#circus fic

*Set in a 1930s AU

Inspired by HBO's Carnivale

The air was thick with the smell of straw, popcorn, and whatever you call the scent of dozens of bodies with dozens of different perfumes and colognes milling about in the same area. It wasn’t a bad smell or a stale one… just a specific one. One that was the scent of home, for the members of the Hawkins Traveling Circus. 

Eddie was perched on the steps of his caravan. He was vaguely aware of the distant crowd, its ebb and flow, the sound of individual voices melding into a wash of noise. A cigarette dangled from his fingers, smoke curling from the nearly forgotten butt. His eyes were trained on the wagon across from him, the one belonging to management. Eddie had seen Hopper, the owner of the circus, leading two figures into his wagon almost half an hour ago. He’d gotten only a glimpse of the newbies– a man and a woman, he guessed, based on clothing. Related, possibly married, since they were together. But new figures were always a point of interest.

The door to Hopper’s caravan swung open. Eddie’s bouncing leg stilled, his eyes honed in on the shadowy doorframe.

Hopper’s large figure emerged first, his grizzled, stubbled face contorting slightly as he squinted in the brilliant midday sun. He clomped down the three steps, holding the faded wooden door open for the other two.

Eddie watched as they stepped down onto the dry grass; a young man first, his brown hair overly fluffy, an intriguing shape even in the heat. The other was a young woman, her hair twisted into a thick braid that draped down her spine. Both were modestly dressed; he in worn grey slacks with a patch on one knee, her in a colorful skirt that brushed the tops of her feet with every step. Both wore slightly dingy white shirts, a trail of pearlescent buttons trailing down their torsos– Eddie wondered if hers was a hand-me-down from the gentleman. 

He was still too far away to hear the individual words Hopper was saying, his voice a low rumble. But the fact that his face wasn’t adorned with its typical scowl made Eddie think it was a good conversation they were having. This was solidified when Hopper held a hand out, shaking first the young man’s hand, then the woman’s. The two strangers’ faces were bright, a small wash of relief passing over both of them.

Hopper turned, his steely eyes landing on Eddie. “Munson,” he called. “Get over here.”

Eddie stubbed the cigarette out and slipped off the step, crossing the short distance in a few strides. “Hopp?”

“These are the Harringtons, Steve and Y/N. They’re gonna be joining us. Get them set up in wagon twelve, would you?” The large man turned towards the Harringtons. “As I said, it’ll be bare bones for a while, until we can get you some adequate supplies. Mattresses on the floor; a chair, if you’re lucky. And don’t think too hard about the stains on the dishware.”

The young man, Steve, nodded. “Of course. Thank you.”

“Where should I put the rest of the stuff from wagon twelve?” Eddie asked. Wagon twelve had been a dedicated storage location for the last few months– who knew what treasures (or garbage) lay within?

“Anything that’s completely broken, get rid of. Everything else, just… distribute among the trucks. Or see if anyone would be willing to hold on to something.”

“We don’t want to be a bother,” you said. “Honestly, we’re fine with sleeping among the stored items.” 

A flicker of something– perhaps concern, perhaps sympathy, perhaps just indigestion– crossed Hopper’s face. He grunted. “Fine. You all can decide what you’re willing to work with.” And with those parting words of wisdom, Hopper turned and headed back towards the main causeway, soon disappearing into the crowd.

“Come on,” Eddie said, turning and leading the way towards wagon twelve. He heard the crunching of footsteps behind him, the steps light, careful, equally matching his. “So,” he said, turning and glancing at the newbies over his shoulder. “Hopp let you in. You must be good. What do you do?”

“Trapeze,” you said. “And acrobatics.”

Eddie was surprised. The circus hadn’t had acrobats since the highwire incident half a decade ago. Hopper had sworn never to hire any others, but he’d never gotten rid of the setup: the wire, the bars, the net. Eddie knew the older man had kept it in the vague hope that maybe someday there would be a high-flying act once again (or maybe he was just too cheap to toss them). “Flyers, huh? Good. We’ve been missing that for a while now.” He studied the pair again, a closer examination. They had the stature– lithe, yet strong. Straight-backed, loose-limbed. The way they walked beside each other, stepping forward on the same leg at the same time, spoke to their connection, something that ran deep enough they didn’t have to communicate with words. “You two been working together long?”

A smile tugged at Steve’s mouth. “All our lives.”

Eddie paused. “Siblings?”

“Twins.”

He couldn’t explain it, but something joyful thrummed through Eddie’s chest. You weren’t hitched to Steve, at least in a romantic sense. And there was a good chance you weren’t attached to anyone else if you were willing to run away with the circus. “Twins,” he said slowly with a grin. “Nature’s freaks. So you were destined to join a circus from the very beginning.”

He stopped in front of wagon twelve, a wooden monstrosity with faded green and orange walls. The paint had chipped over the years, the Hawkins logo on the side merely a hint of what it had been originally. Eddie bounded up the steps and pulled open the door, a rush of stale air billowing out. He peered into the gloom, the shadowy figures of unused furniture slowly taking shape. “Time to see what Hopp’s been lugging around for a decade.”

Eddie heard the soft thumps of your two overstuffed canvas bags being set in the grass before you climbed up beside him. The three of you began the slow process of moving things around; some stuff, like the dresser that was missing a drawer, was pushed to the side– you and Steve could use it. Other things, like the rolled-up banners for long-departed carnies, would go to Hopp’s caravan, for sentimentality’s sake. Only a few items were beyond repair, which Eddie tossed; a mound of wood, glass, and cloth soon piled on the ground. 

The inside of the wagon was still cluttered, pieces of furniture stacked atop each other, but in a less precarious way than before. Two flimsy mattresses had been unearthed, taking up a majority of the floor. A gas lamp with a cracked shade sat on one of the last remaining flat surfaces, its dim light throwing tall shadows across the interior. Steve brought your bags in and set them on one of the mattresses with a sense of something similar to reverence.

“Well,” Eddie said, brushing his hands against his pants, wiping dirt from his palms. “Home sweet home.” He glanced out the door of the wagon, the last of the sun’s rays pouring in, the precursor to evening. “You two want to meet the rest of the freaks?”

“Aren’t they… busy?” you asked.

Eddie shrugged. “Last night of the circus is always hit or miss. Sometimes, we get flooded, people not wanting to miss the experience. Other times, it’s a ghost town, only one or two stragglers with nowhere else to go.” He exited the wagon, pausing on the steps. “Besides, if you’re going to be travelling with us, you might as well get acquainted.”

Turning his head, Eddie saw you and Steve share a look; a silent message passed between the two of you. Then, almost creepily, the two of you turned back toward him in unison. Eddie watched as you turned the gas lamp off before following your brother out.

The three of you made your way through the thoroughfare, the sounds and smells growing stronger. The strings of lights had begun to flicker on, the whole circus taking on that dream-like state. Eddie led you into a small tent, empty except for a small brunette woman. “Joyce! We’ve got newbies.”

The woman turned, revealing a large, yellow python draped around her shoulders. “Newbies? Didn’t know Hopp was looking for anyone.”

“Flyers,” Eddie said in a stage whisper.

Joyce’s eyebrows disappeared into her bangs. “Well,” she said slowly, her attention turning back to you and Steve, eyes scanning you both. “Been a while.” She held out a hand, the snake curling itself around her extended arm. “Pleased to meet you. I’m Joyce; this is Jonathan.” She nodded towards the corner of the tent, where another snake, a green boa constrictor, was twirled around one of the tent poles, its tongue flicking towards the ceiling curiously. “That’s Will.”

“Steve,” your brother said, sliding his hand into the woman’s. “This is my sister, Y/N.”

“They’re twins,” Eddie said helpfully.

Joyce’s eyes lit up. “Ah. That explains it. Well, welcome to the fold, you two. If you need anything, don’t be afraid to ask.”

Eddie led you back out of the tent. “The snakes are sweethearts,” he said quietly. “And so is Joyce. She’s basically the mother of the group, always making sure everyone eats, rests, the whole nine yards. She’s got a thing going with Hopper– one of those secrets that everyone knows but doesn’t mention.”

