Ursula opened the cabin door quietly, stepping out into the crisp night air. She glanced back at Eddie, catching his eye with a subtle tilt of her head. The unspoken invitation was enough to get him moving, his boots scuffing softly against the wooden floor as he followed her outside. The forest felt alive around them—branches swayed in the wind, and somewhere far off, an owl hooted.

She walked a few steps ahead, finding her spot near the cabin's steps and sitting on the railing. Reaching into her jacket pocket, Ursula pulled out the joint she'd teased him with earlier. She rolled it between her fingers with casual precision, then produced a lighter and flicked it once. The small flame illuminated her face for a fleeting moment before it vanished, leaving the ember of the joint glowing faintly in the dark.

Eddie lingered a little awkwardly nearby, shoving his hands into his jacket pockets.

"Not every day you get summoned outside by a moonlight mermaid with… contraband," he quipped, his voice light but with an undercurrent of curiosity.

Ursula smirked faintly, shaking her head as she took the first drag. She held it for a beat before exhaling a thin plume of smoke into the cool night air.

"You've got no idea how weird my day's been, Munson," she replied dryly, her tone carrying just a hint of humor.

Without hesitation, she extended the joint toward him. Eddie blinked, fumbling slightly as he took it from her. He looked down at it for a second, almost like he was trying to process the gesture, before taking a cautious drag. The smoke hit hard, and he coughed, his free hand flying to his chest as he tried to stifle it.

Ursula chuckled softly, the sound low and unforced. For a moment, she almost looked relaxed—but then her gaze drifted into the forest, her expression shifting. The humor slipped away, replaced by something quieter, heavier. She crossed one leg over the other, her boot tapping lightly against the railing.

"It's weird, y'know? This… all of this," she said softly, the words almost lost to the whisper of the trees.

Eddie tilted his head slightly, the joint now forgotten in his hand.

"Obviously, but Weird how?" he prompted gently, sensing that she wasn't just talking about the night air or the stars.

She exhaled slowly, as if trying to release more than just smoke.

"I got here late. By a fucking month, no less. Which means the first—what—four or five versions of the Battle-plan? Might as well be fucking firestarter now," she said bitterly, her tone sharp but not directed at him.

Eddie frowned, turning the joint over in his fingers as he watched her.

"That bad, huh?"

Ursula nodded, her teeth catching her bottom lip for a moment before she waved a hand vaguely toward the cabin behind them.

"And it's not just that. It's them. It's freaking me out way more than I thought it would. All of them. They're the family I grew up with. And three days ago, they were my adults, and I was the baby. But they're all… like… little kids. Little tiny weird dumber versions of themselves," she said, her voice dipping into something close to disbelief.

"Fucking time travel…" Eddie muttered, his lips quirking upward in a half-smile, though his eyes remained fixed on her.

Ursula gave a small, almost hollow laugh, nodding.

"I'm sayin'... I went from being the 'wittle baebae' of the family to suddenly being the oldest? How is that even FAIR?," she said, her words carrying a trace of humor but landing somewhere far more serious.

She turned her head to meet Eddie's gaze, and for the first time, her walls seemed to drop entirely.

"It's super fucking weird. My ptsd is feeling gnarly. You're honestly the only one not totally freaking me out right now."

There was a vulnerability in her voice that caught Eddie off guard. He hesitated, searching for the right response, but before he could find it, Ursula flicked the ash off the joint and leaned back against the cabin wall.

"Shit, here," she said, handing it back to him. "Sorry, my manners suck tonight, and I'm over sharing. I bet you probably have a ton of questions. So I'll just shut up now. What do you wanna know, Eddie Munson?"

The words hung in the air between them, fragile and open-ended, as if she wasn't entirely sure she wanted an answer.

Eddie hesitated, glancing at the joint before taking a slow, deliberate drag.

"Okay, uh… this is gonna sound morbid, but—how do I die?"

Ursula froze mid-drag, the ember of the joint flaring faintly in the dim light as the question hung between them. She exhaled slowly, her breath curling in the cool air, and shifted her gaze to him. The flicker of amusement that had softened her features moments before was gone, replaced by a sober stillness.

