For the sake of this story, I have assumed that the parents (Karen Wheeler, Claudia Henderson, the Sinclairs) at least have a basic understanding of what happened in season 4. They understand there's an otherworldly element to what's going down and that supernatural powers are at play. Also, the kids have told them Eddie isn't evil. Whether they're totally convinced may be uncertain, but they don't assume he's a murderer.

Enjoy!

March 29th, 1986

"You should be somewhere else. Anywhere else. Having new experiences. Making new friends. This is the best time of your life."

Steve was currently listening to his mother rant. Her hair was all big and styled and hair-sprayed to the consistency of concrete. He knew he'd inherited that hair, but lately, he'd lost interest in preening and let it fall wildly around his face. He stared at his mother's teased locks and wondered if that style would make it past the 80s or if some future teenagers would look at pictures and laugh. Maybe his kids. Although that idea nearly made him laugh out loud. He couldn't even make a relationship last. Let alone think about kids.

I've already got kids.

The thought hit him hard, made him wonder when he started caring enough about others to think of them as his. When he'd realized the price of caring.

Pain.

"We're getting out of here," his mother was insisting. "You should, too."

Steve tried to look passive. Tried to nod along and show enough signs of possible agreement to make her leave him alone. But, just beneath the surface, everything in him was breaking apart.

For the fourth time, they had lost someone to that place. They crafted a plan, armed themselves to the teeth, and drew up all the courage that existed in such young people. Like a scrappy, ragtag militia, they went to war against powers far greater than themselves. Fucking Russians and government agents and crazy doctors and outright, otherworldly monsters fighting teenagers with Molotov cocktails and shotguns and baseball bats. And, although they technically won, they lost. Every time, they lost.

The first time it was Barb.

A smart, strong girl and a good friend to Nancy. But she wasn't that close, a degree or two of separation from Steve and they all hadn't bonded quite yet. Still, a loss.

The second time it was Bob.

A sweet, honest soul who could've loved Joyce for the rest of her life. A guy who just wanted to help, who loved a good puzzle. His loss stung. Left Joyce somber even after they rid Will of that thing inside him.

The third time it was Billy.

A guy that was nothing if not extreme. He was so easy to hate, and he deserved it. Until El went and dove into his mind and found those wretched memories. Memories that were a little too much like Steve's for his comfort. And his death wrecked Max. As much as she hated him, she loved him. The flawed fucker.

This time, it was Eddie.

Even thinking of his name caused a rift in Steve. A searing pain that was intolerable, inconsolable. So he tried to focus on his mother.

"You should leave, Steven. We'll sell the house. Go to college. Or don't. But get out of Hawkins. This place is cursed."

She might be right.

But he didn't want to leave. He couldn't make himself go when everything still felt so unfinished. When so many pieces of himself were now rotting in that godforsaken place, the place where Eddie lay dead and divested, so far and yet so close. How could he go on when Eddie had just…stopped? A whole life, someone he'd laughed and cried and fought with, just gone. How many times were they supposed to do this? How many were they expected to sacrifice? Steve hoped, next time, it would be him.

And he was certain there would be a next time.

Steve said goodbye to his parents one week after the earthquake in Hawkins. In the end, they took what they wanted from the house, staked a "For Sale" sign in the yard and left it in the hands of a realtor from two towns over. Steve couldn't imagine who would want to buy it. Was "located conveniently close to a gate to hell" a selling point? He also didn't care. He was nineteen, and he hadn't needed his parents in several years. Steve didn't need anyone.

But he moved in with Dustin.

He told himself it was because Claudia Henderson insisted so firmly he couldn't say no. He wondered if, on some level, she felt sorry for him. This high school graduate whose parents didn't give three fucks about him.

Steve also told himself it was because Dustin needed him. Because the boy was grieving hard. They'd all seen horrible things, more horrific than any child, or even adult, should have to see. But Dustin and Lucas held death in their arms. They both watched as blood and breath drained, as life faded, their mortal bodies powerless to stop it. Lucas had a shred of hope, now. The steady beep and hiss of monitors confirmed Max's heart was still beating, lungs breathing. Dustin, however, was shattered. There was no hope for Eddie.

The day Claudia showed Steve to the guest room, her son barely spoke. This kid Steve had begrudgingly started to think of as a little brother was a shell. He sat in his room, all his gadgets and toys and comic books forgotten. He'd been thrown into the deep end of adulthood with no warning, nothing to break the fall. When Steve tried to coax a smile onto his face with offers of a trip to the arcade in the next town, Dustin barely acknowledged him. Just shook his head. He even ignored Suzie's calls–both radio and telephone.

