— CHAPTER 12 —
THE FALLOUT

FRIDAY 2nd NOVEMBER,
1984

WITH a new morning comes a new atmosphere of awkwardness in the Delaney house. When is it ever going to end? Thomas thinks sceptically, brewing his breakfast coffee as routinely as usual. Cath's face appears strained with deep thought, while Daphne's is vacant as she glazes over in some daydream. Peggy, on the other hand, picks at her eggs with her fork as if repulsed by them. At least the radio softly playing The Style Council smooths out the mood into something more comfortable.

     Peggy finally pushes her plate away, giving in. Thomas frowns at her plate still filled with breakfast. "Aren't you hungry?" he asks her.

     "Yes and no. I don't know, I'm kind of nauseous and the eggs aren't helping," she shrugs quickly. Something about her manner seems erratic, almost secretive, as she averts her gaze while gulping down some coffee of her own. "I'm gonna go out for a smoke."

     Thomas watches his sister vanish out onto the porch and light a cigarette from her pack — as he instructed her to do, because he doesn't want the smell lingering in the house. He's been slightly paranoid about it ever since Cath got bronchitis when she was younger.

     While he waits for his coffee to finish brewing, he tilts his head towards a drooping Cath. "Hey, honey, you okay? You're looking a little... I don't know..."

     Perking up automatically, Cath nods sharply. "I'm fine," she replies. "Just thinking about stuff I guess."

     She seems to do that a lot lately, Thomas thinks worriedly.

     "Why don't you invite some friends over after school?" he suggests, an idea which makes his daughter pause and think for a moment. "Maybe if Will isn't feeling better yet, you could bring over someone else. Some of the boys, or that new girl you told me about. What was her name again?"

     "Max."

     "Right, yeah, her. And obviously, Andrea could—"

     Before he can finish, Cath lets out a strangled yelp and her eyes pop open in what appears to be horror. Thomas and Daphne watch her, totally perplexed, as she speeds through quick mouthfuls of breakfast and gulps of water. What just came over her? "What's wrong now?" he asks quizzically.

     "I just remembered something I forgot," she replies hastily.

     "Well, that's always handy..." Thomas deadpans.

     "No, Dad, it was really important!"

     "Okay, okay!"

     As she keeps hoovering up her breakfast, even Daphne raises her eyebrows and remarks, "Cath, slow down, you're gonna choke..."

     Cath hurriedly scoops up her plate and cup and brings them over to the sink, only wasting a few seconds to place them neatly. Then she already speeds over to the door and slings her bag over her shoulder, buckling on her brown Mary Janes. It was as if she suddenly had important places to be.

     "Where are you going?" Thomas asks.

     "To school."

     He glances down at his watch and blinks at her. "You don't wanna wait for the bus?"

     "This can't wait!"

     As she opens the door and runs out onto the porch, Thomas realises she really is leaving. This is beyond weird, he thinks. Cath has never been the type to impulsively run out like this. She's always been so careful, so cautious — he likes to think he raised her well in that way. So this feels entirely out of character for her. The only other time he can think of when she's done this is last year, when she and Daphne started going out to look for Will...

Wait a minute. Thomas does a double take and dread strikes his consciousness.

"Cath, hang on! Can't I just take you to school? CATH!" he calls after her, but it's too late. He runs out onto the porch and sees her pedalling down the road, the thin ribbon tied in her hair fluttering between wisps of blonde. Thomas watches her turn the corner, far from where he can look out for her, and sighs. Next to him, Peggy takes a drag of her cigarette and exhales a tendril of smoke through pursed lips.

     "Where's she off to?" Peggy asks, massaging her cigarette between her fingertips.

     "Who knows? I don't know anymore." Thomas shrugs and throws his hands up in the air. He feels like a spare part these days, and the more time that passes, the more it bugs him. Something is up with his kids, and if he could just sit down with them for more than five minutes before they ran off... then he could actually have a chance at understanding. On his way back in, he passes the photo of Martha on the mantelpiece and feels a pang of worthlessness. Some job I'm doing, right Martha?

