#reader centric

”That’s some question,”

”Forget I asked.”

You paused, examining his face as the words rolled around your head. “No, no.” You said quickly, waving your hand to him, hoping to keep his attention. There was a reason Jisung had asked you the question, probably tying into his serious behavior. “Yes, I’ve done a lot of things I’ve regretted.” You told him softly, eyes watching as he leaned in closer, curious.

So you decided to continue on. 

“I think the one thing I regret the most is not confessing my feelings to someone I really loved.”

”Oh my god, really?” He breathed out in surprise. “Who was it? Someone I know?” You were hesitant in responding, but after a moment you nodded your head. “Who?” You didn’t want to say that you predicted that question being asked, but in a way you knew it was going to happen - it was the most logical question after all. 

“I can’t say.” A playful smirk danced across your features as mimed zipping your lips. “Besides, nothing would have come from it, he never liked me like that.”

Jisung sat back in his chair, incredulous at how dismissive you were being. “How do you know that? Maybe he does like you!” The earnest sincerity in his voice made your heart ache with a guilt you didn’t believe you deserved and yet somehow carried with you. 

“I just know.” There was a finality in your voice, filled with an unspoken anguish. It was deafening, but at least it stopped Jisung from following up with any other questions. “Why did you ask, by the way?”

”Oh!” As if he had forgotten he was the one that brought up the question. Sitting up, he cleared his throat. “I, um, confessed to Minho last night. And it was a total mess. Nothing went right and I was so embarrassed.” 

“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that, Ji. Did he at least confess back?” You asked.

”He did! After laughing at me of course. The night was a total disaster, but I got a boyfriend out of it. I’ve been really just thinking about how embarrassed I was and how things could have gone differently. I kinda regret the situation, you know?” You nodded, because you could relate to that. While you hadn’t realized his regret was tied to what you considered a silly occasion, it was almost fitting that you told him about your regret. 

“It wouldn’t have mattered how the night went, he would have confessed anyway.” You assured him.

”You think?” Jisung raised a brow. “How can you be so sure about that?” He questioned.

”I just know.”  And you did. Because there wasn’t a scenario in existence that Minho wouldn’t confess to Jisung. Minho loved him and that’s why while you regret never confessing, you knew nothing would have come from it. Minho had only ever had eyes for Jisung.

You’d never planned for your life to take you there but the way they’d run your country down, the only chances for a somewhat decent livelihood was in the capital of their country. And even if it was generations ago, you have a legacy to live up to. That gem? It is yours by birthright.

So here you are, dressed up and with a forged invitation to show as you stroll towards the front doors of the mansion. Head held high, you hold out the thick, embossed paper to the guard who checks it for all the signs. You’re not nervous – not yet – you know it’s a perfect forgery and he’ll find the both the seal and the watermark to be as they should.

Meanwhile you can watch him: handsome, tall, his blue eyes make you think of the Diamond. You almost feel sorry you can’t afford to flirt with him.

“Have a lovely evening, miss,” he smiles, bowing slightly as he tucks away the invitation into the stack.

Passing through the doors, it’s like walking into an oven: candles and lanterns are lit everywhere, making the crystal of chandeliers and glasses sparkle in competition with the finery of the guests. The women are wearing, frankly, scandalous amounts of jewels, making your fingers itch to relieve them of some of the surplus...but you can’t afford that. Not tonight.

Accepting a glass of champagne, you circle the rooms one by one until you come to the one you really are seeking. You know it’s where the Blue Diamond is kept because of the guards stationed outside...and because through the open door you can spot the pedestal with the silken cloth draped over it, taunting anyone who might try to sneak a peek at the splendour.

Continuing your passage, you arrive at an antechamber. It’s deserted and with the exception of a few chairs and tables, there’s not much to see. You don’t care about the furniture anyways, but you are very interested in what’s hidden behind the tapestry.

Before this heist (there’s no better word for it), you’d acquired the old blueprints of the mansion. It’d been easy enough: just visit the local history museum and pretend to be an architecture student wanting to learn from the masters of the past.

You’d spent a long time poring over the papers with the thin lines and gnarly annotations just to make sure that they would really be there: the old servant’s passages.

You’d been right.

Closing the doors to the room ever so quietly, you go to the wall and push at the edge of the heavy tapestry. The wallpaper is unbroken, but feeling it, you sense the divot – a line you can follow up and down, indicating where the door to the passage used to be.

You’ve come prepared. Slipping the knife from your purse, you cut into the groove all the way around, then feel for where the handle once was. That’s trickier, but eventually you find it, jamming the thin blade into the covered hole and twisting it.

