Warnings: descriptions of v*miting, but it should only the very first paragraph here, and the flashback paragraphs designated under "DEC 1983" I believe.. Just in case you feel it best you need to skip!

||𝟑𝐑𝐃 𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐎𝐍 𝐏𝐎𝐕||

Dr. Owens peaks his head in the door uneasily, where, inside, Hopper sits on the edge of the bench hunched over a bucket. He is still in the gown the lab had provided, his new pair of scrubs still sitting folded and untouched to his left on the bench. Another retch is torn from his strained throat as his insides empty into the bucket. Owens fights a grimace and clears his throat announcing his presence.

"All right, cowboy, good news," He steps inside, his assistant behind him. "We're giving you the green light. How're you feeling?"

Hopper, still shaky and weak from his night in the tunnels and the full hose down from the medical team, turns to give the doctor an exaggerated grin.

"Never better." Says Hopper through gritted teeth.

"All right, well, we got a present for ya," Owens says, letting the sarcasm roll off his back.

The assistant steps forward, a folded hazmat suit in his hands. Hopper attempts no such efforts to hide his grimace at the sight.

"The hell is that?"

"Uh, something you should see."

⊹ ⊹ ⊹

The heart monitor beats steadily as Will sleeps, color has begun to return to his cheeks but it is scarce. Mike is tucked under a blanket, fast asleep in the bedside chair while Joyce and Bob speak in hushed whispers in the corner. Joyce had, for the most part, filled in Bob on the events of the past year.

"They made me sign, like, a thousand documents. I mean... we all had to. We had to! I mean, I lost track at a certain point. They're gonna make you do the same. I'm sure."

Bob nods, his eyes returning to Joyce after lingering worriedly on Will.

"Yeah. Well, hey, whatever."

There's a brief pause as Joyce gauges his reaction suspiciously, surprised by his shockingly relaxed demeanor. Finally, Bob speaks.

"What kind of documents?"

"Uh, confidentiality, and there were these official forms saying, like, nothing ever happened, which is why..."

Bob steps towards Will's bed, clarity written on his face.

"Will got lost in the woods."

"Yeah."

Bob shakes his head, the wave of shock finally crashing over him in full.

"Man, I always thought stuff like this happened in movies and comic books. Certainly not in Hawkins," He returns to Joyce's side. "and certainly not to someone like you."

Joyce nudges Bob.

"Or you."

"Yeah," he chuckles, quirking a brow. "Bob Newby, superhero."

The pair share a smile, but it does not last long before it fizzles out in the unresolved tension in the air. Joyce notes the shivers shaking Bob's body and throws him a concerned glance.

"You cold?"

"Just a little jitters, I guess." He says, drawing the blanket around his shoulders closer. "Hey, don't you start worrying about me. Okay? I'm fine. I'm fine."

Joyce nods in understanding, though she can't quite seem to shake the worry.

"It's not like you didn't warn me. 'This is not a normal family.' Isn't that what you said?"

The ends of her lips curl into a weak smile, a deflated chuckle escaping her. Bob soon joins in, gesturing to Will.

"You weren't kidding."

There's another thick pause, and Bob takes a silent breath before returning to a familiar subject.

"It kinda makes my idea of moving to Maine sound a little less crazy, right?"

"Oh, it... it's not crazy at all."

A warm smile tugs at his lips and Joyce can feel the effects of his contagious charm, a smirk coming onto her face as well. But the moment quickly slips away at the sound of a familiar voice stirring from the bed.

"Mom?"

The couple is quick to join his side, and Bob enters the hall in a beat calling for the doctor. Joyce reaches him in no time, her palm reaching out for her son to stroke his cold cheek.

"Sweetie, how are you feeling? You okay?"

Bob steps back into the room, leaving the door ajar and Mike stirs awake at the small commotion.

"Okay, they're on their way," Bob says, joining Joyce's side, and gives Will a warm smile. "Hey."

Will frowns at his mother, gesturing to Bob.

"Who is that?"

Joyce chuckles nervously, and worry quickly settles into everyone's chest.

"What?" Joyce asks.

"It's me, big guy. It's Bob."

His palm extends to meet Will's, to give him a reassuring tap on the arm but Will pulls away reluctantly. There is suspicion and fear in his eyes as he inspects the man for what looks to be the first time.

"Are you a... doctor?"