     At least his coffee is ready now. The aroma of the caffeine already snaps him back to his senses, which Thomas is relieved for after the late nights at the Hawk Theatre — being somewhat nocturnal isn't always a good thing. Daphne, for the time being at least, doesn't seem to be going anywhere, so he tries to slide casually into conversation.

     "So... did you have fun studying last night?" he asks.

"Mhmm."

"Who'd you study with? Who's this mystery friend?"

Daphne looks down at her plate, then back up at him. "Will you promise not to freak out when I say who?"

"Why, did you bury a body together or something?" Thomas tries to joke, raising his mug to his lips for a first sip. But now he's nervous. What kind of person needs a disclaimer like that?

"Steve Harrington."

Upon hearing the surname, Thomas coughs slightly and almost chokes on his coffee. He can feel Daphne staring at him expectantly, so he tries to compose himself again, although the coffee burned his throat as it went down the wrong way. "... Sorry, who?" he asks again, hoping he's just getting old and mishearing things in his forties.

"Steve Harrington. He needed help with his college application, so I helped him out," Daphne repeats slowly. "Is that... cool with you?"

"Me? Oh, I'm super cool. I'm great, that's... great..." Thomas mumbles, failing to mask the bitterness in his voice as he sips his coffee again. In actual fact, he's not cool at all. The mere Harrington name brings old grudges back to the surface, salt stinging in the wound and making his blood boil.

     "Why do you hate Steve's dad so much?" asks Daphne. "I mean, every time I've seen you two interact — even if it isn't often — is just super awkward, and you get so wound up about the Harringtons."

     "I just... I have my reasons," he replies, leaning back on the kitchen counter.

     "Ooh!" cries Peggy from the porch, poking her head in. "That's a fantastic story. You should tell her, Tommo. Go on."

     Thomas drags out an irritated sigh, and not least because Peggy used the nickname she knows he hates. But now Daphne is asking, he guesses it couldn't hurt — especially if it means she is protected from Harrington vermin. "Alright," he says, "I'll tell you. It was when your mom and I were in the Eighth Grade, around the winter of '57. You see, she... she had this crush on, uh..."

     "Steve's dad? Seriously?" Daphne widens her eyes, mind-blown.

     "Yep." He pops the 'p' and can't help but smile proudly, as he watches his daughter wrinkle her nose. Always the right reaction to John Harrington. "Anyway, she really wore her heart on her sleeve, so when he started showing her attention she fell hook, line and sinker. He actually asked her out to the Snow Ball that year, and of course she said yes... but then he stomped all over that promise. It had all been one big, practical joke to him."

     Thomas goes quiet for a moment, remembering how he spotted Martha hiccuping through tears on the school steps, her dress she'd picked so carefully fanned around her. Daphne also appears thoughtful, gazing off to the side as she seems to reflect on something herself.

     "Anyway, that wasn't really the main thing, it was... it was what he did later."

     As he recounts it to Daphne, he starts re-living the moment vividly. He remembers it had been chilly that December morning, the day after the Snow Ball. He'd been trying to warm his hands (he'd lent his gloves to Peggy after she lost them) and listen to Bob ramble about something to do with a petition, when something else caught his eye. John Harrington, taller than him and ounces more confident, was laughing to his friends about something. With each puff of mist that escaped his lips, Thomas became more suspicious. And then he heard Martha's name leave Harrington's mouth in a mockery.

He can't remember exactly which words were said. They got lost in the blur of the aftermath. But up until that point, Thomas recalls more clearly how he felt. The adrenaline warming up his body as he stood up to him, his knees trembling slightly and eyes darting nervously between Harrington's friends. He never confronted people like this. As much as it pained him to say, Thomas had always been a passive bystander to conflict; it's just that Martha was different, and even if it wasn't love yet, the boy on the cusp of fourteen was sure of it deep down in his heart. She was worth it.