She sat up straighter on the railing, her turquoise hair catching the faint gleam of the moonlight. Ursula studied him carefully, her lips pressed into a thin line, like she was weighing her answer.

"If it were anyone else," she said finally, her voice quieter now,

"I'd keep that to myself. I don't want to mess with things more than I already have, and I think knowing would be a really shitty burden to carry."

Her eyes softened, and she shrugged faintly, though the gesture didn't carry any lightness.

"But I'm not about to let you die this time around." Ursula paused, rubbing the edge of her thumb against the weathered wood of the railing.

"Thing is… Saving you is most likely gonna… I dunno, like, rob you of this big epic moment. Like, I'd be a dick not to tell you. Your last hour?"

Her gaze drifted past him for a moment, and she smiled faintly, though the warmth of it didn't quite reach her eyes.

"That was your triumph. It was the most badass thing I've ever heard of… like, ever."

Eddie stared at her, his frown deepening. He opened his mouth to protest, then shut it again, clearly overwhelmed.

He huffed softly, looking down at his hands, where the joint Ursula had handed him smoldered faintly between his fingers.

"Yeah, right," he muttered after a beat, his voice tinged with skepticism.

"That doesn't sound like me."

Ursula shook her head, a sharper smile tugging at her lips now.

"No, way… it is you. You're totally that guy. You were brave as hell. You don't even know it. That's part of what makes it so special."

His cheeks flushed faintly at the weight of her words, and he ducked his head, passing the now-burning-out joint back to her with fumbling fingers.

"Eh?" Ursula said, pulling another joint from her jacket pocket with a magician's flourish.

Eddie snorted, rubbing the back of his neck as he glanced up at her, the corner of his mouth twitching into a grin.

"Yeah," he said, his voice quieter now.

"Why not?"

She lit it smoothly, her hands steady despite the growing weight of the conversation. After taking a drag, she held it out toward him again.

"Here," she said, her voice a touch lighter.

"I wanna show you something."

Eddie quirked a brow but reached for the joint, his calloused fingers brushing hers with a spark briefly as he took it.

He watched as she dug into the inner pocket of her jacket, pulling out a folded piece of paper that looked as though it had survived an apocalypse of its own.

"What's that?" he asked, his curiosity piqued.

Ursula didn't answer immediately. She smoothed the paper against her thigh with careful precision, the edges soft and frayed from countless foldings. Her thumb brushed over the faded ink almost reverently before she held it out to him.

"It's yours," she said simply.

Eddie blinked, his brows knitting together.

"Mine?"

"Well… sorta," she admitted, her smirk turning sheepish.

"It's something my dad wrote about you. He called it The Ballad of Eddie Munson."

Eddie froze, his hand hovering just above the paper, before finally taking it. He unfolded it gingerly, the words catching the faint moonlight as his eyes scanned the page.

Ursula watched him quietly, her usual quippy demeanor muted by a rare stillness.

"What…?" Eddie asked, frowning as he took it. The paper felt fragile, as if it had been handled countless times.

Ursula didn't answer immediately. Her gaze flicked to the trees, the faint light of the moon catching the turquoise strands in her hair.

"Just… read it," she said quietly. "Go on…"

Eddie read the paper slowly. His name leapt off the page in bold, sweeping letters: The Final Stand of Eddie Munson.

Below it, a stunning illustration captured his likeness—guitar in hand, a horde of monstrous bats swirling around him as he stood defiant on a rooftop. The sky behind him was blood-red, a storm of chaos frozen in time. His breath hitched.

"What is this?" he whispered.

"The truth," Ursula said softly.

"Your truth. From the original timeline. Dad wrote it, and Uncle Will did the art. Isn't it awesome?"

Eddie's fingers tightened on the paper as he began to read:

When I think back to that day, when everything in Hawkins seemed lost, when monsters crawled from the cracks in the earth and the sky bled red, one name stands above it all: Eddie Munson.