As your trio stepped further into the carnival, Eddie waved his hand at one of the game booths. Three young boys could be seen milling around it. “Dustin. Lucas. Mike. They were orphans who ran away from an orphanage out in Nebraska. Hitched a ride with us without anyone knowing. Hopp didn’t see them until we stopped in Kansas the next day.” He laughed at the memory. “Nearly blew a gasket but gave ‘em jobs all the same. They’re good kids, but will definitely try to play the ‘sad orphan’ card on you to get you to give them extra snacks or take over their chores.”

“Which one’s which?” Steve asked.

“Honestly, I’m not sure. They kind of move as a unit and everyone just kind of says their names in a string– Dustin-Lucas-Mike.”

Eddie waved towards a small tent draped in heavy purple fabric, the flaps drawn closed. “This tent belongs to El, the fortune teller. She’ll no doubt try to tell you about some dream she’s had, predicting your downfall. Don’t listen to her.”

At the center of the grounds stood a towering Ferris wheel, small blinking orange lights decorating it. A long-haired man stood by the controls, looking up, watching the wheel turn slowly. He turned his attention to your group when he heard your steps. “Eddie! And newbies!”

“Argyle,” Eddie said, with a nod. “These are the Harrington twins. They’re our new flyers.”

“Good to meet you, fellow freakies,” the man said. “I’m Argyle, and this here is Big Bertha,  the love of my life. Isn’t she gorgeous?”

Eddie heard you stifle a laugh, saw Steve struggle to keep his face straight. He gave a small wave towards Argyle as he led the two of you further into the circus. 

“Is he… okay?” Steve asked, his voice low.

“We’re pretty sure he was dropped on his head as a baby,” Eddie said. “Totally harmless. Super nice. Just a little… odd. But odd is relative, here.”

A deep, guttural shout rang out, followed by a smattering of applause. As you approached, an accented voice, Russian or Romanian, could be heard. A burly man with a noticeable combover stood in the center of a small gathering of people. The same dark, curly hair that ringed the lower portion of his head also covered his bulging shoulders, visible under the thin straps of his singlet. At his feet were numerous dumbbells, each one with different numbers painted on each bulbous end: 100 lbs, 300 lbs, 500 lbs. The one he was reaching for now read 800 lbs.

“That’s Murray,” Eddie said. “Strongman.”

“Is that weight real?” you asked, eyes wide.

“Sure is. His strength is real; the accent is not.” Eddie shrugged. “He feels it makes him more mysterious.”

He continued to lead you through the circus. As you passed a young man with a dirt-streaked face, hands, and clothes, Eddie called out to him. “Gareth! There’s a pile of stuff out front of wagon twelve. Hopp wants it put in the burn pile.”

The man nodded, giving a wave over his shoulder, as he continued his easy stride.

A small gathering of children stood nearby, eyes focused on a small booth lined with red curtains. On a raised stage danced a marionette, a gorgeous puppet dressed in a vibrant purple outfit, little bells on its shoes ringing with each step. The puppet moved with the grace of a ballet dancer– if you hadn’t been able to see the strings, you might have believed it to be alive.

Your group approached, standing at the back of the audience. You and Steve were just as enraptured with the performance as the children.

“That’s Vickie,” Eddie whispered to you. “And the person you can’t see right now is Robin. She does all the children’s entertainment here. Vickie is her favorite, but she also does Punch and Judy, and she can recount any of Aesop’s fables with her various animal puppets. Oh, and she has a ventriloquist dummy named Spanky. He’s…” Eddie shuddered slightly. “Not my favorite.”

The puppet finished its dance and gave a bow before a blonde woman stepped out from behind the booth, taking her own bow. Her eyes spotted your group, and she came over as the children dissipated, heading to find parents or other forms of entertainment. The marionette, Vickie, was tucked in her arms, cradled like a newborn. “Playing tour guide, Munson?”

“Just introducing our new members to the rest of the family.”

Robin’s eyes lit up, a smile stretching across her face. “New members! Welcome, welcome. Let me guess…” She started walking around your group, eyes trailing over you and Steve. “No discerning animal features… no scars or burns, so nothing dangerous. No puppets, so no competition for me.” She stepped back around, shooting Eddie a quizzical look. “They’re not just barkers, are they?”

Eddie shook his head once. “What has our humble circus been missing, Buckley?”

Her eyes widened. “No. Really?” She turned her attention back to you. “Trapeze?!” She was practically vibrating with excitement. “Oh, it’s about time we’ve gotten new flyers!”

“New flyers?” A cold voice asked, seeping up behind your group. “Didn’t think Hopper had it in him to get back to that after the incident.”

Eddie stiffened slightly at the sound of the voice. Robin’s eyes dropped to the ground; her grip on Vickie tightened slightly. He turned, finding the other pair of siblings the circus had collected behind them. “Billy.” His voice was flat, edging on unwelcoming. 

The blonde man stepped forward, a menacing air around him. Behind him, a flash of Max’s red hair. His icy blue eyes trailed over the twins, a sneer curling his lip. “Well, aren’t you going to introduce us, Munson?”

Eddie sighed, stepping forward slightly. “Steve. Y/N. This is Billy. He’s our resident escape artist.”

“Fitting,” Robin mumbled.

Billy’s glare flicked to her. “You say something, Buckley?”

Robin shook her head. 

Billy turned his gaze back to you, stepping forward. Quick as a flash, his hand darted out, fingers wrapping around your wrist. Both Steve and Eddie stepped forward, flanking you, watching in distrusting horror as Billy’s lips pressed against the back of your hand. “Pleased to meet such a captivating individual.”

You pulled your hand from his, your arm hanging limply at your side.

“What Munson here failed to mention,” Billy said, straightening. “Is that I’m also a knife thrower. My skills are unbeaten. Why, I could throw a knife so close to your head, it could slice through a single strand of your hair. A millimeter away from drawing blood.” He glanced at your brother. “I bet people would love to see that with you.”

Steve made a small noise, close to a growl, in his throat. 

“Don’t worry,” Eddie said blandly. “I was getting there, Hargrove.”

“Sure you were.” The words dripped with venom. He shot you another look, one that you supposed was meant to be conspiratorial. “Muson here likes to pretend he’s the only badass in the circus. Always wants to impress the ladies with his manly attributes, as if he hasn’t got any competition.” His eyes flicked back to Eddie, burning cold fire.

“Enough, Billy,” Max said, stepping forward. She placed a hand on his elbow, tugging him back a step. “Let’s go. We have to get prepped for the water tank escape.”

Billy said nothing, his eyes remaining on your group for another few seconds before he turned, heading off into the darkness.

“He seems fun,” Steve said.

“Billy and Max. Pair of siblings we picked up on our way through Illinois last year,” Eddie explained. “Their parents had died, and Billy had spent some time in local jails– petty things, like robbery, breaking and entering.”

“Intent to stab,” Robin said, her voice hard.

Eddie shrugged, neither agreeing nor disagreeing with her. “Look, he’s a pill, a bully, but just steer clear of him. He usually doesn’t seek out trouble.”

You and Steve shared another look. Eddie wondered if you were beginning to regret coming.

“Come on,” Eddie said, heading the opposite way from where Billy had gone. “There’s one other person I want you to meet.”

Robin gave you a wave before disappearing back to her booth, a few new children already standing and waiting.

Eddie led you to a long black tent, the front flaps drawn almost all the way together, a sliver of space between them. A banner pinned to one side read Horrors Like You’ve Never Seen!; on the other, it read Enter, If You Dare! “Hey, Nance. How many patrons have fainted today?”

“Only one,” the young woman with curly hair said. Her eyes flicked toward you and Steve. “Who’ve you got there?”

“Newbies. Just showing them around. Had a run-in with the Hawkins Houdini.”

Nancy rolled her eyes. “If there were ever a specimen I wish I could put in here, it would be him.” She waved a hand in front of her, envisioning the placard. “‘And here you see the world’s biggest pain in the ass’.”

Eddie chuckled as he turned his attention to you. “Nancy here is the smartest person in this whole damn carnival. Put together this exhibit, knows everything about what lies within.”