     Thomas remembers telling John Harrington to leave her alone and stop mocking her, that she'd been through enough; even if his voice shook. The older boy had squared up to him, enough to make him feel small and vulnerable (although he would grow to surpass Harrington's height). He clearly didn't see him as any threat, and the young Thomas didn't feel like one either. He wasn't ready to be ridiculed today along with Martha, and usually he had a thick skin. Even when one of his friends tripped him up and he hit the icy ground, grazing his knees, he kept a clear head. He just tried to listen to Bob's words of optimism, just in the middle of brushing himself down and getting to his feet.

   But then behind him, John uttered something that crossed the line: it hit Thomas in the back like an arrow, splintering upon the bullseye impact with rage...

He doesn't repeat to Daphne exactly what was said behind his back. He hasn't told Peggy, Bob and even Martha the verbatim. No, those words would be heard by him and him only, and would always cut deep every time they replayed in his head:

"I heard his dad might as well be in the loony bin."

It had felt like Thomas was whipped across the back. No one was allowed to say that. No one. And no one talked about his father like that; the complicated, tortured man who he still tried to understand posthumously all these years later. At that time in particular, it had been consuming his home life more than usual, it detonated something hidden deep inside. Thomas had never felt rage so hot and flushing seize him so quickly, and has yet to feel it again.

"So, what did you do?" Daphne asks. Her voice makes Thomas realise he's in the middle of telling a story, one which she is now engrossed in. He shifts uncomfortably on the spot, flexes out his right hand and sighs.

"Something I'm not proud of," he replies, not wanting to elaborate.

But it's a good thing he has a loud-mouthed sister to make everything clearer than it has to be.

"He punched him," Peggy deadpans.

"Yeah, right..." Daphne scoffs, looking over at Thomas. But when she notices his uncomfortable silence, her mouth forms into an 'o' as she blinks at her father in disbelief. "Wait what?! You're serious?"

Thomas nods slowly, avoiding eye contact. He can feel the sensation shoot through his hand again — the contact of John's nose squashing under his fist, the crackle of pain that flew at bullet-speed up his fingers and through his wrist. He remembers seeing the Harrington boy, older and stockier than him, curled up on the frosty ground cupping his bleeding nose. And oh boy, does Thomas remember the repercussions of that incident: the one-off suspension, the talk on the playground that haunted him for weeks, the lost functionality of that broken hand for a while. It was easy to see why he was reluctant to dig up that incident ever again.

"I just... I didn't think you had it in you," Daphne whispers in awe, something between shock and slight amusement.

Peggy smirks at him, having stubbed out her cigarette now. "Oh, he's stronger than he looks, lifting those film reels all day. And it certainly made you a much cooler big brother to me."

"No, that's not the lesson to take from this!" Thomas insists responsibly. "For the record, it wasn't cool — I broke my hand. And I cried. Violence is never the answer to your problems. It was a rare, heat of the moment thing, and I still regret it to this day... even if John Harrington is still a sleazy, no-good son of a—"

     "Okay, okay, message received!" interjects Daphne, raising her hands in the air. As she takes her plates to the side, she turns back to him and adds: "But, you know, if this is about Steve... he isn't like his dad. He's different. If anything, he probably hates him as much as you do."

     Thomas goes quiet for a moment, staring at the bottom of his mug reflectively. He may regret what he literally did to achieve it, but the act of defending his family's dignity was never something he questioned once. He felt proud of it, in a rare moment of actually standing up to someone, instead of arguing with them in his head while watching from the sidelines. And the Harrington boy sure never dared cross Thomas again. Although he still admittedly wonders John's side, even if he is an ass as a whole; he knows how kids can adopt the things their parents say, and repeat those things they don't mean. Thomas wouldn't be surprised.

     Maybe that's why he always felt so sceptical of any offspring that man would have, which happened to be Steve Harrington — and that graffiti incident at the Hawk last year was just proof more than ever to him... until he did something different. He came back, owned up and tried to fix things. Thomas couldn't recall his father doing that once. But as he watched Steve scrub dutifully at the marquee, engaged in what looked like genuine conversation with his daughter, the thought had begrudgingly crossed his mind that maybe he was judging the kid too quickly. Only briefly though.

━━━━━━

CATH has really, really messed up. She knows that for certain.

