𝙞𝙣𝙫𝙞𝙨𝙞𝙗𝙡𝙚 𝙜𝙞𝙧𝙡.....

𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐍 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐆𝐋𝐀𝐒𝐒 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐅𝐅 𝐀𝐒 𝐀 𝐓𝐈𝐍 𝐒𝐎𝐋𝐃𝐈𝐄𝐑 between himself and the bark of snow, eddie felt the chill tapping on the window beside his seat. earlier, he’d made the mistake of falling asleep, his cheek mashing itself against the glass when he toppled like a drooling raggedy sibling. roused by the end of a dream now forgotten, the mechanic found his face aflame by the pinch of winter. rubbing it only worsened the flush.

      the stinging peck sorted itself as the snowy landscapes sluiced into white intermittent with grey. paris was a sprawling city, its architecture a testament to its epochs. its winding streets infused with dizzying history that carved through the city’s heart like the seine. eddie bunched his shoulders so that his collar shielded his skin from the glass as he dared closer for a better look.

      even from inside of a ruminating train, the american could divine the silent stanzas left behind by parisians long gone, their stories lost to time but never untold. paris herself recounted all with every brick and brilliant color. painters and songstresses, writers and other fiendish creatives all spinning an invisible web of character that built upon what’d come before.

      but paris sure was a lot flatter than he expected. if it wasn’t for all the francophonology being thrown around the car, eddie could be convinced he was on his way to some shangri-la hidden in the sweep of nebraska.

      yet the siren swimming past the window failed to rapture his attention. no city, no matter how pretty, got his nerves trilling like butterfly wings under his heart like the way she did.

when you arrive, i’ll be waving . — @greenscrunchy / phoebe bridgers

      eddie kept chrissy’s letter carefully tucked inside his coat’s inner breast pocket. he dared touch it only to read and reread the doe-like script. an indulgence he succumbed to with embarrassing frequency. and if he wasn’t physically attached to the paper, the young man was revisiting the sentences in his daydreams.

      anxiousness sunk his teeth into his lips as eddie heaved his battered knapsack over his left shoulder. knee bouncing, legs ready to bolt onto a platform that had yet to appear.

      two older women in fine thick coats a handful of seats downwind observed him with a conspicuous amount of disdain. eddie, with one foot on his seat and another pivoted towards the exit, shot them a smarmy tug and saluted. unimpressed, the dames continued to stare with gelid expressions. then the one who looked stunningly close to a gloomy peacock did something that broke eddie’s smirk into a smile.

      without sacrificing her dour expression, the woman returned the gesture just as a high note announced their arrival. eddie beamed, slapped the back of his seat several times, and hightailed it from the car into the transport palace of gare de lyon.

      what awaited him was a dutiful reminder of what paris reclaimed. it was just shy of four months since general de gaulle lead his entourage to that most famous cathedral in honor of his city’s occupiers being given one hell of a boot. the gare itself was healing much like the rest of paris, but her many wounds were still visible were hardly a stain on her majesty.

      again, no matter how stunning his surroundings and the promise of the station’s progress towards her better days struggled to pry eddie’s focus from the crowds. he was tempted to keep forward, weave through the onslaught of strangers for a beautiful familiar hidden between them.

all the early morning had been a convivial tumult of voices giving her advice (unwanted), offering of gloves or scarves to compliment her complexion (unneeded), and repeated squawks that her blush was either too subtle or too strong for the occasion. regarding the last, once outside the clubmobile barracks chrissy dabbed away all the blush she could get away with. a cutting paris winter could do her plenty of favors in the flush department without so much as a single swipe of rosy powder needed. indeed, the wind outside swept through the streets, invisible waves crashing against brick and stone throwing bursts of icy air hundreds of yards in all directions.

a last glance behind revealed the cheerful gaggle of fellow dollies gathered enough in the doorway to wave goodbye without freezing off any fingers. one by one they fled inside once they were seen, though margot was the last to leave. standing alone in the doorframe, smiling like she knew exactly what was on the chrissy's mind. gently she winked and flicked out a shoo-ing gesture before shutting the door between them.