She waved away the compliment. “Please. Anyone can stand outside a tent filled with jars.”

“What’s in the jars?” Steve asked, curiosity getting the better of him. 

“Aliens,” Nancy said, her voice dropping. “Abominations. Atrocities.” She tilted her head to the side. “In reality? Two cow fetuses sewn together and half a fish’s skeleton attached to a monkey’s.”

Steve’s eyebrows rose, inching toward his raised hairline. “That sounds… horrifying.”

The girl shrugged, studying him. “So, what do you two do?”

“Trapeze.”

An expression flashed over her face, one that almost looked like it was tinged with fear– odd on someone who made a living standing just a few feet away from a cow fetus. But the look cleared as quickly as it had appeared. “Been a while since we’ve had that act in our ranks. Good luck to you both.”

“If it doesn’t pan out, you want them for one of your exhibits?” Eddie asked. “They’re twins.”

A small smile tugged at Nancy’s mouth. “Would be better if they were conjoined… but I’ll keep it in mind.”

With a small wave, Eddie continued on, his feet kicking up the smallest cloud of dust. “Well, those are the main players. There are about a dozen others, but they’re just hired hands, like Gareth. They help with set-up and tear-down; cooking, cleaning. We all pitch in with those as well– ‘many hands, light work’, you know how it is.” 

“So, what’s your role in all this?” you asked. “Besides tour guide?”

Eddie smiled as he turned around, walking backwards. “I, dear Y/N, am master of flame and blade; fire-eater and sword-swallower.” He waved his hand in a flourish and bowed dramatically, never missing a step. 

“Sounds dangerous,” Steve said, a touch of respectful awe in his voice.

“Nah; all it takes is training. But you two,” Eddie said, looking from one sibling to the other. “What you do… now that’s dangerous. My ass would never go more than a few feet above the ground, let alone swing around or walk across a rope thinner than my pinkie.” He shook his head, turning back around. “You’ve got my undying respect for that.”

“You haven’t even seen us do it. How do you know we’re any good?” 

Eddie shrugged. “Hopp doesn’t just let anyone in. He must trust you. Either that, or you told him one hell of a lie.” He glanced once more over his shoulder. “If that’s the case, you’d better learn real quick or disappear. Hopp doesn’t take kindly to liars.”

Your trio had made it once again to wagon twelve. 

“Well,” Eddie said slowly. “Home sweet home.” He turned, looking out at the circus spread before you. “Tonight’s last night; crew will start tear-down as soon as the last guest leaves. And then it’s up and at ‘em by first light. Next stop is halfway across Missouri.” He looked at the pair of siblings, now looking somewhat lost, small. “You two need anything before I call it a night?”

You and Steve shared a look before, once again, turning in unison, shaking your heads. 

‘Still creepy,’ Eddie thought to himself.

“Well, if you wake up and can’t remember where you are, just shout. I’m just over there– number eight.” He hitched a thumb in the direction of his own caravan, the tenement a bulky shadow in the dark. He took a few steps towards it before he paused. “I know we seem like we’re just a bunch of freaks, but these are good people… Hargrove excluded. And for what it’s worth, I’m glad you two are here. You seem like you’ll be a good fit.”

____________________________________________________________________________

You and Steve lay in the dark in wagon twelve, the wooden floor hard under the thin mattresses. The soft clangs and banging of the tear-down could be heard through the walls.

“Steve?”

“Yeah?”

“Are we… did we make the right decision? Coming here?”

You heard your brother shift. Your eyes, accustomed to the dark, saw his shadowy form prop itself up on one elbow, looking over at you. “You know we did. We… we couldn’t stay at home anymore.”

You nodded, knowing Steve couldn’t see the motion. The memory of your father, the disappointment laced with something akin to anger on his face when the two of you had reappeared on his front step, was vivid in your mind. 

“What do you think happened?” Your voice pierced through the dark once more. “The ‘incident’ everyone kept dancing around today with the previous trapeze artists?”

Steve sighed. “I think we can guess, Bunny,” he said quietly, the childhood nickname landing softly.

You knew he was right, but you still couldn’t help the desire to know, even though it was probably horrific. The desire for information festered under your skin, something you kept poking at like a bruise, just to make sure it still hurt.

Steve could feel your mind turning. “The good option,” he said slowly. “Is that they just… up and left. Decided to retire, settle down.”

You nodded again. Yes, that sounded good. Easy.

“The terrible option,” Steve continued, knowing that you weren’t one hundred percent satisfied. “Is that there’s a shallow grave somewhere along the circus’s route, containing a body with a broken neck or split skull.”

A spike of fear, cold and sharp, pricked your neck.

“But what probably happened,” your brother said gently, the same voice he used to use when you were young and hiding under his covers during a thunderstorm. “Is something in the middle– a fall, but not deadly. A broken wrist or twisted ankle instilling a new fear of the rope or swing. And then they just… left. Maybe they found another circus to travel with, maybe not.”

You nodded once more, letting out a breath you hadn’t realized had been sitting in your chest. Of course. Occam’s Razor– no need to create a wild story or a tragic ending. It was probably just a simple slip and a realization that the human body was vulnerable. Nothing more.

“Get some sleep, Y/N,” Steve said, settling back against his mattress. “We’re going to be fine.”

____________________________________________________________________________

The shadows in wagon twelve had barely dissipated in the weak sunlight peering through the high window when a rapid knock sounded on the wooden door. Steve rose first and stepped to the door. Eddie stood outside in the grass, looking up at the new arrival.

“Morning,” he said with a slight smile. His hair was a wild tangle of curls, as though he himself had just rolled out of bed.

“Is it?” Steve asked.

“Told you, Hopp likes to leave at first light. So, you’ve got about ten minutes before they strap the horses to your wagon and we head out.” Eddie’s eyes drifted to where you now stood behind your brother’s shoulder. “While the two of you might tumble and flip around for a living, I figured you might like a heads-up before you get tossed around in there.”

“Thanks.”

Eddie held up a tin mug. “They haven’t packed up the coffee pot yet, if you want. It’s not great… in fact, it’s pretty much bordering on terrible. But it’s hot.”

Your eyes followed Eddie’s gesture to the gathering of people a few yards away. You were amazed– the grounds in front of you were completely bare, all the tents and booths seemingly having disappeared. You could see all the way to the horizon, the sun slowly rising over it. 

Steve nodded. “Yeah. Sounds good. We’ll… be out in a minute.” He pulled the door shut, the two of you once more encased in darkness. You pulled clothes from your bags, slipping them on in silence. You ran a silver brush through your hair, one of the last remembrances you had of your mother; Steve simply pushed his fingers through his locks, taming his mane just enough not to look completely disheveled. You both slid your feet into your boots before stepping back out into the growing dawn.

Eddie still stood there, waiting. He watched as you and your brother bounded down the steps.

“Another tour?” you asked with a slight smile.

He shrugged. “Figured you could use a friendly face, first morning in a new location and all. I’m just sorry the only one available was mine.”

Eddie led you and Steve towards the small camp stove that had been set up in the empty lot, surrounded by the milling-around members of the Hawkins Traveling Circus. A few gave nods or lifted a hand in greeting. Robin was talking animatedly with someone, but immediately ran over when her eyes found you.

“You’re still here!” she said excitedly, coffee nearly sloshing out of her cup. “Good. I’m glad Billy didn’t scare you off last night.”

“Gonna take a lot more than his hot air to scare us off,” you said, sounding a touch braver than you actually felt.

The blonde woman laughed. “Glad to hear it.”

Eddie approached, two new mugs balanced in one hand. He held one out to Steve, who carefully took it, before the other one was presented to you. You gratefully took the cup, the metal warm in your hands. You barely had time to take a drink when a sharp whistle pierced the air.

The sea of faces turned in the direction of the noise. Hopper stood on a crate, looking over his group. “Okay,” he said, voice booming in the silent morning. “Horses are getting rigged up. We leave in five minutes. You know the drill– anyone who’s not ready gets left behind. We’ve got about ten hours of travel today, and that’s without any issues. And I want us to get set up tonight, so we can get early morning customers tomorrow.”

