Chapter 11: Funerals, goodbyes and Revelations
Author Notes:
Hi everyone it's me the Mandalorian terminator coming to you with another all new chapter of my story Tales of The Wheeler Family. I want to apologise for my lengthy absence. I was without a laptop for most of last month which was very frustrating. I want to thank everyone for there reviews. It really means a lot to me and keeps me going especially when technology fails. Anyway I am excited to write this chapter! SO MUCH JUICY STUFF TO COVER, GUYS! It's a long one, but bear with it! Lots of important stuff happens! Once again I do not own Stranger Things. The only character that is my own is Mary/Ten. The rest belong to the Duffer Brothers.
Dinner at the Wheeler household was usually a simple affair: a quiet easy meal for the house's three occupants during which Karen would ask her daughter Holly how school was going and Holly would reply with the usual "It's alright".
Now the Wheeler house and especially Karen Wheeler had several occupations to deal with. Upon hearing her granddaughter's boyfriend would be coming over for lunch Karen had spared no expense. The dining room table was littered with an assortment of plump shrimp, oyster mushrooms, cucumber and corn.
"Mom don't you think this is a bit much?" Mike asked as he survived the amount of food that littered the dining room table.
"Nonsense, Mike. We need to welcome Bruce into our home and family," Karen replied as she hurriedly moved around the kitchen.
"Don't get any ideas, mom. They're just dating. Don't go sounding any wedding bells," Mike said.
Karen smiled lightly to herself.
Mike rolled his eyes and turned his attention back to his phone. Still no updates on Suzie's condition."Poor Dustin. He must be going crazy wondering when Suzie is going to wake," He said as El approached him.
"I'm sure Dustin will call us as soon as there's news," El reassured her husband before snatching his phone from his grasp. "Now no more phone, ok?"
"Ok I promise," Mike replied giving her that adorable smile that made her want to kiss his lips. Damn it Mike why do you have to be so cute? She thought to herself as she struggled to resist the temptation.
"You're infuriating you know that?" El said as she leaned closer to him.
"What?" Mike asked.
"Your smile is adorable you know that?" El whispered.
"It's my superpower," Mike joked as he took her hand in his and learned in to kiss her.
"MOM!" A familiar voice shouted, interrupting their kiss. "We really need to put a bell on her," Mike whispered to El as they looked down to see Eleanor standing in front of them, an expected look on her face.
"Yes honey what is it?" El asked.
"Sara won't come out of her room to hang out with me. She's been up there for an hour," Eleanor complained, her face pouting.
"Honey it's great that you want to spend time with your sister but she has studying to do," El said.
"Really because I heard music coming from the room when I was listening in," James added as he walked into the room, his eyes glued to the DS he was playing.
"James what have I told you about spying?" El demanded.
James shrugged. "Sorry." He said quietly to himself.
"Do you really think they're really studying?" Mike asked as he gave El a concerned look.
"Of course," El replied. "I mean what else could they be doing?"
"And I can't fight this feeling anymore; I've forgotten what I started fighting for" The song Can't Fight This Feeling blared out of Sara's I phone filling her room with the sound of music.
And kissing.
Their study temporary forgotten Sara and Bruce were both seated cross legged on Sara's bed, swapping spit with each other.
If there was a heaven Bruce was convinced he was there. In front of him was, in his mind, the most beautiful girl, kissing him. It still amazed him sometimes that he even had a girlfriend. Let alone someone as loving and kind as Sara was.
As if high on a drug, Sara tangled both of her hands into Bruce's mound of hair. Running her fingers through it she loved how soft it felt. "Bruce...I love your hair. So perfect." She said in between kisses.
"Listen...I was thinking," Bruce abruptly broke their kiss."Maybe you and I could go out on a date tomorrow night. If you're not busy that is."
"Um, no, I'm not busy." She could feel her face heat up and knew she was blushing the same way she used to when he would look at her or give her a compliment when he had first started tutoring her.
"Great. I'll pick you up on my motorbike and we can go for a nice, quiet ride together. How does that sound?"
"Wait, you have a motorbike?"
Bruce flashed her a charming smile."I have a few secrets," He replied. "So what do you say Sara Wheeler? Care to take a walk on the wild side with me?"
Sara rolled her eyes."You're such a nerd." She replied as butterflies filled her stomach. The thought of riding on a motorbike with Bruce excited her.
Bruce shrugged. "I'm not hearing any complains," He said as he learned forward and kissed her again.
"Yeah I'm not going to think about it," El said after a brief pause.
"Seriously?"
"What do you want us to do Mike, barge in there?"
"Yes!" Mike said. "That's what all my parental instincts are telling me to do right now."
"Well we can't. That is exactly what Hop use to do to us and you know how much it used to annoy you," El reminded.
That was true. Mike had hated Hopper's "three inch rule" and the way Hopper seemed to hover over the couple, always watching them. "Fine. We won't barge in," Mike agreed. "But if they're up there any longer I'm pulling the fire
El chuckled lightly at Mike's threat."You're hot when you get all protective you know?" She said in a low tone of voice as she slowly moved towards Mike, her fingers lightly tracing his chest.
"Oh really? I guess I should be protective more enough then," Mike replied as he and El leaned forward again, their lips almost touching –
"Get a room!" Eleanor shouted her parents unaware she was still there.
"Eleanor this is mommy and daddy's private time okay?" El remarked, hoping her daughter would take the hint and leave.
Unfortunately the interruptions seemed to continue as the Wheeler's landline phone immediately rang. Mike groaned in annoyance. "Are you kidding me? It's like the universe is against us!" He bemoaned.
"I'll get it," El said as she grabbed the phone from the kitchen bench and answered it. "Hello?"
There was a pause. "El?" A quivering, almost hysterical Joyce replied.
El frowned."Joyce? Are you okay?" She could tell immediately something was wrong. A million possibilities began running through her mind
"It's Will...He's dead...,"Joyce said in a whisper.
Time seemed to slow down as the phone fell from El's grasp, hitting the floor. Her mind was a blur. Mike was talking but she couldn't hear him. All she could hear were Joyce's words echoing through her mind. Will's dead Will's dead Will's dead Will's dead will's dead will's dead
"Eleven!"
Mike was standing in front of her, his hands gripping her shoulders, a look of enormous concern on his face. Her eyes meet his and as tears started to well she said, "Will...he's dead."
"What is taking so long?" An impatience Max asked as she paced back and forth through the hospital room, frustrated. They had been waiting for "test results" but Max already knew that they would all be clear. Physically Lucas was fine. The lights in the hospital room were dimmed and the blinds were shut.
"Max will calm down? I'm going to get the all clear," Lucas insisted as he sat upright in his hospital bed.
