Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

1970:

The orderlies were busy tending to Four, who held his hands to his ears, screaming bloody murder into the corridor.

They were by that door. The one at the end of the hallway that the orderlies always needed key cards for.

Over the years, the kids speculated what was behind the steel door. The older ones thought they kept ‘001’ in there despite what Papa had told them. Some of the younger, more naive kids would whisper something along the lines of a limitless amount of candy, or toys - like Christmas.

And to only add fuel to that fire, the more rebellious kids would scare the younger ones with scary stories of a monster hiding within that room , ready to pounce on which ever child would touch the handle first.

But no monster peeked out the slightly opened door. She took a step forward, side-eyeing the guards, still trying to subdue Four.

The hinge glinted against the bright light, taunting her, daring her to touch it. It was almost as if it was goading her, whispering into her the stories she could tell the others, making her popular among her brothers and sisters.

With one last glance to the orderlies trying to pry Four’s hands off his ears, she took off to the steel door, and slid inside.

It was dark, and the floors reeked of a mildew smell. She held the collar of her gown to her nostrils, and started to tread the room.

All of a sudden, one of her feet hung off the floor, and her heart shot to her stomach as she tumbled down sharp edges.

Her body landed on the hard surface with a thud. She curled her hand around a metal pole, and slid her hand across it. It lead down another flight of stairs.

She used the railing to pull herself up, and she felt the soft throbbing in her leg. She hissed under her breath. That was going to leave a bruise she’d have to explain to Papa later. It was going to be fun making up that story.

She glanced over her shoulder at the only source of light leading into the room. The door still hung ajar, and there was no scuffling on the floor to indicate anyone would be coming at any moment at that time.

So, she continued further, and decided a silly bruise wouldn’t stop her from discovering the secrets behind the forbidden door. 

She held her hands out in front of her to determine the different objects she encountered. Unfortunately, most of them turned out to be steel drawers, cardboard containers, the concrete walls, or the -

Something blew into her face, and she jumped out of her skin.

Smoke.

It was just smoke.

She held in a breath, and glanced up. Even in the dark, she could make out the pipelines weaving together, and connecting to different boilers. But, there was one in particular that was sitting at the edge of the floor.

It was on it’s own, just there.

She snuck over, crouching to her knees and examined it. It was pitch black inside. She lowered her head, inching it inside the pipe, feeling the air sucking around her arms, and the metal kissing her bare knees until her skin reached a rough terrain she hadn’t felt in years.

It made her freeze.

Grass?

She couldn’t go back. She realized it not too long after she left the pipe. She was sure that Papa would punish her for leaving, and there was something in her that made her fear spike at that revelation.

She tried to remember her family before, and really truly tried to navigate the streets to that house from before, but to no avail, nothing helped.

After roaming the streets that night trying to remember the color of her house, she tried entering any building that came into view. After what seemed like the entire night, she finally found an unlocked door that led to a library.

She stayed unsuspected in that library for a couple of weeks until two teenagers trying to find a isolated closet to rendezvous found her and ratted her out to the librarian.

Whenever the librarian swung open the door, the utility closet stunk to high heaven in half-eaten pizza, and molding bagels. Numerous books scattered across the floor, mostly read or stacked on the tapestry she stole off the wall.

The librarian was appalled, tugged her out of her make-shift bedroom, and pulled her into her office to get a confession out of her.

She was so scared she could barely speak. She could only shake or nod her head to the woman until the woman pushed the words out of her.

Whenever asked about her parents, she told the woman she could barely remember them.

Whenever the woman asked about her name, she told her the number.

Whenever the woman asked her age, she told her eight.

The woman looked startled at first, and asked her her date of birth. She’d told her, 1956. The librarian looked confused, and told her the current date.

There was nothing like that god awful feeling of the blood draining from her face as her brain did the simple math. She was fourteen.

She felt a disappointment she didn’t understand at the time, but when she was caught off guard the woman had dialed a number on the office phone and started speaking to someone in a disappointed tone that Papa used often.

She begged her to stop, and the woman held the phone away from her ear, and listened to her as she rambled about how much trouble she would be if Papa found out she were here.

The woman asked if Papa had ever touched her, and she said yes. He would give her a pat on the shoulder for doing good at her demonstrations. He would hold her hand as he guided her to the rainbow room. So yes, he touched her.

The woman’s face grew as white as the lavatory tiled walls, and she offered her a place to stay.

She accepted, and was given a spare room in the librarian’s house. She was clothed, fed, and well taken care of in the next twenty-four hours before the librarian tried to call the police again.

She realized the woman’s intentions the moment she heard hushed voices coming from the living room, and bolted.

For the next few years, she lived in and out of random buildings she could sneak into. Restaurants, gyms, furniture stores, and finally, the Hawkins mall.

It was so huge that she went undetected for the remaining year of her freedom. She used up another abandoned utility closet, and stored it with clothes, thrown away food, and the books she so craved to have again.

Whenever the mall would close for the night, she would walk into the bathroom, and scrub herself down with paper towels and the soap in the sink dispensers.

By now, her dark hair was down to her chest which the smaller lumps she had years ago, developed into what the books she read called ‘breasts’. She found herself staring at those a lot when she looked in the mirror.

She’d also sneak into the cafeteria to scavenge for more food, and pull a couple of more books out of the bookstore.

She now remembered, as she headed back for the utility closet that night, she came across one of the new stores that had just opened up, and peeked through the window.

A group of t-shirts caught her eye:

‘Class of 1974’

1974?

Her heart thudded, and she took a step back. She couldn’t stop shaking her head.

That, that was wrong.

It was 1970. She was fourteen years old.

The mirror.

Her changing body.

The librarian scoffing as she told her her age.

Her old clothes no longer fitting her.

Her body reacting to words on a page, she’d never reacted to before.

The words lifting off the librarian’s tongue when she told her the year.

‘70

‘74

That would mean it had been four years since she’d escaped the facility.   

That would mean she was eighteen. And in the books she read, that would be she was an adult. That would mean that her body was changing the way it was supposed to, that it was natural for her clothes to grow out, that… that…

Everything had gone too fast. It was too much for her to process at one time.

She took the next couple of days trying to figure out the exact timeline between her abduction, escape and the time she’d spent navigating the outside world. She tried to measure it out by her autonomy, as it was the only way she then felt she could figure it out.

She’d do the routine of sneaking out, getting food, and heading to the bookstore, but this time there was a light wandering the halls peering into the windows and doing the same over and over again for each store.

She slid against the wall, and tried to inch her way towards the utility room, her heart hammering into her chest whenever the light would poke over in her direction.

“Hello? Anyone there?”

The voice was low, and gruff. Belonged to a man.

A harsh sound bounced off the glass ceiling above. “You can’t hide for long.”

It was in a rush of adrenaline that made her sprint across the hallway, and the light shone behind her, becoming brighter and brighter until her vision went black.

She awoke in the police station, men in badges asked her questions for hours. The same basic questions the librarian asked her four years ago. She told them her number, and her age. She told them she didn’t have any parents. They had about the same reaction the librarian did.

At some point they had taken pictures of her. They made her hold up a sign with even more numbers on it, and did side profile pictures.

They said they were going to upload it in a file, which she recognized as a ‘criminal file’.

But within the following forty-eight hours, there had been a swarm of police officers that entered into the precinct.

And behind them were men in suits, and black sunglasses escorting Papa into her cell.

Papa brought her back to the Lab, and he held up a tattoo gun, marking her arm once again with a new number.

‘002’

‘013’ 

1978:

It was four years since she was taken back in. She was twenty-two with her legs curled against her chest, and her back pressed against the headboard.

She choked on another sob, her face tight with the tears that had streamed down before.

There was a tiny pink stain on the tile beside her nightstand. The orderlies did everything they could to wash away the blood, but it was still there. Taunting her, mocking her. A reminder of her failure, even if she was unsure of what her failure was.

The tighter her knees brought up to her chest, the tighter she wanted to cover herself.

It had been two weeks since she felt the cold metal instruments inside her core, pulling out the remnants of her child, leaving her empty and bare.

The only way she knew was because she counted each day that passed on her fingers.

That stain, staring back at her just made it so much worse.

A knock made her jump out of her skin, and her heart skipped a beat as a tall, slender man stepped into the room with a tired smile on his face.

“Peter,” she gasped, sliding off the bed.

“Mariah,” he called to her. It was the name he called her in private. The name in her personal file.

His warm arms wrapped around her, his heat enveloped her into him closer. Her cheek pressed against his shirt.

It felt so comforting to have his arms wrapped around her after so long. At first, after it happened, she didn’t want to talk to anyone let alone Peter.

His finger lowered to her chin, and he raised her tear-stained face up to look into those gorgeous ocean blue eyes of his.

“Are you okay?” He asked her.

She brought her chin down to indicate a nod, and he hummed in response.

His lips brushed against hers, and she melted against his soft touch. His thumb brushed against her cheek, and brought her face closer into his until their noses mashed together.

“You started to scare me,” his whispered against her lips, “Not talking to me for two weeks.”

“I’m sorry,” she whimpered back.

He pulled back, his hands caressing her waist. Those pale eyebrows raised in question. “Are you sure you’re doing okay?”

She sat down on the bed, and released a heavy sigh. He sat beside her, rubbing her left wrist.

She wanted to nod, to get the conversation over with, but she couldn’t lie to Peter. He always tended to know every hitch of her breath, every hesitating flicker of attention…

“ Not really,” she admitted. “It still hurts.”

His gaze flickered down to the space between her legs, and she shook her head. “The memory.”

Peter weaved their fingers together, “I’m sorry.”

She inclined her head, staring down at the tiny pink blotch that echoed those cold metal instruments in her core.

She rested her head on his shoulder, nudging her cheek into the rough fabric of his shirt.

Her fingertips danced on his knuckles and drew themselves on the bones of his hand. He shivered underneath her touch.

The tip of her nose dipped below his collar, and she allowed her lips to graze his soft skin there.

His free hand wrapped around her exposed knee, squeezing with each time her mouth rubbed against the skin of his neck.

“Touch me,” she moaned into his jaw.

He let out a gasp, “Are you sure?”

She held onto the hand on her knee, and slid it up her leg. “I’m sure.”

Peter let out a low, raspy groan that reverberated through her lips on his neck. His fingers trickled up to her thighs, and she couldn’t help but moan as he teased the area around her underwear.

She was just about to reach down to navigate his wrist even further but he dipped his index finger to make her underwear sink deeper into her core.

His breath tickled her ear, “Do you like that?”

She whimpered against his touch, her nails curling into the bedsheets as her juices coated the barrier between his finger and her.

“Or would you rather…”, he trailed off, a finger slipped her underwear to the side and he made a long stroke to her slit with his middle finger.

She whined against him, and he nipped at her throat, his teeth barely marking the skin. He hushed her, and plunged his finger inside.

She bucked her hips, and grasped onto his wrist, her sudden movement making his finger go in even deeper in her.

He added a second finger, stretching her out. She  sprawled her legs to the side as the pressure throbbed up her abdomen, unconsciously raising them up in the air.

A small whimper escaped her lips, and Peter’s chuckle ran through her collarbone.

Her core felt hollow and empty as he withdrew his fingers.

Her eyes met his hazy ones. His gaze burned the fire brighter within her, sending a pulse down her to her clit.

He grabbed the ends of her gown, and raised it right where the collar met her skin.

His blond hair dipped beneath the fabric, and his hot lips made a trail up her stomach. Something slick and fierce left a string of wetness that caught with the cool air of the room.

His lips made contact with her breasts, and his teeth nipped and sucked until there was a throbbing on them. They raked on her nipples, and she felt her back arch against her will.

Peter shushed her, and a wave of shame overcame her for a moment until his lips found her nipples again, sucking them tight. 

The slick heat lapped at the tip of her breasts, rubbing circles around the bead, and she ran a hand through his hair and pulled at the roots.

“Feisty, aren’t we?” He crooned against her chest.

She curled her tongue against the roof of her mouth, refusing to give him the satisfaction.

One of his hands removed themselves from the bed, and made a train down her abdomen to reach below the mass of dark curls covering her clit.

Her hands traced the hard muscles of his chest through his shirt, and she mimicked his movements, going lower until she landed on the clasp of his pants.

She dared herself to look lower to the part straining against himself. That made his tight pants look even tighter than usual, and even more holy to stare at.

“Patience, sweetheart.” His lips curled, and attention focused on the hidden part of herself he was busy occupying himself with.

And then a wave of intensity racked through her veins, and her body glued itself to the bed, it was continuous, torturous and there was nothing to stop it.

“Please,” she begged, to whom, she didn’t know.

“Please, what?” His soft voice snaked in her ears in such a way it only made the feeling worse.

And as much as it was, she still felt hollow, and needed something, anything to replace that feeling.

He mumbled something she couldn’t hear, and she found herself moaning. “I need you.”

He pulled away from her clit, and brought his digit up to his mouth and sucked with a pop .

He waved her fingers away from the clasp of his pants. With the course of her pleasure pumping through her skin, she’d forgotten they were still there.

She faintly heard the sound of unzipped pants and the rustling of him tugging them off.

He unbuttoned his shirt and threw it off to the side somewhere, but it all faded to mush as his torso lined up with hers. Their lips reconnected, playing a tug of war with their gnashing teeth, and dancing tongues.

Her underwear was pulled off of her ankles, and thrown to the floor below.  The cool air wafted against her exposed slit.

His eyes caught on hers, and she could see the cautiousness swirling in those stormy depths. The question lingering between their hesitation.

Their romance started a couple of months before. It began as small, kind gestures in the rainbow room to developing into Peter sneaking into her bedroom past ten, and staying for what seemed like hours.

From her thinking he was just an attractive orderly, to someone who made her heart skip a beat every time she saw him.

And after everything with Papa, here they were barely able to speak to one another without her getting emotional, the glances far and between, the old burning passionate feeling disintegrated into something forcibly forbidden.

It was fun. It was dangerous. It was chancy. It was reeling. It was terrifying.

They thought they had done their best to be as discreet as possible, so much as far as Peter hacking into the security system and removing every midnight footage of himself entering her room.

They thought they were safe until one day, Papa had stormed into the rainbow room and pulled them aside into one of the experiment rooms to interrogate them.

Papa’s face was terrifically gaunt as he slipped from anger to shock to confusion. Apparently, he had never calculated the possibility of the only two super-powered adults in the building involving themselves in such a dynamic.

After that, Papa distanced himself from them, and they’d done the same to each other, unaware of what Papa’s distance meant, and disappointed their tryst had been thrusted out into the spotlight.

About a month after they were found out, Papa reappeared more than usual, keeping an eager eye on them both. Being kind to them together and separately out of the blue.

Of course, she should have realized this was when she started having randomized visits to the girls’ lavatory to throw up her breakfast, lunch or dinner with a dire compulsion.

She had tried to keep that a secret too. She ate the foods she once loved, suddenly smelt awful to her, waiting until the meal was over to gorge it out.

Her body had always been in-tune with her. It wasn’t like her organs to fight her like this. She refused to go to the infirmary, knowing deep down it was deeper than a normal sickness.

But despite all her efforts, there was one thing she couldn’t hide and it was the ever-growing bulge in her stomach.

She was found out a week before her miscarriage. She had missed the first rotation for the rainbow room, because she spent all night laying fatigued in bed, her throat as sore as salt.

One of the orderlies informed Papa, and hell began there. He was surprisingly ecstatic compared to him raging a storm when he first found out about she and Peter’s relationship.

The entire week consisted of her being hooked up to monitors, IVs shoved inside the crook of her arm, and the cold clear gel splattered all over her stomach.

Everyone involved in Papa’s projects wanted to be present for the ultrasound. Every single orderly lined up behind her brothers and sisters, who too were invited.

Peter stood behind Five. To anyone else, he looked unemotionally attached. The paragon of stability. But for her, his eyes were wild, nostrils flared the entire two hours.

And the worst crime of it was, she wasn’t even the one who told him she was pregnant.

Papa spoke about a new prodigy that was to be born. A new experiment in itself that had mutated from an old one. There was a round of applause from the other doctors above the room, encased in protective glass, peering down at her like she belonged in a zoo.

The ultrasound went smoothly, or so Papa said to her privately. The baby was small but relatively healthy. The gender was to be determined.

But it’s state of health was the only thing that kept the untamed sparkle in Papa’s eyes going.

And then the miscarriage happened, and all hope in Papa’s eyes burnt out. And all feeling in her left with it.

She’d spend the last two weeks mourning the child growing in her, maybe thinking she’d have something of her own for once. Even if she wasn’t sure what would happen with the child, if Papa would let her keep it, if she even wanted it.

And, that day, for the first time in weeks, stepped outside her room and tried to occupy herself with the trinkets in the rainbow room. She’d slipped Peter a note the split second no one was looking, and allowed the rest of the night to unfold like it had.

Her plan was already beginning, with the way Peter’s gaze left hers. Something hot and slick pressed against her most private part.

His eyebrow raised in question, but she shimmied herself lower to push his tip past her lower lips.

He raked it alongside her slit, up and down, pressing it against her clit briefly before lowering itself against her opening.

Her body throbbed, and pulsated with the feeling of his appendage replacing those cold, rough memories of the instruments slipping inside her - ripping her out.

And she relaxed under his touch. His body tightened around hers as he entered slowly as if she were a doll or thin plant.

She froze around him. He’d pull out slightly, push back in, and do the same motions until the pacs fastened, and the familiar pressure wound up above her pelvis, growing like a bulb and frying every point in her body.

He held her close, her legs wrapped around his. His nails dug into her hips, dragging her into him and rolling their flesh together. The sound of their desperation bounced off the walls.

A shiver hovered in her spine and arched her chest into his, her chin burrowed into his sweaty shoulder.

She forced her attention to cooperate with her brain, and scanned the floor for Peter’s pants. There, at the corner of the bed were his white pants, bundled up with his shirt.

And, sticking out of the pocket, gleaming in the light, was the white key card she’d been praying for.

The focus didn’t last long as one long hit made her shift back into her nails digging his back.

She bit her lips to contain the mewing noises to a minimum, but most would belt out, releasing as a sharp cry.

A gasp echoed into the room as a electric tingle seeped in her clit.

“Harder,” she nearly growled into his ear.

He thrusted into her, the tip of his penis hitting against her bubble with an erratic pace. The muscles in her thighs ached as they ground further against the small of Peter’s back, and pulled him as close as they could get.

A sheen of sweat slapped against their combined skin with each attachment and detachment. His length intoxicating against her walls, perfectly aligning with her autonomy.

He’d lowered a hand from her waist, to the connection between their bodies and flicked the tip of his finger against her bud, causing tingles down to her curled toes.

The torture only heated her body, and fastened with a quickness that didn’t seem real. Her nails had dug into something soft, and her head had reared back to the ceiling - her muscles clamping up just as the stars tremor through her entire body.

The high lingered in her head, throbbing until the pressure swirled in her abdomen with his length pressing in and out of you. His full blond hair now stuck to his forehead, and his lips pursed with hardened focus.

She leant in his ear, and the motion made her shiver against his re-positioning. “Come for me, baby.”

A groan reverberated through his throat, and he held her down by her hips as he ravaged her, having her bounce in his lap with boundless fervor piling in her gut once again.

Her fingers tangled in his sweat slicked hair, tugging at the roots, rocking her hips with his face movements. Movements she couldn’t match even if she tried.

Warmth shot out into her core, and his chin slumped down to her shoulder. She had to weigh herself on the bed, while supporting his body on hers.

His heavy breath hit her neck, and it took him a minute to rejuvenate. She lowered him to the mattress, as she sought out her underwear, and pressed her gown down to her knees.

She didn’t bother to glance back as she scooped up the key card and bolted for the door.

“Mariah!”

She bit her lip in shame, knowing how embarrassed he must be, naked in her bed, with no control of his situation at all.

She buried the shame as she reached the door she’d been looking for, and unlocked it. She raced down the steps and stopped right behind the pipe she’d snuck out of all those years ago.

The moment she saw it, she felt her stomach drop to the floor. There was no way she was going to fit her adult body through that pipe.

She crouched down, and rimmed the outline of it with her finger. Entertaining the idea of it, she slid her right leg through the hole and it only confirmed what she felt seconds before.

Even being super petite, her leg covered half of the space in that pipe. It was way too small, and she was going to have to find another way out of hell.

“Thirteen.”

She froze.

Peter walked down the steps, and she spun around to face him.

“Thirteen,” Peter clasped his hands together. “You are advised to go back to your room.”

She pursed her lips, and remembered Papa’s wild eyes when she was on the gurney, on display for all the doctors and her brothers and sisters to see, feeling nothing short of fear and humiliation. She remembered those cold instruments reaching inside her, and pulling out the remnants of her child, Papa’s prodigy, the lab’s experiment.

A sudden rush of anger coursed through every vein in her body.

“Fuck no,” she hissed.

She raised her arm, and blasted Peter to the nearest wall. He crumbled and fell to the floor.

She sprinted up the steps, and wrapped her hand around the handle of the door when she glanced out into the room one last time.

“I’m sorry, Peter.”

She closed the door behind her, and sprinted down the main hall that Papa and the other scientists would  come from in the mornings.

She slid the card inside the slot, and stepped inside the room. There were monitors, like in that tv store from the mall, but instead of the raunchy videos they played there, there was footage of her and her brothers and sisters rewinding and playing from different locations in the lab.

But she didn’t have time to stare at that all day. So she glanced around until she found a door at the edge of the room, and kept running until her slipper touched the wet pavement .

The moon hovered above her, as if welcoming her for her troubles. A sign of her freedom.

And it was so tempting to just give in, relax, just go on about her time, but she soon realized as she trekked through the town that she wasn’t just going to blend in with everyone else so easily, or that when given the chance, Papa wasn’t just going to give up on her if she wasn’t careful.

Over the course of time, She educated herself in societal norms. Much more so than she did back in the mall. She’d study the phrases her peers would use, casual and formal ones. She felt around her way on how to approach certain conversational pieces with different people. What to look for in body language.

She kept her eyes on the trends the women wore, and tried to replicate it through her own doing. But, she sorely missed the stores she had access to in the mall, back when she had her blow dryer and makeup.

And she thanked the information in the numerous books, and magazines she acquired over those free years.

It took her a little while to begin to readjust to the outside world, but she was getting the hang of it every day that had passed.

She had gotten a job at the local K-Mart, stocking shelves, trying to be as discreet as possible. She would occasionally be assigned to cashier or bagger but it was usually late at night, and she didn’t suspect Papa or any other scientist would barge in at ten-thirty looking for her.

And there were days at the beginning when those burning fears would fade, and she would allow herself to laugh with her co-workers, and hang out. But, it didn’t take too long for those fears to reappear, for her to hide within herself, to wrap her arms around her stomach and hope they never find her again.

It soon became a whispering voice in her ear every now and then. Sometimes the voice was soft and familiar, and other times it mocked her as she gripped the edges of the toilet, praying for the sickness to end.

1986: Now

“Ms. Broughton.”

She, Karrie Miller, and all of the students turned around to face the door.

Principal Melinda Flores stood at the doorway, “May I speak with you, alone?”

Karrie turned from the chalkboard, eyeing both her and Principal Flores. “Is something the matter, Principal Flores?”

“Just a personal call, Mrs. Miller, thank you.” Principal Flores motioned her to the hall, and she tried to ignore the stares of the children as they followed out the door.

Melinda took her aside, “Lacy, we got a call from the elementary school, and there seems to be an incident involving Isabel.”

Her heart shot to the depths of her stomach. All of her fears started to resurface. “What? What happened?”

Melinda sighed, holding up her hands. “I wasn’t given any details, but they asked for you right away…”

She started out the front doors of the school, ignoring Melinda’s pleadings to listen to the rest of what she had to say and hopped inside her car.

She drove to the elementary school, and ran into the principal’s office. Her fear hovered above her shoulders as she noticed two children sitting at opposite sides of the office. Four adults, two of them possible parents of the other child, holding an ice pack to his eye, glared at her as she went for Isabel.

Isabel sat with her hands hunched under her chin, her lips pursed in anger.

She sat at Isabel’s feet, “Baby, what happened?”

Isabel jutted her jaw at the boy sitting in the corner. “He was making fun of dad and I socked him in the face.”

She inhaled a breath as her eyes met the parents widened gaze. After she found out she was pregnant, she had to adjust her original story, saying that her old boyfriend had been in the military, shipped off to Iran and it was highly unlikely to ever see him again.

The worst part of it, was she had to repeat that story to her daughter, over and over again.

Principal Rhodes stepped forward, “From what we gathered from witnesses, it happened during recess. Isabel was playing on the swings with some of her friends and Brock came forward and started to make fun of her.”

“He said I didn’t have a dad.” Isabel said, staring right at Brock. “And that even if I did, he wouldn’t want me.”

She ground her jaw, and glared into the eyes of the boy holding the pack in his hand. The bruise would be a nasty green color soon. “That’s because she’s a freak!”

She stood up, trying to reign down the feeling of anger that rushed through her.

“That’s no way to talk to anyone, Brock Daniel,” his mother scolded. “You apologize to Isabel this instant.”

Brock scoffed, “Why should I be the one apologizing? She’s the one who punched me in the face.” 

The parents looked at her with apologetic glances, and she flexed her fingers, feeling the world around her starting to tighten.

“If you could see the way she makes her pencils hover then you’d think the same thing too.” He said.

“What’re you talking about, Brock?” His mother asked.

Brock gestured to Isabel, “She’ll make her pencils write for themselves when she thinks no one else is looking, and sometimes during recess she’ll make the rocks float in the air. It’s freaky!”

The other adults groaned to themselves, and Brock’s parents gave her a shake of the head, but inside, she was doing everything in her power from hyperventilating.

She turned back at Isabel, who stared at her through her fingers, those blue ocean eyes telling her everything she needed to know.

Chapter Text

December, 1977:

She placed another piece inside the puzzle, and went for another, fitting another piece with the end of the other.

“Would you like any company?”

She glanced up, and saw Peter standing next to the table. She gestured to the empty seat across from her, and he took it.

