TRIGGER WARNING: A large portion of this chapter discusses hospitals, injuries and medical procedures. Please proceed with caution.

On a good day, it only took fifteen minutes to get from the south end of town to Hawkins Middle School. On a busy morning, it might take twenty. On a late Saturday night, it took the four teens a whole half an hour.

Most of this was taken up by Christine. Jonathan had done the best he could to wrap up her leg. He'd packed it with ice, wrapped it tight with a blanket, and given her some pain killers for the time being. When it came time to load her into the car, it took both him and Nancy to carry her out. They had to walk slow to keep her steady. The slightest jostle or trip made her wince with pain, though Christine thought she was bearing it well.

Laid out in the backseat of Jonathan's car, she counted the seconds in her head and tried to calculate how long it might take an injured Demogorgon to travel the same distance.

Thankfully, Jonathan was easily persuaded into speeding to make up for lost time. Once or twice, he almost outstripped the red BMW that was trailing behind them. Steve still didn't understand why they were going to the middle school or who Christine was so worried about. He followed them anyway out of loyalty.

But they closer they got to the school, the more they had to slow down. There was an unusual amount of cars on the road for this time of night. Christine would've guessed there was some recital or concert for the art department had she not been in the empty school earlier. But then where were all these people going?

When she saw the flashing lights up ahead, her stomach lurched.

"Jonathan…"

"Yeah, I know."

He heeded her silent request, pressing on the gas a little harder so he could weave through the sluggish cars. The entrance to the middle school had been blocked by a police barricade. He pulled up as close as he could and rolled down the window.

"Excuse me! Officer? What happened here?"

"Nothing you kids need to worry about," the woman said dismissively. "School will be open on Monday. Just head on home."

"But what happened?"

"I'm not at liberty to discuss. So would you mind pulling forward? In case you haven't noticed, you're not the only ones rubbernecking."

"We're not rubbernecking," Nancy snapped, leaning across Jonathan to the window. "Look, my brother is in there and he called me for help. Mike Wheeler? Is he okay?"

If Christine's foot had been in prime condition, she would've kicked the back of Nancy's seat. It was a huge gamble. They had no way to tell which cops worked for Hopper and which might be in the pocket of the state. What if they were still looking for the kids and Nancy had given them the final key? What if the three of them were about to be whisked away to Hawkins Laboratory and tortured for information?

The officer blinked at the given name. She held up a hand, stepping back to the barrier to converse with one of her coworkers. A moment later, they were moving the barricade aside and waving Jonathan through.

"Go around to the back," the woman advised. "Be ready to give a statement."

Jonathan didn't waste time asking what kind of statement they would need. They pulled into the parking lot, Steve still riding their bumper, and raced to the back of the building.

The parking lot was swarmed with professional personnel. There were police cruisers and fire engines and ambulances galore. Christine was struggling to take it all in from her slouched vantage point in the back seat. There were government vehicles too—big military trucks and sleek black cars. There didn't seem to be any Department of Energy vans, but that didn't mean the agents weren't lurking around and blending in.

"They found her," Christine breathed, frantic eyes darting between cars. "They found her. They have her. They must've…"

"We don't know that," Nancy said reassuringly. "The kids are smart. They wouldn't have done anything to draw attention to themselves."

"Then what are all these people doing here? What the hell happened?"

"Maybe Hopper called reinforcements," Jonathan suggested. "To protect them."

"And the reinforcements called the military?" Christine asked. "Look at that truck. I know those bastards are here somewhere. And if they're here, they found Eleven, and the cops know about Mike so…"

"Exactly," said Nancy. "Which means he didn't disappear. If the scientists got to him first, no one would've known they were ever here. We'll find them, Chris."

Christine nodded shakily. Nancy was right. Of course Nancy was right. She always was. She was grounded, she was level-headed, and she knew what she was talking about.

Jonathan circled around the edge of the crime scene, scanning the crowd. The doors to the building opened, several cops piling out with stretchers. They were all covered in sheets, the bodies beneath completely immobile. One, two, three, four…

"Nancy," Christine squeaked. "Tell me that's not…"

A fifth stretcher rolled out, ending her sentence. There shouldn't have been five. There were only four of them. Who else had been at the school? Who was under the sheets? What had even happened?

