𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐄𝐋𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐍 - heathen, steven

━━━━━━━

 𝐄𝐗𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐋𝐘 𝐎𝐍𝐄 𝐌𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐇 and six days had passed by without a shard of fear; that was something new for Scarlet. She had lived in perpetual fear and guilt, but now, as she sat by Hopper's side, snug in his car whilst swathed in one of his old flannel shirts... Scarlet felt utterly content.

 Hopper's keys rattled when he pulled them free, but he didn't immediately vacate his smoke-scented vehicle. He slumped back, head meeting the headrest as Scarlet peered out of the window with the beginnings of a grimace.

 Originally, Scarlet had thought Hopper had simply brought her to a place within the town that she had yet to visit during her sight-seeing trips with Steve Harrington; the teenager had flourished his hands, fingers wiggling close to the sky as he announced his plans for a tour. A very boring tour, he had warned, pointing his finger towards her nose.

 But this place wasn't an old diner that perpetually stunk of fried onion rings. It wasn't a movie theatre with stale popcorn and... oddly stained chairs. Nor was it an old plot of land where they had to weasel through the woods and smack away bugs just to reach an old rock in the shape of a skull. No, this wasn't either of those...

 "A bar?" Scarlet withered, her eyes following an older gentleman who had beer spilt down his front, turning his formerly white shirt a musty yellow colour. Scarlet slid her eyes towards Hopper, an incredulous brow climbing her forehead, "Really?"

 He only chuckled, "Don't give me that look; I'm not here to drink..." His eyes narrowed at her and Scarlet couldn't bring herself to shrink beneath the fatherly stare planted upon her — if anything, she quite enjoyed the warmth it brought to life, "And I don't know how old you are."

 "Mhm... Good job, Chief."

 He pushed her shoulder and clambered out of the car before she could retaliate — he'd gotten used to having a crumpled piece of paper smothered in crimson wisps flying at his head whenever he'd make a comment or so much as ruffle her hair.

 Scarlet followed suit, hands shoved into the front pockets of her denim jeans that she'd spent days scrubbing the gunk of Demo-dogs from... as well as grass and mud, of course. The oversized flannel fluttered around her, just as her hair did — scooped up by the December chill.

 "Seriously though —" Scarlet called out as the car door slammed shut and her pace drew her closer to Hopper. Her eyes trailed over the letters; HIDEAWAY, "— Why are we at a pub?"

 Hopper said nothing more as he wrenched the door open and waited for his eldest to step through the threshold. Scarlet maintained his stare for a moment, and just as always, it reminded him that she wasn't just a teenager. Her face might have the familiar roundness of youth, her features might have been free from aged lines and indents that grew over time... But the stare she could plant somebody with was ominous; as though she had the wisdom of centuries behind her eyes.

 "Just get inside," He said, and thankfully for him, Scarlet brushed him by and entered the foul-smelling establishment.

 Her nose scrunched up, her lips creeping as close to the ground as she could manage. Scarlet heard Hopper snort as he trailed onwards. She could only breathe from her mouth, unwilling to let the stench of sweaty middle-aged men and beer into her nose once more.

 Hopper had approached a table tucked to the very furthest corner of the bar; above it lightly teetered an old light that radiated a ghastly film of white over them all. Scarlet could see that somebody was sitting there, waiting for them... but with Hopper's tall stature and broad shoulders blocking her view of, well, everything, she couldn't quite make out who it was.

 She knew when Hopper tossed a look over his shoulder, that she would soon wish to have stayed back at the cabin, to remain in blissful ignorance and pretend that a mere stranger was awaiting their company.

 Hopper moved to the side, and finally Scarlet peeked at the man inhabiting the table.

 All air was yanked from her lungs, warning sirens seemed to reverberate around her skull. Doctor Owens. Now, whilst Doctor Samual Owens might not have been a member of the Hawkins Laboratory staff when Scarlet had been a 'patient', she had heard of him.

It might have just been self-torment to keep track of the happenings regarding the Lab after her escape, but Scarlet's mind simply wouldn't allow her to rest without knowing everything.

 Owens had been elected as the Director of Operations; replacing Papa — Doctor Brenner. Even if he hadn't been the one to assist in creating her, even if she had never met Owens before... just glimpsing at somebody who had been anywhere close to that Lab was enough for her heart to thud beneath her ribs and threaten to break free.

 Panic clawed at her throat, a harsh gasp getting lodged as though a hand had reached down to silence her entirely. Flashes of the Laboratory taunted her. The high chainlink fence she'd once blown to pieces. The cold and white walls, each one without a speck of dirt to ever be seen. The Dark Room. The very place she'd be tossed with a collar around her throat like a misbehaving dog; she'd spend days blinking in the twilight, wishing even a speck of light would blossom before her.