taking a deep breath from within her piled-high scarf, chrissy stepped forward. that first movement presented a higher challenge than all the frigid gusts paris could offer. not even the almost two mile walk to the train station frightened her as much as simply...beginning. a stride forward onto the immortal cobblestones that had seen history's hands over fists meant her keeping a promise. a foolish promise, but an irresistible one. the easiest words she'd ever written, and ones she'd prayed would bring her a little good luck.

i'll be waiting.

recalling her own words could have startled her bones right out of her skin. fingers, deep in warm pockets, clenched at the thought of that which awaited her at the end of her stroll. if, of course, his train arrived in time or at all.

if eddie muson was even on the train.

he'd promised too, just as she had. he'd arrive, she'd be waiting. but the borderline bittersweet tension that invisible possibility created set chrissy's insides afire as she walked. buildings and storefronts raced by, her footsteps sharply echoing off them, then evaporating. at least now she could pace in a straight line to a destination instead of in circles.

the gates of gare de lyon loomed ahead far sooner than chrissy expected. she rushed for the fluttering pamphlet fasted to the wrought metal boasting arrival times. calais turnover to amiens, arrival steady at 9:45 AM. the gale force of the dollie's relieved sigh could have toppled trees.

outside the terminal, only its massive clock tower showed signs of life. despite the cold chrissy smiled up at the thoughtfully ticking machinery, in awe of its hardy refusal to bow in the face of occupation. many buildings had fallen when paris was overtaken and more still fell as resistance waged in the city's hidden veins, yet her timekeeper stood tall. history marched onward, kept in faithful perpetuity by the gare de lyons clock, and paris had not succumbed to tyranny in spirit or in structure.

gold trim flashed once chrissy rushed indoors and found all the noise and crowds she expected within. 9:38, seven minutes until arrival, and welcoming throngs had already gathered to receiving the incoming trains mixing with tearful faces waving off the departing. chrissy shivered. winter she left outside but the dread of goodbyes she remembered well. already her heart wailed in preemptive anxiety, picturing the farewells after wonderful days filled with reunion so short lived. it was beyond her control to sink into melancholy, but the young woman had fought to keep her hope so long that she rebelled today, surrounded by noise, determined to cling to any happiness the mechanic's arrival swore to bring.

the crowd surged.

distantly the groan of metal on metal peppered by sparks echoed through the terminal. chrissy glanced at her wristwatch, tense and eager: 9:43. was he early?

shouts overtook the rhythms of the swarm around her. her short stature made it easy to wind between wide-stretched arms, flapping coats, and the occasional hurdle of a knapsack or attaché. not so easy was scraping at a clear view over everyone's heads. her tiptoes did her no favors as the sea of bodies heaved to and fro.

❝ eddie? ❞ the clarion call of english was her last resort. ❝ eddie munson? ❞

as if summoned, a flash of curly brown hair rose above the masses. the sight of it cut straight through every foggy, panicked though in her head to her heart. ❝ eddie! ❞ was it her imagination or did that head of hair turn? ❝ eddie, it's chrissy! ❞

a final burst of strength created just enough room for the strawberry blonde to squeeze through the closest open space into the curly hair's direct vicinity.

it was him. he'd really arrived.

"when all this first started happening...." chrissy picks ill advisedly at her dry cuticles and stares toward the classroom ceiling, imagining glow in the dark stars instead of fiberglass tiles. anything except the quiet room around her. "all of this upside down stuff, i mean. did everything in your life start to seem different?" freed from the confines of her brain the answer sounds remarkably obvious. but with all of her outsides taped together and begging for healing, her insides are crying out too. she just needs to know. has the world irreversibly tilted in ways not even an earthquake could shake loose for anyone else? "it's like my eyes are brand new." chrissy swallows as the inference hits her too late. all it took was a passing thought for her body to remember going blind. "it's just that everything i thought was important before has changed. i have less to worry about and more to be afraid of. or, more is possible. or both. if all of that sounds crazy, you can say so..."