"Do you need anything? More pillows? Water?" Max asked, her anxiousness staring to get the best of her.
"Stop I'm fine! You don't have to fuss over me," Lucas reminded her. His eyes gazed over to Max."There is one thing you can do for me."
"Sure anything." Max replied.
"What happened?"
"What do you mean?" Max asked, unsure about the question.
"Why I am in hospital?"
"I told the police and the doctors that you're fine. I don't know why we're still here," Max replied, ignoring the question. She couldn't tell Lucas the truth; that he had been shot and that Max had had to journey to the Underworld with her aunt to recover Lucas. Queenie had insisted that Max not tell Lucas what had happened at all.
"You didn't answer," Lucas responded. "What happened to me?"
"Look all you need to know is that you're fine, you're safe," Max said.
"Max, I don't remember anything! All I know is attending the reunion and everything after that is a blur! So what happened?"
"I can't tell you," Max said, her eyes down cast as she spoke. She hated lying but she had promised her aunt Queenie. No one could know about the existence of magic.
"So that's how our marriage is going to be huh? You're going to keep secrets from me?" Lucas questioned his face a mixture of anger and disbelief.
"No! Of course not," Max assured Lucas.
"Then why am I here? Tell me what happened."
"Look all you need to know is that you're fine! Now please drop it," Max pleaded.
"Drop it?" Lucas repeated. "Max, I am in a hospital with no memory of how I got here!"
"I don't want to talk about it," Max responded. "You have nothing to worry about."
"So tell me WHY AM I IN A GODDAMN HOSPITAL?!" Lucas yelled.
"BECAUSE IF IT WASN'T FOR ME YOU WOULD BE DEAD RIGHT NOW!" Max finally vented out, immediately regretting it.
Lucas's face was a mixture of shock and uncertainty as if his brain was struggling to process what he had just been told. "What...what happened?" He asked after a period of silence. His eyes gazed into Max's. "The truth Max please."
"There was a shooting at our house," Max began.
Lucas's eyes widened."Jesus Christ is the baby –"
"The baby's fine and so am I. But Lucas..." Max paused as she struggled to hold herself together. "They shot you, Lucas. You bleed out right in front of me. I...I couldn't bear to lose you. So I called my aunt and she fixed you."
"Fixed me? What do you mean?"
Max steadied herself and took a breath before explaining, "She used magic."
Lucas scoffed. "Max, don't be ridiculous. Magic is a fairy tale."
"You'd be surprised," Max said to herself.
"I don't remember any of it," Lucas said, shaking his head as he tried to concentrate. "All I remember is waking up in front of you and the ambulance and police showing up."
"It's probably one of the side effects. Auntie Queenie mentioned you might experience some when you were brought back," Max replied dismissively.
There was something about her tone, how flippant it had been, that angered Lucas. "I don't think you should be so flippant about this, Max. You just told me your aunt used magic to bring me back and that I'm apparently going to be experiencing side effects and I'm suppose to what, just accept that and move on?!"
"I don't want to argue with you, Lucas. I saved your life. That's a good thing," Max responded.
"YOU DON'T GET TO MAKE THAT CHOICE FOR ME!" Lucas screamed. "What if something had gone wrong? Why take that risk?!"
"Because I didn't want to live in a world without you!" Max's facade finally broke. Tears began streaming down her eyes as she struggled to compose herself. Lucas knew Max didn't like to show emotions, that she wanted everyone to know she wasn't a girly girl who cried over things. "I didn't want to have to raise our son or daughter without you! I didn't want to have to put flowers on your gravestone!"
Lucas bowed his head apologetically."I'm sorry. I shouldn't have yelled," He said softly as he reached to take her hand in his. As soon as his hand touched Max's, Lucas fell victim to an assault of perplexing images: smoke rising from Hawkins; Suzie struggling as a black-handed glove wrapping around her mouth; Will laying in a pool of blood…. Trying desperately to make sense of these sudden images, Lucas was motionless….. He fought to repress the truth.
"Lucas? Lucas what's wrong?" Max asked, concern in her voice as Lucas finally glanced over to her.
"Will…..he's dead." Lucas answered, his voice solemn and distant as if he were speaking far away.
"Don't say that. Don't even joke about that," Max replied.
"Your phone will ring, it'll be El saying that Will has died," Lucas said his voice almost hypnotic.
On cue there was a ringing sound coming from Max's pocket. A flabbergasted Max reached into her pocket, pulled out her phone and with a lump forming in her throat answered it. "Hello?"
"Max?" It was El. Her voice was quiet, soft, so much so Max almost didn't hear her voice answer.
"El?"
"Will….he's dead," El responded, her voice now taking on a tired quality. Max assumed she had no doubt repeated the same words to the rest of the group.
Max's eyes went wide as she turned to face Lucas, who's own eyes were fixed on her. "Umm….. El, I have to go now. But let me know about when a funeral will be happening. And please tell Joyce I'll be here if she needs to talk."
"Sure I will. Thank you. Bye," El said as she hung up.
"You were right. Will is dead. How did you know that?" Max asked.
"What the hell did you do to me, Max? WHAT DID YOU DO TO ME?!Why did I just see one of my best friends dead right in front of my eyes?!" Lucas screamed.
"I….I don't know, alright! You knew El was going to ring me," Max paused before realisation hit here."This must have been the side effect Aunt Queenie was talking about. Holy shit you can predict what's going to happen."
"I don't want this. Can it be….reversed somehow?" Lucas asked as he looked down at his hands in a mixture of shock, horror and amazement.
"I don't think so. I'm sorry," Max said her eyes down cast.
"They were so real, Max. It was like I was right there." Lucas's eyes moved from looking down at his hands to squarely looking at Max in the eye."You should have left me to die," He said bluntly.
Max flinched at the harshness of the statement."Don't say that. Don't you ever say that!"
"I want to be normal. And now apparently I can see things happen right in front of my eyes. That...that isn't living."
Max moved to put a reassuring hand on top of his but Lucas flinched and jerked his hand away."Don't touch me!" He gasped. "I'm sorry." He immediately said, noticing the hurt look on his wife's face.
"I'm sorry too. I should have listened to my aunt when she said there would be side effects to bringing a person's soul back from the Underworld. I just...I wasn't thinking about that. All I was thinking was that I couldn't lose you. And I promise we will figure this out," Max said confidentially.
All Lucas could do was nod, hesitatingly. "Are you going to tell El and everyone about what happened to me?" He asked after a moment of silence.
"I haven't had the chance too. It all happened so fast," Max admitted.
Lucas gave his wife a disproving look. "So now we're going to keep secrets from our friends?" He asked bluntly.
