༉˚*ೃ ᵒ⁷. 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐓𝐖𝐄𝐋𝐕𝐄 𝐂𝐇𝐈𝐋𝐃𝐑𝐄𝐍!

𝐒𝐎, 𝐒𝐀𝐑 𝐖𝐀𝐒 in a lot of pain. She was gripping her right ankle, foot propped up next to her knee as she carefully wrapped a bandage around it. A grimace had overtaken her features, gnawing on the inner side of her cheek as she tried to ignore how much it hurt.

          She was wearing her favourite nightgown—the yellow one, of course. It still had a single drop of red blood on it from the night before, but she had left her place in such a rush that she hadn't been bothered to wash it off, and that could be ignored for now. Her fingers shakily secured the bandage.

          The girl was sat cross-legged on Steve's bed, wet hair draped carelessly over her back and a towel wrapped around her shoulders for extra comfort. Her hands were looped in her lap when Steve returned from his own shower. His brown hair was wet, water still dripping down the curve of his neck. The boy had chucked on some kind of old band t-shirt—Sar assumed he probably usually slept shirtless, and didn't want to make her uncomfortable—and plaid pyjama pants that almost matched the patterns of his wall.

          Sar straightened her back, wanting to be respectful even as her bandaged foot rested on his duvet. He came to sit on the bed to her right, leaving a fair amount of distance between them even as they faced each other. Now, out of the panic of it all, Sar finally got to actually take in what he looked like. He was pretty, in a classic jock kind of way. His jaw was a little sharp, nose pronounced but overall attractive, and his eyes a sweet shade of caramel brown, like lovely, fresh earth after rain. Sar didn't stare, of course she didn't, but the thing that Sar finally noticed was that, yes, Steve wasn't so bad on the eyes. "Alright," he said, and Sar blinked her blue eyes at him. "So, we should probably talk about what just happened." She was already beginning to pick up on the way he jolted his hands when he was nervous.

          "Actually, I kind of—... I kind of didn't tell the whole truth, earlier," fessed up Sar, fingers toying with the freshly applied bandage on her foot. Steve looked curiously at her and she exhaled. "About how I ran into the monster, I mean. It wasn't just wandering in the woods. It was— This is going to sound bat-shit insane, and I know we barely know each other, but we just both got chased by a fucking monster so please don't think I'm crazy. There was, like, a hole in the ground that I found. And I was curious, so I went through it, and, well... On the other side was a kind of... parallel one to this one. I swear it was the same as ours, but it was dark, and there weren't any stars, and it was kind of hard to breathe. That's where the thing found me. It was eating a fox, so it must have been in this world before. I don't know. That's why I was..." Sar gestured to herself, her now-clean hair, "covered in slime."

          Steve blinked very slowly at her. It took a few moments for him to form words, "... Are you serious?"

          "Yes! Yes, I'm serious. It sounds like something out of some nerdy science-fiction film," come to think of it, Sar was like something out of a science-fiction film, "trust me, I know, but it was real. Why would I lie about that after what we saw?" She pointed shakily to the bathroom, where Steve had let her leave her dirty clothes. "You can go in there and check out that slime if you really want."

         "I believe you," said Steve, voice strangely steady. His fingers ran up through his hair. "It does sound insane, but I believe you. It would be a dumbass move for me not too, after what we just got chased by. It just... it's just a lot to process, you know?"

         Oh, Sar knew. "It is," she agreed. Even she, who'd been through hell and back more times in her sixteen years than she could count, was struggling to let what had happened sink in. "I just thought you should know."

          He nodded for a second or so, brows furrowed as he tried to figure out his next move. "You really think that thing is connected to the missing kids?"

          "I don't know much about the cases," murmured Sar, feeling the need to keep her voice low and tentative despite them being the only ones in the room, "but... I think so." She hated to think of what might have become of them, considering the state of that fox. Considering what the monster had done to Steve's car. "I'm gonna stick around in Hawkins to figure this out."