You've probably heard the rumors. The media called him a Satanist. A murderer. A freak. But those of us who knew him—the ones who saw what really happened—know the truth. Eddie Munson wasn't just a hero. He was the hero.

Eddie's chest tightened, his eyes scanning the words in disbelief. He kept reading, his hands trembling slightly:

On the night of the final stand, Eddie Munson made a choice. While the rest of us ran, Eddie stayed. He lured the monsters away from us, away from the people he cared about, knowing it would cost him everything. He didn't falter.

He didn't hesitate. He was brave in a way most of us can only dream of being. He was the kind of hero stories are written about. And that's why this one is for him.

The air around them seemed to hold still as Eddie reached the bottom of the page, where a small note was printed:

Eddie Munson Music Scholarship Foundation.

In honor of Eddie's courage and sacrifice, this fund provides opportunities for young musicians who might otherwise be overlooked.

His grip on the paper tightened, his throat constricting.

"They… they made a scholarship? For me?"

"Yeah," Ursula said, her voice gentle but steady as she leaned against his side for a moment.

"It's for kids like you. The ones who never got a fair shake but have something to say. Something worth hearing."

Eddie stared at the illustration again, his own face staring back at him, and for a moment, he couldn't breathe. He wasn't just the metalhead freak from Hawkins. He'd mattered. His life had meant something. It was staggering.

"This…" His voice cracked, and he cleared his throat.

"This can't be real. I'm not… I'm not that guy. I never was."

Ursula leaned forward, her gaze locking onto his.

"You are," she said firmly.

"You just don't know it yet. You inspired them—my Dad, Will, everyone. And you inspired me." She gestured to the paper in his hand.

"That's the guy I grew up hearing stories about. That's the guy who made me want to be brave. To fight back. To be better."

Eddie swallowed hard, his head spinning. He glanced at her, the sincerity in her eyes cutting through his disbelief.

"You really believe that?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

"Oh, I know it," Ursula said without hesitation.

"It's a bummer that you don't know it too."

For the first time in his life, Eddie felt the weight of someone else's belief in him. It wasn't just flattering—it was transformative. And sitting there, under the stars, with Ursula beside him, he realized something else: He was falling for her. Hard. Fast. It hit him like a freight train—the way her voice softened when she spoke to him, the light in her eyes, the way she smelled like smoke and something sweet he couldn't name. It wasn't just her words. It was her.

She pulled another joint from her pocket, holding it up with a grin.

"Want another?" she teased, breaking the moment just enough to let them breathe.

Eddie let out a shaky laugh, nodding.

"Yeah," he said, his voice steadier now.

"Yeah, I do."

Eddie took the offered joint and leaned back against the cabin railing, staring up at the jagged canopy of stars. The cool night air nipped at his skin, but the smoke in his lungs provided an odd sort of warmth. Beside him, Ursula sat cross-legged on the porch, her gaze fixed on the treeline as she exhaled a slow ribbon of smoke.

Eddie finally broke the silence, his voice tentative.

"So… what happened after? After I… y'know?"

Ursula didn't answer right away. Instead, she tapped the joint against her boot, shaking loose ash as her eyes stayed locked on something far beyond the trees. Her shoulders tightened like she was bracing herself, but when she finally spoke, her tone was heavy, raw.

"Straightforward version?" she said, dragging the words out like they hurt.

"It got worse. Every time we thought it couldn't, it fucking did."

Eddie stayed quiet, watching her closely, something tightening in his chest at the way her voice shook—just barely—on the last word.

"Max never woke up," Ursula continued, her words sharper now, like knives she was trying not to throw.

"Then, after Hawkins…" she hesitated, dragging a hand down her face before looking back up.

"There was this reactor meltdown in the Soviet Union. It was supposed to be a power plant malfunction, but it wasn't. That was Vecna again. He pulled the same fucking trick there that he did here. Four deaths, and an apocalypse. And boom! Radiation zone for life. The kind of place where the grass doesn't grow and animals drop dead before they even make it inside."

She shook her head, her voice dipping lower.