"I think with everything that's happened lately we could do with less bad news."
Lucas seemed deflated with the answer as he leaned back into his pillow. "We never should have come back. This goddamn town is cursed." He said bitterly.
Max could only wonder if that was true.
Dustin sat alone in Suzie's hospital room, staring at her limp body. He had been coming to the hospital ever day since her attack, waiting for some improvement in her condition, hoping she would wake up."I don't know if you can hear me, Suzie but I need you to wake up okay?" He began."I know you're strong and you're going to get through this. I need you to get through this."
Dustin's train of thoughts was interrupted by his phone suddenly ringing."Yes?" He asked.
"Dustin? It's El. I know you're already going through a hard time but Will's dead," El's voice said.
Dustin froze. It was as if he had been hit with a ton of bricks. First Suzie and now Will. "Jesus Christ," He said. It couldn't be true…...
"His body was found at the bottom of Sattler Quarry. Joyce and Hop have already identified that it's him," El went on.
"Right." Was all Dustin could manage to respond as a wave of emotion began to overcome him."Let me know when the funeral will be," He said.
"Of course. Goodbye Dustin."
"Bye El."
It was too much. Falling to his knees, Dustin wept. He screamed and cried and pounded the ground into the night.
2 weeks later
The sun shone brightly in the sky and Joyce hated it. The rain should be pouring from the heavens in biblical torrents but with regards to Joyce Byers, the universe always had a sadistic sense of humour. At least if it was raining, it would have been easier for Joyce to hide the tears. Joyce felt like someone had ripped her heart out, thrown it on the ground, and crushed it just for good measure.
Joyce hated this feeling. A feeling that ate away at her and would continue to eat away at her until there was nothing but a soulless shell left behind. Joyce had only ever felt like this twice before. First back in 1983 when she had had to bury Will the first time. The grief back then had been overwhelming and almost swallowed her whole had it not been her determination and focus to prove that the body that had been dredged up wasn't her son. She had been right of course but the universe always seemed to enjoy twisting the knife further. First Bob's horrific death in front of her eyes and then Hopper…. That time it had been too much, the overwhelming grief had returned and that time there had been no distraction. Joyce had finally had enough and decided to finally leave the town along with Jonathan, Will and Eleven. That time the grief had won – albeit temporary.
And now it seemed once again history was repeating itself. For the second time Joyce was burying Will – only this time it wasn't a mannequin. Joyce felt shattered. Completely and utterly shattered.
Hopper had been Joyce's crutch through all of this. After she had identified the body, Joyce had retired to her room, not wanting to face the harsh reality, forcing Hopper to be the bad cop. Jim knew what it was like to lose a child and he hated seeing Joyce so physically hurt, but he had to keep Joyce moving. If Joyce fell into a rut, the anguish and pain would have swallowed her alive, just as it had once done with him.
This morning
"Joyce? Joyce? What the hell are you doing in bed?!"
"Go away... please..."
"Have you been drinking?"
"N- no..."
"Jesus Christ Joyce. If Will could see you now, you'd break his heart."
"Stop it...please! It hurts... I just want to numb the pain..."
Joyce's hands had stretched out for the bottle of wine that Jim had picked up off the bedside table. He was worried. Joyce was usually level-headed, but here she was; lying in bed at noon, nursing a bottle of wine, drunk.
Jim went to the bathroom, and with Joyce watching, he poured the bottle's contents down the toilet. Dropping the bottle in a nearby bin, Jim went back out to the bedroom and looked down at his wife. Her eyes were red and puffy from tears and her breath reeked of alcohol.
"Mom? Hop?"
Jim turned around, spotting Jonathan standing in the doorway. He and his wife Nancy had flown in from Washington last night. Following their marriage, the pair had become reporters for CNN, extensively covering the Bush Administration since 9/11 and the beginning of the War on Terror. Jim noticed that Jonathan was also wearing funeral attire. Poor Kid, having to bury your brother twice, Jim thought.
"Yes son?"
"The car... it's outside."
Jonathan looked at his feet, a frown creeping its way across his face. Everyone was feeling the loss.
"Thank you. Just go wait by the door. We'll be with you soon."
"Sure. Is Mom alright?"
"Oh she'll be fine. Just go and your mother and I will be by shortly."
Jonathan walked over to the bed where Joyce lay."It's going to be okay, mom. I promise. I'll be here with you," He whispered as he pressed a kiss to Joyce's forehead whilst trying his best to smile.
After Jonathan left the room, Jim pulled Joyce up into a seated position on the bed."I know you're hurting right now, but it will pass, in time. For now, get dressed and for the love of god, have a shower. The least Will deserves is a decent send off."
Joyce grabbed the funeral dress that Jim had been holding and pressed a kiss to Jim's cheek. The smell of alcohol was so strong off Joyce, that Jim made a mental note to lock the liquor cabinet. The last thing Joyce needed was to end up an alcoholic...
Currently Joyce was behind the gravestone with Jim helping her around. Although the pain in her face was obvious, she had managed to compose herself. Jim meanwhile gave small comforting smiles to anyone who looked at him although his body language said otherwise. Jonathan and Nancy were on the other side of Joyce. Nancy occasionally dabbed her eyes with a handkerchief while Jonathan remained stiff like a statue. Sara, Eleanor and James all stood together near Nancy along with Karen who was keeping a watchful eye on Joyce. The entire family all wore black.
River Song lingered behind the rest of them, never looking completely up. Robin Buckley turned her face away, her head slightly bowed as if in prayer.
Lastly Mr Clarke was off on the other side and holding a book in his hand. He would be serving the funeral.
Walking up the hill were the eight pallbearers of Will's coffin; Mike, Dustin, Max, El, Ted, Bruce, Steve and Lucas. For some reason this coffin felt lighter even though the body was inside. The procession carried the simple black coffin up the hill slowly but with grace. Most of the pallbearers, especially Dustin, Bruce and Steve, were crying. Lucas, Max and Ted however forced their faces into polite, calm expressions. Mike and El, who were up front, both looked sickly pale. Their mutual pain and anguish was visible yet they seemed to struggle on whether to express their pain or keep it suppressed.
In less than two mintues, the procession had reached the top of the hill. Wordlessly, all eight pallbearers slowly lowered the coffin into the ground. No one looked at each other but continued to stare at the black, shiny box as it slowly descended into the ground. When the coffin finally reached the bottom, the pallbearers all backed away and surrounded the grave with the rest of the mourners as Mr Clarke took a step forward. Clarke paused and looked down at the grave before looking back up and making eye contact with Joyce who was across from him. Joyce smiled at him and Clarke, finding inspiration, cleared his throat.