The tension in the air rises, but Bob tries to push through it. Joyce and Mike only watch the exchange with great worry.

"No. No, it's just me. Just... just Bob."

⊹ ⊹ ⊹

Lucas coasts down Old Cherry Road, his heart rate climbing steadily. As he approaches, his ears perk up at the muffled rock music blasting from inside one of the many houses. He knows this is the one he has been looking for when he recognizes the car Max had climbed into many times. And more importantly, the one that nearly ran him and his friends over.

Inside, Billy hardly fights the anger rising in his chest at the doorbell that keeps ringing. He continues his set, his fuse shortening when it goes unanswered. With an angered grunt, he drops the bar and grabs his cigarette from his lips.

"Max, are you getting that or what?" He roars.

An impressive huff escaped her, her eyes rolling to the back of her head briefly in disdain.

"Okay!" She snaps, chucking her half-taped board onto her mattress before standing.

The doorbell rings once more, and not a second later Billy continues to berate her.

"I swear to God, Max!"

She stomps down the hall in a fury, making an effort to glare menacingly at her stepbrother in a last act of defiance. She moves swiftly around his equipment, hair flying behind her as her speed increases with every frantic ring of the doorbell. She rips the door open, expecting to deal with another noise complaint from Billy's music that would somehow get her in trouble. To her surprise, it wasn't. The sight Max finds on her porch is much, much worse.

To her horror, Lucas, flashing her a tiny, sheepish smile. And completely unaware of her brother and his malicious, bigoted ways only a few feet away. It sinks Max's heart right into her stomach. She knows if he is caught here, there was no telling what Billy would do to him. Her head whips around to the living room, grateful Billy has his back turned. Quickly, she steps outside closing the door behind her.

"What are you doing here?" She hisses.

Her voice is urgent and hushed, and oh how she hates that Billy holds this power over her. The power to make her feel unsafe in her own home, the power to make her fear for other people's safety no matter where she is.

"I have proof," Lucas says, not without a hint of excitement.

"What?"

"Proof that what I told you was real. But we have to hurry."

"What kind of proof? Y/n proof, or something-I'm-gonna-regret-seeing-later proof?"

Lucas winced.

⊹ ⊹ ⊹

With a half-hearted grunt, Billy places the weights back on the rack and sits up. He takes one long drag of his cigarette before exhaling, his attention returning to the front door. He realizes he hasn't heard any conversation and when he sees he is alone—no sign of the nuisance he called a step-sister, and a closed front door—he knows Max is up to no good. In his eyes, she isn't. He rises from the bench and stalks forward towards the door, taking a swig from his beer can and placing it on the mantle just as the door swings open.

Max slips inside through the small gap she created in the doorway, quick to close the door the moment she was inside. As if on autopilot, she stomps through the living room—not very far—before she halts suddenly in her tracks. Billy is blocking off the entryway, his shoulders squared and a fixed glare on her—clearly unafraid of reminding her the many physical advantages he had over her. She jumps, not expecting his presence but she does well to hide it.

"Who the hell were you talking to?" He asks with venom.

Max collects herself, her eyes struggle not to dart around the room and he notes the uneasy twitch in her brow line.

"Mormons."

A sick smile tugs at his lips, a smirk made of a mix of disgust and triumph. He can almost laugh at her pathetic lie. Almost.

"Mormons?"

She nods, a rising sense of confidence in her tone that makes it harder for him to confront her.

"Talkative ones."

With that, she slips past him and makes a swift exit to her room. He stares after her, the gears turning in his head but he can't quite pin anything on her yet, much to his chagrin. He heads for the door, ripping it open as she did moments ago and steps onto the empty porch. His eyes scan the street but he sees no sign of anyone, just an empty lawn and others like them up and down the road. His jaw clenches, his anger flickering inside him more but he shoves it away for now, and heads back inside.

Meanwhile, Max reaches her room, closing her door behind her and making her way to her window. She gets it open in record time—and perfect silence. Just as she had instructed, Lucas awaits outside her window, his movements urgent as he beckons her down.

"Come on, hop on!"

Max quickly climbs through the window, her feet planting on the small landing just below and jumps onto the grass. She quickly takes a seat behind Lucas, grabbing his shoulders she leans around him to speak.

"This better be good, stalker."

In a matter of moments, the pair is off. Silently, they slip around the back of the house and disappear down the road.

