(April 10th, 1986)
The military had arrived in Hawkins.
With the police seemingly incapable of maintaining a strict curfew, even with Hopper's return and the significant decrease in Hawkins' population, it didn't take long for soldiers to be the ones stationed at the borders of the town. Near the gaping rifts in the ground from what the media still called an 'earthquake'. It became near to impossible to venture anywhere without bumping into at least one or two of the new armed guards, and Sadie cannot quite tell what is worse. Knowing they stand next to no chance against what is really going on in Hawkins, or watching them walk around acting as though they do.
For the most part, they seem decent enough, despite being a bit rougher around the edges, but when Hopper advised Sadie to steer clear of them as best she could, she certainly didn't disagree.
Because of their presence, Eleven is keeping herself hidden. Waiting until Hopper determines if these particular soldiers are in any way connected with the men that attacked Eleven before she returned to Hawkins. In truth, the idea of armed soldiers hunting down a teenage girl because of her abilities is—terrifying. Haunting.
And, all things considered, Hopper telling Sadie to keep her own abilities hidden as much as she can isn't exactly something she is unwilling to do.
In the days that passed since Vincent's return to them, their small group settled into some sort of a routine, and Sadie would be a liar to pretend it wasn't helping, at least to a degree. Constantly having something to do made it rather difficult to spend too much time lost in the chaos of her own thoughts.
It wasn't until later in the evenings when she ran into problems. When the exhaustion didn't seem to be enough to allow for easy sleep, and the dreams would plague her until she bolted upright in bed.
Sadie doesn't think she's managed any more than eight hours of sleep over the last few days alone, but even feeling bone-tired is better than being tormented with something she will never have again.
Perhaps that is why she's been standing in the produce aisle of the Big Buy, staring at tomatoes as though they are suddenly the most fascinating thing in the world, at least until a hand on her shoulder brings her thoughts catapulting back to the present in time to see Nancy looking at her with what is obviously a very worried frown.
"Everything okay?"
"Yeah."
"You sure?"
Nancy can pick up on the answer just from a singular look at Sadie's expression, the faint smile she gives in response making it so the blonde doesn't even have to say a word. Instead, Sadie simply grabs a few of the tomatoes and places them in a bag, while Nancy maneuvers the cart so that she can place them inside, her teeth digging into her lower lip for a moment before she summons the wherewithal to speak once again.
"How are things with—with Vincent?"
"Well enough. I mean we—we haven't been able to do much yet, with my arm, but we've—we're talking."
"And that's—that's good?" Nancy questions, aware of Sadie's faint laugh and shake of the head that comes mere moments before her reply.
"It's better than it was."
"When do the doctors say you can get rid of the cast?"
"Probably six weeks or so," Sadie replies, glancing down at the aforementioned object on her arm with a frown, "I wish it was sooner."
"I know you do. But Sadie, I swear if you say you're not contributing enough one more time—"
"I didn't say it."
"Yet," Nancy teases, bumping Sadie with her elbow, and earning a small smile in response as the two of them start moving to one of the checkout lanes to finish their purchases and head back to Wayne's.
"Is that your way of saying I'm getting too predictable?"
"I like predictable. At least then, I know what's coming."
"I don't even know what that's like anymore," Sadie admits, risking another glance at Nancy in time to note her friend is sending her a knowing look as she replies.
"Yeah. Me either."
The two fall silent at the obvious reality that neither one can seem to escape, settling into one of the checkout lanes that isn't already crowded with shoppers and their purchases. The people remaining in Hawkins are obviously hoarding any food and other supplies they can find, fearful that another event like the one that had started all of this would leave them all empty-handed.
For her part, Sadie isn't entirely sure what to feel about those that remain in town, part of her knowing that if any chose to help in the fight against Vecna—assuming they ever learned the truth—it would be better than nothing, while the other part worries any who stay without knowing what is really going on will just end up collateral damage in a war she is not even sure can be won.
Lost in her own thoughts yet again, Sadie isn't even aware that Nancy is already placing their purchases on the belt for the cashier to ring up until her friend speaks in a hushed whisper, her attention flicking between Sadie and the two men already concluding their own purchase just ahead.
"Looks like someone has an admirer."
Glancing up as Nancy inclines her head towards one of the men standing in front of them, only to find a pair of eyes on her in response, Sadie almost immediately averts her gaze, her cheeks flushing even though she wishes with all she has that she could stop it. He's a soldier. That much is obvious, given the uniform worn by both him, and the man standing beside him. Dark hair. Surprisingly piercing blue eyes, when compared to his companion's lighter hair and eyes that are such a dark brown they are nearly black.