"We don't have time to go through a full funeral for Will again. So instead of giving another eulogy, I felt like a reading should suffice."
Clarke then opened up the book to the part he had marked.
"A reading from Macbeth," Clarke explained before he began. ""Tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow; creeps in this petty pace from day to day...""
Joyce smiled slightly as she listened to Clarke recite the passage. She had helped Clarke select it. While some would find it weird to have a passage from a grisly Shakespearean play be read at a funeral, Joyce thought Will wouldn't care. In fact, Will probably would've preferred that than a passage from a religious text.
""...to the last syllable of recorded time; and all our yesterdays have lighted fools the way to dusty death... ""
Mike wasn't really paying attention to the reading. He didn't really care for it. This wasn't even really a funeral to Mike. It was more like the proper goodbye that he and the others never had a chance to say. He scanned the crowd from Jim to Joyce and finally his eyes landed on River Song. Her face was still down cast. Mike was surprised she had been invited to the funeral.
Mike then realised that River was now staring at him curiously. He made an uncomfortable eye contact with her for a split second before quickly looking the other way. Who was this woman, he thought. And why had she just randomly turned up in Hawkins the night Suzie was in hospital? There was something about her, something Mike didn't trust.
""Out, out, brief candle! Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player that struts and frets his hour upon the stage and then is heard no more.""
""It is a tale told by an idiot, full of sound and fury, signifying nothing,"" Clarke finished and closed the book. "Will Byers may have started off as another of the many students I have taught but I saw his passion. His curiosity and thirst for knowledge shone in everything he did. It's why I introduced him to the AV Club. I knew that Will was struggling to make friends and if I'm being honest I felt a certain kinship with him. Over the years I watched Will struggle but I also watched him thrive. Watching him graduate was one of the proudest moments I've had as a teacher. Will may not have had the easiest life but in some way big or small he touched all of our lives."
Clarke then bent down and picked up a mound of dirt.
"Goodbye Will," He whispered.
And with that Clarke dropped the dirt on the coffin.
For awhile everyone just stood and watched as the plot was slowly filled up. Even after the land was replanted, many people were still standing by and keeping vigil on Will's memorial throughout the day. Finally though, everyone started to fade away and go back to their lives. Joyce saw Sara, Eleanor and James follow their dad. Eleanor was clutching his hand tightly. Meanwhile, the rest of the Party began to disappear. One by one, they left the cemetery leaving only Joyce, Hopper, Jonathan and River Song.
River turned to face Joyce, whose eyes had not moved from the gravestone. "I'm sorry for your loss. No parent should have to bury their child. I promise you I will find who is responsible for this. If you need anything please don't hesitate to call me, Mrs. Byers," River declared to Joyce before turning and leaving the memorial site.
Joyce turned to Jim and Jonathan. "Go. I'll be fine. I just...need some time alone with my thoughts," She said.
"We can stay with you if it'll help," Jonathan suggested.
Joyce smiled sadly at her son."I'll be fine I promise."
"Call if you need anything," Jim said.
Joyce nodded. She watched as Jim and Jonathan left the cemetery. Only now once she was finally alone could Joyce's grief burst out. There was no stopping it. The tears coursed down her cheeks. She was howling, her whole body contorted, her eyes shut tight.
"Are you alright, dear?"
Joyce spun around to see an old woman standing nearby. She looked at Joyce with a concerned look.
Embarrassed Joyce quickly wiped away her tears and tried to compose herself. "I'm fine," She said.
"Dear, I can see you're not. I heard there was a funeral here. Was it someone you knew?" The woman asked.
"My son," Joyce gasped.
The woman looked apologetic."I'm so sorry. Is there anyone I can call?"
"No, no I'm fine. It's just...it's been a hard day," Joyce admitted.
The woman nodded. "Of course. At least let me buy you some coffee. I don't think someone in your state should be alone." She held out her hand and Joyce took it.
"Thank you. You're too kind."
"It's no problem at all. Besides coffee always cheers me up, dearie."
The sewage treatment plant was on the outskirts of Hawkins, near the river. Jim had expected it to smell, but the odour was more chemical than putrid. Thick pipes and other conduits linked various tanks, pumps and basins. Squat, ugly buildings were painted a dull industrial green. The whole complex was intended to purify the fetid output of Hawkins's sewers before discharging the excess effluent into the river.
Or at least that was the theory. Jim didn't want to think about how effective the process was, or wasn't.
Jim wasn't even sure what he was doing here. After leaving Will's funeral, he had received a call from a former police colleague he had known from back in the day asking for his help regrading a recently found body. Jim didn't know why he had said yes. Perhaps he missed being police chief? Or perhaps it was a way to keep him distracted following Will's funeral?
Either way, Jim and Officer Tyler Ross got out of the patrol car. Ross was a thirty-something Asian American. He had been a simple desk officer when Jim had been police Chief. Jim liked Ross. He had an eagerness and curiosity in him – one Jim remembered from his own early days as a beat cop in New York.
The plant's supervisor, a middle-aged guy named Jenkins, led them to a long concrete trough filled with foul looking water. A greasy film coated the surface–and the lifeless body stretched out on a rusty metal grate above the basin. The body looked young.
"They wash up a couple times a month," Jenkins explained."More when it gets cold. Homeless, sheltering in the tunnels. We had to pull him out to clear the basin, but other than that we didn't touch him." He kept back, letting the cops approach the corpse. "They come out by the catchment basin."
Jim knelt to inspect the body, which appeared to belong to a teenage boy, seventeen years old at most. Ragged, well-worn clothes looked like they had seen hard use even before the body had ended up in the sewers. One sneaker had come off the dead kid's foot. Dead, glassy eyes gazed up into oblivion. Jim took a closer look at the face – and froze.
Oh crap, he thought.
Ross didn't miss Jim's reaction.
"What?"
"Name's Jimmy," Jim said, feeling sick to his stomach. "He's from 's, the boy's home where I use to coach basketball before..." Before Sara, he thought to himself. He didn't feel like getting into it right now. Not with Ross. His throat tightened.
He resisted the temptation to close Jimmy's eyes for him.
's Home for Boys was housed in a shabby, four-story building that had seen better days. If anything, it seemed even more rundown than Jim remembered. Getting out of his car, he gazed up at the home's crumbling façade. Memories, both good and bad, flooded over him. He shook his head to clear his mind before heading inside. Ross wasn't with him.
This was something he wanted to do on his own.
He found Father Reilly in the same cluttered office the old priest had occupied for years. Like the building, Reilly was showing his age. He was a hefty, broad faced Irishman, whose receding white hair had all but surrendered to baldness. Orphaned and abandoned children, ranging from toddlers to teens, roamed the halls outside the office, jostling and joking with one another. Shrill laughter was interspersed with the occasional noisy squabble. Second-hand clothing had been passed down from one generation of orphans to another. Curious eyes peered in the doorway.