          Steve's eyes glanced up from where they'd been focused on his hands to meet her eyes. "What? After almost dying?"

          Shit, James would say the same thing. "We might be the only ones who know about this monster, and this... other world. How many more people are going to go missing? I'm not saying you need to do anything—like I said, we don't know each other, like, at all. But I'm going to uncover what's going on, and I'm going to try to... stop this thing. Or find someone or something that can." Sar was already halfway there, she was one of the few who'd known about Hawkins Lab and lived to tell about it. "I don't think I could just go back to Chicago with potentially more missing kids on my conscience."

          Steve breathed in. "You know how I mentioned that girl, Barbara? How the last place she was seen was here?" Sar nodded along, her lips pursed in concern, watching as Steve's brows pinched together and his lips morphed into a frown. He rubbed an exasperated, perhaps regretful, hand over his face. "She's my girlfriend Nancy's best friend. And she's— she's a nice girl, you know? I just think... I think if something happened to her—..." The boy looked conflicted, like he was beating himself up. His words trailed to a stop, before he took a brief paused, exhaled surely. "So, I want in."

          "What?"

          "I'm in, to whatever you're planning."

          Sar's brows furrowed, "It's not really much of a plan yet."

          "No one's been taking these disappearances seriously. Even— Shit, even I didn't." Steve was flinging his hands around in wild gestures. He looked extremely torn up inside. "No one knows that there's a— a thing out there. I mean... what if it got them?" His brown eyes were wide, mouth downturned. Sar mirrored his expression.

          "Steve," said Sar, trying to let him down easy, "this is going to be really dangerous." At least Sar knew what she was getting into. Corrupt governments and screwed-up labs, psychic powers and another world. All Steve knew was there was a monster and some weird dimensional crap. Sar really didn't want people getting killed on her account. Still... it would be incredibly useful to have a guide in this strange town. To say Hawkins was Sar's home was mostly a stretch—it was only the lab she'd ever known.

          His face scrunched. "I know, but— but it's Barb who's in danger, and it was my party, and I— shit, I was such an asshole to her. If there's something I can do to help find her—. Shit, I don't think I can have that on his conscience." Sar couldn't either.

          "Fine," said Sar. "Fine, alright, you're in. We're—" Shit, are you sure? she thought to ask the boy, because she was pretty sure he didn't know what he was getting into, but bit her tongue on it. "... We're in. We'll get to the bottom of this." Sar guaranteed that. If she was going to scare James half to death, she may as well go the whole way. "When it's light, we'll poke around. How about that?"

          Steve nodded along, slow, brows still pulled together. "Yeah, yeah, that sounds good."

          They didn't talk about her staying here overnight, and Sar was glad for it. She didn't need more of the awkward stumbling speech as they tried to figure out where they stood as total strangers to acquaintances-who-had-bonded-through-a-strange-life-endangering-experience. Steve just said, "Help me drag the mattress in from my parents' room?" and Sar nodded and went along with him. It was a kind of silent agreement: we're both scared shitless, and we're probably both going to lay awake all night in the same room waiting for the monster to burst in and kill us. Sar'd had a lot of wordless agreements in her life over a lot of strange or dangerous stuff, but this just about took the cake as the most peculiar.

          Sar tripped several times lugging the mattress backwards, still perched on her injured foot on only her toes, and Steve slammed his shoulder painfully into the doorframe with a loud swear at the other end—but between them, the two managed to squish it down on the floor between Steve's bed and his set of drawers. As Sar focused on squashing it down further—it was a tight squeeze—Steve returned from the linen closet in the hall with a bundle of sheets and blankets.