They are attractive, Sadie supposes, at least on the surface, but that is nowhere near enough to rid her of the apprehension she feels over being so keenly observed in the first place. And with Hopper's words echoing at the forefront of her mind, Sadie is determined to refrain from looking their way again, her attention still on the purchases lined up on the conveyor belt as she manages to give Nancy an equally hushed reply.
"Maybe he's just looking at you."
"Nope. That's just his friend."
"Seriously?" Sadie whispers, catching on to Nancy's smile, and risking another glance at the two men to get a better look for herself. The man who she caught looking at her—tall, with close-cropped black hair—was momentarily preoccupied paying the cashier, but his companion was, in fact, trying to send surreptitious glances Nancy's way.
After that, Sadie catches Nancy's eye and has to duck her head again to hide her own amusement, the sensation odd, given the lingering apprehension she feels over attracting any sort of attention to herself at all.
She would be lying if she tried to pretend it isn't a relief when the men finish paying and begin heading towards the sliding glass doors, but that feeling fades rather quickly as soon as Nancy greets the cashier with a smile and the older woman sends her a knowing one in return.
"Looks like the two of you won't need to pay for any of this today."
"I—what?"
"The gentlemen here before you left enough cash behind to fund your purchases as well," The woman informs, aware of the startled look that passes between the two young women standing in front of her, just as she is aware of how the two men responsible for that look are still lingering by the door, "Nice gesture, considerin' everything that's goin' on."
"Yeah. Yeah, that's—it's nice," Nancy agrees, managing a hesitant nod as she glances to the door as well, a furrow forming between her eyebrows as she realizes the soldiers are only just turning to head out into the parking lot beyond the door, "I just—I mean I feel like we should have some way of paying them back."
"Take 'em up on an offer to go out for dinner next time you see 'em and I bet that'll be enough."
Nancy and Sadie share yet another look, the latter more than a little relieved to see her companion is every bit as skeptical of the older woman's apparent theory as she is, herself. But before either of them can even attempt to come up with some means of paying for their own groceries, the gray-haired woman is speaking once again, the idea that she may be overstepping clearly not even a remote possibility, given the almost mischievous look on her face.
"They've been in here once before, you know. Seem like nice men."
"I'm already seeing someone," Nancy supplies, her mouth settling into a thin smile that Sadie can clearly recognize as a means of trying to signify the topic is no longer a welcome form of conversation. Something the older woman doesn't seem to pick up on if the question she steers toward Sadie is any indication at all.
"Well what about you, dear?"
"I—I'm—"
"We need to get back home. We're already late enough as it is."
More grateful than she cares to admit for Nancy's quick intervention, Sadie busies herself with stowing the bagged groceries in the shopping cart, carefully avoiding a look at the cashier as she eases around her friend and starts to make her way to the door. It isn't as though she is a stranger to people and their need for meddling in the lives of others, particularly in a small town like Hawkins.
Rather, it's the cold reality of being asked a simple question—is she seeing someone—and having the truth slap her in the face before she can catch her breath.
She isn't seeing anyone. Nothing was ever made official with Eddie, and she'll be damned if she pretends she's still involved with Andy…
Andy.
God, what is she supposed to do if she ever has the misfortune of running into him?
She can only hope he left town like her parents did. Like over half the population of Hawkins did, the day after the so-called earthquake. Because somehow, she knows without a doubt that facing Eddie's death every morning when she wakes will pale in comparison to enduring even a moment in Andy's company after everything he's done.
"Jesus, I'm so sorry about that," Nancy exhales, her words startling Sadie out of reverie as she catches up with the blonde in time to exit the Big Buy and head into the parking lot, instead, "You okay?"
"Not—not really."
"Oh Sadie—"
"I'm sorry," Sadie whispers, blinking as quickly as she can against the stinging at the corners of her eyes, and carefully avoiding looking Nancy in the eye as the two of them approach Nancy's car, and prepare to load the groceries inside.
"You don't have to be sorry."
"I can't just—keep falling apart over simple questions, Nancy."
"You aren't falling apart. You're not."
"Then why does it feel like I am?"
Nancy would be a fool to pretend she can't feel her heart fracture just a bit as a result of the desperation behind Sadie's words, and she hates that there isn't a single thing she can do to take any of that pain away. She hates that it only seems to be getting worse.
She isn't entirely sure if getting the cast off and progressing with Vincent will help her friend, or if it will only cause more harm, but Nancy can tell this small period of stagnation has to be driving Sadie insane.
"You're going to stop feeling that way. You will," Nancy assures, her expression nothing short of determined, even in spite of Sadie's obvious skepticism in response, "That cast is gonna come off, you'll work with Vincent, and then we'll all kick Vecna's ass."