Reilly closed the door to cut down on the hubbub and give the two men a degree of privacy.
"Jimmy hadn't been here for months," the priest said.
Jim gave Reilly a puzzled look."Why?"
"He aged out. We don't have the resources to keep on boys after sixteen."
"I'm sorry."
"Truth be told I've been thinking of selling," Reilly admitted.
"You can't be seriously. What about all the kids here? They supposed to what, end up on the streets?" Jim countered.
"It's not easy; Jim. I can barely afford enough to pay the staff." There was a pause before Reilly asked, "What if you came back? Just for weekends? I know the boys would love you to teach them basketball again..."
"You know I don't do that anymore," Jim replied firmly.
"I don't mean to bring back bad memories but I could use your help, Jim. Please," Reilly pleaded.
"I haven't even been back to 's since..." Jim stopped as he struggled to compose himself. "Since Sara." It had been while teaching basketball here at 's that he had got the call about Sara's cancer. After that and his divorce he hadn't set foot back at the boy's home until now.
"I know, Jim. I served her funeral, remember? I know how hard losing your daughter was..."
Jim's mouth tightened. "Don't," He warned simply. Even after all these years, after adopting El and marrying Joyce he still couldn't talk about Sara.
Reilly got the hint. He nodded apoplectically. "What're you doing here Jim? Coming here asking questions about Jimmy? You're acting like a cop," He pointed out.
"I'm retired."
"Yeah and I'm still married," Reilly replied before both he and Jim burst out laughing.
"You always did manage to figure me out, Father," Jim remarked as he took out a lighter.
"Hey someone had to. And no smoking here either. Don't want these kids to pick up any of your bad habits," Reilly said both playfully and seriously.
"Me? You're the one who keeps a bottle of whisky in that cabinet before you," Jim retorted playfully.
"Hey that's only for special occasions." Reilly replied with a chuckle.
Time to change the subject, Jim thought."He has a brother here, right?"
Reilly nodded sadly. "Mark. I'll tell him."
"I'd like to, if that's okay."
After wrapping things up with Father Reilly, and promising to visit again soon, Jim located Mark out in the playground. Jimmy's little brother was only ten years old, but he took the news of his brother's death with the shut-down, stony-faced resignation of someone who had already stopped expecting life to be fair.
He bit down on his lip, refusing to cry.
"I'm sorry," Jim said. The words felt completely inadequate.
Mark just nodded, and stared at the ground.
"What was he doing in the tunnels?" the former police chief asked.
"Lots of guys been going down the tunnels when they age out," the boy said flatly. "Say you can live down there. Say there's work down there."
Jim scratched his head. "What kinds of work you going to find in the sewers?"
"More than you can find up here, I guess."
Jim didn't like the sound of that. Whatever Jimmy had been doing in the sewers, it obviously hadn't turned out well for him.
And Jim wanted to know why.
As he said goodbye to Mark, Jim failed to notice the young woman standing by the playground. She had been watching and listening intently to their conversation. She was sixteen years old with short dark red hair and black eyes. She was dressed in a dark purple shirt with a black blouse and wearing black sunglasses. She waited for Jim to leave the playground then followed after him.
Jim hurriedly made his way out the front door of 's, passing several children and teenagers as they made their way the opposite direction. As he climbed into his car, he noticed a teenage boy leaning against the brick wall of the Boys Home directly opposite his car. He was dressed in a black leather jacket and black jeans with what looked like a knife strapped to his waist. He wore a gray Australian fedora complete with a feather tucked on the side. He stared intently at Jim as he drove away from the boy's home.
The woman from earlier walked up to the boy and linked her arm in his. "That's Jim Hopper?" The boy – Benny – asked.
The girl – Beth– nodded. "I overheard him talking to Jimmy's brother," She told him.
"What did he say?" Benny asked his eyes still fixated on the spot where Jim's car had once been.
"Nothing much. He knows something is going down in the sewer but not what," Beth responded.
"He'll figure it out sooner or later," Benny predicted as his eyes finally turned away from the spot where Jim's car had been and towards Beth. "In the meantime we keep tabs on him."
"And his family," Beth reminded him.
"Yes." Benny paused as if in thought. "According to Mary his daughter can move things with her mind."
"An impressive trick. But that's all it is Benny a trick," Beth remarked with a hint of superiority in her voice.
"She has a daughter of her own. Sara her name is. Pretty thing too," Benny replied, barring his teeth briefly like an animal as he mentioned her name.
"A virgin no doubt. Weak too probably," Beth said dismissively although with a hint of jealously.
Benny raised an eyebrow as he turned to face her."You're not jealous are you?" he asked as the corners of his mouth began to form a small smile. Beth wasn't usually one for jealously. In all the time he had known her she had always been coldly logically, rattling facts and figures off the top of her head with ease. Passionate yes. But only towards him and during sex. The rest of the time she was cold, aloof and harsh. She was a mystery all right. Perhaps that was what had drawn the pair together.
They were complete opposites: Benny was a loud thrill seeker, who loved nothing better than challenging someone whereas Beth was quiet, analytical, and methodical who preferred planning things out rather than rush in as Benny so often did. Benny was arrogant and off the cuff while Beth was tactful, diplomatic, almost robotic when speaking. And yet somehow they clicked as a couple. A real "Bonnie and Clyde" as Benny had once described much to the annoyance of Beth (although she secretly liked the comparison).
"Of course not," Beth said matter-of-fact."So long as you don't distracted by her."
"How could I?" Benny said. "I only have eyes for you." He leaned forward and passionately kissed her like a hungry animal.
"And don't you forget it," Beth exclaimed as she bite his lip before pulling away from their kiss and preparing to walk away. She turned her head back to him and called out:
"Oh and get rid of that knife. We're in public, remember? We're supposed to be incognito."
"I told you it's for self defence," Benny reminded her for what felt like the billionth time.
"A gun would be simpler." Beth remarked.
Benny rolled his eyes in mock frustration."Guns are too noisy," He replied.
"You always manage to have a comeback, don't you?"
As Beth swayed her hips in a come-hither way, Benny raced after her."One of us has to," He said under his breath.
Joyce opened the glass door of the diner, a bell chiming overhead and signalling her entrance. A few patrons sat at the booths and tables around the diner, and a couple more at the stools in front of the counter. The kitchen could be seen through a large open window, in typical diner fashion. A tired looking chef with a yellowed and grease stained apron slid a plate of food onto the window and announced "order up". A waitress called back to the chef and then smiled in greeting to Joyce telling her to sit anywhere she liked.