 All at once, her chest constricted and the light began to fade; a haze drifted by her eyes like the fog one would wake to on a late autumn morning. But just as the fog rolled in, waves upon waves of cloudiness... Hopper cleared the way by grasping her shoulders.

 He bent to her height, calm ocean waves staring holes into warm, rippling coffee, "It's okay, kid, you're okay. I'm here... and he's not gonna hurt you."

 Scarlet could only bob her head in an affirming nod; whilst the even whispers of Hopper managed to split the fog in two, paving a road for her to persevere through... She could see it in her peripheral, ready to flood right back in.

 She hadn't even noticed the shaking of her hands.

 It, in all honesty, pissed her off. Not two months prior had Scarlet left everything she knew behind only to throw herself into hell and take down a herd of monsters... Now, faced with a man she'd never even met before, she was shaking like a fragile little leaf threatening to e carried far far away by the smallest of breezes.

 Scarlet took her seat beside Hopper, her leg bobbing, foot tapping on the ground in an uneven rhythm. Her hands found one another, bunching together atop her lap... and finally, she brought her eyes to Owens.

 He offered her a charming smile; a fatherly one. But it looked all too similar to the one Papa had given her so many times before... oh how it would switch with a snap of the fingers to become nothing more than a scowl of malice.

 Owens swallowed, and the bob in his throat was visible to those seated before him. He moved so very slowly, each movement exaggerated and drawn out like a summer evening, "You don't have to be frightened of me."

 Funnily enough, the fear vanished into thin air... but not because of his reassurance. It was flippant of him to say such a thing; to tell somebody who had been tormented within the halls he had once worked within to simply trust him — to be unafraid.

 The fear might have been drowned out, but only because the rage that constantly swelled within the depth of her guts came billowing forth like the flames they'd left behind in those tunnels. White-hot anger pushed her brow higher, her head cocking to the side, "That's what —" She cleared her throat, the word Papa had almost slipped through the cracks, "— Doctor Brenner used to tell me." She turned away, assessing her poorly painted nails that Eleven had provided her with the night prior, "And then he'd put a collar around my neck."

 Not even a chainsaw could have slashed through the mantle of silence that enveloped them.

 Hopper's features had shallowed; his eyes tightened to slits, the corners of his mouth hanging lifeless. He abruptly looked like that overbearing father who had stormed towards Eleven upon their arrival.

 But Owens, somewhat to his credit, dropped hIs gaze to the table and let himself stew in what Scarlet had said. She had said it so monotonously that Owens had hardly believed it's slipped from her lips. Stoicism to the point she sounded almost... robotic. As though what she had said was nothing at all; no big deal.

 But then his eyes found the leg that thudded against the ground. The heel of her foot bounced with every passing second.

 Hopper cleared his throat in an attempt to diffuse the lingering tension, "How's the leg?"

 "Better," Owens smiled as he smoothed his hand over his throbbing knee, "Pretty sure my football career is over."

 Whilst the two men chortled at Owens' lame joke, Scarlet slouched back against her seat; a sudden waft of smoke and beer fluttered to her nose and she couldn't help the grimace that scattered over her features. She was still wondering why Hopper had really brought her along — to make crappy jokes with some Doctor? To goggle at the greasy sandwich that was steadily growing colder on the table as the minutes ticked by...

 She could have been right at home, curled up on the couch with Eleven whilst the television flickered with some old movie Hopper had begrudgingly rented. She could have watched on as Eleven blinked owlishly at her reflection, trying each little lipgloss Nancy had dropped off, every colour of eyeshadow that lay in a box; but no. Instead, she had trotted behind Hopper only to suffer under the stench of alcohol and cigarette smoke whilst Doctor Owens patted his knee as though it would crumble into ashes.

 So maybe she was a little bitter.

 Owens eventually tore his aged hand away from his leg, a lingering glance to the very place a Demo-dog had gotten him. He slid the sandwich Hopper's way, unaware of the glare Scarlet had given it, "You want some of this? There's no way I'm gonna finish it."

 "He can't," Scarlet piped up, her pink and blue painted fingertips curling around the edge of the plate, halting it in its tracks. She stared at Owen for a moment, eyes dark and as bitter as black coffee... and then a coy smile was tossed Hopper's way, "He's on a diet."

 "Well, he's a better man than me."

 Scarlet hummed in agreeance, ignoring the small snort that Hopper set free. But Scarlet couldn't keep her feelings to herself; she could either keep her lips fastened tight and shake like a little bunny in the snow, or she could let her rage out in place of her terror, in place of the anxiety that swarmed through her body like a gaggle of angry wasps.

 There was a slight sense of satisfaction when Owen only blinked at her, watching with wide eyes as she finally sunk back into the chair with a gentle grin lingering on her glossed lips — another addition from Eleven. 

