Monitors bip bip beeped as she walked in. Rosie examined the screens like she understood what they were trying to tell her. He had a pulse, that's all that mattered.

"Eddie?" She had expected something a lot more dramatic, like tubes and wires. Really, he just looked like he was sleeping. If she ignored all the injuries. They'd had to set his cheekbone, leaving his eye swollen shut and purple. His split lip was stitched closed. His teeth were safe, but the inside of his mouth was cut up. Two broken fingers, cracked ribs. Minor stab wound in the upper calf. Lesions, contusions… She heard the paramedics reciting it all in her head. She was afraid to touch him, not knowing where it hurt. He couldn't tell her. So she pulled a chair over and sat.

"Eddie." Surely his hair was safe to stroke? They'd cleaned him up, but some parts were still a little stiff with dried blood and dirt. "Hey."

Rosie couldn't help it. She touched his intact cheek. Made sure he was warm. Tested his pulse again. Watched the rise and fall of his chest. Even hovered her hand in front of his mouth, to feel his breath. All his rings were gone. She ran her thumb over the dent on one of his good knuckles. Kissed his hand, then laid her head down on the bed next to him.

She drifted off, she couldn't tell for how long. A nurse came in to check on Eddie, rattling the curtain along its rail.

"Didn't mean to wake you."

Rosie sat up, wincing at the crack her spine made. Eddie had shifted slightly. "How long til he wakes up?"

The nurse looked up from her chart. "Anytime, really. He's just sleeping it off now."

His hand was warm. "Right."

The woman pointed at her chin. "You got in the middle?"

Rosie had forgotten all about it. "Yeah."

"I'll get you something. Looks a bit angry."

Rosie followed her out to the counter, and was given a strong-smelling ointment to dab on the cut. With Eddie still out, she sat with Wayne a while. Dustin and Steve returned with Max. Steve handed Wayne a cup of coffee and a bagel, and Wayne urged the three of them to go see Eddie.

"Talk to him a bit." He said. "Or talk to each other. Keep 'im company."

Rosie huddled on the chair again. Should she have spoken to him more? Would it have helped? If she talked to him would he -

A few minutes, passed, and Max came sprinting down the hall.

"He's awake."

"Son of a bitch."

His bed was raised now, so Eddie spotted them coming in. A drug-addled grin stretched across his face. He gawped stupidly up at Rosie when she took his hand.

"Hiii, beautiful."

"Hey." Mindful of all his stitches, Rosie kissed him on the head. Wayne moved in as well, and planted a quick one on Eddie's cheek.

Eddie giggled. "Steve, you're the only one that hasn't."

"Not kissing you, dude."

"Just one."

"Not for a million dollars."

"Henderson, tell him."

"There's nothing wrong with it."

"I'm not!"

"He's your friend and he's just been out for fifteen hours!"

"These lips aren't touching him!"

"He doesn't love me." Eddie slurred.

"I-I…look!" Steve gave him another half-hug. "Love!"

Rosie tried to fix Eddie's bangs. He smiled dopily again. "How are you feeling?"

"I don't feel anything."

Wayne laughed. "They gave him a lot of drugs."

"Good stuff, too."

They could only talk a while before they got kicked out; all the bickering was disturbing the other patients, apparently. Out in the hallway, Rosie pulled Dustin into another long hug.

"You ok?" He asked, patting her back.

"Better."

"Steve's gonna drive me home. If you wanna…?"

She couldn't face Claudia. Not right now. "I think I'll stay here."

"Nuh-uh." Wayne, hovering nearby, stepped in. "You have neither eaten nor slept proper this whole time."

She opened her mouth to argue. He stuck a finger in her face.

"You think Eddie wants you sittin' here half-dead waiting for him to get up? No?"

"Uh…"

"Either do I"

"But -"

"Now get your shit, if you have any, and get in the truck. Taking you home."

Rosie didn't have any 'shit' - everything she owned was either at the Henderson's or Ricks, and someone had disposed of her blanket. So she climbed in beside Wayne and stared out the window somberly all the way back to the trailer park.

"I'm gonna just eat and go to work." Wayne rummaged in a drawer and tossed her something. A key. "Keep telling Eddie to give you that. In and out as you please, not that there's anything around here."

"Thanks, Uncle Wayne."

"You use his room. Change the sheets, if you want my honest opinion. Food in the fridge. Beer too. If you need something stronger, Eddie has some in his third drawer. I'll turn on the hot water."

"Thanks, Uncle Wayne."

He ate quickly and left, as promised. Rosie peeled off her crusty clothes and put them into a plastic bag, then took a long, thorough shower, using a nail brush to scrub the blood and grime off her hands and arms, shampooing til her scalp hurt. It took her ages to feel clean, at one point just sitting under the flow and sobbing.

Once she was dry enough, she went into Eddie's room and closed the door. Wayne had said to change the sheets, but they smelled of him. She went around, touching the posters, his guitars, records, clothes strewn carelessly about. Rosie poked around in the closet and found an old pair of sweats in the Hawkins High colors. She secured them around her waist and tugged on his faded Slayer t-shirt from the laundry, then just curled up under the covers, breathing him in.

Everything kept rushing back to her. The store. The car. Dinner. Bed. Woods. Body. Again and again in an endless loop. She'd been so afraid of the water, but never thought anything else could harm him.

If she hadn't insisted they needed some stupid garlic -

He's okay. She kept telling herself. He's okay.