It was coming up to five PM when Robin turned on the TV. They had all been sitting round talking for the last half an hour while Wayne took great delight in regaling them with stories of Eddie when he was younger. At times Steve couldn't help wondering if it was possible to spontaneously combust from embarrassment because Eddie seemed to be trying.

However, now it was time for the promised press conference. 

Given that Steve's dad was a gadget man, of course the TV had a remote, so he flicked through the channels until he found the local area station.

"And now," the presenter was in the middle of saying, "we go live to Hawkins for the latest update from Chief of Police Powell."

"Thank you, Gary," the female reported on the ground said. "Hawkins has been the scene of much tragedy over the past few weeks..."

Steve tuned out as the woman recapped everything that had been going on, in favour of looking at Eddie. The metalhead was sitting on the edge of the couch, all but falling off it as he stared at the TV. Wayne had one hand on Eddie's arm. It looked like the touch was tethering Eddie to the couch, stopping him from vibrating right off it.

Not that Steve couldn't completely understand. It wasn't his life on the line, but his stomach was in knots waiting to hear what Powell had to say. Hopper had been very sure, but, given how the whole situation had been handled so far, the rest of them were clearly in see-it-to-believe-it mode.

"Thank you everyone for coming." Steve focused back on the TV to see Powell standing on the podium in front of the crowd of reporters. "I've called this press conference today to update you all on aspects of the tragedies which had befallen our community of Hawkins, specifically the murders of Chrissy Cunningham, Fred Benson, and Patrick McKinney. New information has come to light in this case, information which completely and positively exonerates Eddie Munson as a suspect."

The crowd erupted with noise and Powell held up his hands for quiet.

"At this time, due to the nature of the information and the ongoing investigation," he continued, controlling the crowd surprisingly well, "we cannot share the details, but there is no doubt Munson did not commit these heinous murders."

"Then who did, Chief Powell?" someone asked.

"We cannot divulge that information at this time," Powell replied.

"What about the satanic connections?" another voice shouted out.

"Thank you, Louise," Powell said, clearly catching the eye of the reporter who had spoken, "that is another thing I would like to clear up. There is no satanic connection." The Chief swung his gaze around everyone in the crowd before going on. "The kids play a game, it has dice and playing pieces. In this game they are heroes. They go on adventures like in fairy tales, they battle monsters, they work together to defeat evil. Does that sound satanic to you? It doesn't to me."

"But their club is called Hellfire," someone pointed out.

"They're teenagers," Powell replied, "they like to be dramatic. I may be older now, but I still remember being a teenager, my mother always called me dramatic as well."

"Well played, Powell," Eddie muttered as a few titters of laughter came from the crowd.

"It's not like fairy tales though," Dustin complained.

"Of course not," Eddie agreed.

"But people aren't afraid of fairy tales," Robin added.

"Is Eddie Munson alive?" the question had everyone looking back at the screen.

"We don't know," Powell replied. "He's been missing since before the earthquake. Given that he was being actively sought by authorities..."

"And vigilantes," Dustin growled.

"...we can hope he simply went to ground, however, we have no further information at this time. I can, however, assure you the Hawkins police department along with other law enforcement agencies are working tirelessly to bring the perpetrators of these crimes to justice. Chrissy, Fred and Patrick's deaths will not go unpunished, our kids will have closure. That is all for today, thank you."

"Wow," Robin said as she flicked off the TV.

"That was very unequivocal," Dustin agreed.

"Damn right," Wayne said, and Steve could only agree.

~*~

Hopper arrived after Steve had dropped Wayne off behind the motel (he was supposed to be working at the plant that night), Robin off at her parents, and Dustin off at his house. Given how tense the older man seemed, Steve wasn't sure who was more nervous.

"Munson," Hopper greeted as Eddie came bounding down the stairs dressed in his own clothes, "and there I thought you were turning over a new leaf."

"You should know me better than that, Chief," Eddie replied with a grin. "I was just lulling you into a false sense of security."

Something settled in Steve as he took in Eddie, ripped jeans, band shirt and jewellery all in place. The rings were a little smaller and there were only three, clearly an earlier phase of the signature look Steve had become used to, but they were definitely Eddie. It was another part of the puzzle falling into place to make things right.

"Not Chief anymore," Hopper said, "don't think I fancy my old job back either."

"Branching out?" Eddie continued the banter.

"Might take up fishing," Hopper replied.

"I thought that's what cops did anyway," was Eddie's comeback.

"Hardy-har-har," Hopper said in such a dry tone it was positively Saharan.

"Beer?" Steve offered, because he had long since given up pretending when it came to Hopper.

"Is that a good idea?" Hopper asked.

"For you, not me," he replied as they walked out of the entryway.

Eddie was looking between them with a fold between his eyes.

"I think I'm missing something," Eddie said. "Care to share with the class?"

"You didn't tell him?" Hopper asked, looking at Steve.

"Didn't tell anyone," he replied.

"Harrington, the master manipulator, convinced me to let him try and put back together what the Russians fucked up," Hopper said.

"How did he manage that?" Eddie asked, from his tone honestly curious.

"I'm an experiment to see if he can help Max," Hopper replied.

"Nice play," Eddie commented. "He hides being an evil mastermind well, doesn't he."

"That's me, evil to the bone," he responded as he headed to the kitchen, deciding to bring back options rather than wait for a reply to his question. "El, Will and me are off to take over the world next week, we're just lulling you all into a false sense of security."

"You'll remember your friends though, right?" Eddie called after him. "I've always fancied being a duke."

Steve laughed as the door closed behind him. He grabbed beer and soda from the refrigerator and headed back to find Hopper and Eddie had taken up mirroring positions on the two couches.