 "Uh, well," Owens stammered for a moment before scooping up a brown envelope that had been tossed atop the desk. His eyes had been darting to the side, just to make sure it was still there the entire time; Scarlet had merely dismissed the actions as a bout of jitters, "Perhaps you'll see this as an apology of sorts."

 Owens extended his arm, the envelope pinched between two fingers as he nodded for Scarlet to take it from him. She wavered, her twitching fingers looming just an inch above the paper. She looked to Hopper, and upon his nod, paired with a small smile that told her he knew exactly what was inside... she plucked it into her hold.

 A swift finger tore through the seal, flinging aside a stray scrap of torn paper. She hustled to dig inside... Just two pieces of paper were stowed within the envelope, and yet when Scarlet dragged them free and trailed her eyes along the words stamped in front of her, she could feel her throat begin to close.

 Her vision was smothered by a haze once more, and yet this time there was no fog threatening to swallow her surroundings whole, and leave her lost in the middle of nowhere — no, this time it was just a bubble of tears clinging to her dark lashes like a lifeline.

 "Jane Hopper." She read the words aloud, a mere whisper clawing free from trembling lips. Hopper leaned closer, his shoulder bumping against Scarlets as he bore the paper into his own hands, sliding the paper she'd abandoned on the table ever closer.

 She couldn't bring herself to take it into her hands, so she ducked down. Raven hair obscured the sight of her, leaving the tears that had freed themselves unseeable as they rushed down her cheeks like a flowing waterfall.

 All of that bitterness, the shade of dark coffee within her gaze... it faded, it lightened. Honey glistened beneath the film of unshed tears, molten chocolate swirled within as she sucked in a breath, "Scarlet —" Her voice cracked as she read out her new and official name, "Scarlet Hopper."

 An arm coiled around her shoulders, a heavyweight left for her to carry... and yet she didn't buckle beneath it; it merely steadied her — grounded her.

 Hopper willed his own emotions back down, burying them as best he could, "Can't believe you let a bunch of kids pick your name."

 "I like it." She responded with an indignant huff.

 "Sounds better with Hopper following it." He said it so casually as he skimmed the paper, reading each and every little piece of information. Only when Scarlet sucked a breath through her clogged nose did he peer to his side, watching with a soft smile as a tear scurried down her flustered cheek.

 Scarlet felt like she couldn't breathe, and unlike before when she had thought Hopper would cast her aside and turn her away... this time it was different. She had been in their lives for less than two months and yet Hopper had reached out as though she were his own flesh and blood. Eleven treated her as though they'd known one another all their lives.

 The kids all came prattling to Hopper, begging and pleading to sneak inside the cabin and visit the super-powered siblings... Nancy had done everything she possibly could to make them feel... integrated, normal. She gifted them anything she could find, and she had already begun to tutor Scarlet on the things she'd missed out on.

 Hell, even Steve Harrington drove her to and fro, a finger pointed to buildings as he listed off their names. He would call out names of neighbourhoods, warning her of the brats that scuttle the streets, or the assholes that would try to make a move.

 They all treated her as if she really belonged. As if she'd never missed a day by their sides.

 The tears were flowing voluntarily now, clusters bubbled on her chin, clinging to one another before they inevitably tumbled free and splattered on the table like a spilt mug of coffee.

 She peered up at Hopper through crowded lashes, "You never said anything —"

 "​​— I made a call." His words came in the form of a gentle whisper, as though he was soothing a crying child or frightened animal. He shifted, clearing his own ever-tightening throat and brought his eyes back to the paper in his palm, "Scarlet Hopper... Born January nineteenth, nineteen-sixty-six." He snorted as he looked at her. The dimples digging into her cheeks, the softness of her eyes... the pink and glittery shadow that glistened behind her eyelashes, "You're eighteen."

 She didn't feel it. If anything, Scarlet felt older. With everything that had happened... whilst her torment within the lab was still fresh in her mind, flashing right before her very eyes with every blink... when she sat back and really thought about it... it felt like a distant memory. Perhaps just a nightmare; but then she'd see the scars and remember that whilst she wished it had been nothing more than a bad dream, that was foolish thinking.

 She may have looked her age — eighteen, very soon to be nineteen — or perhaps even a smidgen younger what with her round face and glittering eyes... but the reality was that she was an adult. Even after years of looking after herself, the world only now deemed her an adult... it didn't feel like she was.

 She still wanted things that so many kids did. She wanted to finally live her childhood without remorse, and without punishment.

 She wiped her cheeks, palms coming away with a blanket of fresh tears, "I don't feel like an adult."

 Hopper tipped his head to and fro, "Well... You can't drink." yet another lame little joke, but this one had made her smile.