Nancy was quiet beside Chrissy, blues on her in a calm gaze as she let the strawberry blonde speak her thoughts. Nancy knew immediately what she wanted to say in response to the initial question, but she doesn't. She bites her tongue and does her best not to interrupt. She wants Chrissy to have the space here to talk and the trust to be able to say what she's fully thinking. If there was anyone who knew how plagued by all this one could be... it was Nancy. And it wasn't just for Barb, no. It was because of what Vecna had chosen to show her. He'd taken her and given her visions she'd never be able to unsee no matter the outcome.

it's like my eyes are brand new.

She understood that sentiment and what it entailed, but she felt cursed with her new found vision. Seeing all of that and knowing it could still come? Seeing all of that and knowing there may be nothing she can do to stop it? Her blues shut briefly as Chrissy continues, her head turning to tilt down slight while her elbows rest on her knees-- hands wringing together tightly in a near white knuckled grip. When Chrissy trails off Nancy opens her eyes, turning her head again to look at her, "It doesn't sound crazy," she starts by reassuring the other, hand pulling from her other to reach out and gently layer over Chrissy's arm, "What's happening... what you're now a part of? It's terrifying, Chrissy. It's scary and we have to admit that before we can face it. There's nothing we can do unless we face the reality of what horrors are out there and coming--" she didn't want to scare Chrissy more, but she wanted to be honest, "But no matter what happens we can't let it stop us from trying to win and to fight. We can't let what we've seen and what we know to happen. We can't let Vecna take everything from us."

silence reigned, overflowing the room with a cloud of emotions that coagulated and thickened the emptiness. the air itself could have started bleeding at any moment, watery claws tracing tracks of moisture down the window panes. if a shoe so much as twitched, the barest of squeaks might deafen them. movement was impossible when chrissy sensed rather than saw the spiderwebs of unspoken truth unfurl between them, from finger to finger, from desk to floor.

most children learned early in life that honesty was the best policy. which was why this conversation had been initiated in the first place, but now briny regret quickly drowned out chrissy's previous thirst for the whole story. her words, in this order, sounded insane. nancy wheeler was generous while simultaneously nurturing a reputation for not suffering foolishness. as was her right. no doubt she'd pick up on chrissy's floundering sanity and gently ease her away to an arm's length. she could almost hear the brunette now.... just let the people who know what they're dealing with figure this out, okay?

but at last when real, tangible words traveled softly to chrissy's ears, that isn't the message they bear. not at all.

the limp cheerleader narrowly caught nancy unraveling her limbs before reaching across the divide chrissy had kept as a safety net. just in case. the touch of a hand at this moment felt bewildering, yet...not unwelcome. one inch after another, chrissy sensed how her body thawed, frozen wit eventually catching up to the kindness being offered. nancy wasn't disparaging anything, simply reflecting their common terrors.

more importantly, not just their terrors but their purpose. purpose was a concept that streaked from left field in the days after chrissy hobbled back into the world of the living. if she still breathed, there was a reason for her to do so. and who better than most hardworking senior of them all to hammer that home? for everyone?

❝ that should make sense. it — ❞ strawberry blonde hair tossed violently as chrissy shook her head, desperate to detangle panicked thoughts running rampant. her sneakers against the floor with every jangled movement. ❝ that does make sense. of course it does. i have to think differently about everything now, and it's taking some getting used to. ❞

a clear of her throat, and she was prepared to look nancy in the eye and try again.

❝ i was scared, and i still am. but i'm here. for some reason. you...you must have been horrified. ❞ tears had been threatening to fall for too long, yet chrissy held them back with all her might. this moment deserved clarity, not her blubbering. perhaps most of all, nancy should get the dignity of being recognized as the hero she clearly was. ❝ but you're still here and fighting. that takes strength i don't understand yet. i want to, though. whatever i can do, if there's even anything, i should decide now, right? there's a different kind of clock ticking now. ❞