↬ ↬ LISTEN TO 'EULOGY' BY KYLE DIXON AND MICHAEL STEIN ↬ ↬ 


WHEN SAR STEPPED OUT OF THE BATHROOM DOOR, HAVING REARRANGED HER HAIR AND SQUEEZED THE BLOOD OUT OF IT, JAMES CLOSE BEHIND HER, SHE STOPPED JUST BEFORE THE FIGURE OF HER FATHER. 

     "Sara," Hopper breathed. He had a small scuff across his eyebrow, but otherwise he was fine. He too, was wearing the same hospital outfit Katie and Mike wore. Hopper embraced her tightly, crushing her against his chest. Sar still felt light-headed, but she let out a sniffle and smiled widely.

     "Hey, Dad," she said softly. Her lips were stretched into a smile as he held her, warm and safe.

     He just tightened her arms around her. "Steve brought you to us. We thought you were dead, when we first saw you. Jonathan had to shove me in the car because I was too insistent on checking you over." He was smiling. "You gotta stop doing that, kid."

     She touched his shoulder in a light push as she backed away from him, playfully. "I'll try not to do it again." She shot him the Hopper mischief smile and he returned it, warmly. His blue eyes shone.

     When he tore his gaze away from his daughter's face, he seemed to remember something. "Excuse me, Sara," he said, touching her shoulder as he passed. "I have to call the military." She trailed him as he went to the Byers' phone, dialling a number.

     The room was in a deep state of melancholy. Katie had returned back to the room, curled up on one of the armchairs. The kids were slumped against the coffee table, quiet. She hadn't seen what had happened at the lab, but she'd known what Bob had done. It was enough.

     Everyone seemed silent. The Byers' clock ticked second-by-second at the kitchen counter, tedious and solitary. Nancy sat on the floor with her back pressed to the living room wall. Her head rested behind her, knees drawn to her chest, and her pointed lips were pulled inwards, upset.

     Sar sat on the edge of the couch beside a tired Steve, who had been swinging his bat around only moments before. Now it lay against the wall, and Sar propped her feet up on the arm rest of the couch to lay her back against Steve's side. She was so unbelievably tired, and by the way Steve's body sagged against hers, he was too. One of his hands came to touch her golden hair as she leant her head up against his—he'd always seemed to love her hair.

     Her head still thrummed with a soft ache, and her mind felt like it had been spilt wide.

     "You okay?" Steve asked her softly, touching her where she slumped against his side.

     She nodded, and breathed a, "yeah," letting her eyes slide closed. It was soft and perfect. Her marked wrist fell to his side.

     Sara could hear her father talking into the phone from behind her. "I don't know how many people are there. I don't know how many people are left alive!" Sara let her head burrow into Steve's shoulder, still tired. "I am the police. Chief Jim Hopper!" There was a pause, in which Sar breathed out. "Yes, the number that I gave you. Yes. 6767. I will be here."

     Dustin looked up from the table. "They didn't believe you, did they?" His face was soft but unhopeful.

     Her father dropped the phone back on the hook. "We'll see."

     "We'll see?" Mike exclaimed from the table. "We can't just sit here while those things are loose!"

     Sar spoke up from the couch, though her throat was sore. "I agree. There were too many to fend off. And it's only a matter of time before they grow again."

     Hopper turned towards her, gaze sharp, "We stay here, and we wait for help." Sara fell silent, forcing her lips shut tightly.

     There was a bang as Mike dropped Bob's brainteasers back down on the table, making Katie jump. He shoved out his chair so fast it scraped achingly on the floor. Mike pushed himself away from the table, storming into the kitchen. Sara watched where he'd gone for a moment, before she pried herself from Steve's warm side, following Mike.

     The moonlight flowing through the kitchen was eerie and silver, meeting her blue eyes like an ocean.

     Mike stood stiffly facing the wall, arms pinned to his sides. His shoulders were set high and square, hostile. He was sniffling. As she stepped towards him, he spun around, feet planted, all furiosity.

