against all odds

. ✧ ・゜. +・o ✧

Just over twenty minutes before Lucas and Gabe got the message from Mike Wheeler, Alina Fairgrieves woke up, which was quite unexpected. The doctors had tried to tell her friends gently that she might not ever wake from her state of unconsciousness, because they knew the odds were not good for her. So when Alina Fairgrieves blinked blearily at the white ceiling of the hospital room regardless, swamped in a hospital gown quite a lot like the one Will was wearing, it was safe to say that a few jaws dropped.

Her head was pounding, a steady rattling at the base of her skull, and as Alina's eyes began to focus, she was more aware of the feelings swirling inside of her. The guilt, the anger, the fear, all congealing at the pit of her stomach like old jars you'd find at the back of your fridge. In short, the feelings were old feelings, but they sat there like they were brand new.

Cold sheets slid over her legs, and there was something—there was something going into her arm. Alina turned her head a little, pain racketing through her, and saw a package of fluid making its way into her arm. An IV drip. Alina raised her other hand, feeling the tubes that were entering her nostrils, and that motion—as well as the increased heart rate in the steadily beeping monitor by her bed—was what alerted the doctors that Alina Fairgrieves, against all odds, had woken up.

Blurry faces swam over her, asking her basic questions like her name and age. Alina answered them all truthfully, her voice croaky from the lack of use, but there was something off about all of this, and that was that she had no idea what had brought her here. Why was she in the hospital? Why did her head ache like someone had gone at it with a jackhammer? Why was there an IV in her arm and tubes in her nose?

She tried to think back to the last thing she remembered before waking up, but only got a blurry mix of fear, pain, and the scent of grass and blood intermingling in her nostrils. Concentrating a little harder, Alina managed to see the bloom of a flame beginning to eat away everything, the voices rattling her head, the doubling, then tripling, then quadrupling of her vision, the blood, the energy, and her eyes shot open even wider.

The tunnels. She'd been in the tunnels, and she'd known something was going to happen to her, and then she'd simply stopped struggling and let something else control her. Something had ripped away her memories, the names of her friends, of her cat, of her dad, and replaced them with the cold dirt and burns. Something had taken away what made her Alina.

And now... this was the strangest she'd felt in a year. Ever since the night Eleven escaped, there'd been this sort of dread at the back of her mind. Always there, always prickling at her neck, always telling her there was something to be afraid of. But now? Now that dread was simply gone. Now Alina Fairgrieves only felt those old fridge feelings and her growing confusion. Who was she?

She answered a few more questions dully, her head spinning. She'd never felt so... so good. Even though her head was still pounding, and her eyelids drooped, willing her to succumb to unconsciousness again, the sheer, wonderful feeling, whatever it was, kept them open. And as those faces left—doctors, they were doctors—Alina finally turned her head.

Joyce Byers smiled back at her. It was a watery smile, one that you only attempt when you're clearly upset but you don't want to let anyone on about it. "Hey, sweetie," her voice was soft, and as Alina stared, affection for the woman came in one rush. Crashing over her. A fondness words couldn't describe.

"Hi," Alina said back. It felt good to use her voice, to say words that were hers. She'd been... she'd been trapped in her own mind, saying things she didn't mean, merely a puppet for the darker force that loomed above her. The Mind Flayer. That was the name. The shadow creature she and Will had both seen on the field, and in their dreams. The one that had sunken its claws into both of them.

Alina remembered everything now. She remembered the overwhelming heat that had swept over her, and it was like standing in a burning forest with no way to die. She remembered falling in the tunnels, being hauled out of them by gentle hands, and remembered the sheer agony that had come over her on the field. It was like being ripped apart and sewn crudely together, over and over again. It was like dying in a thousand different ways—burning, drowning, poison, gunshots—and then being revived to die again. It was like the world had exploded, but the world was really just her mind.

"How are you feeling, sweetie?" Joyce's voice was soft, and gentle, but Alina, always with good eyesight, could see the relief in her eyes. "The doctors..." her lip trembled. "They thought you might not wake up."

"I..." Alina swallowed. Her mouth was as dry as a desert during a drought, and her throat ached for water. "I'm tired," she said eventually. "I'm really tired. And I feel... I feel really strange."

She kind of felt... completed. Like there had been a piece of her missing for a long time. Sure, there were still those holes in her heart, but it wasn't grief that had been missing. It had been more like a piece of her soul had been returned to her.

"You must be." This wasn't Joyce's voice. It was a boy's voice, younger and brighter and happier, and Alina turned around to meet the brown eyes of Will Byers, alive, not wearing the hospital gown he'd been in last time she'd seen him, but rather a normal shirt, a little big, a couple holes in the collar, and jeans. His brown hair flopped over his forehead, and his skin was no longer the dusty pale it had been while he'd been possessed by the Mind Flayer, but a healthy peach. As Alina watched, Will's grin grew wider.

"You used a lot of your power surviving the Mind Flayer," was all he had time to say before Alina's arms were around him. She didn't even care that her entire body was aching, didn't care that she was so tired she thought she could sleep for a week, didn't care that her head was pounding, all she cared about was Will Byers, who was alive, and unpossessed.