With that, he stepped down, his speech complete. The group remained quiet, still for a moment, before erupting into action. You and Steve stood frozen for a moment, watching the flurry of movement around you.

“Come on,” Eddie said, stepping away from the crowd. “Unless you want to be run over, it’s best you stay by your wagon.”

Two stocky brown horses had been tied to wagon twelve. Eddie patted one beast on the snout, earning a pleasant huff from the animal. “This is Striker. He’s a solid horse. You won’t have to worry about too much jostling with him.” He nodded to the other. “That’s Rumble. He’s a little wilder, but he won’t give you too much trouble.”

Another whistle sounded. 

I know it's been almost a year and this STILL isn't the full update but life has been lifing bigtime. I hope this keeps you sated for a bit while I finish wrapping it up. Usually my previews are 1000 words but since I've left you hanging for so long I'm giving you 2300, roughly half of the full chapter, enjoy!

Saturday, One week from now

Dick Grayson

He tastes ashes and sees stars. There’s blood around his head and radio static in his ears, but none of that matters right now, all that concerns him is finding his wife. 

The fire broke out so fast, too fast. There’s no other explanation besides it being premeditated, and the only one who would do such a thing has been haunting his thoughts for weeks. He thought maybe when the time finally came and Caulder confronted them about the stolen tiger and stolen boy, it would be something of a relief, at least then the worry could be over and done with, but he was wrong. He’s never been more worried in his whole life.

“Kory,” he says out loud, not sure whether it’s a whisper or scream or some impossible combination of both. The smoke stings his eyes but not so much as the bitter tears. He won’t entertain the idea that she is gone, not for even a second.

Sunday, Present day

Kory And Manda

A mansion is not so unlike a circus. On the outside, it’s a place of great merriment, where seemingly no troubles can exist, only the rare and exotic findings the world over that most can never truly touch. In the case of both circus and mansion, much effort is required to keep them at their best and most shining, and only one ever truly felt worth it to Kory. Turning a mansion into a circus feels like the sort of happy compromise she so longed for as a child.

They spend half the day adorning the grand ceiling with ropes and pulleys, and hauling in equipment from the cargo hold down at the rail yard. It’s more work than necessary to put on a free show for Manda, her husband and a full house of Manda’s business associates, but it’s also the most energized Kory has been since she got here. Perhaps she could finally make Manda understand that not a shred of her passion was wasted by leaving this life behind, that all of the right things fell into place. 

Kory always wanted a sister that she could also consider a best friend, the kind that she could share all of her secrets and hopes and dreams with. Manda was never that, always too caught up in her own ambition to waste time with the comparative frivolity of sisterly bonding. And perhaps Kory was partially to blame for them never being closer. Just as Manda never understood Kory’s yearning to leave convention behind, Kory never understood Manda’s steadfast trudge toward that very convention.

Once she leaves again, toward Haly’s next destination, it may be a long while before she finds herself back here. Philadelphia isn’t her home anymore, and in fact, she’d argue that everywhere except Philadelphia is. But Manda is always her sister, the La Feu’s are always her family. 

When their guests are all situated in the grand ballroom, the costumes are donned and positions are taken, the calliope player riffs on the baby grand and the lights spill down from the ceiling. Kory waits on the balcony as the clowns and acrobats and Tim backflip and twist their way into the center of the room in their flamboyant sparkles. Dick, in his blue suit and top hat, bounds out to the center a moment later, waiting for the hearty applause to quiet before announcing the opening act, Kon The Superboy Vs. a brave volunteer. It takes only half a beat before several hands launch into the air, allowing Conner to have his pick of who to lift into the air by the seat of their chair, with one hand. It has to be someone large enough to impress the crowd, but not so large that it could result in a twisted back. Ultimately, he chooses Manda’s Husband Ahmal, a tall and strapping gentleman who is nonetheless lighter than 250. Conner wanted so badly to hate the man, having immediately developed a rather adorable crush on Manda, but it took exactly three rounds of cards for Conner and Ahmal to become fast friends.

Kon lifts Ahmal into the air, tilting him back just enough so that the man won’t go sliding off and the crowd erupts into another round of applause, while Ahmal lets out a big, huffing laugh, laced with the faintest hint of wavy nerves

“Put my husband down this instant!” Manda bellows from the crowd, her cracking smile betraying the authority in her tone. Kon obliges, taking a few steps forward and setting him right back down in the front row. 

Next up is Jinx the Magician sawing Gar in half. Later, The Red Hood throws knives at a spinning platform with Jinx in the center, his vision obscured by his crimson hood.

Then, when the crowd is properly riled up, it’s time for The Amazing Starfire to take the stage. Gar tilts the light up so that it catches her on the balcony, blinging against the pink and purple gems and sequins on her costume. She stands on the banister, preparing to jump, but she could simply stand there for hours and have the crowd in the palm of her hand.

It’s hard not to lose one's speech at the sight of Kory in all of her bedazzlement, and in fact, even without it. The crowd is hushed and still, staring up with wide eyes in anticipation. She looks poised, confident, as though she’s done this a million times, when in fact she’s only ever dreamed of grabbing hold of that chandelier midair. Earlier, they checked and double checked that it would be secure enough to resist the weight of a grown human, and yet, there’s a sting of unease as she lifts one graceful arm above her head in a starting pose, holding for applause, and dropping it to her side again. After one last pause for anticipation, she leaps.

****

It was a perfect performance, a perfect night. Every last reservation Manda once had about her sister’s choice to embark on her insane path melted away when her hands connected to the bars of that chandelier. It simply clicked in that moment, the freedom Kory so longed for and why, what it looked like. The woman swinging and spinning from that oversized light fixture after a flawless, death defying jump, would never have been satisfied in Manda’s shoes. For Manda, negotiating deals and cutting ribbons and working the room at society parties on the arm of her equally accomplished husband was all of the freedom she ever needed. Being Black in America is difficult enough, choosing to make it harder by rejecting proper society never made much sense to Manda. But now, it makes all the sense in the world. She tells Kory as much when they’re setting the house right again before their departure the next morning. She tells her she understands, and that she always should have.

 It’s all that Kory ever wanted to hear, and yet, the older sister can’t quite attach herself to Manda’s words. Upon finishing her act, a wave of nausea swept over the older sibling, and several minutes later, it has yet to ler up. She attempts to pay it no mind while Manda speaks her peace, but before long, a thin film of sweat coats her forehead, and her vision starts to go double. It wouldn’t be the first time spinning around in the air made Kory’s guts a bit twisty, but it invariably passed before long. This time though, it isn’t passing, and soon the only thing to do is rush out of the room with a hand clapped over her mouth.

Wednesday

Kory and Rachel

As it turns out, becoming Rachel’s legal guardian is quite a bit simpler than the Grayson’s anticipated. If she were a baby, it may have very well been impossible, but a thirteen year old child with no parents, passed through more foster homes than she could count, was a different thing entirely. Her former guardian Mr. Adamson was found dead in a hotel room a week ago, and judging by Rachel’s short, clipped answers about her time with him, nothing of value was lost.

But as it turns out, circus children and standard education are not at all compatible. Kory and Dick’s crusade to get Rachel educated has led them to three options

Boarding school

Pros:

Stability

A chance to meet new friends

Immersion in her studies with little distractions

Cons

No Rachel for four whole months at a time

Changing schools with each new stop

Pros:

She gets to stay close and get her lesson out at traditional schools, the best of both worlds

Cons:

The idea is complete insanity and no school worth their salt will go for it

Hire a teacher to travel with them

Pros:

She can learn at her own pace

She gets to stay close

She can focus more on her interests, like writing and drawing

Cons:

The expense, but of course that’s never been much of a problem for The Graysons lately.

They decide in the end to leave the option up to Rachel, and to the surprise of no one, she picks option three

“Are you sure?” Kory asks, even though she’s thoroughly relieved on the inside. “There won’t be much opportunity for new friends this way.”

“I hate new people,” Rachel says. “Except you guys, but you aren’t new anymore, not really.”