 There was an obvious reluctance to her movements as she turned from her official adoptive father, and realigned her gaze upon Owens. He'd been watching with a free smile, not an ounce of malice to be found. He appeared genuine, but even so, Scarlet stared at his brow rather than into his eyes, "Thank you."

 "It's my pleasure..." That was when Owens' smile finally dropped, and a hand scratched at the very back of his neck while his following words were for Hopper, "Still... I'd let things cool off for a while if I were you."

 Scarlet deflated like a pitiful balloon, slumping against Hopper. It hadn't come as a surprise to find out that Eleven would need to keep herself locked up once more; after all, there were so many people who knew of her face and wanted her back within her cage.

 It was easy enough for Scarlet to peruse around as she liked, she already had been... Scarlet's face hadn't been plastered over the news and written about in the papers. Nobody knew who she was... and so far, she'd only ever gotten a curious glance from a local who had never seen her before.

 But whenever she was with Hopper, he'd sling an arm around her shoulders and act as any father would. Those around them would soon wave it off.

 It might have been safer to keep Eleven inside... but it wasn't fair. She was still just a kid, a thirteen-year-old girl who hadn't gotten to live her life. She'd spent the last year tucked within the cabin whilst her friends believed she was dead, and now she'd have to do it all again.

 Though this time, they'd all have to deal with Mike Wheeler banging on the door to see her.

 It would at least be easier for Eleven this time; she'd be allowed to see her friends, she'd have a sister to keep her company; and now she had all of the trinkets Nancy had supplied her with to keep her busy.

 It'd be enough, and the moment she could step out into the forest without worry, they'd make up for lost time... together.

 "How long?" Scarlet asked Owens with dwindling hope. With an entire town having been convinced that a bald little girl was some... Russian infiltrator, it'd definitely take some time for them to forget; and it wouldn't be as easy to sweep Hawkins Laboratory's failures under the rug.

 Everyone within the town knew... something. A half-truth, a little twist on the realities. Demo-dogs, Demogorgans, superpowers and gates to another dimension were twisted to better feed the minds of senseless idiots who wished to live in blissful ignorance.

 Barbara Holland had been dragged to the upside-down where she soon found her demise... but the town now believed — thanks to the efforts of  Nancy, Jonathan and Murray Bauman — that Hawkins Laboratory had been creating an experimental chemical asphyxiant, which had leaked from the grounds of the lab.

 It played on everybody's mind, and it was all the dull little people of Hawkins could find themselves talking about — It'd take time for things to finally settle.

 Owens sighed, knowing his answer wouldn't be taken well by either of the two before him, "Want to be safe? I'd give it a year."

 "A year?" Both Scarlet and Hopper echoed in unison. While Scarlet dropped her head to the table, resting it atop her folded arms with a groan... the sound of a plate being yanked against its will across the table chimed out.

 Scarlet twisted her head, watching with a snort when Hopper took the biggest bite of the — stone-cold sandwich — that he could. He munched in silence, his body steadily declining as he sighed through his nose.

 Eleven wouldn't be impressed with being locked away once more... But Scarlet was certain that some convincing would be easy enough; especially if the prospect of having Mike Wheeler walking through the door was on the cards.

 But then, just as Scarlet had finally started to perk up and raise her head, she remembered something...

 The Snow Ball.

 It was all Eleven had been muttering about. She had yanked out each and every little dress Nancy had managed to dig up; she had tossed them to and fro, staring at each one with a critical eye... Scarlet had been made to sit completely still as Eleven smeared eyeshadow over her lids, gloss upon her plump lips and a shade of cherry red atop the apples of her cheeks... she had looked... interesting, to say the very least. But Eleven had grinned and clapped with utter joy, so it had been worth it.

 She would be absolutely shattered if she were to find out that she had to stay behind once more whilst her friends gathered without her.

 "What about... just one night out?" Scarlet contested the man, finally forcing herself higher. Her chin was planted in the palm of her hands, elbows dangerously close to the edge of the table, "How risky would that be?"

 "What's so important about one night?"

 What's so important about one night?

 To Eleven, the Snow Ball was everything. She had tried so very hard not to get her hopes up but her efforts were entirely in vain for the moment Eleven had opened a box filled with old dresses and cracked eyeshadows, she had been smitten with the thought of dressing up. She had been head over heels at the mere idea of being normal; getting to be a normal kid, with her normal friends. Even if it was just for one night.

 So when Scarlet and Hopper perused through the rickety door of the cabin, grimacing at the shrill squeak, Eleven came bounding towards them like a puppy demanding a new toy. Her eyes were so wide and so full of hope; her hands had balled together, held just by her heart.

 Hopper couldn't help himself; he brushed by his daughters and slumped atop the couch with a heavy sigh that almost rattled the unsteady windows. His hands were dragged down his face, callouses scraping against his stubble.

