"You ready?"

Eddie looks over to her in his passenger seat.

What is it that Steve always says when we have to hide my identity? Oh, right.

"I cannot be seen here. I have run away from home." She pushes the sunglasses up higher on her nose, checking herself in the fold-down mirror of his van. Readjusting her kerchief, she nods to him resolutely. She's even wearing a long trench coat that's a few sizes too big for her. She was uncomfortable, to say the least, even more so because of the public location, but her hand had been forced. "This is why I must hide." He nods, not arguing the point with her at all.

Steeling her nerves, she glances down to the irreparable cassette in her hand, its ribbons creased and tangled and its plastic housing cracked in half. She hadn't meant to break it. She'd taken it out of the Walkman for only a moment to look at it. She tripped and it was over, her only source of music totally ruined.

Or so she thought. She told Eddie when she saw him next, and he'd explained where things like cassette tapes originally come from; the store.

So they embarked together. He picked her up from the junk yard and drove them both there at 11 in the morning. It was the earliest Eddie would agree to, and that would be when there was the least foot traffic that Filly would have to avoid. It was also the opening time for the store, so they could not have gone he found out her favorite (and only) tape was junk, he offered to buy her a new one. They were waiting outside for two minutes before an employee unlocked the door from inside. Eddie jumps into action, holding the door open for her.

She tried to say no, in the beginning. She was afraid of going out but he swore the area was safe and she even got reassurances from Dustin. Supposedly, it's like a ghost town this time of day, especially with the opening of the mall.

That's just fine by her. She does quite enjoy her privacy, after all. Eddie grabs her hand, intertwining their fingers and dragging her a few aisles over. The only person who holds her hand like that is Steve. Why does it feel weird to let Eddie do it? It doesn't give her the butterflies she gets from him, or make her heart beat faster or her mouth salivate, but there's nothing inherently wrong with the action. She slips her hand out as soon as they get where they're going.

Records 'N' More boasts a large gallery of over 50,000 records and tapes. She resigns herself to being here longer than she originally thought.

His hand clenches, then eventually relaxes. "Here we are. Heavy Metal galore. Take your pick if you can't find The Number of the Beast." He wiggles his eyebrows up and down. "Maybe we can snag you a band t-shirt, too. I'm buying."

Instinctually, she wants to refuse. It sounds expensive to her. She would hate to be a bother, but she tries to remind herself what Steve told her.

"It's okay to accept gifts sometimes. We just want to help, Fil."

She thinks maybe Eddie is like her other friends. He doesn't have any ill will towards her, so she tries to relax.

She angles her head, throwing him a sweet smile. "Thank you, Eddie. You do not have to go so far, but I do appreciate it." She feels the back of her neck to make sure her hair is still concealed. The taller teen is dressed normally; black jeans, a Hellfire Club shirt, and a denim vest. She kneels down, looking though the tabs on the shelf with letters of the alphabet. Under 'I' she finds the many Iron Maiden cassettes they have for sale.

She isn't expecting it, but there's more than one. 8 different copies of Number of the Beast are there, so she snags one. "Please," she says, handing him the only tape with the intact paper insert.

"Anything for you, little Filly." His head turns, his eyes looking over the aisles at something she was too short to see. He shuffles around her to the next shelf, pulling something off the rack. "$11.99. Would you rock it?" He holds up a sleeveless shirt, the name of the band plastered across the front.

"I would."


"Yeah, totally." The teen girl says, licking her chocolate ice cream cone with her arms crossed and her brow up. She waits at the counter while the dark-haired teen makes change from her ten-dollar bill, giving off the energy of someone who really doesn't want to be there.

"Yeah, anyway, this was, like, so fun. We should kind of like, you know, I don't know, maybe hang out this weekend or-" Steve drops the change into her hand but misses, scattering a few pennies on the ground, which she ignores. His mind is somewhere else right now. "Oh, sorry about that. I don't know, maybe next weekend or-"

"Yeah, I'm busy." She smiles and so does her ginger friend as they share a look.

"Oh, yeah that's cool. I'm actually working here next weekend, so the following weekend is better for me." He just hopes she buys his bullshit. He told Robin that, to prove he wasn't in love with Filly, he'd pick up another girl. That hadn't worked out so far. Maybe this wasn't such a good idea, as he only feels worse the more he tries to flirt. Thankfully, the black-haired teen wasn't here yet.