He helped her place a couple of pieces together, and she snuck a glance at him as he focused on the puzzle below them.

The bright light brought out the contour of his cheekbones, and the way he pursed his lips as his eyes mapped out the pieces made the edges of her lips quirk up.

She wasn’t oblivious. She saw the way the female orderlies ogled at him. 

“Thirteen?”

She blinked.

He was staring at her with unassuming eyes. “Your turn.”

She pulled her bottom lip under her teeth, feeling heat suffocate her face as she scoured the table for a piece.

“Are you okay?” Peter asked her, a smile reaching those eyes of his.

She nodded frantically, and attached another piece together.

1986: Now

Brock’s parents decided not to press charges, thank God. And luckily, Isabel’s suspension ran over Spring Break.

She pulled Isabel into her room, and closed the door behind her, despite no one but them being in her apartment.

She groaned into her hands, “Isabel, what did we talk about before?”

Isabel whined, “I didn’t mean to, Mom, I just got so angry!”

“What - no, I mean about using your abilities in public!”

Isabel scoffed, and threw her hands up in the air. “I wasn’t hurting anyone with them, I was just fooling around.”

“We agreed you would stop using them in public, Izzy!”

“Yeah, but I was using them when no one was looking!”

“Well, clearly somebody was, and you’re lucky they were so focused on you punching that boy in the face that they decided not to look into it even further.”

They both groaned simultaneously, and Isabel sighed something under her breath.

She rose a brow, “Huh?”

Isabel glanced up at her. “Why do I have to hide them, anyway? I know some people would think they’re really cool.”

She pursed her lips to keep from frowning. Unfortunately, with all the films that were coming out nowadays about aliens, and those Star Wars films that Dustin Henderson and some of his friends talked about on a daily basis, that would probably be true - to an extent.

But people were always afraid of what they didn’t know. What they couldn’t control. She wished she fleshed that out sooner.

Even back at the lab, Papa — Dr. Brenner would have that sliver of fear in his eyes and demeanor whenever he spoke to them, especially in the experiment room when they were all grouped together.

Especially with her. He had a whole new look of fear when it came to her.

She relaxed her face. “Because it’s not safe, baby. We’ve discussed this.”

Isabel slumped on her bed, her stare glaring at the glow-in-the-dark stars on her bedroom ceiling. 

She was about to turn around, and head for her own bedroom when she heard Isabel whisper. “No one’s coming for us.”

Her heart clenched, and she so wanted badly to respond back. ‘Sweetheart, you have no idea.’

Chapter Text

December, 1977:

She was in line, waiting for her turn to experiment on the lightbulbs. It was unfair, really. Comparing her to each of these young children.

Though, she may’ve misjudged herself. She was sure these kids had probably been practicing since birth, whereas she’d been hiding in a mall for a good four years trying to contain it.

She watched as Six finished his rotation. He had gotten three of the ten lightbulbs lit up, but only for a couple of seconds.

Her gaze twitched up at movement, and she noticed Peter focusing his attention on Seven as Papa fixed his head with the instrument.

She couldn’t help herself staring at the curve of Peter’s face, the angle of his jaw. And those eyes, those perfect ocean blue eyes that were scanning the room until they landed on —

She averted her gaze away, feeling that cursed heat that threatened to show on her face, if it wasn’t already.

She inwardly scowled at herself. Perfect eyes? What was she thinking? When did she start thinking that? Why did she start thinking that?

She inhaled a breath, and in an unconscious moment, her eyes slid back up to Peter. His gaze caught her glance, and against her clenching gut, her heart did a flip.

The crease around his eyes crinkled, and his stare became curious. He tilted his head just slightly, and she found herself doing the same.

A round of applause caught her attention, and she went back to focusing on the matter at hand. Eight went back to his place in line, and she mentally shook her head at herself. Had she been so busy preening over Peter’s chiseled face that she missed an entire presentation?

She straightened up. Never again.

1986: Now

She tugged off her shoes, and slipped into bed. It was only an hour past noon, and Principal Rhodes suspended Isabel for the rest of the week. Thankfully, it was Thursday.

She flopped to her side, and stared at the wall. Thoughts of Isabel hovering her pencil and making it write by itself haunted her over again.

How did anyone except Brock not notice? Surely there had been some kid who witnessed something out of the ordinary. And the teacher? Well, there were probably explanations for that.

She flopped to her back, and sighed against her palm sliding down her face. Thankfully, and - she was going to convince herself this to keep her sane - that no one else noticed besides Brock and that no one was going to take him seriously.

She shifted on her side, and pressed her face into the pillow.

She’d remembered two years ago. She had just been given a position as a teacher’s aid at Hawkins High, and she was finishing up her second year at the middle school.

She was putting away two of the returned books back into their sections, when Dustin Henderson and his group of friends entered into the library.

They were spouting arguments over some fantasy movie nonsense when she happened to glance over and do a double take. 

There, the fourth child in the group, was - no, it couldn’t be!

She took a couple of steps towards the circle shaped table, and Lucas happened to see her coming towards them. He nudged Dustin who shut up and looked at her with a smile on his face.

“Hey, Ms. Broughton, you are looking quite lovely today!”

She ignored him, and unconsciously made her way over to Eleven. Eleven had been whispering something to Mike, and glanced up at her. Her face froze, and all the color wiped from her face.

Eleven stood up, and took a step back.

“Eleven,” she whispered, not believing her eyes. It was impossible. “What are you doing here?”

Eleven’s wide eyes got even wider. “Thirteen.”

The boys, tried explaining their shock over their shared silence until Max told them to shut up.

Eleven’s chest heaved, and she took another step back. “You’re dead.”

She shouldn’t have been so surprised but she was. “Is that what Papa told you?”

Eleven reared her head back, and tears prickled out of the corners of her eyes.

She almost took a step forward, until she remembered what happened with most of her brothers and sisters when they got overwhelmed.

It looked like Eleven was headed that way until she lowered the hand she had raised to attack her. 

“Wait wait wait,” Dustin sputtered, “You know each other?”

She turned to face the boy, and nodded, still trying to process everything. “We grew up in the lab together.”

They all gasped, and started their speculations until Max’s voice raised above theirs.

“How did you get out?” Max asked.

Eleven pointed at her, “She’s a legend.”

“How?” Mike’s voice pitched in.

She inhaled, and remembered she was in public, where if there were any nosy people around, she was fucked. “Not here.”

They all looked at each other, and at the double doors leading to the library.

“No one‘s in here but us.” Dustin said, a smug grin on his face.

She shook her head, “But someone could walk in at any moment, and listen to a single word we say and report it to whoever who could report it to -”

Dustin held a hand up, “Alright, we got the gist. But you still have to tell us what happened, and who you are.”

She shook her head, and chuckled under her breath. “Why would I want to tell young pre-teens about the story of my life?”

“Because if you don’t we’ll tell someone who will tell someone,” Dustin started.

She rose a brow, and almost rolled her eyes at the weak form of blackmail. “Oh yeah? Tell them what?”

“About you?”

She made a face. “And endanger Eleven in the process? I don’t think so.”

Dustin gave his friends a look, and faced her again. He looked at a loss for words.

“Or we don’t talk.” Eleven spoke up.

The young girl glared her down until she caved.

“Fine, but not until school is over. And bring your books. I want it to look like I’m helping you study.”

After the school day ended, she met them at the tables sitting outside the school. 

She gestured them to one of the tables outside. They all gathered in a circle, with Eleven sitting directly across from her.

She held in a breath as she scanned the young girl’s face. She had grown up so much. So so much. A part of her almost felt guilt from leaving her, and the others behind. But she did what she had to do.

“So, let’s start with some basic questions.” Dustin said. “What is your name?”

She opened her mouth to speak -

“Your real name, not your made up one.” Dustin clarified.

She gave him a look and he shrugged.

She began, “My real name is Mariah Ortiz.”

“And your number.”

She sighed, and pulled back the sleeve to her sweater. They all leaned in, and examined her wrist.

“Why do you have two numbers?” Lucas asked.

“She escaped once.” Eleven stated.

They all raised their heads at her.

She nodded, “Yes, I did. Well, twice, actually. I first escaped when I was fourteen.”

She told them a majority of the stories of her escapes, leaving out the more explicit, dark details of her second escape and the time that lapsed with Peter. They were too young to hear those details.

They all gasped.

“That’s fucked up.” Dustin said.

She had to stop being surprised when kids cussed like that. “Yeah, it was.”

“What happened to the baby?” Eleven asked.

She furrowed her brows, “You knew?”

Eleven sighed, and thumbed the clipped off paint of the metal table with her nail. “Some of the older kids were talking about it. Said it was an experiment.”

Her mouth dropped, her eyes growing wider and wider by the second.

Papa - Dr. Brenner had always been tight-lipped about using specific words when it came to the experiment.

So, either the kids caught on, or one of the orderlies told them.

“You had a baby with the old guy?” Dustin exclaimed.

She made a face, “Hell no!”

Both she and Eleven gaged at the mere thought of that happening.

She shook her head, composing herself. “No, No. It wasn’t him.”

“But it was someone there, wasn’t it?” Max asked.

She ground her jaw, the memories, the good ones resurfaced, and threatened to haze her vision.

She sucked in a breath, trying to withhold the guilt that flashed forward, leaving Peter in that hell, when they could have ran away together. Should have ran away together.

The table grew silent, and she glanced up to Eleven, who like her friends, stared at her as the tears rolled down her cheeks.

There was an obliviousness in the young girl’s gaze that made her question…

“Was it someone in the laboratory?” Lucas asked.

She heard Max scoff, “Duh!”

She inhaled a shaky breath, and glanced at every single one of them before asking. “Do you have any other questions for me?”

“How did you and Eleven grow up together? Aren’t you like thirty-five?”

She threw Dustin a look. Wow, the boy had been bold this whole entire day.“I’m not that old. I’m twenty-seven, next question.”

They glanced at each other, and Lucas leaned forward. “What powers do you have?”

She fully expected this one. “I’m not too different from Eleven, but I have an extra power of reality warping.”

The kids awed, and started making jokes with one another. She just wanted to get this over with and have her conversation with Eleven.

“So, you could make reality exactly how you want it right now?”

She shrugged, “Yeah, I could.”

The kids waited for her to respond, and she slumped against the chair. The underlying anticipation seeped from then, and she forced herself to ask them. “What would you like me to do?”

Before any of them could make a peep, and rose a hand. “It can’t be otherworldly, and it has to be somewhat easy to do.”

Some of them groaned.

“Look, let me show you something.” With a wave of her fingers, she allowed a rollercoaster to zip out of the fabric of time, and swirl around them just to travel back to it’s original era.

She smiled as the six of the kids jumped off their seats, and watched as the coaster closed out of view. They whooped and hollered.

Eleven stayed behind, their gaze connected. There was an uncertainty that simmered there, one of cautiousness too.

“How did you escape, Eleven?”

Eleven told her of her story, her friends involvement in everything and how what they called the ‘Upside Down’ had been haunting them since the beginning.

It seemed like something happened every year. She could only imagine how exhausting that was, especially for young children like them.

She inhaled a breath, wanting to ask so many questions within a certain range, but knowing some of those answers would either be triggering or vague.

So, she asked one she thought would be safe, one that should be a simple answer despite the gnawing at her gut.

“How is Peter?”

The crease between Eleven’s brows tightened, and she stared at her in confusion.

“You know, Peter, the orderly.” She reiterated. “Tall, skinny, blond hair.”

That didn’t seem to confirm anything as Eleven shook her head, the furrow in her brows deepening.

That was weird. She pressed her back against the seat.

Eleven’s friends came back, and stood around the table, waiting for their friend to join them.

They bid their goodbyes to her, and she reached over to grab Eleven’s hand. It stiffened under her touch.

She gave Eleven a smile, “Please keep my secret safe. It’s not just me I’m living for anymore.”

She sighed into the pillow, and thought back to her daughter in the adjacent room.

If there was one person she needed to talk to, it was going to be Eleven.

And her hope deflated as soon as she remembered Eleven was in California with the Byers.

“Fuck.”

Chapter Text

December, 1977:

Twelve groaned as the disk slipped over the number six. She went over, and knelt beside him.

“Having trouble?” She asked.

Twelve nodded, and she added. “Maybe if you try to slip it over the left or right just a couple of rows over, it’ll land on the number you want.”

He continued to stare at her, so she asked for the disk and slipped it over three rows, watching as it trickled down and landed on six.

Twelve laughed, and gave her a quick hug. She smiled, and hugged the little boy back.

She got a weird feeling at the back of her head, and turned her attention to the left-most side of the room. Standing against the wall, and staring in her direction was Peter.

Those eyes of his bored into hers, a curiousness to his gaze.

Her breath left her lungs, and she turned back to Twelve.

March, 1986:

She forced herself to pay attention during class, and somehow was able to help the students who were struggling with the curriculum.

The bell rang, and the students scrambled to get out the door.

She began collecting all her papers together in a single file.

“Is everything alright, Lacy? You’ve been acting kind of… off today.”

She looked at Karrie, and inhaled a breath. “Yeah, just don’t know how to handle Isabel’s suspension.”

Karrie sat at the adjacent desk, and listened to her rant.

“…She’s not a bad kid, and I don’t think something like this has ever happened before so…” she threw her hands up.

Karrie sighed, “Well, everyone knows how Brock Hampton is, so I wouldn’t take it too personally, but I understand your frustration.” 

“That still doesn’t give Isabel a reason to sock Brock in the face!”

Karrie tilted her head, “No, but he asked for it. Someone was going to do it anyways, and it just happened to be Isabel.”

“I guess,” she said.

Karrie placed a hand on top of hers. “Don’t beat yourself up over it. It’s not like Isabel is going around punching people in the face for no reason. She’s a good kid.”

She pursed her lips, mulling it all over. “It’s not just that either, it’s… the older she gets, the more questions she has about her father and the more I feel like I have to restrain from telling her certain things.”

She bit her tongue as she too, had to watch what she said to Karrie.

Karrie nodded, “War is one of those things that’s hard to talk about. Easy to gloss over.”

“Especially for kids.” She muttered.

“Yeah,” Karrie agreed.

“But the older they get the wiser they get.” She said.

Karrie squeezed her hand. “How about every year that passes you tell her a sliver of more information than you did the year before. And when she’s old enough, you tell her the entire story.”

She nodded, reviewing pieces of the fabricated story she’d tell to her friends, her co-workers, her own daughter. “I was thinking of telling her everything when she turns eighteen.”

“That’s good.”

Karrie pushed up on the desk, and went over to hers. “Well, I don’t want to keep you waiting here, so you are dismissed to go home.”

She chuckled under her breath, “Thank you, Mrs. Miller.”

Karrie did the same. “Of course, Ms. Broughton. Now go, class is dismissed. Enjoy your Spring Break!”

She slung her tote bag around her shoulder, and was about to turn towards the front doors when something harsh bumped into her shoulder.

She glanced up to see one of Jason Carver’s friends doing a double take at her. “Sorry, Ms. Broughton!”

She gave him a simple wave in response, and shook her head irritably.

She strode out the hall, weaving in and out of the traffic of kids nearly shoving each other out of the door.

She slid into the driver’s seat of her car, and waited for all the kids she knew were newer drivers to leave the parking lot until she decided to go.

She tapped on the wheel, absently listening to Madonna on the radio. She couldn’t help her thoughts shift to Isabel. What would she do with her?

Karrie was right, she supposed, but it wasn’t like she could give Isabel a clap on the shoulder for punching a boy in the face even if he was taunting her and making fun of her.

And it didn’t matter whether the boy was Brock Hampton. She could have solved the situation with anything else but violence.

But, it was the weekend. It wasn’t like she could coop her up in the house for the entire time.

She got to her apartment, and closed the door behind her.

The staticky echoes of voices bounced off the entrance to the apartment. She set her purse down on the sofa, and sighed as she noticed Isabel had propped herself right in front of the tv.

She was sure she’d read in a news article that the rays would make children cross-eyed.

She began to scoot Isabel back, and was retributed with a gasp.

She glanced at the screen, and pursed her lips. Jem and the Holograms. That girl loved that show to death.

“Isabel, you’re going to blind yourself if you’re that close to the television.”

Isabel, acting more like a teenager than an seven-year-old rolled her eyes. “You’re always paranoid about that.”

“I feel like I have a reason to be,” she said, sitting in the chair behind Isabel. “We have furniture you can sit on, you don’t need to sit on the floor.”

Isabel groaned, “Mom, I’m fine. Just don’t believe everything you read in the paper.”

She sighed, and went to the kitchen. She opened the fridge, and frowned at the half empty canisters, and the empty jug of milk on the door.

She half-turned to face Isabel, “We’ll have to go to the store in a few.”

Isabel might as well jumped to her feet because when Lacy turned fully around Isabel had been right behind her.

Lacy doubled over, “Jesus!”

“Sorry, Mom.”

She shook her head, and closed the fridge door. “Do… you need anything from the store?”

Isabel shrugged, “Yeah, just some snacks.”

She nodded, and told Isabel to follow quickly behind her. She wanted to get to the store before the early Spring Break crowd accumulated.

They parked in the end of the parking lot, and she had Isabel stay close behind her as mothers weaved in and out of spots with their shopping carts.

She and Isabel strolled in, and she allowed Isabel to put small snack items in their cart, while she shopped for the more essential things like sandwich items for an easy lunch for the next couple of days, and a bit pricier foods for dinner.

She paid for her items, and Isabel helped load the bags in the trunk.

It was a relatively uneventful for the rest of the night. She and Isabel ate dinner, mostly in silence, and Isabel glanced over her shoulder at the television every five minutes.

She picked up her, and Isabel’s plates and placed them in the sink. It’d been too hectic of a week to do them now.

She ran a hand through her curly hair, and told herself she’d do them first thing in the morning.

With nothing else to do, she faced the strobing television lights. “Hey honey, I’m going to bed. Just make sure you don’t stay up too late, okay?”

Isabel mumbled something back, but Lacy  was sure it wasn’t anything too helpful.

She closed the door behind her, stripped off her work clothes and slipped into her nightgown before sinking into her lightweight sheets and allowing the night to pull her away.

A deep ring echoed through the apartment walls, and it made her shoot up out of the bed. She tumbled and fell out of her sheets to get to the phone.

“Hello?” She answered briskly.

“Lacy, this is Karrie…” Karrie’s voice came out in long, ragged breaths almost as if she’d been running.

She was about to ask Karrie if she was okay but Karrie interrupted. “I need you to turn on the news, right now!”

Lacy scrambled into the living room, and turned the television on. Her stomach did a flip as it was still on the Isabel’s channel.

Her heart raced inside her chest as she flipped channels. “Karrie, talk to me what’s going on?”

“J - Just look at the news, Lacy!”

The television finally flipped to the news channel that had zeroed in on one of the houses in the trailer park at the edge of Hawkins.

Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed Hawkins police cars lined outside the entrance of the small trailer house.

But all she could truly focus on was the reporter glancing back at the trailer house.

“…We don’t have a lot of details right now, but we can confirm that the body of a Hawkins High student was discovered early this morning…”

The phone dropped to the floor.

Chapter Text

December, 1977:

Papa placed the instrument on the crown of her head and adjusted the notches on the device he had beside him.

One of the orderlies placed a heart monitor wrap around her bicep, and stepped aside.

“Thirteen, I want you to reach out, and focus on the image I’ve drawn on the piece of paper beside me, can you do that?”

She nodded, closing her eyes. There were inner waves she allowed her mind to go to, to speed past, and then she saw the room they were in. She saw herself, sitting in the chair, with the machine in between she and Papa.

She tried to zoom in on the piece of paper Papa must’ve moved into his lap to test her, but there was something else controlling her ability to make it shift outside the room.

Her gaze followed down the hall, and entered through the rainbow room. It zipped over the rainbow wall, and the children playing with their toys, to the orderlies standing against the wall overseeing the activity.

It landed on Peter’s unassuming face. Those pigmented eyes scanned the room. That jaw tightened, and marked more of his chiseled cheekbones.

And those nice, full lips. There was this rising desire to press her lips against his. To knead hers on top of his, pull at them, and nip at them.

“Thirteen!”

She froze, and opened her eyes. There was an erratic beeping on the machine beside her.

Papa’s face was a bright red. “What happened?”

The feeling in her face matched the color of Papa’s face, but for an entirely different reason. “I don’t know.”

Papa pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “Okay, let’s try this again.”

She nodded, and mentally told herself she wasn’t going to allow any thoughts like that to reappear again.

She shifted herself in her seat, and gasped at the slickness between her thighs. A sensation she’d only felt when she read some of those raunchy books from the mall, all those years ago.

She squeezed her thighs together, and a pulse ran through her core.

“Thirteen, are you able to continue?”

She glanced up at Papa, and nodded.

March, 1986:

She and Isabel sat in the living room for the rest of that day watching the news, trying to catch any update they could grab their hands on.

The phone rang on the coffee table and she lunged forward, putting the phone to her ear.

“Lacy, it’s me again,” Karrie said.

“Hey,” she said, focusing her attention on the television. “What’s up?”

Karrie sighed. “The school was brought into investigation, considering, you know…”

She pursed her lips, a little confused. “Okay…”

“And, Melinda called a majority of the faculty, to let them in on some of the news concerning the investigation. So, just to let you know, I trust you, so I know you’ll keep this between the two of us until you get the call from Melinda…”

She frowned. “Get the call from Melinda?”

“Lacy, please - just listen to me.” There was a sound of air blown into the speaker of the phone. “I don’t know how to say this, but, the victim is confirmed to be Chrissy Cunningham.”

She nearly dropped the phone to the floor. “What?”

Her heart hurt for sweet Chrissy. The girl never made an enemy anywhere she went, and always seemed to have a reason to smile. What monster would dare harm that kind young girl?

“Yeah,” Karrie sighed, “I know. But, that’s not all, Lacy.”

There was a brief silence, as if Karrie had stepped away from the phone for a minute.

“Karrie?” She called out.

“I’m here, just trying to figure out how to tell this to you…”

She made a face. “Well, I know it doesn’t involve Isabel because she’s sitting next to me, so I think I’ll be okay.”

“Alright, well, the scene of the crime happened at Wayne Munson’s house. The police suspect the perpetrator is Eddie.”

She shook her head, almost laughing at the absurdity of the claim. It was a known fact in the Hawkins community that Eddie Munson wasn’t exactly the most popular kid in the crowd. And, it probably didn’t help that he had to repeat his senior year twice either. But, the last two years she helped him with his schoolwork, she’d seen a side of Eddie that wasn’t the wild, loud and rambunctious side that everyone else recoiled at.

Inside that nerdy shell everyone else focused on, he showed her the insecurities that laid dormant for so long. No real father figure to look up to, his uncle working unreasonable hours just to make ends meet, all Eddie had was himself.

Reminded her of herself when she was his age, which wasn’t even ten years ago, at least not for a couple of weeks.

“I know this has come to a shock to you, I’m sorry.”

All Lacy could do was absent-mindlessly watch the re-running footage from the news, and hear the silence on the other line.

“I…” Lacy stammered. There were no words. Anything just wouldn’t make sense.

There was a ring on her phone, and she said her abrupt goodbyes to Karrie before hanging up and answering back.

“Hello?”

“Lacy? This is Melinda Flores, and if you have the time, I would like to speak to you.”

She jumped up, and brought the landline with her as she carried the conversation into the kitchen.

“Good Morning, Melinda, how may I help you?” She asked. 

That seemed to catch Melinda off guard. “…Good Morning, Lacy, I would just like to update you on the situation at hand. I don’t know if you keep up with the current news, but the police is currently investigating a possible ‘homicide’ involving two of our students at Hawkins High.”

That one word threw her back. Homicide? That was an awfully big accusation for something that the police just discovered a few hours ago.

But nonetheless, she had to keep her composure, and the promise she made to Karrie. “ Yeah , I heard about it on the news. Two of our students? Are you sure this horrific situation has two of our students involved?”

Melinda sighed, “Unfortunately, yes, Lacy. The police has identified the victim, and has just finished notifying her family.”

“God, that’s awful. I can’t imagine what her family is feeling right now.”

“I know, it would be my worst nightmare.”

She ground her jaw, her gaze teetering over to Isabel who was occupied with the news.

Whatever this was, if, and and that was a big if, Eddie Munson had done this, then she hoped he’d be reprimanded as soon as possible.

But, it just didn’t resonate with her. The possibility of it made her stomach churn. It just didn’t feel right.

And, with what happened with Barbara all those years ago… could something similar be happening again?

And if so, was whatever this was, just targeting teenagers or would it target younger children as well? 

The feeling drained from her face, and a protective instinct thrummed through her veins to hold Isabel. If that were the case, then Isabel would be in more danger than she could’ve ever assumed.

Luckily, Isabel hadn’t shown an individual ability except for the typical telepathy Lacy and the other subjects at the lab had. And, since Isabel hadn’t been inducted into the lab, and practicing her abilities regularly, it would be hard to determine what her own unique ability was.

Maybe that would be for the best.

It would be easier for Isabel if that were the case.

“Yeah, mine too.”

There was silence at the other end, and then came a staticky, “Lacy, there is something I need to ask you.”

She brought the phone the closest she could to her ear. “Yes?”

“The police would like to speak to you about Eddie Munson. Would you be willing to cooperate?”

Ice chilled down her spine. And, she feared, just like that, everything she’d worked for in the last almost eight years had been for nothing.

Chapter Text

December, 1977:

The door closed behind her. She ignored the glares from the older children as she made her way to one of the chess tables.

They never tried her. They knew they’d be powerless against her, but it didn’t stop them from expressing their apprehension through glares, and harsh bumps to her sides.

She knew they were just as much as victims as she was. It still hurt, being outcasted amongst some of her brothers and sisters.

It had to be an odd form of Stockholm Syndrome, she thought. A weird combination of condemnation and jealousy, for those who truly knew their reasons for being in the lab.

And she was sure the orderlies wondered why Papa still decided to experiment with her. She often wondered the same.