          By the time Sar sunk down on the mattress on the floor, nestled in the safety of a fluffy duvet and the stuffed tiger toy tight in her arms—Sar didn't care how silly it looked, it was the one thing she'd gotten out of the lab, and hell if Steve laughed at her, because it made her feel safe and she needed that right now—it was getting really late. The clock on Steve's bedside table read 12:23 and Sar was so exhausted she could barely keep her eyes open. Her back was propped up against Steve's set of drawers, knees drawn towards her chest, stuffed toy crammed between them and her arms and chest, and her chin was beginning to droop a little.

          The two had agreed they were going to talk about it more, but now Steve was sitting on his bed facing her and looking like he was about to pass out, and Sar was rubbing her sleepy eyes. Sar wasn't really sure that either of them would be able to form a coherent thought.

          Her hypothesis was proven wrong, of course, when Steve glanced down at her and one of her exhausted outstretched arms, and asked, "What does the six mean?"

          Sar's heart gave a giant, involuntary jump. Calm, calm, she thought, breathing immediately growing erratic as she produced a strangled, "Huh?"

          "The six." He pointed towards her wrist, from his spot on the bed. "What does it mean?" The tattoo was peeking out from beneath her nightgown sleeve. It was an ugly black stain against her skin. Sometimes she wished she could cut it right out. Just the sight of it sent a pang of pain to her chest.

          Steve seemed to consider her face for a moment, before she dumbly said, "It's, like, a sibling thing." Not many people asked her about her tattoo. Kim surely hadn't, and Sar hadn't really known anyone long-term in Chicago apart from a few criminal co-workers. Even those friendships had been super short-lived. Sar wasn't really used to discussing it. Then, at the thought, Sar's face went a bit soft. It wasn't really a lie. Her other arm uncurled around the stuffed tiger and pressed a finger against that mark of ink on her wrist. Another twist clutched at her heart, more intense this time. Sar bit down on her inner cheek in an attempt to quell the guilt. "There were twelve of us."

          "You have eleven siblings?" Steve's voice was high and surprised. It was practically unheard of, at least that Sar knew. Certainly something that wasn't anything common in a tiny town like this.

          Her lips twisted into a kind of bittersweet smile. "Yes."

          Twelve children had entered the lab that day. Twelve. How many had made it out? Sar swallowed the single-digit number in her mouth. It felt bitter and sad. Four. They had been the lucky four.

          Sar's expression continued to deepen into a frown. She tried to force away all the emotions, like she had for years now. She hadn't needed to think about it in Chicago. She'd had... she'd had work. She'd had distance, and she'd had... she'd had time. She'd let it become a distant problem in her mind. Now, she was in the same few miles. "My parents... My parents weren't around," she confessed. How far could she spin the half-truths? "But they were always there for me. My siblings, I mean. I was the sixth. We had the older ones taking care of us, James, Emma, and Tom, and... and Lune... my older siblings." It still hurt. Why did it feel like now it hurt more than ever. "And then we looked after the younger ones too. It was our own little family. Messy, but... perfect, you know?"

          Steve didn't look like he knew. His face was warm, but a little blank. He blinked it away quickly. "So, where are they now? I mean, what're you doing in Hawkins all alone?" he asked, chin propped up on his hand.

          "They're..." Sar's voice seemed to fade away. She swallowed. "We're not really in contact anymore," she caught herself. "... It's just three of us now."

          The expression on Steve's face changed, pinched a bit. "Oh, I'm sorry to hear that." She saw that question on his face—'why?'. It was a sad story; Sar didn't feel like telling it. "Are you going to get in touch with the others?"

          Sar just shrugged. "Maybe. What about your parents? You said they're on a business trip?" If there was one thing she was good at, it was changing the subject. Let her dwell on all this bullshit from her past another time. She really wasn't in the mood for childhood trauma right now.

          "Yeah. They're... not really around." He tried to act nonchalant, but Sar didn't miss the look that flickered across his face, of a hint of loneliness. "But, can't really complain. It means I can throw as many parties as I want." Right, so this is what Steve Harrington was. She hadn't exactly picked him as a popular party-guy type the first time she'd met him, but Sar could see it now. His casual smile didn't meet his eyes.