     He looked up at her with teary eyes, filled to the brim. The moonlight illuminated the harsh freckles on his face. He looked so angry. At her, at the monsters, at the Upside Down, at himself, at Eleven. She could feel it all. His lips were pressed together firmly.

     "You okay, Mike?" she asked him.

     His lips seemed to tremble for a moment, and his glare had all ebbed away. He thudded forward, thowing his arms tight around her middle and burying his face against her ribs. She was surprised, arms flying up, but Mike only pushed himself closer. If she looked carefully, she could see the gentle crying shuddering of his shoulders.

     Sar lowered her arms around him. "It'll be okay," she whispered, pushing a hand through his hair comfortingly. She leant her head down to press her chin against his skull, holding him tight. Sara felt Mike's tears pressing to her yellow sweater, still bloodstained at the hem.

     "You don't know that," he told her. His body seemed to shudder, as if trying to tell him to get away from her, but couldn't quite. "You don't know that!" Sara heard the tears choking his voice.

     But she just shushed him and ran her fingers through his dark hair again. "I do," she said. "I do..." His body seemed so small and trembled in her warm grip. She shuddered out a sigh. "Did I ever tell you about One?" she asked, and when Mike shook his head and looked up, he saw tears blooming in her blue eyes too. She stroked his hair again. "Okay," she said, and sat down and told him a story she hadn't told anyone else before.

•°•☆•°•


     "JOYCE?" SHE WHISPERED, VOICE LOW AND GENTLE. The door to Will's room was firmly closed, one of his Dungeons and Dragon's drawings hung up beside the doorknob. Will had always been good at drawing. Always.

     Sara opened the door gently, feeling it slide weightless on the carpet. The room was dark apart from small pools of orange light residing from lit lamps in the corner.

     The woman was sitting on the bed, stiffly, a striped blanket drawn tightly around her shoulders. Will was across from her, on his bed. Joyce watched him in silence, dark rings around her teary eyes. Her lips were trembling slightly, eyebrows quivering as if she was trying to hold herself together. Joyce's dark hair was frizzed around her head. She still wore the doctor's uniform, pocket shining with blood that wasn't hers, and her head was bowed.

     This woman had lost so much.

     Joyce didn't look up as the light poured in from the doorway. She was stifled with tiny sobs, lips parted slightly. Her shoulders shuddered. The room was filled with so much pain, and Sar didn't know how to solve it.

     Sar said nothing. She bent down to embrace the woman, despite all instincts to go to Will. Her arms scooped around Joyce's neck, holding her close, as Joyce had once done for Sar. She did nothing more than let Joyce cry into her neck, not speaking a word.

     Sar's gift could be phrased a curse. And now, in this room, she felt every bit of pain from Joyce—every bit of pain for Bob, and for her son, who wasn't really himself. She felt the sadness and the anger, and the loneliness, like waves of poison through Sar's skin. Sara just held onto her.

     When Joyce finally let her go, and sat still, Sar turned to face Will. He was splayed out on the bed, visibly relaxed. He was wearing a white and blue hospital gown which made Sar wince.

     Sara knelt beside him, fingers touching his face. His cheeks were hollow, face covered in a faint shade of grey. She touched the slope of his cheekbones and then ran a hand through his sweaty hair. "Is he going to wake?" she asked.

     Joyce sniffled from behind her, pulling the blanket tighter around her shoulder. "Mike thinks... he's some kind of spy... for the shadow monster."

     Sar touched Will's hair again, rubbing a thumb over his temple. "He'll be okay," she said, partly trying to reassure herself. The moonlight poured through the open window and clutched at the ugly numbers on her arm, like longing fingers. "He's strong. Stronger than any of us." Joyce nodded, teary. Sara tried not to think of all the mothers of the kids of the lab, who had tried so desperately to believe that. "He'll be okay." She stayed with Will and Joyce for the rest of the hour, in the blue darkness, hand against Will's forehead as she listened to Joyce's sobs throughout the night.

•°•☆•°• 

     
"BOB TAUGHT MR CLARKE EVERYTHING HE KNEW," MIKE SAID, TOYING WITH THE BOX OF BRAINTEASERS IN HIS HANDS. said, toying with the box of brainteasers in his hands. Sar sat on the kitchen counter, beside a leaning Steve. Another headache had begun to come on and Sar had her fingers pressing into her temple. "We can't let him die in vain."