 Scarlet rose a brow; he was trying to be funny, and Chief Jim Hopper... was not funny — at least not in the typical sense. She knew immediately that Hop would only sigh and huff and puff like the big bad wolf to make Eleven's hope diminish... only to revive it ten-fold when he inevitably revealed the truth.

 Scarlet drew Eleven into her side, the pair so squished together that they almost stepped upon one another's toes. Eleven giggled; such a bright sound like the chime of a morning bell — she sounded as any little kid should have.

 "I guess..." Hopper drawled out in that gruff voice of his. He twisted his head, fingers trailing along his jaw, catching the prickly hairs as he tried to seem pensive, "I guess you'll have to finally pick the dress you wanna wear, huh?"

 Time stood still for Eleven and her head whipped between her father and sister, "I can go?"

 "You can go."

 She gasped, air hitching within her throat as she hastened her movements. She tugged Scarlet along and she was all too happy to follow suit. Eleven's footsteps were heavy, bare feet slapping against the wooden floor as she lugged her sister to her bedroom.

 They could hear a stray chuckle from Hopper as he watched them stumble, clambering towards Eleven's cluttered bedroom.

 "El, please sit still or it'll look like I've punched you," Scarlet's voice echoed around the room, tangling with the light flow of music streaming from the old cassette player atop Elevens set of drawers.

 Scarlet had promised — she had tangled her pinkie around Elevens, actually — that she would be the one to smear shadow over her little sister's eyelids, to coat her grinning lips with a thick layer of sticky, and glittery gloss.

 It was a harder task than one might have thought; for Eleven would not remain unmoving. Her legs folded and unfolded, her fingers drummed against her knee, tangling themselves within the frilly little dress she now donned — courtesy of Nancy, of course. She was too excited to even breathe.

 "Sorry," Eleven whispered, a slight giggle worming its way from her tongue.

 Scarlet only jostled her head, a fond smile dusting her lips as she swabbed a light shade of pink around Eleven's eyes. Then her grin broadened, "I know you're excited to see Mike, but at least keep still, huh?"

 A hearty flush blanketed Eleven's cheeks — as bright as a ripe tomato, but the moment she moved to retort, her dear sister seized her chin in a light hold and covered her pursed lips in a shimmery gloss; it sparkled with each little movement, glinting beneath the light.

 Scarlet leaned back, dropping the tube of gloss into the pile of old makeup. She scrutinized her own work, unbothered by the tube of gloss rolling across the wooden floor.

 Eleven blinked, eyelashes fluttering softly against her flushed skin, "Done?"

 A hum pushed past Scarlet's lips as she leaned closer; the cotton candy-coloured shadow atop Eleven's eyes sparkled, flashes of glitter illuminating beneath the lamplight. The gloss smeared over her lips shimmered like the frost that would crawl throughout december; she looked adorable.

 Scarlet groaned, a smile on her lips as she flung herself backwards. Her eyes clamped shut, a large grin erupting, making her dimples dig into her round cheeks, "You look so pretty!"

 Eleven followed suit, throwing her body atop her sister, their giggles and laughter rumbled within their bellies, shaking the pair of them like jelly on a platter; that was when Hopper decided to make his presence well known.

 Unbeknownst to either of them, the door — which had been left open three inches — had pried itself open with the winter breeze, it carried their laughter towards him like a gust full of snowflakes. Rather than chill him, there had been an odd sense of warmth within his chest. It had carried him closer, mismatched sock-clad feet practically tiptoeing across the cabin until he'd leaned against the door frame.

 He wore a smile — not the annoying one that made Scarlet want to smother him with a cushion — a real one. No hint of sarcasm, no trace of falsities... just contentment.

 "You gonna sit here giggling all night?" he said, trying his damned hardest to seem entirely unbothered... yet that fond smile that creased his lips was framed like a prized photograph.

 Eleven's head rested atop Scarlet's thudding heart, it twisted in time with her sisters who sniffed as their laughter finally ceased. Scarlet ignored his question, instead she heaved herself — and subsequently, Eleven — up into a sitting position. Her hand cupped Eleven's chin, "What do you think?"

 "You look great, kid."

 Eleven cocked her head, planting it firmly atop Scarlet's shoulder — the bouncing curls resting on her head tickled her cheek, but Eleven only squeezed her sister's hand, "Artist."

 They had all grown very much aware of Scarlet's talents. In fact, Eleven had recalled all of the drawings in pen, pencil and even charcoal that her sister had left behind that day; there had been mountains of papers, clusters of pencils everywhere... Hopper had spoken to Joyce immediately, after all, Will Byers was a little artist himself.

