights against the sudden whiteout of her vision. Her mind is trying to catch up with her body. Trying to force the significance of her obviously broken arm to the forefront.
Sadie had been so certain Vecna would end it. End her, and release Max. But she is very obviously still breathing. This isn't a dream, the pain in her arm—in her sides—far too vivid to be anything she made up.
She heaves again, choking for air while her left arm trembles, wondering why she is alive. Hoping it doesn't mean Max is dead.
Max can't be dead. She just—can't be.
But why is Sadie alive?
Sadie doesn't realize it at first, but the ragged sound that escapes her is a sob, everything in her wanting nothing more than to just sag back down onto the floorboards and rest. She wants to give up. She doesn't have any fight left in her.
She needs to find out what happened to Max, though. What happened to Vincent. Robin, Nancy and Steve. Dustin and Eddie.
The trailer. Eddie's trailer.
That is where she needs to go.
Gritting her teeth, Sadie forces herself to swallow back the last of the bile, a strained whimper escaping as she places her right foot flat on the floorboards, and pushes herself up with her left hand. She nearly stumbles, and renewed pain is now tearing at her sides, causing the fabric of her shirt to stick against her skin.
She is still bleeding. Every thump her useless right arm makes against her side sends fire through her veins.
She needs to move now, before she can no longer move at all.
Sadie needs to find out what happened to Max.
It isn't until she is nearly to the door of Vincent's home, staggering along as best she can that Sadie remembers another girl had been there, fighting Vecna with her, a pang of guilt nearly toppling her to her knees as she realizes she had inadvertently left Eleven behind as well.
They have to be alright. They have to be.
That determination seems to be enough to get Sadie to the front door, and she pulls it open as quickly as she can, only to find herself frozen in place as her eyes take in the sight in the yard before her. Some of the porch is singed, smoke drifting up from the wood that is slightly illuminated by the redness of the sky. There is a dent in the siding to her left, as though something was hurled at it with far more force than anything human could produce.
But that isn't what draws her attention the most. Not in the slightest.
What has her gaping as red lightning crackles down from the sky are the corpses of several creatures identical to what had attacked her and Vincent after they had split off from the rest of the group. She has no idea where they came from. What killed them. But as she starts to edge her way around the bodies, on edge for an imminent attack, but finding none, Sadie's focus once again shifts to where she needs to go, next.
None of the rest of it matters. Not if the creatures littering the ground are no actual threat.
The more pressing concern is finding out what has happened to her friends, and in spite of the pain threatening to drop her at every movement, Sadie pushes herself forward to do exactly that.
…
"We need to leave."
"What the hell did you do? What did he do? Is he dead?"
"If you insist upon those answers now, we will all be dead. Do you want that?"
"I want to know what the hell is going on!" Steve exclaims, stepping in front of Vincent, and trying unsuccessfully to ignore the suspicion blaring at the forefront of his mind. He can't explain it, but something about Vincent's momentary relapse back to Vecna's world seems—off.
Of course, expecting him to actually be forthcoming about anything seems to be about as delusional as expecting Steve's own parents to suddenly take an interest in the ins and outs of his life.
"We need to get away from this place."
"I'm not leaving the others behind."
Vincent's eyes narrow as Steve moves to stand in his path once again, aggravation over how intently the kid seems to keep attempting to get in his way momentarily outweighing anything else more urgent, like attempting to leave. But before he has any chance to retort, the ground is shaking beneath their feet, the peal of the clock in the hall echoing in the otherwise tense silence that has taken root between them.
Four chimes.
Four deaths.
"Max," Nancy murmurs, the horrified look she shares with Steve and Robin clearly genuine, although her eyes narrow just a bit as soon as her attention shifts to Vincent, instead, "Sadie?"
"She will be fine."
"How do you know?"
"Don't waste your breath, Nance, he isn't gonna tell us," Steve quips, ignoring the almost reproachful look Nancy gives him in response, "Let's just—let's just go get the others."
Nancy and Robin move to follow after Steve, and Vincent is preparing to interject. To tell them it may be wiser to at least split up when going after the others, or to tell them the truth—that Eddie and Dustin are already a lost cause. But before he can do either of those things, the ground shudders beneath their feet, this time stronger. More forceful.
There is a sound, almost like something tearing, that splits through the air not long after, echoing so loudly that it is impossible to determine the source. But Vincent knows what it is. He knows, because he has seen the exact same thing play out in his dreams for years. Henry has been taunting him with it for what feels like forever, and now it is coming to fruition.