"I don't know what to do," Claudia said softly over dinner of boxed macaroni and cheese and hotdogs. It was usually one of Dustin's favorites, but he left the table after a few bites to retreat to his room again. "I'm so worried about him."

Steve sighed, wishing, in the moment, that he was still a kid in her eyes. That he could retreat, too. Instead, he said, "It's only been a week. We saw…some bad stuff. His friend…died. In front of him."

"I know," Claudia softly agreed. "But…he'd only known the Munson boy for a few months…"

Steve swallowed hard. He knew he would never be able to communicate the bonds they'd formed while slogging through that place. It was like trying to explain war to someone who'd only known peace. Time was different in the other Hawkins, fractured and stretched to make moments feel like little eternities. Words had more power in the face of death. Love was more freely given and hate was reserved for their common enemy. Any one of them would've died for the others, but Eddie drew the short straw. The self-proclaimed coward had stared down death and stood his ground. Sacrificed himself for a bunch of kids and a town that hates him. A world that refused to understand him.

Claudia went on, "I mean, it could've been my Dusty. It could've been Mike or Will or you, Steve. I've been telling Dustin it could've been so much worse. And the Munson boy's been in trouble for years. I know it was awful, but…"

But he was expendable.

Steve could hear what Claudia wasn't saying. Eddie was expendable. He was the outcast who seemed to deserve whatever suffering befell him simply because he didn't fit. He ruffled feathers. He reminded people that Hawkins wasn't all quaint suburbs and small town charm. There was strife and struggle, parents who drank too much and kids without enough clothes and food. There were drugs and loud music and sex and all the things people do in the shadows, to cover the pain. And Eddie Munson didn't give a single fuck who knew about his vices. He was authentic in a way that terrified Steve. And, to the carefully coiffed, upstanding citizens of Hawkins, he was expendable.

Steve could hear them thinking, Let Eddie the Freak take the fall. Take the blame. Take the harsh words and the rumors. Let the bats take bites of him until there's nothing left.

Let him take all their fears to his grave. They can all rest easy now that the monster is gone. Purged from their town like garbage, like something less than human.

They have no idea who the real monster is.

Looking at Claudia, Steve wishes she understood. Dustin isn't just grieving a friend of seven months. He's grieving the loss of the chance for people to really know Eddie. To see his creativity. His intelligence. His passion for music. The way he really sees people. How he picked out Dustin and Mike and Lucas at school, just knew they needed some place to belong. How quickly he trusted all of them, even Steve. How deeply affected he obviously was by seeing Chrissy die. How his eyes could speak volumes and his smile lit up any room.

Steve shook himself. He knew he wouldn't be able to communicate any of that to Dustin's mom. He'd never find the right words and the experience was just too much. Eddie was too much to put into mere words. And Dustin, poor kid, had to be the one to break the news of his death to Wayne Munson. That was an adult's job, for fuck's sake. It was more than Dustin's mom could understand right now.

So he simply said, "It's a lot to deal with. All of it. But, I'll try to talk to him."

Claudia smiled slightly. "Thanks."

"And," Steve added, "thanks for the room. My parents hauled ass outta here pretty fast."

She reached for his hand across the table. "Of course. I'm glad you stayed. We've all gotta stick together now, I think."

Steve gave her a hint of a smile and a nod. In Claudia, he could see Dustin clearly–his positivity, his huge heart, his infectious smile. He was so much like his mother, for the first time, Steve wondered about Dustin's father, then filed the question away for later.

The night, long after Claudia went to bed, the boys sat up in the living room staring at the television. Steve was pretty sure they were watching one of the Star Wars films, but he was paying so little attention he couldn't say for sure. Glancing at Dustin, Steve was fairly certain the younger boy was just as distracted.

Reaching for the television remote, Steve lowered the volume. Taking a deep breath, he decided to skip the small talk and stupid questions. They'd been through too much to bullshit each other.

"This…this whole situation…it's a pile of shit."

Dustin met his eyes. "Yeah. Total pile of shit."

Steve waited a beat before offering carefully, "I miss him, too."

Dustin swallowed hard and glanced away, his usually cheerful face pulled in taunt lines of grief. "I just…I wish they could've known him…"

Steve's thoughts were confirmed. Having to hear the whole town rail against Eddie Munson was like losing him all over again.

"He was a pretty good guy, when it came down to it."

"Pretty good? He saved our asses! He just stood there and tried to fight off like a thousand of those–"

"Ok!" Steve cut him off. "It was a bad choice of words. Eddie's a hero. Seriously."

Dustin's shoulders sagged. "Sorry, man. I just feel like I'm constantly defending him and no one cares. They believe what they want."

"That does sound like most people," Steve snarked.