"And get free meals from soldiers along the way, apparently."
"See? A positive spin on things really can make all the difference in the world."
Sadie is honestly startled by the laugh that breaks free in response to Nancy's quip, even in spite of the lingering apprehension she feels over the reason for it in its entirety. Because she knows she shouldn't be so unsettled by what may or may not be a bit of harmless flirting. Not when, from the looks of things, Nancy is able to take it all in stride.
She doesn't understand why this is so difficult. Why simply existing has suddenly become almost insurmountable, where before it was as easy as breathing.
Or maybe, she does understand it, and is simply too much of a coward to admit it. Maybe this inability to move on is something more to do with her, than any one thing she has been through on its own.
"Sadie?"
"Sorry. I—I'm sorry," The blonde stammers, hurrying to assist with loading the rest of the groceries into the car, her cheeks flushing in embarrassment whether such a thing is truly warranted or not, "I can't seem to—stay out of my own head today."
"Trust me, spend any more time with Dustin and Steve, and it'll be the only way you can get some sane advice."
Sadie can't help but be stunned once again at Nancy's almost eager willingness to gloss over what she perceives as her own shortcomings. At how easy it is for her to adapt to them, rather than finding fault. Without truly knowing what brings it to her mind, Sadie still cannot avoid wondering if her own parents would have been this understanding. If Jason would have been able to help her, or if he would have grown impatient when progress seemed too slow.
The answer is readily apparent in her parents' absence. In how far Jason went to hunt an innocent person before the end. And the contrast between that, and the willingness of her newfound companions to help someone that most of them hardly knew says more than Sadie believes she will ever truly be able to repay.
"What would you say to taking this stuff to Wayne's, and then going to that little diner on the edge of town for lunch?" Nancy asks then, clearly trying to offer up a distraction, the almost palpable relief in Sadie's nod giving her every reason to believe she is making the right call, "Maybe we can convince Robin to tag along, too."
"Yeah, that—that sounds good," Sadie nods, managing a faint smile before climbing into the passenger seat of Nancy's car. Honestly, she will take any form of distraction she can get, and a part of her suspects Nancy already knows that.
Not for the first time, Sadie realizes exactly how fortunate she is to have someone like Nancy in her life. Someone like Robin, and Steve. Dustin and the others as well. And she can only hope they know how much she appreciates them, even if she is failing rather spectacularly at making that fact known.
She can only hope, somehow, she will not end up letting them down.
…
"So—I've been thinking."
"Well gee, there's a surprise," Jonathan teases, aware of how Will favors him with an almost exasperated look, and choosing to do what he can to restrain his own amusement in response, in favor of a more serious reply, "Okay, what is it?"
"The other night, at home—when we had the movie night," Will begins, his expression giving ample proof of his reluctance to be saying anything at all, "I don't think that what Sadie and I felt that night is just because of Vecna."
"What do you mean?"
"It's like what I told Mike right after the gates opened. I could still feel Vecna, but he's—weaker. Different, somehow. So I think maybe he—he isn't strong enough yet to actually get into anyone's mind himself."
"So—what, you think he has help or something?" Jonathan questions, his stomach sinking as Will offers an almost immediate nod in response, "Help from who, though?"
"Who do you think?"
Jonathan does not want to say what he is thinking out loud. Not even close, because the last time they encountered what he suspects Will is referring to, he nearly lost his younger brother for good. Looking at Will, Jonathan can't seem to find anything different about him. No indication that he isn't himself.
But then he remembers that, last time they went through this, there had been no indication that anything was wrong until it was almost too late. Until the Mind Flayer almost took over his younger brother, completely.
Jonathan is so determined to try and avoid that outcome that he settles on the first reaction that comes to mind, regardless of how irrational it may be, an edge of denial coloring his tone as he speaks.
"Okay, but—we were in California. You really think the Mind Flayer could get to you that quickly?"
"I don't—I don't know. But maybe it—maybe if someone's already been a host, it's easier to get back in their head."
Will can't avoid the resignation—the dread—that colors the words, any more than Jonathan can refrain from the worried look that breaks out on his face in response. He doesn't want it to be true. In fact, he would give anything for all of this to just be a figment of Will's occasionally overactive imagination. But the eerie familiarity of it all will hardly allow him to believe that it is all just a simple coincidence.
And if his brother's suspicions are, in fact, correct, something will need to be done sooner, rather than later.
"Have you told anyone else about this?"