The click, well...the clunk, is loud, making you freeze. Straining your ears, you hear the sound of footsteps but it is hard to tell if they are approaching the door to the room you’re in or not. Just to be on the safe side, you slip the knife out and allow the tapestry to cover the hidden entry once more – and just in time as the doors to the room are opened.

Staying put, you discreetly drop the knife into the potted plant beside you, out of sight of the person entering, while pretending to study the woven image.

“Miss...did you close the doors?”

You recognize the voice to belong to the guard. The fact that he’s now doing rounds inside means he’s either been relieved or all the guests have arrived. If it’s the latter, then the deadline is approaching.

Turning to him, you smile sweetly. “Yes, sorry. I’m nursing a bit of a headache and wanted the quiet for a moment. I hope it’s not a problem?”

You can see him hesitate. “I suppose it’s not a problem for now but the doors will have to be opened again soon.”

“Just 15 minutes?” You bat your eyelashes at him.

“Alright.” Backing out, he closes the doors once more.

Counting to ten before you do anything, you try to get your heart to behave. He’s cute, the guard.

Then you turn to the tapestry once more. As far as you can tell, the door to the hidden passage would have opened into the room. Oh, how you wish you could have brought a crowbar. Instead, you retrieve the knife and jam it into the handle’s hole again, careful not to push the mechanism to close. Twisting and tugging, you get the door to give enough that you can claw at the edge and from then it’s surprisingly easy to pry it open enough for you to pass into the darkness, taking the knife with you.

You know the tapestry is falling into place, hiding your route, all you have to do is make sure it doesn’t catch in the latch.

It’s dark as the grave here. You can feel cobwebs caress your skin, making goosebumps spread with the idea of what pest you might encounter. It’s also crammed, your dress constantly brushing against the support beams even if you gather the skirt around your legs with one hand.

In the other hand you hold a vial that you shake vigorously, creating a greenish glow in the liquid. Simple, poisonous, but perfect as you could not count on bringing a lantern or candle with you in here. It’s only barely enough to navigate by and your progress is slower than you want but you don’t have far to go.

15 metres. 30. Then you find what you are looking for: a corresponding door. This too will have been covered by wallpaper, making it impossible for you to push it open by sheer force. But your knife is thinner than most, perfect to slip through the crack all the way around.

You feel the give as it pierces through the layers of paper and paint. Feel how it drags as you move it and you can only pray that no one notices because even with the glimpse into the display room, you have had no opportunity to figure out what might be in front of this area of the wall.

When the cutting is done, you take a deep, steadying breath.

Then you turn the handle (it had been left on the inside of this door for some odd reason) and push slowly. There’s the slightest of creaks of hinges, causing you to stop. Searching in your purse, you find the perfume that you have made sure not to use because it really isn’t perfume, but oil. A few pumps. A little wiggling. Then the creaking is gone.

Trying again, you feel the door meet...no resistance. Peeking out from behind it, you see you couldn’t have been luckier: a tapestry is straining to hold the door closed and the room is still deserted. The guards by the door are facing away, certain that no one can have sneaked past them.

Now you have to move quick but carefully.

Tiptoeing, you head straight for the pedestal, slipping the silk away and grabbing the Blue Diamond of Alqualondë without even taking the time to admire it. It’s too risky to stow it in your purse, so you slip it into your cleavage before rushing back the way you came only taking a few seconds to deposit anything suspicious in the passage.

You’ve only just managed to dust off yourself and sit down in one of the chairs when the door opens and the handsome guard reappears.

“I...brought you this.” He holds out a glass of fizzy liquid. “A tonic for the headache.”

“That is very kind of you,” you simper.

You hate the taste of these tonics, but you manage to drink the brew for the sake of the cover. Then you hand back the glass.

“I suppose it is time to allow others a place to retreat to?”

He nods. “I’m afraid so.”

“It’s quite alright. Thank you for allowing me a respite.”

The rest of the night is impossibly slow until the moment when the Diamond is to be revealed for the guests. You’re in the middle of the throng of eager guests, pretending to be just as curious as the host grabs the silken cloth...and then shocked at the lack of the gem!

As suspected, the private guard steps up to secure the place and check the pockets and purses of everyone. Including you. They find nothing.

---

You read about the lack of a suspect of the heist in the newspaper aboard the train a few days later. It’s a scandal, of course, bound to puzzle the authorities and the upper echelon for a long time. Meanwhile, the Blue Diamond of Alqualondë is on the way home to it’s country.

A foolish decision was the consenquences of that moment.

A moment so short, it could hardly be considered a second. You wondered why you thought it felt like eons when it only lasted in a blink of an eye, or rather— a look in the eye.