“Well that settles that,” Dick says. “As soon as we settle in Metropolis I’ll get a listing over to the newspaper office.”

It doesn’t take long for someone to answer the ad, a pretty young blonde recently graduated from Vassar, with designs on being a journalist. She appears on a Wednesday, carefully navigating around when Dick and the team labor away at hoisting the tent above the vacant lot that will be Haly’s home for the next two and a half months. 

“They rejected my application,” Kara says at the interview. “Said I lack life experience, what better way to gain some than joining the circus?” she says with a slightly nervous laugh.

“Well, that’s not exactly what this is,” Kory says. We simply need a tutor for young Rachel. If she expects to attend college on time then there’s much catching up to be done.”

“I promise I won’t let you down. But if you ever need someone to fill in for Kon the Superboy I’m surprisingly strong,” she offers a wink, and Kory decides that she likes this girl just fine. 

After the interview with Kara, Kory joins Rachel in the newly erected ticketing booth, where the girl is currently going over her idea for a new outside attraction. It’s a solid one in Kory’s view, but it must be workshopped first, just like anything else.

 At Haly’s circus, there are the indoor attractions, taking place within the big top, and the outdoor attractions, smaller, more intimate stops on the way to the main event. Outside, there are card tricks, face painting, fortune telling and the like, not unlike a small fair. 

While Rachel’s gift of second sight would have made her the ideal fortune teller, she has no desire to step on the toes of Haly’s resident psychic, Grodd, a rescue ape who can paint people’s fortunes at an accuracy rate of 78 percent (although it’s worth mentioning that the animal’s wild, colorful scrawl tends to be open to some interpretation).

Grodd loves painting as much as he loves the attention, provided no one's chaining him up and beating him until he learns to juggle, and Rachel would never want to take that job away from him. Besides, a Raven who can play checkers is pretty impressive too. Their rule against Animal acts can be amended in special cases, if no harm can come to the creatures or attendees in the midst of performance, Haly’s will allow it.

Kory insists on playing the first game herself. If she can do it without the relevant training, then any circusgoer can.

“What’s the matter Raven, you seem a little nervous, afraid I’m going to beat your tailfeathers off this time?” Kory taunts as she plays, skipping two of the bird’s chips and collecting them off of the board.

“Like to see you try,” the black bird squawks, lifting a chip with her beak and jumping three of Kory’s in one move.

“Dammit, how did she get so good?” Kory asks.

“Not much to do at old man Adamson’s, lots of time for us to practice.” Rachel explains glumly.

Kory laughs and makes another move, and for the next few minutes, Rachel simply stares, hoping Kory won’t notice how quiet she’s being. She’s been noticing things since the night before they left Manda's, the worry carried in Kory’s shoulders and eyes if never her smile. Rachel's kept her concerns to herself, not wanting to trouble her guardian after all of the good she’s done for her. But there’s a thickness in the air around them, even as Kory is every bit as effervescent and lovely as always.

“Why so quiet kiddo?” Kory says after a while. She’s starting a new game it seems, setting the chips on the board as she talks. Rachel didn’t even catch who won.

“Was I being quiet?” 

“Even more than usual. Everything okay?”

She doesn’t know, all she knows is that something has shifted, something big, and if it’s what Rachel thinks it might be, things are about to change even more. In ways none of them can imagine.

“Yeah,” Rachel lies. “Everything is great.”

“Don’t lie to me, I’ve had you less than a year but I still know you better than that. Tell me, you don’t have to say everything but at least tell me if there's anything I can do.”

She loves her, she loves her so much and it hits her harder every day. She’s fully convinced that nobody deserves happiness more than Kory and Dick. But will what she’s about to say give them that? Or just bring more dread? It’s the one thing she can’t determine.

She starts, carefully, “Kory, I know this might seem strange, but…

“But what?” Kory says, not too pressingly

She looks taken aback when the girl reaches forward and places her palm across Kory’s stomach. “It’s just, something has felt different since we were back at the house, like there’s more of you.”

“Do you mean to say I’ve put on weight,” Kory says with a laugh.

He turned over to attempt to fall back asleep when movement caught his eye.  The decorations on the wagon were raised so they were mostly hidden from the ground and he had to lift his head to take a look.  

Like an apparition, Louis saw the eerie  light of a lantern illuminating the large body of an elephant walking towards him.  He gasped silently as it came closer and then relaxed when it stopped in the middle of the semi-circle as if on command.  A moment later, the lamp came around from its side and he could see the shadow of someone resting it carefullydown in the grass.  It was still dark, but the nearly full moon was enough for his eyes to adjust to some detail.  

The figure wore a long, loose-fitting coat that he shrugged off and gently folded near the lantern.  It was easy to see then that it was Harry.  He wore another knit bodysuit that was the palest pink.  It only came to just below the knees, his usual stockings absent.  His feet and calves were bare and his long hair was free and loose about his shoulders.  It curled and bounced as he moved and Louis was mesmerized by it.  He’d never seen a man with such beautiful hair before.  Unlike the long hair he’d seen on hobos, it wasn’t ratty or unkempt.  It was as beautiful as any woman’s.  

Worn pinned up during the day, Louis’ thoughts hadn’t wandered to just how long his hair might be.  

“Good evening, Miss Cecilia,” Harry said as she patted the elephant gently on the trunk and then stroked his hand down as she responded.  He said something Louis didn’t understand and she lowered her trunk to allow him to step up onto it.  

Like a re-lived memory, Louis saw the tall man shrink down to a small boy in a scene that he had witnessed once before. He threw one leg over to sit atop her head, patting her gently as he spoke with her.  Louis was caught up in a moment he hadn’t thought about in ages.  

“You’re not supposed to be up there!” 

“Yes I am!” 

“Get down from there!” 

“She’s my bull.  I can stand on her if I please.”  

“She’s not yours.”

Never had it crossed Louis’ mind that the little circus boy who made him dream had grown up the same as him.  The familiarity he’d felt was something he couldn’t place and now it made sense.  Cecilia was a memorable name for an elephant.  He should have recognized it sooner when Niall had listed them off by name.  

Harry’s legs were long and draped over the sides of Cecilia’s head now.  He didn’t look tiny now where he sat.  He watched the soft conversation Harry had with her before he carefully stood on her shoulders and went through the motions of a routine.  It was even more impressive now that it was a full grown man balancing atop an elephant’s head instead of the child Louis saw doing it first.  

His body moved in ways that seemed impossible.  Balancing on his hands, he spread his legs into the splits in a slow and controlled motion.  He bent backwards in a curve so elegantly that he couldn’t look away.  Up close in the moonlight was so different from the same tricks in the ring where one’s focus was always on many things at once.  Louis had never appreciated the beauty of movement the way he could now.  

Harry wasn’t kidding when he said he could perform all of the acts.  This routine with Cecilia wasn’t one that was part of the show and yet Harry executed every part of it flawlessly.  Though it was billed as the headlining act, trapeze wasn’t the only thing Harry did in the main ring.  Louis had also caught a glimpse of the tumbling he did with the strong man.  It made him wonder what else he could do.  

Part 1

*Set in a 1930s AU

Inspired by HBO's Carnivale

TW: implied homophobia, mention of parental death, horrible parents

The sun was just beginning to sink towards the horizon when the circus arrived at its new locale. Hopper directed the horses and trucks: wagons circling off on the left side of the perimeter, trucks on the right. In the middle was a vast field of nothing that would soon be filled with booths and tents, and in the very center, the Ferris wheel. As soon as the vehicles stopped, bodies emerged, the hired hands quickly clambering up and untying ropes.

You and Steve poked your heads out of wagon twelve just in time to see Striker and Rumble being led away towards their makeshift paddock.

Eddie strode up to the wagon, giving Striker a pat on his haunch as he passed. “Welcome to your first official build as members of the Hawkins Traveling Circus! It’s a pain in the ass, but it’s a living.” He glanced at Steve. “You come with me. We’ll start you off easy, something like setting up the mess tent. No one really cares if it collapses.” His dark eyes flicked to you. “Y/N, you can go find Robin. She’ll–”

“I’m right here!”