"The government blamed bad engineering. That's what they told the world. But we knew better. That bastard was spreading his shit internationally, and nobody fucking noticed."

Eddie frowned, his brow knitting as he tried to keep up.

"Wait, the Soviets didn't even—?"

"They didn't even know, although that might have been Pop's fault," Ursula interrupted bitterly.

"But, Vecna's been two steps ahead of everyone this whole time. And then…"

Her voice trailed off, her jaw tightening as she glanced away.

"Vecna breached our world for good, and after that, it was just battle after battle. Brutal, relentless… so many fucking people died. And all of it kept quiet by the government."

She listed the names of the fallen, each one clipped, efficient, like she couldn't risk lingering. But Eddie noticed the way her hand curled tighter around her knee when she got to certain ones, her nails digging into the denim.

"And then?" Eddie prompted softly, leaning forward.

"And then there were the catastrophes," she continued.

"Floods. Wildfires. Tsunamis. Earthquakes. Things you'd think were natural disasters but weren't. They were him, making his moves, piece by piece."

Eddie furrowed his brow, leaning forward.

"Him? You mean—"

"Vecna," she interrupted, her tone clipped.

"But he wasn't just some bargain-basement burn-victim Voldemort anymore. He was… worse. Way worse."

Eddie frowned.

"How?"

Her voice dropped lower, more venomous.

"Vecna wasn't just some bargain-bin burn-victim Voldemort anymore. He evolved. Became bigger. A hive mind. It spread across the globe, hidden, moving quietly while we were too busy looking at the obvious shit. And then he fucking unleashed it."

"Unleashed what?" Eddie asked, his voice low, almost afraid of the answer.

"Spore," she said flatly, like it was the filthiest word she'd ever spoken.

"It wasn't some flu virus from a bat in Wuhan.

That's the fairy tale they fed the public. This was him. Calculated. Deliberate. A goddamn bio-weapon."

Eddie stared at her, his lips parting in disbelief.

"The pandemic you were talking about?"

"Yeah," she spat bitterly.

"Seven million dead in the first wave. The whole world shut down. And the fucking vaccine?

That was him too. Vecna had agents in every sector—government, medical, corporate. With Vecna's slugs in their stomachs, controlling them like puppets.

"The second wave was already starting when I left. It wasn't just people—it was animals, ecosystems, everything. It was going to wipe the fucking planet clean, and no one knew it was coming."

Eddie ran a hand through his hair, his face pale as he whispered, "Jesus fucking Christ…"

Ursula let out a long breath, her voice softening.

"And then there's my mom…"

That got Eddie's attention. He turned to her fully, studying the tension in her profile—the way her jaw clenched, the way her lips pressed together like she was physically holding something back.

"You keep saying 'was,'" Eddie said carefully, his voice gentler now.

"About your mom. Is she a… was?"

Ursula didn't answer right away. But Eddie saw the way her hand trembled slightly when she set the joint down.

She gave a slow, reluctant nod, her gaze dropping to her hands.

"Does Dustin know?" Eddie pressed gently.

"Not yet. He'll find out soon enough, I'm sure." Ursula shook her head.

"She killed herself."

Her voice dropped, almost too soft to hear.

Eddie gasped.

"I can't… I haven't really been able to talk about it yet. I'm not even sure why I said anythinga out it at all. It's… still kind of recent, y'know?"

Eddie nodded, his chest tightening at the quiet vulnerability in her voice.

"Yeah. Yeah, of course. Whatever you need."

Ursula yawned then, an enormous, unguarded thing that made her look briefly like the tired, overwhelmed young woman she was. She rubbed her eyes with the heel of her hand, blinking sluggishly.

"Alright, that's enough apocalypse talk, young lady," Eddie said, standing and brushing off his jeans. "Let's get you rested. Come on."

She grinned faintly at his tone, amused by his sudden bossiness, but she didn't argue. With a small stretch, she pushed herself to her feet, the motion deliberate and slow. As they turned back toward the cabin, the weight of their conversation hung between them, unspoken but understood.