There was a shuffling in front of her, and she rose her eyes to meet Peter’s smiling face.

“Do you want an opponent?”

She gestured to the seat across from hers, and he sat down.

They played the game in silence for a couple of minutes. She’d sneak a glance at his face when it was his turn to play.

Peter cleared his throat, “Thirteen.”

She lifted her eyes to meet his.

Peter’s lips thinned in a small smile. “Your foot.”

She furrowed her brows, until she realized the tip of her foot had wedged itself against his thigh.

She was sure her face turned the brightest color she could think of. “I’m sorry!”

“It’s okay,” Peter whispered, his lips frozen in that thin smile.

She sucked in a breath, and forced herself to move the next piece.

She could’ve stood and decided to work on the disk drop game, or a puzzle but something glued her to her seat. She fully expected Peter to help someone else but he too stayed where he was.

“So, I heard you like to read.”

She reluctantly averted her eyes to Peter’s.

He continued, “There’s a book I just finished reading that I think you’d enjoy.”

She cocked her head and he knocked over one of her pieces. “Checkmate.”

March, 1986:

The last time Lacy was in a police station, she was eighteen, and brought into the custody of Dr. Brenner and his prodding scientists.

So, she couldn’t blame herself for the sweat dripping down the back of her neck .

Sheriff Powell clicked his pen, and started jotting down stuff on the clipboard in front of him.

“Alright,” Sheriff Powell grumbled, “Let’s begin. State your name, and your current work of occupation.”

“Lacy Broughton. I’ve been the teacher’s aid for Karrie Miller’s class for the last two years.”

Sheriff Powell scribbled it down, and she played the part she promised she would. “Sir, why have you called me into the police station?”

The Sheriff rose his head to meet hers, his fingers woven together. “This is about the homicide at the trailer park,  ma’am. I assume you’re aware of the current situation?”

She nodded fervently, “Of course. It was horrible what happened.”

Sheriff Powell grimaced. “Yes, it was. So, you’ve been Karrie Miller’s aid for two years you said.”

She nodded.

He continued, “How many students would you say you’ve helped per year?”

She leaned back in her chair. “Probably a couple’a hundred.”

“Did you happen to help Eddie Munson? If you remember him at all.”

She nodded, “Yeah, I did. I’ve helped Eddie through some of the coursework during class.”

Sheriff Powell scribbled on the clipboard, “Okay. Did Eddie ever seem troubled to you? Show any signs of violent anger, or say anything about wanting to physically harm anyone during your time with him?”

She shook her head, nearly scoffing. “No, he was a good kid. He was very sweet, insecure sometimes but his insecurities never leaned towards violence. He had the same concerns as every other kid.”

Sheriff Powell scribbled some more, “Have you ever seen Eddie Munson interact with Chrissy Cunningham? She’s a sophomore at Hawkins, petite, blonde, cheerleader…”

Her heart did a mini flip at the poor girl’s name. “No - I’ve never seen them interact at all. Why do you ask?”

“Chrissy was the female found dead at the scene.”

She brought a hand to her mouth, trying to play her part right. “Oh my god!”

Sheriff Powell nodded. “Eddie is our prime suspect, and we’re just trying to get all the information about him we can get.”

She wrung her fingers together, staring down at the clipboard covered by the Sheriff’s hands.

“Besides the basic insecurities, I’m not sure what else I can tell you.”

He pointed his pen at her, “We can start there, then. What did Eddie confide in you?”

She blew out a breath, “I mean, he talked about his lack of girlfriends, and how he didn’t seem attractive enough. He also talked about living with his uncle and-“

Sheriff Powell interrupted, “Wayne Munson?”

She shrugged again, “I guess? He didn’t tell me a name.”

Sheriff Powell drew a line in the paper, and she furrowed her brows.

“Thank you for your cooperation so far, Ms. Broughton. Is it Ms. Broughton , isn’t it?”

The anxious heat came back, and squeezed into her skin. “I’m sorry?”

“Your name. You’re not Mrs. Broughton.”

She couldn’t help but recoil. “What does this have to do with the investigation?”

Sheriff Powell drew out a long sigh, straightening out in his chair. “Just asking some questions, ma’am.”

She mimicked his posture. “Okay… No, no I’m not.”

He also scribbled that down, “…But you have a daughter right?”

Her heartbeat thumped faster, and her vision narrowed in on the Sheriff’s gaze. “ Yes, I do.”

“Your daughter’s father - is he in the picture?”

She shook her head, “No, he died in combat in Iraq.”

“I’m sorry to hear about that, ma’am. Truly. I knew a few kids from my school days that shipped off to war. One of them died in combat like your daughter’s father.”

“Thank you,” she nearly hissed. The lie stunk under her tongue.

She’d thought after all these years of convincing other people, including her daughter, she’d finally believe the lie, but the truth always seemed to haunt her when she was alone.

“How did you get your teaching position? Your resume never includes a college certificate.”

She swallowed hard. “I got my associates at the local community college. I had planned to go to a university, but couldn’t afford to juggle that part-time alongside taking care of my daughter and working a full-time job. I was hired on as the middle school librarian before Karrie Miller, the English teacher at Hawkins, convinced Melinda Flores to hire me on as an aide.”

“Were you and Mrs. Miller well acquainted before she offered you the position?”

She nodded, “We were very good friends. Still are.”

Sheriff Powell sighed, “Just one more question.”

Her fingers cramped up, and the tip of her nails dug into the metal table…

“How long did you work at the K-Mart on Wallace street?”

“Three years.”

She heard the scribbling from Sheriff Powell’s pen. “Alright. I think we’re done here, Ms. Broughton, I appreciate your cooperation, and if you have any questions, concerns or any follow up information you’d like to give us, feel free to call.”

A weight lifted from her shoulders, and he handed her a small rectangular card with his name and number on it.

Chapter Text

December, 1977:

There was a knock on Thirteen’s door, and it made her skin jump.

She hesitantly wrapped her hand around the knob. Maybe it was another spontaneous experiment time. But, after hours?

She opened the door, peeking her head through the crack of the door.

Strands of blond hair appeared behind it, and she swung the door open.   

Peter flashed a smile at her, and it made her freeze to the floor beneath her.

“May I come in?” He asked.

She took a double take at the door, gandering down the hall, but no one else was there. Just him.

She stepped to the side, and he stepped inside her room.

She closed the door behind him, not exactly knowing why she’d done that.

She turned around, and really looked at him. He held a paperback book to his chest, his smile wider than it usually was.

“Sorry for the late notice, but this is the book I was telling you about earlier.”

He handed her the book, and she glanced over it’s cover.

‘Of Mice and Men.’ It read.

“Have you read it?”

She shook her head, flipping through the pages.

“I’m surprised, considering it’s a classic,” He said.

She felt her lips quirk up. “Then how come you just finished it?”

Peter blew a snort out of his nose, and their eyes met. Their lips quirked even more.

Then he huffed out a breath, and moved to the front of the room. “I should probably go before they notice I’m gone.”

She must’ve made a face because he pursed his lips and said he’d see her the next day before leaving her alone with his book.

March, 1986:

Lacy locked the door behind her, and placed the Sheriff’s card on the counter.

“Everything okay, Mom?” Isabel asked.

She nodded, and sat on the couch. Isabel still had the news on, and the camera was now facing the school, talking about Chrissy’s academic achievements and the cheerleading squad. Some of her friends were being interviewed too.

“Damn,” she swore.

It was way too early to be doing personal interviews. She was sure Chrissy’s family, and friends hadn’t even processed the news yet.

She inhaled a breath, reviewing over everything that had happened in the last couple of hours. First, the call from Karrie, and her turning on the news. Sweet Chrissy Cunningham discovered dead at Eddie Munson’s house of all places. Being questioned by the police because Eddie confided in her, and now… she had absolutely no idea.

And she thought her life was supposed to be getting easier after she bid goodbye to Hawkins Laboratory.

She focused her attention on the screen, her ears drowning out the dull sound of the interviewer’s rehearsed questions.

It seemed for the past three years, something would always happened here. Once every year there would be an incident that would leave a kid murdered in a mysterious horrendous way, like Barbara Holland all those years before, or like Billy Hargrove six months ago.

And, now with Chrissy Cunningham, maybe the ever-spreading rumors were right, maybe Hawkins really was haunted.

As ridiculous as that would sound, it was beginning to make sense.

The last time something happened, she remembered Eleven and her friends had tried to convince her to help them, but she only feared it would bring attention to her and Isabel.

Maybe if she had helped, would’ve she been able to prevent Billy Hargrove’s death? Would it have brought attention to her daughter?

Over the course of nearly eight years, she’d had so much guilt racked up it was beginning to look unhealthy. Peter. Eleven. Her left behind brothers and sisters. Barbara. Billy. Chrissy and now possibly Eddie.

How many lives could she say she’d let down, just for the sake of her own life?

She inhaled a deep breath. You win some, you lose some.

A hard ringing sound nearly lifted her bottom off the cushion. She caught her breath and leaped for the phone.

“Hello?”

“Lacy,” Karrie sighed, “I thought they were going to keep you there forever!”

She smiled to herself. “I’m all good, Karrie, just exhausted behind belief.”

“I bet, good God.”

Isabel gave her a look, and she shrugged at her.

“What kind of questions did they ask you?”

Lacy clarified to Karrie, “It was just Sheriff Powell, and he just asked me what I assume the basic questions would be for a situation like this, I honestly don’t know.”

And, knowing Karrie, she was going to want to know more specifics. “Just like background check questions, and how I knew Eddie.”

“Yeah, that sounds like routine questions,” Karrie said. “Melinda called, and said the police are going to be questioning each of us separately. Guess you were lucky and got yours over with, already.”

She felt her eyes squint. Was she the first one Sheriff Powell and his band of cop friends decided to question first? Had they not interrogated Principal Flores before they even messed with her?

A sharp rapt of knocks and doorbell rings rung throughout the apartment, and made her jump up to her feet.

Isabel looked equally alarmed, and started to shuffle to the front door.

“Lacy?” Karrie asked, “What the hell is that?”

She tossed the phone to her left hand, leaving her dominant hand for defense. “Karrie, gotta go, bye.”

She threw the phone down, and motioned for Isabel to stay back. She crept for the door and peeked out the tiny circular peephole.

Her right hand balled into a fist, and her blood pumped in preparation.

She opened the door, and frowned immediately when she saw Dustin and his gang smiling at her.

Not this again. She was about to close the door on them when Dustin hung out his arm, before she could fully close it.

Dustin groaned in pain.

She withheld a sigh, and opened the door. “What’s going on?”

“It’s about Eddie—“

She held up a hand to stop him. “I know, the police are doing an investigation on it right now — wait — how do you know?”

They all looked at each other, and back to her.

Robin spoke up, “It’s a lot more than just that. Can we talk?”

She looked all of them over. The bags they had under their eyes were super dark, and even though it was the beginning of Spring Break, it was like a cloud hung over them, haunting their every move.

She glanced behind her. Isabel was leaning over to the side, trying to see who she was talking to.

She turned back to the kids, “Let’s talk outside.”

She closed the door behind her, and guarded the apartment with her arms crossed.

“You have to help us, Lacy.” Dustin pleaded. “Eddie is in serious trouble.”

She was about to ask why, besides the obvious, and Dustin started on a spew about how Max saw Chrissy entering Eddie’s place the previous night, and never coming out. Then, admitted that they sought him out at Reefer Rick’s boathouse where he was still hiding.

He explained Eddie’s side of the story, how Chrissy was lifted up in the air by an invisible demon of some kind, and eyes were gauged out of her head, limps had broken the opposite way - just a horrible amount of details that shouldn’t have been applied to that poor girl.

She had to be sure of something though, so she really examined their eyes — no redness to them, and they seemed alert enough.

It suddenly occurred to her, that this was something Eleven and her friends wanted her help with all those months ago.

“We really need your help, Lacy. Eleven’s in California and her powers went kaput, and we don’t know anyone else who has the same super powers she does.”

She bit back a grimace, and felt in her soul what her answer was going to be. “I can’t.”

“You have to, Lacy, please.”

She shook her head. “I can’t, guys, I’m sorry. I’ve established so much here, I can’t risk everything I’ve worked for for…”

“For what? What’s more important than saving the world?” Dustin asked.

“Her daughter.”

They all turned to Max, who was staring her dead in the eye. “I saw you two at the grocery store earlier.”

She stared back until Dustin started up again.

“I thought you said you lost the baby?”

She caught the confusion in his eyes. “I did.”

Dustin was about to say something when he was interrupted by Max, “It won’t matter if you try to protect your daughter, as long as all this is happening, everyone is in danger.”

“What makes you think Vecna won’t target your daughter?” Robin asked.

She frowned, “What the hell is a Vecna?”

“He’s an evil overlord from D&D, a dark wizard.” Dustin finished.

“What does D&D have to do with what’s going on?” She asked.

“It’s just what they’ve named him,” Steve said.

“Who’s ‘they’?” This was all becoming even more confusing than it already was.

“It doesn’t matter—,” Dustin exclaimed, “We need your help, Lacy, please — just help us.”

Her nails dug into her arm, “I can’t, I’m sorry. If Brenner finds out about my daughter, they’re going to take her away from me, and experiment on her abilities. Her life will be a living hell, and I can’t let him do that to her.”

“If this is what we think it is, then she will be living in actual hell if we don’t solve this issue. Please, if not for Hawkins or any of us, do this for your daughter.” Max said.

“Lacy Broughton, you’re our only hope,” Dustin said, bringing his hands together as if he were praying. 

With the dramatic way Dustin delivered that line, Lacy was pretty sure it was some science-fiction movie reference.

“I haven’t used my abilities in years,” she glared at Dustin before he could make a smart-ass retort, “and no, that one time does not count.”

Steve gave her a thumbs up, “It’s still better than nothing.”

She inhaled a deep breath, and trained her gaze to keep her eyes from rolling to the sky above. “And, what if everything goes to complete shit, what then?”

“Then you get to exact your motherly revenge on us.” Dustin said.

She gave him a look, “What, that doesn’t even…”

She shook her head, and reviewed over it all in her head for a moment. The guilt she’d felt earlier began to hollow inside her gut. If she decided to decline, could it be any of them next? They were just kids.

“Fine,” she spat before she allowed her brain to catch up with her. “Now, what do you expect me to do with Isabel?”

A smile crept on Dustin’s face, “I have an idea.”

Chapter Text

December, 1977:

Two orderlies ushered her into a room, and closed the door behind her. There were six orderlies stacking the wall, and scientists standing around the room with clipboards in their possession.

Her eyes caught on Peter’s and he gestured her to the front of the room.

“Thirteen,” It was Papa’s voice.

She turned around. Papa stood in the middle of the room, surrounded by monitors.

“We’ve come across another encounter you’ve had while you were hiding in the Starcourt Mall.” The corner of Papa’s lips had downturned in clear disappointment.

He stepped away from the monitors, and left her standing in the middle of the room while the rest of them watched her like a zoo animal.

She watched, as she noticed herself in the blurry footage, she remembered that day like it were the day before.

It was a couple of months before she’d been caught, and she’d decided to take a stroll in the mall during the day. She had no concept on how time worked in the outside world. So, when she decided to take a stroll, it was summertime, and kids were out of school. The mall was packed like no other.

To try and get out of the push and shove of traffic, she went into the nearest store, and saw him.

It was a boy she’d had a crush on for a little while. Towards the end, she became a little bold , and wanted to catch his attention. She’d noticed that day she finally had, and he’d asked her out on a date.

That, was the footage Papa had on the screen.

“Kenneth Penmann.” Papa said, his voice neutral. “He had recently graduated at Hawkin’s’ High, and was set to go to Purdue University.”

It was easy to spot Kenneth in the footage. He had long voluminous hair down to his shoulders, and the footage wouldn’t record this, but he had the kindest eyes.

The recording slipped to the other cameras as they made their way down to the cafeteria. It caught their conversation, but didn’t record it.

She remembered he made her laugh with the goofy voices he’d made, some she’d heard from the television, and some he’d come up entirely on his own.

She ended the date abruptly as she realized she couldn’t be the person he thought she was. The silly crush ended with the disappointed look on his face.

She cried and cried until she forced herself to fall asleep that night. It was one of the most intense feelings she’d felt during her time at the mall.

Papa shook his head, “What were you doing with him anyways, Thirteen? What were you thinking?“

She swallowed a block in her throat, and tried to blink back the tears. “We were on a date.”

The sound of Papa’s sigh drew out for what seemed like forever. “You can’t have the life that other women have. You’re not like them. They’re not like you.”

She sucked in a sharp breath, and Papa continued. “Because of this recently discovered footage, we had to pay Mr. Penmann a personal visit. And during our investigation, we’d collected that he is set to graduate from Purdue University this May. He is majoring in Communications, and is currently engaged to a woman named, ‘May Collins’.”

Her palm hurt, and she glanced down to realize she’d been clenching her fist this whole time.

Papa’s voice droned on, “And when we questioned him about his time working at the mall, he had no recollection of meeting a young girl of your description.”

A lone tear fell down her cheek.

Papa’s unsympathetic face turned to hers. “You can’t have a normal life, Thirteen. It’s just not a possibility for someone of your caliber.”

Papa placed a hand on her shoulder, and attempted a smile. “You have far better contributions to make.”

She gulped down a hard knot in her throat, and turned her head back to Peter as Papa stepped out of the room.

Peter’s eyes trained directly onto hers, and there was something cold in his stare.

As she was sure there was something far worse in hers.

March, 1986:

She made the kids promise not to talk about any of their predicament while Isabel rode with them on their way to the Sinclair’s’ house.

She had to sit with Isabel in her lap, as all the other seats were taken.

When they got there, She and Dustin escorted Isabel up to the Sinclair’s front door.

She held Isabel’s hand as Dustin rapped the door in a song. A harsh muffled voice echoed behind the door, and the it swung open.

There stood who she assumed was Ericka Sinclair, Lucas’s younger sister. And she did not look happy.

Ericka sent a sharp glance at Isabel, then an even sharper one at Dustin. “You’d better have a good reason for this.”

“I do,” Dustin snapped his fingers, glancing off to the side. “I’ll convince Eddie to give you a leadership position in our group.”

“You’d better,” Ericka said, stepping to the side to let Isabel inside the house.

Isabel gave Lacy one last concerned glance before the door shut behind her.

“She’s in good hands.” Dustin stated.

“Her parents are home, right?”

Dustin gave her a wobbly smile, “Should be.”

“Better be,” she muttered back.

They returned to the car, and Steve drove off. She expected all eyes on her from now on.

Dustin turned around in the front passenger seat, “You said you lost your child before you escaped, the second time. So, how did Isabel happen?”

Despite expecting a question like this, it couldn’t prevent her face burning bright like the sun. “Well, it happened on the day I escaped, for the second time. I made an excuse for her father to see me, and after distracting him I used his key card to get out of the building.”

Steve whistled, “That’s cold-blooded.”

“Yeah, that’s kind of shitty, Ms. Broughton.” Robin agreed.

She froze in her seat, “I did what I had to do to get out of laboratory! It wasn’t like I had done it out of spite or anything.”

“And you guys like what - hooked up a couple of times?”

“I mean, we… we were together—”

The others groaned, and spoke their own opinions over her delivery of her second escape.

She may as well just finish the story, “I never saw him again after that.”

“Was he one of the scientists?” Max asked.

She shook her head.

“Was he one of the subjects?” Steve asked, looking at her through the rearview mirror.

Dustin snarked, “Well, Steve, I’m sure the super-powered subjects got authorized access to highly classified areas of the building that could potentially lead them outside the facility, and leak a government funded project.” 

“ Alright , well, sorry I even asked.” Steve said, his eyebrows rising through his reflection.

“What was his name?” Robin asked.

She smiled, remembering those gorgeous blue eyes, and small smile. “Peter.”

“What was he like?” Max asked.

She felt her smile grow, “He was kind, quiet, and gentle. He was the only one I could trust in that facility. The only one who wasn’t scared of me.”

“If he wasn’t a subject, or a scientist, then how did you meet this guy?” Steve asked.

“He was an orderly,” She stated.

“Have you had any contact with him since?” Max asked.

She thought back when she’d left him in the boiler room, knocked out  on the floor and all she did was apologise to him before rushing out of the facility.

If anything Peter had the right to hate her, after everything they’d been through, everything they discussed… she’d probably hate her too if she were in his shoes. 

“No.”

Max was about to say something when Dustin pitched back in, “What are your daughter’s abilities?”

She made a shrugging motion, “I mean, they’re like mine - telepathy. I don’t know if she has a specific ability but she shouldn’t. We would’ve already known.”

Dustin made a disgruntled noise and settled back into his seat.

They stopped at the trailer park at the edge of Hawkins.

There was a swarm of police cars surrounding the area, and EMTs walking back and forth inside the taped off perimeter.

This wasn’t right. “I thought we were going to see Eddie.”

“We were…”, Steve murmured.

“That’s Nancy!” Dustin pointed across from them.

The others got out of the car, and she saw Sheriff Powell speaking to a disoriented Nancy.

She immediately ducked back into the backseat of the car, until she got a harsh nudge at her side.

“Ms. Broughton, what’re you doing?” Robin asked.

She stared into the back of Sheriff Powell’s head, “I don’t want him to see me.”

“Wha - no, he won’t care.”

She gave Robin a look, “I’m a grown adult hanging around teenagers, the latter whom are my students on Spring Break. How would he not see that’s weird?”

Robin whispered, “Touché,” and started digging around in the backseat of Steve’s car.

“What’re you doing?” Lacy asked as Robin tried scouring under the seats and through the seat pockets for whatever the hell she was trying to look for.

“Trying to find anything that would count as a disguise!” Robin’s voice muffled.

“Here!” Robin threw something at her and she nearly dropped it, unaware of what it was. Kind of scared to even look.

She turned it over and - oh - it was regular, boring old sunglasses.

She gave Robin a look, “Really?”

Robin just shrugged. “That’s all we got.”

Chapter Text

December, 1977: 

Thirteen stepped into the rainbow room, and held onto the handle until the door shut behind her. She was one of the first people there, and the last thing she wanted to do was wake any of the kids up, making them grumpy for the rest of the day.

She glanced around. Two of the orderlies were busy cleaning up the room from the previous day.

“Hey.”

She nearly jumped out of her skin, and spun around to meet the culprit of the cheap scare.

“Peter!”

His usually innocent smile, grew cheekier. “Don’t be too loud, you’ll wake the children.”

She rolled her eyes despite the heat creeping up her neck. “Doesn’t seem like my objective.”

Peter chortled, and they made their way over to dominos table. They sat across from each other, and she started stacking the dominos together, trying to appear occupied.

Peter’s eyes burned on her forehead, and it took all the resolve she had to stay focused on adding the fifth domino to the standing stack.

It had been a week since she was brought into one of the many rooms in the lab, and shown the mall footage.

During the past four years in captivity, she’d almost forgotten about Kenneth. But, when Papa shoved all the unwanted updates on him down her throat, it took a few days to get all the pity out of her head.

Or, at least a majority of it.

And, the days after getting over it, she’d hung out and played with some of the little ones like Eleven and Twelve, playing building blocks with them or the disk game.

And while she was occupied, she’d feel Peter’s gaze on her. Increasingly more so, she’d feel his touch grazing the fabric of her gown, brushing a hand over her shoulder doing a ‘check’ on them.

She’d take that time, the five seconds after his hand would leave, to glance down at his black shoes that hovered right at her feet underneath her.

He would be so close behind her that if she made one move to stand up, her back would collide with his hard torso.

And, if she had, would he have wrapped his hands around her waist to balance her?

She felt her body respond with the memories, and pulled herself out of the stupid imaginations.

“Did you read the book I gave you?” Peter asked her in a hushed tone.

His low tone didn’t help that pulse that just rushed through her. “Not yet.”

Peter hummed.

Shame filled her. “I was about to, and then I just…forgot, I’m sorry.” 

She gathered three dominos in her hands and weighed them against the other, hovering her hands as if it would prevent them from falling.

“What kind of books are you interested in?” He asked, his voice softer than it’d been a minute before.

She glanced up, and remembered all the precious books she’d cooped up with her in that small closet she hid in at the Hawkins public library, and the makeshift space in the mall she considered a room for a year. Some of those innocent, cutesy teen novels she read for those first few months had the same repetitive plot in them, leading to her sneaking into the restricted ‘adult’ section in the mall’s bookstore based on boredom, peeking at covers that made certain parts of her body feel weird.

She decided to start small, but even small made her cheeks bloom that awful pink color. “Well, they’re - it’s nothing.”

“I’m sure it’s not nothing.” Peter smiled.

She snorted, and tried to bite down the embarrassment. “Some of them were just, I dunno, stupid teen romance novels.”

She didn’t need to look up to see the crinkles in his eyes. “Like what?”

She huffed out a breath, hoping the embarrassment would go along with it. But it didn’t.

She forced herself to meet Peter’s eyes. The crinkles around his eyes and lips deepened into obvious amusement.

She knew she couldn’t just outright tell him about the novels with the raunchy covers on them. He’d never let her live that down. Any respect he had for her would be thrown out the window, she was sure.

But, and maybe it wasn’t exactly just the raunchiness of some of those books that made her tongue knot up. Maybe it was more of the cutesy, warm feeling of those more pure novels that made her wish for her own personal Westley to save her from the evil Humperdinck, or a sweet, sensitive Romeo, and an awkward, quiet Mr. Darcy.

An insecure smile slipped from her lips. “Princess Bride, Pride and Prejudice, Romeo and Juliet… Just, stuff like that.”

The tiniest clicking sound came from Peter’s lips. “Which one’s your favorite?”

The blush traveled from the middle of her face, all the way up to her forehead. “Princess Bride.”

“Never read that one.”

She choked on a giggle, “Please don’t.”

“Why not?” He joked.

And, it was at that very convenient moment, she realized that the heroic farm boy she crushed on for all those years coincidentally had the same blond hair and blue eyes she was looking at.

“Why not?” Peter asked again.