The car was already in park.

"Stay here," Jonathan ordered, as he slipped out of his seat.

Nancy undid her seatbelt and climbed out after him.

"Nance, help me out. I want to…"

"No, stay here," Nancy instructed. "I'm gonna go get some answers. I'll be right back."

She slammed the door shut on any half-formed protest. All Christine could do was watch through the windshield as Nancy jogged after Jonathan, and then as Steve jogged after Nancy. They were immediately surrounded by a number of cops. There was some kind of argument, Nancy demanding something of one officer while the others exchanged weary looks. One of them took Nancy by the arm, and began pulling her toward one of the ambulances. Jonathan and Steve were dragged off too, split up to different corners of the parking lot for questioning. No one looked back at the car, and no one came over for Christine.

She eyed the door to the school, unattended.

Five minutes was long enough to say she'd waited in the car.

It was tough to get the door open. Christine had to twist precariously in her seat to reach the door near her feet. She was only able to pull the handle by the tips of her fingers, and then kicked it open with her good foot. She slid out onto the pavement, using the car to balance her as she hopped on one foot. Suddenly, the distance between her and the school seemed a lot farther.

She moved indelicately around the car. She winced every time she hopped, praying she wouldn't wipe out and break her other ankle as well. Her hands had to stay on the car, to take as much weight off her leg as possible. And when she reached the edge of Jonathan's car, she had to hop quickly across the gap to the next one.

Jumping car to car, she worked her way toward the school. She was about a third of the way there before anyone noticed her.

"Woah, woah! Where do you think you're going?"

A paramedic grabbed Christine by the elbow, steadying her as she hopped her way toward the trunk of a Buick.

"I've got it," Christine assured her, shrugging off her hands. "Thanks, though. I'm sure you've got more important things to worry about."

"I don't think so." She stepped in Christine's path, inspecting the towels Jonathan had duct taped around her leg. "Is that a broken ankle?"

"Uh…I don't know. It's not important, really. I'm fine."

"Uh-huh. Well you're not gonna be fine when you face plant on the pavement and break your nose. Come here."

She stoutly ignored Christine's protests. Wrapping an arm around her shoulders, she escorted her to the closest ambulance. She sat Christine down at the back and disappeared briefly to get her kit. It wasn't enough time for Christine to make a run for it.

"What exactly did you do here?" the woman asked, cutting the duct tape loose.

Christine hissed as the pressure came off her leg. She had been doing a pretty good job of ignoring the pain she was in.

"Kicking something," she excused through clenched teeth. "Repeatedly."

"Car break down?"

"Boy drama."

"For real?" The woman looked up at her incredulously. "What could a boy do that was so bad you broke your leg mad about it?"

Christine looked across the parking lot, where Jonathan was talking to the cop she recognized as Powell. He had his arms wrapped around his torso, and glanced over to Nancy as he spoke.

"Trust me," Christine groaned. "It would have been worth it."

She remained trapped in the ambulance as the paramedic examined her leg. There wasn't much that could be done in the short term. The woman gave her some fresh ice, and wrapped her in compression bandages instead of kitchen towels. She was dishing out advice as she worked, everything from first aid to romance. But Christine wasn't listening. She kept her eyes trained on the door to the school, monitoring everyone who came in or out.

"What happened here?" she asked abruptly. "I mean, why is everyone at the school?"

"No idea," the woman said with a dry laugh. "Above my pay grade."

"Seriously? They didn't tell you anything?"

"Nothing specific. All I know is that the cops got some kind of anonymous tip, said there was some illegal activity going on. Military beat us to it, so I figured it must've been big. Then I saw the body bags and knew it must've been big."

"Who was it?" Christine asked. "Was it—I mean, where they students?"

"No, no," the woman dismissed. "No, they weren't kids. I guess it must've been some of the government's people. All adults in suits with their eyes bl—… Well. I don't think I'm allowed to discuss open investigations, but it was gross."