"No. Sorry, I can't." The girl in the Purdue tee has a nice smile on her face, but her words are unforgiving. Her smile is just a façade. "Okay, thanks," she says before he can open his mouth and they walk away giggling.

"I... This is my first day here." He sighs as they leave him behind. He closes his eyes and gathers his strength, knowing his coworker is behind him waiting to rub it in his face.

He doesn't even know why he's doing this. It must be obvious that his heart isn't in it. No matter how cute the girls that walk in are, he can't help but think of her. Filly had grown more beautiful with each passing day, warmth and healthy fat returning slowly to where it should be. He loves the curve of her cheeks and the dimple on her left side that wasn't visible for a long time.

What am I doing? Trying to prove that I deserve a chance with her? If I can attract another woman, then I'm good enough for her, is that it? Come on, Steve. You know she's not going to fall for the same old charade that other girls did. Why are you doing this to yourself?

In truth, he knew it was the fear talking. He was afraid of her being disgusted by him or blowing his shot with her. He doesn't want to go out with any of these random yet admittedly beautiful women. Every woman he'd been with, they weren't his friends. He never had to worry about destroying a good thing, but now he had the best thing and he could tear it asunder.

"And another one bites the dust. You are oh-for-six, Popeye," Robin says, making another tally under the "You suck!" side of it. She wears the same outfit as he does, a blue sailor outfit with a hat emblazoned with the "Ahoy" logo.

He faces her, crossing his arms and hanging his head. "Yeah, yeah. I can count."

She leans her elbows on top of the whiteboard, dry-erase marker still in hand. Her dirty blonde bob waves when she shakes her head slightly. "You know, that means you suck."

"Yep, I can read, too." His confidence was being blown at every turn today. Then again, she's always happy to see him and even calls him her best friend. He won't lie, that had hurt to hear. He doesn't want to stop at just friends.

The high schooler raises her eyebrows, her mouth making a small smirk. "Since when?"

"It's this stupid hat!" He doesn't mention that Filly loves the hat. She can't take her eyes off him when he's wearing his uniform. If he didn't know her, he wouldn't be sure whether to be flattered or insulted. The way things are, it made him want to show off a bit, made him feel kind of sexy. But Filly also loves his hair, free from the confines of the little white cap. "I am telling you, it is totally blowing my best feature."

"Yeah, company policy is a real drag." The young girl stows away the board, leaning her elbows on the counter between them. "You know, it's a crazy idea, but have you considered..." She gives a small shrug. "Filly?"

"I wish. She's way out of my league. Everyone loves her, she's a freaking angel." Robin nods along to everything he says, hands facing palm up as if to say 'So?' "Yeah, no. I'm not ready for that kind of rejection." He feels like a bum. He has no future making 3 bucks an hour. What kind of girl wants that? He knows Filly is used to roughing it, but he doesn't want that for her. He wants her safe, warm, and sheltered, with no need to worry about food or keeping hidden.

She laughs. "Rejection? She already likes you, dingus." Robin casually looks over her nails, one arm crossed under her bust. "She's always staring at you and giving you those big, darling goo-goo eyes of hers." Robin mimes her batting her eyelashes and clasping her hands cutely. Steve sighs.

"The problem is that you don't know what I know. You can't use normal logic on her because... Filly is not like other girls, nothing like them. She's something else." He shakes his head, placing it in his hands as he leans against the countertop. The flirting skills he built in high school were based on the typical high school girl, which Filly was most definitely not.

He had almost no hope of deciphering the mystery known as Filly.

Something mysterious, yes, but also something special. Something bright and beautiful and the best girl there ever was and I can't believe I spent all morning flirting with other women.

The other benefit of being unlike other women is that there are no replacements, not like Nancy who replaced Tina who replaced Susan. Filly was the only girl he wanted, so it's no wonder that he couldn't commit to flirting with others. He steels himself then, promising himself that she would be his someday. Even if he's fighting an uphill battle, he won't stop fighting.