She closed the gap in her mouth. “It’s just stupid.”

“Can’t be that stupid.” He said, “How about this, you read the book I gave you, and I read Princess Bride.”

She should’ve said no, but, in a weird turnabout way, she supposed it might’ve brought them together. And, it wouldn’t be like he suspected she’d liked him or anything, right?

Maybe, and hopefully, he was just one of those beautiful men who were oblivious to their physical attractiveness.

And, despite her gut telling her otherwise, she decided to believe it anyways.

She forced a smile, “Okay.”

The doors opened, and her brothers and sisters started for the games and toys strategically scattered in their spots.

Eleven and Twelve went straight for the disk game, and she saw her moment to break her time with Peter.

He must’ve seen it too, because he helped her organize the dominos back into the metallic container they came in.

She placed the container back where it belonged, and went over to where Eleven and Twelve were, and helped them out with the game.

She glanced over to the left. Peter had busied himself challenging Two to a chess match. She bit her lip to keep the smile from emerging.

Peter glanced to his right, and met her gaze.

Seeing the mischievous sparkle in his eyes as he gazed back at her, she could no longer keep hide the smile. 

March, 1986:

She revamped the disguise with the scrunchie clinging to her wrist and pulled her thick, curly hair into a messy updo to cover her forehead.

She placed the sunglasses on her eyes and walked right behind Robin.

They regrouped with Nancy Wheeler, and sat at a picnic table at the edge of the trailer park.

Nancy pointed at her, her face scrunched together. “Who is she?” 

Lacy took off the sunglasses, and pulled the scrunchie out of her hair, letting the dark curls fall to her shoulder.

Nancy’s eyes widened, “Ms. Broughton? Why…”

“She’s like Eleven,” Dustin cut in, “She has powers, Nancy! Full-blooded, magical, telepathic powers!”

Nancy shifted her gaze from Lacy to Dustin, “…What do you mean?” 

Lacy decided to step in, “I was a subject at the lab, with Eleven.”

Nancy shook her head in confusion, “But I thought they only focused on children?”

She nodded, giving a slight tilt of the head. “For the most part they were. I was their sole adult subject, amongst children.”

Nancy’s blue eyes narrowed, “Why?”

She glanced to the right. The others stared at her, waiting for her to give the answer. This was the secret she wanted to avoid telling. They were too young to tell, too young to grasp the concept of how corrupt Dr. Brenner’s ambitions were.

But, with the way their eyes trained on her, it seemed the conversation wouldn’t advance if she weren’t to say anything.

She flickered her gaze back to Nancy, “They wanted to use me as a breeding machine.”

She then told the story of how her relationship with Peter began, and how that transpired to her being nothing more than a breeding experiment for Dr. Brenner.

They all shook their heads, listening in awe and disgust.

“That’s awful,” Nancy whispered.

She nodded, and the group became silent for a moment. She glanced around, seeing the yellow tape wrapped around the trailer park, for a second time.

Nancy told them what happened to Fred Benson, and it sounded eerily similar to what happened to Chrissy.

“This thing that killed Fred and Chrissy, it’s from the Upside Down.” Nancy said.

“Our working theory is that he attacked with a spell or curse. Now whether or not he’s doing the bidding of the Mind Flayer or just loves killing teens, we don’t know.” Dustin said.

“Now, all we know is that this is something different,” Max said, “Something new.”

“It doesn’t make sense,” Nancy said, picking at the stubbly wooden table.

“It’s only a theory,” Dustin stated. 

“No,” Nancy said sternly, “Fred and Chrissy don’t make sense.”

Nancy was right. It didn’t make any sense. Chrissy was Chrissy, and Fred was well, quite the opposite. He was a studious kid, one that avoided trouble like the plague, the ones she could easily see the jocks picking on every now and then if he were caught roaming the halls alone.

“I mean, why them?” Nancy asked, whether to herself or her friends, Lacy didn’t know.

Dustin started, “Maybe they were just in the wrong place? They were both at the game.”

Max finished, “And near the trailer park.”

“We’re at the trailer park,” Steve remarked dryly. “Should we maybe not be here?”

They all glanced around the area, cautiously.

“There is something about this place. Fred started acting weird the second we got here.” Nancy said, glancing at each of them.

“Acting weird as in…”

“Scared, on edge, upset…”

Dustin cut in, “Max said Chrissy was upset too.”

“Yeah, but not here,” Max stated. “She was crying in the bathroom, at school.”

“Serial killers stalk their prey before they strike,” Robin stated, “Right? So, maybe Fred and Chrissy saw this Vec-Man—“

“Vecna,” Dustin corrected.

“I don’t know about you guys but if I saw some creepy freaky wizard monster I’d mention it to someone,” Steve said.

Max scrunched her face in thought, “Maybe they did. I saw Chrissy leaving Mrs. Kelly’s office. If you saw a monster you wouldn’t go to the police, they’d never believe you but you might go to—“

“Your shrink,” Robin finished for her.

The kids all hopped up, and she did the same, not knowing exactly what was going on.

They all headed for their cars that were parked in the middle of the trailer park.

They were just about to reach Steve’s car when Steve became concerned with Nancy going to the library alone. She noticed the smirk on Dustin’s face. Wasn’t Nancy dating Jonathon Byers? Or had they broken up?

She couldn’t keep up.

Steve turned around and threw the keys to Robin, and told her to drive to Sara Kelly’s place. Robin told Steve she didn’t have her license, and he looked at her.

Lacy shook her head, “I am not going to be liable for possibly crashing your car if that were to happen.”

Steve groaned, and Max offered to drive, and he detested to that, and then Dustin made an offer and Steve was even more horrified by that.

Robin tossed Steve his keys back, and made her way to Nancy’s car.

Lacy started to do the same, and Steve stopped her, asking what she was doing.

She turned around, “I know you planned on trying to use the ‘teacher’ card against me with Sara, but I can’t ask her to break her doctor, patient confidentiality if we have no relationship to begin with.”

The three kids groaned, and she gave them a shrug in apology before heading  out to Nancy’s car to go to the library.

Chapter Text

December, 1977: 

A swift knock rapped at her door, and her heart skipped a beat by the sudden disruption.

She hesitated a bit, slowly making her way to the front of her room and turned the knob.

Peter gave her a smile, and held up none other than ‘The Princess Bride’.

She almost face-palmed, and stepped to the side to let him in.

She clenched her gut, waiting for the criticism to start on her book and the thin smile on his face broke out wider.

“I’m loving this book so far,” He said.

She almost recoiled, “Really?”

He sent her a confused look. “Yeah, did you think I wouldn’t?”

Blush engulfed her face, and she stammered on her words. She could lie to him, and tell him she absolutely thought he’d love it but with the conversation they had earlier that day, it wouldn’t align with her words.

“Well, not really. It’s a little fantastical.” She said.

A sparkle appeared in Peter’s eyes for a brief moment. “That’s what I like about it!”

She was sure the blush was spreading. “Really?”

He flipped through the book, and she saw where it was doggy-eared. “Yeah, I love the humor in it, it’s a little unconventional, but it works for the story.”

Her nails bit into the skin of her arms, watching his eyes flickering from page to page. He hadn’t mentioned he and Westley’s coincidentally similar features, so that was a good start.

“What about you?” He asked.

She rose her eyebrows, and he elaborated. “The book I gave you.”

She let out a tiny gasp, and threw the cover off the bed to reveal the book she’d hidden from the other orderlies.

She mimicked Peter’s movements, and flipped through the pages until she reached the third chapter she stopped at.

“It’s so complicated and sad. I feel like, in the small ways I know humanity, that it fleshes out the flaws we have as people, and it expands on the god awful nature of racism and segregation in the thirties…”

It felt a little ridiculous talking about it, as she hadn’t lived much life. Though, she’d witnessed and read some of the country’s past through the books she’d sneak out, and the ones she briefly remembered from her school days, it wasn’t detailed like this.

Despite that, it felt refreshing to get an eye on the struggles of the past, as horrible as they were. 

She smiled, “…Thank you for giving this to me. It’s opened my eyes to different perspectives, and situations that I never thought I’d be able to.”

Peter sighed, “Well, I thought you’d want to be able to learn things beyond here. Be human, for once.”

She felt her smile falter, remembering where she was. What she was. “Yeah.”

She held out the book, making sure she’d doggy-eared the page she was currently on, and handed it back to him.

An electric feeling snaked through her fingers as his glided over hers. His gaze glimmering with a sheen she’d only read about. 

March, 1986:

They stopped in front of the library, and a sudden tumble spurred in Lacy’s stomach.

The last time she’d been here had been when she’d hidden all those years ago. Thankfully, it’s been a solid ten plus years and no one would recognize her since the old librarian passed away a couple of years ago. But it didn’t shake the feeling of what it would be like to finally step inside the building again after all this time.

They stepped out of the car, and Lacy followed behind Robin and a hurrying Nancy into the Hawkins Public Library.

Robin went on a spew on how unlikely it sounded for an elderly man committed in an insane asylum to have escaped and gone on a killing spree, killing teenagers of all people.

She didn’t want to be that person, but she had to admit, it was a far-fetched theory. Then again, everything the kids had been talking about in the last hour had been pretty wacky.

Robin turned to Lacy, “Ms. Broughton, were you alive when this whole Victor Creel murder spree happened?”

She stopped in her tracks, making the two girls stop in their tracks.

She made a face, “I was born in ‘56. Do I really look that old to you?”

Robin shrugged, and Nancy shook her head.

“I remember when I first applied for the job, Melinda thought I was one of the students.” She thought aloud. “That was only two years ago. Have I really aged since then?”

“No, Ms. Broughton, you look like every other thirty-year-old teacher’s’ aide.” Robin said, so casually it stung. 

“I’m not thirty yet,” she muttered to herself.

Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed Nancy rolling her eyes at Robin.

Nancy turned her head, and looked Lacy in the eyes. “To be fair, I honestly thought you were one of us until Mrs. Miller introduced you to the class.”

“And that’s reassuring,” she again muttered dryly to herself.

“…So that means the murders predate Eleven by thirty years?” Robin asked, going back to the earlier conversation the moment they stepped into the library.

Nancy affirmed and Robin continued on, “So that makes spooky Victor Creel’s like seventy-years-old.”

Nancy affirmed again, clearly getting annoyed with Robin.

“So, he’s a grandpa murderer that can turn invisible and lift people into the air,” Robin stated.

Nancy grimaced, “It doesn’t make sense, I know, that’s why I said it’s a shot in the dark.”

Nancy dinged the bell on the counter continuously until the aide emerged from the office.

Nancy asked for the keys to the basement archives, and the aide went inside the office to retrieve them.

Lacy stood beside Robin as she apologized for her lack of social skills. Nancy’s annoyance didn’t seem to falter, but Lacy decided not to step in.

In fact, Lacy didn’t really think she’d seen Robin hang out with anyone but Steve…

The librarian’s aide came around, and handed the archive keys to Nancy. She and Robin followed Nancy down into the basement, and started to scan over the older newspapers in the microfilm readers.

Lacy found herself switching to and from Nancy and Robins’s readers, seeing if she could find a clue with either of theirs.

They’d found some things, but nothing incriminating the two were looking for. She didn’t bother to ask Nancy, as it seemed the girl didn’t want to talk to either she or Robin.

Robin though, she tried to make conversation with Nancy, but Nancy barely gave her anything to feel confident with. But that didn’t keep Robin from trying.

“What are we looking for, exactly?” Robin asked Nancy.

And here this whole time, Lacy was under the impression the two of them - or at least Nancy, since it was her idea, had some sort of idea of what to look for.

“Any mention of dark wizards or alternate dimensions? Things in that vein.” Robin asked.

Lacy bit at her nails, making the skin underneath sting.

Nancy shook her head, “I don’t know, okay? It’s starting to seem like this was just a big waste of time,” she got up off the stool, “and you’re obviously bored, so why don’t you just call Steve? I’m sure he’ll come pick you up and I’m not really in danger here so…” 

Nancy walked off.

Lacy and Robin shared an awkward glance before heading back to Nancy.

Robin slipped in front of her and stopped on the staircase, almost having Lacy run into her.

“You know that Steve and I are, like, totally not a thing, right?” Robin asked Nancy.

Nancy half-turned, “What?”

Robin swiveled down the steps. “So, I figure you and Jonathon are still going strong ‘cause you guys are going to college together and you’re one of those unstoppable power couples, but I… I just I wanted to make sure that you knew that Steve and I are just friends. Like, platonic with a capitol ‘P’.”

Robin sighed and opened a drawer, “Just in case that’s adding any tension between us.”

Nancy turned to Robin, and shook her head. “It wasn’t.”

Robin didn’t seem convinced, and went through the drawer she accidentally opened.

Lacy slid past Nancy, seeing that Robin had eyed something in the drawer.

“Holy shit. The Weekly Watcher.”

Robin pulled out a tape, and looked at Lacy and Nancy. “I can’t believe they have this.”

“Don’t they write about, like, Bigfoot and UFOs?” Nancy asked, skeptically.

Robin defended, “First of all UFOs are absolutely real, Bigfoot I’m still on the fence about. But may I remind you we looking for information on dark wizards? If someone’s going to write about that it’s gonna be these weirdos.”

They all looked at each other, and headed back up to the microfilm readers upstairs.

Lacy and Robin crowded beside Nancy as they tried to find any clues on wizards, demons, and all sorts of things the kids had mentioned earlier. Nancy made cryptic remarks on some of the more ridiculous headlines on some of those rolling papers.

Nancy stepped off her stool, and Lacy leant in with Robin, watching some of the letters fly by. She was beginning to zone out, wondering why exactly she was here.

“Victor Creel claims vengeful demons killed his family. The murder that shocked a small community,” Robin mimicked in an animated voice.

Her head shot up, and her gaze scanned the headline and a vintage, worn down house she’d sworn she’d seen before.

“Haha very funny.” Nancy said.

“I’m not kidding,” Robin reiterated. “Get over here.”

Lacy slid onto the stool, and allowed for Nancy to stand to her right.

Robin read off the article, stating that Victor believed an ancient demon had been haunting his house and tried hiring a priest to to extract the demon from his home. Apparently, he claimed it angered the demon, and it murdered his family, gauging their eyes out. Victor believed it must’ve been his punishment.

“That’s pretty convenient for Victor,” Nancy said sarcastically.

“Yeah, or super inconvenient,” Robin defended. “Victor was declared legally insane by the court right? What if this was why? It sounds pretty insane - it just didn’t go public because —“

Nancy finished, “—The plea bargain. The records were sealed.”

“What if a demon did invade Victor’s home?” Robin asked, “It’s just, this demon wasn’t any old demon…”

“It was Vecna,” Nancy gasped.

They stormed out of the library. Robin called Dustin from her walkie, and spilled the info they’d gotten from the Weekly Watcher.

Dustin then told Robin that they had broken and entered into the school. Dustin then told her to get over there as soon as possible.

Nancy and Robin snuck Lacy a glance, and she snagged the walkie from Robin’s hands really quick, “Are you serious, Dustin Henderson?”

There was a weak, “Hi, Lacy…”

She shoved the walkie back into Robin’s hands, and slid into the backseat of Nancy’s car.

Nancy and Robin stepped in, and drove off into the direction of the school.

She would be damned if they all got into trouble, which, they would, and she knew it for fucking sure. She just wasn’t going to allow Dustin Henderson and his friends to get her fired from her well-earned job.

This better be fucking worth it.

Chapter Text

December, 1977:

Over the next week, Peter would continue to sneak into Thirteen’s room past hours, and they’d exchange their opinions on their given books.

They’d have snippets of outside conversation every now and then during their book club sessions, and she would try to discern if he was personally trustworthy or not, but he always expressed his opinions neutrally, his body language appeared different.

A knock sounded at Thirteen’s door, and she hopped off her bed, feeling her heart thrum in anticipation.

She opened the door, and Peter’s tall figure slipped inside her room.  

He had something gripped in his hands, and then held the object out to her.

She felt a smile curl on her lips as she realized it was Princess Bride. She took it with hesitant hands, and sat on her bed.

He sat down beside her, and she glanced at the cover front to back.

“You can add this to your book collection,” Peter said, a twinkle in his eyes.

Her eyebrows furrowed, “I don’t have a book collection.”

His soft grin widened, “You do now.”

A full smile threatened to blossom on her face, and she felt the heat suffocate her cheeks.

Whenever she was recaptured, all the books she collected in her little homey space had been confiscated and returned to the store owner. As punishment, Papa disallowed her the privilege to read as she pleased.

She remembered the first year after she was brought back to the lab, the orderlies had barely so much even given her a look of acknowledgment. Her brothers and sisters, more so the older ones than the younger ones, had lines in their faces every time she’d arrive in the rainbow room or the experimentation room.

Her mind flickered back to the orderlies, some whom’d given her forced smiles over the four years.

A question popped into the forefront of her mind, despite the tug in her heart to yank it back.

It wouldn’t be likely he could tell her anything, considering he reported to Papa, but that didn’t quell the curiosity bursting at the tip of her tongue.

“They’re scared of me, aren’t they?” She asked Peter.

Peter made a confused face, and she reiterated. “The orderlies.”

Peter’s mouth gaped open, tiny hesitant sounds escaping from his lips. “I…”

She forced a reassuring smile, “It’s okay. I can take it.”

Peter shook his head, his blond hair falling into his face. “I don’t get involved with the immature orderly gossip spread around here.”

She knew, she’d always known things had been said about her, but actually having it confirmed was something else.

Before she could contain herself, she leant in, “What do they say?”

Peter sucked in a breath and shook his head again. “I don’t want to offend you, or anything of the sort.”

She gave him a look, “You won’t.” 

Peter gave her a glance of of the corner of his eyes, and turned to face her completely. “I haven’t heard much, considering I’ve only worked here for two years, but I know some things…”

“Like what?” She pressed.

“Just the basic story, I think. That you escaped when you were only fourteen, and you were caught hiding out at the local mall for the remaining year of hiding.” He said, a cheeky smile appearing on his lips.

She smiled, reminiscing. “Yeah, but it was a complete accident. One of the orderlies forgot to close the boiler room door, and I wanted to check it out and so I snuck in there and accidentally ended up crawling out of the big pipe and into the outside world!”

Peter coughed out a laugh, “When I first heard it from one of the orderlies, I couldn’t believe a fourteen-year-old girl could do all that. It’s just different hearing the story from your own voice rather than some random orderly.”

A frown graced her lips, “And when I was caught, I thought Papa was going to skin me alive. He was so mad…”

It had to be some sort of Stockholm syndrome, she thought. The way they envied her, and also feared her.

And Papa, every time they were all rounded up to begin the day, he smiled at each and every one of them, and then his gaze would freeze when he’d met hers. That prideful gleam would go still.

And she could still feel her heart sink from that singular memory, which in turn bridged into a string of them.

“He’s scared of me, isn’t he?” The question stumbled out of her mouth. 

The mattress creaked as Peter shifted in his seat. “He is.”

She sighed, closing her eyes against the sting in the corner of them.

She remembered being dragged into one of the many empty rooms provided in the laboratory, and Papa brought out the tattoo gun.

She was so confused, then. To ignore the sting of the needle, her subconscious would jump into the conclusions as to why she was getting new ink. Some absurd ideas, some novel.

When he’d finished, she’d seen the number he replaced onto her red, throbbing skin.

And, something in her knew, especially whenever she saw the new Two. The contempt, and envy in his eyes.

Despite being there for the last four years, nothing had been like it’d been before. Before, orderlies opted to hang out with her in the rainbow room, but now, it was like they kept a distance - like Papa.

“ But, Thirteen…”

She allowed herself to glance to her right, and into those gorgeous eyes of his.

“If they gave themselves the opportunity to really see you for who you truly are, they’d know you’re anything but terrifying.”

A rush of warmth flushed through her. Her hand inched towards the space between them and before she could bring herself to pull back, he rested his on top of hers.

March, 1986:

As Lacy, Robin and Nancy stormed into the school, she made herself a promise that she’d give Dustin Henderson’s life a living hell if he got her fired from her hard-worked for job.

That was until they froze around the kids huddled around Max staring at the empty wall across from her.

“It was here. Right here.” Max insisted, aiming the light right at the wall.

“…A grandfather clock,” Nancy asked, her skepticism creeping through her tone.

“It was so real.” Max said, “When I got closer suddenly I just - I woke up.”

“It was like she was in a trance or something,” Dustin said, glancing at all of them. “It was exactly what Eddie said happened to Chrissy.”

Max turned around, and Lacy almost gasped at the sight of the young girl. Some strands of her red hair stuck to her forehead, and their flashlights combined shone off the sheen on her forehead.

“That’s not even the bad part,” Max said.

They ushered themselves into Sara’s office, and Steve shut the door behind them. Probably out of habit.

“Fred and Chrissy both went to Ms. Kelly for help,” Max said, “They both were having headaches, bad headaches that just weren’t going away and - and then the nightmares… trouble sleeping… they’d wake up in a cold sweat and then they started seeing things.”

“Bad things,” Max’s words quivered. “From their past, and these visions kept on getting worse and worse until eventually everything ended.”

She thought back to the yellow tape crossing off the trailer park, about the horrific descriptions of their mangled bodies. She bit her nails into her palms to hold back a shiver.

“Vecna’s curse,” Robin whispered.

“Chrissy’s headaches started a week ago. Fred’s six days ago. I’ve been having them for five days.”

Max’s eyes started to tear up, “I don’t know how long I have, all I know is that, for Fred and Chrissy, they both died less than twenty-four hours of their first vision. And I just saw that goddamn clock, so…”

Max’s shuddered a breath, “Looks like I’m going to die tomorrow.”

A long, high-pitched grating sound made them all jump towards the door.

“Stay here,” Steve warned them.

Before Steve opened the door, he picked up a floor lamp, and brought it out into the hallway with him - as some form of protection. 

The kids decided to follow him, and she went along.  They all inched forward towards the arch in the hallway. She felt her hands gripping into fists as a loud, rushing noise clamored towards them.

Steve raised the lamp - and they all rose their arms up in defense, preparing for the worst…

They all screamed bloody murder as the being jumped right in front of Steve.

“It’s me! It’s me!” Came the tired of voice of… of Lucas Sinclair.

She felt the anger boil in her blood. These kids… these fucking kids…

Steve yelled at Lucas for jumping out at him like that, and Lucas tried apologizing profusely.

They all just stood there, watching as Lucas went up to Dustin, telling him that Jason Carter has gone bezerk trying to find Eddie Munson, trying to get revenge for Chrissy’s murder.

And, for the kids, Dustin, Mike and Lucas were known members of Eddie’s Dungeon and Dragons club, to which made at-least Dustin a collaborator in Jason’s eyes. And now, of course, Jason was coming after him.

She shut her eyes. Dustin Henderson, what the absolute fuck have you done?

They went back to the Wheeler’s house, and she, Nancy and Robin went upstairs to the study to go and type of some resumes, which Nancy was sure would get them an interview with Victor Creel, which she herself wasn’t so keen on.

She made sure she bit her tongue, but there absolutely no fucking way an asylum warden would allow three unknown strangers into his facility.

It would be ridiculous, sit-com-y even. This was real life. Real life shit happened.

She sucked in a breath as Nancy handed Steve the resumes. Steve ran over them, and handed them back to Nancy but not without hesitation.

“Wait,” Steve said, glancing at Lacy. “Shouldn’t she be staying here, in case something were to happen to Max?”

“She’s the oldest out of all of us, it would look more credible if she came with us to see Victor.”

“But she’s the only one of us that has Eleven’s powers,” Dustin interjected, “If Vecna swoops out of the Upside Down to kill Max she’s the only one who can defeat him!”

Steve looked ready to defend Dustin when he turned back, “Swoops out?”

Dustin gave him a look, and shrugged.

Nancy sighed, and snagged back one of the resumes. “Okay, fine. Lacy, you will stay here with Steve and the others while Robin and I go interview Victor Creel.”

Steve jumped up, and started complaining about how he thought he was the one that was going to go with Nancy to the asylum. The four of them headed into Nancy’s room.

Robin rummaged with Nancy’s things, while Steve continued to complain and try and make a case for him to replace Robin for the interview while Lacy rested against the doorway, watching it all unfold.

She, and Steve left the room while Robin changed into the dress Nancy loaned her.

When Robin appeared, she and Steve did their best to stifle the giggles they had behind their hands.

Robin wore a flaring ruffled pink blouse, long blue skirt and had extremely pigmented make up on her face. The poor girl looked like a clown.

Robin flapped her arms to her sides, “I look like a catastrophic nightmare, don’t I?”

Lacy tried to swallow a laugh but ended up coughing it back up.

“Alright, on a scale from one to a thousand, how bad do I look?”

She regretted opening her mouth because the moment she did, a spew of laughter rang from her lips.

“Yep, I knew it, fucking terrible.” Robin sighed.

“Well, we don’t have time to revamp your look so we’ll have to make due with what we have.” Nancy said before motioning Robin down the stairs.

Steve lead her down to the basement, where the kids were. Lucas and Dustin sat on the couch, leaning over to look where Max had been draining across from them.

She sat on the chair across from the sofa, and Steve sat in between the two boys.

“I know you guys are staring at me,” Max said.

The boys jumped up, trying to act nonchalant, but she rolled her eyes.

Max went over to them, and handed them each a letter. Dustin was about to open his when Max instructed him not to.

Lacy realized within the moment that the purpose of the letters were for an atonement of some sort. A last goodbye.

“Woah, Max, things are going to work out.” Lucas defended.

“No, I don’t need you to reassure me right now and tell me it’s all going to work out - because people have been telling me that my entire life and it’s almost never true. It’s never true.”

She swallowed a knot in her throat, feeling the same pain Max was currently feeling. They’d gone through much different circumstances but both have had to look over their shoulders for a bit.

“I mean, of course this asshole curses me. Should’ve seen that one coming.”

Max sighed, and picked up the walkie-talkie on the table, “If we go to East Hawkins will this reach Pennhurst?”

Dustin affirmed, and Max gave them all a look.

