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.*･｡. A DEAL WITH GOD! .*･｡.
————MADMAX
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002.
OWENS.
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    "Morning, squirt."

   Ashley grunted, throwing herself into a chair.

   She grabbed the plate her father slid across to her and then the bottle of syrup on the table, immediately dousing her bacon, toast and eggs with the sweet stuff. Ashley usually went a bit lighter, but she'd had a restless night and needed something to comfort her. The girl even went as far as pouring some onto her finger and popping it into her mouth.

Eyes squeezed shut; a sigh passing her nose; her tense shoulders relaxed slightly.

   She had been like that all night: tense.

   It was hard not to be, after a night like that. Ashley had never been in someone's mind who wasn't her father. She had an idea of what was going on in there; having been there perhaps too many times, in her life. But the point was, Ashley knew her father's head— she understood it, she knew what to expect going in there, but she couldn't say the same for Will Byers. Ashley didn't know the kid's mind at all.

There was no warnings, either. No inclinations. She just ended up in there without knowing how, or why, and it left her tense which she thought was understandable. Wouldn't anyone be? After seeing what she had?

What had she even seen?

    "How'd you sleep?" Her dad asked.

    "Fine," she muttered, dripping another drop of syrup onto her fingertip and placing it between her lips. Her eyes traveled over to the door and stared at the freshly ironed cheer uniform hung over the top of it. Ashley resisted a loud groan, she just wanted to sleep.

   Going to school sounded like a drag. She knew she had to go for that damn bio test, and for cheer practise, but the last thing Ashley wanted was to be surrounded by hormonal teenagers— since this October had crept in, she hadn't been too fond of wearing her cheer uniform either. It wasn't that she didn't like her uniform. She loved showing up to school in basketball season, decked out in pale white and green, but it was getting cold now. Her poor legs could hardly wait for the season to finish so she could go back to wearing jeans and winter boots.

    "So I got up early and called Doctor Owens," her father said, a hint of hesitation lingering in his tone.

   Ashley's eyes snapped to him.

   He cleared his throat, "I made you an appointment."

    "What?"

    "Before school starts," he continued.

   For a second, she wasn't sure she had heard him right. Ashley'd half expected him to bust out laughing at the look on her face but he didn't. Instead, her father's face remained totally serious, which had never been a particularly good look on him.

Ashley didn't like her father when he started acting like a father. Usually, he acted more a friend.

   Upon realising he wasn't joking, Ashley felt her shoulder tense in irritation. Her glare narrowed in on him defensively. "I don't need to see a doctor."

"You had another episode, Ashley." Her dad sighed.

Episodes.

That was what they'd been calling them in the Miller house for as long as they'd been happening.

   When Ashley had been delving into her father's head, he grew concerned— well, suspicious might've been the fitting word there. Like his cop instincts told him something was messed up before his fatherly ones. And she supposed she didn't blame him, at the end of the day. Seeing anybody — let alone your child — with their eyes rolled back, blood oozing from their nostrils, was a cause for concern, definitely.

   But when these episodes continued happening, he took her to see a doctor about them. It definitely wasn't normal, and what was more concerning was the fact he hardly remembered them. It was like he would black out for a snap second and then she would hit the floor, eyes rolled to the back of her head with scarlet blood spilling onto her upper lip. It was worrying, and Ashley wondered how worried he would be if he knew about all the times that very same thing happened without him even knowing about it.

  But, no matter how many times it happened, it wouldn't affect the results: there was nothing wrong with Ashley Miller. At least, not medically. Despite the hundred of tests they had run and endless needles she had been prodded with, they couldn't find anything wrong with the girl. There was no explanation for these episodes.

   In fact, Ashley was in perfect health.

   As perfect as any pre-teen could have been at her age. They had monitored her for a short while, bringing her in for regular check ups, but nothing ever changed. And when the episodes had steadily come to a close, they discharged her as a patient and she had no reason to ever go back.