⊹ ⊹ ⊹

The yellow beam of light shifts from eye to eye and Will does his best to ignore the flash of negatives his brain sees. He is surrounded by somewhat familiar faces. He does not understand the fuss being made, his mother and friend he recognizes but now there was a strange man in scrubs that stayed behind; Bob. He wasn't sure why he was being treated like this.

"Do you know your name?" The doctor asks.

"Will."

"Your full name?" He asks, tucking the flashlight into his breast pocket.

"William Byers." He says simply.

"Do you know... Do you know who I am?"

Will thinks for a moment, the question obvious and unnecessary.

"A doctor."

Will tries to ignore the fact that he is surrounded by a medical team that watches him studiously. He does all he can to focus his attention on the doctor before him and answer his questions but he can't help but start to doubt his own sanity. Or at least the sanity of everyone around him. Was he supposed to have known everyone circling him now?

"Have we met before?" The doctor asks.

Will's brow fell into a crease, he shakes his head simply.

"I don't remember."

"Hmm."

Elsewhere, a large team of staff assigned to the Byers case watches the feed with intrigue. The live footage from Byers' room is displayed on one of many monitors and they watch, paying close attention to the quizzical and unexpected turn the boy has taken.

"You don't remember me?" They hear Owens ask.

They see the boy shake his head, and Owens nods.

"Okay," he extends an arm and points in Mike's direction. "How about, uh... How about this guy here?"

Mike shifts uneasily, his heart pounding against his chest as his best friend slowly turns to look at him. Nervously, he retracts one hand from his pocket and waves weakly before returning to the comfort of the his pocket. He suddenly felt silly for it, but the fear quickly won out. His fingers fumble anxiously with the loose thread from the shoddy stitching as he waits for a response.

Will does not answer immediately, his eyes are darker and his gaze is distant and detached.

"That's okay, take your time," Owens assures.

The look in his eyes bothers Mike, and the longer Will neglects to speak the longer eternity seems to stretch on. Never, not even once, has Mike seen this look on Will. He is not himself, and he fears the worst. The ghost of their conversation at the Byers house being shoved to the back of his mind as it creeps up. Not himself. He isn't frowning, like Will usually does when he is stumped. His brow isn't furrowed, and there is no sign that he is frustrated by his stump. He just... stares. All emotions devoid from his features and he is much too calm. Finally, he speaks.

"That's my friend." He says slowly. "Mike."

Mike doesn't fight the breath of relief, but he can't help but think that their troubles were far from over.

The next person to speak is the tallest man in the room, Will notes. He had joined them not long ago and had stuck by his mother's side. He smiles weakly, but he can tell that for the man, it is genuine.

"What about me, kid? You remember me?"

His attention slowly shifts to the tall man, and Will searches his brain, what's left of the foggy memories that have only grown clouded and dark in the past few hours. But he sees nothing; nothing about this tall bearded man and he shakes his head. He recognizes the look of disappointment and worry, but the man quickly tries to bury it.

"They tell me you helped save me last night. You remember that?"

Will shakes his head once more. His attention is once again shifted to the doctor at his bedside.

"Do you remember anything about last night? About what happened?"

Will feels a twinge of anger, and the ghost of the pain from the previous night ignites his memory.

"I remember they hurt me."

《•••》

Will collapsed to the ground in agony. Mike dropped to the ground quickly after him, grasping his friend trying to get him to calm. But it was no use. Will was now lying on the grass, his entire body felt like it was on fire. His vision was as white as the white-hot searing pain running through his veins.

《•••》

Joyce winces at the memory, her stomach turning and her palm reaches to her face, her fingers massaging her temples. She feels Bob's hand reach her back and pat her soothingly in an attempt to calm her.

"You mean the doctors?" Owens asks.

His eyes still dark and blank—his composure flat and calculated—he shakes his head.

"No," he says, his tiny voice as dark as his eyes. No one had seen the boy so still. "The soldiers."

《•••》

The figure, who had been properly equipped, aimed his device and a violent spurt of fire erupted from the end. The vines writhed and shrieked violently as they shriveled up.

《•••》

"The soldiers hurt you?"

Will blinks slowly, the first he has in a while and his voice grows hoarse and angered. He is enraged—betrayed—the darkness clouding his usual hazel green eyes and now they seem almost black. His tone only sends spikes of fear into the hearts of those who are closest to Will. And it only reminds Mike of the previous day, when Will had forced Y/n away.