"I just wish we could make them see him for what he really was. Is. I mean, when Hopper supposedly died in the 'mall fire,' the government made him a hero in their fake story. Because he was a hero that day. And Barb and Bob and Billy, they were victims of circumstance. All the others…victims. But Eddie…he's Satan incarnate, to them. I just want to clear his name."

Steve studied Dustin for a moment–his mop of curls, his sincere eyes, the first hints of stubble on his upper lip. Signs of how young he still is to have gone through so much shit.

"I know you do. And maybe, when we make sure all this shit's over for good, we will."

Steve saw a hint of hope in Dustin's eyes, and he hoped more than anything that he could make good on that promise.

April 5th, 1986

The next day, the giant fissures in the earth stopped glowing. The skies cleared and the temperature rose. For the rest of the people who stayed in the town, it was a good sign. It meant the threat passed. The evil slithered away to haunt and hurt someone else, somewhere else. But for the alumni of the Upside Down, it was unsettling. Gathered in the Wheeler basement, they tried to make sense of it.

"Maybe Vecna really is gone?" Nancy suggested.

"Something was clearly still going on a full two days after we attacked him. Why would it suddenly stop now?" Mike asked.

Will spoke up, "Maybe he just…went somewhere else? Maybe he's hurt and there's somewhere he can…get well?"

"He's dead!" Lucas interjected. "You guys killed him!"

"There wasn't a body," Robin added quietly.

A silence fell over the group. The sound of Hopper's heavy footfalls upstairs reminded them that, without a body, death wasn't always a certainty. In their experience with the Upside Down and its creatures, things tended to come back–both good and bad.

Lucas took a breath. "Max nearly died so you guys could kill Vecna. She did die. And now she's..I refuse to believe she did all that for him not to be dead!"

Steve understood every word. He knew Lucas couldn't stand the idea that Max's sacrifice might've been in vain, because he couldn't stomach it, either. He was tired of fighting undead things that just found new ways to wage war.

"I can't find him anywhere. In the void. I've tried." El's voice was soft and even. She had a new sense of calm, since the battle. Almost like a great predator lying in wait, certain of her strength.

Steve hoped she was right to feel that way.

"Young people! Dinner!" Hopper's voice carried from the top of the basement stairs.

They trudged up, hungry but not done with the conversation.

After filling plates with Karen Wheeler's chicken and rice and the salad Joyce and Hopper threw together, they all landed in various places around the living and dining room. There was a time when there would've been noise, the cacophony of teenagers. Instead, there was only the sound of forks on plates and hushed conversations.

Leaning next to Nancy against the kitchen counter with plates in their hands, Steve asked her, "How ya holding up?"

She gave him a searching look. "Not too bad. I can't believe I'm saying this, but it's kinda nice that my mom knows what's going on, now. I think…we're finally growing into each other." She took a bite and chewed. "My dad's still as clueless as ever, though."

Steve couldn't help laughing, because it was true. Ted Wheeler could rival an ostrich when it came to ignoring chaos around him.

"What about you?" Nancy looked up at him with her wide, expressive eyes.

He took a bite to buy time. "I mean, I can't complain, can I? I survived."

"Barely." She scoffed. "How are the bite wounds?"

"Healing."

Nancy gave him a knowing look when he said nothing else. "You know, it's ok…to not be ok."

Damn you, Nancy Wheeler.

Steve looked away. Stemmed the tears that tried to fall. It was a struggle to admit, "Everything is shit. Dustin is so torn up. And…"

"Eddie?" Nancy said what he couldn't.

Steve dropped his head. "Yeah. It was a shit deal. And they're still calling him a murderer on TV. I wish I could've…"

"Hey," she cut him off. "No more of that. We did everything we could."

Steve set his plate down and ran a hand through his hair, which was disheveled and ignored. Nancy set her plate down as well. After a moment, she wrapped him in a hug. And it was nice. Gentleness was nice after all the violence.

Being with Nancy was easy. They understood each other. Came from two similar enough places that there were times they didn't have to speak to communicate. Steve loved her. He was sure, now, and part of him wanted to pursue it. He could tell there was distance between her and Jonathan. That relationship may have run its course. Steve could easily see spending his life with Nancy. Having kids and traveling like they joked about in the camper. Buying a nice house, watching their kids grow up. It would all be very…nice.

But what if there's more than…nice?

Steve had never spent much time thinking about relationships. He pursued whatever girl caught his eye until he got bored and then moved on. Part of it was ego. Part was immaturity. But part of it was born of a desire to keep things from ever going deeper than the surface. Steve didn't want to stay with someone long enough to delve into the clusterfuck that was his true self. He wasn't even sure he really knew what lurked there.

You'll get bored with each other.

