the grounding of a lifetime

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 Dolores Burton was mostly thought of as quite the formidable woman by the people of Hawkins, probably due to the fact that she had divorced her abusive ex-husband via a frying pan to the head. And it was true, she was—she'd often threaten to bash racist people's heads in with her cane, and, infamously, had cursed Mrs. Tree out last autumn after she found out what the woman's son was doing to the kids at his school—but she had a soft spot, too. A soft spot for her husband, George, (although his son with the same name had always been a menace), who painted her nails and snuggled with her to watch television, and a soft spot for her grandson, Gabe. Perhaps the second one was because she'd never had any children of her own, but whenever he and his ghastly father had visited, she'd always spent as much time as she could with him, feeding him extra, because who knew how much he had to eat at home? And so, when Gabe had made his way to Hawkins and asked to live with her, she'd jumped at the opportunity.

Gabe was a good kid. He got high grades, wore nice clothing, and was generally sweet. He wasn't a rebellious teenager with loud, obnoxious friends—in fact, Dolores actually liked all of them, especially the young Byers boy, who came over often and was one of the most polite of the bunch—who blasted heavy metal music and never did their homework. He may have been a little odd, doing things like reading an extraordinary amount of newspapers, and liked things that boys weren't supposed to like, such as painting his nails, but she loved him for who he was, and especially loved that he followed the rules.

Well, there had been that one time last year where he'd been gone for days, but he'd told her over the phone that his friends had gotten hurt and he needed to stay with them. She didn't know what to think of that, because none of them seemed like the sort to get into fights, but it definitely had been a fight that had given Gabe those welts on his legs and sent the Fairgrieves-Byers girl into a three-day long coma, and she'd heard that somebody had been arrested, so that was quite strange. Still, after teaching Gabe that he needed to come to her and George for these things (along with revoking his television privileges), she set him free again, relaxing with the rules this summer so long as he promised to stay responsible.

Except... he hadn't. He hadn't been home in days, and whenever she called his little friends' parents, they always shrugged her off, saying that he was sleeping over in one house or another. But why hadn't he given her a call? What on earth was he even doing? Dolores couldn't help the squirming in her stomach that told her something had gone wrong again.

The feeling grew even worse when July Fourth arrived. It was Gabe's birthday today, and he'd told her he would be home, that they would have a pool party before heading to the fair Mayor Kline had planned. Dolores and George had worked their asses off baking a huge, red velvet cake, buying bunches of balloons and tying them around the fence in the backyard, and creating a big, birthday banner that fluttered on their front lawn. But Gabe never came home. He didn't come home for his birthday.

This was why, when she heard about a fire that had bloomed across Starcourt Mall, the number of casualties still unreleased to the public, she and George grabbed their canes and walkers and headed out into the night. It was past midnight, and there was only the chirping of crickets and music from the sixties to keep her company. George drove, gripping the steering wheel harder than he needed to, and didn't say anything. This was predictable. George was a man of few words, and usually he could count on his wife to fill in the chatter. Tonight, though, Dolores couldn't. She was unusually quiet as she stared out the window, worry for her grandson banging through her like a pinball machine. She knew it was unlikely that Gabe had been involved in the fire at the mall, but she could never be certain with that boy. She just had to hope he was still alive.

When the car screeched into the parking lot of Starcourt Mall, Dolores's jaw dropped. She'd expected carnage, had seen the smoke from the distance, but she didn't expect the sheer amount of people to crowd around the place. Sure, there were firefighters, who were ushered inside, trying to keep it from completely burning to the ground and rescuing those who may have been trapped inside (why were there people in there, anyway? Wasn't it supposed to be closed?) and ambulances, but there was also a number of helicopters and... soldiers? Why on earth were there soldiers here?

As soon as Dolores hobbled out of the car, she was immediately surrounded by a group of seven. "Ma'am," one of them said, "I'm afraid that you can't get near the mall."

"Why on Earth not?" Dolores cried. "I have reason to believe that my grandson might have been in there! I need to find him!"

The soldiers exchanged a pitying look. They looked like they were used to dealing with these kinds of events. The same soldier spoke again. "Ma'am," he said condescendingly, "your grandson might have been in there, but I'm afraid you can't pass. You will be notified later on his status and if he has been taken to the hospital. Understand, ma'am?"

"Don't 'ma'am' me!" Dolores shouted, jabbing her cane down on the ground. "I'm going in there to find my grandson, and there's nothing you lot of hooligans can do to stop me! Now, get out of my way before I shove through you myself!"

The soldiers exchanged a look again, and they stepped out of the way. Their faces were hidden by helmets, but Dolores could see a little bit of fear glimmering in their eyes, which was ridiculous, because they were the ones with guns and she was a frail old woman with a cane and a husband who sometimes hurt his back tying his shoes. She still smirked, though, and took George's hand, hobbling further into the parking lot. The soldiers, evidently realizing they couldn't do anything to stop her, chose instead to escort her further in, and that was when she passed one of the ambulances.

Sitting in the back were two people she recognized faintly. The Byers boy was draped in a shock blanket, tears streaming down his face, and beside him was his sister, an oxygen mask over her face as she gasped and wheezed for breath, an ice pack held to her ribs. Both of them looked filthy and disheveled, and the boy kept sobbing.