Sometimes you feel like you've already made peace with the past. Your heart no longer aches for the fleeting memories of a childhood innocence, your tongue no longer tastes bitter at the sheer mention of them. You no longer need to spend countless nights weeping over your imaginary scenarios, the what-ifs, the pleases, and the if onlys.

After so, so long, you've grown. Finally, at last, you'll be able to live in the present with no more strings tying you to the past, chaining you down and cutting into your skin with each step, forcing piercing tears to fall down your eyes as you tried to deny it all and smile in front of your juniors who knew nothing. They, who you protected with your life, were oblivious to the shadows that hid behind their beloved senior; They, who only lived under the wings of their seniors and sect leaders, were unaware of the tattered and stained wings their senior owned, as if it was natural, as if it had been there all along. Him, who thought he had seen it all, were still so, so unsuspecting of your obvious lies—

—Of your past, your pain, your love.

—Of your experiences, your heartbreak, your one and only.

Lovely senior, perhaps if you had heeded their warnings and opened up, allowed those who wished to understand to learn, then perhaps your demise would've been like the you you presented to your people.

Peaceful.

Instead, you've shown the whole world who you truly are, destroying your perfect reputation with your foolishness.

In a frenzied haze of battle-struck wounds, with the blood that your parents had given you flowing out uncontrollably and returning to the earth, with the tears that you used to hide away in your eyes staining your cheeks as you looked so pitifully vulnerable in front of all those who had seen you as a warrior.

You felt shame. Especially when your attacker, the source of your misery, had looked at you with such a heartbroken expression you almost felt as if your efforts to move on had thoroughly shattered at that moment. Ah, you truly couldn't forget. You couldn't even uphold a final promise. How could you ever move on when the smile that shone the brightest belonged to them, while you were merely the rays of moonlight that reflected off the sun?

Their senior, always so strong, had turned out to be the weakest among them all. Their senior, who had given everything to them, had turned out to be the most selfish person they had known. How could you give up on them and leave them behind like that? How could you throw away everything just for a lost memory? How could you, How could you how could you how could you how could you—

—How could they ever respect someone like that from now on?

This shameless, weakling of a senior had turned out to be the biggest liar. Your perfect image broken and revealing pieces of shattered glass that were now turned to dust, being held together by a transparent plate that acted as a shield. Your sword, broken on the ground, the hours you had spent polishing it rendered useless and futile.

You wished you could laugh, but the voice you thought you had had given up on you as well. Maybe, in another life, you could be stronger. Maybe, in another life, you could start again and be better.

Maybe, in another life, you could meet them again.

"I'm sorry, Mount Hua."

Though you nearly crash your purloined bike a few times on the way, the lot of you manage to make it back to the Munson trailer… relatively intact. Robin leans against you at the bottom of the trailer’s steps, heaving just about as much as you. 

“This wasn’t supposed to be,” Robin starts, one arm on your shoulder and one on her knee as she doubles over to catch her breath. “This isn’t supposed to be gym class.” 

“Fuck, tell me about it,” you whine, opting to lean your head back and clasping your hands behind your neck. “This is torture, I hate this.” 

“Cheer up,” Steve says, a little too jovially for someone red in the face from exertion. “We’re almost out of here. C’mon.” He claps Robin on the back in passing and nearly knocks her off her feet. 

“Hey, you gonna be alright?” Eddie asks, coming up behind you to rest a hand on your other shoulder. Robin clears her throat loudly and skitters after Steve. You frown at her, but turn to Eddie to shake your head. 

“Yeah, no, I’m fine,” you huff, swallowing loudly and trying to measure your breathing. “Being a librarian isn’t like, a super active job. Not used to this anymore.”

Eddie snorts and squeezes your shoulder for a second before letting go. 

“Just. Lemme know if you need anything?” It’s your turn to snort when you walk past him up the steps, heeding an impatient Steve gesturing at you both to hurry up. 

“I know this song and dance already, big guy,” you say over your shoulder. 

Inside, flashlights pointed up at the ceiling, Steve is the first to speak up. 

“God damn.” 

“That’s,” Eddie starts, and you don’t have to look back at him to know you don’t like the expression on his face. “That’s where Chrissy died. Like, right where she died.”

“I don’t see why you’re surprised,” you frown, leaning forward to look at Steve. “Didn’t you guys like, come through one of these? Where Patrick died?” 

“Yeah, but it’s like, it’s actually here, y’know?” Robin whispers, taking a cautious step forward before roughly being pulled back by Steve. 

“Woah, wait a sec,” he says, taking a step forward instead and squinting at the gate. Behind you, Eddie grabs both your arms like he’s worried you’re about to topple over. “What’s—”

Something punches through the gate with a disgusting, slimy-cunchy sound, and in fact if it hadn’t been for Eddie holding you still behind you, your jolt might’ve actually knocked you on your ass. You instinctively grab for the gun tucked into your waistband. Whatever it is wiggles around and… seems to clear the way? 