Christine didn't push the subject, sitting back so she could process that information. Maybe—just maybe—that meant Eleven was okay. Adults in suits sounded like government officials, and if they were dead then that meant that something had fought them off. The Demogorgon probably wouldn't have left the bodies, but Eleven… Christine hadn't considered whether or not she was powerful enough to kill someone. But after she'd thrown Lucas across the junkyard, it had to be a possibility. If Eleven had been defending herself, she might have had time to run…

The school doors opened again. Several more officers where coming out, and this time, they had civilians with them. Christine nearly kicked the paramedic as she tried to get up.

"Boys!"

They stopped, heads wheeling around wildly until they spotted her by the ambulance.

"Christine!"

There was nothing the officers could do as the boys darted between their arms and escaped their grip. The boys sprinted across the parking lot, dodging officials left and right, until they collided with her in a hug. As usual, Dustin hit her first, knocking the wind out of her.

"Oof! Oh my God, thank God. Thank God you're okay."

"Thank God we're okay? Thank God you're okay! What the hell were you thinking, going up against the Demogorgon? That was insane! You're awesome!"

"Demo-what?" the paramedic asked.

"Oh uh…" Christine winced, easing herself back onto the ambulance. "Like I said. Drama. Could—Could you give us a second?"

The woman didn't look convinced, but she put her kit back in the truck. "Fine, but don't take too long. You need an X-Ray for that fracture. If I were you, I'd get your butt to the hospital."

"X-Ray?" Dustin repeated as the woman walked away. "Fracture? Christine, what the hell did you do?"

"It doesn't matter."

She turned back to the group. Her brain already knew that someone was wrong, but it wouldn't let the complete thought form. She looked them over, instinctually doing her head count. One, two, three…

"Where…Where is she?" Christine tried to keep her voice low, just in case they were still searching. "Is she hiding? I mean…"

The boys' faces fell. Just like that, the fragment of hope Christine had been holding onto vanished.

"No. She's—She's not…"

"It was the Demogorgon." Mike's voice was barely audible. It wasn't because he was trying not to be overheard. It sounded like he just couldn't muster the strength to be louder. "It found us and she—she saved us. But…now she's gone."

"G-Gone? Gone like she's…"

"Gone," said Lucas. "The Demogorgon kind of disintegrated. The lights were flashing real bad and—and when we opened our eyes she was just gone. We couldn't find her anywhere."

"Well, you—you looked, right?" Christine's voice broke. "She could still be hiding, or—or she could be in the Upside Down! If we go to the lab and find Hopper, he can…"

"Chrissy," Dustin said softly. She didn't want to see him shake his head. "She said goodbye."

"No, but—but she can't—she can't have just—I told her—I didn't get to…"

She couldn't get the thought out of her mouth. The boys still seemed to understand.

It was Mike who pushed forward. Mike, who was crying just as much as she was, who buried his face in her shoulder and held on for all he was worth. Christine clutched at his jacket and ran a hand over his hair. They were both lost and anchor, comforting and inconsolable.

Eleven was gone. And there was nothing they could do.

The rest of the night seemed to move in slow motion. Christine was despondent as the world moved around her. At some point Nancy had pried Mike from her arms so she could hug him herself. Mr. and Mrs. Wheeler had been called as well. They asked questions about the US Marshalls, and government agents that had been to their house. Christine didn't know how much they knew, but they'd been silenced by other agents pretty quickly. Someone said something about paperwork, nondisclosure, national security. It was all meaningless blabber.

Even after Mike and Lucas had been whisked off, Dustin stayed by her side.

"Can you drive this thing?" he asked a different paramedic. "We need to go to the hospital. This idiot broke her leg and we need X-Rays."

"What happened?" the man asked, eyeing the fresh wrapping on her leg.

Dustin took the liberty of answering for her.

"She was trying to run here to find us and she tripped and fell off the road. She's in shock. Her name's Christine Walcott, she's fifteen and a half, she lives at 66 Dover Avenue, and she's allergic to shrimp and erythromycin."

"And…who are you?"

"Dustin Henderson. 68 Dover Avenue. I'm her next door neighbor."

"Okay, well I can take her to the hospital, but unfortunately, you can't come. Family only."