Pumping her feet on the pedals, she tries to ignore the lactic acid burning her calves and cycle to school as fast as humanly possible. Maybe she'll even break a world record. Either way, Cath wants to be there at school as soon as Andrea is; it's the least she can do for her after she royally screwed up yesterday.

The funny thing is, Cath knew she had forgotten something last night. She just couldn't think what. But then this morning, when her father mentioned Andrea's name, it was a trigger word for a floodgate of guilt as she remembered her friend's plea the day before: "I know you might be busy and all, but... could we hang out tonight? Please? It's just, being at home right now is honestly a little depressing. We don't even have to meet at your place or anything. Maybe we could meet in the park. That would just make my day." With everything that happened with Will that afternoon, it must have thrown her completely off course and let her promise slip from her mind.

     She knew Andrea really needed this too. She could see it in how pained she was, so unusually raw when she asked if they could spend time together. Some friend you are, Cath taunts herself, her bike tick-ticking as she pulls into Hawkins Middle and leaves her bike in the rack — she even manages to locate Mike's, one of the familiar ones, and park hers in the neighbouring space. Then begins the agonising wait for the bus, which she knows is only a few minutes, but it feels like hours.

Eventually the yellow vehicle pulled into the school like a splash of sunlight, spitting out a torrent of kids through the double doors. Andrea, one of the smaller ones, was obscured until a boy in front of her stepped to the side. Her thumbs stay hooked under her backpack straps and her brows furrow with weariness. Cath waits patiently for her to notice her, and waves desperately. Once the girl clocks her, her lips thin out as a disapproving glare strikes her features.

     "Andrea, I'm so sorry," Cath blurts out in a panic when they meet. "I'm a total idiot. Yesterday afternoon something came up, and it just completely threw me for a loop and distracted me, and I must have totally forgotten about our plans..."

     Not even looking at her, Andrea shrugs flippantly and replies, "It's fine."

     "No, it's not fine, and I'd explain everything to you but—"

     "Cath, just forget it. Okay?"

     Slightly shocked, she nods slowly. She's never seen Andrea so quietly angered before... it's quite frightening. Something seems to be boiling up inside of her, the thing that's making her clench her jaw tensely. The guilt grips Cath even tighter then, like a python, and so she tries to ease into another subject. "So... how's your Dad?"

"I don't know. When the principal called me away, it was 'cause my dad got admitted to hospital. He's still there. We have no idea what's going on yet, they're doing tests and stuff."

Oh God, thinks Cath solemnly. She thinks of Samuel Sandoval, how laid-back and approachable he was, and then tries not to imagine him pale and frail in a hospital bed, completely out of the blue. "I'm so sorry, that sounds horrible..."

"Yeah. I guess. I ended up staying at the hospital all afternoon, because you know why."

"Andrea, I told you I'm sorry. I feel like a total idiot for forgetting like that. But... it's hard to explain."

"Let me guess: it's another Party secret?" Andrea interjects with air quotations. "I've heard that one too many times..."

Something hot and panicky rises within Cath's chest — the sudden feeling that Andrea is slipping away from her, and if she doesn't do something quickly, she might lose one of her best friends. But what other options does she have? A million pressures weigh in on her at once, before she quickly caves in the moment Andrea starts turning her back on her.

"Alright! I'll tell you... I'll tell you everything I can," Cath insists sincerely. A flicker of curiosity appears in Andrea's stare, so she starts guiding her to a place where she can tell her. Somewhere discreet. The moral conundrum of the situation already eats away at her, knowing she's breaking the rules by telling her this... but surely she can trust Andrea. If she knew, really knew everything that was going on, she can imagine the girl would believe her and be on board.

When they are somewhere private, Andrea folds her arms across her chest, waiting for an explanation. "Now, before I begin, you have to promise me you won't repeat a single word of what I tell you to anyone else," says Cath. "I'm serious, Andrea. I shouldn't be telling you any of this, but I want to because I trust you won't spread this secret. Promise you won't say anything?"