Though Steve is the first one to try and approach the gate, you grab him by the wrist and place the Beretta in his hand. He nods quickly before making his way closer, keeping the gun aimed up at the ceiling as he does. His arm quickly goes down though, and when you hear him utter ‘no way’, you quickly make your way to him and look up.

And there are the kids, all safe and accounted for. Dustin’s nearly cackling as he waves up—down?—at you from the trailer’s living room. 

“Well holy shit,” you whisper, feeling your face split into a grin. 

“Hi there!” Dustin greets, and you can’t help but slap Eddie excitedly in the arm. 

He’s met with a chorus of tired but enthused greetings

“Bada bada boom!”

“Please tell me he didn’t get that from you,” you whisper to Eddie, turning to look up at him. 

“Absolutely the hell not.” You huff out a short laugh before Steve and Nancy start directing the kids through the gate. 

Quickly enough, there’s a rope made out of the blankets Dustin and Erica can find throughout the trailer, and Lucas and Max unceremoniously throw a mattress down on the floor beneath the portal. With several quirked eyebrows directed at him, Eddie shrugs his shoulders and clears his throat. 

“Those stains are, uh,” he starts, frowning before shrugging again. “I dunno what those stains are.” 

“I’m showering after this,” Robin says quietly, and you can’t help but hum in agreement despite the elbow in the ribs you get in retaliation. 

When the makeshift rope falls through the ceiling, you can’t help but move to grab it. Dustin urges you to give it a good tug. When it stays put, you swallow what was sure to be a cackle and, once you’ve got a good grip, let yourself swing.

You don’t even try to stop the laughter that bubbles up your throat when you feel Eddie pull you down and away, arms tight around your stomach. He swivels around to drop you back on the ground. 

“Yeah no we’re trying to be serious here,” Eddie says, and though he’s probably trying to reprimand you for being a little too carefree, you can still hear the smile in his voice. 

“I’m absolutely being serious! I was testing to see if it would hold my weight!” 

“Sure dude,” he scoffs. Eventually, when Dustin voices his impatience, Eddie squares his shoulders and gives the rope a solid tug. “No objections to my going first?” 

“None here, have at it,” Steve answers, crossing his arms and taking a step back. 

“Just warn us if you start feeling woozy or like you’re being pulled apart by magic invisible hands,” Robin throws in, and you can’t help but worry at the skin of your lips. 

There’s… no chance you’ll get dismembered going through, right? The blanket’s perfectly fine, you reason with yourself, watching as Eddie pulls himself closer to the ceiling. You hold your breath until he lands with a thump on the mattress on the other side. 

“Thank fuck,” you sigh, taking a step back and motioning for Robin to go ahead when she puts her hand on the rope. When she makes it through equally unscathed and thrilled, you turn to look at Nancy and Steve in turn. 

“I’ll go last,” Steve says, a gentle hand on her shoulder pushing Nancy towards the rope. 

“Not really gonna object to that,” you say in turn, pulling the gun from your waistband. After flipping  the safety off and making sure it’s cocked, you pass it over to Steve, holding the barrel down. You open your mouth to say something when it feels like something, all at once, is trying to force your brian out of your eyes. 

The sound around you feels like it’s being filtered through cotton, and though you can make out Eddie and the kids shouting from the other sides, you can more clearly make out the fact that Steve is calling Nancy’s name. 

From where you’re crouched, nearly doubled over, on the ground, you crack open a sore eyelid to see Nancy stood stock still, eyes rolled back. You’re sure you make some kind of frustrated sound while you clench your jaw and force yourself to stand. You stumble forward to brace yourself against Steve’s shoulder, blindly reaching out for Nancy. Steve doesn’t say anything when he grabs your hand and puts it against her shoulder. 

And while the relief is immediate and you no longer feel like someone is trying to use your skull as a tube of toothpaste, you also lose all bearing and sense of space. One second you see a house with a beautiful stained glass window, the next it’s spiders, and then it’s the intensely loud, overwhelming buzzing of what you know is a tattoo gun. There’s nothing for you to do, like this; you barely feel your body at all. 

You can’t move. Much less speak. 

You can’t speak, but you can think, at least. And you’re pretty sure that you’ve still got your hand on Nancy’s shoulders. So, with what little focus and energy you have left, praying that no one’s decided to step on the mattress, you try to ignore the sights and sounds around you and focus on Eddie’s trailer.

You’re almost relieved when you feel your stomach drop, and when you start to feel Nancy’s knit sweater under your fingers, you think you grip it so tightly it might rip. 