She stopped beside them. "Will? Will Byers? And Alina?"

Those were their names. Her memory wasn't as spry as it used to be, but sometimes things came to her in the moment. The two of them looked up, and Will's eyes went wide. "What are you doing here?" she asked them calmly, although she found herself quivering a little. She had been right. They had been involved in this disaster. "And do you know where my grandson is?"

Alina lifted her oxygen mask. "Mrs. Burton—"

"Please, call me Dolores."

"Dolores, I..." her jaw trembled. "I think Gabe is hurt. Like, really bad. We haven't seen him yet, but Max said—" her voice cut off, and she cleared her throat, trying again. "Max said he'd hit his head."

"Jesus, Mary, and Joseph," George swore.

Dolores whipped her head around. "Where is he? Where is my grandson?"

A doctor hustled over. "Ma'am, we need you to stay calm—"

"No, I will not stay calm! Where is my grandson?"

She went about like this for a couple of minutes, shoving off any help anyone attempted to give her, instead straining her eyes for any sight of Gabriel Burton, and so it was that she was the first to spot the stretcher that came a couple minutes later. On it was a boy, his face pale, bloody, and bruised, wearing a cheesy Hawaiian shirt stained with vomit and muck. He was almost unrecognizable, but Dolores had known him since he was a baby, and knew this was Gabe at once.

"Gabriel!" she shouted, and then, taking George's arm, started to make her panicked way over to him. As she got closer, she noticed that, to her relief, he was awake, and talking to the woman who was wheeling his stretcher, answering all of her questions in a bleary voice.

"What's your name?"

"Gabriel Jacob Burton."

"How old are you?"

"I'm fourteen today. Or... yesterday. Last time I checked, it was July Fourth, but maybe it's past midnight by now." He raised his head slightly, and that was when he caught sight of the couple making his way over to him. He sucked in a breath. "Oh, um, my grandparents are right there. And they're probably super mad at me, especially my grandma, so if you'd like to keep all of your limbs I'd suggest hustling out of the way."

The woman just shook her head as George and Dolores approached. "Gabe! What happened? What's wrong with you? Where have you been? Are you okay?"

Gabe just chuckled, even though absolutely nothing about this situation was funny. "I got... I got beat up by a monster," he said. "But I think we saved the world. That's what everyone was saying, anyway. And I think it's true. I think it's gone. I think we actually won for once."

Dolores had absolutely no idea what Gabe was saying, but one thing was for sure: once he recovered, it was likely he'd received the grounding of the lifetime.

Once Alina and Will knew Gabe was okay, they simply sat beside each other in the back of the ambulance, their hands clasped together. Nancy and Jonathan were in the back, watching over them. Max and Robin were sitting together on a stagnant stretcher nearby, receiving treatment for their wounds, and Lucas was with Mike and El. But unlike the others, Alina and Will had worry squirming through them, because Joyce, Hopper, and Murray hadn't returned yet, and they had no idea if all of them were okay.

The parking lot was packed to the brim with people, mostly soldiers, but Alina kept searching. She didn't know what she'd do without her mother, the one who had been there for her since Brandon had died, who had treated her like she was her real daughter. With every growing minute, the panic grew larger, and, as she took deep, slow breaths under the oxygen mask, she tried to keep herself from getting up to find the woman herself.

But, after Alina's hope had nearly been lost, she finally spotted her. A figure about a head smaller than the soldiers, wearing a Russian uniform and searching around the crowded parking lot. Joyce Byers.

Will immediately tugged his shock blanket off, and Alina stood up, even though her back was still aching, running towards her mother. The two of them sprinted towards their mother, who'd risked her life to save the world in a mission that had almost gone wrong, and launched themselves into her arms. Immediately, the sobs Alina had been bottling up exploded, and she pushed up her oxygen mask, crying in Joyce's arms. The woman immediately burst into tears, too, and the three of them hugged just like they had before everything had gone wrong.

"Mom," Alina choked, her voice slightly raspy. "Oh, my God."

"Thank God," Joyce cried rubbing her kids' backs. "Thank God."

She squeezed them tighter, aggravating her ribs again, but this time, Alina didn't complain. She must've been out of her mind with worry when she'd learned what had gone on, because they were supposed to have been at Murray's now. They were supposed to be safe. They weren't supposed to have been in danger yet again, nearly flayed or killed.

But if Alina had been paying a little more attention, maybe she would've discerned that Joyce wasn't just crying because she was happy her kids were safe. That maybe, she was crying for someone else.

But she didn't notice. So, instead, she just sobbed into her mother's arms, glad everything was over.

. ✧ ・゜. +・o ✧

a/n: fun fact: dolores and george burton are the real heroes of the acatalepsy series :)

anyway, i just wanted to say that although i don't know exactly the date i first posted it, i know it's been around a year since i first published acatalepsy. i remember how terrified i was the first time i pressed 'publish', and how i thought that nobody would ever read it. and now, a year later, i have over 400 followers and a combined total of 110,000 reads across the three books. even now, i'm still blown away by the fact that you guys have actually?? liked something i wrote?? i wish i could tell 15-year-old me where i am today. thank you all so so much for all of the support you've given me, i appreciate it so much <3 

we're only two chapters from the epilogue guys... i can't believe it's finally coming to an end.

'till next time!