The thought hit him suddenly, but Steve couldn't deny the sprig of truth in it. He loved Nancy. He'd defend her to the death and would always be content in her presence. But he couldn't shake the idea that there was more. Somewhere out there, there was passion that would light him up and make him ache with want. There was someone who would finally reach down deep and find the soul everyone kept saying he had. Someone who would make him feel alive and new and full. Something so much more than nice.

Steve pulled away from Nancy and retrieved his plate. He smiled, but she saw through him. And he made no effort to correct her.

April 7th, 1986

Two days later, Steve was awoken by loud knocking on the Henderson's front door. Squinting at the clock, he registered that it was just before seven in the morning. Hoping to avoid waking Claudia and Dustin, he stumbled out of bed. When he finally got the door open, he was face to face with Hopper and Joyce.

"Hey kid," Hopper had clearly fallen into cop mode again. "Radio woke us up. I keep it tuned to what's going on in town. Station got a call about someone wandering around just off the road over near the trailer park."

Steve rubbed his eyes. "So?"

Hopper lowered his voice and glanced inside the house. "The lady said it looks like a young guy. About five-ten. Long, curly brown hair. Covered in blood."

Steve's heart nearly stopped.

Eddie.

He tried to speak but his body seemed to forget how to make words.

Hopper read his thoughts. "If it's him, we should get there before someone, or something, makes him disappear again. Before anyone who lives in this town sees him."

Steve nodded, still unable to speak. Rushing back to his room, he pulled on jeans and a t-shirt from a pile he hoped was clean. He grabbed his wallet and stopped to scribble a note to Dustin before quietly leaving the house. In the car, he found Joyce and Hopper in the front two seats. Climbing in the back, they sped away.

After a minute, he finally found his voice. "So…why did you come to me?"

Hopper glanced in the rearview mirror at him. "Cause you can identify him. It's been a long time since I've seen either Munson in Hawkins. You were with him last."

Steve swallowed. "Technically, Dustin was with him–"

"Dustin's a kid," Hopper cut him off.

That much was true. Steve couldn't imagine getting Dustin's hopes up like this and then dashing them if they were chasing down a runaway or a drug addict. And the others who fought with Eddie were either kids or young women. It made sense for Hopper to come to him.

They rode the rest of the way in silence. Steve watched Joyce and Hopper as they occasionally exchanged glances. Over the seat, he could see they were holding hands. He hadn't paid much attention to them after the initial excitement of seeing Hopper alive. Based on the implication that they were both woken up by an early morning radio call and their body language now, they were very much together. It was one good thing in all this mess.

When they pulled up to the scene, there was already a police car waiting. They all piled out of the car and Hopper approached his former co-workers. Steve could see a couple of officers searching the woods in the early morning light. He didn't wait for Hopper to finish talking. Sprinting into the woods, he searched frantically for any sign of Eddie. He ignored Joyce's calls for him to wait as he pressed on, determined to find Eddie before they did.

He thrashed through brush and ripped tree branches out of his way. He wanted to call out, but he was afraid of tipping anyone off to who specifically he was looking for. He had no idea what the cops suspected, but he didn't want to scream out his suspicion.

Steve was out of breath, his arms all scratched up from plowing through small branches, when he finally saw something. Just ahead, leaned against a thick tree trunk, was a figure. His heart skipped as he hurried toward them.

Please be Eddie. Please.

Steve was surprised at the strength of his reaction, but he plowed on. When he got within five feet of the tree, he stopped short. His breath caught.

Fuck.

His clothes were shredded and stained with blood, both dried and still slick red. There might be skin showing, but Steve wasn't sure because of the sheer bloody mess. Even his hands and face were smeared with grime and blood. His hair was a matted mess. But when he looked up at Steve with those absolutely haunted, wide doe eyes, Steve was sure.

Eddie .

Steve was at his side in an instant.

"Eddie?" He asked carefully.

There was no reaction.

"Eddie?" He tried again. "Hey. It's me, Steve."

Still no verbal reaction.

Steve moved closer, trying to assess injury. Trying to choose the best course of action.

"Can you walk?"

No answer.

"Can you hear me?"

Eddie finally looked at him. His dark eyes held fear and pain and total confusion. Steve moved closer, reached him just in time. As he opened his arms, Eddie fell into him like a rag doll, limp. Steve stumbled backward, managing to take both of them to the ground without further injury.

"Eddie?" He panicked. "Eddie!"

Fumbling around, he finally managed to find a weak pulse in his neck.

Taking a deep breath, Steve frantically looked around. Seeing nothing and no one who could help, he struggled to his feet. Hoisting Eddie into his arms, he tried to avoid injuring him further, although he couldn't say what and where any injuries were through the sheer mess. Heading away from the cops, Steve started walking, adrenaline and force of will moving his feet.

You're not fucking dying, Eddie Munson. Not again.