You’re knocked out before you even hit the ground.

You’re dreaming.

That’s the first thought that runs through your head.

Everything is black around you, as far as you can see. There’s water lapping at your feet, barely an inch deep. You kick your right foot up, then your left. You put your hands up in front of you and look at them. Flex your fingers slowly, one by one, before turning your hands over to look at your palms. You make fists as tightly as you can before releasing the tension and letting your hands fall back down to your sides.

It’s quiet here. Nice. Calm. You could stay here a while, you think.

So you sit down on the water-covered ground and pull your knees up to your chest. You tap your toes in the water. It’s not cold, you don’t think. If anything, it’s the exact same temperature as the air around you. The only real indication that you’re in water is the vague cooling sensation you get when it starts evaporating from your skin, and when it seeps up into your clothes. 

There isn’t even any ringing in your ears, you notice. 

It’s completely quiet. 

You find yourself wishing there was music, and no sooner do you think it does a small tape deck appear in front of you. In the time it took you to blink, it was just… there. You can almost feel all the muscles in your face when you frown. You can tell there’s already a cassette in there. Uncurling yourself,you slowly crawl a few feet forward and reach out to hit the play button. The familiar opening of Burnin’ For You fills the empty void you’re sitting in, and just the sound feels like a warm blanket around you. 

There’s a brief moment where you think you can hear another voice, just under the music. But you’re quick to ignore it; you’re comfortable here. No pain, no pressure, no obligation, nothing at all, in fact. Except for you, and music, and comfortable lukewarm water.

The obvious and discordant sound of a busy dial tone makes you sigh. You stab at the stop button with a little too much force, but the sudden silence lets you hear someone gasp behind you. 

You nearly trip and land face first in your hurry to get up. And when you turn around, water splashing around you, there’s a scream stuck in your throat. You shuffle back a few steps and put your hands down from where you had thrown them up in front of you .

“Are… Eleven?” 

She’s taller, obviously, and her hair’s buzzed short instead of the length you’d dreamt of it being at Starcourt. But there’s something about her expression that makes it almost impossible to mistake who she is. 

She frowns and turns to look behind her. When she does, it’s like wisps of smoke appear out of nowhere and rapidly coalesce into the inside of someone’s trailer. Or, part of it, at least. You’re not entirely sure how, but you get the impression that it’s Max’s. You can see the TV set and the couch, you can see the wall, and everyone gathered around Nancy.

Fear forgotten in lieu of concern and curiosity, to walk up next to Eleven and stare on at the scene in front of you. 

“What is this place?” 

“In between,” Eleven says, turning to look at you instead. “How are you here?” 

“I don’t know,” you answer quietly, turning to look at her as well. “I’ve never—this hasn’t happened before. Is it because of you?” 

Eleven doesn’t answer in favour of heading off towards everyone, walking briskly behind the couch Dustin is standing next to. She’s next to the television and looking around, confused, when she points at everyone. 

“You. Where are you?” 

“Wha-what do you mean, where am I? I’m right here.” 

“No,” Eleven says, with an edge of frustration in her voice. “There, with them. Where are you?”

You frown and open your mouth in realization. She’s… you assume she’s right in thinking you should be around there, in the trailer, somewhere. You turn around on yourself once, trying to see if anything else will just suddenly materialize in front of you, but there’s nothing. 

“Eddie’s not there either, so he’s probably with me,” you say in a hurry, walking over to Eleven. “Do you know who he is? Mike probably told you, right? Long hair, about this tall—”

You move to put your hand up, but Eleven quickly grabs your hand and pulls you along with her with a nod. She pulls you back through the living room and, you imagine, through the trailer hallway, and just like magic, wisps of smoke appear again. And there you are, laid down on a bed, with Eddie cradling your head and pressing something to the back of your neck.

“That’s… really fucking weird,” you mutter, reaching up to touch the back of your neck when you feel something cool there. “In between… is this like, some kind of limbo? Are we having an out of body experience right now?” 

“Kind of, I guess,” Eleven says almost airly, moving to crouch next to your unconscious body on the bed. “What happened to you?” 

“I guess I passed out after I plane shifted.” 

“What’s… plane shifting?” 

You let out an amused huff and lower yourself to the ground next to Eleven. “I can go back and forth between home and the Upside Down by myself. I can just think about it and then… poof.”

“Poof,” she repeats quietly, reaching out for your body’s hand on the bed. You grab her wrist before she can touch you. 

“Wait, I can’t wake up yet.” You let her go when Eleven pulls her hand back into her lap. “What do you know about what’s happening right now? Do you know about Vecna?” 

“Henry.” 

“I’m sorry what?” 