Steve shook his head, repeatedly disengaging the situation, but ultimately ended up succumbing to Max’s wishes as they reached Steve’s car.

Not even fifteen minutes later, they arrived at Max’s house, and Max rushed inside to give her family members letters.

Steve asked Dustin if the walkie really had batteries in, and Dustin confirmed.

She glanced out the window, in the direction of the trailer. Her gaze caught the bright sun, and she felt a sharp pain in the front of her head.

She must’ve made a sound because the boys turned to her, and asked if she were okay.

If the headache wasn’t so heady, she would’ve chuckled. These kids were so adamant about the prospect of this Vecna creature that it made them so skittish to anything and everything.

She waved it off, leaning her head against the window. “Just the sun.”

“Max’s back!” Lucas shouted, and they got out of the car to see Max rushing over to them.

“That was longer than twenty seconds,” Steve remarked snidely. 

As Max neared her, she could tell something had happened back there. Something that had enough of an effect to make Max’s face as pale as a ghosts.

Lucas asked if she were okay, and they slid into the car, Max determinedly dodging his questions as Steve drove off.

Max didn’t speak a single syllable for almost the entire ride.

Lacy saw Max’s reflection, and the girl’s eyes didn’t move a muscle.

“Turn here,” Max finally spoke.

“Here?” Dustin asked.

Max nodded.

Steve parked on the street overlooking the cemetery, and Max stepped out, stalking up the grass.

Lucas ran after her, and while they spoke, Lucas gestured widely with his hands, as if begging Max for something - Max then brushed him aside and started back up towards which ever grave she intended to go back.

She had a feeling she knew, but wasn’t entirely sure. “Who’s grave is she going to?”

“Probably her brother’s,” Dustin answered.

Billy Hargrove. He was known to be a charming young man amongst some of the teachers at Hawkins High, but she could always sense there was something underneath, something dark.

She knew Max witnessed the darker side of him, and knew it probably haunted her til this day.

Lucas headed back to the car, and they decided to give Max space, giving her time to speak to her brother once more.

“Alright, it’s been long enough.” Steve said, storming out of his car.

She recoiled, jumping up at abrupt change of pace. She and Lucas told Steve to give Max time, but he didn’t heed them any mind.

Steve reached her at Billy’s tombstone, and started clapping in her face and shaking her shoulders.

Something didn’t feel right. “What the hell…”

“Oh,” Lucas gasped, “Something’s wrong.”

Steve called for them, and they all rushed over to where Max sat. They all crouched around her, and Lacy’s gaze froze on Max’s rolled eyes.

She focused herself in on the moment, and would try and rationalize it later, trying to help the boys shake her and scream at her to wake up.

Steve pushed Dustin down on the grass, and told him to call Nancy and Robin through the walkie. Dustin rushed to the car, and grabbed it.

Dustin returned with not only the walkie, but with a handful of cassette tapes.

“What is this?” Lucas asked.

“What’s her favorite song?” Dustin asked.

“Why?” Lucas asked.

“Robin said if she listens… it’s too much to explain right now - What’s her favorite song?”

They shuffled through the cassette tapes for ‘Running Up That Hill’, having a hard time finding some because some of them weren’t labeled.

Lucas found it, and slammed it in her cassette tape player, and Dustin placed the headphones over her ears.

They all watched as she continued to sit, until… until…

Her jaw dropped.

Jesus Christ .

Max’s body lifted, and she started to levitate in the air reaching a surmountable height. Max’s arms were at a length, and her legs were so straight she appeared to be possessed.

Time seemed to slow, so painfully. Lacy could barely hear the screams of the boys, could barely even tell if she herself were screaming.

This was all real. The fantastical nonsense the kids had been talking about for the past day, was real.

Her blood pounded through her fingertips. Her gaze couldn’t leave Max’s floating body.

And just as fast as it began, Max fell to the ground.

Lacy scooted back, her arms wrapped around her knees - watching as the boys huddled around Max, and hugged her.

Once things had calmed between them all, Dustin turned to her.

“Do you believe us now?”

Chapter Text

December, 1977:

Thirteen went over to the book shelf, and poked at one of the novels perfectly aligned with the others. She drew it out of it’s spot, and glanced at the cover.

It featured a teenage girl in a strange hairstyle she didn’t recognize, looking somewhere far away, while pointing a long object at a clock.

“The ‘Secret Of The Old Clock',” she read aloud.

She turned it over to the back, and scanned down the description to peek at the date hidden in small numbers at the bottom right corner.

‘1930’

She flipped through the pages, and they made a strangely satisfying crinkling sound as they turned.

She returned the book to it’s place on the shelf, and went over to the dominos to rearrange them after Nine and Ten scattered them all over the table.

Hours later, she sat in her bed, eyes scanning over ‘Mice and Men’ for what seemed like the fifth time, when she heard a soft rapt at her door.

She hid the book underneath the mattress just in case it wasn’t who she thought it was, and opened the door.

Peter smiled, holding something behind his back. She felt compelled to smile back, even though curiosity snagged at her to try and glance at what he was hiding.

She took a step aside, and allowed him in the room. He waved a book in the air as she closed the door behind him.

He handed it to her, and she gasped at the title. It was that book she was looking at earlier.

She looked up at Peter, “How…?”

He smiled, “I saw you looking at it earlier, and figured you’d want to take a look at it.”

She tried to bite back a smile, “Thank you.”

She sat on the bed, and he made his way to sit beside her. The space between them slimmer than it was yesterday.

“Are you feeling better?” Peter asked.

She furrowed her brows, then realized he was referring to their last conversation.

Her stomach sunk as the memories of his hand on hers replayed in the forefront of her mind. Had that been a pity move by him?

But, if it was, then why would he hold her hand like that? Why would he smile at her the way he was, or touch the small of her back the way he did in the rainbow room?

“Yeah,” she said, forcing the word out her lips.

Peter released a noncommittal hum as he reclined against the wall.

“You’re not alone in this,” He said. 

She turned her head, looking at him.

He peered down at her hunched form, “You’re not the only one Papa’s ostracized.”

Her face scrunched up. In all her history at the lab, she never witnessed anyone else being excluded by Papa, like she’d been.   

“What do you mean?” She asked.

He pursed his lips, sitting back up. “Did anyone ever tell you about ‘One’?”

Her curiosity was piqued, “‘One’ doesn’t exist.”

He rose a brow, “Is that what he‘s told you?”

She nodded, watching him.

He shook his head, “He’s lied to you, and everyone else.”

She leant in, and he continued. “‘One’ was just a child when he was interred here, just like you and some of the others. Papa experimented on his abilities, wanting to replicate them and abuse them for his own gain.“

She didn’t know how to respond, so she just stared into the tile below her. “How do you know this?”

She glanced up at him, and saw something weird in his eyes. His pupils had been enlarged, sparkling with something that almost alarmed her. And just as fast as it animated, it disappeared.

“Some of the orderlies had noticed things over the years, and so had I.” He drew out a sigh, “I suppose it’s harder to notice in your particular situation.”

She echoed back, “My particular situation?”

He didn’t seem fazed by her tone at all, “Do you remember your life before this?”

She made a teetering motion with her head.

“What do you remember?” Peter asked.

There were brief flashes of an older Hispanic woman with curly hair speaking in a foreign language she couldn’t much understand, and a Hispanic man lifting her onto his shoulders spinning her around her laughter echoing inside her ears.

There was a little boy playing with her, hiding under the couch cushions and playing hide-and-seek with her.

“I can somewhat remember my parents.” She said. “I think… I think I had a brother too.”

Peter hummed. “I had to practically sign my life away when I became an orderly.”

“Did you have a family?” She asked.

He nodded, his hair falling to his forehead. “We’re just as trapped as you are. No holidays, no breaks… we’re not even allowed to contact our families.”

“Prisoners,” she muttered.

“Prisoners,” he agreed.

His hand snuck over, and gripped hers. She gave him a thin smile, and gripped his back.

“Lately, these interactions we’ve been having are the only thing that’s kept me going.” His velvety voice said softly.

A bright warmth so enveloping spread through her body, her heart pumping so hard it felt like a drum thrumming through her body.

The ceiling light sparkled in the blue of his eyes, making them shine like the bright sky, and it was the most gorgeous, freeing thing she’d felt in years.

She lifted herself up on the palm of her hands and met his soft, plump lips with her own. 

Before she could met into their combined touch, she pulled away and turned to face towards the wall.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered.

A soft touch lifted underneath her chin, and rose her head to meet with his.

“Don’t be,” his breath hit against her face, bringing his lips back to hers.

The heat of their kiss made a shiver ricochet down to her toes. She leant into him, and he opened the kiss to tug on her top lip.

A sound she’d never made before vibrated through her throat, and one of his trickled into her skin.

An itch to roam her fingers over any exposed skin of his trickled through her hands, making her squeeze the sheets below them to contain herself.

His lips left hers, and she stared into his glassy eyes.

“I…” Her breath caught in her throat, wanting to say the words, but had it stuck in the air.

“You’ve never done this before, have you?” He asked.

She shook her head, and he tilted her chin upward. There was a smile in his eyes.

“It’s okay, I’ll show you how.”

He kissed her again, this time more gently than it had been before. She could feel his soft lips nipping at hers, tugging them with him, and grinding against hers. She followed the motion, mimicking his actions until the kiss opened and something warm and slick slipped through it.

She flicked her tongue with his, and danced with it. An ever-growing feeling blossomed in her abdomen like a blooming flower.

He pulled his lips away, and pecked at the crease of her mouth, trailing them down her neck, until his lips met at the space that her collarbone met with her neck.

She arched her chest into his, and his wet tongue dipped in that space, sliding the tip of it deeper into that crease.

Her curled fingers reached for his shoulder, and grasped it.

His teeth grazed against her skin, and sucked where it ached, emitting a mewing sound she’d never heard from her own lips before.

His lips left her neck, and she felt the feeling in her abdomen stall impatiently.

His breath hit against her earlobe, “Did you like that?”

She nodded against his shaven stubbles jaw, and he teased his lips against her earlobe before drawing back and gazing into her brown eyes.

“Would you like to continue?” He asked.

She nodded, and his hazy eyes roamed her gown down to the exposed part of her legs.

“Do you mind if I take your gown off?” He asked, his fingers already picking at the edge of her gown.

She began to raise her eyes at him again, when she noticed the bulge in his zipper area. It was rather large.

She felt the blush rampage her face and immediately glanced up to his concerned face.

“Is everything okay?” He asked.

She nodded.

“Would you like me to continue?” He asked again.

“Yes,” she whispered, a strange feeling making her want to recoil into herself.

It was almost as if he could sense her discomfort, “Are you sure?”

She nodded, “Yes, I just… haven’t done this before.”

His frown upturned into a smile, “It’s okay, your first time is always a little uncomfortable. Just let me know if you’d like me to stop, okay?”

She’d thought all the raunchy books she snuck from the bookstore had solidified her confidence in this situation, but reading it was much different than living it.

It was almost like all reading knowledge had been thrown out the door.

He went back to gripping the edge of her gown, and looked at her, an eyebrow raised.

She nodded, and he bunched it into his hands as it slowly slid up to her shoulders.

“May I take your gown off?”

She gave him permission, and he tugged it off, throwing it to the floor beside them.

She sat up, and he toyed with the buttons on his shirt before freezing and catching her eye.

“Would you like me to take this off?”

Her mouth watered as her gaze followed down the buttons of his shirt to meet the belt of his pants. She did everything she could to not gaze below it.

“Please.”

She caught a quirk of his lips as he began to unbutton his shirt, and threw it on the gown laying on the floor.

He tugged at his undershirt, and she spoke a little louder, “Everything.”

His smirk widened, and he threw it off as well. His sun-kissed fingers tugged off his belt, and unzipped his pants. Those were thrown to the floor as well, and before she knew it she was staring at the very thing she was trying to avoid staring at.

Now, he was as naked as he was. Both clad in their underwear.

His thumbs brushed underneath the elastic of his boxers, “Would you like me to take these off, or would you prefer to go first?”

With as big as it looked, she said in a rush, “I think I’d like to go first.”

He nodded, and watched as she unhooked the bra the laboratory provided for her, and slid it off her shoulders to the side of the mattress beside her.

She wrapped her arms around her chest, and he pulled her arms away. “Don’t cover yourself up, you’re so beautiful.”

She hesitantly let her arms fall to her sides.

His eyes landed on her panties, “Would you like me to take those off?”

She sucked in a breath, and nodded despite the head prodding her face.

He shot her a reassuring smile, and hooked his fingers around her panties, pulling them down to expose the curly hair covering her most private part.

His eyes traced back up to hers, and his smile widened. “You’re the most beautiful creature I’ve ever seen.”

She smiled back, and he bent down to capture her lips again. His thumb rubbed circles on her waist bone, and their kiss broke apart.

His breath hit her face, “May I touch you?”

“Yes.”

The hand on her waist trailed up her stomach and slid up her left breast. His nails scrapped against her peaking nipple, and shivers she’d never felt before shocked down to her core.

His head bent down to her chest, and his lips wrapped around the breast his fingers was playing with. His teeth scratched against the small bud, and the feeling only intensified.

She felt her insides pulse for something, for anything to be inside her core - and she grabbed at the wrist fondling her other breast.

Peter stopped messing with her, and pulled back. His eyes trained in hers until he noticed the haze in them.

“Please,” she mewed. “Touch me.” 

She bucked against his knee, and a quirk appeared at the corner of his lips. His hand trailed down the line of her stomach before it stroked the outer lips protecting her core.

“Like this?” He crooned.

She felt herself trying to squeeze her thighs together, and his thumb slid up to the bud covered by her curly hair.

A powerful shock thrummed through her, and her body convulsed under his touch rolling fast swipes against her bud.

Her fingers clawed around his wrist. She felt as if she were floating, getting closer and closer to the ceiling and she could no longer think a congruent thought.

Her vision blurred. All she could feel were the rough strokes against her bud overcoming her own heartbeat -

It stopped.

Her chest rose and fell, and an emptiness replaced that overwhelming feeling.

She darted her gaze to Peter, who sat at the edge of her feet. His finger no longer on her bud, but running lazy lines in between her outer lips.

His blond hair stuck in damp strands on his forehead, and beads of sweat above his upper lip. He wiped his forehead with his free arm.

Her gaze caught on the bulge in his boxers. It was longer and much larger than it had been before.

Ignoring the ache that shot to her clit, she sat up and reached over to his boxers. She ran a finger alongside his bulge and almost released a gasp.

It really was as hard as those raunchy books described it would be.

She cupped her entire hand around it and started stroking in wonder.

An earthy groan reverberated from his lips and ricocheted down to his length, causing it to twitch against her hand - she broke away in slight fear.

“Can I take this off?” Peter huskily asked, his fingers hooked around his boxers.

She glanced into his hazing eyes and nodded.

He slipped off his boxers, and the moment they rolled down his thighs, his length sprung out at her nearly hitting her in the face.

She wrapped her hand around it, and stroked. It was long, and thick. Her fingers couldn’t even wrap the entirety of it. She didn’t know how something as big as that was supposed to fit inside her.

Peter bucked his hips as her fingers met the base of it. And it rolled back to the shaft.

Another groan rumbled above her. She looked up, and saw Peter’s eyes set on her, his mouth opened into an ‘o' shape.

It made her thighs want to rub together.

Then Peter stopped.

"Wait,” He said, “Lay down.”

She did as he told, and laid her head down on the pillow, facing him. He brought her knees up and widened the space between her legs.

The haze in his eyes sharpened into focus, “Would you like to go any further tonight?”

She could barely think of anything else. “I just want you so bad.”

Peter quirked lips transformed into a crooked smile, “Good.”

Pressure formed at the space between her swollen lips, and she rose her head to see the tip of his length rubbing up and down her slit.

Peter’s hand balled into the sheets beside her, “You’re so wet.”

His head fell forward, and the strokes against her slit hastened.

She wanted to buck her hips so bad, “Inside me!”

Without question, Peter placed each leg on his shoulders. He lined himself up with her core, and gave her a focused look.

“This might hurt,” He said.

She widened her stance.

He inserted the tip inside her, and inched little by little. “Are you okay?”

She bit the inside of her gums, and nodded. She really wanted to buck her hips and feel his entire length filling her up - but she respected him trying to go slow.

Peter scrunched his eyes shut, “Wow…”

Her walls hugged half of his length, and he released a sharp moan. “So good.”

His hands balled into fists at the side of her head. His lips pursed into a tight line, his eyes straining into hers.

“You’re holding yourself,” she whispered, stroking her finger against his chest.

He huffed out a breath, and another moan slipped out as he slid in deeper. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

Her hand reached for his cheek, “You won’t hurt me. I trust you.”

The haze in his eyes returned, and the tip of his penis broke that line inside her with a sharp pinch.

Her muscles twitched for a second, and then the tip hit her cervix and froze.

Peter dropped his head to her ear. “This feels amazing. God…”

He slid out, and thrusted back in. A gasp caught in her throat, and he repeated the motion. The gasp released, that floating feeling from earlier returning with a quickening intensity.

He thrusted harder, and she grasped onto his back, trying to sink her nails into him to keep from falling.

His pace grew erratic and he positioned her legs tight around his waist. His hands gripped hers, and he brought their pelvises together in a frenzy.

She bit her lip as sounds more animalistic from before shot out of her throat. The mewling from before turned to pleading, the words became gibberish.

The shock from before returned, vibrating through the electricity flowing through her veins. Her back lifted from the mattress, her legs from Peter’s waist, into the air. Her hair caught into a crack in the headboard and pulled. She could no longer feel her heartbeat, and her brain had no thoughts.

“I think I’m dying,” she cried out, the pleasure becoming too overwhelming.

She could have sworn she heard Peter huff out a chuckle and respond, but she didn’t know, almost didn’t care.

The tingling in her skin ravaged her. She heard someone screaming a name but she couldn’t tell who it was. A feeling clapped around her mouth, the screaming had muffled.

And it was too much, she didn’t know what was going to happen, who she was, or where she was - it all just spasmed and wetness spurted out of her and coated her thighs.

Peter let out a moan and thrusted one more time, letting himself go inside her. Warmth coated the inside of her core, and his length twitched until it became soft.

They both caught their breaths. Each other’s sweat slicked their bodies, and Peter slumped onto his side, in tiny amount of space she had in her single bed.

Peter gave her a sloppy kiss against her cheek. “I’ve never felt like this with someone before.”

She smiled, and kissed him back. “Me neither.”

March, 1986:

She sat on the Wheeler’s’ basement couch, staring at the wall. What she’d seen earlier wasn’t a hallucination, wasn’t a… a figment of her imagination. This, whatever the hell this was, this was real.

Most of the kids had fallen fast asleep hard a couple of hours before, however, hers had been on and off. It’d seem she’d been up for a half hour and fall asleep for another. She didn’t even want to look at the blinds.

A sharp pain stabbed inside her head, and she held her forehead for a solid minute before it slowly faded away.

Suddenly, the walkie blew up with Eddie Munson’s voice speaking through it. She was about to respond, when Nancy jumped up and beat her to it.

“…Just stay where you are and we’ll be there as soon as we can.”

Nancy turned around, and gasped.

Lacy followed Nancy’s gaze, and her heart sunk as the couch were Max had been staying at was missing a body.

Nancy immediately went for Dustin, and shook him awake.

Once he’d sobered, Nancy confronted him on being on Max watch, and Dustin replied to having been asleep for an hour.

They all shot up the stairs, and froze in the kitchen as they noticed Max drawing at the kitchen table sitting beside, who Lacy assumed was Nancy and Mike’s younger sister.

Mrs. Wheeler, offered them some breakfast, and made a clueless comment on how nice it was that they all stuck together - however Lacy didn’t miss the offhand look in Mrs. Wheeler’s eyes at she caught her gaze.

Though, she shouldn’t’ve been surprised. Here she was, the kids’ teacher’s aide, having fallen asleep at their house.

Dustin gestured to Lacy, “My mom hired Ms. Broughton as my babysitter.”

Mr. Wheeler lowered his newspaper, “Aren’t you a little old for a babysitter?”

She gulped, hoping her eyes were burning holes in the back of his head.

Dustin scratched his neck, “…Yeah, but she was going on a date and just wanted to make sure I was safe because of all these crazy murders.”

Dustin glanced over his shoulders, and they both forced a chuckle under their breaths.

“That’s mighty smart of Claudia,” Mrs. Wheeler gave her husband a stern glare, “Ms. Broughton, would you like any pancakes?”

She gave Mrs. Wheeler a polite wave, “You can call me, Lacy, Mrs. Wheeler, and while I appreciate the offer, I’m not hungry at the moment.

Dustin glanced back, “Can I call you, Lacy?”

She made a face, “You can call me, ‘Ms. Broughton.’”

Dustin helped himself with more than some of the pancakes. They grouped around the table, and stared at the drawings Max made scattered on the table.

There was red, so much red scribbled on the pieces of paper, and on some of them, there were black pillars with what appeared to be people trapped inside.

“Do you think Vecna’s just trying to scare you?” Nancy asked Max.

“With Billy. Yeah.” Max scoped around the pictures with her hands,“But, when I made it here… I dunno… something was different. He seemed surprised almost. Like he didn’t want me there.”

“Maybe you infiltrated his mind. He infiltrated your mind, right?” Dustin asked. “Is it that much to believe you somehow wound up in his? Like Freddy Krueger’s boiler room.”

Nancy’s little sister interjected in it, and of course Dustin’s lack of maturity scared the young girl, upsetting Nancy.

“What if you somehow unlocked a back door to Vecna’s world? Like maybe the answer we’re looking for is…” Dustin pulled up a one of the Max’s drawings, “Somewhere in one this incredibly vague drawing.”

Nancy dragged one of the drawings to herself, “Is this a window?”

Max confirmed, and Nancy replied, “Stained glass with roses.”

“Yeah,” Max said to Dustin, “See I’m not so terrible after all.”

“Yeah, well it helps that I’ve seen it before,” Nancy said.

Lacy and Dustin leant over the table as Nancy and Max started folding over some of the papers and piecing them together like a puzzle.

Nancy grabbed a sharpie, and started filling in some of the empty spaces in the puzzle.

“It’s a house.” Max exclaimed.

“Not just any house,” Nancy said, “It’s Victor Creek’s house.”

Dustin mumbled with his mouth full of pancakes, “Where’re you going?”

“Waking the others.”

They drove a good ten minutes before reaching their destination. They all stepped out, and stood in front of an old, decrepit house. The windows were boarded up, and the blue paint Lacy was sure had looked luxurious decades before was just now pitiful.

Victor Creel’s house.

“What’re we exactly supposed to be looking for in this shithole?” Steve asked Nancy, as they broke apart the wooden boards covering the front door.

“We’re not sure,” Nancy responded, “We just know this house is important to Vecna.”

“Because Max saw it in Vecna’s red soup mind world?” Steve retorted.

“Great,” Steve said dryly.

“Basically,” Said Nancy.

“Maybe it holds a clue to where Vecna is. Why he’s back. Why he killed the Creels.” Dustin added. “And how to stop him before he comes back for Max.”

“We don’t think he’s in here,” Lucas said. “Do we?”

“Guess we’ll find out.” Max said.

“Ready?” Steve confirmed with Nancy.

The two dropped the board covering the door, and they all tried to swat the dust that flew onto their clothes.

The door happened to be locked, and Robin threw a brick into the stained window of the front door.

Lacy pursed her lips, wondering how many other laws they’d be breaking in the course of the next few hours.

But, would it even be considered breaking the law if this home was no longer someone’s property?

They all entered into the house, and she did her best to refrain from raising a sleeve up to her nose. The place reeked of mold, and built up dust.

Honestly, she was surprised no one started hacking and sneezing yet.

Lucas tried switching on one of the lamps, “Looks like someone forgot to pay their electric bill.”

Dustin turned on his flashlight, and Steve commented. “Where did everyone get those?”

Dustin and Steve bantered back and forth, while the others explored with their lights scanning up the walls, and into the nearby rooms.

“Hey guys, you all see that, right?” Max asked.

They all turned around, and saw a grandfather clock sitting at the end of the hallway.

They all affirmed, and Nancy asked. “Is this what you saw in your visions?”

Robin pipped in, “I mean, it’s just a clock, right?”

Robin went ahead and wiped the soot off of the frame. "Like a normal old clock.”

“Why’s this wizard obsessed with clocks,” Steve whispered under his breath. “Maybe he’s like a clock maker or something?”

“I think you cracked the case, Steve.” Dustin retorted sarcastically.

“All I know is, the answers are here.” Nancy said. “Somewhere.”

“Okay, everyone stay in groups of two, Robin, upstairs.”

Nancy and Robin headed up the stairs, Lucas and Max somewhere in the main hall, and Dustin and Steve grouped up together, leaving her alone.

The two of them headed up the stairs, continuing to banter when Steve glanced behind them.

“Hey, Ms. Broughton’s in a group of one!”

“What?” Nancy asked, her voice echoing down the hall.

“Lacy’s alone, Nancy!”

She held her tongue, deciding not to correct Dustin Henderson for the fiftieth-hundredth time.

“Lac - Ms. Broughton, you can help Robin and I.”

She pursed her lips, suddenly feeling like a child being bossed around and told what to do. This paranormal, horror movie stuff wasn’t her territory. So weird that the roles were now being reversed.

She followed Steve and Dustin up the stairs to re-join Nancy and Robin. They investigated one of the rooms, which appeared to be a young boy’s room when they heard a cry from one of the rooms nearby.

They rushed out, and saw Steve freaking out over spiderwebs off of his shoulders. He said something about a black widow, and Nancy pulled some of the web out of his curls.

The two of them, began detailing something about them all going out once this whole thing was over, going back to normal. And, if it were up to her, she could see a quirk of a bashful smile on Nancy Wheeler’s face when Steve fumbled around about their hanging out.

And, she couldn’t help but cringe at Steve’s misguided attempts at flirting. Then again, when she was their age, it wasn’t like hers were any better.