          Sar rubbed her eyes again, knowing the dark circles that must be underlying them. She yawned involuntarily, and Steve did the same. "Hey, thanks for letting me stay." The overhead light was switched off, just Steve's lamp beside his head illuminating the room in a dim glow. They'd firmly shut the bedroom door. Just in case. "I know it's not really... normal, but I don't think anything about this situation is normal, so... thanks." She settled down a little in her blankets, resting her head on the pillow Steve had lent her. The stuffed tiger was tucked beneath her chin.

          The boy sunk down in his own bed too, looking every bit as exhausted as she did. "It's okay," replied Steve. "I... I don't really want to be alone either." Their conversation slowly drifted into tired silence, and Steve said, "Goodnight, Sar." Though she didn't expect either of them would actually be going to sleep anytime soon.

          "'night, Steve," she responded, comfortable and warm in her duvet cocoon. Sar did not close her eyes. She stared at the ceiling. Even though the blinds were shut, and all the entrances and windows to the house were locked and bolted, and the door to the bedroom had been closed, Sar felt afraid. She knew the monster wasn't close, the only minds she could feel anywhere near were those of the living creatures in the neighbourhood, and that lingering sense of wrongness in Hawkins herself. But what if it found them while she slept? Would she be able to wake up in time to know?

          Her hands pulled the duvet up over her chest. "James." Her thought was quiet. He was an hour behind her, in another state, so hopefully he would still be awake. There was no answer from his end, but Sar had a feeling he was listening. "So... I got myself into a bit of a situation. You remember that other world they were studying in the lab, right?"

          "You did not," he replied immediately, and Sar grinned a little, despite everything.

          She hid her smile in the head of the tiger. "... It was an accident, well, not really, but I didn't expect that. And there was a monster there. It chased me right out—God, James, it was terrifying. I got away, a boy, Steve, he got me out of there. He's helping me out."

          "You're with a random guy? There was a monster?"

          "Firstly, Steve's actually been really nice so far, and I know he has no ulterior motives, so shush. And secondly, yes. It was... definitely from the lab."

          "Jesus, Sar. I told you not to go back there." His tone was stressed with worry, taut and frightened. James had always been so protective—he was older than her, after all. That was his role. "Are you okay?"

          Sar's expression softened. "Yes, I'm okay. It didn't hurt me. But it's definitely the source of that feeling I felt. Like... corruption. It must be the same place that the others saw, like Lune." Her thoughts trailed off for a second, losing her footing on her words. "And I know it's the lab's fault."

          His voice was silent for a moment, just those lingering thoughts of worry on his mind. "So, what are you going to do?"

          Sar exhaled slowly through her nose. She turned her body on her side, faced in the direction of Steve's bed and the door, tiger clutched close to her chest. It smelt old—she couldn't describe it, just that smell of an old beloved toy, nostalgia, and childhood. "I don't know. Steve—the guy I ran into—and I, we're going to investigate it more. And, no," she said, before James could interrupt her, "I'm not going to get caught. The lab probably thinks we're dead, James."

          Neither of them believed that. "We don't know that, Sar. Okay? We know they lost us years ago, but we don't know that they're not still out there looking—we don't know that they don't still have their files on us. You know what they'll do if they catch you."

          Sar knew. She knew. She knew that she was being stupid, too. She knew she should just catch the next bus back to Chicago, drop all this and pretend it never happened. And yet, that would be running away again. Sar wasn't going to run anymore. "I won't get caught." The determination in her voice was punctured by a waver of nervousness.

          A moment of silence passed between them. "Sar, are you okay?" His soft tone was back, that one that Sar was a sucker for because she could never handle James being sad. It was the same kind of voice he'd used when he was calming her back to sleep at age ten, awoken by nightmares that had her shaking and crying. "You're back there, you just got chased by a monster, and—"

          "I'm just... I'm just shaken up, James," she replied, voice gentle too. Really, Sar was scared shitless. "For a moment, I really thought I was going to die. But I didn't. And that's all that matters." Sar could deal with a bit of fear. She'd been doing it her whole life. "Is Katie awake?"