“His name is Henry,” she clarified, holding out her forearm to you. You gingerly let your fingers rest below the 011 tattoo. “He’s number One.” 

“Fuck me,” you breathe, pulling your hand away in favour of running it through your hair. “So he’s like you? From the lab?” 

Eleven frowns but nods. “How do you know?” 

“I’ve dreamt about you. About everything that’s happened since…” You trail off and swallow thickly. “Since, uh. Since Will went missing. When you opened the gate.”

Though she turns to look away from you, you have a feeling you know what kind of expression is on her face. You clear your throat and wring your hands in your lap. 

“So what.. Did you hear anything they were talking about back there?” 

A nod. “They want to kill him. Kill Henry, when he’s trying to kill Max.” 

“I’m sorry what?” 

“She’s going to stop the music and make him hunt her,” Eleven continues, and you hear the same anger beginning to bubble up in her voice as you’re feeling in your chest. “When he’s alone in the attic, they’re going to kill him.”

“That’s insane!” you shout, standing up and motioning wildly behind you. “They’ll get themselves killed! There’s no way he’s not going to know they’re coming after him!”

“I know,” Eleven says curtly, getting up and turning to you, grabbing at your wrist. “But hey won’t be alone. I’ll get out. I can help.” 

“Get out?” You repeat,using your free hand to grab at her shoulder. “Get out of where? Where are you?”

“I don’t have time,” Eleven says, turning her head to look at the scene behind her that’s slowly starting to fade away. “I don’t have time,” she repeats more urgently, and pulls at your wrist when she turns back to look at you. “But you do. You need to help them. You need to hide them.” 

“What—man, you don’t make sense, how am I supposed to hide four grown ass—”

“I have to go,” Eleven cuts you off, releasing your wrist and stepping away. “Tell them when you wake up. Tell them I’m coming. Please. Hide them. Hide.” 

You’re gasping for breath when you wake up like you’d been unable to breathe for the past few minutes. You don’t bother opening your eyes. You reach out and wave your hand around for a second before it finds and lands on Eddie’s face, effectively shutting him up, and push him away. 

“Quiet, nerd, I’m processing,” you croak, pulling the cold washcloth from beneath your neck and covering your eyes with your free arm. 

“Processing?” Eddie parrots incredulously, swatting your hand away and out of his face. “The hell does that mean?”

You sigh wearily and groan as you try to sit up. When your arms buckle and before you can fall back down, Eddie’s sat down on the side of the bed and throws an arm around your shoulders and a hand beneath your collarbones to help prop you up. 

“How long have I been out?” 

“Literally hours, dude, it’s already morning.”

You swear under your breath and gesture wildly at Eddie to get off the bed. When he does, you swing your legs over the side and, with a deep breath, get up and hold onto his shoulder for dear life. 

“Oh boy, being conscious doesn’t feel good,” you groan, wrapping your free arm around your stomach and swallowing down the nausea. “They got anything to eat? I need food before I rip Max a new one.”

With his arm now under yours, Eddie half-drags you to the kitchen counter, which you immediately slump against. He’s rummaging through the cupboard, and it’s only when you have your hand deep in a half-empty box of cheerios that you realize it’s eerily quiet in the trailer. 

You look up to find everyone doing their best to pretend they hadn’t been staring very intently at you just a second earlier. You slowly resume your crunchy chewing and swallow loudly before waving at the small crowd in front of you.

“I’m fine, you may resume your commiserating until I’ve eaten enough to bitch about how fucking stupid your plan is.”

Your comment is greeted with a cacophony of arguments—”It’s not stupid!” and “Do you have a better idea?” and, your favourite, “We don’t have our witch so what else can we do?”

You finish your second handful of cheerios and nod quietly, trying to untangle each upset voice from each other and clear your throat. 

“You don’t physically have your witch,” you specify, digging back into the box of cheerios. Eddie helpfully passes you a bottle of something to wash it down. Though you hope it’s beer, a quick sniff of it reveals that it’s just boring root beer. 

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” Steve asks, arms crossed from his place on the couch. “El’s literally not here.”

“Physically, no, you’re right,” you start, passing the box over to Eddie who eagerly shoves his hands in it with a quiet thank you. “We talked. She’s gonna—”

“You talked?” Dustin cuts you off, incredulously, holding a hand out to make you pause. “You talked. To Eleven. You were just gonna move right on past that?”

“Yeah, Henderson, we talked. Shut up and listen,” you grumble, and with a grunt of effort, pull yourself up to sit on the counter. “She doesn’t like the idea of you,” you start, staring intently at Max. “Using yourself as bait. And honestly? I hate the idea too, it’s way too dangerous. Y’all seem to have forgotten that we don’t just have a couple bloodthirsty, hormonal sportsball players after us. It’s the whole god damn town. Anyone finds any one of us and we’re screwed. Nevermind literally anything finding us in the Upside Down.”