"Oh my God." Alina grabbed his shoulders, checking him over for injuries, and found herself grinning when she found none. "Oh my God. Will! You're alive! You're you!"

Will let out a light chuckle. "I should be saying the same thing about you."

Joyce managed a laugh, too, but her eyes were still red with what could've been. "Hey, be careful," she said. "Neither of you are at your best."

Alina slackened her grip, but it hadn't been tight in the first place. "You're the strongest person I've ever met," she said, looking over her br—her friend. Will. Who'd survived the Upside Down, which had been traumatizing enough, but now had survived actual, literal possession. Perhaps his skin was made of iron, his bones made of steel. Perhaps Will Byers was the strongest person on the planet.

"You are, too," said Will. "You... you survived the Mind Flayer. You survived El closing the gate." The way he said Eleven's nickname, a little awkwardly, showed how little they knew each other. Alina's mouth dropped open. She'd forgotten that Will had been unconscious when Eleven had come home, and how he'd never even met her a year ago.

But there was finally time for those things. Right now, Alina just asked the most important questions. "So... how long have I been out? What's wrong with me? Why do I feel so weird? How did the Mind Flayer even get inside me in the first place?"

She said all of these very calmly, but although she was happy—she'd woken up, after all, and Will was alive! They were all alive! They'd all managed to make it through yet another series of horrors (except Bob. Alina would never forget about Bob's sacrifice in the lab) and none of them had been severely injured (at this, she was reminded of her leg, and peeled back the covers to find it freshly bandaged and stitched)—inside, she wanted to cry. She'd been used. Befouled. Used as nothing more than a vessel, a skin for the Mind Flayer's plans. She'd been corrupted, and she could almost feel it squirming inside of her right now, even though she knew it was long gone, the dead carcass vomited out.

Will and Joyce both began to explain quickly what had happened. Apparently, after Eleven had opened the gate last year, the Mind Flayer had sensed Alina's powers and put a little piece of itself into her, leeching off her abilities ("imagine how much more powerful you'll be now!" Will chirped) and spreading them throughout its army. It waited, sowing seeds of doubt in her mind, and slowly, steadily, began to gain control over her.

A whole year. The Mind Flayer had been her for a year, the worst and best year of Alina's life. It had been there while she cried in the bathroom, her sobs echoing around the toilets, it had been there when she kissed Lucas and made friends with Dustin and Mike and went trick-or-treating with the party. It had been watching her battle with herself, seizing control of every negative thought she'd had.

The thought made her shiver, knowing all of those memories would be tainted from now on. Tears burned in her eyes, but she couldn't exactly cry in the hospital room. Not in front of them.

"I can't believe it," her voice was numb with disbelief. "Lucas..."

"...should be on his way." Alina turned, and there was Jonathan Byers at the door, sweat beading on his forehead, a letter clutched in one hand. He was grinning even wider than the others. "I just called them."

"Jonathan!" As the older teenager sat on the side of the bed, Alina tried to push down all of those negative feelings, and just, for once in her life, be happy.

"Hey, Al." Jonathan wrapped her into a hug, and Alina breathed in the scent of his cologne. "I missed you, kid," he choked out, ruffling her hair. "We all missed you. So much."

"I missed you, too," said Alina. Her teeth found her bottom lip and the metallic taste of blood flooded her mouth, but that reminded her too much of Bob that she forced herself to swallow it. "I..." tears were beginning to fill her eyes. "I wanted to tell you, but it wouldn't let me. I'm sorry."

"There's nothing to apologize for," said Jonathan, stroking her hair. "Nothing."

Alina managed a smile. She felt... cleansed. That was the word she was thinking of. The feeling after you step out of a shower. And she was. Cleansed of the Mind Flayer, cleansed of the darkness and the corruption of the Upside Down (how stupid she'd been to believe that was one of her abilities). Alina would be happy if she never saw into that place ever again.

"So..." it was five minutes later, after a group hug between the Byers and her, and Alina finally managed to bring the burning question to her lips. She wasn't going to force down anything anymore, not after what she'd gone through. "So... am I staying? With you guys? Even though the lab's gonna be shut down?"

Jonathan had been the one to give her that news.

"Well..." he looked to Joyce, who nodded, and finally surrendered the envelope he'd been holding. It was an average clean, white envelope, with a stamp of a cityscape at night on the top right corner. Alina brushed a thumb over the return address, which simply said Mrs. M. Burton.

Alina knew that name, but not the woman who possessed it. But Will, Jonathan, and Joyce's eyes were all on hers, and so she found herself hooking her thumb under the flap and lifting it open. Slipping out the folded piece of paper, Alina unfolded it, smoothing it out on her hospital bed, and began to read.

. ✧ ・゜. +・o ✧

a/n: black lives matter. justice for george floyd, who was murdered in a senseless, racist killing. make sure to get your voice out there-- sign petitions, call representatives, do anything you can to make sure every single one of those cops is punished.

'till next time.