 The small boy had been all too happy to pass over some of his pens, crayons and pencils for Scarlet, and as a small means of repayment... Scarlet had spent hours on a drawing just for him; Will the Wise dressed in his purple robes, staff glowing at his side whilst a ball of fire splayed from his palms and singed his enemy up ahead.

 He'd been overjoyed and very promptly stuck it on his wall, right above his bed.

 Hopper's laugh rumbled in his chest, his eyes scanning Elevens room. There were drawings crowded upon her walls; some were her own — attempts at drawing flowers, trees and even a... abstract portrait of Hopper himself. But then there were sketches Scarlet had happily torn from her book and allowed Eleven to snatch right up; a drawing of the cabin, complete with a beautiful blue sky and lime-green blades of grass swaying in an imaginary breeze. A picture of her friends as their treasured D&D characters; Will the Wise, Tyar the Dungeon Master, Sundar the Bold, Nog the Bold and Eleven the Mage...

 Scarlet had, unbeknownst to Eleven and the others, made a separate image just for Max; Max the Zoomer complete with a jittery blue blur behind her as she raced forth and straight into battle. Max had been unable to speak... which was a feat for the girl, indeed.

 Hopper's vision anchored upon one particular drawing... One that Eleven had requested herself. Their family. That was it. Just them, no wizards hats or staffs alight with magic. No fireballs or swords... just them.

 Their likeness to the portrait had Hopper glancing back at the girls; Scarlet had captured them perfectly, "She's an artist alright..." He murmured, eyes stooping to his eldest, "I'll get you some more pencils from Flo; her grandkids don't use 'em anymore."

 Scarlet could see the almost bashful expression on his face; as though he still wasn't quite used to being a father once more. But he'd changed over the weeks that had passed them by; Hopper was still Hopper... Gruff, still quick to anger, and very protective, but he'd made the effort to change as best he could.

 Eleven wobbled to her feet, limbs still entangled with Scarlets before she padded over to her shoes. With a flourish, she twirled. Her teeth gleamed as her dress puffed out, as the curl dangling over her forehead bounced in place, "Pretty."

 The chain around the girl's neck was hardly visible, and so Scarlet stumbled to her own feet and did her best to manoeuvre closer whilst her numb leg finally regained its feeling. Her fingers flicked out, trailing over the silver chain; she pulled it free from the confines of Eleven's dress... and ever so gently, she lowered the small star she had gifted Eleven those weeks ago.

 It bounced as it landed, glinting as though it truly belonged in the sky. Scarlet stared a moment longer, "There we go."

 "I have something for you, actually," Hopper's voice sounded out, splitting through the small silence they'd shared. When Scarlet had turned to face him, her oak-coloured eyes trailed down his arm and to his wrist. His fingers had curled around a small blue band, pinging it in place — sure to leave a red mark.

 She knew what it was; the picture she'd found whilst clearing the loft free of cobwebs, dirt and memories had displayed a bubbly little girl. Her gappy teeth were front and centre as she grinned heartily. Her pale-blonde curls had been scraped back and three little ponytails spewed from her head. They were each secured with a cobalt hair band.

 Eleven had one around her wrist; Scarlet had been quick to notice that whenever she'd gotten nervous, Eleven would tangle it around her fingers.

 Hopper pulled one of the bands free, leaving but one left to curl around his own wrist. He ignored Scarlet's small Hop and instead, he lifted her hand. She'd found a cluster of jewellery that Eleven had pushed aside, claiming it felt strange to have metal rings smothering her fingers — so Scarlet had slipped them on herself; a silver band with what looked to be some kind of coin welded to the front. Another embellished with a small flower; each of them had chips and the 'silver' had begun to rub away... But she quite liked them all the same.

 Hopper slid the blue band onto her wrist, watching as it fell perfectly below her small tattoo. He was very much aware of the way Eleven had dropped her gaze to the band on her own arm, admiring it carefully.

 "Are you sure?" Scarlet's voice was tight, as though greedy little hands had clasped around her throat, leaving but a whisper to tremble free. This was something more than just taking her in, than just giving her his own last name... Those things didn't have to mean anything.

 But this. Giving over the little trinket that he'd once seen upon his own daughter... She could see the glaze in his eyes. The way he blinked furiously — far too stubborn to let whatever tears had brewed slip away. This was Hopper declaring that she was his daughter now too; no words needed to be uttered... But he spoke anyway.

 "Of course I'm sure."

 Eleven had practically sprinted into the school. Her little legs had scurried so very fast that the poor girl — who had superpowers, mind you — almost tripped over her own two feet. Hopper had snorted into the palm of his hand while Scarlet had done her best to keep her lips clamped together, especially when Eleven had whipped around to scowl quite playfully at their father.

 "You know why she's so excited, don't you?" Scarlet sang, her voice like the call of a bird; it was far too sweet, far too high for Hopper to turn a deaf ear.