The three of you looked up to find the blonde woman quickly approaching the caravan. She was the first person you’d ever seen who really did appear to have a spring in their step. “Come on, Y/N,” she said, grabbing your hand and pulling you down the few steps of your new home. “You can help me set up my booth.”

You and your brother shared a look before being led off to different areas of the emerging carnival. 

“So,” Robin said as the two of you crossed the still nearly empty field. “What’s your story? You and your brother.”

You shrugged. “Not much to tell.”

“Y/N, we’re circus folk. All of us have a story.”

“What’s yours?” The words slipped out, not quite a barb, but a practiced retort, built from years of having to deal with a brother who knew all the right buttons to push.

“Ah,” Robin said, a twinkle in her eye. “Gotta pay the fee to see the show.” She was quiet, thoughtful. “I was raised in a normal family, with a handful of younger brothers and sisters. As the oldest, I was always in charge of watching them. By the time my third brother was born, I had memorized practically every storybook we owned. I would act them out with the kids’ toys, doing funny voices for hours on end.”

You smiled, imagining a younger Robin entertaining a swath of children. From the snippet you’d seen of her show last night, you didn’t doubt that she was the best storyteller a kid could ask for.

“I had a friend,” Robin continued, seemingly switching gears. “We grew up together; did everything together. She loved my stories as much as my siblings did. She’s actually the one who bought me my very first puppet, a little dancing dragon marionette. I loved that thing. I loved…” She swallowed, shook her head slightly. “Anyway. Money started to get tight at home, what with eight mouths to feed, so I started doing little puppet shows downtown, where there was the most foot traffic. I got a few coins, and then a few more, and soon, I was asked to do daily shows by the owner of the business I’d set up in front of. He said I was good for business and he liked watching my stories during his downtime.”

The two of you made your way over to a pile of boards and striped fabric, the pieces of Robin’s booth. She bent down and started picking up boards, slotting their carved edges together with practiced ease.

“Vickie… my friend… she would come to as many of my shows as she could. She even started giving me new ideas, new stories to tell. And she bought me new puppets, always waving away my offer to pay her back. But eventually, both my parents and hers began to feel that we were putting too much effort and money into ‘stupid little puppets’.” Robin sighed, the noise almost unheard. “My parents also started to think that I was spending too much time with Vickie, that there was something ‘untoward’ between us. They found…”

You glanced at the woman beside you.

“They found,” Robin began again. “Letters, notes Vickie had written to me. There was nothing wrong with them, but they talked about how much she cared for me, how she loved my passion for our puppet shows, how I was the most important person in her life. My parents shared them with her parents, and they found the letters I’d written to her. And they decided that we couldn’t be around each other anymore. Vickie’s parents shipped her off to an aunt three states away, and my parents…” The corner of Robin’s mouth twitched up in a sour smile. “They simply looked at me as if I were slime. So, a few days after Vickie left, I ran away from home, taking only the clothes on my back and my puppets. I hitched rides as much as I could, trying to make my way to Iowa, to her. The last ride I could get left me right at the border. I spent a few days wandering around on my own, no real idea of where I was or where I was going.”

Robin chuckled slightly, a shake of the head at the stupidity of her past self. “I didn’t even know what city Vickie’s aunt lived in. I guess I was just hoping I would feel her presence in whatever city as soon as I got there.” There was a touch of melancholy in her voice that told you she never found that city, never had that feeling of Vickie being close to her again. 

“Anyway,” Robin said, forcing her voice to sound brighter. “I started performing shows again on random street corners, mostly to make myself smile. Hopper was walking by during one of them. He’d come to town to buy some materials for the circus. He watched the show for a bit and at the end asked if I wanted to join his circus, saying that he was looking for more child-friendly entertainment.” Robin shrugged, as if trying to push off the weight her story had pressed against the both of you. “And I’ve been here ever since.”

You were quiet for a few moments, letting the gravity, the layers of Robin’s tale settle. “And your puppet?” you asked quietly. “The one named after your… friend?”

The twinkle in Robin’s eye turned from sad to simply bittersweet. “Bought her with my first paycheck from Hopp. Named her Vickie, so that she’s always with me.” The girl swiped a hand under her eye and sniffed slightly. “Okay, Harrington, your turn.”

You looked out across the field, watching the carnival slowly taking shape, rising out of the dirt. “Steve and I were always… rambunctious kids. Drove our father insane, but our energy made our mother laugh. She’s the one who found an old rope and tied it between two trees– only a few inches above the ground– giving us our first tightrope when we were six. She also convinced our father to add a swing in one tree; we secretly raised it, little by little, and began to try to grab each other from the ground. Our mother loved watching us play out there, often giving us challenges: hang from the swing by just your left leg for thirty seconds, try to cross the rope with a finger touching your nose.”

The memory of those games with your mother warmed your heart, but also sent a stab of sadness through you. You wished you’d had more time with her.

“She died when we were ten. After that, our dad cut down the swing and tried to get us more involved in our studies. There was a little patch of woods just behind our house. Steve and I found a clearing there, and we set up the swing and tightrope there, again moving them higher and higher in increments.”

“Your dad didn’t know what you were doing?”

You shrugged. “He might’ve had suspicions, but he never said anything. Honestly, after our mother died, he did his best to throw himself into his work and ignore us; we really only saw each other at dinner.” You gave a wry chuckle. “He didn’t even say anything when I sat down at the table with my arm in a sling after Steve accidentally dropped me from a few feet up in the tree.”

Robin’s eyes glimmered with sadness, an understanding that parental ignorance was sometimes worse than outright refusal. 

“When Steve and I were seventeen, left to our own devices one summer day, we heard rumors of a traveling circus that was passing through, and we snuck out to see it. They were a group from Chicago, and it was our first experience with actual carnies. The trapeze artists enthralled us, and Steve said we had to talk to them, if only to ask them for advice or tips. So, he dragged me over behind the tent, finding the acrobats and trapeze artists doing their end-of-show stretches and just… started blathering at them.” 

You laughed at the memory– how earnest Steve had been, his eyes wide, his mouth running a mile a minute. The Chicago circus performers had watched with a bland sense of interest, but you’d seen a few of them start to smile the longer your brother talked. And when he’d mentioned that the two of you had been practicing your own routine, a few of them had started whispering among themselves. 

One, a woman of maybe thirty, introduced herself as Marla and had offered to let the two of you try your hand on real setups, saying that the circus was always looking for new acts. You and Steve had shared a look, holding a conversation without words– were you actually going to do this? Was this a chance you’d been waiting for? What would your mother think if she could see you now?

Marla led the two of you into the tent. Someone closed the flaps behind you, sealing you in. You walked over to the setup, stopping just a few feet from it. You craned your neck, seeing just how high up the ropes and swings were. The ladders up to the tightrope were tall and narrow, practically disappearing into the shadows at the point of the tent. The net stretching below was at your shoulder and gave you a moment’s pause. But your brother’s excitement was infectious, and you found yourself nodding, wanting to try. You both stripped off your stiff outer layers, soon standing in nothing but your underclothes.

You watched Steve scurry up one ladder; when he stepped onto the platform, he reached out for the pole being held up to him by one of the acrobats. He took a deep breath. Even from your distance below him, you could see the rigid posture he held, the look of concentration in his eye. He took the first cautious step out onto the rope; minutes stretched out, your lungs feeling like they would burst as you anxiously held your breath. He made it about halfway before he wobbled, his footing slipping.

“Steve!”

“It’s okay,” Marla called up to him, her voice steady, a counterpoint to the rapid pounding of your blood roaring in your ears. “The net’s sturdy– you can drop if you need to! Just toss the pole to the side so you don’t impale yourself.”

Steve’s eyes met yours for a split second before following Marla’s instructions. Your heart was in your throat as you watched your brother plummet through the air, landing on the net with a slight ‘oof’. The net did its job, protecting him, cradling him. He turned to you, a huge grin on his face. “Bunny, you have to try that!”