Behind the counter of Scoops Ahoy, the break room is cool gray and plain, but the two inside create a lively atmosphere. "And how does that work? They give you the money, and then what?" Filly stuffs another spoonful of sweet cream into her gullet, moving onto a bowl of coffee ice cream.

Steve, having already finished his U.S.S. Butterscotch, kicked his feet up on the table and huffed out some air. "Well, first I tell them how much it is, and when they hand it to me, I then give them their change. Then their ice cream."

"I think I understand. But I do not like this "job" that you speak of. I have more important things that need to get done, like checking my traps. What use is paper when you're starving to death, hm?" She looks off in the distance, her attention grabbed by a noise from outside the break room. She thought she heard someone she knew. She uses her sight, looking for a collar bone-less skeleton, which she finds almost immediately. Steve looks at her funny when she disengages. "Dustin is here. He is talking to Robin right now."

"What, like right now?" She nods, sending him rushing out the swinging door. "Henderson! He's back!" He yells from the other side. Filly laughs, looking through the service window at the two of them.

"I'm back." Dustin gestures at the counter that Robin stands behind. "You got the job!"

"I got the job!" Steve mimes playing a trumpet, but with added sound effects. He slides into their coordinated handshake. "Hey!" First they slap hands and fists, then mock a sword battle, then Steve pretends that his guts are falling out. Filly never liked it, as the image haunted her. However, right now all that's on her mind is Dustin, having been gone a whole month.

"Welcome home, Dustin. We have been in... trying times without you. I am glad to have you back." She says, halfway hidden behind the wall.

"Thanks, Filly. I missed you, too," Dustin confesses, looking down. She stifles a small laugh, holding her hand over her mouth. He could be so cute at times.

"How many children are you friends with?" She hears Robin ask.

It turns her giggle into a full spurt of laughter. Filly can only think that she values her friends so, so much. She is glad they are back together again, and hopes that it all falls back into place. But her hope would go unanswered for too long.


Steve paces the room, chewing his way through a banana. They'd been here for at least twenty minutes, talking about and then listening to this tape of secret information. Dustin was clearly proud of his recording, and the fuzzy voice filled the silent room.

"Poyezdka v Kitay zvuchit neplokho, yesli vy ne toropites. Nedelya dlinnaya."

He presses stop on the recorder. "So, what do you think?" He asked the two of them for help translating the recording he picked up on his Cerebro last night. Filly doesn't know what that means, but she won't hesitate to help a friend, even if he sounds a little crazy.

"It sounded familiar," Steve says. Filly nods along as she had also noticed the music in the background.

"What?"

"The music in the background," Filly clarifies. "I agree. It summons a particular memory, but it's hard to put my finger on it."

"Yeah, the music." Steve pauses to stuff the rest of the banana in his mouth.

Dustin, irritated, yells at us. "Why are you two listening to the music? Listen to the Russian! We're translating Russian!"

"I'm trying to listen to the Russian, but there's music-"

"Don't raise your voice with us. Steve and I are both trying our best and-"

Speaking at the same time doesn't allow either of us finish our thoughts, especially when a very irritated Robin at the end of her rope storms into the break room. "All right babysitting time's over. You need to get in there." She nears us and notices the whiteboard on the wall. "Hey, my board! That was important data, shitbirds."

The youngest gives her a withering stare. "I can guarantee you what we're doing is way more important than your data."

"Oh, I am sorry," Filly apologizes. The boys had claimed that no one would mind if the white board was erased, but that seemed to be a fib.

"Thank you. At least someone in here has some manners." The taller girl crosses her arms, shifting her hip to one side and bending the other leg. "How do you know these Russians are up to no good anyway?"

Dustin's mouth hangs open. "How'd she know about the Russians?"

Filly bends her arm, resting her elbow on the table. "Well, if we can hear what is said out there, it stands to reason that they can hear us from there as well."

"You are both extremely loud. That helped." "You think you have evil Russians plotting against our country, on tape, and you're trying to translate but haven't figured out a single word, besides what she told you, because you didn't realize Russians use an entirely different alphabet than we do. Sound about right?"

She makes a lunge for the tape recorder in the center of the table, but Steve responds quickly and snatches it up before she does. "Whoa! What do you think you're doing?"

"I want to hear it."