When Will spoke, Mike felt a familiar chill run down his spine. And only now does he recognize the tone in Will's voice. How it held no emotion and he seemed distant. And cold.

Not himself.

Mike felt as if he was reliving that moment over, but the only difference was the person who hurt him. Or something inside him.

"They shouldn't have done that." Says Will. His pale face slowly slips into a scowl, a threatening glance anyone would be unsettled by and his voice grew more venomous. "It upset him."

The blood was pounding in Mike's ears by now, and on instinct he finds himself looking to Mrs. Byers. But all she can focus on is her son. Or rather, what looked like her son. What used to be. Mike had to shake the dark thoughts from his mind, but he couldn't help but blame himself. Will had already slipped into this state before, why hadn't Mike done more? Talked to Mrs. Byers? Tell him how he changed so briefly but drastically right before his eyes? At least he managed to break free from it last time. But now... Now things were different.

All he can manage to do for now is watch as Owens takes a photograph from a file folder that sits on the bed, he hands it to Will who takes it.

"You say, 'Upset him'. Is that him?"

Will's darkened eyes trail up from the picture and meet the man's eyes. He merely nods, and even though no words are spoken aloud, the room is hit with another dreadful chill. Owens takes the photograph back and sets it on the folder as he looks around the room.

"Okay, I want to try something." He instructs. "It's gonna seem a little odd at first, but I think it's really gonna help us understand what's going on."

He gently places a hand on Will's shoulder, sending a reassuring look to the boy as best as he could manage.

Will's eyes flicker to the hand on his shoulder. He tries to ignore the small but uncomfortable body heat from his palm, and he tries even harder to stifle the anger. It reminds him of her and what she did, how she hurt him. He pushes the memory aside and looks to the man, nodding.

"Okay."

⊹ ⊹ ⊹

The steel cart jostles as it crosses the bumpy threshold of the room, a glass case with no lid sits on top. Inside, a loose tentacle collected from the tunnels. Hopper quickly recognized the thing, and he felt his insides twist themselves into knots, alarms going off in his head. He had only just been shown the lab's secret, he couldn't say he was surprised but Owens and his team had just taken them underground. Where they had their very own, private access to the tunnels he had previously been trapped in.

He had been assured they were monitoring it, but it all felt like a load of crap to him. He shifts on his feet as he watches it all unfold.

"Now, Will," Owen's begins. "I want you to just let us know if you feel anything. Okay?"

He nods once more, and Owens gives the assistant the all-clear. The blowtorch in his hands flick on, a steady hiss emanates from the strong flame and the man slowly lowers it inside the case. Will stares wide-eyed as the blue flame is lowered, his breathing hitches and speeds up short and ragged. His face has already begun to pale.

The creature begins to hiss. It's dark violet body begins to write against the steel, leaving behind strings of slime. It shrinks back, clearly in pain. The others watch, their attention breaking from Will to the heart monitor he is hooked up to. Beeping increases as his heartbeat picks up.

"Do you feel anything?"

Will's breath hitches, his face twitching in pain. He begins to stammer as he fidgets.

"Little sting."

"It stings. Where?"

The flame lowers further and Will shift on the mattress, his left hand suddenly clutching his heart. His face contorts in pain, and his cold demeanor has begun to melt into pain.

"My chest." He whimpers.

"Okay, son." He mumbles, patting his arm but he makes no effort to stop.

Joyce reaches out and places a gentle hand on his leg from the end of the bed and begins to mumble encouraging thoughts and showing her concern and support. After a determined and swift nod from the man, the assistant nods and lowers the flame. Everything immediately intensifies, the heart monitor beeps faster, the creature squeals turn to shrieks and Will begins to writhe, clutching desperately at his chest.

"How about now?" He asks urgently.

Will begins to choke on air, he is desperately trying to speak through the pain but he can barely manage the words.

"It... It burns."

Dr. Owens only grows more intense, he leans forward in the slightest as his bushy brows furrow. The flame lowers further and it nearly touches the creature. It cries in agony and so does Will.

"Ah! It burns!"

"Where?"

Another screech and Will gasps for breath, he chokes on his words but he manages a scream that tears through his scalding chest.

"Everywhere!"

The flames lick at its slimy, moist and sizzling skin and it ignites a deafening, agonizing scream from Will. Joyce's face hardens and she begins to shout.