Once you were assured that he was okay, Steve convinced you to climb the ladder with him. He watched from the platform as you settled yourself on the swing. His palms were warm on your back as he pushed you away, soaring higher than you ever had before. After a few moments, you grew more confident, legs kicking, putting more effort into keeping up the momentum. You hooked your knees around the bar, hanging upside down over the net. The next time you swung toward the platform, you held your hands out towards your brother, signalling you were ready for him. Steve prepared himself as you swung backward; the next time you neared, he reached out, his hands sliding into yours. The two of you swung through the air, the rush of wind more forceful than the breeze you’d been able to feel from your tree swing. 

There was another swing hanging in the middle of the wide, open space. 

“I’m going to try to reach it,” Steve said to you.

“Steve,”

“It’s fine, Bunny. The net is below. I’ll be okay.”

As you neared the next swing, you pushed your arms forward, your brother’s weight creating enough momentum for him to get closer. His hands left yours, and your eyes stayed pinned on him as you swung away. His fingers closed around the other bar, and he hung in the air, swaying slightly, like a human pendulum. 

His laugh rang out through the tent. Steve twisted on the bar, looking back at you. “Y/N! Did you see that?!”

Your own laugh burst out of your chest, part relief, part enjoyment at the brilliance of your brother’s smile. 

The swings slowed, stopped, and the two of you dropped onto the net, bouncing slightly. Steve clambered off first and held a hand out to you, helping you down onto solid ground.

“Well,” Marla said, approaching. “You two definitely have the chops for it. With a little training, you could be our best performers yet. You’re welcome to join us if you want.”

You and Steve looked at each other. Nothing was waiting for you at home– just silence and empty rooms. “I felt her, Steve,” you said quietly. “Up there, on the swing. I felt Mom. She… she was watching us.”

Steve didn’t laugh or scoff. He simply nodded, his mouth set. He looked up at Marla, holding a hand out to her. “We want in.”

The woman smiled as she shook his hand. “Glad to have you on board. Welcome to the circus. Literally.”

The two of you had run home, and each packed a bag with clothes and the few items you couldn’t live without: Steve grabbed an old adventure storybook, a well-loved favorite from childhood with an inscription on the inside cover in your mother’s delicate, spidery script; you grabbed the silver hairbrush. As the two of you left your childhood home once again, you looked back over your shoulder, committing the image to memory, knowing (hoping) that you would never return.

You cleared your throat, shaking the memory away. “So, we joined the Chicago group. They stayed in our town for another day, but our father never showed up to try to convince us not to go. We’d left him a note before we left, explaining that we were going with the circus, and he just…  let us go.” You shrugged. “Which is probably for the best. We traveled with the circus, and Marla and her group trained us. Soon, we were adding flips and twists to our routines that we never would have dared in our backyard. Audiences loved us, and we practically became a headliner for the circus. It was… home, in a way that our house never had been.

“But,” you said with a sigh. “Then the Market crashed, and everything went to crap everywhere. The circus stayed afloat for a while, always managing to stay just in the black. Our paychecks, along with the rest of the performers’, went directly to keeping us fed and buying maintenance materials when needed. To cut other costs, we went back to Chicago and set up a more permanent base. But it just wasn’t enough after a while. The circus closed; the performers all went their separate ways, some trying to find other circuses who were hiring, some into other avenues, some…” You swallowed. “Into early graves.

“Steve and I stayed in the city for a while, trying to find anything to keep us going. We lived in a tent in a field with others who’d lost housing. He found occasional day jobs, payment of a few coins given at the end of each day. I found a few soup kitchens that would give me an extra piece of bread when I told them my brother was out working. It was awful, and eventually, both of us knew we had no other option. We rode the rails, getting us as close to home as we could. Once we got into Indiana, we had about a day’s walk until we made it to Hawkins. Our father was… less than thrilled to find us standing on his doorstep. But, out of familial duty, he let us in. He looked at us like we were dirt that had blown in over his freshly cleaned floors.”

“He wasn’t excited that his children were finally home after… months?”

“Years,” you corrected. “Almost three years. But no. He wasn’t.” The phone call you’d overheard your father make to your uncle still rang in your ears:

“They came back, as if I wanted them! The Chicago freak circuit closes, and they show back up here, thinking they can still call this place home? They expect me to be able to feed, clothe, and house them? With what money? Can’t they see that I’m barely keeping myself afloat?”

Steve, on the other hand, had overheard a more distressing conversation, whispers between your father and uncle in the drawing room: Steve would be sent to find work at some nearby (or perhaps far away) factory, while you were going to be given to the first eligible bachelor who could pay any sort of measly bride price. Less than a week after that plan was made, a trickle of men began to appear at the house, some young, many old– your father’s age (or older). 

“Our father,” you said, voice heavy with bitterness. “Had… plans for the two of us. He was going to separate us and send us into situations he felt were ‘best’ for each of us. We knew we had to leave again; we began to form a plan, an escape. Originally, we were just going to hitchhike our way as far from our father as possible. We’d been about to leave when you all showed up.” 

The arrival of the Hawkins Traveling Circus had been a godsend, a purely exceptional coincidence that it happened to return to its place of origin, perched in a field on the outskirts of Hawkins. On your way home from the grocery store, you and Steve had noticed an advertisement, a vibrantly colored poster standing out against the dingy whitewashed fence it was tacked to: Hawkins Traveling Circus. Back home for a limited engagement– 2 days only! Hurrying home, you and Steve put your measly haul in the proper cabinets before rushing back out. The two of you scoped out the carnival, noting that there were no trapeze artists– perhaps an opening for you? That night, you’d whispered a plan to each other and packed your bags once again; the next day, you would return to the carnival and hope that the owner would take pity on you.

“So, it’s lucky we showed up,” Robin said, as if reading your mind. 

“You have no idea.”

“That’s what some people would call kismet.” The blonde woman looked around before dipping her head closer to your ear. “But you want to know a secret?”

“What?”

“Last week, El told Hopper we had to go to Hawkins. She’d had some sort of vision or dream and said that there was trouble there, that people were going to get hurt if we didn’t show up.”

You thought about your own nightmares you’d been suffering the past month: Steve, getting horribly injured in whatever factory he ended up in– limbs shattered, ripped apart by machinery; living in cramped factory-owned housing, never having access to clean water, clothes, or even food. You, moving into a new house that was infested with mold or rats, falling apart at the seams; a disgustingly old man scratching his yellowed fingernails over your skin, his rancid breath tickling your neck.

“Not to say that that was about you,” Robin said, with a waggle of her eyebrows. “Maybe it’s just a happy coincidence.” She finished hooking the last bit of fabric to the booth. “But for what it’s worth… I’m glad you two are here. I think you’ll fit in just fine.” 

____________________________________________________________________________

Across the lot, Steve was manning the post digger, driving the device into the dusty ground where Eddie pointed. No sooner had the two stepped away from a freshly dug hole than one of the hired hands appeared, shoving a tent pole in. When the last hole was dug, the tool was taken from Steve’s hand, quick as a flash, disappearing a few yards away in the hands of one of the orphan boys Eddie had pointed out the night before. 

“Not bad, Harrington,” the curly-haired man said. He nodded towards one of the trucks; the two made their way over and began to unload a mismatched collection of tables, chairs, and stools. The flap of canvas and the clang of metallic hooks sliding into place on the poles sounded as the mess tent slowly took form. “So, where’d you and your sister learn your stuff? The trapeze stuff, not your hole-digging technique, although that was inspired. Circus folk born and raised?”

Steve chuckled and ran a hand through his hair. “The furthest thing from it, honestly. Our dad owned the local hardware store.”

“No wonder your hole-digging skills are so sharp!”

“Yeah, yeah. Laugh it up.”

Eddie cocked his head to the side. “So, how did someone… or rather, two someones, from what I’m assuming was one of the more affluent families, end up figuring out how to launch each other from swings and walk on wires thinner than my finger?”

“Our mom. She said that Y/N and I were always tumbling and twisting around each other, even before we were born. So, once we had better control over our faculties, she put up a small tightrope in our backyard, just to see what we could do.”

“Your mother,” Eddie said incredulously. “Put up a tightrope in the backyard for her young children?”