 He rose a brow and so she continued, "Mike, obviously."

 "Mike?"

 She blinked, taking a step back from her father. This was Jim Hopper. Chief Jim Hopper who had managed to uncover the supernatural mysteries of the secretive town of Hawkins... yet he couldn't see when a couple of teenagers were smitten with one another.

 "You're joking." Scarlet laughed. Her eyes shut as mirth swam within them, lines crawling at the sides. She missed the furrowed brows of Hopper, the scowl that slowly developed as he put the pieces together.

 It was obvious they cared for one another, Hopper had gotten that part, at least. But he had originally believed it was just... He blanched. He had hoped the worst of his worries would be Steve Harrington, the boy he'd once had in the back of his police car as a bruise sprouted on his forehead. The boy with an asshole of a father that Hopper would have happily slung cuffs around, given any opportunity...

 He'd seen how quickly Scarlet and Steve had managed to become friends; trailing around Hawkins like a couple of tourists... but Mike?

 Mike Wheeler?

 "Oh, Hop," Scarlet cooed, her voice so sickly sweet that Hopper thought a cavity might suddenly sprout upon a tooth, "It's okay... At least summer isn't here yet."

 All emotion had been banished from his voice; it was as flat as a pancake, "Summer?"

 "Yeah... You know, six long weeks of just..." She grinned, a large part of her very much enjoying the way his eyes widened comically with every single word, "El and Mike... all day, every day."

 He swallowed and Scarlet did her utmost to conceal the laughter already bubbling within the back of her throat. He looked petrified; but then again, at least he might lessen the scowls directed towards Steve.

 Speaking of Steve Harrington; Hopper soon dragged his eyes from his eldests, peering over the top of her slight form, "Why don't you —" He cleared his throat; his voice sounding foreign to him as his fatherly instincts — and the desire to toss Mike Wheeler into a river — kicked in, "— Why don't you just... run along with Harrington."

 Scarlet whipped around, and there Steve was, leaning against his car with a grin on his face. He had evidently been there for quite some time; after all, they had seen Dustin Henderson and his magnificent frock of curls bound from the car and into the school not five minutes earlier.

 He waved at them and Scarlet tilted her head towards Hopper, "Don't kill Mike."

 "I'm gonna kill Mike."

 "You're going to what?" Joyce had picked a rather spectacular time to approach the two of them; it was no secret to Scarlet that her dear old father had a very distinct look in his eyes when Joyce Byers was by his side.

 She was a wonderful woman, and had taken Scarlet under her own wing. Her old shirts, pairs of ratty jeans and whatever else she could dig up had been neatly folded into a box and left within the cabin for Scarlet to pick through. She'd already invited her over to their home for dinner, claiming that Will had been quite taken with her.

 "Hi, sweetheart." Joyce's eyes softened for a moment, her arms unfolding as she gently squeezed Scarlet's arm, but then they narrowed again. Warmth turned to ice and she jabbed a finger at Hopper, "You're going to what?"

 Scarlet knew that was the perfect moment to make her escape and leave her father in the midst of Joyce Byers' motherly warpath. She smacked on a dazzling grin, one that seemed to make everyone around her soften at the edges, "Lovely seeing you, Joyce! Good luck Hop!"

 "Yeah," Jim dragged out through gritted teeth, "Thanks, kid."

 Their voices drowned out the further she walked, each step bringing the handsome face of Steve Harrington closer and closer. He'd come prepared for the winter chill; a heavy maroon sweater hung loosely over his chest and torso, bunching where he'd tried to stuff the hem into his tight jeans. His thick blue socks could be seen trailing above his sneakers and disappearing into the cuffs of his jeans. His hair, as ever, was certainly a sight. Tall and free as the wind whipped it into his face, his eyes having to squint against the assault.

 Steve lifted himself, pushing away from the car door he'd been planted upon. It was a nice release from the frozen handle digging into his spine. He surveyed the girl walking towards him; the very one who had been nothing more than a stranger just a month and a half ago.

 They had squabbled relentlessly, butting heads like his parents did over dinner... but that just... stopped. Maybe it had been his reluctance to let a stranger keep the kids in his life safe, or it might have been Scarlet's insistence that she could do it alone — she just had to prove herself.

 Really, it had been both.

 It had been a mixture of two strangers just trying to keep a bunch of kids safe in two very different ways. One wanted to keep them tucked away, out of reach from the danger around them... whilst the other was willing to let them run free, knowing she could fight the danger off.

 Scarlet had dressed as she always did; mom jeans keeping her legs warm from the bitter chill of the December night, her — frankly gross — converse that still had mud on the soles and splattered on the once-white laces; a black long-sleeved shirt tucked into her waistband whilst one of Hoppers flannel shirts fluttered around her like an old jacket.