"No," Will admits, sparing only a moment to consider how best to reply, because he is already more than a little certain his desire to keep this to himself, at least for the time-being, will not be seen as anything other than foolish, "This is just—it's just a guess. I have nothing to back it up, and if I tell everyone now, it'll just—"
"Worry them," Jonathan concludes, Will's almost immediate nod giving him enough reason to believe his brother has already been giving this a fair amount of thought, "Why are you telling me, then?"
"Because someone I know decided to use a Surfer Boy Pizza kitchen as a place to remind me I could tell him anything."
"I think I might have a vague recollection of that."
"I figured you might."
"Don't you think you should at least tell Sadie?"
Frowning, Will considers the question, because it's honestly one he's considered more than a few times on his own, already. And he doesn't want to keep secrets from the other girl. Not when the two of them may very well be up against the same exact threat.
What he wants even less than keeping secrets, though, is to give Sadie one more thing to worry over. One more thing to make her believe she is a threat, and needs to keep herself isolated as a result.
He doesn't know her well, but he remembers Dustin mentioning her avoidance of larger groups after being discharged home from the hospital. He had seen with his own eyes how apprehensive she had been when she finally did agree to come out with Dustin and Steve. And as much as he knows she has a right to the truth, Will knows, somehow, that until he has more proof—more certainty over what is going on—telling Sadie anything would only do more harm than good.
"I will. I will tell her, once I know for sure what this is," Will says, already anticipating Jonathan's next question even before the words leave his older brother's mouth.
"If you have to wait until Vecna's stronger to be sure, how do you know you'll even have the time?"
"The Mind Flayer was at full power when it took me, before, but even then, it took time before it was fully in control. And if it's linked to Vecna like we think it is, it won't be strong enough to really act until Vecna is, himself."
"But what if you're wrong?" Jonathan presses, hating the doubt that rests behind the question, particularly since Will seems to pick up on it in next to no time at all, "Look, it's not that I think you are, I just—"
"You're worried."
"Give me one good reason not to be, Will."
"The pain Sadie and I felt wasn't focused on us."
"What?"
"It was intended for someone else. We were just—along for the ride," Will explains, hoping Jonathan will at least trust him in this particular situation, given that it is the one thing he knows he can believe with absolute certainty, himself, "And torturing that something or—or someone—took almost everything he had."
"You felt it?"
"I felt him."
"Vecna," Jonathan surmises, Will's answering nod only causing his apprehension to grow, "Shit."
"Doing that-inflicting that kind of pain on someone else-weakened him. Again. So, whatever he's planning—whatever Vecna wants the Mind Flayer to do—I think we have time before it actually happens."
"But you and Sadie felt that pain. You really don't think Vecna picked up on that? That he'll realize you know what he did, and attack sooner because of it?"
"I don't think so," Will replies, shaking his head even in spite of Jonathan's obviously skeptical expression, his brow furrowing just a bit before he attempts to elaborate, "To be honest, it—it felt like he wasn't even aware of us at all."
"So, if he didn't know you guys were there to begin with, then you felt the pain because—"
"Because of the hive mind."
"Jesus."
Jonathan hates the resignation—the open fear—that is so apparent behind the singular word, but of all people, he knows Will would never judge him for it. Not with all they've been through since the night his brother disappeared, years ago. A part of him is starting to wish they had never left California, but there isn't really anything he can do about that, now.
All he can do is keep an eye on his brother. Be ready to act, if Will's suspicion ends up being true.
And in the meantime, Jonathan has every intention of praying for that suspicion to be wrong.
…
The hunger is returning again.
It is stronger this time. More difficult to ignore. But he does not venture to that other world. The world he is almost certain stands as a more realistic replica of the one he inhabits, now. He still feels a pull to that world. Something rooting him there, that he cannot even begin to understand. But he does not try to follow that thread of familiarity, such as it is. He does not try to find an explanation for it.
Instead, he bides his time, doing what he can to push the gnawing pain of the hunger to the side. The creatures in this darker world—his new home—offer little to him, and he knows he will not be able to go on with just their blood to sustain him for long.
He knows what will happen if he returns to that other world, though. Knows that the pain he experienced as retribution the last time will pale in comparison to the consequences of a second act of betrayal.
A part of him wonders if this hunger will eventually kill him. If that fate may not, in fact, be what he deserves.
But then he recalls that other presence. The one that had suffered, as he had, and yet still found some way to remain by his side. He wants to find that presence again. To discover if it is truly as familiar as it seems, or if it is just something he has concocted to soothe his own mind.
That presence is in the other world. He knows it.
And yet, if he is always going to be so powerless against the hunger that seems determined to hollow out his insides, bit by agonizing bit, how can he ever be certain that he will not end up attacking that presence by mistake?