Slightly taken aback by her urgency, Andrea nods weakly and sits down to listen to her explanation. Adrenaline trickles into Cath's bloodstream. This is really happening. Deep breath in, deep breath out...

"Okay... so, uh, it started about a year ago now. You remember how Will went missing?" Cath doesn't wait for Andrea to nod, and continues in a carefully controlled stream of consciousness. "Well, it wasn't that simple like the papers reported. There is actually much more behind it all — there were these shady experiments by the Hawkins Lab, and we met one of them around our age, and she could move things with her mind. And the whole reason Will went missing was because there was a hole between dimensions and this monster escaped through it, and– and it's face opened up like a giant flower. Will was in this other dimension, and that's where he was found, but now he's still feeling the effects... and that's why I couldn't see you last afternoon." Massaging her temples, she pulls down her coat sleeves and swallows thickly. "Now, I know this sounds insane, but you can take all the time you need to digest it, as long as you keep it to yourself... if any of this got out, we could get found out and our families could get into trouble. That's probably all I can tell you right now."

Her pulse thrumming through her fingers, Cath tries sliding them into the pockets of her jeans to still them. She gazes expectantly at Andrea, gauging her reaction when she eventually shows one. The girl's deep brown eyes have been staring hard at her since she started talking, and it's only now she glances down at the ground; she sees Andrea clench her jaw for a moment, give a light shake of her head. Then she swings her backpack over her shoulder

"Andrea? Andrea, where are you going?" Cath hurriedly tries to catch up after her.

Whirling around to face her, Andrea's eyes are skewed with hard scepticism. "If this is some kind of joke, it's not very funny."

"What are you talking about?"

"Cath, come on."

Putting two and two together, Cath blinks at her incredulously. "Hold on a second, you... you think I'm lying?"

"Why shouldn't I?" she fires back. "You totally lost me at inter-dimensional monsters. I mean, I don't know what kind of idiot you have me down as, but I'm smarter than that. If you really wanna stop hanging around with me, at least tell it to my face, instead of making up some lame excuse."

"I can't make this up, Andrea! I'm risking my life — your life, even — to tell you this information!" says Cath desperately. There is a deep, frustrating sadness unravelling in her now as well; she thought she could trust Andrea with this. She thought this would bring them together, not drive them further apart. "I love hanging out with you, and I don't want it to stop. That's exactly why I'm telling you all of this. I thought I could trust you with this information. You– you still have to promise me you won't tell anyone—"

"Okay, fine! I won't tell anyone!" Andrea snaps. Then, awkwardly spotting some bystanders gawking at them, she steps closer to her and speaks in a lower voice. "Cath... I needed you this week. I needed a friend. Someone to talk to, to count on. And it just feels like I can never quite reach you, or something's between us. It's been like this all year. I've actually got a lot of stuff going on in my life, even before my dad got sick."

"Then let's talk about it," Cath pleads. "You know you can tell me, right?"

"Well, not really. It isn't easy to tell you anything deep, when I can't even ask how your Fourth Period was or if you wanna hang out with Will, without you acting like there's some big secret to hide. I just..." The Sandoval girl sighs heavily, kicking the ground with her sneaker. "... I don't know if I can put up with this much longer, if this is how it's gonna be. I need people I can count on."

Her chest flutters with a sudden lump forming in her throat. Cath feels the burden of what is happening sting her eyes, blurring the vision of Andrea before. No... this can't be real. They can get through this. But the distance between them persists. So close, and yet so far.

"So, that's just it? We're not friends anymore?" she asks, her voice wobbling.

Andrea seems to wince at those words out loud, and a figment of regret flashes across her face; Cath clings onto it hopefully, although their argument has already plummeted her into a pit of shame. She can't even look at her when she finally answers, "I don't know... maybe."

     And with that, Andrea turns and leaves her behind.

     After watching her go, Cath's legs feel like they are on stilts; trembling and ready to buckle in on themselves. The shrill school bell ringing from inside does little to clear her head, sitting down in her English class feeling like she just got slapped around the face. Was it really over just like that? All of those fun memories they'd had, did Andrea really feel that discontented underneath it all? Oh my God, Cath thinks in horror, I've been a horrible friend. She was just trying to make everyone happy, trying her hardest to be there for all her friends — but in the process, her hands slipped, and she must have lost her best friend along the way.

