Over the next week, Steve went back and forth from Dustin's house to the cabin. The schools finally reopened, albeit in one building and with about a third of the student body. Hawkins was trying to limp along, still refusing to succumb in spite of everything. All the kids but El went back, much to her frustration. But this time, she seemed to understand why Hopper wanted her out of the public eye. She was older. More mature. More in tune with what kind of shit could come her way. Mike faithfully brought her schoolwork home every day, so she could keep up. Dustin went begrudgingly, obviously struggling to care about math or history or anything.
Eddie hadn't spoken coherently again, and Steve chalked up his bizarre question to trauma. He slept most of the time and was still receiving most of his fluids through the IV. Occasionally, he would sip water, but he seemed confused about who was around him. Tom warned that if he didn't eat soon, he would likely start to die of malnutrition before his body could replenish his red blood cells. Vitamins and iron supplements could only do so much. Eddie was also running a fever, which clearly made Tom worried.
Joyce did most of the caregiving.
Steve wanted to help, but he felt utterly at a loss. He'd never cared for another person in his life. Being an only child left him with no idea how to care for himself, let alone someone else. Hopper did what Joyce asked, but he seemed haunted by the whole thing. After a few days, Steve remembered that he watched his daughter slowly die. That would explain his overall reticence about having a very sick patient in his cabin.
Every time Joyce changed the linens on the couch or Tom examined Eddie, Steve was horrified. He was impossibly thin, ghost pale, and at the mercy of everyone around him. He occasionally mumbled. Sometimes reached toward the water glass he couldn't lift. Eddie was like an old person, at the end of life. Weak and helpless and altogether not Eddie .
Come on, Steve would think, Sit up. Call me "Harrington." Tell me to fuck off. Anything other than this.
But there was no change. Occasionally, Eddie's breathing would become rapid, his skin clammy. Tom explained he was fighting the infection. That it was a good thing. But, to Steve, it was just more traumatic shit.
On the afternoon of the fifth day, as Steve was getting ready to head from the Henderson's to the cabin, Dustin stopped him just inside his bedroom door.
"Steve." His face was serious. "What the hell is this?"
Dustin was holding out the black and white bandana he took from Eddie's pile of ruined clothes. The one he'd put in his pocket. Right before he tossed his clothes in the wash. Steve swallowed hard.
Shit .
"I know we left this on him. I saw it. And I know you didn't go back. You couldn't go back."
Steve couldn't find acceptable words.
"How the hell do you have this?!"
Steve ran through every lie he could think of, but none of them would come out of his mouth. He wanted to protect Dustin, but he couldn't lie to him anymore. Not in any kind of convincing way. And there was hope that Eddie would live now.
"I have to show you something." He took the bandana out of Dustin's hand and headed toward the kitchen.
"Show me what? Steve, show me what? You're freaking me out! Steve!"
He wrote a note for Dustin's mom and headed toward the door.
"This isn't funny, Steve! Why. The hell. Do you have. That Bandana?"
Steve whipped around. "Just trust me, okay? After everything, can you trust me?"
Dustin stopped, considering. "Yeah. I do."
"Then come on."
They climbed into Steve's car and headed toward the cabin.
On the way, Steve considered explaining everything before they arrived. He started several times, but he couldn't find any words that would prepare the kid. He also wasn't prepared for the barrage of questions he knew would come.
When they arrived, Steve wordlessly led the way inside. He pushed open the door, and Joyce, Hopper, and Tom looked up. Dustin stepped inside behind him.
Hopper saw him first. "What the hell, Harrington? I told you it's dangerous for–"
"He knows something's going on," Steve cut him off. "I couldn't lie to him anymore."
Hopper started to argue, but Joyce stopped him with a look.
Tom piped up, "Who the fuck is this?"
Dustin stepped toward him and offered his hand. "Dustin Henderson."
Tom raised an eyebrow, but didn't move from the kitchen table.