“It was only a few inches off the ground… at first. Y/N and I started to raise it. We would spend hours challenging each other to make it further down the rope than the other.” He smiled at the memory. “Mom loved it. Dad… I’m not sure he was even aware of what we were doing.”

Eddie nodded. Parents who weren’t interested or around were a common theme among carnival people– that, and the overly interested and disapproving, overbearing ones. 

Steve cleared his throat. “Our mom died when we were ten. Dad really pushed himself into his work. Y/N and I… we had each other. And the tightrope in the backyard. One day, when we were teenagers, a circus came to our town– not you guys. A unit from Chicago. Y/N and I went, mostly to get out of the too-quiet house. It was the first time we’d seen actual trapeze artists, and they were… amazing. The way they moved through the air, the poise they had on the tightrope.” Steve’s mouth lifted at the memory, like he was once again a seventeen-year-old, witnessing something magical for the first time. “I told Y/N that we had to go talk to them, although I had no idea what I was going to say. So, we found them behind their tent, and I just started talking at them about how amazing they were and how my sister and I had been practicing our own minor stunts in our backyard for years. The head acrobat, a woman named Marla, offered us an opportunity to try out their setup. I think mostly she was just taking pity on some overly chatty kid. But she led us into the tent and let us try out their stuff.”

“And Marla was blown away by your hidden talents?” Eddie asked, slightly teasing.

“Oh, absolutely not,” Steve answered with a slight laugh. “I fell almost immediately after stepping onto the tightrope. It was way higher than what I was used to. But Marla simply directed me, telling me it was okay to fall, that the net would catch me, just like it did all her troupe.” Steve remembered the look of abject terror in your eyes when he’d teetered on the wire. He would never admit it, even to this day, but he’d been just as afraid. “I somehow managed to convince my sister to climb up the ladder with me after that, and she got to try the swing. She was nervous at first, barely letting the bar move. But soon, she found her rhythm, her confidence. She even flipped herself upside down without any prompting from me.” He also remembered the slight tremor he’d felt in your hands when you’d pulled him off the platform, a small counterpoint to the grin on your face.

“When we dropped down and rolled our way off of the net, I was sure that Marla would simply pat us on the back and wave us on our way. But she offered us a job, told us we had what it took to be one of them.”

Eddie nodded once; the Harrington twins’ story was similar to others he’d heard. But he sensed there was more to this tale. “So, why aren’t you still with them?”

Steve shrugged, a motion that tried to appear nonchalant but told Eddie there was something deeper than he wanted to get into. “Market crashed; everything went to shit. Circuses became a luxury item, and no one wanted to spend their last earned dollar to see a reptile woman or watch some people flip around in the air.” He cleared his throat, scuffed the toe of his shoe against the dirt. “So, Y/N and I went home. Our dad wasn’t thrilled to find out he had to take care of us once again, but he gave us a place to stay.” His mouth flattened as he recalled the reason why the two of you fled your home once more. “When we saw your poster saying you guys were stopping in Hawkins, we knew we had to jump at the opportunity. It was… better. For everyone involved.”

“The poster didn’t say we were looking for acrobats,” Eddie pointed out. “So, you came out on what, a whim, a hope, a prayer that you could run away with the circus again?” The words weren’t unkind, simply questioning. 

A small flare glinted in Steve’s eye; a flash of something dark crossed his face before he quickly schooled his expression and eased it back into friendly neutrality. “Anything was better than home. Our father had concocted a… plan for my sister. For me, too, which would’ve been terrible, but Y/N…” He shook his head slightly. “I had to do whatever I could to get her out. I told Hopper that while we were trapeze artists, we would do whatever was needed around here, even if it was just cleaning up after the horses.”

Eddie could feel the darkness weighing on the word ‘plan’. He wanted to ask what exactly that had entailed, but knew it wasn’t his place to go digging for more backstory than either you or your brother was willing to share. “Well… we’re glad to have you. And I, for one, am excited that Hopp brought you on as flyers, not just manure shovelers.”

The corner of Steve’s mouth twitched. “Me, too.”

“Harrington!” 

The two young men turned to find Hopper striding towards them. 

“Come with me,” he said. “I’ve had some of the guys pull the old wire setup out. I want you and your sister to look it over, make sure it’ll work for you, and tell them how you want it set up.” His eyes flicked between Steve and Eddie. “Where is your sister?”

“Buckley took her,” Eddie answered. 

Hopper sighed, but there was no frustration behind it. “Of course she did. That girl’s always lookin’ to make a new friend.” He cocked his head back in the direction he came. “Let’s go. Hopefully we’ll find the two of them before she somehow ropes your sister into being her assistant.”

Steve and Hopper took off across the circus. Tents and booths had begun to pop up across the dusty field, transforming the area. The wheel was about half constructed as they passed; Argyle looked over and gave a lazy wave.

The two soon found Robin’s booth, the vibrant red velvet curtains closed, awaiting an audience to come sit before the small wooden stage and listen to whatever stories the puppeteer would spin. You looked up as your brother approached.

“Hopper wants us to look over the setup,” Steve said. “Make sure it’ll work.”

The two of you followed the older man to a tent on the far side of the circus; it was one of the few that was fully set up over here. He lifted one of the flaps and ushered the two of you inside. 

The tent was dark, gloomier than the outside had been, lit with only a few lights. As your eyes adjusted, you began to see pieces you’d come to be familiar with in the Chicago circus scattered on the ground: platforms with flaky red paint; ladders in a similar shade. A long tightrope, less than half an inch thick, curled on the ground like a bigger (and less alive) version of one of Joyce’s snakes. A woven net, not nearly as wide as the one you’d used in Chicago, was stretched beside it. 

Steve bent down and picked up a bar, about three feet long, with two ropes dangling from either end. There were two identical ones on the ground near his feet. He ran his hand over the smooth metal, the coarse rope, before holding it out to you. The swings were your area of expertise.

You took the hardware, letting your fingers run over the materials as your brother’s had. Your eyes could tell you if there were any areas of visible damage, but you wanted to feel the swing, learn its shape and structure by touch first. You could almost feel the vibrations from long-ago users coursing through it, a past trapeze artist reaching out from the shadows to you. It felt sturdy, safe. No trace of whatever the ‘incident’ the others had hinted at had been.

You looked up at your brother, finding him watching you. You nodded once; these would suffice.

Hopper had also been watching the wordless examination and exchange. He cleared his throat. “I know you said you prefer bars,” he said, nodding at the swing in your hand. “But we’ve also got these.” His foot nudged a metal ring, one in a series of eight.

Your heart leapt into your throat. Marla and the Chicago troupe had tried to get you to use rings, saying that you had the capabilities, the talent. But every time you’d tried, your fingers slipped from the metal, causing you to plummet into the net below. Nobody had been mad or upset; they understood that sometimes, a piece just didn’t work for a certain performer. But you still felt like a failure. The longer you stayed with the Chicago circus, the more intense that prickle of fear that raced down your spine at the sight of the rings became.

Steve noticed your blank expression, eyes wide with fright. “No, thanks,” he said, stepping slightly in front of the rings to block your line of vision. “Never got the hang of ‘em.”

Hopper nodded, not pushing. “Fair enough.” He turned and nodded towards a few of the hired hands who’d been standing silently in the shadows. “Okay, boys. I know it’s been a while since we’ve had this setup, but time to get back in the habit of it. You follow the twins’ instructions to the letter, you hear?”

A mumbled chorus of agreement sounded from the group as they stepped up among the scattered materials.

Hopper turned once more to you and Steve. “You tell them exactly how you want it– something doesn’t look right, you fix it. I don’t care how long it takes– it gets done right.” You and Steve nodded. “Anything else you two need?”

“Sand,” you said, looking at the dusty ground. “To go under everything.”

The older man didn’t question it. “Sand. Got it. I’ll send someone out to the nearest hardware store to grab some.” He pulled a tarnished pocket watch out. “Might have to wait ‘til morning.”

“A few pounds should do,” Steve said. “Enough to get a cushy layer for softer landings… just in case.”