     She hates what happened last year. She hates everything that it's led to. All of the fear, all of the doubt, all of the secrecy. And for what? Will is still in trouble, and her own personal life is starting to tear at the seams. So much for "patching things up," as she remembers Dr. Owens using those exact words when she signed the agreement of confidentiality.

The rest of Cath's morning passes sluggishly. She can barely concentrate in her lessons, wrought with anxiety and guilt over the tatters of the surprisingly explosive argument. At lunch she sits under the tree with Max again, who's starting to settle into Hawkins a little more, her guard lowered as she talks to Cath about skateboarding down at Long Beach. Not that she can completely pay attention to her; she wants to be polite and engage, of course, but other things prey on her mind.

At some point, her Supercom crackles in her bag as she hears Mike's voice trying to reach her. Max immediately stops talking, staring perplexed at the bag as her train of thought derails. Something about it, for a wild moment, makes Cath want to ignore everything for a moment — she even forces down the knee-jerk reaction to smash her Supercom against the tree trunk. At least she could escape the burdens of last year for once. She barely dodged it this morning, as the others had been fishing for Dart in the trash whilst she'd been preoccupied with Andrea. But then she gets a hold of herself. Don't be stupid, she thinks. Will is in trouble and he could be needing our help. Feeling a little sick to the stomach, Cath extends the antenna and tunes in.

     "We need to talk. It's important. Can you be at the AV room in five minutes? Over." Mike asks on the line. His voice is like steel, laser-focused and urgent.

     "Yeah, sure... over," Cath replies weakly.

     "Oh, and party members only."

     "Seriously?" Max whines as she eavesdrops, which the Wheeler boy picks up on.

     "Yes, I'm serious, this is non-negotiable!"

     Shooting Max an apologetic look, Cath grips her walkie in her hand. "Alright, just give me like... five minutes. I'll be there."

     But first, she needs a moment alone. She dutifully offers to take Max's trash from her lunch to dispose of it with hers. With an acknowledging nod, they part ways as Cath briskly walks with her head down towards the trash can. After that she swiftly careens around the corner and stands in the shadows behind the science block; only there does she finally let herself cry. Even then she tries suppressing it, knowing she can't afford to crumble right now when all she wants to do is hide away. Her friends need her. Will needs her. And she already let one of them down...

Cath shoots around a couple of self-conscious glances, sniffing and wiping her eyes as she checks the time on her watch. She should get going. Before she leaves, she steals a look at her reflection in a nearby window (luckily obscured by a curtain from the inside) to check if she looks presentable — a few rubs of her eyes, dabbing tears from her checks. Deep breath in. Deep breath out. Reset. With this, she heads over to block where the AV room is, still hanging her head low as she goes.

In the corridor before she opens the door, the muffled chatter of the boys inside resurfaces the lump in her throat for some reason. What are you doing? she scolds herself. Pull yourself together! Another deep breath and a brave face later, Cath is moderately certain she can go in there now. The door clicks open and the boys all shift their eyes towards her. "Am I late?" she asks, shuffling past the narrow tables to find herself a seat.

"Nah, we were just talking about X-Men to pass the time," Lucas shrugs. "But now we're all here, I guess we can get on with the meeting?"

"For sure..." Cath sits down in a chair opposite Mike and hugs her satchel to her chest. When she looks up at him, the warm glow of the lamp light casts dramatic shadow over some of his features, adding to the intensity he always seems to carry with him. He looks like he is ready to commence, but then pauses — he squints slightly at her and his body language softens.

"Are you okay?" Mike finally asks; his voice sounds less harsh than she'd expected for some reason.

Oh God. Was it really that obvious she'd been upset? "Me? I'm fine, why?"

Almost instantaneously, the other two become curious and whirl their heads around to inspect her like a zoo animal. "Oh yeah," Dustin remarks conclusively, "you do look like you've been crying. And don't say it's allergies, 'cause it's November."