Dustin dropped his hand and turned his attention to the rest of the room, surveying. "This place looks the same as the last time–" He stopped dead when he saw Eddie on the couch. His eyes went wide and his mouth opened, but no sound came out. Finally, he whispered, "Eddie." It wasn't a question. His tone was certain. "How…?"
"We don't know," Steve explained. "We found him in the woods a few days ago."
"A few days ?" Dustin's tone was accusing.
"We weren't sure if he was going to make it," Steve threw out.
"How could you not–?"
"He didn't tell you because he cares about you. Can we please leave it at that?" Hopper stated with finality.
Dustin looked like he wanted to argue, but conceded. "How long has he been here?"
"About five days," Joyce said softly.
"Five days?" Dustin snapped.
Steve spoke up again, "He lost a huge amount of blood. He has an infection. He hasn't been able to eat." He paused. "We weren't sure he was going to wake up."
Dustin sank onto the floor. He sat there, overwhelmed. "But how did he…? When did he…?"
"We don't know," Steve shook his head. "We found him in the woods. He collapsed and he's only said about six words. All we know for sure is he knows me and he seems to know his name is Eddie."
They sat in silence for some time while Dustin processed the information. As he struggled, Joyce made some sandwiches and passed them out, not asking if anyone was hungry. After a long time spent making it look like they were eating, Eddie stirred. Dustin went right to him, swallowing hard as he knelt down on the ground in front of the sofa again.
"Eddie?"
There was a heavy pause.
Eddie struggled to focus. Finally, he whispered, "Henderson?"
Steve held his breath. Eddie seemed lucid, at least enough to recognize Dustin.
"Hey man," Dustin said softly, his anger forgotten.
Very slowly, Eddie asked, "Where…the fuck…am I?"
"Hopper's cabin. They brought you here…after…the bats and everything."
Eddie swallowed hard. "Bats?"
Dustin glanced over at Steve, a worried look on his face.
Steve shook his head, hoping Dustin would understand not to push further yet.
Turning back to Eddie, Dustin explained, "Yeah. Some…bad shit went down. You got…hurt."
Eddie studied Dustin's face for a moment.
"It was…bad shit."
Glancing at Hopper, Eddie asked, "Aren't you supposed to be…dead?"
Hopper chuckled dryly. "That makes two of us, kid."
Eddie didn't ask any more questions, but Steve couldn't tell if it was because of a lack of understanding or fatigue. He also didn't fall immediately back to sleep. Instead, he watched as Dustin and Steve exchanged glances.
After another few moments, Tom cleared his throat. "Something attacked you, kid. You lost a huge amount of blood. You're lucky to be talking to us now."
"That's Tom. One of my Army buddies. A medic," Hopper added.
Eddie studied both of them, then looked at Dustin with unspoken questions in his eyes. When he glanced back at Steve, his countenance was stormy. "Where's Chrissy?"
Steve recognized the expression on Eddie's face. It was the way he looked in the boathouse when they told him the truth about Hawkins. Guarded fear and confusion.
Dustin looked around, helpless and unsure what to say.
Steve stepped closer to the sofa. "She's…not suffering anymore. I promise."
Eddie's eyes narrowed. He was too smart, even in this state, for bullshit. "She's dead."
Both Steve and Dustin nodded wordlessly.
April 18th, 1986
Over the next several days, the same conversation was repeated over and over, with varying amounts of detail and longer periods of lucidity for Eddie. However, he also consistently fell back into periods of sleep before waking again anxious and confused. Joyce was able to get him to take small amounts of soup, which was really just broth, but each spoonful lessened the amount of time he slept. The fever broke, and he was less restless.
Dustin grudgingly agreed not to tell the others Eddie was alive yet. He understood that, if Eddie didn't remember anything after Chrissy being taken by Vecna, he would be totally overwhelmed by a frantic group of teenagers telling stories he couldn't remember. Instead, Tom came and went, warily admitting Eddie might just not die after all.
"His memory might be shot, though," he offered late one night. "Might be why he's asking the same questions over and over."