The woman from the cemetery followed after her. She pointed to an empty vinyl booth toward the far end of the restaurant, and the two women sat down.
"Perhaps a change in scenario will help you deal with your grief, dear," the woman suggested as the waitress came round with the menu. "Your son, what was he like?"
Joyce said nothing and stared at the ground.
"Talking will help, I promise, dear," the woman urged kindly.
"He's dead now," Joyce finally said bitterly. "So what does it matter?"
"It matters to you. I know I'm just a stranger but opening up will help," the woman said.
"The police said they found anti-depressant pills at my son's house along with several empty bottles of sleeping pills. My son was suicidal and I had no idea," Joyce said her breath shaky.
"That must be difficult to have learnt."
"Do you have children?" Joyce asked.
"Not in the traditionally sense, dear. I run an orphanage," the woman started to say before all attention in the diner turned to the single television screen mounted on the wall. A news update had flashed across the screen. A headline scrolled beneath a scene of chaos in Chicago:
SEVEN ARRIVE IN CHICAGO
A blonde young reporter appeared on the screen. Surrounding her was smoke and debris. "For those just tuning in the there has been chaos in Chicago caused by a group calling themselves the Seventh Kavalry, anti-superhero protesters. The group has firebombed several buildings calling for segregating the city. The city had previously been under lock-down for three weeks while the National Guard was called in to quell the protestors. Now it looks like the Seven have finally arrived in Chicago and it looks like–yes there's Homelander!"
A sudden blue blur shot across the screen followed up a large earth-shattering explosion.
"Well that certainly puts my own problem into perspective," Joyce noted drily.
"Will you excuse me please dear?" The woman said as she rose from the booth and walked across the room to the bathroom. Once inside and making sure she was alone, Mary could take a deep breath.
Taking out her mobile phone, she angrily dialled the number she wanted. She angrily began to pace around the small bathroom as she frustratingly listened to the dialling tone until finally the voice she wanted answer.
"Yes." The tone was blunt, direct.
"What the hell is going on in Chicago?!" Mary demanded.
"We've made a deal with the Bush administration to intervene in Chicago against the Seventh Kavalry," Stan Edgar replied.
"Since when?" Mary spat.
"Since I agreed to you killing General Frank Kelley. The Seven will put down these...protestors in exchange for certain loosening of regulation and tax cuts for Vought," Stan replied simply.
Of course, Mary thought. Her fist tightened in rage. Vought was no different to any other company. They longed for deregulation and a tax cut. We really are living in Barry Goldwater and Ronald Reagan's America, She thought with distain. "And why wasn't I told about this?"
"I don't have to tell you anything, Miss Merryweather. You work for me not the other way around," Stan replied. It was true. For the moment Stan and Vought held all the power. For the moment, Mary thought.
"Fine," Mary replied through clenched teeth.
"I trust you will remember the part you have to play? Assuming you don't continue to test my patience," Stan warned."I am specifically referring to the death of Will Byers."
Mary's eyes widened in shock.
"That's right; I know about that, dearie. A piece of advice – assume I know everything," Stan continued.
How? Mary thought. Could there be a mole? Either way she would find the leak and plug whoever it was. Permanently. Until then Mary had to keep her composure. She couldn't afford to alienate Stan or Vought. Not yet anyway."As you wish," Was all she said before hanging up the phone.
Mary took a deep breath as she leaned against the bathroom door. She could already hear Papa's lesion in her heard. "Composure yourself Mary," Brenner would say. "Keep your mind focused on the here and now."
Mary couldn't allow her emotions to get the better of her. She was so close. She practically had Joyce eating out of the palm of her hand! Joyce would lead her to Jim and then finally the stain of defeat and humiliation she had suffered in Vietnam would be removed with Jim Hopper's death. And with Jim's death Eleven would have one less pillar to cling too.
Oh yes, Mary thought as she left the bathroom. Victory was certain.
River stared at the door that stood three yards from where she had parked her car. She had been sitting here for over an hour thinking about the option she was about to undertake.
River was in two minds of what to do. On one hand, she had the evidence necessary to make her accusation to the person inside. But on the other hand she knew the accusation she was about to level against the person inside the house would open a Pandora's Box and affect many people going forward. As she sat back in her seat and decided on what course of action to take, she absentmindedly fiddled with her wedding ring. God she missed her husband. She wished he was here now with her.
She had searched all throughout time and space to find him and yet there was no sign of the Doctor anywhere. He always came whenever she messaged him. But this time he hadn't. Weeks had gone by and still nothing. River instantly knew then that something wasn't right.
Her investigation had led her here to a small town in Indiana. Not exactly a place the Doctor would be interested in but her research had shown the town of Hawkins was no stranger to weird and unexplainable incidents beginning in 1983 and continuing throughout the 80's.
At last she made her decision. Into the abyss, River thought as she stepped out of the driver's seat and made her way towards the door. Knocking once she waited patiently until she heard the sound of footsteps and locks being unhooked.
Becky Ives stood in the doorway, her eyes peering out at River with confusion and suspicion. "Can I help you?" She asked curiously.
River extended her hand towards her. "Melody Malone, Hawkins chief of police," She introduced as she gave a quick flash of a badge to a stunned Becky.
"What do you want?" Becky snapped. She didn't like police. They were no better than the government and her past experiences with them weren't exactly positive either.
"May I come in?" River asked.
"No."
"Oh I think you'll want me to come in," River whispered in a low voice. "We have a lot to talk about, Becky."
Becky's eyes widened for a second before she regained her composure. She moved sideways and allowed River to enter before closing the door behind them.
"Nice house you've got. Quiet, out of the way. No one would come looking for you," River noted as she glanced around the house as Becky led her to the kitchen. "But then again that's what you want isn't it? Not to be discovered. And you're good I'll admit. Very good at hiding in plain sight. In fact if it wasn't for a tiny slip up of yours I probably wouldn't have figured out who you really are."
Becky just stood there silently glaring at River as if trying to make her so
"And what was that?" She finally asked.
"Your marriage certificate. Said you were married to someone called Cole. Now there are over a dozen Cole's in the United States but the one that stood out to me belonged to a woman. Specifically living in the United Kingdome. Lucy Cole. Well I did some digging into Lucy. Yes, good family, Roedean, not especially bright but essentially harmless," River began explaining as she sat down at the kitchen table opposite where Becky stood. "But here's the thing. Lucy isn't married. Not yet anyway. She won't be married until 2007 but then again you already know that didn't you? The certificate is a fake. Complete forgery.