 She looked like she actually belonged in Hawkins; fitting in with the picture-perfect, white picket fence life that the townsfolk believed they led.

 "Well they sure look cosy," Were the first words Steve uttered, his head tilting just an inch lower in an attempt to not only convey his words... but to keep his expression safely tucked away from the beady eyes of their Police Chief.

 Scarlet peered over her shoulder. Joyce had curled into Hopper's arms whilst a mixture of emotions lingered on her face. She was still grieving, not only for the time her son had lost once again, but for Bob Newby who had given his life trying to keep her, and her son, safe.

 The lines etched into her forehead, onto her cheeks... they were deeper now, lashed by the harsh reality she'd been doused with; Hawkins wasn't a safe town. Not for herself, and certainly not for her sons.

 But even despite this, there was something serene about her. Though that might just have been the warmth that perpetually radiated from Hopper; Scarlet had fallen asleep on his shoulder twice now, only to wake in a heavy sweat thanks to the human radiator that hadn't dared to move.

 Hopper was almost beaming, his head resting atop Joyce's, nose practically buried into her hair. He'd promised to stay with her whilst she stuck around; she didn't want to leave Will alone. What if he wanted to leave early? What if something happened? She had been adamant about staying put... and Hopper had been adamant about joining her.

 Scarlet waited a moment, watching as Hopper's shoulders seemed to slump, relaxing more than she'd seen before, "They do, don't they?"

 Hopper's head snapped up, startling Joyce so much that she lept back. He, for once, didn't pay any mind as he pointed directly at Steve. They might have been across the parking lot, Hopper and Joyce were mere blurs of people shaped... blobs in the night... But Steve still recoiled.

 "Harrington!" Hopper called out, his voice echoing across the empty lot. His rough voice would have been enough for almost anyone to take a step back... but Scarlet could only roll her eyes, "Have her home by ten! You got that? Ten!"

 Steve could only nod, locks of chestnut hair flailing around his head as he leaned to the side, "He hates me."

 Scarlet scoffed, "He doesn't hate you."

 "If I don't have you home by ten, he'll kill me. He will murder me." He caught her rolling eyes, the way she abandoned him to walk to the passenger side of his car. He threw his own door open, leaning in as she hastily burrowed into her seat, "He's the Chief of Police, he could get away with it."

 She blinked slowly; it was quite endearing to watch Steve Harrington constantly fumble with his words, and mutter out a string of sentences that he would have likely preferred to stay within his skull. She'd been informed about King Steve, his glory days as Dustin had put it... albeit with a frightening amount of snark.

 "Well... I promise to come to your funeral and make a very nice speech," She smiled sweetly, honey dripping from her lips as he pouted, "Now get in the car."

 Steve stood there, sulking for a prolonged second before he let out a very dramatic groan and flung himself into the car. He twirled his keys and swiftly started the engine, though not before leaning over the handbrake, "That better be some speech."

 "I promise to put my heart and soul into it."

 "Why do I feel like you're mocking me?"

 Scarlet ran her tongue over her teeth, a grin threatening to break free. Her eyes found his own, the way they narrowed on her, but there was an undeniable crookedness to his lips. She planted her palm against his face, pushing him back into his seat, "Because I am."

 "Wow," He breathed, "You're really treating your tour guide like this?"

 "This isn't much of a tour..." She leaned forwards, closer to the gleaming window that was almost scarily clean. Her eyes widened as she turned to Steve, "A parking lot! Woah! You spoil me! Thanks, Steven!"

 That broke him. His wounded look crumbled, and a warm chuckle sprung free, "Alright, alright, fine..." The car wheel was cold to the touch, and Steve could stop his fingers from drumming atop the leather, eyes peering out the window, "Uh... Milkshakes?"

 "Chocolate?" Scarlet drawled out, her voice growing higher as her eyes widened. She really did have a sweet tooth; it was something Steve had very easily caught onto.

 He tried to ignore that look; the glimmer in those wide brown eyes that somehow made his tongue feel as knotted as a ball of yarn. He forced a look of disgust on his face, "Strawberry is the only correct answer, and never call me Steven again."

 "You absolute heathen, Steven."

━━━━━━━

28-12-2019

edited version: 06-07-2022

(i didn't have the time to edit this properly, but i still wanted to get this out for you all; so pls lmk if you see any mistakes lmao <3)

LAST PROPER CHAPTER FOR ACT ONE! i'm planning out one or two oneshots to add on also, but for now, I hope you've enjoyed and i hope you are looking forward to season 3!

don't forget to let me know what you think; and remember that i now require a particular number of comments and feedback before i consider releasing the next part (this is just to ensure people remain engaged and supportive, as well as to allow me to see what you all enjoyed most about each chapter!)