Four chimes.
Four deaths.
Four gates, spreading across Hawkins, leaving the town vulnerable to monsters that should never have existed.
It should never have happened. Henry should never have succeeded. During that brief moment when Vincent slipped back inside his world, he could have ended things. Finished this, then and there. But that would have come at the expense of Sadie's life. And somehow, in spite of swearing he would never allow sentimentality to get in the way of the bigger picture, Vincent had hesitated. Thought of the consequences of losing a real link to family. To something he had not known in so very long.
"If I die, she dies. Any pain you inflict upon me, she will feel ten-fold. Are you prepared for that, Vincent? Are you prepared to sacrifice your niece to claim victory for yourself?"
Henry had shown him a very clear picture of what would happen to Sadie if he were to meet his end now, and after that it had been only too simple to make a deal with the devil himself. A deal that would get her out alive.
Even if it meant betraying everyone else.
Vincent had bought them time. Time none of them could know about, because the already tentative trust that exists between them would shatter if they knew the truth. They needed to remain capable of working toward a solution for this problem. Something that would end Henry for good, and Vincent knew they would never agree to any of what that solution may require if they knew Sadie's life was now somehow linked to Henry's.
He needed time to figure out how to undo that link. How to break it. And he would only get that if the others went on as though nothing was amiss.
Even Sadie could not know, because unlike the others, she would be only too likely to throw herself into the fire if it meant ridding the world of Henry's threat for good, and Vincent is far too selfish to permit her to do that without a fight.
Without Eddie, he suspects his niece will see herself as having nothing to lose. And if Vincent has to make a hundred decisions just like this one, that prove how self-serving he really is, just to keep Sadie from that particular realization, then that is exactly what he will do time and time again.
Vincent snaps back to awareness as the horrifically loud rending sound slows to a dull groan of occasional protest, as though the earth is too tired to fight its own undoing anymore. And then it all just suddenly stops. Grinds to a halt, leaving a ringing in his ears at the sudden absence of any noise, at least until Steve decides to use that silence as a means of trying to get them back on track once again.
"We need to move. Now."
"Go to Sadie," Vincent instructs, ignoring the look Steve sends him—the look that is an equal mix between aggravation at being told what to do, and a mild sense of relief that the choice is not going to be his to make—and turning to Nancy and Robin instead, "One of you go with him. The other stays with me. The choice is yours."
"Go with Steve," Nancy tells Robin, her tone brooking no argument, even though she can read Steve's disagreement with the decision just with a single look at his expression, "I'll go to the trailer with Vincent."
"Nance—"
"Go, Steve. I'll be fine."
Nancy does what she can to manage an encouraging smile, because as much as she appreciates Steve's obvious concern over her ending up on her own with Vincent, she also knows he would never willingly throw Robin to the metaphorical wolves, either. For a moment, she marvels at how much he's changed. How he's grown from the guy who couldn't care less about anyone else's problems, into this person who takes on the safety of their little ragtag group, and makes it his own.
Nancy is so caught up in her own thoughts that she doesn't even realize Steve is moving forward to pull her into a one-armed embrace until she is already half-squashed against his chest, her arm winding belatedly around his waist as he ducks down to whisper in her ear.
"Don't let him pull anything, yeah?"
Biting back an ill-timed laugh, Nancy gives Steve a small, affectionate squeeze, and then pulls back, her eyes meeting his for just long enough to realize that he his utterly and completely serious. He doesn't trust Vincent. That much has been obvious almost from the first moment they met. But something about his expression now goes deeper. Farther than a simple skepticism.
For the first time, Nancy feels a small bolt of apprehension, but she quickly forces that to the side, pulling back from Steve, and giving him another half-smile, and a remark that falls just short of being a joke.
"I've got the gun, Steve. Everything's—everything is going to be fine."
Nancy doesn't miss the raised brow Vincent sends her before turning to head off in the direction of Eddie's trailer, but she ignores it as best she can, her fingers tightening around the gun as she forces herself to follow alongside him. Forces herself to refrain from risking another glance back at Steve and Robin before they disappear from view entirely.
As she forces herself to believe she is doing the right thing.
…
Sadie is splayed on the pavement after the last of the tremors subside, her entire body throbbing in time with the rapid beating of her heart. She hadn't been expecting the ground to start shaking so violently, and the sudden upheaval had sent her careening off-balance in seconds, only narrowly avoiding landing on her already broken right arm in the process. Too scared—too exhausted—to move, she simply remains there, trying not to imagine the earth opening beneath her completely to swallow her whole.