"Everything about your life is a lie. Your school days, your degree, even your mother and father, it's all invented. There was no Becky Ives. The thing is, it's obvious. If you look really hard you'd notice it. But then again it's easy for a Time Lord to manipulate and create a entire fake identify for themselves. After all you've done it before haven't you, Harold Saxon?"(1)
"I'm sorry; you must be a very disturbed woman to spout this nonsense .Frankly it sounds ridiculous," Becky replied.
"Let me break it down for you then: you're a Time Lord from the planet Gallifry in the constellation of Kasterborous," River further explained looking for any sign of recognition at the words "Time Lord" and "Gallifry" in Becky's face.
"I'm sorry I don't know what you mean," Becky replied as a million thoughts began going through her mind. River could tell she was making several calculations in her head right now about what to do.
"Tell me does the name Doctor mean anything to you?"
River noticed Becky flinched ever so slightly at the mention of Doctor.
"Doctor who?" Becky asked.
"Oh please! You can stop pretending now. I know who you are. A fellow Time Lord! The Doctor's first crush at the academy! Yes, he told me about you! The Rani!" River exclaimed.
"What?" Becky replied.
"The Rani! The Doctor's old friend from the academy!" River continued saying.
Becky's lips visibly twisted into a sneer. "What?!"
"Well who else could you be? Oh... You're not Romana, are you?" River asked now, looking unsure of herself.
"No. I am not Romana," Becky replied with mild annoyance.
"So you MUST be the Rani! Unless." River gasped as a thought occurred to her. "Oh..."
The penny must finally be dropping, Becky thought.
"But, if you're... Well, you're not quite as the Doctor described."
"No?"
"No. He said you were a man, for a start."
Becky smiled."Oh, that. Yes. It's not really a big change though, is it? Although I have found I'm more of a hat person now. I mean..." Becky laughed."You'd think it would be shoes, but no, suddenly I'm all about the hats."
"So what do you call yourself now? I mean, you can't really keep calling yourself the Monk," River pointed out.
"Well, I- The Monk? The Monk?! "Becky had had enough. How could this stupid woman not know who she was! "I am not the Rani, Romana or the Monk! My name is the Master and you will obey me!" She declared.
Slowly a grin came over River's face as she took out of her pocket a tape-recorder and turned it on. As the machine slowly felt a pulse of life, an audible 'KILK' was followed by the screech of unseen gears.
"My name is the Master!" Becky's voice came out.
Turning off the tape-recorder but keeping it out, River looked triumphantly at Becky. "Got you," She said smugly.
At that Becky's entire demeanour changed. Her eyes narrowed at River."Annoying as ever I see, Miss Song," Becky – the Master – replied. Her voice had even changed. Gone was Becky's brash American accent that had seen so much in her lifetime that most wouldn't believe or couldn't understand. Instead a posh, upper-class British accent now spoke, more suited to Victorian England than small town America.
"Knew your ego wouldn't be able to handle the thought of being confused for someone else," River remarked coyly.
"You always were so clever, Miss Song," The Master replied coldly. "Now what do you want?"
"I'll ask the questions thanks," River retorted as she sat up from her chair and crossed the floor to where the Master was standing. "Where's the Doctor?"
"Hmm I believe he's in his ninth incarnation at this point currently in London trying to track down the Nestene Consciousness where he will meet Rose Tyler, his future companion," The Master answered as if it were obvious. (2)
River in a fit of rage lunged forward, grabbing the Master and shoving her up against the kitchen wall. "Don't play games with me, Master," She threatened.
"That's not my name," The Master replied simply.
"I don't really care, Missy. You are going to answer my question. Where is the Doctor?" River asked more forcefully this time.
"No idea. Why don't you send him a message through the psychic paper? I'm sure he'd be at your beck and call in no time," The Master suggested.
"I already have. Several times in fact. No response. The Doctor always responses when I call him and yet now there's silence. Something has clearly happened. And yet I manage to find you hiding away pretending to be human in a small time in America. Why?" River questioned.
"It's none of your business," The Master spat.
"What are you doing here? Planning some dastardly plot to take over the world?"
"Hardly. Those days are behind my now, River." The Master said honestly.
"Then why pretend to be Becky Ives? Why hide in Hawkins of all places?" River probed further.
"What's wrong with wanting a change in scenario?" The Master replied, ignoring the question.
"Does your niece know you've been lying about who you really are?"
"Of course not," The Master shot back. "As far as Jane's concerned I'm her aunt and nothing else. And that's how it's going to stay."
"Since when does the Master care about anyone other than himself?" River asked. She was surprised by the Master's apparent concern for the woman.
"That's not my name," The Master repeated this time with emphasis. "And Jane is like family to me. I will not let you or anyone else harm her."
The Master shoved River away from her and gestured to the door."I think it's time you leave."
River shock her head. "I'm not going anywhere until I get some answers," She said unrelentingly.
"Fine have it your way," The Master said and before River could respond or make sense of what was happening a beam of energy hit her squarely in her chest, propelling River to the floor in pain.
River gasped and withered around in pain as she looked up, deseperate to see what had struck her. The Master slowly crouched down in front of River holding up a small sliver handheld piece of machinery. "Laser screwdriver. Who'd have sonic?" She joked. "Don't worry you only got a light blast. Not enough to kill you but it'll certainly hurt like hell."
"Consider it a warning shot. Stay away from me, miss Song. Pretend this conversation never happened. Don't tell anyone about me. Don't come near my house again. Don't go near Jane either. In fact don't even speak to me. I never want to see your face in Hawkins again."
"I...will find out what you're doing here. One way or another. I have...proof," River gasped as she struggled to lift herself up off the floor.
"Yeah about that." The Master snatched the tape-recorder from River before she could grab it. She gently placed it down on top of the kitchen table, aimed her laser screwdriver at it and fired. Within seconds smoke began to erupt from the crumpled mess that had once been the tape-recorder. "Oops. So much for your proof."
By now River had managed to stagger to her feet."This... isn't over," She managed to say. It hurt to talk.
"Actually I think it is. Goodbye Miss Malone. Drive safe," The Master said having now switched back into Becky's American accent.
River could only stagger back to her car as Becky calmly closed the front door behind her as if nothing had happened.
Once she heard the car drive away she went to check on Terry then made her way up to the attic. Once again she took out the small fob watch, examining it closely this time. Once again it remained locked.
"I don't know if you can hear me but River Song was just here. She knows about me. Fortunately I was able to persuade her to stay away. But if River could figure out who I am then that means others can as well. We need to prepare," Becky told the fob watch before rushing to get things in order leaving the fob watch behind in the attic once again.
Sitting back down at the booth, Mary noticed Joyce looking at the screen with a mixture of thoughtfulness and horror. "Everything alright, dear?" She asked.