   Until now.

    "They're not gonna find anything," Ashley said, because how the hell would they find my gift from God with a shitty stethoscope? "They told us I'm completely fine— remember?"

    "I remember—"

    "So why the hell would—"

    "Can you blame me for being concerned?" His voice verged on a snap, and she squinted at him stubbornly. Stanley scoffed, "Nah, not gonna work. I don't wanna risk it. This is your health — I ain't gonna risk that, okay?"

   She didn't reply, just scowled at him.

   After all, what would she say? How did you tell your father that you were completely fine in a medical sense, and you knew that for a fact? That the reason you even have these dumb episodes is because of a deal you made with God when you were ten? A deal that sacrificed your soul in exchange for swapping places? To take his pain, his suffering— how did you tell your father that? How did you tell him that without him thinking it was all his fault?

   She couldn't.

    "Eat your breakfast," he said. "I'm taking you in before school starts. That's final."

   Ashley stabbed at her eggs.

   He opted to roll his eyes, deciding that his teenage daughter was doing what she did best — being a teenage girl.

   If only he knew.

————

   Ashley didn't expect to see Jim Hopper at her appointment.

    "Hey kid," he greeted.

    "Hi?"

   Shooting her father an odd look as she climbed out of the car, a look that he ignored, Ashley sighed.

   She knew Jim Hopper — really well, actually.

   Jim had always been a constant in Ashley's life, ever since she'd been a tiny tot. Back when her father was young, Jim Hopper was the only person to give him a chance at Hawkins station. They all thought he was too young to go straight into big cases (as big as it ever got in Hawkins) and wanted to throw him on minor stuff; like speeding tickets and filing duty. But Jim had seen something in his skinny, shaggy haired, cheeky smile persona — something that the Chief ended up being right about, because now Stanley Miller was Hawkins' finest Captain.

   They had grown close over the years, even when Jim lived in the city for a while, and Jim had been around when Ashley was born. As in, sitting in the waiting room with one huge IT'S A GIRL! balloon. One of Ashley's first ever embarrassing baby pictures had been her in Jim's arms. It had been the same for her father when Sarah was born.

   Ashley had grown up with Jim in her life, and he had been her main support when her mother died and her father had drank so much that it nearly killed him.

   Even when Sarah died and his wife left him after his own total dependency on drinks and cigarettes, Jim had always been there.

   Literally.

   Despite all that, she hadn't expected him to be there for a dumb appointment that she didn't even need to go to. It was strange, but she supposed it was stranger when she walked up to him and noticed the lack of beer clinging to his uniform. Jim always smelled like alcohol, usually. Ashley wondered what had made the man clean himself up.

    "How ya feelin'?" He asked in a breath of smoke, blowing out the grey mist as he stubbed out his cigarette. He arched a brow at her, to which she gave him a passive shrug.

   He chuckled.

    "That good, huh?"

    "I'm fine, Jim." Ashley told him.

   Her father rolled his eyes.

"This is just gonna be one huge waste of time, so I don't know why we're here." She continued, once again making Jim breathe out a laugh. Before her father could argue, she turned to stare at up at the strange building with a grimace; "Where even is here?"

    "Hawkins Lab," her father informed her.

   She blinked.

    "Wasn't this place, like, totally abandoned and haunted?"

    "Not anymore," the man spoke, stealing a secretive look over at Jim. Ashley noticed but didn't point it out. "A group of doctors set up here and they're making great progress."

    "Progress in what?" She quizzed.

    "Medical stuff," Jim swooped in, shrugging cooly.

    "Right..." Ashley's brow married together at the bridge of her nose, "Why are you here?"

    "'Cause I care about your health," Jim said.

    "What're you? My mother?" Rolling her eyes, Ashley ignored the voice in the back of her head scolding the sour comment. It was an out of pocket thing to say and definitely in poor taste. But she had no intention of letting the guilt creep up on her and, before either man could respond, she tightened the smooth green ribbon of her ponytail and straightened out her button down cheer sweater, then strode her way towards the sketchy building.