     Dustin raised his hands. "Well what do you want to do, Mike? Alright, the Chief's right on this. We can't stop those Demo-dogs on our own."

     Max raised her eyebrows. "Demo-dogs?"

     Dustin looked over at her and Sar peered at them around Steve. "Demogorgon dogs," Dustin explained, as if it was obvious. "Demo-dogs. It's like a compound. It's like a play on words—" he used his hands to explain the point.

     "Dustin," Sar interrupted, voice hoarse. She seemed to be receiving another aftershock from using her powers. She just raised her eyebrows as he looked over.

     "I mean, when it was just Dart, maybe..."

     "But there's an army now," Katie said. Her hair was still dishevelled, fallen out of her two small braids.

     Mike seemed to be in thinking, staring down at the table. "His army."

     Steve looked up at that, and Sar furrowed her eyebrows. "What?"

     "His army. Maybe if we stop him, we can stop his army too."

     Sar stayed seated on the counter. "Who's him?" Mike lurched off his chair to grab something from the dining table. Will's drawings were scattered around beside a rainbow of pencils. He scrambled for a picture and held it up.

     Sara' heart thumped once loudly against her chest. It was a drawing of the smoke monster. "The shadow monster," Dustin recalled.

     Mike nodded, looking up. "It got Will that day, on the field. The doctor said it was like a virus, it infected him."

     Sar slipped off the counter, followed by Steve. She took the paper from Mike and inspected it—the red in the sky, the reaching arms. "I saw it," she said.

     "Right," Mike pointed at her, "when you had a glimpse of true sight."

     Max peered down at it. "And so this virus, it's connecting him to the tunnels?"

     "To the tunnels, to the monsters, to the Upside Down, everything," Mike said. Sar's head had begun to swim again.

     "Okay, whoa," Steve said. "Slow down, slow down."

     Mike jabbed his finger back at the painting of the shadow monster curling across the page. "Okay, so, if the shadow monster's inside everything. And if the vines feel something like pain, then so does Will." Sar seemed to wince and she put a hand up to her face in thought. Steve pulled an arm around her.

     "And so does Dart," Lucas said.

     Mike nodded. "Yeah, it's like what Mr Clarke taught us. The hive mind."

     "Hive mind," Sar repeated. "And so that thing," she pointed at it, "that controls everything. Including Will." They all turned towards his room, where they knew he was sleeping.

     Dustin looked up. "Like the Mind Flayer."

     "The what?"

     Mike slammed down one of his Dungeons and Dragons manuals, wide open to a page. "The Mind Flayer. It's a monster from an unknown dimension. It's so ancient it doesn't even know it's true home." Katie sidled up to Sar's side, and James at her other, a thoughtful hand over his lips. "Okay, it enslaves races of other dimensions by taking over their brains using its highly-developed psionic powers." Katie nodded along at the words.

     "Oh my God, none of this is real, this is a kids' game," Hopper said from across the table. Nancy was squinting at the manual beside Steve.

     "No, it's— it's a manual..." Dustin defended, "and it's not for kids. And unless you know something that we don't, this is the best metaphor—"

     "Analogy," Lucas corrected.

     Dustin looked at him incredulously. "Analogy— that's what you're worried about? Fine. An analogy for understanding whatever the Hell this thing is."

     Nancy spoke up. "Okay, so this Mind Flamer thing—"

     "Mind Flayer," Katie said.

     Nancy sighed. "What does it want?"

     Dustin put his hands out again, gesturing at the drawing on the pages. "To conquer us, basically. You know— it believes it's the master race."

     Steve put up a finger, "Like the, uh— like the Germans."

     Sar squinted at him. "The Nazis?" she asked.

     Steve blinked again and waved at the pages, "Yeah, yeah, yeah, the Nazis," he stammered looking at Nancy for help.