Her head aches. Her entire body feels as though it is made from shattered glass, and the fingers of her left hand curl into the dirt beneath them as though grasping for purchase.
She doesn't understand what is happening. What it is that is causing the ground beneath her to continue roiling, as though it is protesting its very existence. But Sadie is terrified that it means the fight is not over. That somehow, they have all failed.
Even after what feels like a solid five minutes of silence, she still remains exactly where she is, dragging in breath after shuddering breath until she finally gathers the courage to attempt to stand.
Pain threatens to bowl her over, but still Sadie struggles to her feet, biting back a whine as her useless right arm thumps against her side. Taking a moment after she is upright, she tries to get her bearings. To focus on a point far enough away that the vertigo that washes over her will not send her tumbling back to the ground once again.
Sadie tries to remain aware of her surroundings as she begins to hobble forward, trying to prepare for any sort of attack that may come her way, but with the way her vision keeps narrowing to a pinprick, and then fanning back out again, she gets the feeling it will be a miracle if she makes it more than a few steps on her own. And she wishes she was not alone. That someone was here, to at least keep her moving forward.
The need to get to the trailer—to Eddie and Dustin—is only growing, taking over her body and mind like some sort of parasitic vine, but the more urgency she seems to feel to do exactly that, the slower she seems to move…
Sadie begins to force her feet to start shuffling forward at a faster pace, even in spite of the pain in her sides. In her arm. She hisses out a breath as her vision narrows to pinpricks again, squeezing her eyes shut and willing herself to ignore the way the world seems to spin around her as a result. The toe of her shoe snags against a small crack in the road, and her eyes fly open as she staggers forward. But before she can collide unceremoniously with the ground for a second time, Sadie feels a pair of arms catching her, and pulling her against something sturdy, the low whimper she gives as the impact jars her broken arm muted beneath the oath her would-be rescuer gives in response.
"Hey—shit, Sadie, easy—"
"What happened?" Another voice—Robin's, Sadie thinks—asks, the concern behind the inquiry causing Sadie to open her mouth to respond, though no words come out in spite of her best efforts to the contrary. Instead, she sags against Steve's side, and his arm tightens around her, something clanking loudly in her ears as he shifts, almost as though he is handing something over.
"Rob—Robin, take this—"
"Got it."
"Sadie—hey—Sadie, I need you to open your eyes!"
"Ed—Eddie. We need to—the trailer," Sadie stammers, dimly aware of something sweeping her legs out from underneath her, though this time the throbbing of her right arm seems faded, somehow. Less potent, "We—Steve, we need—"
"Vincent's going to the trailer."
"He—he's th–there?"
"He's going to the trailer," Steve repeats, aware of how the words seem to drain all the remaining strength from Sadie's frame in next to no time at all. A part of him realizes she isn't seeming to grasp the exact meaning of what he says, the niggling suspicion that Sadie seems to be under the impression that Vincent was already at the trailer nearly stopping him in his tracks. But before Steve can decide whether or not he wants to correct her—to make sure she has the facts straight—the relief he feels over her relative safety, broken arm and weakness aside, fades to be replaced with something else entirely.
Horror.
Horror, because if Sadie is alright, that means Max isn't.
Four chimes. Four deaths. Four gates.
The end of the world.
Steve feels Sadie's head loll against his shoulder as she loses consciousness completely, and he shares another look with Robin as she appears at his side, both of them wondering what they will find when they get back to the real Hawkins. How many they will have already lost, and who is left standing in the wake of all of the destruction.
But most of all, Steve, at least, wonders how much time they will have to plan another attack. How much time before Vecna and the rest of his army of horrors will take over Hawkins and destroy it.
He wonders what the hell Vincent did while in Vecna's world, and prays that his gut instinct is wrong…
Because that gut instinct is telling him that it can hardly be anything good.
…
It wasn't supposed to end like this.
That is the thought that circles through Nancy's mind over and over again as she sits beside Dustin, his hand held tightly in her own as he stares, unmoving, at the hospital bed just a short distance away. The kid hasn't moved since they brought Sadie back, the gouges at her sides bandaged and cleaned, while her right arm rests in a plaster cast. And Nancy hasn't ever seen Dustin so quiet. Never in her life.
Silent tears stream down his cheeks as he stares at the shallow rise and fall of Sadie's chest, as though he thinks he can will her to wake up simply by the ferocity of his own gaze, and Nancy catches herself swallowing past the lump in her throat as she remembers the altogether different nature of his grief as they were leaving the Upside Down.