          "I'll get her up," he told her, still tentative. "Just for this." She was probably awake anyway, just pretending. That girl was a menace, even as sweet as she was. Preteen girls with superpowers tended to be a pretty big safety hazard. There was a moment of silence, where Sar wrapped her duvet tighter around herself and let her loosen her connection to James' mind, fastening it to the other inhabitant of the house.

          "Sar!" The twelve-year-old's voice was high and excited. She had an insane amount of energy that could rarely be tamed. God bless James for taking such good care of her without blowing up a house. "I missed you!"

          Sar found her smile widening across her face. "I missed you too, Katie-baby."

          "I blew up a truck!" The girl's mind was rushing with excitement. Unlike James carefully guarded thoughts, hers all seeped in, loud with pride. "It was James' idea, and it was okay because we're seriously in the middle of nowhere. It was an old abandoned one out in a field, so it went 'BOOM' when I struck it! No one saw, I promise. But it was so fun! Things get so boring around here without you. I love James, but I miss you too." Sar could imagine the scrunching of Kate's nose, a common occurrence whenever she found something distasteful.

          Sar listened in amusement. So many times she wished she could be there with them—but it hurt to see their faces, and not the others'. "How is James? Is he taking care of you? That idiot better be." Sar said it fondly.

          "We're doing well," Katie quipped, a bit of a hum in her voice. "When can we visit you?"

          Sar rolled over onto her back again, snuggling down into the pillow. On his bed, Steve turned over too—the both of them would probably stay awake all night. "Soon, Kate. I'm actually in Hawkins right now, investigating something at the lab. So it's not safe for you here. But, when I get back to Chicago..." She paused. "I should come live with you. Or you two come to me. I'm just... sick of being alone, now."

          There was silence that cast a long moment between them. "Why have you gone back to Hawkins?" Katie's voice was incredibly quiet, and unusual trait for her.

          "I sensed something, a feeling, and I—"

          "Do you think it's another child?" Katie's thought interrupted her own, still so soft. Nerves ate at the edges of her tone.

          Sar relented in closing her eyes, just for a little bit. "I did at first. Now I know what it is: a monster. I ran into it in the woods."

           "A monster?!" Katie's energy was back, but there was still a sense of anxiety to it. "No way. What did it look like?"

          "It'll give you nightmares."

           Katie huffed. "It won't," she protested.

          "It's going to give even me nightmares," Sar confessed lightly. "No monster stories tonight. I miss you, Katie." Her voice was laced with affection—she pressed the tiger to her nose again, its soft fur pressed against her mouth. It was still such a sentimental item to her. "I love you."

          "I love you too, Sar." Sar really wished she was there to kiss Katie on the forehead, now. Like she always had. "I hope you come to live with us. It's a bit boring, but it'll be so much better with you here. We'll be such a good family, just you see."

          Sar smiled wistfully. "We already are a good family, Kate."

          In hindsight, Katie hummed. "The best," she agreed.

          That night, when Sar somehow slipped into sleep despite her self-promise to stay up and keep a lookout for the monster, she dreamt of a woman's singing, blonde hair caressing her cheeks. A man stood beside her. The both of them looked down on Sar. She could see childlike wallpaper to her right. Their faces were a blur, just waves of colour like an oil painting—messy acrylics. Maybe that's where she got her inspiration as an artist from. The woman's voice was soft and gentle in her ears, the man's laugh hearty and warm.

          She dreamt of a mother's smile, or a father's forehead kisses, and the comfort of warm arms she'd never been able to feel.

༉*ೃ༄

word count: 4,014

originally posted, 22.12.2017.

revised and rewritten, 07.11.2020.