"Why?" Dustin demanded, almost accusing. He now came and went from the cabin with Steve. "He doesn't have a head injury."
Tom sighed. "Losing that much blood causes hyperbolic shock. Where the heart can't pump enough blood because there's just not enough volume. Without blood, the brain starves. A starved brain sometimes doesn't recover. Or fully recover. His short term memory might be gone. Memory of whatever 'bad shit' went down might be gone. He might not even remember how to read or write or walk."
"Or play guitar." Dustin worked his jaw, staring at a now-sleeping Eddie from his usual spot on the cheap coffee table.
There was something especially heavy about that possibility, but Steve, who'd never heard Eddie play, couldn't say exactly why. He was sprawled in a chair, weary. "So we just wait." He finished Tom's explanation.
Tom nodded. "Who's Chrissy?" He asked to fill the silence.
Steve sat up. "A friend. Eddie…watched her die. A few days before more awful shit happened.
"That means," Dustin spoke up, "that he must remember everything up until the day she died. Because they never really spoke before that, right?"
"I guess." Steve mumbled.
"Could be," Tom agreed. "But we won't really know until he's awake long enough to ask him."
Joyce had retreated to the bedroom, her face showing signs of strain from days of caregiving. She did most of the dirty work, changing linens and bandages and clothes, and dealing with body fluids like only a mother could. She wasn't an effortless homemaker like Karen Wheeler, but she seemed to have decided that these kids, the Upside Down kids, were hers now. They fell under her fierce protection. Even Eddie Munson. The monsters that came for Will came for him, too. And she wouldn't let death have him.
Steve felt a heavy sense of guilt for not helping her, but couldn't bring himself to cross that line. His parents had never shown him how to love like that. How to dive into the messy parts of caring. And he wasn't sure he could look Eddie Munson in the face if he had to give him sponge baths or something.
Hopper scrubbed his hand over his face and yawned. He pulled out a pack of cigarettes and turned toward the front door. Tom wordlessly followed.
Just then, Eddie stirred again. He made a low noise in his throat that sounded almost feral. Dustin perked up and Steve's attention immediately turned to the sofa. Eddie made another series of guttural sounds that made them all snap to attention. Then, without warning, Eddie's eyes fluttered and he tried to sit up, his arms thrashing. Dustin looked over, uncertain and a little fearful.
Steve rose from the chair and waved Dustin back, taking his place on the coffee table. "Eddie!" He leaned over, "Calm down."
Eddie clawed at Steve. "Chrissy? Chrissy! Wake up! Please, Chrissy!"
Steve seized his flailing arms and gently pushed him back onto the pillow. "Eddie. Eddie! Munson! It's okay! She's not here!"
It took another few minutes to calm Eddie down, to help him wake up. To shake off the nightmare. Steve had to explain again why they were in Hopper's cabin. Had to summarize that bad shit happened but Eddie was safe. Convinced him to drink some water and watched when exhaustion took him again.
The same thing happened twice more that night.
When Steve headed out the door early the next morning to take Dustin home for a few hours sleep, Hopper stopped him.
As Dustin continued to the car, Hop said, "We can't go on like this." There was a protective edge to his voice. "Joyce can't go on like this. If this kid isn't going to get any better, we need to find next of kin."
Steve swallowed hard. "Wayne?"
Hopper shrugged. "If he's all there is."
"Ok," Steve nodded. "But not yet. I'll come back. You can take Joyce back to the Wheelers. Get some sleep. I'll stay with him."
Hopper raised an eyebrow as though he didn't believe Steve could make a sandwich, let alone take care of a whole other person. Steve wasn't so sure of that himself. But he knew one thing with certainty:
"He's one of us, now." Steve's eyes were pleading. "He didn't ask to be part of this, but he owned it. Just like we did. He went in there with us. For Max. For Hawkins."