"That's enough. That's enough!"

Will's cries climb higher and louder and within moments it's just as he was when they brought him in. The assistant does nothing and the flame continues to burn the flesh of the creature and Will shifts feverishly on the bed, his head rolling back as he shrieks at the sky. His agonizing cries pierce Joyce's ears and stab at her heart. She continues to try and stop their efforts but her voice is drowned out in Will's screams and even then they ignore her. Hopper jumps in, separating Will from Owens and throws his arms out and he roars at them viciously.

"Stop! You heard her! That's enough!"

The flame retracts and the man shrinks back as the creature does. Patches of its skin are burned away, showing pinkish and inflamed skin, and Will gasps for breath. Hopper stands over the boy protectively and himself and Joyce send deadly stares to every staff member.

"That's it! We're done!" Hopper barks.

The rooms falls silent and every staff member squirms uncomfortably. Joyce sets aside her fury and redirects her attention to her boy. Soothingly, she pats his leg—the only place she can reach from the end of the bed—and whispers encouraging words.

"Sweetie... Sweetie. It's okay."

Will visibly relaxes, his breathing is still harsh and spotty. He pants heavily, and the heart monitor gradually slows. The creature's wails die down to a ragged hiss and everyone looks around the room.

Owens ushers Joyce and Hopper outside to the hall where they now speak in hushed whispers.

"Our best guess right now is it's some kind of virus which is causing this neurological disorder." The man explains. "Now, when... when a typical virus attaches itself to the host..."

《•••》

── DEC. 1983 ──

Will grips the bathroom sink, his knuckles turning white as he feels a gag shake his body. He lurches forward over the sink as nausea coils tightly around his stomach. He can feel movement traveling up his throat, and something tells him it's not vomit. A disgusting salty taste travels across his tongue and he watches in horror and disgust as a thick slug-like creature hits the bottom of the sink with a shuddering 'plop'.

Will manages to keep his coughs stifled, hopefully his mother and brother do not hear him from the dining room table. His stomach plummets, not only in disgust that this thing was living inside him but also fear. It slithers towards the drain, leaving a trail of paled green slime in its tracks.

《•••》

"...it duplicates, right? It spreads, essentially hijacking the host."

Joyce winces at the man's words, and once more do her fingers reach her temples and rub fixed circles as he continues.

"A virus is alive. It has an intelligence."

《•••》

Will was panting heavily, but he slowly turned around coming face to face with the monster. It towered over the school, looking directly at Will.

《•••》

"That's not... That's not unusual." Owens pauses with a frown, gesturing down the hall. "What is so unusual here, this virus... the infected hosts seem to be communicating."

《•••》

The figure, who had been properly equipped, aimed his device and a violent spurt of fire erupted from the end. The vines writhed and shrieked violently as they shriveled up.

At that exact moment, Will—who had been waiting worriedly outside as the army of men surrounded and descended after his mother and Bob—collapsed to the ground.

•••

Will convulsed uncontrollably, his limbs on fire, spreading as rapidly as the flames in the hub below. As the vines screamed in agony, Will screamed too. He was now on his back, screaming violently into the night. Mike jumped back startled, watching helplessly in horror as his best friend writhed in the grass, his mouth wide open and his eyes rolled back into his head as he shrieked in agony.

《•••》

"It has some sort of hive intelligence, and it's connecting all the hosts."

《•••》

The monster bellowed, and one large tentacle began twirling down onto the ground, the size of a small tornado. The swirling gust of black fog engulfed Will.

•••

Dart looked up from his meal and faced a horrified Dustin, his long slimy tail flicking back and forth. He roared, causing his head to open up, hundreds of bloodied teeth showing as any other Demogorgon would.

•••

The flame lowers further and it nearly touches the creature, it cries in agony and so does Will.

《•••》

"The good news is a virus can be cured. We... We're gonna continue to run tests. We're gonna see what we find."

Joyce shakes her head in disbelief and fights back her tears as she speaks.

"What happens when he can't remember anything? W-When there's nothing else there?" She steps forward towards the man, who once again grows uneasy. "What happens when my boy is gone?"

The man stands dumbfounded and without an answer. Joyce brings a trembling hand to her quivering lip, choking back sobs at the horrendous thought. She feels helpless like there's nothing she can do. And she loathes it.