“No one’s looking for me or Robin, or even Steve,” Nancy retorts, almost too quietly for you to hear. She glances around at the other two and they both nod eagerly. 

“Yeah,” Robin chimes in. “I fly under everyone’s radar, no one’s gonna be looking for me.”

You shake your head and cross your arms. “Won’t matter, if you’re seen with any of the rest of us, you’re done. Right? Cause you kids got yourselves arrested?”

Lucas, Dustin and Max have the decency to look down or away when you look at them. 

“Yeah, that’s what I thought.” You sigh and throw your head back, looking up at the ceiling like it’ll offer some kind of reassurance or encouragement. Though it doesn’t come from the ceiling, you do feel a warm hand gently rest on your knee. You run your tongue along your teeth when you bring your head back and look at Eddie.

“You got a plan in there, Cleric?” He asks, turning to put the now-empty box of cheerios in the sink. 

“Eleven said she’s coming,” you start slowly, looking down at your socked feet as you swing them. “I don’t know where she is, she just said she’d ‘get out’, whatever that means.” 

“She’s in trouble,” Lucas says, looking over at Dustin. “That's probably why no one’s picking up the phone. No way Mike would just sit there and do nothing.” 

“And if Mike’s gone, so’s Will.” Dustin adds, and there’s a dawning look of realization creeping into everyone’s face. 

“And where Will goes—” Robin starts, looking over to Nancy. 

“...Jonathan follows.”

“Shit,” Dustin whispers, bringing both hands up to his head and turning away. 

“So I’m guessing that this is like, a really bad thing.” Eddie looks nervously back and forth between everyone, until his eyes land back on you. “Anything else?” 

“Well, I know Vecna is Henry,” you start, and Dustin and Lucas both say ‘One’ at the same time. “Right, whatever, Miscellaneous TK Asshole. Doesn’t matter. Point is that he’s just another lab kid like Eleven.”

“Absolutely not just like Eleven,” Steve grumps. 

“No, she’s right,” Dustin says. “We literally just talked about this.”

“Yeah and the conclusion of that conversation was fucking stupid,” you reiterate, and don’t miss how Eddie’s fingers grip your knee justa bit tighter. “It’s reckless. If any of us get interrupted at any point, or if someone so much as spots us, we’re done for.”

“We haven’t figured out the distraction either,” Eddie adds, and you frown as you turn to look at him. 

“What distraction?” 

“One team goes to kill Vecna in the Upside Down and one team distracts the demobats,” Steve explains quickly, though it sounds like he’s starting to realize that yeah, it does sound like a dumb plan, actually. 

“Demobats, alright,” you mutter, rubbing your face with both hands before letting them fall into your lap. “The whole killing Vecna thing is the only good part about that. Using Max as bait is too risky. Using people as a distraction is also fucking stupid. Do none of you remember—”

The lump in your throat forces you to stop talking. You lick your lips nervously and look back up to the ceiling to try and dry your misty eyes. 

“...she’s not wrong,” Nancy speaks up, a little bit louder this time. “There’s already enough people dead. We don’t need to be taking unnecessary risks.”

You’re pinching the bridge of your nose to attempt to get your lacrimal glands back under control when it hits you. Hide them, she said. You start to snap your fingers and point to Eddie and Dustin in turn. 

“Uhhh, quick, uh, the uh, the cleric spell list, prevents evil damage or something.”

Dustin and Eddie both flounder for a second before Lucas is the one to answer. 

“P-protection from evil!”

“That’s the bitch!” You shout, hopping off the counter and bouncing off your feet. “For all intents and purposes, TK Asshole is a lich, right? I can just ‘Protection From Evil’ you before you go find Vecna and you’ll be good!” 

“That’s assuming you can even do that,” Steve points out, uncrossing his arms to gesture vaguely at you. “You can go to the Upside Down and apparently prevent someone from like, telepathically communicating with you, but that doesn’t mean you can do anything else.” 

You huff through your nose and, in an act of defiance, screw your eyes shut. 

This unleashes a wave of panicked screaming and you’re backed up into the counter by Eddie, whose hands have a vice grip on your shoulders and whose eyes are nearly wild with fear. 

“Do not,” he growls, actually growls, out at you. You put your hands up in surrender with a quiet whimper. He keeps you in place for a few more seconds as the room quiets down, but gives you a small shake before letting go. “Don’t.” You nod mutely before the room’s attention is drawn back to Lucas. 

“If he does work like a lich,” he starts, looking from Dustin to Erica before his eyes land on Eddie. “He’s gonna have a phylactery.”