Hopper didn't reply right away, but Steve could see that he understood. Eddie belonged to them, now. The same way Max belonged after the battle in the pool house and Robin belonged as soon as she went with them into that Russian bunker. They were all bound in blood and secrets, in trauma and triumph. Before the Upside Down, Hop would've dismissed Eddie Munson with a sneer. Now, he was one of them. An unlikely, bat-fighting hero, and they left no man behind. Losing Eddie drove home how any one of them could've been torn apart or bled dry. Saving him now was about more than his life. It was about saying to Vecna, "No. You can't have any of us. You will not win."
After a long silence, Hopper finally conceded. "Fine. I'll give him another week. Then we're finding Wayne Munson. Or a facility for…impaired people."
Steve cringed, but nodded.
Joyce wouldn't leave for two more days. She reared up to her full height of barely five-foot-three and backed Hopper down in a way only she could. She insisted she see Eddie eat a few bites of "real food." Which was just crackers and more broth, but it satisfied her. By the second day, Eddie sat up for a few minutes. He still couldn't stand without essentially being carried, but it was enough for Joyce.
Steve caught a glimpse of her and Eddie talking softly before she left, and he thought he saw a hint of a smile on Eddie's face. He felt a sudden stab of jealousy, but shook it off. Not sure why it mattered if Joyce had earned Eddie's trust. She'd been keeping him alive for over two weeks now.
And I guess that's enough, for now. He's alive.
April 20th, 1986
When Steve arrived with Dustin on Sunday morning, Tom was gone and Hopper was urging Joyce toward the door. She looked haggard, yet still torn about leaving. Hopper pulled her close, kissed her hair. Murmured things Steve couldn't hear as she sagged into him, exhausted. Their new bond was fierce. Where one went, the other now followed. Steve wondered what that was like, falling in love in the middle of an apocalypse. Since Nancy broke things off, his love life was its own apocalypse.
After asking one more time if Steve knew where everything was in the cabin, and did he have the Wheeler's number? Joyce finally left with Hopper. Steve dropped his backpack on the floor, and Dustin flopped into the armchair. Eddie slept on the couch still, the IV now gone. Some of Tom's medical equipment sat on the kitchen counter, just in case. Eddie breathed evenly. Joyce had done her best to clean him up and keep him that way, but he was still pale and thin. Weight loss left his face all sharp lines and shadows. His hair was limp and dull.
Like Max.
Steve couldn't help but draw the parallels. She also slept. Weak. Pale. A shadow of herself. But unlike Max, Eddie had opened his eyes. Spoken. Recognized them. Something of him was still there. But how much? What parts?
Dustin finally broke the silence. "Maybe…it's better if we don't tell him. About everything."
What?" Steve rubbed his eyes, confused.
"I mean, if Eddie doesn't remember anything after Chrissy…maybe we don't tell him. We just say some freak accident happened and Hopper saved him. Let him and Wayne go find a new life somewhere else."
Steve studied Dustin. The curly-haired kid who was nothing if not sincere. "Would you want that? If you could? To forget all of it?"
Silence. It was the unspoken, age-old question:
Would you undo something awful if it also meant losing the good? Losing what you learned? Losing the people you came to love through it?
Dustin finally shook his head. "No."
"Me neither."
"When we first got back…when it was all over…I wished we'd just hidden him somewhere. Max, too. Just locked them up somewhere while we chased Vecna. Slash Henry. Slash One."
Steve cracked the tiniest smile.
"We could've made sure they were safe. Found another way to end it." Dustin looked away. "But they wouldn't let us. Max would've let Vecna take her anyway. And Eddie would've done some other crazy ass thing."
Steve chuckled. "I'm ashamed to admit, Henderson, but I wanted to be the hero. For Nancy. For Robin. Shit, even for you a little." He hesitated. "But you and Max and Eddie…you just threw yourselves in there. Basically armed with music. Kate Bush and Metallica. Guitar and guts. You're a badass, Henderson. And brave."