"Why?" Filly asks, her eyes narrowing, not realizing until after that the boys said the same thing. Could she be an informant, sent to work here in order to get close to them?

"Because maybe I can help. I'm fluent in four languages, you know."

Or maybe Filly was acting like a paranoid fool. She never was vindicated in her extreme caution before. Maybe she should stop bothering with the whole thing?

"Russian?"

"Dustin, you know she would have mentioned that before if she did. Please use your grey matter." Filly is reminded of the evil she faced, looking at Dustin now. His terrified visage as he fed candy to D'Artagnan to allow them passage. When
they couldn't find it in Dustin's cellar, he went pale. She has to protect them. Her eyes trail over the the dark-haired teen who stands almost a foot taller than her.

"Well, I can speak Spanish, and French, and Italian and I've been in band for 12 years." The younger teen plants herself in the chair next to Filly. "My ears are little geniuses, trust me. I'm Robin, by the way."

"I was informed. Steve speaks about you often." Her warm smile tells Robin that it's not a bad thing. Though they've never formally met, Steve also said a lot about Filly to the younger girl. Not her name, nor anything related to her powers. The girls almost feel like they already know each other. "You may call me Filly."

"Actually, I was also informed." Robin looks between Steve and Dustin, wondering what the heck is wrong with their friend. This is the girl's first real meeting, though they have seen each other in passing before. "I do have to say, kind of odd, but I like it."

"I like her," Filly supplies, and she really does. The black-haired teen is not one to sugarcoat things. Had she disliked the girl, they would have known. She wanted to know more about this girl that was close to her age. She felt much more innate kinship with this girl than with Nancy, immediately knowing that they were aligned in certain ways.

"See? We get along famously. Come on, it's your turn to sling ice cream, my turn to translate," she almost whines. Robin lays her upper body down on the table, making a show of holding out the red scoop to Steve. "I don't even want credit, I'm just bored."

The two girls both give Steve their best puppy eyes, and he could never win against that kind of offense.


"Come here mały kot. Don't you want to have your nails clipped and your fur brushed?" Bernadette says, following the gray cat down the hall. Benny, as she likes to go by, sets down the nail clippers, knowing she would never get to clip them now, at least not today. Her baby waits for him at the end of the hallway.

The cat's one true love was her small daughter, only 6 years old but growing quickly. She was learning everything much faster than she could have expected. Benny and Saul were both quite intelligent, so it follows that their daughter would be too, she supposes. The little girl comes running through Benny's calves and Bisquick follows, never far from his little master, except when he went hunting. The bell on his collar jingles with every prancing step he takes after her little girl.

"Uh, can you rewind it? I think..." The memory leaves her, but she retains the memory of the word. "Well, it's not Russian. My mama spoke a bit of Polish. They're saying something about a cat. It's the only word I recognize, but..."

"No, that's good. That's perfect, thank you!" Robin adds the word to the paper, then stands up again. Her watch says it's already 2 in the afternoon, but it feels like they've been here for only a few minutes. Hanging out with Robin, Dustin, and Steve was just the way she liked to spend her time; among friends. It had gotten so difficult recently, since the boys were always busy with work or school. Every year, their free time seemed to be less and less.

What Filly was glad for was her newfound freedom. Although it hadn't been a full year, and she was still quite paranoid about being found, she felt confident in her ability to sneak around town and not be seen. She was able to avoid almost everyone on her way to the mall by staying in the forest and only using the back entrance, which Steve would prop open for her.


"The week is long." The three of them say unanimously. Filly doesn't see the point in reading it aloud when they did just fine by themselves. "The silver cat feeds when blue meets yellow in the west."

They all prepared the store to close, the empty food court welcoming them silently. "I mean, it's just... It just can't be right," Steve mumbles, pulling down the security gate over the entrance.

"It is right. We deciphered it." She holds onto his blue and white sleeve, looking deep into his eyes. "Or have you forgotten?"

"Honestly, I think it's great news." Steve uses Dustin's comment as a jumping-off point to move on.

"How is this great news?" The grate slams shut and Steve turns the key to lock and then pockets it. "I mean, so much for being American heroes. It's total nonsense."

Dustin blows air through his closed lips. "It's not nonsense. It's too specific. It's obviously a code."