"Like hell I can't!" Dustin argued. "Her dad's out of town, and that means I'm the only family she's got! Well, me and my mom. I need to call my mom once you get us to the hospital. She's got the phone number for Mr. Walcott's hotel. But we can't wait for that! Didn't you hear me? They said she needs an X-Ray, stat!"

Needless to say, the medics let Dustin ride in the ambulance. It was mostly to shut him up, but Christine didn't care. She was just glad to have someone holding her hand.

Once they reached the hospital, a nurse had to forcibly separate them. She escorted Dustin to the front desk so he could use the phone. Christine was carted off the to the emergency room. She had to sit through X-Rays and answer some basic questions about what she'd done. She stuck with Dustin's story of falling off the road. It was probably the first thing Nancy would say too, if anyone asked her. And it was a better story than kicking someone.

Christine had some trouble focusing long enough to complete the paperwork she had to fill out, but no one seemed surprised. They marked it down to shock from the injury and told her she could call her father later. The doctors gave her some different pain medication, which only made it harder to focus on what was happening. She still cried as they set her leg. She was tired, she was overwhelmed, and she just wanted everything to be over.

At some point, Claudia joined the commotion. She burst into the emergency room with Dustin at her side, shoving through the curtains and smothering Christine with a loving, tearful hug.

"Oh, sweetheart, what did you do? Look at you! Are you alright? Dusty told me everything!"

"He did?"

"Yes!" Dustin smiled with an over-exaggerated nod. "I told her all about how Mike, Lucas and I went to the school to try and use the Heathkit, and how we called you, and how you were so mad that you started running from the Byers' house, which is where you were, and how you fell off the road and hurt yourself and how Jonathan and Nancy had to drive you the rest of the way because you had all been together to study."

How his mother never knew when he was lying was a mystery. Dustin was awful at it.

"That was so dangerous!" Claudia scolded her. "I mean, running along the backroads at night? We're lucky you weren't hit by a car!"

"Yeah," Christine sighed. "I know, I'm sorry."

"No, no, don't apologize. You were just trying to look out for Dusty, as always. Ah! I can never thank you enough, Christine. You are truly the best babysitter in this town."

"Mom! Christine's just my friend! She's not my babysitter!"

"Oh, I'm not?" Christine asked him teasingly. "What happened to desperate times?"

"Desperate times are over," he said with a shrug. "You're okay now."

Christine smiled. She wished she felt better about it.

It was a few hours before she was released. Her leg was in a cast, her arm in a sling for at least the next week. Dustin's mom needed to push her in a wheelchair, which was about the most inconvenient thing she could imagine. She wanted to be independent, be alone, so she could barricade herself in her room and cry the way she'd wanted to all day. But it didn't look like that was going to happen anytime soon. Claudia had already told her that her father was taking a rush flight back to Indiana the next morning, and her possible concussion meant she'd have to sleep over at the Hendersons' for the night. Claudia was probably going to wake her up every hour, and the living room couch didn't offer a lot of privacy to grieve. If she wanted to do that, she was going to have to lock herself in the bathroom. Even that was going to have to be put off.

The waiting room was full to the brim. Every seat was occupied. Hopper sat next to Mr. Wheeler, who sat next to Steve, who was next to Mrs. Wheeler, Nancy, Mike and Lucas. Before they could even ask, Lucas was out of his seat.

"They found him," he blurted. "They came back and they found him! He's alive!"

"He's—what?"

Dustin gasped, followed by a strangled sound somewhere between a squeal, a sob and a battle cry. He nearly tackled Lucas to the ground. The two of them jumped around like idiots, Mike joining the pile with a weak laugh. Christine knew the sound. Even as relief filled her chest, it was the only kind of laugh she could muster at the moment as well.

"What in the world…?" asked Claudia.

Thankfully, Chief Hopper stepped in before Christine had to come up with another lie.

"Christine," he said with a short nod. "How's the leg?"

"Fine. I just tripped running to the school."

Hopper raised an eyebrow. His sharp eyes reminded her a little of Eleven. One glance, and she was sure he already knew exactly what stupid shit she'd been up to and exactly how she'd broken her leg.

"Chief, what is going on?" Claudia asked, still staring at her son.