"Those protestors...don't they realise violence will only breed more violence?" Joyce asked.
Mary glanced briefly at the screen then back at Joyce. ""Riots are the language of the unheard,"" She said eloquently. "Martin Luther King Junior."
"That's not a riot, its terrorism," Joyce replied sharply.
"To you maybe. But to those protestors they're simply standing up against what they see is a threat to not only them but their child. Sure they may be on our side at the moment but what happens if that where to change suddenly? We'd be dead instantly. And yet we place our safety in their hands. They're not even real superheroes. They're nothing but corporate shills who have been put on such high pedestals that they become symbols that people blindly follow without questioning their flaws," Mary stated in a harsh almost fanatical tone.
"I'm guessing you're not a fan of the Seven?"
"What gave it away?" Mary joked as she stared intently at Joyce like a lioness watching its pray. "It's all part of how corrupt this country really is. I mean, America is a country that denounces the evils of totalitarian communism, right? They say Gulags were evil because they worked people to death. They also say Nazis were bad because they were...socialists. And yet, conservative politicians defend a corrupt rebellious form of America whose whole ideology was built on the subjugation of others. And our prison system that was created in the era of tough on crime is one that allows private business to benefit from virtually no-cost labour, albeit under the guise of prison rehabilitation. And this was for crimes as petty as the possession of marijuana.
"Stalin waged war on "class enemies". American justice wages war on "moral enemies." Whether it is a totalitarianism built on creating a "worker's state", totalitarianism built on "racial purity", or actions to protect "the moral majority", the principles of gaining absolute power over society are the same.
"Kill your enemies. Kill potential rivals. Subjugate the population. Exterminate the parts of the population that doesn't want to submit. For the Leninists, the Kronstadts who helped them come to power became the class enemy that needed to be exterminated. For Stalin the enemy was Ukrainian farmers. For Hitler the enemy was Jews.
"It doesn't matter who or what. The aim is almost always absolute power, with slogans and ideology being more or less a justification."
"Oh dear," Mary said, noticing the horror look that had emerged on Joyce's face throughout Mary's speech/rant. "I really do get into character don't I?"
"Uh...who...who are you?" Joyce managed to say.
"I'm Mary. Mother Mary. I'm so glad you and I finally get a chance to meet, dearie. In fact you and I have a two mutual friends. My sister for one," Mary told her.
Joyce gave her a quizzical look causing Mary to elaborate further. "Eleven," She explained as she rolled up her sleeve and showed Joyce the number "TEN" on her forearm.
"You're from the Lab?" Joyce exclaimed.
Mary nodded. "You bet." She sneaked her hand forward towards Joyce's arm. Almost immediately blood began dripping her nose and Joyce was assaulted with images of Bob's body, Will's body and Jim's body all laying in front of her. Joyce put her hands over her mouth to cover her scream and then they were gone.
Mary extended her hand away from Joyce and quickly wiped the blood off her nose.
"What the hell was that?!" Joyce shrieked as quietly as she could so not to alert the other patrons.
"That was fear. Both real and imaginary," Mary spoke matter-of-factly as if she were discussing the weather.
"What do you want with me then?" Joyce asked, shuttering to herself. Mary was right. It had been so real as if the bodies were right in front of her.
"That's where our second mutual friend comes in. Your husband in fact," Mary said as she leaned forward towards Joyce, an evil grin forming across her mouth.
"What do you want with Jim?" Joyce struggled to look away from the fanaticism and madness brewing in Mary's eyes.
"He's never told you about me has he?" Mary realised. "No matter we'll have loads to talk about in the car when you take me to Jim's house. Oh and between you and me it's going to be a hell of a reunion."
It was around midnight by the time Jim finally returned home. After leaving 's,he had followed up on his investigation and found some distressing news. Jimmy wasn't the first kid to end up found dead in the sewer. There had been several dozen similar such incidents taking place across Hawkins.
Those poor kids, He thought as he parked his car out the front. Having to die alone was horrific enough for anyone, let alone a child. Especially in a sewer of all places. He wondered if they all had come from 's. Father Reilly hadn't mentioned it to him. Maybe he didn't. The poor guy had enough to deal with keeping roofs over the heads of all those kids. Maybe I should have reached out to him sooner, Jim thought. After all Reilly had been there for him during Sara's battle with cancer and subsequent death as well as stood by her side during his divorce.
As Jim went to put the key in the lock to open the front door, he noticed the light in the living room was on. Joyce must be home, he thought. He hopped she was okay. Jim knew better than anyone what it was like to bury a child and the grief and pain that threatened to swallow her whole.
"Joyce? You there?" Jim called out as he entered the room.
There was no reply.
"Joyce?" He called out again.
Still no reply.
Maybe she was asleep? As Jim made his way into the living room, he noticed the TV was switched on but there no channel on. Instead just static. Something was wrong. In an instinct he pulled out his gun and readied himself.
"JOYCE?!"Jim yelled.
"Relax she's fine," A subtle yet sinister voice replied.
No, Jim thought. It couldn't be...
He spun around to see Joyce standing by the sofa, her face battered and bruised, her lip bleeding and a large black circle around her left eye. Her hair was in tatters.
But it was the other woman sitting on the sofa that caused Jim to gasp.
"Impossible," He said as he stumbled backwards, his hands trembling with freight.
The woman seemed to enjoy how afraid her presence made Jim as she rose from the sofa and began to slowly advance towards him.
"Your...dead," Was all Jim could see with all the characteristics of a mouse scared of a lion.
"Oh come now, old solider. Did you really think a mutely and a couple of bullets would kill me?" Mary asked as she advanced closer and closer to Jim, whose eyes and face were now almost white with terror. "Hello Jim. Did you miss me? Because I missed you!"
Wow. Just wow. This chapter is finally finished. It may have taken well over a month but I'd say the end result was worth it! Everything written is exactly how I pictured in my head! Writing the funeral scene was the hardest part of this chapter but I think I captured the mood and the emotions of all the characters present well.
Obviously the meat of this chapter was the conversations behind River Song and Becky/the Master from Doctor Who and the end scene where Jim and Mary finally reunite! Yes Becky is the I told you this chapter would have revelations. And speaking of revelations Lucas can now see the future! Expect that to play a MAJOR role moving forward.
(1)Harold Saxon was of course the name the Master used when he became Prime Minister of Great Britain in Season 3's The Sound Of Drums.
(2) This of course is referring to the first episode of the Revival of Doctor Who titled Rose where we first meet the Ninth Doctor(played by Christopher Ecclestone
Please enjoying reading and don't forget to read and review as I have put a lot of my heart and soul into this chapter in particular!