Dustin blushed and showed that infectious smile. Finally. "I mean, you bit the head off a bat, Steve. Kinda badass, too."
Steve took the compliment with a nod. He watched Eddie breathe. "You know...I hardly remember him. From school. We spent four years together in that place. And all I knew when I graduated was that people called him 'Eddie-the-Freak-Munson.'"
Dustin didn't placate him. "He deserved better. From everyone." He paused. "Do you know...the last thing he said to me...he wanted to know that I was going to take care of the kids who didn't fit in. The 'little lost sheep.' That's what he called us. He made me...he made me promise." Dustin sniffled. "Guy was dying and he was thinking about protecting other kids. Nobody ever protected him."
Steve swallowed hard. "We will, man. We'll save him from...Mordor. Or the burning Shire. Or whatever."
Dustin gave him a disbelieving look, then burst out laughing. "You really are a dingus, Steve. Robin was right."
Steve rolled his eyes hard. The clocked ticked. "God, it's unbearably quiet in here. There has to be a radio or something." He stood up and looked around, and Dustin followed.
They carefully searched the living room and kitchen, coming up with nothing. The television was broken when the cabin was wrecked a year earlier. Steve made a mental note to get a replacement soon if Hopper chose not to. They continued their search in the bedroom, and Dustin made a discovery.
"Check this out." He pulled a sagging box from the far corner. It was full of records.
Scanning the room, Steve spotted the old record player on top of a pile of books. Somehow, it survived the destruction of the table that held it. He scooped it up and took it to the living room with Dustin right behind with the records. They carefully set it up on the kitchen table and started thumbing through the box of albums.
"I don't recognize any of this," Dustin stated.
"Come on. There's gotta be something we can…here!" Steve pulled out an album.
Dustin didn't look impressed. "What is that?"
"It's Elton John. Come on! Everybody knows Elton John! Tiny Dancer? Rocket Man? Don't Let the Sun Go Down on Me?"
"Oh yeah. I think my mom listens to him."
Steve stared, deadpan. "Henderson, how do you make me feel old every time we're together? I've got what, five years on you? Why do I feel ancient?"
Dustin laughed. "I don't know, man. Maybe you're not old. Maybe you're just a nerd?"
"You're a nerd, Henderson! A huge nerd!"
Dustin shrugged. "I guess that makes two of us?"
Steve grabbed the kid, pulled him into a basic wrestling hold, and ruffled his already wild hair. Dustin fought back playfully, laughing. It was so beautifully normal, for a moment, that the heaviness lifted and they were just friends again. Two brothers-by-choice showing affection in the best way they knew how.
When Steve released Dustin, they were both laughing. He seized the album again. "Let's break the silence."
They sat through a couple songs without much reaction. Then, Steve flipped the album and dropped the needle on "Your Song." As the familiar tune played, Steve leaned against the wall and closed his eyes.
It's a little bit funny, this feeling inside
I'm not one of those who can, easily hide
I don't have much money, but, boy, if I did
I'd buy a big house where, we both could live
"Who do you think he's talking about?" Dustin asked suddenly.
Steve opened his eyes and considered. "I don't know. Not sure anyone knows."
"Sounds like a love song." Dustin didn't seem impressed with the idea.
"Maybe. But…I think Elton John is…I mean I think he likes…"
Dustin stared at him, confused. Steve had no idea what the kid did or didn't know about the complexities of sexuality. He wasn't sure if Claudia would want Steve to be the one to explain what it meant to be queer. Robin was the first person to ever come out that way to Steve, so he definitely wouldn't call himself an expert.
"I don't think anyone knows who the song's about," Steve finished weakly.
They let the album continue to play as they made themselves busy cleaning, organizing, and making some small repairs. The cabin really did make a great safe house. When it wasn't a wreck. Steve made a list of supplies they should pick up: non-perishable food, water, medical supplies. Ammunition for the guns stored under the floorboards.
Steve played the album again as he made some sandwiches for dinner. He could've dug through the box of records again, but there was something soothing about Elton John. The familiarity of a voice he'd heard on the radio since childhood.