"She left you to die. Do you remember, Eddie? You would have died alone if I had not saved you."
Eddie.
He doesn't know if the other being divulges the name deliberately or not, but recognition washes over him like a tidal wave in response, almost bringing him to his knees, because he knows, somehow, that the name signifies something familiar. Some manner of answer to the nagging question of who he used to be. He has been questioning his own identity since awakening, desperate to find something that will give him an anchor. Something to cling to, in the midst of everything else that is overwhelmingly unfamiliar.
He isn't entirely sure why he has been given the snippet of recollection in the first place, but as soon as that small bit of something to cling to appears, it is quickly snatched away.
"Eddie Munson is dead. I have made you into something better. Something capable of ending those who left you behind."
He doesn't want to destroy anything. He just wants the gnawing hunger to go away. He wants to find that other presence again. To cling to it, and never let it go, because he knows it may just be the one thing to keep him sane.
But of course, that has to be taken away from him, too, if the next words that echo in his mind are any indication at all.
"She left you. And you would run back to her like a beaten dog, when someone worthy of what I have made you should want to make her pay."
"I don't want to make anyone pay."
The words surprise him, because a part of him is almost starting to wonder if he is even capable of such a thing at all. Speaking. He hasn't said a word since opening his eyes. Since this nightmare he cannot seem to escape began.
His voice is hoarse. Strained from lack of use. And clearly, whatever defiance he hoped to place behind the statement goes unnoticed, his body going taut as the other being's voice seems to echo in the air around him.
"You will. You will make every last one of them pay, before the end, including this girl you used to love."
"I—I won't—"
"You will. You will make her beg on her knees for your forgiveness, and when she is utterly broken, I intend to have you deny it."
The terror that snakes through his veins in response to the declaration brings him to his knees, his body curling in on itself while his hands come to press against his temples in tandem. Because he does not want to harm anyone. He doesn't want to cause any pain.
He remembers how the other presence—a woman, apparently, according to the voice in his head—seemed to tremble in response to the agony they unwittingly shared, before. And the thought of deliberately forcing more pain where it is not deserved is enough to have an acidic burn erupting against the back of his throat.
His hands move to rest, palms flat, upon the ground while his stomach heaves, his throat burning as dark fluid splashes onto the craggy surface beneath him. It is black. Almost rotten. Sick.
It all serves as yet more proof that he is nothing even remotely close to human, now, regardless of the name that repeats over and over in his mind like a mantra for something he never even knew he lost.
Eddie.
Even with the name echoing in his mind, though, it occurs to him that who he used to be, and who he is now, are obviously two remarkably different things.
And it has never been more clear that the other being—the one that constantly takes up space inside his mind, or whatever is left of it—wants it to remain that way for good.
"Eddie Munson is dead," The voice repeats, the words seeming to echo with the threat of exactly what may come if he disobeys. If he continues to cling to the sudden link to who he used to be, rather than giving it up entirely, "The ones you seem so determined to remember have given up on you."
An almost paralyzing sense of desperation fills him, then, because he honestly does not know where to turn. What to believe. The voice would have him believe he is a monster. Something not worth saving. Something discarded, like yesterday's trash.
As each moment passes, it is becoming easier to simply give in to that voice. To give in to it, just as he had when every last part of him that was familiar had died. There is a small part of him that still wants to fight. That wants to get back to who he used to be. To remember details in more than just fits and starts that are quickly yanked away.
He wants a life. Something more than what he knows, now. But some sort of instinct he cannot fully explain is already half-certain that no matter how much he wants it—how much he needs it—it is not something he will ever have again.
The only question that remains is how long he will have before the glimmer of the person he used to be is gone for good.
…
Hello everyone! Welcome to another chapter in Eddie and Sadie's sequel! I know I mentioned a time jump the last time around, but the muses seemed intent on setting up a few other little things in this chapter first, before that jump happens. So I apologize if this seemed boring or dragged out (I promise this is not my intent!) The time jump will come in the next chapter! I'm super excited to really get things rolling! It looks like Vecna's 'prisoner' is starting to realize who he used to be. But only time will tell if that recognition will remain, or if it will be gone for good by the time anyone he used to know finds him in the Upside Down (wink wink...looks like my angst-loving heart is enjoying this a bit too much).
As always, my heartfelt thanks go out to each and every one of you that has taken the time to read, follow, favorite and review this story so far! And special thanks to RoseThorne and mistyagami for leaving such lovely feedback the last time around! I am so very grateful for your time and support, and I hope you all continue to enjoy where the story goes from here!
Until next time, angels…
MOMM