   The men blinked and watched her go. After a few moments, Ashley called back over her shoulder; "Can we hurry this up? I have a bio test first period and I can't flunk it!"

   Jim snorted, "Just like her mama."

    "Tell me about it," Stanley nodded, releasing a sigh.

   They quickly followed after her, peering around the place with a level of uncertainty. They still couldn't quite trust it, but it was one of the best bets they had to figure out what was wrong with her. As far as hospitals went, they were ridiculously unhelpful. Surely there was a reason that Stanley's daughter had these episodes as a kid? And why they had come back?

   He just wanted to know she was alright.

   And, unfortunately for him, Doctor Owens might have been the only person who could find out.

   The girl stopped in her tracks as she approached the entrance, a weird feeling washing over her as she stared up at the building. She didn't like it, whatever it was.

   Anxiety?

   Fear?

    "You must be Ashley."

   Her eyes flitted to the door, where a man with greying hair and an obscenely white lab coat was standing in front of her. She shot him an odd look, wondering how he had suddenly materialised at the last second, but ultimately shook it off. He seemed... nice. Well at least nice enough to let him poke and prod her skin with a load of needles like the last doctor she'd had.

   She nodded, "Yeah, that's me."

   He smiled.

    "Good to meet you," he introduced, "I'm Doctor Owens."

Giving him a once over, Ashley cleated her throat and held out her hand. He peered at it, looking somewhat amused by the level of maturity she was demonstrating, and reciprocated it.

"Hands off my little princess, Owens."

"Of course," the doctor let go with a kind smile, "Ashley and I were just getting acquainted."

Ashley bobbed her head with a tight smile. She wasn't too sure what it was about this place that had her so on edge — aside from the fact it looked like it was going to fall apart any moment, and it was super creepy — but she just couldn't shake it. It felt wrong, like she wasn't supposed to be there.

"You two know each other?" She asked the man.

"Vaguely," her father gave the answer passively, which had her frowning at the brevity he displayed. He placed a protective hand on her shoulder and brushed over the words, shooting Owens this look that she didn't understand. "Shall we?"

"She has a test," Jim informed.

"First period," her father added on.

"Of course," Owens smiled, nodding. "Follow after me."

Despite it being their first tour of Hawkins Lab, her father and Jim seemed to know where they were going. They didn't show an ounce of intrigue about the place— unlike Ashley, who peered in every direction to try and figure out why it felt so terrible in there.

They didn't even look shocked when Owens told them that the left wing was out of bounds due to a quarantining situation. But it occurred to her that they were cops so they saw a lot of things she herself found a little strange and unnerving, so Ashley shrugged it off the best she could and followed after Owens as he showed her to a space that bore a fraction more resemblance to a hospital. He instructed her to change into a gown to run some tests, and said it wouldn't be long before a nurse joined her.

And he was right. She was hardly changed when a nurse with a suspiciously kind smile walked in.

She weighed her, to which Ashley averted both eyes away from the number on the scales, and tested her blood pressure and then her current heart rate.

After a blood test and a few more inspections, Ashley was given a glass of water and directed to another room — one that had an uncomfortable looking cot and three chairs, two occupied by Jim and her father, the other seating Owens.

"Ashley," the man greeted her, warmly. He peered down to the clipboard in his hands, "Why don't you take a seat?"

She did as told, crossing her socked ankles one over the other. It was a bit awkward sitting there, waiting in silence, but she decided to deal with it— just so her father would get off her back. She was confident in how this would end anyway. They wouldn't be able to find anything wrong with her, and she would be free to go.

"Your vitals look fine to me," Owens told her what she already knew, "On paper, you're great. Perfectly healthy, in fact." He said.

"I know," she deadpanned.