Leaving without Eddie, who had died in Dustin's arms…
She had done nothing when Dustin had barreled towards Vincent after the suggestion that they simply leave without him. She had done nothing, because she had been too stunned by the sight before her to speak. It was like she had slipped back into the visions Vecna had shown her again. Jonathan was in Eddie's place, lying dead on the ground. Then Mike. Her dad. Holly. Her mom.
Four chimes. Four deaths.
It wasn't supposed to end like this.
For Dustin's sake, and maybe even for her own, Nancy had spent a moment half-tempted to berate Vincent for being so cold. For being so willing to leave one of their own behind, even though she hardly knew Eddie, herself. He was a person. He meant something to someone. To Sadie, and his uncle, and countless others. Nancy was sure of it. But then the ground had started trembling again, almost feeling as though the entire Upside Down was about to collapse and bury them all in the rubble.
After that, even though she hates herself for it, Nancy had taken over the task of tugging Dustin along, each sob he made like a knife digging into her heart. They made it out, and found Steve and Robin with an unconscious Sadie not long after.
Dustin had glued himself to Nancy's side after a cursory check over his own injured leg, insisting on going to the hospital which was somehow still standing in spite of the rest of the destruction raging all around them. Looking out the window on the opposite side of the room, Nancy can still see plumes of smoke rising up into the sky.
She knows that Steve and Robin are in another room with Max, waiting for the younger girl's mother to turn up, and Nancy spends a brief moment wondering over what on earth she will do if Sadie's parents walk into the room, and she is the only one able to explain what happened to their daughter.
Her eyes squeeze shut as she tries unsuccessfully to keep the tears at bay, because she has no idea what she is expected to say. What she is expected to do.
Nancy has always absolutely hated loose ends, and now her life seems to be filled with nothing but.
"Hey—maybe—maybe you should go see if Steve can take you home to your mom," Nancy begins, giving Dustin's hand a gentle squeeze, and turning to face the teen that has become something of a fixture in her own home with a look that is as far from open pity as she can manage, "I'm sure she's—worried sick."
"No."
"Robin and I can wait with Max and Sadie. And we'll call right away if anything—"
"No," Dustin repeats, the word a little stronger now, despite how Dustin's attention never once drifts away from Sadie's shallow breathing, "I—I promised."
"You promised?"
"Eddie. I—I promised Eddie I'd—that I'd—"
Dustin can't seem to get any of the rest of the words out, his attention finally shifting toward Nancy to give her a full glimpse of the sheen to his eyes. The tears still stream down his cheeks, unchecked. And it is all Nancy can do to avoid starting to cry along with him, her teeth digging into her lower lip as she reaches forward and pulls him against her without hesitation.
"Okay. Okay, we don't have to leave. We can stay right—right here," She assures, holding Dustin as tightly as she can, and biting her lip again as soon as she realizes he is suddenly wracked with shuddering sobs. She doesn't know what Dustin promised Eddie, and honestly a part of her doesn't want to know. Doesn't want to face Dustin's heartbreak, much less Sadie's when she wakes and learns the truth.
The girl was dragged into all of this and was obviously having enough of a time simply trying to stay afloat, and Nancy doesn't even want to imagine what Sadie will feel when she realizes the one person that seemed capable of keeping her standing is gone forever.
Squeezing her eyes shut again, Nancy gives up on trying to restrain her own tears, her hands clinging to Dustin every bit as much as he seems to be clinging to her. She is suddenly almost overwhelmingly grateful for Vincent's decision to step out of the room, because she knows that is the very last thing Dustin needs right now. A visceral reminder of being forced to leave his friend behind.
For the moment, Nancy simply focuses on the solid reality of Dustin leaning against her. On the fact that Mike is still safe in California. On how determined she is to be there for Sadie, because none of them are entirely sure how they can possibly move forward from here.
Even though he's a freshman now, Dustin still tucks his curls under Nancy's chin, and she squeezes him tighter still, his fingers fisting in the fabric of her jacket while a singular thought repeats on a loop in her mind.
It wasn't supposed to end like this.
…
(Three days later)
"Here, let me help you with—"
"I've got it, Steve."
"I thought they said you shouldn't be lifting anything heavier than ten pounds," Steve frowns, moving to stand at Sadie's side, though she is making a rather convincing effort at pretending he isn't even there.
"I'm fine."
"You're already leaving earlier than the doctors want you to—"
The words drop off mid-sentence as Sadie brushes past him, and Steve has to admit she's gotten pretty good at doing things one-handed. Her skin is still far too pale for his liking, though. Her movements just a little too shaky.