"People can have allergies in the fall, you dimwit," Lucas fires back. Meanwhile, Mike's head falls into his hands in the background; Cath can't blame him either.

"That's what you got from this? I was just trying to see if she's okay."

"Then just ask why she's been crying—"

"Guys, please! It really doesn't matter... I'm fine," Cath insists. All of the attention makes her cower in embarrassment. "Please, Mike, continue."

After one last look of concerned curiosity, Mike settles back into his original train of thought; but not before Cath lets herself enjoy a moment of appreciation for the boys. As humiliated as she feels, it's nice to know she has friend who notice when she's feeling down. If only she knew how to actually respond without feeling guilty or attention-seeking.

He gets onto Will's worsening condition, touching on his evolving visions he's had. "Will didn't want me to tell anyone," Mike says cautiously, remaining Cath of her own promise to him, "but on Halloween night he saw a sort of shadow in the sky."

"A shadow?" Lucas echoes worriedly. "What kind of shadow?"

"I don't know. But it scared him. And if Will really has True Sight... I mean, if he can really see into the Upside Down, maybe he saw that shadow again yesterday."

"So that's why he was frozen like that?" Dustin thinks aloud.

"Maybe," says Mike.

Another thought crosses Cath's mind and she chips in. "I don't think he just saw it," she says. "I think it did something to him. I've seen him have those episodes a couple of times before yesterday, and this one was so different... it almost looked like he was seizing. Something had to be happening to him in there, whether it was the Shadow Monster or not, right?"

"Can it hurt him?" queries Lucas, building onto her point. "I mean, if this shadow thing isn't from our world..."

"I'm not sure. Dustin?" Mike says, looking to the Henderson boy.

For a split second, Cath feels a strange comfort linger over her. The way the four of them work together, talk and collaborate their ideas — it reminds her of how they had banded together last year. Those days of forming bonds with them, all in the common interest of saving their best friend, were arguably some of her most enjoyable; albeit at what cost...

Dustin leans back, folding his arms across his chest thoughtfully. "Well, if you're in another plane, you can't interact with the material plane, so theoretically, no, the shadow can't hurt him."

"Yeah, if that's even what's happening..." Mike's scheming gaze burns into the floor. "This isn't D&D. This is real life."

     "So if that's the case... where do we go from here?"

     "We acquire more knowledge," Mike answers affirmatively. "I'll go to Will's after school. See what's going on. You guys stay here and find Dart."

     "Dart? What's he got to do with this?" Dustin asks defensively.

     He has everything to do with this, Cath wants to say. But even she has to admit that looking for that slimy, wretched creature doesn't fill her with anywhere near as much fulfilment as visiting Will would. Any way she can help, she guesses.

     "Will heard him in the Upside Down. I don't know how yet, but he's gotta be connected to all this. He's gotta be."

     The rest of the group exchange equally weary looks. This is feeling more and more like a repeat of last year — not quite knowing the stakes they are facing yet, but running in headfirst anyway. It is all worth it if it means Will Byers can have a life of peace.

     "If we find Dart, maybe we can solve this thing..." Mike says, a determined look in his eyes. "Maybe we can help Will."

━━━━━━

DAPHNE has watched the same child swing back and forth so much, she thinks she's going dizzy. Forrest Hills Park is dotted with small kids bundled in coats accompanied by their parents; how she wishes she could feel as carefree as them right now, instead of being tainted with agonising anticipation.

They should be here any minute now. Tonya and Barb's mothers could show up at any given moment, and Daphne will somehow have to work up the courage to tell them the truth. On the park bench, sat on the other side of Nancy, Daphne squirms uncomfortably. She can tell the Wheeler girl is restless too — she keeps rotating her wrist to check her watch, and in turn becomes increasingly frustrated when there is still no sign of Mrs. McCarthy or Mrs. Holland.

     "It's fifteen past," Nancy whispers impatiently. They were supposed to be here at 9am.

     "Yeah, I know," Jonathan replies, calmly as ever. "Just give them time."