They walked down the stairs, and noticed the chandelier lights strobed it’s orange hue on and off in such a strange manner without working electricity.

This wasn’t making any sense, then again, none of it was.

“It’s like the Christmas lights,” Nancy whispered to herself.

“Christmas lights?” Robin leant in.

“Yeah, when Will was in the Upside Down.” Nancy stated. “The lights…came to life.”

It clicked. Lacy remembered when Eleven and  her friends tried describing everything that had happened within the last year whenever she met Eleven again two years prior. It seemed like a science-fiction story.

Unfortunately, everything Lacy had witnessed so far said differently.

“Vecna’s here,” Dustin said, “In this house.”

“Just on the other side,” Lucas stated.

The flickering light went completely out, and they all gasped.

“I think he just left the room,” Robin whispered.

Max glanced around at them, “Did he hear us?”

“Can he see us?” Steve asked.

“Headphones,” Dustin offered to Max.

“Wait, everyone turn off your flashlights and spread out.” Nancy said.

Steve tried saying something but they ignored him, following Nancy’s advice and spread out throughout the first floor of the house.

“I got him!”

She turned around, and headed towards Robin’s voice.

“I… I had him,” Robin finished lamely as her light dimmed out.

Then Steve’s light began to flicker on, “Oh, I think he’s moving. He’s moving. He’s moving.”

They followed Steve down the narrow hall, and up the stairs until Steve’s flashlight putted out.

“Shit,” Steve whispered. “I lost him.”

“No you didn’t,” Max walked past him, and opened a door leading to stairs.

They all stepped up, watching as the flicking light lead them to an attic. They all huddled around a singular flashing lightbulb, and their flashlights began to sputter on, spewing their lights together in a sequence of some sort.

And then, all of a sudden, the glass began to shatter and they held the flashlights out of the way to avoid getting struck.

Once it stopped, they all stood there staring at their broken flashlights, or at least she did.

“Guys, look, the lightbulb went out too.” Dustin said.

She and the others looked up, and noticed that like their flashlights, the bulb had shattered as well.

She reached up, and picked out some sharp pieces out of her hair. Would be the most reasonable explanation as to why there was glass in her hair.

The kids talked amongst themselves about what had happened, and she zoned out, trying to shake the glass off of her.

A sharp pain shot in her middle of her head, and she clutched it, the pain getting even worse by the second.

A sudden, abrupt gonging sound rang in her ears and she forced herself to look up.

Her jaw dropped.

Across from her, behind the kids, was a grandfather clock etched into the wall, swinging it’s pendulum, taunting her in it’s reflection.

Chapter Text

January, 1978:

It had been weeks since they first made love, since she lost her virginity to Peter. And then came every other night, then every night. Sometimes they did more sex than talking - but that was okay for Thirteen.

She remembered having to stifle a giggle the morning after her first time, wobbling to the rainbow room - the orderlies giving her weird looks.

But she and Peter shared a swift knowing glance at each other. No one else needed to know.

And as time flew by, she no longer limped to the rainbow room, but gained bags under her eyes - something that didn’t go unnoticed by Papa.

He’d sent her to the infirmary. Nurse Betty did her vitals, performed an x-ray, and did other detailed examinations that showed she was a perfectly healthy young woman and no one knew what was going on with her. 

For once in four years, Papa asked her what her opinion was, and if she ever felt any pain for any occurrence, at all.

She shook her head, sweetly, and told him everything felt fine.

Of course, they were all confused, any concerned - genuine or not - adult, would be, if they didn’t know their only adult subject was sleeping with one of the orderlies. 

So, Papa did what he only knew to do, he released her to the rainbow room.

She opened the doors, noticing all her brothers and sisters playing with their puzzles, block games, and that enormous disk game in the right-middle of the room.

She glanced to the right, seeing Twelve playing with the dominos with Eleven. Well, it didn’t really look like they were playing, just laying out the dominos on the table, and sprawling them out on the white, painted surface.

She walked over, and asked if she could play with them. Eleven scooted over. Thirteen arranged a handful of the dominos in a standing line.

She smiled down at her younger siblings, “Do you want to see what you can do with them?”

They just stared at her, and she flicked one down, tumbling the rest with it.

Twelve released a bundle of laughter, and tried to replicate what Thirteen did.

Eleven just sat there, playing with a few of the dominos, stacking them horizontally.

“May I join?”

The three of them looked up. Peter towered over the table, his smile reaching down to Thirteen’s. 

Thirteen tried to stifle hers, and felt the blush creeping up her face. “Go ahead.”

Twelve scooted over to give Peter some room to sit. He settled down, and brushed a strand of hair that fell in his face.

To avert her gaze, she gathered the fallen dominos in her hand and stacked them again. Twelve seemed to mirror her move.

“Do you want to see a trick?” Peter asked, glancing at the kids more-so than her.

Twelve, ever than enthusiastic kid, shouted a ‘yes’ which some of the orderlies shushed him.

Peter chuckled, “Alright, but we’ve got to stay quiet, okay? Don’t want to get in trouble.”

Twelve mimicked Peter’s shushing move, and giggled.

Peter lined up domino after domino, and curved the line to look like a hook, and then did the other side the exact same to finally end up creating a -

“Heart!”

Both she and Peter shushed Twelve, who whispered an apology.

“And voilà,” Peter smiled, “Want to see what it can do?”

Both Twelve and Eleven leant over the table just in time for Peter to topple over the dominos creating a beautiful scene of them all crumbling down.

They all clapped, and she caught Peter’s gaze falling into hers.

“So much cooler than Thirteen’s,” Twelve giggled.

She placed a hand on her chest dramatically, “You wound me!”

Both Twelve and Eleven giggled at the flair, and she smiled back - her attention falling back on the man sitting across from her.

She gathered her dominos, and stacked them horizontally, beginning a tower with the ones she grabbed.

“Thirteen.”

She drew her attention to Twelve. “Can I tell you something?”

“Of course.”

Twelve looked like she hesitated, “Sometimes, when I wake up during the night, I feel like I hear things.”

Thirteen and Peter sent each other concerned glances.

“What kind of things?” She asked. 

Twelve shook her head, “Nothing, it’s stupid.”

She reached over, trying to place her hand on hers from across the table. “I’m sure it’s not stupid, Twelve.”

Twelve released a sigh, “Sometimes… I hear something coming from your room at night.”

She sent Peter a sharp look, feeling heat rising from the ground and compressing her gown to her skin.

She pursed her lips, “What kind of sounds?”

“Like, something is squealing, or just loud - yelling.”

The sparkle in Peter’s gaze heightened, and his plump lips spread across his face.

She just knew the blush was apparent on her face, despite her complexion. “R-Really?”

“Yeah. It’s weird.”

She couldn’t react. Shouldn’t react. The orderlies had eyes on everyone.

“Have you told anyone about this?”

Twelve shook her head, and she felt an instant relief come into play.

Peter’s smile wobbled, and he coughed into his hand. His gaze fell to his handful of dominos, the smirk not yet wiped from his face. 

She pursed her lips, and sent him a soft kick from under the table.

He didn’t even flinch, and gave her one last look before focusing back at the task at hand.

March, 1986:

She was smushed in the seat between Max and Lucas. They asked if she was okay, and she honestly didn’t give much mind to it. It wasn’t the thing that haunted her mind for the last couple of hours.

She laid her hand underneath her chin, allowing her mind to drift to the grandfather clock etched in the Creels attic.

She was partly surprised that no one had their eye on her, or heard her gasp whenever she’d seen the clock in the wall.

It was for the best though, and the last thing she wanted to do was distract the group from their original objective, despite the heightening anxiety thrumming through her veins.

She inhaled a short breath, unsure of what she could do about it. Maybe, just maybe it was her mind hallucinating through the stress and lack of sleep she’d had in the last two days because of this whole fiasco. 

That had to be it, right?

Or was she just telling herself this so she wouldn’t go off the rails and go through an even more emotional crisis than before?

She held it together, and flexed her fingers as Robin requested to stay in the car while they went to check on Eddie.

Steve made a comment about the beers they brought for Eddie, and Lacy honestly couldn’t find it in herself to make a sarcastic comment about the legality of it.

The kids started on a spew about telling Eddie the update on the whole Vecna situation, and she had to admit their worries were completely valid.

“Oh, shit,” Nancy hissed.

They all pressed up against the windows, staring at the marina filled with cop cars and reporters surrounding Reefer Rick’s house.

They hopped out of the car and maneuvered their way behind the media station’s van to hear what Sheriff Powell was telling the reporters.

She and the kids looked at each other, as Sheriff Powell informed the media of another homicide.

“It was there that we found the victim, an eighteen-year-old senior at Hawkins High, Patrick McKinney.”

She shut her eyes, feeling that horrendous sinking feeling in her stomach again.

She could barely listen to Sheriff Powell’s horrific description of the boy’s death, until her ears perked up at the alleged perpetrator.

“We have identified our prime suspect, Eddie Munson.”

She suddenly felt sick to her stomach, “Shit.”

And now, that it was public - the entire town would go looking for poor Eddie Munson.

She felt another splitting headache coming on, and wiped her finger under her nose to catch the snot from running onto her lips.

She frowned, feeling it much stickier than it should’ve been and rose her finger to see blood stained on her skin instead of what she thought it was.

She quickly wiped it on her flannel sleeve when the kids turned around the moment the walkie buzzed with Eddie’s voice coming through it.

“Eddie, holy shit, are you okay?”

“Nah, man, pretty goddamn far from okay.” His voice buzzed back.

“Where are you?” Dustin asked.

“Skull Rock. Do you know it?”

“Uh, yeah, that’s near Cornwallis and Garret-“

Steve finished Dustin’s sentence for him responding he knew the location and they all headed back to the car.

Once they reached the side of the woods they needed to go to, they followed Dustin and Steve through the path leading to this Skull Rock, or whatever it was.

She stayed behind Lucas and Max, hearing them talking about Patrick and Lucas’s remorse for not getting to know Patrick better. 

“…It’s like everyone Vecna targets has something in their life.”

She paused, and shut her eyes to prevent the memories of her back at the lab from pushing through her mental barriers.

“Something that’s-“

“Hurting them, haunting them.” Max finished for Lucas.

She stopped in her tracks. A chill hovered at the base of her spine, and traveled to her shoulder.

The rest of Lucas and Max’s conversation she focused on trying to shake off the shiver grating over her shoulder.

“Ms. Broughton?”

The shiver disappeared.

She glanced over to the kids. Max’s forehead crinkled, a frown on her face.

“Are you okay?” Max asked.

She felt the flush engulf her face, and shook her head out of her reverie. “Y - yeah, I’m fine, sorry.” 

She gave them both a wobbly smile and gestured to Nancy and Robin up ahead, “We should probably keep going.”

The two kids just stood there, staring at her with concerned expressions so she decided to slide past them and start behind the two girls, who were talking about Nancy’s boyfriend and other kind of drama that she normally didn’t care about but if it kept her from thinking about the weird, heavy shiver on her shoulder then let them speak.

“Badabing-Badaboom, there she is, Henderson!” Steve’s voice rang through the wooded area, and the rest of them followed the noise.

She heard a couple of incomprehensible words he’d directed towards Dustin, some so slow, they sounded like digs but it didn’t seem like anything important.

She and the others glanced at each other. There was a third voice amongst Dustin and Steve.

The rest of them maneuvered through the thin bushes, and ended up at what Lacy assumed was ‘Skull Rock’. It was an enormous rock skull sculpture that was so out of place with the desolate woods around it.

She scoffed under her breath at the irony of it and nearly choked on her inhaled breath the moment she laid eyes on Eddie Munson.

They were expecting him to be here of course, but seeing him, after everything that’s been going on - it just didn’t seem real. None of Eddie’s circumstances did.

Eddie’s gaze grazed the rest of them, and zoomed back to Dustin and Steve until it went back to her.

His forehead wrinkled, “Ms. B, what’re you doing here?”

She was about to give him a short, and sweet brief summary of her time in the Hawkins Laboratory but was quickly interjected by Dustin Henderson, and his fanatical ways of storytelling.

She half-listened to what Dustin was telling Eddie, feeling her gaze hovering over to Steve who gave her an apologetic smile. She gave him a silent chuckle as a response.

“Seriously?” Eddie was finally able to get out due to Dustin catching his breath.

Dustin nodded, wheezing in air and hold his stomach.

How Eddie was able to comprehend all of what Dustin had sped to, she had no idea.

Eddie’s eyes caught hers, “You’ve had superpowers this entire time?”

She hesitated, knowing how Eddie could get when the blaze of excitement anted him up. She then looked him over, noticing the weariness in his eyes, the spark that she so admired about him, completely dim and dull.

She felt that nasty gnawing feeling her gut, whispering things in her ear, telling her she should’ve done things differently, should have gotten involved sooner.

“Yeah,” She simply said. “I… I have.”

Eddie snorted, and shook his head. He walked over to the empty crevice of the rock and squatted down.

“So, what happened? Tell us everything.” Dustin asked.

Eddie took a swig of his flask. “When I got to the shore, I tried calling you guys… but, uh, my walkie was busted, and drenched so - I did the thing I do now, apparently. I ran.”

“Do you know what time this was, the attack?” Nancy asked.

“No, yeah, I know exactly what time it was. My walkie wasn’t the only thing that got soaked.”

Eddie tossed Nancy his watch. She turned it over, “Nine-twenty seven.”

“Same time our flashlights went kablooey.” Robin pitched in.

“Which means what, exactly?” Steve asked.

“That that surge of energy was Vecna attacking Patrick,” Nancy finished.

Nancy threw Eddie his watch back.

“Well, we’re one step closer,” Robin commented, “We know how Vecna attacks.”

“And where he attacks from,” Lucas said.

“So, now we just need to sneak into his lair in the Upside Down and drive a stake through his heart.” Max said.

“If he even has a heart,” Robin commented, making a fair point.

“A stake, is he a vamp? Is he a vampire?” Steve asked.

She made a face to herself, pursing her lips at Steve’s either completely smart-assed retort, or just him being a dumbass.

Probably both.

“It was a metaphor,” Max defended.

“A bullet should work on him, right?” Eddie pipped in.

“I say we chop his head off,” Lucas said.

She nodded, completely feeling all the different contributions and agreeing with them.

“Yeah, I’d say all of the above but we can’t do any of that ‘til we find a way into the Upside Down.” Nancy said.

“We need El to get her powers back,” Max said, then glanced over at Lacy. “No offense, Ms. Broughton.”

She held a hand up in defense of the situation.

“Everything was way easier. We had this girl. She had superpowers.” Steve reiterated. “Oh, right, sorry, Ms. Broughton.”

Again, she held her hand up.

“Superpowers, yeah, you mentioned her.” Eddie said flatly.

Eddie then leaned over, “Hey, uh, Henderson’s not, uh, cursed, is he?”

Steve said something, but she focused on Dustin pacing back and forth and then suddenly stopping to glare into the woods.

“Boom!” Dustin turned around to face them, and pointed. “Bada… bada… boom!”

“I was right,” Dustin said, looking directly at Steve. “Skull Rock was north.”

She felt her face go flat.

“You serious? This is Skull Rock, okay?” Steve gestured to the enormous rock right above where Eddie was squatting.

Dustin hummed.

“You’re totally, absolutely, one-hundred percent wrong. Right now.” Steve argued.

“Yes. And no.” Dustin said.

Steve rolled his eyes, and Dustin held up a compass. “This compass worked correctly when we left the Wheelers’. Correct when we got in the car on Curly. But it started to slip the further East we went. Now it’s way off. When I was leading us here, I wasn’t wrong. The compass was.”

“So you’re using faulty equipment. You’re still wrong.” Steve argued.

“Except it isn’t faulty. Lucas, remember what can affect a compass?” Dustin looked over to Lucas.

“An electromagnetic field,” Lucas said, standing up straighter.

Dustin confirmed.

“Sorry, I must’ve skipped that class,” Robin mumbled.

She had to agree with Robin.

Dustin explained, “In the presence of a stronger electromagnetic field, the needle will deflect towards that power. So, either there’s some super big magnet around here or…”

“There’s a gate,” Lucas finished.

Her forehead tightened, trying to understand and process all they were saying.

“But we’re nowhere near the lab.” She heard Nancy say.

“But, what if, somehow there’s another gate?A gate that we don’t know about,” Dustin proposed. “It’d have to be smaller, way less powerful.”

“Snack-size gate,” Robin randomly commented.

“How, why?” Steve ignored Robin’s comment and asked.

“No idea, all I know is that something is causing this disturbance, and the last time we’ve seen anything like it, it was a gate.” Dustin said. “And I hope it is, because then we’d have a way to Vecna. And a shot at freeing Max from this curse.”

Dustin then started off, heading god-knows-where. Steve asked him where he was going, and reminded him that Eddie was still considered a suspect and that it wasn’t particularly the smartest idea to go walking around in semi-public areas with him. Dustin held up a microscopic thing between his fingers, saying something about a capsule.

Dustin then asked Eddie what his opinion was.

Eddie said, “I’d say your asking me to follow you into Mordor, which, if I’m totally straight with you, I think is a really bad idea. But, uh, the Shire, the Shire is burning.”

She heard rustling behind them, and saw Dustin hopping on his feet as Eddie stood to his.

Eddie said, “So, Mordor it is.”

Dustin and Eddie started on their way, and they followed them. She caught Nancy’s confused expression, and shared a smile.

The rest of the kids caught up with Dustin and Eddie, until Eddie forgot his flask and beers and ran back to get those. Steve walked up beside Robin and Nancy - and she felt a soft breeze as Eddie rushed past her to catch up with Dustin.

Now, she was the one lagging in the group.

She smirked. Like that had changed. She was considered an elder amongst these kids. The second oldest being Eddie, considering he’s joined the group. 

A large gong rang through the area, the sound vibrating through her toes. She glanced forward, the kids were still hiking through the woods.

She turned to the left, and her breath left her lungs.

A large grandfather clock was perched on the grass a couple of feet ahead of them. The pendulum swinging back and forth, taunting her with the horrified mirror of herself in her golden reflection.

She backed up until a sharp pain splinted in her head. She bent forward, and grabbed her forehead.

“Lacy!”

Robin, Nancy and Steve rushed forward and grabbed her shoulders.

“Are you okay?” Steve asked.

She nodded, and glanced back to where the grandfather clock had been.

Her heart sunk.

It had disappeared.

“Are you sure?”

She looked up, and Steve’s gaze fell to something below her.

He pointed at her nose, “You’re bleeding.”

She quickly wiped the blood onto her flannel shirt. Steve’s gaze furrowed on her.

She held up a hand, “I’m fine.”

“Are you sure?” Robin asked, “Because, isn’t a bloody nose a Vecna sign?”

She forced herself to give Robin a sarcastic look, “Yeah, but so is stress and lack of sleep-“

“You can get nose bleeds from sleep deprivation?” Steve asked.

She sputtered, trying to cough up the excuse. “Y-yes, you can. Nurse Janice told me that once.”

Steve seemed to buy it, and Robin was teetering on it, but Nancy, Nancy’s stare was full-blown concern.

“We should probably tell Max,” Nancy said, “Maybe she could be able to help you, or something.”

Steve helped her up, and she gave Nancy a smile. “I’ll be fine, really. Thank you, though. Just let me catch my breath.”

Steve and Robin gave her one last reassuring glance before heading off. Nancy stared at her in concern, before turning and heading off with her friends.

She ran a hand through her knotted curly hair, and began after them.

“…Mariah…”

Her heart skipped a beat, and she spun around, nothing or no one to meet her gaze but the greenery of the woods.

Chapter Text

January, 1978:

Thirteen curled up in her bed, reading the last paragraph of the Nancy Drew book for what seemed like the umpteenth time.

A soft knock echoed into the room, and she pulled herself out of bed to answer the door.

Peter had a camel-colored folder in his hand, with white papers peeking out of it.

She stared at the folder as Peter moved the book on her bed to the nightstand.

“What is that?” She asked, pointing at the folder.

Peter smiled at her, sat down on her bed and patted the space beside him.

She sat down, and stared at the folder as he held a hand on top of it.

“Thirteen-“

She averted her gaze to his beautiful eyes.

“This is your file. Every subject has one. It contains your name, your abilities - everything Papa has experimented on you, is in this file.”

Peter held the file out on his lap, and she hesitantly reached out for it and slid it onto hers.

She gave one last glance to Peter, before opening the file.

The first page had  a small picture of her eight-year-old self clipped onto it. Her gaze slid to the text beside it.

“Subject’s name: Mariah Ortiz,” she read aloud “Date of birth: April 2nd, 1956.” She continued, “Subject’s Parents name: Roberto Ortiz, Henrietta Ortiz (nee: Gonzalez).”

Below, was a typed description of her past life with her biological family. Her mom, Henrietta, her father, Rodrigo and her little brother, Hugo.

She vaguely remembered young, child-like laughter with a little boy’s face attached to it. Hugo, she remembered calling him.

In the paragraph below, described her being discovered by Papa and his associates. A neighbor, a Mrs. Pamela Crouch, had apparently witnessed Thirteen using her abilities while playing outside with Hugo, floating a toy in the air.

She furrowed her brows, and shook her head, “I don’t understand…”

“What is it?” Peter asked.

There was so much to have to comprehend. It was so overwhelming that it made her head ache. “Everything.”

Peter scooped her hand in his, “Well, just read it to me, and I’ll try my best to explain.”

She froze her gaze on the paper, until she realized what he’d meant, then shook her head. “No, it’s not - I can understand what it’s saying, but… it’s just - what would make my neighbor spy on us? What would make her call Papa? Where’s my mama? Dad? Hugo?”

She felt a sting begin at the back of her throat, “Did they hand me to Papa?”

Peter’s Adam’s apple bobbed, and his eyes strayed away. “No, they didn’t.”

Peter gestured to the file, and she slid it over to his lap.

He flipped a couple of the pages until he landed on a particular one. He tapped on a section, and handed it to her.

She read aloud, “Mariah Ortiz was found wandering around in the Hawkins Zoo unchaperoned when apprehended on June 24th, 1964, by Dr. Martin Brenner-“

“Papa…” Peter interrupted.

She looked at him, “Papa?”

Peter nodded, pointed at the name, and repeated, “Papa.”

She glanced back to the name and whispered under her breath, “…Papa…”

She then scanned over the next few words. “…Brought subject into the facility, and tested her abilities on the facility’s electromagnetic equipment before etching an designated numerical digit onto her wrist.”

‘002’.

What a wasteful title for someone who once had an identity, a family, friends, a proper life - as just a child.

That’s all she was. That’s all her brothers and sisters were. And they all were just given numbers for names, and orders like slaves, under the fake pretense of kindness.

There was another column below her abduction.

“Hawkin’s police department did a three day search for the subject. The subject was officially marked as missing.“

There were bold, capitalized letters that said, ‘ UPDATED, 1974’:”

She glanced to the paragraph that followed.

“After the Hawkins police ended their search, the Ortiz’ family organized a year personal search for the subject that stretched across Hawkins, they abandoned the search and moved to Merom.”

She swallowed the painful ball in her throat, “They left me.”

She felt Peter squeeze her hand, “On another paper, should be in there somewhere, it provides a little more detail - your parents didn’t have the sufficient funds to carry out a proficient investigation, both officially and privately. It seems they did everything they could, but there wasn’t a sign of you anywhere.”

She felt a tear slide down her cheek, “…So,  they moved.”

“Yeah.”

She brought herself to look at the detailed accounts of her parents. Her mother was a seamstress at a local shop in the town they’d moved to, and her father worked at a dry cleaning company. Her brother was a freshmen at Merom High School.

“Seems like they updated it when they re-captured you.” Peter mused. “Guess they wanted to know if you ever tried to contact them while you were away.”

She cocked her head, and wondered how they got on with their life. If they’d forgotten about her as life moved on, or if they still carried on her memory.

But, they wouldn’t have searched for her all that time if they had, right? Even with the lack of funds they had?

She turned the paper, and on the next one was her second profile. When she was re-captured.

She glanced over the updated picture, back when she had a head full of frizzy, curly hair. She had a face covered with powder and blue eyeshadow. God, she missed it.

Except for ‘002’, was now, ‘013’.

She glossed over the same bits of information that was input before, and skipped the description of her re-abduction, but had her eyes glued to the updated version of her family’s life.

‘Updated, Sept. 1977:’

Her breath hitched, and her heart pattered in her chest slowly.

‘Henrietta Ortiz, now 46, nothing has changed. Is still seen to be working as a seamstress at the local shop in town. Roberto, now 48, still works at the local dry cleaning shop in town. Hugo, now 19, is a Criminal Justice sophomore student at Ball State University.’

She flipped to the next page, which was a lot of exposition about her abilities, and her experimentations - things she didn’t particularly care for, and flipped the page to see if there was any new information regarding her family but the rest of the file concerned more of her abilities.

She shut the file, and handed it back to Peter. “Thank you.”

He rose a brow, “Was there anything else you wanted to learn about in here?”

She shook her head, “I think I learned enough.”

Peter clicked his tongue in thought, and caressed her knuckles. “I’m sorry, about everything.”

She choked on a sob, “It’s not your fault.”

He brought her into a hug, her cheek resting against his white, linen shirt. “I know, but I still wish we could do something about this, Mariah.”

She froze, and he must’ve felt it because he asked. “Is it okay if I call you that?”

She thought about everything she’d experienced in the last four years, everything she learned in the last month, and nodded her head against her chest. “Yeah.”

She then attempted a smile, “And you did do something. You showed me the file.”

He crooned, “I know, but I wish I could help you in a bigger way, something more significant.”

She was about to respond, when an idea, a ridiculous one at that, sparked in her mind, and burned brighter with each minute that passed. “I think I know a way.”

March, 1986:

You’ve got to be shitting me,” Lacy overheard Steve groan as they reached Lover’s Lake.

“There’s a gate in Lover’s Lake?” Max asked.

“Whenever the demogorgan attacked, it always left an opening. Maybe Vecna’s the same way.” Nancy said.

“Yeah, only one way to find out,” Steve replied.