As they ate, Eddie slept. It wasn't until the sun dipped low behind the trees, bathing the cabin in rosy orange light, that he stirred. Blinking awake, he struggled to sit up on the sofa. With a little help from Steve, Eddie was able to sit upright.
"Hey man! I'll get some water for you. And Joyce left food." Dustin jumped up and started collecting things and setting them on the coffee table in front of Eddie. When he was done, there was a water glass, a collection of crackers, soup, spoons, two half-eaten sandwiches, several sodas, and Dustin's collection of junk food sitting there.
Eddie, looking tired but alert, asked, "What the fuck, Henderson?"
For a moment, no one spoke.
Then, Dustin's face broke into a wide smile, and he laughed. For the first time in weeks, he sounded genuinely happy, and Steve felt his spirit lift just a fraction.
Eddie's eyes found Steve, and he was suddenly cautious. "So…what's Harrington doing here?" Fear crept into his voice, "What the hell happened?"
Steve and Dustin exchanged a glance, asking an unspoken question:
Is it time? To tell him everything?
Steve gave a tiny nod, and Dustin swallowed hard.
"Maybe eat something first?" Dustin suggested.
He handed Eddie some crackers and helped him sip water.
"What do you remember?" Steve asked carefully.
"I remember…taking Chrissy to the trailer." Eddie's tone was guarded. "And she…" He took a deep breath. "She couldn't hear me…or something. And then she…"
Dustin slid closer. "She was floating? And her bones snapped?"
Eddie's eyes went wide and his face looked stricken.
"We know, man. You already told us about it. Once." Dustin explained.
"How?" Eddie's voice was a whisper.
"What happened to Chrissy," Dustin went on, "that was a month ago. And what took her was…what killed her…was not of this world."
Eddie looked just as shaken and afraid as the last time they told him. Steve watched closely as Dustin explained the Upside Down again. As he recounted what happened to Will and Billy and Max. Why the town was after Eddie. Why they hid him and how they ended up going through watergate. All the way through to the final plan and the bats and Eddie's decision to take them on alone.
"You died," Dustin's voice cracked on the last bit. "And Steve found you in the woods about two weeks ago."
Eddie looked back and forth from Dustin to Steve, big doe eyes full of disbelief. "Harrington found me?" He looked for confirmation.
Steve nodded.
"On purpose?"
Steve nodded again.
"Fuck." Eddie dropped his head back on the sofa and closed his eyes. After a long pause, he asked quietly, "What's wrong with me?"
"The bats got you. Like they did me," Steve explained, lifting his shirt to show his nearly healed wounds. "But they took so much blood, you died."
"I know you did," Dustin insisted. "I was there."
"But, somehow, you found a way back here, and Hopper's crazy friend knew what to do. We tried to…" Steve stopped there, afraid to say more. He tried to imagine how scary it would be to know you'd been told something more than once and couldn't remember any of it.
Another long silence stretched as they let it all sink in.
Suddenly, Dustin slid forward and wrapped Eddie in a hug. Carefully, but fiercely. Steve watched, understanding completely.
Steve smiled. "The kid worships you, man."
Eddie met his eyes over Dustin's shoulder. "I've heard the same about you."
Like usual, Eddie woke up several times that night battling invisible demons. Each time, Dustin calmed him down while Steve watched. The next morning, in the thin light of dawn, Eddie sat up again, chasing another nightmare away.
This time, when they were all truly awake, Steve asked hesitantly, "Do you remember what we told you last night?"
Wearily, Eddie whispered, "Chrissy died. And they blamed me. So we went to battle some asshole you named Vecna. And the bats killed me?"
It was close enough.
As Eddie drank sips of juice and Dustin curled back up in the chair, Steve felt the knot in his belly ease somewhat. Eddie was starting to remember what they said. He might not remember the last three weeks, but his mind worked well enough to remember the story.
And that was enough for now.