Swallowing thickly, Daphne starts drawing circles in the leaves on the ground with her foot. She glances up at the park again, looking for any distraction possible. Near the shade of a tree, a ring of children sit cross-legged on the ground, getting ready to play a game of Duck, Duck, Goose. Their parents stand tall around them to survey them — but one mother in particular catches Daphne's eye. Or more specifically, Daphne catches her eye it seems, because once they lock gazes it feels difficult to break away. Even when she averts her gaze, she can still feel the eyes of the woman with the permed hair and the camel coat burning into her.

"Is it me, or does it feel like we're being watched?" whispers Daphne.

"Kind of... wait. That guy. There." Nancy suddenly alerts their attention subtly, nodding to a bald man standing in the shade and reading a paper.

"What?"

"He just... talked to himself."

Right as they're looking at him, he glances up from his paper with a targeted stare straight at the trio. Unnerved, they all start looking other ways, but now the observant pairs of eyes seem inescapable — an old man feeding ducks, two ladies in pastel tracksuits, another man walking past in a long charcoal grey coat. The place is crawling with them. Daphne looks back at the ring of kids, where the mother is still staring at her, and sees the children have now commenced their game.

"Duck, duck, duck, duck..." she can faintly hear the little girl say, as she circles round her friends and taps each new of their heads.

A man walking his dog stops to look at the trio on the bench, and that's when Daphne feels confirmation of the thing she was dreading — it has to be the lab. It has to be. She knew this all felt too good to be true. The Hawkins Lab wasn't full of idiots, she knew that much to be true. They must have listened in on their phone call and found their location, or something similar... totally not a terrifying thought at all.

"Duck, duck, duck..."

"Nancy, we have to go now," Daphne murmurs through gritted teeth, trying to appear subtle to the others.

"Duck, duck, duck..."

Jaw clenching, Nancy nods in agreement and nudges Jonathan, who's also preoccupied with an old lady glaring at him. "Let's get out of here," she mumbles.

"Goose!" the little girl cries from afar, and runs in circles as her chosen pursuer chases her down.

The three of them pick up their things and keep their heads low, briskly walking towards Jonathan's car. In the corners of her periphery, Daphne can see the camel coat woman and the duck-feeder closing in on them, setting alight a bolt of panic within. Shit, shit, shit, she thinks.

Daphne bundles herself into the backseat and waits with bated breath for Jonathan to start the car. But to her dismay, he struggles to turn the keys in the ignition.

"Jonathan, come on!" she says frantically.

"I'm trying, but it won't start..." Jonathan replies, repeatedly turning the key with barely any reaction from the car.

That was them too? Sinking further into her seat, Daphne looks around out of the windows. The spies are closing in on them like vultures at every corner — the camel coat woman stands tauntingly outside the trunk, still wearing that unnerving smile. The bald man Nancy spotted before suddenly raps on her window, making them all jump out of their skin.

"You sure you don't need that ride?" asks the bald man, leaning on the window with a skin-crawling smile.

Daphne, Nancy and Jonathan all share a tense look that says the exact same thing: We're in deep shit.

━━━━━━

A/N;

this was a TENSE chapter, oh lordy lord... that argument between cath and andrea was so hard to write, and it's definitely going to have major repercussions. there was also a lot that went unsaid there, particularly from andrea's side, which will be unpacked in the future so stay tuned. (please don't hate andrea though, she is going through a lot which will be explored later on, and you are only really seeing the tip of the iceberg here!) — but also from investigating will to daphne/nancy/jonathan getting taken to the lab, things are getting intense now! and the next chapters are definitely no different...

also we got a little bit of thomas backstory and why he hates steve's dad so much! i know the show hasn't given us much about mr. harrington (side note: i named him john after a fanmade stranger things yearbook page which featured jopper in the 60s) but i knew he sounded like a sleazy douchebag, although not on neil hargrove levels or anything, just a bit of a twat really. so i tapped into that... all i can say is it's going to be awkward at the staphne wedding, eh? 😂

thank you for reading as always, and hope you have a lovely day/evening!

— Imogen

[ Published: August 14th, 2022 ]