"The Byers' boy," he said shortly. "He turned up in the woods on the west end of town. Sick as a dog, but he should pull through."

Claudia's jaw dropped.

"But—But Will was—there was a body! And the funeral?"

"I know. Can't explain it."

Hopper had shrugged as he said it, but his eyes were still locked with Christine. It sounded like an explanation, but she knew it was more of a warning. Don't explain it. Don't talk about it. Not to anyone. Not at any time.

Christine nodded.

"I guess it's just one of those things," she said. "Crazy stuff. Doppelgangers and shit."

"Doppelgangers?" Claudia repeated, still reeling.

"Yeah, you know. Someone who looks just like you. They're supposed to be bad luck. Like supernatural omens or beings from a different dimension."

Hopper glared at her, and pulled out his pack of cigarettes with a little too much force.

"Oh, you—she doesn't know what she's saying," Claudia said sheepishly. "Come on, Chrissy, let's—let's wheel you over here…"

"I've got her, Mrs. Henderson." Nancy had appeared at her shoulder, waving Claudia toward the chairs. "Here, why don't you take my seat?"

"Aw! That's so sweet of you. Thank you, Nancy, honey. Chrissy, are you…?"

"Yeah, I'm fine, Claudia. Thanks."

Claudia smiled and hurried off to the vacant seat next to Mrs. Wheeler. It looked like she was ready to begin gossiping about the exciting turn of events.

"Water?" Nancy asked, nodding down the hallway.

"Please."

Nancy wheeled her out of the room. It was a relief to get away from the prying eyes, even more of a relief than finding out Will was alive if it were possible. It made her feel stupid, guilty. But it already felt easier to breathe.

"Are you okay?" Nancy whispered as they walked.

"Considering I was ripped out of an interdimensional portal and thrown across a room by that thing? Yeah, I'm okay. Cast will stay on for a month or two, sling for about a week. I'll live."

"That's good. Everyone's been so worried. Even Steve. He looked like he was about to pee his pants."

Christine snorted, but didn't pursue it. That conversation still felt a little fresh.

"Where's Jonathan?" she asked.

"Home." Nancy sighed as they reached the water fountain, and grabbed a cup for Christine. "He's coming back, he just wanted to grab some stuff for Will."

"Hopper said he's sick?"

"Yeah. He was there for almost a week, so…between the starvation, hypothermia, dehydration…I mean I can't imagine staying there for more than a couple minutes…"

"I know what you mean."

Nancy stilled, but smiled as she passed Christine her cup. "Yeah. I guess you do."

Neither of them said anything else on the subject. Both of their thoughts were elsewhere, back in that dark place filled with motes and slime. A shiver went down Christine's back, and her teeth chattered into her cup.

"Hey," Nancy said softly. She was picking at the cuffs of her sweater. "I didn't want to ask, but…Eleven? Is she…?"

Christine shook her head.

"I'm…I'm so sorry, Chris. I know how worried you were, and…"

"Can—Can we not talk about it?" Christine whimpered the question out, and had to put her cup down so she could wipe her face. "Just, not right now? I'm just—I'm gonna start crying and then people are gonna ask questions and we won't be able to answer them and…"

"No, of course. Sorry, I just…I'm sorry."

But the damage had already been done. Christine bit hard on her bottom lip, tilting her head back to look up at the ceiling. She'd been hoping gravity would keep the water in her eyes. All it really did was push the tears down the sides of her face. Gravity wasn't an ally today at all.

Nancy hushed her, kneeling down next to her wheelchair. Her hug was awkward. Her arms were too short to reach all the way around Christine, the sling and the seat. But Christine appreciated it all the same. It gave her enough cover to cry. Just a few tears, for just a few minutes, just before they had to go back to lying.

They waited in the lobby for another few hours. Christine had stopped trying to keep track of the time. No one was speaking to each other. Steve was still there for some reason, sitting in the corner and looking extremely out of place among the other adults. Hopper had come back from his smoke break, and was plucking at an elastic band on his wrist. Dustin and Lucas had straight up fallen asleep. Christine sat next to Nancy at the end of the row, magazine in her lap. She wasn't reading it per se, but she wanted to keep her mind busy. If that meant reading her horoscope from seven months ago, so be it.