Filly touches her lip, offering, "I think it may be more of a riddle." Then again, Filly isn't sure what the difference between the two would be in this situation.

"That's a total stretch." Steve throws out his hands, then lets them drop, slapping against his thighs.

"I don't know, is it?" Robin asks, turning her head to look at him walking next to Filly. "Just for kicks, lets entertain the possibility that it is a secret Russian transmission. What did you think they were going to say, "Fire the warhead at noon?""

"Exactly," Dustin agrees, taking one of his hands from his pockets. Filly mirrors him removing one and leaving the other hand in the pocket of her cargo skirt.

"There is no question that our translation is correct." Her eyes meet Steve's but her nose stays pointed at the floor.

"Right. "The silver cat feeds." Why would anybody talk like that unless they're trying to mask the meaning of their message?" Robin switches the hand that carries her helmet, turning to the three of them with her other hand up. "And why would anyone want to mask the meaning of their message unless it was somehow sensitive? So I guess that confirms your suspicion."

"Evil Russians," Dustin alleges, smiling.

"I can't believe I'm about to agree with this strange child but yeah, totally evil Russians."

"The dilemma we face is the deciphering of this code." Filly grasps her hands behind her back.

"Well, maybe we translate the rest and a pattern emerges."

The two dark-haired teens stop listening, their eyesight honing in on something familiar to both of them for different reasons. Filly looks long and hard at the horse-shaped machine and the coin slot to pay for a ride.

"Mama! I want to go on that one, please!" The little girl, small compared to children of the same age, pulls gently on the length of her mother's dress.

"Of course, maleńka. How much is it?" The tall woman looks down at the child, an affectionate smile on her face.

The young Filly rocks back and forth on her heels. "Ten cents, mama."

Bernadette pulls out her clasp purse, unlatching it and going through her change. Then, she turns to the shorter man beside her, his fading hairline still very strong for his age. "Mój drogi, do you have any dimes?"

In her calmness, she widens the gap between hers and Steve's behavior. He pulls out his pockets and thoroughly searches his findings. What he searches for is anybody's guess. "Steve, you seem frantic." Filly says, approaching him as he searches his pockets.

"Uh, it's a quarter. I need-" He turns to the two youngest. "Do you have a quarter?"

Robin chuckles, nearing where the two of them stood with Dustin on her heels. "Sure you're tall enough for that ride, Filly?"

"Please don't dawdle. This is serious," she tells the younger girl as Steve shouts for the coin. She throws it to him and he spins around, fitting it into the slot. The horse comes to life, going up and down, and a familiar song starts to play.

"Whee!" When the song finishes, the little girl jumps off the false pony, her petticoat dress flaring out, and turns to her parents. "Mama, Papa, you try, too!"

"Hah! No, honey, I think we're a little too big for this one." Saul ruffles her black locks, smiling at his daughter. He stands up from his squatting position and towers far above her head. "Let's go home now, Phyllis."

"Need help getting up, little Stevie?" Dustin starts to chuckle at Robin's teasing.

Steve shushes them. "Would you two just shut up and listen?" He gestures to the machine that plays the same song as she had once run into.

"Robin, please." Filly hopes her newest friend can give their theory a chance, at least. It takes a moment of silence for them to hear what Steve and Filly heard.

"Holy shit." The two oldest teens look to Dustin, hopeful. He starts pulling off his backpack, kneeling next to it on the ground and extracting the tape deck from it. "The music. The music!"

It almost syncs up when he presses play, but Robin's face remains passive when looking at the curly-haired boy. "I don't understand."

"It's the exact same song on the recording."

"Maybe they have horses like this in Russia," the tall girl suggests. She's coming up with an explanation where one wasn't necessary. The simplest solution is usually the correct one.

"Indiana Flyer? I don't think so. This code didn't come from Russia." Steve's blood runs cold, and he freezes. This isn't the first time there have been secret Russian organizations in Hawkins. Recognizing the significance of what Filly had told him several months ago about her captivity, he meets her eyes. "It came from here."


A/N: "Maleńka" means "Little one" in Polish. "Mój drogi" means "My dear" in Polish. Both of these are gendered terms, though, so the form would change with whoever you're talking to.