"Take your pick," he said, placing the drinks down on the coffee table in the middle.

Hopper went for the 7-Up which was interesting, while Eddie chose a beer.

"Okay," Steve said as confidently as he could, "Eds, can you watch us? If either of us look like we're going to collapse, break us apart."

"Can do," Eddie agreed.

"Hopper, you ready for this?" was his next question.

"As I'll ever be," was the resigned response.

Steve sat down on the couch next to the older man and they turned to face each other.

"What do I do?" Hopper asked.

"Just relax," Steve said, doing his best to sound supremely confident and not like he was completely winging it.

Holding out his hands, he waited for Hopper to reciprocate. As the weight of Hopper's calloused fingers settled over his own, he shuddered. He felt the other man go to pull his hands back, so he gripped tightly. Pain prickled at the back of his mind, mostly deep aches, but one sharp sensation that it took him a moment to associate with Hopper breathing.

The man was a mess.

Steve let his instincts lead him, doing what he had done that morning when healing the bite on his wrist and willing what was wrong to be right. The world around him faded away as the sense of Hopper remained and deepened.

They'd all sustained small injuries in the final confrontation, and it was the easiest thing in the world to boost Hopper's own healing to fix them quickly. It was what he had done for Robin and Dustin, although this time he was doing it consciously. It was deliberate and he allowed himself to follow it in his mind. His mind likened it to smoothing down plaster, which was completely the opposite to how he had pictured it when he'd unconsciously healed Robin. At a guess he assumed it had to do with the person.

However, as he continued, it was almost as if he hit a wall. The new injuries faded away, susceptible to his power in a fundamental manner that took barely any thought on his part. Yet he could sense Hopper's other hurts, the old injuries that were already healed, but were simply wrong. These needed something more, he understood that without knowing how, but for a moment he didn't know how to proceed.

It was as if there was an invisible barrier between him and where he needed to be.

Heat flared in his chest.

In his mind's eye he could see a pool, like liquid metal, glowing white. As he mentally stared at it, it rippled and moved. On impulse he willed it to flare up, almost in the same way he had tried with the ball bearing, only this felt natural, like he was made to do it. The pool rose into a loose point before sliding back down again.

He smiled, at least in his mind he did, he had no idea if it translated to his body.

He knew what it was now. This was his energy. The same energy he had been using without really thinking about it to encourage healing in others. The same energy he had fed to Eddie through the unreality of the Void. Only now he needed it in a different way.

Forming it into a liquid point in his mind, he threw it at the invisible wall. Like a nail through glass, the barrier smashed and fell away. Everything wrong became clear to him. Not in an analytical, scientific way, but more like muscle memory even though he had never done this before. When he had played basketball every play had not been thought out, some had been learned instinct and that's what he likened it to.

Something in him knew how things should be, or maybe that was really how things should be, and he set about putting everything right.

He started with the sharp, repeating pain, because it called to him. His power flowed and, bit by bit, he smoothed it away. After that he simply moved on to what drew him next.

Time was irrelevant as he followed his instincts. However, it was also instinct which led him to draw back, even though part of him was yelling he wasn't finished. The sharp metallic glint he had had in his mind was dulled. Part of him hissed that he could keep going, he could get this done, but another part that sounded surprisingly like Robin pointed out there was no danger, he could come back later. The second instinct was stronger, so he obeyed it.

Blinking open his eyes, he found himself looking at Hopper's surprisingly serene face, eyes closed, features relaxed. As his mind realigned with his body all he could do was look. It occurred to him as he did that, he was pretty sure he'd never seen Hopper that calm, ever.

"Hopper," he said when he finally felt like he could.

Almost immediately the other man blinked, waking from his stupor.

"Is that it?" Hopper asked, sounding confused.

"You've been sitting there two hours," came from Eddie.

Steve was as shocked as Hopper seemed to be, turning to where Eddie was sitting on the other couch.

"Two hours?" he asked.

"Well technically two hours, seven minutes and thirtyish seconds," Eddie replied. "Trust me, I've been sitting here making sure both of you were still breathing as well as making sure blood did not get everywhere."

By now Steve was used to the vaguely congested feeling of having a nosebleed. Given what he had been doing he was pretty sure he should have been able to stop that, but that would mean healing himself at the same time as healing someone else, and he wasn't clear on how that would go. Grabbing a tissue out of the box on the coffee table he did his best to clean himself up properly.

"Wow," Hopper said, and Steve looked back to see the man stretching with an expression of pure wonder on his face.

"It's not quite done," Steve hurried to say. "I needed to stop for a while."

He went to move and realised he was a bit unsteady. His stomach also felt like an empty hole.

"Steve," Hopper said, clapping him on the shoulder without the slightest notion what that did to Steve's equilibrium, "I haven't been able to take a breath without being reminded of those Russian thugs in months. I feel amazing."

"Still not quite done," Steve said, "but I really need to eat."

Eddie stuck a Snickers under his nose before he could think about trying to stand up.

"Thanks," he said, which was entirely inadequate for the gratitude he was actually feeling. "So do you," he added, looking at Hopper.

"Grilled cheese coming up," Eddie said, standing and heading for the kitchen. "I promise I can make them without burning the house down."

"Why does that not fill me with confidence?" Hopper asked.

"Because Eddie is the embodiment of chaos?" Steve replied, breaking the snickers in two and handing half to Hopper.

"Is he better or worse since his rise from the dead?" Hopper said, accepting the candy bar. "And thanks."

"Wouldn't like to guess," he said and bit into the peanut and chocolaty goodness.

That was the moment he realised he was picking up mental speech patterns from Argyle and wondered if drowning in the pool would have been a better option.