Steve watches as Sadie stumbles a bit on the way over to the small closet where her parents had left her coat, knowing she would resent any attempt he might make to steady her, and is surprised at the easy resurgence of rage that bubbles up in response to the memory of that particular encounter in and of itself.
Two days ago, David and Lorraine Carver had appeared in their daughter's room, breezing right in on the middle of a one-sided conversation Steve had been having with their daughter while Sadie, herself, stared absently out of the window near her bed. She hadn't spoken a word to anyone since Dustin told her what happened to Eddie. To Max. It was like she had cocooned herself into a protective bubble of shock, and Steve had been starting to wonder if she would ever recover at all.
By the time Lucas had been able to tell her what happened to Jason, Steve wasn't even sure Sadie had truly heard a word of it, but he had stationed himself by her side, anyway, waiting for the moment when reality would set in and she would break. He remained there, while Nancy and Robin traded off sitting vigil for Max, because he felt that if anyone deserved the knife of guilt that would come with Sadie's inevitable tears—her grief—it was him. After all, Steve had been the one to say Eddie and Dustin weren't heroes. That they were just decoys.
And now that it is all over, he can't stop wondering if that had been the tipping point. If those simple words, spoken without thinking first, had been what propelled Eddie to do what he had done. If they had been what led him to his death.
In spite of how a part of him almost hoped she would break apart, if for no other reason than to finally receive what he felt was a more than just punishment for his mistakes, though, Sadie seemed utterly incapable of anything but complete and total silence…
Or at least she had, until her mother tried to tell her she should convince the police that Eddie had been somehow responsible for Jason's death, as well.
Steve remembers standing there, shell-shocked, as Sadie struggled to sit upright in the hospital bed. As she swung her legs over the edge, seemingly unaware of the cumbersome cast holding her right arm in place. She had refused to tell the lie. Called her mother a surprisingly vile name for even suggesting such a thing in the first place.
Lorraine Carver had been affronted, insisting that if Sadie did not do as she was told, she would no longer have a place to call home, but still her daughter had resisted, tears streaming down her cheeks as she screamed for both of her parents to get out. To go. To just leave.
Before he had been fully aware of what he was even doing, Steve had latched an arm around Sadie's waist to stop her from vaulting herself at her mother in response to another nasty comment about Eddie, pulling her back against his chest while two nurses and someone from security arrived to investigate the source of the disturbance, and ended up towing David and a still seething Lorraine away for good.
Sadie had once again reverted to silence by the time another nurse had arrived with a duffel bag David had apparently dropped off before he and his wife left town, and now, days later, Steve watches as Sadie shoves the few possessions she has left in the hospital room inside of it haphazardly, the zipper catching as she tries to tug it closed, and forcing her to emit a muted oath in response.
"I'll get it," Steve says, stepping forward to finish zipping the bag before Sadie can even protest, and tossing the strap of the bag over his shoulder even though she is clearly holding out her hand to take it back.
"Steve—"
"I've got it, okay? Just—just let me help."
Sadie doesn't say anything, but she also doesn't try to get the bag back, either, for the moment, at least, seeming content to follow at Steve's side as he goes for the door of the room, and moves into the hallway beyond. Steve risks a glance down at her, and sighs as soon as he realizes her eyes are staring straight ahead, her lips pressed into a thin line.
It's like the girl—the neighbor—he used to know is just—gone. Hidden, beneath a wall built to be so thick it will never allow any emotion to pass through ever again. And Steve gets it. God, does he get it. They've all been through hell. They've all lost a part of themselves they will likely never get back.
Steve still wonders when trying to keep all of her emotion bottled up inside will backfire on Sadie, though. He wonders, because it has to come, eventually. He knows that from experience.
All things considered, Steve is more than a little skeptical over Sadie's apparent decision to take Wayne Munson up on his offer of staying at the small home he had been given after the demise of his trailer, knowing that in spite of the appreciation he feels over the older man's willingness to look after her, Munson was hardly going into this equipped to handle the eventual breakdown that would come when the barriers Sadie erected against her grief finally gave way.
Steve himself isn't exactly well versed in handling a distraught girl. His time with Nancy proved that in spades. But at least he can tell himself he's got that experience under his belt. That it ought to be enough to at least keep him from heading down the wrong path and making things worse for Sadie as a result.
Wayne, on the other hand? Steve doesn't think he has much experience with late-teenage girls. At least not much experience since he had been the same age, himself.