"But clearly there's something going on that's not on the paper. Something we can't quite see." If he saw her face fall, he made no effort to mention it. That irked her further. "Your father said that you used to have these episodes frequently— is that right?" He saw her nod, reluctantly. "Right," he hummed. "And, how often would you say you had them?"

To appease her father, she decided to humour this man. "Quite a lot, I guess."

"Often?"

"Yeah," Ashley shrugged.

"And do you remember them?" He pried.

"No," Ashley tried not to grit her teeth as she lied through the pearly whites. "I black out."

"Nothing at all?"

Her eyes narrowed.

"No."

"Her nose bleeds," her father butted in.

She shot him a glare, irritated by his constant need to intervene, but he wasn't looking at her. Rather, he was looking at Jim and at Owens — both of whom exchanged a glance. The doctor looked paler, suddenly.

He echoed, "Nosebleeds?"

Stanley nodded.

"Well," Owens let out a breath, attempting to look casual. "An unprovoked nosebleed could stem from a list of issues; could be a fluctuating blood pressure, an issue with the blood vessels—"

"The kid's eyes roll to the back of her head," Jim interrupted.

"I see."

"The hospital said I was fine," she argued.

Her father sighed, "Ashley—"

"This is the first episode I've had in years," the way she said it felt mocking, like the word was inadequate for what was happening to her. Then again, she would argue any word was inadequate. None of them could sum it up. "It was one time," she wasn't exactly lying there, "And I feel completely fine!"

"No offence," Jim said dryly, "But you look like shit."

"You always look like shit!"

"Ouch," he muttered.

"I'm fine," Ashley swung back around to Owens.

"Ashley."

"I'm fine!" She informed her father for the hundredth time, a brow risen as she stared at Owens with such intensity that it had him struggling to maintain eye contact. "There is nothing wrong with me— isn't that what your tests say?"

He sighed, "Yes."

"Then it's settled," Ashley rose her head, chin high. "I have a bio test first period and a team of cheerleaders who can't perfect their back handsprings with a pep rally in less than a week. So, can we call this a day?"

Owen didn't say anything, he just nodded with pursed lips and gestured for the nurse to guide Ashley out of the room to change.

    "Nice to meet you Ashley," he said.

    "It's been fun," she muttered.

She hopped off the cot and followed, eager to leave and return to some sense of normalcy — as much as she didn't wish to go to school, it was the one place where nobody would pry into this. She was totally normal at school.

No episodes, no doctors, no hovering fathers. At school, Ashley Miller was Cheer Captain and Student Council Representative, a girl with a big smile and big brains, and a regular student with no strange reputation. She certainly wasn't the girl whose eyes rolled to the back of her head and had colossal nosebleeds while she got shunted into the mind of another human being. At school, Ashley didn't have to worry about how and why she had ended up in Will Byers' head and what the hell she had seen in there. All she had to worry about was her grades and her cheer routines.

Nevertheless, while Ashley couldn't get out of that room quick enough, she lingered at the doorway to hear what her father had to say about it.

    "What the hell was that?!"

   Not surprising.

    "What was what?"

"Owens, you told me—"

"I told you we'd try to find something," the man interrupted. "But Ashley was right. So far, there's nothing wrong with her. It would be wrong to keep her here."

"So, what? You're not gonna help her?" Jim asked.

"Of course I am," Owens almost sounded insulted by a claim like that. "We'll find a time that suits and do a full EEG. Ashley's evidently unwelcoming of the idea right now so it's important we don't push her. We don't know what triggers these episodes and I don't want to cause another one."

"But—"

"We'll figure it out, Miller."

Rolling her eyes when her father grumbled something, Ashley's sock clad feet hurried across the floor and followed the nurse who had yet to even realise she was trailing behind. She hurried along so fast, that she missed the rest of the mens' conversation about a missing little girl with a shaved head and numbers tattooed on her inner wrist.

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