The door opened, and everyone looked up to see Jonathan peeking his head into the room. It was clear he'd been crying, but he was sporting a smile.

Mike was the first out of his chair.

"Guys! Guys, he's up! Will is up! Guys, Will is up!"

He smacked Lucas and Dustin abruptly into consciousness, then sprinted through the door and down the hall. The other boys groaned and shoved each other, competing to be the second one through. Dustin managed it first, then smacked into Lucas when he turned around.

"Christine, let's move it! Will's awake!"

He ran away before she could respond.

"Oh, uh…is that okay?" she asked Jonathan. "I know there's probably a limit…"

"My brother just came back from the dead," he reminded her. "I don't think they can say anything about guest limits."

"Besides," Nancy said with a smile. "You're a patient, right?"

Still feeling a bit uncomfortable, Christine allowed Nancy to wheel her into the hallway. They followed Jonathan down the hall, but they didn't exactly need a guide. They could have tracked the source of the boys' excited shouting from clear across the building.

"Be careful!" Mrs. Byers was warning over them. "Be careful with him!"

"Guys," Jonathan chimed in as they reached the door. "Guys, go easy on him."

Even with the concern, he was laughing. It was hard not to, the way all of the boys were trying to dog pile onto the bed. They were reluctant to move back, not wanting to risk losing him again. But through the cracks between their shoulders, Christine could see Will on the bed. He looked a little smaller, a little paler, and a little worse for wear. But he was smiling brightly, very much alive. It was more than they could have hoped for.

"Oh—Christine!" Mrs. Byers stepped away from her son's bed, leaving the boys to chatter excitedly. "What—What happened, sweetheart?"

"It's nothing," Christine assured her. She raised her good hand with air quotations. "I tripped on the side of the road. Really, it's nothing major."

Still, Mrs. Byers pressed her hands over her mouth. She hurried to help Nancy push the wheelchair into the room, and once she'd crossed the threshold, she kneeled down at Christine's side.

"Jonathan told me what happened," she said in a hushed voice. "Fighting that monster and—and trying to get through to Will. I mean, Hopper and I could hear you screaming…"

"You could?" Christine asked in surprise. She hadn't been sure it worked.

"Yes! We heard you screaming for help, and I was so worried and—and that was so reckless! You kids could have been hurt! You did get hurt!"

"Seriously, Mrs. Byers. I'm fine."

"I—I know. I know you are, but…still. Thank you, Christine."

She grabbed Christine's free hand in both of her own, holding onto it tightly. She almost looked like she was going to start crying again. But Dustin intervened.

"Chrissy! Sorry, Mrs. Byers, can I borrow her? Christine, come on."

He pushed everyone else out of the way, shoving her chair closer to the hospital bed. The boys parted for her, letting her right up to the handrail.

"Christine?" Will asked in surprise. "Seriously? I thought Lucas was joking."

"Told you he's in love with you," Dustin said to her, making Lucas smack him.

"Hey there, Will the Wise," Christine offered with a smile. "You made it. That's pretty impressive."

"Thanks," he said shyly. "Are you okay? Why are you in a wheelchair?"

"She was battling the Demogorgon," Lucas said proudly.

"She was trying to distract it," Mike explained. "So we could get to you."

"It was pretty badass," said Dustin. "She's pretty much part of the party now."

"I am?"

This was news to Christine, news that Mike immediately swept back under the rug.

"We have to have a formal discussion," he said quickly. "Party changes have to be mandated by a unanimous vote. But still, it—it was pretty cool."

"You should've seen it!" Dustin gushed. "She was talking about all these theories about different dimensions…"

"And she knows so much about theoretical physics!"

"And we were keeping Eleven at her house, so it was like safe haven…"

"It was just like that campaign where…"

The boys babbling on around her, Christine couldn't help but smile. It had been a long week for all of them. They'd been through a lot. She'd hated seeing them so sad about Will, so scared of the unknown, so mad at each other. But for now, they were all back to normal—smiling and grinning and rambling about D&D. It had been worth it, if it meant Will was home.

It had almost all been worth it.