They threw off the tarp, and Nancy, Robin, Steve and Eddie got in the boat.

“Ms. B, you comin’ in?” Eddie asked.

She glanced back to the kids, and shrugged. “Yeah, sure.”

“Figure we need some super hero abilities to keep us safe during this Vecna search,” Steve said, as Eddie helped her in.

Dustin tried to fit in as well but Eddie stopped him. “Hey hey hey, you trying to sink us? This thing only holds three people tops, okay?”

“It’s better this way, you guys stay here with Max. Keep an eye out for trouble.”

“You keep an eye out,” Dustin snarked.

Nancy cocked her head at him.

“It’s my goddamn theory!” Dustin argued.

“You heard Nance,” Robin argued back.

Dustin pointed at Robin, “Who put her in charge?”

“I did,” Robin said.

Nancy asked Dustin for the compass and he reluctantly gave it to her. Steve threw Dustin his backpack and they started the way to the middle of the lake.

“You said three!” Dustin called to Steve.

“Sorry,” Steve half-heartedly apologized.

They continued to paddle until the compass’s vector started to spin over and over.

“Guys, what’s going on?” Dustin asked.

Robin picked up the walkie, “Uh, guys, your compass has gone from wonky to wonky with a capital ‘ahh’.”

Out of the blue, Steve started to take off his socks and shoes.

“Steve, what are you doing?” Nancy asked.

“Somebody’s gotta go down there and check this thing out,” Steve said, continuing to take off the rest of his clothes. “Unless one of you four can top being a Hawkins High swim co-captain, and a certified lifeguard for three years, then it’s gotta be me. No complaints all right?”

Steve moved to the edge of the boat, and Eddie commented, “Hey, I’m not complaining. I do not want to go down there.”

Steve slipped off his shirt, and Lacy snuck a glance at Nancy, who appeared to be mesmerized by Steve’s shirtless form.

She caught Robin smirking, and couldn’t help but do the same.

Steve prepared to jump into the water when Nancy called out, “Steve?”

Steve glanced back, and Nancy gave him the tiniest of smiles, “Be careful.”

Steve dove into the water, and disappeared from the surface.

For what seemed like forever, they stared at the still water.

“Where’re we at Wheeler?” Robin asked.

“Closing in on a minute,” Nancy replied.

Only a minute? Seemed so much longer…

Suddenly, Steve spurred out of the water, and they all jumped out of their skin.

“I found it,” Steve exclaimed.

“You found it?” Nancy curled her fingers on the edge of the boat.

“I found it, yeah, I found it.” Steve said, inhaling sharp breaths.

“Dustin, you’re a goddamn Einstein, Steve found the gate.” Robin radioed through the walkie.

“It’s pretty wild. It’s more of a snack-size gate than a mamma gate, but still, it’s pretty damn big.” Steve described.

And then, something yanked Steve under the water, and he popped up. Then was pulled right back under again. They all rushed to the edge of the boat trying to yell at Steve who didn’t seem to be coming up at all.

After yelling persistently for Steve, Nancy then got up onto the edge of the boat, one heel on it.

“Wait, wait, wait, you’re not going in there, are you?” Eddie asked.

Nancy held up a hand, “Just… wait here!”

“No, Nancy!” Robin, Eddie and she called out.

Then, Nancy plopped into the water and disappeared from sight. 

She grabbed the sides of her hair, and shook her head in awe. “What the fuck…”

Robin scooted over to the edge, and Eddie tried pulling her back. “No,no,no,no,no, what’re you doing? She said wait.”

“Yeah, I heard her,” Robin stated, teetering on the boat.

“She’s in charge,” Eddie tried to protest.

“Are you kidding me?” Robin said. “I made that shit up.”

Robin plugged her nose with her fingers then fell into the water. Eddie tried to call out to her but stopped as he realized she wouldn’t listen even if she could.

He glanced back, and was a little relieved when he’d seen her but she felt that stupid fucking feeling in her that drew to protecting those stupid kids…

Eddie must’ve seen it in her face because he tried to stand in front of her. “No,no,no,no, no, not you too.”

She rolled her eyes and started crawling over to the opposite side of the boat, “I know, Eddie, but I can’t leave them unchaperoned.”

She glanced at the water, and felt herself inwardly cringe at her clothes getting wet. Then, inhaled a deep breath, cursed the kids, and plopped head first into the water.

She could hear Eddie scream curses above the surface, but briefly focused on that as a bright red color interrupted her vision. She clamped down her lips in surprise.

She focused on holding her breath, and getting closer to this red oval shaped thing that Robin just jumped in.

She felt her thoughts trying to emerge, but pushed them back as she neared the red vag-oval-shaped thing.

She felt a laugh escape her lips at the absurdity of it all and tried to hold the rest in as she scrambled into the red, oval-shaped thing and popped into a storm, with black vines all around them.

She glanced to the right, and noticed Steve trying to tear apart something wrapped around his neck and Nancy and Robin stabbing at it.

She sprinted towards them and helped them try to stomp this bat, pterodactyl creature.

“Hey, watch out!” Screamed what sounded like Eddie.

She turned to her right, and saw one of those creatures flying for Nancy, and digging it’s claws at Nancy’s back.

She recoiled back for a second before Robin sprinted to help Nancy and Lacy continued to stomp the bastard off of Steve.

Steve broke free and started swinging the creature back and forth by it’s tail.

Robin swung the one on Nancy down and Nancy started stabbing it with part of the oar.

Eddie swung the other part of the oar at one of the creatures until it broke and one tried flying at him but he stuck the broken end through it’s center.

Steve threw the other creature back and forth until he placed a foot on one of it’s wings and ripped it apart.

“Steve!” The girls went over to him, and Eddie just cursed through it all.

She really took in her surroundings, staring up at the stormy grey sky with red lightening rods that blared throughout. On the floor were these disgusting raven black vines that spread everywhere. They almost looked like snakes.

“Do you think these bats have like rabies?” Robin’s voice interrupted her thoughts.

She was just about to ask where they were until Robin started on this spew about how her number one worst fear was rabies, which seemed so unimportant right now. 

Then the screech of those godawful creatures echoed through the whatever the fuck this was, and landed on some of the vines directly in front of them. 

“All right. There’s not that many, We can take them, right?” Steve defended.

And then a cluster of them fly towards them, chittering and squawking.

“You were saying?” Robin challenged Steve.

“The woods, come on!” Nancy said, and they all started for the trees behind them.

They eventually found a rock that coincidentally looked exactly like Skull Rock.

“Okay,” Lacy said in a hushed tone, “Someone needs to tell me what the absolute fuck is going on here!”

Someone, probably Robin, shushed her, and it took everything in Lacy not to snap at the girl.

“We’re in the Upside-Down.” Nancy told her, “It’s an alternate world that looks just like ours but-“

“But creepy,” Steve intercepted.

Steve then slumped over on the rock, and Nancy went over to help him.

Lacy looked over his torso. There were bite marks from his abdomen to his chest, it was awful.

Nancy started ripping off parts of her pants, and wrapped a strap around Steve’s abdomen. The wound made a weird squelching sound and Lacy scrunched her nose up.

She glanced away, letting the two have their moment.

“So,uh, this place is like Hawkins, but with more monsters and nasty shit?” Eddie asked.

“Pretty much,” Nancy replied.

“Wait, watch out for the vines,” Nancy warned Eddie right as he was about to step down from the cliff. “It’s all a hive mind.”

“It’s all a what?” Eddie asked.

“All the creepy crawlies around here. They’re like one or something,” Steve said.

“Step on a vine, you’re stepping on a bat, you’re stepping on Vecna,” Steve informed.

“But everything from our world is here right? Except people?” Robin asked.

“As far as I understand it, yeah,” Nancy said.

“So, theoretically, we could go to the police station and steal guns and grenades and everything we need to blow up those bat things that are guarding the gate.” Robin said.

“I highly doubt that Hawkins PD has grenades, Robin,” Steve argued, “but guns, yeah, sure.”

“Well, we don’t have to go all the way downtown for guns. I have guns in my bedroom.” Nancy said. 

Lacy’s thoughts froze, and she spun around to face Nancy Wheeler, the girl who of all people in Hawkins, had guns…

“You, Nancy Wheeler, have guns in your bedroom?” Eddie said, saying exactly what she thought.

“Full of surprises, isn’t she?” Robin stated.

“A Russian makarov and a revolver,” Nancy confirmed.

Suddenly, the ground shook beneath them, and Lacy fell to her knees, and wobbled as the shaking stopped just as abruptly as it started.

Screeching from every direction rattled her eardrums, and they all looked around.

“So, guns sound pretty good to me,” Eddie said.

“Yeah, me too,” Robin commented.

Nancy and Steve lead the way further into the woods, and she, Robin and Eddie followed the two. 

“Couldn’t we have tried a road or something just slightly less creepy?” Robin asked, as they continued to trek through the woods.

She trailed behind Nancy and Robin, leaving the two boys to converse by themselves.

The ground shook again, and they all fell to the ground and waited for the shaking to pass again.

“Second on my list of least favorite things, earthquakes,” Robin stuttered. “Seriously, I’m unsteady enough as it is.”

Nancy headed off, and Lacy and Robin yelled for her as Nancy disappeared into the woods.

They stopped in front of field of grass, and saw a house in the distance.

They got to the alternate Wheelers’ house, and it was just in shambles compared to how kept it was in their world.

Robin made a snarky comment about how the Wheelers’ needed a maid, and it made her chuckle out loud.

She was about to head up the stairs when she heard a strange gurgling sound. Steve shown his light in that direction.

Steve started calling out to Dustin, and they both glanced around the kitchen and dinning room area. The sounds were getting a little clearer but not exactly right.

“…Maybe he really does have rabies.”

She heard Robin’s comment behind her and stopped calling out for Dustin.

Steve stopped too. “He’s here. Henderson. The little shit, he’s here. He’s like…”

Steve started looking around, and trying to prove their point. “He’s in the walls or something, just listen…”

Then they all started calling out for Dustin, and could hear him try and theorize about Vecna and the creature’s connection to Lover’s Lake.

Steve made a comment about Dustin either not being able to hear them or the kid being a douchebag, and then Nancy said something about Will and Joyce Byers and lights.

Nancy tried switching on the lights, but it wouldn’t work - Steve flashed his light over to the ceiling light and… the light… sparkled.

“Guys, you seeing this?”

She stared at it, and it looked like something out of a magic show.

Nancy reached up, and tried to touch the sparkling particles, and it made the lights slightly flicker. They all tried it, and Lacy felt a strange, tickling, prickly sensation through her arm.

“Does anyone know, Morse Code?” Nancy asked.

They all said a collective, “No.”

“Does S.O.S count?” Eddie asked.

They then tried flickering the lights with the distress signal, and hoped Dustin would notice.

They then heard Dustin spell out the signal and high-fived each other. They then rushed up the stairs into Nancy’s room and waited until further instruction.

Dustin then instructed Lucas to do something, and Nancy wiggled her hand around in the light and it started to sparkle.

They heard Dustin’s laugh from across the dimension.

Dustin then told them he was going to unplug the lite-brite toy and to try it without it.

Nancy wrote, “Hi,” into the light and they heard Dustin, Lucas, Ericka and-

Her heart jumped, “Isabel?”

Nancy then wrote, “Stuck,” into the light, and it was comical to hear the kids guess the sentence in just one word.

They heard Dustin say something about a ‘Watergate’.

And they all tried to guess what that was, and then Robin explained the idea to them and they suddenly understood.

Nancy then wrote, “Guarded,” and they all clapped when the kids understood.

Dustin started spewing something about murder and site but they didn’t understand exactly what he was trying to get across.

Nancy wrote a, “?”

And then Dustin got frustrated about them not getting his point, and then Nancy asked Eddie how far his trailer was from her house, and Eddie told her it was seven miles away.

Robin said, “Nancy, I know your house is like, weirdly, creepily frozen in time and shit, but haven’t you always had bikes?”

They all looked at each other and sprinted towards the garage, and got onto the bikes, heading off towards Eddie’s trailer.

Once they got to Eddie’s trailer, they hopped off the bikes.

She started feeling a little woozy, and like the world was closing in on herself.

Robin had said something but she didn’t hear it.

“…Mariah…”

Her world went dark. 

Vecna’s Mindscape:

“… Mariah …”

A deep chill prickled through her stomach, leaving the rest of her body to feel as incongruent as jelly.

The voice was raspy, and gravely, and all sense of power left her being.

“… Mariah…”

It was closer this time.

She turned around, spinning to each corner of her surroundings finding nothing but the trees glowing a bright red.

“… Mariah …”

The taunting voice echoed within the depths of her ears, and she rose her hands in case it came again.

“Do you remember what you’ve done?”

Quick flashes of white walls, a kind, full smile, gleaming ocean blue eyes, golden skin on her olive skin, their combined moans disappearing into the air.

Her feet scrambling on the white tiled floor, her name being yelled out by Peter…

She blinked, and she was back in the Upside Down. But, she wasn’t where any of the others were. Instead, she stood in front of a decaying building with black vines wrapped around it.

She mouth fell as she realized where she was.

The Department of Energy.

Where the Hawkins Laboratory remained dormant underneath.

“Mariah…”

The voice called out to her from within the depths of the building, it’s trajectory rumbling through her bones.

A compulsion pulled her moving feet through the front doors, and made her stride past the receptionist desk through the doors leading to the secretive laboratory underneath.

The pulsing vines on the walls swiveled, and slithered across the concrete wall. She couldn’t help but keep an eye on them, if one of them were going to lash out, coil around her and entrap her she’d be prepared to fight it.

She trekked down the stairs as the vines lengthened down the pathway to the hidden laboratory.

The door guarding the projector was cracked open, allowing her to slip inside.

The lights flickered in the room, with sparks leaking from the wires above. She jerked out of the way, almost getting hit with a spark that hit the floor with a sizzle.

A blaring staticky sound buzzed from her right, and she turned to face the origin of the noise.

A few of the monitors attached to the wall whirled alive with grainy footage of young subjects playing in the rainbow room.

“Have you forgotten, your actions have consequences.”

The monitors whirled off. A creaking sound echoed in the room to the right of her. The door opened to the laboratory, and vines stretched out, leading like stripes down the corridor.

She took cautious steps forward, every now and then glancing to the trembling vines gesturing out like open hands, not entirely sure if that meant anything or if she was letting her anxieties get the best of her, she continued on.

She stopped as the vines curved onto the floor, spread out in all directions. The corridor opened into two separate hallways, one leading to the rainbow room, and the other, to her room.

She sucked in a breath, as she took it all in. She was standing in the main corridor, and in an Upside Down-y kind of way, it still looked exactly the same.

The memories that swarmed her head when she remembered all those times roaming this hall with her brothers and sisters made her heart do a mini-flip that tingled down to her toes.

Even in the years after, it still brought her a strange sense of home. Though, it shouldn’t, and she knew that, told herself that after truly realizing the mistreatment she and her siblings faced when dealt with Papa, or the more conservative orderlies.

The only things different were the little grey particles floating in the air, and the vines that swirled and weaved together on the walls.

She stopped as the vines curved onto the floor, spread out in all directions. She took a step, and the vines disappeared into thin air, the particles were eradicated.

The walls surrounding her became a pearly white, and children filled the corridor. The staunch of steel machinery eroded in the air. Two, and his gang sped past and bumped into her shoulder. They turned back and cackled in her face.

She stood there, confused, watching the young group occasionally glancing back and whispering to each other as they made their way to their rooms.

She shook her head, and looked again. Everything was still there. She glanced back, the hall she just came from was as normal as it was all those years ago.

There was a tug on her pants, and she spun around. It was Eighteen, and his widened eyes stared in the direction of Two and his friends.

She stared at him, and he burrowed his face into her jeans, shaking in his hospital gown.

She forced herself to bend down to Eighteen’s level and stare into his watering eyes.

Before she could ask anything, he whimpered against her denim, “They were being mean to Eleven again.”

She glanced off to the right, and saw a much younger Eleven trailing behind the last of her siblings to leave the rainbow room.

Her breath caught in her throat, and her gaze stayed on the young girl.

This couldn’t be true, could it? All of her brothers and sisters in the laboratory, stuck in time. The smell of steel machinery in the air, the feel of Eighteen grabbing her jeans. Her jeans moving with Eighteen’s movements.

This didn’t make sense. So, she rewinded her brain back to when she was following the gravelly sounding voice, and entered into the building. There’d been vines, and dust-like particles floating in the air.

Now, everything seemed so normal.

She glanced at her hands, and glanced out to the long stretched corridor. Had she done something? Had she accidentally set something off to bend her reality?

But, she would’ve known… would’ve been able to control it, like when she’d shown the kids her powers two years ago.

She never lost control of it, just contained it like an internal treasure box. She hid it within herself, and refused to let it out.

So, how did this come about? What the absolute fuck was going on?

Keeping this in the back of her mind, Lacy followed her brothers and sisters and trailed down the path to her own room.

She closed the door behind her, and inhaled the feeling of nostalgia as it hit her.

Her room was as she left it all those years ago. The bed made. Sheets tucked in, her pillow perched with the indention of her head perfectly embedded in it. The lamp on the nightstand still lit.

She had to check something, though. She hooked her fingers under her mattress and lifted it up enough to see a book hidden under the foam.

Her stomach swooped, not entirely sure what to think of all of this.

A knock rapt at her door, and she spun around. Her heart beat faster than it had when she entered the building.

She hesitated, staring at the door. Her throat pulsed and she wrapped her hand around the handle, preparing for the worst.

She cracked the door open, and saw an orderly’s white uniform peeking through the thin view. The more the door opened, the more clearer the view became.

The audible thrum of her pulse stopped. Her feet froze to the floor beneath her, and she stifled a gasp.

“Peter.”

He’d looked the exact same as he had all those years ago. Not a single line in his face, or a wrinkle on his forehead. His hands behind his back, smiling down at her petite form.

“I wanted to check on you,” Peter said, in the same soft voice she’d never forgotten. “See how you are doing.”

She felt herself sputtering, trying to find words to say, anything, everything but his presence caught her off guard.

Peter’s smile quickly downturned, “Is everything okay?”

She nodded just as he glanced around the corridor before entering into her room and closing the door behind him.

He went over to her, and ran his hands over her arms. “I didn’t see you in the rainbow room this morning, is everything okay?”

She got lost into his stormy blue eyes. The hitch in her breath deepened, and time seemed to slow.

Here she was, melting under his hypnotic touch and all it took were his thumbs stroking circles on her biceps.

His pale eyebrow rose, awaiting an answer.

Maybe if she played along, whatever this was, would reveal itself.

Gazing into the face she’d only seen in flashes of memories, she’d have to struggle to stay focused.

“I wasn’t feeling well,” she managed to get out. “I had a headache.”

Peter’s massaging paused. “Are you feeling any better?”

She nodded, and he lowered his forehead to hers. His breath blew onto her lips; an urge to reach up, and smash a kiss on his plump lips rumbled heated shocks through her being.

But, she could barely bring herself to squeak a vowel, and it was incredulous that she had even gotten a coherent sentence out earlier.

But, the disbelief override a majority of the thirst she had for his skin pressed against hers.

He pressed his soft lips against her forehead, and guided them to her bed. The cushion dipped as they sat down, his thumbs now caressing the palms of her hands.

She brought herself to rerun her gaze on those eyes of his. There was something, something… but she couldn’t quite place it. Something different.

“Was he being rude to you, again?”

She hesitated, then shook her head.

He placed a finger under her chin, and lifted her face up to his. “Are you sure everything’s okay? You just seem off, today.”

She sighed against his lips, the brushing of his against hers made that spark reignite on her bud.

She held in a breath, trying to fight against the fabrication of this, if it were. But, it felt so real, his lips tasted so real.

The things she re-created with her abilities weren’t as substantial as this. They’d crumble and fall after mere minutes, but this, this was as concrete as herself.

There was an urge that fought inside her, one to keep questioning and prodding this reality for answers, and the other to enjoy the feel of his touch on hers while she could, if there was a possibility of a timed restraint in this world.

Her clothed knee grazed his, and she rested her hand on his slacks. She scooted closer to him until their pants met.

He released his finger off her chin, and she laid her cheek upon his shoulder. A touch skimming up her waist made her arch a shiver into his chest.

His breath tickled her ear, “Is there anything I can help you with?”

Another touch raked up her sides, and a gasp escaped from her lips. All concern dipped out of her inner thoughts. It’d been too long since she’d had this. Far too long.

His fingertips paused at the side of her right breast, then trailed to the center and traced a circle around her nipple with his nail.

She arched even further into him, and he palmed her chest, squeezing and tugging at her clothed breast.

“Is that what you’ve needed?” He asked, his voice gruffer than usual.

She bent her head to the crook of his neck, and started kissing the line that connected to his collarbone.

She reached through their clothed bodies, and started undoing her shirt. Once it was completely unbuttoned she tossed it to the floor.

Peter’s fingers dipped past the cup of her bra. Her core throbbed as he tugged the sensitive skin of her nipple between his fingers.

His unoccupied hand, traced a line up her spine, and went to undo the hooks on her bra but to no avail - ended up pulling the cups further into her chest.

She couldn’t resist a slight giggle, and reached back to undo her bra. It fell to her lap. Her breasts hadn’t been as perky was they were seven years ago. They were beginning to sag with age.

She rose her eyes to his, “Do you still like them?”

His gaze fell to her chest, then retracted back to hers. “Why wouldn’t I?”

His head dipped to her chest, and warm, slick saliva lapped at the exposed buds at the tip of her breasts.

She grasped onto his bicep, and he continued his ministrations on her, occasionally nipping and tugging at her nipples with his teeth.

She toyed with the shoulder of his shirt, and whimpered out, “Take it off.”

Peter pulled back, and unbuttoned his dress shirt. He threw it to the floor, and she looked at him, tugging at the sleeve of his undershirt. It was only fair if they were both half-naked.

She raked her fingers down his chest, feeling the ridges of his abs she’d so missed scratching against her chest when they made love.

“You’re the most amazing man I’d ever seen,” she whispered more to herself than him.

A smirk quirked up the edges of his lips, and she stopped her trail at the edge of the button on his trousers.

She could feel the heat, and tightness from his erection underneath. And, she could feel the urge to squeeze her thighs together growing harder to resist. 

He grabbed her hand, and lowered it to his clothed hard-on. He stroked her hand over it, and began a slow pace.

A glaze appeared in his eyes. Her mouth began to water as she remembered what usually transpired after this.

She undid the button, and dragged the zipper down until his stark white boxers were the only thing restraining his bulge.

She felt her lip curl upwards, hooking her fingers under the elastic waistband of his boxers.

“Take them off,” Peter’s voice rasped abrasively inside her head. 

The raw, hollow gruff combined with his usual silvery voice clicked an unease in her gut.

She glanced back at Peter. The gleam in the blue of his eyes glazed over. His mouth fixed in a tiny circle, waiting in anticipation.

She probably just imagined it, even though the remnants of the hoarse voice trembled through her head.

She lifted the tip to her lips, and gave it a soft peck. A soft groan echoed off the walls, making the gruff monstrous tone disappear into the recesses of her brain.

She swirled her tongue around the base of his cock. His hand gripped the back of her head, and pulled her forward - in a rough display they’d never engaged in before.

Tears pricked at her eyes from the unexpected move, and she gripped the insides of his thighs, preparing herself for any other harsh movements he may try.

But, in a strange way, maybe even desperate - she liked it. She wanted it. Craved it.

She pulled her mouth off his cock with a slight ‘pop’, and he gently pressed her back into the mattress.

“Sorry,” he said, “I got a little carried away.”

A heavy pulse trickled down into her core. “Maybe I want you to get carried away.”

A hazy smirk flashed on his face, “Do you know what you’re asking for?”

She cocked her head, and played ignorant. God, she missed him, and his cheeky banter. “How will I know unless you show me?”

His smirk widened, and a wispy tangible veil of air floated in front of his face. She reached up to grab it, but it disappeared the moment her fingers touched it.

Peter frowned, “What’s wrong?”

She felt her face tighten. It felt silky to her touch. It was clearly there.

Peter sat up, “Mariah, what’s wrong?”

What if this really was of her doing? There wasn’t anything - anyone else - for that matter that would reimagine this fantasy for themselves.

And, if for some reason, she’d frozen this area in the seventies, why shouldn’t she be able to take advantage of this?

He was here, right in front of her, then and there. She could touch him, without the dissatisfaction of her own fingers. She could actually taste him and savor every kiss, every press of skin…

But, there was something else to address. Something that tried to punch holes in her subconscious.

If she were to have frozen time, than why didn’t she de-age with everyone else? How was she still in her current attire, and not in a white gown with her hair shaved off?

“Did you hear that voice earlier?” She asked.

Peter gave her a look, “What voice?”

She bit her lip, “The one calling out my name.”

Peter shook his head, looking extremely confused. “I don’t… I haven’t heard that.”

Some strange part of her felt at ease with this. Maybe this was a coping mechanism for trauma. It would certainly make sense.

And, it’d been her first time back in the laboratory since she’d escaped for good.

“Would you like to stop?” Peter’s question brought her out of her cynicism.

“No,” She almost chuckled. God no.

Peter ran his fingers over her knuckles, “Are you sure? I don’t want this to be uncomfortable for you.”

A wide smile stretched out across her face. If this were false, then why would Peter be this concerned? Be this soft, this kind?

There was an old saying that some things were just too good to be true, but this was true. This was Peter.

“Would you like to talk about it?”

She shook her head.

Peter bent down, and kissed her on the lips. “Would you like me to make it all disappear?”

She leant into his touch, pushing her lips against his. His fingers traced the line down her stomach, and she toyed with her jeans, shoving them to the floor.

His fingertips played with the elastic of her panties. Two fingers slipped underneath, and stroked up and down her lips.

He plunged his fingers in, and she gasped at the intrusion.

He smirked down at her, and arched his fingers to hit the spot that made her tingle all over.

God, she missed this so much.

She couldn’t help but move her thighs against his free hand squeezing her skin. She thrusted her hips in the air, and released a heavy moan when his fingers reached a certain depth.