“Please make sense,” Robin pleads from her place on the floor. 

“A phylactery is kind of like, a genie’s bottle, I guess?” You try to explain, looking over to Eddie for help. 

“Basically it won’t matter if we kill him if he has an object his life essence is tied to. He’ll just keep coming back.” 

“How do we know he even has one of those things?” Steve asks. 

“It’s actually not all that crazy,” Dustin says, motioning to you. “Everything she can do matches the cleric spell list. So far, almost everything we’ve encountered works just like some kind of DND mechanic.”

“Which is absolutely weird and insane.”

“Thank you, Robin, that is weird and insane,” Steve huffs, frowning. “What if it’s just a coincidence?” 

“Yeah, I mean, you can’t even use Cure Light Wounds,” Erica throws in, and you scoff and hold up your palms. She quirks a brow and looks at you like you grew another head. 

“I kind of crash landed and busted my hands when I plane shifted to find you bozos,” you explain, nodding over at Nancy, Steve and Robin. “I didn’t want to risk it on Steve, so I tried it on myself when we were walking to the Wheelers’ house. It didn’t really do anything on the spot, but,” and you shake your hands to bring the attention back to the smooth, unmarred skin of your palms. “It kicked in at some point. So yeah, I absolutely can use Cure Light Wounds, thank you.”

You’re getting really tired of the room’s decibel count obnoxiously rising almost every other time you open your mouth.

𝓣𝓪𝓰𝓵𝓲𝓼𝓽

@anothermunsonsimp @doratheignora @storiesbyrhi @alovesongshewrote

“What do you mean he's there?” Hunter asked. You knew they would be making their way to you already so you started your briefing.

“Six hostiles, five guards and the Prime Minister, all armed. He came into the camp yelling about getting his daughter back and I believe that may be the same little girl I treated in the medical tent earlier.”

“Where is she now?”

“She’s still here with me,” you said as you looked at the girl. She looked startled, but not scared. Like this wasn’t the first time the man had raised his voice near her.

“Just hold on, we’ll be there soon, Crosshair and I are five minutes away max.” Hunter reassured you.

You grabbed your pistol that was strapped to your thigh. “Sweetheart, go hide behind those medical supplies.” The girl nodded and ran where you had directed, shrinking herself behind the crates to make herself as small as possible. She would be hidden for now.

A rustling at the front of the tent caught your attention. Soon the very man the little girl feared was now standing at the other end of your blaster.

“My, my I don’t recall the local medics having weapons training.” He said as he tried to burn holes into your soul with his silver eyes. “I am looking for my daughter and you will tell me where she is, now.”

“You are in my medical tent,” you began, “therefore you do not give the order around here. Now get out of my tent before you cause my patients further distress.”

“I will ask once more, where is my daughter?” He said as he took a step forward.

You took your hand and switched off the pistol's safety at his movements, causing him to stop. “There are no children here, we sent them away so they would be safe, should a situation like this happen.”

In truth, you had no idea if there even were other children, until now you had only seen the little girl. For a minute he stood there. Almost weighing your words and trying to decide if he believed you.

Abruptly, he tried to make a move for his blaster, but you were faster. You ended up shooting him in the chest. He would live for now, and only if he got the proper medical attention.

Kicking the blaster from his hands you stepped over him, “did you think I was kidding when I said you will not be the one making demands in my tent?”

What you didn’t see was his hands reach for a clicker inside his pocket. Immediately, two rows of two troopers came filing through the tent entrance. You took a few steps back to gain more distance as the civilians in the tent took cover.

You shot the first two, killing them instantly. As you aimed and pulled the trigger on the third one, the forth managed to get a shot off.

Luckily for you the guy you had just shot fell into him causing his shot to veer off course.

Unfortunately, instead of the bullet hitting you in the chest, it had now hit you in the stomach. You would not die instantly, but there were still two guards to deal with and you were now bleeding out on the floor.

The man who had shot you struggled under the dead man on top of him and took another aim at your head, but before he could get a shot off, the little girl came up from behind him and hit him with the blunt corner of a medpack. When did she get there? It didn’t do much but piss him off, but it gave you enough time to shoot him.

His body fell flat to the floor.

The little girl came running up to you as you collapsed to the floor. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry” she sobbed, placing a small hand on your shoulder.

You grasped your left side and gathered the girl into your right arm. “-t’s alright, I’ll be okay.”

In your pained daze, you almost missed the shot that rang through the air. Outside the tent you heard a thump as something hit the floor. The last guard you though, that’s where he went. Your boys were here.

Knowing that all of the guards were taken care of, your body slumped onto the ground. The little girl was being pushed out of the way by the other medic in the tent.