     "Uh... if the Nazis were from another dimension, yeah, totally," Dustin tried to agree. Sara could see her father groaning with his hands over his eyes. "Uh, it views other races, like us, as inferior to itself."

     Katie nodded. "It wants to spread— across other dimensions and take over them," she added helpfully, with her knowledge of the game. She was still peering at the book.

     "We are talking about the destruction of our world as we know it."

     Steve pushed away from the table with a sigh, pushing a hand through his hair. "That's great. That's great. That's really great. Jesus," he breathed.

     Nancy took the book from Dustin's hands, holding it up. "Okay, so if this thing is like a brain, that's controlling everything, then if we kill it..."

     "We kill everything it controls."

     "We win," Dustin said.

     Lucas added, "Theoretically."

     "Great, then," Sar said and Steve nodded in agreement.

     Hopper grabbed the book. "Okay. So how do we kill this thing? Shoot it with fireballs or something?"

     "No," Dustin chuckled. "No, no— no fireballs." The grin slowly disappeared off his face as Hopper stared at him, and he shook his head. "You, uh... you summon an undead army, uh, because... because zombies, you know, they— they don't have brains, and the Mind— the Mind Flayer... it— it— it likes brains." He shook his head. "It's... it's just a game. It's a game."

     Hopper threw the book down onto the table. "What are we doing here?"

     "Unless— unless Moonmaiden can summon an undead army," Dustin tried, raising his arms towards her. She just shook her head at him.

     "I thought we were waiting on your military backup," Sar told her father.

     "We are!" he exclaimed.

     Mike shook his head. "But even if they come, how are they going to stop this? You can't just shoot this with guns."

     "You don't know that!" Hopper said. "We don't know anything!"

     Mike stepped forward, "We know it's already killed everybody in that lab."

     "And we know the monsters are going to moult again," Lucas said.

     "And we know it's only a matter of time before those tunnels reach this town," Dustin exclaimed, jabbing a finger down at the table.

     Sar stepped away from where she leant on the dining table, leaving James' side. "We know it will kill us if it finds us," Sar supplied. Hopper turned to look at her. "We can... I can... try, to kill this thing... we— we don't know, it could work."

     "Uh-uh," Hopper took hold of her protesting arms, forcing her backwards. "No, nope, not happening."

     "Dad," Sara tried, "the— the lab is empty of scientists," she said, though her words sent cold shivers up her spine. "You— you said there was equipment at the lab. If I can get hooked up... to the breathing machines, I can get into its head. I can... I can become it... kill all the— all the monsters by myself."

     Hopper shook his head quickly at her. "That's not happening."

    "No, Dad—"

     He took her shoulders again. "That's enough, Sara," he said, shaking his head dismissively, as if there wasn't a chance.

     She pinched her face together, irritated. She was shaking her head. "I can end this!" Sar exclaimed.

     "I can't lose you too!" he yelled at her.

     She fell silent for a moment, lips sealing closed. Her mouth trembled and she was aware people were staring. You're being selfish, she thought, but kept her mouth shut.

     "The Chief's right," Steve said from behind. "We can't let you die too."

     You're all being selfish. She balled her hands into fists and let the frustrated tears come to her eyes. She could actually be useful for once.

     James slowly crossed the room, placing a comforting hand on her wrist. "Your self-sacrificial nature is stupid, Sar," James murmured to her, without a hint of malice. She brushed him off, angry tears brimming her eyes, refusing to look at him. His face was full of kindness.

     "She's right." The voice came from across the hall and everyone turned. Joyce stood their, hair frizzed and messy and tears in her eyes. "We have to kill it. I want to kill it."

     Hopper walked towards her, gently, "Me too. Me too, Joyce, okay? But how do we do that? We don't exactly know what we're dealing with here." Joyce looked exhausted and upset.

     "No," Mike agreed, "but he does." His eyes were directed towards the open door down the corridor, Will still unconscious on the bed inside, poured with moonlight.

     "Oh, shit," said James.

•°•☆•°•

Just some sadness for all of you because I love Bob and he deserved better. I just feel like Sar would be so good at comforting people because she's been through so much shit

word count: 2,993

20/05/18