He brought her thighs closer to his, and lifted her bottom in the air. She clung to his shoulders, feeling her nails digging into his skin.

The bubble inside of her continued to grow, and she bit her lip to try and chase that electric feeling that rippled through her body and then his fingers withdrew from her, and left her empty.

She gazed upon him with half-lidded eyes, and witnessed a smirk boring on his lips.

He ran a finger across her lower lips, “Are you ready?”

She nodded, tightening her grasp onto his shoulders.

He hummed to himself. “I was hoping we could do something a little different today.”

She cocked her head, and he spun her waist around the side of the bed so that her feet dangled above the tiled floor.

He brought her legs up to his shoulders, and scooted her bottom closer to the edge of the bed.

He raked the tip against her swollen lips, and gazed into her eyes.

A shadow casted over those pigmented blue eyes, “Are you ready?”

Something in her gut flickered like a siren, warning her about something, something that swirled around Peter but she honestly didn’t even care.

She rested a hand around his thin waist, and held his dark gaze. “I’ve missed you so much.”

She stroked his chiseled jaw with her thumb, “I love you, Peter. I always have.”

His dark gaze flashed into something else, something akin to confusion.

He bent down to her ear, and whispered, in a combination of his gentle voice with a harsher one.  “You didn’t even know me.”

Chapter Text

January, 1978:

“We can leave,” Thirteen found herself saying.

She expected Peter to just get up and start laughing  the moment the words slipped her tongue, but the opposite happened; he remained still.

There was a pause.

“We could…” Peter said.

She felt him shift in position behind her, and a rumble ripped through his thin shirt, “But how would we execute it?”

The way the wrong was made her feel a little ridiculous, and she resorted to rolling a pathetic shrug of her shoulders.

“Never mind,” she sighed, “It’s stupid…”

She felt a light grasp on her shoulder and Peter whispered, “I think it’s a great concept, it just needs better planning.”

She nodded, and laid her head on his chest. “I know, I just want us to be happy. I want all of us to be happy.”

She felt his chin rest on the top of her head. “I know, me too.”

She brought his hand over to her abdomen, and wove their fingers together.

Vecna’s Mindscape

March, 1986:

Lacy opened her eyes, and gasped for air. She glanced around, the room had been like it’d been before, black vines squirming on the walls, and grey dust particles hovering in the air. She pressed on her body, feeling the fabric of her flannel shirt and jeans.

There wasn’t anyone else in the room with her. Part of her felt relieved, and the other wished she could touch Peter one last time.

She stood up off the bed, and headed for the door. She turned the knob, and her stomach squeezed against her will - fearing she’d find a certain blond standing behind the door - but when she opened the door - she found nothing but the eroding walls of the alternate laboratory.

“…Mariah…”

She froze, and her heart flipped.

“Didn’t you know, your actions have consequences.”

The laboratory flashed before her eyes, and she held a hand to her mouth.

Orderlies, guards and even her brothers and sisters alike were strewn across the hallway. Streaks of blood scattered across the stark white floor, and walls. The subjects white gowns now stained with a demonic red.

She backed up against her door, and felt wetness rolling down her face. It was impossible, this was impossible.

She shook her head, her gaze zooming in on the lifeless eyes of her brothers and sisters.

Who could’ve done this?

Why would someone do this?

“…Mariah…”

A red sheen glowed from the crevice of the rainbow room’s doors. The tile floor filled with ominous smoke, and drew her in. She couldn’t stop walking toward it even if she wanted to.

“You can try, but you won’t ever escape the past.”

The voice sounded so familiar despite being so gruff and inhuman. It was there, poking and prodding at her - but it was almost like something was blocking her from realizing it, like her intuition was protecting her.

She reached the double doors, and swung them open.

Instead of the rainbow walls she was expecting - she was met with the blaring red sky, and black vines that had woven together on the concrete floor.

Directly in front of her, was what appeared to be an eroded castle-like structure with different objects hanging in the air above it. There was a wooden door across from her, with a stained glass window that looked so familiar it hovered at the tip of her tongue.

As she stepped closer, she got a good look at the skeletal framework on the grotesque home. The black vines that lead her here had wrapped around some of the substructure of the house.

But what caught her eye were these enormous black pillars, that… that were completely empty?

She furrowed her brows. Didn’t Max say they had Fred and Chrissy entangled in them?

She moved further into the home, and scanned the pillars, but saw nothing of interest in them.

She took a step back, and something crunched underneath her sneaker. She glanced down, and tiny black widows spilled out of the cracked egg.

She tripped backwards, and tried brushing off the spiders crawling through her shoes and up her leg. She screamed, unbuttoned her pants and shoved them off into the webs of vines.

She felt little crawling pins creeping up her back and threw her shirt over her head. She itched and scratched the nape of her neck until she bumped into something behind her.

“…Mariah…”

She froze. Her back against something solid.

Her chest heaved, and she stared at the black pillar in front of her, not finding the courage to turn around.

“…Mariah…”

The voice ended with a high, taunting bravado.

She swallowed hard, and shut her eyes forcing herself to turn around.

Once she completely turned around, she opened her eyes and time slowed to a halt.

Standing in front of her was a man - no - a creature with ashy colored tendrils wrapped around his muscles, and a sunken face.

She started to back up, and he stalked towards her. His movements were slow, but she could feel the calculation rumbling beneath the surface.

“Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten what you’ve done, Mariah.”

She shut her eyes. A man and a woman connecting in an act of passion. Bare feet running through the corridor. Peter calling out her name. Slamming Peter against the wall.

“You of all people don’t deserve redemption.”

She sucked in a shuddered breath, and instead of following her instinct to run, she hissed back.

“You don’t know a goddamn thing about me.”

Vecna cocked his head, and a tendril wrapped around her waist. It shoved her to the nearest pillar, and other tendrils snaked around her wrists, holding them above her head like handcuffs and her ankles, dangling right above the ground.

Vecna stroked a long finger down her cheek, and she grit her jaw to keep from shivering under his touch.

“You think I don’t know you?” Vecna’s gruff, raspy voice echoed into the sky above them. “I know everything there is to know about you, Mariah Ortiz.”

She felt the beginnings of a sneer on her face. So what, he knew her birth name, but that was no longer who she was. This demon was chasing after a ghost of a girl. Shedded skin.

“Or should I call you, ‘Thirteen’?”

The sneer tightened on her face.

Something equivalent to a wheezing fireplace the moment the flame is put out huffed past his lips.

“Do you know what happened after you left, Thirteen?”

Against her will, she was brought back to that horrific scene in the main corridor, and tried to shove it all away.

“No,” she mumbled, gripping her palms so hard they throbbed in pain. “No.”

“Perhaps if you hadn’t left, you could have prevented it from happening.”

She opened her eyes, “You’re lying!”

Vecna cocked his head, “Am I? Poor naive, hopeful, romantic, Thirteen. Perhaps you were the one lying to yourself all along.”

She struggled against the tendrils, “What?”

A smirk appeared at the corner of Vecna’s lips. “Do you know what you are asking for?”

Her struggles against the tendrils paused, and she focused on Vecna’s gaze.

“You made a weak attempt to try and oppose me in my own home? It’s amusing...”

Her brain process slowed. “What?”

Vecna cocked his head, “Didn’t you recognize the ground you were standing on?”

She glanced around, trying to eye the shell of the wooden panelings around her, the swirling staircase - the one with a grandfather clock hiding beside it.

It didn’t sit well, “…The…The Creel House.”

Vecna made a hum in response, and she forced herself to look at him, “But… You’re not Victor.”

Vecna sneered, “And why would I want to be that old, dumb, blind buffoon?”

She tried to understand. She remembered what Nancy and Robin said about their visit to Victor in the mental hospital, and, how he suspected was some supernatural demon, evil of some kind that haunted him and his family - the papers… the boy… she remembered - the boy that looked so isolated, so alone.

That curling feeling from earlier twisted a knot into her stomach, and her gaze trailed back up to those icy eyes.

“No.”

His sneer widened, “I was wondering when you would figure it out.”

She listened to him tell the story of how the Creel family inherited a mass fortune from a recently deceased family member, and how it all went downhill from there, from Vecna - Henry, using his abilities to haunt his parents past mistakes, to slaughtering his family with the exception of his father.

She couldn’t breathe.

She couldn’t think.

She couldn’t feel.

“I was taken into the care of a Doctor Martin Brenner. He used me, like he’d done to you and the subjects. Once I had become too unpredictable, and no longer under his control - he became fearful of my projectory and injected me with soteria to reduce my abilities. He placed me into a position where he could always keep a watchful eye on me. However, unbeknownst to him, it was his most unwittingly advance he’d ever made. I waited, and waited until he became so assured that I had learned my stance. And then you came along.”

She felt her forehead frown, and she tried to think of all the instances where she’d met this god-awful orderly he was speaking of.

Vecna let out another dry chuckle. “After you were re-captured, the news spread like wildfire about Dr. Brenner’s latest pet project. The girl who had escaped, and been returned unscathed. The others had been terrified of you, afraid they’d push a wrong button if they were to even approach you. But that never deterred me. I was fascinated by you.”

She glanced around, no longer in the horrid red landscape she was trapped in - instead, she found herself staring at herself in the rainbow room, surrounded by her brothers and sisters all those years ago.

The double doors swung open. Men and women in white uniforms piled into the room, standing off to the wall to observe them. Peter’s blond hair was a dead giveaway, and she focused her gaze on him.

“At first, I watched you from afar, observing you until I could make a proper decision on how to approach you.”

She watched as Peter walked over to her younger self at the puzzle table, offering his help.

She felt that stirring feeling in her gut she’d felt earlier when she was in that intimate hallucination except now, it began to sober up and sink into her brain.

That punch in her gut she’d felt during the intimate hallucination earlier began to stir inside her.

“No.”

Memories flashed of their time together. His beginning helpfulness, their bonding over books, the secret messages to each other in the rainbow room, their deeply personal conversations after hours, slick, sweaty skin rubbing against each other…

A tear slid down her cheek, “No.”

“I’d thought simply just being a helping hand, and an occasional friend to confide in would suffice…”

A different scene played. Her younger self was helping the youngest of the children with the disk game, and she happened to glance over to where the orderlies stood against the wall.

“Until I noticed the way you’d look at me. I knew then, I had to gain your trust in other ways…”

It reshaped again, and transformed into the memory of her playing with the dominos while they were discussing their favorite books.

“After assessing you through your choice of books, I decided to play into the role you so romantically desired.”

The scene changed into Peter’s late night visits to her room, beginning with him presenting her with books, listening to her rant on about Papa’s treatment of her, and providing a shoulder to cry on.

“As pathetic, and worthless sexual gratification can be - it was used to my advantage when it concerned you.”

Before her eyes, a new image emerged. She could see herself squirming underneath Peter on her bed. Peter’s hand interwoven with hers as he thrusted in and out of her, placing soft kisses down on her jaw.

“I thought I was going to loathe it. Sex was only a means to an end, a way to weasel myself inside Brenner’s inner circle to acquire the information I needed to know about you.”

She was met with the red sky, and the empty, black pillars across from hers.

She tried to move her arms, but they were still cuffed by the entangling vines. She tried the same with her ankles despite how stupid it seemed, same result.

“But, I was wrong. It was something I’d never felt before. There was tremendous power in seeing your head thrown back, your eyes rolled in the back of your head, and the feel of your body squirming underneath mine for release.”

She squeezed her muscles against the tendrils with all her might, but to no avail, it was unsuccessful.

She was forced to watch Vecna, as he stopped in front of her. His cloudy eyes fixated on hers.

Something snaked up her right leg, slithering past her knee and headed towards her thigh.

To ignore it, she focused on Vecna’s face, briefly replacing it with smooth golden skin, and those beautifully haunting blue eyes.

How could the sweet, kind man she’d gotten to know all those years ago, mold into this horrifying, evil creature?

The memories replayed in her mind. The smile in his eyes when she told a cheeky joke, to the rich laughter to rang in her room, to his soft whispers whenever they made love.

“Was it me?”

Vecna cocked his head, and she continued.

Tears tickled her cheeks, “Did I do this to you?”

Vecna drew out a long grunt, narrowing his eyes. “You betrayed me when you decided to leave without me.”

She started to choke on her sobs as he continued.

“You left the one person you claimed to care for, to harbor feelings for - after everything he did for you…”

“I’m sorry!” Her guilt cried out, twinging in her gut. “I just couldn’t live another day there - not when I…” she paused, “not after I lost the baby.”

She instantly regretted her words, as her mind trailed over to exactly who she’d been trying not to think about while she was here - and she held a mental resolve.

“What is it, Mariah?”

The thing that slithered up her knee had come dangerously close to her panties. She shut her eyes, forcing the mental barriers to stick in place.

“What are you hiding?”

The thing paused at her panty line, picking at the fabric until an unexpected breeze brushed against her most intimate skin.

She tried to wiggle her legs to cover herself, but the tendrils at her ankles had gotten at least two times tighter than before.

“Cooperate with me, Mariah.”

The thing slinked up her chest, swirling around her waist, and reached the clasp of her bra.

Vecna made a twitch of his fingers, and her bra snapped off, falling to the ground below.

She squirmed against the restraints, a discomfort settling in her gut, trying to cover her naked body.

“Now you know how I felt when you left me, naked and afraid in your room.”

She tugged at the vines hugging her ankles, but with each attempt the weight sank deeper into her skin.

“Do not struggle. Succumb to me, Mariah.”

A tendril withdrew from Vecna’s neck, and stretched over to her. It began to lightly caress the side of her knee.

Peter would brush her knee with his thumb, drawing soft circles on her skin.

The tendril slid up her leg, inching towards her thigh.

Peter would slide his hands closer to her thigh.

“I’ve seen your thoughts and lived in your fantasies…”

The vines on her ankles widened the width apart. The tendril snaked to the crease of her thigh, sliding over her folds.

She withheld a gasp, and Vecna stepped closer to her, long, sharp nails traced lines up the valley between her breasts.

“I’ve delved into your dreams, knowing your heart ached for the man you left behind in your laboratory bed.”

The tip of his nail traced around the underside of her right breast.

“You tried to run, and reshape your identity to the chaos around you all to avoid a singular mediocre, ordinary man.”

She closed the glass barriers inside her brain, feeling him pressing against them.

“There is something there, something you’re protecting. I can feel it.”

His nail raked against her nipple, and her knees jerked forward.

Vecna hummed to himself, his fingers pinching and tugging at it with his other hand hovering at her face.

She inhaled a breath, and tried to push down the warmth that spread within her at his contact.

He brought his entire hand upon her, kneading her breast while leaning his lips inches away from hers.

“Just…allow me in.”

She choked on a gasp. The deep, raspy voice intertwining with some of Peter’s soft and gentle tone.

His hand left her chest, and trailed a line down to the dark set of curls hiding her lower lips.

He raked his fingers through them, and hummed. “You have not been with another since me…” 

Her breath hitched as his finger dipped below, and traced a sharp line along her slit, and again over and over.

She bit the side of her cheek as she realized how slick she already was for him. She tried to bury her face into the vines beside her, but he placed a finger under her chin- 

Peter put a finger under her chin, after she kissed him.

-and turned her around to face those cloudy blue eyes.

“Don’t be ashamed.”

He rose a finger to swipe against her small bud, and she buckled beneath his touch. He did it again, and a mewl escaped her lips.

The shocks his swift touch delivered to her shuddered through her body. She thrusted upwards, her legs trying to stretch through the ministrations.

Her body felt as if it were lifting into the air and then…

It stopped.

Her chest heaved, hot sweat formed on her forehead and the nape of her neck. Her gaze darted around until it landed on Vecna’s. There was a mysterious sparkle in his cloudy eyes.

She felt the ache throbbing in her clit, and curled her toes to refrain from thrusting for his touch again. 

“Don’t fight it.”

His finger stroked across her lips, and slipped inside. The digit met with her cervix, sending shivers up her abdomen.

She bucked her hips against it, his nail scratching against her walls.

She squeezed her palms. A loud moan escaped her lips, drawing into the landscape.

The digit removed from her core, and she let out a disappointed groan in return.

“Patience, Mariah,” A hint of a smirk played at Vecna’s lips.

She tried to widen her half-lidded eyes, glimpsing the tendril from earlier reaching towards her lower half.

It brushed along her slit, and she ground her hips against the hard length in a dire attempt to slip it inside.

A deep hum reverberated through Vecna’s throat, “Ever since I’ve been reacquainted with your existence, I have imagined this scenario repeatedly.”

Her walls squeezed as the tendril poked through her lips, and deepened itself within her.

She gasped at the girth of it, feeling her walls sting with the situated length. It paused within her.

Vecna groaned, “I’d almost forgotten about your tightness.”

He slowly slid the hard tendril out of her, and the moment it exited her lips, she moaned in slight relief.

He slid it back in, and she felt her walls twitch around the appendage. He began a slow pace, allowing her walls to settle with the girth of the tendril.

The pain faded with each hit against her cervix, and she found herself grinding down on the appendage.

The back of her head collided with the vine, and her eyes met his.

The stormy grey had a haze over it, his lips slightly ajar. In-between his thighs, she could see the long, throbbing tendril poking out, thrusting in and out of her.

Inside her, it curved and slid out just for it to return and grate against the ever-growing bubble in her core.

He fastened his pace, his free hand gripping her petite thigh, sharp nails digging into the soft skin.

He lifted her legs and placed them on his shoulders. She opened her eyes as wide as she could, and realized the ankle restraints had disappeared.

He pulled her in closer to him, meeting his thighs with hers.

Her mouth fell wide open as the appendage enlarged inside of her, and poked at her bubble. Her head threw back against the pilar as she allowed the pulsating to flow through her.

A loud guttural moan released from Vecna’s throat, “That’s it…”

He reached over, grabbed her cuffed wrists and wrapped them around the nape of his neck.

As the bubble throbbed inside her, the fuzziness in her head began and all of her mental barriers began to shift.

She felt her legs move, and wrap tight around Vecna’s waist. He tilted her back, and changed the angle he hit at.

A hazy glow clouded over her vision, and her nails raked on the hardened, burnt flesh she was bouncing against.

“Please,” she mewled.

“Please, what?”

She tried to bite her quivering lip, the haze being overwhelmed with the floaty feeling she was beginning to experience.

“Please,” she begged.

Her nails gripped the calloused, burnt flesh of his, and her chest arched towards the blood-colored sky.

He brought her head against his, and groaned into her ear, “I feel everything you feel. Every quiver, every squeeze, every thrust - all of it.”

He brought her closer to him, where her skin sweated on his thighs, and the peaks of her chest grazed against his.

She bit her lip until it throbbed from the pain, “Peter.”

The bubble overwhelmed her senses. The vibrations spread through her abdomen and pulsed through her fingertips.

“Peter.”

She could no longer hear anything other than the act of their bodies conjoining and her heart beat thumping in every muscle in her body.

Her eyes rolled in the back of her head, her toes straining. “Peter!”

She felt Vecna tilt her head back, and a grunt escaped his lips. “Let go.”

She whined against his hollow cheek, and tightened her walls around the tendril. His thrusting slowed as liquid spurted all over her thighs.

She held onto him, her body trembling against his, and in that moment - she just embraced him and imagined it was the golden-skinned man she still loved.

‘Memories…

like the corner of my       mind…

Misty watercolor memories…Of the way we were…

Scattered pictures…

Of the smiles we left behind…

Smiles we gave to one another…

For the way we were…’

She gasped, and glanced at her surroundings. It was still the same - dusky red sky but with the song echoing through the clouds.

Her breath hitched in her throat, and was immediately brought into her memories of Peter. That small smile of his, as they read to each other in her room, theorized what would happen next, made each other laugh, confided in each other, and loved so much.

‘Ms. Broughton!’

Even Vecna rose his head, turning it to the noise above the clouds.

She felt Vecna’s hand release from her waist, and raise it above her head.

“I’m not letting you leave this time,” Vecna growled.

She felt the pressure against her mental shields, and allowed herself to melt with the song, rushing into her ears and slowing her breath.

But then the memories rushed in, the same ones from before, with the same feelings from before. And some she’d purposely kept back, tried to push forward, although making her happy wasn’t enough to risk to him, of all people.

Him, who was no longer who she thought he was.

Him, who was never who she thought he was.

Him, who she currently had herself wrapped around.

Him, who was an even greater threat than Papa - Dr. Brenner.

She realized, as a cold, disgusted and alien feeling washed through her, that she’d gotten intimate - had always been intimate with the monster that had been… that was…

“Don’t resist…”

The mental, glass barriers morphed into an elastic paper trying to hold what she considered most sacred from the prying mind of the man she thought she knew.

“Lacy!”

She tried to push herself off him, but an invisible force pushed her back to the pillar of vines. They snaked around her, her wrists being cuffed with a numbing feeling right at the vein, and her ankles began to lose their color.

“Show me, Mariah, what you’re withholding from me…”

She turned her head to the side, and felt tears spill down her cheeks as the elastic barriers started to peel through.

“Mom!”

And all hell broke loose.

…The face staring back at her in the K-mart women’s bathroom mirror was a pale yellow. Mascara streaked down her cheeks, and eyes watery from the random bought of sickness. A small pink test, with a red plus in the center on the edge of the sink beside her…

…The quiet, swaddled baby resting in the crook of her arms…

…Every birthday that passed, seeing a carefree, happy baby girl grow into a yearning, curious child…

…”Why don’t I have a dad?” Isabel asked her kindergarten year, after her first Father’s Appreciation Day at school.

She forced herself to look into Isabel’s pigmented ocean blue eyes. The ones that made her think of Peter.

She and Isabel sat on the couch, and she took Isabel’s hand in hers. “You do have a father, Izzy. He’s… just not here, right now.”

Curiosity sparkled in those blue eyes, “Why?”

She blew out a breath. Since she’d found out about her pregnancy, she advised a pretty solid story that correlated with the one she’d already made, and just tweaked it. Of course, at first, it felt weird to tell her co-workers the faux story, but after a while she’d almost believed it - until she held Isabel in her arms and faced her lie.

It was one thing to repeat the story to people over and over again, but with Isabel, it hurt, it stung. It felt like an injustice to her, and Peter.

And, how could she explain the military to a five-year-old, and have her not traumatized for the rest of her life?

“He’s fighting for our country, baby.” She said, with the inch of a smile on her face.

As tame as she made that sound, it still wasn’t enough for a five-year-old. “What does that mean?”

“He’s in a different country, Izzy.” She said.

Isabel’s tiny forehead scrunched together in thought, “…Oh…”…

…Then sat Isabel in Principal Rhodes office, staring at the carpeted floor, having just punched Brock Hampton in the face. Lacy knelt in front of Isabel, finding out what happened.

“He said I didn’t have a dad,” Isabel said, “And that even if I did, he wouldn’t want me.”…

The guilt flooded through her as she was sucked out of her memories - and stared into the original owner of those ocean blue eyes.

And, there was a gleam of shock in them.

She wriggled against his grasp, but it held strong despite the shock radiating from his conscience.

“Mom!”

Another tear slid down her cheek. She could feel the ache begin in her tired muscles - and a sense of dread wash into her.

“Isabel…”

She closed her eyes, and thought of Isabel’s laughter, the happy spark in those eyes when she was a few months old, making adorable sputtering noises ignorant of her beginning - of her origin.

Lacy thought of all the times the two of them had together, from her making an excuse to skip work so she could be an active parent during Isabel’s first day of kindergarten, to shipping her off to the Sinclairs’ house, to protect her. She thought of all the sacrifices she made, from the moment she found out she was pregnant. Having to educate herself on pregnancy and the technicalities of it - and the responsibility - and yet, even with the father not present - she still wanted Isabel and worked fucking hard to achieve everything she had now for her daughter.

Even if Isabel didn’t see it, most of the time, even if she’d never see it.

She’d be willing, to do everything just for her. Just to give Isabel a life she never had for herself. Even if that meant, re-living everything over again…

She tried to ignore the high-pitched cries of Isabel’s that echoed through the clouds above. 

“Mommy!”

Vecna’s neck popped as he turned back around to face Lacy, his gaze hardened in hers. “You were wise to hide her from me. Perhaps, she could be instrumental in the undoing of the world…or retribution for your betrayal.”

She clenched her fists against the vines, and pulled through the remainder of her might - until the vines snapped off and she fell to the ground on her knees.

She ducked as Vecna swung forward and tried to grab her, and slid onto the ground, feeling the tiny spider eggs crackle beneath her - but was too focused on the objective in front of her.

“Can it be that it was all so simple then?

Or has time re-written every line?

If we had the chance to do it all again

Tell me, would we?

Could we?”

The music grew louder. Barbara Streisand’s voice shaking the foundation of the illusion, and she found herself sprinting towards the massive landscape of nothingness.

She jumped over some of the vines threatening to trip her, and landed in her laboratory slippers and hospital gown.

Despite it, she continued to run, feeling the transformation of her growth thrum a sense of triumph in her veins.

After maneuvering a crumbling block of debris that was sent after her, and felt something cool, and sharp clanking against her arm - she glanced down, and saw her K-Mart name tag hitting her bare skin. Her baby bump covering her feet.

She trekked on, and dove out of the way of flying debris aiming for her head. She’d gotten up, and brushed down the flannel shirt, and jeans she’d originally been wearing, and continued on until the yelling voices of the kids buzzed her eardrums into pain.

“Mom!”

She blinked. There was a weight tugging at her waist. She glanced down, noticing Isabel wrapping her arms around her middle.

She glanced around her surroundings, and noticed she was in a trailer - with Dustin Henderson, Lucas and Erika Sinclair around her.

She squeezed back, and held on for what seemed like forever.

“Lacy, are you okay? What happened?” Dustin asked.

She nodded, her arms still tight around Isabel, ignoring Dustin’s second question for now - all she wanted to do was hold her daughter and never let go.

A chill snaked through her joints, and she tensed her muscles even tighter, a feeling in her gut clenched as if Vecna were telling, “This isn’t over.”