It was either going to be a recipe for disaster, or a way for both Sadie and the older man to heal, and Steve is determined to make a point of being around as often as he can be, either way.
"Why don't we—grab something to eat? Before going to Wayne's," He suggests, hoping that, with the minimal effort Sadie has shown for completing any of the meals hospital staff brought her over the last few days, she might have worked up a semi-decent appetite, "Pizza, maybe? Or—or a burger and fries from the diner?"
"I'm really not—not hungry."
"Sadie—"
"Wayne probably wouldn't say no to a burger though. And I know you're probably hungry," Sadie persists, the words soft as she risks a glance at where Steve is walking along beside her, "We can—we can go wherever you want."
"You do realize if you don't give me any input on what you might want when you eventually do get hungry, I'll just pick something out myself."
Sadie doesn't respond, not that Steve really expects her to, but he does think he sees at least the hint of a twitch at one corner of her mouth that might have been an attempt at a smile. And as much as he worries for her—as much as he doesn't trust the blanket of numbness she seems to have wrapped around herself—Steve also realizes that all things considered, some sort of forward motion on her part is far better than nothing at all.
It's better than sitting in one place, waiting for the world to come to an end. Though with another sidelong look at Sadie, Steve can tell.
Her world has already ceased to exist.
…
Somewhere, beneath Hawkins, in the darkness that pervades the Upside Down, a presence stirs. A presence that is not exactly human. It slithers over the ground, between white flecks raining down from the sky, intent upon a singular purpose. There is utter silence now. Silence, where before there had been sounds of tearing. Of the ground splitting in two.
The presence ignores the silence just as much as it had ignored the noise, though, drifting through charred remains and writhing vines with little interest in anything other than the path ahead.
It is hardly an autonomous being, after all. It is there to serve a purpose for something far greater.
The presence edges towards a path between dilapidated trailers, vines littering their sides, skirting through the haphazardly placed obstructions until the thing it seeks comes into view. A body rests, unmoving, against the pavement, spread-eagled while other, smaller bodies litter the ground around it.
The presence ignores those other bodies, knowing they are of no consequence, now. Not when the path ahead requires something far better. Stronger. More dangerous. Something with a connection to the ones deserving of defeat. Something that will bring them to their knees…
Something they will hesitate to destroy. Hesitate to kill, because they knew who it used to be.
And that hesitation will give this new power the chance to kill them.
Drifting closer to the motionless figure, the presence hovers nearby, waiting. Waiting for the moment to strike. The being that directed it here would tolerate no mistakes. And so it waits beside the figure. Waits in silence. Anticipation.
For a moment, there is nothing but silence, persistent and all-encompassing. But then, a low sound hisses through the air, almost akin to a gasp. The motionless figure gives a twitch, as though electricity has suddenly been jolted through deadened limbs. The presence shifts closer. Eager to see if this endeavor will be a success. Eager to strike—to kill—should things not go according to plan.
The figure gives another twitch, fingers curling into fists as it sucks in a rattling breath. And the presence waits patiently, as the figure's fingers unfurl, eyes that were once warm and brown opening onto the world to reveal irises that are a brilliant, deadly shade of red.
…
AAAAHHHHH it's here! The end is here! (Well…until I post the sequel, lol). And I'm equal parts excited and terrified because I am so beyond ready to get rolling on the second part of the battle of Hawkins (I have to admit, I'm kind of thrilled at being able to go completely rogue since we have no canon material to work with as far as what the gang will have to face before defeating Vecna for good). But I'm also scared, because I don't know how you all will take how I've ended things. So this is me, admitting to fully intending to hide beneath a blanket fort after posting this, hoping said blanket fort will protect me if anyone sends a hit man my way ;).
Under the threat of a hitman or not, though, I want to thank each and every one of you that has taken the time to read this story, whether you've been with me from the beginning, or came in somewhere part of the way through! I am so very grateful for your time and support, and the kind reviews you have all left along the way! Your input has been a huge part of what continued to inspire me to keep this story going, and I hope you know exactly how much your feedback is appreciated! And if anyone has anything in particular they would like to see in the sequel, whether that pertains to potential new enemies the gang faces in the Upside Down, or anything else along the way, please don't hesitate to let me know!
Lastly, a special shoutout goes out to last chapter's reviewers: mistyagami and SailorErinViz95 for leaving such lovely feedback the last time around! I am so happy to know you're both enjoying the product of the ferocious little gremlins in my brain! And I hope you enjoy this installment as well!
Until next time, my darlings…
MOMM